The weekly Butte record. [volume], October 30, 1858, Image 1

About The weekly Butte record. [volume] (Oroville [Calif.]) 1858-1864

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VOL. 5.
It is Coming.
BYffH.OLAND BOURNE.
In the ape of mythic vision.
Years ugone, as years do fly,
Poets dreamed of fields Elysian
Where the glories never die.
Painted they the bright delusion,
Often called the Golden Age,
And they lent the gay illusion
Borrowed light from fancy’s page.
Hut their strains rehearsed the story
Of the ancient days of dream,
When the wealds’ primeval glory
Made the past enchanted seem. 1
It is coming! Sure and onward !
Coming from the realms of day !
While the spirit, looking sunward,
Like an eagle, sees the ray.
Earnest souls around ns labor,
Yearning tor the c »ming lime.
When the scimitar and sabre.
Sheathed,shall cease their deed* ot crime.
When the words of love shall waken
World wide fires in hearts of men,
When tisc spirit shall be shaken
Till It finds its God again.
Night's high priest, th’ Egyptian Phiroah,
Bids the hastening time delay.
Painting in the pathway narrow
Stubble creeds that fear the day.
Telling Faith’s bright earnest children,
They that bear the oppressor’s chain—
-Get ye to your tasks and burden,
Get ye to your bonds again !
Yet a day shall end your sorrow,
Ye shall serve the gods ye knew.
On the morning of the m rrow
Oat of Egypt ye shall go.”
Long the world has heard the fable,
Bought the sin procrastined day,
Bn the towering walls of Babel
Soon shall wed their native clay.
Earth' old temple, dome and pillar,
Like a charnel filled with death,
Buililed by the brother .killer,
Jliflileth what the si>irit eahb.
In its shadow, pure and olden,
Lieth freedom's corner-stone.
Which we seek, while songs embolden
He arts of giant trust alone.
O tof darkness light is springing—
Out of dumbness gloriaus speech;
Prophets from the dead are bringing
Living souls that boldly teach.
Out of brass and out of iron
Soon shall come the shining gold,
While the beams shall then environ
Realms whose splendor is untold.
Then shall love spring forth unbidden;
Then shall light spring forth uuboru;
For their foes shall all be hidden
la the unclouded Golden Morn.
The Adventure of a Spanish Nobleman,
and Legend of Arrow Eojk, Situa
ted on the Missouri,
Charles V., granson of Ferdinand and Isa
bella. King and Queen of Castile and Aragon,
whilst sealed upon the throne of Spain and
(lermany, was the most powerful monarch in
Kurope. He was a finished diplomatist, a
skillful general, a liberal patron of the arts
and science, but selfish, intriguing and revenge
ful.
History has recorded on her ample page all
of his public acts, but has rarely ever lifted
the domestic curtain, and given publicity to
the events which transpired behind the scenes.
The historians, during his reign, were either
his own creatures, corrupted by his gold, or so
restrained by his despotic power, that they
would not. or dare not, exhibit to the public
gaze any of the weakness which belong to frail
humanity.
It is necessary for the purpose of this narra
tive that we should drag into light an event
which has long been confined in the tomb ol
oblivion.
When in the warm glow of manhood, Charles,
who was passionately fond of hunting, one day
in the excitement of the chase, becam - estran
ged from his party, and lost in the wilderness.
In wandering through the thick tmucr-brush
that skirted the mountain, became across a
little path which wound a dig its craggy sides.
He immediately followed it, thinking it led
to some shepherd's cot, the occupants of which
could direct him in what manner ho could
again join his companions, who were then
sounding their bugles in every direction, alarm
ed at his absence. He was right in Ids con
jecture, for he came in a few moments to an
open space on the mountain side, where he sa v
a flock of sheep attended by a shepherdess,
while, some distance below, the smoke wreath
ed from a little hamlet to which she probably
belonged.
The young shepherdess was seated upon a
lock, so intently engaged in reading that she
did not notice the advance of Charles, who.
■when within a short distance, stopped and
gazed in admiration on her beauty. Though
attired in a horaeiy garb, it could not conceal
the beautiful outlines of her person, but rather
by its tight fit, which was worn in that man
mer to escape entanglement from the boshes,
revealed more favorably its symmetry. Her
hair was like the raven's wing, falling in a ma-<
of cnrls over shoulders and bosom, and in such
profusion that they effectually concealed her
features from tboynonarch, who was most im
patient for the view, but wished not to disturb
her m her absorbing occupation. At length
the girl gave way to a perfect hurricane of
!»i.ghtor. Her whole frame shook with the
excess, and she placed both of her hands to
her sides, to keep them from falling apart, in
her enjoyment. And then the sound etna a
iing from that laughter, it was music to the
.charmed ears of the Kmpcror, who was watch
ing every movement, with all the intensity of
youthful admiration, when the young girl turn
ed towards him. still indulging in her mirth
and putting back her wavy hair, revealed one
of the most lovely countenances that ever look
ed upon the world.
Charles now advanced towards her. with all
of the self-possession which characterizes the
mau of the world, and after Ttnga 1 . buenos
dia*. and a knightly compliment, stated his
perplexity, and asked for a road that might
conduct him to the other side of the mountain.
The young maiden replied, with cheeks blush
ing with contusion :
"Senor, my father, who lives in you little
hamlet, can inform you. I never wander far
ther from my home than the adjoining pastures
for my sheep, and know nothing of the passes
of the mountains.”
Whilst she was speaking. Charles had ad
vanced towards her, and taking up the book
which she had let fall in her confusion, was
surprised, on looding at the title, to see that it
was the ‘‘Life and Adventures of Don Quixote
de la Mancha.
"Ah', this accounts for your spells of laugh
ing,'’ said he. "By my troth, this book would
excite the risibles of a misautbrope. But tell
me, how did you become so educated, living
here in these secluded mountains? Who in
structed you ?”
