At the time of emigration to Kansas, a majority of the people were of superior intelligence, had long adopted the arts of civilization and, through the influence of missionaries, had become converted to Methodism. They were distinguished for regularity of feature and grace of movement, keeping perfect measure in the dance. The women were adepts in the art of needle-work. At the home of a lady of Wyandot lineage, is exhibited an elaborate piece of beading, of great age, in fleur-de-lis pattern. The center of each leaf is of pale pink, encircled with dark green, skillfully shaded to delicate tints. A variety of colors were introduced, yet the whole produced a most harmonious effect.
The belle of the nation in the '40s is said to have been so beautiful and cultured that, on the occasion of a visit to New Orleans, she was supposed to be a French lady, and the most exclusive society of the city extended courtesies. The handsome young woman reigned supreme for a short period. On the return trip, three or four squaws boarded the steamer, and after standing quietly back for a brief space, silent witnesses of her numerous conquests, one of them came forward and said:
"Her squaw, like me—heap big squaw."
Contrary to general opinion, the Indians possessed a keen sense of humor and thoroughly enjoyed a laugh at the expense of one of their number.
In the olden days, Elder Dennison conducted services in the Methodist Church, through an interpreter. One Sunday, owing to the illness of the latter, a well-educated Wyandot named Browneyes, was engaged as substitute. Browneyes, not being religiously inclined, had partaken too freely of firewater. However, he appeared on the scene well dressed in honor of the event. A huge cravat, faultlessly tied, and a dark green coat, resplendent with brass buttons, were prominent features of his attire. Unfortunately, a large flask protruded from his hip pocket, and it was quietly decided that Mr. Armstrong should officiate. Browneyes sat down in a front seat, apparently humiliated on account of being supplanted. The sermon proceeded smoothly for a time, then he remarked, distinctly:
"Sile, you are not telling a word of truth, and you know it."
No attention was paid to the interruption, but when the discourse became more eloquent, he averred, loudly and decidedly:
"Sile, that's a lie, and you know it."
Elder Dennison, discontinuing the address, said:
"Let us pray."