CHIQUITA GRADUATES.
In a room overlooking the broad Connecticut valley, a student, wearing
cap and gown, stood by the window watching the clouds as they floated in
filmy drapery above the long rows of corn, tobacco and rhubarb which
paralleled each other on either side of the historic stream that divides
western Massachusetts. Chiquita, as she surveyed the scenery, then the
room and then herself, heaved a sigh of satisfaction. The same old
routine of registering, getting the trunks unpacked, studies and classes
arranged, had come to an end. Greetings by classmates, introductions to
new professors, salutations to members of the faculty and respects to
the dean had taken their regular order, and now the daughter of Yamanatz
gazed wistfully into the deep waters which reflected the clouds above.
The room was gorgeous in Indian blankets, draperies, spears, arrows,
pottery, beaded scarfs and long war bonnets, gold and silver-mounted
leather trappings of bridles, lariats, saddle skirts and pistol holsters
adorned the walls, while the floor and furniture were smothered in lion,
beaver, wolf, bobcat and fox skins. Busts of Powhatan and Massasoit
looked down from pedestals upon the young Indian girl as she reflected
the advancing stages of education and refinement which make the
civilized world. Well she remembered the lonesome, world forgotten time
when she first registered in the great reception room, seven years
before, after two years' private tutorship in her effort to master the
English language and learn her A, B, C's.
Oh! the days and nights of study, study, study! Nothing but knowledge,
for breakfast, dinner, supper and dreams. And as she looked forward to
the easy senior year and honors which awaited her upon graduation day,
she smiled a little and then waxed serious.
"Me, Chiquita, the daughter of a red devil, mistress of English, French,
German, Russian, Spanish, Greek and Latin. Winner of prizes in
literature, elocution and music, as well as first lady at all class
parties! For two years no function by any great society or college
demonstration has been complete without Chiquita, and this is to be my
last year. Then adios to my alma mater forever--yes, _forever_. It
is little satisfaction to fill one's mind with knowledge. It is poverty.
The mind is dull that is oppressed with wisdom. Chiquita is not as happy
here as she expected. But, ah, happiness will surely come when I visit
the sick, the maimed, and comfort the dying. In that life where the
'medicine man' of the paleface cuts out big chunk in sick man and
pale-faced sister in 'medicine clothes' nurse 'em 'til all well. Ah,
Jack, you told me the 'medicine' story in such simple language that I
understood it far easier than I now interpret the oppressive wisdom
dispensed at clinics or lecture room, by those who fetter themselves to
profound and awe-inspiring dissertations, until human intelligence seems
a fallacy. With this vast amount of knowledge how little we know! But
that reminds me: what will be the theme for my valedictory? There is no
one who can, no one who will expect this honor but Chiquita. And I will
discuss 'Ambition,' something after this fashion:
"'A soul lay fettered at the portals of heaven. The long, winding
stairway reached down into space, through worlds of worlds, and
countless millions ascended toward the great white throne, each
unconcerned as to the fate of the other. On a bier, with body swathed in
burial robes, lay the inanimate clay from which the soul fled after its
imprisonment of the allotted threescore and ten years. Around the bier
were gathered the few of the endless millions left behind, who
remembered the departed a brief season and then became absorbed in the
great race of life against death. Science is constantly establishing new
guideposts in the chaos of obscurity and winning converts to the domain
of enlightened intelligence.'
"There, that is what comes of educating a Ute chief's daughter, and
about six pages of that will be proof positive that the savage is
infinitely happier with the worship of the sun, the wind, the water as
animate objects, than we in the realm of knowledge with our defunct
moons and birdless heavens."
Chiquita spent a great portion of her senior year in day dreaming and
imaginings, often putting her thoughts into manuscript form. Not that
she expected to use them, but because she read the stories she thus
improvised over and over to herself, occasionally sending one to Jack
for his inspection and criticism. If Jack said it was good she kept it,
but if he made objections to any portion, she destroyed the whole. In
one of these she wrote of her people and herself and the utter folly of
any attempt on the part of the Indians to regain their lost hunting
ground and lands. She wrote thus:
"Alas! for my people! The Great Spirit of the white man is probably the
same as the Great Manitou of the red man, the Buddha of the Hindoo and
the Mahomet of the Arab. All worship a divine being, all nations and
tribes of the earth acknowledge a power, mysterious, ever present but
unseen, who rules the world, the elements and the actions of his
followers. The white races are intellectual, far outranking the black
man of Africa, the yellow man of eastern Asia and the red man of
America. In the end I see but one result, the occupation by them of the
entire world and ultimate blotting out of all religion except the
Christian belief in the Messiah, who in the form of man was crucified to
do away with the offerings, sacrifices and consecrated rites established
by the Hebrews and observed by them without dissension until the
commencement of the Christian era. But there are Jews today still
looking for the King promised by the old prophets of the Bible, and
while prophecy upon prophecy has been fulfilled in a most marvelous
manner, these people with no country, no flag, no standing as a nation
are promised the earth and fulness thereof and a new Jerusalem.
"Do not the followers of Buddha look forward from the death of Gaudama,
who became incarnate 500 years B. C., to the thousands of years which
must pass before another Buddha appears to restore the world from
ignorance and decay? Do not the noble red-skinned tribes of the great
American continent pray to their Manitou for the restoration of the land
where the buffalo roam and the paleface cannot molest them?
"But, alas, my people! The heathen world must succumb before the strides
of education, science and civilization. It is useless to hope for the
return of those days, and while the children of the forest cannot in one
generation adapt themselves to the ways and habits of industry,
education and social life of their white brethren, the time is not far
distant when the blanket Indian will be as the buffalo, and the noble
red man become a farmer, mechanic or politician.
"The 'home, sweet home' of the people is the place where they spent
their early youth, and no matter where their other years are passed, no
matter what their successes, no matter what their failures, the sweetest
spot on earth is the home of their younger days, to which millions
return and from which millions die far away, but with 'fatherland' a
vision still bright before them."
The last term was at end. Visitors flocked to the old historic town to
witness the commencement exercises and hear Chiquita, the Ute's
daughter, deliver the valedictory. Her father, the aged Yamanatz, was
there with several chiefs in full council robes, and this of itself was
sufficient to draw thousands of the curious. Prominent officials, who
had watched the progress of yoking the savage red maiden of the forest
to her civilized white sister of fashion, occupied front seats on the
platform of the edifice wherein the commencement scenes were enacted.
Interest in the preliminary features seemed to flag, and only desultory
attention greeted the various ones as diplomas were handed out.
Little were the gowned professors and learned LL. D.'s prepared for the
tumultuous wave of approbation which greeted Chiquita as she appeared on
the platform from a side entrance, clad in her native costume of
richly-beaded buckskin, her copper colored face set in a frame of
intensely black hair, which reached to her knees in voluminous braids
from whose ends dangled the "medicine" of the Utes. Words are feeble to
express the transition from darkness to educated light, but there she
stood in primeval beauty, uttering her valedictory in language so
fascinating that not one syllable was lost.
Bouquets were showered upon her, "bravos" rent the air, and, as she
stepped before the dean to receive her sheepskin, with its guarantee
that Chiquita was educated, a smile of profound satisfaction played for
an instant over her marvelously thoughtful face. Then spying Yamanatz
near the platform, she bounded into his arms to receive his blessing,
her filial affection superior to her decorous surroundings. Never before
in the history of the college had such an outburst of enthusiasm greeted
a graduate.