THE WEEKLY BUTTE RECORD.
‘•My father, Senor,” replied she, was brought
up for the church, aiul is a learned man.
Whilst officiating in the province of Andalu
sia, he saw my mother, and became so strong
ly attached to her that, despite all of his ef
forts, he fell deeply In love with her, which,
you know, was a mortal sin for a man of God.
Such was the excess of his love, that his health
commenced to fail, and be made application to
the Pope to get absolutions that he might
marry my mother. His Holiness, refused even
to listen* to his supplication, and my father,
yielding to the promptings of affection, mar
ried my mother, and retired to a small estate
that she possessed. 1 was born of this union,
and after my birth, ray mother’s health com
menced to decline, and gradually she faded,
and died five years fiom the date of her mar
riage.’’
•My father was inconsolable for her loss,
and looking upon the event as a retribution of
heaven, for the breaking of his vows, retired to
these mountains, where he spends most of his
time in prayer aid penance for atonement of
his sin=. Kvery day he devotes three hours to
my education, and ihe remaining hours 1 spend
with my flocks in the pastures, or in tire cul
ture of some hardy plants, that cau live in these
inclement mountains.”
The beauty, the intelligence and naivctlc of
the young shepherdess were irresistable. and
the heart of Charles welcomed the romantic
attachment which he felt was fast blinding
him in its silken fetters.
He had become satiated with the accomplish
ed beauties of the Court, who owed so much
of their attractions to the advantages of cos
tume, the polish of manner, and the circum
stance of birth. He had, by accident, dis
covered one whose artless manner was more
captivating, and whose superior beauty owed
nothing to the adventitious aid of art or orna
ment. He lingered as long as possible in her
society, without wounding her delicacy, and
bidding her adieu, was wending his way to
where her father lived, when ho saw one of his
cavaliers approaching him, who had made a
circuitous route, and unexpectedly found him.
Charles, then, as there was no necessity to
visit the cot of the father of the shepherdess,
after again bidding her adieu, under the gui
dance of his attendant, started to join his re
tinue, who were alarmed at bis absence. Af
ter this period, the neighborhood where Mar
cella. (for that was the name of the young
shepherdess.) dwelt, becam ■ the favorite hunt
ing ground of Charles, who would, on these
occasions, absent himself awhil# from his at
tendants, who were too well drilled in their
duties to pry into his motives, and visit Mar
cella, who would be alone on the mountain side
with her flock.
Alter the coyness, natural to a ycung maid
en. had vanished from frequent interviews, it
was not unnatural for Marcella, who had seen
nothing of the sterner sex, except the rough
goat-hLT'J: el the mountains, with the tender
affections jet all her own. should become in
terested in one possessed of such a gallant ex
terior and accomplished manner: and finally
to love him. She had been reared in the sim
plicity of country life, and knew not that, the
presence of royality were as deadly to the
existence of beauty and innocence us the poison
ous Upas tree.
That Charles loved her there could not be
the least doubt, for, though lie hud for years
pursued the life (fa voluptuary, jet he had
never met with a being whom alone his soul
cfliild offer its worship, without leclingm ilbsTre'
to bow to another shrine, but the principle
implanted in him from bis birth, "that royal
blood should not bend in wedlock but with
royal blood,” retained so vividly its impression,
that, though Marcella had the first offerings
of his heart, he never dreamed of taking her
in marriage. The royal blood of Castile and
Arrago must be transmitted pure and unadul
terated by peasant blood. He could oß’er to
her wealth, station, power—everything but—
the sacred title of wife.
Marcella, from maiden reserve and timidity,
had neglected to inform her father of her lirst
interview with Charles, and as each succeed
ing one widened the chasm and rendered it
more difficult, she resolved to keep altogether
a secret the new epoch which had marked her
existence—this being very easy, as the inter
views between the lovers always took place
when Marcella tended her Hock upon the
mountains.
For more than a year. Charles, libertine as
he was, made no attempt upon the virtue of
Marcella. Though passion, like a boiling Suva,
was seething in his veins, yet, in her presence,
everv unchaste desire was quenched, as her
-yes bent on him their flood of light, in which
were blended the confidence of trusth’ g affec
tion and the holiness of virgin innocence. At
the expiration of this period her father died,
and as -he had no protector to whom she could
look to, in the hour of her desolation she ac
cepted the offer of Charles, who placed her in
a noble family, where she was treated with all
the attention bestowed upon rank, during the
year of her mourning, and after which time,
she was introduced at court, where she became
renowned for her beauty and the preference of
the most powerful monarch of Europe.
In t e glare of a dissipated court. Marcalla
forgot the purity and innocence ot her former
life, and yielding to the witching influence of
the splendid vices which flourished in the sun
shine of royal favor, became a follower and
then a leader of the vicious crowd of beauties
w deli adorned the court of Charles the Fifth.
Emperor of Spain and Germany. For many
years she was the favorite of the Emperor,
and when taken with her last sickness, wrote
to him a most affecting letter, in which, after
rendering him thanks for his love and devotion,
which, for years had never waned in its force,
she commended to his care and affection her
sou, men ten years of age. who hud been
placed under the charge of careful and experi
enced teachers.
The young Garcia, (that was his name.) af
ter completing his p eparalory studies, entered
one of the most eminent universities of the
kingdom. He knew the stain which rested
upon his birth, and was very sensitive on the
subject.
The voung Garcia was always popular witli
the students, but was far from being a favorite
with the professors, for he looked on his stud
iea with dislike, and the wholesome n-traiot
to which he was subjected as slavish thraldom,
lie was the leader of all the mischievous pranks
played at the University, would elude the vig
itence of the professors and with a baud of ins
dare devil associates would visit the town at
the midnight hour, and with their yells, tink
ling of cymbals a.,d sounding of horns, would
arouse the inhabitants irom their slumber, and
frightened almost into convulsions all the ner
vous old maids iu tlie neighborhood. If the
police interferred, unless they were in large
force, these scape graces would attack the
guardians of the night—pummel them with
out mercy, and threaten them with death if
they dared eater a complaint in the halls of
justice.
