{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_10794/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_10794","id":"gutenberg_10794","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10794","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - American","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Dakota Indians -- Folklore","Dakota Indians -- History","Dakota Indians -- Social life and customs"],"text":"DAHCOTAH;\n\n                                   OR,\n\n                      LIFE AND LEGENDS OF THE SIOUX\n\n                          AROUND FORT SNELLING.\n\n\n                          BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN,\n\n\n                                  WITH\n\n                     PREFACE BY MRS. C. M. KIRKLAND.\n\n\n\n              ILLUSTRATED FROM DRAWINGS BY CAPTAIN EASTMAN.\n\n\n\nTO HENRY SIBLEY, ESQ.,\n\nHOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES.\n\nIt was my purpose to dedicate, exclusively, these pages to my beloved\nparents. What correctness of sentiment appears in this book is mainly\nascribable to a principle they endeavored to instil into the minds of\ntheir children, that purity of heart and intellectual attainment are\nnever more appropriately exercised than in promoting the good of our\nfellow-creatures.\n\nYet the sincere sentiments of respect and regard that I entertain for\nyou, the remembrance of the many acts of friendship received from you\nduring my residence at Fort Snelling, and the assurance that you are\never prompt to assist and protect the Indian, induce me to unite your\nname with those most dear to me in this dedication.\n\nAn additional inducement is, that no one knows better than yourself the\nopportunities that presented themselves to collect materials for these\nlegends, and with what interest these occasions were improved. With\nwhatever favor this little work may be received it is a most pleasing\nreflection to me, that the object in publishing it being to excite\nattention to the moral wants of the Dahcotahs, will be kindly\nappreciated by the friends of humanity, and by none more readily\nthan yourself.\n\nVery truly yours,\n\nMARY H. EASTMAN.\n\nNew London, March lst, 1849.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\nMy only title to the office of editor in the present case is some\npractice in such matters, with a very warm interest in all, whether\nrelating to past or present, that concerns our western country. Mrs.\nEastman,--wife of Captain Eastman, and daughter of Dr. Henderson, both\nof the U. S. army,--is thoroughly acquainted with the customs,\nsuperstitions, and leading ideas of the Dahcotahs, whose vicinity to\nFort Snelling, and frequent intercourse with its inmates, have brought\nthem much under the notice of the officers and ladies of the garrison.\nShe has no occasion to present the Indian in a theatrical garb--a mere\nthing of paint and feathers, less like the original than his own rude\ndelineation on birch-bark or deer-skin. The reader will find in the\nfollowing pages living men and women, whose feelings are in many\nrespects like his own, and whose motives of action are very similar to\nthose of the rest of the world, though far less artfully covered up and\ndisguised under pleasant names. \"Envy, hatred and malice, and all\nuncharitableness,\" stand out, unblushing, in Indian life. The first is\nnot called emulation, nor the second just indignation or merited\ncontempt, nor the third zeal for truth, nor the fourth keen discernment\nof character. Anger and revenge are carried out honestly to their\nnatural fruit--injury to others. Among the Indians this takes the form\nof murder, while with us it is obliged to content itself with slander,\nor cunning depreciation. In short, the study of Indian character is the\nstudy of the unregenerate human heart; and the writer of these sketches\nof the Dahcotahs presents it as such, with express and solemn reference\nto the duty of those who have \"the words of eternal life\" to apply them\nto the wretched condition of the red man, who is, perhaps, with all his\nignorance, quite as well prepared to receive them as many of those who\nare already wise in their own eyes. The very degradation and misery in\nwhich he lives, and of which he is not unable to perceive some of the\ncauses, prepare him to welcome the instruction which promises better\nthings. Evils which are covered up under the smoothness of civilization,\nstand out in all their horrible deformity in the _abandon_ of savage\nlife; the Indian cannot get even one gleam of light, without instantly\nperceiving the darkness around him. Here, then, is encouragement to\npaint him as he is, that the hearts of the good may be moved at his\ndestitute and unhappy state; to set forth his wants and his claims, that\nignorance may no longer be pleaded as an excuse for withholding, from\nthe original proprietor of the soil, the compensation or atonement which\nis demanded at once by justice, honor, and humanity.\n\nAuthentic pictures of Indian life have another and a different value, in\na literary point of view. In the history and character of the aborigines\nis enveloped all the distinct and characteristic poetic material to\nwhich we, as Americans, have an unquestioned right. Here is a peculiar\nrace, of most unfathomable origin, possessed of the qualities which have\nalways prompted poetry, and living lives which are to us as shadowy as\nthose of the Ossianic heroes; our own, and passing away--while we take\nno pains to arrest their fleeting traits or to record their picturesque\ntraditions. Yet we love poetry; are ambitious of a literature of our\nown, and sink back dejected when we are convicted of imitation. Why is\nit that we lack interest in things at home? Sismondi has a passage to\nthis effect:--\n\n\"The literature of other countries has been frequently adopted by a\nyoung nation with a sort of fanatical admiration. The genius of those\ncountries having been so often placed before it as the perfect model of\nall greatness and all beauty, every spontaneous movement has been\nrepressed, in order to make room for the most servile imitation; and\nevery national attempt to develop an original character has been\nsacrificed to the reproduction of something conformable to the model\nwhich has been always before its eyes.\"\n\nThis is certainly true of us, since we not only adopt the English view\nof everything, but confine ourselves to the very subjects and imagery\nwhich have become consecrated to us by love and habit. Not to enter into\nthe general subject of our disposition to parrotism, our neglect of\nIndian material in particular may be in part accounted for, by our\nhaving become acquainted with the aborigines after the most unpoetical\nfashion, in trying to cheat them out of their lands, or shooting them\nwhen they declined being cheated; they, in their turn, driven to the\nresource of the weak and the ignorant, counterplotting us, and taking,\nby means of blood and fire, what we would not give them in fair\ncompensation. This has made our business relations very unpleasant;\nand everybody knows that when this becomes the case, it is hard for\nparties to do justice to each other's good or available qualities.\nIf we had only read about the Indians, as a people living in the\nmountain-fastnesses of Greece, or the, broad plains of Transylvania, we\nshould without difficulty have discovered the romantic elements of their\ncharacter. But as the effect of remoteness is produced by time as well\nas distance, it is surely worth while to treasure up their legends for\nour posterity, who will justly consider us very selfish, if we throw\naway what will be a treasure to them, merely because we cannot or will\nnot use it ourselves.\n\nA prominent ground of the slight regard in which the English hold\nAmerican literature, or at least one of the most plausible reasons given\nfor it, is our want of originality, particularly in point of subject\nmatter. It is said that our imitativeness is so servile, that for the\nsake of following English models, at an immeasurable distance, we\nneglect the new and grand material which lies all around us, in the\nsublime features of our country, in our new and striking circumstances,\nin our peculiar history and splendid prospects, and, above all, in the\ncharacter, superstitions, and legends of our aborigines, who, to eyes\nacross the water, look like poetical beings. We are continually\nreproached by British writers for the obtuse carelessness with which we\nare allowing these people, with so much of the heroic element in their\nlives, and so much of the mysterious in their origin, to go into the\nannihilation which seems their inevitable fate as civilization advances,\nwithout an effort to secure and record all that they are able to\ncommunicate respecting themselves.\n\nAnd the reproach is just. In our hurry of utilitarian progress, we have\neither forgotten the Indian altogether, or looked upon him only in a\nbusiness point of view, as we do almost everything else; as a\nthriftless, treacherous, drunken fellow, who knows just enough to be\ntroublesome, and who must be cajoled or forced into leaving his\nhunting-grounds for the occupation of very orderly and virtuous white\npeople, who sell him gunpowder and whiskey, but send him now and then a\nmissionary to teach him that it is wrong to get drunk and murder his\nneighbor. To look upon the Indian with much regard, even in the light of\nliterary material, would be inconvenient; for the moment we recognize in\nhim a mind, a heart, a soul,--the recollection of the position in which\nwe stand towards him becomes thorny, and we begin dimly to remember\ncertain duties belonging to our Christian profession, which we have\nsadly neglected with regard to the sons of the forest, whom we have\ndriven before us just as fast as we have required or desired their\nlands. A few efforts have been made, not only to bring the poetry of\ntheir history into notice, but to do them substantial good; the public\nheart, however, has never responded to the feelings of those who, from\nliving in contact with the Indians, have felt this interest in them. To\nmost Americans, the red man is, to this day, just what he was to the\nfirst settlers of the country--a being with soul enough to be blameable\nfor doing wrong, but not enough to claim Christian brotherhood, or to\nmake it _very_ sinful to shoot him like a dog, upon the slightest\nprovocation or alarm. While this feeling continues, we shall not look\nto him for poetry; and the only imaginative writing in which he is\nlikely to be generally used as material, will be kindred to that known\nby the appropriate title of \"Pirate Literature.\" Mr. Cooper and Miss\nSedgwick are, perhaps, alone among our writers in their attempts to do\nthe Indian justice, while making him the poetical machine in fiction.\n\nMissionaries, however, as well as others who have lived among the\naborigines for purely benevolent purposes, have discovered in them\ncapabilities and docility which may put to the blush many of the whites\nwho despise and hate them. Not only in individual cases, but in more\nextended instances, the Indian has been found susceptible of religious\nand moral instruction; his heart has warmed to kindness, like any other\nman's; he has been able to perceive the benefits of regular industry;\nhis head has proved as clear in the apprehension of the distinction\nbetween right and wrong as that of the more highly cultivated moralist;\nand he receives the fundamental truths of the gospel with an avidity,\nand applies them--at least to the lives and characters of his\nneighbors--with a keenness, which show him to be not far behind the rest\nof mankind in sensibility and acuteness. Without referring to the\ntestimony of the elder missionaries, which is abundant, I remember a\nmost touching account, by Rev. George Duffield, jr., of piety in an\nIndian wigwam, which I would gladly transfer to these pages did their\nlimits admit. It could be proved by overwhelming testimony, that the\nIndian is as susceptible of good as his white brother. But it is not\nnecessary in this place to urge his claim to our attention on the ground\nof his moral and religious capabilities. Setting them aside, he has many\nqualifications for the heroic character as Ajax, or even Achilles. He is\nas brave, daring, and ruthless; as passionate, as revengeful, as\nsuperstitious, as haughty. He will obey his medicine man, though with\nfury in his heart and injurious words upon his lips; he will fight to\nthe death for a wife, whom he will afterwards treat with the most\nsovereign neglect. He understands and accepts the laws of spoil, and\ncarries them out with the most chivalric precision; his torture of\nprisoners does not exceed those which formed part of the \"triumphs\" of\nold; his plan of scalping is far neater and more expeditious than that\nof dragging a dead enemy thrice round the camp by the heels. He loves\nsplendor, and gets all he can of it; and there is little essential\ndifference, in this regard, between gold and red paint, between diamonds\nand wampum. He has great ancestral pride--a feeling much in esteem for\nits ennobling powers; and the _totem_ has all the meaning and use of any\nother armorial bearing. In the endurance of fatigue, hunger, thirst, and\nexposure, the forest hero has no superior; in military affairs he fully\nadopts the orthodox maxim that all stratagems are lawful in war. In\nshort, nothing is wanting but a Homer to build our Iliad material into\n\"lofty rhyme,\" or a Scott to weave it into border romance; and as we are\nencouraged to look for Scotts and Homers at some future day, it is\nmanifestly our duty to be recording fleeting traditions and describing\npeculiar customs, before the waves of time shall have swept over the\nretreating footsteps of the \"salvage man,\" and left us nothing but lake\nand forest, mountains and cataracts, out of which to make our poetry\nand romance.\n\nThe Indians themselves are full of poetry. Their legends embody poetic\nfancy of the highest and most adventurous flight; their religious\nceremonies refer to things unseen with a directness which shows how bold\nand vivid are their conceptions of the imaginative. The war-song--the\ndeath-song--the song of victory--the cradle-chant--the lament for the\nslain--these are the overflowings of the essential poetry of their\nuntaught souls. Their eloquence is proverbially soaring and figurative;\nand in spite of all that renders gross and mechanical their ordinary\nmode of marrying and giving in marriage, instances are not rare among\nthem of love as true, as fiery, and as fatal, as that of the most\nexalted hero of romance. They, indeed, live poetry; it should be ours to\nwrite it out for them.\n\nMrs. Eastman's aim has been to preserve from destruction such legends\nand traits of Indian character as had come to her knowledge during long\nfamiliarity; with the Dahcotahs, and nothing can be fresher or more\nauthentic than her records, taken down from the very lips of the red\npeople as they sat around her fire and opened their hearts to her\nkindness. She has even caught their tone, and her language will be found\nto have something of an Ossianic simplicity and abruptness, well suited\nto the theme. Sympathy,--feminine and religious,--breathes through these\npages, and the unaffected desire of the writer to awaken a kindly\ninterest in the poor souls who have so twined themselves about her own\nbest feelings, may be said to consecrate the work. In its character of\naesthetic material for another age, it appeals to our nationality;\nwhile, as the effort of a reflecting and Christian mind to call public\nattention to the needs of an unhappy race, we may ask for it the\napprobation of all who acknowledge the duty to \"teach all nations.\"\n\nC. M. K.\n\nNEW YORK, _March_, 1849.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nMOCK-PE-EN-DAG-A-WIN; OR, CHECKERED CLOUD, THE MEDICINE WOMAN\n\nRED EARTH; OR, MOCKA-DOOTA-WIN\n\nWENONA; OR, THE VIRGIN'S FEAST\n\nTHE DAHCOTAH CONVERT WABASHAW\n\nTHE DAHCOTAH BRIDE SHAH-CO-PEE\n\nTHE ORATOR OF THE SIOUX OYE-KAR-MANI-VIM\n\nTHE TRACK-MAKER ETA KEAZAH; OR, SULLEN FACE TONWA-YAH-PE-KIN\n\nTHE SPIES THE MAIDEN'S ROCK; OR, WENONA'S LEAP OECHE-MONESAH\n\nTHE WANDERER TAH-WE-CHUT-KIN\n\nTHE WIFE WHA-ZEE-YAN\n\nANOTHER OF THE GIANT GODS OF THE DAHCOTAHS\n\nSTORMS IN LIFE AND NATURE; OR, UNKTAHE AND THE THUNDER BIRD HAOKAH OZAPE\n\nTHE DANCE OF THE GIANT U-MI-NE-WAH-CHIPPE; OR, TO DANCE AROUND\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\nThe materials for the following pages were gathered during a residence\nof seven years in the immediate neighborhood--nay--in the very midst of\nthe once powerful but now nearly extinct tribe of Sioux or\nDahcotah Indians.\n\nFort Snelling is situated seven miles below the Falls of St. Anthony, at\nthe confluence of the Mississippi--and St. Peter's rivers--built in\n1819, and named after the gallant Colonel Snelling, of the army, by whom\nthe work was erected. It is constructed of stone; is one of the\nstrongest Indian forts in the United States; and being placed on a\ncommanding bluff, has somewhat the appearance of an old German castle,\nor one of the strongholds on the Rhine.\n\nThe then recent removal of the Winnebagoes was rendered troublesome by\nthe interference of Wabashaw, the Sioux chief, whose village is on the\nMississippi, 1800 miles from its mouth. The father of Wabashaw was a\nnoted Indian; and during the past summer, the son has given some\nindications that he inherits the father's talents and courage. When the\nWinnebagoes arrived at Wabashaw's prairie, the chief induced them not to\ncontinue their journey of removal; offered them land to settle upon near\nhim, and told them it was not really the wish of their Great Father,\nthat they should remove. His bribes and eloquence induced the\nWinnebagoes to refuse to proceed; although there was a company of\nvolunteer dragoons and infantry with them. This delay occasioning much\nexpense and trouble, the government agents applied for assistance to\nthe command at Fort Snelling. There was but one company there; and the\ncommanding officer, with twenty men and some friendly Sioux, went down\nto assist the agent.\n\nThere was an Indian council held on the occasion. The Sioux who went\nfrom Fort Snelling promised to speak in favor of the removal. During the\ncouncil, however, not one of them said a word--for which they afterwards\ngave a satisfactory reason. Wabashaw; though a young man, had such\ninfluence over his band, that his orders invariably received implicit\nobedience. When the council commenced, Wabashaw had placed a young\nwarrior behind each of the friendly Sioux who he knew would speak in\nfavor of the removal, with orders to shoot down the first one who rose\nfor that purpose. This stratagem may be considered a characteristic\nspecimen of the temper and habits of the Sioux chiefs, whose tribe we\nbring before the reader in their most conspicuous ceremonies and habits.\nThe Winnebagoes were finally removed, but not until Wabashaw was taken\nprisoner and carried to Fort Snelling. Wabashaw's pike-bearer was a fine\nlooking warrior, named \"Many Lightnings.\"\n\nThe village of \"Little Crow,\" another able and influential Sioux chief,\nis situated twenty miles below the Falls of St. Anthony. He has four\nwives, all sisters, and the youngest of them almost a child. There are\nother villages of the tribe, below and above Fort Snelling.\n\nThe scenery about Fort Snelling is rich in beauty. The falls of St.\nAnthony are familiar to travellers, and to readers of Indian sketches.\nBetween the fort and these falls are the \"Little Falls,\" forty feet in\nheight, on a stream that empties into the Mississippi. The Indians call\nthem Mine-hah-hah, or \"laughing waters.\" In sight of Fort Snelling is a\nbeautiful hill called Morgan's Bluff; the Indians call it \"God's House.\"\nThey have a tradition that it is the residence of their god of the\nwaters, whom they call Unk-ta-he. Nothing can be more lovely than the\nsituation and appearance of this hill; it commands on every side a\nmagnificent view, and during the summer it is carpeted with long grass\nand prairie flowers. But, to those who have lived the last few years at\nFort Snelling, this hill presents another source of interest. On its top\nare buried three young children, who were models of health and beauty\nuntil the scarlet fever found its way into regions hitherto shielded\nfrom its approach. They lived but long enough on earth to secure them an\nentrance into heaven. Life, which ought to be a blessing to all, was to\nthem one of untold value; for it was a short journey to a better land--a\ntranslation from the yet unfelt cares of earth to the bright and endless\njoys of heaven.\n\nOpposite the Fort is Pilot Knob, a high peak, used as a burial-place by\nthe Indians; just below it is the village of Mendota, or the \"Meeting of\nthe Waters.\"\n\nBut to me, the greatest objects of interest and curiosity were the\noriginal owners of the country, whose teepees could be seen in every\ndirection. One could soon know all that was to be known about Pilot Knob\nor St. Anthony's falls; but one is puzzled completely to comprehend the\ncharacter of an Indian man, woman, or child. At one moment, you see an\nIndian chief raise himself to his full height, and say that the ground\non which he stands is his own; at the next, beg bread and pork from an\nenemy. An Indian woman will scornfully refuse to wash an article that\nmight be needed by a white family--and the next moment, declare that she\nhad not washed her face in fifteen years! An Indian child of three years\nold, will cling to its mother under the walls of the Fort, and then\nplunge into the Mississippi, and swim half way across, in hopes of\nfinding an apple that has been thrown in. We may well feel much\ncuriosity to look into the habits, manners, and motives of a race\nexhibiting such contradictions.\n\nThere is a great deal said of Indian warriors--and justly too of the\nSioux. They are, as a race, tall fine-looking men; and many of those who\nhave not been degraded by association with the frontier class of white\npeople, nor had their intellects destroyed by the white man's\nfire-water, have minds of high order, and reason with a correctness\nthat would put to the blush the powers of many an educated logician. Yet\nare these men called savages, and morally associated with the tomahawk\nand scalping knife. Few regard them as reasonable creatures, or as\nbeings endowed by their creator with souls, that are here to be fitted\nfor the responsibilities of the Indians hereafter.\n\nGood men are sending the Bible to all parts of the world. Sermons are\npreached in behalf of fellow-creatures who are perishing in regions\nknown only to us in name. And here, within reach of comparatively the\nslightest exertion; here, not many miles from churches and schools, and\nall the moral influences abounding in Christian society; here, in a\ncountry endowed with every advantage that God can bestow, are perishing,\nbody and soul, our own countrymen: perishing too from disease,\nstarvation and intemperance, and all the evils incident to their unhappy\ncondition. White men, Christian men, are driving them back; rooting out\ntheir very names from the face of the earth. Ah! these men can seek the\ncountry of the Sioux when money is to be gained: but how few care for\nthe sufferings of the Dahcotahs! how few would give a piece of money, a\nprayer, or even a thought, towards their present and eternal good.\n\nYet are they not altogether neglected. Doctor Williamson, one of the\nmissionaries among the Sioux, lives near Fort Snelling. He is exerting\nhimself to the utmost to promote the moral welfare of the unhappy people\namong whom he expects to pass his life. He has a school for the Indian\nchildren, and many of them read well. On the Sabbath, divine service is\nregularly held, and he has labored to promote the cause of temperance\namong the Sioux. Christian exertion is unhappily too much influenced by\nthe apprehension that little can be done for the savage. How is it with\nthe man on his fire-water mission to the Indian? Does he doubt? Does\nhe fail?\n\nAs a great motive to improve the moral character of the Indians, I\npresent the condition of the women in their tribes. A degraded state of\nwoman is universally characteristic of savage life, as her elevated\ninfluence in civilized society is the conspicuous standard of moral and\nsocial virtue. The peculiar sorrows of the Sioux woman commence at her\nbirth. Even as a child she is despised, in comparison with the brother\nbeside her, who is one day to be a great warrior. As a maiden, she is\nvalued while the young man, who wants her for a wife, may have a doubt\nof his success. But when she is a wife, there is little sympathy for her\ncondition. How soon do the oppressive storms and contentions of life\nroot out all that is kind or gentle in her heart. She must bear the\nburdens of the family. Should her husband wish it, she must travel all\nday with a heavy weight on her back; and at night when they stop, her\nhands must prepare the food for her family before she retires to rest.\n\nHer work is never done. She makes the summer and the winter house. For\nthe former she peels the bark from the trees in the spring; for the\nlatter she sews the deer-skin together. She tans the skins of which\ncoats, mocassins, and leggins are to be made for the family; she has to\nscrape it and prepare it while other cares are pressing upon her. When\nher child is born, she has no opportunities for rest or quiet. She must\npaddle the canoe for her husband--pain and feebleness must be forgotten.\nShe is always hospitable. Visit her in her teepee, and she willingly\ngives you what you need, if in her power; and with alacrity does what\nshe can to promote your comfort. In her looks there is little that is\nattractive. Time has not caused the wrinkles in her forehead, nor the\nfurrows in her cheek. They are the traces of want, passion, sorrows and\ntears. Her bent form was once light and graceful. Labor and privations\nare not preservative of beauty.\n\nLet it not be deemed impertinent if I venture to urge upon those who\ncare for the wretched wherever their lot may be cast, the immense good\nthat might be accomplished among these tribes by schools, which should\nopen the minds of the young to the light of reason and Christianity.\nEven if the elder members are given up as hopeless, with the young\nthere is always encouragement. Many a bright little creature among the\nDahcotahs is as capable of receiving instruction as are the children of\ncivilization. Why should they be neglected when the waters of\nbenevolence are moving all around them?\n\nIt is not pretended that all the incidents related in these stories\noccurred exactly as they are stated. Most of them are entirely true;\nwhile in others the narrative is varied in order to show some prevalent\ncustom, or to illustrate some sentiment to which these Indians are\ndevoted. The Sioux are as firm believers in their religion as we are in\nours; and they are far more particular in the discharge of what they\nconceive to be the obligations required by the objects of their faith\nand worship. There are many allusions to the belief and customs of the\nDahcotahs that require explanation. For this purpose I have obtained\nfrom the Sioux themselves the information required. On matters of faith\nthere is difference of opinion among them--but they do not make more\npoints of difference on religion, or on any other subject, than white\npeople do.\n\nThe day of the Dahcotah is far spent; to quote the language of a\nChippeway chief, \"The Indian's glory is passing away.\" They seem to be\nalmost a God-forgotten race. Some few have given the missionary reason\nto hope that they have been made subjects of Christian faith--and the\nlight, that has as yet broken in faint rays upon their darkness, may\nincrease. He who takes account of the falling of a sparrow, will not\naltogether cast away so large a portion of his creatures. All Christian\nminds will wish success to the Indian missionary; and assuredly God will\nbe true to his mercy, where man is found true to his duty.\n\nThe first impression created by the Sioux was the common one--fear. In\ntheir looks they were so different from the Indians I had occasionally\nseen. There was nothing in their aspect to indicate the success of\nefforts made to civilize them. Their tall, unbending forms, their savage\nhauteur, the piercing black eye, the quiet indifference of manner, the\nslow, stealthy step--how different were they from the eastern Indians,\nwhose associations with the white people seem to have deprived them of\nall native dignity of bearing and of character. The yells heard outside\nthe high wall of the fort at first filled me with alarm; but I soon\nbecame accustomed to them, and to all other occasional Indian\nexcitements, that served to vary the monotony of garrison life. Before I\nfelt much interest in the Sioux, they seemed to have great regard for\nme. My husband, before his marriage, had been stationed at Fort Snelling\nand at Prairie du Chien. He was fond of hunting and roaming about the\nprairies; and left many friends among the Indians when he obeyed the\norder to return to an eastern station. On going back to the Indian\ncountry, he met with a warm welcome from his old acquaintances, who were\neager to shake hands with \"Eastman's squaw.\"\n\nThe old men laid their bony hands upon the heads of my little boys,\nadmired their light hair, said their skins were very white; and,\nalthough I could not then understand their language, they told me many\nthings, accompanied with earnest gesticulation. They brought their wives\nand young children to see me. I had been told that Indian women gossiped\nand stole; that they were filthy and troublesome. Yet I could not\ndespise them: they were wives and mothers--God had implanted the same\nfeelings in their hearts as in mine.\n\nSome Indians visited us every day, and we frequently saw them at their\nvillages. Captain E. spoke their language well; and without taking any\npains to acquire it, I soon understood it so as to talk with them. The\nsufferings of the women and children, especially during the winter\nseason, appealed to my heart. Their humility in asking for assistance\ncontrasted strongly with the pompous begging of the men. Late in a\nwinter's afternoon, Wenona, wife of a chief named the \"Star,\" came to my\nroom. Undoing a bundle that she took from under her blanket, she\napproached and showed it to me. It was an infant three days old,\nclosely strapped to an Indian cradle. The wretched babe was shrivelled\nand already looking old from hunger. She warmed it by the fire,\nattempting to still its feeble cries.\n\n\"Do you nurse your baby well, Wenona?\" I asked; \"it looks so thin and\nsmall.\"\n\n\"How can I,\" was the reply, \"when I have not eaten since it was born?\"\n\nFrequently we have heard of whole families perishing during severely\ncold weather. The father absent on a winter's hunt, the mother could not\nleave her children to apply to the fort for assistance, even had she\nstrength left to reach there. The frozen bodies would be found in the\nlodges. The improvident character of the Indian is well known. Their\nannuities are soon spent; supplies received from government are used in\nfeasting; and no provision is made for winters that are always long and\nsevere. Though they receive frequent assistance from the public at the\nfort, the wants of all cannot be supplied. The captain of the post was\ngenerous towards them, as was always my friend Mrs. F., whom they highly\nesteemed. Yet some hearts are closed against appeals daily made to their\nhumanity. An Indian woman may suffer from hunger or sickness, because\nher looks are repulsive and her garments unwashed: some will say they\ncan bear the want of warm clothing, because they have been used to\nprivation.\n\nThe women of the Sioux exhibit many striking peculiarities of\ncharacter--the love of the marvellous, and a profound veneration for any\nand every thing connected with their religious faith; a willingness to\nlabor and to learn; patience in submitting to insults from servants who\nconsider them intruders in families; the evident recognition of the fact\nthat they are a doomed race, and must submit to indignities that they\ndare not resent. They seem, too, so unused to sympathy, often comparing\ntheir lives of suffering and hardship with the ease and comfort enjoyed\nby the white women, it must be a hard heart, that could withhold\nsympathy from such poor creatures. Their home was mine--and such a home!\nThe very sunsets, more bright and glorious than I had ever seen, seemed\nto love to linger over the scenes amongst which we lived; the high\nbluffs of the \"father of many waters\" and the quiet shores of the\n\"Minesota;\" the fairy rings on the prairie, and the \"spirit lakes\" that\nreposed beside them; the bold peak, Pilot Knob, on whose top the Indians\nbury their dead, with the small hills rising gradually around it--all\nwere dear to the Sioux and to me. They believed that the rocks, and\nhills, and waters were peopled with fairies and spirits, whose power and\nanger they had ever been taught to fear. I knew that God, whose presence\nfills all nature, was there. In fancy they beheld their deities in the\nblackened cloud and fearful storm; I saw mine in the brightness of\nnature, the type of the unchanging light of Heaven.\n\nThey evinced the warmest gratitude to any who had ever displayed kind\nfeelings towards them. When our little children were ill with scarlet\nfever, how grieved they were to witness their sufferings; especially as\nwe watched Virginia, waiting, as we expected, to receive her parting\nbreath. How strongly they were contrasted! that fair child, unconscious\neven of the presence of the many kind friends who had watched and wept\nbeside her--and the aged Sioux women, who had crept noiselessly into the\nchamber. I remember them well, as they leaned over the foot of the bed;\ntheir expressive and subdued countenances full of sorrow. That small\nwhite hand, that lay so powerless, had ever been outstretched to welcome\nthem when they came weary and hungry.\n\nThey told me afterwards, that \"much water fell from their eyes day and\nnight, while they thought she would die;\" that the servants made them\nleave the sick room, and then turned them out of the house--but that\nthey would not go home, waiting outside to hear of her.\n\nDuring her convalescence, I found that they could \"rejoice with those\nthat rejoice\" as well as \"weep with those that wept.\" The fearful\ndisease was abating in our family, and \"Old Harper,\" as she is called\nin the Fort, offered to sit up and attend to the fire. We allowed her to\ndo so, for the many who had so kindly assisted us were exhausted with\nfatigue. Joy had taken from me all inclination to sleep, and I lay down\nnear my little girl, watching the old Sioux woman. She seemed to be\nreviewing the history of her life, so intently did she gaze at the\nbright coals on the hearth. Many strange thoughts apparently engaged\nher. She was, of her own accord, an inmate of the white man's house,\nwaiting to do good to his sick child. She had wept bitterly for days,\nlest the child should be lost to her--and now she was full of happiness,\nat the prospect of her recovery.\n\nHow shall we reconcile this with the fact that Harper, or Harpstinah,\nwas one of the Sioux women, who wore, as long as she could endure it, a\nnecklace made of the hands and feet of Chippeway children? Here, in the\nsilence of night, she turned often towards the bed, when the restless\nsleep of the child broke in on her meditation. She fancied I slept, but\nmy mind was busy too. I was far away from the home of my childhood, and\na Sioux woman, with her knife in her belt, was assisting me in the care\nof my only daughter. She thought Dr. T. was a \"wonderful medicine man\"\nto cure her; in which opinion we all cordially coincided.\n\nI always listened with pleasure to the women, when allusion was made to\ntheir religion; but when they spoke of their tradition, I felt as a\nmiser would, had he discovered a mine of gold. I had read the legends of\nthe Maiden's Rock, and of St. Anthony's Falls. I asked Checkered Cloud\nto tell them to me. She did so--and how differently they were told! With\nmy knowledge of the language, and the aid of my kind and excellent\nfriend Mr. Prescott, all the dark passages in her narration were made\nclear. I thought the Indian tone of feeling was not rightly\nappreciated--their customs not clearly stated, perhaps not fairly\nestimated. The red man, considered generally as a creature to be carried\nabout and exhibited for money, was, in very truth, a being immortally\nendowed, though under a dispensation obscure to the more highly-favored\nwhite race. As they affirmed a belief in the traditions of their tribe,\nwith what strength and beauty of diction they clothed their\nthoughts--how energetic in gesture! Alas! for the people who had no\nhigher creed, no surer trust, for this and for another world.\n\nHowever they may have been improved, no one could have had better\nopportunities than I, to acquire all information of interest respecting\nthese Indians. I lived among them seven years. The chiefs from far and\nnear were constantly visiting the Fort, and were always at our house.\nNot a sentiment is in the Legends that I did not hear from the lips of\nthe Indian man or woman. They looked on my husband as their friend, and\ntalked to him freely on all subjects, whether of religion, customs, or\ngrievances. They were frequently told that I was writing about them,\nthat every body might know what great warriors they were.\n\nThe men were sometimes astonished at the boldness with which I reproved\nthem, though it raised me much in their estimation. I remember taking\nBad Hail, one of their chiefs, to task, frequently; and on one occasion\nhe told me, by way of showing his gratitude for the interest I took in\nhis character, that he had three wives, all of whom he would give up if\nI would \"leave Eastman, and come and live with him.\" I received his\nproposition, however, with Indian indifference, merely replying that I\ndid not fancy having my head split open every few days with a stick of\nwood. He laughed heartily after his fashion, conscious that the cap\nfitted, for he was in the habit of expending all his surplus bad temper\nupon his wives. I have sometimes thought, that if, when a warrior, be he\nchief or commoner, throws a stick of wood at his wife's head, she were\nto cast it back at his, he might, perhaps, be taught better behaviour.\nBut I never dared to instil such insubordinate notions into the heads of\nmy Sioux female friends, lest some ultra \"brave,\" in a desperate rage,\nmight substitute the tomahawk for the log. These opinions, too, might\nhave made me unpopular with Sioux and Turks--and, perchance, with some\nof my more enlightened friends, who are self-constituted \"lords of\ncreation.\"\n\nI noticed that Indians, like white people, instead of confessing and\nforsaking their sins, were apt to excuse themselves by telling how much\nworse their neighbors were. When told how wicked it was to have more\nthan one wife, they defended themselves by declaring that the\nWinnebagoes had twice or thrice as many as the Sioux. The attempt to\nmake one right of two wrongs seems to be instinctive.\n\nI wished to learn correctly the Indian songs which they sing in\ncelebrating their dances. I sent for a chief, Little Hill, who is a\nfamous singer, but with little perseverance as a teacher of music. He\nsoon lost all patience with me, refused to continue the lesson,\ndeclaring that he could never make me sing like a Sioux squaw. The low,\nguttural notes created the difficulty. He very quickly became tired of\nmy piano and singing. The chiefs and medicine men always answered my\nquestions readily, respecting their laws and religion; but, to insure\ngood humor, they must first have something to eat. All the scraps of\nfood collected in the kitchen; cold beef, cold buckwheat cakes; nothing\nwent amiss, especially as to quantity. Pork is their delight--apples\nthey are particularly fond of--and, in the absence of fire-water,\nmolasses and water is a most acceptable beverage. Then they had to smoke\nand nod a little before the fire--and by and by I heard all about the\nGreat Spirit, and Hookah the Giant, and the powers of the Sacred\nMedicine. All that is said in this book of their religion, laws, and\nsentiments, I learned from themselves, and most of the incidents\noccurred precisely as they are represented. Some few have been varied,\nbut only where it might happily illustrate a peculiar custom or opinion.\n\nTheir medicine men, priests, and jugglers, are proverbially the greatest\nscamps of the tribe. My dear father must forgive me for reflecting so\nharshly on his brother practitioners, and be reconciled when he hears\nthat they belong to the corps of quacks; for they doubt their own\npowers, and are constantly imposing on the credulity of others. On\nreturning from an evening walk, we met, near the fort, a notable\nprocession. First came an old medicine man, whose Indian name I cannot\nrecall; but the children of the garrison called him \"Old Sneak\"--a most\nappropriate appellation, for he always looked as if he had just\ncommitted murder, and was afraid of being found out. On this occasion he\nlooked particularly in character. What a representative of the learned\nfaculty! After him, in Indian file, came his wife and children, a most\ncadaverous looking set. To use a western phrase, they all looked as if\nthey were \"just dug up.\" Their appearance was accounted for in the\nfollowing ludicrous manner--the story is doubtless substantially true.\nThere was a quantity of refuse medicine that had been collecting in the\nhospital at the fort, and Old Sneak happened to be present at a general\nclearing out. The medicine was given to him; and away he went to his\nhome, hugging it up close to him like a veritable old miser. It was too\nprecious to be shared with his neighbors; the medicine of the white man\nwas \"wahkun\" (wonderful)--and, carrying out the principle that the more\nof a good thing the better, he, with his wife and children, took it all!\nI felt assured that the infant strapped to its mother's back was dying\nat that time.\n\nThe \"dog dance\" is held by the Sioux in great reverence; and the first\ntime it has been celebrated near the fort for many years, was about five\nsummers ago.\n\nThe Chippeways, with their chief, \"Hole in the Day,\" were down on a\nvisit, and the prairie outside the fort was covered with Indians of both\ntribes. The Chippeways sat on the grass at a little distance, watching\nthe Sioux as they danced, \"to show how brave they were, and how they\ncould eat the hearts of their enemies.\" Most of the officers and ladies\nof the garrison were assembled on the hospital gallery to witness\nthe dance.\n\nThe Sioux warriors formed a circle; in the centre was a pole fastened in\nthe ground. One of the Indians killed a dog, and, taking out the heart\nand liver, held them for a few moments in a bucket of cold water, and\nthen hung them to the pole. After awhile, one of the warriors advanced\ntowards it, barking. His attitude was irresistibly droll; he tried to\nmake himself look as much as possible like a dog, and I thought he\nsucceeded to admiration. He retreated, and another warrior advanced with\na different sort of bark; more joined in, until there was a chorus of\nbarking. Next, one becomes very courageous, jumps and barks towards the\npole, biting off a piece of the flesh; another follows and does the same\nfeat. One after another they all bark and bite. \"Let dogs delight\" would\nhave been, an appropriate melody for the occasion. They had to hold\ntheir heads back to swallow the mor\u00e7eau--it was evidently hard work.\nSeveral dogs were killed in succession, when, seeing some of the\nwarriors looking pale and deadly sick, Captain E. determined to try how\nmany of their enemies' hearts they could dispose of. He went down among\nthe Indians and purchased another dog. They could not refuse to eat the\nheart. It made even the bravest men sick to swallow the last\nmouthful--they were pale as death. I saw the last of it, and although\nJohn Gilpin's ride might be a desirable sight, yet when the Sioux\ncelebrate another dog feast, \"may I not be there to see.\"\n\nOur intercourse with the Sioux was greatly facilitated, and our\ninfluence over them much increased, by the success attending my\nhusband's efforts to paint their portraits. They thought it supernatural\n(wahkun) to be represented on canvas. Some were prejudiced against\nsitting, others' esteemed it a great compliment to be asked, but all\nexpected to be paid for it. And if anything were wanting to complete our\nopportunities for gaining all information that was of interest, we found\nit in the daguerreotype. Captain E., knowing they were about to\ncelebrate a feast he wished to paint in group, took his apparatus out,\nand, when they least expected it, transferred the group to his plate.\nThe awe, consternation, astonishment and admiration, surpassed\ndescription. \"Ho! Eastman is all wahkun!\"\n\nThe Indians are fond of boasting and communicating their exploits and\nusages to those who have their confidence. While my husband has\ndelineated their features with the pencil, I have occupied pleasantly\nmany an hour in learning from them how to represent accurately the\nfeelings and features of their hearts--feeble though my pen be. We never\nfailed to gain a point by providing a good breakfast or dinner.\n\nWith the Rev. Mr. Pond and Dr. Williamson, both missionaries among the\nSioux, I had many a pleasant interview and talk about the tribe. They\nkindly afforded me every assistance--and as they are perfectly\nacquainted with the language of the Sioux, and have studied their\nreligion with the view to introduce the only true one, I could not have\napplied to more enlightened sources, or better authority.\n\nThe day we left Fort Snelling, I received from Mr. Pond the particulars\nof the fate of the Sioux woman who was taken prisoner by the Chippeways,\nand who is represented in the legend called The Wife. Soon after her\nreturn to her husband, he was killed by the Chippeways; and the\ndifficulty was settled by the Chippeways paying to the Sioux what was\nconsidered the value of the murdered man, in goods, such as calico,\ntobacco, &c.! After his death, the widow married a Sioux, named \"Scarlet\nFace.\" They lived harmoniously for a while--but soon difficulties arose,\nand Scarlet Face, in a fit of savage rage, beat her to death. A most\nunromantic conclusion to her eventful life.\n\nHow vivid is our recollection of the grief the Sioux showed at parting\nwith us. For although, at the time, it added to the pain naturally felt\nat leaving a place which had so long been our home; yet the sincere\naffection they evinced towards us and our children was most gratifying.\nThey wished us to remember them, when far away, with kindness. The\nfarewell of my friend Checkered Cloud can never be forgotten. She was my\nconstant visitor for years; and, although a poor and despised Sioux\nwoman, I learned to look upon her with respect and regard. Nor does my\ninterest in her and her nation cease, because, in the chances of life,\nwe may never meet again. It will still be my endeavor to depict all the\ncustoms, feasts and ceremonies of the Sioux, before it be too late. The\naccount of them may be interesting, when the people who so long believed\nin them will be no more.\n\nWe can see they are passing away, but who can decide the interesting\nquestion of their origin? They told me that their nation had always\nlived in the valley of the Mississippi--that their wise men had asserted\nthis for ages past. Some who have lived among them, think they crossed\nover from Persia in ships--and that they once possessed the knowledge of\nbuilding large vessels, though they have now entirely lost it. This idea\nbears too little probability to command any confidence. The most general\nopinion is the often told one, that they are a remnant of God's ancient\nand chosen people. Be this as it may, they are \"as the setting sun, or\nas the autumn leaves trampled upon by powerful riders.\"\n\nThey are receding rapidly, and with feeble resistance, before the giant\nstrides of civilization. The hunting grounds of a few savages will soon\nbecome the haunts of densely peopled, civilized settlements. We should\nbe better reconciled to this manifest destiny of the aborigines, if the\ninroads of civilization were worthy of it; if the last years of these,\nin some respects, noble people, were lit up with the hope-inspiring rays\nof Christianity. We are not to judge the Heathen; yet universal evidence\ngives the melancholy fact, that the light of nature does not lead the\nsoul to God: and without judging of their destiny, we are bound to\nenlighten their minds. We know the great Being of whom they are\nignorant; and well will it be for them and for us, in a day that awaits\nus all, if yet, though late, sadly late--yet not too late, we so give\ncountenance and aid to the missionary, that the light of revealed truth\nmay cheer the remaining period of their national and individual,\nexistence.\n\nWill it be said that I am regarding, with partial eye and sentimental\nromance, but one side of the Sioux character? Have they no faults, as a\npeople and individually? They are savages--and that goes far to answer\nthe question. Perhaps the best answer is, the women have faults enough,\nand the men twice as many as the women. But if to be a savage is to be\ncruel, vindictive, ferocious--dare we say that to be a civilized man\nnecessarily implies freedom from these traits?\n\nWant of truth, and habitual dishonesty in little things, are prevalent\ntraits among the Sioux. Most of them will take a kitchen spoon or fork,\nif they have a chance--and they think it fair thus to return the\npeculations of the whites. They probably have an idea of making up for\nthe low price at which their lands have been valued, by maintaining a\nconstant system of petty thefts--or perhaps they consider kitchen\nutensils as curiosities, just as the whites do their mocassins and\nnecklaces of bear's claws. Yes--it must be confessed, however\nunsentimental, they almost all steal.\n\nThe men think it undignified for them to steal, so they send their\nwives thus unlawfully to procure what they want--and wo be to them if\nthey are found out. The husband would shame and beat his wife for doing\nwhat he certainly would have beaten her for refusing to do. As regards\nthe honesty of the men, I give you the opinion of the husband of\nCheckered Cloud, who was an excellent Indian. \"Every Sioux;\" said he,\n\"will steal if he need, and there be a chance. The best Indian that ever\nlived, has stolen. I myself once stole some powder.\"\n\nI have thus, perhaps tediously, endeavored to show, that what is said in\nthis work has been learned by intimate association, and that for years,\nwith the Indian. This association has continued under influences that\nsecured unreservedly their confidence, friendship--and I may say--truly,\nin many instances--their affection. If the perusal of the Legends give\npleasure to my friends--how happy am I! To do more than this I hardly\ndare hope.\n\nM. H. E.\n\n\n\n\nPRELIMINARY REMARKS\n\nON\n\nTHE CUSTOMS OF THE DAHCOTAHS.\n\n\n\nI.\n\n\nSIOUX CEREMONIES, SCALP DANCE, &c.\n\nThe Sioux occupy a country from the Mississippi river to some point west\nof the Missouri, and from the Chippewa tribe on the north, to the\nWinnebago on the south; the whole extent being about nine hundred miles\nlong by four hundred in breadth.\n\nDahcotah is the proper name of this once powerful tribe of Indians. The\nterm Sioux is not recognized, except among those who live near the\nwhites. It is said to have been given by the old French traders, that\nthe Dahcotahs might not know when they were the subjects of\nconversation. The exact meaning of the word has never been ascertained.\n\nDahcotah means a confederacy. A number of bands live near each other on\nterms of friendship, their customs and laws being the same. They mean by\nthe word Dahcotah what we mean by the confederacy of states in our\nunion. The tribe is divided into a number of bands, which are subdivided\ninto villages; every village being governed by its own chief. The honor\nof being chief is hereditary, though for cause a chief may be deposed\nand another substituted; and the influence the chief possesses depends\nmuch more upon his talents and capacity to govern, than upon mere\nhereditary descent. To every village there is also a _war-chief_, and as\nto these are ascribed supernatural powers, their influence is\nunbounded. Leading every military excursion, the war-chief's command is\nabsolute with his party.\n\nThere are many clans among the Sioux, and these are distinguished from\neach other by the different kinds of medicine they use. Each clan takes\na root for its medicine, known only to those initiated into the\nmysteries of the clan. The name of this root must be kept a secret. Many\nof these roots are entirely destitute of medicinal power. The clans are\ngoverned by a sort of free-masonry system. A Dahcotah would die rather\nthan divulge the secret of his clan. The clans keep up almost a\nperpetual warfare with each other. Each one supposes the other to be\npossessed of supernatural powers, by which they can, cause the death of\nany individual, though he may live at a great distance. This belief is\nthe cause of a great deal of bloodshed. When a Dahcotah dies, it is\nattributed to some one of another clan, and revenge is sought by the\nrelatives of the deceased. All their supposed supernatural powers are\ninvoked to destroy the murderer. They first try the powers of their\nsacred medicine, imagining they can cast a fatal spell on the offender;\nif this fail, they have recourse to more destructive weapons, and the\naxe, knife or gun may be fatally used. After the supposed murderer is\nkilled, his relations retaliate, and thus successive feuds become\nperpetual.