Her grandfather was a Dakota "medicine man." Among the Indians of his
day he was widely known for his successful healing work. He was one of
the leading men of the tribe and came to Washington, D.C., with one of
the first delegations relative to affairs concerning the Indian people
and the United States government.
His was the first band of the Great Sioux Nation to make treaties with
the government in the hope of bringing about an amicable arrangement
between the red and white Americans. The journey to the nation's capital
was made almost entirely on pony-back, there being no railroads, and the
Sioux delegation was beset with many hardships on the trail. His visit
to Washington, in behalf of peace among men, proved to be his last
earthly mission. From a sudden illness, he died and was buried here.
When his small granddaughter grew up she learned the white man's tongue,
and followed in the footsteps of her grandfather to the very seat of
government to carry on his humanitarian work. Though her days were
filled with problems for welfare work among her people, she had a
strange dream one night during her stay in Washington. The dream was
this: Returning from an afternoon out, she found a large cedar chest had
been delivered to her home in her absence. She sniffed the sweet perfume
of the red wood, which reminded her of the breath of the forest,--and
admired the box so neatly made, without trimmings. It looked so clean,
strong and durable in its native genuineness. With elation, she took the
tag in her hand and read her name aloud. "Who sent me this cedar chest?"
she asked, and was told it came from her grandfather.
Wondering what gift it could be her grandfather wished now to confer
upon her, wholly disregarding his death years ago, she was all eagerness
to open the mystery chest.
She remembered her childhood days and the stories she loved to hear
about the unusual powers of her grandfather,--recalled how she, the wee
girl, had coveted the medicine bags, beaded and embroidered in porcupine
quills, in symbols designed by the great "medicine man," her
grandfather. Well did she remember her merited rebuke that such things
were never made for relics. Treasures came in due time to those ready to
receive them.
In great expectancy, she lifted the heavy lid of the cedar chest. "Oh!"
she exclaimed, with a note of disappointment, seeing no beaded Indian
regalia or trinkets. "Why does my grandfather send such a light gift in
a heavy, large box?" She was mystified and much perplexed.
The gift was a fantastic thing, of texture far more delicate than a
spider's filmy web. It was a vision! A picture of an Indian camp, not
painted on canvas nor yet written. It was dream-stuff, suspended in the
thin air, filling the inclosure of the cedar wood container. As she
looked upon it, the picture grew more and more real, exceeding the
proportions of the chest. It was all so illusive a breath might have
blown it away; yet there it was, real as life,--a circular camp of white
cone-shaped tepees, astir with Indian people. The village crier, with
flowing head-dress of eagle plumes, mounted on a prancing white pony,
rode within the arena. Indian men, women and children stopped in groups
and clusters, while bright painted faces peered out of tepee doors, to
listen to the chieftain's crier.
At this point, she, too, heard the full melodious voice. She heard
distinctly the Dakota words he proclaimed to the people. "Be glad!
Rejoice! Look up, and see the new day dawning! Help is near! Hear me,
every one."
She caught the glad tidings and was thrilled with new hope for her
people.