The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1883-08-02

taisou Of shs Goddess Of Labcriy, the fair
daughter Of Me fall moon. That Il Why
she Is 20 fall Look Il Peeled Nose Biis
rssd. the daughter Of the whirlwind. She
represents tho state called by The paleiscs
tho Empire state. She is clothed in .
-four rack as The emblem Of her purity.
Across her back 10 rcd letters Is the 10,
scription' Snow Flake Flour. XXXX-'
That is hecaase she is the ticwer Of our
tribes. And yet she. too. is IS drunk as Z
billed owl Az her ,awny features Arr
turned toward mine can see that she does
not know whether there are two orators on
nine addressing this audience. Look 81
Vinegar Bi,tors pocahonias, clothed lin q
coffee sack aud gloom. She Is in the land
Of slumber Ca this day OF celebration
she sleeps the hours away, while the blue
tail fly froiics over her oopper-colorod
pose. We were once nation OF orators.
Our people once listened 10 the silvery
tones OF those who told them Of their
wrongs aud babe them brace up, Now
the shattered fragment Of great nation
gathers in the hot canon, wrapped in moth
ing but brown study, aud shores through
the tardy hours A few more summers
and your tale will be told The red man
never weeps. He may suffer. but he
scorns TO cry like woman. Popeyed
Caterpillar's heart is filled with sorrow for
his people. but be will not squeal. His
soul is full Of agony, but he will not give
way TO soaldipg tears Each year We go
upon the war path, but we do no damage.
We kill few consnmptives. it true, but
IL is not 9 glitter'ng success. our warriors
are too prone TO releut when there is dan
ger near. They spare the pale face who
happens TO be armed. and show mercy to
the able bodied Caucasian with the do uble
barreled shot gun; he always spares the
palefaoe who is loaded. Once he went
upon the warpath to protect our devoted
squaws. Then they were fair to look up
on, and brave aud true, We gladly faced
death to show ourdevotion TO the bronze
beauties OF our nation. Now it is not so.
Times have changed The maidens and
matrons Of our tribe are not beautiful.
They have ruined their compilations with
fat pork and whiskey. You can purchase
whole herd Of them at five cents bunch.
Most OF them would stop o clock with their
wild, peculiar beauty. Look at Coyote
Kate, who walked away with the clam
shell bracelets, voted to be the most beau.
tiful belle Of the White River Agency.
Her nose is three quarters of an inch out
Of plumb and she has wart over her left
eye like moss agate. Warriors! must we
lay down our lives in order to leave wild
ow who wears cavalry pants, and whose
cooling voice sounds like the sad refrain Of
a planning mill? l trow not When we
die and are laid to rest beneath the cotton.
wood in the valley we want to be mourned
over by brown eyed gazelles, whose gener-
al appearance will not kill the vegetation
We cannot give up our hearts blood for
sweethearts and wives with feet like sugar
cured hams and hair like the soft tresses
Of bald headed shoe brush. The only
hope Of our tribe is for each warrior to
plight his troth TO one Of these club-foot-
ed damsels and then rush madly into bat
tie, that he may climb the golden stair
and thus escape his horrible fate. II
there be aught that would nerve our flag.
ging warriors to brave death and destruc.
ton, it is this. Let the utmost harmony
and unity Of purpose prevail, as we desire
that the coming summer shall give the
New Jerusalem bigger boom in immor.
talized ranchmen than the history Of the
world ever knew" WIG.
.