At a given signal the assembled company began with slow and measured
steps, and in silence, to encircle the grave. It must have been a
custom peculiar to the tribe, at least we do not recollect seeing
it alluded to by any traveller or describer of Indian manners, and
consisted in walking one after the other around the grave, in the
manner called Indian file, and recounting the good qualities of the
departed; nor was it considered permissible to leave until something
had been said in his praise. The Indians walked round and round in
unbroken silence, each one modestly waiting, as it seemed at first,
for another to speak. But no one begun, and it soon became evident
that some other cause than modesty restrained their speech. Thus,
with downcast eyes, or casting side long glances at each other, as in
expectation of the wished-for eulogy, and with the deepest gravity,
they followed round and round, but still with sealed lips. The defunct
must have been a strange being to deserve no commendation. Could
it be? Did he possess no one good quality by which he could be
remembered? Had he never done a kind act? Could he not hunt, or fish,
or make baskets, or plant corn, or beans, or potatoes? Surely he must
have been able to do something. Had it never happened that he did some
good by mistake? Perhaps that would answer the purpose. Or had he
been the mere shape and appearance of a man, and nothing more? He
had vanished like a shadow; was he as unsubstantial? Were they not
mistaken in supposing he had lived among them! Had he been a dream?

Confused thoughts like these passed through the simple minds of the
rude race, as with tired steps they followed one another in that weary
round. But was there to be no cessation of those perpetual gyrations?
Yet no gesture, no devious step betrayed impatience. On they went, as
if destined to move thus for ever. Looks long and earnest began now to
be cast upon the new-made hillock, as if striving to draw inspiration