1901
The ceremony of the Grand Medicine is an elaborate ritual, covering several days, the endless number of gods and spirits being called upon to minister to the sick man and to lengthen his life. The several degrees of the Grand Medicine teach the use of incantations, of medicines and poisons, and the requirements necessary to constitute a brave.
"When a young man seeks admission to the Grand Medicine lodge, he first fasts until he sees in his dream some animal, the mink, beaver, otter and fisher being most common, which he hunts and kills. The skin is then ornamented with beads or porcupine quills, and the spirit of the animal becomes the friend and companion of the man.
The medicine men have only a limited knowledge of herbs, but they are expert in dressing wounds, and the art of extracting barbed arrows from the flesh can be learned from them.
In olden times — yes, to within the memory of living Ojibways — the medicine man at the funeral ceremony thus addressed the departed: "Dear friend, you will not feel lonely while pursuing your journey toward the setting sun. I have killed for you a Sioux, [hated enemy of the Ojibways], and I have scalped him. He will accompany you and provide for you, hunting your food as you need it. The scalp I have taken — use it for your moccasins." — Open Court.
Showing posts with label Indians. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Indians. Show all posts
Friday, April 25, 2008
A Curious Error
1901
The Rev. Dr. Edward Everett Hale told how a curious error crept into the translation of the Lord's Prayer into the Delaware Indian tongue. The English translator had as an assistant an Indian who knew English. "What is 'hallow' in Delaware?" asked the translator. The Indian thought he said "halloo" and gave him the equivalent. Therefore the Delaware version of the Lord's Prayer reads to this day, "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallooed be thy name."
The Rev. Dr. Edward Everett Hale told how a curious error crept into the translation of the Lord's Prayer into the Delaware Indian tongue. The English translator had as an assistant an Indian who knew English. "What is 'hallow' in Delaware?" asked the translator. The Indian thought he said "halloo" and gave him the equivalent. Therefore the Delaware version of the Lord's Prayer reads to this day, "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallooed be thy name."
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Educating Indian Children In The U.S.
1900
The People's Forum
Can you give me the latest information concerning the education of Indian children in the United States? — H. I. M., Philadelphia, Pa.
Miss Estelle Reed, the superintendent of Indian education, answers our correspondent in an interview taken by William E. Curtis. In this interview Miss Reed says: "There are 50,000 Indian children in round numbers, and perhaps 35,000 or 37,000 are of school age. The enrollment for 1899 was 25,203. Since 1877 there has been a rapid increase in the allowance for the support of the Indian schools. In 1877 the appropriation was $20,000; in 1887, $1,211,415; in 1897, $2,517,265, and the allowance for the present fiscal year is $2,638,390.
"The movement to educate the Indians commenced before the revolution, when a few were maintained at the college of William and Mary at Williamsburg, Va., shortly after 1692. The first appropriation of which we have record made by Congress was passed in 1775 and carried an allowance of $500. The first Indian treaty in which any form of education was mentioned was with the Oneida, Tuscarora and Stockbridge Indians in 1794, and provided that one or two persons, besides keeping in repair certain mills built by the Indians, should instruct the young men of the three nations 'in the arts of the miller and sawyer.'
"I advocate legislation to compel Indian children to attend school, and I regard this of the first importance. I also advocate a change in our methods so that the children will be instructed more in industrial pursuits and less in the arts and sciences. The results accomplished at Hampton, Va., are gratifying, and emphasize the benefits to be obtained by Indians working under skilled instructors in mechanical schools. The Indians are much better educated than people generally suppose. An average of one in four can read, and even a larger percentage can talk enough English for ordinary purposes."
—The Ram's Horn, March 17, 1900, p. 8.
The People's Forum
Can you give me the latest information concerning the education of Indian children in the United States? — H. I. M., Philadelphia, Pa.
Miss Estelle Reed, the superintendent of Indian education, answers our correspondent in an interview taken by William E. Curtis. In this interview Miss Reed says: "There are 50,000 Indian children in round numbers, and perhaps 35,000 or 37,000 are of school age. The enrollment for 1899 was 25,203. Since 1877 there has been a rapid increase in the allowance for the support of the Indian schools. In 1877 the appropriation was $20,000; in 1887, $1,211,415; in 1897, $2,517,265, and the allowance for the present fiscal year is $2,638,390.