The name of Garcia became such a terror
to the town, and such a reproach to the Uni
versity. that the professors, after a long period
of forbearance, from the fact of his connexion
with the Emperor, resolved to expel him. One
of the officers of 'he institution bore the fiat
which commanded Garcia to leave the halls of
the University within twenty-four hours.
On receiving this message, Garcia, whose
passions at times were uncontrollable, drew his
dagger and subbed him to the heart. He was
then arrested by the authorities, after making
a desperate resistance and wounding danger
OIiOVIJLLE, SATURDAY MORNING, OCTOBEII 30, 1858.
ously two of the officers of the law. He was
tried for the murder of the professor, and
>houlJ have been executed for the offence ac
cording to the laws of the country, yet, being
the son of the Emperor, though an illegitimate
one. and probably by the secret instructions of
the Emperor himself, he was sentenced to leave
Spain forever.
ft was on the eve of the departure of the
expedition under He Soto that sentence was
pronounced, and that renowned adventurer of
tered him an honorable appointment in the
army under his command, about to sail for
America.
The adventurous life to which he was sub
jected on his arrival in the New World ap
peared to be iu unison with the instincts of
i iarcia, and he became one of the most daring
of the daring officers under He Soto’s com
mand. He was with the party of the Spanish
soldiers who discovered Juan Ortez who had
been left in Florida during the illl-fated expe
dition under Narvaez, and listened with won
der and admiration to his thrilling adventures,
he being the only while man in the whole
southern country, and amid suva:cs who re
garded tne white man ns their feudal enemies.
His romantic adventures find hair-breadth es
capes made a deep impression upon the mind
ot liaroia. and probably implanted in his mind
a desire to adopt from choice a ravage life and
amalgamate himself with the Indians where he
could give an unbridled license to his appetite,
which were the predominant characteristics of
his nature.
Hareia followed the fortunes of He Soto mi
ld lie crossed the Mississippi and went iuto Ar
kansas. and naturally thinking tl.al in a little
time the whole army would he cut off by the
hostile savages, after cultivating for some time
the friendship ol a distinguished Cacique, while
the Spaniards were in winter quarters, he went
over to the tribe of the chief and married one
of his swarthy daughters.
\\ lieu de Soto returned to the Mississippi.
Garcia, despite the remonstrances and com
mands ol his general, remained with his savage
father-in-law, apparently delighted with the
manners customs and habits of his new rela
tions.
U hat was the ultimate fate of Garcia is led
to conjecture, mid the wild legends which
make the histone record of the Indians. It is
more than probable (hat he left Arkansas, and
after long wandering settled among the Paw
nee Indians, which may acccunl for the known
partiality which the tribe had for the Span
jards, when all other savage nations held them
in utter abliorencc.
Thai this conjecture is based upon proba
bility will appear from the following facts, and
the legend that supports them:
\\ hen Pulancutte G’liasscure, the founder of
hit. Charles, somewhere iu the year 1772, was
navigating the Misssoari, some miles above
where Franklin now stands, for the purpose ol
discovery, he came in the neighborhood of Ar
row Rock, and there saw ‘,O his groat astonish
ment a white man sitting at the base of the
granite blull cooking a choice piece of venison
which he had cut from the carcass of a deer
that he had just slain. Chasseur was anxious
to make the acquaintuce of this white man who
had preceded him in the wilderness when be
thought he would only see the Indian in his
primitive wildness. He found him to be a
Frenchman, w ho becoming fond ot a lonely sav
age life, bad wandered from Canada and for
years had lived with the barbarous tribes who
%.habit the bnuSa of the- SHsstJbrh* .Among
olh t singular things which this wanderer of
the wilderness showed to Chasseur was a gold
en crucifix, which he had obtained from a Paw
nee chief, in whose family it had been for sev
eral generations. He then told Chasseur that
the little crucifix was connected with the rock
where they then were, and which is now known
as Arrow Rock by the voyager up the Mis
souri. At the request of Chasseur the hunter
then commenced and related the legend as fol
lows :
TUli INDIAN LEGEND OF ARROW ROCK SITUATED
ON THE MISSOURI.
Two great tribes have always lived here ad
joining each other, but mortal foes. The Mis
souris and Pawnees, as long as they have been
in existence they have never buried the
hatchet.
Each tribe has produced great warriors, and
many were the battles (ought between these
nations when they were in their full power, be
fore the dreadful small-pox came and swept
them off by thousands. Many were killed in
these conflicts, but so nearly was each tribe
bailanoed in numbers, and the courage of their
warriors so equal that there was uo advantage
gained, and after lighting many years, their
strength, as compared with each other, was
the same as before.
But once, when the Pawness and the Mis
souris met in battle there were by far more of
the latter slain than ever was before, and they
were completely put to flight the arrows of the
Pawnees were pointed with a hard and sharp
material which cut the flesh and penetrated
easily to the heart ; and there was a strange
warrior who rushed foremost to the battle, and
would not take shelter behind a tree when the
bow was drawn upon him, but the arrows
glanced from his body as from a rock, though
they were sent by the arms of the stoutest war
riors.
The Pawnee Indians were proud of their suc
cess. and advanced far in the Missouris coun
try before the latter had courage to oppose
them, so great was the terror with which the
remembrance of the la-d battle inspired them.
