Chapter III: Part 3

The present arrangement, under the charge of the estimable Rev. Dr. Godden, seems to be solving the mission question better than any former plan. The mission owns a store where the Indians may buy or sell; the missionary in charge may meet and converse personally with the Indians; he wins their friendship and is able by degrees to instill religious thoughts into them. The Rev. Dr. Godden is working along industrial lines, and says, “We must fit these Seminoles by education and Christianity to meet the coming conditions, and teach them to become self-supporting by industrial pursuits and _now is the time to do it_.”

The work proposed is to erect suitable houses for the residence of the missionary and his family with sufficient room to entertain visiting Indians when in over night and a barrack or rest room for laborers employed in clearing land and working crops.

Writing in 1909 of the work and Mission, Dr. Gray says:

To Bishops, Clergy and Laity of
The American Church, Greeting:

I desire to commend most heartily my well-beloved in the Lord,
Rev. Irenæus Trout, Missionary to the Seminole Indians in Southern
Florida. I believe that God has in a marvelous way designated him
as the very man to go forward with the work in which he has already
been signally blessed, viz: that of leading the Seminoles into the
Kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ. We are now at the very crisis of
opportunity.

Hear him and help him. Here is a cry, not from Europe, Asia or
Africa, but from the Everglades, in your own Florida: “Come and
help us!” A thousand prayers accompany him from this Missionary
District.

God gives you the privilege of helping this poor Seminole remnant
into the kingdom.

Faithfully,
For Christ and the Church,
(Seal) WM. CRANE GRAY,
Bishop of Southern Fla.

The Cathedral Church
Of St. Luke,
Orlando, Fla., Jan. 15, 1909.

THE FRIENDS OF THE FLORIDA SEMINOLES.

A few years ago great interest was manifested in these Florida wards, when a Society called “The Friends of the Florida Seminoles” was organized at Kissimmee, Fla., with the Rev. William Crane Gray, Bishop of the South Florida Episcopal Church, President; Rev. D. A. Dodge, Vice-president; Mr. James M. Willson, Jr., Secretary, and State Senator C. A. Carson, Treasurer. Other officers (trustees) were the late George W. Wilson, Editor-in-chief of the Florida Times-Union; Hon. J. R. Parrott, President of the Florida East Coast Railroad Co., and Capt. F. M. Hendry, Fort Myers, Fla.

This body, assisted by the active interest and sympathy of Gov. W. D. Bloxam, Mr. P. A. Van Agnew, and Mr. Kirk Munroe, made it possible for the Society to accomplish its State-wide results, numbering among its members philanthropic people from Maine to California.

The object of this society was to enlist the sympathy of the American people for these homeless people and to strenuously oppose the removal of the Seminoles from the State against their consent. No really true American, whether he be an Indian sympathizer or not, can feel any but sympathy for the Florida Seminole if he understand the true status of his condition, and when the Society of the Friends of the Florida Seminoles was established, a great wave of sympathy was felt all over the country and requests for membership came in from all ranks, the highest circles of finance, from social leaders, educational centers and government officials. It was recognized an honor to belong to the organization.

The membership list is still open and the Society earnestly appeals to the people of America to take a friendly interest in the future fate of this forlorn remnant, who are one of Florida’s most native possessions, and to aid in securing for them permanent homes in the unsettled portions of the State before it is too late.

The interest and work of the Society was greatly aided through the editorial columns of Harper’s Weekly, when Edward S. Martin made an appeal in behalf of that band of Seminoles known as the Cow Creeks. The object was to purchase a tract of land on which was located about seventy-five Indians. They had lived here for thirty years, cultivating part of the land and using the rest as a range for their hogs, but as they had no legal title to the land, they were at the mercy of squatters who coveted them. About four hundred dollars were raised, but when the attempt was made to locate these Indians, cowboys and land-grabbers had alarmed them, by telling them that the Government was getting ready to round them up and take them West, and like frightened deer they left their homes and retired again to the swamp fastnesses.

The Society purchased some fields upon which the Indians were camping with Harper’s fund--the remainder of the funds being held in trust for its original purpose. The Society secured great public sentiment in their favor, and hoped to obtain lands through legislation. Centuries of wrong from hands too powerful to be resisted have taught these red Americans the patience of despair.

Amid the blessings of Christianity, the Seminole is an outcast from sympathy and an alien to hope, yet he has never ceased to be manly. While we protect the deer and the alligator, the quail and the fish, shall we leave our brother in bronze a prey to the lawless and a helpless victim of every loafer?

The only way to protect these wards of Florida is to buy a reservation, and hold it in trust for them--forever.

Even at this writing, that trackless waste of saw-grass and water with its scattering islands and lagoons, constitutes the great political question among Florida people--the drainage of the Everglades.

The Indian mode of making a fire.]

