The cross he wore was a very rich one of stones set
in gold, and large; by whom it was given, his friends
never knew. This is all the ornament he requested
to have buried with him.
It was customary among the Indians to make funeral
feasts. No family was so poor as not thus to
honor the dead. If all they possessed was a cow,
it was slaughtered for the occasion. Red Jacket
desired nothing of this kind. A pagan funeral
for a distinguished person is a pompous affair, and
lasts for ten days. Every night a fire is kindled
at the grave, and around it the mourners gather, and
utter piteous wails.
The wife and daughter were the only ones to whom he
spoke parting words, or gave a parting blessing.
As his last hour drew nigh, his family all gathered
around him, but the children were not his own, they
were step-children, his own were all sleeping in
the churchyard, where he was soon to be laid.
His step-children he always loved and cherished, their
mother had taught them to love and honor him.
The wife sat by his pillow and rested her hand on
his head. At his feet stood the two sons, now
aged and Christian men, and by his side the little
girl, whose hand rested on his withered and trembling
palm. His last words were still, “Where
is the missionary?” He then clasped the child
to his bosom, while she was sobbing in anguish, her
ears caught his hurried breathing, his arms relaxed
their hold, she looked up, he was gone.
There was mourning in the household, there was great
mourning among the people. The orator, the man
of matchless gifts, of surpassing eloquence was no
more; and there were none to fill his place.
Red Jacket desired after his death, a vial of cold
water might be placed in his hand. His reason
for this his friends did not understand. Red
Jacket felt that intemperance had been the bane of
his life. Possibly from this conviction he may
have desired to be accompanied in his journey to the
spirit-land, by the beverage of which his better judgment
most approved.
The arrangements of his funeral Red Jacket committed
to his wife’s son-in-law Wm. Jones. His
friends, who belonged mostly to the Christian party,
chose to have at his funeral the simple and appropriate
services of that religion. It was largely attended
by his own race, and by the whites living in that
vicinity. He was buried in the mission burying
ground, where were reposing many of his race, the
aged and young, warrior, sachem, child.
His death was at his residence near the church and
mission-house at Seneca village on the 20th of January,
1830.
Adano
Albany
Alden, Pres.
Alien’s Hist.
Angelica, N. Y.
Atotarho
Au Glaize
Avon Springs
Bayard, Wm.
Beaver Creek
Beekman, John J.
Berry, Major
Big Tree
Bloomfield
Boyd, Capt. John
Braddock, Gen.
Brant
Breckenridge, Rev. John
Bryant, W. C.
Buffalo
Buffalo Creek
Burbeck, Maj.
Butler, Col.
