PART THREE

Naming _the_ Sequoia

+Chapter VIII+

A NAME FOR THE AGES

The infinite deal of trivial fussiness that has clustered about the botanical name of the Giant Sequoia is, indeed, a grievous misfortune. The tree must regard it all with consummate unconcern. Alone with the past and having a dignity not of earth in its mien it stands as indifferent to agitation that has to do with the petty passions of humanity as the far-away patient stars. Suggestive of no strife save that of emulation, it looks with complacent disdain upon life’s vanities; its strange medley of littleness and greatness, its commingling of folly and wisdom. Yet for all the great Sequoia’s majestic aloofness, its name has become embroiled in endless bickerings and surrounded with technicalities apt to nip any budding enthusiasm for botanical nomenclature.

In order to avoid interminable confusion it is necessary that the plants of the earth be systematically classified and that there be no deviation from the rules governing their classification. Foremost of the rules that have been laid down is that of priority. This dictates that the first name given a new plant in point of time must prevail. If contention or ambiguity arise, priority decides the case, and the first botanical designation bestowed stands for all time, regardless of whether it be appropriate or not. Designations of a subsequent date are entitled to rank as synonyms only. Because of its rigor, this law should admonish botanists to exercise good taste in giving scientific names to hitherto unnamed plants. Another important rule is that the name of the new plant must appear in an accredited publication, otherwise it is technically regarded as unpublished and consequently discarded.

Shortly after the discovery of the Calaveras Grove, the tale of its wonderful Big Trees found its way into print. The Sonora _Herald_ appears to have been the first newspaper to give an account of the Giant Sequoia. This was republished in the _Echo du Pacific_ of San Francisco, appearing later in the London _Athenaeum_ of July 23, 1853. Whitney believes the latter to be the first notice of the tree to appear in Europe.

Naturally, these accounts excited botanists. Specimens of the Big Tree were presented to the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco early in 1853. Unfortunately, however, the Academy was unable to properly describe the new plant, since it had no references on hand which would enable its botanists to publish a proper scientific description of the mammoth tree. Specimens were subsequently sent East to Torrey and Gray, but again ill fortune attended them and they were lost in crossing the Isthmus of Panama. Meanwhile, William Lobb, an English seed collector, on seeing specimens of the recently discovered vegetable wonder, believed he recognized a species new to science. He secured a sufficient quantity of Sequoia cones, foliage, and wood to characterize the tree and departed for England in the Autumn of 1853. These specimens found their way into the hands of Lindley, who hastily described them in Gardner’s _Chronicle_ of December 24th, of the same year. Thus Lindley, a botanist of no particular eminence, was the first to give a scientific description of the Giant Sequoia, and American botanists lost both the opportunity and honor of naming a very remarkable plant.

Overlooking the close relationship of the Big Tree to the already scientifically described Redwood, Lindley considered it “an entirely new coniferous form ... an evergreen of a most imperial aspect,” which he called _Wellingtonia_, adding the specific name of _Gigantea_. The Duke of Wellington had been dead but a year and his greatness had not yet gained the perspective of historical time; hence, Lindley’s designation. “We think,” he wrote, “that no one will differ from us in feeling that the most appropriate name to be proposed for the most gigantic tree which has been revealed to us by modern discovery, is that of the greatest of modern heroes. Wellington stands as high above his contemporaries as the California tree above all the surrounding foresters. Let it, then, bear henceforth the name of _Wellingtonia Gigantea_.”

In bestowing on an essentially American tree the name of an essentially English hero, Lindley showed execrable taste. He might have foreseen that such an act was almost certain to fire those who felt a consuming contempt for anything British. Promptly the fine rules of botanical nomenclature were thrown overboard, and Americans, eager to make a self-righteous display of their enmity, proceeded on no principles, and with terrible energy of language, to disturb the designation. Gradually the agitation centered upon changing the name _Wellingtonia_ to one bearing reference to Washington. Nor was any evidence brought forward considered too trivial to substantiate the reasons for this change.

Perhaps the most withering rebuke of all was that of Winslow. In the _California Farmer_ of August, 1854, appeared the following: ... “as Washington and his generation declared themselves independent of all English rule and political dictation, so American naturalists must, in this case, express their respectful dissent from all British scientific stamp acts. If the Big Tree be a _Taxodium_, let it be called now and forever _Taxodium Washingtonium_.... No name can be more appropriate; and if, in accordance with the views of American botanists, I trust the scientific honor of our country may be vindicated from foreign indelicacy by boldly discarding the name now applied to it, and by affixing to it that of the immortal man whose memory we all love, and honor, and teach our children to adore.”

Even Asa Gray felt entitled to rush into the field. In September of the same year he published, on his own authority, an account stating that the Redwood and the Big Tree did not differ sufficiently to warrant the establishment of a new genus; adding “The so-called _Wellingtonia_ will hereafter bear the name imposed by Dr. Torrey, namely, that of _Sequoia Gigantea_.” But since there is no documentary evidence to show that Torrey had published this description, the quibble remained unsettled. The English stood at their guns and the storm raged on. Surely, if so venerable a Sequoia as the Grizzly Giant could have been endowed with a consciousness and could have thought about this ostentatious parade of pettiness, it would not have been inspired with that “high and ennobling sense” of the intellectual destiny of the human race.

Happily, the issue was quieted for a time.[6] At a meeting of the Société Botanique de France, held on June 28, 1854, the illustrious French botanist, J. Decaisne, discussed at length the relationship of the Redwood and the Big Tree. He pointed out that though they differed in leaf structure, the former having yew-like leaves in two ranks, the latter small, scaly, cypress-like leaves in regular spirals, the two species belonged to the same genus _Sequoia_. Therefore, in compliance with the rules of botany, he called the new species _Sequoia Gigantea_. Other botanists quickly recognized the correctness of his view, and _Wellingtonia Gigantea_ was permitted to fall upon evil days. Nevertheless, it is due to this accident of the generic agreement between the Redwood and the Big Tree that the Giants of the Sierra bear the name of Sequoia instead of that of Wellington.

But this botanical storm had no sooner died down than another developed in its place. Inasmuch as the derivation of the name Sequoia was uncertain, this was sufficient provocation to call forth much diversity of opinion. Again spectacled wise men sought to satisfy their passion for exactness and their propensity to doubt. Guesses fantastic in the extreme were advanced and the subject presents another silly spectacle of pedantry.

According to Jepson, the Redwood was collected by Thaddeus Haneke in 1791. Archibald Menzies, a member of the famous Vancouver Expedition, is reputed to be its second botanical collector. Specimens of his collection came before the notice of Lambert, the able English botanist, who, considering it as of the same genus as the Bald Cypress, published it in 1824 as _Taxodium Sempervirens_. However, this designation was not allowed to stand, for twenty-three years later the Redwood was recognized as a distinct genus. In the year 1847 the celebrated Austrian, Endlicher, established the genus _Sequoia_ and gave the world the now well-known _Sequoia sempervirens_.

