Misc., Kohito or The Legend of Catahoula, LaSalle Parish, La.




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Copied and Submitted by Kathy LeMay Kelly, P.O. Box 219, Trout, La. 71371

Copied from the Microfilm of The Jena Times - Olla - Tullos Signal. Microfilm
located at the LaSalle Parish Library in Jena, La.

October 20, 1927

"KOHITO" or The Legend of Catahoula

(Written by Hon. Henry Hardtner of Urania and carried in the Jena Times,
December 16th, 1906.)

Kohito was the only daughter of a powerful Choctaw Cheiftan and was the only
being who could soften the old man's heart from savage purposes. This
influence was partly due to her great beauty and gentleness, a species of
loveliness rare amongst Indian maidens. Her pouting lips, dimpled cheeks and
pleading dark eyes were sufficient to subdue the most warlike natures and now
that she had reached the years of young womanhood, suitors came from far and
near to woo this child of nature. Only those Indian Princes who were renowned
warriors were permitted by the old chieftan to sit in Kohito's presence and
recount the deeds of daring.

Powerful Cheifs and Princes from the nations of Maskoli, Iriquois, Algonquin,
Athabaska, Pueblo, Mexico and Dakota were often recipients of the hospitality
of Kohito's father, whose tribe claimed half of that famous hunting ground of
Louisiana West of the Mississippi and South of Red River.

The old chief with a thousand warriors resided in Terreborne parish, where the
town of Houma is located and where game and fish were plentiful all the year
‘round, and by little effort Indians grew corn in abundance.

I know not whether her father's broad lands or her bewitching beauty were
responsible for this great admiration - but certain it is Kohito was the
unrivaled belle of the far Southland. She was a creature formed for love. Her
downcast eyes, trembling lips, submissive and quiet manners, musical laugh and
soft speech, all spoke its language, yet many Chieftans sought her affections
in vain, although her father urged her to make an alliance with a Chieftan of
some powerful tribe. To all these entreaties she answered only with tears.
This state of affairs continued until 1565 when Pedro Menendez, a Spanish
explorer founded a colony in Florida, and sent exploring and trading parties
into many countries. Don Juan Gonzales was in command of a company that
drifted to Terreborne. Juan was a young indolent type whose dark eyes and
hair, smooth features and dazzling uniform might have done little toward
gaining the affections of this gentle Choctaw. Juan used all of his arts, of
which he was Past Master, to win Kohito. The idea that though as Indian, yet
she was a Princess, and her fathers vast dominion would soon pass to the
control of the ambitious nation, caused him to continue his suit with a
feigned, ardent impulsive love. Juen's many accom-impulsive love. Juen's many
occum-faovrite and he was adopted into the tribe of the Choctaws. Before many
moons he dared to ask for the hand of Kohito. The old chief went into a
towering rage and exclaimed: There are Choctaw maidens enough for the pale
faces who come among us. A King's daughter weds the son of a King."

In vain Kohito knelt at her father's feet and wept a deluge of tears. She
entreated and insisted that her lover would become a powerful warrior and
would adopt the enmities and friendships of the tribe. The old chief was
inexorable. Kohito no longer joined in the dance. Her musical voice was
silent, the light faded from her beautiful eyes and her languid movements
betokened a sickness akin to death. The old cheiftan was alarmed and decided
to buy his pride in order to save his child. "Kohito, go to the wigwam of the
stranger that your father may see you smile at the rising sun and the opening
of flowers." The marriage song was soon heard in the land of the Terrebone and
Juan Gonzales became the son of the King. Months and years passed on and
Kohito was the same loving, devoted, submissive wife. Juan no longer treated
her as the gallant lover, and his hunting and trading expeditions were often
an excuse for his absence many moons at a time. Kohito would weep in silence
and pray to the great Father for his safe return. She had given birth to a son
and daughter of great promise. Victorie, the oldest, had her father's beauty
save in the melting dark eye and the modest drooping of its silken lash. In
the year 1572, a great pestilence swept over the land and many Choctaws
crossed over the river to the Happy Hunting grounds. The medicine man insisted
that Don Juan, Kohito and the children, together with half a hundred warriors,
should go to the highlands north of Red River where they could be safe from
the plague. Kohito and Victorie, the eldest child, were already suffering with
the dread disease and could not travel many miles a day.

