On Leaving Florida and Spirits

“The day and manner of my death is given out, so that whatever I may encounter I fear nothing. If death is to come, I will die like a man; if not, I shall go safely through. In going from Florida, I leave behind me the spirits of the Seminoles, with which I have had many interviews. Their spirits have taken care of me all my life. And the spirit of my twin-sister I leave behind. She died many years ago. When I am laid in the earth, I shall go to and live with her. She died suddenly. I was out on a bear-hunt, and when seated by my camp-fire alone, I heard a strange noise—it was something like a voice, which told me to go to her. The camp was some distance, but I took my rifle and started. The night was dark and gloomy; the wolves howled about me as I went from hammock to ham- mock; sounds came often to my ear—I thought she was speaking to me. At daylight I reached her camp—she was dead. When hunting some time after with my brother Otulke, I sat alone beside a large oak. In the moss hanging over me, I heard strange sounds; I tried to sleep, but could not. I felt myself moving, and thought I went far above to a new country, where all was bright and happy. I saw clear water ponds, rivers, and prairies, on which the sun never sets. All was green; the grass grew high, and the deer stood in the midst of it, looking at me. I then saw a small white cloud approaching; and when just before me, out of it came my twin-sister, dressed in white, and covered with bright silver ornaments. Her long black hair, which I had often braided, hung down her back. She clasped me around the neck, and said: “Coacoochee! Coacoochee!” I shook with fear, I knew her voice, but could not speak. With one hand, she gave me a string of white beads; in the other, she held a cup sparkling with pure water, which she said came from the spring of the Great Spirit: and if I would drink from it, I should return and live with her for ever. As I drank, she sang the peace song of the Seminoles, and danced around me. She had silver bells on her feet, which made a loud noise. Taking from her bosom something, I do not know what; she laid it before me, when a bright blaze streamed far above us. She then took me by the hand, and said: “All is peace here.” I wanted to ask for others, but she shook her head, waved her hand, stepped into the cloud, and was gone. The fire she had made, had gone out—all was si- lent. I was sorry that I could not have said more to her. I felt myself sinking until I came to the earth, when I met my brother Otulke. He had been seeking me, and was alarmed at my absence, having found my rifle where he last saw me asleep. I told him where I had been, and showed him the beads. These beads were stolen from me, when in prison at St. Augustine. At certain periods of the moon, when I had these beads, I could see the spirit of my sister. I may be buried in the earth, or sunk in the water, but I shall go to her, and live with her. Game is abundant there; and there the white man is never seen.