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SATURDAY   % JOURNAL.

 

 

 

7 I 7 71'r’o Jon- JOT, JR.

Warn. E. c.

 

[W Evidently our contributor, Joe Jot, J r., is a
public benefactor. When he produces such con-
fessed results as are indicated below, he is entitled
to a “ sheepskin ” Philo. D. D. B.—ED.]

 

I suffer not from indigestion,
Because m dearest friend

Advised. [I ollowed his suggestion,
And read what you had penned.

Worse than with laughing-gas besotten,
I laughed and laughed again, .

Till I had more thanquite‘ forgotten
My ceaseless, stinging pain.

I burst my fancy paper Collar.
And dropped my ‘ dentals ” out,

And scared the person dead—our caller——
In one uneart ly shout.

My gray hairs turned again as blackl y
, As in my youth they were ;
I acted so demoniacly

The household ran for fear.

The corrugations disappearinw
From my worn and haggardface,
‘ Have made myrwife more per-severing
In acts of wifer grace.

Before this wondrous revolution,
She governed with the mop;

She censured then without compunction,
No peace, no calm, no stop.

But now she says I‘m worth the having,
My beauty none can tell :

She says I’m like a fine engrav’ing,
Since my dyspepsia fell.

So here’s to you, my Joe Jot, Junior,
Bright as the vesper star; '

Long may you live to'write your humor,

, And Melancholy scare l

'  Mohenesm : ,
, on, ‘ ' j
Trap, Trigger and TomahaWk.

BY HENRY MAAVERY,
(MAJOR'MAX manrmn.)

 

 

III—Among the “Dusky Maidens.” My New
Partner. A‘f‘Scrimmag/e“ with the Black-
feet. Again taken Prisoner. Reception in the
Blackfoot Village. » The Council of 
Running the Gamflet. Escape of Tamega-
wombat. The Pawnee Indians. Scalps at a
Discount. Ready to Roost. Saved from Death,
by Indian Masonry. ,Interpreter for the:
Blackfeet. E‘eemasonry among the Black:
feet. A WhiteOoptii/e. ‘ Indian Agents. ' L
.I REMAINED a long timeat Fort Aspen;

hut, spending  time and money among:
the dusky mai ens who thronged. the
grounds, and whose tonlydesires were to
dance and-wear a gay dress. But even
pleasures become stale, and I grewtired of
thismode ,of life, and while getting ready:
for a «new start, there, came into the fort an
Indian, whose countenance was very fa-
miliar tome, and whom Ifound to be the
same one who had. given me a timely
warning two years before, after a night
battle, while acting as guide for. the Ore—.
gon emigrants—to which incident I may
hereafter refer.

The recognition was mutual, and I in-
duced him to accompany me on my tramp -
to the north. The next day we‘left, in-‘
tending to go to the Nez Perces country,,:
where I had heard there was an abundance t
of game. , ' . . ‘

. The companion I had chosen was a Paw-
nee Loup, named Tansegawamba. I left
off the largest part of his name, and there»
after called him Tansy; which suited him
just as well, especially when 'I told him
that tansy-and-rum was a favorite beverage
among the good old deacons of New En-
gland- _ ‘ .

He would never more than half believe
the stories I used to tell him of the strange
sights and wonderful machines they had in
the “ States ;” and when I would tell him
ofthe telegraph, or try to explain to him
the mysteries of steam, he would listen
very patiently, and the longest answer he
ever gave was, “ Waugh, conoin !”

And so, no matter whether I talked
Greek and Latin or Pawnee, it made no
difference to him. His ideas of science and
theology were decidedly vague, but on the
subject of trapping, and the habits of every
animal known to him, he was “ at home.”

We were in the country of the Blackfeet,
and wereobliged to be unusually cautious.
One day we came uponthe trail of a small
party, upon-the examination Of which, we
found that it consisted of six Blackfoot In—
dians, and that the trail had been made
since morning. Being in their own coun—
try, and unsuspicious of danger, they made
no effort to hide their footprints.

A moment’s conversation with Tansy dc-
cided our route, and taking the trail, we
were after the Blackfeet, resolved to have
a little “scrimmage” with them before
morning. We came up with them about
dusk and found them encamped by a. little ‘
spring, and cooking their suppers.

