LIFE AMONG THE DELAWARE INDIANS. By Miss CLARA GOWING Excerpted from "Collections of the Kansas State Historical Society, 1911-1912", Edited by Geo. W. Martin, Secretary. Vol XII., State Printing Office, Topeka, Kansas 1912. submitted by Teresa Lindquist (merope@radix.net); (copyright) 2001 by Teresa Lindquist ----------------------------------------------------------------------- KSGENWEB INTERNET GENEALOGICAL SOCIETY COPYRIGHT NOTICE: In keeping with the KSGenWeb policy of providing free information on the Internet, this data may be used by non-commercial entities, as long as this message remains on all copied material. These electronic pages cannot be reproduced in any format for profit or other gain. Copying of the files within by non-commercial individuals and libraries is encouraged. Any other use, including publication, storage in a retrieval system, or transmission by electronic, mechanical, or other means requires the written approval of the file's author. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LIFE AMONG THE DELAWARE INDIANS. By Miss CLARA GOWING,(1) of Reading, Mass. (pages 183-193) MOVED by a sermon which I heard preached in Concord, Mass., my home at that time, from the text, "Lord, what will thou have me do?" I decided to engage in mission work if an opportunity offered; and in October, 1859, accompanied Miss E. S. Morse,(2) who had come east from the mission, on a visit to the Delaware Baptist Mission(3)in Kansas, under appointment of the American Baptist Missionary Union, Rev. J. G. Pratt and wife(4) having charge of the station and Miss Morse being a teacher with whom I was to be associated. The mission buildings consisted of five houses and the stables. A large, square house with an "L" was occupied by Mr. Pratt and family, the lower part being the family dining room; over it was a chamber, and beyond the dining room was the kitchen. Part of this house was originally a log church at the Shawnee mission, and was the first building used for worship in the country. Another large, square house was used as a dormitory for the school. There was also a long schoolhouse divided by folding doors. All these were frame buildings, facing south; a small house, formerly used for the school but then in use as a wash house or laundry, the usual smokehouse of that part of the country, and stables built of logs, completed the group that was known through the territory as the Baptist, or Pratt's, mission. The location was on rising ground on the border of timber land and rolling prairie. About a quarter of a mile away, on a hill, was the chapel--a frame building, but not strong enough to bear the bell which had been given to the mission, and so it was hung on a framework in Mr. Pratt's back yard, and rung to call the meals, school, and daily worship. Its tones were gladly heard far away, and served the purpose of a town clock to all within its sound. We arrived at the mission, by stage from Leavenworth, at noon October 14, and after dinner went about preparing the beds for the children. School was to open Monday; so the children usually came to church with their parents Sunday and remained with us, except in those cases where their crying and teasing to go back would induce the parents to take them home. But the next day the clouds poured forth their treasure and there was no service at the chapel. I occupied myself much of the day scratching my body, wondering what could cause the irritation. I thought at first I had gathered something in my journey that occasioned it, but found that thus soon the process of acclimation had begun what was known as Kansas itch, the breaking out of which frequently prevented a fever or other sickness. It continued until cold weather, and returned with renewed vigor the next. summer, blotches and scabs all over my body. As the rain ceased toward night, George Washington came, bringing three boys. They backed up against the outside of the house when he left them, with anything but a cheery expression, till called in by Miss Morse. When they first came she had made a fire in the stove and put on a wash boiler, brought out a tub, and to my surprised question, "What are you going to do?" replied: "Wash the boys. We never put them into our clean beds without bathing." That those boys, the oldest ten or twelve, should quietly answer the question plied by Miss Morse, "Did your mother wash you before you came?" and then passively submit to her examining their ears to see if they were clean, filled me with amazement, as I sat in silence taking in the situation. I found that clean ears was the test of a thorough bath. It was arranged that Miss Morse should have care of the boys out of school, and I of the girls, each looking after the work and the clothes of her charge; also caring for them in sickness. A few of the children came from civilized, Christian homes, were neatly dressed and tidy. Others required an entire outfit of clothes and attention to their heads; and for that a daily examination was necessary. This process was called by the boys "hunting buffaloes"; and that none might escape, and to make their capture easy, their hair was kept short, though boys as well as girls plumed themselves on long braids