488 THE (@EGILA LANGUAGE—MYTHS, STORIES, AND LETTERS. 
té gia ¢a-o8, ehd-maji hi; ci, Wage gaxa-ga, eha-maji ha; ci, Nikaci"™ga 
the nai away yours, I did not say ; again, Act the see man, I did not say ; again, Indian 
uké¢i? ma¢in’-ga, ehi-maji hi. Ki ci, Wakan‘da ¢inké u¢imajin’-gi ha. 
ordinary walk thon, [didnotsay . And again, Deity the (ob.) depend on him 
Wakan‘da ¢inké si¢a-e% hi. Ki Wakan‘da ¢inké ¢asi¢a¢aji 31, maja” 
Deity the (ob.) remember 5 And Deity the (ob.) you do not re- if, lan 
him member 
¢é¢u-ondgtci qti¢ade yi, ¢i¢aji tat¢é—¢i¢ajt taté india¢ajaha. Wakan‘da 
here only you love if if, you sad shall you sad shall in the future. Deity 
aka ita” ¢itaqa ogi" i ha. Edi angahi tan’gata™. Edi angahii yi, a™¢an’- 
the(sub.) in front "sits : There we a ach we who will. There we Sanaa when, we know 
yidaha™ tangata", ehé. Wakan’da aké maja” ¢é¢u_a"ma” ¢i"i yi, wada™ be 
for ourselves wew Fo will, I said. Deity the (sub.) land here we walk when, seeing us 
e¢ivi ha. Ki Wakan’da ak& a®wasi¢a-baji’-qtia”i ha. Ci fe té céna 
sits 5 And Deity the nae we have notremembered thematall  . Again words the enough 
who 
dixu ha. Ki ga¢i® wédaha" ama dna tai i’baxu f¢a-ga. Ci indada” 
I write 4 And Pawnees Iknowthem theones how have write tome send it. Again what 
who many died 
mééepaxu ¢ka“hna i™baxti-gi. Cani’ge cti dna waoni" cirte i baxt-ga. 
you write to me you wish write to me. Horse too how you have it maybe write tome. 
many them 
TRANSLATION. 
I will tell you a very few words. Before you went to the Indian Territory, you 
used to send me letters. But you have not sent me even one letter this spring. Yet 
T have sent you about three. And I thought that you were offended with me, because 
you had not sent me a single letter. But one of your friends, to whom you have sent 
a letter, has told me; so I cause him to send one to you. You knew what our condition 
was when you departed. We have continued so. I was delighted to hear from you, 
and to learn that you had no sickness in your household. You knew the land when 
you departed. You went somewhat as if you were very fearful about yonder land; 
therefore I have always been apprehensive on your account. Michel’s mother is very 
sick. I do not know whether she will live or die. It was very warm this summer. 
Indeed, I do not know even one summer in the past, which was as warm. By the by, 
Frank took a wife last summer, but she is dead. We do not know yet whether we shall 
improve in the land. We are unsettled. Still, I hope to go traveling to yonder land 
where you are. If my agent be willing for me to go, I shall be apt to travel. But he 
is generally unwilling for the Omahas to travel. Still, tell me how many miles you are 
from the Pawnee village, and how many miles, too, you are from this land. I will 
speak on another subject. It is the subject about which I told you from time to time, 
when you lived here. I did not say, “Abandon your Indian life.” I did not say, “ Live 
asawhite man.” Nor did I say, “Live as an Indian.” But Tsay again: Depend upon 
God. Remember Him. For if, instead of remembering God, you love this world alone, 
you shall be sad—you shall surely be sad in the future. God is ahead of us. We will go 
to Him. When we arrive there, we shall know jor ourselves. When we walk here on 
this earth, God sits looking at us. And we have altogether forgotten God. Now I 
have written enough on this subject. When you write, send me word how many have 
died of the Pawnees whom [ know. And write whatever you wish to write to me. 
Write to me how many horses you have. 
ee ere 
