House where the warriors sit.

Squaws ++++++ ----------------------------------------------------------------

Use Of Medicines.

Concerning the use by the Indians of medicine against sickness, I learned only that they are in the habit of taking various herbs for their ailments. What part incantation or sorcery plays in the healing of disease I do not know. Nor did I learn what the Indians think of the origin and effects of dreams. Me-le told me that he knows of a plant the leaves of which, eaten, will cure the bite of a rattlesnake, and that he knows also of a plant which is an antidote to the noxious effects of the poison ivy or so-called poison oak.

General Observations.

I close this chapter by putting upon record a few general observations, as an aid to future investigation into Seminole life.

Standard of Value.

The standard of value among the Florida Indians is now taken from the currency of the United States. The unit they seem to have adopted, at least at the Big Cypress Swamp settlement, is twenty-five cents, which they call "Kan-cat-ka-hum-kin" (literally, "one mark on the ground"). At Miami a trader keeps his accounts with the Indians in single marks or pencil strokes. For example, an Indian brings to him buck skins, for which the trader allows twelve "chalks." The Indian, not wishing then to purchase anything, receives a piece of paper marked in this way:

"IIII--IIII--IIII.

J. W. E. owes Little Tiger $3."

At his next visit the Indian may buy five "marks" worth of goods. The trader then takes the paper and returns it to Little Tiger changed as follows:

"IIII--III.

J. W. E. owes Little Tiger $1.75."

Thus the account is kept until all the "marks" are crossed off, when the trader takes the paper into his own possession. The value of the purchases made at Miami by the Indians, I was informed, is annually about $2,000. This is, however, an amount larger than would be the average for the rest of the tribe, for the Miami Indians do a considerable business in the barter and sale of ornamental plumage.

What the primitive standard of value among the Seminole was is suggested to me by their word for money, "Tcat-to Ko-na-wa." "Ko-na-wa" means beads, and "Tcat-to," while it is the name for iron and metal, is also the name for stone. "Tcat-to" probably originally meant stone. Tcat-to Ko-na-wa (i.e., stone beads) was, then, the primitive money. With "Hat-ki," or white, added, the word means silver; with "La-ni," or yellow, added, it means gold. For greenbacks they use the words "Nak-ho-tsi Tcat-to Ko-na-wa," which is, literally, "paper stone beads."

Their methods of measuring are now, probably, those of the white man. I questioned my respondent closely, but could gain no light upon the terms he used as equivalents for our measurements.

Divisions Of Time.

I also gained but little knowledge of their divisions of time. They have the year, the name for which is the same as that used for summer, and in their year are twelve months, designated, respectively:

1. cla-futs-u-tsi, Little Winter.

2. Ho-ta-li-ha-si, Wind Moon.

3. Ho-ta-li-ha-si-clak-o, Big Wind Moon.

4. Ki-ha-su-tsi, Little Mulberry Moon.

5. Ki-ha-si-clat-o, Big Mulberry Moon.

6. Ka-too-ha-si.

7. Hai-yu-tsi.

8. Hai-yu-tsi-clak-o.

9. O-ta-wus-ku-tsi.

10. O-ta-wus-ka-clak-o.

11. I-ho-li.

12. cla-fo-clak-o, Big Winter.

I suppose that the spelling of these words could be improved, but I reproduce them phonetically as nearly as I can, not making what to me would be desirable corrections. The months appear to be divided simply into days, and these are, in part at least, numbered by reference to successive positions of the moon at sunset. When I asked Tal-la-has-ke how long he would stay at his present camp, he made reply by pointing, to the new moon in the west and sweeping his hand from west to east to where the moon would be when he should go home. He meant to answer, about ten days thence. The day is divided by terms descriptive of the positions of the sun in the sky from dawn to sunset.

Numeration.

The Florida Indians can count, by their system, indefinitely. Their system of numeration is quinary, as will appear from the following list:

1. Hum-kin.

2. Ho-_ko-lin_.

3. To-_tei-nin_.

4. _Os-tin_.

5. Tsaq-ke-pin.

6. I-pa-kin.

7. _Ko-lo_-pa-kin.

8. _Tci-na_-pa-kin 9. _Os-ta_-pa-kin.

10. Pa-lin.

11. Pa-lin-hum-kin, _i.e._, ten one, &c.

20. Pa-li-ho-ko-lin, _i.e._, two tens.

As a guide towards a knowledge of the primitive manner of counting the method used by an old man in his intercourse with me will serve. He wished to count eight. He first placed the thumb of the right hand upon the little finger of the left, then the right forefinger upon the next left hand finger, then the thumb on the next finger, and the forefinger on the next, and then the thumb upon the thumb; leaving now the thumb of the right hand resting upon the thumb of the left, he counted the remaining numbers on the right hand, using for this purpose the fore and middle fingers of the left; finally he shut the fourth and little fingers of the right hand down upon its palm, and raising his hands, thumbs touching, the counted fingers outspread, he showed me eight as the number of horses of which I had made inquiry.