Personally, I had nothing against the
Blackfeet, and I resolved that I would not
kill one of them except in sclf«defense.
Rough and reckless as I had become, there -
was something repugnant in the idea of
killing a man who had never harmed me.
But I knew that Tansy would never let
such an opportunity pass for securing the
scalp of an enemy; and I knew also that
I would not desert him even had I known
that my own life would have paid the
penalty for my rashuess.

We lay and waited until they had all
gone to sleep (for they did not think it

worth while to leave one of their number“

on guard); then Tansy loosened his belt,
and seeing that his gun was all right, he
started for a scalp. Stealthily as a cat
about to spring upon a mouse, he crept to
the side of the first sleeper, and raising his
hatchet,_buricd it in the brain of the brave
who led the party. Not waiting to see the
result of his blow, he stepped over the
body, and a dull thud told that another
Blackfoot had gone to the “happy hunt-
ing-grounds." In stepping to the third
one, his foot slipped, and missing his aim,
he inflicted a severe wound upon the shoul-
der of the Indian, who started up with a
yell. It was his last one, however, but had
the efl‘ect‘of bringing the other three to
their feet in an instant.

v Tansy, deeming discretion the better part
of valor, ran toward where I lay watching,
the fun. The three Indians were close up-
On his heels, and *I saw that he would be
killed if I’did not interfere, and raising my
rifle, I “dropped” the foremost Indian.
The others Stopped intheir course, and not
knowing how many might be concealed in
the bushes, they turned and were soon out
of sight. When I, ,fired,'Tansy turned, and
in less time than I am writing it, was in
possession of four Blackfoot scalps.

I give this, not because there is any thing
very remarkable or commendable in the
act; but merely to illustrate the reckless
daring of a particular class~thc Indian

scout. I never shot an Indian for the sake
of having one less in the world, for I had
no revenge to gratify; and with but three
exceptions, only when it was to save my
own life. ‘

But here we were in the heart of the
BlaCkfoot country, and we knew that the
sooner we got out of there the better were
our chances of living; for there was one
thing of which we were morally certain,
and that was that the two Indians who had
escaped would soon return with a large
party; and that before long that part of
the country would be too hot for us. ,

I was not very much surprised, the se-
cond day after, to find ourselves surround-
ed by at least fifty Blackfoot warriors. Re-
solved to die “game,” if at all, I called
Tansy to follow me, and .just as I was rais—
ing my rifle to shoot an Indian who stood
in my way, an arrow struck my hand, and
glancing, hit me ab0ve the eye, and brought
me down. At the same time Tansy re-
ceived a blow which laid him senseless, and
we were soon bound.

WhenI was able to figure up the dam-
ages, I found I had a broken finger, and
the blood was still streaming 7 from my
head ; but I was plucky and would not let
them know how much I was suffering from
the pain.

After a hurried march of two days, we
arrived at the village of the Blackfeet, and
met the usual insults from the squaws and
children, who would come up and pinch
our arms and ears, pull our hair, and tread
on our toes. One old hag of a squaw came
and stood in front of me, and spat in my
face, which rather “ riled” me, and I gave
her a kick in the stomach which doubled
her up like a jack’knife, and she went off
howling. But I feund that I had not gain-
ed very much in their estimation by resent-
ing the insult; for though they kept at a
safe distance, they commenced throwing
sand, in my face, and striking me with long
sticks, until the chief .put an end to their
fun, and ordered us to the guard-house.

An old medicine-man came in and bound
up my wounds with some herbs, and the
pain ceasing, I was soon in a sound sleep.
The medicaments of an Indian doctor are
verysimple, and, precisely like those used

by Chiron and Esculapius, in olden time.

The half-savage physician may be ignorant,

but I have read that when Hippocrates be-

gan to mix theories with medicine, its heal-

ing powers grew less. And while some

sneer at the .mummery of the “medicine-

dance ” and manipulative pow-wows of the

savage, I coritend that such imposture is not

atenth’as‘bad as the frauds of 'sectarian

“systems,” or antagonistic “schools” of'
materz'onwdz'eo, as practiced in the midst of

Civilization.

