Sequoya, the inventor of the Cherokee syllabary, also came for a visit. The first translations of the Bible in Cherokee was made by another Indian by the name of Atsi, but who was known to the whites as John Arch. This took place at Brainerd. John Arch was the interpreter at Brainerd. When he arrived at the school, after having walked to the mission from the Nantahala Valley of Western North Carolina, now a part of the Smoky Mountain Park, he was so raggedly dressed and so wild looking that the missionaries were three days deciding whether to accept him as a pupil or not. He had only one possession, a gun, which he gladly exchanged for some warm clothes. Much to their surprise John Arch proved an apt pupil, and after receiving a few years’ education, he became one of the strongest supporters of the school.
Sequoya spent a dozen years perfecting his alphabet. It was judged by competent critics as ranking second to the English alphabet, which required several hundred years to perfect. By Sequoya’s alphabet of 85 characters a Cherokee was able to read and write in a few hours. The inventor of this alphabet received many honors. He had the distinction of being the only literary person in the United States to receive a pension, which came from the Cherokee Nation. The Big Trees of California were also named Sequoia in his honor. His alphabet enabled the Indians to make rapid progress in education, and after type had been cast in Boston, The Cherokee Phoenix, a newspaper, was established and published at their capitol in New Echota, near the present town of Calhoun, Georgia. Elias Boudinot, a full-blooded Cherokee who had been educated at Brainerd Mission and Cornwall, Connecticut, was chosen as its editor.
John Ross, who became one of the most influential and renowned Cherokees, was a frequent visitor at Brainerd and was its chief supporter, so was Andrew Jackson. Jackson was the first white man to assist Cyrus Kingsbury in his initial meeting with the Cherokees at Turkeytown near the present town of Centre, Alabama, when the plan of the mission and school was approved by the Cherokees.
In 1817, Elias Cornelius, representing the American Board, the founders of the Brainerd Mission, came to Brainerd for a visit. Cornelius was on a good will tour among the Indians of the South and Southwest where the Board planned to establish more missions and schools. On November 15 he left Brainerd on horseback with three companions en route for New Orleans. After traveling about 200 miles, he reached Caney Creek, which was swollen from recent rains. Cornelius did not dare risk swimming his horse, but selected a camp site nearby. Soon he saw a band of Cherokee approaching on the opposite side of the creek. They plunged their horses into the swollen stream and swam successfully across. Night was speeding on, and the Indians encamped in the woods nearby.
In the early part of the evening Cornelius went to pay his neighbors a friendly visit. On approaching the open fire he saw tomahawks, corn, skins of wild animals, and bows and arrows spread before the fire. Fortunately, there was one Indian in the crowd who was able to speak English. When Cornelius saw the arrows were bearing the stain of fresh blood, he learned that this band of Cherokees was returning from west of the Mississippi, some 30 miles from the Dardanelles, where they had fought a battle with the Osage tribe. About 800 Cherokees, including their allies, the Delawares and Shawnees, had participated. Some of the Cherokees had been taken prisoners, and the Cherokees had captured a few of the Osages. Among them was a little Osage girl, about five years old, whom they were taking back to their homes as one of their valued war trophies.
When Cornelius queried them about the little girl’s father and mother, one of the Indians reached into a rough looking bag, fumbled around inside, and drew out two human scalps. Holding them up in plain view he said, “Here they are!”
Cornelius’ heart was deeply touched. He took the little girl in his arms, whereupon she screamed from fear because she had been taught to shun white men as being very cruel to Indian children. Remembering that kindness is the only universal language that is understood by beasts and birds, by all wild flowers and trees and every living thing, Cornelius spoke kindly and sympathetically to the girl and gave her a piece of sweet cake, which she knew not how to use. Then he presented her with a pretty cup, and thus he won her confidence and friendship. Before leaving them, he told the Indians about the Brainerd Mission, and although the Cherokee who claimed possession of the little girl intimated that he might be willing to sell her, he promised faithfully that he would place her in the Brainerd school on his arrival at the mission. Cornelius learned before leaving them that the Indian who owned her had not captured her, but that he had swapped a horse for her with the Cherokee who had taken her as a prisoner.
The next day Cornelius proceeded on his way. After reaching Mississippi, while he was entertaining some friends in Natchez, Mr. Cornelius related the story of the little Osage captive, whereupon a Mrs. Lydia Carter, who was touched with the pathetic story, gave Cornelius $150 with which to purchase the little girl’s freedom. Soon Cornelius received a letter from Brainerd stating that the Indian had not brought the little girl to the school as he had promised. When interviewed, the Indian refused to part with her unless the missionaries would give him in return a Negro girl as a servant. Such thoughts were repulsive to the missionaries. On Cornelius’ return to Brainerd he rode 60 miles to call on the Indian who held the little girl. On seeing him approaching, she did not become frightened, but ran to greet him. Her owner, however, stubbornly refused to release the little girl.
On his way back to Boston, Cornelius called on the President of the United States. Then he interviewed the Secretary of War who handed him written authority to demand possession of the little Osage girl. On receipt of the order, Ard Hoyt, superintendent of Brainerd Mission, went after the little girl and paid the Indian for her release. On his way back to the Mission, Hoyt, christened her Lydia Carter in honor of the benevolent woman of Natchez. Lydia was adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlain, missionaries at Brainerd, and she became a sister of their own little daughter, Catherine.
A few days later rumors reached the missionaries that the Cherokees held two other Osage children, a boy and a girl, and that Lydia was their sister. The boy had been sold first for $20 and resold so many times that the last price brought $150. Return J. Meigs, the Indian Agent, gave the missionaries authority to take possession of the boy and place him in the Brainerd school. John Ross, then a dashing young man, went to Brainerd and tendered his services in rescuing the boy. Ross rode horseback for 250 miles to the mouth of the Catawba River. He handled the situation with skill. Before going to the house of the Indian who held the boy, Ross hid his horse in the woods and stealthily approached on foot. When he glimpsed the lad, entirely nude, playing about the hut, as agile as a deer, Ross leaped the fence gracefully, and in another moment he had the boy securely in his arms. In great excitement the owner came rushing out. Ross turned a deaf ear to the pleading of the Indian, who tried all kinds of schemes to prevent Ross from taking the boy away. In a few moments Ross had the boy riding behind him on the horse, and they were hastening on their way to Brainerd Mission. After 13 days, riding through forests, swimming rivers, fording streams, Ross returned with his human prize. During this time he had traveled more than 600 miles. On his return the Osage boy was christened John Osage Ross in honor of the young man who had rescued him.