"The movement to educate the Indians commenced before the revolution, when a few were maintained at the college of William and Mary at Williamsburg, Va., shortly after 1692. The first appropriation of which we have record made by Congress was passed in 1775 and carried an allowance of $500. The first Indian treaty in which any form of education was mentioned was with the Oneida, Tuscarora and Stockbridge Indians in 1794, and provided that one or two persons, besides keeping in repair certain mills built by the Indians, should instruct the young men of the three nations 'in the arts of the miller and sawyer.'
"I advocate legislation to compel Indian children to attend school, and I regard this of the first importance. I also advocate a change in our methods so that the children will be instructed more in industrial pursuits and less in the arts and sciences. The results accomplished at Hampton, Va., are gratifying, and emphasize the benefits to be obtained by Indians working under skilled instructors in mechanical schools. The Indians are much better educated than people generally suppose. An average of one in four can read, and even a larger percentage can talk enough English for ordinary purposes."
—The Ram's Horn, March 17, 1900, p. 8.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
His Amendment on Heathens
1900
Years ago a bill entitled "An Act for the Preservation of the Heath Hen and Other Game" was introduced into the New York House of Assembly.
The speaker of the house, who was not especially interested in matters of this kind, gravely read it, "An Act for the Preservation of the Heathen and Other Game."
He was blissfully unconscious of his blunder until an honest member from the northern part of the state, who had suffered from the depredations of the frontier Indians, rose to his feet.
"I should like to move an amendment to the bill," he said, mildly, "by adding the words, 'except Indians.' " — Youth's Companion.
Years ago a bill entitled "An Act for the Preservation of the Heath Hen and Other Game" was introduced into the New York House of Assembly.
The speaker of the house, who was not especially interested in matters of this kind, gravely read it, "An Act for the Preservation of the Heathen and Other Game."
He was blissfully unconscious of his blunder until an honest member from the northern part of the state, who had suffered from the depredations of the frontier Indians, rose to his feet.
"I should like to move an amendment to the bill," he said, mildly, "by adding the words, 'except Indians.' " — Youth's Companion.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Strike-the-Kettle Helps Missionary
1900
Strike-the-Kettle is not a romantic name, but the old Indian who bore that appellation was a leader and a Christian king among his people. For many years Strike-the-Kettle was a scout, protecting the United States mail from hostile Indians. While on this duty he was wounded in a fight with his own people.
A few years ago, when the Dakota prairies were on fire, the Indians of the Standing Rock Agency fought the flames for days. When at last it was feared the whole village would be swept away, a devoted missionary stood watching, with wagon packed, ready to flee at the last moment. In the darkness she saw some one standing by her gate. It was Strike-the-Kettle.
"I can no longer fight the fire," said the wounded old scout, "but I will stay here, Winona. Go to sleep, and I will rouse you in time." When the exhausted woman finally woke, all danger was over, but Strike-the-Kettle was still on guard. Is it strange that on Memorial days Winona lays a wreath on the grave of Strike-the-Kettle?
A One Woman Revival
The enlargement of a church in Quincy, Michigan, and its recent rededication testify anew to the power one person may exert in a community.
Thirty years ago Quincy was but a hamlet, and the Presbyterian Church being reduced to a single member, the presbytery dissolved the church and sent a committee to get the minutes. Mrs. Patter refused either to give up the minutes or to be "dissolved."
"What the presbytery should do," was her plucky answer, "is to send us a minister." Her advice was taken, and to-day the church is happy, hopeful and flourishing. It lived simply because one earnest Christian woman would not let it die.
—Youth's Companion.
Strike-the-Kettle is not a romantic name, but the old Indian who bore that appellation was a leader and a Christian king among his people. For many years Strike-the-Kettle was a scout, protecting the United States mail from hostile Indians. While on this duty he was wounded in a fight with his own people.
A few years ago, when the Dakota prairies were on fire, the Indians of the Standing Rock Agency fought the flames for days. When at last it was feared the whole village would be swept away, a devoted missionary stood watching, with wagon packed, ready to flee at the last moment. In the darkness she saw some one standing by her gate. It was Strike-the-Kettle.
"I can no longer fight the fire," said the wounded old scout, "but I will stay here, Winona. Go to sleep, and I will rouse you in time." When the exhausted woman finally woke, all danger was over, but Strike-the-Kettle was still on guard. Is it strange that on Memorial days Winona lays a wreath on the grave of Strike-the-Kettle?
A One Woman Revival
The enlargement of a church in Quincy, Michigan, and its recent rededication testify anew to the power one person may exert in a community.
