“Where are the rest of the cakes, Louisa?”
“That great fellow, Hancock, came in with the fatigue party to fill the water-barrels, and while I had just stepped into the store-room to get some more flour, he carried off all I had got cooked.”
And Louisa made a face and whined, as if she had not herself treated every soldier who had set his foot in the premises.
At an early hour the next morning I had quite a levee of the Ho-tshung-rah matrons. They seated themselves in a circle on the floor, and I was sorry to observe that the application of a little soap and water to their blankets had formed no part of their holiday preparations. There being no one to interpret, I thought I would begin the conversation in a way intelligible to themselves, so I brought out of the sideboard a china dish, filled with the nice brown crullers, over which I had grated, according to custom, a goodly quantity of white sugar. I handed it to the first of the circle. She took the dish from my hand, and deliberately pouring all the cakes into the corner of her blanket, returned it to me empty. “She must be a most voracious person,” thought I, “but I will manage better the next time.” I refilled the dish, and approached the next one, taking care to keep a fast hold of it as I offered the contents, of which I supposed she would modestly take one. Not so, however. She scooped out the whole with her two hands, and, like the former, bestowed them in her blanket. My sense of politeness revolted at handing them out one by one, as we do to children, so I sat down to deliberate what was to be done, for evidently the supply would not long answer such an ample demand, and there would be more visitors anon.
While I was thus perplexed those who had received the cakes commenced a distribution, and the whole number was equitably divided among the company. But I observed they did not eat them. They passed their fingers over the grated sugar, looked in each other’s faces, and muttered in low tones—there was evidently something they did not understand. Presently one more adventurous than the rest wet her fingers, and taking up a few grains of the sugar put it cautiously to her mouth.
“Tah-nee-zhoo-rah!” (Sugar!) was her delighted exclamation, and they all broke out into a hearty laugh; it is needless to say that the cakes disappeared with all the celerity they deemed compatible with good-breeding. Never having seen any sugar but the brown or yellow maple, they had supposed the white substance to be salt, and for that reason had hesitated to taste it.
Their visit was prolonged until Shaw-nee-aw-kee made his appearance, and then, having been made happy by their various gifts, they all took their departure.
About this time, Mr. Kinzie received a letter from Col. Richard M. Johnson, of Kentucky.[[51]] This gentleman had interested himself greatly in a school established in that State, for the education of Indian youths and children. The purport of his letter was to request the Agent to use every endeavor to induce the Winnebagoes not only to send their children to this institution for their education, but also (what was still more important) to set apart a portion of their annuity money, to assist in sustaining it.
There happened to be, at this holiday season, a number of the chiefs in the neighborhood of the Portage, and a messenger was sent to convene them all at the house of Paquette, the interpreter, that their “father” might hold a talk with them.
On the day appointed they all assembled. The subject matter of the letter was laid before them, and all the advantages of civilization and education duly set forth—the benefits which would arise to their nation, if even a small portion of the younger members could be well-taught by the whites, and then return to their tribe, to instruct them in the learning, the arts, manufactures, and habits of civilized life. To each paragraph, as it was uttered to them, they gave a unanimous “Humph!” (Good.)