Unfortunately, Endlicher failed to make a statement concerning the origin of the word Sequoia, leaving its meaning to be inferred. Gordon in his _Pinetum_ stated that it was probably derived from the Latin for “sequence,” alluding to the fact that the Redwood was “a follower or remnant of several extinct colossal species.” Kotch was inclined to hold the name in light estimation, claiming its source to be entirely fanciful. De Candolle, a contemporary with Endlicher, thought it of California origin, probably taken “from some native word and written more or less correctly.” But others have kept their heads better in the matter. Both Hooker and Englemann believed it derived from the Cherokee Indian, Sequoyah. At least, it is edifying to know that Endlicher was an eminent linguist as well as a botanist. It is not improbable, then, that he was acquainted with Sequoyah’s colorful career and named the tree in honor of this aboriginal illiterate, this magnificent savage, who groped in darkness to give his people letters, and found the light.

+Chapter IX+

SEQUOYAH

Had Sequoyah lived thirty centuries ago, Plutarch, and after him Shakespeare, would have made him immortal. Had he invented an alphabet then, similar to that which he invented for his people, the Cherokees, he would have been hailed as one of the benefactors of the human race. But as it is, the world’s knowledge concerning his achievement may be said to sleep. The records of his life are hidden from the average reader, while his fame is suffering the fate of many worthy of antiquity—perishing from memory for want of an historian. Already the twilight of uncertainty is throwing its shadows across his history.

Yet no savage is more worthy of remembrance. The life of Sequoyah was radiant with the prime quality of greatness—_virtue_. It is true that mankind admires the men and women of the past who have spoken great words, done great deeds, and suffered noble sorrows. Few of these, however, possess that quality of virtue which inspires emulation. Indeed, only those whose names are written in gold on the sombre chronicles of the past inspire to imitation. Sequoyah’s achievement easily entitles him a place among the great characters of all time, while his life of service stirs a strong desire to emulate, for he strove to save his unhappy race from extinction in the noblest way a savage ever sought.

Despite this, his name and fame go untrumpeted and unsung. Meanwhile mankind is frantically fashioning statues to rest idly on pedestals, or building magnificent edifices whose marbles glisten in the sunlight, in commemoration of men of frailer virtue. Yet Sequoyah’s name is borne by apartment houses and tomato cans. Apparently it remains for the most gigantic and remarkable tree on the surface of the globe, the Sequoia, to save his name from oblivion and to attempt to correct the indifference of a so-called superior race.

Authorities are agreed that the birth, breeding, and fortune of Sequoyah were low and that his greatness rested on a life of labor. They are in disagreement, however, as to the date and place of his birth, and have been able merely to offer conjectures concerning his parentage. These mists of uncertainty that surround Sequoyah’s earliest years are, undoubtedly, due to conditions of early frontier life.

The fur trader, who represented the outer edge of the advancing wave of European civilization, was the first to penetrate the American wilderness in his exploitation of beasts. Early in the settlement of America he entered the country of the Cherokee which then embraced the beautiful reaches of the southern Appalachians. The Cherokees received the trader with hospitality and kindness, and a lucrative traffic in furs soon resulted; the trader offering professions of regard and extracting exorbitant profits. To better secure the faith of the savage, thereby insuring the success of their venture, many of these traders married Cherokee women. Some, fascinated by this wild life of freedom, reverted to savagery and became “squaw men,” but the great majority adopted this method of wife-taking to avoid a bill for board and lodging, and then speedily disappeared as soon as their trading enterprise was over.

An episode of this nature occurred just prior to the termination of the French and Indian War. Of the married life of this couple there is little record. It is quite certain, however, that it was of short duration and that the trader concerned gathered together his effects and went the lighthearted way of other traders before him, and was never heard of again. The babe born to this deserted mother soon afterwards was called by the Cherokees George Gist, presumably the name of the father, while the mother bestowed upon the infant the more musical name of Sequoyah.

Tradition has it that the mother of Sequoyah was a woman of no common character and energy. To the end she remained true to her faithless husband and lived alone, maintaining herself by her own efforts and caring for her babe with a devotion that would put many of her more polished sisters to shame. Unaided, she cleared a little patch, carrying her babe about while she broke the ground with a short stick and planted it with Indian corn. “That she is a woman of some capacity is evident from the undeviating affections for herself which she inspired in her son, and the influence she exercised over him. This is all the more extraordinary since Indian women are looked upon in the light of servants rather than companions of man, and males are taught early to despise the character and occupations of women.” But with Sequoyah it seems to have been otherwise, for he carried a lofty respect for his mother to the grave.

[Illustration: SEQUOYAH

From original painting made in 1828]

As a babe, it is said that Sequoyah had an air of infantile gravity about him which was emphasized by a contemplative light which shone in his little black eyes. As a boy he was much alone and thoughtful, having no fondness for the rude sports of others of his age. He preferred to assist his mother rather than to become proficient with the bow. It is said that he occupied his boyish leisure carving milk pails, skimmers, and other useful objects, displaying at this early age the mechanical side of his genius. He even milked the few cows with which fortune had favored his mother, and on occasions aided her in her labors in the field. This failure to scorn a woman’s pursuit and trim his sail to the unchanging breeze of Indian tradition only brought down on him a torrent of abuse from grey-beards and caused youths to rail at him like chattering birds. Young Sequoyah, however, calmly and silently bore all this disgrace and followed the dictates of his reason with unflinching gravity—a characteristic he displayed throughout his life and which some hold as the keystone of his greatness.

When Sequoyah attained manhood’s estate, the Thirteen Colonies had won their independence, and Daniel Boone had led the first settlers into the blue grass country of the Cumberland. In these times the English, French, and Spanish hotly vied with each other for the control of the valuable fur trade of the “Old Southwest,” and their pack-trains threaded their way out of Cherokee country in unceasing strings, bearing the rich peltry of the wilderness. In this work of destruction of wild life the Indian had innocently come to play, by far, the major role. Nor is it altogether improbable that Sequoyah, who by now had become a hunter, aided in the extermination of the buffalo that still lingered in the valleys of the Ohio and the Tennessee.

It is also likely that Sequoyah would not have escaped the degradation into which the red man was falling had not an accident befallen him while hunting which rendered him a cripple for the rest of his life. The coming of the rifle, a new and powerful sinew of war, and of the chase, brought in its train a hopeless dependence on unscrupulous traders for powder and lead. The introduction of whiskey further conspired in the ruin of a proud people. Drinking had become the pledge of cordiality on the frontier, and Sequoyah had become as much addicted to the vice as his fellow hunters. Later events proved that Sequoyah possessed an intellect elevated above the sphere in which it was placed. Had he not become a cripple, however, it is doubtful whether he would have meditated upon the decaying fortunes of his race, which meditation led him to make his remarkable invention. Thus, paradoxical as it may at first appear, misfortune often precipitates a chain of events that ultimately end in accomplishment of great import.