We cannot but admire the proud and independent spirit of the Seminole as he refuses, in firm but Indian-like measures, the proffered liberality of a Government which he believes has wronged him. And, from his high pinnacle of pride, he certainly bears the distinction of being the only _American_ who has been found unwilling to share the spoils of the nation. So he says, “We have listened to the great father at Washington. The Great Spirit wishes no change in his red children. If you teach our children the knowledge of the white people, they will cease to be Indians. To know how to read and write is very good for white men, but very bad for red men. Long time ago, some of our fathers wrote upon a little piece of paper without the nation knowing anything about it. When the agent called the Indians together he told them the little paper was a treaty which their brethren had made with the great father at Washington, and lo! they found that their brethren by knowing how to write, had sold their lands and the graves of their fathers to the white race. Tell our great father at Washington that we want no schools, neither books, for reading and writing makes very bad Indians. We are satisfied. Let us alone.” After this speech delivered in the native tongue, the council breaks up, and the proud Seminole betakes himself to the Everglades. The Seminole is disposed to make a child’s bargain with the big white chief: “You let me alone, and I will let you alone.”

Photographs of the Carlisle Indian boys have been used to illustrate the improvement which follows education; but the Seminole youth turns away with disdain, as he notes the closely shaven head and the American dress, and says, “Indian no want books, make ’em white man, white man mean heap lie too much.” With a gesture faithful to the Indian, he refers to the “long time ago, Seminoles had lands, cattle, slaves; white man steal ’em.” This statement of the Indians is corroborated by the old white settlers of to-day, who fought the Indians. They tell that General Jessup’s army, on coming to the great cattle country of South Florida, began a systematic slaughter of all the cattle found. A body of soldiers, too large to fear an attack, would round up a herd of the Indian’s cattle and sitting on their horses, shoot them all down. Up to this time the Indians were regular stock dealers, their customers being the Cubans and Minorcans. General Jessup’s report of his march into the “Indian country,” says, “On the 28th (January, 1837), the army moved forward and occupied a strong position on ‘Ta-hop-ka-li-ga’ Lake, where several hundred head of cattle were obtained.”

The tribe to-day are taught by the chiefs to regard the whites, in general, as lacking in honor and courage, weak and insignificant, or in Seminole dialect, “white man--_ho-lo-wa-gus_” (no good). This is easily understood when we consider the strong attachment an Indian bears to his native hunting grounds; and when the memory runs back to the time when our Government banished their friends and relatives to the unknown wilds of the West, and they went silent and weeping toward the setting sun. Their bitterness is consistent with their ideas of injustices practiced upon them.

History, romance and poetry have held up the characteristics of the red man to our gaze from childhood. And while treachery may be a distinguishing feature of the Indian nature, yet the lowest one of them has some conception of honor when fairly approached. History shows that all through the Seminole war, misrepresentations and dishonorable schemes were practiced against them by the whites. Almost universal sympathy goes out to this remnant of people who fought so bravely and so persistently for the land of their birth, for their homes, for the burial place of their kindred. As their traditions tell them of the oppression their people suffered as they wandered in the wilderness thrice forty years, who can tell the secret of their hearts? To do this, it would be necessary to become, for the time, an Indian, to put ourselves in his place--and what white man has ever done this? Ask the waters of Tohopeliga, or the winds that waft across Okeechobee. To the elements are whispered the heart throbs of these red fawns of the forest. The present Florida Indians are descendants of that invincible tribe who were never conquered by the force of arms. Refusing in 1842 to accompany their people to the mysterious West, they ceased to exist save for themselves. Finding refuge in the almost inaccessible Everglades, they were for a time almost lost to the historian. They have no legal existence, and hence no rights that a white man is bound, by law, to respect. There are no Indian troubles in Florida at present, but every few months a cry comes from hungry land-grabbers, or from trappers and hunters, that the Seminoles are killing off the deer and plume birds. The changing conditions in the lower peninsular country will eventually lead up to difficulties; and “Where shall we locate the Indians?” becomes a serious problem.

The Florida _Times-Union_ editorially says:

All the murderous, cut-throat, unkempt and squalid Indians in
the United States whom the Government fears are provided with
reservations and such luxuries as they never before had in their
lives, but the Seminoles of Florida, the finest specimens of Indian
manhood in this country, clean in body, pure in morals, and as
brave as the lion that roams the desert, with whom so many treaties
have been wantonly broken, are being driven farther and farther
into the Everglades and their hunting grounds confiscated to the
land grabbers. Is this justice?

Should the whites drive off the Seminoles, and thus approve their greed for land by taking the possessions the Indians now occupy, what good would it do them? Internal improvement companies, by their franchises, would sooner or later take the blood-stained acres from them. Let settlers in Florida, or in any part of the country, turn over their accounts and see how many acres have been credited to them, either from the State or from the general Government, without the equivalent of homesteading or for cash. The “Western” style of disposing of the Indian’s inheritance must not be followed in fair Florida. It seems hard that these natives who ask no aid of our nation, should be forced to the wall by the march of civilization. To the Western Indians, under the protection of the Government, and supplied in a large measure by the taxes which civilization pays, pages are devoted by philanthropists for the betterment of their condition. The rights of the Seminoles of Florida should be defended. The day is not far distant when they must be made to go to the reservation in Arkansas or to lands set apart for them in Florida. To remove them from their tropical homes to the chilling blasts of the Indian Territory would be an act of cruelty and wholly unnecessary. Those of us who have enjoyed life in this land of the palm, this land of the balmy air and life-giving sunshine, reveling in the eternal bloom of the flowers and the ceaseless song of the birds, can well picture the struggle it would cost the patient Seminole to be forced to a cold western land. No, fair Florida, the ancestors of these proud people were forced to the country of the setting sun silent and dejected. But, with the spirit of Osceola, if they must perish, it will be here--here upon the land of their birth, upon the graves of their kindred. The lands they now occupy are of little value to the white race and might be made a safe reserve for them--forever. Cowboys who hunt upon the Okeechobee plains, say the Indians are peaceably disposed and friendly, and have never yet disturbed or threatened. They are certainly not foot-sore for the warpath and are fearful of doing anything to arouse the whites. “Indian no fight,” is the answer to the questioner. They have sense enough to know that if war should come again it would mean extermination for them; and their love for the “Flower Land” is so deep that the thought of exile would cost a struggle they dare not attempt. Yet, feeble remnant that they are, with the same heroic blood coursing their veins that inspired their ancestors and made them almost invulnerable, the present Seminole would choose to die rather than submit to removal. And in their swampy fastnesses, they could maintain a contest that would cost us thousands of dollars and many precious lives.

