A well-known old Piute couple in Virginia City were “Adam” and “Eve.” Old Adam was supposed to have been about one hundred years of age at the time of his death, and Eve also was very old.
At the death of the aged couple there was a strange fatality. Old Adam was bitten by a ferocious dog, and after lingering some weeks, during which time he was cared for by the Sisters of Charity, he departed for the happy hunting-grounds. A year later old Eve was attacked and terribly mangled by a savage dog, the sinews being drawn out of one of her ankles by the teeth of the brute. She, too lingered some weeks, watched over and cared for by the Sisters, when she went to join old Adam where the grass is always green and bright waters ever flow.
The old couple seem to have embraced the Christian religion in the early days, at some one of the Catholic Missions in California. Old Adam was very fond of being in and about the Catholic Church in Virginia City, and was never happier than when noticed by Father Manogue, the pastor, with whom the ancient red-man was fond of conversing, in his childish way, upon religious subjects. Whenever grand-children and great-grand children were born to him, “Old Adam” never failed to bring them to Father Manogue, in order that they might be duly baptized. Thus is the name of Patrick and Michael now heard in the Piute tribe.
About the streets of Virginia is frequently to be seen stalking a thin-visaged, solemn-looking squaw who attracts much attention from her great height and her tremendous strides in walking.[walking.] The gaunt apparition in female attire is, however, no squaw, but a “buck,” a man of the Piute tribe condemned to wear the dress of a woman all the days of his life, for cowardice exhibited at the battle of Pyramid lake. He is shunned by both the men and women among his people, and therefore, like Baxter’s hog, goes in a “drove” by himself. The last time I saw him he had on a new calico dress, of the meal-bag pattern in the skirt, and had a new gingham handkerchief upon his head; still he was not proud. Nothing good, bad, or indifferent is said to him by the Indians, but the white boys about town scoff at him and his face wears a calm, resigned, chronic “sour.”
Many of the Piutes are anxious to have their children learn to read and write, and, in 1875, three little Indians boys were in attendance at the public school in Silver City, the principal of the school taking them in at the solicitation of the father and by way of experiment. In a few weeks they were able to read tolerably well in the first reader. They began with the alphabet and were very proud of the progress they were able to make. Unlike the majority of white parents, the father of the little redskins thinks it worth while to visit the school occasionally, to see how things are going. When the stern old brave visits the school he marches into the institution of learning with a turkey feather in his hair, his face painted in bright zigzag lines of black, white and red, and a long double-barrelled shotgun on his shoulder. This has a business look which is doubtless appreciated by the teacher.
As an object of distraction to the school the “lamb that little Mary had” would not amount to a row of pins—would be a mere digitless cipher—by the side of that Indian father in all the full-blown pride of shotgun, war-paint, and turkey feathers.
The Piutes have some notion of picking up English songs and tunes. I one day saw a dusky maiden of perhaps sixteen summers vocalizing in front of a fruit-store, who evidently felt that she was a long way in advance of the majority of her tribe. The song she sang was: “I feel, I feel like a to-morrow morning star, Soo Fly! don’t bodda my! Soo Fly!” Her object appeared to charm a few wilted apples from the keeper of the store, but he being a native of melodious Italy was not much affected, and even scowled upon the singer, as though he felt it a duty to discourage and nip in the bud all talent manifesting itself in such a quarter.
AN INDIAN ENCAMPMENT.
At one time a savior arose for the Piute people. This was Sam Brown, the civilizer, an Oregon Indian who had wandered to Virginia City and who was able to read and write. Sam Brown was a natural born philantropist[philantropist]—he cared not for himself so long as he could ameliorate[ameliorate] the condition of the aborigine. He desired to see the Indian tribes educated and civilized, and to this work he was devoted, body and soul. He went forth among the Piutes residing in the neighborhood of Virginia and Gold Hill, and made known to them his plans—told them of the school-house he would build for the education of their children and how he should finally have them all residing in houses and working at trades like white men.