At length they collected in great force, their
numbers far exceeding those of the Pawnees,
and they advane 1 upon them confident of vic
tory. At the first onset the Pawnees were
frightened at the great number of the warriors
of the Missouris. and would have fled from the
country, but the strange warrior called to them
in a strange tongue, and rushed against the
Missouris with a bright sharp weapon, which
glittered like a thing of light iu tbe sunbeams, |
and with which lie swept the warriors down
like dried grass before the fire. The arrows
fell thick around him and struck his body in ;
every direction, for the Missouris were anxious
for fits d ath. and nearly all of their arrows
were drawn against him, but they fell as if they j
had struck upon a rock.
The Pawnees then recovered from their i
fright, as thev saw their champion making |
headway against the whole army of their foes ;
and then the Missouris fled, believing that
some Manito in the human form was angry
with them and assisting their enemies. In inis j
battle the Missouris lost tbe flower of their
warriors, and great was the rejoicings of the
Pawnees, . *r the scalp-locks of their enemies
hung in plenty from their girdles. After the
victory, they took up their maich to their own
ce ntry. singing the songs of victory and gar
nering'in their hearts tbe delights which were
still in store tor them when the prisoners they
had with them would run the gauntlet, and
writhe in torture at the stake.
The Missouris had as much cause to mourn
as their enemies 'o rejoice. Their great war
riors had fallen in the battle field, and the great
nation was almost left at tbe mercy of their
enemies. Squaws were howling for their hus
bands and sous, and cbildren crying for their
fathers, while the countenances of the warriors
wete fierce and gloomy.
A council was called of the old warriors of
the nation, whose wisdom might teach them
what to do in this hour of sorrow, and still
grcatei misfortune in the future, for they knew
that their enemies would return again and
again, until the whole nation of the Missouris
would be in the spirit land. Accordingly
old men met, and it was determined tliat the
medicine men of the nation should pray to
the Great Spirit to look with pity upon them,
and preserve them from the power of their en
emies, who had prevailed against them, and
particulary to shield them from that wicked
Manito who had taken a human form and was
killing their greatest warriors. The medicine
men then commenced mumbling their prayers,
practising their gestures, and their writhing.
They danced like demons in mazy circles, long
feathers of birds sticking|from every part of
their bodies and ornaments pending from their
eyes and noses, while on their heels were at
tached long pieces of elk horn, which in their
movements struck against each other, emitting
a loud, clattering noise.. In quick, lyrical
numbers they chanted prayers, and after anoth
er dance, and then twisting and contortions on
the earth, the incantation was finished, and
they declared the Great Spirit appeased.
The Indians of all nations are the slaves of
the marvelous, and after.lhc revelation of the
medicine men, all felt assured of victory in their
next encounter with their enemies. So confi
dent were they of succesiUiat they wished for
the time that the Pawned would airain invade
the country that they might take ample ven
geance upon them for past defeats. They had
not long to wait. The Pawnees, confident of
success,again invadad the country of their feu
dal enemies, attended by the strange warrior
from whose body the arrows fell to the ground
with their points blunted. A bloody battle
was fought and again the Missouris were de
feated with immense loss, because of the feats
of the warrior w hom they supposed was a spir
it in human lorin. Whenever he moved in
fight, the warriors shrunk with fear to the
covert, for they knew no weapons could effect
him. II is presence struck as much terror to
the hearts ofthe Missouris as his deeds, and
after a short conflict they fled bowling from the
field, leaving many warriors to be scalped, and
many prisoners to be taken to the Pawnee
country and there to die by tbe torture.
Among tbe Missouris was a youth who had
been longing to take part in the contest, lie
was the s m of the most distinguished chief of
the nation, who hud been slain in the first bat
tle with the Pawnees, by the strange warrior
who was invulnerable.
'I he death ol Ins father sunk deep into the
mind of the youth, and In- heart beat for re
venge. For hours he would sit in the wigwam
where still lived the aged father of the dead
chief, who would tell him of the deeds of his
youth before the frost of age had chilled the
blood in his heart, and shrunk the sinews of
hi- strength ; he then would tell him the deeds
of his son, tho father of the youth, how while
ho was in his first battle, when the warriors
were flying before the gigantic Chief of the
Pawnees, lie faced the warrior in single com
bat, slew him, and dragged the scalp lock from
his head.
These recitals of his aged grandfather, ope
rated like fuel upon the flame, already burning
vividly in the bosom of the youth, until his
whole spirit glowed and panted wi h the wish
to perform some deed worthy of his illustrious
strain.
Jle last hoard of the eats performed by the
strange warrior that arrows could not kill, and
he resolved to find out whether he was a spirit
or man. It wanted yet two moons of the time
when his fast was to commence, too sec if
some good spirit would c.me in his dreams
and communicate something that would be
a benefit to the natron a; i af rmpivtanee to*
himself. The intervening time the fearless
youth resolved to employ in visiting ilie
Pawnee country, and if possible to walcn
the habits and movements of the strange war
rior, whom his nation thought to be a had
Manito.
He secretly prepared for bis undertaking,
taking a few pieces of dried buffalo meat, a
quiver of arrows, and a bow lie had just made
from the antlers of a stag. He started, using
every precaution to leave no impress of his
trail, for fear he might be followed by the war
riors of his tribe, and thereby his purpose be
defeated. The journey was a wearisome one,
but in a short time he arrived in the Pawnee
country, and had to increase all of his precau
tions. He traveled only during the night,
wending his course by the stars, for it is a part
of the education ol ati Indian youth to under
stand the position and movements of some of
the pleuetary orbs, so necessary to their habits
of life. Manatee, for that was the name of
the fearless youth, at length came in sight ol
the Pawnee villages.
He had now to call into action, all of the
strategic lore ho possessed, lest his presence be
discovered. It wanted some hours of day
break. and he searched about lor a good hiding
place during the day, and so situated that he
could see what was passing in the village. He
could see no place that suited. Determining
to accomplish his purpose, for which he had
already undergone so many privations and in
curred many dangers, he ascended the top of
the largest lodge, and after some difficulty suc
ceeded in ensconcing himself iu the aperture
on the top of the chimney.
