It is a subject of regret to me that I have lost the names of those two excellent ladies, to whom my public acknowledgments are so justly due. After they had laid the remains of the child in the coffin, each of the young men of the party ran a knife through the fleshy part of their left arms, and, drawing a white feather through the wounds, deposited the feathers with the blood on them in the coffin with the body. This done, the father and mother brought all they possessed, excepting the clothes which they had on, and presented to them, according to the custom of their country, and also all the fine presents they had received, their money, trinkets, weapons, &c. This is one of the curious modes of that tribe, and is considered necessary to be conformed to in all cases where a child dies. The parents are bound to give away all they possess in the world. I believe, however, that it is understood that, after a certain time, these goods are returned, and oftentimes with increased treasures attending them.
There now came another pang for the heart of this noble fellow, the Little Wolf, and one which seemed to shake his manly frame more than that he had already felt. His child he could not take with him, and the thought of leaving it in a strange burying-ground, and "to be dug up," as he said he knew it would be, seemed to make his misery and that of his wife complete. However, in the midst of his griefs, he suggested that, if it were possible to have it conveyed to their kind friends in Newcastle-on-Tyne, he was sure those "good people," who treated them so kindly, would be glad to bury it in their beautiful burying-ground which he had seen, where it would be at home, and he and his wife should then feel happy. Mr. Melody at once proposed to take it there himself, and attend to its burial, which pleased the parents very much, and he started the next day with it. He was received with the greatest kindness by Mrs. A. Richardson and their other kind friends, who attended to its burial in the society's beautiful cemetery.[33]
[33] The reader is referred to the fervent breathing pages of a little periodical, entitled the 'Olive Branch,' for a most feeling and impressive account of the reception of this little child's remains, and its burial in their beautiful cemetery, by the Friends in Newcastle-on-Tyne.