Thirty years ago Quincy was but a hamlet, and the Presbyterian Church being reduced to a single member, the presbytery dissolved the church and sent a committee to get the minutes. Mrs. Patter refused either to give up the minutes or to be "dissolved."
"What the presbytery should do," was her plucky answer, "is to send us a minister." Her advice was taken, and to-day the church is happy, hopeful and flourishing. It lived simply because one earnest Christian woman would not let it die.
—Youth's Companion.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Motanic Bad Indian No More
1908Cayuse Chief Becomes a Christian — Makes Dramatic Confession
Spokane, Washington. — Motanic, bad Indian, terror of the Umatilla reservation southwest of Spokane and leader of pagan customs among the Cayuse braves, has embraced the Christian religion, and, as a consequence, there is rejoicing among the faithful in the Tutilla Presbyterian mission. The conversion of the chieftain was the dramatic climax to the ordination of Rev. Edward Conner, a full-blooded Cayuse, as minister of the gospel a few days ago.
Following the singing of the Cayuse version of "Washed in the Blood of the Lamb," in which braves and squaws joined heartily, Motanic, dressed in barbaric splendor, arose from his seat and, facing the congregation, declared his intention to live a better life. He vowed he would abandon the pagan customs, bid goodbye forever to the feathered headdress and the red and orange paint, to participate no more in the festal parades nor partake of the white man's firewater. He would not steal, gamble or cheat his fellow man or brother. Motanic had become a Christian. It was a fitting close to the ordination of Conner.
At the conclusion of the services which made Conner a full-fledged minister of the gospel there was stillness. Motanic walked to the front of the altar. Tears streamed down his weather-bronzed cheeks and his big frame shook with sobs. He looked neither to the right nor to the left. Motanic confessed his sins to the world and swore allegiance to a new king.
Suddenly a glad note burst from the throat of a little brown woman in the corner. It was the signal for a spontaneous outburst of song from the Indian congregation. Then his faithful squaw went home with the chief.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Tricks of the Medicine Men
1910
Secrets Are Revealed to Them In Dreams
A young Indian, who is ambitious to become a doctor, and finally a prophet, learns from his father or other members of his tribe, the name and medicinal properties of some herb, says a writer in the Denver Field and Farm. He can also, by presenting a sufficient number of ponies to a medicine man, prevail upon the doctor to impart the secret of the herbs to him. Frequently Indians allege that the secret is revealed to them in a dream, or by a bird or an animal. After procuring it, the novice is prepared to begin the practice of medicine. Success in their opinion is only possible with the aid of the Great Spirit, and in order to invoke the help of the supernatural they resort to various sacrifices.
For instance, there is the practice of ascending a butte or other elevation and lying with the face to the ground for several days without food or until they are completely exhausted. During this period they profess to have been taught some song or the Great Spirit conversed with them through a bird, wild animal or reptile. They frequently allege that wolves come to them and howl and that they understand what the animals say. While treating a patient they place tobacco in little pouches which they tie with sinew. These are painted brilliant colors and fastened to willow sticks about the size of the shaft of an arrow, but somewhat longer.
The Earliest Religion
Religion was at first purely dogmatic, an affair of the family, pure and simple. The gods were the dead ancestors, and the worship consisted of the perpetual care of the hearth fire and the graves of the departed relatives. It was the ancient belief (the most ancient, so far as we know) that the departed ancestors continued to live in or about the tomb, and that their peace and happiness depended absolutely upon the care with which their posterity looked after their worship. If the hearth fire was allowed to die down, or the tomb was neglected, or the food and drink were not faithfully taken to the tomb, their existence became a wretched one; whereas, if these things were carefully attended to, all was serene with them. There is much to show that this domestic belief obtained for a long time before the belief in God and a future life came in. — Chicago American.
Secrets Are Revealed to Them In Dreams
A young Indian, who is ambitious to become a doctor, and finally a prophet, learns from his father or other members of his tribe, the name and medicinal properties of some herb, says a writer in the Denver Field and Farm. He can also, by presenting a sufficient number of ponies to a medicine man, prevail upon the doctor to impart the secret of the herbs to him. Frequently Indians allege that the secret is revealed to them in a dream, or by a bird or an animal. After procuring it, the novice is prepared to begin the practice of medicine. Success in their opinion is only possible with the aid of the Great Spirit, and in order to invoke the help of the supernatural they resort to various sacrifices.