Unable to follow the pursuits of manhood, Sequoyah now faced the humiliation of donning petticoats and of performing the servile labors of woman’s lot among the Cherokees. Such a prospect would, indeed, have broken the spirit of an ordinary Indian, and especially so if a stain had been affixed to his character such as that which Sequoyah had incurred in his youth by assisting his mother. But it must be remembered that Sequoyah was not of common clay. The traits manifested in infancy and boyhood now stood him in good stead and opportunity was given to bring them to fruition. One trait, an extraordinary mechanical ability, was first pressed into service; the other, a remarkably analytical and philosophical mind, was given leisure in which to become mellow, until, in the ripeness of time, it should find its proper exercise.

The Cherokees were a people fond of display. It occurred to the intuitive mind of Sequoyah that an opulent livelihood could be secured in the manufacture of silver ornaments. As a hunter he had visited the white settlements and had seen the blacksmiths smelt ore and fashion trinkets. Endowed with good powers of observation and possessed of an innate skill with his hands, he set to work without the aid of an instructor to make his own bellows and tools. Within a comparatively brief time he became a master in the art of silver working and in the end became such an expert artisan that he developed this art to the highest point attained by the Indians of North America.

Astonished, his people came to gaze upon one of their own race who possessed the skill and ingenuity of the white man. Such uncommon accomplishment merited high recognition. He became a wonder in their eyes. The fame of his handiwork spread far and near, and they flocked to his door, eager to give him employment. Then it was that Sequoyah began to enjoy an unprecedented popularity. Affable, accommodating, and unassuming, having a nature too truly great to be spoiled by the recognition of his superiority, success only nourished the greater qualities within him. The women especially attracted by his skill, bestowed their smiles upon him, but, like Alexander, “he found a counter charm in the beauty of self-government and sobriety and on the strength of this passed them by, as so many statues.” The braves of the tribe likewise courted his friendship and his shop became the center for male gossip. Since Sequoyah was not lacking in the social graces of his tribe and since the munificence of his table increased with his fortune, he came more and more to spend his time in receiving visitors and in discharging the duties of hospitality. Lastly, even the elders of the tribe sought his favor and welcomed his voice in their councils.

Wishing to identify his wares, Sequoyah employed a literate half-breed, Charles Hicks, to write his name, from which he made a die. With this he stamped his name on all the silver he fabricated. Many of these ornaments remain in the proud possession of the scattered and forgotten remnants of the Cherokees. Prized beyond price, they are a reminder of the glory of the past. Just as the crumbling ruins of antiquity speak of the pride and pomp of yesterday, so do these treasured silver objects remind their possessors of the Golden Age of the Cherokee.

As the years went on, Sequoyah’s philosophical nature ripened and he came to ponder on the future of his fast dwindling race. This problem was probably first brought to his attention during the social gatherings held under his roof, for the Cherokees were sensitive to the superiority of civilized man and quick to note the cardinal points of difference between themselves and the whites. Often they had wondered at the ability of the white man to “talk on paper.” But after considerable inquiry they became convinced that the power of recording and communicating thoughts by means of writing was the product of some mysterious gift which the white man alone possessed. Nevertheless, Sequoyah was unable to dismiss the problem as lightly from his mind as his brethren had done. It was odious to Luther that the devil had all the best tunes; likewise it was odious to Sequoyah that the white man should have a monopoly on the power of written expression. At length he decided that writing was not the result of sorcery, but a faculty of the mind which could be acquired. Hence, he concluded that he could solve this mystery and give his people “talking paper” like that of the whites.

His reflections on this problem were further stimulated by the progress of events. The day of the trader had passed, while that of the settler had come. The swelling tide from Europe had settled around the Cherokees, and the frontier of settlement had begun to continually spill over into the Cherokee country. What was even more maddening, encroachments were on the increase and held no promise of abating. At last in despair, the Cherokees appealed to the “Great Father” in Washington to stem the tide. A treaty followed, clipping away a goodly portion of their ancestral domain. The ink on it was hardly dry before another wrested from them still more thousands of acres of rich land. In each treaty the Federal Government recognized the Cherokee claims and titles and solemnly declared it to be “the last and final adjustment of all claims and differences.” Obviously, the Cherokees were shocked by these acts of treachery. The fact that the hand of the “Great Father” was gloved and that it purported to throw continual favors in their path did not make them less apprehensive of the menace. Yet they were convinced of the folly of an appeal to arms through a realization of the inequality of the struggle. Therefore, they did that which no other Indian tribe in the face of calamity has ever done. They attempted to combat civilization by becoming civilized themselves. At a great council they organized themselves to form a Federal Union after the United States, and set to cultivating the arts of peace and the ways of civilization.

By this time Sequoyah had become imbued with the idea that the secret of the white man’s superiority lay in his power of communication by writing. Indeed, he struck a salient note here, for the invention of writing has made tremendously for the superior advantages of the civilized races over the primitive. “The mind and the pen have ultimately, in all ages, been mightier than the sword. Rome, the conquerer, was led in chains by Greece, who, though herself over-run by barbaric Romans, compelled them to adopt, respect, and maintain her institutions.” History, in fact, is replete with instances of people who have been able to ward off the effects of conquest because they were intellectually above their victors. But this superiority has always preceded conquest; it has _never_ followed it. Unfortunately, Sequoyah was ignorant of this. Nevertheless, the mere fact that such an ideal had its birth in the mind of an untutored savage is sufficient to vest it with sublimity.

Inspired with the thought of saving his people from conquest by giving them the power of the pen, he took up his great work at the age of forty-nine, in the last year of Jefferson’s Presidency. Ceasing his labors as a silversmith, he began carving strange characters out of bark and spending hours wrapped in thought. His fellow tribesmen were unable to understand his singular behavior. They thought it but the work of madness for their great silversmith to lay aside his hammer and bellows, to quit his social circle, and of a sudden to become seclusive. Sequoyah, however, refused to reveal his secret, knowing full well the attitude of his fellow tribesmen in regard to the impossibility of discovering a supposedly supernatural power of the whites. His popularity suffered a quick decline, and his friends fell away like leaves from Autumn trees attempting to justify their actions by scoffing and sneering. Then Sequoyah began to taste in full measure the vinegar of derision and to learn that gratitude is but a lively sense of favors to come. Notwithstanding, he preserved the usual calm behavior and serenity of mind that had attended him from infancy, always turning from the storm without to the sunshine of hope within him. And after twelve years—years of persevering labor and repeated failure—years of ridicule in which his faith in his people must have been sorely tried—he perfected his remarkable invention of the Cherokee Alphabet.

