could almost boast a bodyguard as bold and true as the bowmen of Robin
Hood. His Indian friend speedily became a sort of foster brother, and his
tribe as faithful as the most attached Tail of Gillies that ever surrounded
a Highland chieftain. Even, the stupid kine lowed, on finding themselves
suddenly transferred to a boundless range of richest pasture, and soon
began improving rapidly in condition and increasing in numbers.
The little garden was also smiling like a rose, the over-abundant grass
gradually giving way to thriving crops. The Indians continued friendly and
faithful, occasionally bringing presents of venison and other game, and
were uniformly rewarded from the stores of a dairy overflowing with milk
and cream, and filled with butter and cheese.
In time a small grist and saw mill was built on the banks of the little
stream, for the profit of the owner, and the accommodation of neighboring
settlers. The Indian friend who made all this prosperity possible was at
length induced to form a part of the establishment in the capacity of head
shepherd a duty he undertook most cheerfully, as it still left him
opportunities for hunting, trapping and keeping in touch with his tribe.
Let us hope, therefore, that nothing will occur to mar this beautiful
picture of sylvan life; that the McDougal colony will wax stronger, till
every acre of the beautiful prairie is forced to yield tribute to the plow
and sickle.
{Illustration: Se-Quo-Yah, the Cherokee Cadmus with his alphabet in his
hands.}
VIII. STORY OF SE-QUO-YAH, THE CHEROKEE CADMUS.
About the year 1763 a child was born to an Indian woman in the old Cherokee
country of Georgia. He was on his father's side the grandson of a German
by the name of Guess, or Ghiest, and was given the name George Guess,
though he is better known as Se-Quo-Yah. He was early impressed with the
thought of the superiority of the white over the red race, and wisely
concluded that much of this was due to the white man's learning, and
ability to represent his thoughts on paper in a way to mean the same thing
to every one who saw it; unlike the picture writing then in vogue among the
Cherokees, which was necessarily lacking in clearness and liable to
misinterpretation.
He could neither read nor speak any language other than Cherokee, but he
was a close observer, and a mechanical genius, and determined to invent a
system of writing his language. In some manner, Se-Quo-Yah found out that
the writing of the white man consisted in the use of characters to
represent sounds. At first he thought of using one character for each word;
but this was not possible because there are so many words it complicated
matters too much. He finally concluded that as there were eighty-six
syllables in Cherokee, he would form a series of eighty-six characters to
represent them. He found that these characters could be so combined as to
represent every word in the Cherokee language. Many of these characters
were taken from an English spelling-book which he managed to get hold of.
Some are Greek characters, and others are letters of the English alphabet
reversed, the rest were specially invented.
It happened, too, from the structure of the Cherokee language or dialect,
that the syllabic alphabet is also in the nature of a grammar; so that
those who know the language by ear and master the alphabet, can at once
read and write. Owing to the extreme simplicity of this system, it can be
acquired in a few days. Some have even learned it in one day; which is
certainly very remarkable.
So much for the invention. The reader is no doubt interested in knowing
more of the history of the inventor of this wonderful alphabet, which has
proven such a blessing to the Cherokees.
The only remarkable thing about Se-Quo-Yah's early years appears to have
been his preference for playing alone and building houses of sticks in the
woods, rather than to join in the sports of Indian children of his age. His
mother owned a few cows that furnished her the means of living. When her
son was grown to be a sturdy boy he built a substantial milk house, where
he helped his mother with the dairy work, showing himself an expert
dairyman and adding materially to her profits.
He early displayed great interest in natural forms and unusual power of
observation, and developed much skill in representing what he saw in
drawing. His pictures were at first as crude as the common picture-writing
of his people; but with practice his animals and men assumed more and more
a living shape and an accurate expression of action. He became famed as an
artist, and many visited his mother's cabin to see his pictures and to
watch the wonderful process of their creation.
When he had reached early manhood this same artistic faculty led him to
desire to create objects of beauty, and he turned his attention to making
the silver ornaments so much prized by his people, such as armlets,
brooches and clasps. There was great demand for these products of his
hands, owing to the novelty of their design and the fineness of their
execution. But Se-Quo-Yah possessed a practical vein of artistic talent.
Not content with making silver trinkets, he became a blacksmith, and turned
out from his forge the finest spades, rakes and hoes, which were highly
appreciated by some of his tribesmen who failed to perceive the artistic
quality of his silver work.
There was an individual quality about his hoes as well as his bracelets
which he valued and desired to have the credit of, and he wished to put
some mark upon his work that would prove it to be his own. With this
thought in mind, he went to a white neighbor with whom he was on the most
friendly terms, and asked him to write his name on paper. Mr. Lowrey wrote
it, using his English name, George Guess. From this Se-Quo-Yah made a die
with which he stamped all the articles of silver or iron that he made.
His work had not only put much money in his pouch, but was fast making him
the most popular young man of the tribe. This popularity came near being
his ruin. The young men flocked about him, praised his skill, and envied
him the gain it brought him. He requited their flattery with generous
entertainment, according to the fashion of his people. Unfortunately
contact with the white man had changed this fashion for the worse. Indians
of an earlier generation had entertained their friends with feasts of game
and sweet potatoes; but the young braves of 1800 and thereabouts preferred
rum, Se-Quo-Yah would buy a keg of rum, and with a party of companions,
would retire into the woods to remain until the rum supply was exhausted
and they had recovered from its effects. The work of the forge stood still;
money was getting low in the pouch.
Through the efforts of his good friend, Mr. Lowrey, Se-Quo-Yah was aroused
to a sense of his folly and degradation before it was too late to break
away from his bad habits; he gave up his idle companions, resumed his work
with renewed industry and spent his leisure time among the more sedate and
intelligent men of his tribe.
Among the people in whose society he was now to be found, a frequent
subject of discussion was the wonderful power possessed by the white man of
making curious marks upon paper, which meant the same thing to every white
man to whom they might be shown; unlike the Indian's picture-writing, which
meant this or that, according to the interpretation put upon it. Some
characterized it as sorcery; some reverently called it a gift of the Great
Spirit to his favorite children; some believed it to be a mere trick, and
with the object of detecting the fraud would show a written sentence to one
white man after another, expecting some variation in the interpretation.
Se-Quo-Yah alone pronounced it an art which might be practiced by all men,
if they had only the ingenuity. He expressed the belief that he could "talk
on paper," and in spite of the ridicule of his friends set to work to make
good his assertion.
In the woods he gathered birch bark which he separated into thin sheets; on
these, with dyes extracted from plants, he painted pictures, each one of
which represented the name of some natural object. This process was very
laborious and he abandoned it when he found that he had accumulated a
number of characters greater than he could remember, while the vocabulary
of the language still remained far from complete.
He now procured coarse paper and made a rough book, in which he began
another series of experiments. At this point he had some assistance from a
collection of "talking leaves," as the Indians called a printed page. An
English spelling-book fell into his hands, but he could not read a word of
it; he did not even know any English, but the "talking leaves" were covered
all over with figures of distinct shape, such figures as he was taxing his
ingenuity to invent. Some of them he copied and adopted in his work, where,
however, they play a part quite unlike that with which we associate them in
the English alphabet. For instance, among the eighty-six characters of the
alphabet invented by Se-Quo-Yah, we recognize the forms of our W, H, B and
other letters, but W stands for the sound la, and the others represent
sounds just as far from their English equivalents.
