Anna Bender (1885–1911), a Chippewa Indian from the White Earth Reservation in Minnesota, attended Lincoln Institute in Philadelphia and Pipestone Indian School in Minnesota before entering Hampton Institute’s Indian Program in 1902, when she was seventeen years old. As a student Anna, or Annie as she was known at Hampton, showed a lot of promise, according to a report from the school to the White Earth Agency. She served as editor of Talks and Thoughts from 1903 to 1905 and published nonfiction essays and retold tales based on tribal legends, including “The First Squirrel” and “The Big Dipper” (see Short Stories and Retold Tales, this volume). After graduating from Hampton in 1906 she enrolled at Haskell Institute in Kansas and graduated in 1908. She then became a clerk at the Chemawa Indian School in Salem, Oregon, where she died at age twenty-six. (Littlefield and Parins, Biobibliography: Supplement, 174; Molin, “‘Training the Hand’”)
The religious idea has always been strong in the Indian, and he believed that there was a God, sometimes called the Great Spirit, who ruled all nature and himself.
In the early part of the seventeenth century Jesuit priests and Puritans both testified that the tribes which they met believed in a god and many uncivilized tribes of the present day believe in a Supreme Being who is ruler of the universe. They have different ideas as to where God stays, some think in the skies, others in the earth, and still others at the four cardinal points.
In many tribes during a religious ceremony, or when gathered around a council fire, where the sacred pipe is smoked, the first puff is blown to the sky, the next to the earth, and then to the points of the compass, usually beginning with the east.
The tobacco which was smoked was a sacred weed and was wholly used for religious purposes, and not as a drug as it is now used. Often times they burned sweet grass, so that their prayers might ascend with fragrant smoke.
Many people think the Indian worshipped idols such as the sun, the trees, animals and stones, because he sacrificed before them, but he believed that the Great Spirit commanded all these powers, the greatest of which is the sun, as it gives off heat and light, and they believed that God had helpers who caused the sun to rise in the east and set in the west.
Some Indians said grace before meals, not as we do, but they broke off a piece of food and offered it to the sun with a short prayer.
The Indian child was taught to say little prayers by his parents and when he became older he made up his own.
When a youth, it was a part of his religious duty to go off on the plain or in the woods all by himself where he would not be interrupted, and there fast and pray four days. In this absence he must receive some vision, for they believed the Great Spirit communicated with them in dreams. This dream must be in the nature of a contest which must be carried out before he won the name of a brave.
The first buffalo killed by a young brave was always offered for a sacrifice.
When a man he always committed himself to the Great Spirit’s protection before entering upon any perilous undertaking. He prayed all night that he might have good luck and while he was gone with other braves the priest went about the camp shouting the names of the different warriors, so that the people would remember to pray for them.
During the time they were gone they never forgot their prayers at night. If it was a hunting expedition the first game killed was burned for sacrifice, and it was considered a great sin among many of the tribes if this ceremony was left out.
The Indian believed in evil spirits who bring disease and trouble and which can be frightened away by rattles and by the burning of sweet grass.
Medicine men were not doctors, although they knew something of medicine, but were the religious leaders of their people. All the dancing and singing in former times were religious duties, so that is why some of the old Indians will not dance just for others’ curiosity, because it means so much to them and they reverence it. The younger generation, however, do these dances and think nothing of it.
Each Indian composes his own death song, and on his death bed he sings it if he is able.
He believes in a heaven where the soul goes after death, which is called the “Happy Hunting Grounds,” as nearly as can be interpreted, where there will be no more sorrow and trouble.
The Christian thinks of the “Golden City,” but the Indian never saw a city so that could not suggest anything of that kind to him.
He thought that his horses and dogs who had been faithful to him in life would come with him in this happy land.
This is the reason why they sometimes shoot his animals when he dies and his wife will sometimes kill herself so that she can accompany him on his journey and enter with him into his heaven.22
This fall I visited friends who live in Boston. They were very proud of their city and wished my sister and me to see all the places of interest. We went into the new State House which has a gilded dome and saw the flags that had been through the different wars. There were also paintings around the walls near the ceiling. One of them especially took my fancy. It was that of John Eliot preaching to the Indians. A guide allowed us to enter the room where the governor stays, which was very grand, also the council chamber.
From here we went on our way and passed the old State House with the lion on one side and the unicorn on the other. We did not go in but proceeded to Faneuil Hall with its market below, the assembly room above, just as it was years ago. This room was very interesting. On the platform, occupying almost the entire wall, was a large painting of a company of men listening to the eloquent and patriotic speech of Daniel Webster. Many such speeches have been delivered in this room. Upstairs are numberless paintings of various battles. At this place we found a guide who knew General Armstrong, so when he discovered that we were from Hampton he pointed out everything of historic interest. Although he was quite an old man he did not hesitate to trudge down with us to the north end of the city where stands the old North Church in whose tower flashed the lantern that warned the Americans of the approach of the English. We three mounted its winding, rickety stairs, and sometimes had to bend beneath the rafters across our way. From this height we viewed the city while our guide pointed out the course that Paul Revere took and the movements of both armies. When we came down we were shown a tithing rod which was used to keep people awake during the three-hour sermons in church.
The place we next visited was the Public Library. This is a large, beautiful building surrounding a grassy court. In the center stands a sparkling fountain with benches all around where people may enjoy the pleasure of reading with this scene before them.
As we mounted the broad stairs we were confronted by two huge stone lions. The room we entered had the story of the Holy Grail pictured on its walls. Another had the painting of the Prophets. Both were beautiful.
We left this interesting place for Harvard College and the museum which contains the world-famous glass flowers. Fancy could not picture a more pleasing sight. I could hardly believe they were really glass when I saw the tendrils of some of the vines. The coloring was exactly like the real flowers.
However interesting the flowers, we were obliged to continue our sight-seeing to the department of preserved bones, of stuffed birds and of animals. Different kinds of monkeys were placed in a row leading up to man. It was surprising to see the gradual change of the monkey to man. I could see the reason why some people get the idea that we were once monkeys. I was glad to see that as the skeletons increased in size from monkeys through different races of man, the Indian stood last and the tallest.
The last place we visited in Boston was the Art Museum. Many of the things here I had seen pictures of, and it reminded me of a lecture on sculpture we had last winter.
The next day we spent visiting Lexington and Concord, the two cities which figured so illustriously in the early history of the country.
On our way home we passed the home of the poet Longfellow, once the residence of George Washington.23