Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1898-03-07

sivciY.
They are hard to get" said. sug'
| gestively. why is it?'
Because" she said, with a resignation
| tinged with bitterness, 1.-THE Indian agent
refuses to allow beads to be sold on the
reservation. Bead-work Is the only In
| dustry the women Of my people know,
| but the agent says he can never civilize
them while they make this savage bead
work. so now they sit in idleness. wore
these things" she continued, caressing
the bead-embroidered garments, when
was n little girl. and went South with
my tribe on the annual hunts. But that
was before the country was apportioned,
In severalty, and before the wire fences
blocked the way"
The next day we took a drive abroad
in Mrs Lincoln's family carriage. driven
by young American cowboy. now her
farm overseer. but who in years gone by
managed her large cattle interests. The
settlement called the Agency consisted
OF a dozen small houses, two stores. the
Eagle Hotel, and the Indian school.
which stood afar on the hill Sprinkled
all about were tepees. from which curls
of smoke rose sullenly. We stopped In
front of one of these, and Mrs. Lincoln
held a conversation with a slouching
Indian and his wife, who peeped from
the tent flap. Not word OF English
was spoken nor n smile exchanged. All
the European grace Of manner with
which my hostess addressed me was a
thing assumed with the English language
and laid aside when she communicated
with her tribe.
'"Those are my cousins" she remarked
to me when we drove away, as though
unconscious Of the contrast between their
-, Ig,,,
Advancement,
Whose is that fine houseg I asked,
pointing to a commodious residence of
brick.
THAT is the Indian agents" she re-
piled, and saw by the gathering dark
ness Of her face that / was treading on
dangerous ground. That the agent is
hated by the lazy, stubborn Indian. who
resent Improvement, counts for nothing,
but it is significant that his ways are
condemned with equal bitterness by peo-
pie Of the tribe who have reached Mrs.
Lincoln's degree of refinement
THAT is my foster-father's house" said
our hostess, as the driver stopped the
team before a comfortable cottage I'm this
settlement. where white men and Indians
live as citizens. We entered the sitting
room. which was for the moment empty.
II was not as luxurious as Mrs. Lincoln's
own, but showed only the simple furnish
lngs and scant decoration characteristic
Of the homes of old people. Presently the
old chief entered He was tall, Of unmis-
taxable Indian build, square shoulders,
short neck, and fine head. Mrs. Lincoln
took him affectionately by the hand and
I'm her own language gently explained to
him our presence. He smiled on us benig-
nantly, extending a hand 10 each in turn.
and saying How do?" but this was all
the English he knew, and the conversation
was carried on entirely through the inter-
probation of his foster-daughter.
He mad been several times TO Washing
ton TO represent his tribe before the
Great Father" and there had become
converted to the inartistiC garments
known as civilian dress, which. however,
suited him, for he wore his frock coat
with elegance and dignity. He was alto
gether Of heroic type. His leonne head
was never meant to bow, nor his fearless
eyes to quail. When civilization came upon
him, he met IL as q cOnqueror, instead or
fleeing before ii as lesser men Of his tribe
had done. During his life. a span of three
score years and ten, he had seen changes
I'm his tribe which the nations of Europe
have only accomplished i'm hundreds Of
centuries Having begun childhood as the
widest savage, he was finishing life q
thought and altruistic desires.
When we were driven to the Indian
school, l begged to be left alone with a
troop Of youngsters who were romping
outside, instead of going I'm with the
others to see the weary children and
wearier teachers struggling with the
English language and elementary studies.
The children in the school-rooms were
all heavy and Indifferent, but out Of
doors they were playful and joyous L
sat down on the steps and ten little In
dian boys approached me curiously and
suspiciously, like the squirrels in a park.
Some scarlet carnations on my dress
were the winning card, and / held them
out suggestively. In a moment / was
covered with an avalanche of laughing,
struggling children, whose cold, dirty
hands at once ruthlessly touched my coat,
neck, and face. 1 turned them off, but
those who had not succeeded in gaining
a flower came back with extended palms,
crying, "Give, give" They picked at my
black headed pins and asked for those,
then, with unblushng assurance, begged
with clamorous voices and brown hands
my watch and every bit of jewelry in
sight. They apparently spoke no English
but the word give; however, 1 asked
them their names as the ten little boys
stood before me in wriggling row.
Joshua" said the first; Joseph" said
the second, and Daniel" the third
mo, no. nor l exclaimed i'm impa-
thence, Indian name" The little fellows
were giving me the unattractive substi-
tutes which were taken from the Bible
by the school-teachers, probably as the
first step in religious reformation.
Indian NAME" l repeated, pointing to
the merry little gnOme called Joshua. He
and all the others looked puzzled and
solemn for moment, grunted an inartic
ulate SYLLABLE or two, then, with a happy
smile of illumination, he and all the row
filled my ears with the musical sound of
the names their mothers called them on
the plain and in the tepee, when beaded
buckskins clothed their straight limbs
and moccasins made their steps soft and
light as a coyotes.
After the Joy of telling their true names
and teaching them 10 my stumbling
tongue. they fell upon me again with a
sudden rush "Namel namew they cried
in emulation of my first request. Helen"
gravely responded, and each conned the
lesson over in gentle murmuriug. 1t was
now time to go. The others Of my
party were approaching. L turned to say
good-by TO my little troop of entertain
ers. but they were disappearing at the
sight Of more strangers. "GoOd-by," /
called. From behind a corner of the
building six tousled black heads were
peeping "Good-by, Elem" they re-
piled, and scampered away like prairie
dogs.
To N Bicycle.