For instance, there is the practice of ascending a butte or other elevation and lying with the face to the ground for several days without food or until they are completely exhausted. During this period they profess to have been taught some song or the Great Spirit conversed with them through a bird, wild animal or reptile. They frequently allege that wolves come to them and howl and that they understand what the animals say. While treating a patient they place tobacco in little pouches which they tie with sinew. These are painted brilliant colors and fastened to willow sticks about the size of the shaft of an arrow, but somewhat longer.
The Earliest Religion
Religion was at first purely dogmatic, an affair of the family, pure and simple. The gods were the dead ancestors, and the worship consisted of the perpetual care of the hearth fire and the graves of the departed relatives. It was the ancient belief (the most ancient, so far as we know) that the departed ancestors continued to live in or about the tomb, and that their peace and happiness depended absolutely upon the care with which their posterity looked after their worship. If the hearth fire was allowed to die down, or the tomb was neglected, or the food and drink were not faithfully taken to the tomb, their existence became a wretched one; whereas, if these things were carefully attended to, all was serene with them. There is much to show that this domestic belief obtained for a long time before the belief in God and a future life came in. — Chicago American.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Tradition of the Flood Among the Pueblo Indians
1905
The children of the Pueblo Indians have a Noah's ark of their own, and some of the animals it contains are very curious indeed — such animals, in fact, as civilized young people are not acquainted with. Among them are mountain goats, queer creatures of the cat tribe and prong-horned antelopes. All of these animals are made out of clay and baked like pottery, after which they are painted in quite an artistic and lifelike fashion.
Like most other peoples, the Pueblo Indians have a tradition of a great flood. The catastrophe occurred long ago, when they lived in the ancient land of their forefathers. One day the earth began to shake and strange rumblings grew louder and louder, until at length an opening yawned in the middle of the central square of the town. Out of the opening gushed a mighty stream of water, overwhelming the houses and flooding the valley, so that the inhabitants fled with their livestock to neighboring mountains.
Presently there rose out of the hole in the earth the head of a gigantic turtle, which towered to the very roof of the sky. Everybody was terror-stricken, but the chief man of the town — whose name ought to have been Noah — plucked up the courage to ask the great reptile what it wanted. The turtle replied that it was hungry and that its appetite could be appeased only by the sacrifice of a young man and a young woman. There was nothing to do but to obey, and so a handsome youth and a beautiful girl were delivered up to the turtle, which took them in its mouth and sank with them through the hole. Immediately all of the water flowed away and in the place where the reptile had appeared there rose up a large black rock, which, according to the myth, may be seen at this day, testifying to the truth of the story.
Unfortunately, the deluge left things in such a damp and uncomfortable condition, after destroying all of the houses and most of the portable property, that the people thought it wisest to go away. So they started on a journey northward, the whole tribe of them, and the crane, which is a sacred bird, flew ahead to pick out the driest route. At length they came to the region which their descendants now inhabit, and which is so extremely dry that the water supply is always a subject of anxiety.
The children of the Pueblo Indians have a Noah's ark of their own, and some of the animals it contains are very curious indeed — such animals, in fact, as civilized young people are not acquainted with. Among them are mountain goats, queer creatures of the cat tribe and prong-horned antelopes. All of these animals are made out of clay and baked like pottery, after which they are painted in quite an artistic and lifelike fashion.
Like most other peoples, the Pueblo Indians have a tradition of a great flood. The catastrophe occurred long ago, when they lived in the ancient land of their forefathers. One day the earth began to shake and strange rumblings grew louder and louder, until at length an opening yawned in the middle of the central square of the town. Out of the opening gushed a mighty stream of water, overwhelming the houses and flooding the valley, so that the inhabitants fled with their livestock to neighboring mountains.
Presently there rose out of the hole in the earth the head of a gigantic turtle, which towered to the very roof of the sky. Everybody was terror-stricken, but the chief man of the town — whose name ought to have been Noah — plucked up the courage to ask the great reptile what it wanted. The turtle replied that it was hungry and that its appetite could be appeased only by the sacrifice of a young man and a young woman. There was nothing to do but to obey, and so a handsome youth and a beautiful girl were delivered up to the turtle, which took them in its mouth and sank with them through the hole. Immediately all of the water flowed away and in the place where the reptile had appeared there rose up a large black rock, which, according to the myth, may be seen at this day, testifying to the truth of the story.