with gay ribbons plaited in the hair. A woman brought her own and a neighbor's child one day. Both needed to be barbered. Usually we kept that till the parent was gone, but this time I wanted to attend to it before changing my dress, and through an interpreter told them to unbraid their hair ready for cutting. When the mother understood what was to be done she took her girl home. When witnessing for the first time the rather unique process of combing heads, I said to Miss Morse, "Do you ever get lice in your hair?" "Certainly," she replied; "we never pass a term without them." Then I thought, "Can I ever Come to this?" One day in summer a party of young people from Wyandotte came out to the mission to have a little picnic by themselves, and camped on a bluff opposite the schoolhouse. The children wondered what it meant. We said, "They are having a picnic." Immediately the word went round, "picknits, picknits." Evidently they thought it the same process they went through every morning but Sunday. One day in school I noticed two boys very busy over each other's heads, as if they were picking lice and putting them on the cover of their reading books. Watching them a while, I saw they did not kill them. So I asked, ""What are you doing with the lice?" "Making them fight," one replied. But few of the children spoke English, and in doing their work an interpreter must be used. A child from one of the Christian families usually acted for us in that way. The girls especially were not ambitious to learn English. They said if they spoke it people would call them "old white folks." The girls were taught to sew, besides doing the chamber and dining-room work. The boys brought water from the spring for laundry and family use, split and sawed the wood and kept the wood boxes supplied. In summer the older ones were sometimes taken to the field to work, Evenings and stormy days when they could not be out of doors they were taught to knit, and thus made themselves many stockings. Both boys and girls wore earrings when they came to school, but the boys soon left them off when they learned they were not considered the right thing for the educated male. The dinners were usually soup and warm corn bread; for supper, white bread and molasses; breakfast, warmed-up soup, white bread and coffee. Sunday morning they had cookies and a piece of apple pie, and for supper warm biscuits and butter. They were taught to say, "I thank you" for this or that. I had twin girls named Adeline and Emeline, six-year-old children of Charles Journeycake,(5) who looked so nearly alike it was difficult to tell one from the other. When I wanted one I frequently spoke both their names, or sometimes said ""twin." One night when one was sick I went to give her some medicine, and thought I had wakened the right child when, to my surprise, she said, "I am not sick; it is Adeline." And, sure enough, I had almost made the well one take the powder. Unused to restraint(6) at home, the discipline of school life was very irksome to the children, and not easy for us, especially out of school and in winter when they could not exercise out of doors. A room full of lively children, jabbering an unknown tongue, was very trying on one's nerves. Wishing to avoid corporal punishment as much as possible, we resorted to rather original methods to preserve necessary order. To keep little ones from mischieviously annoying one another we often pinned their aprons over their heads or tied their hands behind them, even blindfolded them on occasion. If the tongue became unruly a chip was put between the teeth. Around the yard were numerous stumps, two or three feet high, where the quarrelsome boys were sent to stand, living statues adorning the grounds for a while. One Saturday afternoon a severe storm came up at the time to wash the floors, making it useless to have it done. As it cleared just at night, I regretted that through Sunday I must see muddy floors; but after the girls were in bed they were disorderly, so for punishment I had them get up and wash the stairs and floors. When I went to the mission Mr. Pratt was receiving a salary of $500; previously he had only $300, and nothing extra allowed for educating his children. He used to set aside a pony or cow for each one, from which to raise money for their schooling, but quite often the creature died or was stolen. He received not quite $1 per week, or $50 a year, for each Indian child at school--that to cover clothing, food, books, medicine and all. The children were hard on shoes, and required much medicine. The Delawares numbered about 800, did not increase, and were a rich people.