Table of Contents Unit One Children of the Sun-Osage How Mosquitos Came to Be-Tlingit The Dogs Hold an Election-Sioux Black Elk Speaks as told to John Neihardt Tecumseh’s Speech to Wm. Henry Harrison Chief Joseph: “I Will Fight No More Forever” “The Indian Burying Ground”-Philip Freneau “A Drug Called Tradition” from The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven-Sherman Alexie Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee- Dee Brown “Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee”-Indigo Girls “The Noble Red Man”-Mark Twain “Indian Camp”-Ernest Hemingway Unit Two “Young Goodman Brown”-Nathaniel Hawthorne “The Declaration of Independence”-Thomas Jefferson “The Preamble to the Constitution”-James Madison “The Bill of Rights”-James Madison Unit Four “To His Excellency General Washington”-Philis Wheatley Letter to Captain Auld-Frederick Douglass “How it Feels to Be Colored Me”-Zora Neale Hurston “Sweat”-Zora Neale Hurston “Roy’s Wound”-James Baldwin “The Martyr” from Uncle Tom’s Cabin-Harriet Beecher Stowe “The Crystal Stair”- Langston Hughes Letter to Barack Obama-Toni Morrison Unit Five Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address- Abraham Lincoln “Speech to Chicago”-Abraham Lincoln Declaration of Rights and Sentiments- Elizabeth Cady Stanton “Ain’t I A Woman”- Sojourner Truth “Immigrants and Their Children” excerpt from Twenty-Years at Hull House-Jane Addams “The Road Not Taken”-Robert Frost “The Wasteland”-T. S. Eliot “Richard Cory”-Simon and Garfunkel Resources MLA Style Guide Researched Paper Guide Unit 5 Grammar Card The Children of the Sun-Osage According to the Osages, in the beginning the ancestors lived in the sky. When they asked Sun and Moon who their parents were, Sun said he was their father, and Moon said she was their mother. Then Moon said it was time for them to go down to the earth. As they descended, the people came upon water but no land. They floated in the air, calling for help, but no one came. Finally Elk, one of the animals floating down to earth with the people, came to everyone’s assistance by falling into the water. As he sank he called on the four winds to blow away the waters. A muddy surface appeared as the mist flew off. Then Elk rolled in the mud and the loose hairs that remained in the soil grew into grass and trees. Now the people, called the Little Ones, could continue their descent to the Middle World. This story conveys two important themes. One theme is that the first people originated in and descended from the Above World. The other is that the animals, and Elk in particular, played an important role in making the Middle World habitable for people and animals. Humans and animals belong to a single, primordial community in many Southeastern Indian creation stories. The story goes on to relate how the Little Ones alighted on a primordial oak tree and then climbed down to begin exploring the Earth’s surface. During the course of this exploration they discovered another group, who joined the Little Ones to form the primary divisions of the Osage people. (http://arkarcheology.uark.edu/indiansofarkansas/index.html?pageName=Creation%20of%20the%20W orld%20(Osage) How Mosquitos Came to Be-Tlingit Long ago there was a giant who loved to kill humans, eat their flesh, and drink their blood. He was especially fond of human hearts. "Unless we can get rid of this giant," people said, "none of us will be left," and they called a council to discuss ways and means. One man said, "I think I know how to kill the monster," and he went to the place where the giant had last been seen. There he lay down and pretended to be dead. Soon the giant came along. Seeing the man lying there, he said: "These humans are making it easy for me. Now I don't even have to catch and kill them; they die right on my trail, probably from fear of me!" The giant touched the body. "Ah, good," he said, "this one is still warm and fresh. What a tasty meal he'll make; I can't wait to roast his heart." The giant flung the man over his shoulder, and the man let his head hang down as if he were dead. Carrying the man home, the giant dropped him in the middle of the floor right near the fireplace. Then he saw that there was no firewood and went to get some. As soon as the monster had left, the man got up and grabbed the giant's huge shining knife. Just then the giant's son came in, bending low to enter. He was still small as giants go, and the man held the big knife to his