Bayou after bayou, swamp after swamp and lake after lake were crossed, and the
poisioned atmosphere arising from decayed vegetation and stagnant water only
increased their suffering. The water which they drank was polluted, salt and
brackish and they prayed for water from Heaven.

It was the month of May. The honeysuckle, yellow jessamine and modest violets
were in bloom. The air was laden with dense perfume from the flowers of the
forest. The birds warbled their carols in ectacy the harbringers of spring.
Gladly Juan and his followers pushed forward into this Eden of the highlands
where the pure air would soon restore Kohito and Victorie to health and vigor.
A beautiful natural heaven on Trout Creek, a few miles from "Medicine Springs"
attracted Don Juan's attention and there he gave orders for his wigwams to be
erected. Kohito, who had been unconscious for days, rallied and hearing the
sound of a cataract, sweet music to herears, asked that her litter be moved
nearer this heavenly music. She watched the playful waters as they rippled and
then flowed gently on and on. Deep down she saw reflections from Heaven.
Suddenly a bright light illuminated har face, a new song was in her soul.
Keeping her eyes on the sparkling waters she exclaimed in ezstacy:
"Catahoula!" "Catahoula!" and the mocking bird from a tree nearby hearing
those gladsome words with her sweetest notes sounded the glad refrain
"Catahoula!" "Catahoula!" — (White water, clear water.) Kohito and Victorie as
well as others of the tribe, were restored to health. Here and there they
wandered in nature's Eden and every where was to be found the clear springs,
brroks, creeks and rivulets — Nectar of the Gods, and every day was heard the
shout "Catahoula!" "Catahoula!" Pure water, white water, everywhere in
abundance.

Soon the birds of the air would mimic these shouts and to this day if you will
go to the hills of Catahoula and listen to the songs of the mocking bird and
quail you will plainly catch the sound of "Catahoula!" "Catahoula!" This was,
as is today, nature's paradise. The streams abounded in fish of all varieties,
delicately flavored and fit food for the Gods. Deer in immerse herds grazed on
the hillsides or in the dense cane swamps. Bear and panther, as well as many
kinds of fur bearing animals were to be found in vast numbers. Tickle the
sandy and vegitatoin would spring up in great luxuriance. Runners were sent to
Terrebone to convey the glad __ ings and soon those that had survived the
plague hastened to this New Eden where they were gladly welcomed. Don Juan had
tired of Kohito, but with heart almost breaking she bravely bore up. Her idol
was Victorie and oft her exclaimed: "I love Victorie because she is the
daughter of Don Juan, and why, O, Heaven's, why does he not love me for being
the mother of his child?"

One day a company of traders passed through the land of Catahoula and Don Juan
decided to send his daughter with them to a Spanish Convent. Kohito knelt and
prayed that she might accompany them, vowing that she would so act that they
would not be ashamed of her. "Ashamed of you, and you the daughter of a King!"
cried Victorie, and with an impulse of love fell on her mother's neck and wept
bitter tears. Kohito embraced her with an agony of despair and clasped her
tightly in her arms. "Woman let go," shouted Juan. Kohito raised her eyes to
his face and saw he was about to strike her, "I am only a child of a Choctaw:
Why, Oh why did you marry me?" She exclaimed in greif. "For your father's
lands," said Juan coldly. This was too much; with a shriek she fell to the
ground and when she awoke she found herself alone with her boy, Gomez, a
little fellow of six years. All of her attention was now given to the boy whom
she wanted to make a fierce warrior like her father and an enemy of all white
men. Three years passed and Don Juan returned but all of his arts could not
again win the heart of Kohito. Little Gomez, however, soon began to yeild to
his fathers influence and the thought drove Kohito mad. Don Juan Gonzales was
away for a few days. Kohito decked herself with the garments and jewels she
had worn on her wedding day and selected a gaundy wampum belt for little
Gomez. "Sweet mamma, why do you put these on?" said the little boy. ‘Because,"
she said mournfully, "Momma will never again see her darling boy in the land
of the Choctaws, and when her father meets her in the spirit land he will know
the beads her gave her." She thought of her young days and how she gave her
heart to the Spaniard and with a flood of tears. Little Gomez looked on and
wondered. Her eyes rested on her boy, and , Oh, God! What an agony of love.
"We will go to the spirit land together. He cannot come there and rob me." She
took the boy by the hand and led him to the river the winter rains had set in
and the waters from Castor, Dugdemonia, Chickasaaw and Funnielouis had
transformed the river at Catahoula lake in a vast billowy ocean. She took the
boy into her arms and jumped into a canoe and glided out into the current.
"Mamma, mamma! The canoe is sinking!" screamed the frightened child. "My
father becons me," she said. The boy looked the fixed expression on his
mother's face and shrieked aloud for help. Gomez was sen no more. He sleeps in
his mothers arms in the bed of Catahoula lake, and day by day, year by year,
and century after century the pure, sweet, water, white water, of the
Catahoula's virgin hills keep pure, clean and spotless the graves of Kohito
and Gomez.