(7) Their reservation, forty miles long by ten miles wide, was the best land in the United States. But the Indian did not enjoy tilling the ground; he preferred hunting and riding over the prairie, hiring some white man to do his work. All kinds of wild animals were abundant--owls, wolves, wildcats, turkey buzzards, etc.; vermin of all kinds and reptiles of every description were to be seen. One day, coming from the schoolhouse, as I was about to step on the piazza at the back of the house, I saw a snake in my path. I ran around to the front door, and there lay a lizard at the doorstep. As I must go in, I gave a bound and landed in the hall. Wild game also was plenty; prairie chicken, pigeons, wild turkeys and rabbits were often on our table. Lucius shot 130 pigeons in one morning, and one turkey he shot weighed twenty-three pounds. Once when out calling on the Indians with Mr. Pratt, we had a fine view of an eagle. He was resting on the top of a tall, barren tree, quite near us, giving a grand chance to notice his white head. Mr. Pratt said he never saw one quite so near. We stopped and looked at him closely, and the eagle seemed to understand there was no gun aboard and that he was therefore perfectly safe. When we had looked long enough Mr. Pratt frightened him away, so I had an opportunity to see his wings spread. We thought they must measure six feet from tip to tip. Mr. Thomas B. Sykes, the agent, who came from Beaufort, N. C., came to the mission to board in December, 1859. When he left the agency he entered the Confederate army. It was through his courtesy we attended the Indian payment at Stranger creek next summer. Mr. Johnson followed Mr. Sykes as agent, and Rev. J. G. Pratt succeeded him and continued agent till the Delawares removed to the Cherokee country. During the spring vacation of 1860, Mr. Pratt's oldest son, Lucius, married Nannie, daughter of Charles Journeycake. There was quite a wedding in the afternoon. The bride was dressed in white muslin, with veil and orange blossoms, and looked very pretty. The ceremony was followed by an elaborate supper, the wedding supper being a prominent feature of a white, or "strong," marriage, as the Indians termed it. Opposite me at the table sat George Washington with his two wives, one on each side of him, and each with a babe in her arms. Polygamy was allowed but not generally practiced in the tribe. Washington was a large man, with broad face, brown, greasy skin, and long, black hair. His hunting shirt lay open at the neck, in his leather belt hung the tomahawk worn on all occasions, and in his ears were silver ear-loops. The two women wore the usual Indian head covering--a bright-colored silk handkerchief, which had slipped hack and was lying loosely on the neck. These handkerchiefs are worn summer and winter. They had rings on their fingers and in their ears, and wore many bracelets. Some of these ornaments were of silver and some of brass. Lucius took his wife to his father's to board while a new house was being built for them. A few weeks after the wedding I accompanied them to the old mission site, where Mr. Blanchard labored before Mr. Pratt took charge. The distance was four miles, most of the way through timber land, the wilderness all around. Large trees lay where they had fallen, sometimes lodging against other trees, and sometimes lying full length on the ground, moss-covered and going to decay. The old mission site was not as pleasant nor as healthy as the present mission. From a house near by Lucius procured a tin cup; and we drank from a spring where a stump had been burned out and placed over it to hold the water. It was a fine draught. From a creek beyond we watered our horses; then went on to Kansas river, half a mile further, and looked over into the Shawnee country. Our way home was through what is called "the bottoms." The path led through little creeks and clumps of bushes, over stumps, down steep declivities, then up again, like the letter V. Dodging here and bowing our heads there, to avoid being caught, Absalom-like, in a tree, or brushed from our horses by the bushes, starting up wild turkeys and other game, was all a new and exciting experience to me. Urged by my companions, I made my first attempt at leaping "Pacer" over a large tree fallen to the ground, and to my surprise found myself in the saddle when "Pacer" struck the ground on the other side. I enjoyed the wildness and novelty very much, and arrived home for dinner with good appetite, and found the mercury registering 78 degrees (March 31). I had gathered five varieties of flowers, but the flora of this part of the country was not fragrant--for why ""waste sweetness on the desert air"? April 2 I went with Mr. Pratt in the buggy about six miles to see chief Ketchum, who was sick. The first few miles were on the open prairie; then we drove through woods. The house, of one story, with the roof coming down over the piazza, was situated in a clearing, and around the door were ponies and cattle, pigs and fowls. The door opened into a small room, in which was a bed, a cooking stove, table and chairs. On the bed was a hen, laying her egg. The next room was small also, with a large fireplace, a bed and lounge and two bureaus. On the lounge lay the chief. While we were there two Indians came in. One had been to the mountains among a wild tribe. He was dressed in buckskin, the coat trimmed with beads with a fringe of buckskin around the bottom, the same kind of fringe ornamenting the seams of his pants. At another chief's we found the children playing out of doors (it was vacation time), and looking as well dressed as many white children. Although the children from this family came to school, the parents were very heathenish in their views. We were shown a hat worn by women in their dances. It was