After about two years' work Se-Quo-Yah had the satisfaction of seeing that
he had really achieved the end for which he had labored so patiently. He
had made a complete alphabet of the Cherokee language, an alphabet of which
it may safely be affirmed that it is the most perfect in the world, since
its characters represent exactly the sound for which they stand, unlike the
letters of our English alphabet, which in many cases do not even suggest
the sound of the word they spell. For example, a Cherokee who read the
letters b-u-t would take for granted that he had spelled the word beauty;
reading l-e-g, he would pronounce it elegy. The consequence of this is
that when a Cherokee school boy has once mastered the alphabet he knows
how to read without any further labor. There are no spelling lessons to
learn. If he hears a word correctly pronounced he knows exactly what
letters must be used to form it.
Having composed his alphabet, Se-Quo-Yah tested it by teaching it to his
little daughter, six years old. To his joy, he found that as soon as she
had become familiar with the characters she could form correctly any word
he spoke.
It had taken him two years to perfect his method; it took him a longer time
to convince his people of its value. During those years, his neglect of his
forge and the chase, his idle dreaming over his "talking leaves," had
aroused the ridicule and contempt of his neighbors and the head men of his
tribe, and angered his wife, who resented finding her husband a lazy drone
in place of the prosperous blacksmith she had married. The most kindly
opinion expressed of him was that he was insane; even the children laughed
at the madman and his "talking leaves." When he assured them that those
"talking leaves" contained a secret of inestimable value to the Cherokee
nation, they only laughed the more and passed on, shaking their heads and
saying, "Poor old Se-Quo-Yah!"
With considerable difficulty he persuaded his old friend, Mr. Lowrey to
come to his cabin and make a test of his discovery. Mr. Lowrey consented
from mere good-nature, not expecting to learn anything of interest.
Se-Quo-Yah asked him to dictate to him some words and sentences, which he
wrote in his characters. He then called in his little daughter, who read
without difficulty the sentences that she had not heard spoken. There was
no possibility of doubting that here was a great discovery. Mr. Lowrey
became Se-Quo-Yah's earnest helper in his efforts to gain recognition. But
the obstacles in the way were hard to overcome. Prejudice against "white
men's ways," distrust of a thing so contrary to the traditions of the
tribe, fear of sorcery, all had to be met and conquered. At length the
chiefs of the nation consented to a public test of Se-Quo-Yah's claims. A
number of the most intelligent young men of the tribe were selected and
placed under his tuition. The result confirmed in the minds of the more
superstitious their belief in the magical nature of Se-Quo-Yah's
characters. Some of the scholars learned the alphabet in three days and
were then able to read anything that Se-Quo-Yah had written at the
dictation of any of the judges. The triumph of the inventor was complete.
The tide once turned swelled to a flood. So many students flocked about the
master that he could not teach them all. The youth of the nation were
seized with a mad desire for knowledge of the "talking leaves." The old men
began to grumble about the spell of enchantment that Se-Quo-Yah had cast
over the young braves, making them indifferent to the corn-dance and
neglectful of the chase, while they spent their days poring over foolish
bits of paper. But the objection of the conservatives was overruled by the
enthusiasm of the more progressive party. Study of the new art became
general among the younger generation. Schools were opened, text-books were
prepared. English books were translated and printed in the Cherokee
character. One of the earliest translations made was of the third chapter
of the Gospel of St. John, which was prepared by a Christian Indian and
printed before any other part of the Scriptures.
Se-Quo-Yah now made a journey to the West, visiting a portion of his tribe
that had emigrated to Arkansas. To them also he communicated his discovery
and instructed them in the use of his alphabet. After his return to
Georgia, he held a correspondence with these disciples in the west that was
eyed askance by the conservative elders as savoring too much of the black
art.
During this absence in the West, his admirers in the East had secured from
the council of the nation an appropriation of a sum of money to provide a
medal to be presented to Se-Quo-Yah in commemoration of his great
achievement. This medal was made in Washington. It was of silver and bore
on one side the medallion portrait of the Indian Cadmus, on the other a
complimentary inscription. During the remainder of his life he wore it
constantly suspended about his neck, and took great pride in exhibiting it
to his friends.
A natural consequence of the popular interest in the new art of reading and
letter-writing was a demand for news--more news than could be had through
personal correspondence. This demand was met five years after the nation
had accepted the alphabet, by the publication of a newspaper, the first
paper printed in the Indian character. It was called _The Phoenix,_ and the
editor was Elias Boudinot, a Cherokee, who had received a liberal education
at the North.
The paper was printed partly in the Cherokee character and partly in
English. Another paper, similarly arranged, was started one year after the
death of Se-Quo-Yah by an appropriation of the national council, and is
still issued weekly at Tahlequah, Indian Territory.
This paper is called the _Cherokee Advocate._ A copy of it is on the
author's desk as he writes this article, and he hopes some day to be able
to read it.
In 1838, when the Cherokees were removed from their old home in Georgia,
Se-Quo-Yah emigrated with them to western Arkansas. There he remained for
about four years, extending the knowledge of literature among his people
and enjoying his late-earned fame. Here in the new west there reached his
ears rumors from the still remote West of a people whom he believed to be a
lost portion of the Cherokee nation, and he felt a great desire to reach
and extend to them also the benefits he had conferred upon the nation at
large. He determined to go in search of these lost Cherokees. The means to
carry out this plan may have been secured through a grant made to him by
the nation about this time of an annuity equal to the salary of a chief.
He fitted up a prairie wagon with camp equipage and added books, writing
materials, and everything necessary for the instruction of any who might
come to him to be taught.
This indomitable old man, now in his seventy-third year, started across the
mountains and prairies en route for New Mexico. His granddaughter, Mrs.
Lucy Keys, of Woods, Indian Territory, writes, concerning this last
journey: "I was about twelve years old when my grandfather, Se-Quo-Yah,
left his home in the Cherokee Nation in 1843.
"I remember well the morning they left. His son, Teece, and several other
men, I do not know their names, went with him. He limped a little as he
walked, and coughed a great deal. It was said that he had the breast
complaint. His friends thought a change of climate would help him. I was
present when the men returned and reported his death.
"They told how his health began to improve, and they had great hopes of his
recovery, until after passing Grand River. Then they found only bad water;
and his health failed again; the provisions became scarce, and they
depended entirely on game. It seemed that there was nothing for them. One
of the men always stayed with Se-Quo-Yah, until at last he sent them all to
hunt. They remained over night, and on their return to the place next day
where they had left him, he was gone, but had left directions for them to
follow him to another place which he described.
"They hurried on, but found him dead. They put his papers with his body and
wrapped it with blankets and placed it away, upon a kind of shelf, in a
small cave, where nothing could disturb it. They said they marked the place
so they could find it, but the men sent to bring the body failed to find
the place."
