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Archiver > NORCAL > 1997-08 > 0873054971


From: "Susan Pettit" <>
Subject: Re: Aunt Charlotte's book.
Date: Sun, 31 Aug 1997 12:16:11 -0700


Great story! I hope you find those beads for her. Susan

Susan Pettit


----------
> From:
> To:
> Subject: Aunt Charlotte's book.
> Date: Sunday, August 31, 1997 11:19 AM
>
> this is great story about aunt Charlotte One day I hope to get ahold of
a
> string of beads like the ones that she saw and put them on her grave in
> Hopewell Cemetery, Hopewell, OR
>
> When we reached Fort Laramie , we saw Indian camps everywhere. Some
distance
> away from the fort, we children found a place where the very ground
itself,
> was glistening with bright colored, tiny beads. The others picked up
large
> quantities of them, but Mother told me to leave them alone. She
explained
> that it was an Indian graveyard, and that ants were bringing the beads
from
> the graves underneath. They were all small anyway and I did not care very
> much about them, though, of course, they would have been better than
> nothing.
>
> Later several women took me with them when they went for a walk. It was
on
> this walk that I saw the string of beads that stands out from all other
> beads in my memory. They were on a buck-string and hung in a great loop
> through a crack in a rude platform that stood five or six feet from the
> ground. They did not seem to belong to anyone in particular. Here at last
> were the very beads for me.
>
> So I caught the string in both hands and pulled with all my might. They
> seemed caught on something, so I tugged this way and that and jerked
till my
> breath came in gasps. I was determined to have them. I took my feet off
the
> ground and swung with all my might on the string, but still the thing
above
> that held it, would not give way. So I called for Mrs. Athey to help me.
> That was my undoing. She screamed at me: "Charlotte, Charlotte, come away
> from there at once. Don't you know those beads are around a dead
Indian's
> neck? " I let go, but not because of the Indian, I let go because she
told
> me to, and I did it reluctantly, even then. Oh! they were so beautiful,
> yellow and blue and black. Such a fine long string too.
>
> They took me back to camp at once and told Mother about it. She
scrubbed me
> with everything that she had. She would have boiled me, if she had
dared,
> and I am sure that she did not kiss me for a week without afterwards
wiping
> her mouth. She treated me exactly as she treated Jasper after he had met
his
> first skunk.
>
> I wanted those beads, and I seem to want them even yet. I have never
owned
> a string of them, though I see them now on everyone. I sometimes wear a
> lorgnette that hangs from a chain, fashioned to look like tiny gold
beads. I
> wear it, because it pleases my family, but I do not like it. The clasp
> bothers me, it is very intricate and my fingers have grown old.
>
> When you think about the things that you wanted so bad as child please
> remember aunt Charlotte and the beads.
>
> Walt Davies
> Monmouth, OR

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