{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_20826/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_20826","id":"gutenberg_20826","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/20826","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - American","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Indians of North America -- Folklore","Native America"],"text":"Produced by David Schaal, Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and\nthe Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttp://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images\ngenerously made available by the Canadian Institute for\nHistorical Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org))\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTRADITIONS OF THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS:\n\n               BEING\n\n    A SECOND AND REVISED EDITION OF\n\n      \"TALES OF AN INDIAN CAMP.\"\n\n                  BY\n\n         JAMES ATHEARN JONES.\n\n           IN THREE VOLUMES.\n\n                VOL. I.\n\n\nLONDON:\nHENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY,\nNEW BULINGTON STREET. 1830\nF. SHOBERL, JUN., LONG ACRE.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: _Designed & Etched by W. H. Brooks, A. R. H. A._\n    I bore her away in my arms from the battle of Warriors. _page 23_.\n_London, Published by Colburn & Bentley, April 1830_.]\n\n\n\n\nTO\n\nWASHINGTON IRVING, ESQ.\n\n\nTHESE VOLUMES ARE RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BY HIS\nFRIEND AND COUNTRYMAN, THE AUTHOR.\n\n\n\n\nADVERTISEMENT.\n\n\nIt has been thought that the introduction prefixed to the first edition,\nand which was intended as a mere framework upon which to hang the\ntraditions, was not satisfactorily contrived, and that the title did not\nset forth the true nature of the work. I think so myself, and have\ntherefore suppressed that introduction, and given to the work a strictly\naccurate title. I have supplied the place of the introduction with a\nbrief statement of the opportunities I have had of studying the Indian\ncharacter, and with an exhibition of proofs of the genuineness of the\ntraditions themselves. The public having been pleased to say that \"_if_\nthe matter was genuine, the manner was good,\" and that a successful\nattempt to \"stamp the legends with the character of authenticity\" would\nelevate them to the dignity of \"historical records,\" I have been at some\npains to collect and offer the required proofs.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n\nI was born within twelve miles of a principal tribe of Indians, within\ntwo miles of a small band, and within six miles of two other small bands,\nof that tribe. They were a remnant of the Pawkunnawkuts, who, at the\nfirst settlement of the country, were a very numerous, powerful, and\nwarlike nation, but at the time of my birth had dwindled in numbers to\nabout five hundred souls, and were restricted in territory to some\nsix or seven thousand acres. They then, and at present, sank their\nprimitive appellation in the less poetic name of Gayheads, which was\ngiven them by the white people with reference to the little elbow or\npromontory of land where they lived. Though the manners and customs of\nthe Whites had made sad inroads on the primitive Indian character,\nthere yet remained, at the time of my birth, enough to make them\nobjects of ardent and profitable interest.\n\nThe recollections of my earliest childhood are of Indians. My\ngrandfather had an old Indian woman in his house for the greater part\nof the first fifteen years of my life. Our house-servants and\nfield-labourers were chiefly Indians. It was my grandfather's custom,\nand had been that of his ancestors, ever since their settlement, a\nhundred and fifty years ago, in the vicinity of the tribe, to take\nIndian boys at the age of four or five years, and keep them until they\nhad attained their majority, when they usually left us, chiefly to\nbecome sailors--an employment in which their services were specially\nvalued. During my minority we had three of these little foresters in our\nhouse, and these drew around them their fathers, and mothers, and\nsisters, and brothers: very frequently our house was an \"Indian Camp\"\nindeed. From the boys I learned the sports and pastimes of Indian\nchildhood, and, from the aged, their traditional history and wild\nlegends of supernatural horrors. So thoroughly has my mind become imbued\nwith their superstitions, that at times I find difficulty in reconciling\nmyself to the plain matter-of-fact narratives of the men of my own creed\nand colour. I have to pinch myself like one awaking from an unpleasant\ndream, and to say to the wild creations of Indian fancy, \"Ye are shadows\nall.\"\n\nIt is quite impossible that any one, who has not been among and \"of\"\nthe North American Indians, should be able to form even a tolerable idea\nof the extent to which they are acted upon by their superstitions. They\nare governed entirely by them; they enter into their conceptions of\nevery occurrence. The old Indian woman, before mentioned, afforded a\nstriking example of the strength of their faith in these \"thick coming\nfancies.\" There was nothing, I believe I may say in the world, which was\nnot with her a \"spirit.\" The waves were \"spirits\"--the meteors were\n\"spirits\"--the winds singing their lullabies were \"spirits\"--the\nthunders were \"spirits.\" In the long winter evenings, when seated before\nthe wood fire, which at that season of the year is perpetually burning\non a New England hearth, the sound was heard of a cricket chirping in\nthe hollow wood; starting with alarm she would exclaim \"a spirit!\" and\nminutes would elapse before she would regain her composure. Seated in a\nlittle chair at her side, how I used to enjoy her long but never tedious\nstories of the wonderful things she had seen and heard--of the phantoms\nwhich had visited her bedside, or whispered strange things in her\near--of the several conversations she had had, face to face, with the\nFather of Evil! Once in particular she had seen the latter grim\npersonage when she was returning from a \"husking frolic,\" _i.e._ an\nassemblage of persons met for the purpose of stripping the husks from\nIndian corn. She described him as a rather tall and exceedingly gaunt\nold gentleman, wearing his hair much as Andrew Skurliewhitter is\ndescribed as wearing his in \"The Fortunes of Nigel;\" his face the colour\nof flame, his eyes green as grass, an enormous yellow cocked hat upon\nhis head, and his robe of woven sea-weed. She averred that he had\nneither a club foot as some have pretended, nor a \"sooty black skin\"\naccording to the opinion of others. She described the spot where she saw\nhim with such exceeding accuracy, that I never thereafter, for more than\nten years, passed the particular \"bush in the little valley, three steps\nfrom the gate,\" by daylight, without a shudder, and never at all by\nnight. She had seen the spirit of her mother, too, employed in knitting\nwoollen hose for her father's spirit. There was not one of my ancestors\nto whom she had been personally known--and she was very aged at the time\nof my birth--who had not appeared to her after death, each \"with a\ncircumstance\" whose simplicity and truth to nature almost impressed you\nwith a belief that such a thing had really been.--I implicitly believed\nall old Mima's stories, for could I be made to entertain a suspicion\nthat she who watched every night by my pillow, and gathered me berries,\nand waded into the water to pluck lilies for me, and procured me a\nthousand playthings--the devices of savage ingenuity--could tell me\nfalse tales? It was from this aged Indian woman that I heard some of\nthe traditions which are recorded in these volumes; and from these\npreceptors and playmates of my childhood I acquired that acquaintance\nwith their manners, customs, and superstitions, and knowledge of their\ndisposition, and imbibed that sympathy with their sufferings, which have\nled to the publication of these volumes. I feel, indeed, a singular\ninterest in them--an interest the strength of which is scarcely to be\naccounted for on the common principles of youthful friendships.\n\nMy acquaintance with them did not terminate with the period which sent\nme forth into the wide world a traveller for gain or pleasure, an\nadventurer in quest of wealth or happiness. I have since travelled among\nthe Chickasaws, the Cherokees, the Creeks, and the Shawanos, besides the\nnondescripts who figure in the drunken riots which daily occur on the\nLevee of the city of New Orleans. And my frequent visits to the scenes\nof my childhood, and renewal of acquaintance with the red associates of\nmy youth, have served to keep alive and vivid the recollections of\nthe period which may be said to have afforded me almost as many\nopportunities of studying their character as if I had been born an\nIndian.\n\nI conceived, more than ten years ago, the idea of collecting the various\ntraditions and popular Indian stories, with a view to their publication\nat a convenient day. Believing that a collection of their traditions,\nillustrated by elaborate notices of their peculiar customs and manners,\nwould be both instructive and amusing, I set myself down to the reading\nof the books which should add to the fund of legendary lore I had\nacquired by my residence among them. In all my travels, and these have\nbeen through every state but one in the American Union, and the\n\"territories,\" with the exception of Michigan and the \"North Western,\"\nmy inquiries have been for \"Indians,\" and respecting \"Indian\ntraditions.\" If I saw an Indian, I questioned him as to his ideas of a\nfuture state, the creation of man, &c. and endeavoured to wile from him\nan \"auld warld story,\" to use Edie Ochiltree's language. I think I have\nnever lost sight of my object in any situation where any thing could be\ndone for its advancement.\n\nI had been early led to place a greater value upon the traditions of the\nIndians than has been attached to them by those who do not view them as\na series of authentic annals. For myself, I hold them in the light of\nhistorical records, mixed up indeed with much that is fabulous, but not\nin a greater degree than the early annals of other unenlightened\nnations, who could not perpetuate them by means of letters. After all it\nwill remain for the reader to fix the degree of estimation in which\nthese traditions shall be held, and to determine the degree of credit\nthat is to be attached to them.\n\nI cannot but think that I have rendered an acceptable service to the\nworld in preserving these traditions from the oblivion that surely\nawaits them in their uncollected state. The North American Indians are a\npeople, who, in the nature of things, and according to that which has\nhappened to all, are doomed to be of the number of those\n\n  The sole memorial of whose lot\n  Remains--they _were_, and they _are not_.\n\nIn a very few years nothing will remain of them but a nameless barrow.\nThe day may come, when even conjecture will be at fault, as with the\nbuilders of the western mounds, in determining who they were, from whom\nthey originated, what were their peculiar opinions, and the various\nother matters and things concerning them.\n\nIt has been by some thought necessary that I should present to the\npublic proofs of the genuineness of these traditions. I shall proceed to\ngive such as I have been able to collect, and the nature of the case\nwill admit of my offering. Where they rest on my own word that they are\nauthentic, the corroborating testimony I rely upon is their asserted\nconformity with Indian ideas, opinions, customs, and phraseology.\n\nThe first tradition, in the collection, \"The Man of Ashes,\" is referred\nto by Mr. Johnstone, residing at Piqua, in the state of Ohio, and acting\nas agent for the American government among the Shawanos tribe at that\nplace, in a communication made by him to the American Society of\nAntiquaries, and published in the first volume of their Transactions.\nNot having that work at hand, I cannot name the page. I also heard it\nfrom a Shawano when I was at Piqua, in 1823. It is probably an account\nmixed up with much that is fabulous of their first meeting with, and\nmassacre of, a party of white people in alliance with a hostile tribe.\n\nThe second tradition, \"Pomatare, the Flying Beaver,\" was related to me\nat the same time by the same Indian. It is also briefly referred to by\nMr. Johnstone, in the communication in which mention is made of the\nfirst tradition. Many other writers speak of a tradition current among\nthe Indians, of their having crossed the sea to arrive at their present\nplace of residence. I cannot help regarding it as a very strong\ncorroboration of this tradition, that all the American Indians call the\nworld--_i.e._ the place where they dwell--their ideas extend no\nfurther--an \"island.\" Does not the universality of this opinion prove\nthat they are from a common stock, and once--perhaps ages ago--had\ndemonstration of the fact that water flows between the continent upon\nwhich they now dwell, and that from which the tradition supposes they\ncame?\n\nThe tradition entitled \"The Alarm of the Great Sentinel,\" (Vol. 1, p.\n61,) rests on the authority of Heckewelder, the well-known Moravian\nmissionary at Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, and may be found in \"Transactions\nof the American Philosophical Society.\" (Phila., 1819, Vol. 1, p. 206).\nMuch controversy has prevailed in America respecting the degree of\ncredit to be attached to this writer. None have pronounced him\ndishonest, but several have accused him of having a very strong bias\ntowards the Indians, and of permitting his prejudices to colour his\nelaborate accounts of their modes and manners. Two very able writers,\nMr. Duponceau, and Mr. Rawle, have come forward to vindicate him from\nthe charge of partiality, and I think have fully done so. The tradition\nprobably refers to an unsuccessful attempt at surprisal by their\nenemies.\n\n\"The Mother of the World\" is told briefly in Hearne's \"Journey to the\nNorthern Ocean,\" p. 342. Hearne has been generally reckoned an accurate\nreporter of what he heard and saw on that journey. His assertion that\nthe Indians have no religion is, however, totally untrue. Mackenzie also\nrefers to the same tradition, in his \"General History of the Fur Trade,\"\nprefixed to his \"Voyage to the Northern Ocean.\" (London, 1801, _quarto,_\ncxviii). Mackenzie is a high authority in all that relates to the\nIndians.\n\n\"The Fall of the Lenape\" (Vol. 1, p. 87) is told by Mr. Heckewelder, in\nthe volume before referred to, page 36. It is undoubtedly an authentic\naccount of the overthrow of the Delawares by the Iroquois, aided by the\ninsidious counsels of the white people.\n\n\"The Marriage of the Snail and the Beaver\" (Vol. 1, p. 103) is referred\nto by Lewis and Clarke, in \"Travels to the Pacific Ocean.\" (London,\n1815, Vol. 1, p. 12.) It probably relates to the marriage and consequent\nsettlement of the founder of the Osage Indians with a woman of a tribe\nwhose _totem_ or badge was a beaver.\n\n\"The Choice of a God\" (Vol. 1, p. 117) was related to me by my old\nIndian nurse. I heard a rather different version of it from a venerable\nclergyman of the name of Thaxter. He had it from a Captain Richardson,\nwho was killed at Cape Breton in the \"Old French War.\" It is a very\ncommon tradition, though it has not, as far as I know, been before in\nprint. This tradition also refers to the first meeting of the natives\nwith the whites.\n\n\"The Resurrection of the Bison\" (Vol. 1, p. 143) is told by James in his\n\"Account of an Expedition to the Rocky Mountains.\" (London, 1823, Vol.\n1, p. 257). I have been informed that it is a common tradition among the\nRocky Mountain Indians.\n\n\"The Wahconda's Son\" (Vol. 1, p. 147) is also from James's \"Account of\nan Expedition to the Rocky Mountains\" (London, 1823. Vol. 1, 251), and\nis mentioned by other writers and travellers. This also refers to a\ntransaction in which white people were concerned.\n\n\"The Idols\" (Vol. 1, p. 173) is referred to by Lewis and Clarke in\n\"Travels to the Pacific Ocean\" (London, 1815, Vol. 1, p. 146). It is a\ngenuine Indian superstition.\n\n\"The Discovery of the Upper World\" (Vol. 1, p. 201) is referred to by\nJames in his \"Account of an Expedition to the Rocky Mountains.\" (London,\n1823, Vol. 1, p. 258); by Heckewelder in the work before referred to, p.\n242, and numerous other writers.\n\nFor the tradition entitled \"Love and War\" (Vol. 1, p. 213) I am indebted\nto Mr. Henry Schoolcraft. It is taken from a work of his published some\nyears ago, the title of which I forget. No other alterations had been\nmade in this tradition than those which were requisite to make it\nconform strictly to what I deemed were Indian manners, customs,\nphraseology, and opinions.\n\nThe series of traditions entitled \"Legends of the Happy\nHunting-Grounds,\" (commencing at p. 225 of volume first) being in my\nestimation by far the most interesting and valuable in the volume,\ndeserve a more elaborate commentary with a view to the authenticating\nthem. They are all of them genuine, but there is but one of them that\nbelongs, as has been supposed in the tradition, exclusively to the tribe\nof whom it is related. Thus \"Akkeewaisee, the Aged,\" which is supposed\nto describe the heaven of the people called the Dahcotahs, describes\nalso that of many other tribes. Keating assigns the belief to the\nDahcotahs. (See his Narrative of an Expedition to the Source of St.\nPetre's river. London, 1825, Vol. 1., p. 410).\n\nThe second tradition in the series, \"The Delaware Heaven,\" I believe is\npeculiar to the tribes which compose that nation, and rests upon the\nauthority of Loskiel. (History of the Missions of the United Brethren.\nLond. 1794, p. 35). He was a Moravian missionary, and has been esteemed\nan accurate and faithful relator of what he saw.\n\nThe third of these series of traditions relating to the future residence\nof the soul, entitled \"The Hunting-Grounds of the Blackfoots,\" is a\ncurrent tradition with many tribes, but, in order to give it a more\ndistinct shape, I have assigned it to the Blackfoot tribe.\n\nThe legend entitled \"The Stone Canoe\" is referred to by Mackenzie.\n(\"Voyages from Montreal to the Frozen Ocean.\" Quarto, London, 1801,\nPrelim. Account, cxix).\n\n\"The Little White Dove\" I have heard of frequently, and yet I cannot\nat this moment give any authority. It was probably an American\nauthor--certain I am that it is a genuine tradition.\n\nThe last of the Legends, entitled \"The Teton's Paradise,\" is so well\nand so generally known to be a genuine tradition, that I shall content\nmyself with referring only to Hearne. (\"Journey to the Northern Ocean,\"\np. 346). He does not indeed speak of it as a Teton tradition, but as it\nis known to prevail over the entire northern and western region, I have\nassigned it to the Tetons.\n\n\"The Legends of Creation,\" with which the second volume commences, are\nvery interesting, for a number of them clearly refer to the great\nDeluge. The first of these legends, \"The Two Chappewees,\" is in two\nparts: one is copied nearly verbatim from Captain (now Sir John)\nFranklin's admirable account of his Journey to the Polar Ocean; the\nother is referred to by Hearne.\n\nThe second of these legends, \"Sakechak, the Hunter,\" is referred to by\nCharlevoix, (in his Journal. London, 1761. Vol. 11, p. 228). The accuracy\nof this writer is well established: no traveller in that region may be\nso safely relied on. P. de Acosta is of opinion that this and all the\nother traditions do not respect the universal deluge, but another peculiar\nto America. I do not agree with him in opinion: I have always thought\nthat all refer to the deluge mentioned in the first Chapter of Genesis.\n\n\"The Bird of Ages.\" This legend of the Creation is referred to by\nMackenzie. (\"General History of the Fur Trade.\" _Quarto_. London, 1801,\np. cxviii). Reference is made to the same tradition in Hearne's \"Journey\nto the Northern Ocean.\"\n\n\"The Great Hare\" is referred to by Charlevoix in his \"Journal.\" (London,\n1761, vol. 11. p. 142.) He refers to another tradition in which there is\nmention made of another deity who opposed the designs of the Great Hare.\nThis he thinks of foreign extraction, and so do I, from the circumstance\nthat the opposing god is there called the \"Great Tyger,\" which animal is\nnot found in Canada.\n\nLegend of the \"The Six Nanticokes\" is referred to by Loskiel. (\"History\nof the Mission of the United Brethren.\" London, 1794, p. 24). The\nversion I have given is from the relation of an old Indian preacher by\nthe name of Hiwassee.\n\n\"The Coming of Miquon\" (Vol. 2, p. 99) is told by Heckewelder (\"Trans.\nof American Philos. Soc.\" Vol. 1, p. 54), and is the genuine Delaware\ntradition of the first meeting of the Lenni Lenape with the white\npeople, whom they say they were the first to welcome. Mr. Heckewelder\nsays \"he had the relation from an intelligent Delaware Indian,\" and that\nit \"may be considered as a correct account of the tradition existing\namong them of this momentous event.\" It will be seen that the first\ncoming of the white people is referred to in several other traditions.\n\n\"The Funeral Fire\" (Vol. 2, p. 115) is copied from the volume of Mr.\nSchoolcraft before referred to. I have made the additions and alterations\nrequired to make it in keeping with Indian phraseology and opinions.\n\n\"The Portioning of the Sons\" (Vol. 2, p. 125) is referred to by Keating\nin his \"Narrative of an Expedition to the Source of St. Peter's River.\"\n(London, 1825. Vol. 1, p. 233).\n\n\"The Maiden's Rock\" (Vol. 2, p. 131) is copied from Keating's Narrative,\nVol. 1, p. 290.\n\n\"The Expedition of the Lenni Lenapes\" (Vol. 2, p. 141) is told by\nHeckewelder in the Vol. of Philosophical Transactions before referred\nto, p. 29.\n\n\"Ghitshee Gauzinee.\" (Vol. 2, p. 181). For this tradition I am indebted\nto the excellent work of Mr. Schoolcraft.\n\n\"Ampato Sapa\" (Vol. 2, p. 189) is told by Keating. (\"Narrative,\" &c.\nVol. 1, p. 310).\n\n\"The Caverns of the Kickapoo\" (Vol. 2, p. 201) is referred to by Keating\nin the before-mentioned narrative, Vol. 1, p. 250.\n\n\"The Mountain of Little Spirits\" (Vol. 2, p. 207) is referred to by\nLewis and Clarke in \"Travels to the Pacific Ocean.\" (London, 1815, Vol.\n1, p. 72). This may be regarded as a genuine Indian superstition.\n\n\"The Valley of the Bright Old Inhabitants\" (Vol. 2, p. 223) is referred\nto by Adair in his \"History of the American Indians.\" (Quarto. London,\n1775, p. 237).\n\n\"The Legend of Moshup\" (Vol. 2, p. 261) is one of those related to me by\nmy old Indian nurse. It is, I think, corroborated in a communication\nmade to the Massachusetts Historical Society, and published in their\nTransactions; but, not having been able to find a copy in England, I\nmust beg the reader to rest satisfied with my assertion that,\nindependently of my nurse's version, a communication made to the\nbefore-mentioned society stamps the tradition as genuine.\n\n\"The Phantom Woman\" (Vol. 2, p. 273) I heard from a Winnebago Indian at\nWashington, and I have somewhere met with it in print; I dare not\nassert, but I think, that it is referred to by a Mr. McKenney, in a\nbook of travels published some years ago in America.\n\n\"The Two Ghosts\" (Vol. 2, p. 285) is from Mr. Schoolcraft's work.\n\n\"The Vision of the Abnakis Chief.\" (Vol., 2, p. 303). This was a legend\nof my old nurse, and evidently refers, like several others, to the\ncoming of the Whites.\n\n\"The Lake of the White Canoe\" (Vol. 3, p. 1) is a common tradition in\nthe region where the incidents are supposed to have happened. I should\nremark, however, that the tale is not always told of Indians, but by\nsome is supposed to have happened to a pair of White lovers. The better\naccount, however, makes them Indians. What adds to the interest of this\ntradition is, that Mr. Thomas Moore has made it the subject of a\nbeautiful ballad entitled \"The Lake of the Dismal Swamp.\" His having\ntaken up the story should, I am aware, have prevented me from attempting\nto tell it, since it is impossible that any thing from my pen should\nequal his beautiful poetical version.\n\n\"A Legend of the Bomelmeeks\" (Vol. 3, p. 33) I heard from an Indian of\nthe Seneca tribe, whom I saw at Albany, in the State of New York. I am\nnot aware of its having been in print before.\n\n\"The King of the Elks\" (Vol. 3, p. 47) I heard from the same old Indian\nstory-teller. I am not aware of its resting on any other foundation.\n\n\"The Daughters of the Sun\" (Vol. 3, p. 77) is referred to by Leyden in\nhis \"Scenes of Infancy,\" and by Bertram in his \"Travels through the\nCarolinas.\" (London, 1794. p. 25).\n\n\"The Island of Eagles\"--(Vol. 3, p. 117). I heard this tradition from an\nIndian whom I saw at Wheeling, in the State of Ohio, in 1823. I had\nbefore read Carver's description of this island, and upon meeting with\nthis Indian, who had been there, and questioning him, he related this\ntradition.\n\n\"Legend of Aton-Larre.\" This I heard from an old Indian at Fayetteville,\nNorth Carolina, while I was travelling through that state in 1819.\n\n\"The Fire Spirit.\" (Vol. 3, p. 167). This was derived from the same\nsource as the last. I have read or heard a rather different version, but\nI cannot recollect where.\n\n\"The Origin of Women.\" (Vol. 3, 175). For this tradition I have to\nconfess my obligation to a work which has, I suspect unjustly, been\nconsidered a very indifferent authority--\"Hunter's Memoirs.\" I have\nnever been able to convince myself that Hunter had not passed a part of\nhis life among the Indians.\n\n\"The Hill of Fecundity\" (Vol. 3, p. 183) is referred to by James in his\n\"Account of an Expedition to the Rocky Mountains.\" (London, 1823, Vol.\n1, p. 253).\n\n\"Legend of Coatuit Brook.\" (Vol. 3, p. 305) This is mentioned in the\n\"Transactions of the Massachusetts Historical Society;\" but I cannot,\nfor the reason before given when referring to these transactions, name\nthe volume and page. However, the tradition I have given--much fuller\nthan the former--was told me by an Indian of the Marshpe tribe, dwelling\nin the vicinity of the Brook Coatuit.\n\n\"The Spirit of Vapour\" (Vol. 3, p. 313) is referred to by Mackenzie in\nhis \"General History of the Fur Trade,\" page cvi, prefixed to his\n\"Journal of a Voyage to the Frozen Ocean.\" (_Quarto._ London, 1801).\n\n\"The Devil of Cape Higgin\" (Vol. 3, p. 321) was related to me by my old\nnurse, and is a well known tradition, though not otherwise in print than\nthrough my means.\n\n\"The Warning of Tekarrah\" is a genuine tradition related to me by a Mr.\nClarke, an American gentleman of worth and intelligence, who left\nEngland in June last for the United States.\n\nBut, while I distinctly aver the authenticity of those traditions which\nrest upon my own authority, and submit the proofs of the genuineness of\nthe others, it must be understood that they have, with a few exceptions,\nbeen much elaborated, though always with a careful reference to the\nmanners, customs, rites, opinions, &c. of the people whose history they\nwere supposed to tell. I have endeavoured to tell these stories as I\nthought a genuine Indian would tell them, using only their figures,\ntypes, and similitudes, and rejecting all inappropriate phrases, and\nthose which savoured of a foreign origin. I cheerfully submit to the\npublic whether I have not faithfully executed the task which I proposed\nto myself--that of giving a collection of genuine Indian traditions in\nthe peculiar phraseology, and in strict consonance with the known habits\nand customs, of that singular people.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nOF\n\nTHE FIRST VOLUME.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  Introduction                                                        v\n  The Man of Ashes                                                    1\n  Pomatare, the Flying Beaver                                        47\n  The Alarm of the Great Sentinel. A Tradition of the Delawares      61\n  The Mother of the World. A Tradition of the Dog-Ribs               73\n  The Fall of the Lenape                                             87\n  The Marriage of the Snail and the Beaver                          103\n  The Choice of a God                                               117\n  The Resurrection of the Bison                                     143\n  The Wahconda's Son                                                147\n  The Idols. A Tradition of the Ricaras                             173\n  Discovery of the Upper World. A Tradition of the Minnatarees      201\n  Love and War                                                      213\n  Legends of the Happy Hunting-Grounds.\n     I. Akkeewaisee, the Aged                                       225\n    II. The Delaware Heaven                                         233\n   III. The Hunting-Grounds of the Blackfoots                       245\n    IV. The Stone Canoe                                             255\n     V. The Little White Dove                                       269\n    VI. The Teton's Paradise                                        279\n\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n\nIn the year 1695, a number of _savans_ associated in Paris for the\npurpose of procuring information respecting the American Indians. They\nwere called shortly _The Theoretical and Speculative Society of Paris_,\nbut their title at large was _The Society for Prosecuting Researches in\nthe Western Hemisphere, and for procuring Speculations to be made, and\nTheories drawn up, of the Origin and History of its Ancient and its\nPresent Inhabitants_. The undertaking met with almost prompt and cordial\nsupport; the proudest names and the brightest lights of the age were\nenlisted in it. The celebrated Madame de Maintenon became the patroness,\nforbidding, however, the Society to speculate upon her affairs; the\nillustrious Duke de Rohan became the president; the Czar Peter an\nhonorary member; and the Society was otherwise royally and nobly\nofficered and befriended. So numerous were the applications to be\nreceived as members, that it was found necessary to establish the rule,\nsince adopted by certain colleges, of conferring diplomas upon all who\nasked for them. It is stated, that there was as loud a call upon the\ntime and attention of the publishing committee, no fewer than seven\nhundred papers of theories and speculations, all essentially varying,\nhaving been presented at the second weekly meeting.\n\nIt will be seen from the date that it was a very important era in\nspeculative philosophy. Father Hennepin had just returned from Canada,\nand published his _Discovery of a Large Country_, the greater part of\nwhich had remained unknown till then, and has not been seen since. Other\nFrench missionaries were daily arriving from New France, as the French\npossessions in America were denominated, and spreading tales, partly\ntrue, partly-false, of the wonderful things they had seen. The questions\nso very important and so essential to be solved, whether the ancient\ninhabitants of North America, the race which is supposed to be extinct,\nwere of Malay origin, and came from Australasia, or from the islands of\nthe Pacific Ocean, and whether the surviving race are descended from the\nTartars, the Scandinavians, the Jews, or the Welsh, began to be agitated\nabout this time, though they were not debated with the profound\nshrewdness and sagacity which Adair, Barton, Boudinot, and other\nenlightened men, have since evinced on the subject.