Dahcotah | Page 7

so different from the Indians I had occasionally
seen. There was nothing in their aspect to indicate the success of efforts
made to civilize them. Their tall, unbending forms, their savage hauteur,
the piercing black eye, the quiet indifference of manner, the slow,
stealthy step--how different were they from the eastern Indians, whose
associations with the white people seem to have deprived them of all
native dignity of bearing and of character. The yells heard outside the
high wall of the fort at first filled me with alarm; but I soon became
accustomed to them, and to all other occasional Indian excitements,
that served to vary the monotony of garrison life. Before I felt much
interest in the Sioux, they seemed to have great regard for me. My
husband, before his marriage, had been stationed at Fort Snelling and at
Prairie du Chien. He was fond of hunting and roaming about the
prairies; and left many friends among the Indians when he obeyed the
order to return to an eastern station. On going back to the Indian
country, he met with a warm welcome from his old acquaintances, who
were eager to shake hands with "Eastman's squaw."
The old men laid their bony hands upon the heads of my little boys,
admired their light hair, said their skins were very white; and, although
I could not then understand their language, they told me many things,

accompanied with earnest gesticulation. They brought their wives and
young children to see me. I had been told that Indian women gossiped
and stole; that they were filthy and troublesome. Yet I could not
despise them: they were wives and mothers--God had implanted the
same feelings in their hearts as in mine.
Some Indians visited us every day, and we frequently saw them at their
villages. Captain E. spoke their language well; and without taking any
pains to acquire it, I soon understood it so as to talk with them. The
sufferings of the women and children, especially during the winter
season, appealed to my heart. Their humility in asking for assistance
contrasted strongly with the pompous begging of the men. Late in a
winter's afternoon, Wenona, wife of a chief named the "Star," came to
my room. Undoing a bundle that she took from under her blanket, she
approached and showed it to me. It was an infant three days old, closely
strapped to an Indian cradle. The wretched babe was shrivelled and
already looking old from hunger. She warmed it by the fire, attempting
to still its feeble cries.
"Do you nurse your baby well, Wenona?" I asked; "it looks so thin and
small."
"How can I," was the reply, "when I have not eaten since it was born?"
Frequently we have heard of whole families perishing during severely
cold weather. The father absent on a winter's hunt, the mother could not
leave her children to apply to the fort for assistance, even had she
strength left to reach there. The frozen bodies would be found in the
lodges. The improvident character of the Indian is well known. Their
annuities are soon spent; supplies received from government are used
in feasting; and no provision is made for winters that are always long
and severe. Though they receive frequent assistance from the public at
the fort, the wants of all cannot be supplied. The captain of the post was
generous towards them, as was always my friend Mrs. F., whom they
highly esteemed. Yet some hearts are closed against appeals daily made
to their humanity. An Indian woman may suffer from hunger or
sickness, because her looks are repulsive and her garments unwashed:
some will say they can bear the want of warm clothing, because they
have been used to privation.
The women of the Sioux exhibit many striking peculiarities of
character--the love of the marvellous, and a profound veneration for

any and every thing connected with their religious faith; a willingness
to labor and to learn; patience in submitting to insults from servants
who consider them intruders in families; the evident recognition of the
fact that they are a doomed race, and must submit to indignities that
they dare not resent. They seem, too, so unused to sympathy, often
comparing their lives of suffering and hardship with the ease and
comfort enjoyed by the white women, it must be a hard heart, that
could withhold sympathy from such poor creatures. Their home was
mine--and such a home! The very sunsets, more bright and glorious
than I had ever seen, seemed to love to linger over the scenes amongst
which we lived; the high bluffs of the "father of many waters" and the
quiet shores of the "Minesota;" the fairy rings on the prairie, and the
"spirit lakes" that reposed beside them; the bold peak, Pilot