The Seminoles of Florida

In presenting the following words, phrases and sentences to the public, we beg to add a few explanations. The words have been obtained from the Indians themselves. To collect words from an Indian requires patience at any time, and in dealing with the Seminoles particularly so. The Florida Indian is suspicious of the white man, and until a confidence was established and a friendship formed, it was impossible to obtain any accuracy from him. To secure the words in this work methods were devised, in order to have the Seminole fully understand the collector, as well as to enable the collector to grasp with a certainty the Indian’s meaning. As will be seen by a close study of the vocabulary, the noun does more than simply denote the thing to which it belongs; it also assigns to it some quality or characteristic. As for instance the word elephant. The Indian had never seen an elephant, but on being shown one in a circus parade, after a careful thinking, he named it, “e-po-lo-wa-kee”—“heap long nose.” Great latitude is thus permitted in an Indian vocabulary. On account of non-intercourse with a civilized race the Seminole language is very pure. Economy in speech is followed, the highest aim of the Indian being to express in a single word both action and object. Every cluster-word is a description or a definition. The study of an unwritten language finds its phonology difficult. In this collection, the words are spelled phonetically; the accent and division into syllables are indicated to assist the student to make the correct pronunciation. Not only were these words given in good faith by the Indians with the present use in view, but each succeeding year, as we visited the Glades for a hunt, the various members of the tribe showed decided interest in our note book, assisting in revising the words by going over and over again the Seminole meaning and accent. The Seminole has a keen sense of humor. As we gathered words and phrases many amusing incidents occurred, always at our expense and to the greatest merriment of the Indians.

To Tallahassee we are indebted for much of this vocabulary, as well as for many interesting incidents and fragments of the history; yet it was not until the fourth year of acquaintance that the old chief, beside the dying embers of our camp fire at the midnight hour, opened his heart and told the story of his people, their myths, religion, legends—their heartaches. The night was chilly, the old chief lost in his own earnestness drew his tunic closer about him, yet the writer could not say “it is late—you are cold.” It was a golden opportunity; a word, the rustle of a branch and the current would have changed. Until daybreak, in his broken English Tallahassee told his story. Never before, nor ever since has such an occasion presented itself.