TEACHER'S GUIDE TO

History & Folklife of the Kentucky Frontier

LESSON 14: Perspectives on Native Culture

PART I

The Indians are not so ignorant as some suppose them, but are a very understanding people, quick of 
apprehension, sudden in execution, subtle in business, exquisite in invention, and industrious in action. 
They are of a very gentle and amiable disposition to those they think are their friends, but as implacable 
in their enmity; their revenge being only compleated, in the destruction of their enemies. They are very 
hardy, bearing heat, cold, hunger and thirst, in a surprising manner, and yet no people are more addicted 
to excess in eating and drinking, when it is conveniently in their power. The follies, nay mischief, they 
commit when inebriated, are entirely laid to the liquor, and no one will revenge any injury (murder 
excepted) received from one who  is no more himself. 

Among the Indians, all men are equal, personal qualities being most esteemed. No distinction of birth, 
no rank, renders any man capable of doing prejudice to the rights of private persons; and there is no 
pre-eminance from merit, which begets pride, and which makes others too sensible of their own inferiority. 
Though there is perhaps less delicacy of sentiment in the Indians than amongst us; there is, however, 
abundantly more probity, with infinitely less ceremony, or equivocal compliments. Their public conferences 
shew them to be men of genius, and they have, in a high degree, the talent of natural eloquence.

They  live dispersed in small villages, either in the woods, or on the banks of rivers, where they have little 
plantations of Indian-corn, and roots, not enough to supply their families half the year, and subsisting the 
remainder of it by hunting, fishing and fowling, and the fruits of the earth, which grow spontaneously in 
great plenty. Their huts are generally built of small logs, and covered with bark, each one having a chimney, 
and a door, on which they place a padlock....Some huts are built by setting up a frame on forks, and placing 
bark against it; others of reeds, and surrounded with clay. The fire is in the middle of the wigwam, and the 
smoke passes through a little hole. They join reeds together by cords run through them, which serve them 
for tables and beds. They mostly lie upon skins of wild beasts, and sit upon the ground. They have gourds 
or calabashes, cut asunder, serve them for pails, cups and dishes....When they take captives in war, they are 
exceedingly cruel, treating the unhappy prisoners in such a manner, that death would be preferable to life. 
They afterwards give them plenty of food, load them with burdens, and when they arrive at their towns, 
they must run the gauntlet. In this, the savages exercise so much cruelty, that one would think it impossible 
they should survive their sufferings. Many are killed, but if one outlives this trial, he is adopted into a family 
as a son, and treated with paternal kindness; and if he avoids their suspicions of going away, is allowed the 
same privileges as their own people.

PART II

In a COUNCIL, held with the Piankashaw Indians, by Thomas F. Dalton, at Post St. Vincent's, April 15, 1784.
           
[Dalton:] MY CHILDREN,
           
What I have often told you, is now come to pass. This day I received news from my Great Chief, at the Falls 
of the Ohio. Peace is made with the enemies of America. The White Flesh, the Americans, French, Spaniards, 
Dutch and English, this day smoke out of the peace- pipe. The tomahawk is buried, and they are now friends.
I am told the Shawanese, Delawares, Chicasaws, Cherokees, and all other the Red Flesh, have taken the Long 
Knife by the hand. They have given up to them the prisoners that were in their nations.            

My Children on Wabash, Open your ears, and let what I tell you sink deep in your hearts. You know me. Near 
twenty years I have been among you. The Long Knife is my nation. I know their hearts; peace they carry in 
one hand, and war in the other. I leave you to yourselves to judge. Consider, and now accept the one, or the 
other. We never beg peace of our enemies. If you love your women and children, receive the belt of wampum I 
present you. Return me my flesh you have in your villages, and the horses you stole from my people at Kentucke. 
Your corn-fields were never disturbed by the Long Knife. Your women and children lived quiet in their houses,            
while your warriors were killing and robbing my people. All this you know is the truth. This is the last time I shall 
speak to you. I have waited six moons to hear you speak, and to get my people from you. In ten nights I shall 
leave the Wabash to see my Great Chief at the Falls of the Ohio, where he will be glad to hear, from your own lips, 
what you have to say. Here is tobacco I give you; Smoke; and consider what I have said.--Then I delivered one 
belt of blue and white wampum; and said, Piankashaw, speak, speak to the Americans.

[Piankashaw Chief answered]: My Great Father, the Long Knife, You have been many years among us. You have 
suffered by us. We still hope you will have pity and compassion upon us, on our women and children; the day is 
clear. The sun shines on us; and the good news of peace appears in our faces. This day, my Father, this is the day 
of joy to the Wabash Indians. With one tongue we now speak. We accept your peace-belt. We return God thanks, 
you are the man that delivered us what we wished for, peace, with the White Flesh. 

My Father, we have many times counseled before you knew us; and you know how some of us suffered before. 
We received the tomahawk from the English; Poverty forced us to it; We were attended by other nations; We are 
sorry for it. We this day collect the bones of our friends that long ago were scattered upon the earth. We bury them 
in one grave. We thus plant the tree of peace, that God may spread branches, so that we can all be secured from bad 
weather. They smoke as brothers out of the peace-pipe we now present you. Here, my Father, is the pipe that gives 
us joy. Smoke out of it. Our warriors are glad you are the man we present it to. You see, Father, we have buried the 
tomahawk; We now make a great chain of friendship never to be broken; and now, as one people, smoke out of your 
pipe. My Father, we know God was angry with us for stealing your horses, and disturbing your people. He has sent 
us so much snow and cold weather, that God himself killed all your horses, with our own. We are now a poor people. 
God, we hope, will help us; and our Father, the Long Knife, will have pity and compassion on our women and children. 

Your flesh, my Father, is well among us; we shall collect them all together when they come in from hunting. Don't be 
sorry, my Father, all the prisoners taken at Kentucke are alive and well; we love them, and so do our young women. 
Some of your people mend our guns, and others tell us they can make rum of the corn. Those are now the same as we. 
In one moon after this, we will go with them to their friends in Kentucke. Some of your people will now go with Costea, 
a Chief of our nation, to see his Great Father, the Long Knife, at the Falls of Ohio.

My Father, This being the day of joy to the Wabash Indians, we beg a little drop of your milk, to let our warriors see it 
came from your own breast. We were born and raised in the woods; we could never learn to make rum--God has made 
the White Flesh masters of the world; they make everything; and we all love rum. Then they delivered three strings of 
blue and white wampum, and the coronet of peace. 

Present, in COUNCIL

MUSKITO,
Capt. BEAVER,
WOODS & BURNING,
BADTRIPES,
ANTIA,
MONTOUR,
CASTIA,
GRAND COURT;

With many other Chiefs, and War Captains, and the Principal Inhabitants of the Post of St. Vincent's.