To and Through Nebraska

by Frances I. Sims Fulton

But while the flowers bloomed for my gathering in '81, the grass was growing green upon her grave. And I know sister will not forget to gather and place on the sacred mound, "Auntie Pet's" tribute of love.

Thus it is with a mingling of pleasures and pains, of smiles and tears that I am queen of my maying, with no brighter eyes to usurp my crown, for it is all my own day and of all the days of the year the dearest to me.

"I think, Mr. Newell, we can live good lives and yet not make the most of life; our lives need crowding with much that is good and useful; and this is only the crowding in of a day that is very good and useful to me. For on this day I retrospect the past, and think of the hopes that bloomed and faded with the flowers of other years, and prospect the future, and wonder what will the harvest be that is now budding with the leaves for me and which I alone must garner."

After a last look at the wide, wide country, that in a few years will be fully occupied with the busy children of earth, we left "Stone Butte," carrying from its stony, grassy sides and top many curious mementos of our May-day in Nebraska.

Then I went farther north-west to visit the home of a "squaw man"—the term used for Indians who cannot endure the torture of the sun dance, and also white men that marry Indian maidens. On our way we passed a neatly built sod house, in which two young men lived who had lately come from Delaware, and were engaged in stock-raising, and enjoyed the life because they were doing well, as one of them remarked to Mr. N. I tell these little things that those who do not already know, may understand how Nebraska is populated with people from everywhere.

Soon we halted at the noble (?) white man's door, and all but Lizzie ventured in, and by way of excuse asked for a drink or minnie in the Sioux language. "Mr. Squaw" was not at home, and "Mrs. Squaw," poor woman, acted as though she would like to hide from us, but without a word handed us a dipper of water from which we very lightly sipped, and then turned her back to us, and gave her entire attention to a bright, pretty babe which she held closely in her arms, and wrapped about it a new shawl which hung about her own shoulders. The children were bright and pretty, with brown, curly hair, and no one would guess there was a drop of Indian blood in their veins. But the mother is only a half-breed, as her father was a Frenchman. Yet in features, at least, the Indian largely predominates. Large powerful frame, dusky complexion, thin straight hair neatly braided into two jet black braids, while the indispensable brass ear drops dangled from her ears. Her dress was a calico wrapper of no mean color or make-up. We could not learn much of the expression of her countenance, as she kept her face turned from us, and we did not wish to be rude. But standing thus she gave us a good opportunity to take a survey of their tepee. The house was of sod with mother earth floors, and was divided into two apartments by calico curtains. The first was the kitchen with stove, table, benches, and shelves for a cupboard. The room contained a bed covered with blankets, which with a bench was all that was to be seen except the walls, and they looked like a sort of harness shop. The furniture was all of home make, but there was an air of order and neatness I had not expected.

The woman had been preparing kinnikinic tobacco for her white chief to smoke. It is made by scraping the bark from the red willow, then drying, and usually mixing with an equal quantity of natural leaf tobacco, and is said to make "pleasant smoking." Ah, well! I thought, it is only squaws that will go to so much pains to supply their liege lords with tobacco. She can, but will not speak English, as her husband laughs at her awkward attempts. So not a word could we draw from her. She answered our "good bye," with a nod of the head and a motion of the lips. I know she was glad when the "pale faces" were gone, and we left feeling so sorry for her and indignant, all agreeing that any man who would marry a squaw is not worthy of even a squaw's love and labor; labor is what they expect and demand of them, and as a rule, the squaw is the better of the two. Their husbands are held in great favor by those of their own tribe, and they generally occupy the land allowed by the government to every Indian, male or female, but which the Indians are slow to avail themselves of. They receive blankets and clothing every spring and fall, meat every ten days, rations of sugar, rice, coffee, tobacco, bread and flour every week.

Indians are not considered as citizens of the United States, and have no part in our law-making, yet are controlled by them. They are kept as Uncle Sam's unruly subjects, unfit for any kind of service to him. Why not give them whereon to place their feet on an equal footing with the white children and made to work or starve; "to sink or swim; live or die; survive or perish?" What a noble motto that would be for them to adopt!

We then turn for our homeward trip, a distance of fifteen miles, but no one stops to count miles here, where roads could not be better.

When within six miles of Mr. Kuhn's, we stopped by invitation given in the morning, and took tea with Mrs. W., who received us with: "You don't know how much good it does me to have you ladies come!" Then led the way into her sod house, saying, "I wish we had our new house built, so we could entertain you better." But her house was more interesting to us with its floorless kitchen, and room covered with a neat rag carpet underlaid with straw. The room was separated from the kitchen by being a step higher, and two posts where the door would have been had the partition been finished.