The New Orleans daily Democrat. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1877-1880, 1878-12-01
THE LAST OF THE M0D0CS.
HOW THE MODOCs HAVE JARED SINCE
THEIR REMOVAL TO THE
INDIAN TERRITORY.
In. Y. Tribunal

IN. Y. Tribune.l
Leaving the barbaric glitter and filth
OF the camp OF the Nez Perces with the
lazy braves lying in their tents, the
squaws bartering their government ra-
tions with the traders, the medicine
men beating the dge-poles and max
ing their dOleful mummery, we started
on our return, intending to visit some OF
the Modocs, who occupy q large reser-
walton in the vicinity. These people
came here in 1873; or rather were
brought here by the government. vir-
tually as q punishment for having en-
gagged in the Modoc massacre and the
hostilities in the lava beds; and are
compelled to remain. The Modocs, l
believe, had In measure abandoned
nomadic life, and were settling grad
ually into pastoral habits before the
outbreak OF hostilities, 30 that at the
close or the war, when the present occu-
pants Of this reservation came here,
they were so far removed from the
blanket indians In their progress to-
as q general thing, to the business Of
cultivating the soil, without feeling the
change very seriously. We saw only
one or two OF the log buildings In which
they live, and these at distance. They
looked as though they might be COM
Portable for shelter, but that was all.
The square log hut, for which the In
dian exchanges his conical wigwam, is
not an inviting structure, even though
it be roomier and better defended from
the weather; and when | came
to contrast the graceful form
OF the tent and the bright colors
OF the camp in the savage life we
had just seen with the sombre and
gloomy aspect Of these ugly square cab
Inc into which civilization invites the
Indian as his first step out OF savagery.
| could hardlytwonder that the barbaric
love Of bright colors and graceful forms
should draw him back 80 strongly to
the old life. A field Of $50 acres Of
corn, cultivated by the Modocs, was
shown us. In the field were several
members of the tribe, gathering the
crop, and among them Bogus Charley.
the present chief. We stopped at the
edge OF the field to feed our horses, and
at our Invitation Bogus Charley came
out and we talked with him about the
present condition and prospects OF the
tribe. He speaks English quite well
and understands readily ordinary con-
yersation, Like all the indians we saw,
he seemed shy and silent, answering
our questions freely, bu; making no
conversation himself. He told us there
were 155 in the party that came here in
1873, but that they had dwindled now
by deaths to 100. In answer to our in
quiry il they were contented, he said,
sadly, "Oh, well. / expect we stay here
now. We no get back" But don't
you like it here % "No, we not like
It," he said. "Too many die. We come
here one hummer fifty fve-we only one
hummer now. All over there" and he
pointed to the burial place over on a
hillside half mile away. There was
saving this, and his "only one hummer
now" was so full Of gentleness and gra-
witty that though he plainly did not aim
at any effect beyond answering us, he
did really touch the feelings OF ali OF
us. Then when we asked him IL he
wanted to 60 back to his old home
among tho lava beds. his eye just
frightened a little and turned westward
with the PARKWAY look OF inconsistencies
and longing, and he said, Yes. l like
to 60 back my sister there. my friends
there"
was much interested in this Chief,
Bogus Charley. Other Indians com
planned or begged, were sullen or
This man with felt hat, blue shirt and
overalls, without bead or feather or a
touch of color, an utterly unheroic per-
son in appearance, with no effort at
display or attempt to excite sympathy
or admiration, seemed to me great
great in the simplicity Of his talk, his
unstudied eloquence. his profound
natural pathos, his dignity without
haughtiness and grace without affecta-
ton, and greatest of all in the philoso-
phic resignation with which he accept
ed his fate with hardly murmur or
complaint. AS he stood there on a little
eminence overlooking the cornfield, his
arms folded and his 1.-THE figure limned
against the sky, not looking at us as we
drove away, it was not difficult to pic
ture in him a heroic Last OF the Modocs.
He had said little, but the tone and
manner Of what he did say 50 impressed
me that for awhile did feel as though
this man represented an aggrieved
and despoiled race, and that l, as re-
preventative OF the race that had
wronged him, had something to be
sorry for, ! presume l ideelized him.
Well, at any rate, / have the picture
and that ! sua,. j. retain. But what an
cnromantic namel Bogus ohallsy
Well let him be Bogus, and go oaoa ~
the squalor Of his cabin. The pictul
in my memory is Of the Last OF the
Modocs. and transfused with a glow
from the sunset. Bogus Charley is q
fact, and clod. OF course. My Indian
Is poem.