\n\nThe Dahcotahs, though a reckless, are a generous people, usually kind\nand affectionate to their aged, though instances to the contrary\nfrequently occur. Among the E-yanktons, there was a man so feeble and\ndecrepit from age as to be totally unable to take care of himself; not\nbeing able to walk, he occasioned great trouble. When the band went out\nhunting, he entreated the young men to drag him along, that he might not\nfall a prey to the Chippeways, or to a fate equally dreaded, cold and\nstarvation. For a time they seemed to pity him, and there were always\nthose among the hunting party who were willing to render him assistance.\nAt last he fell to the charge of some young men, who, wearied with\ncarrying him from place to place, told him they would leave him, but he\nneed not die a lingering death. They gave him a gun, and placed him on\nthe ground to be shot at, telling him to try and kill one of the young\nwarriors who were to fire at him; and thus he would have so much more\nhonor to carry with him to the land of spirits. He knew it was useless\nto attempt to defend himself. In a few moments he received his\ndeath-wound, and was no longer a burden to himself or to others.  The\nSioux have a number of superstitious notions, which particularly\ninfluence the women. They are slavishly fearful of the spirits of the\ndead, and a thousand other fancies. Priests and jugglers are venerated\nfrom their supposed supernatural powers.\n\nLittle is generally known of their religion or their customs. One must\nlive among them to induce them to impart any information concerning\ntheir mode of life or religious faith; to a stranger they are\nalways reserved.\n\nTheir dances and feasts are not amusements. They all have an object and\nmeaning, and are celebrated year after year, under a belief that neglect\nwill be punished by the Great Spirit by means of disease, want, or the\nattacks of enemies. All their fear of punishment is confined to what\nthey may suffer in this world. They have no fear of the anger of their\ndeities being continued after death. Revolting as the ceremony of\ndancing round a scalp seems to us, an Indian believes it to be a sacred\nduty to celebrate it. The dancing part is performed by the old and young\nsquaws. The medicine men sing, beat the drum, rattle the gourd, and use\nsuch other instruments as they contrive. Anything is considered a\nmusical instrument that will assist in creating discordant sound. One of\nthese is a bone with notches on it, one end of which rests on a tin pan,\nthe other being held in the left hand, while, with a piece of bone in\nthe right, which a medicine man draws over the notches, sounds as\ndiscordant and grating as possible are created.\n\nThe squaws dance around the scalps in concentric circles, in groups of\nfrom four to twelve together, pressing their shoulders against each\nother, and at every stroke of the drum raising themselves to their\nutmost height, hopping and sliding a short distance to the left,\nsinging all the time with the medicine men. They keep time perfectly. In\nthe centre, the scalps are attached to a pole stuck in the ground, or\nelse carried on the shoulders of some of the squaws. The scalp is\nstretched on a hoop, and the pole to which it is attached is several\nfeet long. It is also covered with vermilion or red earth, and\nornamented with feathers, ribbons, beads, and other trinkets, and\nusually a pair of scissors or a comb. After dancing for a few minutes,\nthe squaws stop to rest. During this interval one of the squaws, who has\nhad a son, husband, or brother killed by a warrior of the tribe from\nwhich the scalp she holds was taken, will relate the particulars of his\ndeath, and wind up by saying, \"Whose scalp have I now on my shoulders?\"\nAt this moment there is a general shout, and the dance again commences.\nThis ceremony continues sometimes, at intervals, for months; usually\nduring the warm weather. After the dance is done, the scalp is buried or\nput up on the scaffold with some of the deceased of the tribe who took\nthe scalp. So much for the scalp dance--a high religious ceremony, not,\nas some suppose, a mere amusement.\n\nThe Sacred Feast is given in honor of the sacred medicine, and is always\ngiven by medicine-men or women who are initiated into the mysteries of\nthe medicine dance. The medicine men are invariably the greatest rascals\nof the band, yet the utmost respect is shown them. Every one fears the\npower of a medicine man. When a medicine man intends giving a feast, he\ngoes or sends to the persons whom he wishes to invite. When all are\nassembled, the giver of the feast opens the medicine bag with some\nformality. The pipe is lit and smoked by all present; but it is first\noffered to the Great Spirit. After the smoking, food is placed in wooden\nbowls, or other vessels that visitors may have brought; for it is not a\nbreach of etiquette to bring dishes with you to the feast. When all are\nserved, the word is given to commence eating, and those that cannot eat\nall that is given them, must make a present to the host, besides hiring\nsome one present to eat what they fail to consume. To waste a morsel\nwould offend the Great Spirit, and injure or render useless the\nmedicine. Every one having finished eating, the kettle in which the food\nwas cooked is smoked with cedar leaves or grass. Before the cooking is\ncommenced, all the fire within the wigwam is put out, and a fresh one\nmade from flint and steel. In the celebration of the Sacred Feast, the\nfire and cooking utensils are kept and consecrated exclusively to that\npurpose. After the feast is over, all the bones are carefully collected\nand thrown into the water, in order that no dog may get them, nor a\nwoman trample on them.\n\nThe Sioux worship the sun. The _sun dance_ is performed by young\nwarriors who dance, at intervals of five minutes, for several days. They\nhop on one foot and then on the other, keeping time to the drum, and\nmaking indescribable gestures, each having a small whistle in his mouth,\nwith his face turned towards the sun. The singing and other music is\nperformed by the medicine men. The drum used is a raw hide stretched\nover a keg, on which a regular beating of time is made with a short\nstick with a head to it. Women pretend to foretell future events, and,\nfor this reason, are sometimes invited to medicine feasts.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\n\nINDIAN DOCTORS.\n\nWhen an Indian is sick and wants \"the Doctor\" as we say, or a medicine\nman, as they say,--they call them also priests, doctors and jugglers,--a\nmessenger is sent for one, with a pipe filled in one hand, and payment\nin the other; which fee may be a gun, blanket, kettle or anything in the\nway of present. The messenger enters the wigwam (or teepee, as the\nhouses of the Sioux are called) of the juggler, presents the pipe, and\nlays the present or fee beside him. Having smoked, the Doctor goes to\nthe teepee of the patient, takes a seat at some distance from him,\ndivests himself of coat or blanket, and pulls his leggins to his ankles.\nHe then calls for a gourd, which has been suitably prepared, by drying\nand putting small beads or gravel stones in it, to make a rattling\nnoise. Taking the gourd, he begins to rattle it and to sing, thereby to\ncharm the animal that has entered the body of the sick Sioux. After\nsinging _hi-he-hi-hah_ in quick succession, the chorus _ha-ha-ha,\nhahahah_ is more solemnly and gravely chanted. On due repetition of this\nthe doctor stops to smoke; then sings and rattles again. He sometimes\nattempts to draw with his mouth the disease from an arm or a limb that\nhe fancies to be affected. Then rising, apparently almost suffocated,\ngroaning terribly and thrusting his face into a bowl of water, he makes\nall sorts of gestures and noises. This is to get rid of the disease that\nhe pretends to have drawn from the sick person. When he thinks that some\nanimal, fowl or fish, has possession of the sick man, so as to cause the\ndisease, it becomes necessary to destroy the animal by shooting it. To\naccomplish this, the doctor makes the shape of the animal of bark, which\nis placed in a bowl of water mixed with red earth, which he sets outside\nof the wigwam where some young men are standing, who are instructed by\nthe doctor how and when to shoot the animal.\n\nWhen all is ready, the doctor pops his head out of the wigwam, on his\nhands and knees. At this moment the young men fire at the little bark\nanimal, blowing it to atoms; when the doctor jumps at the bowl,\nthrusting his face into the water, grunting, groaning and making a vast\ndeal of fuss. Suddenly a woman jumps upon his back, then dismounts,\ntakes the doctor by the hair, and drags him back into the teepee. All\nfragments of the bark animal are then collected and burned. The ceremony\nthere ceases. If the patient does not recover, the doctor says he did\nnot get the right animal. The reader must be convinced that it is not\nfor want of the most strenuous exertions on the part of the physician.\n\nThese are some of the customs of the Dahcotahs, which, however absurd\nthey may appear to us, are held in sacred reverence by them. There are\nsome animals, birds and fishes, that an Indian venerates; and the\ncreature thus sacred, he dare neither kill nor eat. The selection is\nusually a bear, buffalo, deer, otter, eagle, hawk or snake. One will not\neat the right wing of a bird; another dare not eat the left: nor are the\nwomen allowed to eat any part that is considered sacred.\n\nThe Sioux say it is lawful to take revenge, but otherwise it is not\nright to murder. When murder is committed, it is an injury to the\ndeceased; not a sin against the Great Spirit. Some of their wise men say\nthat the Great Spirit has nothing to do with their affairs, present or\nfuture. They pretend to know but little of a future state. They have\ndreamy ideas of large cities somewhere in the heavens, where they will\ngo, but still be at war with their enemies and have plenty of game. An\nIndian woman's idea of future happiness consists in relief from care.\n\"Oh! that I were dead,\" they will often say, \"when I shall have no more\ntrouble.\" Veneration is much regarded in all Indian families. Thus a\nson-in-law must never call his father-in-law by his name, but by the\ntitle father-in-law, and vice versa. A female is not permitted to handle\nthe sac for war purposes; neither does she dare look into a\nlooking-glass, for fear of losing her eyesight.\n\nThe appearance of a brilliant aurora-borealis occasions great alarm. The\nIndians run immediately for their guns and bows and arrows to shoot at\nit, and thus disperse it.\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\n\nINDIAN NAMES AND WRITING.\n\nThe names of the Sioux bands or villages, are as fanciful as those given\nto individuals. Near Fort Snelling, are the \"Men-da-wahcan-tons,\" or\npeople of the spirit lakes; the \"Wahk-patons,\" or people of the leaves;\nthe \"Wahk-pa-coo-tahs,\" or people that shoot at leaves, and other bands\nwho have names of this kind. Among those chiefs who have been well-known\naround Fort Snelling, are,\n\n     Wah-ba-shaw,           The Leaf.\n     Wah-ke-on-tun-kah,     Big Thunder.\n     Wah-coo-ta,            Red Wing.\n     Muzza Hotah,           Gray Iron.\n     Ma-pe-ah-we-chas-tah,  The man in the Cloud.\n     Tah-chun-coo-wash-ta,  Good Road.\n     Sha-ce-pee,            The Sixth.\n     Wah-soo-we-chasta-ne,  Bad Hail.\n     Ish-ta-hum-bah,        Sleepy Eyes.\n\nThese fanciful names are given to them from some peculiarity in\nappearance or conduct; or sometimes from an occurrence that took place\nat the time that they usually receive the name that is ascribed to them\nfor life. There is a Sioux living in the neighborhood of Fort Snelling,\ncalled \"The man that walks with the women.\" It is not customary for the\nIndian to show much consideration for the fair sex, and this young man,\nexhibiting some symptoms of gallantry unusual among them, received the\nabove name.\n\nThe Sioux have ten names for their children, given according to the\norder of their birth.\n\n     The oldest son is called       Chask\u00e8,\n      \" second,                     Haparm,\n      \" third,                      Ha-pe-dah,\n      \" fourth,                     Chatun,\n      \" fifth,                      Harka,\n     The oldest daughter is called  Wenonah,\n      \" second,                     Harpen,\n      \" third,                      Harpstenah,\n      \" fourth,                     Waska,\n      \" fifth,                      We-barka.\n\nThese names they retain until another is given by their relations or\nfriends.\n\nThe Dahcotahs say that _meteors_ are men or women flying through the air;\nthat they fall to pieces as they go along, finally falling to the earth.\nThey call them \"Wah-ken-den-da,\" or the mysterious passing fire. They\nhave a tradition of a meteor which, they say, was passing over a hill\nwhere there was an Indian asleep. The meteor took the Indian on his\nback, and continued his route till it came to a pond where there were\nmany ducks. The ducks seeing the meteor, commenced a general quacking,\nwhich so alarmed him that he turned off and went around the pond, and\nwas about to pass over an Indian village. Here he was again frightened\nby a young warrior, who was playing on the flute. Being afraid of music,\nhe passed around the village, and soon after falling to the earth,\nreleased his burden. The Indian then asked the meteor to give him his\nhead strap, which he refused. The Indian offered him a feather of honor\nfor it, and was again refused. The Sioux, determined to gain his point,\ntold the meteor if he would give him the strap, he would kill a big\nenemy for him. No reply from the meteor. The Indian then offered to kill\na wigwam full of enemies--the meteor still mute. The last offer was six\nwigwams full of dead enemies for the so much coveted strap. The meteor\nwas finally bribed, gave up the head-strap, and the Sioux went home with\nthe great glory of having outwitted a meteor; for, as they met no more,\nthe debt was never paid.\n\nThe _language_ of the Sioux would, with proper facilities, be easily\nacquired. It is said, in many respects, to resemble the ancient Greek.\nEven after having acquired considerable knowledge of the language by\nstudy, it is necessary to live among the people in order to understand\ntheir fanciful mode of speaking.\n\nOne of the chiefs, \"Sleepy Eyes,\" visited a missionary not many weeks\nsince, and on being asked why he did not come at the time appointed,\nreplied, \"How could I come when I have no mocassins,\" meaning that he\nhad no horse. The horse had recently been killed by a man who owed him\na grudge; and his way of alluding to the loss was the mocassins. On\nanother occasion, this same chief, having done what he considered a\nfavor for the missionaries, at _Traverse des Sioux_, told them that his\ncoat was worn out, and that he had neither cloth nor thread to mend it;\nthe fact was, that he had no coat at all, no cloth nor thread; his\nbrawny neck and arms were entirely bare, and this was his way of begging\nfor a new coat.\n\nIn Indian warfare, the victor takes the scalp of his enemy. If he have\ntime, he takes the entire scalp, including the ears; but if hurried, a\nsmaller scalp-piece is taken. As an inducement to be foremost in battle,\nthe first four that touch the dead body of an enemy, share the honors\nthat are paid to the one who slew the foe and took the scalp. But the\nvictors in Indian fight frequently suffer in this way; a wounded savage\nfeigns death, and, as some warrior approaches to take his scalp, he will\nsuddenly rise, discharge his gun, and fight desperately with the\ntomahawk until killed. Deeds of valor performed by Indians are as often\ndone from desperation as from any natural bravery. They are educated to\nwarfare, but often show great disinclination to fight; strategy goes\nfarther with them than manly courage does. At Fort Snelling, the Sioux\nhave more than once crouched under the walls of the fort for protection,\nand on one occasion a chief, who came in to give information of the\napproach of some Chippeways trembled so as to shake the ornaments about\nhis dress.\n\n\nINDIAN WRITING.\n\n[Illustration: No. I and 3, prisoners captured by No. 2. (No hands on\nthe prisoners.) No. 1, female prisoner. No. 3, male.]\n\n[Illustration: Nos. 4 and 5, female and male killed; 6 and 7, boy and\ngirl killed.]\n\n[Illustration: No. 8, that he has killed his enemy; 9, that he has cut\nthe throat of his enemy, and taken the scalp; 10, that he was the third\nthat touched the body of his enemy after he was killed; 11, the fourth\nthat touched it; 12, the fifth that touched it.]\n\n[Illustration: No. 13, been wounded in many places by this enemy; 15,\nthat he has cut the throat of the enemy.]\n\nThe above represents the feathers from the war eagle. They are worn in\nthe hair of the warriors, as honors.\n\nThe above represents the only way that the Sioux have of writing an\naccount of an engagement that has taken place.\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\n\nINDIAN CHILDREN.\n\nThe children among the Sioux are early accustomed to look with\nindifference upon the sufferings or death of a person they hate. A few\nyears ago a battle was fought quite near Fort Snelling. The next day the\nSioux children were playing foot-ball merrily with the head of a\nChippeway. One boy, and a small boy too, had ornamented his head and\nears with curls. He had taken the skin peeled off a Chippeway who was\nkilled in the battle, wound it around a stick until it assumed the\nappearance of a curl, and tied them over his ears. Another child had a\nstring around his neck with a finger hanging to it as an ornament. The\ninfants, instead of being amused with toys or trinkets, are held up to\nsee the scalp of an enemy, and they learn to hate a Chippeway as soon as\nto ask for food.\n\nAfter the battle, the mother of a Sioux who was severely wounded found\nher way to the fort. She entered the room weeping sadly. Becoming quite\nexhausted, she seated herself on the floor, and said she wanted some\ncoffee and sugar for her sick son, some linen to bind up his wounds, a\ncandle to burn at night, and some whiskey _to make her cry_! Her son\nrecovered, and the mother, as she sat by and watched him, had the\nsatisfaction to see the scalps of the murdered Chippeways stretched on\npoles all through the village, around which she, sixty years old, looked\nforward with great joy to dance; though _this_ was a small gratification\ncompared with her recollection of having formerly cut to pieces the\nbodies of sundry murdered Chippeway children.\n\nA dreadful creature she was! How vividly her features rise before me.\nWell do I remember her as she entered my room on a stormy day in\nJanuary. Her torn mocassins were a mocking protection to her nearly\nfrozen feet; her worn \"okendo kenda\" hardly covering a wrinkled neck\nand arms seamed with the scars of many a self-inflicted wound; she tried\nto make her tattered blanket meet across her chest, but the benumbed\nfingers were powerless, and her step so feeble, from fatigue and want of\nfood, that she almost fell before the cheerful fire that seemed to\nwelcome her. The smile with which she tried to return my greeting added\nhideously to the savage expression of her features, and her matted hair\nwas covered with flakes of the drifting snow that almost blinded her.\n\nFood, a pipe, and a short nap before the fire, refreshed her\nwonderfully. At first she would hardly deign an answer to our questions;\nnow she becomes quite talkative. Her small keen eye follows the children\nas they play about the room; she tells of her children when they were\nyoung, and played around her; when their father brought her venison\nfor food.\n\nWhere are they? The Chippeways (mark her as she compresses her lips, and\nsee the nervous trembling of her limbs) killed her husband and her\noldest son: consumption walked among her household idols. She has one\nson left, but he loves the white man's _fire-water_; he has forgotten\nhis aged mother--she has no one to bring her food--the young men laugh\nat her, and tell her to kill game for herself.\n\nAt evening she must be going--ten miles she has to walk to reach her\nteepee, for she cannot sleep in the white man's house. We tell her the\nstorm is howling--it will be dark before she reaches home--the wind\nblows keenly across the open prairie--she had better lie down on the\ncarpet before the fire and sleep. She points to the walls of the\nfort--she does not speak; but her action says, \"It cannot be; the Sioux\nwoman cannot sleep beneath the roof of her enemies.\"\n\nShe is gone--God help the Sioux woman! the widow and the childless. God\nhelp her, I say, for other hope or help has she none.\n\n\n\nGODS OF THE DAHCOTAHS.\n\nFirst in order of the gods of the Dahcotahs, comes the Great Spirit. He\nis the creator of all things, excepting thunder and wild rice.\nThen there is,\n\n     Wakinyan, or Man of the West.\n     Wehiyayanpa-micaxta, Man of the East.\n     Wazza, Man of the North.\n     Itokaga-micaxta, Man of the South.\n     Onkteri, or Unktahe, God of the Waters.\n     Hayoka, or Haoka, the antinatural god.\n     Takuakanxkan, god of motion.\n     Canotidan, Little Dweller in Woods. This god is said to live in\n       a forest, in a hollow tree.\n     Witkokaga, the Befooler, that is, the god who deceives or fools\n       animals so that they can be easily taken.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nDAHCOTAH;\n\nOR,\n\nTHE LEGENDS OF THE SIOUX.\n\nMOCK-PE-EN-DAG-A-WIN:\n\nOR,\n\nCHECKERED CLOUD, THE MEDICINE WOMAN. [Footnote: A medicine woman is a\nfemale doctor or juggler. No man or woman can assume this office without\nprevious initiation by authority. The medicine dance is a sacred rite,\nin honor of the souls of the dead; the mysteries of this dance are kept\ninviolable; its secrets have never been divulged by its members. The\nmedicine men and women attend in cases of sickness. The Sioux have the\ngreatest faith in them. When the patient recovers, it redounds to the\nhonor of the doctor; if he die, they say \"The time had come that he\nshould die,\" or that the \"medicine of the person who cast a spell upon\nthe sick person was stronger than the doctor's.\" They can always find a\nsatisfactory solution of the failure of the charm.]\n\nWithin a few miles of Fort Snelling lives Checkered Cloud. Not that she\nhas any settled habitation; she is far too important a character for\nthat. Indeed she is not often two days in the same place. Her wanderings\nare not, however, of any great extent, so that she can always be found\nwhen wanted. But her wigwam is about seven miles from the fort, and she\nis never much farther off. Her occupations change with the day. She has\nbeen very busy of late, for Checkered Cloud is one of the medicine\nwomen of the Dahcotahs; and as the Indians have had a good deal of\nsickness among them, you might follow her from teepee to teepee, as she\nproceeds with the sacred rattle [Footnote: Sacred rattle. This is\ngenerally a gourd, but is sometimes made of bark. Small beads are put\ninto it. The Sioux suppose that this rattle, in the hands of one of\ntheir medicine men or women, possesses a certain virtue to charm away\nsickness or evil spirits. They shake it over a sick person, using a\ncircular motion. It is never, however, put in requisition against the\nworst _spirits_ with which the Red Man has to contend.] in her hand,\ncharming away the animal that has entered the body of the Dahcotah to\nsteal his strength.\n\nThen, she is the great legend-teller of the Dahcotahs. If there is a\nmerry-making in the village, Checkered Cloud must be there, to call to\nthe minds of the revellers the traditions that have been handed down\nfrom time immemorial.\n\nYesterday, wrapped in her blanket, she was seated on the St. Peters,\nnear a hole which she had cut in the ice, in order to spear the fish as\nthey passed through the water; and to-day--but while I am writing of\nher, she approaches the house; even now, her shadow falls upon the room\nas she passes the window. I need not listen to her step, for her\nmocassined feet pass noiselessly through the hall. The door is slowly\nopened, and she is before me!\n\nHow tall she is! and with what graceful dignity she offers her hand.\nSeventy winters have passed over her, but the brightness of her eye is\nundimmed by time. Her brow speaks of intellect--and the white hair that\nis parted over it falls unplaited on her shoulders. She folds her\nblanket round her and seats herself; she has a request to make, I know,\nbut Checkered Cloud is not a beggar, she never asks aught but what she\nfeels she has a right to claim.\n\n\"Long ago,\" she says, \"the Dahcotah owned lands that the white man now\nclaims; the trees, the rivers, were all our own. But the Great Spirit\nhas been angry with his children; he has taken their forests and their\nhunting grounds, and given them to others.\n\n\"When I was young, I feared not wind nor storm. Days have I wandered\nwith the hunters of my tribe, that they might bring home many buffalo\nfor food, and to make our wigwams. Then, I cared not for cold and\nfatigue, for I was young and happy. But now I am old; my children have\ngone before me to the 'House of Spirits'--the tender boughs have yielded\nto the first rough wind of autumn, while the parent tree has stood and\nborne the winter's storm.\n\n\"My sons have fallen by the tomahawk of their enemies; my daughter\nsleeps under the foaming waters of the Falls.\n\n\"Twenty winters were added to my life on that day. We had encamped at\nsome distance above the Falls, and our hunters had killed many deer.\nBefore we left our village to go on the hunt, we sacrificed to the\nSpirit of the woods, and we prayed to the Great Spirit. We lifted up our\nhands and said, 'Father, Great Spirit, help us to kill deer.' The arrows\nof our hunters never missed, and as we made ready for our return we were\nhappy, for we knew we should not want for food. My daughter's heart was\nlight, for Haparm was with her, and she never was sad but when he\nwas away.\n\n\"Just before we arrived at the Falls, she became sick; her hands were\nburning hot, she refused to eat. As the canoe passed over the\nMississippi, she would fill her cup with its waters, to drink and throw\nover her brow. The medicine men were always at her side, but they said\nsome evil spirit hated her, and prevented their spells from doing\nher good.\n\n\"When we reached the Falls, she was worse; the women left their canoes,\nand prepared to carry them and the rest of the baggage round the Falls.\n\n\"But what should we do with We-no-nah? the flush of fever was on her\ncheek; she did not know me when I spoke to her; but she kept her eyes\nfixed upon her lover.\n\n\"'We will leave her in the canoe,' said her father; 'and with a line we\ncan carry her gently over the Rapids.' I was afraid, but with her\nbrothers holding the line she must be safe. So I left my child in her\ncanoe, and paddled with the others to the shore.\n\n\"As we left her, she turned her eyes towards us, as if anxious to know\nwhat we were about to do. The men held the line steadily, and the canoe\nfloated so gently that I began to feel less anxious--but as we\napproached the rapids, my heart beat quickly at the sound of the waters.\nCarefully did her brothers hold the line, and I never moved my eyes from\nthe canoe in which she lay. Now the roaring of the waters grew louder,\nand as they hastened to the rocks over which they would fall they bore\nwith them my child--I saw her raise herself in the canoe, I saw her\nlong hair as it fell on her bosom--I saw no more!\n\n\"My sons bore me in their arms to the rest of the party. The hunters had\ndelayed their return that they might seek for the body of my child. Her\nlover called to her, his voice could be heard above the sound of the\nwaters. 'Return to me, Wenonah, I will never love maiden but you; did\nyou not promise to light the fires in my wigwam?' He would have thrown\nhimself after her, had not the young men prevented him. The body rests\nnot in the cold waters; we found it and buried it, and her spirit calls\nto me in the silence of the night! Her lover said he would not remain\nlong on the earth; he turned from the Dahcotah maidens as they smiled\nupon him. He died as a warrior should die!\n\n\"The Chippeways had watched for us, they longed to carry the scalp of a\nDahcotah home. They did so--but we were avenged.\n\n\"Our young men burst in upon them when they were sleeping; they struck\nthem with their tomahawks, they tore their scalps reeking with blood\nfrom their heads.\n\n\"We heard our warriors at the village as they returned from their war\nparty; we knew by their joyful cries that they had avenged their\nfriends. One by one they entered the village, bearing twenty scalps of\nthe enemy.\n\n\"Only three of the Dahcotahs had fallen. But who were the three? My\nsons, and he who was as dear as a son to me, the lover of my child. I\nfled from their cries of triumph--I longed to plunge the knife into my\nown heart.\n\n\"I have lived on. But sorrow and cold and hunger have bowed my spirit;\nand my limbs are not as strong and active as they were in my youth.\nNeither can I work with porcupine as I used to--for age and tears have\ndimmed my sight. I bring you venison and fish, will you not give me\nclothes to protect me from the winter's cold?\"\n\nAh! Checkered Cloud--he was a prophet who named you. Though the cloud\nhas varied, now passing away, now returning blacker than before--though\nthe cheering light of the sun has for a moment dispelled the gloom--\n'twas but for a moment! for it was sure to break in terrors over your\nhead. Your name is your history, your life has been a checkered cloud!\nBut the storm of the day has yielded to the influence of the setting\nsun. The thunder has ceased to roll, the wind has died away, and the\ngolden streaks that bound the horizon promise a brighter morning. So\nwith Checkered Cloud, the storm and strife of the earth have ceased; the\n\"battle of life\" is fought, and she has conquered. For she hopes to meet\nthe beloved of earth in the heaven of the Dahcotahs.\n\nAnd who will say that our heaven will not be hers? The God of the\nDahcotahs is ours, though they, less happy than we, have not been taught\nto know him. Christians! are you without blame? Have you thought of the\nprivations, the wants of those who once owned your country, and would\nown it still but for the strong hand? Have you remembered that their\nsouls are dear in His sight, who suffered for them, as well as for you?\nHave you given bright gold that their children might be educated and\nredeemed from their slavery of soul? Checkered Cloud will die as she has\nlived, a believer in the religion of the Dahcotahs. The traditions of\nher tribe are written on her heart. She worships a spirit in every\nforest tree, or every running stream. The features of the favored\nIsraelite are hers; she is perchance a daughter of their lost tribe.\nWhen she was young, she would have listened to the missionary as he told\nher of Gethsemane and Calvary. But age yields not like youth to new\nimpressions; the one looks to the future, the other clings to the past.\nSee! she has put by her pipe and is going, but she is coming oft again\nto talk to me of her people, that I may tell to my friends the bravery\nof the Dahcotah warrior, and the beauty of the maiden! the legends of\ntheir rivers and sacred isles--the traditions of their rocks and hills!\n\nIf I cannot, in recounting the wild stories of this prophetess of the\nforest, give her own striking words, I shall at least be faithful to the\nspirit of her recitals. I shall let Indian life speak for itself; these\ntrue pictures of its course will tell its whole simple story better than\nany labored exposition of mine. Here we may see, not the red man of the\nnovel or the drama, but the red man as he appears to himself, and to\nthose who live with him. His better characteristics will be found quite\nas numerous as ought to be expected under the circumstances; his faults\nand his sufferings should appeal to the hearts of those who hold the\nmeans of his salvation. No intelligent citizen of these United States\ncan without blame forget the aborigines of his country. Their wrongs cry\nto heaven; their souls will be required of us. To view them as brutes is\nan insult to Him who made them and us. May this little work do something\ntowards exciting an interest in a single tribe out of the many whose\nonly hope is in the mercy of the white man!\n\n\n\n\nRED EARTH;\n\nOR,\n\nMOCKA-DOOTA-WIN.\n\n\"Good Road\" is one of the Dahcotah chiefs--he is fifty years old and has\ntwo wives, but these two have given a deal of trouble; although the\nchief probably thinks it of no importance whether his two wives fight\nall the time or not, so that they obey his orders. For what would be a\ncalamity in domestic life to us, is an every day affair among the\nDahcotahs.\n\nGood Road's village is situated on the banks of the St. Peter's about\nseven miles from Fort Snelling. And like other Indian villages it\nabounds in variety more than anything else. In the teepee the farthest\nfrom us, right on the edge of the shore, there are three young men\ncarousing. One is inclined to go to sleep, but the other two will not\nlet him; their spirits are raised and excited by what has made him\nstupid. Who would suppose they were human beings? See their bloodshot\neyes; hear their fiendish laugh and horrid yells; probably before the\nrevel is closed, one of the friends will have buried his knife in the\nother's heart.\n\nWe will pass on to the next teepee. Here we witness a scene almost as\nappalling. \"Iron Arms,\" one of the most valiant warriors of the band, is\nstretched in the agonies of death. Old Spirit Killer, the medicine man,\nis gesticulating by his side, and accompanying his motions with the most\nhorrid noises. But all in vain; the spirit of \"Iron Arms,\" the man of\nstrength, is gone. The doctor says that his medicine was good, but that\na prairie dog had entered into the body of the Dahcotah, and he thought\nit had been a mud-hen. Magnanimous doctor! All honor, that you can allow\nyourself in error.\n\nWhile the friends of the dead warrior are rending the air with their\ncries, we will find out what is going on in the next wigwam. What\na contrast!\n\n\"The Whirlpool\" is seated on the ground smoking; gazing as earnestly at\nthe bright coals as if in them he could read the future or recall the\npast; and his young wife, whose face, now merry, now sad, bright with\nsmiles at one moment, and lost in thought the next, gained for her the\nname of \"The Changing Countenance,\" is hushing her child to sleep; but\nthe expression of her features does not change now--as she looks on her\nchild, a mother's deep and devoted love is pictured on her face.\n\nIn another, \"The Dancing Woman\" is wrapped in her blanket pretending to\ngo to sleep. In vain does \"The Flying Cloud\" play that monotonous\ncourting tune on the flute. The maiden would not be his wife if he gave\nher all the trinkets in the world. She loves and is going to marry \"Iron\nLightning,\" who has gone to bring her--what? a brooch--a new blanket?\nno, a Chippeway's scalp, that she may be the most graceful of those who\ndance around it. Her mother is mending the mocassins of the old man who\nsleeps before the fire.\n\nAnd we might go round the village and find every family differently\nemployed. They have no regular hours for eating or sleeping. In front of\nthe teepees, young men are lying on the ground, lazily playing checkers,\nwhile their wives and sisters are cutting wood and engaged in laborious\nhousehold duties.\n\nI said Good Road had two wives, and I would now observe that neither of\nthem is younger than himself. But they are as jealous of each other as\nif they had just turned seventeen, and their lord and master were twenty\ninstead of fifty. Not a day passes that they do not quarrel, and fight\ntoo. They throw at each other whatever is most convenient, and sticks of\nwood are always at hand. And then, the sons of each wife take a part in\nthe battle; they first fight for their mothers, and then for\nthemselves--so that the chief must have been reduced to desperation long\nago if it were not for his pipe and his philosophy. Good Road's second\nwife has Chippeway blood in her veins. Her mother was taken prisoner by\nthe Dahcotahs; they adopted her, and she became the wife of a Dahcotah\nwarrior. She loved her own people, and those who had adopted her too;\nand in course of time her daughter attained the honorable station of a\nchief's second wife. Good Road hates the Chippeways, but he fell in love\nwith one of their descendants, and married her. She is a good wife, and\nthe white people have given her the name of \"Old Bets.\"\n\nLast summer \"Old Bets\" narrowly escaped with her life. The Dahcotahs\nhaving nothing else to do, were amusing themselves by recalling all the\nChippeways had ever done to injure them; and those who were too lazy to\ngo out on a war party, happily recollected that there was Chippeway\nblood near them--no farther off than their chief's wigwam; and eight or\nten braves vowed they would make an end of \"Old Bets.\" But she heard of\ntheir threats, left the village for a time, and after the Dahcotahs had\ngotten over their mania for shedding blood, she returned, and right glad\nwas Good Road to see her. For she has an open, good humored countenance;\nthe very reverse of that of the first wife, whose vinegar aspect would\nfrighten away an army of small children.\n\nAfter \"Old Bets\" returned, Good Road could not conceal his satisfaction.\nHis wife's trip had evidently improved her good looks, for the chief\nthought she was the handsomest squaw in the village. Her children were\nalways taunting the sons of the first wife, and so it went on, until at\nlast Good Road said he would stand it no longer; he told his oldest wife\nto go--that he would support her no longer. And for her children, he\ntold them the prairies were large; there were deer and other game--in\nshort, he disinherited them--cut them off with their last meal.\n\nFor the discarded wife, life had now but one hope. The only star that\nshone in the blackness of her heaven, was the undefined prospect of\nseeing her rival's blood flow. She would greatly have preferred taking\nher life herself; and as she left the wigwam of the chief, she grasped\nthe handle of her knife--how quick her heart beat! it might be now\nor never.\n\nBut there were too many around to protect Old Bets. The time would\ncome--she would watch for her--she would tear her heart from her yet.\n\nThe sons of the old hag did not leave the village; they would keep a\nwatch on their father and his Chippeway wife. They would not easily\nyield their right to the chieftainship. While they hunted, and smoked,\nand played at cards, they were ever on the look-out for revenge.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n\"Red Earth\" sits by the door of her father's teepee; while the village\nis alive with cheerfulness, she does not join in any of the amusements\ngoing on, but seems to be occupied with what is passing in her own mind.\n\nOccasionally she throws a pebble from the shore far into the river, and\nthe copper-colored children spring after it, as if the water were their\nown element, striving to get it before it sinks from their view.\n\nHad she been attentive to what is passing around her, she would not have\nkept her seat, for \"Shining Iron,\" the son of Good Road's second wife,\napproaches her; and she loves him too little to talk with him when it\ncan be avoided.\n\n\"Why are you not helping the women to make the teepee, Red Earth?\" said\nthe warrior. \"They are laughing while they sew the buffalo-skin\ntogether, and you are sitting silent and alone. Why is it so? Are you\nthinking of 'Fiery Wind?'\"\n\n\"There are enough women to make the teepee,\" replied Red Earth, \"and I\nsit alone because I choose to do so. But if I am thinking of 'Fiery\nWind' I do right--he is a great warrior!\"\n\n\"Tell me if you love Fiery Wind?\" said the young man, while his eyes\nflashed fire, and the veins in his temple swelled almost to bursting.\n\n\"I do not love you,\" said the girl, \"and that is enough. And you need\nnever think I will become your wife; your spells cannot make me love\nyou. [Footnote: The Sioux have great faith in spells. A lover will take\ngum, and after putting some medicine in it, will induce the girl of his\nchoice to chew it, or put it in her way so that she will take it up of\nher own accord. It is a long time before an Indian lover will take a\nrefusal from the woman he has chosen for a wife.] Where are Fiery Wind\nand his relations? driven from the wigwam of the Chief by you and your\nChippeway mother. But they do not fear you--neither do I!\"\n\nAnd Red Earth looked calmly at the angry face of her lover. For Shining\nIron did love her, and he had loved her long. He had loaded her with\npresents, which she always refused; he had related his honors, his brave\nacts to her, but she turned a deaf ear to his words. He promised her he\nwould always have venison in her teepee, and that he never would take\nanother wife; she was the only woman he could ever love. But he might as\nwell have talked to the winds. And he thought so himself, for, finding\nhe could not gain the heart of the proud girl, he determined she should\nnever be the wife of any other man, and he told her so.\n\n\"You may marry Fiery Wind,\" said the angry lover, \"but if you do, I will\nkill him.\"\n\nRed Earth heard, but did not reply to his threats; she feared not for\nherself, but she trembled at the prospect of danger to the man she\nloved. And while she turned the bracelets on her small wrists, the\nwarrior left her to her own thoughts. They were far from being pleasant;\nshe must warn her lover of the threats of his rival. For a while she\nalmost determined she would not marry Fiery Wind, for then his life\nwould be safe; but she would not break her promise. Besides, it was hard\nfor her to destroy all the air-built castles which she had built for her\nhappy future.\n\nShe knew Shining Iron's bravery, and she doubted not he would fulfil his\npromise; for a moment prudence suggested that she had better marry him\nto avoid his revenge. But she grasped the handle of her knife, as if she\nwould plunge it into her own bosom for harboring the dark thought. Never\nshould she be unfaithful; when Fiery Wind returned she would tell him\nall, and then she would become his wife, and she felt that her own heart\nwas true enough to guard him, her own arm strong enough to slay\nhis enemy.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAll women are wilful enough, but Dahcotah women are particularly so.\nSlaves as they are to their husbands, they lord it over each other, and\nit is only when they become grandmothers that they seem to feel their\ndependence, and in many instances yield implicit obedience to the wills\nof their grandchildren.\n\nThey take great delight in watching over and instructing their\nchildren's children; giving them lessons in morality, [Footnote: The\nidea is ridiculed by some, that an Indian mother troubles herself about\nthe morals of her children; but it is nevertheless true, that she talks\nto them, and, according to her own ideas of right and wrong, tries to\ninstil good principles into their minds. The grandmothers take a great\ndeal of care of their grandchildren.] and worldly wisdom. Thus while Red\nEarth was making her determination, her old grandmother belonging to the\nvillage was acting upon hers.\n\nThis old woman was a perfect virago--an \"embodied storm.\" In her time\nshe had cut off the hands and feet of some little Chippeway children,\nand strung them, and worn them for a necklace. And she feasted yet at\nthe pleasant recollections this honorable exploit induced.\n\nBut so tender was she of the feelings of her own flesh and blood, that\nthe thought of their suffering the slightest pain was death to her.\n\nHer son ruled his household very well for a Dahcotah. He had a number of\nyoung warriors and hunters growing up around him, and he sometimes got\ntired of their disturbances, and would use, not the rod but a stick of\nwood to some purpose. Although it had the good effect of quelling the\nrefractory spirits of the young, it invariably fired the soul of his\naged mother. The old woman would cry and howl, and refuse to eat, for\ndays; till, finding this had no effect upon her hard-hearted son, she\ntold him she would do something that would make him sorry, the next time\nhe struck one of his children.\n\nBut the dutiful son paid no attention to her. He had always considered\nwomen as being inferior to dogs, and he would as soon have thought of\ngiving up smoking, as of minding his mother's threats.\n\nBut while Red Earth was thinking of her absent lover, Two Stars was\nbeating his sons again--and when the maiden was left alone by Shining\nIron after the warning he had given her, she was attracted by the cries\nof one of the old women of the village, who was struggling 'mid earth\nand heaven, while old and young were running to the spot, some to render\nassistance, others to see the fun.\n\nAnd glorious fun it was! the grandmother had almost hung herself--that\nis, she seriously intended to do it. But she evidently did not expect\nthe operation to be so painful. When her son, in defiance of her tears\nand threats, commenced settling his household difficulties in his own\nway she took her head-strap,[Footnote: The head-strap is made of buffalo\nskin. It is from eight to ten, or sometimes twenty-four feet long. The\nwomen fasten their heavy burdens to this strap, which goes around the\nforehead; the weight of the burden falls upon the head and back. This\noccasions the figures of the Indian women to stoop, since they\nnecessarily lean forward in order to preserve their balance.] went to a\nhill just above the village, and deliberately made her preparations for\nhanging, as coolly too as if she had been used to being hung for a long\ntime. But when, after having doubled the strap four times to prevent its\nbreaking, she found herself choking, her courage gave way--she yelled\nfrightfully; and it was well that her son and others ran so fast, for\nthey had well nigh been too late. As it was, they carried her into the\nteepee, where the medicine man took charge of her case; and she was\nquite well again in an hour or two. Report says (but there is a sad\namount of scandal in an Indian village) that the son has never offended\nthe mother since; so, like many a wilful woman, she has gained\nher point.\n\nRed Earth witnessed the cutting down of the old woman, and as she\nreturned to her teepee, her quick ear warned her of coming footsteps.\nShe lingered apart from the others, and soon she saw the eagle feathers\nof her warrior as he descended the hill towards the village. Gladly\nwould she have gone to meet him to welcome him home, but she knew that\nShining Iron was watching her motions, and she bent her steps homeward.\nShe was quite sure that it would not be long before he would seek her,\nand then she would tell him what had passed, and make arrangements for\ntheir course of conduct for the future.\n\nFiery Wind was the nephew of Good Road, but he, like the sons, was in\ndisgrace with the chief, and, like them, he had vowed vengeance against\n\"Old Bets.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nThe gun is now generally used among the Dahcotahs as a weapon of\nwarfare. But those bands in the neighborhood of Fort Snelling considered\nit as a necessary part of their war implements, before the distant bands\nwere at all acquainted with its use.\n\nSome time ago, one of the Mun-da-wa-kan-tons gave a gun to a Sisse-ton,\nwho, proud of the gift, went out immediately to use it. On his return to\nhis village he came up with a drove of buffaloes. His first impulse was\nto use his bow and arrow, but a moment's thought reminded him of the\ngift of his friend. He loaded the gun, saying at the same time to it,\n\"Now, the Dahcotahs call you 'wah-kun' (supernatural), kill me the\nfattest cow in the drove.\" He waited a few moments to see his orders\nexecuted, but the gun was not \"wah-kun\" enough to fire by order alone.\nSeeing that it did not go off, the Sisse-ton flew into a rage and broke\nthe gun into pieces. \"I suppose,\" said he \"that if a Mun-da-wah-can-ton\nhad told you to kill a buffalo, you would have done it, but you do not\nregard what a Sisse-ton says.\" So he threw the pieces of the gun away,\nand found his bow and arrows of far more service.\n\nHowever naturally the usages of warfare may come to the Indians, they\nare also made a part of their education.\n\nThe children are taught that it is wicked to murder without a cause;\nbut when offence has been given, they are in duty bound to retaliate.\n\nThe day after the return of Fiery Wind, the boys of the village were to\nattack a hornet's nest. This is one of the ways of training their sons\nto warfare. One of the old warriors had seen a hornet's nest in the\nwoods, and he returned to the village, and with the chief assembled all\nthe boys in the village. The chief ordered the boys to take off all\ntheir clothes, and gave them each a gun. He then told them how brave\ntheir forefathers were--that they never feared pain or danger--and that\nthey must prove themselves worthy sons of such ancestors. \"One of these\ndays you will be men, and then you will go on war parties and kill your\nenemies, and then you will be fit to join in the dog feast. Be brave,\nand do not fear the sting of the hornet, for if you do, you will be\ncowards instead of warriors, and the braves will call you women and\nlaugh at you.\"\n\nThis was enough to animate the courage of the boys--some of them not\nmore than five years old pushed ahead of their elder brothers, eager to\nshow to their fathers, who accompanied them, how little they feared\ntheir enemies, as they termed the hornets. And formidable enemies they\nwere too--for many of the little fellows returned sadly stung, with\nswollen limbs, and closed eyes; but they bore their wounds as well as\nbrave men would have endured their pain on a battle-field.\n\nAfter leaving their village, they entered the woods farther from the\nbanks of the river. The guide who had seen the nest led the way, and the\nminiature warriors trod as lightly as if there was danger of rousing a\nsleeping foe. At last the old man pointed to the nest, and without a\nmoment's hesitation, the young Dahcotahs attacked it. Out flew the\nhornets in every direction. Some of the little boys cried out with the\npain from the stings of the hornets on their unprotected limbs--but the\ncries of Shame! shame! from one of the old men soon recalled them to\ntheir duty, and they marched up again not a whit discomfited. Good Road\ncheered them on. \"Fight well, my warriors,\" said he; \"you will carry\nmany scalps home, you are brave men.\"\n\nIt was not long before the nest was quite destroyed, and then the old\nmen said they must take a list of the killed and wounded. The boys\nforced a loud laugh when they replied that there were no scalps taken by\nthe enemy, but they could not deny that the list of the wounded was\nquite a long one. Some of them limped, in spite of their efforts to walk\nupright, and one little fellow had to be assisted along by his father,\nfor both eyes were closed; and, although stung in every direction and\nevidently suffering agony, the brave boy would not utter a complaint.\n\nWhen they approached the village, the young warriors formed into Indian\nfile, and entered as triumphantly as their fathers would have done, had\nthey borne twenty Chippeway scalps with them.\n\nThe mothers first applauded the bravery of their sons; and then applied\nherbs to their swollen limbs, and the mimic war furnished a subject of\namusement for the villages for the remainder of the day.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nIt would be well for the Dahcotahs if they only sought the lives of\ntheir enemies. But they are wasting in numbers far more by their\ninternal dissensions than from other causes. Murder is so common among\nthem, that it is even less than a nine days' wonder; all that is thought\nnecessary is to bury the dead, and then some relative must avenge\nhis quarrel.\n\nRed Earth told her lover of the threat of Shining Iron, and the young\nman was thus put on his guard. The sons of Good Road's first wife were\nalso told of the state of things, and they told Fiery Wind that they\nwould take up his quarrel, glad of an opportunity to avenge their own\nand their mother's wrongs. It was in the month of April, or as the\nDahcotahs say in \"the moon that geese lay,\" that Red Earth took her\nplace by the side of her husband, thus asserting her right to be\nmistress of his wigwam. While she occupied herself with her many duties,\nshe never for a moment forgot the threat of Shining Iron. But her cares\nand anxieties for her husband's safety were soon over. She had not long\nbeen a wife before her enemy lay a corpse; his life was a forfeit to his\nlove for her, and Red Earth had a woman's heart. Although she could but\nrejoice that the fears which had tormented her were now unnecessary, yet\nwhen she remembered how devotedly the dead warrior had loved her, how\nanxiously he had tried to please her, she could not but shed a few\ntears of sorrow for his death. But they were soon wiped away--not for\nthe world would she have had her husband see them.