By Mrs. Ellen Saunders Walton
In 1872, after passing through a great sorrow, a longing came to me to enter the missionary field among the Indians. At that time the Pawnee tribe was located on their reservation, now Nance county, and I was sent to work among them. It was interesting, at the same time sad and depressing, to witness the degeneration and savagery of tribal life; and ofttimes it was seemingly hopeless to civilize and christianize them.
In 1874 the Pawnees were removed by the government to Indian territory, now Oklahoma, and the reservation was thrown on the market. This became Nance county, and a new order of things followed. Settlers came to the little hamlet of Genoa, that had been first settled by the Mormons in 1857, and though later given over to the Indians, it was one of the oldest towns in Nebraska.
A church was established under the care of the New England Congregational Mission and Rev. Charles Starbuck was put in charge. A small farmhouse where travelers could be accommodated, and a few homes of those who had bought land, comprised the village life. This freedom from restraint was indeed new to one accustomed to the rush of busy life in New York. Daily rides over the prairie on my pony were a delight.
It was wonderful how many cultured people drifted into the almost unknown western country. It was not infrequent to see in humble sod houses shelves filled with standard books and writings of the best authors. This was the second wave of population, and though many things had to be sacrificed that in the old life were considered necessary to comfort, pioneer life had its happy features. One especially was the kindly expression of helpfulness in time of sickness or sorrow. The discomforts and self denials and the longing for dear ones far away grow dim and faded! only memories of pleasant hours remain. Then came the third wave of men and women settling all around, bringing fashion and refining influences, and entertainment of various kinds. Churches, elevators, banks, and business houses were built and Nance county began to show the march of civilization and progress. Where first we knew the flower-gemmed prairie, modern homes spring up and good roads follow the trails of the Indian and the hunter.
THE PAWNEE CHIEF'S FAREWELL
By Chauncey Livingston Wiltse
As I strolled alone, when the day had flown,
Through the once Pawnee reserve,
Where the memories keep of the brave asleep
By the winding Cedar's curve—
Methought the leaves of the old oak trees
'Neath the sheltering hill-range spoke,
And they said: "It's here that hearts knew no fear,
Where arose the Pawnee smoke!
"In the eventide, when all cares subside,
Is the hour the tribe liked best;
When the gold of day crossed the hills away,
And, like those who tried, found rest.
O'er this Lovers' Leap, where now shadows creep,
Strode the chief, in thought, alone—
And he said: 'Trees true, and all stars in view,
And you very winds my own!
"'I soon shall pass, like the blades of grass,
Where the wandering shadows go;
Only leaves will tell what my tribe did well—
But you Hearts of Oak—you know!
To those Hunting Grounds that are never found
Shall my tribe, in time, depart;
Then it will be you to tell who were true,
With the dawn-song in their heart!
"'You will sing a song, with the winds along,
How the Pawnee loved these hills!
Here he loved to stray, all the wind-glad day—
In his heart the wind sings still!
You will whisper, too, how he braved the Sioux,
How life's days he did his part;
Though not understood, how he wished but good,
With but love within his heart!
"'The White Father's call reaches us, and all
To his South Wind land we fly,
Yet we fain would stay with you hills alway—
It is hard to say good-bye!
You, our fatherland, we could once command,
We are driven from, so fast;
But you hills alway in our hearts will stay
And be with us at the last!
"'Here we took our stand for our fatherland,
Here our sons to manhood grew;
Here their loves were found, where these hills surround—
Here the winds sang to them, too!
By this Cedar's side, where the waters glide,
We went forth to hunt and dream;
Here we felt the spell of you oaks as well,
And felt all that love may seem!
"'Here we felt the pang of the hot wind tang,
Here we felt the blizzard's breath;
Here we faced the foe, as the stars all know—
Here we saw the face of Death!
Here we braved the wrath of the lightning's path,
Here we dared starvation's worst;
Here tonight we stand, for our fatherland,
Banished from what was ours—first!
"'Bravely we obey, and will go away;
The White Father wills it so;
But our thoughts will roam to this dawntime home
Where our fathers sleep, below!
And some shining day, beyond white men's sway,
We will meet our long-lost own—
Where you singing winds and the dawn begins,
One will say, "Come in—come home!"
"'Just beyond you hills, the Rest Land still
Is waiting for us all;
At earth's sunset hour One will wake each flower,
And us home will softly call!
Trees and stream, good-bye! Now our parting's nigh;
Know you memory's sweet to me!
Though our footsteps go, you may always know
You've the heart of each Pawnee!'
"As the chief passed by, stars filled the sky,
And the moonlight softest fell—
But the night winds said, 'Peace is overhead!'
And the hills said, 'All is well!'"