as tall as a bearskin military cap and covered with feathers of all colors, some of great beauty. Around the bottom was a band of silver two inches wide, from which hung all kinds of gold and silver jewelry, earrings and finger rings. This chief had two wives, and in one room there was a sofa and upholstered chairs arranged after their own taste. Another time Miss Morse and I were visiting some of our school children and stopped at the Hunneywell house. He was a white man with an Indian wife. As we rode up to the fence she came out on the porch, saying, "Will you alight?" She then took away the rails to assist us over, the horses being left tied to the fence. The usual square room which we entered had been partitioned, so there was no bed in it. On the floor was a tidy rag carpet, and there was a nice spring-seated sofa and other comfortable furniture, all looking neat. Being near noon, Mrs. Hunneywell went about dinner, and laid the table, in the room we were in, with care and order, with white cloth and white ware of ponderous weight. From the kitchen savory odors stole in whenever the door opened, and in due time we were informed that dinner was ready and were invited to be seated at the table, and as the men had not come in from the field, we obeyed the injunction to help ourselves. Our keen appetites, sharpened by our ride, were not necessary to tempt us to try the smoking ham and eggs, nice light biscuits, stewed beans, apple sauce, etc., with excellent coffee for drink. In April, 1861, the war news became alarming and frightfully near, keeping us in constant excitement. The people of Missouri threatened to take Fort Leavenworth and tear up the St. Joseph & Hannibal railroad within ten days. The school was to commence after the spring vacation, and there was much apprehension, some thinking it was better not to begin; but we did, and were not disturbed. One day, when Mr. Pratt was in Leavenworth, a boat bearing a secession flag came up the river and stopped there. The people immediately thronged the boat, tearing down the flag and stripping it to bits, thus showing their sentiments.(8) Soon after that secessionists were ordered to leave the city forthwith. Anxiety was felt that the mails might be intercepted, and caution was given to our friends east not to write anything that might be turned to our injury should the letters fall into "secesh" hands. In July, 1861, the commissioners from Washington boarded at the mission while they assigned to the Indians their several lots--eighty acres of land for every person, old or young. The rest of the reservation was sold to the Pacific Railroad.(9) The Indians were in quite an excited state, many preferred to remove entirely.(10) There was some talk of the treaty being so changed as to allow those to go who wished, leaving their land in a body, to be sold or exchanged for land elsewhere; but it was not done, and from this time on the talk over the treaty and the war news kept us in a state of excitement. On the Fourth of July, to make the day a little different from all the rest, we took the children into the woods, taking along bread and butter for supper in a bushel basket. The boys carried the drums (a present from Agent Johnson), the girls bore the flags, and, arriving at the creek, the girls and myself remained on one side while the boys and Miss Morse passed over. One boy threatened to go hunting birds' nests, but was taken prisoner and tied to a tree till he promised obedience. We ate our supper, drank from a spring, picked a few blackberries, sang songs, cheered, shouted, laughed, and marched home single file, forming quite a procession, and cheering now and then. If making a great noise is being patriotic and comprises a good time, surely the Delaware Indian children were both patriotic and happy on this their first picnic. The accidents and incidents were many, but not serious. A boy in cheering threw his hat into a tree and had to pelt it down; Miss Morse slipped down, but was uninjured; Miss Vaughn, the seamstress, almost had a fall; a girl lost her shoe; while poor I almost made my throat sore trying at one time to keep the girls quiet and at another helping to make a noise. In passing the schoolhouse one day part of a company of cavalry from Quindaro drew up in front of the building, giving three cheers for the stars and stripes, which they carried; then three for the mission. Some of the men had worked on the reservation, and came in to say good-by to the children they knew. They then passed on to the spring for water, and as they returned the children sang ""The Sabbath School Army." The soldiers halted, and at the close of the song again gave us three cheers. In September, 1861, Mr. Hunneywell, the white man who had the Indian wife, went into Missouri to see about some horses for Mr. Pratt. While talking with a man he was arrested on suspicion of treasonable views, but through the influence of a friend was released the next day. A reign of terror existed through the entire region; all ill-disposed persons took advantage of the disturbed times to plunder and commit whatever depredations their evil hearts suggested, either through malice or gain. The Quindaro ferry boat was sunk by