and take hold of hands. These are very pleasant occasions to all the young people.
Many years ago, when my people were happier than they are now, they used to celebrate the Festival of Flowers in the spring. I have been to three of them only in the course of my life.
Oh, with what eagerness we girls used to watch every spring for the time when we could meet with our hearts’ delight, the young men, whom in civilized life you call beaux. We would all go in company to see if the flowers we were named for were yet in bloom, for almost all the girls are named for flowers. We talked about them in our wigwams, as if we were the flowers, saying, “Oh, I saw myself today in full bloom!” We would talk all the evening in this way in our families with such delight, and such beautiful thoughts of the happy day when we should meet with those who admired us and would help us to sing our flower-songs which we made up as we sang. But we were always sorry for those that were not named after some flower, because we knew they could not join in the flower-songs like ourselves, who were named for flowers of all kinds.[1]
At last one evening came a beautiful voice, which made every girl’s heart throb with happiness. It was the chief, and every one hushed to hear what he said to-day.
“My dear daughters, we are told that you have seen yourselves in the hills and in the valleys, in full bloom. Five days from to-day your festival day will come. I know every young man’s heart stops beating while I am talking. I know how it was with me many years ago. I used to
- ↑ Indian children are named from some passing circumstance; as, for Instance, one of Mrs. Hopkins’ brothers was named Black-eye, because when a very small child, sitting in a sister’s lap, who had beautiful black eyes, he said, “What beautiful black eyes you have!” If they observed the flight of a bird, or an animal, in short, anything striking that became associated with them, that would be their appellation.—Ed.
