[Footnote 7: It was one of the customs of the Omahas to cease wailing
at a certain stage in the funeral ceremonies, that the departing
friend might not be distressed by the sounds of sorrow, as he left his
home behind him,--a custom founded on the same belief as that
expressed by this funeral song.]

The song was always sung in unison. The rhythm was accented by each
singer beating together two small willow sticks.

There are no words to the song, only vocables; and these belong to the
breathing or sighing class, indicative of emotion.

[Music: SONG TO THE SPIRIT.

_Omaha._

Harmonized by PROF. J.C. FILLMORE.

E a dha ah
E he a ha ah, he ah
E dha ah he a ha ah
E dha ah
E ah
E ah ha e ha o
E dha he he dhoe ha o o
E dha ha he a ha ah
E dha ah e ah
E ah ha e ha o
E dha he dho.]

STORY AND SONG OF THE MOTHER'S VOW.

It was a warm day of early spring on the Upper Missouri, when the
subtle joy of awakening life stirs the blood and rouses the fancy. The
brown outline of the bare trees was already broken by little leaves
that were shaking themselves in the bright sunlight. Flowers were
peering through the vivid green of the freshly sprung grass, the birds
had come, and the silence of the year had passed. It was a day to
enjoy outdoor life, to indulge in hope and happy thoughts. The sky was
so blue between the rolling white clouds that one forgot they could
ever become portentous of storm. The tents of the Indians, dotted
along the banks of the stream, stood like tall white flowers among the
trees. Women and children were chatting and calling to each other. Men
moved sedately about, busy with preparations for the coming summer
days. Young men and maidens were thinking of each other; for the
morning song of the lover had been heard, and the signal flash of the
mirror[8] had revealed his watching-place to the dark-eyed girl
demurely drawing water for the household in the early dawn.

[Footnote 8: Young men carried small looking-glasses with which they
flashed signals.]

Unheeding the passage of the hours, I wandered up the narrow valley,
noting the fading lines of aboriginal life spread out before me. All
at once I became aware that the brightness of the day was
overshadowed: a greyish hue, that rapidly deepened, pervaded the
scene. Suddenly the wind came over the hills, the birds darted about,
and the sound of thunder was heard. Everything was seeking a shelter;
and, as I turned in haste, hoping t