\n\nThe oldest sons of Good Road were true to their word--and the son of Old\nBets was not the only subject for their vengeance. His sister was with\nhim at the moment that they chose to accomplish their purpose; and when\nan Indian commences to shed blood, there is no knowing how soon he will\nbe satisfied. Shining Iron died instantly, but the sister's wounds were\nnot fatal--she is slowly recovering.\n\nIt was but yesterday that we visited the grave of the dead warrior. On a\nhill near the St. Peters his body is buried. The Indians have enclosed\nthe grave, and there is a \"Wah-kun stone,\" to which they sacrifice, at\nhis head. No one reposes near him. Alone he lies, undisturbed by aught\nexcept the winds that sigh over him. The first flowers of Spring are\nblooming on the spot where he played in childhood, and here, where he\nreposes, he often sat to mourn the unkindness of Red Earth, and vow\nvengeance on his successful rival.\n\nBut he is not unwatched. His spirit is ever near, and perhaps he will\nagain live on earth. [Footnote: The Sioux believe in the transmigration\nof souls. Many of the Indians near Fort Snelling say they have lived\nbefore on earth. The jugglers remember many incidents that occurred\nduring some former residence on earth, and they will tell them to you\nwith all the gravity imaginable.] His friends believe that he may hold\ncommunion with Unk-ta-he,--that from that God he will learn the\nmysteries of the Earth and Water; and when he lives again in another\nform, he will instruct the Dahcotahs in their religion, and be a great\nmedicine man.\n\nGood Road is quite reconciled to his sons, for he says it was a brave\ndeed to get rid of an enemy. In vain does Old Bets ask for vengeance on\nthe murderers. Good Road reminds her that Shining Iron had made a\nthreat, and it was not proper he should live; and the chief insisted\nmore upon this, when he added that these children of her's were by a\nformer husband, and it was natural his sons should resent their father's\npreference for them.\n\nSo after all Old Bets doubts whether she, or the Chief's first wife, has\ngot the best of it; and as she dresses the wounds of her daughter, she\nwishes that the Dahcotahs had killed her mother instead of adopting\nher--lamenting, too, that she should ever have attained to the honor of\nbeing Good Road's wife.\n\n\n\n\nWENONA;\n\nOR,\n\nTHE VIRGIN'S FEAST.\n\nNever did the sun shine brighter than on a cold day in December, when\nthe Indians at \"Little Crow's\" village were preparing to go on a deer\nhunt. The Mississippi was frozen, and the girls of the village had the\nday before enjoyed one of their favorite amusements--a ball-play on the\nice. Those who owned the bright cloths and calicoes which were hung up\nbefore their eyes, as an incentive to win the game, were still rejoicing\nover their treasures; while the disappointed ones were looking sullen,\nand muttering of partiality being shown to this one because she was\nbeautiful, and to that, because she was the sister of the chief.\n\n\"Look at my head!\" said Harpstenah; \"Wenona knew that I was the swiftest\nrunner in the band, and as I stooped to catch the ball she struck me a\nblow that stunned me, so that I could not run again.\"\n\nBut the head was so ugly, and the face too, that there was no pity felt\nfor her; those dirty, wrinkled features bore witness to her contempt for\nthe cleansing qualities of water. Her uncombed hair was hanging in\nmasses about her ears and face, and her countenance expressed cruelty\nand passion. But Harpstenah had nothing to avenge; when she was young\nshe was passed by, as there was nothing in her face or disposition that\ncould attract; and now in the winter of life she was so ugly and so\ndesolate, so cross and so forlorn, that no one deemed her worthy even of\na slight. But for all that, Harpstenah could hate, and with all the\nintensity of her evil heart did she hate Wenona, the beautiful sister of\nthe chief.\n\nYesterday had been as bright as to-day, and Grey Eagle, the medicine\nman, had hung on a pole the prizes that were to be given to the party\nthat succeeded in throwing the ball into a space marked off.\n\nThe maidens of the village were all dressed in their gayest clothing,\nwith ornaments of beads, bracelets, rings, and ribbons in profusion.\nThey cared not half so much for the prizes, as they rejoiced at the\nopportunity of displaying their graceful persons. The old women were\neager to commence the game, for they longed to possess the cloth for\ntheir leggins, and the calico for their \"okendokendas.\" [Footnote\n\"Okendokendas.\" This is the Sioux word for calico. It is used as the\nname for a kind of short gown, which is worn by the Sioux women, made\ngenerally of calico, sometimes of cloth.]\n\nThe women, young and old, were divided into two parties; but as one\nparty threw the ball towards the space marked off, the others threw it\nback again far over their heads, and then all ran back, each party\nendeavoring to reach it first, that they might succeed in placing the\nball in the position which was to decide the game.\n\nBut the ball is not thrown by the hand, each woman has a long stick with\na circular frame at the end of it; this they call a bat stick, and,\nsimple as it looks, it requires great skill to manage it.\n\nWenona was the swiftest runner of one party, and Harpstenah, old and\nugly as she was, the best of the other. How excited they are! the\nsnow-covered hills, majestic and silent, look coldly enough upon their\nsport; but what care they? the prize will soon be won.\n\nThe old medicine man cheered them on. \"Run fast, Wenona! take care that\nHarpstenah does not win the game. Ho, Harpstenah! if you and your\nleggins are old, you may have the cloth yet.\"\n\nNow Wenona's party is getting on bravely, but the ball has been caught\nand thrown back by the other party. But at last it is decided. In the\nstruggle for the ball, Harpstenah received a blow from an old squaw as\ndismal looking as herself, and Wenona catches the ball and throws it\ninto the appointed place. The game is ended, and the medicine man comes\nforward to distribute the prizes.\n\nThe warriors have looked on, admiring those who were beautiful and\ngraceful, and laughing at the ugly and awkward.\n\nBut Wenona cared little for the prizes. She was a chief's sister, and\nshe was young and beautiful. The handsomest presents were given her, and\nshe hardly looked at the portion of the prizes which fell to her lot.\n\nSmarting with pain from the blow she had received, (and she spoke\nfalsely when she said Wenona had struck her,) stung with jealousy at the\nother party having won the game, Harpstenah determined on revenge, \"If I\nam old,\" she said, \"I will live long enough to bring misery on her; ugly\nas I may be, I will humble the proud beauty. What do I eat? the\nworthless heads of birds are given to the old woman for whom nobody\ncares, but my food will be to see the eye of Wenona fall beneath the\nlaugh of scorn. I will revenge the wrongs of my life on her.\"\n\nCommend me to a Dahcotah woman's revenge! Has she been slighted in love?\nblood must be shed; and if she is not able to accomplish the death of\nher rival, her own life will probably pay the forfeit. Has disgrace or\ninsult been heaped upon her? a life of eighty years is not long enough\nto bring down vengeance on the offender. So with Harpstenah. Her life\nhad not been a blessing to herself--she would make it a curse to others.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nIn the preparations for the deer hunt, the ball-play has been forgotten.\nThe women are putting together what will be necessary for their comfort\nduring their absence, and the men are examining their guns and bows and\narrows. The young girls anticipate amusement and happiness, for they\nwill assist their lovers to bring in the deer to the camp; and the jest\nand merry laugh, and the words of love are spoken too. The ball-play has\nbeen forgotten by all but Harpstenah.\n\nBut it is late in the afternoon; and as they do not start till the\nmorning, something must be done to pass the long evening. \"If this were\nfull,\" said a young hunter, kicking at the same time an empty keg that\nhad once contained whiskey, \"if this were full, we would have a merry\nnight of it.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Grey Iron, whose age seemed to have brought him wisdom,\n\"the night would be merry, but where would you be the day after. Did you\nnot, after drinking that very whiskey, strike a white woman, for which\nyou were taken to the fort by the soldiers, and kept as a prisoner?\"\n\nThe young man's look of mortification at this reproof did not save him\nfrom the contemptuous sneer of his companions, for all despise the\nDahcotah who has thus been punished. No act of bravery can wipe away\nhis disgrace.\n\nBut Wenona sat pale and sad in her brother's wigwam. The bright and\nhappy looks of yesterday were all gone. Her sister-in-law has hushed her\nchild to sleep, and she is resting from the fatigues of the day. Several\nold men, friends of Little Crow's father, are sitting round the fire;\none has fallen asleep, while the others talk of the wonderful powers of\ntheir sacred medicine.\n\n\"Why are you sad, Wenona,\" said the chief, turning to her; \"why should\nthe eyes of a chief's sister be filled with tears, and her looks bent on\nthe ground?\"\n\n\"You need not ask why I am not happy,\" said Wenona: \"Red Cloud brought\npresents to you yesterday; he laid them at the door of your wigwam. He\nwants to buy me, and you have received his gifts; why do you not return\nthem? you know I do not love him.\"\n\n\"Red Cloud is a great warrior,\" replied the chief; \"he wears many\nfeathers of honor; you must marry him.\"\n\nThe girl wrapped herself in her blanket and lay down. For a time her\nsighs were heard--but at length sleep came to her relief, and her grief\nwas forgotten in dreams. But morn has come and they are to make an early\nstart. Was ever such confusion? Look at that old hag knocking the very\nsenses out of her daughter's head because she is not ready! and the\ngirl, in order to avoid the blows, stumbles over an unfortunate dog, who\ncommences a horrible barking and whining, tempting all the dogs of the\nvillage to outbark and outwhine him.\n\nThere goes \"White Buffalo\" with his two wives, the first wife with the\nteepee on her back and her child on the top of it. No wonder she looks\nso cross, for the second wife walks leisurely on. Now is her time, but\nlet her beware! for White Buffalo is thinking seriously of taking\na third.\n\nBut they are all off at last. Mothers with children, and corn, and\nteepees, and children with dogs on their backs. They are all gone, and\nthe village looks desolate and forsaken.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nThe party encamped about twenty miles from the village. The women plant\nthe poles of their teepees firmly in the ground and cover them with a\nbuffalo skin. A fire is soon made in the centre and the corn put on to\nboil. Their bread is kneaded and put in the ashes to bake, but flour is\nnot very plenty among them.\n\nThe next day parties were out in every direction; tracks of deer were\nseen in the snow, and the hunters followed them up. The beautiful animal\nflies in terror from the death which comes surer and swifter than her\nown light footsteps. The hunter's knife is soon upon her, and while\nwarmth and even life are left, the skin is drawn off.\n\nAfter the fatigues of the day comes the long and pleasant evening. A\nbright fire burned in the wigwam of the chief, and many of the Indians\nwere smoking around it, but Wenona was sad, and she took but little part\nin the laughter and merriment of the others.\n\nRed Cloud boasted of his bravery and his deeds of valor; even the old\nmen listened to him with respect, for they knew that his name was a\nterror to his enemies. But Wenona turned from him! she hated to hear the\nsound of his voice.\n\nThe old men talked of the mighty giant of the Dahcotahs, he who needed\nnot to take his gun to kill the game he wanted; the glance of his eye\nwould strike with death the deer, the buffalo, or even the bear.\n\nThe song, the jest, the legend, by turns occupied them until they\nseparated to sleep. But as the warriors stepped into the open air, why\ndoes the light of the moon fall upon faces pale with terror? \"See!\" said\nthe chief, \"how flash the mysterious lights! there is danger near, some\ndreadful calamity is threatening us.\"\n\n\"We will shoot at them,\" said Red Cloud; \"we will destroy their power.\"\nAnd the Indians discharged their guns in quick succession towards the\nnorthern horizon, which was brilliantly illuminated with the Aurora\nBorealis; thus hoping to ward off coming danger.\n\nThe brother and sister were left alone at the door of the teepee. The\nstern warrior's looks expressed superstitious terror, while the maiden's\nface was calm and fearless. \"Do you not fear the power of the woman who\nsits in the north, Wenona? she shows those flashes of light to tell us\nof coming evil.\"\n\n\"What should I fear,\" said Wenona; \"I, who will soon join my mother, my\nfather, my sisters, in the land of spirits? Listen to my words, my\nbrother: there are but two of us; strife and disease have laid low the\nbrave, the good, the beautiful; we are the last of our family; you will\nsoon be alone.\n\n\"Before the leaves fell from the trees, as I sat on the banks of the\nMississippi, I saw the fairy of the water. The moon was rising, but it\nwas not yet bright enough for me to see her figure distinctly. But I\nknew her voice; I had often heard it in my dreams. 'Wenona,' she said,\n(and the waves were still that they might hear her words), 'Wenona, the\nlands of the Dahcotah are green and beautiful--but there are fairer\nprairies than those on earth. In that bright country the forest trees\nare ever green, and the waves of the river flow on unchilled by the\nbreath of winter. You will not long be with the children of the earth.\nEven now your sisters are calling you, and your mother is telling them\nthat a few more months will bring you to their side!'\n\n\"The words were true, my brother, but I knew not that your harshness\nwould hasten my going. You say that I shall marry Red Cloud; sooner will\nI plunge my knife into my heart; sooner shall the waves of the\nMississippi roll over me. Brother, you will soon be alone!\"\n\n\"Speak not such words, my sister,\" said the chief; \"it shall be as you\nwill. I have not promised Red Cloud. I thought you would be happy if you\nwere his wife, and you shall not be forced to marry him. But why should\nyou think of death? you saw our braves as they shot at the lights in\nthe north. They have frightened them away. Look! they flash no more. Go\nin, and sleep, and to-morrow I will tell Red Cloud that you love\nhim not.\"\n\nAnd the cloudless moon shone on a happy face, and the bright stars,\nseemed more bright as Wenona gazed upon them; but as she turned to enter\nthe wigwam, one star was seen falling in the heavens, and the light that\nfollowed it was lost in the brightness of the others. And her dreams\nwere not happy, for the fairy of the water haunted them. \"Even as that\nstar, Wenona, thou shalt pass from all that thou lovest on earth; but\nweep not, thy course is upward!\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe hunters were so successful that they returned to their village soon.\nThe friends of Wenona rejoiced in her happy looks, but to Harpstenah\nthey were bitterness and gall. The angry countenance of Red Cloud found\nan answering chord in her own heart.\n\n\"Ha!\" said she to him, as he watched Wenona and her lover talking\ntogether, \"what has happened? Did you not say you would marry the\nchief's sister--why then are you not with her? Red Cloud is a great\nwarrior, why should he be sad because Wenona loves him not? Are there\nnot maidens among the Dahcotahs more beautiful than she? She never loved\nyou; her brother, too, has treated you with contempt. Listen to my\nwords, Red Cloud; the Virgin's Feast is soon to be celebrated, and she\nwill enter the ring for the last time. When she comes forward, tell her\nshe is unworthy. Is she not a disgrace to the band? Has she not shamed a\nbrave warrior? Will you not be despised when another is preferred\nto you?\"\n\nThe words of the tempter are in his ear--madness and hatred are in his\nheart.\n\n\"I said I would take her life, but my revenge will be deeper. Wenona\nwould die rather than be disgraced.\" And as he spoke Harpstenah turned\nto leave him, for she saw that the poison had entered his soul.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nAmong the Dahcotahs, women are not excluded from joining in their feasts\nor dances; they dance the scalp dance while the men sit round and sing,\nand they join in celebrating many of the customs of their tribe. But the\nVirgin's Feast has reference to the women alone; its object is not to\ncelebrate the deeds of the warrior, but rather to put to the test the\nvirtue of the maiden.\n\nNotice was given among the Indians that the Virgin's Feast was to be\ncelebrated at Little Crow's village; the time was mentioned, and all who\nchose to attend were welcome to do so.\n\nThe feast was prepared in the neighborhood of the village. The boiled\ncorn and venison were put in wooden bowls, and the Indians sat round,\nforming a ring. Those who were to partake of the feast were dressed in\ntheir gayest apparel; their long hair plaited and falling over their\nshoulders. Those who are conscious of error dare not approach the feast,\nfor it is a part of the ceremony that they shall be exposed by any one\npresent. Neither rank nor beauty must interpose to prevent the\npunishment. Nay, sometimes the power of innocence and virtue itself is\nnot sufficient to guard the Dahcotah maiden from disgrace.\n\nAnd was Wenona unworthy? The white snow that covered the hills was not\nmore pure than she. But Red Cloud cared not for that. She had refused to\nbe the light of his wigwam, and thus was he avenged.\n\nWenona advanced with the maidens of the village. Who can describe her\nterror and dismay when Red Cloud advances and leads her from the sacred\nring? To whom shall the maiden turn for help? To her brother? his angry\ncountenance speaks not of comfort. Her friends? the smile of scorn is on\ntheir lips. Her lover? he has left the feast.\n\nHer determination is soon made; her form is seen as she flies to the\nwoods. Death is the refuge of the friendless and the wronged.\n\nBut as night came on the relatives of Wenona wondered that she did not\nreturn. They sought her, and they found her lifeless body; the knife was\ndeep in her heart. She knew she was innocent, but what did that avail\nher? She was accused by a warrior, and who would believe her if she\ndenied the charge?\n\nAnd why condemn her that she deprived herself of life, which she deemed\nworthless, when embittered by unmerited contempt. She knew not that God\nhas said, \"Thou shall do no murder.\" The command had never sounded\nin her ears.\n\nShe trusted to find a home in the House of Spirits--she may have found a\nheaven in the mercy of God.\n\nThe fever of the following summer spared neither age nor youth, and Red\nCloud was its first victim. As the dying Harpstenah saw his body carried\nout to be placed upon the scaffold--\"He is dead,\" she cried, \"and Wenona\nwas innocent! He hated her because she slighted him; I hated her because\nshe was happy. He had his revenge, and I mine; but Wenona was falsely\naccused, and I told him to do it!\" and the eyes were closed--the voice\nwas hushed in death.\n\nWenona was innocent; and when the Virgin's Feast shall be celebrated in\nher native village again, how will the maidens tremble as they approach\nthe sacred ring! Can they forget the fate of their beautiful companion?\n\nAnd when the breath of summer warms to life the prairie flowers--when\nthe long grass shall wave under the scaffold where repose the mortal\nremains of the chief's sister--how often will the Dahcotah maidens draw\nnear to contrast the meanness, the treachery, the falsehood of Red\nCloud, with the constancy, devotion, and firmness of Wenona!\n\n\n\nTHE DAHCOTAH CONVERT.\n\n\"Tell me,\" said, Hiatu-we-noken-chah, or 'woman of the night,' \"the\nGreat Spirit whom you have taught me to fear, why has he made the white\nwoman rich and happy, and the Dahcotah poor and miserable?\" She spoke\nwith bitterness when she remembered the years of sorrow that had made up\nthe sum of her existence.\n\nBut how with the missionary's wife? had her life been one bright\ndream--had her days been always full of gladness--her nights quiet and\nfree from care? Had she never longed for the time of repose, that\ndarkness might cover her as with a mantle--and when 'sleep forsook the\nwretched,' did she not pray for the breaking of the day, that she might\nagain forget all in the performance of the duties of her station? Could\nit be that the Creator had balanced the happiness of one portion of his\nchildren against the wretchedness of the rest? Let her story answer.\n\nHer home is now among the forests of the west. As a child she would\ntremble when she heard of the savage whose only happiness was in\nshedding the blood of his fellow creatures. The name of an \"Indian\" when\nuttered by her nurse would check the boisterous gayety of the day or the\ntedious restlessness of the night.\n\nAs she gathered flowers on the pleasant banks of the Sciota, would it\nnot have brought paleness to her cheek to have whispered her that not\nmany years would pass over her, before she would be far away from the\nscenes of her youth?\n\nAnd as she uttered the marriage vow, how little did she think that soon\nwould her broken spirit devote time, energies, life, to the good of\nothers; as an act of duty and, but for the faith of the Christian, of\ndespair. For several years she only wept with others when they sorrowed;\nfair children followed her footsteps, and it was happiness to guide\ntheir voices, as they, like the morning stars, sang together; or to\nlisten to their evening prayer as they folded their hands in childlike\ndevotion ere they slept.\n\nAnd when the father returned from beside the bed of death, where his\nskill could no longer alleviate the parting agonies of the sufferer: how\nwould he hasten to look upon the happy faces of his children, in order\nto forget the scene he had just witnessed. But, man of God as he was,\nthere was not always peace in his soul; yet none could see that he had\ncause for care. He was followed by the blessings of those who were ready\nto perish. He essayed to make the sinner repent, and to turn the\nthoughts of the dying to Him who suffered death on the cross.\n\nBut for months the voice of the Spirit spake to his heart; he could not\nforget the words--\"Go to the wretched Dahcotahs, their bodies are\nsuffering, and their souls, immortal like thine, are perishing. Soothe\ntheir temporal cares, and more, tell them the triumphs of the\nRedeemer's love.\"\n\nBut it was hard to give up friends, and all the comforts with which he\nwas surrounded: to subject his wife to the hardships of a life in the\nwilderness, to deprive his children of the advantages of education and\ngood influences, and instead--to show them life as it is with those who\nknow not God. But the voice said, \"Remember the Dahcotahs.\" Vainly did\nhe struggle with the conflict of duty against inclination.\n\nThe time has come when the parents must weep for themselves. No longer\ndo the feet of their children tread among the flowers; fever has\nparalyzed their strength, and vainly does the mother call upon the\nchild, whose eyes wander in delirium, who knows not her voice from a\nstranger's. Nor does the Destroyer depart when one has sunk into a sleep\nfrom which there is no awakening until the morn of the resurrection. He\nclaims another, and who shall resist that claim!\n\nAs the father looks upon the still forms of his children, as he sees the\ncompressed lips, the closed eyes of the beings who were but a few days\nago full of life and happiness, the iron enters his soul; but as the\nChristian remembers who has afflicted him, his spirit rises above his\nsorrow. Nor is there now any obstacle between him and the path of duty.\nThe one child that remains must be put in charge of those who will care\nfor her, and he will go where God directs.\n\nBut will the mother give up the last of her children? it matters not now\nwhere she lives, but she must part with husband or child! Self has no\npart in her schemes; secure in her trust in God she yields up her child\nto her friend, and listens not to the suggestions of those who would\ninduce her to remain where she would still enjoy the comforts of life.\nNothing should separate her from her husband. \"Entreat me not to leave\nthee; where thou goest I will go, where thou diest I will die, and\nthere will I be buried.\"\n\nAnd as the Dahcotah woman inquires of the justice of God, the faces of\nher children rise up before her--first in health, with bright eyes and\nlips parted with smiles, and then as she last saw them--their hands\nwhite to transparency, the hue of death upon their features; the\nshrouds, the little coffins, the cold lips, as she pressed them for the\nlast time.\n\nThe Dahcotah looked in astonishment at the grief which for a few moments\novercame the usual calmness of her kind friend; and as she wondered why,\nlike her, she should shed bitter tears, she heard herself thus\naddressed--\n\n\"Do not think that you alone have been unhappy. God afflicts all his\nchildren. There is not a spot on the earth which is secure from sorrow.\nHave I not told you why? This world is not your home or mine. Soon will\nour bodies lie down in the earth--and we would forget this, if we were\nalways happy.\n\n\"And you should not complain though your sorrows have been great. Do not\nforget the crown of thorns which pressed the brow of the Saviour, the\ncruel nails that pierced his hands and feet, the desertion of his\nfriends, his fear that God his Father had forsaken him. And remember\nthat after death the power of those who hated him ceased; the grave\nreceived but could not keep his body. He rose from the dead, and went to\nHeaven, where he has prepared a place for all who love him; for me and\nmine, I trust, and for you too, if you are careful to please him by\nserving him yourself, and by endeavoring to induce your friends to give\nup their foolish and wicked superstitions, and to worship the true God\nwho made all things.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nThe Dahcotahs believe in the existence of a Great Spirit, but they have\nvery confused ideas of his attributes. Those who have lived near the\nmissionaries, say that the Great Spirit lived forever, but their own\nminds would never have conceived such an idea. Some say that the Great\nSpirit has a wife.\n\nThey say that this being created all things but thunder and wild rice;\nand that he gave the earth and all animals to them, and that their\nfeasts and customs were the laws by which they are to be governed. But\nthey do not fear the anger of this deity after death.\n\nThunder is said to be a large bird; the name that they give to thunder\nis the generic term for all animals that fly. Near the source of the St.\nPeters is a place called Thunder-tracks--where the footprints of the\nthunder-bird are seen in the rocks, twenty-five miles apart.\n\nThe Dahcotahs believe in an evil spirit as well as a good, but they do\nnot consider these spirits as opposed to each other; they do not think\nthat they are tempted to do wrong by this evil spirit; their own hearts\nare bad. It would be impossible to put any limit to the number of\nspirits in whom the Dahcotahs believe; every object in nature is full of\nthem. They attribute death as much to the power of these subordinate\nspirits as to the Great Spirit; but most frequently they suppose death\nto have been occasioned by a spell having been cast upon them by\nsome enemy.\n\nThe sun and moon are worshipped as emblems of their deity.\n\nSacrifice is a religious ceremony among them; but no missionary has yet\nbeen able to find any reference to the one great Atonement made for sin;\nnone of their customs or traditions authorize any such connection. They\nsacrifice to all the spirits; but they have a stone, painted red, which\nthey call Grandfather, and on or near this, they place their most\nvaluable articles, their buffalo robes, dogs, and even horses; and on\none occasion a father killed a child as a kind of sacrifice. They\nfrequently inflict severe bruises or cuts upon their bodies, thinking\nthus to propitiate their gods.\n\nThe belief in an evil spirit is said by some not to be a part of the\nreligion of the Dahcotahs. They perhaps obtained this idea from the\nwhites. They have a far greater fear of the spirits of the dead,\nespecially those whom they have offended, than of Wahkon-tun-kah, the\nGreat Spirit.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOne of the punishments they most dread is that of the body of an animal\nentering theirs to make them sick. Some of the medicine men, the\npriests, and the doctors of the Dahcotahs, seem to have an idea of the\nimmortality of the soul but intercourse with the whites may have\noriginated this. They know nothing of the resurrection.\n\nThey have no custom among them that indicates the belief that man's\nheart should be holy. The faith in spirits, dreams, and charms, the fear\nthat some enemy, earthly or spiritual, may be secretly working their\ndestruction by a spell, is as much a part of their creed, as the\nexistence of the Great Spirit.\n\nA good dream will raise their hopes of success in whatever they may be\nundertaking to the highest pitch; a bad one will make them despair of\naccomplishing it. Their religion is a superstition, including as few\nelements of truth and reason as perhaps any other of which the\nparticulars are known. They worship they \"know not what,\" and this from\nthe lowest motives.\n\nWhen they go out to hunt, or on a war party, they pray to the Great\nSpirit--\"Father, help us to kill the buffalo.\" \"Let us soon see\ndeer\"--or, \"Great Spirit help us to kill our enemies.\"\n\nThey have no hymns of praise to their Deity; they fast occasionally at\nthe time of their dances. When they dance in honor of the sun, they\nrefrain from eating for two days.\n\nThe Dahcotahs do not worship the work of their hands; but they consider\nevery object that the Great Spirit has made, from the highest mountain\nto the smallest stone, as worthy of their idolatry.\n\nThey have a vague idea of a future state; many have dreamed of it. Some\nof their medicine men pretend to have had revelations from bears and\nother animals; and they thus learned that their future existence would\nbe but a continuation of this. They will go on long hunts and kill many\nbuffalo; bright fires will burn in their wigwams as they talk through\nthe long winter's night of the traditions of their ancients; their women\nare to tan deer-skin for their mocassins, while their young children\nlearn to be brave warriors by attacking and destroying wasps' or\nhornets' nests; they will celebrate the dog feast to show how brave they\nare, and sing in triumph as they dance round the scalps of their\nenemies. Such is the Heaven of the Dahcotahs! Almost every Indian has\nthe image of an animal or bird tattooed on his breast or arm, which can\ncharm away an evil spirit, or prevent his enemy from bringing trouble or\ndeath upon him by a secret shot. The power of life rests with mortals,\nespecially with their medicine men; they believe that if an enemy be\nshooting secretly at them, a spell or charm must be put in requisition\nto counteract their power.\n\nThe medicine men or women, who are initiated into the secrets of their\nwonderful medicines, (which secret is as sacred with them as\nfree-masonry is to its members) give the feast which they call the\nmedicine feast.\n\nTheir medicine men, who profess to administer to the affairs of soul and\nbody are nothing more than jugglers, and are the worst men of the tribe:\nyet from fear alone they claim the entire respect of the community.\n\nThere are numerous clans among the Dahcotahs each using a different\nmedicine, and no one knows what this medicine is but those who are\ninitiated into the mysteries of the medicine dance, whose celebration is\nattended with the utmost ceremony.\n\nA Dahcotah would die before he would divulge the secret of his clan. All\nthe different clans unite at the great medicine feast.\n\nAnd from such errors as these must the Dahcotah turn if he would be a\nChristian! And the heart of the missionary would faint within him at the\nwork which is before him, did he not remember who has said \"Lo, I am\nwith you always!\"\n\nAnd it was long before the Indian woman could give up the creed of her\nnation. The marks of the wounds in her face and arms will to the grave\nbear witness of her belief in the faith of her fathers, which influenced\nher in youth. Yet the subduing of her passions, the quiet performance of\nher duties, the neatness of her person, and the order of her house, tell\nof the influence of a better faith, which sanctifies the sorrows of this\nlife, and rejoices her with the hope of another and a better state of\nexistence.\n\nBut such instances are rare. These people have resisted as encroachments\nupon their rights the efforts that have been made for their instruction.\nKindness and patience, however, have accomplished much, and during the\nlast year they have, in several instances, expressed a desire for the\naid and instructions of missionaries. They seem to wish them to live\namong them; though formerly the lives of those who felt it their duty to\nremain were in constant peril.\n\nThey depend more, too, upon what the ground yields them for food, and\nhave sought for assistance in ploughing it.\n\nThere are four schools sustained by the Dahcotah mission; in all there\nare about one hundred and seventy children; the average attendance\nabout sixty.\n\nThe missionaries feel that they have accomplished something, and they\nare encouraged to hope for still more. They have induced many of the\nDahcotahs to be more temperate; and although few, comparatively, attend\nworship at the several stations, yet of those few some exhibit hopeful\nsigns of conversion.\n\nThere are five mission stations among the Dahcotahs; at \"Lac qui parle,\"\non the St. Peter's river, in sight of the beautiful lake from which the\nstation takes its name; at \"Travers des Sioux\" about eighty miles from\nFort Snelling; at Xapedun, Oak-grove, and Kapoja, the last three being\nwithin a few miles of Fort Snelling.\n\nThere are many who think that the efforts of those engaged in\ninstructing the Dahcotahs are thrown away. They cannot conceive why men\nof education, talent, and piety, should waste their time and attainments\nupon a people who cannot appreciate their efforts. If the missionaries\nreasoned on worldly principles, they would doubtless think so too; but\nthey devote the energies of soul and body to Him who made them for His\nown service.\n\nThey are pioneers in religion; they show the path that others will walk\nin far more easily at some future day; they undertake what others will\ncarry on,--what God himself will accomplish. They have willingly given\nup the advantages of this life, to preach the gospel to the degraded\nDahcotahs. They are translating the Bible into Sioux; many of the books\nare translated, and to their exertions it is owing that the praise of\nGod has been sung by the children of the forest in their own language.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nHowever absurd may be the religion of the Dahcotahs, they are zealous in\ntheir devotion to it. Nothing is allowed to interfere with it. Are their\nwomen planting corn, which is to be in a great measure depended upon for\nfood during the next winter? whatever be the consequences, they stop to\ncelebrate a dance or a feast, either of which is a part of their\nreligion. How many Christians satisfy their consciences by devoting one\nday of the week to God, feeling themselves thus justified in devoting\nthe other six entirely to the world! But it is altogether different with\nthe Dahcotahs, every act of their life is influenced by their religion,\nsuch as it is.\n\nThey believe they are a great people, that their country is unrivalled\nin beauty, their religion without fault. Many of the Dahcotahs, now\nliving near Fort Snelling, say that they have lived on the earth before\nin some region far distant, that they died, and for a time their spirits\nwandered through the world seeking the most beautiful and delightful\ncountry to live in, and that after examining all parts of, the earth\nthey fixed upon the country of the Dahcotahs.\n\nIn fact, dreams, spells and superstitious fears, constitute a large part\nof the belief of the Dahcotahs. But of all their superstitious notions\nthe most curious is the one which occasions the dance called\nHo-saw-kah-u-tap-pe, or Fish dance, where the fish is eaten raw.\n\nSome days since, an Indian who lives at Shah-co-pee's village dreamed of\nseeing a cormorant, a bird which feeds on fish. He was very much\nalarmed, and directed his friend to go out and catch a fish, and to\nbring the first one he caught to him.\n\nThe Indian did so, and the fish, which was a large pike, was painted\nwith blue clay. Preparations were immediately made to celebrate the Fish\ndance, in order to ward off any danger of which the dream might have\nbeen the omen.\n\nA circle was formed of brush, on one side of which the Indians pitched\na wigwam. The war implements were then brought inside the ring, and a\npole stuck up in the centre, with the raw fish, painted blue, hung\nupon it.\n\nThe men then enter the ring, almost naked; their bodies painted black,\nexcepting the breast and arms, which are varied in color according to\nthe fancy of each individual.\n\nInside the ring is a bush for each dancer; in each bush a nest, made to\nresemble a cormorant's nest; and outside the ring is an Indian\nmetamorphosed for the occasion into a wolf--that is, he has the skin of\na wolf drawn over him, and hoops fixed to his hands to enable him to run\neasier on all fours; and in order to sustain the character which he has\nassumed, he remains outside, lurking about for food.\n\nAll being ready, the medicine men inside the wigwam commence beating a\ndrum and singing. This is the signal for all the cormorants (Indians),\ninside the ring, to commence quacking and dancing and using their arms\nin imitation of wings, keeping up a continual flapping. Thus for some\ntime they dance up to and around the fish--when the bravest among them\nwill snap at the fish, and if he have good teeth will probably bite off\na piece, if not, he will slip his hold and flap off again.\n\nAnother will try his luck at this delicious food, and so they continue,\nuntil they have made a beginning in the way of eating the fish. Then\neach cormorant flaps up and takes a bite, and then flaps off to his\nnest, in which the piece of fish is concealed, for fear the wolves\nmay get it.\n\nAfter a while, the wolf is seen emerging from his retreat, painted so\nhideously as to frighten away the Indian children. The cormorants\nperceive the approach of the wolf, and a general quacking and flapping\ntakes place, each one rushing to his nest to secure his food.\n\nThis food each cormorant seizes and tries to swallow, flapping his wings\nand stretching out his neck as a young bird will when fed by its mother.\n\nAfter the most strenuous exertions they succeed in swallowing the raw\nfish. While this is going on, the wolf seizes the opportunity to make a\nsnap at the remainder of the fish, seizes it with his teeth, and makes\nhis way out of the ring, as fast as he can, on all fours. The whole of\nthe fish, bones and all, must be swallowed; not the smallest portion of\nit can be left, and the fish must only be touched by the mouth--never\nwith the hands. This dance is performed by the men alone--their war\nimplements must be sacred from the touch of women.\n\nSuch scenes are witnessed every day at the Dahcotah villages. The\nmissionary sighs as he sees how determined is their belief in such a\nreligion. Is it not a source of rejoicing to be the means of turning one\nfellow-creature from a faith like this?\n\nA few years ago and every Dahcotah woman reverenced the fish-dance as\nholy and sacred--even too sacred for her to take a part in it. She\nbelieved the medicine women could foretell future events; and, with an\ninjustice hardly to be accounted for, she would tell you it was lawful\nto beat a girl as much as you chose, but a sin to strike a boy!\n\nShe gloried in dancing the scalp dance--aye, even exulted at the idea of\ntaking the life of an enemy herself.\n\nBut there are instances in which these things are all laid aside beneath\nthe light of Christianity; instances in which the poor Dahcotah woman\nsees the folly, the wickedness of her former faith; blesses God who\ninclined the missionary to leave his home and take up his abode in the\ncountry of the savage; and sings to the praise of God in her own tongue\nas she sits by the door of her wigwam. She smiles as she tells you that\nher \"face is dark, but that she hopes her heart has been changed; and\nthat she will one day sing in heaven, where the voices of the white\npeople and of the converted Dahcotahs, will mingle in a song of love to\nHim 'who died for the whole world.'\"\n\n\n\n\nWABASHAW.\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nWabashaw, (or The Leaf,) is the name of one of the Dahcotah Chiefs. His\nvillage is on the Mississippi river, 1,800 miles from its mouth.\n\nThe teepees are pitched quite near the shore, and the many bluffs that\nrise behind them seem to be their perpetual guards.\n\nThe present chief is about thirty-five years old--as yet he has done not\nmuch to give him a reputation above the Dahcotahs about him. But his\nfather was a man whose life and character were such as to influence his\npeople to a great degree.\n\nWabashaw the elder, (for the son inherits his father's name,) is said by\nthe Dahcotahs to have been the first chief in their tribe.\n\nMany years ago the English claimed authority over the Dahcotahs, and an\nEnglish traveller having been murdered by some Dahcotahs of the band of\nwhich Wabashaw was a warrior, the English claimed hostages to be given\nup until the murderer could be found.\n\nThe affairs of the nation were settled then by men who, having more mind\nthan the others, naturally influenced their inferiors. Their bravest\nmen, their war chief too, no doubt exercised a control over the rest.\n\nWabashaw was one of the hostages given up in consequence of the murder,\nand the Governor of Canada required that these Dahcotahs should leave\nthe forests of the west, and remain for a time as prisoners in Canada.\nLittle as is the regard for the feelings of the savage now, there was\nstill less then.\n\nWabashaw often spoke of the ill treatment he received on his journey. It\nwas bad enough to be a prisoner, and to be leaving home; it was far\nworse to be struck, for the amusement of idle men and children--to have\nthe war eagle's feather rudely torn from his head to be trampled\nupon--to have the ornaments, even the pipes of the nation, taken away,\nand destroyed before his eyes.\n\nBut such insults often occurred during their journey, and the prisoners\nwere even fettered when at last they reached Quebec.\n\nHere for a long time they sighed to breathe the invigorating air of the\nprairies; to chase the buffalo; to celebrate the war dance. But when\nshould they join again in the ceremonies of their tribe? When? Alas!\nthey could not even ask their jailer when; or if they had, he would only\nhave laughed at the strange dialect that he could not comprehend. But\nthe Dahcotahs bore with patience their unmerited confinement, and\nWabashaw excelled them all. His eye was not as bright as when he left\nhome, and there was an unusual weakness in his limbs--but never should\nhis enemies know that he suffered. And when those high in authority\nvisited the prisoners, the haughty dignity of Wabashaw made them feel\nthat the Dahcotah warrior was a man to be respected.\n\nBut freedom came at last. The murderers were given up; and an\ninterpreter in the prison told Wabashaw that he was no longer a\nprisoner; that he would soon again see the Father of many waters; and\nthat more, he had been made by the English a chief, the first chief of\nthe Dahcotahs.\n\nIt was well nigh too late for Wabashaw. His limbs were thin, and his\nstrength had failed for want of the fresh air of his native hills.\n\nLittle did the prisoners care to look around as they retraced their\nsteps. They knew they were going home. But when the waters of the\nMississippi again shone before them, when the well-known bluffs met\ntheir eager gaze; when the bending river gave to view their native\nvillage, then, indeed, did the new-made chief cast around him the \"quiet\nof a loving eye.\" Then, too, did he realize what he had suffered.\n\nHe strained his sight--for perhaps his wife might have wearied of\nwaiting for him--perhaps she had gone to the Land of spirits, hoping to\nmeet him there.\n\nHis children too--the young warriors, who were wont to follow him and\nlisten to his voice, would they welcome him home?\n\nAs he approached the village a cloud had come between him and the sun.\nHe could see many upon the shore, but who were they? The canoe swept\nover the waters, keeping time to the thoughts of those who were\nwanderers no longer.\n\nAs they neared the shore, the cloud passed away and the brightness of\nthe setting sun revealed the faces of their friends; their cries of joy\nrent the air--to the husband, the son, the brother, they spoke a\nwelcome home!\n\nWabashaw, by the command of the English Governor, was acknowledged by\nthe Dahcotahs their first chief; and his influence was unbounded. Every\nband has a chief, and the honor descends from father to son; but there\nhas never been one more honored and respected than Wabashaw.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nWabashaw's village is sometimes called Keusca. This word signifies to\nbreak through, or set aside; it was given in consequence of an incident\nwhich occurred some time ago, in the village.\n\n\"Sacred Wind\" was a daughter of one of the most powerful families among\nthe Dahcotahs; for although a chief lives as the meanest of his band,\nstill there is a great difference among the families. The number of a\nfamily constitutes its importance; where a family is small, a member of\nit can be injured with little fear of retaliation; but in a large family\nthere are sure to be found some who will not let an insult pass without\nrevenge. Sacred Wind's father was living; a stalwart old warrior,\nslightly bent with the weight of years. Though his face was literally\nseamed with wrinkles, he could endure fatigue, or face danger, with the\nyoungest and hardiest of the band.\n\nHer mother, a fearfully ugly old creature, still mended mocassins and\nscolded; bidding fair to keep up both trades for years to come. Then\nthere were tall brothers, braving hardships and danger, as if a Dahcotah\nwas only born to be scalped, or to scalp; uncles, cousins, too, there\nwere, in abundance, so that Sacred Wind did belong to a powerful family.\n\nNow, among the Dahcotahs, a cousin is looked upon as a brother; a girl\nwould as soon think of marrying her grandfather, as a cousin. I mean an\nordinary girl, but Sacred Wind was not of that stamp; she was destined\nto be a heroine. She had many lovers, who wore themselves out playing\nthe flute, to as little purpose as they braided their hair, and painted\ntheir faces. Sacred Wind did not love one of them.\n\nHer mother, was always trying to induce her to accept some one of her\nlovers, urging the advantages of each match; but it would not do. The\ngirl was eighteen years old, and not yet a wife; though most of the\nDahcotah women are mothers long before that.\n\nHer friends could not imagine why she did not marry. They were wearied\nwith arguing with her; but not one of them ever suspected the cause of\nher seeming coldness of heart.\n\nHer grandmother was particularly officious. She could not do as Sacred\nWind wished her,--attend to her own affairs, for she had none to attend\nto; and grandmothers, among the Sioux, are as loving and devoted as they\nare among white people; consequently, the old lady beset the unfortunate\ngirl, day and night, about her obstinacy.\n\n\"Why are you not now the mother of warriors,\" she said, \"and besides,\nwho will kill game for you when you are old? The 'Bear,' has been to the\ntraders; he has bought many things, which he offers your parents for\nyou; marry him and then you will make your old grandmother happy.\"\n\n\"I will kill myself,\" she replied, \"if you ask me to marry the Bear.\nHave you forgotten the Maiden's rock? I There are more high rocks than\none on the banks of the Mississippi, and my heart is as strong as\nWenona's. If you torment me so, to marry the Bear, I will do as she\ndid--in the house of spirits I shall have no more trouble.\"\n\nThis threat silenced the grandmother for the time. But a young girl who\nhad been sitting with them, and listening to the conversation, rose to\ngo out; and as she passed Sacred Wind, she whispered in her ear, \"Tell\nher why you will not marry the Bear; tell her that Sacred Wind loves her\ncousin; and that last night she promised him she never would marry any\none but him.\"\n\nHad she been struck to the earth she could not have been paler. She\nthought her secret was hid in her own heart. She had tried to cease\nthinking of \"The Shield;\" keeping away from him, dreading to find true\nwhat she only suspected. She did not dare acknowledge even to herself\nthat she loved a cousin.\n\nBut when the Shield gave her his handsomest trinkets; when he followed\nher when she left her laughing and noisy companions to sit beside the\nstill waters--when he told her that she was the most beautiful girl\namong the Dahcotahs--when he whispered her that he loved her dearly;\nand would marry her in spite of mothers, grandmothers, customs and\nreligion too--then she found that her cousin was dearer to her than all\nthe world--that she would gladly die with him--she could never live\nwithout him.\n\nBut still, she would not promise to marry him. What would her friends\nsay? and the spirits of the dead would torment her, for infringing upon\nthe sacred customs of her tribe. The Shield used many arguments, but all\nin vain. She told him she was afraid to marry him, but that she would\nnever marry any one else. Sooner should the waves cease to beat against\nthe shores of the spirit lakes, than she forget to think of him.\n\nBut this did not satisfy her cousin. He was determined she should be his\nwife; he trusted to time and his irresistible person to overcome\nher fears.\n\nThe Shield's name was given to him by his father's friends. Shields were\nformerly used by the Sioux; and the Eyanktons and Sissetons still use\nthem. They are made of buffalo skin, of a circular form; and are used as\na protection against the arrows of their enemies.\n\n\"You need not fear your family, Sacred Wind,\" said her cousin, \"nor the\nmedicine men, nor the spirits of the dead. We will go to one of the\nvillages, and when we are married, we will come back. Let them be angry,\nI will stand between you and them, even as my father's shield did\nbetween him and the foe that sought his life.\"\n\nBut she was firm, and promised nothing more than that she would not\nmarry the Bear, or any one else; and they returned to her father's\nteepee, little thinking that any one had overheard their conversation.\nBut the \"Swan\" had heard every word of it.\n\nShe loved the Shield, and she had seen him follow his cousin. After\nhearing enough to know that her case was a hopeless one, she made up\nher mind to make Sacred Wind pay dearly for the love which she herself\ncould not obtain.\n\nShe did not at once tell the news. She wanted to amuse herself with her\nvictim before she destroyed her; and she had hardly yet made up her mind\nas to the way which she would take to inform the family of Sacred Wind\nof the secret she had found out.\n\nBut she could not resist the temptation of whispering to Sacred Wind her\nknowledge of the true reason why she would not marry the Bear. This was\nthe first blow, and it struck to the heart; it made a wound which was\nlong kept open by the watchful eye of jealousy.\n\nThe grandmother, however, did not hear the remark; if she had she would\nnot have sat still smoking--not she! she would have trembled with rage\nthat a Dahcotah maiden, and her grandchild, should be guilty of the\nenormous crime of loving a cousin. An eruption of Vesuvius would have\ngiven but a faint idea of her fury.\n\nMost fortunately for herself, the venerable old medicine woman died a\nfew days after. Had she lived to know of the fatal passion of her\ngranddaughter, she would have longed to seize the thunderbolts of\nJupiter (if she had been aware of their existence) to hurl at the\noffenders; or like Niobe, have wept herself to stone.\n\nIndeed the cause of her death showed that she could not bear\ncontradiction.\n\nThere was a war party formed to attack the Chippeways, and the \"Eagle\nthat Screams as she Flies,\" (for that was the name of Sacred Wind's\ngrandmother) wanted to go along.\n\nShe wished to mutilate the bodies after they were scalped. Yes, though\nnear ninety years old, she would go through all the fatigues of a march\nof three hundred miles, and think it nothing, if she could be repaid by\ntearing the heart from one Chippeway child.\n\nThere were, however, two old squaws who had applied first, and the\nScreaming Eagle was rejected.