The Indians know of certain roots and

herbs that will cure almost any disease they

are liable to contract; and with all their

unnecessary juggling over the sick, or the

“possessed,” they maltreat and kill fewer

than do our pretending quacks.

But Indian doctors are sadly ignorant of

physiology. They only know that a partic-

ular remedy is efficacious in certain diseases

or injuries. In their opinion all diseases are

bilious; and they administer either the

emetics or cathartics of their humble phar-

macopoeia. External wounds or eruptions

are speedily cured.

A “medicine-man” is supposed to 'pos:

sess some mysterious influence beyond the

curative power of the medicine he, may

compound. The early French explorers.
used the word “medicine” for doctor, and

since then “medicine” has signified any

thing of a mysterious meaning. But In—

dian medicine-men are prophets and con-

jurors, who claim to perform wonderful

miracles through charms and incantations.

A sick Indian imagines that he is afflicted
by the spirit of some animal, or, more like—
ly, by the spirit of an enemy; and he sends
a horse or a blanket for the doctor to come

and turn it out. The messenger is stripped
to run swiftly, retaining only his “ breech-

cloth” and carrying a bell. Entering the
doctor’s tepee, he kicks him with his foot,

and rings the bell. Then there is a race

back to the sick man’s lodge. If the doc
tor overtakes the messenger and kicks him
in return, he will keep his fee and stay at
home until sent for again.

'I had seen the time when, had I been in
such circumstances, I should not have
thought of sleeping ; but I knew
that escape was impossible, and that noth-
ing would be done with us that day, and I
needed all the strength I could get for the
morrow. I was pretty certain what would
be our fate, and yet, with death staring me
in the face, I was enjoying as quiet a. sleep
as I had ever known in childhood.

Tansy was confined in a separate lodge,
and Ihad no means of communicating with
him.‘ 'We were kept for several days be-
fore the council met which was to decide
our fate; and, being bound and guarded,

 

my chances for escape were looking rather
slim.

: In this tribe there were seven councilors,
who were the rulers of the nation. There

were also two head chiefs, who sat with
the council whenever it was in session.
The office of first councilor is the highest
in the nation, next to the head chiefs,
whose authority is equal. When any mat-
ter is discussed, if the votes are equal, one
of the old pipe-men is summoned before
the council, and the subject under discus-
sion is stated to him, with the substance of
the arguments on both sides; after hearing
which he gives his vote, which decides the
question. . When war is declared on any
tribe it is done by the council. If any
party goesiout without authority of the
council, they, are, all flogged, and their
whipping is no light matter. It makes no
difference what may be the rank. of the of-
fender, or how great his popularity with
the tribe, there are no favors shown; the
man who fails to obeyorders is bound to
be whipped, and if he resists or resents the
punishment, he suffers death.

The council met, and as I expected, we
were condemned to die at the stake. Tan-
sy was to run the gantlet invaddition to
his torture by fire; because they considered
him the worst enemy, as the scalps were all
in his possession. Besides this, he was a

reason why they should kill him. _ .
The Pawnees, in point of morals, are
probably the most degraded of all the tribes
west of the Missouririver, and are held in
supreme contempt by all other tribes.
They are quite a large n-ationand could un-
doubtedly muster fifteen thousand warriors.
They are the inveterate enemies - of the
whites, as a rule killing them. whenever
they can. ;A treaty made with-the Paw-
nees at night would, at the time I. write,
have been broken the next morning. If
any of my readers should ever engage in a
battle with them, let, themrremcmber that
the Pawnees take no prisoners excepting
women and children. , v . . - y '
The Pawnee tribe is divided into five
bands, thus: I. 5 ‘ -
The Grand Pawnee band ; the Republican
Pawnee'band; the Pawnee Loups, or Wolf
Pawnees; the Pawnee Pics, or Tattooed
Pawnees; and Black Pawnees. -
These five bands constitute the entire

 

Mohenesto ; or,

 

 

 

Trap, Trigger and Tomahawk.

der its own chief, but for mutual defense,
or in other cases of urgent necessity, they
unite in one body. They occupy an im-
mense extent ,of country, stretching from
beyond the Platte river to south of the Ar-
kansas. '

The fact of Tansy being a Pawnee will
accOunt for the: sentence passed upon him
by our Blackfoot captors. We were to die
the next day, and all the Indians of both‘
sexes were on the quz’ rice for the interest-
ing occasion. -

The momentous time arrived, and my.
companion was led out to’where the long
double line of Indians stood waiting in open
order, for him to make his run for life. He
stood at the end of the line, Waiting for the
word to go, while raised in the air were
thousands of clubs, ready to descend upon
the back of Tansy as he ran between the
lines.