throat. "Quick, tell me, where's your father's heart? Tell me or I'll slit your throat!" The giant's son was scared. He said: "My father's heart is in his left heel." Just then the giant's left foot appeared in the entrance, and the man swiftly plunged the knife into the heel. The monster screamed and fell down dead. Yet the giant still spoke. "Though I'm dead, though you killed me, I'm going to keep on eating you and all the other humans in the world forever!" "That's what you think!" said the man. "I'm about to make sure that you never eat anyone again." He cut the giant's body into pieces and burned each one in the fire. Then he took the ashes and threw them into the air for the winds to scatter. Instantly each of the particles turned into a mosquito. The cloud of ashes became a cloud of mosquitoes, and from their midst the man heard the giant's voice laughing, saying: "Yes, I'll eat you people until the end of time." And as the monster spoke, the man felt a sting, and a mosquito started sucking his blood, and then many mosquitoes stung him, and he began to scratch himself. - Retold from English source, 1883. ( http://home.online.no/~arnfin/native/lore/leg213.htm) The Dogs Hold an Election-Sioux We don’t think much of white man’s elections. Whoever wins, we Indians always lose. Well, we have a little story about elections. Once a long time ago, the dogs were trying to elect a president. So one of them got up in the bid dog convention and said: “I nominate the bulldog for president. He’s strong. He can fight.” But he can’t run,” said another dog. “What good is a fighter who can’t run? But the other dogs cried: “Naw, he can run all right, but he can’t fight. When he catches up with somebody, what happens then? He gets the hell beaten out of him, that’s what! So all he good for is running away.” Then an ugly little mutt jumped up and said: “I nominate that dog for president who smells good underneath his tail.” And immediately an equally ugly mutt jumped up and said: “I second the motion.” At once all the dogs started sniffing underneath each other’s tails. A big chorus went up: “Phew, he doesn’t smell good under his tail.” “No, neither does this one.” “He’s no presidential timber!” “No, he no good, either.” “This one sure isn’t the people’s choice.” “Wow, this ain’t my candidate!” When you go for a walk, just watch the dogs. They’re still sniffing underneath each other’s tails. They’re looking for a good leader, and they still haven’t found him. (http://nativeamericanencyclopedia.com/the-dogs-hold-election-sioux/) The Indian Burying Ground- Phillip Freneau Philip Freneau was known as "the poet of the American Revolution" because of the many ballads and satires he wrote during this period. His verse, prose and partisan essays appeared in numerous periodicals, and several volumes of his works were published over a half-century. All the while...in romanticizing the wonders of nature in his writings...he searched for an American idiom in verse. After visiting an Indian burial ground, Freneau wrote the following poem, considered to be one of the first to idealize the Indian. "The Indian Burying Ground" was first published in the American Museum, November, 1787. In spite of all the learned have said, I still my old opinion keep; The posture that we give the dead, Points out the soul's eternal sleep. Not so the ancients of these lands-- The Indian, when from life released, Again is seated with his friends, And shares again the joyous feast. His imaged birds, and painted bowl, And venison, for a journey dressed, Bespeak the nature of the soul, Activity, that knows no rest. His bow, for action ready bent, And arrows, with a head of bone, Can only mean that life is spent, And not the finer essence gone. Thou, stranger, that shalt come this way, No fraud upon the dead commit, Yet, marking the swelling turf, and say, They do not lie, but here they sit. Here, still a lofty rock remains, On which the curious eye may trace (Now wasted half by wearing rains) The fancies of a ruder race. Here, still an aged elm aspires, Beneath whose far-projecting shade (And which the shepherd still admires) The children of the forest played. There oft a restless Indian queen, (Pale Marian, with her braided hair) And many a barbarous form is seen To chide the man that lingers there. By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews, In habit for the chase arrayed, The hunter still the deer pursues, The hunter and the deer-- a shade.