He reraainad there quite snug until the squaw
commenced to cook breakfast, which was to
broil a venison stake upon the coals. The fire
commenced to kindle, but the smoke having
no vent to escape by the chimney, all turned
back and filled the lodge, besides almost smoth
ering Manatee at the top of the chimney. The
squaw was persevering, for she weil knew tliat
her husband who had sallied out before day,
alter deer, would soon arrive and she would re
ceive a correction, the bare thought of which
would make her shudder, if the breakfast was
not ready. So she went out and gathered an
arm full of dried slicks, determined in her mind
to have a fire.
She blew and enlivened tbe embers, but still
the smoke, as fast as it ascended the chimney,
came back; but still the squaw piled on tbe
sticks and kept blowing, when 10l down came
Mauutec, hivo could stand the smoke no longer,
falling upon the head of the squaw, burning
her nose and nearly frightening her to death.
She rushed from tlm lodge, crying and yell
ing, saying that the Thunder God had come
down tier chimney, and had singed her nose
with his lightning.
'When Manatee fell, he had dragged with
him clay and stones of which the chimney was
built, and finding there was no one to scalp
him, tor he hud expected to be instantly killed
by the occupants of the lodge, he took refuge
beneath a huge pile of skins which opportune
ly lay in a corner. His bow and arrows he
had with him. and just fixed himself snugly in
his hiding place, when in rushed a crowd of
Indians to see what had so frightened thesquaw.
When they saw the day and stones, the cause
seemed apparent and they burst into roars of
laughter at tbe simplicity of the squaw, who
hail thought the Thunder God had come from
the heavens. The squaw did not appear alto
gether satisfied, but there, before her eyes,
were the stones and clay, and it must have
been they which had fallen.
Manatee was in a critical position; the slight
est examination ofthe skins would expose him;
one warrior half advanced to the pile, but,
probably fearing that be might be laughed at
lor his suspicious, forbore to ex uni me it. Af
ter rallying tbe squaw a good deal upon her
fears of the Ybond-.-r God, the crowd departed.
After the departure of her neighbors, the
squaw looked cautiously again and again up
the chimney, and perfectly satisfied that her
fright, and the burn ou her nose were caused
by the fall of the clay and the stones, she in
dulged in a hearty laugh, and then commenced
to baiid again tbe fire, with which she b-d a
trouble, and soon the savory flavor of the steak
was spread over the lodge, penetrating even
under the pile of skins, and making the mouth
of Manatee, despite his dangerous position,
water for a chance at the delicious morsel.
Hours passed by, and the worrier who own
ed the lodge came not, though every now and
then the squaw would go to the door and look
wistfully for his appearance ; then, when near
mid-day, she sat down to her solitary break
fast. W hilst she was enjoying this meal with
an appetite sharpened by her long last, in came
a warrior of a slighter figure than usual among
the Indians, and with different (natures and
complexion. He was dressed in the costume
of the Indians, but wore suspended at bis side
a long sword, seeing the squaw enjoying a
nice steak all alone, he took a seat beside her
(which an Indian warrior would uot do,) aud
the two soon despatched it.
At the first sight of the warrior, Manutee
felt confident that it was he. who struck such
terror in the hearts of the Musouris. and had
slain his father. All doubts on the subject
was finally removed, when the warrior went
away lor a lew hours, and brought into the
lodge pieces of metal of different shapes ,which
ho commenced cleaning, assisted by the wo
man, aud then fitted thejiicces of metal to his
person.
Manutee scarcely daring to breathe, intent
ly watched every movement, and particularly
remarked the apertures that were left in the
visor for the eyes, whose orbs he could see
plainly moving. He was tempted to his bow,
and try his arrow against this terror of his
tribe, and murderer of his father, but he felt
how futile would be the attempt, for the In
dians were passing in crowds before the door
at all times, which precluded all possibility of
escape, and besides his arrow might fail ot its
purpose, and his uatiou would be wholly de
stroyed.
lie restrained the impulse which urged him
to the deed, aud listened that he might glean
all that was of importance in their conversa
tion. But he could hear very distinctly, and
that little didn't instruct him. It was late in
the afternoon that the husband of the squaw
came home, loaded with the choice portions of
a deer that he had killed The other warrior
had departed, and w hen the squaw told her
husband ot her fright in the morning, be laugh
ed heartily and then stretched himself at the
door of the lodge, for he had been much fati
gued iu the chase. His squaw prepared his
supper, aud he looked attentively at his pile of
skins with much satisfaction, as it appeared of
such respectable size. Jle took up one or two
and examined them, and then turned away.
Manutee escaped by a miracle. It had now
become dark, and he leit that the night was be
fore him. should he be discovered, and he was
more hopeful of a happy termination of his ad
venture. Soon the warrior lay down to sleep,
aud then the squaw, but not in the corner
where Manatee was concealed. They took a
few skins from the pile to make their bed, and,
unsuspicious, were soon asleep.
When half of the night had passed and the
village was buried in profound slumber, Manu
tee cautiously came from Lis hiding-place, tit
led an arrow to his bow string, and by the
light ol the expiring embers, aimed the shaft
at the head of the warrior. It penetrated Irs
brain, and as he writhi 1 in his death agony,
another sped to the heart of the squaw before
she had sufficiently awakened to give the
alarm. He then scalped them, that he might
carry away some trophy of his victory, and.
belore the morning’s dawn, was far on his way
to the country of the Missouris. He knew di
rectly the deed was discovered his enemies
would bo upon his track, but he was fleet of
foot, and had a good start ot his pursuers, and
after a few days aud nights of almost con
stant and rapid travel, he arrived safely in his
own country, when he was welcomed as one
arise:- from the dea l.