[Illustration: THE INVINCIBLE SEQUOIA

The large fire-made cavity in the Haverford suggests the tree’s great vitality

MARIPOSA GROVE Photo by H. S. Hoyt]

It is a notable fact that the great works of the imagination have usually been produced by men nearly innocent of schooling and scholarship. Homer, Shakespeare, Cervantes, Burns, and Abraham Lincoln were all self-taught men. Sequoyah was an absolute illiterate, yet he invented an alphabet. He had no acquaintanceship with the English language, for he disdained the aid of missionaries, and for this reason the most elemental principles of our alphabet were unknown to him. He reasoned, and with no little correctness, that a knowledge of English would be of no avail because of the peculiarities of the Cherokee language. With his own unaided intellect he fashioned a syllabary so extraordinary that it astonishes even the learned, and proved himself a mental giant. Evidently he did not recognize the stops of the human mind, which is almost wholly imitative. Indeed, some of his biographers are unwilling to give him this honor, claiming that his invention was not altogether free from borrowing. But for all that, there are still those who hold that Bacon wrote that which is attributed to Shakespeare. Because man shows an extreme poverty throughout the history of invention, because he rarely tries to do over again that which has been once accomplished, and because he is quicker to grasp and more capable of appropriating, independent inventions are the exception rather than the rule. It must be conceded, in all fairness, that Sequoyah’s syllabary was an invention “par excellence.”

Having first conceived the notion that speech could be represented by characters or signs and that if these signs were uniform they would convey the idea intended by the writer, he set out to devise a symbol for each word or idea of the Cherokee tongue. His first step, in other words, was in the direction of the simple pictograph. As the experiment progressed, however, his symbols multiplied fearfully, until, at the end of three years he had thousands of them. It would have been almost impossible for the human mind to retain such a complex multitude of signs. Happily, Sequoyah had a sufficient sense of the practical to realize this. Hence, he abandoned this experiment and started again by making a study of the construction of language itself.

Even a people as cultivated as the Chinese have never made the next stride which Sequoyah took. The Chinese still employ the lowest stage of writing in all its absurd prolixity with the result that long years of study and a memory above the average are required for its mastery. This is largely the reason, too, why intellectual democracy is so noticeably absent in China. The Chinese language is too elaborate in structure, too laborious in use, and too inflexible in form to thoroughly saturate China’s teeming millions and to meet the need of a simple, swift, and lucid communication of thought. Our alphabet, on the other hand, answers these requirements. “It is because the Egyptians passed into the glory of the true alphabet that the Phoenicians simplified and improved it, and that the Greeks were able to transmit it to occidental civilization that western nations have been able to make such tremendous mental progress and established such a wide and common knowledge.” It is quite obvious that Sequoyah was not blundering when he discarded his pictograph system if he would achieve his ideal.

After long and patient study he began a search for the unity of speech. At length he discovered that _sound_ was the key in the construction of language. Then by attentive listening for another period he discovered that the sounds in the words spoken by the Cherokees could be analyzed and classified and could be represented by hardly more than a hundred syllables. Further analysis revealed two distinct types of sounds, vowels and consonants. Classifying the sounds according to this division, he found that there were six vowel and seventy-two consonant sounds. Thirty-seven sounds still remained unclassified. By dint of further analysis he found that these were of a hissing or guttural nature. In an ingenious way he represented the former by seven combinations and the latter by one. As a result, in this expeditious manner he was able to write a copious language vastly wealthier in its vocabulary than ours, with but eighty-five characters.

The best authorities are agreed that our alphabet is, in some respects, the greatest invention of the human mind. Yet it is not the product of a single mind, but the accretion of Egyptian, Phoenician, and Greek wisdom extending over a period of at least three thousand years. Excellent as our alphabet is, it fails to outrank that of Sequoyah in point of felicity and ease of mastery. Ours is superior in that it goes to the unit of speech, _sound_, and has characters that stand for sound. Sequoyah’s alphabet had characters that stood for combinations of sounds or syllables. Our alphabet is the only sound-for-a-sign system of writing yet invented. It is an alphabet of letters, while that of Sequoyah was an alphabet of syllables. James Mooney claims that it ranks second to all systems of writing ever known to the world. It certainly could not have been the work of other than a gigantic intellect.

It was not without considerable difficulty that Sequoyah induced a few skeptical and superstitious Cherokees to learn his alphabet after he had completed it in 1811. These few who were the first to try it out did so merely to expose the delusions of the alphabet-maker, but as the lesson progressed, though they had come to scoff, they began to admire until, finally, when the lesson was finished they were convinced that the seemingly impossible had been achieved—that the Cherokees could “talk on paper” like the whites. This time Sequoyah’s rise to fame was meteoric. News of his invention spread like wildfire throughout the tribe, and, at a public test made before the assembled Houses of the Cherokee Congress, his alphabet was officially adopted as the means of elevating the tribe. Sequoyah had become the Cadmus[7] of his nation.

Then occurred a spectacle without a parallel among primitive people; that of gray-bearded savages studying in groups with unfettered zeal in order to become the equal of the white man in knowledge. Almost overnight the entire nation became an academy. To be able to read and write became a craze with the Cherokees. Never was Plato’s fine phrase of a people being “possessed and maddened with a passion for knowledge” better exemplified. Mass meetings in abundance were held and the new method of “talking on paper” was taught virtually wholesale. It was even common to see groups teaching each other in cabins and along the roadside. “Within a few months thousands of formerly illiterate savages, without the aid of schools or the expense of time or money, could read and write.” In fact, by the time the Monroe Doctrine was promulgated in 1813, reading and writing had become so general among the Cherokees that “they carried on a correspondence by letter between different parts of the nation and were in the habit of making receipts and giving promissory notes in affairs of trade. Directions were even inscribed on trees indicating the different roads.”

This is manifest evidence of the ease with which Sequoyah’s syllabary was learned. “In my own observation,” states Phillips, “Indian children will take one or two years to master the English printed and written language, but in a few days can read and write in Cherokee. They do the latter, in fact, as soon as they learn to shape letters. As soon as they master the alphabet they have got rid of all the perplexing questions that puzzle the brains of our children. It is not too much to say that a child will learn in a month by the same effort as thoroughly in the language of Sequoyah that which in ours consumes the time of our children for at least two years.”

Sequoyah next paid a visit to the Arkansas Cherokees. This band had separated from the main body when the Cherokees decided to combat civilization with civilization and had moved west where they could enjoy the ancient ways of their ancestors. Though this body had spurned all civilized innovations and had clung slavishly to tradition, strangely enough, they readily seized the new art Sequoyah brought with him and learned it with a zest that almost put their eastern brethren in the shade.

