"It
may be remembered that the payment to the Chippewa Indians at La Pointe,
in August and September of 1855 necessarily deferred during several
weeks, waiting for the more remote bands to come in."
"The
Department had sent the express and timely orders to persons at La
Pointe, to have the Indians gathered, and to be in waiting for the
Commissioner or Agent, with goods and money for the payment, as per
treaty, when arrived. The persons failed to carry out the orders."
"The
officers of the Commission, and persons connected with the payments,
had to remain from that time (11th August), until messengers could
be dispatched for the Bands at a distance, to Grand Portage, North
Shore, and over 200 miles inland towards the Mississippi and other
directions. Consequently the Indians from the interior were weeks
in arriving. The interval of time being occupied by the Agency in
taking the Census of- and in holding Councils with the Chiefs in relation
to affairs of unsettled business, directing in regard to the payment
of their debts per appropriation from the Government of $90,000.00
for that purpose. Many sittings and Councils were held, and speeches
made between those of the Commission and the Chiefs. A long time,
it seemed, had transpired."
"The
Bands from the vicinity of Lac Courte Oreilles were yet to come. Finally,
news of their, arrival of some 200 of these Indians, upon the shore
of the Bay, about 12 miles from La Pointe, had the evening before
reached the Commissioner, who promptly employed three or four sail
boats, the only craft at hand, to bring the Indians over."
"The
day was bright and warm. It was nearly noon when the three or four
little sail boats which had been dispatched to fetch these forest
children across the bay to La Pointe hove in sight, and nearing the
shore, laden almost to the water's edge with men, women and children,
there was a general gathering on the shore to see them as they came
in. A scene of the likes of poverty and wretchedness, we hope we may
never witness again. Some of these poor creatures, especially the
children were literally naked."
"They
had but shreds for blankets, birch bark baskets and birch bark dishes,
were their chief wares - rude and untanned deer and other skins, their
principal wardrobe and baggage. Clothing they could not be said to
have had. Some of the men had what were once shirts -- some had not
-- some, parts of leggings -- others none. Most of the women had on
them some kind of miserable excuse for a garment."
"The
children nearly, some quite naked, were, as if to hide them from sight,
mostly inside a circle made of their effects, and what was a sad apology
for baggage."
"Several
of these wretched were so feeble from hunger and sickness, that they
needed supporting. A number were lame, and others partial blind. All
had, for some time been on scanty rations of naught but wild rice,
as they could neither fish nor hunt while hurrying with their sick
and children and fearing their enemies would ambush -- to meet their
Great Father. Commissioner Manypenny, General H. L. Stevens, and many
others who were present and can bear testimony to these truths."
"Of
these interior Bands, Nay-Naw-Ong-Ga-Be was the Head. They were from
within 60 miles to 100 miles of the Mississippi on the opposite side
of which is the country of their old and implacable enemies, the Sioux.
Between these tribes, deadly feuds and exterminating wars have existed
for more than a century, defying all efforts from their white neighbors,
and the means of which have been employed by the U. S. Government,
to halt them. Hence these people have good reasons to be in continual
fear, and on the constant watch for their lives."
"The
warriors of these Bands, it was conceded, excelled those of any and
all others at La Pointe, in their noble features and fine, erect statures,
nor were they inferior in their sprightliness of mind; their Head
Chief Nay-Naw-Ong-Ga-Be was the smartest orator on the grounds. Not
long after they arrived, the Commissioner sent a request for these
Bands to meet him at the Council ground, for the purpose of receiving
rations. In two or three hours we saw some 80 to 100 stately warrior,
Nay-Naw-Ong-Ga-Be at their head, marching in more regular order than
those bands less accustomed to the war path, to meet the Commissioner.
These Indian came late last year also, and the goods mainly having
been distributed, they receive but very little."
"The
Head Chief, Nay-Naw-Ong-Ga-Be, we should say had seen about fifty-five
winters. He is rather less than medium height and size, an intelligent
face and mild expression, a very keen eye, and when animated in speaking,
a sort of fiery look or twinkle. Like most warriors, his face is highly
colored with vermilion. At the head of his warriors and in Council,
he wore an elaborate turban of feathers over his head and shoulders
-- giving a fuller appearance in person than he really had, a unique
look even for an Indian."