\n\nWith a view to remove the difficulty, and solve the problem, if it were\nsolvable, it was determined by this learned Society to dispatch\nforthwith to America a man, whose mind should be well stored with\nscience, literature, and philosophy, whose constitution and habits of\nbody should be equal to the hardships he must necessarily undergo, and\nwho should be of a temper to despise the dangers he must of course\nencounter, in prolonged travels among scattered tribes of wild and\nbarbarous Indians. It was almost impossible, the Society knew, to find a\nperson fitted in every respect for the mission. In an age of theories,\nit is no easy matter to meet with a man possessed of the common elements\nof being, who has not submitted to the tyranny of opinion, and adopted\nthe theory most in vogue. Few of us like to be singular, and hence we\noften adopt opinions, which, at first, we entertain most unwillingly,\nbut which, after we have defended a few times, we come to love most\nheartily. Nothing so heightens our passion for a beautiful woman as\nobstacles thrown in our way; nothing so confirms our admiration of a\ntheory as shallow cavils; a weak battery raised against a besieged town\nalways increases the courage, and heightens the resistance, of the\nbesieged.\n\nIn respect of the person who should be sent on this honourable mission,\nthe Society were for a long time much perplexed, and began to fear the\n\"foundering of their hobby from want of a jockey of required weight.\" It\nwas necessary that he should be deeply imbued with classic lore, and\nprofoundly skilled in languages, because he was to \"detect lingual\naffinities,\" and further, might have to read manuscripts, and decipher\ninscriptions, of the ancient people. He was required to be deeply\nconversant with military science, in all its details, for he was to\nreport of the nature of Indian tactics, fortifications, and defensive\nstructures; and it was essential that he should be a theologian, for he\nwas not only to sow the Word as he went, but to gather, if possible,\nfrom the religious opinions, rites, and observances, of the nations\nscattered over North America, proofs of a similitude to other people, or\nto accumulate data for the opposite belief. It was very difficult to\ndiscover a man so eminently gifted and taught, and the Society found\nthemselves heavily burthened with the search. Nevertheless one was at\nlength found, imbued to a reasonable degree with the requisite qualities\nin the person of M. Philippe Verdier, of the city of Nanci. They applied\nto him to undertake the proposed mission, and he consented, protesting,\naccording to custom, his utter unworthiness, and his belief that France\nhad many sons more competent to the task than himself.\n\nM. Verdier had studied in his youth, with the view of becoming a priest,\nand was profoundly skilled in the learning proper for that vocation.\nAfterwards, when he had abandoned all thoughts of entering the\npriesthood, he served in Holland under Conde, and there, and in many\nother countries, in succeeding wars, acquired the character of a valiant\nsoldier and expert tactician. Excellence in poetry and metaphysics came\nto him naturally, and a thorough acquaintance with languages, both dead\nand living, by laborious study and prolonged travel. He had resided some\ntime in the Australasian islands and those of the Pacific Ocean, and had\ntravelled over the Peninsula of Malacca and the Island of Madagascar. He\nhad thence brought numerous things which have since been of great\nservice to philosophers, in explaining difficulties and solving problems\nconnected with the antiquities and history of the western aborigines.\nHis museum of curiosities contained a feathery mantle such as were found\nenwrapping the American mummies, a pair of mocassins made of the rind of\nplants, curious carvings which were pronounced by the French _savans_\nto resemble much the pieces of sculpture brought by M. Jaques de\nNumskull from the Ohio, and a human cranium or two, to which were added\na Madagascar humming-bird, and a Malacca pepper plant. From the nature\nof these acquisitions, he was supposed to be well qualified to decide\nupon the merits of that part of the theory of the indigenous inhabitants\nof America, which represents the _extinct_ race as descended from the\nMalays of eastern Asia!!!\n\nM. Verdier was quite as well qualified to act upon the other theory. He\nhad travelled to Tartary in the suite of the French ambassador, and\nresided some years at the court of the Great Khan, where he had acquired\nthe Tartar language, and become deeply learned in the history and\ncustoms of that ancient people. He had taken numerous drawings of their\nphysiognomy and features, and many casts of Tartar visages. With a view\nto learn their opinions of the Deity, and a future state, he had\nofficiated for a full year as the conjuror or powwow of a tribe. When he\nreturned to Europe, he brought with him a couple of human teeth, a pipe,\na bow and arrow, a jackall, a wild sheep, a sharp-nosed, thievish\nSiberian cur, with his sleigh and harness, and a very pretty Samoyede\ngirl, the last with a view to ascertain the peculiar cast of features\nand shade of complexion which should mark a half-breed, which he was so\nfortunate as to possess in a short time thereafter, together with a\ncouple of copies to bestow upon his friends.\n\nIt was a singularly lucky circumstance that the learned association were\napprised in season of the merits of M. Verdier. There was not another\nman in France so well qualified to perform the generous behests of the\nSociety, and to prosecute their enquiries to a beneficial result. It\nwould seem as if he had aimed his studies, directed his researches,\ntimed his travels, and planned his occupations, with a kind of\npresentiment, that he should in time be called to the very task he\nundertook. Indeed some have said that there was an actual precognition\nof it, by means of a vision, while he was yet a student in theology with\nthe Abbe Guissot. But, the Society, upon the motion of a learned member,\ncaused their doubts of the truth of the story to be placed upon record.\n\nPreviously to the departure of M. Verdier, a special meeting of the\nSociety was called, and a committee of thirty members appointed to\nprepare suitable directions, in the form of interrogatories, for his\nguidance. They were to report on two different sets, the first (A.)\nwhich were to relate to the ancient inhabitants of the country; the\nsecond (B.) to the race who were its then possessors. After a sitting\nof twenty days in the hall of the Sorbonne, the Committee reported on\nthe papers A. and B., which were accepted without debate.\n\n\nA.\n\n     1. He was to ascertain when the tumuli, or mounds, were built,\n        and for what use.\n\n     2. Who built them? Were they Malays? If they were Malays, did\n        they come from Australasia, or from the Islands of the Pacific\n        Ocean?\n\n     3. If they were not Malays, who were they? Were they\n        Mauritanians, _vide_ Postel; or Scandinavians, _vide_ Busbeck;\n        or Canaanites, _vide_ Gomara, and John de Lery; or descendants\n        of the tribes led captive by Psalmanazar, _vide_ Thevet; or of\n        Shera and Japhet, _vide_ Torniel; or a colony of Romans,\n        _vide_ Marinocus; or Gauls, _vide_ James Charron; or\n        Friezelanders, _vide_ Hamconius and Juffredus Petri; or Celtae,\n        _vide_ Abraham Milius; or Phoenicians, _vide_ Le Compte; or\n        Carthaginians, _vide_ Father Acosta, &c. &c.?\n\n     4. Had this ancient people the art of embalming human bodies,\n        or is that art of modern invention, as some pretend?\n\n     5. If M. Verdier find they are of Malay origin, he must\n        ascertain in what year of the world they went to America, and\n        who was their leader;\n\n     6. How long they resided there, and under which pope they were\n        driven away or exterminated.\n\n     7. In what manner, and by what conveyance, was the\n        transportation made? Did they cross Behring's Straits, or on\n        the ice from Japan to California? Were the first settlers the\n        crew of some vessel or vessels driven to the western continent\n        by stress of winds, or were they led thither by some\n        far-sighted captain?\n\n     8. Finally, how many ships did it take to carry them over?\n\nMany pages of remarks, by different members, were appended to this\npaper. The other paper, marked B., read as follows:\n\n\nB.\n\n     1. Is the similarity of physiognomy and features between the\n        present race of American Indians and the Asiatic Tartars\n        strong enough to induce an unprejudiced observer to pronounce\n        them members of the same great family of mankind, or, to speak\n        so as to be understood, 'does an Indian look like a Tartar?'\n\n     2. Are the coincidences of sound and signification in the\n        languages of North America and Tartary sufficiently numerous\n        and unequivocal to induce one to pronounce them of a common\n        origin?\n\n     3. Do the customs and manners of the North American Indians\n        correspond in any material degree with those of their supposed\n        brethren, the Tartars?\n\n     4. Are there any animals, wild or domestic, tameable or\n        untameable, in America, which are of a species known to exist\n        at this day in Tartary? And is there any thing in the\n        vegetable kingdom of the west which bears marks of derivation\n        from that country?\n\n     5. Is there any reason to think these Indians descended from\n        the Welsh? What are we to think of the voyage of Madoc and his\n        supposed colonization of the Western continent? Upon this\n        point M. Verdier will do well to examine their pedigrees with\n        great care.\n\nThe committee deem it altogether impossible to particularise all the\nsubjects upon which questions may be put, to the fair furtherance of the\nobjects which the Society has in view in sending out M. Verdier. A great\ndeal must be left to his discretion and judgment. Many reflections will\noccur to him, as he personally surveys the monuments, and becomes\nacquainted with the people of that continent, which does not occur to\nus, and perhaps never would to him but for such visit.\n\nThe Society hope every thing from the zeal, the perseverance, and the\ntalents, of their missionary. They hope to be able to record as a\nbenefactor to this Society, to the kingdom, to the world, not only M.\nVerdier, but the gentleman who first recommended him to their notice.\n\nThus furnished with ample directions, and with a letter to the governor\nof the French possessions in Canada, M. Verdier set out upon his travels\nin May 1697. The Society liberally afforded him the means of\nconciliating the Savages, furnishing him with abundance of those\narticles which they were supposed to covet, such as beads, knives, &c.\nThe ship in which he sailed had a very short passage, at least for a\nperiod when the arts of ship-building and navigation were so little\nunderstood, and landed him safely at Quebec some days before the\nsetting-in of winter. The dignity of our traveller's mission, the high\nreputation of the Society under whose auspices he acted, together with\nhis own merit, attested by strong letters of introduction, operated to\nprocure him a most cordial and gratifying reception. All ranks joined in\nevincing unbounded respect both for him and his object, and in placing\nall possible helps within his reach. One admitted him to his museum of\nIndian curiosities, another presented him with a bundle of Indian\nmanuscripts, a third took measures with the Indian chiefs for his\nunmolested passage through their country, a fourth instructed him in the\nIndian language, and taught him the peculiarities of their hundred\ndialects. Nor were the women behind the other sex in kindness to our\ntraveller. He was invited to take up his abode altogether with the\nUrsuline nuns, with whom he rose to such high favour, that they would\nconfess to no other during his stay in the city. The married ladies were\nquite as courteous as those who were vowed to a single life, and feasted\nand caressed him beyond our ability or wish to describe.\n\nHe did not leave Quebec until the return of spring, when, in the\nprosecution of his object, he bade adieu to his pleasant quarters, and\ntravelled into the country of the Iroquois or Five Nations. His friend,\nthe Governor, persuaded him much to take an interpreter with him, and\nnominated good old father Luke Bisset for that purpose. But M. Verdier\ndeclined, trusting that the \"coincidences of sound and signification,\"\n(suggested in query 2, paper B,) would free him from all difficulties on\nthat score. He hired an Indian, who had come to Quebec to dispose of his\nfurs, to act as his guide, and a French boy to carry his change of linen\nand his presents, the last named being a labour to which no Indian will\nsubmit, unless he has become an outcast from his tribe, or otherwise\ndisgraced and dishonoured.\n\nThey set out for the country of the Iroquois in the month of May, 1698.\nAfter travelling for many weeks, at a great rate, for the Savages are\ninconceivably swift walkers, and can endure great fatigues, they\narrived at the principal town of the Five Nations. There, and elsewhere\nwithin the limits of that confederacy, our traveller abode two full\nyears. The public must not expect to find in this brief introduction a\ncursory statement, much less a minute journal of his curious\nobservations and discoveries during that period. The Editor would make a\nvery bad use of the confidence reposed in him, if he were to attempt\neither. Public curiosity, however, will be gratified, for the highly\nlearned and philosophical reports of M. Verdier on the philology,\norigin, history, manners, and customs, of the Aborigines of America,\nwill soon be published under the eye of a competent gentleman. But, for\nthe immediate satisfaction of those who have had their minds highly\nexcited on the subject, and prefer to have their knowledge in advance,\nthe Editor begs leave to observe, that these reports fully prove that\nthe Indians of North America and the Tartars of the Eastern continent\nare of a common stock. The former, M. Verdier proves, by a long train of\nreasoning, to be descended from a Calmuck, who, in the year 622, (the\nyear of Mahomet's flight from Mecca) married a Samoyede woman, and, with\na party of his countrymen, crossed Behring's Straits to the Western\nContinent. The exceedingly subtle and plausible process by which he\narrived at the exact year in which they crossed, and determined that the\nemigrants were of two different tribes--again, that the chief was tall\nand lean, his wife short, pursy, and thick-breathed, proved the value of\ntrifling circumstances to the creation of beautiful theories, and with\nwhat wonderful ingenuity philosophic minds apply themselves to subjects\ncapable of being theorised. Thus, from the circumstance that the Indian\ncurs, when they were possessed of a bone, would snarl and show their\nteeth if one went near them, and even hide it in the ground rather than\nhave it taken from them, he drew the conclusion that they were the true\n_canis sibericus_, which is known to possess these singular traits of\ncanine sagacity and ferociousness. Additional proof was found in the\nfact, that an Indian dog of the same species bit M. Verdier in his heel,\nsetting his teeth in precisely the same spot, where, some years before,\na Tartar dog had placed his, making but a single scar. He caused an\nIroquois cur to be tied by his tail to a log of wood, and the celerity\nwith which he drew it, yelping and screaming over a bed of ice, fully\nconvinced M. Verdier that he was a legitimate descendant from those\nwhich perform the part of dray-horses among the Tartars. So much for\ncanine resemblances, which one would think of little importance, yet\nwere the chief prop to a learned theory upon this very subject,\npublished some years ago by an erudite American gentleman.\n\nHis inquiries concerning the other object of his mission were as deep,\nand his conclusions as profitable. It may be remembered, that the\nprincipal aim of the Society in sending M. Verdier to America, was to\nascertain who were its primitive inhabitants, and the builders of the\nstupendous mounds found there. Having, by severe study, mastered the\nIndian language and its numerous dialects, he assumed the dress of a\nchief, and set out for the Ohio. He took with him seven Indian chiefs\nbelonging to the Seneca tribe, great warriors, great talkers, and great\nsmokers, who could live seven days without food, and feast the next\nseven without intermission. Their names, rendered into English, were The\nFlying Medicine, The Hollow Bear, The Little Dish, The Wicked Cow, The\nBlack Mocassins, The Big Thief, and The Guard of the Red Arrows. The\nparty were provided with parched corn and jerked beef, the common\nhunting provisions of the Indians. Though filled with pacific\nintentions, and meaning to rely for safety principally on the calumet,\nor pipe of peace, they nevertheless went completely armed. It would have\nill suited Indian ideas of dignity and honour had they left behind what\nthey believe to be the essential emblems of both.\n\nThree years were spent by M. Verdier in surveying the country west of\nthe Alleghany mountains. In that time he visited and examined all the\nmounds or _tumuli_, \"deciphered a great many _resemblances_ of\ninscriptions,\" and penetrated into many saltpetre caves in search of\nmummies and triune idols. He succeeded in proving to his own\nsatisfaction, and, as we shall see, to that of his employers, that the\ntumuli were erected for burying-places; that their builders were Malays\nwho chartered the ship Argo from Jason, and came over from the Sandwich\nIslands in the ninth year of pope Boniface the third; that they had the\nart of embalming in nitre, and were adepts at making triune idols. They\nwere idolaters, worshippers, he was convinced, of Brahma and his Hindoo\nbrothers. He was puzzled for a while to tell what became of them\nfinally; nor were his doubts cleared up until he travelled into Mexico.\nA residence of a few months among the Aztecas of that region convinced\nhim that they were, to use the words of an eminent American philosopher,\nwhose cogitations upon this subject have been read from Labrador to\nTobolsk, \"descendants of the extinct race.\" He examined the pyramids of\nCholula, which agreed in all respects with the works in Ohio, and thence\nargued that the Malays who built the former were also the builders of\nthe latter.\n\nThough M. Verdier had been very industrious, and had theorised and\nspeculated himself almost into insanity, he thought he had not done\nenough to secure a gracious reception at home. With a view to make\nhimself master of all which could aid him in preparing his report, he\ndetermined to call a general meeting of the Indian tribes, in order to\nacquire a knowledge of their traditionary lore, and it is from this\nperiod that he seems to have laboured to a more useful purpose than that\nof making \"velvet purses of sows' ears, and twisting ropes of sand.\" The\nshafts of ridicule may with propriety be levelled at all attempts to\nascertain the origin of the American Indians, but their Traditions are\ntheir history and learning, and therefore entitled to respectful\nconsideration. He dispatched messengers to all the tribes far and near,\nwith the information that a grand council would be held at\nMachilimakinak, i.e. a great place for turtles, in the moon next after\nthe gathering of the corn, at which they were invited to attend and\noffer sacrifices to the Great Spirit. They were especially requested to\nbring with them their story-tellers as well as their _pow-wows_, or\npriests, with whom M. Verdier was anxious to confer. Nothing more fully\nproves the excellence of his heart than his willingness to meet and\nconfer, as the phrase of our day is, with \"ministers of a different\ndenomination.\" But M. Verdier was a charitable man, and partook of none\nof that bigotry laid often unjustly to the charge of Roman Catholics. He\nbelieved that many went to heaven who denied the infallibility of the\npope; and feared that many took the downward road who made that dogma\nthe standard of their faith.\n\nAs the time fixed for the convening of the grand council approached,\nIndians were observed in every direction proceeding to the rendezvous.\nNever within the memory of the Indian had there been so full a council.\nThere were plenipotentiaries from many of the New England tribes, from\nsome who lived far down the Mississippi, and others who hunted in the\nshade of the Rocky Mountains--to say nothing of those who came from the\nregions of Polar ice. Their lodges covered a thousand acres. The spot\nselected for their encampment was a _prairie_ of almost boundless\nextent, having on one side a forest impervious save to an Indian hunter.\nThis forest abounded with game, and vast herds of buffaloes were\nfeeding on the skirts of the _prairie_. It may be observed in passing,\nthat sites for the temporary sojourn of the Savages are always chosen\nwith reference to facilities for the prosecution of the chace, and for\nobtaining water and fuel. That, selected in this case, afforded each of\nthese in abundance, and to our traveller a prospect as replete with\nnatural beauty as it was with novelty. He beheld, stretched out before\nhim, a green meadow extending farther than the eye could reach, diversified\nonly by groupes of Indian bark huts, and parties of hunters going to\nor returning from the chace--of women employed in the various duties\nimposed upon them in savage life, and children playing at the simple\ngames of savage childhood. There, was a hunter, stately and tall, his\neye like the eagle's, and his foot like the antelope's, cautiously\napproaching an angle of the grove, where his wary eye detected a deer;\nhere, a proud chief, his crest surmounted by an eagle's feather,\nharanguing the warriors of his tribe with far more dignity and grace\nthan Alexander displayed in giving audience to the Scythian\nambassadors, or Hannibal in his address to his army before the battle\nof Cannae. It was a novel scene to M. Verdier, and he enjoyed it with\nall the zest of a profound and philosophic observer of human\ncharacter.\n\nWhen the nations were all assembled, Shongo Tongo, or the Big Horse, a\nchief of the Ottoes, rose, and said:--\n\n     \"Father, you see before you the warriors of many nations. All\n     the red men of the land are gathered together in the great\n     plain where no trees grow. They have come at your bidding, and\n     at your bidding have buried their war-clubs. They forget that\n     they have been enemies. They smoke in the calumet of peace,\n     and are friends because you wish them to be so. Is it well?\n\n     \"My father, your children will dance before your tent. It is\n     thus we honour the brave. It is thus we honour the stranger.\"\n\nTo this speech, M. Verdier returned a suitable answer, adapting his\nwords to their simple comprehension, yet using the metaphorical style so\ncommon among them. He was glad, he told them, that \"words of peace were\nin their mouths; that there was a mild sky, and that the winds were low.\nHe wished it was always so.\"\n\nThey heard him without giving any tokens of approbation, for it is very\nuncommon for the Indian to bestow such upon an orator. When he had\nfinished his speech, their wild dances commenced by the striking up of\ntheir instrumental and vocal music. The instruments were a gong made of\na large keg, over one of the ends of which was stretched a skin which\nwas struck by a small stick, and an instrument consisting of a stick of\nfirm wood, notched like a saw, over the teeth of which a smaller stick\nwas rubbed forcibly backward and forward. They had besides rattles made\nof strings of deer's hoofs, and also parts of the intestines of an\nanimal inflated, inclosing small stones, which produced a sound like\npebbles in a small gourd. With these, rude as they were, very good time\nwas preserved with the vocal performers, seated around them, and by all\nthe natives as they sat, in the inflection of their bodies, or the\nmovements of their limbs. After the lapse of a little time, three\nindividuals leaped up and danced around for a few minutes; then, at a\nconcerted signal from the master of the ceremonies, the music ceased,\nand they retired to their seats uttering a loud noise, which, by patting\nthe mouth rapidly with the hand, was broken into a succession of sounds,\nsomewhat like the hurried barking of a dog. In the intervals of dancing,\na warrior would step forward, and, striking the flagstaff they had\nerected with a stick or a whip, would recount his martial deeds. This\nceremony was called _striking the post_, and whatever was then said\nmight be relied upon as truth, for the custom bound every warrior to\nexpose the falsehood of the _striker_, and disgrace him for\nexaggeration if he indulged in it.\n\nA tall, grey-headed chief rose, and, after lashing the post with his\nwhip, commenced the narration of his exploits. He was succeeded by a\nyoung and ardent warrior, whose soul apparently was full of poetry, and\nburning with love of martial glory. After walking leisurely twice or\nthrice around the post, he quickened his step, and broke out into the\nfollowing wild song of boasting and triumph:--\n\n    Down I took my spear, my tough spear--\n    Down I took my bow, my good bow,\n    Fill'd my quiver with sharp arrows,\n    Slung my hatchet to my shoulder.\n    Forth I wander'd to the wild wood.\n    Who comes yonder?\n    Red his forehead with the war-paint--\n    Ha! I know him by his feather--\n    Leader of the Ottawas,\n    Eagle of his warlike nation,\n    And he comes to dip that feather\n    In a vanquish'd Maqua's blood.\n\n    Then I pois'd my tough ash spear,\n    Then I bent my pride of bows,\n    From my quiver drew an arrow,\n    Rais'd my war-cry--ha! he falls!\n    From his crest I took the feather,\n    From his crown I tore the scalp-lock.\n    Shout his friends their cry of vengeance--\n    What avails it? are they eagles?\n    Nought else may o'ertake the Maqua.\n\n    Came the Hurons to our border--\n    Hurons from the Lake of Thunder--\n    Hurons far renown'd for valour--\n    Forth I went with six to meet them:\n    In my cabin hang ten scalp-locks.\n    Should I fear a mortal warrior?\n    No--a Maqua never trembles.\n\n    Why should I fear?\n    I never told a lie,\n    Kind have I been to father and to mother,\n    I never turn'd my back upon a foe.\n    I slew my people's enemies--\n    Why should I fear to die?\n    Let the flame be kindled round me,\n    Let them tear my flesh with pincers,\n    Probe me with a burning arrow,\n    I can teach a coward Mingo\n    How a valiant man should die.\n\nThese were not exactly the kind of tales which M. Verdier had crossed\nthe ocean and threaded the forest to hear, but he patiently awaited\ntheir conclusion. At a signal from a venerated chief, their martial\nnarratives were dropped, and all retired to their seats. The dance was\nsucceeded by a feast, of which the chiefs and warriors, together with\ntheir guest, first partook, and afterwards the men of inferior note.\nBefore a mouthful was tasted, however, the best and juiciest pieces of\nthe deer were selected as an offering to the Great Spirit. They were not\nlaid upon the fire till the priest had been called to the performance of\ncertain rites and ceremonies by the following hymn, chanted in their\npeculiarly solemn and impressive manner:--\n\n    INDIAN HYMN, OR INVOCATION.\n\n    From the wilderness we bring\n    The fat buck we have slain,\n    We have laid him on the coals:\n    Lord of Life!\n    Lord of Life!\n    We have opened the door,\n    That the smoke may ascend\n    To thy nostrils, and please thee,\n    Great Master of Breath,\n    Of our breath!\n\n    We will call the wise priest--\n    He will come!\n    He will come!\n    He will utter thy name with his lips;\n    He will ask that thy hand may be light\n    On our race, in thy wrath,\n    In thy wrath!\n\nWhen the priest had performed certain ceremonies over the holocaust, he\nretired, and the hymn was resumed as follows:--\n\n    We have call'd the wise priest--\n    He has come!\n    He has come!\n    He has utter'd thy name with his lips,\n    He has open'd his breast to thine eye,\n    He has ask'd that thy hand may be light\n    On our race, in thy wrath,\n    In thy wrath.\n\n    Hear us, Master of Breath!\n    Nor destroy,\n    Nor destroy:\n    If thou wieldest the bolt of thy rage,\n    If thou callest thy thunder to shake,\n    If thou biddest thy lightning to smite,\n    We must pass to the feast of the worm,\n    Of the worm.\n\n    Oh! grant us our prayers,\n    Lord of life!\n    Lord of life!\n    Make us victors o'er every foe,\n    Make us strong in the den of the bear,\n    Make us swift in the haunts of the buck,\n    Great Master of Breath,\n    Of our breath!\n\nWhen the feast and sacrifices were concluded, M. Verdier rose and\naddressed the assembly in these words:\n\n     \"Brothers and warriors, I have come from a far country to\n     listen to the words of an Indian's mouth. I have left behind\n     me my father, and my mother, and my wife, and my children, and\n     the burial-places of my ancestors, and the council-fire of my\n     great chief, and the temples of the Master of Life, to dwell\n     with the Indians in their wigwams, to go with them to the\n     chace, to feast with them, to talk with them, to offer\n     sacrifices with them. I knew the dangers I must encounter\n     before I could enter their habitations. I knew how dreadful\n     was the rage of the Great Ocean, and how dismal the howling of\n     the winds upon it, in the season of darkness, but I said I\n     will despise the dangers, for I want to look upon the face of\n     the red man, and smoke with him in the calumet of peace.\n\n     \"Brothers and warriors, I am here--I am glad I came. I have\n     seen the red man--I love him. And I have called together all\n     the red men of the land, that I may learn more of their\n     thoughts and love them more; that I may be able to carry back\n     to my sons, and to the chiefs and the warriors of my own land,\n     proofs of their wisdom, and sagacity, and valour.\n\n     \"Brothers and warriors, the history of the red man is found\n     only in his traditions, it exists but in his memory. Will you\n     instruct me in those traditions? Will you relate to me the\n     tales which have been handed down to you from old times--the\n     traditions which tell of the great actions of your fathers, of\n     the favours, and mercies, and punishments, of the Great\n     Spirit? These are the things I would hear. I came hither to\n     hear them. The Great Spirit forbid you should refuse my\n     request!\"\n\nWhen M. Verdier had finished his speech, Meshewa, a young warrior of the\nShawano nation, rose and said:\n\n     \"Brothers and warriors, I am a little man, no higher than the\n     shoulder of my brother Meshepeshe, yet I must speak, the Great\n     Spirit bids me speak. He says to me, Wild Horse, rise and\n     relate a tradition of your nation. I will relate this\n     tradition, but I will tell you no lie. Who is there that ever\n     saw Meshewa look upon the ground, or hold his hand before his\n     eyes, when he told his story? He looks up bold as an eagle, he\n     opens his mouth fearlessly, and they who hear his words write\n     them down on the green leaf of their memory.\n\n     \"Brothers and chiefs, we have here with us a man, whose face\n     is of the colour of the skin of a plucked plover--he listens.