In the Autumn of this same year, 1823, the Cherokee Council publicly acknowledged Sequoyah’s service to the nation by sending him through their President, the noted John Ross, a silver medal commemorative of his achievement. So highly had the Cherokees come to esteem Sequoyah’s greatness that five years later they elected him to represent them in Washington. There he was cordially received and recognized as an intellectual peer. On this occasion he sat for his portrait. The Treaty of Washington of 1828 reveals that he still enjoyed high favor from the Government, for it provided for a sum to be paid to Sequoyah and his heirs “for the great benefits he has conferred upon the Cherokee people in the beneficial results they are now experiencing from the use of the alphabet discovered by him.” It is worthy to note that for many years the Government paid this pension—_the only literary pension it has ever paid_.

The Cherokees had now passed into a state of semi-civilization. They had a National Congress which had passed laws against intemperance and polygamy. They had a national press and a national newspaper, the _Cherokee Phoenix_. The first copy of this unique paper appeared on February 18, 1828. It was printed in both English and Cherokee by a hand press which had been purchased in Boston, shipped by water to Augusta, Georgia, and then transported laboriously by wagon over two hundred miles to the Cherokee national capital. Such a journalistic record is without rival in primitive society, and the _Cherokee Phoenix_ holds the honor of being the father of all aboriginal newspapers.

Rapid strides, economically as well as politically and intellectually, had been made. Many Cherokees had amassed considerable wealth and enjoyed some of the refinements and luxuries of a more polished society. The majority of them possessed herds of cattle, together with horses, hogs, and sheep. Husbandry was so efficiently practiced that some products were actually exported, as evidenced by the large cargoes of wheat and tobacco that were floated on flat-boats down the Tennessee to New Orleans. The manufacture of woolen and cotton cloth had even assumed a productiveness permitting of exportation. In short, prosperity was on the boom and everything augured well for the Cherokees’ happy attainment of civilization.

But fate had willed it otherwise. The Cherokees had reached the zenith of their advance. Gold was discovered in their domain in 1829. This event led to dishonorable deeds of the white man and gave the annals of American-Indian history another black page. In their rapacity, the border ruffians of Georgia violated the sacredness of treaties and with a vicious disregard for the rights of their legal owners, appropriated by violence the rich lands of the Cherokees. Gradually all the fine achievements of these splendid savages melted into thin air. When the United States Supreme Court decreed that the misappropriated Cherokee lands be returned to their rightful owners, President Jackson, a frontiersman and an Indian hater, defied its authority with his famous rebuke, “John Marshall has made his decision, now let him enforce it.” Finally, after nearly nine years of agitation and disquietude, negotiations with the Government ended in the Ridge Treaty, an infamous concoction which was brazenly sustained. By its means the remaining fragment of what was once the Cherokee Nation were exiled at the point of the bayonet to a country beyond the Mississippi.

Unfortunately, the new home allotted to the Cherokees proved to be inhospitable. The land was claimed by the Osage as their ancestral hunting ground, and the already impoverished Cherokees had to hold it by force of arms. Nor were the Osage the sole authors of their woes. The Arkansas band resented this intrusion of their eastern brethren. Fratricidal war broke out and the tribe became further wasted. Warred on from without, and torn by strife within, the Cherokees, as a people, were in danger of extinction. Foreseeing this end, Sequoyah and others attempted to avert it. As President of the Council of the Arkansas band, he was largely instrumental in effecting a reunion which put an end to strife and declared the Eastern and Western Cherokee “one body politic under the style and title of the Cherokee Nation.”

Sequoyah was by this time in his eighty-second year and well merited the boon of rest and relaxation. Lest he leave no margin to his life and crowd it to the very end in his devotion to his people, he retired from active political life. But his forceful mind denied his crippled and aged body the rest it deserved. Speculative ideas possessed him and he formulated a theory that he could devise a universal alphabet for the red man. Under the dominion of this newer and deeper ambition he came to feel that he had yet a mission to perform. Though his people had suffered an excess of calamity, his spirit was unbroken. Having sounded the depths of human disappointment, he rose again, full of courage and faith in the salvation of his race. Not in the habit of taking the advice of others and not having lost one jot of his most distinguishing characteristic—intensity of purpose—he determined to make an investigation among the remote tribes of the West in search of some common element of speech.

Securing a few articles of Indian trade and loading these on an ox cart driven by a Cherokee boy, Sequoyah set out upon his last quest in 1843. Such a linguistic crusade the world will doubtless never again witness. Everywhere he was received by his red-skinned brothers of the plain and of the mountain with the utmost respect. Eagerly they furnished him with the means of prosecuting his inquiries. That reticence which they so notoriously displayed to Caucasian scientists was absent. Nor is this to be wondered at, for here was a scientist of their own race who had come to renown and they rested assured that he came not among them to discover their inferiorities or to prepare the way for exploitation.

With his boy companion he crossed the boundless plains, and, like Kipling’s _Explorer_, “hurried on in hope of water or turned back in search of grass.” Puzzling his way through the Rockies, he camped in meadows of softest velvet sweet with flowers, or above the tree line amid the grandeur of frost shattered peaks and perpetual snows. Then turning toward that scorched and waterless expanse unrelieved by the shade of a solitary tree, he crossed the Colorado Desert and entered the Mexican Sierras. Here, it is said, his boy companion died of exposure and hardship, and somewhere in the silent places of these desolate mountains this grand old man buried the lone partner of his wanderings.

An ancient myth current in the lodges of his forefathers told of a lost band of Cherokees who had wandered ages ago into northern Mexico. Vexed by chilling frosts and scorching heat, Sequoyah began a search for his lost kinsmen. Enfeebled of limb and yet strong of heart, he pursued his solitary way, ever straining toward the distant horizon to find what might be beyond. But he had over-estimated his strength, and not far from the Rio Grande, in the State of Tamaulipas, this “splendid wayfarer” reached the end of his trail and watched with fast-dimming eyes the pearl-gray smoke of his last camp-fire curl toward the heavens as he drew nearer to eternity.

The greatest of his race, Sequoyah sleeps beyond the Rio Grande. No monument marks the last resting place of this American Cadmus. His bones, denied the privilege of sepulchre, were picked by slinking wolves and wheeling buzzards, and left to bleach in the sun until the winds had buried them in the sands. His alphabet, too, is destined to pass away with his race, but his name will never pass into oblivion, for it is borne by the largest, the oldest, the most magnificent of trees, the noble Sequoia. This alone is sufficient to preserve his memory forever.

BIBLIOGRAPHY[8]

GENERAL

+Bigelow, John+—1856. “Descriptions of Remarkable and Valuable California Trees.” U. S. War Dept. _Pacific Railroad Report_, 1855–1861; Vol. 4, Pt. 2, pp. 22–23.