OUR DUTY TO THESE WARDS OF THE NATION.

Under the present status the Seminoles are prosperous, happy and contented. But the vanguard of civilization is marching on, and thinking, friendly minds must solve the question of the protection for this remnant of a tribe we have dispossessed of their natural rights. Dwellers of every land, from Scandinavia to the Congo have a Christian welcome to our shores. The slums of Europe pour in upon us to fill our almshouses and to be supported by our taxes. We have during the past quarter century contributed more than $50,000,000 to the education of the freedmen, yet except in individual cases, the improvement is scarcely noticeable.

Men and women are sacrificing their lives for the heathen of other lands. Is not the Seminole, this remnant of a long-persecuted people, as worthy of consideration as the oppressed Cuban or the half-naked Filipino?

Christianity is donating millions of money to this end, while our own “wards,” too many of them, are yet living in the dark superstitions of their fathers.

_Photograph by E. W. Histed._

CHIEFTAIN TALLAHASSEE, WITH HIS WHITE FRIEND, THE LATE L. A. WILLSON

“The very history of the tribe is carved in poor Tallahassee’s face. He is the incarnation of ‘The Man without a Country.’”]

It is possible it will take time and patience before any shining results are apparent. Not until confidence is restored will the embittered Seminole yield to the overtures of our Government. In an educational sense the older Indians will not be benefited, except through the influence of their children. The logic of events demands absorption of this people into our National life, not as Indians, but as American citizens; and the sooner they can be induced to accept lands from the Government, and education for the youth, the sooner will the civilization of the Seminole cease to be a theory. The permanent duty of the hour is to prepare the rising generation for the new order of events that must come. Because these bands of the Seminoles are prouder, more invincible than the old Saxons, because they are savages, yet heroes many of them, all the good of life should not be withheld from them. It has taken years of labor to obtain the shining of even the few rays of light that relieve the gloom of the heathen countries of the Orient. It would be unreasonable to expect the offspring of savages to attain in a short time to anything like the thrift of a Nation like ours. Yet, with a few years of humane treatment, unviolated pledges, with Christian and patriotic examples set before them, this little band of Florida Indians would become worthy representatives of this fair land.

Were any future danger to threaten the United States, the Seminoles would be found to be brave allies. The pledge to General Worth by this remnant of hostiles, who, in 1842, refused to emigrate with the rest of their tribe, temporarily agreeing “to confine themselves to certain limits and abstain from all aggressions upon their white neighbors,” seems to be held sacred by their descendants. The question was put to Billy Bowlegs, one of the most intelligent of the present Indians, as to what his people would do were the whites to encroach, and take the clearings of his tribe are now occupying, “Would Indian fight?” The young brave replied with downcast face, “Indian no fight, Indian no kill, Indian go.” Pursuing the subject further, “but, Billy, by and by, may be one year, five years, may be, white man go, take all your land, take Okeechobee, then where will Indians go?” With the same bowed head, the answer came low and soft, “Me don’t know--Indian go.” Then to test his idea of an ally, the question was asked, “What would Seminole Indians do, Billy, if the Spaniards from across the big salt water would come to fight the white people of Florida?” Quickly and with spirit came the answer, “Indians help white man to fight.” Unless action be taken, there will come a time, when, leaving no trace behind them, the Seminole shall pass out of the world. He shall go, like the mist.

We cannot undo the past, but the future is in the hands of the people. In Canada there are over 100,000 Indians. They are called the Indian subjects of His Majesty; all held amenable to the law and protected by it. Statistics show that on one side of the line the nation has spent millions of money in Indian wars, while on the other, with the same greedy Anglo-Saxon race, not one dollar has been spent, and there has never been a massacre.

The caustic remark that the only good Indian is a dead Indian might apply to the savage Apache; but when one has studied the home life of the Seminoles, observed their domestic felicity, from which many white men might take example, noted their peaceful, contented character, he can only see in them an attractive race, and worthy the proud lineage they claim. Surely if ever the strong were bound to aid the weak, we are bound to help them, to treat them as human beings, possessed of human rights, and deserving the protection of American law. This without doubt, they will be willing to accept, when our nation by kind, courteous and honorable means secures their lost confidence; and when our National Christianity shall take measures to make our land for them a home where they may dwell in peace and safety.