Unfortunately, the deluge left things in such a damp and uncomfortable condition, after destroying all of the houses and most of the portable property, that the people thought it wisest to go away. So they started on a journey northward, the whole tribe of them, and the crane, which is a sacred bird, flew ahead to pick out the driest route. At length they came to the region which their descendants now inhabit, and which is so extremely dry that the water supply is always a subject of anxiety.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Prelude — "Liquid Air As I Saw It Demonstrated"
Delphos, OH, 1901
PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH.
Divine service at 11 a. m , subject of discourse, "Knowledge is Power." 8 p. m., prelude, "Liquid Air as I Saw it Demonstrated." Subject of sermon, "Men and Times." The evening service will not exceed one hour of time. Sabbath school at 9:45 a. m. Y.P.S.C.E. 7 p. m. The public is cordially invited to worship with us. A. O. Raber, pastor.
M. E. CHURCH.
Sunday services at the M. E. church. Sunday school 9:30 a. m. Class meeting 10:30. Preaching 11 a. m. Subject of morning discourse, "The Seventh Sense." Epworth League 7 p. m. Preaching 8 p. m. Subject of evening, "The Choosing of the Twelve." At the morning services the probationers will be received into full membership. All are cordially invited. E. A. Strother, pastor.
—The Daily Herald, Delphos, Ohio, July 6, 1901, page 4.
1901
Dr. Edward Everett Hale tells how a curious error crept into the translation of the Lord's Prayer into the Delaware Indian tongue. The English translator had as an assistant an Indian who knew English. "What is 'hallow' in Delaware?" asked the translator. The Indian thought he said "halloo," and gave him the equivalent. Therefore the Delaware version of the Lord's Prayer reads to this day: "Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hollooed be thy name!"
PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH.
Divine service at 11 a. m , subject of discourse, "Knowledge is Power." 8 p. m., prelude, "Liquid Air as I Saw it Demonstrated." Subject of sermon, "Men and Times." The evening service will not exceed one hour of time. Sabbath school at 9:45 a. m. Y.P.S.C.E. 7 p. m. The public is cordially invited to worship with us. A. O. Raber, pastor.
M. E. CHURCH.
Sunday services at the M. E. church. Sunday school 9:30 a. m. Class meeting 10:30. Preaching 11 a. m. Subject of morning discourse, "The Seventh Sense." Epworth League 7 p. m. Preaching 8 p. m. Subject of evening, "The Choosing of the Twelve." At the morning services the probationers will be received into full membership. All are cordially invited. E. A. Strother, pastor.
—The Daily Herald, Delphos, Ohio, July 6, 1901, page 4.
1901
Dr. Edward Everett Hale tells how a curious error crept into the translation of the Lord's Prayer into the Delaware Indian tongue. The English translator had as an assistant an Indian who knew English. "What is 'hallow' in Delaware?" asked the translator. The Indian thought he said "halloo," and gave him the equivalent. Therefore the Delaware version of the Lord's Prayer reads to this day: "Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hollooed be thy name!"
Friday, April 20, 2007
The "Good Indian"
Nebraska, 1903
At the time that Little Bear, the Sioux Indian, was executed for the murder of two companions, his body was brought back from Sioux Falls by a deputy marshal, relates the Omaha Excelsior.
The marshal was well known to everybody up near Niobrara, and at the train several spoke to him, and it was soon noised about that he was in charge of the "dead Indian" in the baggage car. But the unfortunate redskin had had another companion in his last moments and who had promised to follow him to his last resting place, a man of the same Sioux nation, though of another tribe, the Rev. William Holmes, an ordained priest of the Episcopal church.
He had heard of the plight of Little Bear, who was singing his death song alone in his cell at Sioux Falls, and resolved to go to him, to extend to him the comforts of religion and to do all in his power to bring him to a sense of his crime, for Little Bear insisted he was only meting out Indian justice to those he had killed in old Indian fashion. Mr. Holmes converted Little Bear and baptized him.
The marshal and the Indian minister and Bishop Williams, of Omaha, were seated together in the smoker when the train stopped at Creighton, and a bluff and hearty cattleman entered, and, seeing the marshal, but not noticing Mr. Holmes, cried out:
"Hello, marshal. I hear you have a good Indian with you today," referring, of course, to the old adage that the only good Indian is a dead one.
Quick as a flash the marshal jumped to his feet and said, to avoid mortification of his friend, the dark-skinned minister:
"To be sure I have — let me present you to him — the Rev. William Holmes, of the Episcopal church, and Bishop Williams, of Omaha!"