\n     He has come, as he has told you, from a land which lies beyond\n     the Great Salt Lake. I believe him, for he does not hide his\n     face, or look ashamed when he speaks.\n\n     \"Chiefs and brothers, this man was once a warrior, but, when\n     he was no higher than the tree of twelve moons, he offered\n     sacrifice in his own country to the Great Spirit, and knew all\n     the rites proper to be observed in his worship. When the\n     winter snows are rushing to the embrace of the Great River,\n     and the birds have returned to their bowers, and the sap is\n     recruiting the soul of the thirsty tree, he will go to his\n     wife and children, who live very far towards the morning sun.\n     The woman with the bright eyes will come out of her wigwam to\n     meet him, and will ask him if he has brought back his heart.\n     His son will climb to his knee, and weep to have the\n     traditions of our country told him. Our brother will not fear\n     to answer the questions of the woman, for he is prudent and\n     wise. And shall we not teach him to still the cry of the boy?\n     We shall.\n\n     \"Brothers and chiefs, the stranger loves to hear our words,\n     ask him if he does not. He desires that our mouths should\n     open, and repeat the stories which have been told us by our\n     fathers, and the fathers and mothers of our fathers--stories\n     of deeds which were done when the oak trees, now dying of age,\n     were saplings no higher than my knee. Shall he hear them? He\n     shall. The Good Spirit bids us speak, but he bids us speak\n     only truth. If we lie he will be angry with us, and will give\n     us up to our enemies, or the beasts of prey. He will spoil our\n     harvests. And when were deer ever found in the hunting-path of\n     the liar?\n\n     \"Brothers and chiefs, I am young. The sprout from the seed of\n     the oak, planted on the day I was born, yet bends to the earth\n     with the weight of the wild cat. The knees of my father are\n     not feeble with age, nor is his hair thin or white. My mother\n     has a young panther in her lodge, she gives it her own milk.\n     Yet I will tell you a story. It is a tale of my nation, a tale\n     of an old day, delivered from father to son till it has\n     reached my time. Listen!\"\n\nThe youthful chief then rose, and related the Shawano tradition,\nentitled \"The Man of Ashes.\"\n\n\n\n\nTALES OF AN INDIAN CAMP.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE MAN OF ASHES.\n\n\nA great while ago, the Shawanos nation took up the war-talk against the\nWalkullas, who lived on their own lands, on the borders of the Great\nSalt Lake[A], and near the Burning Water[B]. Part of the nation were not\nwell pleased with the war. The head chief and the counsellors said the\nWalkullas were very brave and cunning, and the priests said their god\nwas mightier than ours. The old and experienced warriors said the\ncounsellors were wise, and had spoken well; but the Mad Buffalo(1), and\nthe young warriors, and all who wished for war, would not listen to\ntheir words. They said that our fathers had beaten their fathers in many\nbattles, and that the Shawanos were as brave and strong now as they ever\nwere, and the Walkullas much weaker and more cowardly. They said, the\nold and timid, the faint heart, and the failing knee, might stay at home\nand take care of the women and children, and sleep and dream of those\nwho had never dared bend a bow, or look upon a painted cheek, or listen\nto a war-whoop; while the young warriors went to war, and drank much\nblood. And, when two moons were gone, they would come back with many\nprisoners and scalps, and have a great feast, and eat Walkullas roasted\nin the fire. The arguments of the fiery young orators prevailed with all\nthe youthful warriors; but the elder and wiser listened to the priests\nand the counsellors, and remained in their villages, to see the leaf\nfall and the grass grow, and to gather in the nut and follow the trail\nof the deer.\n\n[Footnote A: Great Salt Lake, the ocean.]\n\n[Footnote B: A boiling stream, near the mouth of the river Walkulla, in\nFlorida.]\n\nTwo moons had passed--then a third--then came the night enlivened by\nmany stars--but the warriors returned not. As the land of the Walkullas\nlay but a woman's journey of six suns from the villages of our nation,\nour people began to fear that our young men had been overcome in battle,\nand were all slain. The head chief and the counsellors, and all the\nwarriors who had remained behind, came together in the great wigwam[A],\nand called the priests, to tell them where their sons were. Chenos, who\nwas the wisest of them all, as well he might be (for he was older than\nthe oak-tree whose top dies by the hand of Time), answered that they\nwere killed by their enemies, the Walkullas, assisted by men of a\nstrange speech and colour, who lived beyond the Great Salt Lake, fought\nwith thunder and lightning, and came to our enemies on the back of a\ngreat bird with many white wings. When he had thus made known to our\npeople the fate of the warriors, there was a dreadful shout of horror\nthroughout the village. The women wept aloud, and the men sprung up and\nseized their bows and arrows, to go to war upon the Walkullas, and the\nstrange warriors who had helped to slay their sons; but Chenos bade them\nsit down. \"There is one yet living,\" said he. \"He will soon be here. The\nsound is in my ear of his footsteps, as he crosses the hollow hills. He\nhas killed many of his enemies; he has glutted his vengeance fully; he\nhas drunk blood in plenteous draughts. Long he fought with the men of\nhis own race, and many fell before him; but he fled from the men who\ncame to the battle armed with the red lightning, and hurling unseen\ndeath. Even now I see him coming. The shallow streams he has forded, the\ndeep rivers he has swum. He is tired and hungry; and his quiver has no\narrows, but he brings a prisoner in his arms. Lay the deer's flesh on\nthe coals, and bring hither the pounded corn. Taunt him not, for he is\nvaliant, and has fought like a hungry lion.\"\n\n[Footnote A: Great wigwam, an Indian expression, signifying the\ncouncil-house.]\n\nAs the wise Chenos spoke these words to the grey-headed counsellors and\nwarriors, the Mad Buffalo walked, calm and cool, into the midst of them.\nThere he stood, tall and straight as a young pine; but he spoke no word,\nlooking with a full eye on the head chief and the counsellors. There was\nblood upon his body, dried on by the sun, and the arm next his heart was\nbound up with the skin of the deer. His eye looked hollow, and his body\ngaunt, as though he had fasted long. His quiver had no arrows; but he\nhad seven scalps hanging to the pole on his back, six of which had long\nblack hair, but that which grew upon the seventh was yellow as the\nfallen leaf, and curled like the tendrils of the wild ivy.\n\n\"Where are our sons?\" enquired the head chief of the warrior.\n\n\"Ask the wolf and the panther,\" he answered.\n\n\"Brother, tell us where are our sons!\" exclaimed the head chief, louder\nthan before. \"Our women ask us for their sons--they want their sons.\nWhere are they?\"\n\n\"Where are the snows of the last year?\" asked the head warrior. \"Have\nthey not gone down the swelling river into the Great Lake? They have,\nand even so have your sons descended the stream of Time into the lake of\nDeath. The great star sees them as they lie by the water of the\nWalkulla, but they see him not. The panther and the wolf howl unheeded\nat their feet, and the eagle screams, but they hear him not. The vulture\nwhets his beak on their bones; the wild cat rends their flesh: both are\nunfelt--because they are dead.\"\n\nWhen the head warrior had told these things to our people, they set up\ntheir loud death-howl. The women cried; but the men sprung up, and took\ndown their war-spears, and their bows and arrows(2), and filled their\nskins with parched corn, and prepared to dry meat for their journey,\nintending to go to war with the Walkullas and their allies, the slayers\nof their sons. But the chief warrior rose again, and said--\n\n\"Fathers and warriors, hear me, and believe my words, for I will tell\nyou the truth. Who ever heard the Mad Buffalo lie, and who ever saw him\nafraid of his enemies? Never, since the time that he chewed the bitter\nroot, and put on the new mocassins(3), has he lied, or fled from his\nfoes. He has neither a forked tongue nor a faint heart. Fathers, the\nWalkullas are weaker than we; their arms are not so strong, their hearts\nare not so big, as ours. As well might the timid deer make war upon a\nhungry wolf, as the Walkullas upon the Shawanos. We could slay them as\neasily as a hawk pounces into a dove's nest and steals away her\nunfeathered little ones; the Mad Buffalo alone could have taken the\nscalps of half the nation. But a strange tribe has come among them--men\nwhose skin is as white as the folds of the cloud, and whose hair shines\nlike the great star of day. They do not fight, as we fight, with bows\nand arrows and with war-axes, but with spears[A], which thunder and\nlighten and send unseen death. The Shawanos fall before it, as the\ngrapes and acorns fall when the forest is shaken by the wind in the\nBeaver-Moon(4). Look at the arm nearest ray heart; it was stricken by a\nbolt from the stranger's thunder. But he fell by the hand of the Mad\nBuffalo, who fears nothing but shame, and his scalp lies at the feet of\nthe head chief.\n\n[Footnote A: Muskets, which were termed \"spears\" by the Indians in the\nearlier part of their intercourse with the Europeans.]\n\n\"Fathers, this was our battle. We came upon the Walkullas, I and my\nbrothers, when they were unprepared. They were just going to hold the\ndance of the green corn. The whole nation had come to the dance; there\nwere none left behind, save the sick and the very old. None were\npainted; they were all for peace, and were as women. We crept close to\nthem, and hid in the thick hazles which grew upon the edge of their\ncamp; for the Shawanos are the cunning adder, and not the foolish\nrattlesnake. We saw them preparing to offer a sacrifice to the Great\nSpirit. We saw them clean the deer, and hang his head, and his horns,\nand his entrails, upon the great white pole with a forked top, which\nstood over the roof of the council-wigwam. They did not know that the\nMaster of Life(5) had sent the Shawanos to mix blood with the\nsacrifices. We saw them take the new corn, and rub it upon their hands,\nand breasts, and faces. Then the head chief, having first thanked the\nMaster of Life for his great goodness to the Walkullas, got up, and gave\nhis brethren a talk. He told them that the Great Spirit loved them, and\nhad made them victorious over all their enemies; that he had sent a\ngreat many fat bears, and deer, and mooses, to their hunting-grounds;\nand had given them fish, whose heads were very small and bodies very\nbig; that he had made their corn grow tall and sweet; and had ordered\nhis suns to ripen it in the beginning of the harvest-moon, that they\nmight make a great feast for the strangers, who had come from a far\ncountry on the wings of a great bird to warm themselves at the\nWalkullas' fire. He told them they must love the Great Spirit, take care\nof the old men(6), tell no lies, and never break the faith of the pipe\nof peace; that they must not harm the strangers, for they were their\nbrothers, but must live in peace with them, and give them lands, and\nwives from among their women. If they should do these things, the Great\nSpirit, he said, would make their corn grow taller than ever, and direct\nthem to hunting-grounds where the mooses should be as thick as the\nstars.\n\n\"Fathers and warriors, we heard these words, but we knew not what to do.\nWe feared not the Walkullas; the God of War(7), we saw, had given them\ninto our hands. But who were the strange tribe? Were they armed as we\nwere, and was their Great Medicine[A] like ours? Warriors, you all knew\nthe Young Eagle, the son of the Old Eagle, who is here with us; but his\nwings are feeble, and he flies no more to the feast of blood. Now, the\nYoung Eagle feared nothing but shame. He said, 'I see many men sit\naround a fire, I will go and see who they are.' He went. The Old Eagle\nlooks at me as if he would say, Why went not the head warrior himself? I\nwill tell you. The Mad Buffalo is a head taller than the tallest man of\nhis tribe. Can the moose crawl into the fox's hole?--can the swan hide\nhimself under a hazle-leaf? The Young Eagle was little, save in his\nsoul. He was not full grown, save in his heart. He could go, and not be\nseen or heard. He was the cunning black snake, which creeps silently in\nthe grass, and none think him near till he strikes; not the foolish\nrattlesnake, which makes a great noise to let you know he is coming.\n\n[Footnote A: Great Medicine, Supreme Being; medicine simply means a\nspirit.]\n\n\"He came back, and told us that which made us weep. He told us, there\nwere many strange men a little way from us, whose faces were white, and\nwho wore no skins, whose cabins were white as the snow upon the Backbone\nof the Great Spirit[A], flat at the top, and moving with the wind like\nthe reeds on the bank of a river; that they did not talk like the\nWalkullas, but spoke a strange tongue, the like of which he had never\nheard before. Many of our warriors would have turned back to their own\nlands; the Flying Squirrel said it was not cowardice to do so. But the\nMad Buffalo never turns on his heel till he has tasted of the blood of\nhis foes. And the Young Eagle said he had eaten the bitter root, and put\non the new mocassins, and had been made a man, and his father and the\nold warriors would cry shame on him if he took no scalp. Both he and the\nMad Buffalo said they would go and attack the Walkullas and their allies\nalone. But the young warriors said they would also go to the battle, and\nwith a great heart, as their fathers had done. And then the Shawanos\nrushed upon their foes.\n\n[Footnote A: Backbone of the Great Spirit, the Alleghany Mountains.]\n\n\"The Walkullas fell before us like rain in the summer months; it was as\na fire among the dry rushes. We went upon them when they were\nunprepared--when they were as children; and for a while the Great Spirit\ngave them into our hands. But a power rose against us, which we could\nnot withstand. The strange men came upon us armed with thunder and\nlightning. Why delays my tongue to tell its story? Fathers, your sons\nhave fallen, like the leaves of the forest-tree in a high wind; like the\nflowers of spring after a frost; like drops of rain in the\nSturgeon-Moon. Warriors, the sprouts which shot up from the roots of the\nwithered oaks have perished. The young Braves of our nation lie, food\nfor the eagle and the wild cat, by the arm of the Great Lake.\n\n\"Fathers, the bolt from the strangers' thunder entered my flesh, yet I\ndid not fly: these six scalps I tore from the Walkullas; but this has\nyellow hair. Have I done well?\"\n\nThe head chief and counsellors answered he had done well; but Chenos\nanswered \"No. You went into the Walkullas camp,\" said he, \"when the\ntribe were feasting to the Great Spirit, and you disturbed the\nsacrifice, and wickedly mixed human blood with it. Therefore has this\nevil come upon us; for the Great Spirit is very angry.\"\n\nThe head chief and the counsellors asked Chenos what must be done to\nappease the Master of Breath.\n\nChenos answered--\"The Mad Buffalo, with the morning, will offer to him\nthat which he holds dearest.\"\n\nThe Mad Buffalo looked fiercely on the priest, and said--\"The Mad\nBuffalo fears the Great Spirit; but he will offer none of his kin,\nneither his father nor his mother, nor the children of his mother; but\nhe will kill a deer, and, with the morning, it shall be burned to the\nGreat Spirit.\"\n\nChenos said to him, \"You have told the council how the battle was\nfought, and who fell; you have showed the spent quiver, and the seven\nscalps, one of which has shining hair, but you have not spoken of your\nprisoner. The Great Spirit keeps nothing hid from his priests, of whom\nChenos is one. He has told me you have a prisoner, one with tender feet\nand a trembling heart.\"\n\n\"Let any one say the Mad Buffalo ever lied,\" said the head warrior. \"He\nnever spoke but truth. He has a prisoner, a woman, taken from the\nstrange camp; a daughter of the sun; a maiden from the happy islands,\nwhich no Shawano has ever seen. And as soon as I have built my house,\nand gathered in my corn, and hunted, and brought home my meat, she shall\nlive with me and become the mother of my children.\"\n\n\"Where is she?\" asked the head chief.\n\n\"She sits on the bank of the river, at the bend where we dug up the\nbones of the great beast, beneath the tree which the Master of Breath\nshivered with his lightnings. I placed her there because the spot is\nsacred, and none dare disturb her. I will go and fetch her to the\ncouncil fire. But let no one touch her, or show anger, for she is\nfearful as a young deer, and weeps like a child for its mother.\"\n\nSoon he returned, and brought with him a woman whose face was hidden by\na veil whiter than the clouds. The head chief bade her, by signs, to\nthrow the covering from her face, and stand forth before the council.\nShe did so; but she shook like a reed in the winter's wind, and many\ntears ran down her cheeks, though the head warrior kept at her side,\nand with his eyes bade her fear nothing. The Indians sat as though their\ntongues were frozen, they were so much taken with the strange woman.\nWell might they be. Why? Was she beautiful? Go forth to the forest when\nit is clothed with the flowers of spring, look at the tall maize when it\nwaves in the wind, and ask if they are beautiful. Her skin was white as\nthe snow which falls upon the mountains beyond our lands, save upon her\ncheeks, where it was red; not such red as the Indian paints when he goes\nto war, but such as the Master of Life gives to the flower which grows\namong thorns. Her eyes shone like the star which never moves[A], and\nwhich guides the bewildered Indian hunter through the untravelled\nwilderness to his home. Her hair curled over her head like wild vines\naround a tree, and hung upon her brow in clusters, like bunches of\ngrapes. Her step was like that of a deer when he is scared a little. The\nGreat Spirit never made any thing so beautiful, not even the sun, the\nclouds, or the stars.\n\n[Footnote A: The North Star, in their beautiful, poetical language, \"the\nstar which never moves,\" and \"The Hunter's Star.\"]\n\nThe Mad Buffalo said to the council, \"This is my prisoner. I fought hard\nfor her. Three warriors, tall, strong, and painted, three pale men\narmed with the red lightning, stood at her side. Where are they now? I\nbore her away in my arms, for fear had overcome her; and, when night\ncame on, I wrapped skins around her, and laid over her the leafy\nbranches of the tree to keep off the cold, and kindled a fire, and\nwatched by her till the sun rose; for I love her. Who will say that she\nshall not live with the Mad Buffalo, and be the mother of his children?\"\n\nThen the Old Eagle got up, but he could not walk strong, for he was the\noldest warrior of his tribe, and had seen the flowers bloom many times,\nand the infant trees of the forest die of old age, and the friends of\nhis boyhood laid in the dust. He went to the woman, and laid his hands\non her head, and wept(8). The other warriors, who had lost their kindred\nand sons in the war with the Walkullas, did the same, shouting and\nweeping very loud. The women also wept, but they did not come near the\nprisoner.\n\n\"Where is the Young Eagle?\" asked the Old Eagle of the Mad Buffalo. The\nother warriors, in like manner, asked for their kindred who had been\nkilled.\n\n\"Fathers, they are dead,\" answered the head warrior. \"The Mad Buffalo\nhas said they are dead, and he never lies. But let my fathers take\ncomfort. Who can live for ever? The foot of the swift step, and the\nhand of the stout bow, become feeble; the eye of the true aim grows dim,\nand the heart of many days quails at the fierce glance of warriors.\n'Twas better that they should die like brave men in their youth, than\nbecome old men and grow faint.\"\n\n\"We must have revenge. We will not listen to the young warrior, who\npines for the daughter of the sun[A]; revenge we will have!\" they all\ncried. Then they began to sing a very mournful song, still weeping. The\nMad Buffalo offered them the pipe of peace, but they would not take it.\n\n[Footnote A: \"Daughter of the Sun.\"--See the Tradition _infra_.]\n\n\nSong.\n\n    Where are our sons,\n    Who went to drink the blood of their foes?\n    Who went forth to war and slaughter,\n    Armed with tough bows and sharp arrows?\n    Who carried long spears, and were nimble of foot\n    As the swift buck, and feared nothing but shame?\n    Who crossed deep rivers, and swam lakes,\n    And went to war against the Walkullas?\n\n    Ask the eagle--he can tell you:\n    He says, \"My beak is red as the red leaf,\n    And the blood of the slain of your land has dyed it.\"\n    Ask the panther if he is hungry?\n    \"No,\" he shall say; \"I have been at a feast.\"\n    What has he in his mouth?\n    Look! it is the arm of a Shawanos warrior!\n\n    Why do our old men weep,\n    And our women, and our daughters, and our little ones?\n    Is it for the warriors who went forth to battle?\n    Is it for them who went forth in glory,\n    And fell like the leaves of the tree in autumn?\n    Is it for them?\n\n    What doth the Indian love?--Revenge.\n    What doth he fight for?--Revenge.\n    What doth he pray for?--Revenge.\n    It is sweet as the flesh of a young bear;\n    For this he goes hungry, roaming the desert,\n    Living on berries, or chewing the rough bark\n    Of the oak, and drinking the slimy pool.\n\n    Revenged we must be.\n    Behold the victim!\n    Beautiful she is as the stars,\n    Or the trees with great white flowers.\n    Let us give her to the Great Spirit;\n    Let us make a fire, and offer her for our sons,\n    That we may have success against the Walkullas,\n    And revenge us for our sons.\n\nWhen the strange woman saw them weeping and singing so mournfully, she\ncrept close to the head warrior for protection. Tears rolled down her\ncheeks, and she often looked up to the house of the Great Spirit, and\ntalked; but none could understand her, save Chenos, who said she was\npraying to her god. All the time, the Old Eagle, and the other\nwarriors, who had lost their sons, were begging very hard that she\nshould be burned to revenge them. But Chenos stood up, and said:\n\n\"Brothers and warriors! our sons did very wrong when they broke in upon\nthe sacred dance the Walkullas had made to their god, upon the coming in\nof the new corn, and he lent his thunder to the strange warriors, and\nthey killed ours easily. Let us not draw down his anger farther upon us\nby doing we know not what. It may be if we offer this woman upon his\nfire, he will himself come with his thunder and strike us, as he did the\nsacred tree, and we shall all die. Let the beautiful woman remain this\nnight in the wigwam of the council, covered with skins, and let none\ndisturb her. To-morrow we will offer a sacrifice of deer's flesh to the\nGreat Spirit; and, if he will not give her to the raging fire and the\ntorments of the avengers, he will tell us so by the words of his mouth.\nIf he do not speak, it shall be done to her as the Old Eagle and his\nbrothers have said.\"\n\nThe head chief said, \"Chenos has spoken well; wisdom is in his words.\nMake for the strange woman a soft bed of skins, and treat her kindly,\nfor it may be she is the daughter of the Great Spirit.\"\n\nThen the Indians all returned to their cabins and slept, save the Mad\nBuffalo, who, fearing for the life of his prisoner, laid himself down at\nthe door of the lodge and watched.\n\nWhen the morning came, the head warrior went to the forest and killed a\ndeer, fat and proper for an offering, which he brought to Chenos, who\nprepared it for a sacrifice; and he sang a song while the flesh lay on\nthe fire:--\n\nSong of Chenos.\n\n    We have built the fire;\n    The deer we have kill'd;\n    The skin and the horns we have parted from the flesh;\n    The flesh is laid on the burning coals;\n    The sweetness thereof goes up in the smoke:--\n    Master of Life, wilt thou come and claim thine own?\n\n    Wilt thou come, Great Spirit of our fathers,\n    And say if we may harbour revenge, and not anger thee?\n    Shall we plant the stake, and bind the fair-one?\n    The beautiful maid, with her hair like bunches of grapes,\n    And her eyes like the blue sky,\n    And her skin white as the blossoms of the forest-tree,\n    And her voice as the music of a little stream,\n    And her step as the bound of the young fawn?\n    Shall her soft flesh be torn with sharp thorns,\n    And burn'd with fiery flames?\n\n\"Let us listen,\" said Chenos, stopping the warriors in their dance. \"Let\nus see if the Great Spirit hears us.\"\n\nThey listened, but could not hear him singing. Chenos asked him why he\nwould not speak, but he did not answer. Then they sung again:--\n\n    Shall the flame we have kindled expire?\n    Shall the sacrifice-embers go out?\n    Shall the maiden be free from the fire?\n    Shall the voice of revenge wake no shout?\n    We ask that our feet may be strong\n    In the way thou wouldst have us to go;\n    Let thy voice, then, be heard in the song,\n    That thy will, and our task, we may know.\n\n\"Hush,\" said Chenos, listening; \"I hear the crowing of the Great\nTurkey-Cock[A]; I hear him speaking.\" They stopped, and Chenos went\nclose to the fire, and talked with his master, but nobody saw with whom\nhe talked. \"What does the Great Spirit tell his prophet?\" asked the head\nchief.\n\n[Footnote A: Thunder, also called the \"hissing of the Great Serpent.\"]\n\nChenos answered, \"He says the young woman must not be offered to him; he\nwills her to live, and become the mother of many children.\"\n\nMany of the chiefs and warriors were pleased that the beautiful woman\nwas to live. They wished to make her their daughter; but those who had\nlost their brothers and sons in the war were not appeased. They said,\n\"We will have blood. We will have revenge for our sons. We will go to\nthe priest of the Evil Spirit, and ask him if his master will not give\nus revenge.\"\n\nNot far from where our nation had their council-fire there was a great\nhill, covered with stunted trees, and moss, and rugged rocks. There was\na great cave in it, how great none of the Indians could tell, save\nSketupah, the priest of the Evil Spirit, for no one but he had ever\nentered it. He lived in this cave, and there did worship to his master.\nIt was a strange place, and much feared by the Indians. If a man but\nspoke a word at the mouth of it, somebody from within mocked him in a\nstrange, hoarse voice, which sounded like the first of the thunders. And\njust so many and the same words as the man at the mouth of the cave\nspoke, the spirit in the cave repeated.[A]\n\n[Footnote A: The Indians think that echoes are the voice of a spirit.]\n\nSketupah was a strange old creature, whom the oldest living man of the\nnation never saw but as he now was. He would have been very tall if he\nhad been straight, but he was more crooked than a warped bow. His hair\nlooked like a bunch of snakes, and his eyes like two coals of fire. His\nmouth reached from ear to ear, and his legs, which were very long, were\nno bigger than a sapling of two snows. He was, indeed, a very fearful\nold man, and the Indians feared him scarcely less than the Evil One.\nMany were the gifts which our nation made to Sketupah, to gain his\nfavour and the favour of his master. Who but he feasted on the fattest\nbuffalo hump? Who but he fed on the earliest ear of milky corn?--on the\nbest things which grew on the land or in the water? The fears of the\nIndian fed him with the choicest things of the land.\n\nThe Old Eagle went to the mouth of the cave, and cried with a loud\nvoice, \"Sketupah!\"\n\n\"Sketupah,\" answered the hoarse voice of the Evil Spirit from the hollow\ncave. Soon Sketupah came, and asked the Old Eagle what he wanted.\n\n\"Revenge for our sons, who have been killed by the Walkullas and their\nfriends, who live beyond the Great Lake, and came on the back of a great\nbird. Revenge we must have.\"\n\n\"Revenge we ask, revenge we must have,\" said the hoarse voice in the\ncave.\n\n\"Will your master hear us?\" asked the Old Eagle of the priest.\n\n\"My master must have a sacrifice, he must smell blood,\" said the ugly\nold man. \"Then we shall know if he will give you revenge. Go in the\nmorning to the woods, and take a wolf, a rattlesnake, and a tortoise,\nand bring them to me at the mouth of the cave, when the great star of\nday is coming out of the Suwaney.\"\n\nThe Old Eagle, and the other chiefs and warriors who asked revenge, did\nas Sketupah bade them. They went to the woods, and took a wolf, a\ntortoise, and a rattlesnake, and brought them, the wolf growling, the\nsnake hissing, and the tortoise snapping his teeth, to the priest.\n\nHe bade them build a fire of pine, and the tree which bears poisonous\nflowers[A], and the hemlock, and the grape-vine which bears no fruit.\nThey did as he bade them, and made the fire flame high. Then Sketupah\nprepared the sacrifice. First he skinned the wolf, then he shelled the\ntortoise. He bound the wolf's skin upon himself with the snake, and with\nhis entrails he fastened the shell of the tortoise upon his head. Then\nhe laid the carcasses of the wolf, and the snake and the tortoise, upon\nthe fire, and danced around it, while he sang to his master the\nfollowing song:--\n\nSong of Sketupah.\n\n    We have slain the beasts:--\n    The hissing snake, with poisonous fangs;\n    The wolf, whose teeth are red with Indian blood;\n    And the creeping tortoise, the dweller in deep fens;\n    We have slain them.\n    Lo! they are laid on hissing coals:\n    Wilt thou come, Spirit of Evil, and claim thine own?\n\n    The sons of the Shawanos lie low,\n    Far from the burial-place of their fathers;\n    Red wounds are on their breasts,\n    Cold and stiff are their limbs;\n    Their eyes see not the ways of men,\n    Nor the rising or setting of the great star,\n    Nor the blooming of spring-flowers,\n    Nor the glad glances of young maidens:\n    They sleep in the vale of death.\n\n    They fell, and no revenge,\n    No torments of foes, appease them in the land of spirits;\n    No shoutings of brother warriors\n    Gladden their shades;\n    The camp of their nation is mute;\n    They are forgotten by their women;\n    The bright eyes of their maidens\n    Have no tears in them:\n    They sleep forgotten by all.\n\n    Shall they have no revenge?\n    Shall we not plant the stake, and bind the fair-one?\n    The beautiful maid, with her hair like bunches of grapes,\n    And her eyes like the blue sky,\n    And her skin white as the blossoms of the forest-tree,\n    And her voice as the music of a little stream?\n    Shall she not be torn with sharp thorns,\n    And burned in fiery flames?\n\n[Footnote A: The Magnolia, whose flowers are said to be poisonous.]\n\nHe ceased singing, and listened, but the Evil Spirit answered not. Just\nas he was going to begin another song, they saw a large ball rolling\nvery fast up the hill towards the spot where they stood. It was the\nheight of a man. When it came up to them it began to unwind itself\nslowly until at last a little strange-looking man crept out of the ball,\nwhich was made of his own hair. He was no higher than my shoulders. One\nof his feet made a strange track, the like of which the Indians had\nnever seen before. His face was as black as the shell of the butter-nut,\nor the feathers of the raven, and his eyes as green as grass. And\nstranger yet was his hair, for it was of the colour of moss, and so long\nthat, as the wind blew it out, it seemed the tail of a fiery star. There\nhe stood, grinning and laughing very loud. \"What do you want of me?