In the Council House of Tahlequah is a marble bust of Se-Quo-Yah, showing
him a man of mild and thoughtful countenance. His true monument is the
literature of his nation; the memory of his great achievement is
perpetuated in the name of those giant trees that tower above the Western
forests as he over topped other men of his tribe.
Shortly after the knowledge of Se-Quo-Yah's system became general among his
people, Col. Thomas L. McKenney made a report to the War Department on the
condition of the Cherokee Nation, in which he says: "The success which has
attended the philological researches of one of the nation, whose system of
education has met with universal approbation among the Cherokees, certainly
entitles him to great consideration and to rank with the benefactors of
men. His name is Guess and he is a native and unlettered Cherokee; but,
like Cadmus, he has given to his people the alphabet of their language."
{Illustration: Big Tree, Second Kiowa Chief and Baptist Deacon.}
IX. JOHN JAYBIRD, THE INDIAN RELIC-MAKER, AND THE
CITY DUDE.
A remnant of the Cherokees remained in North Carolina, Georgia and
Tennessee, after the most of the tribe removed to Indian Territory. Among
these was a young man named John Jaybird, known among both whites and
Indians as "the Indian relic-maker." His chief employment is carving the
images of men and animals in a kind of soft stone found near the Little
Tennessee River, of western North Carolina. With no other implement than
a pocket-knife he can carve an exact image of any animal he has ever seen,
or of which he has ever seen a picture. For these curiosities, or "Indian
relics," as he calls them, he finds a profitable sale among the whites. He
lived on the banks of the Little Tennessee River, and when not carving was
fishing.
E. E. White, the special Indian agent, tells the following amusing story in
which this young Cherokee figured. He said "A dude came out from the city
to visit Mr. Siler, a prominent young lawyer of Charleston, North Carolina.
He professed to be fond of fishing, and from the first manifested great
impatience to embark in that delightful pastime. He was very loud, and so
extremely blustering and energetic that Mr. Siler's village friends stood
off and looked on in amazement, and sometimes in great amusement also. But
Mr. Siler was courteous and obliging and not disposed to be critical.
Nevertheless it was whispered about among his home friends that at heart
he would be glad enough to get the dude off in the woods out of sight. At
all events, he said, the dude should fish as much as he wished.
"Equipped with bait and tackle they betook themselves to the river. To the
dude's evident astonishment the fish refused to come out on the bank and
suffer him to kill them with a club, and he shifted about too much to give
them a chance at his hook. He could always see a better place somewhere
else. He soon began to manifest disappointment in the fish and disgust for
the country, and intimated that the people were shamefully deficient in
enterprise and style, and in no respect what they should be. Rambling on
down the river, the dude leading and Siler following--they came in sight of
Jaybird, who was also fishing. Sitting motionless on a rock, with his gaze
fixed on the cork on his line, he seemed the counterpart of 'the lone
fisherman.'
"By Jove! Yonder's an Indian," said the dude; "let's make him get away and
let us have that place." "Oh, no," replied Siler; "that's John Jaybird, one
of the best fellows in the world. Let's not bother him."
Mr. Siler and Jaybird were close friends. "No," said the dude; "that's the
most decent place I've seen, and I intend to have it; I do, by Jove!"
"Oh, no; don't do that," Siler pleaded; "he wouldn't disturb us. Besides,
if we try to make him go, he's liable to get stubborn, and we had better
not have any trouble with him. Wait and I'll ask him to let you have the
place; may be he'll do it."
"Oh, get out," the dude ejaculated; "what's the use of so much politeness
with a lazy, sleepy-looking Indian? Watch me wake him up and make him trot.
By Jove, watch me!"
Swelling himself up to the highest tension, he strode up to Jaybird, who
was still unaware of their approach. Slapping his hand down on Jaybird's
head and snatching his hat off, he exclaimed:
"Here, you Indian; clear out from here! By Jove, clear out!"
Jaybird looked up at the intruder, but with a face as barren of expression
as the rock upon which he sat.
Comprehending the demand, however, he replied: "Yes; me no clear out. Me
heap like it, this place. Me heap ketch him, fish."
"Get out, I tell You! By Jove, get out!" roared the dude, with visible
signs of embarrassment and rage.
"Yes, me no git out. Me heap like it, this." Before Jaybird could finish
the sentence the dude slapped him on the side of the head with his open
hand. Springing to his feet, Jaybird uttered a whoop and ran into the dude,
butting him with his head and shoulders instead of striking him. The dude's
breath escaped from him with a sound not unlike the bleat of a calf, and he
fell at full length on his back. Jaybird went down on top of him, pounding
and biting with a force and ferocity that suggested a combination of
pugilist and wild cat. The dude tried to call Siler, but Jaybird put his
mouth over the dude's and bit his lips half off. He bit the dude's nose,
eyebrows, cheeks, ears and arms. He choked him and beat him from his waist
to his head.
When Jaybird thus sprung himself head foremost at the dude, Siler fell over
on the ground in a spasm of laughter. This did not escape Jaybird's notice,
and he jumped to a wrong conclusion as to the cause of it.
Siler always said he had no idea the Indian was hurting the dude half so
bad, but that the turn the affair had taken was so absurd and ridiculous,
he would have been bound to laugh any way. His friends believed that he was
simply glad to see the dude get a whipping. Possibly both these causes
contributed to his hilarity.
But the conviction had fastened itself on Jaybird's mind that this man
Siler, whom he had always regarded as a friend, was laughing _because the
dude was making him clear out._ So, while the _dude was performing that
feat,_ Jaybird kept one eye on Siler and silently determined in his own
mind what he would do for him when he got through with the dude.
The dude had scarcely raised a hand in resistance since this human catapult
struck him, and now he lay there as limp and motionless as a dead man.
Siler had laughed until he was almost exhausted, and was leaning against a
sapling, still laughing. Suddenly Jaybird uttered another whoop, sprang
from the dude and rushed furiously on Siler. Before the hilarious lawyer
could recover from his surprise, he was down on his back, rapidly being
pounded and chewed into pulp himself.
The dude dragged himself to the root of a tree, carefully placed his single
eyeglass, and began, as Siler expressed it, "to hold an inquest on himself,
and take an inventory of his bruises and mutilations!" Siler called to him
for help. He seemed surprised, and could repress his resentment of Siler's
conduct no longer. Readjusting his eyeglass, and taking a closer look at
Jaybird and Siler, he exclaimed in a tone of mingled revenge and
satisfaction:
"Ah, by Jove! You're calling for help yourself now, are you? You played the
deuce helping me you did, by Jove! I hope he'll beat you to death and
scalp you, and if it were not for the law I'd help him do it; I would, by
Jove!"
Jaybird relaxed no effort until Siler was as badly whipped as the dude.
Then rising and deliberately _spitting on his bait_ afresh he resumed his
seat on the rock, and again remarked in the same half deprecating tone,
though with rather an ominous shake of his head: "Yes, me no git out. Me
heap like it, this place. Me heap ketch him, fish."
None of their bones being broken, Siler and the dude were able to get back
to Charleston. The whole town gathered in to look at them, and the affair
provoked many witty comments. The doctor said he could patch up their
wounds well enough for all practical purposes, but he shook his head
discouragingly when asked if they would ever be pretty any more.