The Word was given, and Tansy made

two or three jumps, and, suddenly stopping
and facing the line, struck the Indian in
front of him such a blow in the face as to
lay him on his back in the grass ; and, leap-
ing over him, bounded away fOr the hills, 3.
mile distant. The Indians were completely
taken by‘surprise, but it did not last long;
and, with a yell of fury, they started in
pursuit. . r I
. Tansy was a splendid runner; the only
Indian I ever knew that I could not “ out-
wind,” and I knew that if he once reached
the timber he was safe. In an hour they
began to return, and one by one they came
until nearly sundown; but two or three
continued the pursuit, and during the night
they returned.

It was now too late to do any thing with
me, and I was returned to the guard-room,
and an armed Indian was left to watch me.
My supper was brought in, and, after eating,
I filled my pipe and had a good smoke;
but, when I lay down and attempted to sleep,
I found I had undertaken an impossibility.

Involuntarin I commenced a retrospec-
tion of my past life, and I believe that I
then remembered the name of every person
and place I had ever seen; and every act of
my life, however insignificant, passed be—
fore my mind like a living panorama.
And so, half-sleeping, half-dreaming, and
altogether miserable, the long, wretched
night wore away; and, as if in mockery,
the sun rose bright and clear in the moms

0‘
D.

I had resolved to bear the torture bravely,
and not leave the world like a coward, but
I was a little fearful of my ability. I had
seen Indians roasted at the stake, who had
clenched their teeth and died without a
murmur; but then, I was not an Indian,
and although I was not afraid to die, yet I
did not want to be so long about it. Nor
was I particularly anxious to “ peg out” in
such a manner. On the question of dying
I always had peculiar ideas. As long as I

Pawnee, which fact was in itself a sufficient

can remember, death has had no terrors. I
was positive in my mind that the future
could be no worse than the past had been,
and I have always wished that when I die,
it may be without a moment’s warning.

Very soon they came and conducted me
to the spot where a green tree had been set
in the ground, and the piles of dry brush
and wood lying near was satisfactory evi-,
dence that they intended to have their roast
“ well done.” «

I was stripped and bound to the stake
withgreen withes, and, as usual on such
occasions, the young warriors went through
their regular exercise of throwing hatchets,
some of which came alarmingly 01058 to my
ears. I was so busy with ‘my thoughts
that I paid no attention to what they were
doing; not even flinching when one, more

check with an arrow, or cut a lock of hair
from my head with a tomahaWk.

. 'As soon as the old chief made his appear—
ance, the warriors stopped their exercise
and awaited in silencethe command of the
chief to startthe fire. “ Advancing from the
circleof warriors, he stood in front of me
and said: r - ‘ ‘ '

“ You are Mo-henes-to! Once you were
a brave chief of the Sioux, and your arm
struck down many of my best warriors!
You stole’our horses and carried away our
women! Will you die like a brave, or
like asquaw? Will some fair-haired wo—
man in «the land of the rising sun weep
when you return no more ?” r

I was. convinced that my case'vwas a
hopeless one, so I thought'I would provoke
him to kill me immediately, and-I com-
menced to taunt him. ~ v .

“Chief,” said I, “you are an old fool!
You know I have killed many of. your best

their scalps on! The scalps of Blackfeet
braves are like the skin of a skunk; not
worth carrying home! No one but :a
squaw would scalp a Blackfoot, for they
are little children!” - v

I observed the chief was looking intently

at my breast, and upon the “ mark ” or fig-
ure of the Tau cross, which, years before,

 

tribe. Each band is “independent and un- l

 

had been left there by the “brotherhood”
of the British possessions. - - - .