When asked to relate his advcntuies, Mann
tee asked of his grandfather to postpone his
request until alter his fast, which was to com
mence in throe days. The old man consented,
for he had all confidence in the wisdom of his
grandson, and the whole nation was loud in his
praise, since they saw the two scalps that be
Lad taken from their enemies.
Manutee told the old men of the nation to
prepare the young men for battle, for the
Pawnees would soon be upon them in great
force, and then it being time for his fast to
commence, he retired to the wilderness, to wait,
if he would be fortunate, to receive any di
vine revelation.
The season ol his fast was the commence
ment of autumn, and the place w hich he chose
for his lonely musings, at this very bluff. The
first day and night past, and no angel-spirit
visited him in his dreams. The second, third,
fourth and fifth also passed by, and nothing
supernatural cheered the drooping spirit of
Manutee. He was weak and dreadfully ema
ciated from hunger, and he was desponding in
his heart, for ho thought no good Mauito took
an interest in his welfare.
On the sixth morning of his fast, his aged
grandsire came with provisions and besought
him to cat, as he tottered from weakness and
had waned to a shadow. He begged and en
treated him to cat, and Manutee, to obtain a
little longer time, told him to come when the
sun had sunk behind the prairies. After his
departure, the yculh prayed fervently to the
Great Spirit, that he would look with a pity
ing eye upon him, who bad starved six days,
waiting patiently for some sign or token ot Ids
goodness. He then sunk into a sound sleep,
and behold 1 Ins father, armed as he was wont,
when he went on the war-path, came to him
with a c iiiutenance smiling with pleasure.
“My sou,” said he, "the Great Spirit has
heard your prayer, and is pleased w.ih the pa
tience with which you have endured your fast ;
he has sent me to you to comfort and instruct
you. You will be the great chief of the Mis
souris, and save the great nation from destruc
tion. Listen, that the strange warrior who
has killed so mauy chiefs, may be slum. He
is no Mauito, but ha» come from a far-off ua
tiou, and wears hard pieces of metal to protect
every part of Ids body from the arrows. Let
all the Missouri warriors come here and take
pieces of this rock for their arrows : for the
Great Spirit lias hardened this rock above all
others. When the battie commences, let them
aim at the head of the strange warrior and an
arrow will pierce his eye, and drink the blood
of his brain, through ilieb-de which is left iu
the bard metal, through which lie cau see. He
will fall, and the arrows of the Missouris will
be bloody that day iu the heart’s blood of
their enemies. Farewell! Igo to the happy
hunting fields, where 1 will rejoice iu the fame
of Manutee, the great chief ol the Missouds.”
The broad disc of an autumn sun was ust
sinking below the horizon, when Manutee
awoke. His aged grandsire was at bis side
with a supply of templing eatables, and a smile
was on the features of llie youth as he remem
bered the apparition ot the trance. His mind
was happy, but so reduced had he become from
physical suffering, that he could scarcely rise
to "bis feet. He eat sparingly of the food, and
being strengthened by the nourishment, rela
ted to his grandsire what he had seen in his
dream.
The grandsire listened attentively to the rev
elation, and looking upon the bed of stone,
found that its mouldering texture had been
changed to the hardest material. A great
council of the nation was called, aud Manutee
related all that had passed during his fast, and
the i, when it became known to the tribe, the
warriors came to the rock and broke off pieces.
hich they shared iaio pox:; for their arrows.
Aaraiu the Pawnees came into th"* Missouri
country, resolved, on this occasion, totally to
exterminate them. The Missouris. encouraged
liy Manutee, had lost all of their superstitious
fears, and went forth in their full strength to
meet their enemies.
As usual, the strange warrior rushed in front
of the Pawnees, but the arrows which had
been formerlp aimed at his heart, now struck
against his head, and one entered the brain,
through one of the holes which had been left
for his eyes. With a groan be fell dead upon
the ground, and with his first war whoop of
victory. Manatee sprang to the spot, tore off
his hemlet and visor, and in a moment he shook
his reeking scalp in the air. At the sight the
Missouri warriors uttered a shout of triumph,
and rushed again! the Pawnees, w ho. discour
aged at the fall of the great warrior who bad
come amongst them, and bad been their cham
pion in so many battles, were so spiritless and
paralyzed, that they made but little resistance,
and lost the whole of their effective force in
this battle.
There was an universal jubilee among' the
Missouris, who now in their turn had become
conquerors, when so near the despairing hour,
and bv universal acclamation Manutee was
electee? .chief of the nation. When the battle
was over, and the pursuit of the Pawnees fin
ished, Manutee ordered the dead body of the
strange warrior to t*e brought to the bluff of
rocks where he had received the revelation.
He laid it on a pile of wood and burnt it there
as a sacrifice to the manes of his father.
From that day to this, the mound of rocks
has been called Arrow Rock, and has been visi
ted by the Indians to obtain material for the
point of their arrows, because of its durability.
For many years the lodge of .Manutee con
tained the coat of mail which the White War
rior wore, and this gold crucifix which i now
have. Years have passed away, and many
generations have come and departed, yet one
of the family of the Manatee ha.-, always been
chief of the Missouris, and 1 married one of
the descendants who was in possession o f this
relic, and when she died. 1 have kept it care
fully since, having been brought up iu the
Catholic faith.
Blanchette Chasseur, after the hunter had
hushed his narrative, looked again at the cr
and read distinctly engraved upon it the name
of "Marcella."
It is more than probable that the warrior
whose body was burnt on Arrow Rock, and
who was owner ol the cross, was Carcia, who
lad deserted from De Soto, and who wa- Ihe
son of Charles V, and Marcella, iheshephcrd ....
Gen. Sutter and the Settlers.
Gen. J. A. Sutter publishes the subj uned
card in the Sacramento I uddres i;;g it
■‘To the Public’ ;
Messrs. Editors: About the 1-t of Jan
uary last, i was wailed upon by a commiitcc
of the Settlers of Sacramt nto City and Ct -ci
ty, for the purpose of procuring a relinquish
ment from me, to the United Slates, for the
benefit of the Settlers, of any title I might
have to lands lying south of the junction of
the Sacramento and Feather rivers.
