Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1894-07-28

they would stand centuries longer. The
room IN which Gov. Wallace wrote has been
American governors for over three cen
turtles, and 1t looks out on a little park that
they call plaza here"
just then we were called to breakfast.
We were staying at the Oldest hotel in the
city, ore Of the sun-drled brick abomina-
tons, with fiat mud roof, con senient hiding
place for perambulating centipedes and
predatory tarantulas, to say nothing of the
scorpions and other microbes of that sub
tropic cline. 1t was not my choice but
that = the girls, who were paying roman
tic tribute TO the ancient glory of the city,
a glory almost or the past, since the
Americana" with his revolutionary ideas,
went in, and dissipated the old, old world
ways of doing things. The hotel is but one
story high and is built around a hollow
square, called a "placita," just one room
deep. The rooms do not open Into each
other, but all have doors opening on the in
side square, which is full of fruit trees,
figs, apricots, peach and pear, and curious
tropical plants with languorous, heavy
perfume, palms with their long graceful
leaves, and huge "ollas," or Indian water
Jars, sitting about in a dozen different
places. the constant evaporation from their
contents cooling the air, and making a
little moisture in the high, dry atmosphere
After breakfast We went out to visit the
government Indian school, where about five
hundred young aborlgires are taught to
read in printed books, instead of the clouds.
picture writing on rocks and sign language
on this hands
The Indian Children.
People who think that the Indian is de-
void of artistic sense should have seen, as
we did, the dogs and cats, the horses, sheep
and goats, flowers and foliage that were
drawn On the blacktoards around the school
rooms. They were done with colored chalks
and l have seen much-praised crayon and
pastel pictures on easels in fashionable par
lors which had not half the deicacy of
treatment displayed by those little Pueblo,
Apache and Navajo youths They had bright
faces, too many of them. They like to be
praised and patted on the head just as well
as white children. They are fond of toys
and play a better game of bali than white
children of the same age. They are better
tempered oh the playground, too. i have
talked with a great many teachers of In
dian children, and they tell me that, with
out exception Indian children are more even
tempered and seldom fight or swear about
their plays, as SO many white children do.
They are not as quick of comprehension,
but an idea once in their heads is pretty
sure to stay there. The comradery of youth
made Itself felt at once between Rose and
one OF the young girls-a Pueblo, as round
and dimpled and sweet, despite her dark
skin, as any white girl She was becom-
ingiy attired in 4 white dotted swiss and
had knots of red ribbon at her throat and
wrists. Her abundant ebon hair was done
in an artistic twist on top of her head, and
she was thoroughly versed in three Ian
last she spoke with just the slightest hesi-
taticn on some of her words, yet quite
purely. She was fifteen, she said, and dis
played teeth as white milk and well kept
she told Rose that her name was Poquita'
Fresh Meat.
After passing through the neat wards and
iormitories 1 missed Rose-in-b bloom and
found that she and Poquita had gone to the
hospital TO see little Apache girl only five
years old. who was dying of consumpt ion.
foor little wan-eyed creature. She had few
days to live, and her distressed mother. in
her moccasns and blanket. just as she had
come from the reservation, was bending
over her and moaning in very human
fashion. The child Rugged her little rag 6cll
close to her heart and in her shy way would
occasionally reach her hand out and stroke
the matted black hair half buried in the
bed clothes.
Il thought that Indians never cried or
laughed, said Nora. after we had been the
rounds and were seated in the dig cool re-
ception room. "All the stories | ever read
about them said that they were ashamed Of
emotion, and we always talk abb 1t senator
sherman being as stoical as an indian: I'm
sure that that ccor Indian woman WAS as
sorry about her little girl as you would be
about me, mamma"
Red Mothers Grief.
"Nir:nformed people say such things"
said one of the teachers, a sweet-voiced
elderly woman, but 1 know that they feel
Just as acute grief. pain, joy or anger as
Il
me of the grief of another mother of which
L was the unwilling witness few wears
ago i had gone up on the reservation To
bring down some children, and in crossing
close TO some timber heard a sound of
lamentatlon. L soon came upon a teDee in
the door of which poor mother was sit
ting close to the embers of a dying fire II
was late in the fall and the evening was
cool. Back OF her in the tepee was another
squaw, and in the arms of the woman over
the fire l saw a little stiffly bound bundle
and recognized the fashion the Naya 10
mother has OF tying up her dead child 1t
was requiem for the dead they were sing
ing! Starting in a low note. the volume of
sound increased and rose ana sweilei ont
on the night air Until it resolved itself into
shrlek. over and over again the grief of
the women found vent in that long lone
sCire wall. and al the time the mother
Rugged her baby close. At last the laments-
lion ceased and the mother began 20 Groom
a cradle song of her people which I have
since put into English as well as; l could:
Swing, swing, litla one. lullaby
Thourt not alone TO weep;
Mother cares for yoG-she Is nigh
Sleep my little one, sleco
Gently, gently, wee one swing:
Gently. gently. while / sing:
E-we-va-wa, lullaby
II think in all my life / never hear1 n
,sdd.r wall could not help such grief
- that had no consolation to offer, so
L went on my way. III the morning Quite
early came back over the same roaG. AMI
found that they were just putting he baby
away In the grave. 1t was not very deer.
and the women mad lined il with grass ana
the few leaves they could find. Then they
bent over the tight-wrapped little bun5I,
ana kissed il again and again, sobbin:r as
l never heard white mother sob; they
placed grass ON the body. and then laid the
clods tenderly on that, as though fearful
of hurting the little thing beneath; then
they put on top of il bottle of goats
milk and some berries, and the little TOYS
that the Child had played with These
We're to nourish and pacify it on the long,
dark way they believe that II has 20 go
before it rea ches the happy hunting ground
Then they kissed the ground above il and
turned back to the tepee, never again TO
be frightened by the presence of the baby.
Its little tongue was stiIled forever and
that indian mothers heart ached, and her
grief was just deep as any white
mothers could possibly be-"
Living on "a Construction Train.
Late that afternoon we, the girls, Morals
mother and myself, were invited to tea with
Mrs. Winfield, a charming woman, who
has spent nearly twenty years out in that
country. The house In which she lives is
ore of the rambling Ole adobe structures
nearly a hundred years old, and is filled