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To: chajin; henkster; CougarGA7; BroJoeK; central_va; Larry Lucido; wagglebee; Colonel_Flagg; Amagi; ...
Serious Troubles Among the Indians in Nebraska – 2
The Seventh Regiment in Camp – 2
The Last Slaver – 2-3
The Fourth in the City – 3-5
Base Ball – 5
3 posted on 07/06/2020 6:38:55 AM PDT by Homer_J_Simpson ("Every nation gets the government that it deserves." - Joseph de Maistre (1753-1821))
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To: Homer_J_Simpson

In keeping with their cosmology, the Pawnee classify the varieties of corn by color: black, spotted, white, yellow, and red (which, excluding spotted, related to the colors associated with the four semi-cardinal directions). The women kept the different strains separate as they cultivated the corn. While important in agriculture, squash and beans were not given the same theological meaning as corn.[5]:119–122

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pawnee_people


Hadn’t thought of Indian corn for years. Was very common when I was a kid. Never thought about the source.


20 posted on 07/06/2020 8:47:53 AM PDT by PeterPrinciple (Thinking Caps are no longer being issued but there must be a warehouse full of them somewhere.)
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To: Homer_J_Simpson
June 7, 1860. Weekly Trinity Journal, Weaverville, CA

[rustbucket: Homer, your post dealt with an article entitled, “Serious Troubles Among the Indians in Nebraska.” The following article from The Weekly Trinity Journal quoting a man who fought Tecumseh years before my give you an idea of what the Indians thought. I have put some of it in bold font for emphasis.]

[From Claiborn's Life of Gen. Sam. Dale.]
Tecumseh’s Speech.

Tecumseh led, the warriors followed, one in the footsteps of the other. The Creeks, in dense masses, stood on each side of the path, but the Shawnees noticed no one, they marched to the pole in the center of the square and then turned to the left. At each angle of the square Tecumseh took from his pouch some tobacco and sumach, and dropped it on the ground; his warriors performed the same ceremony. This they repeated three times as they marched around the square. Then they approached the flag polo in the center, encircled around it three times, and facing the north, threw tobacco and sumach on a small tire, burning as usual, near the base of the pole. On this they emptied their pouches.

They then marched in the same order to the council, or king’s house, (as it was termed in ancient times) and drew up before it. The Big Warrior and leading men were sitting there. The Shawnee chief sounded his war-whoop -- a most diabolical yell and each of his followers responded. Tecumseh then presented to the Big Warrior a wampum belt of live different colored strands, which the Creek chief handed to his warriors, and it passed down the line. The Shawnee’s pipe was thou produced ; it was large, long, and profusely decorated with shells, heads, and painted eagle and porcupine quills. It was lighted from the fire in the center, and slowly passed from the Big Warrior along the line.

All this time not a word had been uttered; everything was still as death; even the winds slept, and there was only the gentle falling of leaves. At length Tecumseh spoke; at first slowly and in sonorous tones, but he soon grew impassioned, and the words fell in avalanches from his lips, his eyes burned with supernatural lustre, and his whole frame trembled with emotion; his voice resounded over the multitude—now sinking in low and musical whispers, now rising to its highest key, hurling out his words like a succession of thunderbolts. His countenance varied with his speech ; its prevalent expression was a sneer of haired and defiance - sometimes a murderous smile; for a brief interval a sentiment of profound sorrow pervaded it, at the close a look of concentrated vengeance, such, I suppose, us distinguishes the arch enemy of mankind.

1 have heard many great orators, but I never saw one with the vocal powers of Tecumseh, or the same command of the muscles of his face. Had I been deaf, the play of his countenance would have told me what he said. Its effect on that wild, superstitious, untutored and warlike assemblage may be conceived; not a word was said, but stern warriors, the "stoics of the woods,” shook with emotion, and a thousand tomahawks were brandished in the air. Even the Big Warrior, who had been true to the whites and remained faithful during the war, was for the moment visibly affected, and more than once I saw his huge hand clutch, spasmodically, the handle of his knife. All this was the effect of his delivery— for though the mother of Tecumseh was a Creek, and he was familiar with the dialect, and it was afterwards interpreted by an Indian linguist to the assembly. His speech has been reported, but no one has done or can do it justice. 1 think l can repeat the substance of what he said, and, indeed, his very words:

TECUMSEH’S SPEECH.

In defense of the white warriors of Ohio and Kentucky, 1 have traveled through their settlements, once our favorite hunting grounds. No war-whoop was sounded, but there is blood on our knives. The pale faces felt the blow, but knew not from whence it came.

Accursed be the race that has seized on our country and made women of our warriors. Our fathers, from their tombs, reproach us as slaves and cowards. I hear them now in the wailing winds.

The Muscogee was once a mighty people. The Georgians trembled at your war-whoop, and the maidens of my tribe, on the distant lakes, sung the prowess of your warriors and sighed for their embraces.

Now, your very blood is white, your tomahawks have no edge, your bows and arrows were buried with your fathers. Oh! Muscogee, brethren of my mother, brush from your eyelids the sleep of slavery; once more strike for vengeance - once more for your country. The spirits of the mighty dead complain. The tears drop from the weeping skies. Let the white race perish.

They seize your laud, they corrupt your women; they trample on the ashes of your dead! >Back, whence they came, upon a trail of blood they must be driven. >Back! back; aye, into the great water whose accursed waves brought them to our shores.

Burn their dwellings! Destroy their stock! Slay their wives and children! The red man owns the country, and the pale face must never enjoy it!

War now! War forever! War upon the living! War upon the dead! Dig their very corpses from the grave. Our country must give no rest to a white man’s bones. >All the tribes of the North are dancing the war-dance. Two mighty warriors across the seas will send us arms.

Tecumseh will soon return to his country. My prophets shall tarry with you. They will stand between you and the bullets of your enemies. When the white man approaches you, the yawning earth shall swallow him up.

Soon shall you see my arm of fire stretched athwart the sky. I will stamp my foot at Tippecanoe, and the very earth shall shake.

23 posted on 07/06/2020 5:07:01 PM PDT by rustbucket
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