A Quaker Among the Indians E-Book

Thomas C. Battey

• Herausgeber: The Old Pioneer Press
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Quaker, explorer and educator Thomas C. Battey or 'Thomissy' as the locals called him records his time spent among various Native American tribes, including the Caddoes and the Kiowas, during his days running a school for indigenous children. His book is mostly written in the form of a diary and is full of fascinating observations about a vanished way of life. There are reported conversations Battey had with notable chiefs such as Stumbling Bear and Kicking Bird with whom he interacted over issues pertaining to the school, the law, the US government and the local Indian Agency. Battey juggled many responsibilities uncomplainingly and with an open heart. He tells his remarkable story in a lively and engaging manner. Both informative and entertaining,  A Quaker Among the Indians is a must-read for fans of American history.

Leseprobe

A Quaker Among the Indians

Thomas C. Battey

Published by The Old Pioneer Press, 2021.

Copyright

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A Quaker Among the Indians by Thomas C. Battey. First published as The Life and Adventures of a Quaker Among the Indians in 1875.

Revised edition published by The Old Pioneer Press, 2021.

All rights reserved.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

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10

11

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20

Further Reading: My Life Among the Indians

1

Having received intelligence of a party being about to leave Lawrence, Kansas, for the Cheyenne Agency, and it being an almost indispensable consideration to have company, especially in the latter part of the journey, where, for several hundred miles, there are no settlements, the country being entirely an unsubdued wilderness traversed by outlawed desperadoes and roving bands of Indians, I left my home and family on the second day of the tenth month, 1871, in order to join them. On account of the direction of my line of travel, the connections were imperfect, and I was delayed fifteen hours before reaching Lawrence, causing me to miss joining the party at that place. Pushing forward, I overtook it at Emporia, where arrangements were made for the long journey, by wagon train, for the agencies. We left that place on the 6th, J. J. Hoag being wagon-master and superintendent of the train.

Before leaving this place, we were reminded of our proximity to the borders of civilization, and the character of the region we should now have to traverse, by the breaking open and robbing of the post office, from which six hundred dollars in money, besides the registered letters, were abstracted.

A German laborer also, who, according to frontier custom, scorning to seek lodging in a house, lay down by the coal house near the Junction depot for a night’s repose, was attacked by two men, who knocked him on the head with a revolver, and demanded his money. He, being rather thick-headed, was not stunned by the blow, and, springing up suddenly, threw both of his assailants to the ground, thereby freeing himself from them, when, perceiving one of them in the attitude of shooting, he ran towards a light, which proved to be at the house where our party was quartered. His head was badly gashed and bruised.

The journey from Emporia to Newton, some eighty miles, was accomplished in three days. The first sixty or sixty-five miles we followed up the valley of the Cottonwood, a fine stream of water flowing through a beautiful valley of rich, arable land, bounded at first by rolling prairies, afterwards, as we advanced towards the head of the stream, by bluffs containing immense quantities of magnesian limestone of an excellent quality for building purposes. Several small towns are springing up in this valley, through which the Santa Fe Railroad is laid, and is now in running order to Newton.

The latter part of the way was over high prairies, or plains, of thin, poor soil, incapable of enduring either wet weather or drought, being of a dense, heavy clay; yet the occasional cabins of the homesteaders, though few and far between, gave indications of the approaching tide of civilized life.

On these prairies I saw the first drove of Texas cattle, consisting of about five hundred head, had my first experience of camp-life and sleeping on the lap of Mother Earth, with no other canopy than that afforded by the starry vault above, unless at times we may have found the leafy crown of some spreading tree, under which to unfold our blankets for a night’s repose. It was here, also, that I obtained my first taste of buffalo beef, having procured some from a hunter.

We arrived at Newton on the morning of the 9th, where our train was increased by two wagons and two men, making it to consist of five wagons and ten persons, all told.