"It
was not long after this Chief arrived, before he became the favorite
Orator and Chief. We saw and noticed much of him and his people. We
believe they have innate impulses as exalted as in the human bosom
ever dwelt. We saw tears of sympathy over the scene of misery before
us, when these people landed at La Pointe. On the ground, the day
they arrived, by the side of Nay-Naw-Ong-Ga-Be stood Aw-Key-Wain-Ze,
his principal, a tall and majestic Chief and a full head and neck
above the red warriors seated around on the grass. The Commissioner
addressed them, John Johnson, of the Soo, a half Chippewa, and a man
of unusual intelligence and character did the interpreting."
"The
Commissioner having said that he was very glad to see him and his
people, though they come late; that they felt pained to see them in
such sorrowful condition, looking so poverty stricken, et cetera."
"Nay-Naw-Ong-Ga-Be,
in a manner dignified and earnest, readily replied, "My Father,
we too are very happy to see you. We have reasons for not coming immediately
after we heard your voice echoing through the wilderness. We were
all roused by the sound of your voice. It created glad feelings and
rejoicing among all my people. I lost no time to give orders to all
of my young men to collect before me. I then informed them that your
words had reached me, desiring us to come immediately, while we were
busily engaged in collecting wild rice, to provide for our sick, aged,
women and children who could not travel, with but four of my best
warriors to defend them from my troublesome and dangerous neighbors
the Sioux, and I and my people with me, hastened upon the pathway
to the shores of Lake Chippewa (Superior). I have obeyed your call
and am now before you."
"You
say, my Father, you are sorry to see us in our state of poverty. No
wonder, my Father, you see us in poverty and showing so much nakedness.
Five long winters have passed since I have received as much as a blanket
for my children."
"My
Father, what has become of your promise? You probably have sent what
you have promised to us, but, where has it gone, that is more than
I am able to say. Perhaps it has sunk in the deep waters of the Lake,
or it may have evaporated in the heavens, like the rising of the mist,
or perhaps it has blown over our heads, and gone towards the setting
sun. Last year I visited our Father (Indian Agent H. C. Gilbert) who
came here, and gave goods to a portion of his red children, but I
could not get here in time, I got nothing. I turned around to some
of our traders, no doubt standing among us here, and asked them for
some clothing to take to my poor children, but they refused me. Therefore
I had to retrace my footsteps over a long road, with empty hands,
to my home in the woods, just as I had come."
"In
your words to me, you ask me not to use the fire-water, and after
the traders refused me, as I said before, I do not intend to accept
their fire-water in case they offer it to me."
"I
returned to my home. I endured the severity of the long cold winter
with what nature had provided for me; relieved only by the skins I
had taken from the beasts of the forest. I had to sit nearer to my
little fire for want of what I did not get from my Great Father and
could not get from the traders; I am not like your red children that
live on these shores of the Lake, he desired you to bring him the
irons to spear the fish, and small twine he uses in dropping his hook
into the water. I told you my Father, I live principally in traveling
through my home in the forest, by carrying the iron on my shoulder,
that, whenever I aim at the wild animal, he falls before me. I have
come with my young men, and we have brought most of our families on
the strength of your promise last year, that you would give us good
portions for our want this year, and like all your children, my Father,
after a hard day's labor, or a long walk, I am hungry and my people
need something to give them strength and comfort. It is so long since
a gun was given us, we have only a few stubs, bound together by leather
strings with which to kill our game, and to defend ourselves against
our enemies."
"My
Father, look around you, upon the faces of my poor people, sickness
and hunger, whiskey and war, are killing us off fast. We are dying
and fading away; we drop to the ground like trees before the ax of
the white man, we are weak, you are strong. We are but foolish Indians,
you have the knowledge and wisdom in your heads; we want your help
and protection. We have no homes, no cattle, no lands, and we will
not long need them. In a few short winters, my people will be no more.
The winds shall soon moan around the last lodge of your red children.
I grieve; but am powerless to turn our fate away. The sun, the moon,
the rivers, the forest, we love so well, we must leave. We shall soon
sleep in the ground, we will not awake again. I have no more to say
to you, my Father." {This
ends Dr. Morses's account.)