were sitting around the fire, all at once they heard a voice singing a song of defiance. The leader put ashes over the fire to extinguish the light. Then they deployed around a wide circle and when they came together they were around a tree which showed marks of a fire on its bark about five feet high. At the foot of the tree there were ashes and burnt human bones. The leader said: "Here died a man"; and out of this incident there sprung a society which I think is something like the society of the Knights of Pythias. It was founded on the sentiments of loyalty and devotion to duty and to each other. The society increased in numbers and spread to other tribes. A member of the society had the misfortune of which Mr. Keefe spoke. He made a feast to his companions in the society. He said to his wife, "Boil meat." That meant to make a feast for his companions. He invited them in. The woman went to the spring for water. One of his companions slipped away from the tent and, out of her sight, saw her talking with another man, her lover, by the spring. Afterwards she came back with the water. Her husband knew that he could not hold his wife's affections. The companion came back and told what he had seen, that she had been talking with this other man, her lover. The feast went on, and they were all seated about. The husband arose at the feast-he had sent some of his companions out to get and bring in this other man that had been talking to his wife and he had come in. The husband then arose and sang this song: "I spoke to the woman but she would not hear, so I give her to you." These words are all there is to the song and it is still sung among the Omaha today. Then he took her blankets over and laid them at the feet of the other man, his wife's lover, as Mr. Keefe narrated to you. It was considered as a great deed of resignation and an act of bravery. It was several generations ago that this original incident occurred. So MANSHTINGA, who was a member

of the Mandan society in the Omaha tribe, thought it would be a brave act to do the same thing, and at a feast which he made to his companions of the Mandan society he got up and sang this song. There was no cause for it, so she went to her father's lodge, and he had a much harder time wooing her back than he had to win her at first.

We have cut the Indians off from the development of a civilization of their own in the beginning of their progress. If they had not been disturbed they would, of course as we did, as the Chinese did, and as every other nation has done have developed a civilization of their own along the line of resources and conditions of the country. We have developed our civilization under European conditions. We never can know what their civilization would have been. We do not know what shape it would have taken. They would have progressed; they were on the way. We are on the way, only a little farther along. They would have progressed to some form of civilization suited to their condition here. Of course, in time, there will be only one civilization over the whole world.

IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF LOCAL

HISTORY

BY JAMES E. LE ROSSIGNOL

[Paper read at the annual meeting of the Nebraska State Historical Society, January 13, 1913.] ·

Mr. Chairman, and Ladies and Gentlemen:

Mr. Paine, your secretary, tells me that he would like to have an expression from an outsider on the subject of local history. I know little of history in general and less of local history and therefore think myself well qualified to speak as an outsider. True, I have read a great deal of the sort of history that was written thirty or forty years ago, before modern methods of investigation were well established, but now I know that most of the information thus obtained was quite unreliable, and I have not been able to improve my knowledge, or ignorance, in recent years. But I have, as you see, a proper spirit of humility, which should lead me in the right way, though it may not lead me far. Also I have much sympathy with historians, knowing the difficulty of their work of investigation and the still greater difficulty of arousing the public to a due appreciation of this great and important work.

It was courageous in Mr. Paine to let an outsider like myself speak on this platform because he did not know what I might say. I might say something that I ought not to say. For example, I might say that history is no more important than political economy, but it would be an impertinence to make such a statement on this occasion, so I will not say it. I might say that all historians are liars, but I will not say that, either, for it is not true. To be

sure, some historians of the past, particularly biographers and genealogists, have told a good many lies, but they are all dead now, and we hope that they have long since expiated their faults and have been admitted to the historian's paradise.

I

As to historians of the present day, they have only one virtue, the worship of truth, and no redeeming vices at all. They will tell the truth and shame the devil, and all their best friends as well. Nothing escapes the historian's searchlight, and, like the recording angel, he sets down everything good, bad, and indifferent-in his book. have a wholesome fear of the historian, for I realize that at this very moment he may be taking down all that I am saying and that at some future time, in this world or the next, my words may rise up in judgment against me. So I try to be careful as to what I say before an audience like this and am tempted to use words not to express thought but to conceal it.

There is a good story about an Assyrian historian who used to write upon tables of clay, which were then dried or burned and piled away in the library. This Assyrian had a mortal enemy and spent many days thinking of the most cruel and unusual punishment that he could inflict upon him. Finally a brilliant thought came to him, and before the inspiration cooled he ran to his enemy with a brick and said: "Sir, you are the meanest man I know. I might curse your ancestors, but I will not. I might curse yourself and all your posterity, but I will do worse than that. Listen! tremble! I will write your evil deeds upon this brick, have it packed away in the royal archives, and when, five thousand years hence, men dig up the ruins of our city, they will read about your crimes and you shall be infamous forever."

There is a moral in this story, for it shows very well the ethical value of history. The historian is the man with

the searchlight who peers into everything and tells everything that he sees. Like the law, he is a terror to evil doers and a praise to them that do well, because he tells the truth. Publicity kills many social evils as sunlight kills the germs of many diseases, while it encourages good deeds as the sunlight gives life to grass and flowers. Common gossip contributes to this end. The press does much to make people respectable; and history, by keeping a record of the words and deeds of men, helps them to realize the importance of life and the value of a good name. We live not only in the eyes of our friends and neighbors but in the sight of a larger world and in the view of future generations, and the thought of many eyes looking upon us and many minds pronouncing judgment upon us cannot but make us careful about what we say and do.

In former times historians used to color and distort facts for the glorification of their friends and patrons; more recently they would pervert the truth for the edification of children and the development of patriotism; but now, in this age of science, the historian follows truth alone and worships the God of Things as they are, believing that honest character and worthy patriotism can never be built upon a foundation of lies. So the historian describes the Pilgrim Fathers as they were, gives a true picture of colonial life with light and shade, explains the right and wrong of the revolutionary war, the war of 1812, the civil war, doing justice to both sides and favoring none. He tells of the greatness and littleness of our heroes, shows the successes and failures of the past, and traces the path of progress as well as he can for example, warning and guidance to future generations.

It used to be the custom to glorify the pioneer, to make of him a sort of saint or missionary who came to the western plains for the glory of God and the salvation of the Indian. There were saints and missionaries in those days,