Newton is a town of about three hundred houses and has sprung up in the incredibly short time of five months. Eight months before this there was no human habitation within about thirty miles of it. Being the present terminus of the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railroad, it is the point of shipment from whence the Texas cattle are sent east. Immense trains, loaded with cattle, leave daily for different eastern points: the stockyards are necessarily extensive, and the business carried on heavy. Being situated on the very outskirts of civilization, it naturally becomes the nucleus to which the most vile and desperate characters—outlaws, gamblers, and desperadoes, horse thieves, and murderers—are gathered; as a consequence, crime, drunkenness, and its attendant evils are common, and are not concealed. Almost every night has its row, and murders are of frequent occurrence.

A woman who lives here, and whose husband works in the lumberyard where we were loading some wagons, told us that they had lived here but two months, and in that time there had been twelve murders committed in the town; several other persons had been carried away from gambling and drinking saloons with broken heads and other wounds, of whose death or recovery she had not heard. In going to the post office, I scarcely saw a man who had not a bowie knife and at least one revolver dangling from his waist, while the most horrid oaths and imprecations, even from the lips of women, constantly assailed my ears as I walked in the street.

Being obliged to remain here overnight, we went out, and made our camp about a half mile from the town, and established a nightwatch, in order, if possible, to prevent our horses and mules from taking too abrupt a leave before we were in readiness. Camp was visited no less than three times during the night by prowling marauders, who, being promptly challenged, made some excuse for their visit, and withdrew. Wichita, where we arrived on the morning of the 11th, and where we recruited our provisions for crossing the plains, is situated on the east bank of the Arkansas River, in a broad valley of exceedingly rich soil, where good water is easily obtained by digging, and bids fair to be a place of considerable importance, being surrounded by an excellent country, which only awaits the tide of immigration to become one of the most productive parts of the west. But few homesteaders’ claims as yet are taken in this lovely valley. This place is named from the Wichita Indians, who, with a portion of the Caddoes, remained loyal to the government during the late rebellion, and were driven from their homes in the southwest by the more civilized Indians, many of whom, having become possessed of negro slaves, sympathized with the Confederate States, and made war upon those who remained loyal. The latter fled to this place, and, making their camp here, remained until after the close of the war, when they returned to their country, in the southwestern part of Indian Territory.

Wichita is nearly as large as Newton, about thirty miles from it, and eighteen months of age. It does not appear to have as extensive a business, on account of not being located on any railroad line, though there is a branch line in progress of construction from Newton, which, when completed, will be likely to remove most of the cattle shipping to this place.

From Wichita to Caldwell—near the boundary line between Kansas and Indian Territory—the country is a rolling prairie, crossed by numerous streams of water, and containing much good, deep soil, interspersed with considerable that I should consider thin, poor, and washy. Between these places we encountered a severe sandstorm, which compelled us to seek the shelter of some timber skirting Slate Creek. This storm was succeeded by rain the next day, so that we were again obliged to lie by under the lee of some sandhills on the Chisaspia. We met, in three droves, about three thousand four hundred head of Texas cattle, and finally camped on Fall Creek, about a mile from the south line of Kansas, on the 14th, about sundown, nearly fifty-five miles from Wichita.

Early in the morning of the 15th we crossed Bluff Creek and entered the Territory. From the bluffs overlooking the creek from the south, an extensive view is obtained of the valley to the northwest and west, exhibiting many miles of beautiful undulating country. Here I took my last look at Kansas.

This forenoon we passed several small towns of prairie dogs and saw several antelopes at a distance. Chow—a young Arapahoe, who formed one of our party—said he could see buffalo; but my poor eyes could not see them.

After dinner I sat down to write in my diary, and, consequently, fell some distance behind, when, from the shouting and motioning of some of the part, I conceived that there might be some danger ahead, and hurried up nearly as fast as possible, it being up a slope. I was somewhat out of breath when I came up with the hindermost wagon, just in time to clamber upon it before entering a drove of Texas cattle, consisting of about two thousand head. I had not thought of their being undomesticated, and that it was dangerous for footmen to fall in their way, which really is the case. We soon after met with another drove, consisting of twelve hundred head. About two o’clock we entered upon a community of prairie dogs, miles in extent. These animals belong to the marmot family, are herbivorous and burrowing. They are about one foot in length, of a yellowish-brown or pale fawn color, and full of life and activity. The dirt thrown out of their burrows forms considerable mounds around the entrance to them, and, occurring at tolerably regular intervals, has suggested the name of towns. A small owl burrows with them, as does also the large yellow rattlesnake. I cannot say whether this latter is a welcome guest in their burrows, or tolerated as a necessary nuisance, from their inability to expel him from their habitations; but, from the fact of his maw sometimes containing a young dog, I am inclined to the latter opinion, while the snake undoubtedly enjoys a kind of complaisant satisfaction in the riotous living thus unwillingly yielded him by his four-footed friends. The owl, however, I am inclined to think, lives on friendly terms with the dog, and may act the part of a scavenger, ridding the burrows of whatever may be offensive. These dogs appear to be all the time in motion; running, frolicking, barking, jumping, and plunging headfirst into their holes. I was much interested with the little fellows.