 

Until then I had not thought of the
“ Manitoula,” but I immediately pronounced
the “ word,” and the chief instantly sprung
to my side, and cut the thongs which bound
me to the stake. ‘

My nerves, strained to the utmost to meet
the torture, gave way, and the revulsion of
feeling was so great that I fainted, and had
not the chief caught me in his arms I should
have fallen to the ground. '

Never before had I possessed such an ap-
preciation of the beauties of Freemasonry.

.For the third time in my eventful career

had it saved my life, and changed my most
bitter enemies into the warmest and most
attached friends. .

The chief, Bat-te-o—moa, after a mo-
ment’s consultation with the others, return-r
ed to my side, and taking me by the hand,
said to the warriors: “ The white chief is
my brother; he must not die.”

No further explanation was made, and
the Indians immediately dispersed to the
village; somewhat disappointed, I imagin-
ed, in being deprived of their anticipated
pleasure. The chief returned my clothing,
and taking my arm, led me to his own
lodge, and bade me make myself at home.

He certainly knew the difference between
American and Indian Freemasonry, for in
conversation with him the following day,
he told me that, had I given him the first
“ sign ” in AmericanIFreemasonry, it would
have been recognized, and I would have
been saved much trouble.

I never could get any satisfactory ex-
planation as to where they obtained this
one of our “ signs ;” but in their instruc-
tions to the candidate, in their ceremonies,
he is told that this is, the way in which he
is to recognize his white brother.

Tansy must have waited near the village
for me, and undoubtedly witnessed the dis—
comfiture of the Blackfeet, for about a
week afterward, a young chief returned to
the village with a scalp, which I recognized
by the peculiar braid as that of Tausega-
wamba. Alas, my brother! His death was
untimely, but I sent the chief who killed
him to be his servant in the spirit-land.

I remained some time with the Blackfeet,
acting as an interpreter in their intercourse

'with the whites; and nothing would'have

better pleased the chief than to have kept
me with them. I grew tired of Indian life,
and longed to get away by myself, prefer-
ring the solitude of the plains to the scenes
of bloodshed and carnage among the In-
dians. The chief presonted me with two
good horses, and thoroughly equipped, and
with a good trapping outfit, I again started
north.
(To be continued—commenced in N0. 129.)

 

 

a" Mr. A. P. Morris’ New Serial, entitled, “The
Red Scorpion; or, The Beautiful Phantom,” will be
commenced next week. Look out for it i

careless than the rest, would graze my

warriors, and left them to the wolves with

LINES. ’

BY 81‘. ELMO.

 

 

Oh. little bird, with golden wings, ,
What brings you to my mountain home,
With voice of melody that rings ‘
In softened cadence ‘neath Heaven’s dome ?
_ Ah, can it be that future years
Will remed those ills at last, H
That love wil snatch from doubts and fears
The gloomysequel of the past 1??

Ah, what has caused thy song to cease,

I And th light heart tofintter so?

Poor bi: ,thy spirit seeks release
Fromits long canopy of woe;

And here amid’these mountains blue,

‘ Free from the haunts 'of Vice‘and strife,

My eyes donut deceive me, yon
Have come to offer up your M9,:

 

 

Fanniesgcheme.

BY- MARY B. COLBY.’

 

FANNIE MAvnunv- sat in her bedroom,
thinking, with two open: letters on her lap.

It was a very pretty bedroom, too,with a
light Brussels carpet on the floor, and plen-
ty of soft—cushioned easy-chairs, while in
an alcove stood a rosewood bedstead under
a light—blue canopy.

‘Aud the face that leaned against the blue
cushions of one of the easy-chairs, was not
tile-least prettyornament in the room. It
Was an oval face, framed with golden curls,
; and in itrwere set a pair of dark-blue eyes;
‘ a straight nose, and a month which, though
childish in? its general expression, had a cer?
I tain look about it at times that‘would make
: you think the owner. knew enough to look

out for herself. . ‘ ‘ 

in one of the. letters Milroy Montcalm
had told her he ’loved’ her, and asked her to
be his wife. v i -  "

In the othe’rdebert Walton had told and»
asked thesame thing. - ‘ 2 ~ » »

v Way down in the bottom of her heart Was
a very tender" feeling for Robert‘Walton;
but then, he was poor. ' If she were‘on’ly‘
sure that Milroy Montcalm loved her as