After reflecting upon the matter, 1 conclud
ed to do so, prov ded they would relieve in to
some extent of my great pecuniary wants, and
pay me such a sum as would enable me, sin ; 'u
the Supreme Court of the United States de
cide according to their desirrs, to fully c m
pensate those who had purchase 1 lauds, thro’
agents, under my title, in good faith paying
for the same.
As to that large class of persons who have
procured my title for nothing—by fraud, etc.
and to whom are justly attributed my misfor
tunes, I desire to make no provision ; I pn 1.-r
--red they should be punished. The committee
agreed to pay me a sum which I considered
sufficient for the above purpose, and satisiieU
mo of their ability so to do, and of their good
faith. I therefore gave a power of attorney,
autboriz ng my attorney in Wash ngton t > dis
claim for me a location of any lands that might
be granted me south of Sacramento and Feath
er rivers.
Since which time the action of the settlers
is such as to entirely convince me that if they
ever did design the fulfilment of their under
taking they have long since abandoned it.
Having, therefore, resolved, upon taking the
proper steps to nnlify the action taken for the
benefit of the Settlers, it is due to myself th t
the public, and a few v. h i have been real friends,
a n d who have been estranged by said action,
should know my objects and motives then and
now, which is the object of this. What others
may think it matters little.
J. A. Sutter.
Hock Farm, Oct. 19,1858.
James Anderson.- —This unfortunate young
man, whose case has caused so much pity and
so much mention in the papers, was here, yes
terday, in the station house. He had been sit
ting out in front of the Western Hotel, where
he became such an offensive sight to the pass
ers-by, that he was removed to the station
house by the police, where he was carefully
provided for, and will be sent down to lean
Francisco to-day. His case is truly a deplor
able one. His lower jaw is in a state o' rot
tenness, and has been for some time failing off
piecemeal. The cause ol it was a blow lie re
ceived some eighteen months ago, on board the
whaling ship Parachute, from a brass knuckle
on the band of the second mate, a brute named
Creory. From want of attention, he t aught
co'd in the wound and it soon r dueed l ira to
a wretched condition. The U. S. Consul
found him at the Sandwich Islands and ship
ped him to San Francisco, where he was pm
into the Marine Hospital, tie staid there
some time, but it seems that the physicians
there could do nothing for him. L)r. Cooper
told him, he says, that, if he could get money
enough to board himself somewhere for the re
quisite length of time, be, the doctor, could
cure him, and would do so for nothing. In
the hope of raising the money, the poor fellow
left the Hospital and came up here, but he pre
sents sucli a spectacle that hotel-keepers and
keepers ol restaurants, and others doing busi
ness, do not want him about, and so he has
been taken up, as an act of kindness, by the
police, and will be sent back to the Marine
Hospital, as stated above. He says, that he
could easily raise the money necessary to board
himself during the promised attendance on him
of L>r. Cooper, if he could only be allowed to
go around and beg for it, but that he is such
an awful sight that people will uot allow him
to do it. If it be true that Dr. Cooper can
cure him, and the official physicians of the hos
pital cannot, means ought to be taken by the
benevolent citizens of San Francisco, where
Dr. Cooper lives, to get him into the bands of
that physician. —Marysville Democrat.
Old Burton thus lets loose on tobacco;
Tobacco, divine, rare, super-excellent tobacco,
which goes far beyond all other panaceas, por
table gold, and philosophers' stoues, sovereign
remedy to ail diseases. A good vomit, I con
fess, a”virtuous herb, if it be well qualified, o[e
portunely taken, and medicinally used, but as
it is commonly abased by most men, who take
it as linkers do ale, it is a plague, a mischief,
a violent purger of goods, lauds, and health ;
hellish, develisb, and damned tobacco, the ruin
and overthrow of body and soul.
FrvNY —The w*at!v'*r-.ck t* r, r>r aV r
10 the highest tr.orai truth. fo: it -.hows man
that it is u vane thing to a-iprre.
The Close of the Washington War.
The Fori land •taper?, coining down to t
IGth inst., brought by the Cor ,-s. c t:.t t a
news of interest, save i:i regard to ti; cl.-
scenes of the Indian war.
1-BACK WITH TUB CIEL'II D'aI.KXK-i -.ND '-V BA'
A correspondent of tin (Lecon..;;, v . •
from camp on .-it-ptoe’s battlefiv.d, ui.-.'.r u.
of September 'doth, says :
You last heard of our movement a* t. ■ -
d'Alene Mission. At that p -:..t t: ■
ti' n under Col. Wright tamed i r .
the Cuear d’Alenes having sited for p.
Colonel granted them their req:: t, .■ :
prisoners and eleven Uos ages I -r ti.
good behavior of their tribe. Moving
that point on tke 18th instant, by the iv
ern edge of (hear d'Alene Lake, and by
Coear d’-ilene and St. Joseph rivers, we r, ac -
ed the Xedwhunid creek n the -Co in
where wc met a representation ot 107 I id
Spokaus. lis-d—piorres, Siarp-uis, Nca Peri t
iV-1 Others—uli.asking for pea’ e. A coe I
wt»S held, when all government properly b p
given tjp—four hi stages given fur the fttiutc
go si behavior uf thepvoplo w ith their worn.-. ,
peace was granted them.
QL’ALCIIIN HANGED.