We did not get past this community until nearly night. In the meantime, we saw several buffaloes, at the distance of half a mile or more; they being the first I had ever seen in a wild state, of course awakened no small degree of interest. Chow left, a little before going into camp, in pursuit of buffalo, shot one twice, but it growing dark, he did not get it.

The next morning, after crossing the Salt Fork of the Arkansas, we found ourselves in the midst of thousands of these animals. Those nearby appeared to be moved with a desire to get farther from us, and were running, not, as one might suppose, whichever way fear may have led, but following, in immense herds, some chosen leader, in a heavy, rolling flight, unlike the movements of any other animal; not apparently rapid, and yet not occupying much time in putting a safe distance between them and the objects of their fear, when they, as well as those more remote, betook themselves to quiet grazing, or rolling in their wallows.

Such a congregated mass of animal life I had never before witnessed, and the scene was not only striking and novel, but bewildering and exciting. Far as the vision extended over the wide-spreading expanse of the plains, these shaggy-headed, huge-bodied, clumsy, and uncouth-looking quadrupeds were running, rolling, or grazing, in all the freedom of their native wildness, in such immense herds as to defy computation.

Miles beyond miles were covered with them, while, upon close observation, the long level line of the distant horizon proved to be a moving mass of life. In the course of the morning we met, in two droves, about three thousand two hundred head of Texas cattle. These droves, large as they were, could be comprehended, seen over, around, and beyond, while the immense herds of buffalo appeared to be limitless, both in extent and number. The noise of their tread, and the low, moaning sound of their breathing, and perhaps bellowing, though I could not satisfy myself as to the latter, sounded like distant thunder. It is true that nearby there were spaces of prairie of some extent unoccupied by them; but, in looking off at a distance, they appeared to cover the plains.

Our men obtained several shots at antelopes and buffaloes, but without success, until stopping for dinner, a cow and calf were grazing but a short distance from the place where we halted. One of our men, by following the bed of the creek, and keeping a high bank between himself and the cow, crept up close enough to shoot the calf. The cow not taking to flight, as was expected, but continuing to stand on the defensive, was also shot; and by cutting out the hams, tenderloins, and tongues, we had a supply of good meat. The calf was apparently four or five months old and measured four feet and four inches in girth. Soon after, Chow, who had gone out early in the morning in order to replenish our larder from some of the immense herds around us, came in loaded with choice pieces, such as tongue, tenderloin, etc., having killed four buffaloes.

These plains are not level; at the same time, the slopes are long, so that large tracts of country come within the scope of vision at a time, and the visible horizon is mostly an unbroken plain.

The 17th we left camp just as the sun was throwing his first rays upon us. One of our party, having started out sometime before in order to shoot game, had shot a large, fierce-looking buffalo so as to break his back. When we came up, we found him in a perfect rage of terror and anger, though he could not raise his hinder parts from the ground. His will was good to have shown us that he was not to be approached with impunity, but that from some cause, no doubt mysterious to himself, his physical organization refused obedience to his will. The wild flashing of his eye, gleaming with rage and terror, the ominous shake of his enormous head, with his furious efforts to raise himself upon his feet, admonished us that our safety depended more upon his inability to harm us, than any disposition of his wild, untamed spirit. Chow would go up to him, seize him by the horns, and laugh at the calamity, as though he could understand him; telling him his “medicine” was strong, but not quite equal to his present need, and now too late to make more.