\" he\nasked Sketupah.\n\nThe priest answered, \"The Shawanos want revenge. They want to sacrifice\nthe beautiful daughter of the sun, whom the Mad Buffalo has brought from\nthe camp of the Walkullas.\"\n\n\"They shall have their wish,\" said the Evil Spirit. \"She shall be\nsacrificed. Go and fetch her to the hill.\"\n\nThen the Old Eagle, and the chiefs and warriors, went to fetch the\nbeautiful maiden to the hill of sacrifice. They found her sitting in her\ncabin, with the chief warrior watching at her door. He would have fought\nfor her, and had already raised his spear to strike the foremost\nwarrior, when Chenos commanded him to be still; \"for,\" said he, \"my\nmaster will see that she does not suffer. Before the star of day sets in\nthe Mighty River, the nation of Shawanos shall see whose god is greatest\nand strongest--Sketupah's, or mine.\"\n\nThen they built the fire, fixed the stake, and bound the beautiful woman\nto it. Till now the head warrior had stood still, for he looked that the\npriest of the Great Spirit should snatch her away from the Evil One. But\nwhen he saw her bound to the stake, and the flames beginning to arise,\nhe shouted his war-cry, and rushed upon the priest of the Spirit of\nEvil. It was in vain; Sketupah's master did but breathe upon the face of\nthe stern warrior, when he fell as though he had stricken him with a\nblow, and never breathed more. The Evil Spirit then commanded them to\nseize Chenos.\n\nThen they seized the priest of the Master of Breath, to bind him for the\nflames. But Chenos shouted aloud, \"Come, Master of Life, for the hands\nof the Evil One are upon me. Come, break my bands, and redeem me from\nthe flames they have kindled for me.\"\n\nAs soon as he had said this, very far over the tall hills, which Indians\ncall the Backbone of the Great Spirit, the people saw two great lights,\nbrighter and larger than stars, moving very fast towards the lands of\nthe Shawanos. One was just as high as the other, and they were both as\nhigh as the goat-sucker flies before a thunderstorm. At first they were\nclose together, but as they came nearer they grew wider apart. Soon our\npeople saw, by their twinkling, that they were two eyes, and in a little\nwhile the body of a great man, whose head nearly reached the sky(9),\ncame after them. Brothers, the eyes of the Great Spirit always go before\nhim, and hence nothing is hid from his sight. Brothers, I cannot\ndescribe the Master of Life as he stood before the warriors of our\nnation. Can you look steadily on the star of the morning? No. Nor could\nyou look upon the mighty being whom the voice of Chenos in distress had\ncalled from beyond the River of Rivers. When you tried to do so, you\nwere dazzled with his brightness, and turned away your eyes to look upon\ntrees and streams.\n\nWhen the Evil Spirit saw the Spirit of Good coming, he began to grow in\nstature, and continued swelling until he was as tall and big as he. When\nthe Spirit of Good came near, and saw how the Evil Spirit had grown, and\nthat he had thrown away the calumet of peace, he stopped, and, looking\nvery angrily at the Evil Spirit, said, with a voice that shook the very\nhills, \"You lied.\"\n\n\"I did not,\" answered the Evil Spirit.\n\n\"You did. You promised to stay among the white people, and the nations\ntowards the rising sun, and not trouble my Indian people any more.\"\n\n\"Ay, ay,\" answered the Evil Spirit, \"but this woman came from my\ncountry; she is white, she is mine. I came for her.\"\n\n\"You came to destroy her; do I not find her bound to a stake, and the\nflames kindled to destroy her? Nor was she yours, for I gave her for a\nwife to the warrior whom you have killed.\"\n\n\"I must have her,\" said the Spirit of Evil saucily.\n\n\"When your strength grows to be greater than mine, and your eyes see\nfarther, and your spirit waxes stronger, and your heart fuller of\njustice and valour, then you may say _must_. Tell me no more lies, bad\nManitou, lest I punish you. Go back to the nations of the East, and see\nyou trouble my brave Indians no more.\"\n\nThe cowardly spirit made no answer, but shrunk down to the size he was\nof when he first came to our people. Then he began as before to roll\nhimself up into his own hair, which he soon did, and then rolled away as\nhe came into the hollow hill. When he was gone, the Great Spirit also\nshrunk till he was no larger than a Shawano, and began talking to our\npeople in a soft and sweet voice:--\n\n\"Men of the Shawanos nation, I love you, and have always loved you. I\nbade you conquer your enemies, I gave your foes into your hands. I sent\ngreat herds of fat deer, and many bears and mooses, to your\nhunting-grounds, and made my suns so shine upon your fields, that your\ncorn grew up like trees. Who lived so well, who fought so bravely, as\nthe Shawanos? Whose women bore so many sons as yours? Is not the Suwany\na lovely river? Are not the young sprouts of the oak, and the heart of\nthe ash which grow upon its banks, the stoutest and the toughest in all\nthe land for bows? The grass grows high, the water is cold and sweet, is\nit not a pleasant land? It is, and the Shawanos have been a favoured,\nand a happy people.\n\n\"Why did you disturb the sacrifice which the Walkullas were offering to\nme at the feast of green corn? Why did you fall upon them when they had\nlaid down their weapons, and wiped off their paints to dance in my name?\nYou even slew the priest who offered me the offering. I was angry, and\ngave your warriors into the hands of their enemies, only I let the head\nwarrior escape to tell you the fate of your young men.\n\n\"Men of the Shawanos nation! The strange people, who came over the Salt\nLake on the great bird, are your brothers. Though they are white, and\nyou are red, though their hair is of the colour of the setting sun, and\nyours is as black as charred wood, yet you are brothers. I made you all,\nand I made you all alike. The Shawanos are red, because fear never\nenters their hearts to scare the blood from their cheeks: the heart of\nthe white man is the heart of a bird; it is chilled with fear, therefore\nhe is pale. I brought the Shawanos from the land of white men; then he\nwas white, but living among bears, and snakes, and tigers, and\nbloody-minded warriors, has made him strong in heart, and he has lost\nhis paleness.\n\n\"My good Shawanos! The Walkullas and their allies, from over the Great\nLake, killed many of your warriors, and have thinned your nation, but I\nwill give you other and stronger men. You have now but three\ntribes--soon there shall be four, and the fourth shall be great and\npowerful beyond all other Indians.\n\n\"Shawanos, hear my words and forget them not; do as I bid you, and you\nshall see my power and my goodness. Offer no further violence to the\nwhite maiden, but treat her very kindly. If you do not so, then shall my\nanger be upon your nation, and you shall fall by the hands of women, and\nwild beasts, and the lightnings of my breath.\n\n\"Go now, and rake up the ashes of the sacrifice-fire into a heap,\nputting all the coals together, and gathering up the brands. When the\ngreat star of evening rises, open the ashes, put in the body of the Mad\nBuffalo, lay on much wood, and kindle a fire in it. Let all the nation\nbe called together, for all must assist in laying wood upon the fire.\nBut they must put on no pine, nor the tree which bears white flowers,\nnor the grape-vine which yields no fruit, nor the shrub whose dew\nblisters the flesh. The fire must be kept burning two whole moons; it\nmust not go out, it must burn day and night. On the first day of the\nthird moon, put no wood on the fire, but let it die. On the morning of\nthe second day, the Shawanos must all come to the heap of ashes, every\nman, woman, and child, must come, and the aged who cannot walk must be\nhelped thither. Then Chenos and the head chief must bring out the\nbeautiful woman, and place her near the ashes. Be not terrified at what\nyou see, and do what Chenos shall tell you; this is the will of the\nGreat Spirit.\"\n\nWhen he had finished these words, he began to swell until he had reached\nhis former bulk and stature. Then at each of his shoulders came out a\nwing of the colour of the gold-headed pigeon. Gently shaking these, he\ntook flight from the land of the Shawanos, and was never seen in those\nbeautiful regions again.\n\nThe Shawanos did as he bade them. They put the beautiful woman into the\nhouse of the great council, and then went and raked up the coals of the\nfire and the unquenched brands, and covered them with ashes. When the\nmorning came, they laid the body of the head warrior on the ashes, and\nbuilt a great fire over it. They kept this fire burning two whole moons.\nBut they were careful to burn no pine, nor the tree which bears\npoisonous flowers, nor the vine which yields no grapes, nor the shrub\nwhose dew blisters the flesh. On the first day of the third moon, they\nlet the fire go out, and with the next sun all the Shawanos, men, women,\nand children, even the aged whose knees trembled so much that they could\nnot walk, came or were brought together beside the embers. Then the\npriest and the head chief brought the beautiful woman from the cabin,\nand placed her beside the ashes. The Mequachake tribe, who were the\npriests of the nation, stood nearest, then the Kiskapocoke tribe, who\nwere the greatest warriors. By and by, there was a terrible puffing and\nblowing in the ashes, which flew towards the sun, and the great star,\nand the River of Rivers, and the land of the Walkullas. At last, the\npriests and warriors who could see began to clap their hands, and dance,\ncrying out \"Piqua!\" which in the Shawanos tongue means \"a man coming out\nof the ashes,\" or a \"man made of ashes.\" They told no lie. There he\nstood, a man tall and strait as a young pine, looking like a Shawanos,\nbut he was handsomer than any man of our nation. The first thing he did\nwas to utter the war-whoop, and cry for paint, a club, a bow and arrow,\nand a hatchet, which were given him. But looking around he saw the white\nmaiden, and straight dropping all his weapons of war, he walked up to\nher and gazed in her eyes. Then he came to the head chief, and said, \"I\nmust have that woman for my wife.\"\n\n\"What are you?\" asked the head chief.\n\n\"A man made of ashes,\" he answered.\n\n\"Who made you?\"\n\n\"The Great Spirit. And now let me go, that I may take my bow and arrows,\nand kill my deer, and come back, and take the beautiful maiden to be my\nwife.\"\n\nThe chief said to Chenos, \"Shall he have her? Does the Great Spirit give\nher to him?\"\n\nChenos said, \"Yes, for they love each other. The Great Spirit has willed\nthat he shall have her, and from them shall arise a tribe to be called\n'Piqua.'\"\n\nBrothers, I am a Piqua, descended from the \"man made of ashes.\" If I\nhave told you a lie, blame not me, for I have but told the story as I\nheard it. Brothers, I have done!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThough it could not be doubted that the Indians were delighted with the\ntale which had just been related to them, for they relish story-telling\nwith as much zest as the Wild Arabs, they did not express their\npleasure by any of those boisterous emotions of joy and satisfaction\nwhich, in civilized countries, and among men of a less taciturn\ndisposition, are accorded to a good story well told. They neither\nshouted, nor clapped their hands, nor gave any other indication of\npleasure. It is a strong as well as universal trait of the Indian that\nhe is perfectly master of his feelings, never suffering them under any\ncircumstances to escape from his controul and management. At the stake\nand the feast, in the field and the council, he alike subdues his mind,\nand utters but a gruff \"Hah!\" at scenes and tales which would make an\nEnglishman very noisy and boisterous. That they liked the stories which\nhad been told them, could be gathered from nothing that they said or\ndid. It would have been accounted highly disgraceful to testify their\napprobation by exclamations. But their perfect silence and deep\nstillness spoke their satisfaction as plainly as the noisiest joy could\nhave done. The attention of an Indian is more all-absorbing than that of\na white man. It is never distracted or divided, he is never listless or\nabsent. With dilated nostrils, and in a posture slightly inclined\nforward, he listens with his whole soul. Not a word escapes him. While\nan educated white man would be continually snapping the thread of the\nnarrative by a reference in his mind to parallel passages in his former\nreading, the savage sees nothing but the present speaker, hears nothing\nbut a tale fraught with incidents to which his own recollections are not\npermitted to offer a parallel. The next portion of the manuscript\ncarries us to the Tale of Pomatare, or the Flying Beaver.\n\n\nNOTES.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n(1) _Mad Buffalo._--p. 1.\n\nThe name assumed by the warrior is generally expressive of something\nseen in the dream which follows the feast of initiation into manhood.\nWhatever object was then seen becomes the \"medicine,\" and the name\nassumed has some relation to the guardian spirit. Thus Little Bear,\nBlack Bear, Bender of the Pine Tree, Snapping Turtle, Guard of the Red\nArrows, &c.\n\n(2) _War-spears, and bows and arrows._--p. 5.\n\nIt may interest some of our readers, especially the military, to know\nthe manner in which the Indians arm themselves for combat. They\ngenerally go well armed, that is, they are well provided with offensive\nweapons. Such as have intercourse with the Europeans make use of\ntomahawks, knives, and fire-arms; but those whose dwellings are situated\nto the eastward of the Mississippi, and who have not an opportunity of\npurchasing these kinds of weapons, use bows and arrows and also the\nCasse-Tete or War-Club.\n\nThe Indians who inhabit the country which extends from the Rocky\nMountains to the South Sea, use in fight a warlike instrument that is\nvery uncommon. Having great plenty of horses, they always attack their\nenemies on horse-back, and encumber themselves with no other weapon than\na stone of middling size, curiously wrought, which they fasten, by a\nstring about a yard and a half long, to their right arms, a little above\nthe elbow. These stones they conveniently carry in their hands till they\nreach their enemies, and then, swinging them with great dexterity as\nthey ride full speed, never fail of doing execution. Some of these\nwestern tribes make use of a javelin, pointed with bone, worked into\ndifferent forms; but their general weapons are bows and arrows, and\nclubs. The club is made of a very hard wood, and the head of it\nfashioned round like a ball, about three inches and a half in diameter.\nIn this rotund part is fixed an edge resembling that of a tomahawk,\neither of steel or flint. The dagger is peculiar to the Naudowessie\nnation. It was originally made of flint or bone, but since they have had\ncommunication with the European traders they have formed it of steel.\nThe length of it is about ten inches, and that part close to the handle\nnearly three inches broad. Its edges are keen, and it gradually tapers\ntowards a point. They wear it in a sheath made of deer leather, neatly\nornamented with porcupine quills; and it is usually hung by a string\ndecorated in the same manner, which reaches as low as the breast.\n\nAmong the Delawares the offensive weapons formerly in use were bows,\narrows, and clubs. The latter were made of the hardest wood, not quite\nthe length of a man's arm, and very heavy, with a large round knob at\none end. For other descriptions of Indian weapons of war, see Long,\nLoskiel, and Mackenzie--especially the latter.\n\n(3)_Since he chewed the bitter root, and put on the new mocassins._--p.\n6.\n\nThe ceremony of initiation into manhood is one of the most important\nthat occurs among the Indians, and displays in a remarkable degree the\npower which superstition has acquired over their minds. It varies\nessentially among the different tribes, but the following description\nwill briefly exhibit the custom which has obtained in the tribes named\nin the tradition, and will give a tolerable idea of that in use among\nthe more remote bands.\n\n\"At the age of from fifteen to seventeen years, this ceremony (that of\ninitiating youth into manhood) is usually performed. They take two\nhandfuls of a very bitter root, and eat it during a whole day; then they\nsteep the leaves and drink the water. In the dusk of the evening, they\neat two or three spoonfuls of boiled corn. This is repeated for four\ndays, and during this time they remain in a house. On the fifth day they\ngo out, but must put on a pair of new mocassins. During twelve moons,\nthey abstain from eating bucks, except old ones, and from turkey-cocks,\nfowls, bears, and salt: During this period they must not pick their\nears, or scratch their heads with their fingers, but use a small stick.\nFor four moons they must have a fire to themselves to cook their food\nwith; the fifth moon, any person may cook for them, but they must serve\nthemselves first, and use one spoon and pan. Every new moon they drink\nfor four days a decoction of the bitter snake-root, an emetic, and\nabstain from all food, except in the evening, when they are permitted to\neat a little boiled corn. The twelfth moon they perform for four days\nwhat they commenced with on the first four days; the fifth day they come\nout of their house, gather corn cobs, burn them to ashes, and with\nthese rub their bodies all over. At the end of the moon they undergo a\nprofuse perspiration in the Sweating-house, then go into the water, and\nthus ends the ceremony. This ceremony is sometimes extended to only\nfour, six, or eight, months, but the course is the same.\"\n\nAfter this they are at liberty to assume the arms of a man, and take\nupon themselves the quest of glory. And they have adopted one at least\nof the maxims of civilized life--\"none but the brave deserve the fair.\"\nThey are not deemed worthy to attempt the siege of the forest maiden's\nheart till they have been received into the fraternity of warriors.\nThere can be no doubt whatever that this is essentially an Order of\nKnighthood; and as such the custom is entitled to receive a more\nlengthened notice than I am permitted to give it in this place.\n\n(4) _Beaver-Moon._--p. 6.\n\nWith the Indians every month has a name expressive of its season. The\nappellations will vary of course as the circumstance which gives the\nmonth its name is more or less hastened or deferred. The \"_corn-moon_\"\nof the Iroquois, on the northern lakes, would hardly be the _corn-moon_\nof the Creeks in Georgia. The Northern Indians call March, (the month in\nwhich their year begins,) the _worm-month_, because in this month the\nworms quit their retreats in the bark of the trees, where they have\nsheltered themselves during the winter.\n\nApril is the _moon of plants_.\n\nMay the _moon of flowers_.\n\nJune _the hot moon_.\n\nJuly the _buck-moon_.\n\nAugust is called the _sturgeon-moon,_ because that fish becomes abundant\nin this month.\n\nSeptember, the _corn-moon_, because the corn is gathered in that month.\n\nOctober, the _travelling-moon_; as at this time they leave their\nvillages, and travel towards the place where they intend to spend the winter.\n\nNovember, the _beaver-moon_; the month of commencing their hunts for the\nbeaver.\n\nDecember, the _hunting-moon_, because they employ this month in pursuit\nof game.\n\nJanuary, the _cold moon_, as this month has the most intense cold of any\nmonth.\n\nFebruary, the _snow-moon_, because most snow falls in this month.\n\nThe Delawares, while they lived on the Atlantic coast, called March the\n_shad-moon_; after they removed to the interior they called it the\n_sap-moon_; October was their _corn-moon_, &c.\n\nIt may be remarked, that the designations given to the months are\nderived from some remarkable trait of character, peculiarity of season,\nor extraordinary event. Were they in England, they would suit those\nnames to the prominent circumstance occurring in the month. The March of\nthe present year would probably have been the \"Month of the Silver\nCross,\" i.e. \"The Catholic Month;\" and, were they living at the West\nEnd, and frequenters of the Park, at the season when it is crowded with\nbeautiful faces, that season would undoubtedly receive the name of the\n\"Season of Starflowers,\" or the \"Month of the Rainbow birds.\"\n\n(5) _Master of Life_.--p. 7.\n\nThe belief entertained by savage nations respecting the Supreme Being,\nand a future state, is always entitled to a most respectful\nconsideration, because, when it admits the existence of a supreme,\nover-ruling, almighty intelligence, it furnishes the believer with an\nunanswerable argument for his creed. I have, therefore, devoted a few\npages to the subject, which I presume no one will think misapplied.\nHearne says, \"Religion has not as yet begun to dawn among the Northern\nIndians--I never found any of them that had the least idea of\nfuturity.\"--(_Hearne's Journey to the Northern Ocean.)_ And Colden, in\nhis History of the Five Nations, says, \"It is certain they have no kind\nof public worship, and I am told they have no radical word to express\nGod, but use a compound word signifying the Preserver, Sustainer, or\nMaster of the Universe; neither could I ever learn what sentiments 'they\nhave of future existence.\"--(_Colden's History of the Five Nations,_ p.\n15.) I have found no other writer who has advanced a like opinion to the\ntwo quoted above, and little importance has been attached to their\nopinions with respect to Indians. Charlevoix, the most accurate observer\nof Indian manners who has yet committed his thoughts to paper, says,\n\"Nothing is more certain, than that the savages of this continent have\nan idea of a First Being, but, at the same time, nothing is more\nobscure.\" They agree in general in making Him the First Spirit, the Lord\nand Creator of the world. \"Every thing,\" says be, \"appears to be the\nobject of a religious worship.\"--(_A Voyage to North America, by Father\nCharlevoix_, vol. ii. 107.) Heckewelder affirms, that \"Habitual devotion\nto the Great First Cause, and a strong, feeling of gratitude for the\nbenefits which He confers, is one of the prominent traits which\ncharacterise the mind of the untutored Indian.\"--(_Heck. Hist. Ace._ p.\n84.) Loskiel says, (_History of the Mission of the United Brethren_, p.\n33) \"The prevailing opinion of all these nations is, that there is one\nGod, or, as they call Him, one Great and Good Spirit, who has created\nthe heavens and the earth, and made man and every other creature.\"\nMackenzie affirms that they believe in a future state of rewards and\npunishments. I have observed that they had not any particular form of\nreligious worship, but, as they believe in a good and evil spirit, and a\nstate of future rewards and punishments, they cannot be devoid of\nreligious impressions.--(_Mackenzie's General History of the Fur Trade_,\nvol. i p. 145, 156.) The religion of the Mandans, say Lewis and Clarke,\n(vol. i. p. 138,) consists in the belief of one Great Spirit. As their\nbelief in a Supreme Being is firm and sincere, so their gratitude to Him\nis fervent and unvarying. They are tormented by no false philosophy, led\nastray by no recondite opinions of controversialists, whether _He is all\nin all_, or shares a \"divided throne.\" Simple and unenlightened sons of\nnature, they hold the belief which has never failed to present itself to\nsuch, _that there is a God_, and to be grateful and worship that God is\nthe second innate principle of our nature. There are no people more\nfrequent and fervent in their acknowledgments of gratitude to God. Their\nbelief in Him is universal, and their confidence in his goodness and\nmercy almost exceeds belief. Their Almighty Creator is always before\ntheir eyes on all important occasions. They feel and acknowledge, his\nsupreme power. They also endeavour to propitiate Him by outward worship\nor sacrifices. These are religious solemnities, intended to make\nthemselves acceptable to the Great Spirit, to find favour in His sight,\nand to obtain His forgiveness for past errors and offences.\n\nIn Winslow's \"Good News from England, or a relation of remarkable things\nin that plantation,\" anno. 1622, occur the following remarks on the\nsubject of the belief of the Indians of that country in a Supreme Being.\n\n\"A few things I thought meete to add heereunto, which I have observed\namongst the Indians, both touching their religion, and sundry other\ncustomes among them. And first, _whereas myselfe and others, in former\nletters_, (which came to the presse against my wille and knowledge,)\n_wrote_ that the Indians about us, are a _people without any religion,\nor knowledge of any God, therein I erred, though wee could then gather\nno better, for as they conceive of many divine powers, so of one whom\nthey call Kietan to be the principall maker of all the rest, and to be\nmade by none. Hee (they say) created the heavens, earth, sea, and all\ncreatures contained therein.\"_\n\nLong says, the tribes in the shade of the rocky mountains believe the\nWahconda to be \"the greatest and best of beings, the creator,\" &c.\n\nIn conclusion it may be affirmed, that a constant, abiding, and\nunwavering belief in the existence of a Supreme Being, and in his\ngoodness, is that entertained by the Western Indians.\n\n(6)_Take care of the old men_.--p. 8.\n\nThe American Indians pay great respect to old age. They will tremble\nbefore a grandfather, and submit to his injunctions with the utmost\nalacrity. With them, especially with the young, the words of the ancient\npart of the community are esteemed as oracles, and their sayings\nregarded with the veneration paid of yore to the leaves of the Sybil. If\nthey take during their hunting parties any game that is reckoned by them\nuncommonly delicious, it is immediately presented to the eldest of their\nrelations.\n\nFrom their infancy they are taught to be kind and attentive to aged\npersons, and never let them suffer for want of necessaries and comforts.\nThe parents spare no pains to impress upon the minds of their children\nthe conviction that they would draw down upon themselves the anger of\nthe Great Spirit, were they to neglect those whom in his goodness he had\npermitted to attain such an advanced age. It is a sacred principle among\nthe Indians, that the Great Spirit made it the duty of parents to\nmaintain and take care of their children until they should be able to\nprovide for themselves, and that, having while weak and helpless\nreceived the benefits of maintenance, education, and protection, they\nare bound to repay them by a similar care of those who are labouring\nunder the infirmities of old age. They do not confine themselves to acts\nof absolute necessity; it is not enough that the old are not suffered to\nstarve with hunger or perish with cold, but they must be made as much as\npossible to share in the pleasures and comforts of life.(_Heck. 152,\n153_.) He goes on to remark that they are frequently carried to the\nchase on a horse, or in a canoe, that their spirits may be revived by\nthe sight of a sport in which they can no longer participate. 153. \"At\nhome the old are as well treated, and taken care of, as if they were\nfavourite children. They are cherished, and even caressed, indulged in\nhealth, and nursed in sickness, and all their wishes and wants attended\nto. Their company is sought by the young, to whom their conversation is\nconsidered an honour. Their advice is asked on all occasions, their\nwords are listened to as oracles, and their occasional garrulity, nay\neven the second childhood often attendant on extreme old age, is never\nwith the Indians a subject of ridicule or laughter.\"\n\nAge is every where much respected, for, according to their ideas, long\nlife and wisdom are always connected together.\n\nYoung Indians endeavour by presents to gain instruction from the aged,\nand to learn from them how to attain to old age. _Loskiel_, part I, p.\n15\n\nAge seemed to be an object of great veneration among these people, for\nthey carried an old woman by turns on their backs, who was quite blind\nand infirm, from the very advanced period of her life. _Mackenzie_, 293.\n\n(7) _God of War_.--p. 8.\n\nThe terms, Great Spirit and God of War, are synonimous with many of the\nIndian tribes, but not with all. The Hurons call him Areskoui; the\nIroquois, by a slight deviation, Agreskoui. Other nations have adopted\nother names.\n\n(8) _He went to the woman, laid his hand on her, and wept_.--p. 14.\n\nBeing then out of all hopes of surprising their enemies, three or four\nof the eldest of them laid their hands on my head, and began to weep\nbitterly, accompanying their tears with such mournful accents as can\nhardly be expressed; while I, with a very sorry handkerchief I had left,\nmade shift to dry up their tears; to very little purpose however, for,\nrefusing to smoke in our calumet, they thereby gave us to understand\nthat their design was still to murder us. (_Hennepin's Voyage_, printed\nin Transactions of American Ant. Soc. Vol. I. page 83, and see page 85\nof the same vol.)\n\nThis \"imposition of hands,\" accompanied with tears, was for the purpose\nof exciting compassion for the recent loss of their relations in\nconflict, and thus procuring revenge.\n\nI am by no means certain that the above is a correct explanation of the\npractice, though, in the tale or tradition in which I have introduced\nit, I have considered it so. Tonti, in his relation of De La Salle's\nExpedition, supposes it to arise from a more subdued feeling. The\npassage, as the reader will see, is replete with poetical beauty. His\nwords are--\"We arrived in the midst of a very extraordinary nation,\ncalled the _Biscatonges_, to whom we gave the name of weepers, in regard\nthat upon the first approach of strangers, all these people, as well men\nas women, usually fall a-weeping bitterly: the reason of this practice\nis very particular; for these poor people imagining that their relations\nor friends deceased are gone a journey, and continually expecting their\nreturn, the remembrance of 'em is renewed upon the arrival of new\npassengers; but forasmuch as they do not find in their persons those\nwhose loss they lament, it only serves to increase their grief. That\nwhich is yet more remarkable, and perhaps even very reasonable, is that\nthey weep much more at the birth of their children than at their death,\nbecause the latter is esteemed only by 'em, as it were a journey or\nvoyage, from whence they may return after the expiration of a certain\ntime, but they look upon their nativity as an inlet into an ocean of\ndangers and misfortunes.\"\n\n(9) _A great man whose head nearly reached the sky._--p. 26.\n\nThe God of the Indians has always a corporeal form, and is generally of\nimmense stature. He is chiefly represented as a man possessed of great\ndimensions and mighty corporeal strength. Sometimes however he takes the\nshape of a beast. Charlevoix says: \"Almost all the Algonquin nations\nhave siren the name of the _Great Hare_ to the first spirit. Some call\nhim _Michabou_, _i.e._ God of the Waters; others _Atoacan_, the meaning of\nwhich I do not know. The greatest part say that, being supported on the\nwaters with all his court, all composed of _four-footed creatures like\nhimself_, he formed the earth out of a grain of sand taken from the\nbottom of the ocean, &c. Some speak of a God of the Waters, who opposed\nthe design of the _Great Hare_, or at least refused to favour it. _This\nGod is, according to some, the Great Tiger_.