Mr. Jaybird came out without a scratch, and Siler said the last they saw
of him he was sitting on the rock gazing at the cork on his line, precisely
as he was when they found him.
It is certainly refreshing to read of one Indian who had rights white men
were bound to respect, and who knew so well how to maintain them. "_May his
tribe increase._"
X. PROOF THAT THE INDIAN POPULATION OF THE UNITED
STATES IS INCREASING.
In order to disprove the impression which prevails among a large majority
of our people that the Indians are decreasing constantly, we quote the
following from the Government report relative to the population of our
Reservations:
INDIAN RESERVATIONS IN THE UNITED STATES AND TERRITORIES.
Area in Sq. Indian
Area in Acres. Miles. Population.
Arizona 15,150,757 23,673 40,189
California 406,396 635 11,341
Colorado 995
Florida 575
Idaho 1,364,500 2,132 3,557
Indian Territory 19,513,216 30,489 86,265
Iowa 2,965 4 385
Kansas 28,279 44 1,211
Michigan 8,317 13 7,557
Minnesota 1,566,707 2,477 8,952
Montana 9,500,700 14,845 10,076
Nebraska 74,592 116 3,854
Nevada 954,135 1,491 8,321
New Mexico 1,667,485 2,605 9,480
New York 87,677 137 5,334
North Carolina 98,211 153 1,436
North Dakota 3,701,724 5,784 8,276
Oklahoma 6,884,021 10,756 13,926
Oregon 1,300,225 2,031 4,063
South Dakota 8,991,791 14,049 19,212
Texas 290
Utah 2,390,040 3,186 2,115
Washington 2,333,574 3,646 9,827
Wisconsin 381,061 595 10,726
Wyoming 1,810,000 2,828 1,642
Miscellaneous or scattering 449
____________ ________ _______
Total in the year 1880 154,741,349 241,800 255,327
Total in the year 1900 77,865,373 121,665 270,544
____________ ________ ________
Total gain of Indian population in ten years 15,217
XI. RICH INDIAN MAID.
ANNIE DILLION, A LITTLE KIOWA GIRL, WHO IS HEIRESS TO MORE THAN
$1,000,000--SAVES A RICH CATTLEMAN'S LIFE AND HE FITTINGLY
REWARDED HER--PRETTY AND INTELLIGENT.
Because she proved true to her white friend in his time of need, Annie
Trueheart Dillion, a little Kiowa maiden, fourteen years old, has become
the richest Indian girl in all the West. Annie is the daughter of Chief
Black Wolf and is heiress to the entire fortune of $1,000,000 and more left
by John Dillion, a rich cattleman. Dillion was born and raised in Ireland,
and when he came to America he went to Texas and worked on a ranch in that
State as laborer and cowboy. By careful management he became rich. From his
cattle ranch on the Rio Grande he shipped every year large herds of cattle
to the Indian Territory to fatten upon the fine pasture lands of that
favored region during the spring and summer. He had been in this business
so long that he was pretty well acquainted with all of the Kiowa chiefs and
various members of the nation, and from the fact that he always had dealt
fairly with his red brothers he was popular. He leased vast areas of
pasture lands every year, and was always prompt in the payment of the
rents. He was liberal, good-hearted and kindly disposed, but with one grave
fault--he dearly loved a glass of grog, and as he grew older and his
constitution began to yield to the hardships incident to his career he
drank much. He enjoyed the company of his cowboys and cattlemen, and
nothing pleased him better after a successful deal than to surround himself
with a crowd of good fellows and make a night of it with plenty of red
liquor. Seven years ago a little affair of this kind came near ending his
career. He had visited the Territory to meet the agent of a big syndicate,
with whom he expected to make a deal that would relieve him of several
thousand head of steers. The deal was made and Dillion was in a most
felicitous frame of mind. At that time the old Texan had in his employ a
half-breed Cherokee, Bill Hawk. This rascal happened to be present when
Dillion received a large sum of money in bills, which he saw the old man
roll together and put in his pocket. The elated Texan, after taking several
more toddies, decided to go out to a pasture about ten miles from
Chickasha, where he had a fine herd of cattle that were being looked after
by some of his favorite Texan cowboys, and he asked Hawk to hitch up a
buggy and go with him. The man was eager to go, but his conduct did not
arouse any suspicion at the time. The road to the pasture passed through a
small Indian village, where Dillion had many acquaintances. When the old
man reached this place several Indians and half-bloods gathered about his
buggy and begged him to stay over night to attend a dance. He did so and
enjoyed himself to the utmost until he finally succumbed to slumber. Late
in the night the old Texan felt something pulling his arm, and when he
opened his eyes he found that a little Indian girl was trying to wake him.
As soon as the child saw that his eyes were opened she whispered: "Dillion,
now you go putty quick. Hawk heap bad man. Putty soon him come. Him got big
knife--kill white man--take boss--take heap money. Me hear him talk. Him
heap drunk. You go now." The child ran away, and Dillion slipped from under
his blankets and rolled them together. After placing his hat at one end of
the roll and his boots at the other he crawled away a short distance and
lay down under a tree to watch for further developments. He did not wait
long before he saw a man cautiously approach the pile of blankets. The
drunken assassin was deceived by the hat and boots. He thought that his
victim was at his mercy, and he drew a big knife from his belt and drove it
into the roll of blankets with all his strength. The next instant Hawk
sprang into the air with a wild yell and fell dead across the blankets,
with a bullet in his heart. Dillion had killed him.
The old Texan never afterward was the same man. He continued to attend to
his business and make money, but it was easy to see that there was a cloud
on his mind. He never suspected his friend, Black Wolf, or any of the
Indians of the village of having aided the assassin. He became attached
devotedly to the Indian girl who had saved his life, and he finally got the
chief's consent to let him educate her and make her his heiress. She was to
be given to him when she became fourteen years old, but he died a short
time before she reached that age, and now the girl's future and fortune are
in the hands of important persons. John Rogers, of Presidio, who was in the
millionaire's employ for nearly a quarter of a century, is the executor of
his will, and he says that the Indian girl will inherit a fortune of
$1,000,000 in cash that is with a safe deposit company in New York, and
besides this, when she is of legal age, or when she marries, she will come
into possession of a fine ranch on the Rio Grande that is well stocked with
cattle, and one of the prettiest haciendoes in old Mexico.
Miss Annie, who is now but fifteen years old, is at present a student at
Hardin College, Mexico, Missouri. When she completes the course there she
will go to some Eastern school for the finishing touches. She is a
pure-blooded Indian girl and few heiresses have come into their fortunes in
a way more romantic.
XII. MONUMENTS ERECTED TO SOME OF THE FAMOUS
INDIANS.
Will M. Clemens, in writing recently for a Chicago paper, says: "In the
United States to-day are nine monuments erected by white men to perpetuate
the memory of famous Indians, and the nine great warriors of the early
wilderness thus remembered are Miantonomoh, Uncas, Keokuk, Leatherlips,
Seattle, Red Jacket, Cornstalk, Tomo-Chi-Chi and Pokagon.