The bluffness all died out of the stranger and he sank into the vacant seat offered him without a word.
But Bishop Williams says there was a very merry twinkle in the eye of the "good Indian."
—Davenport Daily Republican, Davenport, Iowa, March 4, 1903, page 5.
At the time that Little Bear, the Sioux Indian, was executed for the murder of two companions, his body was brought back from Sioux Falls by a deputy marshal, relates the Omaha Excelsior.
The marshal was well known to everybody up near Niobrara, and at the train several spoke to him, and it was soon noised about that he was in charge of the "dead Indian" in the baggage car. But the unfortunate redskin had had another companion in his last moments and who had promised to follow him to his last resting place, a man of the same Sioux nation, though of another tribe, the Rev. William Holmes, an ordained priest of the Episcopal church.
He had heard of the plight of Little Bear, who was singing his death song alone in his cell at Sioux Falls, and resolved to go to him, to extend to him the comforts of religion and to do all in his power to bring him to a sense of his crime, for Little Bear insisted he was only meting out Indian justice to those he had killed in old Indian fashion. Mr. Holmes converted Little Bear and baptized him.
The marshal and the Indian minister and Bishop Williams, of Omaha, were seated together in the smoker when the train stopped at Creighton, and a bluff and hearty cattleman entered, and, seeing the marshal, but not noticing Mr. Holmes, cried out:
"Hello, marshal. I hear you have a good Indian with you today," referring, of course, to the old adage that the only good Indian is a dead one.
Quick as a flash the marshal jumped to his feet and said, to avoid mortification of his friend, the dark-skinned minister:
"To be sure I have — let me present you to him — the Rev. William Holmes, of the Episcopal church, and Bishop Williams, of Omaha!"
The bluffness all died out of the stranger and he sank into the vacant seat offered him without a word.
But Bishop Williams says there was a very merry twinkle in the eye of the "good Indian."
—Davenport Daily Republican, Davenport, Iowa, March 4, 1903, page 5.
Chief Blackbeard Is Now Rev. Dr. Charles L. Spinning
New Jersey, 1903
The Rev. Dr. Charles L. Spinning, of Orange, N. J., once an Indian known among the race as Chief Blackbeard, is now a preacher in the First Presbyterian church, and is deeply interested in everything concerning the welfare of the red men.
—Davenport Daily Republican, Davenport, Iowa, March 4, 1903, page 4.
The Rev. Dr. Charles L. Spinning, of Orange, N. J., once an Indian known among the race as Chief Blackbeard, is now a preacher in the First Presbyterian church, and is deeply interested in everything concerning the welfare of the red men.
—Davenport Daily Republican, Davenport, Iowa, March 4, 1903, page 4.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Women Seeking to Prohibit Peyote Use
NEW INDIAN DRUG
Colorado Women Seek to Prohibit Use of "Peyote"
Denver, Colo., Jan. 29. — Peyote prohibition has made its appearance in Colorado. It is being urged by a group of socially prominent women in Denver under the leadership of Mrs. S. A. R. Brown, and is an effort to stop the traffic among the Indians in "peyote," the dried leaf of the cactus, which in similar in its effect to opium or cocaine. A bill has been introduced in the legislature which absolutely prohibits the sale or gift of peyote in Colorado. A similar bill is now before the legislature in Utah.
To get a better hold on their victims, the peyote peddlers have lent a religious tone to the ceremony of eating the drug, so that the peyote is worshiped in a semi-barbaric festival before an orgy is held.
—The Van Wert Daily Bulletin, Van Wert, Ohio, January 29, 1917, page 1.
Colorado Women Seek to Prohibit Use of "Peyote"
Denver, Colo., Jan. 29. — Peyote prohibition has made its appearance in Colorado. It is being urged by a group of socially prominent women in Denver under the leadership of Mrs. S. A. R. Brown, and is an effort to stop the traffic among the Indians in "peyote," the dried leaf of the cactus, which in similar in its effect to opium or cocaine. A bill has been introduced in the legislature which absolutely prohibits the sale or gift of peyote in Colorado. A similar bill is now before the legislature in Utah.
To get a better hold on their victims, the peyote peddlers have lent a religious tone to the ceremony of eating the drug, so that the peyote is worshiped in a semi-barbaric festival before an orgy is held.
—The Van Wert Daily Bulletin, Van Wert, Ohio, January 29, 1917, page 1.
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