This pilgrimage had always been made to the Pacific
; but in the hearts of the tribe lingered a tradition that once in a hundred years the “Water of sunrise” should be visited, and they dreamed of the Eastern
The tradition was now confirmed, the dream fulfilled, through the friendly offices of Mr. Cushing
The ceremony was one of touching interest; hundreds of people gathered at City Point
to watch it. Most of the spectators felt the beauty and solemnity of the service (for such it was), but a few were inclined to jeer, till they were sternly rebuked by Phillips Brooks.
As our mother could not go to see the Zufiis, they must come to see her, and Mr. Cushing
gladly brought them.
They were grave, stalwart men, with a beautiful dignity of carriage and demeanor.
A picture not to be forgotten is that of her in her white dress, bending eagerly forward to listen while the chiefs, sitting in a circle on the floor, told stories, Mr. Cushing
interpreting for her benefit.
At parting, each man took her hand, and raised it to his forehead with a gesture of perfect grace.
The eldest chief, before this salute, held her hand a moment, and blew across the palm, east and west. “Daughter,” he said, “our paths have crossed here.
May yours be bright hereafterl”
. To-day Edward [Everett] Hale
brought me a parting memento of the Zufiis — the basket with which they had dipped up the water from the ‘ocean of sunrise.’
E. E. H. also spoke about five hymns which should be written corresponding ”