"Miantonomoh, famous sachem of the Narragansetts, was one of the first
Indian chiefs of whom early English settlers of Connecticut and Rhode
Island had knowledge. He was captured and executed in 1643 and was buried
a mile east of Norwich, Connecticut, on the spot where he died. For many
years thereafter members of his tribe made visits to the grave, and each
added to a pile of stone until a considerable monument was raised in this
way to his memory by his own tribe. In 1841 the citizens of Norwich and
vicinity placed over the grave of Miantonomoh a solid block of granite,
eight feet long, five feet high and five feet in thickness, with the
inscription, 'Miantonomoh, 1643,' cut in large deep letters."
{Illustration: Satanta, Kiowa chief and noted orator.}
"This was the first monument actually erected by white men over the grave
of an Indian; and nothing could better illustrate the advance in
civilization than this act of rescuing the grave of this noted chief from
neglect and oblivion, who two hundred years before had been condemned and
executed by the English settlers.
"Uncas was the most noted chief of the Mohegan tribe, a branch of the
Pequots. He died of advanced age about 1683, at Norwich, Connecticut, to
which town he deeded a large tract of land shortly before his death. The
people of Norwich long contemplated a monument to Uncas, but the project
did not take active form until the summer of 1833, when General Jackson,
then President of the United States, visited Norwich, and his visit was
made the occasion of awakening an active interest in the project of
erecting a monument for their 'old friend,' as they expressed it--the
Mohegan sachem, Uncas.
"President Jackson formally 'moved the foundation-stone to its place.' It
has been described by the historian Caulkins as 'an interesting, suggestive
ceremony; a token of respect from the modern warrior to the ancient--from
the emigrant race to the aborigines.'
"But the project of completing the monument languished, and not until July,
1847, was the Uncas memorial finally completed. It is a granite obelisk or
shaft, about twenty feet in height, supported by a huge granite block upon
which the simple name 'Uncas' is cut in large letters. All about the grave
of Uncas repose the ashes of many chiefs and members of his tribe. The
place had been used before and has been used since by the Indians as a
burying-place, but little or no evidence now remains to distinguish their
respective graves.
"The monument to Chief Keokuk, 'The Watchful Fox,' was erected at Keokuk,
Iowa, in 1886. Subsequent to the Black Hawk War, Keokuk removed with his
tribe from Iowa to the Territory of Kansas, where he died in 1848. Over his
grave was placed a marble slab, which marked his place of burial until
1883, when the remains were exhumed and taken to Keokuk and interred in the
city park, where a durable monument was erected by public-spirited citizens
to designate the final resting-place of the noted chieftain. Later a bronze
bust of Keokuk was placed in the marble room of the United States Senate at
Washington.
"Chief Leatherlips of the Wyandots, who was executed by the people of his
own race in 1810, is remembered by his white brothers with a lasting
monument on the spot where he died in Franklin County, Ohio, fifteen miles
from Columbus. Leather-lips was put to death 'for witchcraft,' and his
execution was witnessed by William Sells, a white man. The Wyandot Club,
of Columbus, in 1888, erected a Scotch granite monument, which stands in
the center of a one-acre park surrounded by a substantial stone wall. The
monument stands upon the summit of the east bank of the Scioto River, about
fifteen rods from the river's edge. The view from the monument, both up and
down the Scioto, is most picturesque and beautiful.
"The monument to Seattle, or Sealth, as called by the Indians, chief of the
Squamish and Allied tribes, stands at Fort Madison, on Puget Sound, fifteen
miles northwest of Seattle, Washington. Sealth was perhaps the greatest
Indian character of the Western country. As a statesman he had no superior
among the red men and ruled his people for more than half a century. At the
time of his death, in 1866, he was the acknowledged head and chief sachem
of all the tribes living on or near Puget Sound. He had reached the age of
eighty when he passed away and had made many warm friends with the white
pioneers in Washington. Over a hundred white men were in attendance at his
funeral. In 1890 his friends erected a monument of Italian marble, seven
feet high, with a base or pedestal surmounted by a cross bearing the
letters 'I. H. S.' On one side of the monument is the following
inscription:
"SEATTLE,
Chief of the Squamish and Allied Tribes,
Died June 7th, 1866.
The Firm Friend of the Whites and for Him the City of Seattle Was Named
by Its Founders.
"The memorial to the great Seneca chief, Red Jacket, or Sa-Go-Ye-Wat-Ha.
'The Keeper Awake,' stands in Forest Lawn Cemetery, Buffalo, New York, and
was erected in June, 1892. Red Jacket was born at Seneca Lake, New York, in
1752, and died on the Seneca reservation, near Buffalo, in 1830. His fame
is that of a statesman and orator rather than as a warrior, and he was
regarded as the most noted chief among the Six Nations of the Iroquois. He
has been described as the perfect Indian in dress, character and instinct.
He refused to acquire the English language, and never dressed other than in
his native costume. He had an unalterable dislike for the missionary and
contempt for the clothes of the white man.
"When Red Jacket died, in 1830, his remains were given over to Ruth
Stevenson, a stepdaughter, who retained them in her cabin for some years,
and finally secreted them in a place unknown to any person but herself.
After she had become advanced in age, she became anxious to have the
remains of her step father receive a final and known resting-place, and
with that view, in October, 1879, she delivered them to the Buffalo
Historical Society, which assumed their care and custody and deposited them
in the vaults of the Western Savings Bank of Buffalo, where they remained
until October, 1884, when their final interment was made in Forest Lawn
Cemetery at Buffalo. The splendid monument which now marks the spot was not
completed until some years after the interment.
"The monument to Chief Cornstalk, warrior and sachem of the Shawnees, was
erected at Point Pleasant, West Virginia, in 1896. It stands in the
courthouse yard and was made possible by the thoughtfulness and generosity
of the leading citizens of Point Pleasant. Here in October, 1774, was
fought that great battle where Cornstalk won fame for his prowess and
general-ship. He was, too, a man endowed with superior intellectual
faculties and was an orator of transcendent eloquence. His murder in 1777
by a party of infuriated soldiers was the result of the killing of a white
settler by some roving Indians. The death of Cornstalk destroyed the only
hope of reconciliation and peace between the white settlers south of the
Ohio River and the Indian tribes north of it. It was followed by a
succession of wars, forays and murders, down to the battle of 'Fallen
Timbers' in 1794, during which time many thousands of white men, women and
children, and many thousands of the red race of all ages and conditions
perished.
"There never has been and never can be any excuse or palliation for the
murder of Cornstalk, and no one event in the history of those bloody times
so much enraged the vindictive spirit of the Indian tribes, particularly of
the Shawnees. It can never be known how many deaths of white men, women and
children during the next twenty years were owing to this murder. One
hundred and twenty years later an enduring monument was raised to his
memory by a few generous-minded white men on the spot where he fought one
of the greatest battles in all Indian warfare, and where three years
afterward he gave up his life.