Several bullets were shot through his lungs, aimed at his heart, while he still maintained his position upon his forefeet. Chow continued to talk to him about his strong “medicine,” pulling his head around by the horns, while he made efforts to plunge upon him, and teach him a lesson on the propriety of catching a wild buffalo bull by the horns.

At length, the Indian put an end to the scene by shooting him through the heart, upon which he settled over, and yielded up his life. He measured seven feet and two inches in girth. Another was soon killed, and their tongues cut out, while the carcasses were left on the ground, food for the coyotes and buzzards, of which there are great numbers on these plains. We passed several other buffalo carcasses, which had been left in the same manner, killed by someone just that he might say he had killed a buffalo; and thus are they, year by year, growing fewer and fewer, through this means, in connection with the immense slaughter by the Indians, and it is not improbable that before many more revolving seasons they will be numbered with the extinct races of the past.

Before noon, in passing a ridge, as we came by the head of a deep ravine, or canyon, a herd of some twenty antelopes came running over the ridge, and, circling around our wagons, came close to us, stood and looked at us for a short time, with an air of awakened curiosity, then very gracefully took to flight over the ridges, and disappeared from view. They are very beautiful animals, resembling the deer, but smaller. They are equally graceful in form and movement, and more pleasing in color, having considerable white on their flanks, sides, and haunches.

One peculiar characteristic of the antelope, notwithstanding his proverbial fleetness, renders him an easy prey to the hunter. He seems possessed of an uncontrollable curiosity, which leads him to approach and examine any strange object which may attract his attention. The hunter, availing himself of his knowledge of this trait, partially discovers himself to him, and suddenly drops into the grass, or a buffalo wallow, out of sight. The curiosity of the antelope is awakened, and he commences an approach, not in a direct line towards the object, but in diminishing circles around it, until, coming within short range, he falls a prey to the hunter.

Soon after, on a long slope, we passed an immense herd of buffaloes lying at their ease, and composedly chewing the cud in the sun: the sight was pleasing; hundreds, if not thousands, of these lordly brutes gently ruminating, in quiet and peaceful enjoyment, on their own native pastures.

We were not out of sight of buffalo until nearly night, when we came to a piece of low, shrubby timber, perhaps from twelve to fifteen or twenty feet in height, called “Black Jacks,” near which we encamped, and were much annoyed by wolves, which continued prowling and howling about our camp throughout the night.

After this we saw but two more buffaloes, the plains became broken, and the soil somewhat better, especially between the Cimarron, or Red Fork of the Arkansas, and the Kingfisher, but was more broken and of poorer soil nearer the Cheyenne Agency.

The Cimarron, though a long stream, rising in the mountains of Colorado, flowing so far through a country where the annual rainfall is light, is but a small stream comparatively, except when swollen by the melting of the snows among the mountains near its source. At the time of its spring rise it is nearly half a mile wide and becomes a formidable obstacle in the way of travel, not only on account of the water, but the sandy character of its banks and bed. But now, though the sand was quite an obstruction, I walked across it almost dry-shod. The water is not only impregnated with salt and alkali, but also with iron.

Our party killed several wild turkeys and geese; one of the latter measured five feet and ten inches in the spread of its wings. We arrived at the Cheyenne Agency about the middle of the afternoon of the 19th, having been fourteen days on the road from Emporia, in which we had traveled about two hundred and eighty miles.

The Cheyenne Agency is situated on the north side of the North Fork of the Canadian River, west of the ninety-eighth meridian of west longitude, in the midst of a broad and beautiful bottom. But few Indians were at the Agency, they having mostly gone out on the fall buffalo hunt. The agent, B. Darlington, was putting up a large mission schoolhouse, for the benefit of the Cheyenne and Arapahos. These Indians have but recently been removed to the Territory from their former homes in Colorado, from whence they had been driven by the tide of immigration, which immediately followed the discovery of gold and silver in the vicinity of Pike’s Peak, and their lands were thus wrested from them without their consent. This leading to the committal of some outrages, terms of a treaty were agreed upon, by which a reservation was set apart for them on both sides of the Arkansas River, in the state of Kansas. This treaty was never ratified by Congress, and they for several years were left without any land they could call their own. Being thus deprived of their lands, they committed some depredations upon the settlers, which resulted in the treacherous massacre of Sand Creek, and their ultimate removal to the Territory, where they at present reside, living mostly at peace, though not satisfied with their removal from Kansas and Colorado.