\" _Charlevoix_, ii, 107, 108.\nAnd see tradition _supra_. The Hurons believe him to be the sun. _Ibid_.\nThe same author remarks (_page_ 109) that \"the Gods of the savages have,\naccording to their notions, bodies and live much in the same manner as\nwe do,\" &c.\n\nCarver says \"the Indians appear to fashion to themselves corporeal\nrepresentations of their Gods, and believe them to be of a human form.\"\nWennebea, one of the Indian chiefs seen by Long in his expedition to the\nsource of St. Peter's River, thought the Great Spirit had a human form,\nand wore a _white hat_. It surely cannot after this be held that the\n\"ideas of an Indian have _always_ a degree of sublimity.\"\n\nI have never seen an Indian who believed the Supreme Being to have other\nthan a human form, or to be of less than Almighty power and dimensions.\nAn Indian, who was in the service of the Author during the entire period\nbetween childhood and manhood, and used to delight and astonish him with\nhis sublime though most natural conceptions of Infinity and the Godhead,\nalways called him the Great Good Man. The \"Prince of the power of the\nair,\" he very appositely called the \"Little Bad Man.\"\n\n\n\n\nPOMATARE, THE FLYING BEAVER.\n\n\nPomatare rose and said:--\"Brothers, a very great while ago, the\nancestors of the Shawanos nation lived on the other side of the Great\nLake, halfway between the rising sun and the evening star. It was a land\nof deep snows and much frost; of winds which whistled in the clear cold\nnights, and storms which travelled from seas no eye could reach.\nSometimes the sun ceased to shine for moons together, and then he was\ncontinually before our eyes for as many more. In the season of cold, the\nwaters were all locked up, and the snows overtopped the ridge of our\ncabins; then he shone out so fiercely that men fell down stricken by his\nfierce beams, and were numbered with the snow which had melted, and run\nto the embrace of the rivers. It was not like the beautiful lands, the\nlands blessed with soft suns and ever-green vales, where we now dwell.\nYet it was well stocked with deer, and the waters with fat seals and\ngreat fish, which were caught just when the people pleased to go after\nthem. Still our nation were discontented, and wished to leave their\nbarren and inhospitable shores. The priests had told them of a beautiful\nworld beyond the Great Salt Lake, from which the glorious sun never\ndisappeared for a longer time than the duration of a child's sleep,\nwhere snow-shoes were never wanted--a land clothed with eternal verdure,\nand bright with never-failing gladness. The Shawanos listened to these\ntales till their minds came to loathe their own simple comforts; they\neven forgot the spot which contained the ashes of their ancestors; all\nthey talked of, all they appeared to think of, was the _land of the\nhappy hunting-grounds._[A]\n\n[Footnote A: Place of souls after death--the Indian elysium.]\n\n\"Once upon a time, in the season of opening buds, and the singing of\nbirds, and the whistling of the breeze among the wild flowers, the\npeople of our nation were much terrified at seeing a strange creature,\nmuch resembling a man, riding along the adjacent waves upon the back of\na fish. He had upon his head long green hair, much resembling the coarse\nweeds which the mighty storms of the month of falling leaves root up\nfrom the bottom of the ocean, and scatter along the margin of the\nfeathery strand where we now dwell. Upon his face, which was shaped like\nthat of a porpoise, he had a beard of the colour of ooze. Around his\nneck hung a string of great sea-shells, upon his forehead was bound\nanother made of the teeth of the cayman, and in his hand was a staff\nformed of the rib of a whale. But, if our people were frightened at\nseeing a man who could live in the water like a fish or a duck, how much\nmore were they frightened when they saw, that from his breast down he\nwas actually a fish, or rather two fishes, for each of his legs was a\nwhole and distinct fish. And, when they heard him speak distinctly in\ntheir own language, and still more when he sang songs sweeter than the\nmusic of birds in spring, or the whispers of love from the lips of a\nbeautiful maiden, they thought it a being from the Land of Shades, a\nspirit from the happy fishing grounds beyond the lake of storms, and ran\ninto the woods like startled deer. And this was his song:\n\n    SONG OF THE MAN-FISH.\n\n    I live in the depths of brine,\n    Where grows the green grass slim and tall,\n    Among the coral rocks;\n    And I drink of their crystal streams, and eat\n    The year-old whale, and the mew;\n    And I ride along the dark blue waves\n    On the sportive dolphin's back;\n    And I sink to rest in the fathomless caves,\n    Beyond the sea-shark's track.\n\n    I hide my head, in the pitiless storm,\n    In caverns dark and deep;\n    My couch of ooze is pleasant and warm,\n    And soft and sweet my sleep.\n    I rise again when the winds are still,\n    And the waves have sunk to rest,\n    And call, with my conch-shell, strong and shrill,\n    My mate to the Salt Lake's breast.\n\n\"And there he would sit for hours, his fish-legs coiled up under him,\nsinging to the wondering ears of the Indians upon the shore the\npleasures he experienced, and the beautiful and strange things he saw,\nin the depths of the ocean, always closing his strange stories with\nthese words, shouted at the top of his lungs: \"Follow me, and see what I\nwill show you!\" Every day, when the waves were still, and the winds had\ngone to their resting-place in the depths of the earth(1), to get sleep\nthat they might come out refreshed for their race over the green vales\nand meadows, the monster was sure to be seen near the shore where our\ntribe dwelt. For a great many suns, they dared not adventure upon the\nwater in quest of food, doing nothing but wander along the beach,\nwatching the strange creature as he played his antics upon the surface\nof the waves, and listening to his charming songs, and to his\ninvitation, \"Follow me, and see what I will show you!\" But the longer he\nstayed, the less they feared him. They became used to him, and as, the\noftener the tiger glares upon you from the thicket, the oftener you hear\nthe whoop of death, the more you come to despise them, so in time they\nbegan to think him a spirit who was neither made for harm, nor wished to\ninjure the poor Indian. Then they grew hungry, and their wives and\nlittle ones cried for food. And as hunger does away all fear, except\nthat which relates to the satisfying it, in a few days three canoes,\nwith many men and warriors, no longer decorated with war-paint, no\nlonger armed with bows and arrows and sharp spears, but with the pale\ncheeks of men of peace, and bearing the implements of fishermen,\nventured off to the rocks in quest of the finny brood.\n\n\"When our fathers reached the fishing-place, they heard, as before, the\nvoice shouting, \"Follow me, and see what I will show you!\" Presently the\nMan-Fish appeared, sitting on the water, with his legs, or the fins\nwhich served for legs, folded under him, and his arms crossed on his\nbreast, as they had usually seen him. There he sat, eyeing them\nattentively, while they tried to bring up the fat things of the deep.\nWhen they failed to draw in the fish they had hooked, he would make the\nvery water shake, and the deep echo with shouts of laughter, and would\nclap his hands with great noise, and cry, \"Ha! ha! my boy, there he\nfooled you!\" When they caught any he was very angry, and would scold\nlike an old woman when her husband returns from hunting and brings no\nmeat. When they had tried long and patiently, and taken little, and the\nsun was just hiding himself behind the dark clouds which skirted the\nRegion of Warm Winds,[A] the strange creature, popping up his head\nwithin a few paces of the canoe, cried out still stronger than before,\n\"Follow me, and see what I will show you!\" Kiskapocoke, who was the head\nman of the tribe, asked him what he wanted, but he would make no other\nanswer than \"Follow me!\" Kiskapocoke said, \"Do you think I will be such\na fool as to go, I don't know with whom, and I don't know where?\"\n\n[Footnote A: Region of Warm Winds--the South and South-west.]\n\n\"\"Ah! but see what I will show you,\" cried the Man-Fish, throwing up one\nof his odd legs, and flirting the water all over the speaker in the\nboat.\n\n\"\"Can you show us any thing better than we have yonder?\" asked the\nwarrior, pointing to their cabins on the shore--\"good wives, good\nchildren, good dogs--plenty of deer, plenty of train-oil, plenty of\nevery thing?\"\n\n\"\"Yes, and plenty of storms in the moons of falling leaves and melting\nice, and plenty of snow in the time between them; and oftentimes plenty\nof hunger, and always plenty of danger from bears, and wolves, and\npainted warriors. But go with me, and see what I will show you--a land\nwhere there is a herd of deer for every one that skips over your\nice-bound hills, where there are vast droves of creatures larger than\nyour sea-elephants, called, in the language of the people of the land,\n_bisons_, where there is no cold to freeze you, where the glorious sun\nis always soft and smiling, where the trees and the fields are always in\nbloom, where the men always grow tall as stately pines, and the women\nbeautiful as the stars of night.\"\n\n\"Our fathers began now to be terrified, and wished themselves on the\nland. But, the moment they tried to paddle towards the shore, some\ninvisible hand would seize their canoes, and draw them back, so that an\nhour's labour did not enable them to gain the length of their boat in\nthe direction of their parted friends and relatives. Then there was much\nlaughing all around them, and fins of all sizes, shapes, and colours,\nflirted the water over them, till they were as wet as if they had been\nswimming. At last Kiskapocoke said to his companions, \"What shall we\ndo?\"\n\n\"\"Follow me!\" said the Man-Fish, popping up his head as before.\n\n\"Then Kiskapocoke said to his companions, \"Let us follow him, and see\nwhat will come of it.\" So they followed him, he swimming and they\npaddling, until night came. Then a great wind and deep darkness\nprevailed, and the Great Serpent commenced hissing in the depths of the\nocean. They were terribly frightened, and thought not of living till\nanother sun, but of perishing in the great deep, far from the lands of\ntheir fathers, and without glory. But the Man-Fish kept close to the\nboat, and bade them not be afraid, for nothing should hurt them, if they\nonly followed him and saw what he would show them. And thus they\ncontinued, amidst the raging of the winds and the waves, and the\nthunders and the lightnings, to paddle their slender canoes till the sun\narose.\n\n\"When morning came, nothing could be seen of the shore they had left. The\nwinds still raged, the seas were very high, and the water ran into their\ncanoes like melted snows over the brows of the mountains in the months\nof spring. But the Man-Fish handed them large shells, wherewith they\nwere enabled to bale it out. As they had brought neither food nor water\nwith them, and had caught neither fish nor rain, they had become both\nhungry and thirsty. Kiskapocoke told the strange creature they wanted to\neat and drink, and that he must enable them to do both. \"For,\" said he,\n\"since you brought us here, you would be a very bad fish to let us\nstarve or die of thirst.\"\n\n\"\"Oh! very well,\" answered the Man-Fish; \"stop where you are then, while\nI go down, and get you victuals and water; and be sure, this time, that\nyou do _not_ follow me.\" With that he made a plunge into the depths of\nthe wave. Down he went, how far our fathers could not say, only this\nthey knew that, when he came back again, he puffed and blew like a\nwhale, and said, he was very tired. He brought with him a great bag full\nof parched corn, not at all wet, a great shell full of good sweet water,\nand a big piece of roasted fish. \"I am confoundedly tired, and I got\nscorched into the bargain,\" said he, muttering to himself. \"So much for\nhaving a cross wife.\"\n\n\"Thus they went on paddling and paddling, day and night, wet, cold, and\nsometimes hungry, for two moons and a half, till at last, one morning,\nthe Man-Fish cried out \"Look there!\" Upon that they rubbed up their\neyes, and, looking sharp in the direction he pointed, saw land, high\nland, covered with great trees, and glittering as the sand of the\nSpirit's Island(2). Behind the shore rose tall mountains, from the tops\nof which issued great flames, which shot up into the sky as the forks of\nthe lightning cleave the clouds in the Hot Moon. The waters of the Great\nSalt Lake broke into small waves upon its shores, which were covered\nwith seals sporting, and wild ducks pluming themselves, in the beams of\nthe warm and gentle sun. Upon the shore stood a great many strange\npeople, but, when they saw our warriors step upon the land, and the\nMan-Fish coming up out of the water, and heard his cry, \"Follow me!\"\nthey all ran into the woods like startled deer, and our fathers saw no\nmore of them.\n\n\"When our fathers were all safely landed, the Man-Fish told them to let\nthe canoe go, \"for,\" said he, \"you will never need it more.\" They had\ntravelled but a little way into the woods when he bade them stay where\nthey were, while he told the Spirit of the land that the strangers he\nhad promised were come, and with that he descended into a deep cave near\nthem. Soon he returned, and with him a creature as strange as himself,\nor still stranger. His legs and feet were those of a man; he had\nleggings and mocassins like an Indian's, tightly laced, and beautifully\ndecorated with wampum; but his head was like a goat's, even to the huge\nhorns and long beard; his hands were a goat's fore-feet, and the upper\npart of his body was covered with moss-coloured hair, soft and shining,\nlike that of the goats which browse upon the steeps of the Spirit's\nBackbone. Yet he talked like a man, though his voice was the voice of a\ngoat, and his language was one well understood by our fathers. He stood\nup, with his feet or hands, whichever they might be called, resting upon\na little rock before him, like a goat which clambers up to nip the\nloftier buds, and made them a long speech.\n\n\"\"You are going to a beautiful land,\" said he, \"to a most beautiful\nland, men from the Clime of Snows. There you will find all the joys\nwhich an Indian covets. The beasts you will see will be fat, tame, and\nnumerous as the trees of the forest, and the fowls and birds which will\ncover your waters and people your woods will be sleek as the forehead of\na young girl. Then, how lovely and kind are its maidens, how green and\ngay its hills and valleys, how refreshing the winds which sweep over the\nbosom of the great lake on its border, how sweet, clean, and cool, the\nbeautiful streams which wind along its corn-littered vales! Oh, it is a\nlovely land, and the strangers have done well to leave the misery which\nawaited them in the regions of the star that never sets, for the peace\nand happiness which will be theirs in the land of unceasing summer.\"\n\n\"Brothers and chiefs! our ancestors travelled many moons under the\nguidance of the Man-Goat into whose hands the Man-Fish had put them when\nhe retraced his steps to the Great Lake. They came at length to the land\nwhich the Shawanos now occupy. They found it, as the strange spirits had\ndescribed it, a fit abode for the Great Spirit, a land of good and happy\nenjoyments to his creatures. They married the beautiful and affectionate\nmaidens of the land, and their numbers increased till they were so many\nthat no one could count them. They grew strong, swift, and valiant, as\npanthers, bold and brave in war, keen and patient in the chace. They\novercame all the tribes eastward of the River of Rivers,[A] and south to\nthe further shore of the Great Lake[B]. The dark-skin, whose eye beheld\ntheir badge of war, fawned on them, or fled, became women before them,\nor sought a region where neither their war-cry nor the twanging of their\nbows was heard breaking the silence of the dark night.\n\n[Footnote A: River of Rivers. Mississippi.]\n\n[Footnote B: Great Lake, the ocean.]\n\n\"Brothers, we are called _Shawanos_ from the name of the river which runs\nthrough our hunting-grounds. This is all I have to say.\"\n\nNOTES.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n(1) _The winds had gone to their resting-place in the depths of the\nearth_.--p. 50.\n\nThe Indians think that a calm is caused by the winds' steeping. They\nbelieve that it is quite as necessary for them to be refreshed by rest\nand slumber, as for man to have his periodical exemptions from fatigue.\nI never met with an Indian who entertained any thing like the opinion of\ntheir cause current among philosophers. Attempting once to explain the\nphenomenon to a groupe of Indians, I found myself treated with as much\ncontempt and abhorrence as a company of pious Christians would express\nfor an Atheist who broadly avowed his creed.\n\n(2) _Glittering at the sand of the Spirit's Island_.--p. 55.\n\nThe Chipewas say, that some of their people, being once driven on the\nbland of Maurepas, which lies towards the north-east part of lake\nSuperior, found on it large quantities of heavy, shining, yellow sand,\nthat from their description must have been gold-dust. Being struck with\nthe beautiful appearance of it, in the morning, when they reentered\ntheir canoe, they attempted to bring some away; but a spirit of amazing\nsize, according to their account sixty feet in height, strode into the\nwater after them, and commanded them to deliver back what they had\ntaken. Terrified at his gigantic stature, and seeing that he had nearly\novertaken them, they were glad to restore their shining treasure; on\nwhich they were suffered to depart without further molestation.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ALARM OF THE GREAT SENTINEL.\n\nA TRADITION OF THE DELAWARES.\n\n\nOnce upon a time, a young Indian of the Delaware nation, hunting in the\nlands which belonged to his tribe, had the good fortune to take captive\nan old white owl, who had for his lodge a hollow oak in which he dwelt\nwith his family. As it was a time of great scarcity among the Indians,\nall their late hunts having been singularly unsuccessful, the hunter\ndetermined to kill the owl and make a present of its flesh to the maiden\nhe loved, who had tasted no food for many suns. As he was rubbing his\nknife upon a stone, that it might be sharp and do the murder easily, the\nowl, who, with his leg tied to a tree, was looking on with a very\ncurious and knowing air, turning his head first one way and then another,\nnow scratching it with his untied claw and now shaking it as the beams\nof the sun came into his eyes, asked him what he was doing. The young\nhunter, who, being a good and brave warrior, scorned to tell a lie(1)\neven to an owl, answered that he was making ready to cut off his head.\n\n\"Poh, poh,\" said the cunning old fellow, \"if you kill me, what will my\nwife, and my daughters, and my little ones, do? My woman is old and\nblind, and the rest are but so-so. Who will catch mice for them, pray?\"\n\n\"They will be adopted into other families, I suppose,\" answered the\nhunter, \"or the old woman will get another husband.\"\n\n\"Such may be the Indian custom,\" said the owl, \"but it is not the custom\nof my nation. Besides, the woman is so old and ugly that the Evil One\nwould not take her for a second wife. No, no, if you take my life, the\nlittle ones will starve. Their eyes are very weak in the day time, and\nthey are too young and shy to go out by night. If you kill me they will\nstarve,\" repeated the owl.\n\n\"I am very hungry,\" said the hunter. \"Neither fish nor flesh has been\ntaken by my nation for many days; the maiden whom I love is dying for\nwant of food. You would be a nice dish for her.\"\n\n\"Old and tough, old and tough,\" said the owl, winking very knowingly.\n\"But does not the Lenape hunter know that there are things to be worse\nfeared than death? The warrior should fear captivity and disgrace before\nthe evils of an unsatisfied appetite.\"\n\n\"The Delawares are men,\" said the hunter, proudly. \"They are the masters\nof the earth, they are never captured. They will themselves take care\nthat no disgrace falls upon them. The owl must be cooked for the dinner\nof the Lenape maiden.\"\n\n\"The youngest son of the head chief of the Gray Owls is this night to\nmarry my daughter,\" said the captive. \"May I not go to the feast? The\nguests are assembled, the food is prepared, they wait but my presence.\"\n\n\"No,\" answered the hunter.\n\n\"Then will a warrior of the Delawares be a greater fool than the Mingo\nwho married a rattlesnake[A], and forgot to cut off her tail. He will be\ndeaf to the voice of a Great Medicine[B]; the owl bids him beware.\"\n\n[Footnote A: See the Tradition in the third volume.]\n\n[Footnote B: Medicine means Spirit--Great Medicine, Great Spirit.]\n\n\"Is my brother a Medicine?\" asked the alarmed hunter.\n\n\"He is,\" answered the grave old bird, shaking his head. \"If now the\nDelaware hunter will suffer the owl to return to his family in the\nhollow oak, the good deed shall never be forgotten by my tribe. There\nshall be two eyes watching for the safety of the Delawares upon every\ntree around their lodges. While they, wearied out by war or the chase,\nare sleeping in darkness and imagined security, the owl shall stand\nsentry, and warn them if danger should be nigh. When they hear the voice\nof the owl, calling out in the depths of the night, 'Up! up! danger!\ndanger!' let them grasp their bows and war-spears, and be men.\"\n\n\"Go,\" said the hunter, cutting the string which bound the prisoner to\nthe tree of death. So the old white owl, with a couple of mice in his\nclaws, went back to his lodge in the hollow oak, to comfort his old\nwoman whom the Evil One would not have, and to see his daughter married\nto the young gray owl, while the youthful hunter departed to pursue a\ndeer, which that moment appeared in a glade of the neighbouring forest.\n\nMany seasons had passed away, flowers had sprung up to wither, and the\nsprouts from the seed of the oak had become lofty trees that bent not\nwith the weight of the panther. The young hunter married the maiden for\nwhose sake he would have killed the old white owl; their children were\nmany and good; and the hunter himself had become head chief of the\nUnamis or Turtles, the most potent tribe of Delawares, and who reckon\nthemselves the parent of all other Indians. They had fought many great\nbattles; they had warred with the nations of the North and the South,\nthe East, and the West, with the Shawanos of the Burning Water[A], the\nMengwe of the Great Lakes, the Sioux who hunt beyond the River of\nFish[B], and the Narragansetts who dwell in the land of storms: and in\nall and over all they had been victorious. The warriors of the Smoking\nWater had confessed themselves women, the Sioux had paid their tribute\nof bear-skins, the Narragansetts had sent beautiful shells for their\nwomen, and the Mengwees had fled from the war-shout of the Delawares, as\na startled deer runs from the cry of the hunter. Our warriors had just\nreturned from invading the lands of the latter tribe, and had brought\nwith them many scalps. They were weary and exhausted, but an Indian\nwarrior never admits that he is either. So they feasted and rejoiced\nloud and long. They sung in the open ears of their people their\nexploits, the foes by their valour laid low, or duped by their cunning,\nor victims to their patience in awaiting the proper moment for attack,\nor to their speed and celerity in pursuit. And they danced the dance of\nthanksgiving in honour of their protecting Wahconda,[C] and gave the\nscalp-yell for every scalp taken, as is the custom of Indian warriors\nwhen returned from a successful expedition.\n\n[Footnote A: Burning Water, the river Walkulla, in Florida, near the\nsource of which there is, or was, a burning spring. See the Tradition.]\n\n[Footnote B: River of Fish, another name for Mississippi, from the\nIndian words _naemes_ a fish, _sipu_, a river.]\n\n[Footnote C: Wahconda, Great Spirit, the Supreme Being.]\n\nThe song and the dance finished, the Unamis, who are the grandfather of\nnations, were sleeping quietly in their lodges on the beautiful banks of\nthe Lenape wihittuck[A], dreaming of no danger, keeping no watch. Buried\nin deep slumber, and communing with the Manitou[B] of Dreams(2), they\nlay, one in the arms of his wife, another by the couch of his beloved\nmaiden, one dreaming over dreams of war and slaughter, another of love\nand wedded joys, one in fancy grasping the spear and the war-club,\nanother and a younger the bosom of a dusky maiden of his tribe. Over\ntheir heads the tall forest tree waved in the night wind, giving the\nmelancholy music of sighing branches; beside them ran the clear waters\nof the river, slightly murmuring as they rolled away to the land, which\nour nation gave to their good brother Miquon[C]. All was so hushed in\nthe camp of the Unamis that the lowest note of the wren could have been\nheard from limit to limit.\n\n[Footnote A: Lenape wihittnck, the \"river of Delawares,\" the Delaware.]\n\n[Footnote B: Manitou, a subordinate spirit, or tutelar genius.]\n\n[Footnote C: Miquon, William Penn, the Founder of Pennsylvania.]\n\nHark! what noise is that? I hear a rustling of the dry grass and low\nbushes, at the distance of three bowshots from the camp of the sleeping\nUnamis. I behold the grass bowed down, I see the bushes yielding to some\nheavy creature is pressing through them. Is it the buffalo? No, he has\nneither the power nor wit to hide himself. Is it the deer? No, he has\ngone to drink of the salt waters of the Great Lake. Is it the cougar?\nNo, for he never crouches except when he springs on his victim. Hush! I\nsee one of the unknown beasts raising itself above the copse. Slow and\nwarily, first appears an eagle's leather, then a black scalp-lock, then\na pair of shining eyes, but they are neither the wolfs, nor the wild\ncat's. Oh! I know him now, and I know his band. It is they who let the\nLeni Lenape fight the Allegewi[A] while they looked on, it is the dogs\nof the lakes, the treacherous Mengwe. Slowly they dropped again into the\ncopse, and the band moved onward to gain that fatal station which should\ngive into their power the unsuspecting Unamis. But they did not know\nthat two curious eyes were watching their every movement; they did not\nknow that perched on the limb of a decayed tree in front of their\nhiding-place sat an old white owl.\n\n[Footnote A: See the Tradition of the Fall of the Leni Lenape.]\n\nNothing said the owl, it was not time yet, and he suffered the\ntreacherous Mengwe to approach within two bowshots of the sleeping\nwarriors. All at once, with a voice that penetrated every glade of the\nforest, this great sentinel over mankind shouted \"Up! up! danger!\ndanger!\" All the birds of the species were alert at their posts, and all\nwithin hearing of the shout of their chief repeated the words of alarm.\n\"Up! up! danger! danger!\" rung through the hollow woods, and\nreverberated among the hills. Up sprung the Unamis, and sallied\ncautiously out to find the cause of alarm. They were just in time to\ndiscover the backs of the flying Mengwe, from whose treacherous spears\nthey were saved by the timely cry of their vigilant and grateful\nsentinel, the old white owl.\n\nSince that time, the hunters of the Delawares never harm this wise and\ngood bird(3). When in the night it is heard sounding its notes, or\ncalling to its mate, some one in the camp will rise, and taking some\n_glicanum_, or Indian tobacco, will strew it on the fire, that the\nascending smoke may reach the bird, and show him that they are not\nunmindful of his kindness to them and their ancestors.\n\n\nNOTES.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n(1) _Scorned to tell a lie_.--p. 61.\n\nThe Indians pay a most scrupulous attention to truth, not because they\nattach any peculiar moral virtue to it, or think the breach of it will\nbe punished, but because they esteem the telling a lie a mark of\ncowardice. Civilized nations view lying as both unmanly and criminal;\nthe Indian, as indicating the fear of the liar to meet the consequences\nof disclosing the truth. It has been adduced by more than one writer to\nprove the existence of an _innate_ love of truth in the human breast.\n\n(2) _Manitou of Dreams_.--p. 66.\n\nThe life of an Indian is regulated by his dreams. There is not a single\nenterprise of any importance undertaken till the Manitou of sleep has\nbeen consulted. When a child is born, the nature of his future\noccupation is taught by dreams; when he arrives at manhood, the name by\nwhich he is in future to be known is given in consequence of what is\nseen in the dream which follows the feast of initiation into manhood.\n\nThere is nothing in which they have shown more superstition and\nextravagance, than in what regards their dreams; but they differ much in\nthe manner of explaining their thoughts on this matter. Sometimes it is\nthe reasonable soul that wanders out, while the sensitive soul continues\nto animate the body; sometimes it is the familiar genius that gives good\nadvice about future events; sometimes it is a visit they receive from\nthe soul of the object they dream of. But, in whatsoever way they\nconceive of a dream, it is always regarded as a sacred thing, and as the\nmeans which the Gods most usually employ to declare their will to men.\n\n\"Prepossessed with this idea,\" says Charlevoix, (a writer I delight\nto quote) \"they cannot conceive that we should take no notice of them.\nFor the most part they look upon them as desires of the soul inspired by\nsome spirit, or an order from it. And, in consequence of this principle,\nthey make it a duty of religion to obey these commands. A savage, having\ndreamt that his finger was cut off, really had it cut off when he awoke,\nafter he had prepared himself for this important action by a feast.\nAnother, dreaming that he was a prisoner in the bands of his enemies,\nwas greatly embarrassed. He consulted the jugglers, and, by their\nadvice, got himself tied to a post, and burned in various parts of the\nbody.\"--_Charlevoix,_ ii. 18.\n\nDreams are resorted to for the purpose of procuring a proper Manitou or\nguardian spirit for the child. This is the most important affair of\nlife. They begin by blacking the face of the child; then it must fast\nfor eight days, without baring the least nourishment; and, during this\ntime, his future guardian genius must appear to him in his dreams. Every\nmorning, they take great care to make him relate them. The thing the\nchild dreams of most frequently is supposed to be his genius; but no\ndoubt this thing was considered at first only as a symbol or shape under\nwhich the spirit manifests itself.\n\nNor is this potency of dreams peculiar to one tribe or nation; it\nobtains, both as a belief and practice, throughout the entire continent,\nover which that perfect anomaly in the human kind, the red men, are\nscattered. Equally among the Esquimaux of the regions of eternal ice,\nand the Abipones of Paraguay, dreams are reckoned the revelations of the\nGod of the Universe.\n\n(3) _Wise and good bird.--p._ 68.