Missourians, they said, to prevent slaves from escaping. Parkville was raided, and what could not be taken away, belonging to Union men, was destroyed. A family from Missouri passed the mission one day. They had gathered what they could of their possessions into a wagon and left their home, intending to return when peace was restored. They sold Mr. Pratt a cow to help them on their way. One of a company of soldiers who passed told the following: Four rebels rode up to a man working in a field and asked his views. On his telling them that he was for the Union they shot him. Going on to the house the murdered man's wife came to the door, and she, too, was shot, and for the same reason. The soldier who told this, coming along with some others, found the little daughter of these people crying. She told them what direction the men had taken, they pursued, overtook and shot them; on the body of the man who had killed the father they found $25, which they gave to the girl. The annual meeting of the Baptists was given up that fall (1861), as all the ministers had gone into the army as chaplains. In October Charles Journeycake was chosen chief, thus making two Christian chiefs, as his brother Isaac had been chief for some years. One chilly morning, about nine o'clock, eight men rode up and wished breakfast. They were on their way to Wyandotte and had taken bread and cheese to last them, but, stopping in a barn the night before, the pigs breakfasted on their lunch; so we gave them their breakfast. Mr. Pratt said that was all the way he could serve the cause, and he did it faithfully. But few days passed without some traveler, friend or otherwise, being entertained at the mission. One night I was awakened by loud knocks at the door. It being vacation and Miss Morse away, there was no one in the dormitory but the seamstress and myself. Going to the window I could discern horsemen just outside the yard, seen dimly in the darkness. There appeared to be quite a company, but really only fifteen. They had been dismissed from Wyandotte just at night, and, wishing to get home, started out, but lost their way on the prairie. They managed to get to the mission, where we sheltered them the rest of the night. The second call for the Delawares in the army was to go as warriors. The first call for guides and spies had proved a failure, each Indian wanting the same pay as the captain.(11) The missions of the other tribes were badly broken up by the war. The Cherokees and some others joined the Southern army. In November, 1861, Mr. Pratt's son John, an unusually bright youth of thirteen, passed away after a short but very distressing illness, which the doctors (Logan(12) and Sinks(13)) pronounced the plague, a black spot on the ankle proving to be the plague spot. He was beloved by all and missed from every part of the mission. For my "Merry Christmas" that December, one of the girls had winter fever, and for New Year's another girl had fever. Miss Morse was confined to her bed; so her cares were added to mine, making the day more busy than festive, with, as Miss Morse said, a prospect of my long, long legs becoming diminished by wear--but better wear out than rust out. During that season we had our usual winter siege of colds and coughs, having several ailing at one time. One night, when Miss Morse was taking medicine herself, she had six little boys sleeping in her room, requiring attention during the night. About this time the agent, Mr. Johnson, allowed Mr. Pratt money for medicine and visiting the sick. Mr. Pratt had never had an allowance for that purpose before, although he had visited the Indians for miles about and many a doctor would have been glad of his practice if it had carried with it the usual fees of a physician. About the middle of June, 1862, Mr. Pratt returned from Washington D.C., where he went with the chiefs to arrange about their land. They concluded to remain on their present reservation, and encourage schools and improvements. The government, on their part, promised to restore them their stolen bonds, which was a large amount, and afterwards an academy was to be built, but nothing of this kind was ever done. In July the trouble increased around the mission; jayhawkers and more modern parties, styled bushwhackers, were abundant. It was reported at one time that the famous Quantrill was killed, which, it was thought, might lessen the depredations, but the report was false. One night a negro man was stolen from Charles Journeycake's, where he was working, and taken off in the dark by a party of men, flourishing their pistols and threatening to blow out the brains of his protectors if they moved. In November the bushwhacking business received a setback on account of the falling of the leaves, thus making the brush more open and hiding places less secure. In Missouri the disaffection toward Lincoln's proclamation(14) became very strong. The people said "they did not enter the army to fight for negroes; it was to protect the Union and not abolish slavery." August 21, 1863, occurred the burning and sacking of Lawrence. The details are too horrible to be written at this late date, and they have already passed into history. The mission being on the opposite