The Conservative (Nebraska City, Neb.) 1898-1902, December 29, 1898, Page 6, Image 6

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Perhaps tlio first thing that impressed
the visitor to the old-time Indian camp
was its picturesqueness , says George
Bird Grinnell in the January Atlantic ;
for whether you viewed him with eyes
friendly or hostile the wild Indian was
always picturesque. It was a fine sight
to watch him charging down upon you
on his fleet pony , his long hair , feather-
decked , streaming in the wind , his
weapon ready for instant use. Ho swept
toward you a perfect master of his horse
and his seat. And it was not less fine
to ride in the midst of five hundred such
men your friends in the hurly-burly
of the charge on the buffalo herd , when
you felt yourself part of a con
fused blur of dust , flying pebbles , great
brown beasts , naked men and straining
horses. As striking , though in a dif
ferent way , was the long line of the
marching camp , as in slow procession ,
stretched out over a mile or two of
prairie , it wound its course among the
hills. Viewed from a distance , it looked
like a long ribbon , spotted hero and
there with bright bits of color ; but if
you were a part of it , as it advanced ,
you saw that it was made up of groups
of silent men with bows and quivers at
their backs , of women riding or leading
patient pack ponies that dragged their
travois , of racing boys , of loose horses ,
and of vagrant dogs. The barking , the
neighing , the shouting , the scolding ,
that fell on your ear , told something of
the vitality that animated the compon
ent parts of the procession.
Hardly less picturesque were the
quiet scenes of the Indian's home life ,
when you lived with him in his village
of conical skin tents. Sitting in the
shade of the lodges when the sun was
hot , yon smoked the long-stemmed pipe ,
and talked with your friends , while all
about you the people came and went.
Men returned from the hunt , riding
horses heavily laden with fresh meat
and hides ; women were at work pegging
out the skins or dressing them ; from
neighboring lodges men were shouting
invitations to the feast ; all about there
were little groups like your own , smok
ing , chatting , and laughing.
Indians are not ashamed to show
their affection to one another. Chums
who have been separated for any length
of time are likely , when they meet , to
put their arms around and hug and kiss
one another. Often two young men
will be seen standing or sitting close to
gether and holding hands , or with the
arm of one about the neck of the other.
My old father among the Blackfeet
always puts his arms around mo and
hugs me when wo meet after an absence
The purely social side of life in an In
dian camp could not fail to interest any
one who might be introduced to it.
In the family relation the India ,
shows a side which is attractive. He
loves his wife and family as we love
oiu-s , and he thinks of them before
blinking of himself. But besides the
mtural affection that any animal has
'or its young the Indian cares for his
children for another reason. Ho is in-
ensely patriotic. His pride in his tribe
and its achievements is very strong.
IG glories in the prowess of its braves
and the wisdom of its chiefs ; his soul
ihrills as he hears told over and over
again the stories of the victories which
n's people have won over their enemies ;
10 rejoices at the return of a successful
var party. In the children growing up
n the camp , in the boys shooting their
.hint-headed arrows at the blackbirds
and ground squirrels , or yelling and
shouting with excitement in the mimic
varfares which constitute a part of their
sport ; in the girls whom he sees nursing
iheir puppies or helping their mothers
at their work , he recognizes those who
a few years hence must bear the respon
sibilities of the tribe , uphold its past
glories or protect it from danger , as he
and his ancestors have done. No won-
ler he loves them. Indians seldom pun-
sh their children , yet usually these are
well trained , though chiefly by advice
and counsel. When a tiny little boy ,
who has just received his first bow and
arrows , starts out of the lodge to play
with his fellows , his mother is likely to
say to him : "Be careful now ; do not do
anything bad , do not hit any one , do not
shoot any one with your arrows. You
may hurt people with these things , if
3rou are not careful. Pay attention to
what I sa3T. "
To be discontented when doing noth
ing and to be fully contented when
working very hard is the way to acquire
wealth , prominence and a comfortable
and reputable old age. THE CONSERVA
TIVE can prove this proposition by more
than one hundred farmers in Otoe
county who have been , under its obser
vation , demonstrating its truth for forty
On Saturday , December 19,1898,1 left
Chicago at 3 :00 : o'clock in the afternoon ,
arriving at Lima , Ohio , at 9:00 : in the
evening with Mr. Bradbury , who has
been for many years manager of the
Lake Erie & "Western road.
On Sunday morning after breakfast
we drove out to meet the incoming train
with the Brice family. As I drove
through the little city from almost
every home I discerned the emblems of
mourning ; from almost every store
fluttered the black crejte , telling the
world how they sorrowed for the man
whom they loved.
As we drove along the streets wo me !
a procession marching old veterans
whoso hair had been whitened by the
snows of many winters some of them
lame , some with crutches and others
with canes , all keeping stop to the sol
emu funeral march as they formed
around the railroad station where the
cumins of the late Senator Brice were
aken from the train and carried into
lis residence.
That evening as I strolled about the
own meeting different persons , some in
the humble walks of life , they all said ,
'Our Cal , our Cal is gone , " and the
tears dropped from the nigged cheeks of
nany a poor man who said , "When I
was in trouble , he helped me. " Another ,
"When I was sick , ho thought of me ; "
mother , "If it had not been for our Cal ,
' . would have lost my little house. "
'Our Cal , our Cal , " was the cry and the
ameutation which went up through the
streets of the town. They felt their
best friend had gone , the man they ad-
nired and loved.
On Monday at 2 :00 : o'clock the com
munity crowded into ths pretty church.
Seventeen hundred workingmen came
'rom Indianapolis. The shops were shut
down all along the line of the Lake Erie
& "Western. Three thousand employees
of the railroad formed in line , standing
there with uncovered heads , the rain
pouring down as the funeral procession
passed by. At the church there was one
jowcr of flowers wreaths , broken col
umns , hearts one hundred and fifty
pieces grouped around the altar. More
.ban two thousand people were com
pelled to stand outside the church.
The services were simple , but beauti
ful ; among them was the singing of
those old hymns that were familiar and
dear to our departed friend. The min
ister was not fulsome in his praise. Ho
told the story of Mr. Brico's beautiful life ;
how he had not wrapped up his talents in
a napkin , but had done the best ho could ,
going through life helping the poor and
the down-trodden , holding out his hand
to those who were weak ; a man who
had such a large heart no enemies
every one , from the highest to the low
est , loved and revered him.
As we drove out to the cemetery , a
distance of about three miles , to pay our
last tribute to this great and good man
wo gathered around with uncovered
heads , and old men wept and young men
whom ho had befriended , and by and by
behind me I heard someone sobbing , and
upon turning saw it was a poor , aged
I looked up from the beautiful valley
to a distant hill , covered with a mantle
of snow ; and there solitary and alone
on the very summit stood a form ;
erect , tall , the figure of a soldier in the
uniform of a cavalryman. No one near
him , there ho stood as on guard.
Finally as they lowered the dear and
honored dust into the tomb , the sentinel
blow a bugle blast which echoed along
every neighboring rock and rill and its
reverberations came answering back
again in subdued and sweetest tones. It
was the last moan , the expiring melody
for soldier , citizen , statesman and pat
riot. EitSKiNi : M. PHELPS.
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