"In the heart of Savannah, Georgia, reposes a huge granite boulder, erected
in honor of the Indian chief, Tomo-Chi-Chi. This noble red man was the
special friend of Gen. James Oglethorpe, the English knight who, in early
colonial days, endured much hardship in the new country of America to
befriend both the Georgia colony and the Indians thereabout. Chief
Tomo-Chi-Chi, also mighty in the camp-fire councils of the braves, easily
ranked as one of the foremost of his race in those times. And so when the
stately descendants of Colonial sires, known as Colonial Dames of America,
sought to commemorate the spirit of the Georgia colony, four years ago,
they placed this monument in the State capital. The bronze tablet on the
side reads: 'In memory of Tomo-Chi-Chi, the Mico of the Yamacrans, the
companion of Oglethorpe, and the friend and ally of the colony of Georgia,
this stone has been here placed by the Georgia Society of the Colonial
Dames of America, 1739-1899.'
"The monument erected by the citizens of Chicago to Leopold and Simon
Pokagon, chiefs of the Pottawatomie Indians, in Jackson Park, Chicago,
completes the known list of memorials erected by white men to their red
brethren in this country. The Pokagons, father and son, were successive
chiefs and sachems of the once powerful Pottawatomie tribe, which long
occupied the region around the southern and eastern shores of Lake
Michigan. Leopold Pokagon is described as a man of excellent character and
habits, a good warrior and hunter, and as being possessed of considerable
business capacity. He was well known to the early white settlers in the
region about Lake Michigan, and his people were noted as being the most
advanced in civilization of any of the neighboring tribes. He ruled over
his people for forty-three years.
"In 1833 he sold to the United States one million acres of land at 3 cents
an acre, and on the land so conveyed has since been built the city of
Chicago. He died in 1840 in Cass County, Michigan.
"His son, Simon, then ten years of age, became the rightful hereditary
chief of the tribe. At the age of fourteen he began the study of English,
which he successfully mastered, as well as Latin and Greek. No
full-blooded Indian ever acquired a more thorough knowledge of the English
language. In 1897 he wrote an article for a New York magazine on the
'Future of the Red Man,' in which he said: 'Often in the stillness of the
night, when all nature seems asleep about me, there comes a gentle rapping
at the door of my heart. I open it and a voice inquires: "Pokagon, what of
your people? What will be their future?" My answer is: "Mortal man has not
the power to draw aside the veil of unborn time to tell the future of his
race. That gift belongs to the Divine alone. But it is given to him to
closely judge the future by the present and the past."' Pokagon died
January 28, 1899, at his old home in Allegan County, Michigan, at the age
of seventy years; and thus passed away the last and most noted chief of
the once powerful Pottawatomie tribe. His remains were buried in Graceland
Cemetery, Chicago."
We are somewhat surprised that Mr. Clemens should think that the nine
chiefs he mentions form a complete list of those to whom monuments have
been built.
There are several others, including Joseph Brant, the great Mohawk sachem
and head of the Iroquois Confederation, who was buried beside the church he
had erected at Grand River, Canada. There is a monument over his grave,
said to have cost $30,000, with the following inscription:
"This tomb is erected to the memory of Thayendanegea, or Captain Joseph
Brant, principal chief and warrior of the Six Nations, Indians, by his
fellow subjects, admirers of his fidelity and attachment to the British
Crown."
Shabbona, the White Man's Friend, the Pottawatomie chief, also has a
monument on his grave in the cemetery at Morris, Illinois, recently erected
by his white friends. In some cases the contributors were the children of
the very people whose lives Shabbona saved by warning them at the time of
the Black Hawk War. It is a massive boulder of granite, containing only the
following simple inscription:
SHABBONA,
1775-1859.
A full description of the unveiling of this monument is given in our sketch
of Shabbona.
In the month of June of the year 1905 a substantial monument was erected
over the remains of Chief Joseph, of the Nez Perces, known as the Indian
Xenophon, and one of the noblest red men of all history.
This monument now stands in the cemetery at Nespelim, Washington, on a
commanding point, where the remains of the great chief were interred. The
monument is of white marble and measures seven and one-half feet in height.
A full account of the dedication is in our sketch of Chief Joseph. There
is, as stated elsewhere, in the Council House of the Cherokees, at
Tallequah, a marble bust of Se-Quo-Yah, the inventor of the Cherokee
alphabet.
There is also over the entrance to "Tammany Hall," city of New York, a
statue of the celebrated Delaware sachem, from whom the name is derived.
This image is probably fanciful, but there was undoubtedly such an
individual as the illustrious Tamenend, who stands foremost in the list of
all the great men of his tribe in any age.
This chief certainly exerted a far-reaching influence over both red and
white men, even though his history is rather obscure. It is known, however,
that he was a mighty warrior, an accomplished statesman, and a pure and
high-minded patriot. In private life he was still more distinguished for
his virtues than in public for his talents. His countrymen could only
account for the perfections they ascribed to him by supposing him to be
favored with the special communications of the Great Spirit. Ages have
elapsed since his death, but his memory was so fresh among the Delawares of
the eighteenth century that when Colonel Morgan, of New Jersey, was sent as
an agent among them by Congress, during the Revolution, they conferred on
him the title of Tamenend, as the greatest mark of respect they could show
for the manners and character of that gentleman; and he was known by his
Indian appellation ever afterward.
About this time the old chieftain had so many admirers among the whites
also that they made him a saint, inserted his name in calendars, and
celebrated his festival on the first day of May, yearly. On that day a
numerous society of his votaries walked in procession through the streets
of Philadelphia, their hats decorated with buck-tails, and proceeded to a
sylvan rendezvous out of town, which they called the Wigwam, where after a
long talk or speech had been delivered, and the _Calumet_ of friendship
passed around, the remainder of the day was spent in high festivity. A
dinner was prepared and Indian dances performed on the green. The custom
ceased a few years after the conclusion of peace, at the close of the
Revolution, and though other Tammany associations have since existed, they
retain little of the model they were formed upon but the name.
New York city gradually absorbed the name (which was changed from Tamenend
to Tammany for the sake of the euphony) and whatever of political prestige
was included with it.
The name Tammany has come to be a synonym for municipal politics from a
Democratic standpoint, as regards New York city, and it is interesting to
know that the name and fame was literally captured from Philadelphia, where
it first existed.
There are two other Indians who have been honored with memorials, one of
whom was the Indian woman who was the guide to Lewis and Clark, and the
other, Logan, the celebrated Mingo chief.
Within the corporate limits of the city of Auburn, New York, there is a
high elevation called Fort Hill, which derives its name from the fact that
it was formerly surmounted by a fort, built to protect the citizens from
attacks of Indians. When the fort was demolished, the stones of which it
was composed were used to construct a monument in memory of Logan. It is a
tall shaft, in the face of which a slab of marble is inserted bearing
Logan's pathetic words: "Who is there to mourn for Logan--not one." In
summer the shaft is covered with ivy, and as it is on a high point it can
be viewed from a great distance.
Fort Hill is now used as a cemetery.
There were thirty-five people in the Lewis and Clark Exploring Expedition
in 1805, of whom thirty-four were men, and one a woman, but without her
aid, it is quite probable, the expedition would have been a failure. This
woman, Sacajawea, or the Bird-woman, wife of Chaboneau, who accompanied
them as a local interpreter, was a captive whose birthplace was in the
Rocky Mountains. She proved to be the only person found, after a winter's
search, who could by any possibility serve them as interpreter and guide
among the unknown tongues and labyrinthine fastnesses through which they
must force their way.