Perhaps this Sand Creek massacre should receive more than the passing notice I had intended giving it; and I will just state here, that in the summer of 1864, some depredations and robberies were committed by the Cheyenne and Arapahos upon settlements in Colorado, their former home, from which they had been driven, and for which they had not been compensated. In consequence of these outrages, the Cheyenne village of Cedar Bluff was attacked by United States troops, and between twenty and thirty Indians killed, and as many more wounded. Petty depredations were continued until fall, when the Indians, becoming tired of hostilities, desired peace, and applied to Major Wynkoop, commander at Fort Lyon, to negotiate a treaty. He ordered the Indians to assemble about Fort Lyon, under his assurance of safety and protection. They accordingly assembled, about five hundred men, women, and children, under the charge of a chief who had all along opposed hostilities with the whites. While here, in a defenseless condition, under promise of protection from a commissioned officer of the United States army, Colonel Chivington, at the head of a company of United States troops, was permitted to surround, and slaughter without mercy, the whole band. This inaugurated an Indian war, which, as has been stated, withdrew eight thousand troops from those engaged in suppressing the rebellion, cost the government about thirty million dollars, at the small loss to the Indians of not over twenty men killed.

After remaining overnight at this Agency, which really seemed like an oasis in a desert, I started on, with an ox train, to complete my journey to the Wichita Agency, the point of my destination. In the afternoon I met with Jonathan Richards, the agent for the Wichitas, who was on his way to Lawrence, on business connected with his Agency. After a few minutes’ conversation with him, I journeyed on, crossed the main Canadian, which is a large stream, not far from three fourths of a mile in width, but at this time so reduced as to be but a few steps across. The same remarks will apply to this river that were made respecting the Cimarron. Encamped for the night near George Washington’s, a Caddoe chief. The morning of the 21st, after breakfasting and getting the cattle yoked, our wagon-master, in order to help over the sandhills which lie between this point and the Agency, concluded to take five yoke of oxen into his teams, which Washington had promised to send to the agent. They had been worked, but having been for some time idle, true to the instincts of the undomesticated Texas cattle, they had become nearly as wild as ever, and had to be caught with the lasso by a Mexican employed on the place. This was very dexterously done, but after being caught the difficulty was far from being ended. Some of the more docile ones submitted readily to the yoke, while those that were wilder would plunge at the men, charging with all the strength and spirit of their wild natures; but, by keeping the rope with which they had been lassoed wound around trees, they were brought up before reaching the objects of their fury, causing the strong ropes to crack again, while they themselves would be thrown clear over their heads, upon their sides or backs, by the violence of the charge. Though thus brought up, and thwarted in their object, the charge was again and again renewed; but they were always arrested in time to prevent a full appreciation of the sharpness of their enormous horns.

This exciting business detained us for several hours, so that we did not get started until nearly noon, and it becoming wet in the afternoon, we made but little prepress, and went into camp early.

Our train consisted of eight wagons, fastened two together, making four teams; the foremost wagon of each two is called the lead and the hindmost the trail, wagon. Every team in this train consisted of five yoke of oxen except one, and that of six. Our course lay through a very hilly and brushy country, belonging to the Wichita and Caddoe reservation.

On the 22d, after deliberately considering the subject, the tedious slowness of the train, the shocking profanity of the drivers, notwithstanding their kindness to me, I made up my mind to leave them, and pursue my journey on foot and alone, it being about twenty-three miles to the Agency. Accordingly, I tied up my blankets, left them, with my victuals box and satchel, in the wagon I had occupied, and leaving the train to come leisurely on, proceeded on my solitary journey. The day becoming fine, and feeling well and hearty, I made good progress, over shrubby sandhills, through valleys rich and beautiful, though not very plentifully supplied with water, arriving at the Agency a little after two o’clock P.M.