\n\nThere were no bounds to her passion. She attempted to hang herself and\nwas cut down; she made the village resound with her lamentations; she\ncalled upon all the spirits of the lakes, rivers, and prairies, to\ntorment the war party; nothing would pacify her. Two days after the war\nparty left, the Eagle that Screams as she Flies expired, in a fit\nof rage!\n\nWhen the war-party returned, the Shield was the observed of all\nobservers; he had taken two scalps.\n\nSacred Wind sighed to think he was her cousin. How could she help loving\nthe warrior who had returned the bravest in the battle?\n\nThe Swan saw that she loved in vain. She knew that she loved the Shield\nmore in absence; why then hope that he would forget Sacred Wind when he\nsaw her no more?\n\nWhen she saw him enter the village, her heart beat fast with emotion;\nshe pressed her hand upon it, but could not still its tumult. \"He has\ncome,\" she said to herself, \"but will his eye seek mine? will he tell\n_me_ that the time has been long since he saw me woman he loved?\"\n\nShe follows his footsteps--she watches his every glance, as he meets his\nrelations. Alas! for the Swan, the wounded bird feels not so acutely the\narrow that pierces, as she that look of recognition between the cousins!\n\nBut the unhappy girl was roused from a sense of her griefs, to a\nrecollection of her wrongs. With all the impetuosity of a loving heart,\nshe thought she had a right to the affections of the Shield. As the\nwater reflected her features, so should his heart give back the devoted\nlove of hers.\n\nBut while she lived, she was determined to bring sorrow upon her rival;\nshe would not \"sing in dying.\" That very evening did she repeat to the\nfamily of Sacred Wind the conversation she had overheard, adding that\nthe love of the cousins was the true cause of Sacred Wind's refusing\nto marry.\n\nTime would fail me to tell of the consequent sufferings of Sacred Wind.\nShe was scolded and watched, shamed, and even beaten. The medicine men\nthreatened her with all their powers; no punishment was severe enough\nfor the Dahcotah who would thus transgress the laws of their nation.\n\nThe Shield was proof against the machinations of his enemies, for he was\na medicine man, and could counteract all the spells that were exerted\nagainst him. Sacred Wind bore everything in patience but the sight of\nthe Bear. She had been bought and sold, over and over again; and the\nfear of her killing herself was the only reason why her friends did not\nforce her to marry.\n\nOne evening she was missing, and the cries of her mother broke upon the\nsilence of night; canoes were flying across the water; friends were\nwandering in the woods, all seeking the body of the girl.\n\nBut she was not to be found in the river, or in the woods. Sacred Wind\nwas not dead, she was only married.\n\nShe was safe in the next village, telling the Shield how much she loved\nhim, and how cordially she hated the Bear; and although she trembled\nwhen she spoke of the medicine men, her husband only laughed at her\nfears, telling her, that now that she was his wife, she need\nfear nothing.\n\nBut where was the Swan? Her friends were assisting, in the search for\nSacred Wind. The father had forgotten his child, the brother his sister.\nAnd the mother, who would have first missed her, had gone long ago, to\nthe land of spirits.\n\nThe Swan had known of the flight of the lovers--she watched them as\ntheir canoe passed away, until it became a speck in the distance, and in\nanother moment the waters closed over her.\n\nThus were strangely blended marriage and death. The Swan feared not to\ntake her own life. Sacred Wind, with a nobler courage, a more devoted\nlove, broke through the customs of her nation, laid aside the\nsuperstitions of the tribe, and has thus identified her courage with the\nname of her native village.\n\n\n\n\n\"THE DAHCOTAH BRIDE.\"\n\nThe valley of the Upper Mississippi presents many attractions to the\nreflecting mind, apart from the admiration excited by its natural\nbeauty. It is at once an old country and a new--the home of a people who\nare rapidly passing away--and of a nation whose strength is ever\nadvancing. The white man treads upon the footsteps of the Dahcotah--the\nwar dance of the warrior gives place to the march of civilization--and\nthe saw-mill is heard where but a few years ago were sung the deeds of\nthe Dahcotah braves.\n\nYears ago, the Dahcotah hunted where the Mississippi takes its rise--the\ntribe claiming the country as far south as St. Louis. But difficulties\nwith the neighboring tribes have diminished their numbers and driven\nthem farther north and west; the white people have needed their lands,\nand their course is onward. How will it end? Will this powerful tribe\ncease to be a nation on the earth? Will their mysterious origin never be\nascertained? And must their religion and superstitions, their customs\nand feasts pass away from memory as if they had never been?\n\nWho can look upon them without interest? hardly the philosopher--surely\nnot the Christian. The image of God is defaced in the hearts of the\nsavage. Cain-like does the child of the forest put forth his hand and\nstain it with a brother's blood. But are there no deeds of darkness done\nin our own favored land?\n\nBut the country of the Dahcotah,--let it be new to those who fly at the\nbeckon of gain--who would speculate in the blood of their\nfellow-creatures, who for gold would, aye do, sell their own souls,--it\nis an old country to me. What say the boundless prairies? how many\ngenerations have roamed over them? when did the buffalo first yield to\nthe arrow of the hunter? And look at the worn bases of the rocks that\nare washed by the Father of waters. Hear the Dahcotah maiden as she\ntells of the lover's leap--and the warrior as he boasts of the victories\nof his forefathers over his enemies, long, long before the hated white\nman had intruded upon their lands, or taught them the fatal secret of\nintoxicating drink.\n\nThe Dahcotahs feel their own weakness--they know they cannot contend\nwith the power of the white man. Yet there are times when the passion\nand vehemence of the warriors in the neighborhood of Fort Snelling can\nhardly be brought to yield to the necessity of control; and were there a\npossibility of success, how soon would the pipe of peace be thrown\naside, and the yell and whoop of war be heard instead! And who would\nblame them? Has not the blood of our bravest and best been poured out\nlike water for a small portion of a country--when the whole could never\nmake up for the loss sustained by one desolate widow or\nfatherless child?\n\nThe sky was without a cloud when the sun rose on the Mississippi. The\nmorning mists passed slowly away as if they loved to linger round the\nhills. Pilot Knob rose above them, proud to be the burial place of her\nwarrior children, while on the opposite side of the Mine Soto [Footnote:\nMine Soto, or Whitish Water, the name that the Sioux give to the St.\nPeter's River. The mud or clay in the water has a whitish look.] the\nfrowning walls of Fort Snelling; told of the power of their enemies. Not\na breath disturbed the repose of nature, till the voice of the song\nbirds rose in harmony singing the praise of the Creator.\n\nBut a few hours have passed away, and how changed the scene. Numbers of\ncanoes are seen rapidly passing over the waters, and the angry savages\nthat spring from them as hastily ascending the hill. From the gates of\nthe fort, hundreds of Indians are seen collecting from every direction,\nand all approaching the house of the interpreter. We will follow them.\n\nFew have witnessed so wild a scene. The house of the interpreter\nemployed by government is near the fort, and all around it were\nassembled the excited Indians. In front of the house is a piazza, and on\nit lay the body of a young Dahcotah; his black hair plaited, and falling\nover his swarthy face. The closed eye and compressed lips proclaimed the\npresence of death. Life had but recently yielded to the sway of the\nstern conqueror. A few hours ago Beloved Hail had eaten and drank on the\nvery spot where his body now reposed.\n\nBending over his head is his wife; tears fall like rain from her eyes;\nand as grief has again overcome her efforts at composure, see how she\nplunges her knife into her arm: and as the warm blood flows from the\nwound calls upon the husband of her youth!\n\n\"My son! my son!\" bursts from the lips of his aged mother, who weeps at\nhis feet; while her bleeding limbs bear witness to the wounds which she\nhad inflicted upon herself in the agony of her soul. Nor are these the\nonly mourners. A crowd of friends are weeping round his body. But the\nmother has turned to the warriors as they press through the crowd; tears\nenough have been shed, it is time to think of revenge. \"Look at your\nfriend,\" she says, \"look how heavily lies the strong arm, and see, he is\nstill, though his wife and aged mother call upon him. Who has done this?\nwho has killed the brave warrior? bring me the murderer, that I may cut\nhim on pieces.\"\n\nIt needed not to call upon the warriors who stood around. They were\nexcited enough. Bad Hail stood near, his eyes bloodshot with rage, his\nlip quivering, and every trembling limb telling of the tempest within.\nShah-co-pee, the orator of the Dahcotahs, and \"The Nest,\" their most\nfamous hunter; the tall form of the aged chief \"Man in the cloud\" leaned\nagainst the railing, his sober countenance strangely contrasting with\nthe fiend-like look of his wife; Grey Iron and Little Hill, with brave\nafter brave, all crying vengeance to the foe, death to the Chippeway!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nBut yesterday the Dahcotahs and Chippeways, foes from time immemorial,\nfeasted and danced together, for there was peace between them. They had\npromised to bury the hatchet; the Chippeways danced near the fort, and\nthe Dahcotahs presented them with blankets and pipes, guns and powder,\nand all that the savage deems valuable. Afterwards, the Dahcotahs\ndanced, and the generous Chippeways exceeded them in the number and\nvalue of their gifts. As evening approached, the bands mingled their\namusements--together they contended in the foot-race, or, stretching\nthemselves upon the grass, played at checkers.\n\nThe Chippeways had paid their annual visit of friendship at Fort\nSnelling, and, having spent their time happily, they were about to\nreturn to their homes. Their wise men said they rejoiced that nothing\nhad occurred to disturb the harmony of the two tribes. But their\nvicinity to the Fort prevented any outbreak; had there been no such\nrestraint upon their actions, each would have sought the life of his\ndeadly foe.\n\n\"Hole in the Day\" was the chief of the Chippeways. He owed his station\nto his own merit; his bravery and firmness had won the respect and\nadmiration of the tribe when he was but a warrior, and they exalted him\nto the honor of being their chief. Deeds of blood marked his course, yet\nwere his manners gentle and his voice low. There was a dignity and a\ncourtesy about his every action that would have well befitted\na courtier.\n\nHe watched with interest the trials of strength between the young men of\nhis own tribe and the Dahcotahs. When the latter celebrated one of their\nnational feasts, when they ate the heart of the dog while it was warm\nwith life, just torn from the animal, with what contempt did he gaze\nupon them!\n\n[Illustration: FALLS OF ST. ANTHONY.]\n\nThe amusements of the dog feast, or dance, have closed, and the\nChippeway chief has signified to his warriors that they were to return\nhome on the following day. He expressed a wish to see several of the\nchiefs of the Dahcotahs, and a meeting having been obtained, he thus\naddressed them--\n\n\"Warriors! it has been the wish of our great father that we should be\nfriends; blood enough has been shed on both sides. But even if we\npreferred to continue at war, we must do as our great father says. The\nIndian's glory is passing away; they are as the setting sun; while the\nwhite man is as the sun rising in all his power. We are the falling\nleaves; the whites are the powerful horses that trample them under foot.\nWe are about to return home, and it is well that nothing has happened to\noccasion strife between us. But I wish you to know that there are two\nyoung men among us who do not belong to my band. They are pillagers,\nbelonging to another band, and they may be troublesome. I wish you to\ntell your young men of this, that they may be on their guard.\"\n\nAfter smoking together, the chiefs separated. \"Hole in the Day\" having\nthus done all that he deemed proper, returned with his warriors to\nhis teepee.\n\nEarly in the morning the Chippeways encamped near St. Anthony's falls;\nthe women took upon themselves all the fatigue and labor of the journey,\nthe men carrying only the implements of war and hunting. The Chippeway\nchief was the husband of three wives, who were sisters; and, strange to\nsay, when an Indian fancies more than one wife, he is fortunate if he\ncan obtain sisters, for they generally live in harmony, while wives who\nare not related are constantly quarreling; and the husband does not\noften interfere, even if words are changed to blows.\n\nIn the mean time, the two pillagers were lurking about; now remaining a\nshort time with the camp of the Chippeways, now absenting themselves for\na day or two. But while the Chippeways were preparing to leave the\nFalls, the pillagers were in the neighborhood of Fort Snelling. They had\naccompanied Hole in the Day's band, with the determination of killing an\nenemy. The ancient feud still rankled in their hearts; as yet they had\nhad no opportunity of satisfying their thirst for blood; but on this\nmorning they were concealed in the bushes, when Red Boy and Beloved\nHail, two Dahcotahs, were passing on horseback. It was but a moment--and\nthe deed was done. Both the Chippeways fired, and Beloved Hail fell.\n\nRed Boy was wounded, but not badly; he hurried in to tell the sad news,\nand the two Chippeways were soon out of the power of their enemies. They\nfled, it is supposed, to Missouri.\n\nThe friends of the dead warrior immediately sought his body, and brought\nit to the house of the interpreter. There his friends came together; and\nas they entered one by one, on every side pressing, forward to see the\nstill, calm, features of the young man; they threw on the body their\nblankets, and other presents, according to their custom of honoring\nthe dead.\n\nTroops are kept at Fort Snelling, not only as a protection to the whites\nin the neighborhood, but to prevent, if possible, difficulties between\nthe different bands of Indians; and as every year brings the Chippeways\nto Fort Snelling, either to transact business with the government or on\na visit of pleasure, the Chippeways and Dahcotahs must be frequently\nthrown together. The commanding officer of the garrison notifies the two\nbands, on such occasions, that no hostilities will be permitted; so\nthere is rarely an occurrence to disturb their peace.\n\nBut now it is impossible to restrain the excited passions of the\nDahcotahs. Capt. B----; who was then in command at Fort Snelling, sent\nword to the Chippeway chief of the murder that had been committed, and\nrequested him to bring all his men in, as the murderer must be given up.\n\nBut this did not satisfy the Dahcotahs; they longed to raise the\ntomahawk which they held in their hands. They refused to wait, but\ninsisted upon following the Chippeways and revenging themselves; the\narguments of the agent and other friends of the Dahcotahs were\nunavailing; nothing would satisfy them but blood, The eyes, even of the\nwomen, sparkled with delight, at the prospect of the scalps they would\ndance round; while the mother of Beloved Hail was heard to call for the\nscalp of the murderer of her son!\n\nSeeing the chiefs determined on war, Capt. B---- told them he would\ncease to endeavor to change their intentions; \"but as soon\" said he, \"as\nyou attack the Chippeways, will I send the soldiers to your villages;\nand who will protect your wives and children?\"\n\nThis had the desired effect, and the warriors, seeing the necessity of\nwaiting for the arrival of the Chippeways, became more calm.\n\nHole in the Day with his men came immediately to the Fort, where a\nconference was held at the gate. There were assembled about three\nhundred Dahcotahs and seventy Chippeways, with the officers of the\ngarrison and the Indian agent.\n\nIt was ascertained that the murder had been committed by the two\npillagers, for none of the other Chippeway warriors had been absent\nfrom the camp. Hole in the Day, however, gave up two of his men, as\nhostages to be kept at Fort Snelling until the murderers should be\ngiven up.\n\nThe Dahcotahs, being obliged for the time to defer the hope of revenge,\nreturned to their village to bury their dead.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nWe rarely consider the Indian as a member of a family--we associate him\nwith the tomahawk and scalping-knife. But the very strangeness of the\ncustoms of the Dahcotahs adds to their interest; and in their mourning\nthey have all the horror of death without an attendant solemnity.\n\nAll the agony and grief that a Christian mother feels when she looks for\nthe last time at the form which will so soon moulder in the dust, an\nIndian mother feels also. The Christian knows that the body will live\nagain; that the life-giving breath of the Eternal will once more\nre-animate the helpless clay; that the eyes which were brilliant and\nbeautiful in life will again look brightly from the now closed\nlids--when the dead shall live--when the beloved child shall\n\"rise again.\"\n\nThe Dahcotah woman has no such hope. Though she believes that the soul\nwill live forever in the \"city of spirits,\" yet the infant she has\nnursed at her bosom, the child she loved and tended, the young man whose\nstrength and beauty were her boast, will soon be ashes and dust.\n\nAnd if she have not the hope of the Christian, neither has she the\nspirit. For as she cuts off her hair and tears her clothes, throwing\nthem under the scaffold, what joy would it bring to her heart could she\nhope herself to take the life of the murderer of her son.\n\nBeloved Hail was borne by the Indians to his native village, and the\nusual ceremonies attending the dead performed, but with more than usual\nexcitement, occasioned by the circumstances of the death of\ntheir friend.\n\nThe body of a dead Dahcotah is wrapped in cloth or calico, or sometimes\nput in a box, if one can be obtained, and placed upon a scaffold raised\na few feet from the ground. All the relations of the deceased then sit\nround it for about twenty-four hours; they tear their clothes; run\nknives through the fleshy parts of their arms, but there is no sacrifice\nwhich they can make so great as cutting off their hair.\n\nThe men go in mourning by painting themselves black and they do not wash\nthe paint off until they take the scalp of an enemy, or give a\nmedicine-dance.\n\nWhile they sit round the scaffold, one of the nearest relations\ncommences a doleful crying, when all the others join in, and continue\ntheir wailing for some time. Then for awhile their tears are wiped away.\nAfter smoking for a short time another of the family commences again,\nand the others join in. This is continued for a day and night, and then\neach one goes to his own wigwam.\n\nThe Dahcotahs mourned thus for Beloved Hail. In the evening the cries of\nhis wife were heard as she called for her husband, while the rocks and\nthe hills echoed the wail. He will return no more--and who will hunt the\ndeer for his wife and her young children!\n\nThe murderers were never found, and the hostages, after being detained\nfor eighteen months at Fort Snelling, were released. They bore their\nconfinement with admirable patience, the more so as they were punished\nfor the fault of others. When they were released, they were furnished\nwith guns and clothing. For fear they would be killed by the Dahcotahs,\ntheir release was kept a secret, and the Dahcotahs knew not that the two\nChippeways were released, until they were far on their journey home. But\none of them never saw his native village again. The long confinement had\ndestroyed his health, and being feeble when he set out, he soon found\nhimself unequal to the journey. He died a few days before the home was\nreached; and the welcome that his companion received was a sad one, for\nhe brought the intelligence of the death of his comrade.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nBut we will do as the Dahcotahs did--turn from the sadness and horror of\nan Indian's death, to the gayety and happiness of an Indian marriage.\nThe Indians are philosophers, after all--they knew that they could not\ngo after the Chippeways, so they made the best of it and smoked. Beloved\nHail was dead, but they could not bring him to life, and they smoked\nagain: besides, \"Walking Wind\" was to be married to \"The War Club,\"\nwhereupon they smoked harder than ever.\n\nThere are two kinds of marriages among the Dahcotahs, buying a wife and\nstealing one. The latter answers to our runaway matches, and in some\nrespects the former is the ditto of one conducted as it ought to be\namong ourselves. So after all, I suppose, Indian marriages are much like\nwhite people's.\n\nBut among the Dahcotahs it is an understood thing that, when the young\npeople run away, they are to be forgiven at any time they choose to\nreturn, if it should be the next day, or six months afterwards. This\nsaves a world of trouble. It prevents the necessity of the father\nlooking daggers at the son-in-law, and then loving him violently; the\nmother is spared the trial of telling her daughter that she forgives her\nthough she has broken her heart; and, what is still better, there is not\nthe slightest occasion whatever for the bride to say she is wretched,\nfor having done what she certainly would do over again to-morrow, were\nit undone.\n\nSo that it is easy to understand why the Dahcotahs have the advantage of\nus in runaway matches, or as _they_ say in \"stealing a wife;\" for it is\nthe same thing, only more honestly stated.\n\nWhen a young man is unable to purchase the girl he loves best, or if her\nparents are unwilling she should marry him, if he have gained the heart\nof the maiden he is safe. They appoint a time and place to meet; take\nwhatever will be necessary for their journey; that is, the man takes his\ngun and powder and shot, and the girl her knife and wooden bowl to eat\nand drink out of; and these she intends to hide in her blanket.\nSometimes they merely go to the next village to return the next day. But\nif they fancy a bridal tour, away they go several hundred miles with\nthe grass for their pillow, the canopy of heaven for their curtains, and\nthe bright stars to light and watch over them. When they return home,\nthe bride goes at once to chopping wood, and the groom to smoking,\nwithout the least form or parade.\n\nSometimes a young girl dare not run away; for she has a miserly father\nor mother who may not like her lover because he had not enough to give\nthem for her; and she knows they will persecute her and perhaps shoot\nher husband. But this does not happen often. Just as, once in a hundred\nyears in a Christian land, if a girl will run away with a young man, her\nparents run after her, and in spite of religion and common sense bring\nher back, have her divorced, and then in either case the parties must,\nas a matter of course, be very miserable.\n\nBut the marriage that we are about to witness, is a \"marriage in high\nlife\" among the Dahcotahs, and the bride is regularly bought, as often\noccurs with us.\n\n\"Walking Wind\" is not pretty; even the Dahcotahs, who are far from being\nconnoisseurs in beauty do not consider her pretty. She is, however, tall\nand well made, and her feet and hands (as is always the case with the\nDahcotah women) are small. She has a quantity of jet-black hair, that\nshe braids with a great deal of care. Her eyes are very black, but\nsmall, and her dark complexion is relieved by more red than is usually\nseen in the cheeks of the daughters of her race. Her teeth are very\nfine, as everybody knows--for she is always laughing, and her laugh is\nperfect music.\n\nThen Walking Wind is, generally speaking, so good tempered. She was\nnever known to be very angry but once, when Harpstenah told her she was\nin love with \"The War Club;\" she threw the girl down and tore half the\nhair out of her head. What made it seem very strange was, that she was\nover head and ears in love with \"The War Club\" at that very time; but\nshe did not choose anybody should know it.\n\nWar Club was a flirt--yes, a male coquette--and he had broken the hearts\nof half the girls in the band. Besides being a flirt, he was a fop. He\nwould plait his hair and put vermilion on his cheeks; and, after seeing\nthat his leggins were properly arranged, he would put the war eagle\nfeathers in his head, and folding his blanket round him, would walk\nabout the village, or attitudinize with all the airs of a Broadway\ndandy. War Club was a great warrior too, for on his blanket was marked\nthe Red Hand, which showed he had killed his worst enemy--for it was his\nfather's enemy, and he had hung the scalp up at his father's grave.\nBesides, he was a great hunter, which most of the Dahcotahs are.\n\nNo one, then, could for a moment doubt the pretensions of War Club, or\nthat all the girls of the village should fall in love with him; and he,\nlike a downright flirt, was naturally very cold and cruel to the poor\ncreatures who loved him so much.\n\nWalking Wind, besides possessing many other accomplishments, such as\ntanning deer-skin, making mocassins, &c., was a capital shot. On one\noccasion, when the young warriors were shooting at a mark, Walking Wind\nwas pronounced the best shot among them, and the War Club was quite\nsubdued. He could bear everything else; but when Walking Wind beat him\nshooting--why--the point was settled; he must fall in love with her,\nand, as a natural consequence, marry her.\n\nWalking Wind was not so easily won. She had been tormented so long\nherself, that she was in duty bound to pay back in the same coin. It was\na Duncan Gray affair--only reversed. At last she yielded; her lover\ngave her so many trinkets. True, they were brass and tin; but Dahcotah\nmaidens cannot sigh for pearls and diamonds, for they never even heard\nof them; and the philosophy of the thing is just the same, since\neverybody is outdone by somebody. Besides, her lover played the flute\nall night long near her father's wigwam, and, not to speak of the pity\nthat she felt for him, Walking Wind was confident she never could sleep\nuntil that flute stopped playing, which she knew would be as soon as\nthey were married. For all the world knows that no husband, either white\nor copper-colored, ever troubles himself to pay any attention of that\nsort to his wife, however devotedly romantic he may have been\nbefore marriage.\n\nSometimes the Dahcotah lover buys his wife without her consent; but the\nWar Club was more honorable than that: he loved Walking Wind, and he\nwanted her to love him.\n\nWhen all was settled between the young people, War Club told his parents\nthat he wanted to marry. The old people were glad to hear it, for they\nlike their ancient and honorable names and houses to be kept up, just as\nwell as lords and dukes do; so they collected everything they owned for\nthe purpose of buying Walking Wind. Guns and blankets, powder and shot,\nknives and trinkets, were in requisition instead of title-deeds and\nsettlements. So, when all was ready, War Club put the presents on a\nhorse, and carried them to the door of Walking Wind's wigwam.\n\nHe does not ask for the girl, however, as this would not be Dahcotah\netiquette. He lays the presents on the ground and has a consultation,\nor, as the Indians say, a \"talk\" with the parents, concluding by asking\nthem to give him Walking Wind for his wife.\n\nAnd, what is worthy to be noticed here is, that, after having gone to so\nmuch trouble to ask a question, he never for a moment waits for an\nanswer, but turns round, horse and all, and goes back to his wigwam.\n\nThe parents then consult for a day or two, although they from the first\nmoment have made up their minds as to what they are going to do. In due\ntime the presents are taken into the wigwam, which signifies to the\nlover that he is a happy man. And on the next day Walking Wind is to\nbe a bride.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nEarly in the morning, Walking Wind commenced her toilet--and it was no\nlight task to deck the Indian bride in all her finery.\n\nHer mocassins were worked with porcupine, and fitted closely her small\nfeet; the leggins were ornamented with ribbons of all colors; her cloth\nshawl, shaped like a mantilla, was worked with rows of bright ribbons,\nand the sewing did honor to her own skill in needle-work. Her breast\nwas covered with brooches, and a quantity of beads hung round her neck.\nHeavy ear-rings are in her ears--and on her head is a diadem of war\neagle's feathers. She has a bright spot of vermilion on each cheek,\nand--behold an Indian bride!\n\nWhen she is ready, as many presents as were given for her are collected\nand put on a horse; and the bride, accompanied by three or four of her\nrelations, takes the road to the wigwam of the bridegroom.\n\nWhen they arrive within a hundred yards of the wigwam, Walking Wind's\nfather calls for the War Club to come out. He does not come, but sends\none of his relations to receive the bride. Do not suppose that Walking\nWind's father takes offence at the bridegroom's not coming when he is\ncalled; for it is as much a part of the ceremony, among the Dahcotahs,\nfor one of the bride's relations to call for the bridegroom, and for the\ngroom to refuse to come, as it is for us to have the ring put upon the\nthird finger of the left hand.\n\nAs soon as the warrior deputed by the husband elect to receive the bride\nmakes his appearance, the Indians raise a shout of applause, and all run\ntowards him as he approaches them, and while they are running and\nshouting they are firing off their guns too.\n\nBut the ceremony is not over yet. Walking Wind, in order to complete the\nceremonies, to be a wife, must jump upon the back of her husband's\nrelative, and be thus carried into the wigwam of which she is to be\nthe mistress.\n\nWhat a situation for a bride! Walking Wind seriously thinks of\nrebelling; she hesitates--while the man stands ready to start for the\nwigwam so soon as the luggage is on. The bride draws back and pouts a\nlittle, when some of her friends undertake to reason with her; and she,\nas if to avoid them, springs upon the back of the Dahcotah, who carries\nher into the wigwam.\n\nBut where on earth is the bridegroom? Seated on the ground in the\nteepee, looking as placid and unconcerned as if nothing was going on. Of\ncourse he rises to receive his bride? Not he; but Walking Wind is on her\nfeet again, and she takes her seat, without any invitation, by the side\nof him, who is literally to be her lord and master--and they are man and\nwife. As much so, as if there were a priest and a ring, pearls and\nbride-cake. For the Dahcotah reveres the ceremony of marriage, and he\nthinks with solemn awe of the burial rites of his nation, as we do.\nThese rites have been preserved from generation to generation, told from\nfather to son, and they will be handed down until the Dahcotahs are no\nmore, or until religion and education take the place of superstition and\nignorance--until God, our God, is known and worshipped among a people\nwho as yet have hardly heard His name.\n\n\n\n\nSHAH-CO-PEE;\n\n\nTHE ORATOR OF THE SIOUX.\n\nShah-co-pee (or Six) is one of the chiefs of the Dahcotahs; his village\nis about twenty-five miles from Fort Snelling. He belongs to the bands\nthat are called Men-da-wa-can-ton, or People of the Spirit Lakes.\n\nNo one who has lived at Fort Snelling can ever forget him, for at what\nhouse has he not called to shake hands and smoke; to say that he is a\ngreat chief, and that he is hungry and must eat before he starts for\nhome? If the hint is not immediately acted upon, he adds that the sun is\ndying fast, and it is time for him to set out.\n\nShah-co-pee is not so tall or fine looking as Bad Hail, nor has he the\nfine Roman features of old Man in the Cloud. His face is decidedly ugly;\nbut there is an expression of intelligence about his quick black eye and\nfine forehead, that makes him friends, notwithstanding his many\ntroublesome qualities.\n\nAt present he is in mourning; his face is painted black. He never combs\nhis hair, but wears a black silk handkerchief tied across his forehead.\n\nWhen he speaks he uses a great deal of gesture, suiting the action to\nthe word. His hands, which are small and well formed, are black with\ndirt; he does not descend to the duties of the toilet.\n\nHe is the orator of the Dahcotahs. No matter how trifling the occasion,\nhe talks well; and assumes an air of importance that would become him if\nhe were discoursing on matters of life and death.\n\nSome years ago, our government wished the Chippeways and Dahcotahs to\nconclude a treaty of peace among themselves. Frequently have these two\nbands made peace, but rarely kept it any length of time. On this\noccasion many promises were made on both sides; promises which would be\nbroken by some inconsiderate young warrior before long, and then\nretaliation must follow.\n\nShah-co-pee has great influence among the Dahcotahs, and he was to come\nto Fort Snelling to be present at the council of peace. Early in the\nmorning he and about twenty warriors left their village on the banks of\nthe St. Peters, for the Fort.\n\nWhen they were very near, so that their actions could be distinguished,\nthey assembled in their canoes, drawing them close together, that they\nmight hear the speech which their chief was about to make them.\n\nThey raised the stars and stripes, and their own flag, which is a staff\nadorned with feathers from the war eagle; and the noon-day sun gave\nbrilliancy to their gay dresses, and the feathers and ornaments that\nthey wore.\n\nShah-co-pee stood straight and firm in his canoe--and not the less\nproudly that the walls of the Fort towered above him.\n\n\"My boys,\" he said (for thus he always addressed his men), \"the\nDahcotahs are all braves; never has a coward been known among the\nPeople of the Spirit Lakes. Let the women and children fear their\nenemies, but we will face our foes, and always conquer.\n\n\"We are going to talk with the white men; our great Father wishes us to\nbe at peace with our enemies. We have long enough shed the blood of the\nChippeways; we have danced round their scalps, and our children have\nkicked their heads about in the dust. What more do we want? When we are\nin council, listen to the words of the Interpreter as he tells us what\nour great Father says, and I will answer him for you; and when we have\neaten and smoked the pipe of peace, we will return to our village.\"\n\nThe chief took his seat with all the importance of a public benefactor.\nHe intended to have all the talking to himself, to arrange matters\naccording to his own ideas; but he did it with the utmost condescension,\nand his warriors were satisfied.\n\nBesides being an orator, Shah-co-pee is a beggar, and one of a high\norder too, for he will neither take offence nor a refusal. Tell him one\nday that you will not give him pork and flour, and on the next he\nreturns, nothing daunted, shaking hands, and asking for pork and flour.\nHe always gains his point, for you are obliged to give in order to get\nrid of him. He will take up his quarters at the Interpreter's, and come\ndown upon you every day for a week just at meal time--and as he is\nalways blessed with a ferocious appetite, it is much better to\ncapitulate, come to terms by giving him what he wants, and let him go.\nAnd after he has once started, ten to one if he does not come back to\nsay he wants to shoot and bring you some ducks; you must give him powder\nand shot to enable him to do so. That will probably be the last of it.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nIt was a beautiful morning in June when we left Fort Snelling to go on a\npleasure party up the St. Peters, in a steamboat, the first that had\never ascended that river. There were many drawbacks in the commencement,\nas there always are on such occasions. The morning was rather cool,\nthought some, and as they hesitated about going, of course their toilets\nwere delayed to the last moment. And when all were fairly in the boat,\nwood was yet to be found. Then something was the matter with one of the\nwheels--and the mothers were almost sorry they had consented to come;\nwhile the children, frantic with joy, were in danger of being drowned\nevery moment, by the energetic movements they made near the sides of the\nboat, by way of indicating their satisfaction at the state of things.\n\nIn the cabin, extensive preparations were making in case the excursion\nbrought on a good appetite. Everybody contributed loaf upon loaf of\nbread and cake; pies, coffee and sugar; cold meats of every description;\nwith milk and cream in bottles. Now and then, one of these was broken or\nupset, by way of adding to the confusion, which was already intolerable.\n\nChampaigne and old Cogniac were brought by the young gentlemen, only for\nfear the ladies should be sea-sick; or, perhaps, in case the gentlemen\nshould think it positively necessary to drink the ladies' health.\n\nWhen we thought all was ready, there was still another delay.\nShah-co-pee and two of his warriors were seen coming down the hill, the\nchief making an animated appeal to some one on board the boat; and as he\nreached the shore he gave us to understand that his business was\nconcluded, and that he would like to go with us. But it was very evident\nthat he considered his company a favor.\n\nThe bright sun brought warmth, and we sat on the upper deck admiring the\nbeautiful shores of the St. Peter's. Not a creature was to be seen for\nsome distance on the banks, and the birds as they flew over our heads\nseemed to be the fit and only inhabitants of such a region.\n\nWhen tired of admiring the scenery, there was enough to employ us. The\ntable was to be set for dinner; the children had already found out which\nbasket contained the cake, and they were casting admiring looks\ntowards it.\n\nWhen we were all assembled to partake of some refreshments, it was\ndelightful to find that there were not enough chairs for half the party.\nWe borrowed each other's knives and forks too, and etiquette, that petty\ntyrant of society, retired from the scene.\n\nShah-co-pee found his way to the cabin, where he manifested strong\nsymptoms of shaking hands over again; in order to keep him quiet, we\ngave him plenty to eat. How he seemed to enjoy a piece of cake that had\naccidentally dropped into the oyster-soup! and with equal gravity would\nhe eat apple-pie and ham together. And then his cry of \"wakun\"\n[Footnote: Mysterious.] when the cork flew from the champaigne bottle\nacross the table!\n\nHow happily the day passed--how few such days occur in the longest\nlife!\n\nAs Shah-co-pee's village appeared in sight, the chief addressed Col.\nD----, who was at that time in command of Fort Snelling, asking him why\nwe had come on such an excursion.\n\n\"To escort you home\" was the ready reply; \"you are a great chief, and\nworthy of being honored, and we have chosen this as the best way of\nshowing our respect and admiration of you.\"\n\nThe Dahcotah chief believed all; he never for a moment thought there was\nanything like jesting on the subject of his own high merits; his face\nbeamed with delight on receiving such a compliment.\n\nThe men and women of the village crowded on the shore as the boat\nlanded, as well they might, for a steamboat was a new sight to them.\n\nThe chief sprang from the boat, and swelling with pride and self\nadmiration he took the most conspicuous station on a rock near the\nshore, among his people, and made them a speech.\n\nWe could but admire his native eloquence. Here, with all that is wild in\nnature surrounding him, did the untaught orator address his people. His\nlips gave rapid utterance to thoughts which did honor to his feelings,\nwhen we consider who and what he was.\n\nHe told them that the white people were their friends; that they wished\nthem to give up murder and intemperance, and to live quietly and\nhappily. They taught them to plant corn, and they were anxious to\ninstruct their children. \"When we are suffering,\" said he, \"during the\ncold weather, from sickness or want of food, they give us medicine\nand bread.\"\n\nAnd finally he told them of the honor that had been paid him. \"I went,\nas you know, to talk with the big Captain of the Fort, and he, knowing\nthe bravery of the Dahcotahs, and that I was a great chief, has brought\nme home, as you see. Never has a Dahcotah warrior been thus honored!\"\n\nNever indeed! But we took care not to undeceive him. It was a harmless\nerror, and as no efforts on our part could have diminished his self\nimportance, we listened with apparent, indeed with real admiration of\nhis eloquent speech. The women brought ducks on board, and in exchange\nwe gave them bread; and it was evening as we watched the last teepee of\nShah-co-pee's village fade away in the distance.\n\nBut sorrow mingles with the remembrance of that bright day. One of those\nwho contributed most to its pleasures is gone from us--one whom all\nesteemed and many loved, and justly, for never beat a kinder or a\nnobler heart.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nShah-co-pee has looked rather grave lately. There is trouble in the\nwigwam.\n\nThe old chief is the husband of three wives, and they and their children\nare always fighting. The first wife is old as the hills, wrinkled and\nhaggard; the chief cares no more for her than he does for the stick of\nwood she is chopping. She quarrels with everybody but him, and this\nprevents her from being quite forgotten.\n\nThe day of the second wife is past too, it is of no use for I her to\nplait her hair and put on her ornaments; for the old chief's heart is\nwrapped up in his third wife.\n\nThe girl did not love him, how could she? and he did not succeed in\ntalking her into the match; but he induced the parents to sell her to\nhim, and the young wife went weeping to the teepee of the chief.\n\nHers was a sad fate. She hated her husband as much as he loved her. No\npresents could reconcile her to her situation. The two forsaken wives\nnever ceased annoying her, and their children assisted them. The young\nwife had not the courage to resent their ill treatment, for the loss of\nher lover had broken her heart. But that lover did not seem to be in\nsuch despair as she was--he did not quit the village, or drown himself,\nor commit any act of desperation. He lounged and smoked as much as ever.\nOn one occasion when Shah-co-pee was absent from the village the\nlovers met.\n\nThey had to look well around them, for the two old wives were always on\nthe look out for something to tell of the young one; but there was no\none near. The wind whistled keenly round the bend of the river as the\nDahcotah told the weeping girl to listen to him.\n\nWhen had she refused? How had she longed to hear the sound of his voice\nwhen wearied to death with the long boastings of the old chief.\n\nBut how did her heart beat when Red Stone told her that he loved her\nstill--that he had only been waiting an opportunity to induce her to\nleave her old husband, and go with him far away.\n\nShe hesitated a little, but not long; and when Shah-co-pee returned to\nhis teepee his young wife was gone--no one had seen her depart--no one\nknew where to seek for her. When the old man heard that Red Stone was\ngone too, his rage knew no bounds. He beat his two wives almost to\ndeath, and would have given his handsomest pipe-stem to have seen the\nfaithless one again.\n\nHis passion did not last long; it would have killed him if it had. His\nwives moaned all through the night, bruised and bleeding, for the fault\nof their rival; while the chief had recourse to the pipe, the\nnever-failing refuge of the Dahcotah.\n\n\"I thought,\" said the chief, \"that some calamity was going to happen to\nme\" (for, being more composed, he began to talk to the other Indians who\nsat with him in his teepee, somewhat after the manner and in the spirit\nof Job's friends). \"I saw Unk-a-tahe, the great fish of the water, and\nit showed its horns; and we know that that is always a sign of trouble.\"\n\n\"Ho!\" replied an old medicine man, \"I remember when Unk-a-tahe got in\nunder the falls\" (of St. Anthony) \"and broke up the ice. The large\npieces of ice went swiftly down, and the water forced its way until it\nwas frightful to see it. The trees near the shore were thrown down, and\nthe small islands were left bare. Near Fort Snelling there was a house\nwhere a white man and his wife lived. The woman heard the noise, and,\nwaking her husband, ran out; but as he did not follow her quick enough,\nthe house was soon afloat and he was drowned.\"\n\nThere was an Indian camp near this house, for the body of Wenona, the\nsick girl who was carried over the Falls, was found here. It was placed\non a scaffold on the shore, near where the Indians found her, and\nCheckered Cloud moved her teepee, to be near her daughter. Several other\nDahcotah families were also near her.\n\nBut what was their fright when they heard the ice breaking, and the\nwaters roaring as they carried everything before them? The father of\nWenona clung to his daughter's scaffold, and no entreaties of his wife\nor others could induce him to leave.\n\n\"Unk-a-tahe has done this,\" cried the old man, \"and I care not. He\ncarried my sick daughter under the waters, and he may bury me there\ntoo.\" And while the others fled from the power of Unk-a-tahe, the father\nand mother clung to the scaffold of their daughter.\n\nThey were saved, and they lived by the body of Wenona until they buried\nher. \"The power of Unk-a-tahe is great!\" so spoke the medicine man, and\nShah-co-pee almost forgot his loss in the fear and admiration of this\nmonster of the deep, this terror of the Dahcotahs.\n\nHe will do well to forget the young wife altogether; for she is far\naway, making mocassins for the man she loves. She rejoices at her escape\nfrom the old man, and his two wives; while he is always making speeches\nto his men, commencing by saying he is a great chief, and ending with\nthe assertion that Red Stone should have respected his old age, and not\nhave stolen from him the only wife he loved.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nShah-co-pee came, a few days ago, with twenty other warriors, some of\nthem chiefs, on a visit to the commanding officer of Fort Snelling.\n\nThe Dahcotahs had heard that the Winnebagoes were about to be removed,\nand that they were to pass through their hunting grounds on their way to\ntheir future homes. They did not approve of this arrangement. Last\nsummer the Dahcotahs took some scalps of the Winnebagoes, and it was\ndecided at Washington that the Dahcotahs should pay four thousand\ndollars of their annuities as an atonement for the act. This caused much\nsuffering among the Dahcotahs; fever was making great havoc among them,\nand to deprive them of their flour and other articles of food was only\nenfeebling their constitutions, and rendering them an easy prey for\ndisease. The Dahcotahs thought this very hard at the time; they have not\nforgotten the circumstance, and they think that they ought to be\nconsulted before their lands are made a thoroughfare by their enemies.\n\nThey accordingly assembled, and, accompanied by the Indian agent and the\ninterpreter, came to Fort Snelling to make their complaint. When they\nwere all seated, (all on the floor but one, who looked most\nuncomfortable, mounted on a high chair), the agent introduced the\nsubject, and it was discussed for a while; the Dahcotahs paying the most\nprofound attention, although they could not understand a word of what\nwas passing; and when there was a few moments' silence, the chiefs rose\neach in his turn to protest against the Winnebagoes passing through\ntheir country. They all spoke sensibly and well; and when one finished,\nthe others all intimated their approval by crying \"Ho!\" as a kind of\nchorus. After a while Shah-co-pee rose; his manner said \"I am Sir\nOracle.\" He shook hands with the commanding officer, with the agent and\ninterpreter, and then with some strangers who were visiting the fort.\n\nHis attitude was perfectly erect as he addressed the officer.\n\n\"We are the children of our great Father, the President of the United\nStates; look upon us, for we are your children too. You are placed here\nto see that the Dahcotahs are protected, that their rights are not\ninfringed upon.\"\n\nWhile the Indians cried Ho! ho! with great emphasis, Shah-co-pee shook\nhands all round again, and then resumed his place and speech.\n\n\"Once this country all belonged to the Dahcotahs. Where had the white\nman a place to call his own on our prairies? He could not even pass\nthrough our country without our permission!\n\n\"Our great Father has signified to us that he wants our lands. We have\nsold some of them to him, and we are content to do so, but he has\npromised to protect us, to be a friend to us, to take care of us as a\nfather does of his children.\n\n\"When the white man wishes to visit us, we open the door of our country\nto him; we treat him with hospitality. He looks at our rocks, our river,\nour trees, and we do not disturb him. The Dahcotah and the white man\nare friends.\n\n\"But the Winnebagoes are not our friends, we suffered for them not long\nago; our children wanted food; our wives were sick; they could not plant\ncorn or gather the Indian potato. Many of our nation died; their bodies\nare now resting on their scaffolds. The night birds clap their wings as\nthe winds howl over them!\n\n\"And we are told that our great Father will let the Winnebagoes make a\npath through our hunting grounds: they will subsist upon our game; every\nbird or animal they kill will be a loss to us.\n\n\"The Dahcotah's lands are not free to others. If our great Father wishes\nto make any use of our lands, he should pay us. We object to the\nWinnebagoes passing through our country; but if it is too late to\nprevent this, then we demand a thousand dollars for every village they\nshall pass.\"\n\nHo! cried the Indians again; and Shah-co-pee, after shaking hands once\nmore, took his seat.\n\nI doubt if you will ever get the thousand dollars a village,\nShah-co-pee; but I like the spirit that induces you to demand it. May\nyou live long to make speeches and beg bread--the unrivalled orator and\nmost notorious beggar of the Dahcotahs!\n\n\n\n\nOYE-KAR-MANI-VIM;\n\n\nTHE TRACK-MAKER.\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nIt was in the summer of 183-, that a large party of Chippeways visited\nFort Snelling. There was peace between them and the Sioux. Their time\nwas passed in feasting and carousing; their canoes together flew over\nthe waters of the Mississippi. The young Sioux warriors found strange\nbeauty in the oval faces of the Chippeway girls; and the Chippeways\ndiscovered (what was actually the case) that the women of the Dahcotahs\nwere far more graceful than those of their own nation.\n\nBut as the time of the departure of the Chippeways approached, many a\nChippeway maiden wept when she remembered how soon she would bid adieu\nto all her hopes of happiness. And Flying Shadow was saddest of them\nall. She would gladly have given up everything for her lover. What were\nhome and friends to her who loved with all the devotion of a heart\nuntrammeled by forms, fresh from the hand of nature? She listened to his\nflute in the still evening, as if her spirit would forsake her when she\nheard it no more. She would sit with him on the bluff which hung over\nthe Mississippi, and envy the very waters which would remain near him,\nwhen she was far away. But her lover loved his nation even more than he\ndid her; and though he would have died to have saved her from sorrow,\nyet he knew she could never be his wife. Even were he to marry her, her\nlife would ever be in danger. A Chippeway could not long find a home\namong the Dahcotahs.\n\nThe Track-maker bitterly regretted that they had ever met, when he saw\nher grief at the prospect of parting. \"Let us go,\" he said, \"to the\nFalls, where I will tell you the story you asked me.\"\n\nThe Track-maker entered the canoe first, and the girl followed; and so\npleasant was the task of paddling her lover over the quiet waters, that\nit seemed but a moment before they were in sight of the torrent.\n\n\"It was there,\" said the Sioux, \"that Wenona and her child found their\ngraves. Her husband, accompanied by some other Dahcotahs, had gone some\ndistance above the falls to hunt. While there, he fell in love with a\nyoung girl whom he thought more beautiful than his wife. Wenona knew\nthat she must no longer hope to be loved as she had been.\n\n\"The Dahcotahs killed much game, and then broke up their camp and\nstarted for their homes. When they reached the falls, the women got\nready to carry their canoes and baggage round.\n\n\"But Wenona was going on a longer journey. She would not live when her\nhusband loved her no more, and, putting her son in her canoe, she soon\nreached the island that divides the falls.\n\n\"Then she put on all her ornaments, as if she were a bride; she dressed\nher boy too, as a Dahcotah warrior; she turned to look once more at her\nhusband, who was helping his second wife to put the things she was to\ncarry, on her back.