The Mankato free press. [volume] (Mankato, Blue Earth County, Minn.) 1879-1924, 1883-07-13
MANKATo FREE PRESS.
FRIDAY, JULY -, 1885.
Ohipeta's Address to the Utes.

People of my tribe! the Borrowing
widow of the dead Ouray speaks to you:
She comes to YOU, not rs the squaw oil
TIE dead chieftain, to rouse you to war
and victory, but to weep with you over
the loss of her people and the greed OF
the pale face.
The fair Colorado, over whose rocky
mountains we have roamcd and hunted
in the olden time, is overrun by the
siiver-plated Senator and the soft-eycd
dude.
We are driven tOa small corner OF
the earth to die, while the oppressOr
digs gopher holes in the green grass
and sells them tn the Spectator of the
great cities toward the rising sun.
Through the long, cold winter my
people have passed, in want and cold,
while the cOnquc;or of the peaceful Ut,
has worn $3.50 night-shirts and filled hi
pale skin with pie.
Chipeta addresses you rs the weep
ing squaw of 4 great man whose bones
will one day nourish the cucumber vine
Ouray now sleeps beneath the brown
grass of the canyon, where the sof
spring winds may stir the dead leaves
and the young coyote may come an,
monkey DER his grave.
Ouray was ignorant in the ways OF
the pale face. lie could not go to Con
greSs, for he was not citizen of the
| United States. He had not taken on
his second papers. He was simpl,
child of the forest. but he stuck to Chip
eta. He loved Chipeta like hired man
That is why the widowed squaw weep'
over him.
| A few more years and | shall join
Ouray-my chief. Ouray the big lnjur
from away up the gulch. His heart il
still open To me. Chipeta could trus
him, even among the smiling maidem
of her tribe. Ouray was true. Their,
was no funny business in his nature. ii,
loved not the garb of the pale face, bu
won my heart while he wore u saddle
blanket and look OF woe.
Chipeta looks to the north and tn,
south. and all about are the graves q
his people. The refinement of the OPP
pressor has come, with lis divorce IN,
schools and gin cocktails and flour brea'
and fall elections, and we linger here
like boil on the neck of Il fat man.
Even while ! talk to you, the damn
winds of April are signing through my
vertebr;e and I've got more pains in IN.
back than conservatory.
Weep with the widowed Chipeta
Bow your heads and howl, for our harp
are hung on the willows and our vii,
goose is cooked.
Who will be left to mourn ut Chipeta'
gravep None but the starving papoos
es of my nation. We stand in the gra
mist Of spring like dead burdocks in tn,
field of the honest farmer, and the chill
winds Of departing winter make Il
hump and gather like burnt boot.
All we can do is 10 wall. We ar
the redskinned walters from Wailtown
Colorado is more the home of the Ute
1t is the dwelling place Of the bonanz
Senator. who doesn't know the differ
ence between the plan of salvation an
the previous question.
Chipeta cannot vote. Chipeta cannC
pay taxes To great nation, but you wi
be apt to hear her gentle voice, and he
mellow racket will fill tho air till he
tongue is cold and they tuck the butlal
robe about her and plant her by the sid
Of her dead chieftain, where the sout
wind and the sage hen are singing.
Transiated by Bill Nye.