Sacajawea, therefore, became the chief counselor, guide, and interpreter of
Lewis and Clark. She alone knew the edible roots, springs, passes and
fords. So with her baby on her back, she proudly trudged on in the lead,
for _two thousand miles._ Onward and upward they scrambled, threading
cañons, fording torrents, scaling mountains, until they crossed the
backbone of the continent. When food was scarce she went on alone to the
Indian villages, where her presence with her infant proved to the savages
that the expedition could not be hostile. Making her wants known to the
squaws, she was given provisions for herself and the men. When hope sank in
the hearts of the bravest she alone was able to cheer and inspire, by word
and example.
{Illustration: Chief Simon Pokagon, son of Leopold Pokagon, the
Pottawatomie chief who owned the land on which Chicago stands.}
One day in their long and perilous journey they surprised a squaw so
encumbered with papooses (which she would not desert) that she could not
escape, and winning her heart by painting her cheeks, and presenting a
looking-glass for their inspection, they made friends with her tribe, one
of whose chiefs proved to be a brother to their Bird-woman, and her heart
was gladdened by the reunion.
Many an episode in this eventful journey will hereafter glorify with
romantic association, mountains, cañons, rocks, rivers and islands, all
along the route; and none can be more touching than the story of the
courageous and faithful Sacajawea, the Bird-woman. But when bounties in
land and money were granted to others, she was forgotten. It was ever thus
with the great benefactors of the race in general, and the Indian in
particular. They stone them while living, and stone them when dead by
building monuments to their memory.
In Portland, Oregon, the grateful white women have caused to be erected a
statue of this noble red woman. Those who have seen it inform us that the
artist has been especially happy in his modeling--sober, patient, silent,
head firmly poised, she looks out wistfully to the western mountains and
points the way. On her back is her papoose, chubby and contented, yet
innocent of the thought that he is making history. This noble bronze
reveals the honest wife, the loving mother, the faithful friend, the
unerring guide. "Thousands looking upon this statue," as Elbert Hubbard
says, "have been hushed into silence and tears. There is an earnestness in
it--a purity of purpose--that rebukes frivolity and makes one mentally
uncover."
XIII. PISKARET, THE HERO OF THE ADIRONDACKS.
The Iroquois, or "Romans of the West," called also Mingoes and Massawomeks,
had a formidable rival in a powerful tribe known as the Adirondacks, whose
home was on the Canadian side of the St. Lawrence.
When the French settled Canada, in 1603, they found the Iroquois living
where Montreal now stands, and engaged, even then, in a war with the
Adirondacks. As the French wanted the country occupied by the Iroquois they
promptly made common cause with the Adirondacks, and their united forces
drove the Five Nations across the St. Lawrence and south and east of the
great lakes, Erie and Ontario.
But this warlike confederation soon rallied from their temporary defeat,
and, turning on their old enemies, renewed the struggle with such valor
that the Adirondacks fled three hundred miles into the wilderness to escape
extermination.
The Adirondacks now adopted the plan of sending out small parties, and of
relying especially on their captains. Five of these men, alone, are said,
by their astonishing energy and bravery, to have well-nigh turned the
balance of the war. The chief and leader of this noble quintet was
Piskaret, in his own day the most celebrated chieftain of the North. He and
his four comrades solemnly devoted themselves to the purpose of redeeming
the sullied glory of the nation, at a period when the prospect of conquest,
and perhaps of defense, had already become desperate. They set out for
Three Rivers in one canoe; each of them being provided with three muskets,
which they loaded severally with two bullets, connected by a small chain
ten inches in length. In Sorel River they met with five boats of the
Iroquois, each having on board ten men. As the parties rapidly came
together, Piskaret and his men pretended to give themselves up for lost,
and began singing their death song. This was continued till their enemy was
just at hand, for the Iroquois intended to capture them alive for torture.
But at a signal from Piskaret, the five men seized their muskets from the
bottom of the canoe and fired simultaneously on the five canoes. The charge
was repeated with the arms which lay ready loaded, and the slight birches
of the Iroquois were torn asunder, and the frightened occupants tumbled
overboard as fast as possible. Piskaret and his comrades, after knocking
as many on the head as they pleased, reserved the remainder to feed their
revenge, which was soon afterward done by burning them alive in the most
cruel tortures.
This exploit, creditable as it might be to the actors in the eyes of their
countrymen, served only to sharpen the fierce eagerness for blood which
still raged in the bosom of Piskaret. His next enterprise was far more
hazardous than the former; and so much more so, indeed, even in prospect,
that not a single warrior would bear him company. He set out alone,
therefore, for the country of the Five Nations (with which he was well
acquainted), about that period of the spring when the snow was beginning to
melt. Accustomed, as an Indian must be to all emergencies of traveling as
well as warfare, he took the precaution of putting the hinder part of his
snowshoes forward, so that if his footsteps should happen to be observed by
his vigilant enemy, it might be supposed he had gone the contrary way. For
further security he went along the ridges and high ground, where the snow
was melted, that his track might be lost.
On coming near one of the villages of the Five Nations, he concealed
himself until night, and then entered a cabin, while the inmates were fast
asleep, killed the whole family and carried the scalps to his
lurking-place. The next day the people of the village sought for the
murderer, but in vain. He came out again at midnight and repeated his deed
of blood. The third night a watch was kept in every house and Piskaret was
compelled to exercise more caution. But his purpose was not abandoned. He
bundled up the scalps he had already taken, to carry home with him as a
proof of his victory, and then stole warily from house to house until he at
last discovered an Indian nodding at his post. This man he dispatched at a
blow, but that blow alarmed the neighborhood, and he was forced immediately
to fly for his life. Being, however, the fleetest Indian then alive, he was
under no apprehension of danger from the chase. He permitted his pursuers
to approach him from time to time, and then suddenly darted away from them,
hoping in this manner to discourage, as well as escape them. When the
evening came on he hid himself and his enemies stopped to rest. Feeling no
danger from a single enemy, and he a fugitive, they even indulged
themselves in sleep, without posting a guard. Piskaret, who watched every
movement, turned about, tomahawked every man of them, added their scalps to
his bundle, and leisurely resumed his way home, where he was greeted with
great joy, and a dance, that lasted all day was celebrated in his honor.
When even these heroic deeds failed to arouse the remnant of his once
powerful tribe, Piskaret is said to have journeyed far toward the setting
sun, and joined the warlike Sioux, among whom he became a war-chief.
Perhaps the four Indians of the broadest culture and most liberal education
of the present and recent past are Simon Pokagon, already mentioned, who
was succeeded by his son Charles, Gen. Ely Samuel Parker, Dr. Charles
Alexander Eastman and Dr. Carlos Montezuma.
XIV. GEN. ELY S. PARKER.
Was a full-blooded Seneca Indian, born on the Tonawanda reservation in New
York, in 1820. He was chief of the Seneca tribe and head of the Iroquois
Confederation. His Indian name was Do-No-Hoh-Ga-Wa, which means "Keeper of
the Western Gate." General Parker was educated at Ellicottsville, where he
studied the profession of civil engineering. He also studied law and was
admitted to the New York bar, but never practiced.