\n\n\"Soon her husband called to her; she did not answer him, but placed her\nchild high up in the canoe, so that his father could see him, and\ngetting in herself she paddled towards the rapids.\n\n\"Her husband saw that Unk-tahe would destroy her, and he called to her\nto come ashore. But he might have called to the roaring waters as well,\nand they would have heeded him as soon as she.\n\n\"Still he ran along the shore with his arms uplifted, entreating her to\ncome ashore.\n\n\"Wenona continued her course towards the rapids--her voice was heard\nabove the waters as she sang her death song. Soon the mother and child\nwere seen no more--the waters covered them.\n\n\"But her spirit wanders near this place. An elk and fawn are often seen,\nand we know they are Wenona and her child.\"\n\n\"Do you love me as Wenona loved?\" continued the Sioux, as he met the\nlooks of the young girl bent upon him.\n\n\"I will not live when I see you no more,\" she replied. \"As the flowers\ndie when the winter's cold falls upon them, so will my spirit depart\nwhen I no longer listen to your voice. But when I go to the land of\nspirits I shall be happy. My spirit will return to earth; but it will be\nalways near you.\"\n\nLittle didst thou dream that the fate of Wenona would be less sad than\nthine. She found the death she sought, in the waters whose bosom opened\nto receive her. But thou wilt bid adieu to earth in the midst of the\nbattle--in the very presence of him, for whose love thou wouldst venture\nall. Thy spirit will flee trembling from the shrieks of the dying\nmother, the suffering child. Death will come to thee as a terror, not\nas a refuge.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nWhen the Chippeways broke up their camp near Fort Snelling, they divided\ninto two parties, one party returning home by the Mississippi, the other\nby way of the St. Croix.\n\nThey parted on the most friendly terms with the Sioux, giving presents,\nand receiving them in return.\n\nSome pillagers, who acknowledge no control, had accompanied the\nChippeways. These pillagers are in fact highwaymen or privateers--having\nno laws, and acting from the impulses of their own fierce hearts.\n\nAfter the Chippeways had left, the pillagers concealed themselves in a\npath near Lake Calhoun. This lake is about seven miles from\nFort Snelling.\n\nBefore they had been concealed one hour, two Dahcotahs passed, father\nand son. The pillagers fired, and the father was killed instantly; but\nthe son escaped, and made his way home in safety. The boy entered the\nvillage calling for his mother, to tell her the sad news; her cries of\ngrief gave the alarm, and soon the death of the Sioux was known\nthroughout the village. The news flew from village to village on the\nwings of the wind; Indian runners were seen in every direction, and in\ntwenty-four hours there were three hundred warriors on foot in pursuit\nof the Chippeways.\n\nEvery preparation was made for the death-strife. Not a Sioux warrior but\nvowed he would with his own arm avenge the death of his friend. The very\ntears of the wife were dried when the hope of vengeance cheered\nher heart.\n\nThe Track-maker was famous as a warrior. Already did the aged Dahcotahs\nlisten to his words; for he was both wise and brave. He was among the\nforemost to lead the Dahcotahs against the Chippeways; and though he\nlonged to raise his tomahawk against his foes, his spirit sunk within\nhim when he remembered the girl he loved. What will be her fate! Oh!\nthat he had never seen her. But it was no time to think of her. Duty\ncalled upon him to avenge the death of his friend.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nWoe to the unsuspecting Chippeways! ignorant of the murder that had been\ncommitted, they were leisurely turning their steps homeward, while the\npillagers made their escape with the scalp of the Dahcotah.\n\nThe Sioux travelled one day and night before they came up with the\nChippeways. Nothing could quench their thirst but blood. And the women\nand children must suffer first. The savage suffers a twofold death;\nbefore his own turn comes, his young children lie breathless around\nhim, their mother all unconscious by their side.\n\nThe Chippeways continued their journey, fearing nothing. They had camped\nbetween the falls of St. Anthony and Rum river; they were refreshed, and\nthe men proceeded first, leaving their women and children to follow.\nThey were all looking forward with pleasure to seeing their homes again.\nThe women went leisurely along; the infant slept quietly--what should it\nfear close to its mother's heart! The young children laughed as they hid\nthemselves behind the forest trees, and then emerged suddenly to\nfrighten the others. The Chippeway maidens rejoiced when they remembered\nthat their rivals, the Dahcotah girls, would no longer seduce their\nlovers from their allegiance.\n\nFlying Shadow wept, there was nothing to make her happy, she would see\nthe Track-maker no more, and she looked forward to death as the end of\nher cares. She concealed in her bosom the trinkets he had given her;\nevery feature of his face was written on her heart--that heart that beat\nonly for him, that so soon would cease to beat at all!\n\nBut there was a fearful cry, that banished even him from her thoughts.\nThe war-whoop burst suddenly upon the defenceless women.\n\nHundreds of Dahcotah warriors rose up to blind the eyes of the\nterror-stricken mothers. Their children are scalped before their eyes;\ntheir infants are dashed against the rocks, which are not more\ninsensible to their cries than their murderers.\n\nIt is a battle of strength against weakness. Stern warrior, it needs\nnot to strike the mother that blow! she dies in the death of her\nchildren. [Footnote: The Dahcotahs believe, or many of them believe,\nthat each body has four souls. One wanders about the earth and requires\nfood; a second watches over the body; the third hovers round its native\nvillage, while the fourth goes to the land of spirits.]\n\nThe maidens clasp their small hands--a vain appeal to the merciless\nwretches, who see neither beauty nor grace, when rage and revenge are in\ntheir hearts. It is blood they thirst for, and the young and innocent\nfall like grass before the mower.\n\nFlying Shadow sees her lover! he is advancing towards her! What does his\ncountenance say? There is sadness in his face, and she hopes--aye, more\nthan hopes--she knows he will save her. With all a woman's trust she\nthrows herself in his arms. \"Save me! save me!\" she cries; \"do not let\nthem slay me before your eyes; make me your prisoner! [Footnote: When\nthe Sioux are tired of killing, they sometimes take their victims\nprisoners, and, generally speaking, treat them with great kindness.] you\nsaid that you loved me, spare my life!\"\n\nWho shall tell his agony? For a moment he thought he would make her his\nprisoner. Another moment's reflection convinced him that that would be\nof no avail. He knew that she must die, but he could not take her life.\n\nHer eyes were trustingly turned upon him; her soft hand grasped his arm.\nBut the Sioux warriors were pressing upon them, he gave her one more\nlook, he touched her with his spear, [Footnote: When a Dahcotah touches\nan enemy with his spear, he is privileged to wear a feather of honor, as\nif he had taken a scalp.] and he was gone.\n\nAnd Flying Shadow was dead. She felt not the blow that sent her reeling\nto the earth. Her lover had forsaken her in the hour of danger, and what\ncould she feel after that?\n\nThe scalp was torn from her head by one of those who had most admired\nher beauty; and her body was trampled upon by the very warriors who had\nso envied her lover.\n\nThe shrieks of the dying women reached the ears of their husbands and\nbrothers. Quickly did they retrace their steps, and when they reached\nthe spot, they bravely stood their ground; but the Dahcotahs were too\npowerful for them,--terrible was the struggle!\n\nThe Dahcotahs continued the slaughter, and the Chippeways were obliged\nat last to give way. One of the Chippeways seized his frightened child\nand placed him upon his back. His wife lay dead at his feet; with his\nchild clinging to him, he fought his way through.\n\nTwo of the Dahcotahs followed him, for he was flying fast; and they\nfeared he would soon be out of their power. They thought, as they nearly\ncame up to him, that he would loose his hold on his child; but the\nfather's heart was strong within him. He flies, and the Sioux are close\nupon his heels! He fires and kills one of them. The other Sioux follows:\nhe has nothing to encumber him--he must be victor in such an unequal\ncontest. But the love that was stronger than death nerved the father's\narm. He kept firing, and the Sioux retreated. The Chippeway and his\nyoung son reached their home in safety, there to mourn the loss of\nothers whom they loved.\n\nThe sun set upon a bloody field; the young and old lay piled together;\nthe hearts that had welcomed the breaking of the day were all\nunconscious of its close.\n\nThe Sioux were avenged; and the scalps that they brought home (nearly\none hundred when the party joined them from the massacre at Saint Croix)\nbore witness to their triumph.\n\nThe other party of Sioux followed the Chippeways who had gone by way of\nthe St. Croix. While the Chippeways slept, the war-cry of the Sioux\naroused them. And though they fought bravely, they suffered as did their\nfriends, and the darkness of night added terror to the scene.\n\nThe Dahcotahs returned with the scalps to their villages, and as they\nentered triumphantly, they were greeted with shouts of applause. The\nscalps were divided among the villages, and joyful preparations were\nmade to celebrate the scalp-dance.\n\nThe scalps were stretched upon hoops, and covered with vermilion,\nornamented with feathers, ribbons and trinkets.\n\nOn the women's scalps were hung a comb, or a pair of scissors, and for\nmonths did the Dahcotah women dance around them. The men wore mourning\nfor their enemies, as is the custom among the Dahcotahs.\n\nWhen the dancing was done, the scalps were buried with the deceased\nrelatives of the Sioux who took them.\n\nAnd this is Indian, but what is Christian warfare? The wife of the hero\nlives to realize her wretchedness; the honors paid by his countrymen are\na poor recompense for the loss of his love and protection. The life of\nthe child too, is safe, but who will lead him in the paths of virtue,\nwhen his mother has gone down to the grave.\n\nLet us not hear of civilized warfare! It is all the work of the spirits\nof evil. God did not make man to slay his brother, and the savage alone\ncan present an excuse. The Dahcotah dreams not that it is wrong to\nresent an injury to the death; but the Christian knows that God has\nsaid, Vengeance is mine!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nThe Track-maker had added to his fame. He had taken many scalps, and the\nDahcotah maidens welcomed him as a hero--as one who would no longer\nrefuse to acknowledge the power of their charms. They asked him eagerly\nof the fight--whom he had killed first--but they derived but little\nsatisfaction from his replies. They found he resisted their advances,\nand they left him to his gloomy thoughts.\n\nEvery scene he looked upon added to his grief. Memory clung to him,\nrecalling every word and look of Flying Shadow. But, that last look,\ncould he ever forget it?\n\nHe tried to console himself with the thoughts of his triumph. Alas! her\nsmile was sweeter than the recollection of revenge. He had waded in the\nblood of his enemies; he had trampled upon the hearts of the men he\nhated; but he had broken the heart of the only woman he had ever loved.\n\nIn the silence of the night her death-cry sounded in his ear; and he\nwould start as if to flee from the sound. In his dreams he saw again\nthat trustful face, that look of appeal--and then the face of stone,\nwhen she saw that she had appealed in vain.\n\nHe followed the chase, but there he could not forget the battle scene.\n\"Save me! save me!\" forever whispered every forest leaf, or every\nflowing wave. Often did he hear her calling him, and he would stay his\nsteps as if he hoped to meet her smile.\n\nThe medicine men offered to cure his disease; but he knew that it was\nbeyond their art, and he cared not how soon death came, nor in\nwhat form.\n\nHe met the fate he sought. A war party was formed among the Dahcotahs to\nseek more scalps, more revenge. But the Track-maker was weary of glory.\n\nHe went with the party, and never returned. Like _her_, he died in\nbattle; but the death that she sought to avert, was a welcome messenger\nto him. He felt that in the grave all would be forgotten.\n\n\n\n\nETA KEAZAH;\n\nOR,\n\nSULLEN FACE.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWenona was the light of her father's wigwam--the pride of the band of\nSissetons, whose village is on the shores of beautiful Lake Travers.\nHowever cheerfully the fire might burn in the dwelling of the aged\nchief, there was darkness, for him when she was away--and the mother's\nheart was always filled with anxiety, for she knew that Wenona had drawn\nupon her the envy of her young companions, and she feared that some one\nof them would cast a spell [Footnote: The Indians fear that from envy or\njealousy some person may cast a fatal spell upon them to produce\nsickness, or even death. This superstition seems almost identical with\nthe Obi or Obeat of the West India negroes.] upon her child, that her\nloveliness might be dimmed by sorrow or sickness.\n\nThe warriors of the band strove to outdo each other in noble deeds, that\nthey might feel more worthy to claim her hand;--while the hunters tried\nto win her good will by presents of buffalo and deer. But Wenona thought\nnot yet of love. The clear stream that reflected her form told her she\nwas beautiful; yet her brother was the bravest warrior of the Sissetons;\nand her aged parents too--was not their love enough to satisfy her\nheart! Never did brother and sister love each other more; their\nfeatures were the same, yet man's sternness in him was changed to\nwoman's softness in her. The \"glance of the falcon\" in his eye was the\n\"gaze of the dove\" in hers. But at times the expression of his face\nwould make you wonder that you ever could have thought him like his\ntwin sister.\n\nWhen he heard the Sisseton braves talk of the hunts they had in their\nyouth, before the white man drove them from the hunting-grounds of their\nforefathers;--when instead of the blanket they wore the buffalo\nrobe;--when happiness and plenty were in their wigwams--and when the\nvoices of weak women and famished children were never heard calling for\nfood in vain--then the longing for vengeance that was written on his\ncountenance, the imprecations that were breathed from his lips, the\nangry scowl, the lightning from his eye, all made him unlike indeed to\nhis sister, the pride of the Sissetons!\n\nWhen the gentle breeze would play among the prairie flowers, then would\nshe win him from such bitter thoughts. \"Come, my brother, we will go and\nsit by the banks of the lake, why should you be unhappy! the buffalo is\nstill to be found upon our hunting-grounds--the spirit of the lake\nwatches over us--we shall not want for food.\"\n\nHe would go, because she asked him. The quiet and beauty of nature were\nnot for him; rather would he have stood alone when the storm held its\nsway; when the darkness was only relieved by the flash that laid the\ntall trees of the forest low; when the thunder bird clapped her wings as\nshe swept through the clouds above him. But could he refuse to be happy\nwhen Wenona smiled? Alas! that her gentle spirit should not always have\nbeen near to soften his!\n\nBut as the beauty and warmth of summer passed away, so did Wenona's\nstrength begin to fail; the autumn wind, that swept rudely over the\nprairie flowers, so that they could not lift their heads above the tall\ngrass, seemed to pass in anger over the wigwam of the old man--for the\neye of the Dahcotah maiden was losing its brightness, and her step was\nless firm, as she wandered with her brother in her native woods. Vainly\ndid the medicine men practice their cherished rites--the Great Spirit\nhad called--and who could refuse to hear his voice? she faded with the\nleaves--and the cries of the mourners were answered by the wailing\nwinds, as they sang her requiem.\n\nA few months passed away, and her brother was alone. The winter that\nfollowed his sister's death, was a severe one. The mother had never been\nstrong, and she soon followed her daughter--while the father's age\nunfitted him to contend with sorrow, infirmity, and want.\n\nSpring returned, but winter had settled on the heart of the young\nSisseton; she was gone who alone could drive away the shadow from his\nbrow, what wonder then that his countenance should always be stern. The\nIndians called him Eta Keazah, or Sullen Face.\n\nBut after the lapse of years, the boy, who brooded over the wrongs of\nhis father, eagerly seeks an opportunity to avenge his own. His sister\nhas never been forgotten; but he remembers her as we do a beautiful\ndream; and she is the spirit that hovers round him while his eyes are\nclosed in sleep.\n\nBut there are others who hold a place in his heart. His wife is always\nready to receive him with a welcome, and his young son calls upon him to\nteach him to send the arrow to the heart of the buffalo. But the\nsufferings of his tribe, from want of food and other privations, are\never before his eyes. Vengeance upon the white man, who has caused them!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nWinter is the season of trial for the Sioux, especially for the women\nand children. The incursions of the English half-breeds and Cree\nIndians, into the Sisseton country, have caused their buffalo to recede,\nand so little other game is to be found, that indescribable sufferings\nare endured every winter by the Sissetons.\n\nStarvation forces the hunters to seek for the buffalo in the depth of\nwinter. Their families must accompany them, for they have not the\nsmallest portion of food to leave with them; and who will protect them\nfrom the Chippeways!\n\nHowever inclement the season, their home must be for a time on the open\nprairie. As far as the eye can reach, it is a desert of snow. Not a\nstick of timber can be seen. A storm is coming on too; nothing is heard\nbut the howling blast, which mocks the cries of famished children. The\ndrifting of the snow makes it impossible to see what course they are to\ntake; they have only to sit down and let the snow fall upon them. It is\na relief when they are quite covered with it, for it shelters them from\nthe keenness of the blast!\n\nAlas! for the children; the cry of those who can speak is, Give me\nfood! while the dying infant clings to its mother's breast, seeking to\ndraw, with its parting breath, the means of life.\n\nBut the storm is over; the piercing cold seizes upon the exhausted\nframes of the sufferers.\n\nThe children have hardly strength to stand; the father places one upon\nhis back and goes forward; the mother wraps her dead child in her\nblanket, and lays it in the snow; another is clinging to her, she has no\ntime to weep for the dead; nature calls upon her to make an effort for\nthe living. She takes her child and follows the rest. It would be a\ncomfort to her, could she hope to find her infant's body when summer\nreturns to bury it. She shudders, and remembers that the wolves of the\nprairie are starving too!\n\nFood is found at last; the strength of the buffalo yields to the arrow\nof the Sioux. We will have food and not die, is the joyful cry of all,\nand when their fierce appetites are appeased, they carry with them on\ntheir return to their village, the skins of the animals with the\nremainder of the meat.\n\nThe sufferings of famine and fatigue, however, are followed by those of\ndisease; the strength of many is laid low. They must watch, too, for\ntheir enemies are at hand.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nIn the summer of 1844 a large party of half-breeds and Indians from Red\nriver,--English subjects,--trespassed upon the hunting grounds of the\nSioux. There were several hundred hunters, and many carts drawn by oxen\nfor the purpose of carrying away the buffalo they had killed. One of\nthis party had left his companions, and was riding alone at some\ndistance from them. A Dahcotah knew that his nation would suffer from\nthe destruction of their game--fresh in his memory, too, were the\nsufferings of the past winter. What wonder then that the arrow which was\nintended for the buffalo, should find its way to the heart of the\ntrespasser!\n\nThis act enraged the half-breeds; they could not find the Sioux who\ncommitted it--but a few days after they fell in with a party of others,\nwho were also hunting, and killed seven of them. The rest escaped, and\ncarried the news of the death of their braves to their village. One of\nthe killed was a relative of Sullen Face. The sad news spread rapidly\nthrough the village, and nothing was heard but lamentation. The women\ncut long gashes on their arms, and as the blood flowed from the wound\nthey would cry, Where is my husband? my son? my brother?\n\nSoon the cry of revenge is heard above that of lamentation. \"It is not\npossible,\" said Sullen Face, \"that we can allow these English to starve\nus, and take the lives of our warriors. They have taken from us the food\nthat would nourish our wives and children; and more, they have killed\nseven of our bravest men! we will have revenge--we will watch for them,\nand bring home their scalps, that our women may dance round them!\"\n\nA war party was soon formed, and Sullen Face, at the head of more than\nfifty warriors, stationed himself in the vicinity of the road by which\nthe half-breeds from Red river drive their cattle to Fort Snelling.\n\nSome days after, there was an unusual excitement in the Sioux village on\nSwan lake, about twenty miles northwest of Traverse des Sioux. A number\nof Indians were gazing at an object not very distant, and in order to\ndiscover what it was, the chief of the village, Sleepy Eyes, had sent\none of his young men out, while the rest continued to regard it with\nlooks of curiosity and awe.\n\nThey observed that as the Sioux approached it, he slackened his pace,\nwhen suddenly he gave a loud cry and ran towards the village.\n\nHe soon reached them, and pale with terror, exclaimed, \"It is a spirit,\nit is white as the snow that covers our prairies in the winter. It\nlooked at me and spoke not.\" For a short time, his fears infected the\nothers, but after a while several determined to go and bring a more\nsatisfactory report to their chief. They returned with the body, as it\nseemed only, of a white man; worn to a skeleton, with his feet cut and\nbleeding, unable to speak from exhaustion; nothing but the beating of\nhis heart told that he lived.\n\nThe Indian women dressed his feet, and gave him food, wiped the blood\nfrom his limbs, and, after a consultation, they agreed to send word to\nthe missionaries at Traverse des Sioux, that there was a white man sick\nand suffering with them.\n\nThe missionaries came immediately; took the man to their home, and with\nkind nursing he was soon able to account for the miserable situation in\nwhich he had been found.\n\n\"We left the state of Missouri,\" said the man, whose name was Bennett,\n\"for the purpose of carrying cattle to Fort Snelling. My companions'\nnames were Watson and Turner. We did not know the road, but supposed a\nmap would guide us, with what information we could get on the way. We\nlost our way, however, and were eagerly looking for some person who\ncould set us right. Early one morning some Sioux came up with us, and\nseemed inclined to join our party. One of them left hastily as if sent\non a message; after a while a number of warriors, accompanied by the\nIndian who had left the first party, came towards us. Their leader had a\ndark countenance, and seemed to have great influence over them. We tried\nto make them understand that we had lost our way; we showed them the\nmap, but they did not comprehend us.\n\n\"After angrily addressing his men for a few moments, the leader shot\nWatson through the shoulder, and another sent an arrow through his body\nand killed him. They then struck Watson's brother and wounded him.\n\n\"In the mean time the other Indians had been killing our cattle; and\nsome of the animals having run away, they made Watson, who was sadly\nbruised with the blows he had received from them, mount a horse and go\nwith them to hunt the rest of the cattle. We never heard of him again.\nThe Indians say he disappeared from among the bushes, and they could\nnot find him; but the probability is that they killed him. Some seemed\nto wish to kill Turner and myself--but after a while they told us to go,\ngiving us our horses and a little food. We determined to retrace our\nsteps. It was the best thing we could do; but our horses gave out, and\nwe were obliged to leave them and proceed on foot.\n\n\"We were soon out of provisions, and having no means of killing game,\nour hearts began to fail us. Turner was unwell, and on arriving at a\nbranch of Crow river, about one hundred miles northwest of Fort\nSnelling, he found himself unable to swim. I tried to carry him across\non my back, but could not do it; he was drowned, and I barely succeeded\nin reaching the shore. After resting, I proceeded on my journey. When I\ncame in sight of the Indian village, much as I needed food and rest, I\ndreaded to show myself, for fear of meeting Watson's fate. I was spared\nthe necessity of deciding. I fainted and fell to the ground. They found\nme, and proved kinder than I anticipated.\n\n\"Why they should have molested us I know not. There is something in it\nthat I do not understand.\"\n\nBut it is easily explained. Sullen Face supposed them to belong to the\nparty that had killed his friends, and through this error he had shed\ninnocent blood.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nWho that has seen Fort Snelling will not bear testimony to its beautiful\nsituation! Whichever way we turn, nature calls for our admiration. But\nbeautiful as it is by day, it is at night that its majesty and\nloveliness speak to the soul. Look to the north, (while the Aurora\nBorealis is flashing above us, and the sound of the waters of St.\nAnthony's Falls meets the ear,) the high bluffs of the Mississippi seem\nto guard its waters as they glide along. To the south, the St. Peter's\nhas wandered off, preferring gentle prairies to rugged cliffs. To the\neast we see the \"meeting of the waters;\" gladly as the returning child\nmeets the welcoming smile of the parent, do the waves of the St. Peter's\nflow into the Mississippi. On the west, there is prairie far as the eye\ncan reach.\n\nBut it is to the free only that nature is beautiful. Can the prisoner\ngaze with pleasure on the brightness of the sky, or listen to the\nrippling of the waves? they make him feel his fetters the more.\n\n     I am here, with my heavy chain!\n       And I look on a torrent sweeping by.\n       And an eagle rushing to the sky,\n     And a host to its battle plain.\n\n     Must I pine in my fetters here!\n       With the wild wave's foam and the free bird's flight,\n       And the tall spears glancing on my sight,\n     And the trumpet in mine ear?\n\nThe summer of 1845 found Sullen Face a prisoner at Fort Snelling.\nGovernment having been informed of the murder of Watson by two Dahcotah\nIndians, orders were received at Fort Snelling that two companies should\nproceed to the Sisseton country, and take the murderers, that they might\nbe tried by the laws of the United States.\n\nNow for excitement, the charm of garrison life. Officers are of course\nalways ready to \"go where glory waits\" them, but who ever heard of one\nbeing ready to go when the order came?\n\nAlas! for the young officer who has a wife to leave; it will be weeks\nbefore he meets again her gentle smile!\n\nStill more--alas for him who has no wife at all! for he has not a shirt\nwith buttons on it, and most of what he has are in the wash. He will\nhave to borrow of Selden; but here's the difficulty, Selden is going\ntoo, and is worse off than himself. But no matter! what with pins and\ntwine and trusting to chance, they will get along.\n\nThen the married men are inquiring for tin reflectors, for hard bread,\nthough healthy, is never tempting. India rubber cloaks are in\nrequisition too.\n\nThose who are going, claim the doctor in case of accidents. Those who\nstay, their wives at least, want him for fear of measles; while the\ndisciple of Esculapius, though he knows there will be better cooking if\nhe remain at home, is certain there will be food for fun if he go. It is\nsoon decided--the doctor goes.\n\nThen the privates share in the pleasure of the day. How should a\nsoldier be employed but in active service? besides, what a capital\nchance to desert! One, who is tired of calling \"All's well\" through the\nlong night, with only the rocks and trees to hear him, hopes that it\nwill be his happy fate to find out there is danger near, and to give the\nalarm, Another vows, that if trouble wont come, why he will bring it by\nquarrelling with the first rascally Indian he meets. All is ready.\nRations are put up for the men;--hams, buffalo tongues, pies and cake\nfor the officers. The battalion marches out to the sound of the drum\nand fife;--they are soon down the hill--they enter their boats;\nhand-kerchiefs are waved from the fort, caps are raised and flourished\nover the water;--they are almost out of sight--they are gone.\n\nWhen the troops reached their destination, Sullen Face and Forked Horn\nwere not there, but the chief gave them three of his warriors, (who were\nwith the party of Sullen Face at the time of the murder,) promising that\nwhen the two murderers returned they would come to Fort Snelling, and\ngive themselves up.\n\nThere was nothing then to prevent the immediate return of our troops.\nTheir tramp had been a delightful one, and so far success had crowned\ntheir expedition. They were in the highest spirits. But a little\nincident occurred on their return, that was rather calculated to show\nthe transitoriness of earthly joys. One dark night, when those who were\nawake were thinking, and those who slept were dreaming of their welcome\nhome, there was evidently a disturbance. The sleepers roused themselves;\nguns were discharged. What could it be?\n\nThe cause was soon ascertained. To speak poetically, the birds had\nflown--in plain language, the prisoners had run away. They were not\nbound, their honor had been trusted to;--but you cannot place much\nreliance on the honor of an Indian with a prison in prospect. I doubt\nif a white man could be trusted under such circumstances. True, there\nwas a guard, but, as I said, 'twas a dark night.\n\nThe troops returned in fine health, covered with dust and fleas, if not\nwith glory.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nIt is time to return to Sullen Face. He and Forked Horn, on their return\nto the village, were informed of what had occurred during their absence.\nThey offered to fulfil the engagement of the chief, and accompanied by\nothers of the band, they started for Fort Snelling. The wife of Sullen\nFace had insisted upon accompanying him, and influenced by a\npresentiment that he should never return to his native village, he\nallowed her to do so. Their little boy quite forgot his fatigue as he\nlistened to his father's voice, and held his hand. When they were near\nthe fort, notice of their approach was sent to the commanding officer.\n\nThe entire force of the garrison marched out to receive the prisoners. A\nlarge number of Indians assembled to witness the scene--their gay\ndresses and wild appearance adding to its interest.\n\nSullen Face and Forked Horn, with the Sioux who had accompanied them,\nadvanced to meet the battalion. The little boy dressed as a warrior, his\nwar-eagle plumes waving proudly over his head, held his father's hand.\nIn a moment the iron grasp of the soldier was on the prisoner's\nshoulder; they entered the gate of the fort; and he, who had felt that\nthe winds of Heaven were not more free than a Dahcotah warrior, was now\na prisoner in the power of the white man. But he entered not his cell\nuntil he had sung a warrior's song. Should his enemies think that he\nfeared them? Had he not yielded himself up?\n\nIt was hard to be composed in parting with his wife and child. \"Go my\nson,\" he said, \"you will soon be old enough to kill the buffalo for your\nmother.\" But to his wife he only said, \"I have done no wrong, and fear\nnot the power of my enemies.\" The Sissetons returned to the village,\nleaving the prisoners at Fort Snelling, until they should be sent to\nDubuque for trial.\n\nThey frequently walked about the fort, accompanied by a guard. Sullen\nFace seemed to be indifferent to his fate, and was impressed with the\nidea that he never would return to his home. \"Beautiful country!\" said\nhe, as he gazed towards the point where the waters of the Mississippi\nand St. Peter's meet. \"I shall never look upon you again, the waters of\nthe rivers unite, but I have parted forever from country and friends. My\nspirit tells me so. Then welcome death! they guard me now with sword and\nbayonet, but the soul of the Dahcotah is free.\"\n\nAfter their removal to Dubuque, the two prisoners from Fort Snelling,\nwith others who had been concerned in the murder, suffered much from\nsickness. Sullen Face would not complain, but the others tried to induce\nhim to make his escape. He, at first, refused to do so, but finding his\ncompanions determined upon going, he at last consented.\n\nTheir plans succeeded, and after leaving the immediate neighborhood,\nthey broke their shackles with stones. They were obliged, however, to\nhide themselves for a time among the rocks, to elude the sheriff and his\nparty. They were not taken, and as soon as they deemed it prudent, they\nresumed their route.\n\nTwo of the prisoners died near Prairie du Chien. Sullen Face, Forked\nHorn, and another Sioux, pursued their journey with difficulty, for they\nwere near perishing from want of food. They found a place where the\nWinnebagoes had encamped, and they parched the corn that lay scattered\non the ground.\n\nDisease had taken a strong hold upon the frame of Sullen Face; he\nconstantly required the assistance of his companions. When they were\nnear Prairie le Gros, he became so ill that he was unable to proceed. He\ninsisted upon his friends leaving him; this they at first refused to do,\nbut fearing that they would be found and carried back to prison, they\nconsented--and the dying warrior found himself alone.\n\nSome Indians who were passing by saw him and gently carried him to their\nwigwam. But he heeded not their kindness. Death had dimmed the\nbrightness of his eye, and his fast-failing strength told of the long\njourney to the spirits' land.\n\n\"It was not thus,\" he said, \"that I thought to die! Where are the\nwarriors of the Sissetons? Do they listen to my death song?\" I hoped to\nhave triumphed over the white man, but his power has prevailed. My\nspirit drooped within his hated walls? But hark! there is music in my\nears--'tis the voice of the sister of my youth--\"Come with me my\nbrother, we wait for you in the house of the spirits! we will sit by the\nbanks of a lake more beautiful than that by which we wandered in our\nchildhood; you will roam over the hunting grounds of your forefathers,\nand there the white man may never come.\"\n\nHis eyes are closing fast in death, but his lips murmur--\"Wenona! I\ncome! I come!\"\n\n\n\n\nTONWA-YAH-PE-KIN;\n\n\nTHE SPIES.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nIT was in the spring of 1848, that several Dahcotahs were carefully\nmaking their way along the forests near the borders of the Chippeway\ncountry. There had recently been a fight near the spot where they were,\nand the Dahcotahs were seeking the bodies of their friends who had been\nslain, that they might take them home to bury them.\n\nThey moved noiselessly along, for their enemies were near. Occasionally,\none of them would imitate the cry of a bird or of some animal, so that\nif the attention of their enemies should be drawn to the spot, the\nslight noise they made in moving might be attributed to any but the\nright cause.\n\nThey had almost given up the hope of finding their friends, and this was\nthe close of their last day's efforts to that intent. In the morning\nthey intended to return to their village.\n\nIt was a bright clear evening, and the rays of the setting sun fell upon\nsome objects further on. For a time the Dahcotahs gazed in silence; but\nno movement gave sign of what it was that excited their curiosity. All\nat once there was a fearful foreboding; they remembered why they were\nthere, and they determined to venture near enough to find out what was\nthe nature of the object on which the rays of the sun seemed to rest as\nif to attract their notice.\n\nA few more steps and they were relieved from their terrible suspense,\nbut their worst fears were realized.\n\nThe Dahcotahs recently killed had been skinned by the Chippeways, while\ntheir bodies were yet warm with life, and the skins were stretched upon\npoles; while on separate poles the hands were placed, with one finger of\neach hand pointing to the Dahcotah country. The savages were in a\nfearful rage. They had to endure a twofold insult.\n\nThere were the bodies of their friends, treated as if they were but\nbeasts, and evidently put there to be seen by the Dahcotahs. And\nbesides, the hands pointing to the country of the Dahcotahs--did it not\nplainly say to the spies, go back to your country and say to your\nwarriors, that the Chippeways despise them, that they are not worthy to\nbe treated as men?\n\nThe spies returned as cautiously as they had ventured near the fatal\nspot, and it was not until they were out of reach of danger from their\nfoes, that they gave vent to their indignation. Then their smothered\nrage burst forth. They hastened to return and tell the event of their\njourney. They forgot how grieved the wives and sisters of the dead would\nbe at being deprived of the solace of burying the remains of their\nfriends--they only thought of revenge for the insult they had received.\n\nWhen they arrived at their village, they called together their chiefs\nand braves, and related to them what they had seen. A council of war was\nheld, which resulted in immediate preparations being made to resent the\nindignity offered to their friends, and the insult to the whole tribe.\n\nThe war-dance is always celebrated before a war party goes out to find\nan enemy, and there is in every village a war chief, who conducts the\nparty. The war dance is performed inside of a wigwam, and not out of\ndoor, as is usually represented.\n\nThe \"Owl\" felt himself qualified in every respect to conduct the present\nparty. He was a great warrior, and a juggler besides; and he had a\nreputation acquired from an act performed when he was a very young man,\nwhich showed as much cunning as bravery; for one of these qualities is\nas necessary to a Dahcotah war chief as the other.\n\nHe was one of a party of Dahcotahs who went to war against the\nChippeways, but without success. On their way back \"the Owl\" got\nseparated from the rest of the party, and he climbed a tree to see if he\ncould discover his comrades. While in the tree a war party of the\nChippeways came in sight and stopped quite near the tree to make\ntheir camp.\n\nThe Owl was in a sad predicament; he knew not what to do to effect his\nescape. As he knew he had not the power to contend with his enemies, he\ndetermined to have recourse to stratagem. When it was quite dark he\ncommenced hooting like an owl, having previously transformed himself\ninto one. The Chippeways looked up towards the tree and asked the owl\nwhat he was doing there. The owl replied that he had come to see a large\nwar party of Dahcotahs who would soon pass by. The Chippeways took the\nhint, and took to their heels too, and ran home. The Owl then resumed\nhis form, got down from the tree and returned home.\n\nThis wonderful incident, which he related of himself, gave him a great\nreputation and a name besides; for until now he had been called Chask\u00e8,\na name always given to the oldest son; but the Indians after this gave\nhim the name of the Owl.\n\nIt being decided that the war party should leave as soon as their\npreparations could be made, the war chief sent for those who were to\ndance. The dance was performed every third or, fourth night until the\nparty left. For each dance the war chief had a hew set of performers;\nonly so many were asked at a time as could conveniently dance inside the\nwigwam. While some were dancing, others were preparing for the\nexpedition, getting extra mocassins made, drying meat, or parching corn.\n\nWhen all was ready, the party set out, with every confidence in their\nwar chief. He was to direct them where to find the enemy, and at the\nsame time to protect them from being killed themselves.\n\nFor a few days they hunted as they went along, and they would build\nlarge fires at night, and tell long stories, to make the time pass\npleasantly.\n\nThe party was composed of about twenty warriors, and they all obeyed\nimplicitly the orders of their war chief, who appointed some warriors to\nsee that his directions were carried out by the whole party. Wo to him\nwho violates a single regulation! his gun is broken, his blanket cut to\npieces, and he is told to return home. Such was the fate of Iron Eyes,\nwho wandered from the party to shoot a bird on the wing, contrary to the\norders of their chief. But although disgraced and forbidden to join in\nthe attempt to punish the Chippeways for the outrage they had commited,\nhe did not return to his village; he followed the tracks of the war\nparty, determining to see the fun if he could not partake of it.\n\nOn the fourth night after they left home, the warriors were all\nassembled to hear the war song of their chief. They were yet in their\nown country, seated on the edge of a prairie, and back of them as far as\nthe eye could reach, there was nothing to be seen but the half melted\nsnow; no rocks, no trees, relieved the sameness of the view. On the\nopposite side of the Mississippi, high bluffs, with their worn sides and\nbroken rocks, hung over the river; and in the centre of its waters lay\nthe sacred isles, whose many trees and bushes wanted only the warm\nbreath of summer to display their luxuriance. The war chief commenced.\nHe prophesied that they would see deer on the next day, but that they\nmust begin to be careful, for they would then have entered their\nenemies' country. He told them how brave they were, and that he was\nbraver still. He told them the Chippeways were worse than prairie dogs.\nTo all of which the warriors responded, Ho!\n\nWhen they found themselves near their enemies, the chief forbade a gun\nbeing fired off; no straggling was allowed; none but the spies were to\ngo beyond a certain distance from the party.\n\nBut after they entered the Chippeway country the duties of the war chief\nwere still more important. He had to prophesy where the enemy, was to be\nfound, and about their number; and besides, he had to charm the spirits\nof their enemies, that they might be unable to contend with the\nDahcotahs. The spirits on this occasion took the form of a bear.\n\nAbout nine o'clock at night this ceremony commences. The warriors all\nlie down as if asleep, when the war chief signifies the approach of the\nspirits to his men, by the earnestness of his exertions in singing.\n\nThe song continues, and increases in energy as the spirit gets nearer to\nthe hole in the ground, which the chief dug and filled with water,\nprevious to commencing his song. Near this hole he placed a hoop,\nagainst which are laid all the war implements of the chief. Before the\nsong commences the warriors sit and look steadfastly at their leader.\nBut when the spirit approaches this hole, the warriors hardly dare\nbreathe, for fear of frightening it away.\n\nAt last the spirit gets close to the hole. The war chief strikes it with\nhis rattle and kills it; this ensures to the Dahcotahs success in\nbattle. And most solemnly did the Owl assert to his soldiers, the fact\nthat he had thus dealt with the bear spirit, while they as earnestly\nbelieved it.\n\nThe next morning, four of the warriors went in advance as spies; one of\nthem carried a pipe, presented as an offering to deceive the spirits of\ntheir enemies. About noon they sat down to rest, and waited until the\nremainder of the party came up. When they were all together again, they\nrested and smoked; and other spies were appointed, who took the pipe and\nwent forward again.\n\nThey had not proceeded far when they perceived signs of their enemies.\nIn the sand near the borders of a prairie were the footprints of\nChippeways, and fresh too. They, congratulated each other by looks, too\ncautious even to whisper. In a few moments a hundred Chippeways could\nbe called up, but still the Dahcotahs plunge into the thick forest that\nskirts the edge of the prairie, in order to find out what prospect they\nhave for delighting themselves with the long wished for revenge.\n\nIt was not long before a group of Chippeways was discovered, all\nunapprehensive of evil. At their camp the Chippeways had made pickets,\nfor they knew they might expect retaliation; but those who fell a\nsacrifice were not expecting their foes.\n\nThe spies were not far ahead--they returned to the party, and then\nretraced their steps. The low cries of animals were imitated to prevent\nany alarm being given by the breaking of a twig or the rustling of the\nleaves. They were very near the Chippeways, when the war chief gave the\nsignal on a bone whistle, and the Dahcotahs fired. Every one of the\nChippeways fell--two men, three women, and two children.\n\nThen came the tomahawk and scalping knife--the former to finish the work\nof death, the latter to bear a trophy to their country, to say, Our\ncomrades are avenged. Nor was that all. The bodies were cut to pieces,\nand then the warriors commenced their homeward journey.\n\nThey allowed themselves but little rest until they were out of their\nenemies' country. But when they were out of the reach of attack, when\ntheir feet trod again upon Dahcotah soil, then they stopped to stretch\neach scalp on a hoop, which was attached to a slender pole. This is\nalways the work of the war chief.\n\nThey look eagerly for the welcome sight of home. The cone-shaped teepees\nrise before their view. They know that their young wives will rejoice\nto see the scalps, as much as to know that the wanderers have returned.\n\nWhen they are near their village the war chief raises the song of\nvictory; the other warriors join their voices to his. The welcome sound\nrouses the inhabitants of the village from their duties or amusements.\nThe warriors enter the village in triumph, one by one, each bearing the\nscalp he took; and the stout warrior, the aged woman, and the feeble\nchild, all press forward to feast their eyes with the sight of\nthe scalps.\n\nThere was a jubilee in the village for weeks. Day and night did the\nsavages dance round the scalps. But how soon may their rejoicings be\nlost in cries of terror! Even now they tremble at the sound of their own\nvoices when evening draws near--for it is their turn to suffer. They\nexpect their foes, but they do not dread them the less.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nMany of the customs of the Dahcotahs are to be attributed to their\nsuperstitions. Their teepees are always made of buffalo-skins; nothing\nwould induce them to use deer-skin for that purpose. Many years ago a\nwoman made a teepee of deer-skin; and was taken suddenly ill, and died\nimmediately after. Some reason must be found for the cause of her death,\nand as no other was known, the Indians concluded that she brought her\ndeath upon herself by using deer-skin for her teepee. They have always,\nsince, used buffalo-skin for that purpose.\n\nNothing would induce a Dahcotah woman to look into a looking-glass; for\nthe medicine men say that death will be the consequence.\n\nBut there is no superstition which influences them more than their\nbelief in Haokah, or the Giant. They say this being is possessed of\nsuperhuman powers: indeed he is deemed so powerful, as to be able to\ntake the thunder in his hand and cast it to the ground. He dresses in\nmany colors, and wears a forked hat. One side of his face is red, the\nother blue, his eyes are also of different colors. He always carries a\nbow and arrow in his hand, but never has occasion to use it, as one look\nwill kill the animal he wants.\n\nThey sing songs to this giant, and once in a long time dance in honor of\nhim; but so severe is the latter custom, that it is rarely performed.\nThe following incident will show how great is their reverence for this\nsingular being. An Indian made a vapor bath, and placed inside of it a\nrude image of the giant, made of birch bark. This he intended to pray to\nwhile bathing.\n\nAfter the hot stone was placed inside of the wigwam, several Indians\nwent in to assist in giving the bath to their sick friend. One of them\ncommenced pouring the water on the hot stone, and the water flew on the\nothers, and scalded them badly; the image of the giant was also\ndisplaced; the Indians never dreamed of attributing their burns to the\nnatural cause, but concluded that the giant was displeased at their\nplacing his image there, and they considered it as an instance of his\nmercy that they were not scalded to death.\n\nHowever defective may be the religion of the Dahcotahs, they are\nfaithful in acting up to all its requirements. Every feast and custom\namong them is celebrated as a part of their religion.\n\nAfter the scalp-dance had been performed long enough, the Dahcotahs of\nthe villages turned their attention to making sugar. Many groves of\nsugar trees were in sight of their village, and on this occasion the\ngenerous sap rewarded their labors.\n\nNor were they ungrateful; for when the medicine men announced that they\nmust keep the sugar-feast, all left their occupation, anxious to\ncelebrate it. Neither need it be concluded that this occasioned them no\nloss of time; for they were all occupied with the construction of their\nsummer wigwams, which are made of the bark of trees, which must be\npeeled off in the spring.\n\nBut every villager assembled to keep the feast. A certain quantity of\nsugar was dealt out to each individual, and any one of them who could\nnot eat all that was given him was obliged to pay leggins, or a blanket,\nor something valuable, to the medicine man. On this occasion, indeed on\nmost occasions, the Dahcotahs have no difficulty in disposing of any\nquantity of food.\n\nWhen the feast was over, however, the skill of their doctors was in\nrequisition; for almost all of them were made quite ill by excess, and\nwere seen at evening lying at full length on the ground, groaning and\nwrithing with pain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nThe day after the sugar feast, the Owl told his wife to get ready her\ncanoe, as he wanted to spear some fish. She would rather have staid at\nhome, as she was not fully recovered from her last night's\nindisposition. But there was no hesitating when the war chief spoke; so\nshe placed her child upon her back, and seated herself in the stern of\nthe canoe, paddling gently along the shore where the fish usually lie.\nHer husband stood in the bow of the canoe with a spear about six feet in\nlength. As he saw the fish lying in the water, he threw the spear into\nthem, still keeping hold of it.\n\nWhen the war chief was tired, his wife would stop paddling, and nurse\nher child while he smoked. If the Owl were loquaciously inclined, he\nwould point out to his wife the place where he shot a deer, or where he\nkilled the man who had threatened his life. Indeed, if you took his word\nfor it, there was not a foot of ground in the country which had not been\na scene of some exploit.\n\nThe woman believed them all; for, like a good wife, she shone by the\nreflected light of her husband's fame.\n\nWhen they returned home, she made her fire and put the fish to cook, and\ntowards evening many of the Indians were assembled in the wigwam of the\nwar-chief, and partook of the fish he had caught in the morning.\n\n\"Unk-ta-he,\" [Footnote: The God of the Waters] said one of the oldest\nmen in the tribe (and reverenced as a medicine man of extraordinary\npowers), \"Unk-ta-he is as powerful as the thunder-bird. Each wants to be\nthe greatest god of the Dahcotahs, and they have had many battles. My\nfather was a great medicine man; he was killed many years ago, and his\nspirit wandered about the earth. The Thunder-bird wanted him, and\nUnk-ta-he wanted him, for they said he would make a wonderful medicine\nman. Some of the sons of Unk-ta-he fought against the sons of the\nThunder, and the young thunder-birds were killed, and then Unk-ta-he\ntook the spirit of my father, to teach him many mysterious things.\n\n\"When my father had lived a long time with Unk-ta-he in the waters under\nthe earth, he took the form of a Dahcotah again, and lived in this\nvillage. He taught me all that I know, and when I go to the land of\nspirits, my son must dance alone all night, and he will learn from me\nthe secret of the medicine of our clan.\"\n\nAll listened attentively to the old man, for not an Indian there but\nbelieved that he could by a spell cause their instant death; and many\nwonderful miracles had the \"Elk\" wrought in his day.