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"Wrapped in my heavy blanket, I walked with
my mother to the carriage that was soon to take us to the iron horse.
I was happy. I met my play- mates, who were also wearing their best
thick blankets. We showed one another our new beaded moccasins,
and the width of the belts that girdled our new dresses. Soon
we were being drawn rapidly away by the white mans horses. When
I saw the lonely figure of my mother vanish in the distance, a sense
of regret settled heavily upon me. I felt suddenly weak, as if I
might fall limp to the ground. I was in the hands of strangers whom
my mother did not fully trust. I no longer felt free to be myself,
or to voice my own feelings. The tears trickled down my cheeks,
and I buried my face in the folds of my blanket. Now the first step,
parting me from my mother, was taken, and all my belated tears availed
nothing.
Having driven thirty miles to the ferryboat,
we crossed the Missouri in the evening. Then riding again a few
miles eastward, we stopped before a massive brick building. I looked
at it in amazement, and with a vague misgiving, for in our village
I had never seen so large a house. Trembling with fear and distrust
of the palefaces, my teeth chattering from the chilly ride, I crept
noiselessly in my soft moccasins along the narrow hall, keeping
very close to the bare wall. I was as frightened and bewildered
as the captured young of a wild creature."
~Zitkala-Sa
(The entire article is available in the journal listed below.)
Impressions
of an Indian Childhood.
[The Atlantic monthly. / Volume 85 |
(Text of Paul Hayne's letter below)
Fort Peck Agency
Poplar Creek Mont
March 11, 1890
My Dear firend
I got your letter and I am glad to hear
from you, and I am well. Please tell me how you are getting along
up here, you ask me how, I like the Black Smith I like the other
trades too, and I will tell you something I am going to go to Carlisle
School that is in the Pennsylvania.
40 childrens -- 15 girls + 25 boys = 40
Where is Mr Haskell now I never get letter
from since I got letter from him last time I guess going stop Blacksmith
we are all well down in Poplar Creek Mont dont write to me I might
go to Carlisle School if I dont go. I will write to you and let
you know What place I am going to. I must close my letter now. I
hope this letter will find you in good health
From your friend
Paul H. Hayne
this is my own hand writing
I mean my name
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