Sense Of Color.

Concerning the sense of color among these Indians, I found that my informant at least possessed it to only a very limited degree. Black and white were clear to his sight, and for these he had appropriate names Also for brown, which was to him a "yellow black," and for gray, which was a "white black." For some other colors his perception was distinct and the names he used proper. But a name for blue he applied to many other colors, shading from violet to green. A name for red followed a succession of colors all the way from scarlet to pink. A name for yellow he applied to dark orange and thence to a list of colors through to yellow's lightest and most delicate tint. I thought that at one time I had found him making a clear distinction between green and blue, but as I examined further I was never certain that he would not exchange the names when asked about one or the other color.

Education.

The feeling of the tribe is antagonistic to even such primary education as reading, writing, and calculation. About ten years ago an attempt, the only attempt in modern times, to establish schools among them was made by Rev. Mr. Frost, now at Myers, Fla. He did not succeed.

Slavery.

By reference to the population table, it will be noticed that there are three negroes and seven persons of mixed breed among the Seminole. It has been said that these negroes were slaves and are still held as slaves by the Indians. I saw nothing and could not hear of anything to justify this statement. One Indian is, I know, married to a negress, and the two negresses in the tribe live apparently on terms of perfect equality with the other women. Me-le goes and comes as he sees fit.

No one attempts to control his movements. It may be that long ago the Florida Indians held negroes as slaves, but my impression is to the contrary. The Florida Indians, I think, rather offered a place of refuge for fugitive bondmen and gradually made them members of their tribe.

Health.

In the introduction to this report I said that the health of the Seminole is good. As confirming this statement, I found that the deaths during the past year had been very few. I had trustworthy information concerning the deaths of only four persons. One of these deaths was of an old woman, O-pa-ka, at the Fish Eating Creek settlement; another was of Tal-la-has-ke's wife, at Cat Fish Lake settlement; another was of a sister of Tal-la-has-ke; and the last was of a child, at Cow Creek settlement. At the Big Cypress Swamp settlement I was a.s.sured that no deaths had occurred either there or at Miami during the year. On the contrary, however, I was told by some white people at Miami that several children had died at the Indian camp near there in the year past.

Tal-la-has-ke said to me, "Twenty moons ago, heap pickaninnies die!" And I was informed by others that about two years before there had been considerable fatality among children, as the consequence of a sort of epidemic at one of the northern camps. Admitting the correctness of these reports, I have no reason to modify my general statement that the health of the Seminole is good and that they are certainly increasing their number. Their appearance indicates excellent health and their environment is in their favor.

CHAPTER IV.

Environment Of The Seminole.

Nature.

Southern Florida, the region to which most of the Seminole have been driven by the advances of civilization, is, taken all in all, unlike any other part of our country. In climate it is subtropical; in character of soil it shows a contrast of comparative barrenness and abounding fertility; and in topography it is a plain, with hardly any perceptible natural elevations or depressions. The following description, based upon the notes of my journey to the Big Cypress Swamp, indicates the character of the country generally. I left Myers, on the Caloosahatchie River, a small settlement composed princ.i.p.ally of cattlemen, one morning in the month of February. Even in February the sun was so hot that clothing was a burden. As we started upon our journey, which was to be for a distance of sixty miles or more, my attention was called to the fact that the harness of the horse attached to my buggy was without the breeching. I was told that this part of the harness would not be needed, so level should we find the country. Our way, soon after leaving the main street of Myers, entered pine woods. The soil across which we traveled at first was a dry, dazzling white sand, over which, was scattered a growth of dwarf palmetto. The pine trees were not near enough together to shade us from the fierce, sun. This spa.r.s.eness of growth, and comparative absence of shade, is one marked characteristic of Florida's pine woods. Through this thin forest we drove all the day.

The monotonous scenery was unchanged except that at a short distance from Myers it was broken by swamps and ponds. So far as the appearance of the country around as indicated, we could not tell whether we were two miles or twenty from our starting point. Nearly half our way during the first day lay through water, and yet we were in the midst of what is called the winter "dry season." The water took the shape here of a swamp and there of a pond, but where the swamp or the pond began or ended it was scarcely possible to tell, one pa.s.sed by almost imperceptible degrees from dry land to moist and from moist land into pool or marsh.

Generally, however, the swamps were filled with a growth of cypress trees. These cypress groups were well defined in the pine woods by the closeness of their growth and the sharpness of the boundary of the cl.u.s.ters. Usually, too, the cypress swamps were surrounded by rims of water gra.s.ses. Six miles from Myers we crossed a cypress swamp, in which the water at its greatest depth was from one foot to two feet deep.

A wagon road had been cut through the dense growth of trees, and the trees were covered with hanging mosses and air plants.