\n\nIn the corner of the wigwam sat the Bound Spirit, whose vacant look told\nthe sad tale of her want of reason. Generally she sat quiet, but if the\ncry of an infant fell upon her ear, she would start, and her shriek\ncould be heard throughout the village.\n\nThe Bound Spirit was a Sisseton. In the depth of winter, she had left\nher village to seek her friends in some of the neighboring bands. She\nwas a widow, and there was no one to provide her food.\n\nAccompanied by several other Indians, she left her home, which was made\nwretched by her desolate condition--that home where she had been very\nhappy while her husband lived. It had since been the scene of her want\nand misery.\n\nThe small portion of food they had taken for their journey was\nexhausted. Rejoiced would they have been to have had the bark of trees\nfor food; but they were on the open prairie. There was nothing to\nsatisfy the wretched cravings of hunger, and her child--the very child\nthat clung to her bosom--was killed by the unhappy mother, and its\ntender limbs supplied to her the means of life.\n\nShe reached the place of destination, but it was through instinct, for\nforgetting and forgotten by all was the wretched maniac who entered her\nnative village.\n\nThe Indians feared her; they longed to kill her, but were afraid to do\nso. They said she had no heart.\n\nSometimes she would go in the morning to the shore, and there, with only\nher head out of water, would she lie all day.\n\nNow, she has been weeping over the infant who sleeps by her. She is\nperfectly harmless, and the wife of the war chief kindly gives her food\nand shelter whenever she wishes it.\n\nBut it is not often she eats--only when desperate from long fasting--and\nwhen her appetite is satisfied, she seems to live over the scene, the\nmemory of which has made her what she is.\n\nAfter all but she had eaten of the fish, the Elk related to them the\nstory of the large fish that obstructed the passage of the St. Croix\nriver. The scene of this tradition was far from them, but the Dahcotahs\ntell each other over and over again the stories which have been handed\ndown from their fathers, and these incidents are known throughout the\ntribe. \"Two Dahcotahs went to war against their enemies. On returning\nhome, they stopped at the Lake St. Croix, hungry and much fatigued.\n\n\"One of them caught a fish, cooked it, and asked his comrade to eat, but\nhe refused. The other argued with him, and begged of him to eat, but\nstill he declined.\n\n\"The owner of the fish continued to invite his friend to partake of it,\nuntil he, wearied by his importunities, consented to eat, but added with\na mysterious look, 'My friend, I hope you will not get out of patience\nwith me.' After saying this, he ate heartily of the fish.\n\n\"He then seemed to be very thirsty, and asked his companion to bring him\nsome water out of the lake; he did so, but very soon the thirst, which\nwas quenched for a time only, returned; more was given him, but the\nterrible thirst continued, and at last the Indian, who had begged his\ncompanion to eat, began to be tired of bringing him water to drink. He\ntherefore told him he would bring him no more, and requested him to go\ndown to the water and drink. He did so, and after drinking a great\nquantity, while his friend was asleep, he turned himself into a large\nfish and stretched himself full length across the St. Croix.\n\n\"This fish for a long time obstructed the passage of the St. Croix; so\nmuch so that the Indians were obliged to go round it by land.\n\n\"Some time ago the Indians were on a hunting excursion up the river, and\nwhen they got near the fish a woman of the party darted ahead in\nher canoe.\n\n\"She made a dish of bark, worked the edges of it very handsomely, filled\nit with water, and placed some red down in it. She then placed the dish\nnear the fish in the river, and entreated the fish to go to its own\nelements, and not to obstruct the passage of the river and give them so\nmuch trouble.\n\n\"The fish obeyed, and settled down in the water, and has never since\nbeen seen.\n\n\"The woman who made this request of the fish, was loved by him when he\nwas a Dahcotah, and for that reason he obeyed her wishes.\"\n\nNor was this the only legend with which he amused his listeners. The\nnight was half spent when they separated to rest, with as firm a faith\nin the stories of the old medicine man, as we have in the annals of the\nRevolution.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE MAIDEN'S ROCK;\n\nOR,\n\nWENONA'S LEAP.\n\nLake Pepin is a widening of the Mississippi river. It is about twenty\nmiles in length, and from one to two miles wide.\n\nThe country along its banks is barren. The lake has little current, but\nis dangerous for steamboats in a high wind. It is not deep, and abounds\nin fish, particularly the sturgeon. On its shores the traveller gathers\nwhite and red agates, and sometimes specimens streaked with veins of\ngold color. The lover reads the motto from his mistress' seal, not\nthinking that the beautiful stone which made the impression, was found\non the banks of Lake Pepin.\n\nAt the south end of the lake, the Chippeway river empties into the\nMississippi.\n\nThe Maiden's rock is a high bluff, whose top seems to lean over towards\nthe water. With this rock is associated one of the most interesting\ntraditions of the Sioux.\n\nBut the incident is well-known. Almost every one has read it a dozen\ntimes, and always differently told. Some represent the maiden as\ndelivering an oration from the top of the rock, long enough for an\naddress at a college celebration. It has been stated that she fell into\nthe water, a circumstance which the relative situation of the rock and\nriver would render impossible.\n\nWriters have pretended, too, that the heroine of the rock was a\nWinnebago. It is a mistake, the maiden was a Dahcotah.\n\nIt was from the Dahcotahs that I obtained the incident, and they believe\nthat it really occurred. They are offended if you suggest the\npossibility of its being a fiction. Indeed they fix a date to it,\nreckoning by the occurrences of great battles, or other events worthy\nof notice.\n\nBut to the story--and I wish I could throw into it the feeling, and\nenergy of the old medicine woman who related it.\n\nAbout one hundred and fifty years ago, the band of Dahcotahs to which\nWenona belonged, lived near Fort Snelling. Their village was on the site\nnow occupied by Good Road's band.\n\nThe whole band made preparations to go below Lake Pepin, after\nporcupines. These animals are of great value among the Dahcotahs; their\nflesh is considered excellent as an article of food, and the women stain\ntheir quills to ornament the dresses of the men, their mocassins, and\nmany other articles in use among them. A young girl of this band had\nreceived repeated offers of marriage from a Dahcotah, whom she hated\nwith the same degree of intensity that she loved his rival.\n\nShe dared not marry the object of her choice, for she knew it would\nsubject herself and him to the persecutions of her family. She declared\nshe never would consent to be the wife of the man whom her parents had\nchosen for her, though he was young and brave, and, what is most valued\nby the friends of an Indian girl, he was said to be the best hunter of\nthe tribe.\n\n\"Marry him, my daughter,\" said the mother, \"your father is old; he\ncannot now hunt deer for you and me, and what shall we do for food?\nChask\u00e8 will hunt the deer and buffalo, and we shall be comfortable\nand happy.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said her father, \"your mother speaks well. Chask\u00e8 is a great\nwarrior too. When your brother died, did he not kill his worst enemy and\nhang up his scalp at his grave?\"\n\nBut Wenona persevered in her refusal. \"I do not love him, I will not\nmarry him,\" was her constant reply.\n\nBut Chask\u00e8, trusting to time and her parent's influence, was not\ndiscouraged. He killed game and supplied the wants of the family.\nBesides, he had twice bought her, according to Indian custom.\n\nHe had given her parents cloth and blankets, calico and guns. The girl\nentreated them not to receive them, but the lover refused to take them\nback, and, finally, they were taken into the wigwam.\n\nJust as the band was about leaving the village for the hunt, he came\nagain with many presents; whatever would make the family comfortable on\ntheir journey, and a decided promise was then given that the maiden\nshould become his wife.\n\nShe knew it would be useless to contend, so she seemed to be willing to\nsubmit to her fate. After encamping for a time opposite the Maiden's\nRock to rest from their journey, the hunters determined to go further\ndown the river. They had crossed over to the other side, and were seated\nnearly under the rock.\n\nTheir women were in their canoes coming over, when suddenly a loud cry\nwas heard from an old woman, the mother of Wenona.\n\nThe canoe had nearly reached the shore, and the mother continued to\nshriek, gazing at the projecting rock.\n\nThe Indians eagerly inquired of her what was the matter? \"Do you not see\nmy daughter?\" she said; \"she is standing close to the edge of the rock!\"\n\nShe was there indeed, loudly and wildly singing her dirge, an invocation\nto the Spirit of the Rock, calm and unconcerned in her dangerous\nposition, while all was terror and excitement among her friends\nbelow her.\n\nThe hunters, so soon as they perceived her, hastily ascended the bluff,\nwhile her parents called to her and entreated her to go back from the\nedge of the rock. \"Come down to us, my child,\" they cried; \"do not\ndestroy your life; you will kill us, we have no child but you.\"\n\nHaving finished her song, the maiden answered her parents. \"You have\nforced me to leave you. I was always a good daughter, and never\ndisobeyed you; and could I have married the man I love, I should have\nbeen happy, and would never have left you. But you have been cruel to\nme; you have turned my beloved from the wigwam; you would have forced me\nto marry a man I hated; I go to the house of spirits.\"\n\nBy this time the hunters had nearly reached her. She turned towards them\nfor a moment with a smile of scorn, as if to intimate to them that their\nefforts were in vain. But when they were quite near, so that they held\nout their arms towards her in their eagerness to draw her from her\ndangerous station, she threw herself from the rock.\n\nThe first blow she received from the side of the rock must have killed\nher, for she fell like a dead bird, amidst the shouts of the hunters\nabove, and the shrieks of the women below.\n\nHer body was arrayed in her handsomest clothing, placed upon a scaffold,\nand afterwards buried.\n\nBut the Dahcotahs say that her spirit does not watch over her earthly\nremains; for her spirit was offended when she brought trouble upon her\naged mother and father.\n\nSuch is the story told by the Dahcotahs; and why not apply to them for\ntheir own traditions?\n\nNeither is there any reason to doubt the actual occurrence of the\nincident.\n\nNot a season passes away but we hear of some Dahcotah girl who puts an\nend to her life in consequence of jealousy, or from the fear of being\nforced to marry some one she dislikes. A short time ago a very young\ngirl hung herself, rather than become the wife of a man who was already\nthe husband of one of her sisters.\n\nThe parents told her they had promised her, and insisted upon her\nfulfilling the engagement. Even her sister did not object, nay, rather\nseemed anxious to forward the scheme, which would give her a rival from\namong her nearest relations.\n\nThe young girl finally ran away, and the lover, leaving his wife,\npursued the fugitive, and soon overtook her. He renewed his entreaties,\nand finding her still obstinate, he told her that she should become his\nwife, and that he would kill her if she made any more trouble.\n\nThis last argument seemed to have the desired effect, for the girl\nexpressed her willingness to return home.\n\nAfter they arrived, the man went to his wigwam to tell his wife of the\nreturn of her sister, and that everything was now in readiness for\ntheir marriage.\n\nBut one hour after, the girl was missing; and when found, was hanging to\na tree, forever free from the power of her tormentors. Her friends\ncelebrated the ceremonies of death instead of marriage.\n\nIt must be conceded that an Indian girl, when desperate with her love\naffairs, chooses a most unromantic way of ending her troubles. She\nalmost invariably hangs herself; when there are so many beautiful lakes\nnear her where she could die an easier death, and at the same time one\nthat would tell better, than where she fastens an old leather strap\nabout her neck, and dies literally by choking. But there is this to be\ntaken into consideration. When she hangs herself near the village, she\ncan manage affairs so that she can be cut down if she concludes to live\na little longer; for this frequently occurs, and the suicide lives forty\nand sometimes sixty years after. But when Wenona took the resolution of\nending her earthly sorrows, no doubt there were other passions beside\nlove influencing her mind.\n\nLove was the most powerful. With him she loved, life would have been all\nhappiness--without him, all misery. Such was the reasoning of her\nyoung heart.\n\nBut she resented the importunity of the hunter whose pretensions her\nparents favored. How often she had told him she would die before she\nwould become his wife; and he would smile, as if he had but little faith\nin the words of a woman. Now he should see that her hatred to him was\nnot assumed; and she would die such a death that he might know that she\nfeared neither him nor a death of agony.\n\nAnd while her parents mourned their unkindness, her lover would admire\nthat firmness which made death more welcome than the triumph of\nhis rival.\n\nAnd sacred is the spot where the devoted girl closed her earthly\nsorrows. Spirits are ever hovering near the scene. The laugh of the\nDahcotah is checked when his canoe glides near the spot. He points to\nthe bluff, and as the shades of evening are throwing dimness and a\nmystery around the beauty of the lake, and of the mountains, he fancies\nhe can see the arms of the girl as she tosses them wildly in the air.\nSome have averred they heard her voice as she called to the spirits of\nthe rock, and ever will the traveller, as he passes the bluff, admire\nthe wondrous beauty of the picture, and remember the story of the\nlover's leap.\n\nThere is a tradition among the Dahcotahs which fixes a date to the\nincident, as well as to the death of the rival lovers of Wenona.\n\nThey say that it occurred about the time stated, and that the band of\nIndians went and obtained the porcupines, and then they returned and\nsettled on the St. Croix river.\n\nShortly after the tragical death of Wenona, the band went again down the\nMississippi, and they camped at what they call the medicine wood. Here a\nchild died, and the body was laid on a scaffold. The father in the\nmiddle of the night went out to mourn for his child. While he leant\nagainst the scaffold weeping, he saw a man watching him. The stranger\ndid not appear to be a Dahcotah, and the mourner was alarmed, and\nreturned to the camp. In the morning he told the Indians of the\ncircumstance, and they raised the camp and went into the pine country.\n\nThe body of the child was carried along, and in he night the father went\nout again to lament its death. The same figure appeared to him, and\nagain he returned, alarmed at the circumstance.\n\nIn the morning the Indians moved their camp again, and at night the same\noccurrence took place.\n\nThe Dahcotahs are slaves to superstition, and they now dreaded a serious\nevil. Their fears were not confirmed in the way they anticipated, for\ntheir foes came bodily, and when daylight appeared, one thousand\nChippeway warriors appeared before them, and the shrill whistle and\nterrible whoop of war was heard in earnest.\n\nDreadful were the shouts of the Chippeways, for the Dahcotahs were\ntotally unprepared for them, and many were laid low at the first\ndischarge of the rifles.\n\nThe merciless Chippeways continued the work of death. The women and\nchildren fled to their canoes, but the Chippeways were too quick for\nthem; and they only entered their canoes to meet as certain a fate as\nthose who remained.\n\nThe women had not their paddles with them, and there was an eddy in the\ncurrent; as soon as the canoe was pushed from the shore, it would whirl\nround, and the delighted Chippeways caught the canoes, and pulled them\nashore again, while others let fall upon their victims the\nuplifted tomahawk.\n\nWhen the Chippeways had killed until they were tired they took what they\nwanted from the Sioux camp, and started for home, taking one Dahcotah\nboy prisoner. The party had not travelled far, when a number of\nDahcotahs attacked the Chippeways, but the latter succeeded in killing\nmany of the Dahcotahs. One of the latter fled, and was in his canoe on\nthe lake St. Croix, when the Chippeways suddenly came upon him.\n\nThe little Dahcotah saw his only chance for liberty--he plunged in the\nwater and made for the canoe of the Dahcotah. In a moment he had reached\nand entered it, and the two Dahcotahs were out of sight before the\narrows of their enemies could reach them.\n\nA very few of that band escaped; one of them says that when they were\nfirst attacked by the Chippeways, he saw he had but one chance, so he\ndived down to the bottom of the river, and the Chippeways could not\nsee him.\n\nHe found the water at the bottom of the river very cold, and when he had\ngone some distance, he ventured where the water was warmer, which he\nknew was near the shore. He then came out of the water and made\nhis escape.\n\nEven this latter trifling incident has been handed down from father to\nson, and is believed universally by the Dahcotahs. And according to\ntheir tradition, the lovers and family of Wenona perished in this\nbattle. At all events, there is no one who can prove that their\ntradition or my translation may not be true.\n\n\n\n\nTHE INDIAN IN A TRANCE.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAbout forty years ago, Ahak-tah, \"The Male Elk,\" was taken sick with a\nsore throat. It was in the winter too, and sickness and cold together\nare hard to bear. Want was an evil from which they were suffering;\nthough the Dahcotahs were not so poor then as they are now. They had not\ngiven so much of their lands to the white people; and they depended more\nupon their own exertions for support than they do at present.\n\nThe medicine men did all they could to cure Ahaktah; they tried to charm\naway the animal that had entered into his body; they used the sacred\nrattle. But Ahaktah's throat got worse; he died, and while his wives and\nchildren wept for him, he had started on his long journey to the land\nof spirits.\n\nHe was wrapped in scarlet cloth, and laid upon a scaffold. His wives sat\nweeping in their teepee, when a cry from their young children drew their\nattention to the door. There stood he for whom they mourned. The dead\nman again took his place among those who sat beside the household fire.\nTears of grief were shed no more--food was given to Ahaktah, and when he\nwas refreshed he thus addressed his wondering family:--\n\n\"While you were weeping for me, my spirit was on its way to the great\ncity where our fathers, who have taught us all the wonders of our sacred\nmedicine, of Haokah the giant, and of the Thunder bird, are now living.\nTwice has the sun ceased to shine since I left you, and in that short\ntime I have seen many strange things. First, I passed through a\nbeautiful country; the forest-trees were larger than any you have ever\nseen. Birds of all colors filled them, and their music was as loud as\nwhen our medicine men play for us to celebrate the scalp dance. The\nbroad river was full of fish, and the loon screamed as she swam across\nthe lakes. I had no difficulty in finding my way, for there was a road\nthrough this country. It seemed as if there must have been many\ntravellers there, though I saw no one.\n\n\"This great road was made by the spirits of those who were killed in\nbattle. No warrior, however brave he may have been, has ever assisted in\nmaking this road, except those who sang their death songs under the\ntomahawk of their enemies. Neither did any woman ever assist. She is not\nconsidered worthy to touch the war implements of a Dahcotah warrior, and\nshe was not permitted to do anything towards completing the path in\nwhich the braves of the Dahcotahs would walk, when they joined their\nforefathers in the land of spirits.\n\n\"As I pursued my journey, I saw near the banks of the river a teepee; I\nentered it, and saw paint and all that a warrior needed to dress himself\nin order to be fit to enter the city of spirits. I sat down and plaited\nmy hair, I put vermilion on my cheeks, and arranged the war-eagle\nfeathers in my head. Here, I said to myself, did my father rest when he\nwas on the same journey. I was tired, but I could not wait--I longed to\nsee my friends who had travelled this path before me--I longed to tell\nthem that the Dahcotahs were true to the customs of their forefathers--I\nlonged to tell them that we had drunk deep of the blood of the\nChippeways, that we had eaten the hearts of our enemies, that we had\ntorn their infants from their mothers' breasts, and dashed them to\nthe earth.\n\n\"I continued my journey, looking eagerly around me to see some one, but\nall was desolate; and beautiful as everything was, I would have been\nglad to have seen the face of a friend.\n\n\"It was evening when a large city burst upon my sight. The houses were\nbuilt regularly on the shores of the river. As far as I could see, the\nhomes of the spirits of my forefathers were in view.\n\n\"But still I saw no one. I descended the hill towards the river, which I\nmust cross to reach the city of spirits. I saw no canoe, but I feared\nnothing, I was so near my journey's end. The river was wide and deep,\nand the waves were swiftly following one another, when I plunged among\nthem; soon I reached the opposite shore, and as I again stood on the\nland, I heard some one cry, 'Here he comes! here he comes!' I approached\nthe nearest house and entered; everything looked awful and mysterious.\n\n\"In the corner of the room sat a figure whom I recognized. It was my\nmother's brother, Flying Wind, the medicine man. I remembered him, for\nit was he who taught me to use my bow and arrow.\n\n\"In a bark dish, in the corner of the room, was some wild rice. I was\nvery hungry, for I had not eaten since I left the earth. I asked my\nuncle for some rice to eat, but he did not give it to me. Had I eaten of\nthe food for spirits, I never should have returned to earth.\n\n\"At last my uncle spoke to me. `My nephew,' said he, 'why are you\ntravelling without a bow and arrow? how can you provide yourself with\nfood when you have no means of killing game? When my home was on the\nMississippi, the warriors of the Dahcotahs were never without their bows\nand arrows--either to secure their food or to strike to the hearts of\ntheir enemies.'\n\n\"I then remembered that I had been travelling without my bow and arrows.\n`But where,' said I to my uncle, `where are the spirits of my\nforefathers? where is my brother who fell under the tomahawk of his\nenemy? where is my sister who threw herself into the power of Unktahe,\nrather than to live and see her rival the wife of the Sun? where are the\nspirits of the Dahcotah braves whose deeds are still told from father to\nson among us?'\n\n\"'The Dahcotah braves are still watching for their enemies--the hunters\nare bringing in the deer and the buffalo--our women are planting corn\nand tanning deer-skin. But you will not now see them; your step is firm\nand your eye is bright; you must return to earth, and when your limbs\nare feeble, when your eye is dim, then will you return and find your\nhome in the city of spirits.'\n\n\"So saying, he arose and gave me a bow and arrow. I took it, and while\ntrying it I left the house; but how I do not know.\n\n\"The next thing that I remember was being seated on the top of the\ncliffs of Eagle's Nest, below Lake Pepin. I heard a sound, and soon\ndistinguished my mother's voice; she was weeping. I knew that she was\nbending over my body. I could see her as she cut off her hair, and I\nfelt sad when I heard her cry, 'My son! my son!' Then I recollect being\non the top of the half-side mountain on Lake Pepin. Afterwards I was on\nthe mountain near Red Wing's village, and again I stood on a rock, on a\npoint of land near where the waters of the Mississippi and St. Peter's\nmeet, on the 'Maiden's Jumping Rock;' [Footnote: Near Fort Snelling is a\nhigh rock called the Maiden's Jumping Rock; where formerly the Dahcotah\ngirls used to jump for amusement, a distance of many feet from the top\nto the ground.] here I recovered my right mind.\"\n\nThe daughter of Ahaktah says that her father retained the \"wahkun\" bow\nand arrow that was given him by his uncle, and that he was always\nsuccessful in hunting or in war; that he enjoyed fine health, and lived\nto be a very old man; and she is living now to tell the story.\n\n\n\n\nOECHE-MONESAH;\n\n\nTHE WANDERER.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nChask\u00e8 was tired of living in the village, where the young men, finding\nplenty of small game to support life, and yielding to the languor and\nindolence produced by a summer's sun, played at checker's, or drank, or\nslept, from morn till night, and seemed to forget that they were the\ngreatest warriors and hunters in the world. This did very well for a\ntime; but, as I said, Chask\u00e8 got tired of it. So he determined to go on\na long journey, where he might meet with some adventures.\n\nEarly one morning he shouldered his quiver of arrows, and drawing out\none arrow from the quiver, he shot it in the direction he intended\nto go.\n\n\"Now,\" said he, \"I will follow my arrow.\" But it seemed as if he were\ndestined never to find it, for morning and noon had passed away, and the\nsetting sun warned him, not only of the approach of night, but of\nmusquitoes too. He thought he would build a fire to drive the musquitoes\naway; besides, he was both hungry and tired, though he had not yet found\nhis arrow, and had nothing to eat.\n\nWhen he was hesitating as to what he should do, he saw in the bushes a\ndead elk, and behold! his arrow was sticking in its side. He drew the\narrow out, then cut out the tongue, and after making a fire, he put the\ntongue upon a stick to roast. But while the tongue was roasting, Chask\u00e8\nfell asleep and slept many hours.\n\nAt day-break a woman came up to him and shook him, as if to awake him.\nChask\u00e8 started and rubbed his eyes, and the woman pointed to the path\nwhich led across the prairies. Was he dreaming? No, he felt sure he was\nawake. So he got up and followed the woman.\n\nHe thought it very strange that the woman did not speak to him. \"I will\nask her who she is,\" said he; but as he turned to address her she raised\nher arms in the air, and changing her form to that of a beautiful bird,\nblue as the sky that hangs over the morning's mist, she flew away.\nChask\u00e8 was surprised and delighted too. He loved adventures; had he not\nleft home to seek them? so he pursued his journey, quite forgetting his\nsupper, which was cooking when he fell asleep.\n\nHe shot his arrow off again and followed it. It was late in the evening\nwhen he found it, and then it was in the heart of a moose. \"I will not\nbe cheated out of my supper to-night,\" said he; so he cut the tongue out\nof the moose and placed it before the fire to roast. Hardly had he\nseated himself to smoke, when sleep overcame him, and he knew nothing\nuntil morning, when a woman approached and shook him as before, pointing\nto the path.\n\nHe arose quickly and followed her; and as he touched her arm, determined\nto find out who she was, she, turning upon him a brow black as night,\nwas suddenly changed into a crow.\n\nThe Dahcotah was completely puzzled. He had never cared for women; on\nthe contrary, had avoided them. He never wasted his time telling them\nthey were beautiful, or playing on the flute to charm their senses. He\nthought he had left all such things behind him, but already had he been\ntwice baffled by a woman. Still he continued his journey. He had this\nconsolation, the Dahcotah girls did not turn into birds and fly away. At\nleast there was the charm of novelty in the incidents. The next day he\nkilled a bear, but as usual he fell asleep while the tongue was\nroasting, and this time he was waked by a porcupine. The fourth day he\nfound his arrow in a buffalo. \"Now,\" said he, \"I will eat at last, and I\nwill find out, too, who and what it is that wakes me.\"\n\nBut he fell asleep as usual, and was waked in the morning by a female\nwho touched him lightly and pointed to the path. Her back was turned\ntowards him, and instead of rising to follow her, he caught her in his\narms, determined to see and talk with her.\n\nFinding herself a prisoner, the girl turned her face to him, and Chask\u00e8\nhad never seen anything so beautiful.\n\nHer skin was white as the fairest flower that droops its head over the\nbanks of the \"Lac qui parle.\" Her hair was not plaited, neither was it\nblack like the Dahcotah maidens', but it hung in golden ringlets about\nher face and neck. The warm blood tinted her cheeks as she met the\nardent gaze of the Dahcotah, and Chask\u00e8 could not ask her who she was.\nHow could he speak when his heart was throbbing, and every pulse\nbeating wildly?\n\n\"Let me go,\" said the girl; \"why do you seek to detain me? I am a\nbeaver-woman, [Footnote: According to the wise men of the Dahcotahs,\nbeavers and bears have souls. They have many traditions about bear and\nbeaver-women] and you are a Dahcotah warrior. Turn from me and find a\nwife among the dark-faced maidens of your tribe.\"\n\n\"I have always despised them,\" said the Dahcotah, \"but you are more\nbeautiful than the Spirits of the water. I love you, and will make\nyou my wife.\"\n\n\"Then you must give up your people,\" replied the girl, \"for I cannot\nlive as the Dahcotah women. Come with me to my white lodge, and we will\nbe happy; for see the bright water as it falls on the rocks. We will sit\nby its banks during the heat of the day, and when we are tired, the\nmusic of its waves will lull us to sleep.\"\n\nSo she took Chask\u00e8 by the hand, and they walked on till they came to an\nempty white lodge, and there they lived and were very happy. They were\nstill happier when their little boy began to play about the lodge; for\nalthough they loved each other very much, still it was lonely where they\nlived, and the child was company for them both.\n\nThere was one thing, however, that troubled the Dahcotah; he could not\nturn his mind from it, and day after day passed without relieving him\nfrom his perplexity. His beautiful wife never ate with him. When he\nreturned in the evening from hunting, she was always glad to see him,\nand while he rested himself and smoked, she would cook his meat for him,\nand seem anxious to make him comfortable. But he had never seen her eat;\nand when he would tell her that he did not like to eat alone, and beg\nher to sit down and eat with him, she would say she was not hungry; and\nthen employ herself about her wigwam, as if she did not wish him to say\nany more about it.\n\nChask\u00e8 made up his mind that he would find out what his wife lived upon.\nSo the next morning he took his bow and arrows, as if he were going out\non a day's hunt. After going a short distance from the lodge, he hid\nhimself in the trees, where he could watch the motions of his wife.\n\nShe left the lodge after a while, and with an axe in her hand she\napproached a grove of poplar trees. After carefully looking round to\nsatisfy herself that there was no one near, she cut down a number of the\nsmall and tender poplars, and, carrying them home, ate them as if she\nenjoyed them very much. Chask\u00e8 was infinitely relieved when he saw that\nhis wife did eat; for it frightened him to think that she lived on\nnothing but air. But it was so droll to think she should eat young\ntrees! surely venison was a great deal better.\n\nBut, like a good husband, he thought it was his duty to humor his wife's\nfancies. And then he loved her tenderly--he had given up country and\nhome for her. She was so good and kind, and her beautiful hair! Chask\u00e8\ncalled her \"The Mocassin Flower,\" for her golden ringlets reminded him\nof that beautiful flower. \"She shall not have to cut the trees down\nherself,\" said Chask\u00e8, \"I will bring her food while she prepares mine.\"\nSo he went out to hunt, and returned in the evening; and while his wife\nwas cooking his supper, he went to the poplar grove and cut a number of\nyoung trees; he then brought them to the lodge, and, laying them down,\nhe said to his wife, \"I have found out at last what you like.\"\n\nNo one would suppose but that the beaver-woman would have been grateful\nto her husband for thinking of her. Instead of that, she was very angry;\nand, taking her child in her arms, she left the lodge. Chask\u00e8 was\nastonished to see his gentle wife angry, but he concluded he would eat\nhis supper, and then follow her, hoping that in the meantime she would\nrecover her good temper.\n\nWhen he went out, she was nowhere to be seen. He called her--he thought\nat first that she had hid herself. But, as night came on, and neither\nshe nor the child returned, the deserted husband grew desperate; he\ncould not stay in his lodge, and the only thing that he could do was to\nstart in search of her.\n\nHe walked all night, but saw no trace of her. About sunrise he came to a\nstream, and following it up a little way he came to a beaver dam, and on\nit sat his wife with her child in her arms. And beautiful she looked,\nwith her long tresses falling into the water.\n\nChask\u00e8 was delighted to find her. \"Why did you leave me?\" called he. \"I\nshould have died of grief if I had not found you.\"\n\n\"Did I not tell you that I could not live like the Dahcotah women?\"\nreplied Mocassin Flower. \"You need not have watched me to find out what\nI eat. Return to your own people; you will find there women enough who\neat venison.\"\n\nThe little boy clapped his hands with delight when he saw his father,\nand wanted to go to him; but his mother would not let him. She tied a\nstring to his leg and told him to go, and the child would plunge into\nthe water, and when he had nearly reached the shore where his father\nsat, then would the beaver-woman draw him back.\n\nIn the meantime the Dahcotah had been trying to persuade his wife to\ncome to him, and return to the lodge; but she refused to do so, and sat\ncombing her long hair. The child had cried itself to sleep; and the\nDahcotah, worn out with fatigue and grief, thought he would go to\nsleep too.\n\nAfter a while a woman came and touched him on the shoulder, and awaked\nhim as of old. He started and looked at her, and perceiving it was not\nhis wife, felt inclined to take little notice of her.\n\n\"What,\" said she, \"does a Dahcotah warrior still love a woman who hates\nhim?\"\n\n\"Mocassin Flower loves me well,\" replied the Dahcotah; \"she has been a\ngood wife.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the woman, \"she was for a time; but she sighs to return\nhome--her heart yearns towards the lover of her youth.\"\n\nChask\u00e8 was very angry. \"Can this be true?\" he said; and he looked\ntowards the beaver dam where his wife still sat. In the meantime the\nwoman who had waked him, brought him some food in bark dishes worked\nwith porcupine.\n\n\"Eat,\" she said to the Dahcotah; \"you are hungry.\"\n\nBut who can tell the fury that Mocassin Flower was in when she saw that\nstrange woman bringing her husband food. \"Who are you,\" she cried, \"that\nare troubling yourself about my husband? I know you well; you are the\n'Bear-Woman.'\"\n\n\"And if I am,\" said the Bear woman, \"do not the souls of the bears enjoy\nforever the heaven of the Dahcotah?\"\n\nPoor Chask\u00e8! he could not prevent their quarrelling, so, being very\nhungry, he soon disposed of what the Bear woman had brought him. When\nhe had done eating, she took the bark dishes. \"Come with me,\" she said;\n\"you cannot live in the water, and I will take you to a beautiful lodge,\nand we will be happy.\"\n\nThe Dahcotah turned to his wife, but she gave him no encouragement to\nremain. \"Well,\" said he, \"I always loved adventures, and I will go and\nseek some more.\"\n\nThe new wife was not half so pretty as the old one. Then she was so\nwilful, and ordered him about--as if women were anything but dogs in\ncomparison with a Dahcotah warrior. Yes, he who had scorned the Dahcotah\ngirls, as they smiled upon him, was now the slave of a bear-woman; but\nthere was one comfort--there were no warriors to laugh at him.\n\nFor a while they got on well enough. His wife had twin children--one was\na fine young Dahcotah, and the other was a smart active little bear, and\nit was very amusing to see them play together. But in all their fights\nthe young Dahcotah had the advantage; though the little bear would roll\nand tumble, and stick his claws into the Dahcotah, yet it always ended\nby the little bear's capering off and roaring after his mother. Perhaps\nthis was the reason, but for some reason or other the mother did not\nseem contented and happy. One morning she woke up very early, and while\ntelling her husband that she had a bad dream, the dog commenced barking\noutside the lodge.\n\n\"What can be the matter?\" said Chask\u00e8.\n\n\"Oh!\" said the woman, \"I know; there is a hunter out there who wants to\nkill me, but I am not afraid.\"\n\nSo saying, she put her head out of the door, which the hunter seeing,\nshot his arrow; but instead of hurting her, the arrow fell to the\nground, and the bear-woman catching up her little child, ran away and\nwas soon out of sight.\n\n\"Ha!\" said Chask\u00e8, \"I had better have married a Dahcotah girl, for they\ndo not run away from their husbands except when another wife comes to\ntake their place. But I have been twice deserted.\" So saying, he took\nthe little Dahcotah in his arms, and followed his wife. Towards evening\nhe came up with her, but she did not seem glad to see him. He asked her\nwhy she left him; she replied, \"I want to live with my own people.\"\n\"Well,\" said the Dahcotah, \"I will go with you.\" The woman consented,\nthough it was plain she did not want him; for she hated her Dahcotah\nchild, and would not look at him.\n\nAfter travelling a few days, they approached a grove of trees, which\ngrew in a large circle. \"Do you see that nest of trees?\" said the woman.\n\"There is the great village of the bears. There are many young men there\nthat loved me, and they will hate you because I preferred you to them.\nTake your boy, then, and return to your people.\" But the Dahcotah feared\nnot, and they approached the village of the bears.\n\nThere was a great commotion among the bears as they discovered them.\nThey were glad to see the young bear-woman back again, but they hated\nthe Dahcotah, and determined on his death. However, they received him\nhospitably, conducted him and his wife to a large lodge, gave them food,\nand the tired travellers were soon asleep.\n\nBut the Dahcotah soon perceived he was among enemies, and he kept a\ncareful look out upon them. The little Dahcotah was always quarrelling\nwith the young bears; and on one occasion, being pretty hungry, a cub\nannoying him at the time very much, he deliberately shot the cub with\nhis bow and arrow, and ate him up. This aroused the vengeance of the\nbears; they had a consultation among themselves, and swore they would\nkill both father and son.\n\nIt would be impossible to tell of the troubles of Chask\u00e8. His wife, he\ncould see, loved one of the bears, and was anxious for his own death;\nbut whenever he contended with the bears he came off victor. Whether in\nrunning a foot race, or shooting with a bow and arrow, or whatever it\nmight be, he always won the prize, and this made his enemies still\nmore venomous.\n\nFour years had now passed since Chask\u00e8 left his native village, and\nnothing had ever been heard of him. But at length the wanderer returned.\n\nBut who would have recognized, in the crest-fallen, melancholy-looking\nIndian, the gay warrior that had left home but a few years before? The\nlittle boy that held his hand was cheerful enough, and seemed to\nrecognize acquaintances, instead of looking for the first time on the\nfaces of his father's friends.\n\nHow did the young girls laugh when he told of the desertion of his first\nwife; but when he continued his story, and told them of the\nfaithlessness of the bear woman also, you heard nothing but shouts of\nderision. Was it not a triumph for the Dahcotah women? How had he\nscorned them before he went away!--Did he not say that women were only\ndogs, or worse than dogs?\n\nBut there was one among his old acquaintances who would not join in the\nlaughter. As she looked on the care-worn countenance of the warrior, she\nwould fain have offered to put new mocassins upon his feet, and bring\nhim food. But she dared not subject herself to the ridicule of her\ncompanions--though as night came on, she sought him when there was no\none to heed her.\n\n\"Chask\u00e8,\" she called--and the Dahcotah turned hastily towards her,\nattracted by the kindness of her voice--\"there are no women who love as\nthe Dahcotah women. I would have gone to the ends of the earth with you,\nbut you despised me. You have come back, and are laughed at. Care has\nbroken your spirit, or you would not submit to the sneers of your old\nfriends, and the contempt of those who once feared you. I will be your\nwife, and, mingling again in the feasts and customs of your race, you\nwill soon be the bold and fearless warrior that you were when you\nleft us.\"\n\nAnd her words were true; for the Indians soon learned that they were not\nat liberty to talk to Chask\u00e8 of his wanderings. He never spoke of his\nformer wives, except to compare them with his present, who was as\nfaithful and obedient as they were false and troublesome. \"And he.\nfound,\" says Chequered Cloud, \"that there was no land like the\nDahcotah's, no river like the Father of waters, and no happiness like\nthat of following the deer across the open prairies, or of listening, in\nthe long summer days, to the wisdom of the medicine men.\"\n\nAnd she who had loved him in his youth, and wept for him in his absence,\nnow lies by his side--for Chask\u00e8 has taken another long journey. Death\nhas touched him, but not lightly, and pointed to the path which leads to\nthe Land of Spirits--and he did not go alone; for her life closed with\nand together their spirits watch over the mortal frames that they\nonce tenanted.\n\n\"Look at the white woman's life,\" said Chequered Cloud, as she\nconcluded the story of Chask\u00e8, \"and then at the Dahcotah's. You sleep on\na soft bed, while the Dahcotah woman lays her head upon the ground, with\nonly her blanket for a covering; when you are hungry you eat, but for\ndays has the Dahcotah woman wanted for food, and there was none to give\nit. Your children are happy, and fear nothing; ours have crouched in the\nearth at night, when the whoop and yell of the Chippeways sent terror to\ntheir young hearts, and trembling to their tender limbs.\n\n\"And when the fire-water of the white man has maddened the senses of the\nDahcotah, so that the blow of his war club falls upon his wife instead\nof his enemy, even then the Dahcotah woman must live and suffer on.\"\n\"But, Chequered Cloud, the spirit of the Dahcotah watches over the body\nwhich remains on earth. Did you not say the soul went to the house\nof spirits?\"\n\n\"The Dahcotah has four souls,\" replied the old woman; \"one wanders about\nthe earth, and requires food; another protects the body; the third goes\nto the Land of Spirits, while the fourth forever hovers around his\nnative village.\"\n\n\"I wish,\" said I, \"that you would believe in the God of the white\npeople. You would then learn that there is but one soul, and that that\nsoul will be rewarded for the good it has done in this life, or punished\nfor the evil.\"\n\n\"The Great Spirit,\" she replied, \"is the God of the Dahcotah. He made\nall things but thunder and wild rice. When we do wrong we are punished\nin this world. If we do not live up to the laws of our forefathers, the\nspirits of the dead will punish us. We must keep up the customs of our\ntribe. If we are afraid that the thunder will strike us, we dance in\nhonor of it, and destroy its power. Our great medicine feasts are given\nin honor of our sacred medicine, which will not only heal the sick, but\nwill preserve us in danger; and we make feasts for the dead.\n\n\"Our children are taught to do right. They are not to injure one who has\nnot harmed them; but where is the Dahcotah who will not rejoice as he\ntakes the life of his enemy?\"\n\n\"But,\" said I, \"you honor the thunder, and yet it strikes you. What is\nthe thunder, and where does it come from?\"\n\n\"Thunder is a large bird, flying through the air; its bright tracks are\nseen in the heavens, before you hear the clapping of its wings. But it\nis the young ones who do the mischief. The parent bird would not hurt a\nDahcotah. Long ago a thunder bird fell dead from the heavens; and our\nfathers saw it as it lay not far from Little Crow's village.\n\n\"It had a face like a Dahcotah warrior, with a nose like an eagle's\nbill. Its body was long and slender, its wings were large, and on them\nwas painted the lightning. Our warriors were once out hunting in the\nwinter, when a terrible storm came on, and a large thunder bird\ndescended to the earth, wearing snow-shoes; he took but a few steps and\nthen rose up, leaving his tracks in the snow. That winter our hunters\nkilled many bears.\"\n\n\n\n\nTAH-WE-CHU-KIN;\n\n\nTHE WIFE.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn February, 1837, a party of Dahcotahs (Warpetonian) fell in with\nHole-in-the-Day, and his band. When Chippeways and Dahcotahs meet there\nis generally bloodshed; and, however highly Hole-in-the-Day may be\nesteemed as a warrior, it is certain that he showed great treachery\ntowards the Dahcotahs on many occasions.\n\nNow they met for peaceable purposes. Hole-in-the-Day wished permission\nto hunt on the Dahcotah lands without danger from the tomahawk of his\nenemies. He proposed to pay them certain articles, which he should\nreceive from the United States Government when he drew his annuities, as\na return for the privilege he demanded.\n\nThe Dahcotahs and Chippeways were seated together. They had smoked the\npipe of peace. The snow had drifted, and lay piled in masses behind\nthem, contrasting its whiteness with their dark countenances and their\ngay ornaments and clothing. For some years there had been peace between\nthese two tribes; hating each other, as they did, they had managed to\nlive without shedding each other's blood.\n\nHole-in-the-Day was the master spirit among the Chippeways. He was the\ngreatest hunter and warrior in the nation; he had won the admiration of\nhis people, and they had made him chief. His word was law to them; he\nstood firmly on the height to which he had elevated himself.\n\nHe laid aside his pipe and arose. His iron frame seemed not to feel the\nkeen wind that was shaking the feathers in the heads of the many\nwarriors who fixed their eyes upon him.\n\nHe addressed the Dahcotah warriors. \"All nations,\" said he, \"as yet\ncontinue the practice of war, but as for me, I now abandon it. I hold\nfirmly the hand of the Americans. If you, in future, strike me twice or\neven three times, I will pass over and not revenge it. If wars should\ncontinue, you and I will not take part in them. You shall not fight,\nneither will I. There shall be no more war in that part of the country\nlying between Pine Island and the place called Hanoi catnip, (They shot\nthem in the night). Over this extent of country we will hold the pipe\nfirmly. You shall hold it by the bowl, and we will hold it by the stem.\nThe pipe shall be in your keeping.\" So saying, Hole-in-the-Day advanced\nand presented the Dahcotahs with a pipe.\n\nAfter a moment he continued his speech. \"On account of your misconduct,\nwe did desire your death, and if you had met us last winter to treat of\npeace, however great your numbers, we should have killed you all. White\nmen had ordered us to do so, and we should have done it; because the\nMendewakantonwans had informed us that you intended by treachery to\nkill us.\"\n\nThe Dahcotah chief then replied to him saying, that the Dahcotahs were\nwilling that the Chippeways should hunt on their lands to the borders of\nthe prairie, but that they should not enter the prairie. The Chippeways\nthen agreed to pay them a large quantity of sugar, a keg of powder, and\na quantity of lead and tobacco.\n\nAfter their engagement was concluded, Hole-in-the-Day rose again and\nsaid, \"In the name of the Great Spirit, this peace shall be forever,\"\nand, turning to Wandiokiya (the Man that talks to the Eagle), a Dahcotah\nwho had been taught by the missionaries to read and write, requested him\nto commit to writing the agreement which had just been made.\n\nWandiokiya did so, and has since forwarded the writing to the Rev. Mr.\nP----, who resides near Fort Snelling. The Dahcotah adds, \"We have now\nlearned that the object of Hole-in-the-Day was to deceive and kill us;\nand he and his people have done so, showing that they neither fear God\nnor the chief of the American people.\n\n\"In this manner they deceived us, deceived us in the name of the Gods.\n\n\"Hole-in-the-Day led the band of murderers.\n\n\"WANDIOKIYA.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nWe shall see how faithfully the Chippeway chief kept the treaty that he\nhad called upon the Great Spirit to witness. There has been great\ndiversity of opinion concerning Hole-in-the-Day, The Chippeways and\nDahcotahs all feared him. Some of the white people who knew him\nadmired, while others detested his character.\n\nHe was certainly, what all the Chippeways have been, a friend of the\nwhite people, and equally an enemy to the Dahcotahs. He encouraged all\nattempts that were made towards the civilization of his people; he tried\nto induce them to cultivate the ground; indeed, he sometimes assumed the\nduties which among savages are supposed to belong exclusively to\nfemales, and has been frequently seen to work in his garden. Had it been\npossible, he would even have forced the Chippeways to civilization.\n\nHe had three wives--all sisters. He was fond of them, but if they\nirritated him, by disputing among themselves, or neglecting any thing\nwhich he found necessary to his comfort, he was very violent. Blows were\nthe only arguments he used on such occasions.\n\nThe present chief is one of his children; several of them died young,\nand their father felt their loss most keenly. Grave and stoical as was\nhis deportment, his feelings were very strong, and not easily\ncontrolled.\n\nHe was a man of deep thought, and of great ambition. The latter passion\nwas gratified to as great a degree as was possible. Loved by his tribe,\nfeared by his enemies, respected and well treated by the white people,\nwhat more could a savage ask? Among the Indians he was a great man, but\nhe was truly great in cunning and deceit.\n\nOn this occasion, however, the Dahcotahs had perfect confidence in him,\nand it was on the first day of April, in the same year, that they\narrived at the place appointed to meet the Chippeways, near the east\nbranch of the Chippeway river, about thirty miles northeast of Lac qui\nparle. The women raised the teepees, six in number, and prepared the\nscanty portion of food for their families. Here they remained, until\ntheir patience was almost exhausted, constantly expecting\nHole-in-the-Day to appear; but day after day passed, and they were still\ndisappointed. Now and then the reports of fire-arms were heard near\nthem, but still the Chippeways did not visit the camp of the Dahcotahs.\n\nFamine now showed itself among them. They had neither corn nor flour.\nHad the wild ducks flown over their heads in clouds, there was but\nlittle powder and shot to kill them--but there were few to be seen. Some\nof the Indians proposed moving their camp where game was more\nplenty--where they might see deer, and use their bows and arrows to some\npurpose. But others said, if they were not at the appointed place of\nmeeting, they would violate the contract, and lose their claim to the\narticles that Hole-in-the-day had promised to deliver to them.\n\nIt was finally concluded that the party should divide, one half moving\noff in search of food, the other half remaining where they were, in\nhopes that Hole-in-the-Day would make his appearance.\n\nThree teepees then remained, and they were occupied by seventeen\npersons, all women and children excepting four. It was drawing on\ntowards evening, when the Dahcotahs heard the sound of footsteps, and\ntheir satisfaction was very great, when they perceived the Chippeway\nchief approach, accompanied by ten of his men. These men had been\npresent at the council of peace in February.\n\nOne of the Dahcotahs, named Red Face, had left his family in the\nmorning, to attend to the traps he had set for beaver. He had not\nreturned when the Chippeways arrived. His two wives were with the\nDahcotahs who received the Chippeways. One of these women had two\nchildren; the other was quite young, and, according to Indian ideas,\nbeautiful too. She was the favorite wife.