+Clark, Galen+—1907. _Big Trees of California._ (Reflex Pub. Co., Redondo, Cal.), 104 pp.

+Dudley, William R.+ and others—1900. “A Short Account of the Big Trees of California.” Forest Service, 1887–1913. _Bulletin 28_, pp. 1–30.

+Grant, Madison+—1919. “Saving the Redwoods.” (New York Zoological Society, New York). _Bulletin_, 1897–1924; Vol. 22, pp. 91–118. 1920. “Saving the Redwoods.” (National Geographical Society, Washington, D. C.) _National Geographic Magazine_, 1892–1924; Vol. 37, pp. 519–536.

+Hooker, W. T.+—1854. “Wellingtonia Gigantea.” (Lovell Reeve Co., London). _Curtis’ Botanical Magazine_, Third Series, 1845–1904; Vol. 10, Tab. 4777, 4778.

+Hutchings, J. M.+—1886. _In the Heart of the Sierras._ (Pacific Press, Oakland). pp. 241–247.

+Jepson, W. L.+—1923. _Trees of California._ (Independent Press, San Francisco). pp. 13–30.

+Lemmon, John G.+—1890. “Cone Bearers of California.” (California State Board of Forestry, Sacramento). Biennial _Report_, 1886–1921, Vol. 3., pp. 157–168. 1898. “Conifers of the Pacific Slope.” (The Sierra Club, San Francisco.) _Bulletin_, 1893–1924; Vol. 2, pp. 171–2.

+Muir, John+—1894. _The mountains of California._ (Century Co., New York). pp. 197–200. 1912. _The Yosemite._ (Century Co., New York). pp. 127–147. 1901. _Our National Parks._ (Houghton-Mifflin Co., Boston). pp. 268–330.

+Murray, Andrew+—1859. “Notes on California Trees.” (Neill and Co., Edinburgh). _Edinburgh Philosophical Journal._ New Series, 1855–1864, Vol. 2, pt. 2, pp. 205–221.

+Shinn, Charles H.+—1889. “The Big Trees.” (Garden and Forest Pub. Co., New York). _Garden and Forest_, 1889–1897; Vol. II, pp. 614–615.

+Sudworth, George B.+—1908. _Forest Trees of the Pacific Slope._ U. S. Forest Service, pp. 138–145. 1900. “Forest Reservations.” U. S. Geological Survey Annual _Report_, 1880–1913, Vol. 21, pp. 526–532.

+Veitch, James+—1881. _A Manual of Coniferae._ (James Veitch and Sons, London). pp. 204–212.

+Williamson, R. S.+—1856. “Mammoth Trees of California.” U. S. War Dept. _Pacific Railroad Report_, 1855–1861; Vol. 5, pp. 257–259.

THE AULD LANG SYNE OF TREES

+Gray, Asa+—1872. “The Sequoia and its History.” (Peabody Academy of Sciences, Salem, Mass.) _American Naturalist_, 1867–1924; Vol. 9, pp. 577–596.

+Hutchinson, H. N.+—1911. _Extinct Monsters and Creatures of Other Days._ (D. Appleton and Co., New York). Third Edition, pp. 1–50, 124–186, 199–210.

+Jepson, W. L.+—1910. _Silva of California._ (University Press, Berkeley). pp. 127–128.

+King, Clarence+—1902. _Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevada._ (Chas. Scribners and Sons, New York). pp. 1–6.

+Lawson, Andrew C.+—1921. “The Sierra Nevada.” (University Press, Berkeley). _University of California Chronicle_, 1896–1924; Vol. 23, pp. 130–149.

+Matthes, François F.+—1912. _Sketch of Yosemite National Park and an Account of the Origin of the Yosemite and Hetch Hetchy Valleys._ U. S. Dept, of the Interior, pp. 6–8.

+Wells, H. G.+—1921. _The Outline of History._ (Macmillan Co., New York). Third Edition; 1 Vol., pp. 5–12, 19–36.

THE GLORY OF THE MOUNTAINS OF CALIFORNIA

+Clark, F. L.+—1901. “The Big Basin.” (Sierra Club, San Francisco). _Bulletin_, 1893–1924; Vol. 3, pp. 218–223.

+Hall, Ansel F.+—1921. _Guide to Giant Forest._ (Ansel F. Hall, Yosemite). 127 pp.

+Hastings, Cristel+—1923. “Muir Woods, A National Monument.” (Pacific-Atlantic Pub. Co., San Francisco). _Scenic America_; Vol. 2, No. 2, pp. 17–23.

+Hill, C. L.+—1916. _Forests of Yosemite, Sequoia and General Grant National Parks._ U. S. Dept. of the Interior, pp. 5–13.

+Jepson, W. L.+—1910. _Silva of California._ (University Press, Berkeley). pp. 9, 128–143.

+Kellogg, A.+—1884. _Redwood and Lumbering in California Forests._ (Edgar Cherry & Co., San Francisco). pp. 76–102.

+Muir, John+—1901. _Our National Parks._ (Houghton-Mifflin Co., Boston). pp. 268–330. 1920. “Save the Redwoods.” (Sierra Club, San Francisco). _Bulletin_, 1893–1923; Vol. II, pp. 1–4.

+Osborn, Henry Fairfield+—1919. “Sequoia—the Auld Lang Syne of Trees.” (American Museum of Natural History, New York). _Natural History_, 1900–1924; Vol. 19, pp. 598–613.

+Price, William W.+—1892. “Discovery of a New Grove of Sequoia Gigantea.” (T. S. Brandegee, San Francisco). _Zoe_, 1890–1900; Vol. 3, pp. 132–133. 1893. “Description of a New Grove of Sequoia Gigantea.” (Sierra Club, San Francisco). _Bulletin_, 1893–1924; Vol. 1, pp. 17–22.

+Sommers, Fred M.+—1898. “Forests of the California Coast Range.” (Harper & Bro., New York). _Harpers Magazine_, 1850–1924; Vol. 79, pp. 653–660.

+Sudworth, George B.+—1908. _Forest Trees of the Pacific Slope._ U. S. Dept. Forest Service, pp. 138–148.

+Walker, Frank L.+—1890. “Sequoia Forests of the Sierra Nevada: Their Location and Area.” (T. S. Brandegee, San Francisco). _Zoe_, 1890–1900; Vol. 1, pp. 198–204.

GALEN CLARK

+Bunnell, Lafayette H.+—1911. _Discovery of Yosemite and the Indian War of 1851 Which Led to that Event._ (Gerlicher, Los Angeles). Fourth Edition, pp. 339–348.

+Clark, Galen+—1904. _Indians of Yosemite Valley._ (H. S. Crocker Co., San Francisco). “Introductory Sketch of the Author.” pp. IX-XVIII.

