“All money for the benefit of these people has been used with the strictest economy; and will be while I retain the agency. I have secured a slender provision for my declining years, and shall return to spend my days with my adopted people.
“But I will let these men who once owned this great country speak for themselves. Flying Deer, who will now address you, is about forty years of age. He lives with his wife and ten children near the agency, at a place called Humanketchet.”
Flying Deer came forward and spoke very distinctly, though rapidly.
“O hoo bree-gutchee, gumme maw choo kibbe showain nemeshin. Dawmasse choochugah goo waugh; kawboo. Nokka brewis goo, honowin nudwag moonoo shugh kawmun menjeis. Babas kwasind waugh muskoday, wawa gessonwon goo. Nahna naskeen oza yenadisse mayben mudjo, kenemoosha. Wawconassee nushka kahgagoo, jossahut, wabenas ogu winemon jabs. Ahmuck wana wayroossen chooponnuk segwan maysen. Opeechee annewayman, kewadoda shenghen kad goo tagamengow.”
“He says, my friends, that he has always loved and trusted the white people. He says that since he has seen the great cities and towns of the East, he loves his white brothers more than before. His red brothers, White Crow and the Rock on End, wish him to say that they also love you. He says the savage Gray Wolf tribe threaten to shoot and scalp them if they continue friendly to the whites. He asks for powder, guns, and ponies, that they may defend themselves from their enemies. He wants to convince you that they are rapidly becoming a civilized nation. The assistance you are about to give will only be required for a short time. They will soon become self-supporting, and relieve the Government of a heavy tax. They thank you for the kindness you have shown, and for the generous collection which will now be taken up.
“Will some friend close the doors while we give every one an opportunity to contribute to this good cause? Remember that he who shutteth up his ears to the cry of the poor, he shall also cry himself and shall not be heard. Those who prefer can leave a check with Deacon Meekham at the door, or with me at the hotel. These substantial tokens of your regard will cause the wilderness to blossom as the rose.
“In the name of our red brethren, let me again thank you.”
If one inclines to Irish fun, try this burlesque from Mrs. Lippincott.
MISTRESS O’RAFFERTY ON THE WOMAN QUESTION.
BY GRACE GREENWOOD.
No! I wouldn’t demane myself, Bridget,
Like you, in disputin’ with men—
Would I fly in the face of the blissed
Apostles, an’ Father Maginn?
It isn’t the talent I’m wantin’—
Sure my father, ould Michael McCrary,
Made a beautiful last spache and confession
When they hanged him in ould Tipperary.
So, Bridget Muldoon, howld yer talkin’
About Womins’ Rights, and all that!
Sure all the rights I want is the one right,
To be a good helpmate to Pat;
For he’s a good husband—and niver
Lays on me the weight of his hand
Except when he’s far gone in liquor,
And I nag him, you’ll plase understand.
Thrue for ye, I’ve one eye in mournin’,
That’s becaze I disputed his right,
To tak’ and spind all my week’s earnin’s
At Tim Mulligan’s wake, Sunday night.
But it’s sildom when I’ve done a washin’,
He’ll ask for more’n half of the pay;
An’ he’ll toss me my share, wid a smile, dear,
That’s like a swate mornin’ in May!
Now where, if I rin to convintions,
Will be Patrick’s home-comforts and joys?
Who’ll clane up his broghans for Sunday,
Or patch up his ould corduroys.
If we tak’ to the polls, night and mornin’,
Our dilicate charms will all flee—
The dew will be brushed from the rose, dear,
The down from the pache—don’t you see?
We’ll soon tak’ to shillalahs and shindies
Whin we get to be sovereign electors,
And turn all our husbands’ hearts from us,
Thin what will we do for protectors?
We’ll have to be crowners an’ judges,
An’ such like ould malefactors,
Or they’ll make Common Councilmin of us;
Thin where will be our characters?
Oh, Bridget, God save us from votin’!
For sure as the blissed sun rolls,