\n\nThe Dahcotahs received the Chippeways with real pleasure, in full faith\nand confidence. \"Hole-in-the-Day has been long in coming,\" said one of\nthe Dahcotahs; \"his friends have wished to smoke the pipe of peace with\nhim, but some of them have left us to seek for food. We welcome you, and\nwill eat together, and our friendship shall last forever.\"\nHole-in-the-Day met his advances with every appearance of cordiality.\nOne thing, however, the Dahcotahs observed, that the Chippeways did not\nfire their guns off when they arrived, which is done by Indians when\nthey make a visit of friendship.\n\nThe party passed the evening in conversation. All the provisions of the\nDahcotahs were called in requisition to feast the Chippeways. After\neating, the pipe went round again, and at a late hour they laid down to\nsleep, the Chippeways dividing their party, several in each teepee.\n\nHole-in-the-day lay down by the side of his host, so motionless you\nwould have thought that sleep had paralyzed his limbs and senses; his\nregular breathing intimates a heart at peace with himself and his foes;\nbut that heart was beating fast, for in a moment he raises himself\ncautiously, gazes and smiles too upon the sleeping Dahcotah beside him.\nHe gives the appointed signal, and instantaneously plunges his knife\ninto the heart of the trusting Dahcotah. It was child's play afterwards\nto quiet the shrill shrieks of the terrified wife. A moment more, and\nshe and her child lay side by side, never to awake again.\n\nFor a short time broken and shrill cries were heard from the other\nteepees, but they were soon over. The two wives of Red Face had laid\ndown without a fear, though their protector was absent. The elder of the\ntwo clasped her children to her heart, consoled, in a measure, while\nlistening to their calm breathing, for the loss of the love of her\nhusband. She knew that the affections of a husband might vary, but the\ntie between mother and child is indissoluble.\n\nThe young wife wondered that Red Face was not by her side. But he would\nreturn to-morrow, and her welcome would be all the greeting that he\nwould wish for. While her thoughts are assuming the form of dreams, she\nsees the fatal weapon pointed at the mother and child. The bullet that\nkills the sleeping infant on its mother's breast, wounds the mother\nalso; but she flies in horror, though not soon enough to escape the\nsight of her other pleading child, her warrior-son, vainly clasping his\nhands in entreaty to the savage, who, with another blow from his\ntomahawk, puts an end to his sufferings. The wretched mother escapes,\nfor Hole-in-the-Day enters the teepee, and takes prisoner the younger\nwife. She escapes a present death--what will be her future fate?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nThe elder of the two wives escaped from the murderous Chippeways. Again\nand again, in the darkness of the night, she turns back to flee from her\ndeadly foe, but far more from the picture of her children, murdered\nbefore her eyes. She knew the direction in which the Dahcotahs who had\nleft the party had encamped, and she directed her steps to find them.\nOne would think she would have asked death from her enemies--her husband\nloved her no more, her children were dead--but she clung to life.\n\nShe reached the teepees at last, and hastened to tell of her sorrows,\nand of the treachery of Hole-in-the-Day. For a moment the utmost\nconsternation prevailed among the Indians, but revenge was the second\nthought, and rapidly were their preparations made to seek the scene of\nthe murder. The distance was accomplished in a short time, and the\ndesolation lay before their eyes.\n\nThe fires in the teepees were not gone out; the smoke was ascending to\nthe heavens; while the voices of the murdered Dahcotahs seemed to call\nupon their relatives for revenge.. There lay the warriors, who, brave as\nHole-in-the-Day, had laid aside their weapons, and reposed on the faith\nof their enemies, their strong limbs powerless, their faces turned\ntowards the light, which fell upon their glassy eyes. See the mother, as\nshe bends over the bodies of her innocent children!--her boy, who walked\nso proudly, and said he would kill deer for his mother; her infant,\nwhose life had been taken, as it were, from her very heart. She strains\nthem to her bosom, but the head leans not towards her, and the arms are\nstiff in death.\n\nRed Face has asked for his young wife. She is alive, but, far worse than\ndeath, she is a prisoner to the Chippeways. His children are dead before\nhis eyes, and their mother, always obedient and attentive, does not hear\nhim when he speaks to her. The remains of the feast are scattered on\nthe ground; the pipe of peace lies broken among them.\n\nIn the course of the morning the Rev. Mr.----, missionary among the\nDahcotahs, with the assistance of an Indian named Round Wind, collected\nthe bodies and buried them.\n\nOf the fourteen persons who were in the three teepees, no more than four\nescaped; two young men and two women.\n\nThe Chippeways fled as quickly as possible from the country of the\nDahcotahs, with their prisoner--sad change for her. A favorite wife\nfinds herself in the power of ten warriors, the enemies of her people.\nThe cries of her murdered friends are yet sounding in her ears; and she\nknows not how soon their fate may be hers. Every step of the weary\njourney she pursues, takes her farther from her country. She dares not\nweep, she cannot understand the language of her enemies, but she\nunderstands their looks, and knows she must obey them. She wishes they\nwould take her life; she would take it herself, but she is watched, and\nit is impossible.\n\nShe sees by their angry gestures and their occasional looks towards her,\nthat she is the subject of their dispute, until the chief raises his\neyes and speaks to the Chippeways--and the difference ceases.\n\nAt length her journey is at an end. They arrive at the village, and\nHole-in-the-Day and his warriors are received with manifestations of\ndelight. They welcomed him as if he had performed a deed of valor\ninstead of one of cowardice.\n\nThe women gaze alternately upon the scalps and upon the prisoner. She,\npoor girl, is calm now; there is but one thought that makes her tired\nlimbs shake with terror. She sees with a woman's quickness that there is\nno female among those who are looking at her as beautiful as she is. It\nmay be that she may be required to light the household fires for one of\nher enemies. She sees the admiring countenance of one of the young\nChippeway warriors fixed upon her; worn out with fatigue, she cannot\nsupport the wretched thought. For a while she is insensible even to\nher sorrows.\n\nOn recovering, food is given her, and she tries to eat. Nothing but\ndeath can relieve her. Where are the spirits of the rocks and rivers of\nher land? Have they forgotten her too?\n\nHole-in-the-Bay took her to his teepee. She was his prisoner, he chose\nto adopt her, and treated her with every kindness. He ordered his men\nnot to take her life; she was to be as safe in his teepee as if she were\nhis wife or child.\n\nFor a few days she is allowed to remain quiet; but at length she is\nbrought out to be present at a council where her fate was to be decided.\n\nHole-in-the-Day took his place in the council, and ordered the prisoner\nto be placed near him. Her pale and resigned countenance was a contrast\nto the angry and excited faces that lowered upon her; but the chief\nlooked unconcerned as to the event. However his warriors might contend,\nthe result of the council would depend upon him; his unbounded influence\nalways prevailed.\n\nAfter several speeches had been made, Stormy Wind rose and addressed the\nchief. His opinion was that the prisoner should suffer death. The\nDahcotahs had always been enemies, and it was the glory of the\nChippeways to take the lives of those they hated. His chief had taken\nthe prisoner to his teepee; she was safe; she was a member of his\nfamily--who would harm her there? but now they were in council to decide\nupon her fate. He was an old man, had seen many winters--he had often\ntravelled far and suffered much to take the life of an enemy; and here,\nwhere there is one in their power, should they lose the opportunity of\nrevenge? She was but a woman, but the Dahcotah blood flowed in her\nveins. She was not fit to live. The Eagle spoke next. He was glad that\nthe chief had taken the prisoner to his teepee--it had been always\ncustomary occasionally to adopt a prisoner, and the chief did well to\nkeep up the customs of their tribe. The prisoner was young, she could be\ntaught to love the Chippeway nation; the white people did not murder\ntheir prisoners; the Chippeways were the friends of the white people;\nlet them do as they did, be kind to the prisoner and spare her life. The\nEagle would marry the Dahcotah girl; he would teach her to speak the\nlanguage of her adopted tribe; she should make his mocassins, and her\nchildren would be Chippeways. Let the chief tell the Eagle to take the\ngirl home to his teepee.\n\nThe Eagle's speech created an excitement. The Indians rose one after the\nother, insisting upon the death of their prisoner. One or two seconded\nthe Eagle's motion to keep her among them, but the voices of the others\nprevailed. The prisoner saw by the faces of the savages what their words\nportended. When the Eagle rose to speak, she recognized the warrior\nwhose looks had frightened her; she knew he was pleading for her life\ntoo; but the memory of her husband took away the fear of death. Death\nwith a thousand terrors, rather than live a wife, a slave to the\nChippeways! The angry Chippeways are silenced, for their chief addresses\nthem in a voice of thunder; every voice is hushed, every countenance is\nrespectfully turned towards the leader, whose words are to decide the\nfate of the unhappy woman before them.\n\n\"Where is the warrior that will not listen to the words of his chief? my\nvoice is loud and you shall hear. I have taken a Dahcotah woman\nprisoner; I have chosen to spare her life; she has lived in my teepee;\nshe is one of my family; you have assembled in council to-day to decide\nher fate--I have decided it. When I took her to my teepee, she became as\nmy child or as the child of my friend. You shall not take her life, nor\nshall you marry her. She is my prisoner--she shall remain in my teepee.\"\n\nSeeing some motion of discontent among those who wished to take her\nlife, he continued, while his eyes shot fire and his broad chest heaved\nwith anger:\n\n\"Come then and take her life. Let me see the brave warrior who will take\nthe life of my prisoner? Come! she is here; why do you, not raise your\ntomahawks? It is easy to take a woman's scalp.\"\n\nNot a warrior moves. The prisoner looks at the chief and at his\nwarriors. Hole-in-the-Day leads her from the council and points to his\nteepee, which is again her home, and where she is as safe as she would\nbe in her husband's teepee, by the banks of the Mine So-to.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nWhile the wife of Red Face lived from day to day in suspense as to her\nfate, her husband made every effort for her recovery. Knowing that she\nwas still alive, he could not give up the hope of seeing her again.\nAccordingly, the facts were made known at Fort Snelling, and the\nChippeway interpreter was sent up to Hole-in-the-Day's village, with an\norder from the government to bring her down.\n\nShe had been expected for some time, when an excitement among a number\nof old squaws, who were standing outside of the gate of the fort, showed\nthat something unusual was occasioning expressions of pleasure; and as\nthe wife of Red Face advanced towards the house of the interpreter,\ntheir gratification was raised to the utmost.\n\nRed Face and some of the Dahcotah warriors were soon there too--and the\nlong separated husband and wife were again united.\n\nBut whatever they might have felt on the occasion of meeting again, they\nshowed but little joy. Red Face entered the room where were assembled\nthe Indians and the officers of the garrison. He shook hands with the\nofficers and with the interpreter, and, without looking at his wife,\ntook his seat with the other Dahcotahs.\n\nBut her composure soon left her. When she saw him enter, the blood\nmantled in her pale cheek--pale with long anxiety and recent fatigue.\nShe listened while the Dahcotahs talked with the agent and the\ncommanding officer; and at last, as if her feelings could not longer be\nrestrained, she arose, crossed the room, and took her seat at his feet!\n\nThe chief Hole-in-the-Day has been dead some years, and, in one of the\npublic prints, it was stated that he was thrown from his carriage and\nkilled. This was a genteel mode of dying, which cannot, with truth, be\nattributed to him.\n\nHe always deplored the habit of drinking, to which the Indians are so\nmuch addicted. In his latter years, however, he could not withstand the\ntemptation; and, on one occasion, being exceedingly drunk, he was put\ninto an ox-cart, and being rather restive, was thrown out, and the cart\nwheel went over him.\n\nThus died Hole-in-the-Day-one of the most noted Indians of the present\nday; and his eldest son reigns in his stead.\n\n[Illustration: HAOKAH THE ANTI-NATURAL GOD; ONE OF THE GIANTS OF THE\nDAHCOTAHS. Drawn by White Deer, a Sioux Warrior who lives near Fort\nSnelling.]\n\nEXPLANATION OF THE DRAWING.\n\n 1. The giant.\n 2. A frog that the giant uses for an arrow-point.\n 3. A large bird that that the giant keeps in his court.\n 4. Another bird.\n 5. An ornament over the door leading into the court.\n 6. An ornament over a door.\n 7. Part of court ornamented with down.\n 8. Part of do. do. with red down.\n 9. A bear; 10. a deer; 11. an elk; 12. a buffalo.\n13, 14. Incense-offering.\n15. A rattle of deer's claws, used when singing.\n16. A long flute or whistle.\n17, 18, 19, 20. Are meteors that the giant sends out for his defence,\n    or to protect him from invasion.\n21, 22, 23, 24. The giant surrounded with lightnings, with which he\n    kills all kinds of animals that molest him.\n25. Red down in small bunches fastened to the railing of the court.\n26. The same. One of these bunches of red down disappears every time\n    an animal is found dead inside the court.\n27, 28. Touchwood, and a large fungus that grows on trees.--These are\n    eaten by any animal that enters the court, and this food causes\n    their death.\n29. A streak of lightning going from the giant's hat.\n30. Giant's head and hat. 31. His bow and arrow.\n\n\n\n\nWAH-ZEE-YAH\n\n\nANOTHER OF THE GIANT GODS OF THE DAHCOTAHS.\n\nWah-Zee-Yah had a son who was killed by Etokah Wachastah, Man of the\nSouth. Wah-zee-yah is the god of the winter, and Etokah Wachastah is the\ngod of the summer. When there is a cold spell early in the warm weather,\nthe Dahcotahs say Wah-zee-yah is looking back. When the son of\nWah-zee-yah was killed, there were six on each side; the Beings of the\nsouth were too strong for those of the north, and conquered them. When\nthe battle was over, a fox was seen running off with one of the Beings\nof the north.\n\nThese gods of the Dahcotahs are said to be inferior to the Great Spirit;\nbut if an Indian wants to perform a deed of valor, he prays to Haokah\nthe Giant. When they are in trouble, or in fear of anything, they pray\nto the Great Spirit. You frequently see a pole with a deer-skin, or a\nblanket hung to it; these are offerings made to the Great Spirit, to\npropitiate him. White Dog, who lives near Fort Snelling, says he has\noften prayed to the Great Spirit to keep him from sin, and to enable him\nand his family to do right. When he wishes to make an offering to the\nGreat Spirit, he takes a scarlet blanket, and paints a circle of blue\nin the centre, (blue is an emblem of peace,) and puts ten bells, or\nsilver brooches to it. This offering costs him $20. Christians are too\napt to give less liberally to the true God. When White Dog goes to war,\nhe makes this offering.\n\nWhite Dog says he never saw the giant, but that \"Iron Members,\" who died\nlast summer, saw one of the giants several years ago.\n\nIron Members was going hunting, and when he was near Shah-co-pee's\nvillage, he met the Giant. He wore a three-cornered hat, and one side\nwas bright as the sun; so bright one could not look upon it; and he had\na crooked thing upon his shoulder.\n\nIron Members was on a hill; near which was a deep ravine, when suddenly\nhis eye rested upon something so bright that it pained him to look at\nit. He looked down the ravine and there stood the Giant. Notwithstanding\nhis position, his head reached to the top of the trees. The Giant was\ngoing northwards, and did not notice the Indian or stop; he says he\nwatched the Giant; and, as he went forward, the trees and bushes seemed\nto make way for him. The visit was one of good luck, the Indians say,\nfor there was excellent hunting that season.\n\nThe Dahcotahs believe firmly the story of Iron Members. He was one of\ntheir wisest men. He was a great warrior and knew how to kill his\nenemies. White Dog says that at night, when they were on a war party,\nIron Members would extinguish all the fires of the Dahcotahs, and then\ndirect his men where to find the Chippeways. He would take a spoonful of\nsugar, and the same quantity of whiskey, and make an offering to the\nspirits of their enemies; he would sing to them, and charm them so that\nthey would come up so close to him that he would knock them on the head\nwith his rattle, and kill them. These spirits approach in the form of a\nbear. After this is done, they soon find their enemies and conquer them.\n\nThe Dahcotahs think their medicine possesses supernatural powers; they\nburn incense,--leaves of the white cedar tree,--in order to destroy the\nsupernatural powers of a person who dislikes them. They consider the\nburning of incense a preventive of evil, and believe it wards off danger\nfrom lightning. They say that the cedar tree is wahkun (spiritual) and\non that account they burn its leaves to ward off danger. The temple of\nSolomon was built of cedar.\n\nUnktahe, the god of the waters, is much reverenced by the Dahcotahs.\nMorgan's bluff, near Fort Snelling, is called \"God's house\" by the\nDahcotahs; they say it is the residence of Unktahe, and under the hill\nis a subterranean passage, through which they say the water-god passes\nwhen he enters the St. Peter's. He is said to be as large as a white\nman's house.\n\nNear Lac qui parle is a hill called \"the Giant's house.\" On one occasion\nthe Rev. Mr. ---- was walking with a Dahcotah, and as they approached\nthis hill the Dahcotah exclaimed, \"Do you not see him, there he is.\" And\nalthough no one else saw the Giant, he persisted in watching him for a\nfew moments as he passed over the hill.\n\nNear Lac qui parle, is living an old Dahcotah woman of a singular\nappearance. Her face is very black, and her hair singed and\nfaded-looking. She was asked by a stranger to account for her singular\nappearance. \"I dreamed of the Giant,\" she said; \"and I was frightened\nwhen I woke; and I told my husband that I would give a dance to the\nGiant to propitiate him; but my husband said that I was not able to go\nthrough the Giant's dance; that I would only fail, and bring disgrace\nupon him and all my family. The Giant was very angry with me, and\npunished me by burning my face black, and my hair as you see it.\" Her\nhusband might well fear that she would not be able to perform\nthis dance.\n\nIt would be impossible to give any idea of the number of the gods of the\nDahcotahs. All nature is animated with them; every mountain, every tree,\nis worshipped, as among the Greeks of old, and again, like the\nEgyptians, the commonest animals are the objects of their adoration.\n\nMay the time soon come when they will acknowledge but one God, the\nCreator of the Earth and Heaven, the Sovereign of the universe!\n\n\n\n\nSTORMS IN LIFE AND NATURE;\n\nOR,\n\nUNKTAHE AND THE THUNDER BIRD\n\n\"Ever,\" says Checkered Cloud, \"will Unktahe, the god of the waters, and\nWahkeon, (Thunder,) do battle against each other. Sometimes the thunder\nbirds are conquerors--often the god of the waters chases his enemies\nback to the distant clouds.\"\n\nMany times, too, will the daughters of the nation go into the pathless\nprairies to weep; it is their custom; and while there is sickness, and\nwant, and death, so long will they leave the haunts of men to weep where\nnone but the Great Spirit may witness their tears. It is only, they\nbelieve, in the City of spirits, that the sorrows of Dahcotah women will\ncease--there, will their tears be dried forever.\n\nMany winters have passed away since Harpstenah brought the dead body of\nher husband to his native village to be buried; my authority is the\n\"medicine woman,\" whose lodge, for many years, was to be seen on the\nbanks of Lake Calhoun.\n\nThis village is now deserted. The remains of a few houses are to be\nseen, and the broken ground in which were planted the poles of their\nteepees. Silence reigns where the merry laugh of the villagers often\nmet in chorus. The scene of the feast and dance is now covered with long\ngrass, but \"desolation saddens all its green.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nDark and heavy clouds hung over the village of \"Sleepy Eyes,\" one of the\nchiefs of the Sioux. The thunder birds flapped their wings angrily as\nthey flew along, and where they hovered over the \"Father of many\nwaters,\" the waves rose up, and heaved to and fro. Unktahe was eager to\nfight against his ancient enemies; for as the storm spirits shrieked\nwildly, the waters tossed above each other; the large forest trees were\nuptorn from their roots, and fell over into the turbid waters, where\nthey lay powerless amid the scene of strife; and while the vivid\nlightning pierced the darkness, peal after peal was echoed by the\nneighboring hills.\n\nOne human figure was seen outside the many teepees that rose side by\nside in the village. Sleepy Eyes alone dared to stand and gaze upon the\ntempest which was triumphing over all the powers of nature. As the\nlightning fell upon the tall form of the chief, he turned his keen\nglance from the swift-flying clouds to the waters, where dwelt the god\nwhose anger he had ever been taught to fear. He longed, though\ntrembling, to see the countenance of the being whose appearance is the\nsure warning of calamity. His superstitious fears told him to turn, lest\nthe deity should rise before him; while his native courage, and love of\nthe marvellous, chained him to the spot.\n\nThe storm raged wilder and louder--the driving wind scattered the hail\naround him, and at length the chief raised the door of his teepee, and\njoined his frightened household. Trembling and crouching to the ground\nwere the mothers and children, as the teepee shook from the force of the\nwind. The young children hid their faces close against their mothers'\nbreasts. Every head was covered, to avoid the streaked lightning as it\nglanced over the bent and terrified forms, that seemed to cling to the\nearth for protection.\n\nAt the end of the village, almost on the edge of the high bluff that\ntowered above the river, rose a teepee, smaller than the rest. The open\ndoor revealed the wasted form of Harpstenah, an aged woman.\n\nAged, but not with years! Evil had been the days of her pilgrimage.\n\nThe fire that had burned in the wigwam was all gone out, the dead ashes\nlay in the centre, ever and anon scattered by the wind over the wretched\nhousehold articles that lay around. Gone out, too, were the flames that\nonce lighted with happiness the heart of Harpstenah.\n\nThe sorrows of earth, more pitiless than the winds of heaven, had\nscattered forever the hopes that had made her a being of light and life.\nThe head that lies on the earth was once pillowed on the breast of the\nlover of her youth. The arm that is heavily thrown from her once clasped\nhis children to her heart.\n\nWhat if the rain pours in upon her, or the driving wind and hail scatter\nher wild locks? She feels it not. Life is there, but the consciousness\nof life is gone forever.\n\nA heavier cloud hangs about her heart than that which darkens nature.\nShe fears not the thunder, nor sees the angry lightning. She has laid\nupon the scaffold her youngest son, the last of the many ties that bound\nher to earth.\n\nOne week before, her son entered the wigwam. He was not alone; his\ncomrade, \"The Hail that Strikes,\" accompanied him.\n\nHarpstenah had been tanning deer-skin near her door. She had planted two\npoles firmly in the ground, and on them she had stretched the deer-skin.\nWith an iron instrument she constantly scraped the skin, throwing water\nupon it. She had smoked it too, and now it was ready to make into\nmocassins or leggins. She had determined, while she was tanning the\ndeer-skin, how she would embroider them. They should be richer and\nhandsomer even than those of their chief's son; nay, gayer than those\nworn by the chief himself. She had beads and stained porcupine quills;\nall were ready for her to sew.\n\nThe venison for the evening meal was cooked and placed in a wooden bowl\nbefore the fire, when the two young men entered.\n\nThe son hardly noticed his mother's greeting, as he invited his friend\nto partake of the venison. After eating, he filled his pipe, smoked, and\noffered it to the other. They seemed inclined to waste but little time\nin talking, for the pipe was put by, and they were about to leave the\nteepee, when the son's steps were arrested by his mother's asking him if\nhe were going out again on a hunt. \"There is food enough,\" she added,\n\"and I thought you would remain at home and prepare to join in the dance\nof the sun, which will be celebrated to-morrow. You promised me to do\nso, and a Dahcotah values his word.\"\n\nThe young man hesitated, for he loved his mother, and he knew it would\ngrieve her to be told the expedition upon which he was going.\n\nThe eyes of his comrade flashed fire, and his lip curled scornfully, as\nhe turned towards the son of Harpstenah. \"Are you afraid to tell your\nmother the truth,\" he said, \"or do you fear the 'long knives' [Footnote:\nOfficers and soldiers are called long knives among the Sioux, from their\nwearing swords.] will carry you a prisoner to their fort? _I_ will tell\nyou where we are going,\" he added. \"The Dahcotahs have bought us\nwhiskey, and we are going to meet them and help bring it up. And now\ncry--you are a woman--but it is time for us to be gone.\"\n\nThe son lingered--he could not bear to see his mother's tears. He knew\nthe sorrows she had endured, he knew too (for she had often assured him)\nthat should harm come to him she would not survive it. The knife she\ncarried in her belt was ready to do its deadly work. She implored him to\nstay, calling to his mind the deaths of his father and of his murdered\nbrothers; she bade him remember the tears they had shed together, and\nthe promises he had often made, never to add to the trials she\nhad endured.\n\nIt was all in vain; for his friend, impatient to be gone, laughed at him\nfor listening to the words of his mother. \"Is not a woman a dog?\" he\nsaid. \"Do you intend to stay all night to hear your mother talk? If so,\ntell me, that I may seek another comrade--one who fears neither a white\nman nor a woman.\"\n\nThis appeal had its effect, for the young men left the teepee together.\nThey were soon out of sight, while Harpstenah sat weeping, and swaying\nher body to and fro, lamenting the hour she was born. \"There is no\nsorrow in the land of spirits,\" she cried; \"oh! that I were dead!\"\n\nThe party left the village that night to procure the whiskey. They were\ncareful to keep watch for the Chippeways, so easy would it be for their\nenemies to spring up from behind a tree, or to be concealed among the\nbushes and long grass that skirted the open prairies. Day and night they\nwere on their guard; the chirping of the small bird by day, as well as\nthe hooting of an owl by night--either might be the feigned voice of a\ntomahawked enemy. And as they approached St. Anthony's Falls, they had\nstill another cause for caution. Here their friends were to meet them\nwith the fire water. Here, too, they might see the soldiers from Fort\nSnelling, who would snatch the untasted prize from their lips, and carry\nthem prisoners to the fort--a disgrace that would cling to them forever.\n\nConcealed under a rock, they found the kegs of liquor, and, while\nplacing them in their canoes, they were joined by the Indians who had\nbeen keeping guard over it, and at the same time watching for\nthe soldiers.\n\nIn a few hours they were relieved of their fears. The flag that waved\nfrom the tower at Fort Snelling, had been long out of sight. They kept\ntheir canoes side by side, passing away the time in conversation.\n\nThe women who were paddling felt no fatigue. They knew that at night\nthey were to have a feast. Already the fires of the maddening drink had\nmade the blood in their dull veins course quickly. They anticipated the\nexcitement that would make them forget they had ever been cold or\nhungry; and bring to them bright dreams of that world where sorrow\nis unknown.\n\n\"We must be far on our journey to-night,\" said the Rattler; \"the long\nknives are ever on the watch for Dahcotahs with whiskey.\"\n\n\"The laws of the white people are very just,\" said an old man of the\nparty; \"they let their people live near us and sell us whiskey, they\ntake our furs from us, and get much money. _They_ have the right to\nbring their liquor near us, and sell it, but if _we_ buy it we are\npunished. When I was young,\" he added, bitterly, \"the Dahcotahs were\nfree; they went and came as they chose. There were no soldiers sent to\nour villages to frighten our women and children, and to take our young\nmen prisoners. The Dahcotahs are all women now--there are no warriors\namong them, or they would not submit to the power of the long knives.\"\n\n\"We must submit to them,\" said the Rattler; \"it would be in vain to\nattempt to contend with them. We have learned that the long knives _can\nwork in the night_. A few nights ago, some young men belonging to the\nvillage of Marpuah Wechastah, had been drinking. They knew that the\nChippeway interpreter was away, and that his wife was alone. They went,\nlike cowards as they were, to frighten a woman. They yelled and sung,\nthey beat against her door, shouting and laughing when they found she\nwas afraid to come out. When they returned home it was just day; they\ndrank and slept till night, and then they assembled, four young men in\none teepee, to pass the night in drinking.\n\n\"The father of White Deer came to the teepee. 'My son,' said he, 'it is\nbetter for you to stop drinking and go away. You have an uncle among the\nTetons, go and visit him. You brought the fire water here, you\nfrightened the wife of the Interpreter, and for this trouble you will be\npunished. Your father is old, save him the disgrace of seeing his son a\nprisoner at the Fort.'\n\n\"'Fear not, my father,' said the young man, 'your Son will never be a\nprisoner. I wear a charm over my heart, which will ever make me free as\nthe wind. The _white men cannot work in the night;_ they are sleeping\neven now. We will have a merry night, and when the sun is high, and the\nlong knives come to seek me, you may laugh at them, and tell them to\nfollow me to the country of the Tetons.' The father left the teepee, and\nWhite Deer struck the keg with his tomahawk. The fire water dulled their\nsenses, for they heard not their enemies until they were upon them.\n\n\"It was in the dead of night--all but the revellers slept--when the\nsoldiers from the fort surrounded the village.\n\n\"The mother of White Deer heard the barking of her dog. She looked out\nof the door of her teepee. She saw nothing, for it was dark; but she\nknew there was danger near.\n\n\"Our warriors, roused from their sleep, determined to find out the cause\nof the alarm; they were thrust back into their teepees by the bayonets\nof the long knives, and the voice of the Interpreter was heard, crying,\n'The first Dahcotah that leaves his lodge shall be shot.'\n\n\"The soldiers found out from the old chief the teepee of the revellers.\nThe young men did not hear them as they approached; they were drinking\nand shouting. White Deer had raised the cup to his lips, when the\nsoldier's grasp was upon him. It was too late for him to fly.\n\n\"There was an unopened keg of liquor in the teepee. The soldiers struck\nit to pieces, and the fire water covered the ground.\n\n\"The hands of White Deer were bound with an iron chain; he threw from\nhim his clothes and his blanket. He was a prisoner, and needed not the\nclothing of a Dahcotah, born free.\n\n\"The grey morning dawned as they entered the large door of the fort. His\nold father soon followed him; he offered to stay, himself, as a\nprisoner, if his young son could be set free.\n\n\"It is in vain, then, that we would contend with the white man; they\nkeep a watch over all our actions. They _work in the night_.\"\n\n\"The long knives will ever triumph, when the medicine men of our nation\nspeak as you do,\" said Two Stars. \"I have lived near them always, and\nhave never been their prisoner. I have suffered from cold in the winter,\nand have never asked clothing, and from hunger, and have never asked\nfood. My wife has never stood at the gate to ask bread, nor have my\ndaughters adorned themselves to attract the eyes of their young men. I\nwill live and die on the land of my forefathers, without asking a favor\nof an enemy. They call themselves the friends of the Dahcotahs. They are\nour friends when they want our lands or our furs.\n\n\"They are our worst enemies; they have trampled us under foot. We do not\nchase the deer on the prairies as eagerly as they have hunted us down.\nThey steal from us our rights, and then gain us over by fair words. I\nhate them; and had not our warriors turned women, and learned to fear\nthem, I would gladly climb their walls, and shout the war-cry in their\nears. The Great Spirit has indeed forsaken his children, when their\nwarriors and wise men talk of submission to their foes.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nWell might Harpstenah sit in her lodge and weep. The sorrows of her life\npassed in review before her. Yet she was once the belle of an Indian\nvillage; no step so light, no laugh so merry as hers. She possessed too,\na spirit and a firmness not often found among women.\n\nShe was by birth the third daughter, who is always called Harpstenah\namong the Sioux. Her sisters were married, and she had seen but fourteen\nsummers when old Cloudy Sky, the medicine man, came to her parents to\nbuy her for his wife.\n\nThey dared not refuse him, for they were afraid to offend a medicine\nman, and a war chief besides. Cloudy Sky was willing to pay them well\nfor their child. So she was told that her fate for life was determined\nupon. Her promised bridegroom had seen the snows of eighty winters.\n\nIt was a bright night in the \"moon for strawberries.\" [Footnote: The\nmonth of June.] Harpstenah had wept herself to sleep, and she had reason\ntoo, for her young companions had laughed at her, and told her that she\nwas to have for a husband an old man without a nose. And it was true,\nthough Cloudy Sky could once have boasted of a fine aquiline. He had\nbeen drinking freely, and picked a quarrel with one of his sworn\nfriends. After some preliminary blows, Cloudy Sky seized his antagonist\nand cut his ear sadly, but in return he had his nose bitten off.\n\nShe had wept the more when her mother told her that in four days she was\nto go to the teepee of her husband. It was in vain to contend. She lay\ndown beside the fire; deep sleep came upon her; she forgot the events of\nthe past day; for a time she ceased to think of the young man she loved,\nand the old one she hated. In her dreams she had travelled a long\njourney, and was seated on the river shore, to rest her tired limbs. The\nred light of the dying sun illumined the prairies, she could not have\nendured its scorching rays, were it not for the sheltering branches of\nthe tree under which she had found a resting-place.\n\nThe waters of the river beat against her feet. She would fain move, but\nsomething chained her to the spot. She tried to call her mother, but her\nlips were sealed, and her voice powerless. She would have turned her\nface from the waters, but even this was impossible. Stronger and\nstronger beat the waves, and then parted, revealing the dreaded form of\nthe fairy of the waters.\n\nHarpstenah looked upon death as inevitable; she had ever feared that\nterrible race of beings whose home was in the waters. And now the fairy\nstood before her!\n\n\"Why do you tremble maiden? Only the wicked need fear the anger of the\ngods You have never offended us, nor the spirits of the dead. You have\ndanced in the scalp-dance, and have reverenced the customs of the Sioux.\nYou have shed many tears. You love Red Deer, and your father has sold\nyou to Cloudy Sky, the medicine man. It is with you to marry the man you\nlove, or the one you hate.\"\n\n\"If you know everything,\" sighed the girl, \"then you must know that in\nfour days I am to take my seat beside Cloudy Sky in his wigwam. He has\ntwice brought calico and cloth, and laid them at the door of my\nfather's teepee.\"\n\n\"You shall not marry Cloudy Sky, if you have a strong heart, and fear\nnothing,\" replied the fairy. The spirits of the water have determined on\nthe death of Cloudy Sky. He has already lived three times on earth. For\nmany years he wandered through the air with the sons of the thunder\nbird; like them he was ever fighting against the friends of Unktahe.\n\n\"With his own hand he killed the son of that god, and for that was he\nsent to earth to be a medicine man. But long ago we have said that the\ntime should come, when we would destroy him from the earth. It is for\nyou to take his life when he sleeps. Can a Dahcotah woman want courage\nwhen she is to be forced to marry a man she hates?\"\n\nThe waters closed over the fairy as he disappeared, and the waves beat\nharder against Harpstenah's feet. She awoke with the words echoing in\nher heart, \"Can a Sioux woman want courage when she is to be forced to\nmarry a man she hates?\" \"The words of the fairy were wise and true,\"\nthought the maiden. \"Our medicine-men say that the fairies of the water\nare all wicked; that they are ever seeking to do harm to the Dahcotahs.\nMy dream has made my heart light. I will take the life of the war chief.\nAt the worst they can but take mine.\"\n\nAs she looked round the teepee, her eye rested upon the faces of her\nparents. The bright moonlight had found its way into the teepee. There\nlay her father, his haughty countenance calm and subdued, for the \"image\nof death\" had chased away the impression left on his features of a\nfierce struggle with a hard life. How often had he warned her of the\ndanger of offending Cloudy Sky, that sickness, famine, death itself,\nmight be the result. Her mother too, had wearied her with warnings. But\nshe remembered her dream, and with all a Sioux woman's faith in\nrevelations, she determined to let it influence her course.\n\nRed Deer had often vowed to take the life of his rival, though he knew\nit would have assuredly cost him his own. The family of Cloudy Sky was a\nlarge one; there were many who would esteem it a sacred duty to avenge\nhis death. Besides he would gain nothing by it, for the parents of\nHarpstenah would never consent to her marriage with the murderer of the\nwar chief.\n\nHow often had Red Deer tried to induce the young girl to leave the\nvillage, and return with him as his wife. \"Have we not always loved each\nother,\" he said. \"When we were children, you made me mocassins, and\npaddled the canoe for me, and I brought the wild duck, which I shot\nwhile it was flying, to you. You promised me to be my wife, when I\nshould be a great hunter, and had brought to you the scalp of an enemy.\nI have kept my promise, but you have broken yours.\"\n\n\"I know it,\" she replied; \"but I fear to keep my word. They would kill\nyou, and the spirits of my dead brothers would haunt me for disobeying\nmy parents. Cloudy Sky says that if I do not marry him he will cast a\nspell upon me; he says that the brightness would leave my eye, and the\ncolor my cheek; that my step should be slow and weary, and soon would I\nbe laid in the earth beside my brothers. The spirit that should watch\nbeside my body would be offended for my sin in disobeying the counsel of\nthe aged. You, too, should die, he says, not by the tomahawk, as a\nwarrior should die, but by a lingering disease--fever should enter your\nveins, your strength would soon be gone, you would no longer be able to\ndefend yourself from your enemies. Let me die, rather than bring such\ntrouble upon you.\"\n\nRed Deer could not reply, for he believed that Cloudy Sky could do all\nthat he threatened. Nerved, then, by her devotion to her lover, her\nhatred of Cloudy Sky, and her faith in her dream, Harpstenah determined\nher heart should not fail her; she would obey the mandate of the water\ngod; she would bury her knife in the heart of the medicine man.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nIn their hours for eating, the Sioux accommodate themselves to\ncircumstances. If food be plenty, they eat three or four times a day; if\nscarce, they eat but once. Sometimes they go without food for several\ndays, and often they are obliged to live for weeks on the bark of\ntrees, skins, or anything that will save them from dying of famine.\n\nWhen game and corn are plenty, the kettle is always boiling, and they\nare invariably hospitable and generous, always offering to a visitor\nsuch as they have it in their power to give.\n\nThe stars were still keeping watch, when Harpstenah was called by her\nmother to assist her. The father's morning meal was prepared early, for\nhe was going out to hunt. Wild duck, pigeons, and snipe, could be had in\nabundance; the timid grouse, too, could be roused up on the prairies.\nLarger game was there, too, for the deer flew swiftly past, and had even\nstopped to drink on the opposite shore of the \"Spirit Lake.\"\n\nWhen they assembled to eat, the old man lifted up his hands--\"May the\nGreat Spirit have mercy upon us, and give me good luck in hunting.\"\n\nMeat and boiled corn were eaten from wooden bowls, and the father went\nhis way, leaving his wife and daughter to attend to their\ndomestic cares.\n\nHarpstenah was cutting wood near the lodge, when Cloudy Sky presented\nhimself. He went into the teepee and lighted his pipe, and then, seating\nhimself outside, began to smoke. He was, in truth, a sorry figure for a\nbridegroom. Always repulsive in his looks, his present dress was not\ncalculated to improve him. He wore mourning for his enemy, whom he\nhad killed.\n\nHis face was painted perfectly black; nothing but the whites of his eyes\nrelieved the universal darkness. His blanket was torn and old--his hair\nunbraided, and on the top of his head he wore a knot of swan's down.\n\nEvery mark of grief or respect he could have shown a dead brother, he\nnow assumed in honor of the man whom he had hated--whose life he had\ndestroyed--who had belonged to the hateful tribe which had ever been the\nenemy of his nation.\n\nHe looked very important as he puffed away, now watching Harpstenah, who\nappeared to be unconscious of his presence, now fixing his eyes on her\nmother, who was busily employed mending mocassins.\n\nHaving finished smoking; he used a fan which was attached to the other\nend of his pipe-stem. It was a very warm day, and the perspiration that\nwas bursting from his forehead mingled with the black paint and slowly\nfound its way down his face.\n\n\"Where is your husband?\" at length he asked of the mother.\n\n\"He saw a deer fly past this morning,\" she replied, \"and he has gone to\nseek it, that I may dry it.\"\n\n\"Does he come back to-night?\"\n\n\"He does; he said you were to give a medicine feast to-morrow, and that\nhe would be here.\"\n\nHarpstenah knew well why the medicine feast was to be given. Cloudy Sky\ncould not, according to the laws of the Sioux, throw off his mourning,\nuntil he had killed an enemy or given a medicine dance. She knew that he\nwanted to wear a new blanket, and plait his hair, and paint his face a\nmore becoming color. But she knew his looks could not be improved, and\nshe went on cutting wood, as unconcernedly as if the old war chief were\nher grandfather, instead of her affianced husband. He might gain the\ngood will of her parents, he might even propitiate the spirits of the\ndead: She would take his life, surely as the senseless wood yielded to\nthe strength of the arm that was cleaving it.\n\n\"You will be at the feast too,\" said Cloudy Sky to the mother; \"you have\nalways foretold truly. There is not a woman in the band who can tell\nwhat is going to happen as well as you. There is no nation so great as\nthe Dahcotah,\" continued the medicine man, as he saw several idlers\napproach, and stretch themselves on the grass to listen to him. \"There\nis no nation so great as the Dahcotah--but our people are not so great\nnow as they were formerly. When our forefathers killed buffaloes on\nthese prairies, that the white people now ride across as if they were\ntheir own, mighty giants lived among them; they strode over the widest\nrivers, and the tallest trees; they could lay their hands upon the\nhighest hills, as they walked the earth. But they were not men of war.\nThey did not fight great battles, as do the Thunder Bird and\nhis warriors.\"\n\nThere were large animals, too, in those days; so large that the stoutest\nof our warriors were but as children beside them. Their bones have been\npreserved through many generations. They are sacred to us, and we keep\nthem because they will cure us when we are sick, and will save us\nfrom danger.\n\nI have lived three times on earth. When my body was first laid upon the\nscaffold, my spirit wandered through the air. I followed the Thunder\nBirds as they darted among the clouds. When the heavens were black, and\nthe rain fell in big drops, and the streaked lightning frightened our\nwomen and children, I was a warrior, fighting beside the sons of the\nThunder Bird.\n\nUnktahe rose up before us; sixty of his friends were with him: the\nwaters heaved and pitched, as the spirits left them to seek vengeance\nagainst the Thunder Birds. They showed us their terrible horns, but they\ntried to frighten us in vain. We were but forty; we flew towards them,\nholding our shields before our breasts; the wind tore up the trees, and\nthrew down the teepees, as we passed along.\n\nAll day we fought; when we were tired we rested awhile, and then the\nwinds were still, and the sun showed himself from behind the dark\nclouds. But soon our anger rose. The winds flew along swifter than the\neagle, as the Thunder Birds clapped their wings, and again we fought\nagainst our foes.\n\nThe son of Unktahe came towards me; his eyes shone like fire, but I was\nnot afraid. I remembered I had been a Sioux warrior. He held his shield\nbefore him, as he tried to strike me with his spear. I turned his shield\naside, and struck him to the heart.\n\nHe fell, and the waters whirled round as they received his body. The\nsons of Unktahe shouted fearful cries of rage, but our yells of triumph\ndrowned them.\n\nThe water spirits shrank to their home, while we returned to the clouds.\nThe large rain drops fell slowly, and the bow of bright colors rested\nbetween the heavens and the earth. The strife was over, and we were\nconquerors. I know that Unktahe hates me--that he would kill me if he\ncould--but the Thunder bird has greater power than he; the friend of the\n'Man of the West' [Footnote: Thunder is sometimes called the Man of the\nWest.] is safe from harm.\n\nHarpstenah had ceased her work, and was listening to the boaster. \"It\nwas all true,\" she said to herself; \"the fairy of the water told me that\nhe had offended her race. I will do their bidding. Cloudy Sky may boast\nof his power, but ere two nights have passed away, he will find he\ncannot despise the anger of the water spirits, nor the courage of a\nDahcotah woman.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nThe approach of night brought with it but little inclination to sleep to\nthe excited girl. Her father slept, tired with the day's hunt; and her\nmother dreamed of seeing her daughter the wife of a war chief and a\nmedicine man.\n\nThe village was built on the shores of the lake now known as Lake\nCalhoun. By the light of the moon the teepees were reflected in its\nwaters. It was bright as day; so clear was the lake, that the agates\nnear the shore sparkled in its waters. The cry of the whippoorwill alone\ndisturbed the repose of nature, except when the wild scream of the loon\nwas heard as she gracefully swept the waters.\n\nSeated on the shore, Harpstenah waited to hear the low whistle of her\nlover. The villagers were almost all asleep, now and then the laugh of\nsome rioters was heard breaking in upon the stillness of night. She had\nnot seen her lover for many days; from the time that her marriage was\ndetermined upon, the young warrior had kept aloof from her. She had\nseized her opportunity to tell him that he must meet her where they had\noften met, where none should know of their meeting. She told him to\ncome when the moon rose, as her father would be tired, and her mother\nwished to sleep well before the medicine feast.\n\nMany fears oppressed her heart, for he had not answered her when she\nspoke to him, and he might not intend to come. Long she waited in vain,\nand she now arose to return to the teepee, when the low signal met\nher ear.\n\nShe did not wait to hear it a second time, but made her way along the\nshore: now her steps were printed in the wet sand, now planted on the\nrocks near the shore; not a sound followed her movements until she stood\non the appointed place. The bright moonlight fell upon her features, and\nher rich dress, as she waited with folded arms for her lover to address\nher. Her okendokenda of bright colors was slightly open at the neck, and\nrevealed brooches of brass and silver that covered her bosom; a heavy\nnecklace of crimson beads hung around her throat; bracelets of brass\nclasped her wrists, and her long plaited hair was ornamented at the end\nof the braids with trinkets of silver.\n\nHer cloth petticoat was richly decorated with ribbons, and her leggins\nand mocassins proved that she had spent much time and labor on the\nadorning of a person naturally well formed, and graceful.\n\n\"Why have you wished to meet me, Harpstenah?\" said the young man,\ngloomily. \"Have you come to tell me of the presents Cloudy Sky has made\nyou, or do you wish to say that you are ashamed to break the promise you\nmade me to be my wife?\"\n\n\"I have come to say again that I will be your wife,\" she replied: \"and\nfor the presents Cloudy Sky left for me, I have trampled them under my\nfeet. See, I wear near my heart the brooches you have given me.\"\n\n\"Women are ever dogs and liars,\" said Red Deer, \"but why do you speak\nsuch words to me, when you know you have agreed to marry Cloudy Sky?\nYour cousin told me your father had chosen him to carry you into the\nteepee of the old man. Your father beat you, and you agreed to marry\nhim. You are a coward to mind a little pain. Go, marry the old medicine\nman; he will beat you as he has his other wives; he may strike you with\nhis tomahawk and kill you, as he did his first wife; or he will sell you\nto the traders, as he did the other; he will tell you to steal pork and\nwhiskey for him, and then when it is found out, he will take you and say\nyou are a thief, and that he has beaten you for it. Go, the young should\never mate with the young, but you will soon lie on the scaffold, and by\nhis hand too.\"\n\n\"The proud eagle seeks to frighten the timid bird that follows it,\" said\nthe maiden; \"but Red Deer should not speak such angry words to the woman\nthat will venture her life for him. Cloudy Sky boasts that he is the\nfriend of the thunder bird; in my dreams, I have seen the fairy of the\nwaters, and he told me that Cloudy Sky should die by my hand. My words\nare true. Cloudy Sky was once with the sons of the thunder birds when\nthey fought against Unktahe. He killed a son of the water god, and the\nspirits of the water have determined on his death.\n\n\"Red Deer, my heart is strong. I do not fear the medicine man, for the\npower of Unktahe is greater than his. But you must go far away and visit\nthe Tetons; if you are here, they will accuse you of his death, and will\nkill you. But as I have promised to marry him, no one will think that I\nhave murdered him. It will be long ere I see you again, but in the moon\nthat we gather wild rice, [Footnote: September] return, and I will be\nyour wife. Go, now,\" she added, \"say to your mother that you are going\nto visit your friends, and before the day comes be far away. To-morrow\nCloudy Sky gives a medicine feast, and to-morrow night Haokah will make\nmy heart strong, and I will kill the medicine man. His soul will travel\na long journey to the land of spirits. There let him drink, and boast,\nand frighten women.\"\n\nRed Deer heard her, mute with astonishment. The color mantled in her\ncheek, and her determined countenance assured him that she was in\nearnest. He charged her to remember the secret spells of the medicine\nman. If she loved him it was far better to go with him now; they would\nsoon be out of the reach of her family. To this she would not listen,\nand repeating to him her intention of executing all she had told him of,\nshe left him.\n\nHe watched her as she returned to her teepee; sometimes her form was\nlost in the thick bushes, he could see her again as she made her way\nalong the pebbled shore, and when she had entered her teepee he\nreturned home.