\n\nIt is singular that the owl should be the symbol of Wisdom, Minerva's\nbird, alike with the classic Greeks and Romans, and the American\nsavages. This is one of the many arguments to be drawn from existing\nmanners and customs, to prove that the peopling of the western continent\nby the race who at present occupy it took place at a period, which may\nwell have permitted their drawing upon classic models for a portion of\ntheir beautiful figures and allegories. Unhappily, our desire to know\nthem thoroughly and truly has only been awakened since their minds have\nbeen _corrupted_, and the strong traits of their character blunted by a\nparticipation in our enervating and demoralising _comforts_! They can\nnow be studied only in the reports made of them by early travellers.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MOTHER OF THE WORLD.\n\nA TRADITION OF THE DOG-RIBS.\n\n\nIn the frozen regions of the North, beyond the lands which are now the\nhunting-grounds of the Snakes and Coppermines, there lived, when no\nother being but herself _was_, a woman who became the mother of the\nworld. She was a little woman, our fathers told us, not taller than the\nshoulders of a young maiden of our nation, but she was very beautiful\nand very wise. Whether she was good-tempered or cross, I cannot tell,\nfor she had no husband, and so there was nothing to vex her, or to try\nher patience. She had not, as the women of our nation now have, to pound\ncorn, or to fetch home heavy loads of buffalo flesh, or to make\nsnow-sledges, or to wade into the icy rivers to spear salmon, or basket\nkepling, or to lie concealed among the wet marsh grass and wild rice to\nsnare pelicans, and cranes, and goosanders, while her lazy,\ngood-for-nothing husband lay at home, smoaking his pipe, and drinking\nthe pleasant juice of the Nishcaminnick by the warm fire in his cabin.\nShe had only to procure her own food, and this was the berries, and\nhips, and sorrel, and rock-moss, which, being found plentifully near her\ncave, were plucked with little trouble. Of these she gathered, in their\nseason, when the sun beamed on the earth like a maiden that loves and is\nbeloved, a great deal to serve her for food when the snows hid the earth\nfrom her sight, and the cold winds from the fields of eternal frost\nobliged her to remain in her rude cavern. Though alone, she was happy.\nIn the summer it was her amusement to watch the juniper and the alders,\nas they put forth, first their leaves, and then their buds, and when the\nlatter became blossoms, promising to supply the fruit she loved, her\nobservation became more curious and her feelings more interested; then\nwould her heart beat with the rapture of a young mother, whose gaze is\nfixed on her sleeping child, and her eyes glisten with the dew of joy\nwhich wets the cheeks of those who meet long parted friends. Then she\nwould wander forth to search for the little berry whose flower is\nyellow, and which requires keen eyes to find it in its hiding-place in\nthe grass, and the larger[A] which our white brother eats with his\nbuffalo-meat; and their progress, from the putting forth of the leaf to\nthe ripening of the fruit, was watched by her with eager joy. When tired\nof gazing upon the pine and stunted poplar, she would lie down in the\nshade of the creeping birch and dwarf willow, and sink to rest, and\ndream dreams which were not tinged with the darkness of evil. The\nsighing of the wind through the branches of the trees, and the murmur of\nlittle streams through the thicket, were her music. Throughout the land\nthere was nothing to hurt her, or make her afraid, for there was nothing\nin it that had life, save herself and the little flower which blooms\namong thorns. And these two dwelt together like sisters.\n\n[Footnote A: The cranberry.]\n\nOne day, when the mother of the world was out gathering berries, and\nwatching the growth of a young pine, which had sprung up near her friend\nthe flower, and threatened, as the flower said, \"to take away the beams\nof the sun from it,\" she was scared by the sight of a strange creature,\nwhich ran upon four legs, and to all her questions answered nothing but\n\"Bow, wow, wow.\" To every question our mother asked, the creature made\nthe same answer, \"bow, wow, wow.\" So she left off asking him questions,\nfor they were sure to be replied to in three words of a language she\ncould not understand. Did he ask for berries? no, for she offered him a\nhandful of the largest and juiciest which grew in the valley, and he\nneither took them nor thanked her, unless \"bow\" meant \"thank you.\" Was\nhe admiring the tall young pines, or the beautiful blossoms of the\ncranberry, or the graceful bend of the willow, and asking her to join\nhim in his admiration? She knew not, and leaving him to his thoughts,\nand to utter his strange words with none to reply, she returned to her\ncave.\n\nScarcely was she seated on her bed of dried leaves when he came in, and,\nwagging his tail, and muttering as before, lay down at her feet.\nOccasionally he would look up into her face very kindly, and then drop\nhis head upon his paws. By and by he was fast asleep, and our mother,\nwho had done no evil action, the remembrance of which should keep her\nawake, who never stole a beaver-trap(l), or told a lie, or laughed at a\npriest, was very soon in the same condition. Then the Manitou of Dreams\ncame to her, and she saw strange things in her sleep. She dreamed that\nit wan night, and the sun had sunk behind the high and broken hills\nwhich lay beyond the valley of her dwelling, that the dwarf willow bowed\nits graceful head still lower with the weight of its tears, which are\nthe evening dew, and the dandelion again imprisoned its leaves within\nits veil of brown. So far her dreams so closely resembled the reality,\nthat for a time she thought she was awake, and that it was her own\nworld--her cave, her berries, and her flowers, which were before her\nvision. But an object speedily came to inform her that she dwelt in the\nparadise of dreams--in the land of departed ideas. At the foot of her\ncouch of leaves, in the place of the dog which she had left there when\nshe slept, stood a being somewhat resembling that she had beheld in the\nwarm season, when bending over the river to lave her bosom with the\ncooling fluid. It was taller than herself, and there was something on\nits brow which proclaimed it to be fiercer and bolder, formed to wrestle\nwith rough winds, and to laugh at the coming tempests. For the first\ntime since she was, she turned away to tremble, her soul filled with a\nnew and undefinable feeling, for which she could not account. After\nshading her eyes a moment from the vision, she looked again, and though\nher trembling increased, and her brain became giddy, she did not wish\nthe being away, nor did she motion it to go. Why should she? There was a\nsmile upon its lip and brow, and a softness diffused over every feature,\nwhich gradually restored her confidence, and gave her the assurance that\nit would not harm her. She dreamed that the creature came to her arms,\nand she thought that it passed the season of darkness with its cheek\nlaid on her bosom. To her imagination, the breath which it breathed on\nher lips was balmy as the juice of the Sweet Gum Tree, or the dew from\nher little neighbour, the flower. When it spoke, though she could not\nunderstand its language, her heart heaved more tumultuously, she knew\nnot why, and when it ceased speaking, her sighs came thick till it spoke\nagain. When she awoke it was gone, the beams of the star of day shone\nthrough the fissures of her cavern, and, in the place of the beautiful\nand loved being lay the strange creature, with the four legs and the old\n\"bow, wow, wow.\"\n\nFour moons passed, and brought no change of scene to the mother of the\nworld. By night, her dreams were ever the same: there was always the\nsame dear and beloved being, each day dearer and more beloved, coming\nwith the shades, and departing with the sun, folding her in its arms,\nbreathing balm on her lips, and pressing her bosom with its downy cheek.\nBy day, the dog was always at her side, whether she went to gather\nberries or cresses, or to lave her limbs in the stream. Whenever the dog\nwas there, the more beloved being was not; when night came, the dog as\nsurely disappeared, and the other, seen in dreams, supplied his place.\nBut she herself became changed. She took no more joy in the scenes which\nonce pleased her. The pines she had planted throve unnoticed; the\ncreeping birch stifled the willow and the juniper, and she heeded it\nnot; the sweetest berries grew tasteless--she even forgot to visit her\npretty sister, the rose. Yet she knew not the cause of her sudden\nchange, nor of the anxiety and apprehension which filled her mind. Why\ntears bedewed her cheeks till her eyes became blind, why she trembled at\ntimes, and grew sick, and feinted, and fell to the earth, she knew not.\nHer feelings told her of a change, but the relation of its cause, the\nnaming to her startled ear of the mystery of \"the dog by day, and the\nman by night,\" was reserved for a being, who was to prepare the world\nfor the reception of the mighty numbers which were to be the progeny of\nits mother.\n\nShe had wandered forth to a lonely valley--lonely where all was\nlonely--to weep and sigh over her lost peace, and to think of the dear\nbeing with which that loss seemed to her to be in some way connected,\nwhen suddenly the sky became darkened, and she saw the form of a being\nshaped like that which visited her in her sleep, but of immense\nproportions, coming towards her from the east. The clouds wreathed\nthemselves around his head, his hair swept the mists from the\nmountain-tops, his eyes were larger than the rising sun when he wears\nthe red flush of anger in the Frog-Moon, and his voice, when he gave it\nfull tone, was louder than the thunder of the Spirit's Bay of Lake\nHuron. But to the woman he spoke in soft whispers; his terrific accents\nwere reserved for the dog, who quailed beneath them in evident terror,\nnot daring even to utter his only words, \"bow, wow.\" The mother of the\nworld related to him her dreams, and asked him why, since she had had\nthem, she was so changed--why she now found no joy in the scenes which\nonce pleased her, but rather wished that she no longer was, her dreams\nbeing now all that she loved. The mighty being told her that they were\nnot dreams, but a reality; that the dog which now stood by her side was\ninvested by the Master of Life with power to quit, at the coming in of\nthe shades, the shape of a dog, and to take that of MAN, a being who was\nthe counterpart of herself, but formed with strength and resolution, to\ncounteract, by wisdom and sagacity, and to overcome, by strength and\nvalour, the rough difficulties and embarrassments which were to spring\nup in the path of human life; that he was to be fierce and bold, and she\ngentle and afraid. He told her that the change she complained of, and\nwhich had given her so much grief, wetted her cheek with tears, and\nfilled her bosom with sighs, was the natural result of the intimate\nconnection of two such beings, and was the mode of perpetuating the\nhuman race, which had been decreed by the Master of Life; that before\nthe buds now forming should be matured to fruit, she would give birth to\ntwo helpless little beings, whom she must feed with her milk, and rear\nwith tender care, for from them would the world be peopled. He had been\nsent, he said, by the Good Spirit to level and prepare the earth for the\nreception of the race who were to inhabit it.\n\nHitherto the world had lain a rude and shapeless mass--the great, man\nnow reduced it to order. He threw the rough and stony crags into the\ndeep valleys--he moved the frozen mountain to fill up the boiling chasm.\nWhen he had levelled the earth, which before was a thing without form,\nhe marked out with his great walking-staff the lakes, ponds, and rivers,\nand caused them to be filled with water from the interior of the earth,\nbidding them to be replenished from the rains and melted snows which\nshould fall from the skies, till they should be no more.\n\nWhen he had prepared the earth for the residence of the beings who were\nto people it, he caught the dog, and, notwithstanding the cries of the\nmother of the world, and her entreaties to him to spare its life, he\ntore it in pieces, and distributed it over the earth, and the water, and\ninto air. The entrails he threw into the lakes, ponds, and rivers,\ncommanding them to become fish, and they became fish. These waters, in\nwhich no living creature before moved, were now filled with salmon,\ntrout, pike, tittymeg, methy, barble, turbot, and tench, while along the\ncurling waves of the Great Lake the mighty black and white whale, the\nmore sluggish porpoise, and many other finny creatures, sported their\ngambols. The flesh he dispersed over the land, commanding it to become\ndifferent kinds of beasts and land-animals, and it obeyed his commands.\nThe heavy moose, and the stupid we-was-kish, came to drink in the\nCoppermine with the musk-ox, and the deer, and the buffalo. The\nquiquehatch, and his younger brother, the black bear, and the wolf, that\ncooks his meat without fire,[A] and the cunning fox, and the wild cat,\nand the wolverine, were all from the flesh of the dog. The otter was the\ntail of the dog, the wejack was one of his fore-paws, and the horned\nhorse, and the walrus, were his nose.\n\n[Footnote A: It is a prevalent opinion with the savages, that the wolf\ncooks his meat before he eats it.]\n\nNor did the great man omit to make the skin furnish its proportion of\nthe tribes of living beings. He tore it into many small pieces, and\nthrew it into the air, commanding it to become the different tribes of\nfowls and birds, and it became the different tribes of fowls and birds.\nThen first was seen the mighty bird which builds its nest on trees which\nnone can climb, and in the crevices of inaccessible rocks--the eagle,\nwhich furnishes the Indians with feathers to their arrows, and steals\naway the musk-rat and the young beaver as his recompense. Then was the\nsacred falcon first seen winging his way to the land of long winters;\nand the bird of alarm, the cunning old owl, and his sister's little son,\nthe cob-a-de-cooch, and the ho-ho. All the birds which skim through the\nair, or plunge into the water, were formed from the skin of the dog.\n\nWhen the great man had thus filled the earth with living creatures, he\ncalled the mother of the world to him, and gave to her and her offspring\nthe things which he had created, with full power to kill, eat, and never\nto spare, telling her that he had commanded them to multiply for her use\nin abundance. When he had finished speaking, he returned to the place\nwhence he came, and has never been heard of since. In due time, the\nmother of the world was delivered of two children, a son and a daughter,\nboth having the dark visage of the Indian race, and from them proceeded\nthe Dog-ribs, and all the other nations of the earth. The white men\nwere from the same source, but the father of them, having once upon a\ntime been caught stealing a beaver-trap, he become so terrified that he\nlost his original colour and never regained it, and his children remain\nwith the same pale cheeks to this day.\n\nBrothers, I have told you no lie.\n\n\nNOTE.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n(1) _Never stole a beaver-trap._--p. 76.\n\nThieving is considered disreputable among the Indians; that is, it is\nhighly criminal and infamous to steal from each other. Thieves are\ncompelled to restore what they have stolen, or to make satisfactory\namends to the injured party; in their default, their nearest relations\nare obliged to make up the loss. If the thief, after sufficient warning,\ncontinues his bad practices, he is disowned by his nation, and any one\nmay put him to death the next time he is caught in the act of stealing,\nor that a theft can be clearly proved to have been committed by him. \"I\nonce,\" says Heckewelder, \"knew an Indian chief who had a son of a\nvicious disposition, addicted to stealing, and would take no advice. His\nfather, tired and unable to satisfy all the demands which were made upon\nhim for the restitution of articles stolen by his son, at last issued\nhis orders for shooting him, the next time be should be guilty of a\nsimilar act\"--_Heckew_., 328.\n\nTheft is always looked upon as a blot which dishonours a family, and\nevery one has a right to wash away the stain with the blood of the\ndelinquent. \"Father Breboeuf,\" says Charlevoix, (vol. ii. p. 28) \"one\nday saw a young Huron who was killing a woman with a club; he ran to\nhim to prevent him, and asked him why he committed such violence. 'She\nis my sister,' replied the savage; 'she is guilty of theft, and I will\nexpiate by her death the disgrace she has brought upon me and all my\nfamily.'\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE FALL OF THE LENAPE\n\n\nThe Delawares are the grandfather of nations, the parent stock from\nwhich have proceeded the many tribes who roam over the woods of this\nvast island. From them are descended the red men of the east and the\nwest, of the shores of the Great Sea and of the northern lakes. Among\nthese the Mengwe was a favoured grandchild. In the days that are gone,\nthe Delawares fought his battles, his war was theirs; and the hostile\nshout that woke in his woods was answered by the defiance of the sons of\nthe Leni Lenape.\n\nBut the Mengwe was ungrateful, and forgot these benefits; he was\ntreacherous, and raised his hand against his benefactors and former\nfriends. His hostile bands invaded the lands of his grandfather, but\nthey were defeated, and fled howling to their wilderness. The Mengwe, by\ntheir cunning and duplicity, had brought all the tribes of the land upon\nthe Lenape, whose sons nevertheless continued in possession of their\nhunting-grounds, for they were very brave. Still their enemy continued\nhis arts. He first sought to raise quarrels and disturbances, which in\nthe end might lead to wars between the Lenape and the distant tribes\nwho were friendly to them, for which purpose they privately murdered\npeople on one or the other side, seeking to make the injured party\nbelieve that some particular nation or individual had been the\naggressor. They left a war-club painted as the Lenape paints his[A] in\nthe country of the Cherokees, where they purposely committed a murder,\nand that people, deceived by appearances, fell suddenly on the Lenape,\nand a bloody and devastating war ensued between the two nations. They\nfrequently stole into the country of the Lenape and their associates,\ncommitting murders and making off with plunder. Their treachery having\nat length been discovered, the Lenape marched with a powerful force into\ntheir country to destroy them. Finding that they were no match for the\nbrave Delawares, Thannawage, an aged and wise Mohawk, called the\ndifferent tribes of the Mengwe to the great council-fire. \"You see,\"\nsaid he, \"how easily the sons of our grandfather overcome us in battle.\nTheir pole is strung full of the scalps of our nation, while ours has\nbut here one and there one. This must not be; the last man of the Mengwe\nis not yet prepared to die. We must become united, the Mohawks, the\nOneidas, the Onondagos, the Cayugas, and the Senecas, must become one\npeople; they must move together in the conflict, they must smoke in one\npipe, and eat their meat in one lodge.\" The people listened to the words\nof Thannawage, and the five nations became one people.\n\n[Footnote A: The different tribes are known by their manner of painting\ntheir war-clubs.]\n\nStill, though united they did not prevail over the Lenape and their\nconnexions; the latter were most usually victorious. While these wars\nwere at their greatest height, and when neither could decidedly\npronounce themselves conquerors, the Big-knives arrived in Canada, and a\nwar commenced between them and the confederated Iroquois. Thus placed\nbetween two fires, and in danger of being exterminated, they resorted to\ntheir old cunning and knavery. They sent a deputation of their principal\nwarriors, with the sacred calumet (1) and the belt of peace, to the sons\nof their grandfather. But they appeared not to wish for peace, but to be\nguided by wisdom and compassion alone, and to be fearful only of being\nconsidered as cowards. \"A warrior,\" said they, \"with the bloody weapon\nin his hand should never intimate, a desire for peace, or hold pacific\nlanguage to his enemies. He should shew throughout a determined courage,\nand appear as ready and willing to fight as at the beginning of the\ncontest. Will a man who would not be thought a liar threaten and sue in\nthe same breath; will he hold the peace-belt in one hand, and smoke the\nunpainted calumet, while his other hand grasps a tomahawk? Will he\nstrike his breast, and say 'I am brave and fearless,' yet shew that he\nis a mocking-bird? No, men's actions should be of a piece with their\nwords, whether good or bad; good cannot come out of evil, neither can\nthe brave man feel faint-hearted, or the fawn become a tiger. The Mengwe\nwere brave: they would not abase themselves in the eyes of the Lenape by\nadmitting that they were vanquished, or proposing peace. They made use\nof their women to soften the hearts of our nation. They said to their\nwives and the wives of the Lenape, Are you tired of the fathers of your\nchildren?--to the mothers, Does the Lenape hate her sons?--to our young\nwomen, Do the eyes of the maidens turn with aversion from the youths of\nyour nation? if the wife is tired of her husband, if the mother hate her\nsons, if the dark-eyed maiden feels no grief when the Lenape youth goes\nforth to battle and certain death, nor sheds a tear when he paints his\nface, and dresses his hair, and fills his quiver with arrows, then let\nthem remain silent, and the messengers of the Mengwe will return to\ntheir nation.\"\n\nThe women to whom they spoke were moved by the eloquence of the\ntreacherous Iroquois, and they persuaded the enraged combatants to bury\ntheir hatchets, and make the tree of peace grow tall and firm-rooted.\nThey lamented, with great feeling and many tears, the loss which their\ncountry had sustained in these wars: there was not a woman among them\nwho had not lost a son, or a brother, or a father, or a husband. They\ndescribed the sorrows of bereaved mothers and widowed wives; the pains\nmothers endured ere they were permitted to behold their offspring; the\nanxieties attending the progress of their sons from infancy to manhood,\nfrom the cradle to the hour when they chewed the bitter root, and put on\nnew mocassins; these unavoidable evils they had borne: but, after all\nthese trials, how cruel it was, they said, to see those promising youths\nreared with so much care, and so tenderly beloved, fall victims to the\ninsatiable rage of war, and a prey to the relentless cruelty of their\nenemies. \"See them slaughtered,\" cried they, with tears and groans, \"on\nthe field of battle. See them put to death as prisoners by a protracted\ntorture, and in the midst of lingering torments. Hark, the death-cries!\n'Tis the Iroquois, 'tis the Delawares, 'tis the Delawares returning from\nbattle! I see the beautiful young warriors among them, crowned with\nflowers, their faces painted black, and their arms tied with cords.\nHark! they are singing their death-song. 'I am brave and intrepid, I do\nnot fear death, I care not for tortures. Those who fear them are less\nthan women. I was bred a warrior; my father never knew fear, and I am\nhis son.' Then we behold them surrounded with flames, their flesh torn\nfrom their bones, the skin of their head peeled off, coals heaped\nthereon, and sharp thorns driven into their flesh. The thought of such\nscenes makes us curse our own existence, and shudder at the thought of\nbringing children into the world.\"\n\nAgain they gave utterance to loud lamentation and wailing for the\nunavoidable separation they were doomed to experience from their\nhusbands. The men they had selected for their partners, who were to\nprotect and feed them, to cherish and make them happy, left them exposed\nto hunger and a thousand enemies, while they courted dangers in distant\nregions. Or, if they followed their husbands, they were exposed in a\ngreater degree than those husbands themselves to the risks attending the\nperilous warfare.\n\nThen the young maidens took up the song, and painted the share of\nsorrows which fell to them. Often, when beloved by a youthful hunter,\ntheir hearts were doomed to wither in the pang of an eternal separation.\nThe eyes they so loved to look upon were soon to be deprived of their\nlustre--the step so noble, fearless, and commanding led them but to\ndeath. They called passionately upon their countrymen and upon the\nIroquois to put a stop to war. They conjured them, by every thing that\nwas dear to them, to take pity on the sufferings of their wives and\nhelpless infants, their weeping mothers, and beloved maidens; to turn\ntheir faces once more towards their homes, families, and friends; to\nforgive the wrongs each nation had suffered from the other, lay aside\ntheir weapons, and smoke together in the pipe of peace and amity. They\nhad each given sufficient proofs of courage; the contending nations were\nalike high-minded and brave: why should they not embrace as friends who\nhad been respected as enemies?\n\nThus spoke the women, at the prompting of the artful Mengwe; it is not\nnecessary to say that they were listened to. The Delawares at length\ncame to believe that it would be an honour to a powerful nation, who\ncould not be suspected of wanting either courage or strength, with arms\nin their hands and recent victory perched on the staff of their nation,\nto assume that station by which they would be the means, and the only\nmeans, of saving the Indian race from utter extirpation.\n\nTo the voice of the women the artful Mengwe added many arguments, which\nwere of weight with the unsuspecting Delawares, and many pleas\naddressed to their generosity. There remained, they said, no resource\nfor them but that some magnanimous nation should assume the part and\nsituation of _the woman_(2).\n\nIt could not be given to a weak and contemptible tribe; such would not\nbe listened to: it must be given to a valiant and honoured tribe, and\nsuch were the Delawares--one who should command influence and respect.\nAs men, they had been justly dreaded; as women, they would be respected\nand honoured; none would be so daring or base as to attack or insult\nthem; as women, they would have a right to interfere in all the quarrels\nof other nations, and to stop or prevent the effusion of Indian blood.\nThey entreated them, therefore, to become _the woman_ in name and in\nfact; to lay down their arms and all the insignia of warriors; to devote\nthemselves to planting corn and other pacific pursuits, and thus become\nthe means of preserving peace and harmony among the nations.\n\nUnhappily, our nation listened to this croaking of a raven; and forgot\nhow many times it had been heard before disturbing their slumbers and\nringing its echoes in the hollow night. They knew it was true that the\nIndian nations, excited by their own wild passions, were in the way of\ntotal extirpation by each other's hand. And, foolish men! they believed,\nnotwithstanding all past experience, that the Mengwe were sincere, and\nonly wished the preservation of the Indian race. As if the panther could\nforget its nature, or the rattlesnake cease to remember its means of\ndefence; as if the Mengwe had forgotten the blood of their race, which\nhad been shed by the sons of the Lenape, and could think of forgiveness\nwhile their defeats were the subject of every dream.\n\nIn a luckless hour, the Delawares gave their consent, and agreed to\nbecome women. Then the Iroquois appointed a great feast, and invited the\nDelaware nation to it. They came at the bidding of their treacherous\nfoes, and were declared by them, in the following words, to be no longer\nmen and warriors, but women and peace-makers. \"We dress you,\" said the\norator, \"in a woman's long habit, reaching down to your feet, and we\nadorn your ears with rings,\" meaning that they should no more take up\narms. \"We hang a calabash, filled with oil and medicines, upon your arm.\nWith the oil you shall cleanse the ears of other nations, that they may\nattend to good and not to bad words; and with the medicine you shall\nheal those who are walking in foolish ways, that they may return to\ntheir senses, and incline their hearts to peace. And we deliver into\nyour hands a plant of Indian corn and a hoe, which shall be the emblems\nof your future calling and pursuits.\" So the great peace-belt, the chain\nof friendship, was laid upon the shoulders of the new mediator, who\nbecame a woman, buried the tomahawk, planted the corn, and forgot the\nglories which Areskoui confers upon the successful and dauntless\nwarrior.\n\nBefore this, no Mengwe had been permitted, even when at peace, to visit\nthe country of the Delawares. Whenever such had appeared, whenever the\nblue feather of an Iroquois was seen in a glade of the Lenape\nwihittuck[A], its possessor was hunted down as one hunts a wolf or a\nbear. But, now _the woman_ had voluntarily abandoned her bow and her\nspear, what had she to do with weapons of war? The former warrior needed\nnow no paints, unless to attract the eye of a maiden; the Mengwe needed\nnot to fear the Lenape women. Then the pleasant glades of the Lenape\nwihittuck became thronged with curious eyes and false hearts; hostile\nfeet threaded the mazes of her forest; hostile hands were laid upon the\nmost fertile spots of her territory. To-day, came a few Iroquois; they\nwished for but a little piece of land--they had it. To-morrow, came\nanother band; they wanted permission to kill a very few deer--it was\ngranted them, and the cry of the hunter of the lakes was heard from the\nsea to the mountains. One remained, that the seeds of peace might not\nwither; another, to protect, oh changed times! _the woman_, who was the\npeace-maker, from the tomahawks of hostile tribes. But, while they were\namusing the Lenape with flattering tales and the songs of mocking-birds,\nthey were concerting measures to destroy them. They left war-clubs, such\nas the Delawares used, in the lands of the Cherokees, to incite them to\nfall upon us. Why delays my tongue to finish its tale? The fatal\nunmanning of our tribe wrought our ruin. The white people encroached\nupon us, because we were women and could not resent; the men of our own\ncolour were not more just or generous. The Delawares stand abased by the\nchildren of their grandchild, overthrown by men defeated in a hundred\nbattles. They are no longer warriors, but women.\n\n[Footnote A: Lenape wihittuck, river of the Lenape.]\n\nBrothers, I would weep, were I not a man, for the downfall of my nation.\n\n\nNOTES.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n(1) _Sacred Calumet_.--p. 89.\n\nThe text deserves an elaborate comment, as connected with the wars of\nthe savages; in other words, their sole employment. The pipe of peace,\nwhich is termed by the French the _Calumet_, for what reason has never\nbeen learned, is about four feet long[A]. The bowl is made of red marble,\nand the stem is of light wood, curiously painted with hieroglyphics in\nvarious colours, and adorned with feathers of the most beautiful\nbirds; but it is not in the power of language to convey an idea of the\nvarious tints and pleasing ornaments of this much esteemed Indian\nimplement.\n\n[Footnote A: La Hontan explains the meaning of the word thus: \"Calumet,\nin general, signifies a pipe, being a Norman word, derived from\n_Chalumeau_.\" The definition displays, in a remarkable degree, the\nsilliness of that writer. The savages do not understand this word. \"The\nPipe of Peace is called, in the Iroquois language, _Ganondaoe_, and by\nthe other savages, _Poayem_.\" So says the accurate Carver.]\n\nEvery nation has a different method of decorating these pipes, and they\ncan at first sight tell to what band it belongs. It is used as an\nintroduction to all treaties, and great ceremony attends the use of it\non these occasions.