side of the river from Lawrence, it was considered unlikely that the guerrillas would attempt to cross; but a few days after the burning of Lawrence some of the Indians became alarmed by seeing a fire, and a boy was sent to the mission for the children at school. He reported that 500 guerrillas had crossed the river (Kansas), and that night would burn the mission and everything on the way. All the children left in a hurry, save two who lived too far away to get home that night. We were not alarmed, however, and slept as well as usual, and were not surprised to find later that the alarming fire was only burning brush. The first week in October, 1863, I attended a teachers' association at Leavenworth. It was the first one held in the young state, and during the session a state association was formed.(15) Later I attended the first agricultural state fair.(16) One day there was an exhibition of fancy and domestic articles, a very good but not large exhibit; the fruit and vegetable display was very large. It took but little to get up a scare, even at the mission. For instance: One morning the hired man was going to Leavenworth with the team, and went earlier than usual--before daylight, in fact--to feed the horses. The opening of the stable door and the stamping of the horses roused the other men, and one of them, springing up suddenly, imagined he could see horses coming out of the stable, so he quickly gave the alarm that the horses were being stolen. Lucius started, pistol in hand, but when at the gate he heard the corn drop into the cribs and concluded how affairs were. A lady from Lawrence who was visiting at the mission said it seemed just like the raid in Lawrence. She started up and inquired if she would have time to dress; for in Lawrence she took her dress in hand, threw a bonnet over her nightcap, and left her wig and false teeth behind. I heard the noise from the dormitory, and thought surely some one was after the horses; then, recalling that John was going to town, concluded he was the cause of the racket, and turned over for another nap. On the 27th of December, 1863, there was quite a fall of snow; a day or two afterward the wind blew, as it often did in Kansas, and the two united in forming a complete blockade on the Hannibal & St. Joseph railroad. For sixteen days no mail from the east was received at Leavenworth. Travelers reaching St. Joe were obliged to turn back or remain there until teams were fitted up to take them on their way. Freight trains were blocked; in one a large number of hogs were frozen to death. Saturday, the 24th of January, 1864, Mr. Pratt was too ill to go to Leavenworth as usual. At noon a man came for him to go five miles, just off the reservation, to marry a couple of whites. Mr. Pratt said he was too ill to go--that he would come the next morning, but the man was imperative. There was to be a dance that evening which the couple wanted to attend, and the wedding had been put off once; it was to have been on New Year's, but the groom was from Chicago and could not get here on account of the blocked roads. Now that he had come, a minister must be found, and no other was handy. Mr. Pratt had compassion on them, and mounted his pony and rode away to make the two happy. Later in the winter, about eight o'clock one morning, a man and woman rode up to the gate and sent in word by one of the children for Mr. Pratt to come out and marry them without their alighting. Mr. Pratt was not well, was lying on a couch, and sent back word that if they would dismount and come in he would marry them. They were white people and had ridden eight miles. From the man's boots his toes peeped out, and his elbows showed through holes in his coat sleeves. The woman was tidy in a homespun woolen dress, blue-checked apron and the usual "slat" sunbonnet, which she did not remove. This sort of bonnet was worn in the south and West, both indoors and out. Mr. Pratt told them to stand together and take hold of hands, but had to move them around into proper position and place the bride's right hand in the right hand of the groom before he performed the ceremony which made them husband and wife. The man asked "what was to pay?" Mr. Pratt told him what he would have to give to record the marriage, and taking it from his pocket, the groom gave the amount to Mr. Pratt, and the bridal party mounted their horses and departed. In February, 1864, I left the mission, arriving at my home in Concord, Mass., on the 24th of the month. A day or two before I left Kansas the weather was very mild; so much so that a snake ventured out of his winter retreat and the boys captured him. But one of those sudden changes, which the West is noted for, came; the wind blew cold and froze up things generally. It was very cold when I left the mission, but I was well-clothed and had a hot brick for my feet. When we reached Leavenworth, fifteen miles away, the brick was cold and I was chilled through. The boats from Kansas City had been running a week or more, but we found the river so filled with broken ice that the boat would not make the trip up that day, so I was compelled to wait over until the next. When we finally arrived on the west bank of the Mississippi we found that river but partially open, and we were landed from our boat on solid ice in mid river, being cautioned meanwhile not to walk ashore in a body. However, we saw a large wagon drawn by two horses coming out over the ice from the land to the boat, so we thought the people could not be in danger. This ended my Kansas experiences, as I never returned to the Delaware mission. --- Notes: NOTE 1.