CHIEF TALLAHASSEE.

Almost four hundred years have passed since that fair April day when Ponce de Leon anchored on the verdant shores of Florida. Since the Spanish cavalier planted the silken flag of Spain upon her soil, Florida has been surrounded by a halo of romance and tragedy. Between the time of her discovery and to-day, what marvelous scenes have been witnessed upon her fair plains and along the borders of her wild, dark rivers.

The ancient race who greeted the old Castilian has vanished and, save in the little band of Seminoles secreted in the mysterious and weird wilderness of the Everglades, no trace of the red man is visible. A description of a type of this fragment of a people will enable the reader to form a better conception of the tribe as a whole; and no name is more worthy to place in these pages than that of Tallahassee.

The old chieftain in appearance is noble and intellectual, and there is that in his look and bearing which at once pronounces him something more than the mere leader of a savage tribe. While his silvered head marks the cycle of many years, in his attire of scarlet and white, embraced by the traditional brightly beaded sash, he exhibits a dignified and patriarchial bearing. His countenance, while indeed mellowed with the cares of four-score years and ten, is kindly, and shows a conquered spirit. The lineaments of noble features are traceable in the broad forehead, the firm, thin lips, and eyes that might pierce the rays of the sun. Tallahassee shows no resentment to the whites, yet he believes that they have treated the Indian badly.

It may seem strange to talk of gentlemanliness in an untutored savage, but the demeanor of this Seminole chief must dignify any family in the land. But that face! Heaven forbid that any native of free America should wear so sad, almost heartbroken an expression as that which seams poor Tallahassee’s face. No child could look upon it without being impressed by its mournful pathos. The very history of the tribe is carved there.

When Osceola, with his compatriots, went on the warpath, Tallahassee was a small boy, and remembers well when his father and a few companions were surrounded and killed by the soldiers near Tallahassee, the capital of the State. Chipco, the chief of the tribe, was Tallahassee’s uncle; he escaped from the soldiers, and made his way to the Everglades where he lived to be nearly one hundred years old. Rosa, the sister of Tallahassee, became his squaw. They were childless, and at Chipco’s death, Tallahassee inherited the title, but as a reward for bravery displayed in saving his life on two occasions, Chipco had made him chief years before he died.

There is no trace of a revengeful spirit in either word or manner when Tallahassee speaks of his father’s tragic death, but with the stoicism of a philosopher, he seems to have accepted it as one of the cruel fortunes of war, and has nobly “buried the tomahawk.” Tallahassee is no stern warrior with blood-stained hands, but wears worthily the dignities of his ancestral station, and in many ways might be imitated with profit by his more cultured pale-faced brother. He is a true type of the “noble red man,” and in any other walk of life would have risen to eminence. Of all the Seminoles, Tallahassee is the most friendly to the whites. With the inborn courtesy that is native to all true greatness, this untutored Indian will welcome you to his wigwam and with royal grace dispense the hospitalities at his command. Few enter his presence, and none leave it without this mental tribute to his high character. The old chief is treated with care and consideration, and a homage is paid to him by the younger members of the tribe. Among the Seminoles, when a member of the tribe becomes too old for usefulness or self-help, it becomes the duty of the young men to contribute their share to his support. They are taught to do this more as an honor than as a burden.

As the years pass, more pathetic grows the life of the hereditary chieftain.

A few years ago, after numerous invitations, Tallahassee was persuaded to leave his swamp home to make a visit to the home of the writer. The old patriarch was accompanied by Billy Bowlegs, who showed the tenderest care for him. With one horse between them they traveled from the Everglades to Bassinger, the terminus of the steamboat line to Kissimmee. Then they boarded the steamer Roseada, arriving at Kissimmee after two days’ river travel. They attracted much attention and were the recipients of many small presents from sympathetic friends. They were both in full costume, the old chief wearing the regalia of his rank, sashes of bead work and red beaded leggins. On reaching the home of their host, they immediately began unpacking the bundle they carried, which indicated they had been preparing for many moons back for this eventful visit. Numerous garments, new and fanciful, were carefully withdrawn. The next morning being the Sabbath, they dressed with greatest care for the Sunday School and church services, which they enjoyed to the fullest. Knowing the famous chieftain would attend service, the church was crowded and at the close of the services parents with their children crowded around the old chieftain eager to shake hands with him; and with a pleasant beam of gratitude in his eyes, he received these greetings of the white friends.

It is a pleasing fact that Tallahassee, a savage and the representative of an almost destitute people, received a homage and as kindly a greeting as was ever accorded to any visitor to the little city of Kissimmee. However adverse a man may be to the Florida Indian in general, if he looks into the history of the Seminoles of Florida, he not only becomes friendly, but eager to see justice meted out to them.

As Tallahassee bade “good-bye,” he said, “Me no more come to Kissimmee City--old too much.” He had come as an ambassador of his tribe to tell his white friends the history of his race, and as memory went back to the olden days of bloodshed and accounts of home after home wrested from his people, he trembled with suppressed emotion. Anguish, interblended with the mournful pathos of his face, made a picture too sad to look upon. It was a period of agonizing struggle for this gallant, but conquered Seminole.