+Foley, J. D.+—1903. _Yosemite Souvenir and Guide._ (J. D. Foley, Yosemite). pp. 102–103.

+Hutchings, J. M.+—1860. _Scenes of Wonder and Curiosity in California._ (Hutchings and Rosenfield, San Francisco). pp. 140–142.

+Kuykendall, Ralph S.+—1921. “History of the Yosemite Region.” (G. P. Putnam’s Sons, New York). _Handbook of Yosemite National Park._ Ed. by Ansel F. Hall, pp. 19–24, 28–29.

+Lester, John Erastus+—1873. _The Yosemite: Its History._ (Providence Press, Providence). pp. 17–18.

+Muir, John+—1910. “Galen Clark.” (Sierra Club, San Francisco). _Bulletin_, 1893–1924; Vol. 7, pp. 215–220. 1912. _The Yosemite._ (Century Co., New York). pp. 240–248.

+Whitney, J. D.+—1870. _Yosemite Guide-Book._ (University Press: Welch, Bigelow & Co., Cambridge). pp. 1–23.

——. “California Commissioners to Manage Yosemite Valley and the Mariposa Grove of Big Trees.” (Sacramento). Biennial _Reports_ for 1870, 1873, 1875, 1877, 1886, 1888, 1890, 1892, 1894, 1896, 1898, 1902, 1904.

WONDER TREES

+Bancroft, A. L.+—1871. _Bancroft’s Tourist Guide of Yosemite._ (A. L. Bancroft & Co., San Francisco). pp. 57–71.

+Dudley, William R.+—1913. “Vitality of the Sequoia Gigantea.” (Stanford University Pub., Palo Alto). _Dudley Memorial Volume_, pp. 40–41. 1900. “Big Trees of California.” (American Forestry Association, Washington, D. C.) _Forester_, 1899–1924; Vol. 6, pp. 206–210. 1900. “Lumbering in Sequoia National Park.” _Forester_, Vol. 6, pp. 293–295.

+Hall, William L.+—1911. “Uses of Commercial Woods of the United States.” U. S. Forest Service, 1887–1913. _Bulletin_ 95, pp. 57–62.

+Hutchings, J. M.+—1860. _Scenes of Wonder and Curiosity in California._ (Hutchings & Rosenfield, San Francisco), pp. 9–12, 40–50, 140–148. 1886. _In the Heart of the Sierras._ (Pacific Rural Press, Oakland), pp. 214–232, 256–263.

+Jepson, W. L.+—1921. “The Giant Sequoia.” (G. P. Putnam’s Sons, New York). _Handbook of Yosemite National Park._ Ed. by Ansel F. Hall, pp. 237–246. 1910. _Silva of California._ (University Press, Berkeley), pp. 145–146.

+Kellogg, A.+—1882. “Forest Trees of California.” (California State Mining Bureau, Sacramento). Reports, 1880–1921. Vol. 2, Appendix. 1884. “Essay on Redwood.” (Edgar Cherry Co., San Francisco). _Redwood and Lumbering in California Forests_, pp. 102–107.

+King, Clarence+—1902. _Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevada._ (Chas. Scribners & Sons, New York), pp. 49–53.

+Kneeland, Samuel+—1871. _Wonders of Yosemite Valley and of California._ (Alexander Moore, Boston), pp. 47–51.

+Osborn, Henry Fairfield+—1912. “Preservation of the World’s Animal Life.” (American Museum of Natural History, New York). _Natural History_, 1900–1924. Vol. 12, pp. 123–124.

+Pinchot, Gifford+—1899. “A Primer of Forestry.” U. S. Forest Service, 1887–1913. _Bulletin 24_, pt. 1, pp. 44–65.

+Sudworth, George B.+—1912. “Present Conditions of the California Big Trees.” (American Museum of Natural History, New York). _Natural History_, 1900–1924; Vol. 12, pp. 227–236.

—— 1917. “Our Big Trees Saved.” (National Geographical Society, Washington, D. C.) _National Geographic Magazine_, 1892–1924; Vol. 31, pp. 1–11.

—— 1923. _Rules and Regulations of Yosemite National Park._ U. S. Dept. of the Interior, p. 13.

OLDEST LIVING THING

+Dudley, William R.+—1913. “Vitality of the Sequoia Gigantea.” (Stanford University Pub., Palo Alto). _Dudley Memorial Volume_, pp. 33–42.

+Eisen, Gustav+—1893. “Native Habits of the Sequoia Gigantea.” (T. S. Brandegee, San Francisco). _Zoe_, 1890–1900. Vol. 4, pp. 141–144.

+Gray, Asa+—1844. “The Longevity of Trees.” (Otis Brooders Co., Boston). The _North American Review_, 1815–1924; Vol. 59, pp. 189–238.

+Lemmon, John G.+—1890. “Cone-Bearers of California.” (California State Board of Forestry, Sacramento). Biennial _Report_, 1886–1921; Vol. 3, pp. 165–166.

+Magee, Thomas+—1895. _Immortality of the Big Trees._ (William Doxey, San Francisco). pp. 61–77.

THE ETERNAL TREE

+Breasted, James H.+—1916. _Ancient Times._ (Ginn & Co., Boston). pp. 157–158.

+Chase, J. Smeaton+—1911. _Yosemite Trails._ (Houghton-Mifflin Co., Boston). pp. 126–143.

+Gray, Asa+—1854. “On the Age of a Large Tree Recently Felled in California.” (G. P. Putnam’s Sons, New York). _American Journal of Science_, Second Series, 1846–1870. Vol. 17, pp. 440–443. Re-printed 1857. (American Academy of Arts and Sciences, Boston). _Proceedings_, 1864–1923; Vol. 3, pp. 94–96.

+Hill, C. L.+—1916. _Forests of Yosemite, Sequoia, and General Grant National Parks._ U. S. Dept. of the Interior, p. 15.

+Huntington, Ellsworth+—1912. “Secret of the Big Trees.” (Harper & Bro., New York). _Harper’s Magazine_, 1850–1924; Vol. 125, pp. 92–302. Re-printed 1913. U. S. Dept. of the Interior. 24 pp.

+Jepson, W. L.+—1910. _Silva of California._ (University Press, Berkeley). pp. 58, 146. 1921. “The Giant Sequoia.” (G. P. Putnam’s Sons, New York). _Handbook of Yosemite National Park._ Ed. by Ansel F. Hall, pp. 240–241.

+Le Conte, Joseph+—1875. _Journal of Ramblings Through the Sierra Nevada._ (Francis Valentine & Co., San Francisco). pp. 24–26. Re-printed 1900. (The Sierra Club, San Francisco). _Bulletin_, 1893–1924; Vol. 3, pp. 26–27.