He lived for a time in Galena, Illinois, where he was a friend of General
Grant. General Parker received a commission as captain in the United States
army from President Lincoln and joined Grant at Vicksburg in 1862, where he
was made a member of the general's staff, with the rank of colonel. He
wrote the famous surrender of Lee at Appomattox in 1865. Grant made him a
brigadier-general, and when he became President he appointed him
Commissioner of Indian Affairs, which place he held until 1871. For several
years he had been superintendent and architect of police stations in New
York city.
General Parker married Miss Minnie Sackett of Washington, D. C, in 1867.
President Grant attended the marriage ceremony and gave the bride away.
An old veteran who was present at the surrender of Lee at Appomattox, told
the author that General Parker, who was then Grant's military secretary,
had the appearance of a mulatto, and was mistaken for one by some of the
Southern generals, who were indignant that General Grant should dictate the
terms of capitulation to a "nigger." They were mollified, however, when it
was explained to them that the secretary belonged to another swarthy race,
which was never enslaved.
General Parker died at Fairfield, Connecticut, August 31, 1895.
XV. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF DOCTOR EASTMAN.
Charles Alexander Eastman, whose Indian name is Ohiyesa, "The Winner," was
born in Minnesota about 1858. His father was a full-blood Sioux of a
leading family, by the name of Many Lightnings, and his mother a
half-blood, called in Indian The Goddess, or in English Nancy Eastman. She
died soon after the birth of Ohiyesa, who was carefully reared by his
paternal grandmother.
When he was four years old the so-called "Minnesota massacre" broke up his
family and drove the uncle and grandmother, with the boy, into exile in
Manitoba, where they roamed about for ten years, living by the chase. In
the meantime Ohiyesa was educated by his uncle, a notable hunter and
warrior, in woodcraft and all the lore of the red man.
At the age of fifteen the boy was sought and found by his father, who had
in the meantime embraced Christianity and civilization. He brought him to
his home at Flandreau, South Dakota, a little community of citizen Indians,
and sent him to school. After a year at a mission day-school and two years
at Dr. Riggs's Indian boarding-school at Santee, Nebraska, he went east to
Beloit, Wisconsin, then to Knox College, Illinois, taking his final year of
preparatory work at Kimball Union Academy, New Hampshire. He entered
Dartmouth College in 1883, where he was successful both in scholarship and
athletics, his specialty in the latter being long-distance running, and
graduated in 1887. He graduated in medicine in 1890 at the Boston
University.
Immediately after graduation, Dr. Eastman was appointed Government
Physician to the Pine Ridge Agency in South Dakota, and served through the
"Ghost Dance War" and for two years afterward. He married, in 1891, Miss
Elaine Goodale, of Massachusetts. In 1893 he went to St. Paul, Minnesota,
and for several years engaged in medical practice, and also represented the
International Committee of Young Men's Christian Associations among the
Indians. He afterward went to Washington as attorney for the Santee Sioux,
and for several years furthered their interests at the National Capital.
His first literary work was a series of sketches of his early life for St.
Nicholas, published in 1893-4. These were begun without much deliberation
and originally intended to preserve some of his recollections for his own
children. Several sketches and stories were published by other magazines,
and in 1902 his first book, "Indian Boyhood," embodying the story of his
own youth, was published by McClure, Phillips & Co. Two years later a book
of wild animal and Indian hunting tales, "Red Hunters and the Animal
People," appeared with the imprint of Harper and Brothers.
Dr. Eastman has recently been appointed by the Government to revise the
allotment rolls of the Sioux, grouping them under appropriate family names.
He is well known as a lecturer and is everywhere welcomed for his
sympathetic interpretations of Indian life and character.
Beyond a doubt he is, as Hamlin Garland says, "far and away the ablest
living expositor of Sioux life and character."
The Boston Transcript says of him: "Dr. Charles A. Eastman is a Sioux
Indian, and in his life, which began in 1858, has traversed almost the
whole course of human civilization, from the life of a very child of the
woods to that of the honored graduate of the white man's college and
professional school of highest rank. . . . Dr. Eastman came back to his
Alma Mater last month, when the corner-stone of the new Dartmouth Hall was
laid, and at the banquet in the evening he made so good a speech that
President Tucker had the warm applause of the great company when he
exclaimed, 'Almost thou persuadest me to be an Indian!'"
Dr. Eastman's present home is Amherst, Massachusetts.
XVI. DR. CARLOS MONTEZUMA.
Is a full-blood Apache Indian. In the year 1872, when he was five years
old, he was captured by the Pimas and brought to their camp, where he was
offered for sale, a horse being the price asked. A traveling photographer,
Mr. Charles Gentile, who happened to be in the Pima camp taking
photographs, became interested in the boy and offered $30, the price of a
horse, which the Indians accepted. He brought the boy East, and sent him to
the public schools of Brooklyn, Boston and Chicago, and finally, through
the interest of friends, he entered the Illinois State University. He
developed special aptitude for chemistry, and when he graduated a place was
found for him in a drug store near the Chicago Medical College, where as a
clerk he supported himself and earned means for the expense of a course in
that college. He graduated in 1889, and, by the advice of friends, located
as a physician in Chicago.
When General Morgan became Commissioner of Indian Affairs he heard of Dr.
Montezuma and offered him an appointment as physician for the Indian school
at Fort Stephenson, North Dakota. The doctor accepted, and after about a
year's service there was promoted to the position of agency physician at an
agency in Nevada. Afterward he held a similar position at the Colville
agency, Washington. His next appointment was that of school physician at
Carlisle Indian School in 1893.
In 1896 Dr. Montezuma returned to Chicago, where he enjoys a large and
increasing practice in his profession. He knows nothing of his native
Apache language, nor is there a trace of Indian superstition or habit to be
found in him. He is not only civilized in habit and thought, but is also a
high-toned, cultured gentleman and a member of the First Baptist Church of
Chicago. In addition to his profession, he is teaching in the College of
Physicians and Surgeons, and in the Post-Graduate Medical School of
Chicago, and at the same time writing in the interest of his people, so he
is a very busy man.
He is a warm friend and admirer of General Pratt, founder of Carlisle
School; and believes the true solution of the Indian problem consists in
educating the children of the white and red race in the same school and
thus making American citizens of both, instead of a citizen of one and a
ward and dependent of the other race. He thinks, moreover, that an Indian
should be treated exactly as any other man. Dr. Montezuma demonstrates in
his own life the fallacy of the evolutionists, that several generations are
necessary before a savage can be transformed into a civilized man, by
actually undergoing a complete metamorphosis in one short generation.
Can the Indian be civilized, and is he capable of a high-class education?
This is our answer; here are four men from as many representative tribes,
two of which are wild, blanket tribes, and yet each of them became men of
broad culture and a high degree of civilization. And what is true of these
could have been and should have been true of ten thousand others, had our
Government pursued a policy of common justice to the race.
{Illustration: Dr. Charles Alexander Eastman, or Ohiyesa "The Winner."
Noted author and lecturer.}