Sad and prophetic were his farewell words, for a short time after he reached his swamp home, he was taken with violent pains in his head, and as Billy Bowlegs reported it, “Pain three days--pain go,--Tallahassee blind _ojus_” (heap). The old chieftain, though totally blind and physically helpless, rules his band with the same stoic will of days long ago, when he carried them to the wilderness and wrenched them from the white man’s bullets and Uncle Sam’s bloodhounds.[4]

INCREASING.

It is generally believed that the Seminoles are dying off, and can last but a few years longer. On the contrary, they have large families of strong, healthy children, and the past ten years has shown a marked increase in their number. The strict law allowing no persons of like gens to marry is a reason why the tribe does not multiply still more rapidly. There are instances where eligible young men find great difficulty in getting wives because of the strictness governing the gens or consanguinity law. One chief has two daughters who find the same trouble in getting married because the men of their choice are too closely connected to them. Thus, a member of the Deer clan may not marry into the same clan, no difference how far removed the relationship may be. Relationship on the father’s side is not guarded against so strenuously, as the gens is all counted through the mother. Very often the law of marriage causes strange alliances--young men twenty years of age having old women for wives. From the best obtainable resources, there were in the year 1859, only one hundred and twelve Indians left in Florida. In 1880, by actual count, as reported by the Smithsonian Institute, the Seminoles of Florida numbered two hundred and eight. According to data gotten from the Indians themselves the tribe to-day numbers nearly six hundred. Of this number a great proportion are young children, or in the language of the chief as he made a numerical calculation of the members of the different families--“heap pikcanannies, pikcaninnies _ojus_” (plenty). The Seminoles are divided into four bands, who live in groups apart; each independent of the other, but in friendly relation. They are the Miami Indians, the Big Cypress band, the Talla-hassees and the Okeechobees. Since the death of Woxo-mic-co (Great Chief) five years ago, no one has been elected to fill his place, and it is doubtful if his office will ever be filled.

No event in the history of the Seminole tribe since the closing of the war has been more tragic than the slaughter of eight of the band, by the hand of Jim Jumper, a half-breed belonging to the tribe. The killing occurred in February, 1891. According to the Indians, the negro had bought some bad whiskey from a white trader, and it made him “crazy too much in his head”--doubtless delirium tremens. With his Winchester in his hand he started out. The first victim was his faithful squaw who happened to be close by. Rushing forward and through the camp and meeting the venerable Woxo-mic-co, head chief over all the tribe, who was on a visit to the Cow Creek band from his council lodge at Miami, the crazy half-breed sent a ball through the old chief’s head, killing him instantly. Old Tom Tiger, one of the landmarks of the Indian wars, hearing the firing, came to the rescue, but was shot down before he had time to interpose. Young Tiger, stepping out of the wigwam in time to see his father fall to the ground, with a blood-curdling war-whoop sprang upon the maniac and a hand-to-hand fight ensued; but he was at the wrong end of the rifle, and before he could wrest it from his antagonist, another report was followed by the death-cry of the brave, young Indian. The wildest panic ensued, the women and children huddling in their wigwams or fleeing to the woods. The murderer now rushed into the wigwam of his sister, and with his knife murdered her and her two little children, who were clinging to her dress in terror. Brandishing his knife, he started into the woods, where he was killed by a bullet from Billy Martin’s rifle. The wailing and the anguish in that camp can better be imagined than described. After the burial ceremony over the murdered victims, the body of the murderer was dragged far into the swamp, to be fed upon by the vultures. Thus passed away in less than half an hour eight innocent lives, victims to the demoralizing influence of the white man’s whiskey. The Indian village was broken up, the entire band moving away to escape the visitations of the spirits of the murdered ones.

_Photograph by E. W. Histed._

A SEMINOLE GROUP OF THE TALLAHASSEE BAND, KNOWN AS THE COW CREEKS

A people without a country.]

On the death of Woxo-mic-co, four candidates for the position of Big Chief appeared, but five years have passed and yet no chief has been elected. In the old chieftain’s death the last vestige of Seminole war spirit is obliterated. Nowhere in their history is their determination to live at peace with their white neighbors more conclusively proven than in the abolition of the office of Great Chief, “Big Chief” and war councils, in their minds, being inseparable.

The authority of the sub-chiefs, who are leaders of the different bands, is purely personal; they cannot decree punishment--a jury or council alone can do this. The government is not harsh, and there is as much freedom as could be possible in these forest homes.

APPEARANCE AND DRESS.

In personal appearance, many a Seminole brave might be taken as a type of physical excellence. He is bright copper in color, is over six feet in height, his carriage is self-reliant, deliberate and strong. His step has all the lightness and elasticity that nature and practice can combine to produce, as lithe and soft as the tread of a tiger. The Yale, the Harvard or the Oxford student with years of training in the athletic school, would be but a novice in the art of grace, suppleness and mode of walking, as compared with this son of the forest. His features are regular, his eyes jet black and vigilant, always on the alert; his nose is straight but slightly broadened, his mouth firm as a stoic’s. The hair is cut close to the head, except the traditional scalplock of his fathers, which is plaited and generally concealed under the large turban that adorns his head.

