The Beaver herald. [volume] (Beaver, O.T. [Okla.]) 1895-1923, 1896-12-10
Last speech Of Sitting Bull.


with bunch grass, and the ,emahawk slum-
bers in the wigwam of the red man. Grim
yisaged war has given way to the piping
times of peace. The cold and cruel winter
is upon us. 1t has been upon us for some
time. The wall Of the departed spirits is on
the night wind, and the wall of the man with
the chilblain answers back from the warriors
wigwam.
Children of the forest, we are few. Where
once the shrill war>whoop Of the chieftain
collected our tribe as the leaves Of the forest
might now yell till the cows GENE home
without bringing quorum. We are fading
away before the march of the pale-face, and
sinking into oblivion like the snow fake on
the bosom of Sinking Water.
Warriors, am the last of a mighty race
We are race of chieftains. Alas, we will
soon be gone--the Bull family will soon pass
from the face Of the earth. Ole is gone,
John is failing, and don't feel very well
myself We are the victims Of the pale face,
and cur lands are taken away. A few more
suns and the civilization and valleystan and
hand made sour mash and horse lininont
and the pale face will have done their dead~
ly work.
Our squaws and papooses are scattered to
the four winds of the heavens, and we are
left desolate. Where is The>Daughter.ofthe the.
Tempest? Where is he-Wall-Eye Maiden
with.a-Peeled They have sunk be-
meath the firewater Of the goggle-eyed Cau-
cassian. They have succomed to the deler~
ium triangles, and when | cali them they
come not. They do not hear my voice. Their
means are heard on the still night Dir, and
they cry for revenge. Look at the sad rem
naut of the family of Sitting Bull, your
chief. One sOre-eyed squaw is left alone,
Her face is furrowed O er with the famine Of
many winters, and her nose is only the
ruins of its former greatness. Her mocca-
sins are worn out and the soldier pants she
wears are too long for her. She also is
! drunk. She is not as drunk as she can get,
but she is hopeful and persevering. She
has learned to lie like white man. She is
now an easy, extemporaneous liar. When
| we gather about the camp fires and enact our
untutored lies in the cleaning, Lucretia-
| Borgia-Spokh-Fegan- Sitting Bull, with the
inspiration of six fingers of agency coffin
| varnish, proceeds to tell the prize prevari-
cation, and then the house adjourns, and
nothing can be heard but the mufled tread
of the agency corned beef going out TO get
some fresh air Lucretia Borgia is becoming
slovenly also. 1t is evening, and yet she
has not donned her evening dress Her
back hair is unkempt, and her front hair is
unbung. Pretty soon ! will take tomas
hawk and bang it for her. She seems de-
spondent and hopeless. As she leans
against the trunk of mighty oak and
scratches her ba'k, you can see that her
thoughts are far away. Her other suspeuder
is gone, but she don't care a COLI, smooth
clam. She is thinking Of her childhood
days on the banks of the Minnehaha.
Warriors, we stand in the moccasins of a
mighty nation. We represent the starving
remnant of once powerful Sioux. Our pi-
rogue stands IDLY on the shore.
When the spring flowers bloom again, and
the grass is green upon the plains, we will
once more GO upon the warpath-will avengO
the wrongs of our nation. have not fully
glutted my vengeance; have seven or
eight more guts on hand, and will shout our
war cry once more and mutilate some more
Anglo-Saxons. We will silence the avenging
cries of our people. We will splatter the
green grass and gray grease weed with the
gore of the pale face, and feed the white
livered emigrants to the coyote; we will
spread death and desolation everywhere, and
| fill the air with gum overshoes and remains.
Let us yield up our lives dearly, while we
mash the pale face beyond recognition and
shoot his hired hand so full of holes that he
will look like suspension bridge.
Warriors, there is our hunting ground.
The buffalo, the antelope, the sage hen and
the jack rabbit are ours-ours to enjoy, ours
to perpetuate, ours to transmit. The Great
Spirit created these animals for the red
man, not for the bilious tourists between
whose legs the chestnut sunlight penetrates
clear to his collar bone.
Then we will ride onto the regular army
when he is thinking of something else, and
we will scare him into convulsions. and our
medicine men will attend to the commissions
while we sample the supplies. Then we
will take some cold>sliced Indian agent and
some bay rum and go on a picnic.
Warriors, farewell. Be virtuous and you
will be happy. But you will be lonesome
sometimes. Think of what | have said TO
you about the council-fre, and govern your
selves accordingly. We will not grumble
about the celluloid cracker and cast iron
esdish ball, but in the spring we will have
veal outlets for breakfast and Peace Com
missioner on toast for dinner. The squaw of
Sitting Bull shall have new plug hat, and
If the weather is too severe she shall have
two of them.
Warriors, farewell! / am done! have
spoken! have nothing more to say. Sic
semper domino! Plumbago eryspelas, into
hoe siguo vinces eureka. sciatica, unsufruuct
limburger, 20 braugh. .-Channing Register.