What an mansoleum? And Cathoula flowing on and on cleansing their bodies until
they will soon rise and become as incruppetable as their souls. Flow on and on
"Catahoula!" carry your message to the sea! To all parts of the world. Tell
the story of the love and devotion of the Indian wife. Announce to the world
that the parish of Beaureguard (the name chosen at that time for LaSalle) is
soon to be reformed from the territory of which Kohito and her people loved to
roam — a territory which has furnished man more than the luxuries of life.
Here for centuries has been the sportsman's paradise, and today furnishes the
wild game for thousands of people. Hunters from far distant lands, make
pilgrimages to this beautiful country. The streams abound in fish and meany
people are daily found enjoying the sport of hooking the finny tribe. Here are
to be found the richest agricultural lands awaiting the coming of the thrifty
Anglo-Saxons to make their homes in this Vertible Eden. Here is the parish of
Beauregard is to be found the most magnificent forest of pine and hard wood on
the face of the globe. Four hundred thousand acres, producing four billion
feet of lumber. What wealth! Eighty million dollars of timber resourced! A
dozen big saw-mills for twenty-five years must be kept constantly at work; six
thousand people will be supported from these industries. The healing of the
Sulphur and mineral springs will cure the ailments of thousands who annually
journey to the actual sanitariums. Thousands of honest farmers engage in the
culture of cotton, corn, potatoes, grapes, peaches, apples, mellons,
vegetables of all kinds will live in happy contentment and an error of
unparalleled prosperity must come to all within her borders. Here are to be
found the people who are paying great attention to education and have abundant
means to support the schools all over the parish. Here are churches of all
denominations and man is free to worship his God as he sees fit.

Shall Kohito be forgotten? Methinks I see a little city rising up not many
miles from the spot where this Indian wife exclaimed: "Catahoula!" in this
city are lovely homes, magnificent churches and schools, manufacturing plants,
hotels, stores, electric railways, lights and waterworks. The hum of industry
is heard, and contentment is stamped on the faces of her citizens. Dozens of
good roads lead to the city and the out of town folks find traveling a
pleasure over such roads. In the center of the city is the Temple of Justice
and as I look into one of the rooms which is used as an Ark building I see a
life size painting of an Indian girl standing on the banks of a clear stream
and the water reflects her beauty making her body appear saint like. I see a
name — it is Kohito. I look around and see tablets on the wall in rememberance
of the old pioneers who settled the country after Kohito's people followed the
setting sun. I see the name Brown, Taliaferro, Alexandria, Whatley, Ussery.
Davis, Baker, Frazier, Price, LaCroix, Holstein, Nugent, Bradford, Breithaupt,
Noble and others, the clock chimes the hour of four and see the lovely
children returning home from school. I stop one of them and ask the name of
this beautiful city, and little miss to ten summers replies with a musical
laugh, "Catahoula!" "Catahoula!"