The dress of the Seminole chief consists of a tunic embraced by a bright sash, close fitting leggins of deer-skin, which are embellished with delicately cut thongs of the same material, that hang in graceful lines from the waist to the ankle, where they meet the moccasin. The moccasin is also made of deer-skin, and covers a foot shapely and smaller than that of the average white man. A picturesque feature of the dress is the turban. Oriental in its effect, it has become the emblem of the race. It is worn almost constantly; and is made impromptu from shawls or colossal handkerchiefs wrapped round and round the head and then secured in shape by a band, often made of beaten silver which encircles the whole with brilliant effect. With young braves the more important the occasion, the more enormous the turban. Another characteristic of the dress is the number of handkerchiefs worn, knotted loosely about the neck. Regardless of the temperature, the Indian adorns himself with six, eight or perhaps a dozen of bright bandannas, exhibiting great pride in the number he possesses. A belt made of buckskin completes the costume. From this are suspended a hunting knife, a revolver, a pouch in which is carried the ammunition and small articles necessary for the chase.

The physique of the women will compare favorably with that of the men. They are healthy and robust, and among the younger members some comely well-featured women are found. The dress of the squaw is very simple, consisting of a straight, full skirt, made long enough to hide the feet. The upper part of the dress is a long sleeve, loose-fitting waist, which fails to meet the waist band of the skirt by about two inches; this oddly fashioned garment is cut large enough in the neck to be put on or taken off over the head. A large collar, fashioned after the collarettes worn by the fashionables of the season of 1896, completes the toilet. A Seminole woman wears no head-dress of any description. Even when visiting the white settlements they go with their heads uncovered. Neither do they wear moccasins, at home or abroad, in winter or in summer. They are always bare-footed.

Vanity and coquetry are inborn in the female character. The Seminole maiden whose life has been spent among the swamps “far from the madding crowd” and fashion’s emporium, still practices the arts of her pale faced sister. She affects the bang and the psyche knot with as much ease as the New York belle, and with such metropolitan airs soon captivates her forest lover. The same passionate desire for gold and jewels, ever uppermost in the heart of the civilized white woman, be she peasant or queen, shows itself in the Seminole squaw. Silver breast-plates, made from quarters and half dollars, beaten into various designs, add to their personal adornment on festal occasions. What the turban is to the brave, such is the necklace of beads to the woman. It is her chief glory and is worn constantly. Her ambition seems to be to gather as many strings of these highly colored beads about the neck as she can carry, often burdening herself with several pounds. Even the wee tots are adorned with small strings of the much prized necklace.

Many years ago, when the Indians were encamped on the Kissimmee River, Chief Tallahassee with two or three of the squaws visited Kissimmee. Being taken into a room to see a newly-born babe, he directed a squaw to take from her neck a string of beads and put it around the neck of the “little white pappoose.” This was done as an act of greatest honor, to show the Indian’s appreciation of hospitalities received at this house.

INDEPENDENCE AND HONOR.

To-day as we meet the Seminole “at home,” we find the wigwam made of palmetto leaves and the skins of wild animals; the floor of this structure is made of split logs and elevated about two feet above the ground. A few of the Indians have in late years built board houses, but the roof is made of palmetto thatch. Here, surrounded by the gloom and weirdness of the Everglades, miles from white man’s habitation, the baying of the alligator, the hooting of the great horn owl, and the croaking of the heron are the only sounds to be heard. Truly the picture is one of melancholy and profound dreariness. But here we find the aborigines contented because they are out of the white man’s power. Here they hold their councils, here around the camp fires the traditions of the old turbaned tribe are taught to the youths; here, too, they follow the same customs of the race of one hundred and fifty years ago. Here is instilled into the youth the story of the perfidies practiced upon their fathers by the white man; and as the children listen to the glories of Osceola, and the tragic ending of their hero, the spirit of conservatism is engendered, and with swelling hearts they go on, on, resolute in their determination to avoid disaster, by keeping aloof from the white man. Although far from the influence of civilization, knowledge has come to these people naturally which we have painfully acquired by books. Driven to these Florida jungles after a seven years’ bloody war, here the Seminole, thrown absolutely upon his own resources, has continued to dwell. He has accepted no aid, his people have increased, and in a manner have prospered. No alms-houses are supported for their benefit. This independent Indian does not increase the expense of the jail nor the penitentiary; he is no starving Indian who must be fed at the expense of the Government. In these red sons of the forest we meet the original “real Indian,” unchanged by contact with the white man. The visitor to the “Wild West,” who complains that “the Indians do not look like the Indians of fifty years ago,” would have little ground for his complaint were he to visit the Seminoles in their marshy fastnesses. Florida can boast of one of the few tribes of “real Indians” in the United States. The present Seminole must be credited with a high sense of honor; and he can keep a pledge as well as did Massasoit. A few years ago, during a terrific coast storm some Indian braves asked shelter of a Florida settler. The Indians were received and entertained until the weather settled. On leaving, the chief sweeping his hand toward the broad Savannah, said, “Captain, hunt deer?” The answer was “Sometimes.” “Indian no hunt Captain’s deer,” was the rejoinder. Very little in itself, but it meant much, for since that time there has not been an Indian hunter within miles of the place.