\n\nThe assistant of the great warrior, when the chiefs are assembled and\nseated, fills it with tobacco mixed with certain herbs, taking care, at\nthe same time, that no part of it touches the ground. When it is filled,\nhe takes a coal that is thoroughly kindled, from a fire which is\ngenerally kept burning in the midst of the assembly, and places it on\nthe tobacco.\n\nAs soon as it is sufficiently lighted, he throws off the coal. He then\nturns the stem of it towards the heavens, after this, towards the earth,\nand now holding it horizontally, moves himself round till he has\ncompleted a circle, by which first action he is supposed to present it\nto the Great Spirit, whose aid is thereby supplicated; by the second, to\navert any malicious interposition of the Evil Spirits; and, by the\nthird, to gain the protection of the Spirits inhabiting the earth, the\nair, and the waters. Having thus secured the favour of those invisible\nagents, in whose power they suppose it is either to forward or obstruct\nthe issue of their present deliberations, he presents it to the\nhereditary chief, who, having taken two or three whiffs, blows the smoke\nfrom his mouth, first towards heaven, and then around him upon the\nground.\n\nIt is afterwards put in the same manner into the mouths of the\nambassadors or strangers, who observe the same ceremony; then to the\nchief of the warriors, and to all the other chiefs in turn, according to\ntheir gradation. During this time, the person who executes this\nhonourable office holds the pipe slightly in his hand, as if he feared\nto press the sacred instrument, nor does any one presume to touch it but\nwith his lips.\n\nThe calumet of the savages, is properly the tube of peace, but they\ncomprehend under this name the pipe also, as well as its tube. The\ncustom is to smoke in the calumet when you accept it, and perhaps there\nis no instance where the agreement has been violated, which was made by\nthis acceptance. The savages are at least persuaded that the Great\nSpirit would not hare met a breach of faith unpunished. If, in the midst\nof a battle, the enemy presents a calumet, it is allowable to refuse it;\nbut, if they receive it, they most instantly lay down their arms. There\nare calumets for every kind of treaty. In trade, when they have agreed\nupon the exchange, they present a calumet to confirm it, which readers\nit, in some manner, sacred. When it concerns war, not only the tube, but\nthe feathers which adorn it, are painted red.\n\nLa Hontan enters into many speculations as to the origin of this\ninstrument and practice, and very properly scoots the idea that it was\nderived from the ancient caduceus of Mercury. He supposes that it arose\nfrom their habit of using the pipe while deliberating in council.\n\n(2) _Assume the part and situation of the woman_.--p. 94.\n\nThis signifies the _disarming of a man_, who thenceforth may become a\nmediator or peace-maker, and is never allowed to resume the weapons or\npractices of warfare. In addition to this, the \"metaphorical woman\" is\nliable to be called to take part with the real woman in the labours of\nthe field and the cabin.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MARRIAGE OF THE SNAIL AND THE BEAVER.\n\n\nIf my brother knows anything of the Osages, as they are called by the\npeople of his nation, but by themselves, and all the neighbouring\ntribes, the Wasbashas, he knows that they live on the banks of the large\nand beautiful river, the Osage, which empties itself into the Missouri,\nat the distance of a hunter's journey of three suns from its mouth. Once\nthe people of my nation were all united like a family of children which\nhave but one mother, but subdivisions of the original stock have taken\nplace, and they are now divided into three tribes, the Great Osages and\nthe Little Osages, who have raised their cabins on the south bank of the\nriver, and the sister's sons who broil their meat on the banks of the\nstream which our white brother calls the Vermilion. Are we brave and\nvaliant? Ask the nations around us. Behold the Dahcotah scalps drying in\nthe smoke of our cabins! Are we strong? Here is the bow of an Osage\nboy--bend it. Are our women beautiful? Look at them, and be convinced.\n\nThe story which our fathers told us of our origin is this, and they\nbelieved it, for their lips never dealt in falsehood, nor were their\ntongues forked. The father of our nation was a SNAIL. It was when the\nearth was young and little: it was before the rivers had become wide and\nlong, or the mountains lifted their peaks among the clouds, that this\nsnail found himself passing a quiet existence on the banks of our own\nbeloved river. His wants and his wishes were but few and well supplied,\nand as quiet and rest, and the freedom to move neither often nor much,\nwere to him the height of happiness, he was happy. He seldom hunted,\nand, when he did, it was in the immediate neighbourhood of his lodge,\nnever moving unless at the call of hunger, and then according to his\nnature he satisfied his appetite upon whatever was nearest at hand,\nrather than take the chance of faring better by going further. And thus\nlived our great forefather, the snail.\n\nAt length the region of the Missouri was visited by one of those great\nstorms which so often scatter desolation over it, and the river,\noverflowed by the melted currents of snow and ice from the regions of\nthe mountains, swept away every thing from its banks, and among other\nthings the drowsy snail. Seated upon a log, and enjoying greatly a\ncircumstance which gave him all the pleasure of travel without its\nfatigue, our lazy ancestor drifted down many a day's journey, till the\ntorrent, subsiding, left him and his log upon the bank of the River of\nFish. He mow found himself in a strange country, but there was plenty of\nslime, both on ground and leaf, and there was no occasion for rapid\nmotion; then what cared he? It was in the middle of the season of hot\nsuns, which beamed fiercely upon him, till he became baked in the slime\nto the earth, and found himself as incapable of moving as the clod upon\nwhich he dwelt. Gradually he grew in size and stature, and his form\nexperienced a change, till at length what was once a snail, creeping\nupon all-fours on the earth, ripened into man, erect, tall, and stately,\nstrong of limb, rugged of purpose, and formed to overcome by either\nstrength or cunning, every thing which dwelt on the earth, or in the\nair, or in the water. For a long time after his change from a beast to a\nhuman being, he remained stupified, not knowing what he was, where he\nwas, or by what means to sustain life. At length recollection returned\nto him: he remembered that he was once a snail, and dwelt upon another\nriver--he remembered where that river lay. He now became animated with a\nwish to return to his old haunts, and accordingly directed his steps\ntowards that part of the great island[A] from which he had been removed.\nHunger now began to prey upon him, and bade fair to close his eyes\nbefore he should again behold his beloved haunts on the banks of the\nOsage. The beasts of the forest were many, but their speed outstripped\nhis; he could not catch them: the birds of the air fluttered upon sprays\nbeyond his reach; the fish, gliding through the waves at his feet, were\nnimbler than he, and eluded his grasp. Each moment be grew weaker, the\nfilms gathered before his eyes, and in his ears there rang sounds like\nthe whistling of winds through the woods in the month before the snows.\nAt length, wearied and exhausted, he had laid himself down upon a grassy\nbank to die.\n\n[Footnote A: The Indians always speak of the earth as a \"great island.\"]\n\nAs he lay, thinking of nothing but food and the means of obtaining it,\nsome one at his side said, with a voice soft as the bleat of a young\nkid, \"Wasbasha?\"\n\nOur father, who had heard birds sing and wail, and beasts cry and growl,\nbut never till now had heard one utter intelligible sounds, answered\n\"Eh!\" Raising himself with difficulty, upon his side he beheld that\nwhich spoke to him. He saw, mounted upon a noble beast, white as the\nsnow of winter, a being, like to nothing which is seen among the sons of\nthe earth. He was tall of stature, his eyes glittered like the stars of\nmorning, or the tears of a young maiden who weeps for joy, and his hair\nshone like the blush of sunset upon the folds of a cloud. His was indeed\na glorious form; and power as well as beauty sate enthroned upon it:\nwhile the Wasbasha gazed, he trembled like a fawn caught in the toils of\nthe hunter, or the wolf penned in the crevice of a rock. Again the\nglorious being spoke to our terrified but admiring father.\n\n\"Why does he who is the kernel of the snail look terrified, and why is\nbe faint and weary?\"\n\n\"That I tremble,\" answered our father, \"is because I fear thy power, and\nquail before the lightnings of thine eye--that I am faint is because I\nlack food.\"\n\n\"As regards thy trembling, be composed; the Master of Breath punishes\nnot till sin is committed--thou hast not sinned, be calm. But art thou\nhungry?\"\n\n\"I have eaten nothing,\" replied our father, \"since I ceased to be a\nsnail.\"\n\nUpon hearing this the Great Spirit drew from under his robe a bow and\narrow, and bade our father observe what he would do with it. On the\ntopmost limb of a lofty maple, at the distance of a bowshot, sat a\nbeautiful bird, with its bright green neck and train of variegated\nfeathers, singing and fluttering among the red leaves of its\nnestling-tree. Bending the bow, he placed before it an arrow, and,\nletting it fly, the bird dropped dead upon the earth. A deer was seen at\na still greater distance, browzing upon the tree which supplies its\nbest-loved food. Again the skilful archer drew his bow, and the animal\nlay food for the son of the snail.\n\n\"There are victuals for you,\" said the Spirit, \"enough to last you till\nyour strength enables you to beat up the haunts of the deer and the\nmoose. And here is the bow and arrow--the heart of the fir supplies the\none, the other is the thigh-bone of the buck. Son of the mighty river,\nyou are naked and must be clothed. The winter is coming; the snows will\ndescend, and the winds will leave their caverns in the mountains towards\nthe setting sun, to war upon the unsheltered kernel of the snail.--You\nmust be clothed.\"\n\nSaying this, the Great Being called our father to him, and taught him\nhow to skin the deer, and how to apply it for the protection of his\nperson from the frost, and the wind, and the snow. Having done this, and\ngiven him the beasts, and fishes, and all feathered creatures, to be his\nfood and his raiment, he bade our father farewell, and took his\ndeparture for his home beyond the mountains; and he who had received the\ngifts proceeded on his journey towards the Osage.\n\nStrengthened, and rendered cheerful and buoyant, by invigorating food\nand refreshing sleep, our father's steps were light, and his journey was\nsoon near its completion. He soon trod upon the banks of his beloved\nriver; a few more suns and he would sit down upon the very spot, where,\nfor so many seasons, he had crawled on the slimy leaf, so often dragged\nhis lazy legs over the muddy pool. He had seated himself upon the bank\nof the river, and was meditating deeply on these things, when up crept\nfrom the water a stranger looking animal with four legs, a broad tail\ncovered with scales like a fish, and two short ears nearly hidden by the\nlong fur which covered his body. His colour was that of the berry which\ngrows within a prickly husk,[A] and is eaten by our Indian people with\ntheir roasted opossums. Approaching our father in a saucy and menacing\nmanner, and displaying a set of teeth which were none of the handsomest,\nhe demanded, in an angry tone, \"Who are you?\"\n\n[Footnote A: The chesnut.]\n\n\"I am a snail,\" answered our father. \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"I am head-warrior of the nation of beavers,\" answered the other. \"By\nwhat authority have you come to disturb my possession of this river? We\nhave held it from the time that Chappewee's musk-rat brought up the\nearth from the bottom of the deep waters. By what right do you come to\ndisturb our possession of this river?\"\n\n\"It is not your river,\" answered the Wasbasha. \"It has been mine ever\nsince the melted snows ran into it. It was mine while I was a weak, and\nfoolish, and lazy snail; and it is surely mine now I am a wise and\nvaliant man, and a courageous and expert hunter.\"\n\nWhile they stood quarreling hard, and at the point of coming to blows,\nthere crept out of the water another creature--a young maiden\nbeaver--just like the one who was disputing our father's right to his\nland, only far more beautiful and glossy. She enquired what they were\nquarrelling about.\n\n\"Why,\" answered the chief warrior of the beavers, \"the strange creature\nwith whom I was talking, and who, I am sure, is nothing but a polecat\nsewed up in a deer-skin, says he owns all the river. He says the Great\nBeing who is over man and beast, the Master whom even beavers worship,\ngave it to him.\"\n\n\"Is that all?\" replied the maiden; \"but you need not answer, for I\nlistened with a curious ear to your discourse, and heard it all. It is\nnot worth going to war about, father--make peace with the stranger, and\neach of you retain a sufficiency of the water of the river for his\npurposes; and then you can help each other when enemies assail you.\" And\nthen, casting a fond look upon the Osage, she called her father aside,\nand whispered a long time in his ear, frequently turning her beautiful\neyes, bright with love, upon our ancestor. When they had done talking,\nthe old warrior came up to the son of the snail and asked him, in an\naltered tone, to go home with him to his cabin. So the Osage went home\nwith the chief beaver and his beautiful daughter.\n\nThey soon came to a number of small cabins built on the banks of the\nriver, and into one of these they entered, the beaver bidding the Osage\nfirst wipe his feet upon the mat which lay beside the door. The Osage\nfound the floor of the cabin strewed with the newly-gathered branches of\nthe box and fir. The roof and walls were white as the robe which our\nwhite brother folds around his breast, and a cool, refreshing air\nentered the building through the windows which opened on the river.\nAround the room--which was four steps of a long-legged man each\nway--were hung skins, and skulls, and scalps of otters--trophies of the\nwars which the beavers had waged with that nation. In one corner of the\nroom sat a beaver-woman, combing the heads of some little beavers, whose\nears she boxed very soundly when they would not lie still. The warrior\nwhispered the Osage that she was his second wife, and was very apt to be\ncross when there was work to be done, which prevented her from going to\nsee her neighbours. Those whose heads she was combing were her children,\nhe said, and she who had made them rub their noses against each other\nand be friends was his eldest daughter.\n\nThen calling aloud, \"Wife,\" said he, \"what have you to eat? The stranger\nis undoubtedly hungry; see, he is pale, his eye has no fire, and his\nstep is like that of a moose.\"\n\nWithout replying to him, for it was a sulky day with her, she called\naloud, and a dirty-looking beaver entered. \"Go,\" said she, \"and fetch\nthe stranger something to eat.\"\n\nWith that the beaver-girl passed through a small door into another room,\nfrom which she soon returned, bringing some large pieces of willow-bark,\nwhich she laid at the feet of the warrior and his guest. While the\nwarrior-beaver was chewing the willow, and the Osage was pretending to\ndo so, they fell to talking over many matters, particularly the wars of\nthe Beavers with the Otters, and their frequent victories over them. He\ntold our father by what means the beavers felled large trees, and moved\nthem to the places where they wished to make dams; how they raised to an\nerect position the poles for their lodges, and how they plastered them\nso as to keep out rain. Then he spoke of their employments when they had\nburied the hatchet; of the peace, and happiness, and tranquillity, they\nenjoyed when, gathered into companies, they rested from their labours,\nand passed their time in talking, and feasting, and bathing, and playing\nthe game of bones, and making love. All the while the young\nbeaver-maiden sat with her eyes fixed upon the son of the snail, at\nevery pause moving a little nearer, till at length she was at his side\nwith her fore-paw upon his arm; a minute more and she had placed it\naround his neck, and was rubbing her soft furry cheek against his. Our\nancestor, on his part, betrayed no disinclination to receive her\ncaresses, but returned them with equal ardour. The old beaver, seeing\nwhat was going on, turned his back upon them, and suffered them to be as\nkind to each other as they pleased.\n\nAt last, turning quickly round, while the maiden, suspecting what was\ncoming and pretending to be abashed, ran behind her mother, said he,\n\"To end the foolery, what say you, son of the snail, to marrying my\ndaughter? She is well brought up, and is the moat industrious girl in\nthe village. She will flap more wall with her tail in a day than any\nmaiden in the nation; she will gnaw down a larger tree betwixt the\nrising of the sun and the coming of the shadows than many a smart beaver\nof the other sex. As for her wit, try her at the game of the dish, and\nsee who gets up master; and for cleanliness, look at her petticoat.\"\n\nOur father answered that he did not doubt that she was industrious and\ncleanly, able to gnaw down a very large tree, and to use her tail to\nvery good purpose; that he loved her much, and wished to make her the\nmother of his children. And thereupon the bargain was concluded.\n\nThat day the beaver-maiden became the wife of the Osage, and all the\nnation of beavers assembled to eat the marriage-feast. The Osage went\nout and killed a lusty raccoon, upon which he fed; but his wife and all\nher kindred fed upon the tender bark of the young poplar and alder. A\npeace was made between the two nations, which was to last for ever, but\nit was broken a long tune ago; and they now take each other's scalps\nwhenever they can. The next day, the Osage and his wife departed for\nthe former haunts of the snail, where in a few moons they arrived, and\nwhere their descendants have dwelt to this day.\n\nBrothers, if this is a lie, blame not me, but our fathers and mothers\nwho told it to us. I have done.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Author may perhaps be suspected of intending this as a satire upon\nBuffon's highly _imaginative_ description of the habits of the Beaver.\nLet the reader compare it with that description, and he will be able to\njudge for himself. If the tale is a lie, he has only to say in the\nlanguage of the Indian--\"Blame not me.\" Several more recent travellers\nbear witness, however, to the genuineness of the Tradition.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHOICE OF A GOD.\n\n\nAfter a pause of the usual length, Miacomet, an aged Narragansett, rose\nand said:\n\n\"Brother, I am a Narragansett, and my father and mother were\nNarragansetts. I live a journey of more than two moons towards the\nrising sun. But you will say the name of the Narragansetts is unknown to\nyou, and will ask what deeds have they done. Are they warlike? can they\nfast long, travel far, and bear the tortures of the flame, without\nbetraying tears and groans? The tribes of the north, and the south, and\nthe west, of the Great River, and the Broad Lake, and the Spirit's\nBackbone, will say this, for they know us not. Our hunting-fields lie\nfar apart, and our war-paths are over different forests. But it is only\nto those who live a far way off, who have never heard the roaring of the\nGreat Lake in the time of storms, or killed the fish, whose body is a\nmountain, that the Narragansetts are unknown. Our neighbours know us\nwell, brother; they have both seen and felt us. Come to our cabins,\nbrothers, and come in what guise you like. If you come in peace, you\nshall be welcome, and we will make a feast for you. We will hunt the\nnimble deer with you, and show you where the mighty eagle roosts, and\nwhere the fish with shining scales abides. If you come painted, your\nwar-pipe filled, your bow bent, your arrow sharp and barbed, your heart\nstrong, and your cry loud, we too will paint ourselves; we will smoke\nour pipe of war, we will bend our bow, make sharp our arrows, and stout\nour hearts, and will cry our war-cry, till the startled heron shall wing\nhis way from the swamps to his hiding-place among the hills, and the\ndeer shall escape from the open space to the tangled covert. Our shouts\nshall be as loud as the roar of the Lake of Whales in the time of the\nHerring-Moon.\n\n\"Brother, we have with us a chief, whose face is of the colour of the\nplucked pigeon; he listens. He has crossed the great waters in the\nseason of storms, he has forded the shallow streams and swum the\ndeeper, and threaded the dreary woods, and faced unaccustomed dangers,\nthat he may learn our traditions, our customs, our laws, and our\nopinions of the Great Spirit. He has come, if he does not lie, from a\nfar country, a land very beautiful to the eye, a land of many villages\nand much people, but who are not so wise and warlike as we are. He has\nleft his father and mother, and wife and children, and the bones and\nburial-place of his ancestors, to listen to the wisdom of the\nIndians, and to be instructed by them in the history of their tribes.\nShall we enlighten him? Shall we teach him the things which we know,\nthat be may go back to his countrymen prepared to repeat to them the\nwords of wisdom which fell from our lips; that, when he returns to his\nown fire-place, he may make the young doves coo, and the eyes of then\nmother glisten, with the tales he has heard in the camp of the Red Man.\n\n\"Brother, the Narragansetts have a tradition which I will repeat before\nyou. It has come down to us from old days, and we believe it, for it was\ntold us by our fathers, who were men of truth. I know not how long since\nthe thing was done; I cannot number the rings upon the oak since the day\nof its date, nor the moons that have been born and have died. But I know\nit was done, and done in the lands which my tribe now occupy. Listen.\n\n\"The Narragansetts are the oldest people in the world; older than the\nPequods; older than the Iroquois. _When_ they were created, no one\nknows, save the Great Spirit--_how,_ ask not me, for I do not know.\nWe were when we first knew we were; we lived when we first found we had\nbreath, further than that I cannot tell you. How should I know more? If\na man, while he was wrapped in a deep sleep, should be carried to a far\nland which he had never seen before, would he know where he was when he\nwaked? or could he tell how he came thither? no, nor can I tell you the\nmanner of the creation of man, or name, with certainty, his creator.\n\n\"But this we do know--when we are born, we are helpless children. The\nNarragansetts once were such. Even when they had grown to the stature\nof men, their warriors were nothing but big boys; their chiefs and\ncouncillors no wiser than old women. There was a time when they had no\nbow and arrow, no hatchet, no canoe, no cabin, no corn. They were\nignorant and foolish as white men. They would have mistaken the track of\nthe moose for that of a wild cat; they would have thought the tread of a\nland-tortoise the trail of the grey snake; they would have killed an owl\nand feasted upon it, for a heath-hen. They had nothing but feet to walk\nwith, hands to catch fish with, and tongues which loved best to utter\nwicked lies and speak foolish words. They were only fit to serve bad\nspirits, the men of the Spirit of Evil, whom they called Hobbamock(1).\nAnd they did serve him, night and day, but he would give them very\nlittle for their worship, treating them worse than he treated any tribe\nupon the borders of the Great Lake. The Pequods killed more whales; the\npeople of Nope raised more _poke_. When a Narragansett caught a deer,\nit was always a sick one, and had no fat upon it, and when he speared a\nfish, it had only a backbone. He was, in truth, a very ungrateful\nmaster.\"\n\nThere was among the Narragansetts a very wise conjuror(2) or priest,\nwhose name was Sasasquit. He was the priest of the Good Spirit; he was a\ngood man; much better than the rest of the tribe, for he never served\nthe Evil Spirit. He said to the Narragansetts, \"If you were better men,\nif you served my master, the Good Spirit, as you do the Evil Spirit, he\nwould give you abundance of good things. You would not, as you do now,\ncatch fish with heads as big as mine, and bodies no bigger than my arm,\nbut would take fat fish, and would take them with little trouble. You\nwould snare birds more easily, and, perhaps, have other gifts which now\nyou do not dream of.\"\n\nThe Sachem said to the people, \"Sasasquit talks well, but talking well\nis the business of a priest. Let us say to him, that we will take for\nour God the Spirit which gives us the best gifts, and bid him tell his\nmaster so.\"\n\nThe Narragansetts liked well what the Sachem had said, and went in a\nbody to Sasasquit. \"We have come,\" said they, \"to offer our services\nand worship to the Great Spirit, if he will pay us better for our\nworship than Hobbamock has done.\"\n\nSasasquit replied, \"It is not for the worth of your worship, that the\nGreat Spirit will grant your wish, but because he loves to vex the Evil\nSpirit. Come to-morrow to the Great Hill, when the sun first comes out\nof the water, and you shall see whose God is the most generous--yours,\nor mine.\"\n\nEarly the next day the tribe all gathered to the place where Sasasquit\nhad agreed to meet them. With them came Pocasset, the priest of the Evil\nSpirit, wearing his robes of magic, a bear's-skin, curiously painted\nwith figures of beasts, and birds, and fishes, and the skin of a dog's\nhead drawn over his own, with the teeth standing out. When all the tribe\nhad assembled, Sasasquit asked the Sachem, Miantinomo, to repeat what he\nhad before said, that the Narragansetts would serve the Spirit that\nshould make them the greatest and best gifts. Then Miantinomo repeated\nwhat he had before said, and all the Indians promised as he had\npromised. Pocasset also made them a very long speech. I have forgotten\nwhat he said, only I know he said, that \"his master would have the best\nof the bargain yet.\"\n\nThen Sasasquit climbed up a great tree, till he came to the topmost\nbough, when he commenced calling upon the Great Spirit. And this was the\nsong he sung:\n\n    I call upon thee, Master of Breath!\n    Master of Life! on thee I call.\n    I, Sasasquit, priest of the Narragansetts,\n    Call from the top of the tree,\n    Cry from the depths of the valleys,\n    Sing from the deep waters of the Great Lake:\n    Come to me, hearken to my song.\n\n    Shall the priest of the Evil Spirit triumph?\n    Shall the priest of the Evil Spirit boast over me?\n    Over thee shall he triumph?\n    Thou, who art mightiest?\n    Thou, who art greatest?\n    Shall the people say of me--Loud he boasted,\n    And fair he promised;\n    But weak were his boasts,\n    And false his promises.\n    Hearken thou, then, for now I call,\n    Hearken thou, then, for I demand a gift.\n\n    Look, then, upon this wretched people!\n    Poor are they in soul,\n    Weak are they in heart,\n    Hungry, fearful, timid, naked, men.\n    I ask of thee a gift for them;\n    A gift which shall gladden their hearts;\n    A gift which shall make bright their eyes,\n    And pleasant and good their lives.\n\nWhen Sasasquit had finished his song, the Narragansetts saw coming\ntowards them, from the far regions of the North, a very big man,\ntaller than the tallest pine of the forest, and as large around as the\nshade cast by a great tree full of leaves. Yet, monster as he was, he\ncame through the air ten times as swift as the swiftest eagle could\nfly, using his hands and feet as a frog uses his legs in swimming. It\nwas but a breath, while he came from the farthest hill in view to the\nplace where the nation were assembled together. Down he flapped, but\nspoke not a word, while he laid, at the feet of Sasasquit, a beautiful\ncanoe, made of a great tree hollowed out by fire. \"There,\" said he\ngruffly, \"the Great Spirit sends this to the Devil's children, the\nNarragansetts.\"\n\n\"What is it? what is it?\" they all asked, crowding around, for none of\nthem knew what it was good for, or guessed the use it was to be put to.\nThe big man told them, in their own language, that it was a thing\nwherein to float upon the water, to go to catch fish, and to cross\nstreams. When he had explained to them what it was good for, he said he\nwould show them how to use it. He carried the canoe to the water, and\nhaving made a paddle, placed Sasasquit in it, and taught him how to move\nthe canoe by its aid. Our people were mightily pleased with the gift,\nand spent the remainder of the day in learning how to manage it. \"The\nGreat Spirit is very good,\" said they, \"and has shown a great deal more\nlove for us than Hobbamock has done, for he never gave us any thing for\nour worship and sacrifices, except promises and lies.\" They decided,\nhowever, that they would wait and see what he would do for them before\nthey bestowed their worship upon his rival.\n\nThe next day the Narragansetts came together in the same place, as\nsoon as they could see the sun, very curious to know what the Evil\nSpirit would give them to equal or surpass the Good Spirit's gift.\nThey waited until Pocasset had finished his invocation, and, with\nlessening patience, a still longer time, but in vain. No sound was\nheard, no sign was visible. Nothing was seen to announce the coming of\nthe Bad Man, or any of his friends. Our people grew very angry, and\ntalked, not only of bestowing all their worship upon the Good Spirit,\nand giving him all their choice tribute of oysters and lobsters, but\nalso of roasting Pocasset. They said, \"The priest of the Evil Spirit\nis good for nothing. When Sasasquit called upon his master, he heard\nhim, and at his request sent us a good gift; but Pocasset's master\nhears him not, though he has sung him a song which makes our ears cry\nfor deafness.\" They had just caught hold of Pocasset, and were going\nto pull him to pieces, when there was a great noise of thunder, though\nthey saw no lightning, and a little creature started up out of the\nground, and stood in the midst of them. Never was a more ugly,\nmisshapen monster seen upon the earth. He was no bigger than a child\nthat has seen the flowers bloom and the corn ripen twice. Yet he\nappeared to be very old, for his hair was of the colour of the moss\nupon the sunny side of the oak; his teeth were rotten and decayed; his\nknees were bent out like warped bows; and his voice was not the voice\nof a young man, but sounded like the voice of the muck-a-wiss singing\nin the hollow woods in the summer moons. His face was covered with\nhair of the colour of the feathers of the blue heron, and stood out\nlike the feathers of a duck that plumes itself in the warm sun, on the\nshores of the lake. His skin was blacker than charred wood, or the\nblack raven. The Narragansetts were dreadfully frightened, and were\ngoing to run away, when Pocasset stopped them, saying, \"Don't be\nafraid, it is my master. Don't you know him whom you have served so\nmany years? Why he won't hurt you.