A BLOSSOM OF DECADENCE

+Fitch, H. C.+—1900. “The Yosemite Triangle.” U. S. Geological Survey (Annual _Report_, 1880–1913). Vol. 21, pp. 571–574.

+Gray, Asa+—1872. “The Sequoia and its History.” (Peabody Academy of Sciences, Salem, Mass.) _American Naturalist_, 1867–1924; Vol. 9, pp. 577–581.

+Jepson, W. L.+—1910. _Silva of California._ (University Press, Berkeley). p. 144.

+Muir, John+—1877. “On the Post Glacial History of Sequoia Gigantea.” (American Association for the Advancement of Science, Salem, Mass.) _Proceedings_, 1848–1915; Vol. 25, pp. 242–252. 1901. _Our National Parks._ (Houghton-Mifflin Co., Boston). pp. 274–275, 284.

+Sudworth, George B.+—1912. “Present Conditions of the California Big Trees.” (American Museum of Natural History, New York). _Natural History_, 1900–1924; Vol. 12, pp. 227–236.

A NAME FOR THE AGES

+Bloomer, H. G.+—1868. “On the Scientific Name of the Big Trees.” (California Academy of Sciences, San Francisco). _Proceedings_, 1854–1896; Vol. 3, p. 399.

+Decaisne, J.+—1854. “Sequoia Gigantea.” (Société Botanique de France, Paris). _Bulletin_, 1854–1921. Vol. 1, pp. 70–71.

+Endlicher, Stephen+—1847. _Synopsis Coniferarum._ (Sangalli, Scheitlin and Zollikofer). pp. 198–199.

+Engleman, George+—1880. “Botany of California.” (John Wilson & Son, Cambridge). California Geological Survey _Report_. Vol. 2, p. 117.

+Gray, Asa+—1854. “Mammoth Trees of California.” (G. P. Putnam’s Sons, New York). _American Journal of Science_, Second Series, 1846–1870. Vol. 18, pp. 286–287.

+Gordon, George+—1880. _Pinetum._ (N. G. Bolon, London). pp. 414–416.

+Kellogg+ and +Behr+—1855. “Taxodium Giganteum.” (California Academy of Science, San Francisco). _Proceedings_, First Series, 1854–1874. Vol. 1, p. 51.

+Jepson, W. L.+—1910. _Silva of California._ (University Press, Berkeley). pp. 138–139, 128.

+Lindley, John+—1853. “New Plants.” (Bradbury & Evans, London). _Gardner’s Chronicle_, 1841–1924. Vol. 13, pp. 823, 819–820.

+Lemmon, John G.+—1890. “Cone-Bearers of California.” (California State Board of Forestry, Sacramento). Biennial _Report_, 1886–1921. Vol. 3, pp. 158–159, 161–163.

+Sudworth, George B.+—1898. “Check List of the Forest Trees of the United States.” U. S. Forest Service, 1887–1913. _Bulletin_ 17, pp. 28–29. 1897. “A Nomenclature of Arborescent Flora of the United States.” U. S. Forest Service, 1887–1913. _Bulletin 14_, pp. 61–62.

+Torrey, John+—1856. “Description of the General Botany of California.” U. S. War Dept. _Pacific Railroad Report_, 1855–1861. Vol. 4, pt. 5, p. 140.

+Whitney, J. D.+—1870. _Yosemite Guide Book._ (University Press: Welch, Bigelow & Co., Cambridge). pp. 139–141.

+Winslow, C. F.+—1854. “Letters from the Mountains.” (Warren & Co., San Francisco). _California Farmer_, 1854–1880. Vol. 2, No. 8, p. 58.

SEQUOYAH

+Gallatin, Albert+—1836. “A Synopsis of the Indian Tribes of North America.” (University Press, Cambridge). American Antiquarian Society. _Translations and Collections_, 1820–1911. Vol. 2, pp. 92–93 and Appendix 301.

+Kroeber, A. L.+—1923. _Anthropology._ (Harcourt, Brace & Co., New York). pp. 223–225, 263–292.

+Magee, Thomas+—1895. _The Alphabet and Language._ (William Doxey, San Francisco). pp. 1–57.

+McKinney, T. L.+ and +Hall, James+—1838. _History of the Indian Tribes of North America._ (Frederick W. Greenbough, Philadelphia). Vol. 1, pp. 63–70.

+Mooney, James+—1900. “Myths of the Cherokee.” U. S. Bureau of American Ethnology, 1899–1924. Nineteenth Annual _Report_. Vol. 1, pp. 14, 135–139, 147–148, 219–220, 351, 353–355, 485, 501.

+Phillips, William A.+—1870. “Se-quo-yah.” (Harper & Brothers, New York). _Harper’s Magazine_, 1850–1924. Vol. 41, pp. 542–548.

+Pilling, James C.+—1888. “Bibliography of Iroquoian Languages.” U. S. Bureau of American Ethnology, 1887–1924. _Bulletin 6_, pp. 41–42, 72–73.

+White, George B.+—1855. _Historical Collections of Georgia._ (Pudney & Russell, New York). pp. 387–389.

+Wells, H. G.+—1921. _The Outline of History._ (Macmillan Co., New York). Third Edition. Vol. 1, pp. 168–176, 254, 558–560.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The Grant of 1864 was ceded back to the Nation in 1906 and became incorporated in Yosemite National Park, which was created sixteen years earlier.

[2] This measurement was made in June of 1912 (as were the other measurements given on these pages) by David A. Sherfey, resident engineer of the Park at this time.

[3] The wood of the Big Tree must not be confused with that of the Redwood, for the latter has a very high economic value as a commercial wood, and is noted for its many excellent qualities.

[4] Scientifically speaking it is not proper to attribute a will to a form of plant life. Its use here is in a non-scientific sense.

[5] Computations made at the ground, thirty-one feet, give over three-quarters of a million board feet; while those made eleven feet above, where the diameter is but twenty feet, give only a quarter of a million feet of lumber. The figure given above is, therefore, a fair one. Random statements that this tree contains a million board feet of lumber rest on no substantial basis.

[6] The interesting question raised by Sudworth in 1898 whether the specific name should be _Gigantea_ or _Washingtonia_ is discussed in Bulletin Number 17, U. S. Forest Service, Page 28.

[7] A mythical Phoenician who brought letters to the Greeks and in whose honor the people of Thebes erected a magnificent edifice known as the Cadmeum.

[8] The author desires to offer grateful acknowledgement for the extensive and liberal use he has made of this bibliography in the preparation of the manuscript. He is further indebted to Clarence King’s _Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevada_; Mark Twain’s _Innocents Abroad_, Vol. II; and to the writings of Bret Harte, for many suggestions and numerous happy phrases.

Transcriber’s Notes:

• Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). • Text enclosed by pluses is in small caps (+small caps+). • Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.