Famed in song and story is the pledge of the old turbaned tribe of the Seminoles. Not more worthy are they of commemoration than their descendants of to-day. A few months ago, Billy Bowlegs and Tommy Doctor paid an unexpected visit to Kissimmee. They walked from their camp at Okeechobee Marsh, a distance of one hundred and twenty-five miles to tell their white friend that “Indians no lie.” This was all. They apparently had no other business in town, and after a few hours’ visit left as quietly as they had come. Their mission was completed, their white brother believed them, their honor was clear; they could now dance at the Green Corn Dance with merry hearts.

A few months prior to this, these Indians had promised their white friend to act as guide on a bear hunt in the Everglades. All arrangements had been made for the hunt, except to fix the time and place of meeting. This was to be done through a white settler. Later, plans for the hunt were perfected, and word was sent to the Indian village. According to their promise the Indians came to the settler’s home on the day specified, but found that the white man had left his house early in the morning with no message as to how or where the Indians should follow. The Indians, not knowing which way to go to find the party, could do nothing but return to their camp--a distance of forty or fifty miles. Subsequent developments proved that the white man wished to act as guide, and thereby earn for himself the remuneration he expected the Indians would receive.

THE SEMINOLE’S UNWRITTEN VERDICT OF THE WHITE RACE.

“Es-ta-had-kee, ho-lo-wa-gus, lox-ee-o-jus”
(White man no good, lie too much.)

In some mysterious way, the Seminole’s conception of the Decalogue neither to lie, nor steal, nor cheat, is the foundation stone upon which he builds his character, principle and honor, for it is taught to the race, from the cradle to the grave, to the swinging papoose on its mother’s shoulders, all through life, till the Great Spirit calls to the Happy Hunting Grounds. Let the reader stop and consider that here is a community of hundreds, living in open palmetto camps. No locks, no doors, no courts, and no officers to keep the law; a people, who for generations have lived, pure in morals, with no thieving, no trespassing, and no profanity (for the Seminole has no oath in his language). With his conception of the Deity, he reverences the name of the Great Spirit, and “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain,” he venerates, as did the Hebrews in the days of Moses. What would be the result if an equal number of the negro race were left under the same conditions for two generations? Nay, what would be the history of six hundred whites forced to live for even twenty-five years like the Seminoles?

With the Seminole’s power to condense into a single phrase, he crystalizes his verdict of the white man into the above forcible expression. In pathetic, but terse language, it tells of generations of wrong treatment at the hands of the white brother; sharp practices and broken treaties, and misrepresentations are all included in the general summing up.

From his oral lexicon, he has chosen these few words, which reveal the throbbing inner soul of these red children of the forests.

No pages, no volumes, no libraries are required to chronicle his experience.

Be it remembered that all history of the relation of the two races has been written by the white historian, but were the Indian to write the story, the other side of the picture would be shown. The complaints of the white man are carried, as it were, on the wings of the wind, while that of the poor Indian is drowned in the tempest.

With a stoicism born of generations of training, the Seminole shows no ill-will, no resentment, and the harshest criticism he ever makes against his white conquerors and victorious brothers is this phrase, “Es-ta-had kee, ho-lo-wag-us, etc.” And whether in vindication of some offense, or given as a simple opinion, his pent-up feelings find expression in this one forcible epithet, and seems to be the missile he hurls at the white man.

The average American with his standard of morals calloused by dealings in the business and social world, smiles at the Seminole’s verdict of his character and with indifferent shrug, jocularly repeats it as being only--the opinion of an Indian.

But, measured by the Indian’s conception of honor, how small we must appear to the Seminole patriot, for, from his unwritten code of ethics, to one who knows the well grounded Indian character, his estimate of white manhood means more than is apparent underneath his calm exterior.

ENDURANCE AND FEASTS.

When one sees the great moral strength of the Seminoles, notes the wonderful physical endurance of which they are capable, observes the fearless, haughty courage they display, he cannot but be surprised that the Florida wars were not more disastrous than they were, or that any of the Seminoles ever yielded to removal. To test their endurance the old chiefs have been known to take a live coal from the camp fire, place it on the wrist and without an emotion let it burn until the heat was exhausted. Tustenuggee would remove the cool ember and quietly reach down and put a fresh one in its place. This old chief, so famous in history, never yielded to removal, and lived till a few years ago with his tribe in the Everglades. The goal of the Seminole is to learn to endure and to achieve. To this end is every Seminole boy educated, and different modes of developing the powers of endurance are employed. Carrying a deer for a long distance without fatigue, walking or running for many miles, jumping, wrestling, poling a canoe, etc., are some of the practical modes. The Spartan spirit is supreme in the minds of the tribe, and the youth are taught that no merit is greater than that of bearing pain without complaint. At the annual feast of the Green Corn Dance the young Indians of a certain age are initiated into the rights of warriors, and are subjected to trying ordeals. They must pass through the “In-sha-pit,” which means the cutting of the legs till the blood flows, and other cruel arts, after which the Indian boy is pronounced a warrior, ready for the battle of life, whatever the Great Spirit decrees. It is the strict adherence to the teachings of their ancestors that makes the present generation the brave and proud people that they are.

Strange as it may seem, the Seminoles celebrate a Christmas--“All same white man’s Kismas,” is their reply when questioned concerning the celebration. This is the great feast day of the “Shot-cay-taw,” (Green Corn Dance) and occurs each year about the first of July, and is the time for assembling the whole band.