The Wichita Agency is situated on the benchland, or second bottom, north of the Washita River, at the foot of high, rocky bluffs, in one of the richest and most beautiful valleys of the southwest. Thus, was this long and tedious journey finally accomplished, with feelings of thankfulness, though I had no friend to welcome my arrival. All with whom I met were entire strangers; yet it was pleasant once more to find myself among a civilized people, however few or remotely situated from the rest of the civilized world. The third day after my arrival, the train I had left arrived with my luggage.

Penn’s Treaty with the Indians

2

On my arrival at the Agency, I found a small school had been in operation three weeks, under the care of A. J. Standing, with from six to eight Indian children in attendance. A small room over the commissary, in the same building in which the school was taught, being set apart for my use, I occupied a few days in cleaning it out, fitting it up for a sleeping apartment, putting up a rude bedstead, visiting the school in order to make myself familiar with the scholars, before taking charge of them, in accordance with instructions left by the agent on departing. I took charge of the school on the 1st of the tenth month, 1871, six scholars in attendance, and continued it as a day school until the 10th of the eleventh month following, with but little variation—some days more scholars than others, but at no time exceeding nine. Most of these, living at the distance of four or five miles, remained at the schoolhouse through the week, sleeping on the ground, by the side of a log or fences or anything that would afford a windbreak. A Cherokee woman, who lived in the yard, cooked two meals a day for them.

At the end of this time, the weather becoming inclement, I felt that there was a necessity for immediate arrangements being made for the better accommodation of the children, or the school would have to close, as it could not be expected of the pupils, either that they could come from home every day, or continue to lodge, as they had been doing, in the open air. There being several rooms in the commissary, one of which was occupied as the schoolroom, others containing stores and annuity goods, I conceived the idea of changing the place of some of these things and fitting up the building so as to board and lodge the scholars. But the agent being absent, and not having had an opportunity of conferring with him and ascertaining his views and plans, I could not know whether he would approve of the project or would be able to carry out the design if he should approve it.

I conferred with A. J. Standing, who heartily entered into my views, and we together consulted with W. H. H. Howard, the acting agent, who left us at liberty to adopt any measure which we thought would conduce to the advancement of the school, provided we would take all responsibility of the undertaking upon ourselves; and I accordingly dismissed the scholars with instructions that they should not return until the fourth evening, when I should have made arrangements for them to sleep and eat in the house—but two school days being thus lost. We then went to work and removed upwards of twenty tons of floor from a room adjoining the schoolroom: the acting agent had tables and benches made, and it was fitted for a dining room. Another room adjoining this we appropriated for a kitchen, and the Cherokee woman was installed as cook. One small room upstairs was fitted for a sleeping apartment for the girls, and a larger one for the boys. Bed-ticks were made and filled with hay for the girls’ apartment, while the beds for the boys were made by spiking scantling to the floor, for the head and foot, filling in between them with hay, and covering with wrapping blankets, a thin sleazy blanket used to protect annuity goods during transportation; these latter were secured in their places by nailing them to the scantlings. A quantity of annuity blankets completed the beds. Gunny sacks were crammed into the openings, to prevent the too free ingress of the wind: dishes, knives, forks, spoons, and combs, were procured, the blackboard slated, and we were in readiness against the time set for the return of the scholars. A. J. Standing and myself, having done most of the work, had been kept very busy.

Some of the scholars came back, on the evening of the 14th, prepared for the opening of the school, in its new capacity the next day.

In thus fitting up a portion of the old commissary and opening a boarding school, during the absence of the agent, without an opportunity of conferring with him on the subject, I felt that I had assumed a responsibility which might expose me to censure, if nothing more; but as I had deliberately weighed the subject, and felt no condemnation, I was satisfied as to its expediency, trusting that it might be, as the event has proved, the beginning of a great benefit to this people.

I doubt whether I should have undertaken it alone; but finding a hearty co-operator in the person of A. J. Standing, who entered into the work and plans with energy and zeal, not only as an assistant, but offering valuable suggestions in the arrangements, justice to him demands that I should honorably ascribe to him the merit he deserves, and my appreciation of the faithfulness with which he entered into the spirit of the work, and performed the different duties which fell to his share in its accomplishment.