--[biography of Miss Clara Gowing] NOTE 2.--[biography of Miss Elizabeth S. Morse] NOTE 3.--"The Delaware Mission School was started in 1837 by Ira D. Blanchard, and was situated where the Edwardsville station now is, at the Grinter crossing of the Kaw river. The military road from Fort Leavenworth to Fort Scott crossed the river there. In 1844 the overflow of the river caused by the great flood broke up the school for a time. The Indians moved away from the Kaw bottom lands. In 1848 I moved the building of the mission school up to where I now live. It was a log building. I moved the logs and put the building up in the same form as it stood at the river. It stands now where I then placed it. It forms the middle portion of my house, and is clap-boarded over the logs like the other portion of the frame building."--Rev. John G. Pratt, in an interview, July 10, 1895. NOTE 4.--[biography of John Gill Pratt] NOTE 5.--This name is often seen "Johnnycake," but the form in the text is the correct one, and was so signed by Charles Journeycake to the articles of agreement and convention between the United States and the Delaware tribe of Indians, drawn May 6, 1854. "The name 'journeycake' is said to come from a kind of bread used by the Indians on a journey. The Yankees easily changed this to their favorite breakfast cake, viz., 'johnnycake.'"--Mss. of Miss Gowing. NOTE 6.--"I believe it will not be disputed that the Indian women love their children with as much affection as parents in the most civilized states can boast. Many proofs might be adduced to support this assertion. . . . From their infant state they endeavor to promote an independent spirit. They are never known either to beat or scold them, lest the marital disposition which is to adorn their future life and character should be weakened. On all occasions they avoid everything compulsive, that the freedom with which they wish them to think and act may not be controlled. If they die they lament their death with unfeigned tears, and even for months after their decease will weep at the graves of their departed children."--Thwaite's Early Western Travels, vol. 2, pp. 96-97. NOTE 7.--The Delawares "number at present 1034, and their personal property averages almost $1000 to each individual."--Report Commissioner Indian Affairs. 1861, p. ll. The Osage Indians are known as the richest communal people in the world, their per capita wealth being in excess of $20,000. In 1906 this tribe possessed funds in the United States treasury to the amount of $8,562,690, besides which they had 1,470,058 acres of valuable land. NOTE 8.--"April, 1861.--The steamer Sam Gaty, at Leavenworth, hoisted a rebel flag, but was compelled to lower it and raise the stars and stripes."--Paxton's Annals of Platte County, Missouri, p. 308. See, also. Kansas Historical Collections, vol. 9, p. 310. NOTE 9.--"On May 30, 1863, by treaty with the Delawares, eighty acres were assigned to each member of the tribe, in one compact body, to be held in severally, the Leavenworth, Pawnee & Western Railroad Company (afterward the Union Pacific) to have the privilege of purchasing the remainder of their land, at not less than $1.25 per acre. . . . The treaty was made at Sarcoxieville, on the Delaware Reservation."--Cutler's History of Kansas, p. 69. See, also, Indian Affairs. Laws and Treaties, vol. 2, p. 803. NOTE 10.--"When this treaty was made they desired very much to sell all their country within the limits of Kansas and go down among the Indians south of Kansas. This was because they had suffered so much from the evil and wicked acts of the whites that surround them."--Thomas B. Sykes, U. S. Indian Agent, in Report Commissioner of Indian Affairs, 1860, p. 103. NOTE 11.--Adj. Gen. C. K. Holliday made the following statement in regard to Kansas troops, to Governor Crawford, January 17, 1865: "A number of Indians were regularly recruited in the white regiments. These were our home Indians, such as the Delawares, Shawnees, Pottawatomies, etc....In addition to the foregoing, there are three regiments of Indians in the service, officered originally almost exclusively by citizens from Kansas."--WilderÕs Annals, p. 415. In 1862 Major Johnson said there were 170 Delawares in the Union army.--Report of the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, 1862, p. 99. NOTE 12.--[biography of Dr. Cornelius Ambrosius Logan] NOTE 13.--[biography of Dr. Tiffin Sinks] NOTE 14.--Preliminary proclamation of emancipation issued September 22, 1862. NOTE 15.--The Kansas Educational Journal, vol. 1, p. 2, contains an interesting account of the meeting of this first teachers' association. NOTE 16.--The earliest state fairs were held under the direction of the State Agricultural Society in various towns over the state, the first one being at Leavenworth, October 6 to 9, 1863.