Among the Sioux, the men appear indeed to be a superior class of beings. They are noble-looking, while the women are often repelling in appearance. The difficulties with which they must contend in the harsh climate of their country; their poverty increasing year after year; their frequent and long fastings: these all make the men more hardy, more capable of a continued struggle, but they have a different effect upon the women. They are compelled to remain in the lodge; the care of their children obliges them to forego the excitement of seeking for food, and thus sickness and even death is often brought upon them that could otherwise have been avoided. They are often found buried in the snow in winter, prevented by sickness from making such efforts as saved the lives of their husbands and brothers.
But their noble courage, where the emotions of the heart are concerned, gives them the first place in the romantic traditions of their country.
The Sioux will soon have taken a farewell look of the lands which the Great Spirit gave them in the olden time. The lodge and its occupants are vanishing away. The occasional war-whoop will soon be forgotten where it has been heard in unrecorded ages. The scenes of many a romantic tradition will be forgotten by those who succeed the valiant but doomed people, who must look upon them no more. The hunter and his wild steed depart, and the white man, the axe, the plough, and the powder-horn take their place.[21] The fairy-rings[22] on the prairie must be trodden down. Spirits will no more assemble where are heard the noise and excitement of advancing civilization. The same sun gilds the hills, the same breezes play upon the waters—but the red man must go.
He must, with his heart full of patriotism and sorrow, find another site for his lodge, another country for his hunting-grounds. The wakeen-stone to which he was sacrificed is no longer his. The graves of his ancestors reproach him as he departs.
The illustration of Wenona's Rock presents one of the most striking and beautiful scenes in Indian country. Even were there no tradition connected with it, its wonderful beauty must give it interest. One must indeed feel that God made it. That huge rock with its worn and broken sides—the lake that reflects it in her placid bosom—the everlasting hills stretching out before the eye,—these would show the Creator's handiwork.
But there is an additional interest in viewing it when we recall the tale of sorrow and passion connected with it. When we recollect that here a young heart throbbed its last emotions—that from that high eminence the sweet notes of woman's voice pealed forth their last music. That here her arms were raised to heaven, appealing for that justice which earth had denied her.
C. Schuessele del. Drawn by Capt. S. Eastman. Chromolith of P. S. Duval Pha.
MARRIAGE CUSTOM OF THE INDIANS.
But it is not only on Wenona's Rock that the devotion of an Indian woman's love is recorded. Go among them and hear the traditions of each band; how many have loved and died. Learn of the sacrifices that only woman can make—of the devotion that only woman can feel—of the sorrows that only woman can endure.
You may see one, who, though past her youth, still attracts you by the full and expressive glances of her dark and brilliant eyes. Her hair (a marvel among Indians), waves along her forehead—and when damp from heat or bathing, divides itself into locks, that would with any pains be formed into ringlets. Her smile lights up her countenance, for her white teeth shine, and her mouth, though large, is expressive. She will not open her heart to a stranger, but to one she loves, she told all.