The school was opened as a boarding school, with eleven scholars, on the 15th of the eleventh month (November), 1871, and gradually increased in numbers until no more could be accommodated in the building. It had been previously supplied with sets of school charts, illustrated with the figures of animals and other objects; also a number of slates, writing books, readers, etc. We could make no use of the latter for some time, at least to advantage, and there were no maps to be had in the country. Though I might be regarded as an old teacher, yet here among these wild children, of a strange language, with no one to interpret, I felt myself to be indeed a novice, and had many things to learn, many plans to adopt, which are seldom put in practice among civilized scholars, who understand the language of the teacher, and to some extent know, from home instruction, the nature, use, and advantage of schools before entering them.

Here, however, the teacher must get down to the very foundation of knowledge, begin at the very beginning, and work his way up through the double process of teaching the spoken as well as the written language, adapting his system of instruction to their crude comprehensions, making use of the things they know to teach them the things they do not know.

Although I do not profess that I adopted the best system of instruction that could be devised, yet, as it proved eminently successful, I will give a brief synopsis of the course pursued.

The school was divided into classes of from four to eight, and each session was opened with some concert exercise, such as repeating the names of the numerical figures, previously made upon the blackboard. Afterwards, when these had been learned, the multiplication table made a good exercise. Then, having drawn upon the blackboard the picture of some animal with which they were familiar, I would place its English name in Roman characters over it. Upon their first seeing it, they would give its Caddo name, which I would put under it. Then, while one class was exercising at the reading charts, all the other scholars were employed in drawing pictures of this animal, and printing its names upon their slates, thus keeping them busy learning the English names of animals, as well as acquiring the use of the pencil. After exercising each class at the charts as long as it was thought best, they were taught to count in English on the fingers or counting frame.

During the fore part of the term, I occupied myself, between school hours, in constructing and painting a set of “outline maps,” which employed my spare time for nearly two months. When completed, I commenced making pictures, on the blackboard, of animals not found in America, and exciting their curiosity as to what they were, and the reason they had never seen them, viz., that they lived in a country on the other side of the “great water,” of which they had heard their old men talk.

Then, introducing the map of the world, I explained to them what it represented and its different parts, pointing out the country in which we live, the ocean, or “great water,” the country that particular animal represented on the blackboard inhabits, and proceeded to explain the different divisions of land and water, as delineated on the map. I gave them an idea of the magnitude of the different countries and oceans, etc., from the distance they could travel in a day, and the number of days it would take to go across. Their interest was thus awakened in the study of geography, and they made rapid progress in acquiring geographical knowledge, as well as that of the English language, of numbers, and of the different kinds of animals inhabiting the different parts of the earth. They manifested an interest in the knowledge they were acquiring, which I had seldom seen equaled among civilized pupils, except in individual cases.

After the school had been in operation as a boarding school one month, the agent returned, and heartily approved of the enterprise. But the school having been commenced during his absence, and before measures had been perfected for the organization and maintenance of it, the large amount of work engaging his attention, after his return, in getting the affairs of the Agency in smooth running order, the impatience of the Indians, because everything could not be done at once which they wanted done, not having any idea that time is essential to the accomplishment of work, the mill, the scales, buildings for other purposes, and many things immediately needed, while the school was in actual progress, conduced to divert the mind of the agent into other directions, however unintentionally, so that it did not receive that attention which its importance demanded, and was continued for some months under many and very great disadvantages. Improvements were commenced, however, after the pressure of other things had been removed, which conduced much to the comfort and efficiency of the undertaking.

On the return of the agent, Polly, the Cherokee woman, who had honorably and faithfully discharged her duties, as matron and cook, to the best of her limited knowledge, was removed, and a white family, in which were two grown-up daughters, besides the mother, were installed in her place.

The change was agreeable, and could we have been furnished with lights, to have enabled us to have made profitable use of the long winter evenings, and to exercise that care over our wild pupils which their uncultivated habits demanded, the school would have been abundantly more profitable and beneficial in its influence.

Title page of book on Quaker persecution in New England

3

As some incidents connected with my stay at this Agency, and subsequent removal to that of the Kiowas, may be interesting, I will now transcribe from my diary, going back to the time of the commencement of my school.

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