The Spectacle of the Potlatch

Happening to be at Tulalip recently, I was astonished to see such numbers of Tulalip reservation natives. I learned that a grand potlatch was the exciting news, and that certain great and good men of the tribe, in a spirit of out-gatherings which we pale faces cannot too much extol, would endow their friends and relations with all their earthly possessions. These natives of the Sound are not rich enough to make such an occasion heart-breaking, and their attempts at such display are as much inferior to the genuine article as a glass of Port Townsend whisky is to the nectar the gods fed upon. There must have been four hundred Indians in the building and a dance in progress which looked like a cross between a Scotch reel and the limp of a boy with a stone bruise on his heel. Interspersed with a wild yell now and then, and guided by the monotonous thump on the Indian drum, the whole formed a scene of wild savagery and gayety quite startling to see. Now and then would occur a kind of promenade; the drums would hold their peace, and as the festive throng—'sponge down,' for perspiration streamed from every pore—filed past, some venerable heathen would rise and make a remark on this interesting occasion. These Indian orators are very dignified and delivered themselves with great impressment. Next in order was the sensation of the day—the formal potlatch of money, blankets, etc. Each recipient’s name is loudly called, much in Court bailiff style. The elderly man receives his money or blanket with a look which says, 'I’ll take them to accommodate you,' and starts off to his seat. The young fellows step nimbly forward and almost snatch them.