The ceremony is largely under the control of the Medicine Men, who are important personages among all bands, and act as advisers, as priests and as doctors. In the authority of the Medicine Man one recognizes a similarity to the priests of the Ancient East as well as the doctrines laid down by the Aztecs. The festivals observed by the Florida Indians show teachings centuries old--blending the peculiarities of different races--the carnival of the Romans, with the Jewish feasts of Moses’s day, and the mystic link of the Aztec jubilee.

The Feast of the Shot-cay-taw has many similarities to the historical records of the National Festival of the Aztecs. The feast is for sorrowing, rejoicing and purifying. This is the beginning of the New Year when, following the traditions of ancient people, old fires are allowed to go out, not a spark is allowed to remain. New fire is produced artificially; this is the Sacred Fire and must be made with the flint rock of their ancestors. The new fire is presented from one tribe to another, and is received as a token of friendship. Then they assemble around the fires singing and dancing. Gratitude is expressed to the Great Spirit, if the year has been abundant. If death has overtaken the tribe mournful strains expressive of pity and supplication are invoked. This custom was borrowed from the ancient tribes who worshipped the sun. The Medicine Men arrange the date for the Green Corn Dance, which is governed by a certain phase of the moon, and runners are sent from band to band to announce the time.

The ceremony preceding the dance permits all men who have evaded the laws to be reinstated by indulging in certain trying ordeals. The transgressors appear a short time before the dance. They are placed in a closed skin tent where a large hot stone lies on the fire. The famous “Black Drink” of Osceola’s time is administered, water is poured on the stone, and the culprits are shut up in this suffocating heat. If they pass the ordeal, they are forgiven and allowed to join in the feasting and dancing when it occurs. This same “Black Drink” which is a nauseating medicine from herbs, is taken by all the tribe on the first day of the dance. This cleanses the system and enables them to “eat, drink, and be merry” to the fullest extent.

At this great re-union, old friendships are revived, courtships take a prominent part, and plans are formulated for hunting expeditions, syrup boilings and “Koonti” gatherings. Members of one settlement will agree to meet certain members of another family at a certain point on a fixed day of the moon.

“They walked one hundred and twenty-five miles to tell their white friend, ‘Indian no lie.’”]

There will be no broken pledges--no disappointments. The Seminole promises nothing to his people that he will not fulfill.

One of the most picturesque games enjoyed by the Indians during this festival is the dancing around the festal pole. On the night of the full moon, they dance from sunset until sunrise. It is very interesting to see the harmony in running around the circle. As the women throw the ball at the pole in the center, the men catch it in their bags that are made around bent sticks, which have bows each about four inches in diameter, with a cross at the lower side.

When the dancing is over, the circle about the pole is perfectly symmetrical, and about ten inches deep, made by the running and dancing.

An exciting feature of the dance is the racing for a wife. A level course is laid off and the race begins. The dusky lover selects the maiden for whom he would strive, because he must catch her before he may court her. The Indian girl is his equal, and often his superior in fleetness, and need not be caught unless she so wishes. But, like her civilized sister, she generally encourages the pursuit until she is tired, and then gracefully yields on the homeward stretch. However, should she win the race the young lover need have no further aspirations in that direction. He may be saved the embarrassment of future humiliation.

THE HUNTING DANCE.

But the Hunting Dance! What memories of centuries past are kept alive by this brown-skinned race, as they observe the ancient feast of an aboriginal people.

With an invitation from the old chieftain, Tallahassee, who is patriarch of the tribe, to attend the Hunting Dance or Harvest Feast, the temptation was too great to resist. This festival occurs only in cycles--once every four years--and the character of its observance is known to but few, if any, white people. The Indian camps are so inaccessible that it takes nerve and muscle to reach them; but knowing that the entire band of Indians would be on hand in gala spirits and gorgeous attire, and knowing, too, that it was an opportunity that might come but once in a lifetime, the question of “to go or not to go,” was soon settled, and preparations for the irksome journey were under way.

By train ride of one hundred and sixty miles we reached a little Florida hamlet, where a teamster with a creaking wagon and a pair of lean, cadaverous-looking horses were secured. Then followed a drive of thirty miles through ponds, swamps, prairie flats, slush and water; with sand-flies whirring and buzzing in our ears as they seemed to offer their orchestral escort through the dismal funeral Allapata flats. The journey was nearing its end. The sun, shining with a July fierceness, glinted the wigwams of the Seminoles. Tired and hungry we approached the village. Here the signs of the festival were everywhere apparent. With the inborn courtesy, that is ever present with these untutored Seminoles in the presence of a friend, they met us with royal grace. A wigwam was placed at our disposal, our baggage was unloaded, and in a quiet and unobtrusive manner a fine saddle of venison was presented.

The Indians were bubbling over with excitement, for it was a time of rejoicing--a carnival, when men, women and children all joined in the merriment.

As our visit always means presents for the Indians, expectant faces from the little toddling children, as well as from the older members of the camp, reminded us that it was time to distribute tobacco, pipes, red handkerchiefs, trinkets for the women, candy and nuts for the little ones.

Happiness pervaded the Everglade village. The older Indians, with the exception of the old chief, played like children, keeping the joyous revelry up from hour to hour.