The
Agency Of The Chippewas Is On The Reservation Referred To, A Little
North Of The Crow Wing River, And Six Miles Distant From This Town.
To
come down more to particulars, however, and adopt words which people
here would use, I might say that the agency is on Gull River, a very
clear and pretty stream, which flows from a lake of that name, into
the Crow Wing.
I passed the agency yesterday, and two miles beyond, in
order to visit Pug-o-na-ke-shick, or Hole-in-the-day, the principal
and hereditary chief of the Chippewas. Mr. Herriman, the agent,
resides at the agency, in compliance with the regulation of the Indian
bureau, which requires agents to reside among the Indians. I strongly
suspect there are many people who would think it unsafe to travel
alone among the Chippewas. But people who live about here would
ridicule the idea of being afraid of violence or the slightest
molestation from them, unless indeed the fellows were intoxicated. For
my part, a walk on Boston common on a summer morning could not seem
more quiet and safe than a ramble on horseback among the homes of
these Indians. I spoke to a good many. Though naturally reserved and
silent, they return a friendly salutation with a pleasant smile.
Their old costume is still retained as a general thing. The blanket is
still worn instead of coats. Sometimes the men wear leggins, but often
go with their legs naked. A band is generally worn upon the head with
some ornament upon it. A feather of the war eagle worn in the
head-band of a brave, denotes that he has taken the scalp of an enemy
or performed some rare feat of daring. An Indian does not consider
himself in full dress without his war hatchet or weapons. I meet many
with long-stemmed pipes, which are also regarded as an ornamental part
of dress. They appear pleased to have anything worn about them attract
attention. They are of good size, taller than the Winnebagoes, and of
much lighter complexion than tribes living five hundred miles further
south. Herein the philosopher on the cooking of men is confirmed.
Their hair is black, long, and straight; and some are really
good-looking. There are but few who still paint. Those in mourning
paint their faces black. What I have seen of their houses raises high
hopes of their advancement in civilization. We can now begin to lay
aside the word lodge and say house. Over a year ago, Mr. Herriman
promised every one a good cooking stove who would build himself a
comfortable house. This promise had a good effect, for several houses
were built. But the want of windows and several other conveniences,
which are proper fixtures, gives their dwellings a desolate appearance
to one who looks to a higher standard of comfort. Of course I saw a
few of the men at the store (for there is a store at the agency),
spending their time, as too many white men do in country villages.
Eight miles beyond the agency, on Gull Lake, is a mission. It has been
under the charge of Rev. J. L. Breck, a gentleman of high culture, and
whose enlightened and humane exertions in behalf of the Indians have
received much commendation both from the agent and Gov. Gorman, the
Superintendent. He has been at the mission four years. While he had
the benefit of the school-fund, he had in his school, under his own
roof, 35 pupils; since that was withheld, the number of pupils has
been 22. Mr. Breck will soon remove to Leech Lake, and will be
succeeded by a gentleman who comes well recommended from a theological
institution in Wisconsin. I desired very much to go as far as the
mission, but from Crow Wing and back it would have been thirty miles,
and it was otherwise inconvenient on account of the rain. The Indians
are beginning to farm a little. They begin with gardens. Their support
is chiefly from the annuities paid by the United States, which are
principally received in some sort of dry goods. The goods are
furnished by contract, and the price paid for them is about enough, if
all stories are true. They also derive some support from their fur
hunts and by fishing. Buffaloes are still hunted successfully beyond
the Red River of the North. They bring home the furs, and also the
best parts of the meat. The meat is preserved by being partially
cooked in buffalo fat, cut into small pieces, and sewed up very tight
in the hide of the animal. It is called pemmican, and sells here for
twenty-five cents a pound. It is broken to pieces like pork scraps,
and the Indians regard it as a great luxury.
From the agency I hastened on to see Hole-in-the-day
(Pug-o-na-ke-shick, his Indian name, means, literally,
Hole-in-the-sky). He is a famous chief, having in his youth
distinguished himself for bold exploits and severe endurance. But what
most entitles him to attention is the very exemplary course he has
pursued in attempting to carry out the wishes of the government in
bringing his race to the habits of civilized life. It was principally
through his influence that a treaty was made between his tribe and the
United States, and after it went into effect he turned his attention
to farming. Previous to the treaty he was supported as chief by the
tribal revenue. He has succeeded well. Over a year ago the receipts of
what he sold from his farm, aside from what his household needed,
amounted to over two hundred dollars. At length, after riding a mile
and a half without passing a habitation, over a fertile prairie, I
came in sight of his house. He lives near a small lake, and north of
him is a large belt of heavy pine timber.
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