2 well as Robert, she believed she would ac—“

cept him. It would be so muCh nicer to
live in “Montcalm avenue” “than to live in?
simple Hall street, where all the houses
were alike, and no one was better than his-
neighbor. r 1'
Now, how to find out? This Was what
she was thinking of, that lonely October
day, sitting in that blue-cushioned chair
with gleams of sunshine lingering lovingly
on her golden hair as if envying its bright-
ness.
Suddenly she sprung up, exclai'ming:
“I’ll do it; yes, I will; I don’t care if I
am found out. Nell will help me.” '
In a few moments her wrapper was ex-
changed for a walking—dress, and in a few
moments more she was in “ Nell’s ” private
room talking busily.

 

It was the twelfth of October at last, the
night on which Mrs. Stanly’s private mas-
querade-ball was to come off. Ever Since
the invitations had been issued there had
been a marked impatience among the z'Izoz'fed
for the night to arrive; and no wonder;
Mrs. Stanly did give such nice entertain-
ments. '

In the ladies’ dressing-room a party of
girls in various costumes stood chatting.
One blue-eyed “Morning” observed to a
dark-haired“‘Night" that it was strange
Fan Maybury should leave town, just at
this precise time. Did ‘Night’ know the
reason of it ‘9”

“Night,” (who was Fannic’s friend, Nellie
Pomp), could not tellher. Perhaps “Fairy ”
knew.

But “ Fairy” knew nothing about it, and
they all agreedthat it was very provoking,
and a very stupid thing for her, Fannie, to
do.

In the gentlemen’s room, also, she was the
subject “under discussion.”

“ I say, Montcalm,” said Will Temple,
“ where has Miss Fannie gone? I suppose
you know, as you are intimate there, I am
told.”

“ Yes, I flatter myself I am intimate there
somewhat, and I intend to be intimate there
‘ somewhat more so,’ ” answered Montcalm,
giving an extra curl to his exquisitely-light
mustache. “As to where she has gone, I
am not certain, as the note only said ‘ away
from home a few days ;’ but I suppose she
has gone to see her cousin in N They
are rather poor people, and she might have
been afraid I would run down there to see

 

her, and it might spoil her chances with me.

The little thing likes me, she does, and I
wouldn’t object to some of old Maybury’s
money. So, look out for wedding-cards,
boys. The thing is about ‘done.’ ”

Just here a rather diminutive “Page”
might have been noticed to stoop to the
floor and look for something. I’Vh‘atever it
was, the search was continued during the
remainder of the conversation, the “ Page ”
not lifting his head till they went to the
parlors. -

“ Done, is it? VVelLI congratulate you
and pity her,” said Will Temple, the first

" speaker. »

“ Done, is it ‘2 How about that little af-
fair, last year,” said Gerald Howe, indig-
nantly.

“ Nonsense; only two or three know of it,
and she never goes in Lane street,” answer-
ed Montcalm.

“No; for if she did, and ever saw the
ch——-"

A look from Montcalm silenced him.
“Well, all I have to say is, if she knew
him as well as some of us do, she‘d jump
into the river sooner than go to the altar
with him,” said Temple too. young man,
both standing near the “ Page,” whose face
was deadly white under its mask.

Here the conversation ended, and they
descended to the elegant parlors, and the
festivities 0f the ball commenced. A
All went well till eleven o’clock, when
Nell Pomp grew so faint she was obliged to
return home, and the“ Page,” still masked,
accompanied her. ‘

Hardly was the carriage door closed
than the mask was torn off, andrFanny May-
bury was weeping on her friend’s shoulder.

 

“ Oh, N ell 1” she exclaimed when she was
more composed, “ what have I escaped?”

And then she related the conversation in
the dressing-room.

The next day a dainty little note was sent
to Milroy Montcalm, the contents of which
convinced him that the “little thing” did
not like him as well as he thought. '

Fanny is now Mrs. Robert Walton, and
lives in Hall street, and likes living there
very much. She does not think herself any
better than her neighbors, but. she thinks
her housa is better than theirs, because of the
six-months old baby-boy in it.

 

 

And for all her happiness, she has to thank
that masquerade ball of Mrs. Stanly’s.

 

 

 

ii