\n\nHe collected his implements of war and hunting, and, telling his mother\nhe was going on a long journey, he left the village.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nThe feast given in honor of their medicine was celebrated the next day,\nand Cloudy Sky was thus relieved of the necessity of wearing mourning\nfor his enemy.\n\nHis face was carefully washed of the black paint that disfigured it; his\nhair, plentifully greased, was braided and ornamented. His leggins were\nnew, and his white blanket was marked according to Indian custom. On it\nwas painted a black hand, that all might know that he had killed his\nenemy. But for all he did not look either young or handsome, and\nHarpstenah's young friends were astonished that she witnessed the\npreparations for her marriage with so much indifference.\n\nBut she was unconscious alike of their sympathy and ridicule; her soul\nwas occupied with the reflection that upon her energy depended her\nfuture fate. Never did her spirit shrink from its appointed task. Nor\nwas she entirely governed by selfish motives; she believed herself an\ninstrument in the hand of the gods.\n\nMechanically she performed her ordinary duties. The wood was cut and the\nevening meal was, cooked; afterwards she cut down branches of trees, and\nswept the wigwam. In the evening, the villagers had assembled on the\nshores of the lake to enjoy the cool air after the heat of the day.\n\nHours passed away as gossipping and amusement engaged them all. At\nlength they entered their teepees to seek rest, and Harpstenah and her\nmother were the last at the door of their teepee, where a group had been\nseated on the ground, discussing their own and others' affairs. \"No harm\ncan come to you, my daughter, when you are the wife of so great a\nmedicine man. If any one hate you and wish to do you an injury, Cloudy\nSky will destroy their power. Has he not lived with the Thunder Birds,\ndid he not learn from them to cure the sick, and to destroy his enemies?\nHe is a great warrior too.\"\n\n\"I know it, my mother,\" replied the girl, \"but we have sat long in the\nmoonlight, the wind that stirred the waters of the spirit lake is gone.\nI must sleep, that I may be ready to dress myself when you call me. My\nhair must be braided in many braids, and the strings are not yet sewed\nto my mocassins. You too are tired; let us go in and sleep.\"\n\nSleep came to the mother--to the daughter courage and energy. Not in\nvain had she prayed to Haokah the Giant, to give her power to perform a\ngreat deed. Assured that her parents were sleeping heavily, she rose and\nsought the lodge of the medicine man.\n\nWhen she reached the teepee, she stopped involuntarily before the door,\nnear which hung, on a pole, the medicine bag of the old man. The\nmedicine known only to the clan had been preserved for ages. Sacred had\nit ever been from the touch of woman. It was placed there to guard the\nmedicine man from evil, and to bring punishment on those who sought to\ndo him harm. Harpstenah's strength failed her. What was she about to do?\n\nCould she provoke with impunity the anger of the spirits of the dead?\nWould not the Great Spirit bring terrible vengeance upon her head. Ready\nto sink to the earth with terror, the words of the fairy of the waters\nreassured her. \"Can a Dahcotah woman want courage when she is to be\nforced to marry a man she hates?\"\n\nThe tumult within is stilled--the strong beating of her heart has\nceased--her hand is upon the handle of her knife, as the moonlight falls\nupon its glittering blade.\n\nToo glorious a night for so dark a deed! See! they are confronted, the\nold man and the maiden! The tyrant and his victim; the slave dealer and\nthe noble soul he had trafficked for!\n\nPale, but firm with high resolve, the girl looked for one moment at the\nman she had feared--whose looks had checked her childish mirth, whose\nanger she had been taught to dread, even to the sacrificing of her\nheart's best hopes.\n\nRestlessly the old man slept; perchance he saw the piercing eyes that\nwere, fixed upon him, for he muttered of the road to the land of\nspirits. Listen to him, as he boasts of the warrior's work.\n\n\"Many brave men have made this road. The friend of the Thunder Birds was\nworthy. Strike the woman who would dare assist a warrior. Strike--\"\n\n\"Deep in his heart she plunged the ready steel,\" and she drew it out,\nthe life blood came quickly. She alone heard his dying groan.\n\nShe left the teepee--her work was done. It was easy to wash the stains\non her knife in the waters of the lake.\n\nWhen her mother arose, she looked at the pale countenance of her\ndaughter. In vain she sought to understand her muttered words.\nHarpstenah, as she tried to sleep, fancied she heard the wild laugh of\nthe water spirits. Clouds had obscured the moon, and distant thunder\nrolled along the sky; and, roused by the clamorous grief of the many\nwomen assembled in the lodge, she heard from them of the dark tragedy in\nwhich she had been the principal actor.\n\nThe murderer was not to be found. Red Deer was known to be far away. It\nonly remained to bury Cloudy Sky, with all the honors due to a\nmedicine man.\n\nHarpstenah joined in the weeping of the mourners--the fountains of a\nSioux woman's tears are easily unlocked. She threw her blanket upon the\ndead body.\n\nMany were the rich presents made to the inanimate clay which yesterday\ninfluenced those who still trembled lest the spirit of the dead\nwar-chief would haunt them. The richest cloth enrobed his body, and, a\nshort distance from the village, he was placed upon a scaffold.\n\nFood was placed beside him; it would be long before his soul would reach\nthe city of spirits; his strength would fail him, were it not for the\nrefreshment of the tender flesh of the wild deer he had loved to chase,\nand the cooling waters he had drank on earth, for many, many winters.\n\nBut after the death of Cloudy Sky, the heart of Harpstenah grew light.\nShe joined again in the ball plays on the prairies. It needed no\nvermilion on her cheek to show the brightness of her eye, for the flush\nof hope and happiness was there.\n\nThe dark deed was forgotten; and when, in the time that the leaves began\nto fall, they prepared the wild rice for winter's use, Red Deer was\nat her side.\n\nHe was a good hunter, and the parents were old. Red Deer ever kept them\nsupplied with game--and winter found her a wife, and a happy one too;\nfor Red Deer loved her in very truth--and the secret of the death of the\nmedicine man was buried in their hearts.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTen years had passed away since their marriage, and Red Deer had never\nbrought another wife to his teepee. Harpstenah was without a rival in\nhis affections, if we except the three strong boys who were growing up\nbeside them.\n\nChask\u00e8 (the oldest son) could hunt for his mother, and it was well that\nhe could, for his father's strength was gone. Consumption wasted his\nlimbs, and the once powerful arm could not now support his\ndrooping head.\n\nThe father and mother had followed Cloudy Sky to the world of spirits;\nthey were both anxious to depart from earth, for age had made them\nfeeble, and the hardships of ninety years made them eager to have their\nstrength renewed, in the country where their ancestors were still in the\nvigor of early youth. The band at Lake Calhoun were going on a hunt for\nporcupines; a long hunt, and Harpstenah tried to deter her husband from\nattempting the journey; but he thought the animating exercise of the\nchase would be a restorative to his feeble frame, and they set out\nwith the rest.\n\nWhen the hunters had obtained a large number of those valued animals,\nthe women struck their teepees and prepared for their return.\nHarpstenah's lodge alone remained, for in it lay the dying man--by his\nside his patient wife. The play of the children had ceased--they watched\nwith silent awe the pale face and bright eye of their father--they heard\nhim charge their mother to place food that his soul might be refreshed\non its long journey. Not a tear dimmed her eye as she promised all\nhe asked.\n\n\"There is one thing, my wife,\" he said, \"which still keeps my spirit on\nearth. My soul cannot travel the road to the city of spirits--that long\nroad made by the bravest of our warriors--while it remembers the body\nwhich it has so long inhabited shall be buried far from its native\nvillage. Your words were wise when you told me I had not strength to\ntravel so far, and now my body must lie far from my home--far from the\nplace of my birth--from the village where I have danced the dog feast,\nand from the shores of the 'spirit lakes' where my father taught me to\nuse my bow and arrow.\"\n\n\"Your body shall lie on the scaffold near your native village,\" his wife\nreplied. \"When I turn from this place, I will take with me my husband;\nand my young children shall walk by my side. My heart is as brave now as\nit was when I took the life of the medicine man. The love that gave me\ncourage then, will give me strength now. Fear not for me; my limbs will\nnot be weary, and when the Great Spirit calls me, I will hear his voice,\nand follow you to the land of spirits, where there will be no more\nsickness nor trouble.\"\n\nMany stars shone out that night; they assisted in the solemn and the\nsacred watch. The mother looked at the faces of her sleeping sons, and\nlistened to their heavy breathing; they had but started on the\njourney of life.\n\nShe turned to her husband: it was but the wreck of a deserted house, the\ntenant had departed.\n\nThe warrior was already far on his journey; ere this, he had reached the\nlodge where the freed spirit adorns itself ere entering upon its\nnew abode.\n\nSome days after, Harpstenah entered her native village, bearing a\nprecious burden. Strapped to her back was the body of her husband. By\nday, she had borne it all the weary way; at night, she had stopped to\nrest and to weep. Nor did her strength fail her, until she reached her\nhome; then, insensible to sorrow and fatigue, she sunk to the earth.\n\nThe women relieved her from the burden, and afterwards helped her to\nbury her dead.\n\nMany waters could not quench her love, nor could the floods drown it. It\nwas strong as death.\n\nWell might she sit in her lodge and weep! The village where she passed\nher childhood and youth was deserted. Her husband forgotten by all but\nherself. Her two sons were murdered by the Chippeways, while defending\ntheir mother and their young brother.\n\nWell might she weep! and tremble too, for death among the Dahcotahs\ncomes as often by the fire water purchased from the white people, as\nfrom the murderous tomahawk and scalping-knife of the Chippeways.\n\nNor were her fears useless; she never again saw her son, until his body\nwas brought to her, his dark features stiff in death. The death blow was\ngiven, too, by the friend who had shamed him from listening to his\nmother's voice.\n\n       *        *        *        *        *\n\nWhat wonder that she should not heed the noise of the tempest! The\nstorms of her life had been fiercer than the warring of the elements.\nBut while the fountains of heaven were unsealed, those of her heart were\nclosed forever. Never more should tears relieve her, who had shed so\nmany. Often had she gone into the prairies to weep, far from the sight\nof her companions. Her voice was heard from a distance. The wind would\nwaft the melancholy sound back to the village.\n\n\"It is only Harpstenah,\" said the women. \"She has gone to the prairies\nto weep for her husband and her children.\"\n\nThe storm raged during the night, but ceased with the coming of day. The\nwidowed wife and childless mother was found dead under the scaffold\nwhere lay the body of her son.\n\nThe Thunder Bird was avenged for the death of his friend. The strength\nof Red Deer had wasted under a lingering disease; his children were\ndead; their mother lay beside her youngest son.\n\nThe spirit of the waters had not appeared in vain. When the countenance\nof Unktahe rests upon a Dahcotah, it is the sure prognostic of coming\nevil. The fury of the storm spirits was spent when the soul of\nHarpstenah followed her lost ones.\n\n       *        *        *        *        *\n\nDimly, as the lengthened shadows of evening fall around them, are seen\nthe outstretched arms of the suffering Dahcotah women, as they appeal\nto us for assistance--and not to proud man!\n\nHe, in the halls of legislation, decides when the lands of the red man\nare needed--one party makes a bargain which the other is forced\nto accept.\n\nBut in a woman's heart God has placed sympathies to which the sorrows of\nthe Dahcotah women appeal. Listen! for they tell you they would fain\nknow of a balm for the many griefs they endure; they would be taught to\navoid the many sins they commit; and, oh! how gladly would many of them\nhave their young children accustomed to shudder at the sight of a fellow\ncreature's blood. Like us, they pour out the best affections of early\nyouth on a beloved object. Like us, they have clasped their children to\ntheir hearts in devoted love. Like us, too, they have wept as they laid\nthem in the quiet earth.\n\nBut they must fiercely grapple with trials which we have never\nconceived. Winter after winter passes, and they perish from disease, and\nmurder, and famine.\n\nThere is a way to relieve them--would you know it? Assist the\nmissionaries who are giving their lives to them and God. Send them\nmoney, that they may clothe the feeble infant, and feed its\nstarving mother.\n\nSend them money, that they may supply the wants of those who are sent to\nschool, and thus encourage others to attend.\n\nAs the day of these forgotten ones is passing away, so is ours. They\nwere born to suffer, we to relieve. Let their deathless souls be taught\nthe way of life, that they and we, after the harsh discords of earth\nshall have ceased, may listen together to the \"harmonies of Heaven.\"\n\n\n\n\nHAOKAH OZAPE;\n\n\nTHE DANCE TO THE GIANT\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nThe dance to the Giant is now rarely celebrated among the Dahcotahs. So\nsevere is the sacrifice to this deity, that there are few who have\ncourage to attempt it; and yet Haokah is universally reverenced and\nfeared among the Sioux.\n\nThey believe in the existence of many Giants, but Haokah is one of the\nprincipal. He is styled the anti-natural god. In summer he feels cold,\nin winter he suffers from the heat; hot water is cold to him, and\nthe contrary.\n\nThe Dahcotah warrior, however brave he may be, believes that when he\ndreams of Haokah, calamity is impending and can only be avoided by some\nsort of sacrifice to this god.\n\nThe incident on which this story is founded, occurred while I resided\namong the Sioux. I allude to the desertion of Wenona by her lover. It\nserves to show the blind and ignorant devotion of the Dahcotah to\nhis religion.\n\nAnd as man is ever alike in every country, and under every circumstance\nof life--as he often from selfish motives tramples upon the heart that\ntrusts him--so does woman utterly condemn a sister, feeling no sympathy\nfor her sorrow, but only hatred of her fault.\n\nJealous for the honor of the long-reverenced feasts of the\nDahcotahs--the \"Deer Killer\" thought not for a moment of the sorrow and\ndisgrace he would bring upon Wenona, while Wauska loved the warrior more\nthan ever, triumphing in his preference of her, above her companion.\nAnd Wenona--\n\n     A cloud came o'er the prospect of her life,\n     And evening did set in\n     Early, and dark and deadly.\n\nBut she loved too truly to be jealous, and departed without the revenge\nthat most Indian women would have sought, and accomplished too. Her\nsilence on the subject of her early trial induced her friends to believe\nthat her mind was affected, a situation caused by long and intense\nsuffering, and followed by neglect; in such cases the invalid is said to\n_have no heart_.\n\nThe girl from whom I have attempted to draw the character of Wauska, I\nknew well.\n\nGood looking, with teeth like pearls, her laugh was perfect music. Often\nhave I been roused from my sewing or reading, by hearing the ringing\nnotes, as they were answered by the children. She generally announced\nherself by a laugh, and was welcomed by one in return.\n\nShe was pettish withal, and easily offended, and if refused calico for\nan okendokenda, or beads, or ribbon to ornament some part of her dress,\nshe would sullenly rest her chin on her hand, until pacified with a\npresent, or the promise of one.\n\nIt is in Indian life as in ours--youth believes and trusts, and\nadvancing years bring the consciousness of the trials of life; the\nnecessity of enduring, and in some cases the power to overcome them. Who\nbut she who suffers it, can conceive the Sioux woman's greatest\ntrial--to feel that the love that is her right, is gone! to see another\ntake the place by the household fire, that was hers; to be last where\nshe was first.\n\nIt may require some apology that Wauska should have vowed destruction\nupon herself if the Deer Killer took another wife, and yet should have\nlived on and become that most unromantic of all characters--a virago.\nShe was reconciled in time to what was inevitable, and as there are many\nwives among the Sioux, there must be the proportion of scolding ones. So\nI plead guilty to the charge of wanting sentiment, choosing rather to be\ntrue to nature. And there is this consideration: if there be among the\nDahcotahs some Catharines, there are many Petruchios.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA group of Indian girls were seated on the grass, Wauska in the centre,\nher merry musical laugh echoed back by all but Wenona. The leaves of the\nlarge forest tree under which they were sheltered seemed to vibrate to\nthe joyous sounds, stirred as they were by a light breeze that blew from\nthe St. Peter's. Hark! they laugh again, and \"old John\" wakes up from\nhis noon-day nap and turns a curious, reproving look to the noisy party,\nand Shah-co-pee, the orator of the Sioux, moves towards them, anxious to\nfind out the cause of their mirth.\n\n\"Old John,\" after a hearty stretch, joins them too, and now the fumes\nof the pipe ascend, and mix with the odor of the sweet-scented prairie\ngrass that the young girls are braiding.\n\nBut neither Shah-co-pee the chief, nor old John the medicine man, could\nfind out the secret; they coaxed and threatened in turns--but all in\nvain, for their curiosity was not gratified. They might have noticed,\nhowever, that Wenona's face was pale, and her eyes red with weeping. She\nwas idle too, while the others plaited busily, and there was a subdued\nlook of sadness about her countenance, contrasting strangely with the\nmerry faces of the others.\n\n\"Why did you not tell Shah-co-pee what we were laughing at, Wenona?\"\nsaid Wanska. \"Your secret is known now. The Deer-killer told all at the\nVirgin's feast. Why did you not make him promise not to come? If I had\nbeen you, I would have lain sick the day of the feast, I would have\nstruck my foot, so that I could not walk, or, I would have died before I\nentered the ring.\n\n\"The Deer-killer promised to marry me,\" replied Wenona. \"He said that\nwhen he returned from his hunt I should be his wife. But I know well why\nhe has disgraced me; you have tried to make him love you, and now he is\nwaiting to take you to his lodge. He is not a great warrior, or he would\nhave kept his word.\"\n\n\"Wenona!\" said Wanska, interrupting her, \"you have not minded the advice\nof your grandmother. She told you never to trust the promises of the\nbravest warriors. You should not have believed his words, until he took\nyou to his wigwam. But do not be afraid that I will marry the\nDeer-killer. There was never but one woman among the Dahcotahs who did\nnot marry, and I am going to be the second.\"\n\n\"You had better hush, Wanska,\" said the Bright Star. \"You know she had\nher nose cut off because she refused to be a wife, and somebody may cut\nyours off too. It is better to be the mother of warriors than to have\nevery one laughing at you.\"\n\n\"Enah! then I will be married, rather than have my nose cut off, but I\nwill not be the Deer-killer's wife. So Wenona may stop crying.\"\n\n\"He says he will never marry me,\" said Wenona; \"and it will do me no\ngood for you to refuse to be his wife. But you are a liar, like him; for\nyou know you love him. I am going far away, and the man who has broken\nhis faith to the maiden who trusted him, will never be a good husband.\"\n\n\"If I were Wenona, and you married the Deer-killer,\" said the Bright\nStar to Wanska, \"you should not live long after it. She is a coward or\nshe would not let you laugh at her as you did. I believe _she has no\nheart_ since the Virgin's feast; sometimes she laughs so loud that we\ncan hear her from our teepee, and then she bends her head and weeps.\nWhen her mother places food before her she says, 'Will he bring the meat\nof the young deer for me to dress for him, and will my lodge be ever\nfull of food, that I may offer it to the hungry and weary stranger who\nstops to rest himself?' If I were in her place, Wanska,\" added the\nBright Star, \"I would try and be a medicine woman, and I would throw a\nspell upon the Deer-killer, and upon you too, if you married him.\"\n\n\"The Deer-killer is coming,\" said another of the girls. \"He has been\nwatching us; and now that he sees Wenona has gone away, he is coming to\ntalk to Wanska. He wears many eagle feathers: Wenona may well weep that\nshe cannot be his wife, for there is not a warrior in the village who\nsteps so proudly as he.\"\n\nBut he advanced and passed them indifferently. By and by they separated,\nwhen he followed Wanska to her father's teepee.\n\nHer mother and father had gone to dispose of game in exchange for bread\nand flour, and the Deer-killer seated himself uninvited on the floor of\nthe lodge.\n\n\"The teepee of the warrior is lonely when he returns from hunting,\" said\nhe to the maiden. \"Wanska must come to the lodge of the Deer-killer. She\nshall ever have the tender flesh of the deer and buffalo to refresh her,\nand no other wife shall be there to make her unhappy.\"\n\n\"Wanska is very happy now,\" she replied. \"Her father is a good hunter.\nHe has gone to-day to carry ducks and pigeons to the Fort. The promises\nof the Deer-killer are like the branch that breaks in my hand. Wenona's\nface is pale, and her eyes are red like blood from weeping. The\nDeer-killer promised to make her his wife, and now that he has broken\nhis word to her, he tells Wanska that he will never take another wife,\nbut she cannot trust him.\"\n\n\"Wanska was well named the Merry Heart,\" the warrior replied; \"she\nlaughs at Wenona and calls her a fool, and then she wishes me to marry\nher. Who would listen to a woman's words? And yet the voice of the Merry\nHeart is sweeter than a bird's--her laugh makes my spirit glad. When she\nsits in my lodge and sings to the children who will call me father, I\nshall be happy. Many women have loved the Deer-killer, but never has he\ncared to sit beside one, till he heard the voice of Wanska as she sang\nin the scalp-dance, and saw her bear the scalp of her enemy upon her\nshoulders.\"\n\nWanska's face was pale while she listened to him. She approached him,\nand laid her small hand upon his arm--\"I have heard your words, and my\nheart says they are good. I have loved you ever since we were children.\nWhen I was told that you were always by the side of Wenona, the laugh of\nmy companions was hateful to me--the light of the sun was darkness to my\neyes. When Wenona returned to her village with her parents, I said in\nthe presence of the Great Spirit that she should not live after you had\nmade her your wife. But her looks told me that there was sadness in her\nheart, and then I knew you could not love her.\n\n\"You promise me you will never bring another wife to your wigwam.\nDeer-killer! the wife of the white man is happy, for her husband loves\nher alone. The children of the second wife do not mock the woman who is\nno longer beloved, nor strike her children before her eyes. When I am\nyour wife I shall be happy while you love me; there will be no night in\nmy teepee while I know your heart is faithful and true; but should you\nbreak your word to me, and bring to your lodge another wife, you shall\nsee me no more, and the voice whose sound is music to your ears you will\nnever hear again.\"\n\nPromises come as readily to the lips of an Indian lover as trustfulness\ndoes to the heart of the woman who listens to them; and the Deer-killer\nwas believed.\n\nWanska had been often at the Fort, and she had seen the difference\nbetween the life of a white and that of an Indian woman. She had thought\nthat the Great Spirit was unmindful of the cares of his children.\n\nAnd who would have thought that care was known to Wanska, with her merry\nlaugh, and her never-ceasing jokes, whether played upon her young\ncompanions, or on the old medicine man who kept everybody but her in\nawe of him.\n\nShe seemed to be everywhere too, at the same time. Her canoe dances\nlightly over the St. Peter's, and her companions try in vain to keep up\nwith her. Soon her clear voice is heard as she sings, keeping time with\nthe strokes of the axe she uses so skilfully. A peal of laughter rouses\nthe old woman, her mother, who goes to bring the truant home, but she is\ngone, and when she returns, in time to see the red sun fade away in the\nbright horizon, she tells her mother that she went out with two or three\nother girls, to assist the hunters in bringing in the deer they had\nkilled. And her mother for once does not scold, for she remembers how\nshe used to love to wander on the prairies, when her heart was as light\nand happy as her child's.\n\nWhen Wanska was told that the Deer-killer loved Wenona, no one heard her\nsighs, and for tears, she was too proud to shed any. Wenona's fault had\nmet with ridicule and contempt; there was neither sympathy nor excuse\nfound for her. And now that the Deer-killer had slighted Wenona, and had\npromised to love her alone, there was nothing wanting to her happiness.\n\nBright tears of joy fell from her eyes when her lover said there was a\nspell over him when he loved Wenona, but now his spirit was free; that\nhe would ever love her truly, and that when her parents returned he\nwould bring rich presents and lay them at the door of the lodge.\n\nWanska was indeed \"the Merry Heart,\" for she loved the Deer-killer more\nthan life itself, and life was to her a long perspective of brightness.\nShe would lightly tread the journey of existence by his side, and when\nwearied with the joys of this world, they would together travel the road\nthat leads to the Heaven of the Dahcotahs.\n\nShe sat dreaming of the future after the Deer-killer had left her, nor\nknew of her parents' return until she heard her mother's sharp voice as\nshe asked her \"if the corn would boil when the fire was out, and where\nwas the bread that she was told to have ready on their return?\"\n\nBread and corn! when Wanska had forgot all but that she was beloved. She\narose quickly, and her light laugh drowned her mother's scolding. Soon\nher good humor was infectious, for her mother told her that she had\nneedles and thread in plenty, besides more flour and sugar, and that her\nfather was going out early in the morning to kill more game for the Long\nKnives who loved it so well.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nA few months ago, the Deer-killer had told Wenona that Wanska was noisy\nand tiresome, and that her soft dark eyes were far more beautiful than\nWanska's laughing ones. They were not at home then, for Wenona had\naccompanied her parents on a visit to some relations who lived far above\nthe village of Shah-co-pee.\n\nWhile there the Deer-killer came in with some warriors who had been on a\nwar party; there Wenona was assured that her rival, the Merry Heart, was\nforgotten.\n\nAnd well might the Deer-killer and Wenona have loved each other. \"Youth\nturns to youth as the flower to the sun,\" and he was brave and noble in\nhis pride and power; and she, gentle and loving, though an Indian woman;\nso quiet too, and all unlike Wanska, who was the noisiest little gossip\nin the village.\n\nOften had they wandered together through the \"solemn temples of the\nearth,\" nor did she ever fear, with the warrior child for a protector.\nShe had followed him when he ascended the cliffs where the tracks of the\neagle were seen; and with him she felt safe when the wind was tossing\ntheir canoe on the Mississippi, when the storm spirits had arisen in\ntheir power. They were still children when Wenona would know his step\namong many others, but they were no longer children when Wenona left\nShah-co-pee's village, for she loved with a woman's devotion--and more\nthan loved. She had trembled when she saw the Deer-killer watch Wanska\nas she tripped merrily about the village. Sleeping or waking, his image\nwas ever before her; he was the idol to which her spirit bowed, the sun\nof her little world.\n\nThe dance to the giant was to be celebrated at the village where they\nwere visiting; the father of Wenona and \"Old John\" the medicine man,\nwere to join in it. The maiden had been nothing loth to undertake the\njourney, for the Deer-killer had gone on a war party against the\nChippeways, and she thought that in the course of their journey they\nmight meet him--and when away from Wanska, he would return to her side.\nHe could not despise the love she had given him. Hope, that bright star\nof youth, hovered over her, and its light was reflected on her heart.\n\nWhen they arrived at the village of the chief Markeda, or \"Burning\nEarth,\" the haughty brow of the chief was subdued with care. He had\ndreamed of Haokah the giant, and he knew there was sorrow or danger\nthreatening him. He had sinned against the giant, and what might be the\nconsequence of offending him? Was his powerful arm to be laid low, and\nthe strong pulse to cease its beatings? Did his dream portend the loss\nof his young wife? She was almost as dear to him as the fleet hunter\nthat bore him to the chase.\n\nIt might be that the angry god would send their enemies among them, and\nhis tall sons would gladden his sight no more. Sickness and hunger,\nphantom-like, haunted his waking and sleeping hours.\n\nThere was one hope; he might yet ward off the danger, for the uplifted\narm of the god had not fallen. He hoped to appease the anger of the\ngiant by dancing in his honor.\n\n\"We have travelled far,\" said old John the medicine man, to Markeda,\n\"and are tired. When we have slept we will dance with you, for we are of\nthe giant's party.\"\n\n\"Great is Haokah, the giant of the Dahcotahs,\" the chief replied; \"it is\na long time since we have danced to him.\"\n\n\"I had been hunting with my warriors, we chased the buffalo, and our\narrows pierced their sides; they turned upon us, bellowing, their heads\nbeating the ground; their terrible eyes glared upon us even in death;\nthey rolled in the dust, for their strength was gone. We brought them to\nthe village for our women to prepare for us when we should need them. I\nhad eaten and was refreshed; and, tired as my limbs were, I could not\nsleep at first, but at last the fire grew dim before my eyes, and\nI slept.\n\n\"I stood on the prairie alone, in my dream, and the giant appeared\nbefore me. So tall was he that the clouds seemed to float about his\nhead. I trembled at the sound of his voice, it was as if the angry winds\nwere loosed upon the earth.\n\n\"'The warriors of the Dahcotahs are turned women,' said he; 'that they\nno longer dance in honor of the giant, nor sing his songs. Markeda is\nnot a coward, but let him tremble; he is not a child, but he may shed\ntears if the anger of the giant comes upon him.'\n\n\"Glad was I when I woke from my dream--and now, lest I am punished for\nmy sins, I will make a sacrifice to the giant. Should I not fear him who\nis so powerful? Can he not take the thunder in his hand and cast it to\nthe earth?\n\n\"The heart of the warrior should be brave when he dances to the giant.\nMy wigwam is ready, and the friends of the giant are ready also.\"\n\n\"Give me your mocassins,\" said the young wife of Markeda to old John;\n\"they are torn, and I will mend them. You have come from afar, and are\nwelcome. Sleep, and when you awake, you will find them beside you.\" As\nshe assisted him to take them off, the medicine man looked admiringly\ninto her face. \"The young wife of Markeda is as beautiful as the white\nflowers that spring up on the prairies. Her husband would mourn for her\nif the giant should close her eyes. They are bright now, as the stars,\nbut death would dim them, should not the anger of the giant be\nappeased.\"\n\nThe \"Bounding Fawn\" turned pale at the mention of the angry giant; she\nsat down, without replying, to her work; wondering the while, if the\nsoul of her early love thought of her, now that it wandered in the\nSpirit's land. It might be that he would love her again when they should\nmeet there. The sound of her child's voice, awakening out of sleep,\naroused her, and called to her mind who was its father.\n\n\"They tore me away from my lover, and made me come to the teepee of the\nchief,\" was her bitter reflection. \"Enah! that I cannot love the father\nof my child.\"\n\nShe rose and left the teepee. \"Where is the heaven of the Dahcotahs,\"\nshe murmured, as she looked up to the silent stars. \"It may be that I\nshall see him again. He will love my child too, and I will forget the\nmany tears I have shed.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nThe dance to the Giant is always performed inside the wigwam. Early in\nthe morning the dancers were assembled in the chief's lodge. Their dress\nwas such as is appointed for the occasion. Their hats were made of the\nbark of trees, such as tradition says the Giant wears. They were large,\nand made forked like the lightning. Their leggins were made of skins.\nTheir ear-rings were of the bark of trees, and were about one foot long.\n\nThe chief rose ere the dawn of day, and stood before the fire. As the\nflames flickered, and the shadows of the dancers played fantastically\nabout the wigwam, they looked more like Lucifer and a party of attendant\nspirits, than like human beings worshipping their God.\n\nMarkeda stood by the fire without noticing his guests, who awaited his\nmotions in silence. At last, moving slowly, he placed a kettle of water\non the fire, and then threw into it a large piece of buffalo meat.\n\nLighting his pipe, he seated himself, and then the dancers advanced to\nthe fire and lit theirs; and soon they were enveloped in a cloud\nof smoke.\n\nWhen the water began to boil, the Indians arose, and, dancing round the\nfire, imitated the voice of the Giant.\n\n\"Hah-hah! hah hah!\" they sung, and each endeavored to drown the voice of\nthe other. Now they crouch as they dance, looking diminutive and\ncontemptible, as those who are degrading themselves in their most sacred\nduties. Then they rise up, and show their full height. Stalwart warriors\nas they are, their keen eyes flash as they glance from the fire to each\nothers' faces, distorted with the effort of uttering such discordant\nsounds. Now their broad chests heave with the exertion, and their breath\ncomes quickly.\n\nThey seat themselves, to rest and smoke. Again the hellish sounds are\nheard, and the wife of the chief trembles for fear of the Giant, and her\nchild clings closer to her breast. The water boils, and, hissing, falls\nover into the fire, the flames are darkened for a moment, and then burst\nup brighter than before.\n\nMarkeda addresses the dancers--\"Warriors! the Giant is powerful--the\nwater which boils before us will be cold when touched by a friend of the\nGiant. Haokah will not that his friends should suffer when offering him\na sacrifice.\"\n\nThe warriors then advanced together, and each one puts his hand into the\nkettle and takes the meat from the boiling water; and although suffering\nfrom the scalds produced, yet their calmness in enduring the pain, would\ninduce the belief that the water really felt to them cool and pleasant.\n\nThe meat is then taken out, and put into a wooden dish, and the water\nleft boiling on the fire. The dancers eat the meat while hot, and again\nthey arrange themselves to dance. And now, the mighty power of the Giant\nis shown, for Markeda advances to the kettle, and taking some water out\nof it he throws it upon his bare back, singing all the while, \"The\nwater is cold.\"\n\n\"Old John\" advances and does the same, followed by the next in turn,\nuntil the water is exhausted from the kettle, and then the warriors\nexclaim, \"How great is the power of Haokah! we have thrown boiling water\nupon ourselves and we have not been scalded.\"\n\nThe dance is over--the sacrifice is made. Markeda seeks his young wife\nand fears not. He had fancied that her cheeks were pale of late, but now\nthey are flushed brilliantly, his heart is at rest.\n\nThe warriors disperse, all but the medicine man, and the chief's store\nof buffalo meat diminishes rapidly under the magic touch of the epicure.\n\nYes! an epicure thou wert old John! for I mind me well when thou camest\nat dinner time, and how thou saidst thou couldst eat the food of the\nIndian when thou wert hungry, but the food of the white man was better\nfar. And thou! a Dahcotah warrior, a famous hunter, and a medicine man.\nShame! that thou shouldst have loved venison dressed with wine more than\nwhen the tender meat was cooked according to the taste of the women of\nthy nation. I have forgotten thy Indian name, renegade as thou wert! but\nthou answerest as well to \"old John!\"\n\nThou art now forgotten clay, though strong and vigorous when in wisdom\nthe Sioux were punished for a fault they did not commit. Their money was\nnot paid them--their provisions were withheld. Many were laid low, and\nthou hast found before now that God is the Great Spirit, and the Giant\nHaokah is not.\n\nAnd it may be that thou wouldst fain have those thou hast left on earth\nknow of His power, who is above all spirits, and of His goodness who\nwould have all come unto Him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nWenona had not hoped in vain, for her lover was with her, and Wanska\nseemed to be forgotten. The warrior's flute would draw her out from her\nuncle's lodge while the moon rose o'er the cold waters. Wrapped in her\nblanket, she would hasten to meet him, and listen to his assurances of\naffection, wondering the while that she had ever feared he\nloved another.\n\nShe had been some months at the village of Markeda, and she went to meet\nher lover with a heavy heart. Her mother had noticed that her looks were\nsad and heavy, and Wenona knew that it would not be long ere she should\nbe a happy wife, or a mark for the bitter scorn of her companions.\n\nThe Deer-killer had promised, day after day, that he would make her his\nwife, but he ever found a ready excuse; and now he was going on a long\nhunt, and she and her parents were to return to their village. His\nquiver was full of arrows, and his leggins were tightly girded upon him.\nWenona's full heart was nigh bursting as she heard that the party were\nto leave to-morrow. Should he desert her, her parents would kill her for\ndisgracing them; and her rival, Wanska, how would she triumph over\nher fall?\n\n\"You say that you love me,\" said she to the Deer-killer, \"and yet you\ntreat me cruelly. Why should you leave me without saying that I am your\nwife? Who would watch for your coming as I would? and you will disgrace\nme when I have loved you so truly. Stay--tell them you have made me your\nwife, and then will I wait for you at the door of my teepee.\"\n\nThe warrior could not stay from the chase, but he promised her that he\nwould soon return to their village, and then she should be his wife.\n\nWenona wept when he left her; shadows had fallen upon her heart, and yet\nshe hoped on. Turning her weary steps homeward, she arrived there when\nthe maidens of the village were preparing to celebrate the\nVirgin's Feast.\n\nThere was no time to deliberate--should she absent herself, she would be\nsuspected, and yet a little while ere the Deer-killer would return, and\nher anxious heart would be at rest.\n\nThe feast was prepared, and the crier called for all virgins to enter\nthe sacred ring.\n\nWenona went forward with a beating heart; she was not a wife, and soon\nmust be a mother. Wanska, the Merry Heart, was there, and many others\nwho wondered at the pale looks of Wenona--she who had been on a journey,\nand who ought to have returned with color bright as the dying sun, whose\nlight illumined earth, sky and water.\n\nAs they entered the ring a party of warriors approached the circle.\nWenona does not look towards them, and yet the throbbings of her heart\nwere not to be endured. Her trembling limbs refused to sustain her, as\nthe Deer-killer, stalking towards the ring, calls aloud--\"Take her from\nthe sacred feast; should she eat with the maidens?--she, under whose\nbosom lies a warrior's child? She is unworthy.\"\n\nAnd as the unhappy girl, with features of stone and glaring eyes, gazed\nupon him bewildered, he rudely led her from the ring.\n\nWenona bowed her head and went--even as night came on when the sun went\ndown. Nor did the heart of the Deer-killer reproach him, for how dare\nshe offend the Great Spirit! Were not the customs of his race holy\nand sacred?\n\nLittle to Wenona were her father's reproaches, or her mother's curse;\nthat she was no more beloved was all she remembered.\n\nAgain was the Deer-killer by the side of Wanska, and she paid the\npenalty. Her husband brought other wives to his wigwam, though Wanska\nwas ever the favorite one.\n\nWith her own hand would she put the others out of the wigwam, laughing\nwhen they threatened to tell their lord when he returned, for Wanska\nmanaged to tell her own story first; and, termagant as she was, she\nalways had her own way.\n\nWenona has ceased to weep, and far away in the country of the Sissetons\nshe toils and watches as all Indian women toil and watch. Her young son\nfollows her as she seeks the suffering Dahcotah, and charms the disease\nto leave his feeble frame.\n\nShe tells to the child and the aged woman her dreams; she warns the\nwarrior what he shall meet with when he goes to battle; and ever, as the\nyoung girls assemble to pass away the idle hours, she stops and\nwhispers to them.\n\nIn vain do they ask of her husband: she only points to her son and says,\n\"My hair, which is now like snow, was once black and braided like his,\nand my eyes as bright. They have wept until tears come no more. Listen\nnot to the warrior who says he loves.\" And she passes from their sight\nas the morning mists.\n\n\n\n\nU-MI-NE-WAH-CHIPPE;\n\nOR,\n\nTO DANCE AROUND.\n\nI have noticed the many singular notions of the Sioux concerning\nthunder, and especially the fact that they believe it to be a large\nbird. They represent it thus. [Illustration:] This figure is often seen\nworked with porcupine quills on their ornaments. Ke-on means to fly.\nThunder is called Wah-ke-on or All-flier. U-mi-ne-wah-chippe is a dance\ngiven by some one who fears thunder and thus endeavors to propitiate the\ngod and save his own life.\n\nA ring is made, of about sixty feet in circumference, by sticking\nsaplings in the ground, and bending their tops down, fastening them\ntogether. In the centre of this ring a pole is placed. The pole is about\nfifteen feet in height and painted red. From this swings a piece of\nbirch bark, cut so as to represent thunder. At the foot of the pole\nstand two boys and two girls.\n\nThe two boys represent war: they are painted red, and hold war-clubs in\ntheir hands. The girls have their faces painted with blue clay: they\nrepresent peace.\n\nOn one side of the circle a kind of booth is erected, and about twenty\nfeet from it a wigwam. There are four entrances to this circle.\n\nWhen all the arrangements for the dance are concluded, the man who\ngives the dance emerges from his wigwam dressed up as hideously as\npossible, crawling on all fours towards the booth. He must sing four\ntunes before reaching it.\n\nIn the meantime the medicine men, who are seated in the wigwam, beat\ntime on the drum, and the young men and squaws keep time to the music by\nfirst hopping on one foot, and then on the other--moving around inside\nthe ring as fast as they can. This is continued for about five minutes,\nuntil the music stops. After resting a few moments, the second tune\ncommences, and lasts the same length of time, then the third, and the\nfourth; the Indian meanwhile making his way towards the booth. At the\nend of each tune, a whoop is raised by the men dancers.\n\nAfter the Indian has reached his booth inside the ring, he must sing\nfour more tunes as before. At the end of the fourth tune the squaws all\nrun out of the ring as fast as possible, and must leave by the same way\nthat they entered, the other three entrances being reserved for the men,\nwho, carrying their war implements, might be accidentally touched by one\nof the squaws--and the war implements of the Sioux warrior have from\ntime immemorial been held sacred from the touch of woman. For the same\nreason the men form the inner ring in dancing round the pole, their war\nimplements being placed at the foot of the pole.\n\nWhen the last tune is ended, the young men shoot at the image of thunder\nwhich is hanging to the pole, and when it falls a general rush is made\nby the warriors to get hold of it. There is placed at the foot of the\npole a bowl of water colored with blue clay. While the men are trying\nto seize the parts of the bark representation of their god, they at the\nsame time are eagerly endeavoring to drink the water in the bowl, every\ndrop of which must be drank.\n\nThe warriors then seize on the two boys and girls--the representations\nof war and peace--and use them as roughly as possible--taking their\npipes and war-clubs from them, and rolling them in the dirt until the\npaint is entirely rubbed off from their faces. Much as they dislike this\npart of the dance, they submit to it through fear, believing that after\nthis performance the power of thunder is destroyed.\n\nNow that the water is drank up and the guardians of the Thunder bird are\ndeprived of their war-clubs and pipes, a terrible wailing commences. No\ndescription could convey an idea of the noise made by their crying and\nlamentation. All join in, exerting to the utmost the strength of\ntheir lungs.\n\nBefore the men shoot at thunder, the squaws must leave the ring. No one\nsings at this dance but the warrior who gives it; and while the\nvisitors, the dancers, and the medicine men, women and children, all are\narrayed in their gayest clothing, the host must be dressed in\nhis meanest.\n\nIn the dance Ahahkah Koyah, or to make the Elk a figure of thunder, is\nalso made and fought against. The Sioux have a great deference for the\nmajesty of thunder, and, consequently for their own skill in prevailing\nor seeming to prevail against it.\n\nA Sioux is always alarmed after dreaming of an elk, and soon prevails\nupon some of his friends to assist him in dancing, to prevent any evil\nconsequences resulting from his dream. Those willing to join in must lay\naside all clothing, painting their bodies with a reddish gray color,\nlike the elk's. Each Indian must procure two long saplings, leaving the\nboughs upon them. These are to aid the Indians in running. The saplings\nmust be about twelve feet in length. With them they tear down the bark\nimage of thunder, which is hung with a string to the top of the pole.\n\nAll being ready, the elks run off at a gallop, assisted by their\nsaplings, to within about two hundred yards of the pole, when they stop\nfor a while, and then start again for the pole, to which is attached the\nfigure of thunder.\n\nThey continue running round and round this pole, constantly striking the\nfigure of thunder with their saplings, endeavoring to knock it down,\nwhich after a while they succeed in accomplishing.\n\nThe ceremony is now ended, and the dreamer has nothing to fear from elks\nuntil he dreams again.\n\nThere is no end to the superstitions and fancies entertained by the\nSioux concerning thunder. On the cradle of the Indian child we\nfrequently see the figure of thunder represented. It is generally carved\non the wood by the father of the child, with representations of the Elk,\naccompanied with hieroglyphic looking figures, but thunder is regarded\nas the type of all animals that fly.\n\nThere are many medicine feasts--and I saw one celebrated near the Oak\nGrove mission, and near, also, to the villages of Good Road, and the\nchief Man in the Clouds. It was on a dark cold day about the first of\nMarch. We left the fort at about nine o'clock and followed the road on\nthe St. Peter's river, which had been used for many months, but which,\nthough still strong, was beginning to look unsafe. As we advanced\ntowards the scene of the feast, many Indians from every direction were\ncollecting, and hurrying forward, either to join in the ceremony about\nto be celebrated, or to be spectators. We ascended quite a high hill,\nand were then at the spot where all the arrangements were made to\ncelebrate one of the most sacred forms of their religion. Many of the\nIndians to be engaged in the performance were entirely without\nprotection from the severe cold--their bodies being painted and their\nheads adorned with their choicest ornaments, but throwing aside even\ntheir blankets, according to the laws of the ceremony. The Indians\ncontinued to assemble. At eleven o'clock, the dance commenced. Although\nI could not faithfully describe, yet I never can forget the scene. The\ndark lowering sky--the mantle of snow and ice thrown over all the\nobjects that surrounded us, except the fierce human beings who were\nthus, under Heaven's arch for a roof, about to offer to their deities a\nsolemn worship.\n\nThen the music commenced, and the horrid sounds increased the wildness\nof the scene; and the contortions of the medicine man, as he went round\nand round, made his countenance horrible beyond expression. The devoted\nattention of the savages, given to every part of the ceremony, made it\nin a measure interesting. There were hundreds of human beings believing\nin a Great Spirit, and anxious to offer him acceptable service; but how\ndegraded in that service! How fallen from its high estate was the soul\nthat God had made, when it stooped to worship the bones of animals, the\nsenseless rock, the very earth that we stood upon! The aged man,\ntrembling with feebleness, ready to depart to the spirit's land, weary\nwith the weight of his infirmities--the warrior treading the earth\nwith the pride of middle age--the young with nothing to regret and\neverything to look forward to,--all uniting in a worship which they\nignorantly believe to be religion, but which we know to be idolatry.\n\nI was glad to leave the scene, and turn towards the house of the Rev.\nMr. Pond, who lives near the spot where the feast was celebrated. Here,\npursuing his duties and studies, does this excellent man improve every\nmoment of his time to the advantage of the Sioux. Always ready to\nconverse kindly with them in order to gain their confidence--giving\nmedicine to the sick, and food to the hungry; doing all that lies in his\npower to administer to their temporal comfort, he labors to improve\ntheir condition as a people. How can it better be done than by\nintroducing the Christian religion among them? This the missionaries are\ngradually doing; and did they receive proper assistance from government,\nand from religious societies, they would indeed go on their way\nrejoicing.\n\nPlaced under the government of the United States, these helpless,\nunhappy beings are dependent upon us for the means of subsistence, in a\nmeasure, and how much more for the knowledge of the true God? Churches\nwill soon rise where the odious feast and medicine dance are celebrated,\nbut will the Indians worship there? When the foundations of these\nchurches are laid, the bones of the original owners of the country will\nbe thrown out--but where will be the souls of those who were thrust out\nof their country and their rights to make way for us?\n\nI have seen where literally two or three were met together--where in a\ndistant country the few who celebrated the death of the Redeemer were\nassembled--where the beautiful service of our church was read, and the\nhearts that heard it responded to its animating truths. We rejoiced that\nthe religion which was our comfort was not confined to places; here were\nno altars, nor marble tablets--but here in this humble house we knew God\nwould meet and be with us.\n\nAn Indian silently opened the church door and entered. As strange to him\nwas the solemn decorum of this scene, as to us were the useless\nceremonies we every day witnessed. He watched the countenance of the\nclergyman, but he knew not that he was preaching the doctrine of a\nuniversal religion. He saw the sacred book upon the desk, but he could\nnot read the glorious doctrine of a world redeemed by a Saviour's blood.\nHe heard the voice of prayer, but how could his soul like ours rise as\non eagle's wings, and ascend to the throne of God! Who was he, this\nintruder? It may be a descendant of those who guarded the oracles of\nGod, who for a time preserved them for us.\n\nNo wonder he tired and turned away. Not his the fault that he did not\njoin in the solemn service, but ours. If we disregard the temporal wants\nof the Dahcotah, can we shut our ears against their cry, that rises up\nday after day, and year after year,--Show us the path to happiness\nand God?","title":"Dahcotah: Life and Legends of the Sioux Around Fort Snelling","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":77102}