Just after the council the great leader in
hostilities, Ouhi. made his appearance at or.
camp, when bo was immediately arrested at d
ironed, and is now our prisoner. On questto. -
iug him he replied that his sen Qualchiu w:
■n the Jfipokan with his family and his broth •
I'eias. immediately an express was sent fo. -
ward to say to Qnalehiu that if be did not j»i
Colonel Wright in five days. Ins father wui i i
he hung. Put, yesterday, ('ualchin and h
wife, well mounted - horses gaily caparisono .
moved into our camp, when this flat-head devi
who, by his acts has spread war on both side
d the Columbia Ibr the last three years, an..
made this region one grand battle field, ti:
taken prisoner. And truly the -strong mao
was bumbled'’—a large, stalwart, strong i'rarn..
armed with rifle and revolver, he resisted els:
strong men of tiie guard detailed to bind hi;
and battled to the last, hint his fate was
sealed. Fifteen minutes after his capture, p
was determined that he should prowl the cum
t y no longer—and a scaffold being create I 1.
vas hung without a friend or sympathise:
The whole Indian camp ret chord, “ins; •
-just.” lie had bat bides .its. His wi.
was let go free.
EXPEDITION 10 STIIfTO;:',- BATTLE-OBOCX'D.
Coh Wright, on reaching his camp on l! ■
Xtd-whaukl creek, -at Major Greer with
three companies of dragoon-; to the battle iiel.
of Coh titeptoe, to recover the two 12-1.
howitzers theie lest, and to gather together th
bones of those who fed in that ever memo rub:
deieat, in order to give with proper forms an
ceremonies a decent military burial, the lust u
;; lies of these gallant men who lost their val
uable lives in the wilder::..-«, fighting a tmiel •
erous faithless enemy, and acting as pioneer
to a future hardy p pnlalion, who will nu ■;
tiou with honor the names of Tayl. r and Ga- -
ton, when the fame of manv shall have grow
dim.
Lici t. Mullen, with his party, v. wi i
.Maj. Greer to determine the position of ti;
battle-field, and inane a map and sketch ol Ih
ground. Dr. Randolph and Lieut. Gr.y, wh .
were in Steptoe's battle, w.-rc present, as, als .
Lieutenant White, who, with his means a'
hand, packed home the long lost gnus, and L;
Ponder and Howard to assist in paying ih
last respects to a place now hallowed in Lislc
ry. At 12 m. they reached the battle-fid.:
which now seemed truiy the city of the dead.
The wolves had more than dune their duty, and
the bones of met), whom their country should
never forget, lay bleaching in the prairie lid.
for mile; around. During tl.e heat of balli.
their bodies could not be recovered, and as th
retreat was made at uigfii. no lit e was had I •
pay burial to any save Cupt. Taylor. Licit*.
Gaston and two men and a hah-nieed. A
scene of mad desolation met the eye on evei
side—and as Lieu*. Gregg and Dr. If e.d ■ ,
would point to this an . that point a- b -ai ?.
testimony to the brave acts of btrav- r i .
those around listened and dropped the .
tear for those so ruthlessly bulehe*cd. In ,-
lenco and sadness they gathered the reman -
the officers and men—recovered the two go
which still remained buried as they were .■ .
and taking a pair of shafts of one of g .
the only thing remaining of ail that bad be i.
left outlie battle In-ld, they tusliioucd a
iramed it into a rude cross and eiei led it iq.
the ground, as not only a ecu to ah I <
travelers, who, either through curio.-.ly
otherwise, should visit this | Hji.tt, but ie .
Christian mark for the butchered dead. <u .
planting around this cross the remnants w a
I iiat was remaining, they It ft the .sail in moor;
ful silence. Mr. Kaiecki and Mr. .-'ohoii. th .
assistants of Lieut. M lien, in the me.mwlii
made fine drawings and sketches of the spot
and ground.
PEACE WITH THE PEI.OfSE TP.IBE.
The same correspondent of the Oregon to
writing from Camp Taylor, on Snake river, un
der date of Oct. lst,l3dS, says :
The first column of the command under Coi
Wright arrived at this point to-day, and wi .
be followed by the second and last column n
morrow, under the immediate supervision of th
Colonel. You last heard of the general mov
meat of (ho expedition on the -oulh fork
the Spokan, whence the troops, marching
southward in the direction of tlie Pelouse foi
three days, halted, and wore met by a larg
1 and of Pelouse In bans suing for peace. Thes
were accompanied by about twenty-five lodgi
of renegade Xez Ptrecs, who had met an
fought Cot. Steptoe, and who were engaged it.
all the battles fought by Col. Wright.
Here the Indians again met with condig
punishment. The Colonel, assembling then
demanded first the murderers of the miners op
Pelouse. in early spring of the present year
when they immediately surrendered, and in th
presence of the assembled tribes, the Colon,
ordered them to be hung. He next demanded
the men who had stolen the Government cat
lie during the month of July, from the Wui...
Walla; and so perfectly subdued have llu
now become, tiial they, too. without hc-dune.
were given up, and they, too, meet with a lil.
fate; and the Colonel pointing to these me.;
thus hung, toid thorn that a similar fate await
ed each and every transgression of the tribe i
all time to come. He then demanded a m;m
her of hostages and prisoners which bo in,
willingly given, he told the remainder now t
disperse to their hunting and fishing ground-,
and that if they continued faithful to the many
verbal promises they had already made that i’
the early spring a written treaty of peace won!.,
be made, and not before.
OUUI SHOT.
The Portland Standard of the 13th instant
say - :
After the troops had passed to this side <•'
Snake river, on the morning of the 2d instate
the Yakima chief Ouhi, father of
having attempted to escape, was mortal:;
wounded. Up to the timed hi. iutile attemp
be had appeared contented with bis duress, bu,
seized the occasion when momentarily par
ted from the command and in charge alone *
Lieut. Morgan, 3d \ Artillery. to make a da.-n
through the bashes' Morgan, however, follow -
ed him promptly, and with three shots seven
ly wounded him and his horse At the -;m,
time privi-.ic B'hn • L >. 1
p -UICJ *Lj w ./ i*C.-Urd.
ZSTO. 51.