\"\n\n\"More than you know, Poke,\" grunted the ugly little creature, putting\nhis moss-coloured hair behind his great yellow ears. \"But do not be\nafraid, Narragansetts, the Little Man loves you, and is come to make\nyou a gift. What do you think these are?\"--showing them a bow and a\nsheaf of arrows. The Narragansetts all declared they could not tell,\nand begged the Little Man to tell them the names, and shew them the\nuses of the strange instruments.\n\n\"I will,\" said he. \"Now tell me what bird that is which sits upon the\ndry branch of the aged hemlock by the little stream?\"\n\nOne answered, and told him it was the bird which sang in the morning to\nwake lazy sleepers, and to tell the bashful lover who loitered around\nthe couch of his maiden that the eyes of the sun would soon be upon\nthem.\n\n\"The bird that has sung in the morning shall never sing in the evening,\"\nsaid the monster grinning. With that, drawing the bow to his ear upon\nthe side farthest from his heart, he put an arrow before it, and,\nletting it fly, the bird fell dead upon the earth beneath the tree. The\nIndians, upon seeing this exploit, shouted and hurraed, and made such a\nnoise, that the roaring of the sea could scarcely be heard for it. They\nbegged Hobbamock to shew them how he killed the bird at the distance of\na stone's throw, which he did at their request again and again, and each\ntime they repeated their hurrahing and shouting. \"And now,\" said he,\n\"whose gift do you like best--the Great Spirit's, or mine?\"\n\nThey all answered that \"they liked his gift best, because it would\nenable them to kill their enemies, the Mohegans.\"\n\n\"Will you continue to worship me?\"\n\nThey were upon the point of answering \"Yes,\" when Sasasquit asked them\nto wait till another sun, before they gave themselves to the Evil One.\n\"To-morrow,\" said he, \"I will kindle a fire, and burn a sacrifice to my\nmaster, and see if he wills that the Wicked Spirit shall have the\nNarragansetts for ever.\"\n\nOn hearing this, they agreed to wait till another day, and so they told\nthe Evil Spirit, who grew dreadfully angry thereupon, and, shaking his\nhair and breathing flames, sank into the earth, to the great joy of the\nIndians.\n\nUp with the sun was Sasasquit; and about his business he went. He built\nthe fire of sacrifice, piling it high with the driest trees of the\nforest, and he laid thereon the best offering he could procure--a fat\nfish from the river beside his cabin. He sung as before a song or\ninvocation, in which he mentioned the wants of the wretched Indians, and\nthe cunning endeavours of the Evil Spirit to keep them in his service,\nand ended by begging his master to shew his own superiority, and enable\nhis priest to foil the tricks of his adversary. The tribe assembled,\njust as they had done on the previous days. But they were more anxious\nnow than they had been before, because the more there is in the cabin of\na man, the greater is his thirst to increase his store, and the stronger\nhis inclination for that he hath not. Nor did they before even dream\nthat the Great Spirit could do such things as be had done for them.\nBeing taught that he could bestow valuable gifts where he liked, they\nexpected something which should far surpass all they had before\nreceived.\n\nThey had not waited long when they saw a large black eagle flying\nswiftly from the east, directly towards their village. When they first\nsaw him, he was high in the air, higher than the summit of Haup--high as\nthe mighty hills which Indians call the Alleghany, or hills of the\nAllegewi. Gradually he descended, and, when he came near, they saw that\nhe bore a man upon his back. Nearer and nearer came the eagle and his\nrider, and soon alighted on a little hill, a few steps from the Indians.\nThe man then got down from his strange horse. \"Oh! ho!\" said he, \"I wish\nI had taken my buffalo-cloak with me, it will be cold flying back.\"\n\n\"What have you brought us now?\" asked the people, crowding around him.\n\n\"Oh, a thing or two,\" answered he that rode the eagle.\n\nWith that he pulled out of the pouch at his side a long black,\ndirty-looking leaf, which smelt very strong, and also a little bowl\nabout the size of a man's thumb, with a long, slender handle fixed to\nit. Said he to a boy standing near him, \"Run, my pretty fellow, and\nbring me some fire.\" Whilst the boy was bringing the fire, he fell to\nrubbing the black leaf to pieces between the palms of his hands. The boy\nbrought him the fire. Then he put the powdered dust into the little\nbowl, placed the fire upon the top of the dust, and fell to making a\ngreat smoke, like that which the wind of spring brings from off the face\nof the Great Waters. The Indians asked him what he called the black\nleaf.\n\n\"Bacca, bacco, tobacco,\" answered he.\n\n\"What is it good for?\" demanded they.\n\n\"Good for--good for--why--why,\" exclaimed he, seemingly puzzled, \"why,\ngood for many things. Good for the tooth-ache--good to drive away the\nblue devils.\"\n\nThe Indians, though they were well enough acquainted with devils, did\nnot know what he meant by \"blue ones,\" nor do they know to this day.\nThey asked him to let them smoke in _the pipe_, which was the name by\nwhich he called the instrument with the little bowl. They liked it very\nwell upon trying it, but they could not be persuaded to think it of as\nmuch value as the bow and arrows which the Bad Spirit had given them.\nThe man who rode the eagle perceived their minds, and said \"I have\nanother present.\"\n\nHe bade them bring him a small stick, which they did, and then he began\nto beat the eagle. It screamed terribly beneath the lash, and turned\nround upon him with its mouth open, as if it would fight him, but he\nonly beat it the harder. At last it did the thing he wanted it should\ndo, and dropped a little heap of seeds, white, flat, and not so large\nover as the nail upon the little finger of a full-grown man. The man did\nnot beat the eagle any more after this, but stroked down its feathers\ngently, and told it he was very sorry for what he had done. \"Now,\" said\nhe to the Indians, \"take the seeds to the water and wash them.\" They\nwashed the seeds as he directed, and brought them back to him. \"Build a\nfire,\" said he. They built a fire. Then he took some of the seeds and\nraked them up in the ashes of the fire, stirring them continually, until\nthey were of the colour of a Narragansett's skin. When he had roasted\nthem as much as he would, he called the tribe around him, and bade them\ntaste the parched seeds. They all cried out that the seeds were good,\nvery good, and begged him to beat the eagle, till they had procured\nenough to satisfy them all, but he would not. They asked him what the\nseeds were called. He told them \"corn-maize,\" and said he would shew\nthem another way to cook it. He bade them bring him a big, flat stone,\nand a little round one, and to fill their great stone-kettle with water,\nand to make it hot, while he pounded the corn. The man that rode the\neagle pounded the corn, and the Narragansetts boiled the water. When the\nwater was hot, he shook the pounded corn into the water, until it became\nquite thick, stirring it quickly all the while. When it had cooled, so\nthat it could be eaten, he tasted it, bidding the Narragansetts do the\nlike. \"Charming _hominy_,\" said he. The Indians ate very heartily of it,\nand declared nothing was ever so good before, and again, one and all\nthanked the Great Spirit, and said he was very kind--much kinder than\nthe Evil Spirit. They were, as once before, just about to declare\nthemselves servants to the master of the man that rode the eagle and\nsent them the corn, when a very spiteful old woman--one who was always\nfull of mischief--got up, and advised them to wait a little longer, and\ngive the Little Man one more chance. \"The longer the trial between the\ntwo spirits lasted, the more the Indians got, the better,\" she said, and\nour people said the same. Upon this the man got up on his winged horse,\nvery sorrowful but not very angry, and flew away, leaving them the\nremainder of the seeds, which, he told them, must be planted in the\nearth when the winter had departed, and the trees were putting out their\nleaves, and the little blue and yellow flowers began to peep through\ntheir frost-nipped coverings.\n\nThe next sun, when the Narragansetts went out of their lodges, there sat\nthe ugly little creature, with the moss-coloured beard and yellow ears,\nperched upon the top of a high tree. They spoke to him, but he made no\nanswer--asked him what he had brought them--still no answer. All the\nwhile his eyes were intently fixed upon the waters of the Great Lake,\nwhich began to be tossed about with a high wind. At last, when they were\ntired of watching his motions, and some of the boldest, now grown\nfamiliar with him and no longer chilled with fear, talked of stoning him\nfrom his roost, he cried out, pointing with his finger, \"Look yonder!\"\nThey now beheld, in the direction he bade them look, far away on the\nfoaming bosom of the Great Lake, something resembling a great, white\nfowl. It was moving very swiftly towards the land of the Narragansetts.\nThe nearer it approached, the more our people were puzzled to tell what\nit was; some said it was a duck, some thought it a cloud, and others\nthat it was the Good Spirit who had taken a new form, and was coming to\noffer more proofs of his love for the Narragansetts. They asked the ugly\nlittle man upon the tree what it was, but he only showed his teeth like\na dog that guards a bone, and would not make answer.\n\nThe strange creature was now very near, and seemed a more wondrous\nobject than ever. It had a body shaped very much like the canoe which\nthe Great Spirit had given the Indians; but it was as much larger as an\nold bear is larger than a cub, the minute it is born, or an eagle is\nlarger than a humming-bird. It had wings, white as the wings of the\nsea-gull, and as large over as a small lake. When it had come near the\nshore, its many wings were drawn up and hidden, and in their stead three\ntall poles were displayed, with many short ones crossing them, to one of\nwhich the Little Man jumped from his perch on the tree.\n\nThe Indians were more astonished at this object than they had been at\nany of the others. It did not appear to possess life, yet how came it\nthither. Unable to tell what it meant, our people fled, startled and\nfrightened, into the deep thicket, and there held a council, and debated\nwhat was best to be done. At length, encouraged by the thought that, of\nall the strange creatures which had visited them, none had ever\nattempted to harm them, they called up courage, and returned to the\nshore. They now beheld a canoe, moved by long paddles and filled with\nmen, approaching the shore where they stood. It struck on the beach, and\nout of it came many savages, the colour of whose faces was like that of\nthe stranger who is with us. They commenced talking to the Narragansetts\nin a language which none of them understood, any more than they\nunderstood the cry of the catamount. The Narragansetts were preparing to\nuse upon the strangers the bows and arrows which the Little Man had\ngiven them, when one of them, laughing very loudly and sillily, held up\na strange-shaped thing, which had a long neck to it like the ugly bird\nwhich cries in the brakes in the beginning of darkness. This he often\nraised to his mouth, turning the top of the neck into it, and drinking\nsomething from it, which he seemed to love very much. At last, down he\ntumbled on the ground, singing very badly, and making very hideous\nmouths, though the Indians could not tell what he laughed and mouthed\nabout. There he lay on his back, kicking as a frog swims, till the\nLittle Man went up to him, and took away the thing which held the\nmaddening draught. The Narragansetts demanded of the Little Man what he\nhad there.\n\n\"A bottle,\" he replied.\n\n\"What is there in it?\" they asked.\n\n\"Good stuff! good rum(3)--very good rum,\" said he, shaking the bottle,\nand winking with both eyes. \"Here, taste and see,\" and he held out the\nthe bottle.\n\n\"T-a-s-t-e and s-e-e,\" cried the man who had fallen down, hiccuping.\n\nThe Narragansetts tasted of the rum, and liked it so well, that in a\nlittle time they had drunk all there was in the bottle, and ask the\nLittle Man if he had any more. \"Oh, great plenty,\" answered he, \"the\nWhite Men, like those who came in the canoe, let me have it dog-cheap.\nI get almost all my worshippers by it; oh, I buy a great many\nworshippers by it. Yes, plenty of good rum--Indians may have it almost\nfor nothing. The white men will bring me plenty of good rum.\"\n\n\"If you will let us have plenty of drink, like that in the bottle,\nplenty of rum, you shall be our master,\" said the Indians. \"It is a\ngreat deal better than the Good Spirit's corn.\"\n\nThe bargain was soon made between the Evil Spirit and the Narragansetts.\nThe Evil Spirit agreed that his white men should let the Indians have as\nmuch rum as the Narragansetts wanted, and they in return were to be his\nservants. So, from that day to this, the Narragansetts have served the\nEvil Spirit. They get from the Good Spirit the canoes which enable them\nto cross rivers and catch fish, and the corn which fills their bellies,\nbut the bows and arrows which lead them to engage in bloody wars, and\nthe rum which makes dogs, and bears, and hogs, and wild cats of them,\nthey get from the Devil and the pale faces. Yet it must be told that\nneither spirit has exactly kept his word. The Great Spirit sometimes\nwithers the corn by withholding rain from it, or sweeps it away by\nsending too much; and the Evil Spirit often lets the pale faces drink up\nall the rum before it reaches the Indians.\n\n\nNOTES.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n(1) _Hobbamock_--p. 120.\n\nThis was the Indian Devil. \"Another power they worship, whom they call\n_Hobbamock_, and to the northward of us, _Hobbamoqui;_ this, as farre as\nwee can conceive, is the Devill; him they call upon to cure their wounds\nand diseases. When they are curable, hee perswades them hee sends the\nsame for some conceiled anger, but, upon their calling upon him, can and\ndoth help them; but, when they are mortall, and not curable in nature,\nthen he perswades them Kiehtan is angry, and sends them diseases whom\nnone can cure; insomuch, as in that respect onely they somewhat doubt\nwhether hee bee simply good, and therefore in sicknesse never call upon\nhim. _This Hobbamock appears in sundry formes unto them,_ as in the\n_shape of a man, a deare, a fawne, an eagle, &c., but most ordinarily at\na snake_.\"--_Purchas' Pilgrims_.\n\nDr. Jarvis, a shrewd and learned American theologian and writer,\nobserves, \"This Hobbamock, or Hobbamoqui, who \"appears in sundry forms,\"\nis evidently the _Oke_ or _Tutelary Deity,_ which each Indian worships;\nand Mr. Winslow's narrative affords a solution of the pretended worship\nof the devil, which the first settlers imagined they had discovered, and\nwhich has since been so frequently mentioned on their authority,\nwithout examination. The natives, it was found, worshipped another being\nbesides the Great Spirit, which every one called his _Hobbamock_, or\n_Guardian Oke_. This the English thought could be no other than the\n_Devil_, and accordingly they asserted, without farther ceremony, what\nthey believed to be a fact.\"\n\n(2) _Conjurors_.--p. 121.\n\nBoth Charlevoix and Heckewelder have treated of Indian priests, and\nconjurors, and jugglers, as though they were separate professions, and\nseveral late writers have fallen into the same error. Hear Carver:\n\n\"The _priests of the Indians are at the same time their physicians, and\ntheir conjurors_; whilst they heal their wounds, or cure their diseases,\nthey interpret their dreams, give them protective charms, and satisfy\nthat desire which is so prevalent among them, of searching into\nfuturity. ***** When any of the people are ill, the _person who is\ninvested with this triple character of doctor, priest, and magician,\nsits by the patient, &c.\"--Carver,_ 251, 252.\n\nMy opinion is decidedly with Carver, that the two professions are\nconjoined. The physician never uses his simples, without invoking, in\nhis quality of priest, the aid of the Supreme Being.\n\nThe appearance which they make, and the dress in which their\nincantations are performed, deserve mention for their singularity. The\nfollowing passage from Mr. Heckewelder describes their appearance, and\nis the original of those in Mr. Cooper's Novels of The Prairie and Last\nof the Mohicans: \"The dress this juggler had on consisted of an entire\ngarment, or outside covering, made of one or more bear-skins, as black\nas jet, so well fitted and sewed together that the man was not in any\nplace to be perceived. The whole head of the bear, including the mouth,\nnose, teeth, ears, &c., appeared the same as when the animal was living,\nso did the legs with long claws; to this were added a huge pair of horns\non the head, and behind a large bushy tail, moving as be walked, as\nthough it were on springs; but for these accompaniments, the man walking\non all-fours might have been taken for a bear of an extraordinary size.\nUnderneath there his hands were, holes had been cut, though not risible\nto the eye, being covered with the long hair, through which he held and\nmanaged his implements, and he saw through two holes set with\nglass.\"--_Hist. Account,_ p. 288, 289.\n\nHe then describes the practice of these medical gentlemen of the forest:\n\"He approaches his patient with a variety of contortions and gestures,\nand performs by his side, and over him, all the antic tricks that his\nimagination can suggest. He breathes on him, blows in his mouth, and\noften makes an external application of the medicines which he has\nprepared, by throwing them over in his face, mouth, and nose; he rattles\nhis gourd filled with dry beans or pebbles; pulls out, and handles about\na variety of sticks and bundles, in which be appears to be seeking for\nthe proper remedy; all which is accompanied with the most horrid\ngesticulations, by which he endeavours, as he says, to frighten the\nSpirit or the disorder away,\" &c.--_Hist. Acc._. 225.\n\nAn Indian physician never applies his medicines without accompanying\nthem with mysterious ceremonies, to make their effect supernatural. He\ntherefore prepares his roots and herbs with the most singular\nceremonies, and, in mixing them up, invokes the aid of the Great Spirit.\nHe also accompanies his directions with various gesticulations and\nenigmatical expressions. The ceremonies he uses are various. Sometimes\nhe creeps into the oven where he sweats, howls, and roars, and now and\nthen grins horribly at his patient. Altogether I cannot conceive of a\nmore irrational manner of performing Esculapian duties, than that\nadopted by the \"faculty\" of the Western Wilderness.\n\n\n(3) _Rum_.\n\nThat the Indians were made drunk by Hendrick Hudson, at his first\ninterview with them, seems well settled. A tradition also prevails among\nthe Iroquois, that a scene of intoxication occurred with a party of the\nnatives on the arrival of the first ship in their waters.\n\nThe same tradition prevailed among the tribe named in the tale. See also\nthe tradition of The Coming of Miquon in the second volume.\n\n\n\n\nTHE RESURRECTION OF THE BISON.\n\n\nThe men of my nation, the Minnitarees, believed that the bones of the\nbison, which they had slain and divested of their flesh, rose again,\nclothed with renewed flesh, and quickened with life, and became fat and\nfit for slaughter in the succeeding hot month. To us it appeared\nincomprehensible that thousands should be slaughtered every year by the\nmany tribes of red men that roam over the country of the bisons, yet\nthat they should increase yearly. When we asked our priests about this,\nthey replied that they did not die, but rose again from the plains and\nthe _prairies_, the same in flesh and form as when they were slaughtered\nand stripped by us. For a long time, very few of us believed the words\nof the priests, they had lied to us so often.\n\nOnce upon a time a party of the people of our nation, who were out upon\na hunting-excursion, lost one of their number, a boy, and returned to\nthe village lamenting his loss. Believing him to have been killed or\ntaken prisoner by the cruel Sioux, with whom they were then at war, and\nwho had been seen prowling about their village they assembled a\nwar-party, and set out to avenge his death. They had marched a weary\nway, and were just entering the country of the Sioux, when they espied a\nherd of bisons, one of which they succeeded in killing. Guess their\nastonishment, when, on opening the belly of the animal, they found the\nlong-lost boy, alive, well, sleek, and hearty, after having been\nimprisoned there one entire year. Relieved from his captivity in the\nbelly of the bison, the boy told us how it happened.\n\nHe said that when he left his hunting, companions, he proceeded onward a\nconsiderable distance in search of game, till he found a bison, which he\nwas so fortunate as to kill. He removed the flesh from one side of the\nanimal, but had not time to remove that from the other side, when night\ncame on, and a great rain set in. Finding that he could not reach his\nvillage that night, and it being in the middle of a prairie, where no\nbark or branches could be had with which to form a hut, he was for some\ntime at a loss to know what he should do to avoid the pelting of the\nstorm which raged in the skies. At last, he bethought himself of a\nmethod, which was, to remove the entrails from the bison, and creep into\nthe hollow space: he did so. But, during the night, and while he slept,\nthe flesh of the bison that he had cut off grew over the side again. In\nthe morning when he awoke he found himself in darkness. For many nights\nthere was no motion of the animal. At last the various intestines and\nviscera began to grow. He felt from time to time with his hands to learn\ntheir increase, rightly judging that, when they had arrived at full\nsize, the animal would return to life. That period at length arrived.\nHis residence began to grow warm, at first moderately so, but increasing\nin heat till respiration became difficult. At length he began to feel\nwith his hand a pulsation in the heart of the animal, and to hear the\nsound of wind in its veins, its arteries, and its intestines. Soon he\nfound himself rocking about as a canoe is tossed on the waves of the\ngreat water; and then he knew the animal had returned to the full\nenjoyment of life.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WAHCONDA'S SON.\n\n\nBrothers, I am an Otto, and a chief. I am a man of courage and truth. I\nhave been a warrior, and a hunter of the bear and wolf ever since the\ngreat meeting of aged counsellors and brave-warriors pronounced me a\nman. I never fled from a foe; and none ever saw me afraid. Who will say\nthat the Guard of the Red Arrows was ever other than a man in his heart?\nWhen the Padoucas bound him to the stake, and kindled fires around\nhim;--when they thrust sharp, heated stones into his flesh, and tore off\nhis nails with fiery pincers, did they force a cry from him? did they\nsee his cheek wear the badge of a woman's weakness? No, I am a man.\nBrother, I will tell you a tale. While the nation of the Ottoes had\ntheir hunting-grounds in the shade of the Mountains of the Great Being,\nthey were led in war to battle--in peace were advised in council by a\nbrave and warlike chief, who was called Wasabajinga, or the Little Black\nBear. He was the head chief of the nation, and its greatest warrior. His\nmartial exploits and daring deeds were the theme of all the tribes who\nroamed through the vast woods between the Mississippi and the Mountains\nof the Setting Sun, the Missouri, and the Lake of the Woods. All had\nheard of his great deeds; and many had seen and felt his prowess. He was\nstronger than the bear, he was swifter than the deer, he was nimbler\nthan the mountain-cat or the panther. Who was so expert at stealing\nhorses(1) as Wasabajinga?--by his cabin-door stood the best in all the\nland; and they had belonged to the Konzas, the Pawnees, the Omawhaws,\nthe Puncas, the Sioux, and other tribes whose eyes were sharp and arrows\nlong, but neither so sharp nor so long as those of the Otto warrior. He\nhad entered alone the camp of the Missouries, at the time when the stars\nare the sole torches of night, and had brought thence many scalps; he\nhad crept to the lodge of an Arrowauk, and taken the beloved maiden. He\nhad struck dead bodies(2) of all the nations around--Osages, Padoucas,\nBald-heads, Ietans, Sauxs, Foxes, and Ioways. And who had such eyes for\nthe trail and the chase as he? He could show you where the snake had\ncrawled through the hazel leaves; he could trace the buck by his nipping\nof the young buds; he could spring to the top of the tallest pine with\nthe ease of the squirrel, and from thence point out unerringly where\nlay the hunting-lodges and grounds of all the tribes of the land; he\ncould endure as much fasting as the land-tortoise, or the bear of the\nfrozen north, and march as long as the eagle could fly; never hungry\ntill food was placed before him; never tired when there was more glory\nto be won. Strong, healthy and nimble, Wasabajinga lived to learn that\nthere was no one in the wilds able to cope with him in battle, and to\nhave his wisdom as loudly applauded as his valour.\n\nAt home it was the good fortune of this famous chief to be equally\nprosperous and happy. He had nine wives, all beautiful as the path of\nthe Master of Life[A]--all good and amiable. Though they all lived in\nthe same cabin(3), ate out of the same bowl, warmed themselves at the\nsame fire, and slept' on the same skins, there was a fair sky among\nthem--it never thundered and lightened in the cabin of the Otto warrior.\nOne nursed another's child as kindly as if it were her own; one\nperformed the field-tasks allotted to another, who in return prepared\nthe bison meat for the fire, and drew home the fuel from the woods.\nThere was peace, and the calmness of a summer day, in the cabin of\nWasabajinga--he lived the happiest of his nation.\n\n[Footnote A: The Milky Way, the Galaxy.]\n\nHis children were many--ten sons were in their father's cabin; each\ncould bend his father's bow, each poise his father's spear, and each\nwield his father's war-club. Daughters he had but one, who grew up the\nmost beautiful of all the maidens of the land. She had a skin much\nwhiter than that of Indian maidens generally; her teeth were white and\neven; her hair long, black, and glossy, as the feathers of the raven;\nher eyes mild as the dove's in the season of its mating; and her step\nwas that of a deer who is scared a little. And she was good as she was\nbeautiful. No one ever saw her cross or sulky like other women; nothing\nmade her angry. Though she was beloved by her parents, and a great\nfavourite with all the wives of her father, yet she never claimed\nexemption from the duties which belong to Indian females. Willingly\nwould her little hands have laid hold of the faggot, and her small feet\nhave travelled forth with her mother to the labours of the field of\nmaize; but the fond affection of all around her, and their belief that\nshe was something more than mortal, protected her from a call to share\nin their labours. She was allowed no part in the cutting-up of the\nbison; she was not permitted to pound the corn, or winnow the wild rice,\nor bring firing from the woods. It was the pride of the youthful part of\nthe tribe to prepare ornaments for her person. The young maidens (for\nshe was envied by none) wove wampum, and made beads for her; the young\nmen passed half their time in hunting the red and blue heron for the gay\ntuft upon his crown, and the Spirit Bird for his train of yellow, green,\nand scarlet, that her hair might vie in colours with the beautiful bow\nthat rests upon the mountains after the rains. They made her bracelets\nfor her wrists, and anklets for her legs, of the teeth of the fish with\nshining scales, and pendants for her ears of the bones of the birds of\nnight and music. Thus lived Mekaia, or the Star-flower, which was the\nname of the beautiful Otto, till she had reached her seventeenth summer.\n\nIt was a little before sunset upon a pleasant day in the month of\ngreen-corn, that a young man riding upon a noble white horse was seen\nentering the great village of the Ottoes. He appeared to be very young,\nbut he was tall and straight as the hickory-tree. He was clothed as our\nbrother is clothed, only his garments were scarlet, and our brother's\nare black. His hair, which was not so dark as that of the Indians, was\nsmooth and sleek as the hair on the head of a child, or the feathers on\nthe breast of the humming-bird. His head was encircled with a chaplet\nmade of the feathers of the song-sparrow and the red-headed-woodpecker.\nHe rode slowly through the village without stopping till he came to the\nlodge of Wasabajinga, when he alighted, leaving his good horse to feed\nupon the grass which grew around the cabin. He entered the lodge of the\nchief. The stern old warrior, without rising from his bed of skins,\nasked him who he was, and whence he came. He answered that he was the\nson of the great Wahconda, and had come from the lodge of his father(4),\nwhich lay among the high mountains towards the setting-sun.\n\n\"Have you killed any buffaloes on your journey?\" demanded Wasabajinga.\n\n\"No,\" answered the young god.\n\n\"Then you must be very hungry,\" said the chief.\n\nThe young man answered that the son of the Wahconda had his food from\nthe skies, because the flesh of the animals which lived on the earth was\ntoo gross for him. He lived, he said, upon the flesh of spirit beasts,\nand fishes, and birds, roasted in the great fire-place of the\nlightnings, and sent him by the hands of the Manitous of the air. His\ndrink was the rain-drops purified in the clouds.\n\nThe chief asked him if he had come on a message from the Wahconda to the\nLittle Black Bear of the Ottoes.\n\nThe young man answered that he had. He said his father had shewn him\nfrom the high mountains of the west the beautiful daughter of the Otto\nchief--had told him she was good as she was beautiful, and bidden him\ncome and ask her for his wife. His father, he said, bade him tell the\nBear of the Ottoes, that, though his daughter must now leave her father,\nand mother, and nation, and accompany his son into the regions of\never-bright suns, and balmy winds, yet, in a few seasons more, when the\nknees of the chief had become feeble, and his eyes dim with the mists of\nage, and his time had come to die, that he should rejoin his daughter\nand tend her little ones, and be as joyful as the bird of morning on the\nbanks of the rapid river that glided through the valley of departed\nsouls.\n\n\"How shall I know that the Wahconda has said this?\" asked the chief.\n\n\"I will do these things for a sign,\" answered the boy-god. \"To-morrow,\nwhen the sun first rises from his slumbers behind the hills of the east,\nhe shall show himself in a cloudless sky. In the space of a breath,\ndarkness shall cover the face of the heavens, the thunder(5), which is\nthe voice of my father, shall roll awfully, but the lightnings, which\nare the glances of his eye, shall be spared. Before the Indians shall\nhave time to raise themselves from the earth, upon whose cold bosom, in\ntheir terror, they will prostrate themselves, the darkness shall be\nrecalled from the earth and shut up in the cave of night. The moment the\nthunders cease, the lightnings, which are the glances of his eye, shall\ncommence their terrific play over the face of the cloudless sky. By\nthese signs ye shall know that I am the Wahconda's son.\"\n\n\"If these things shall be done,\" said the chief, \"the maiden shall be\nyours.\"\n\nIt was soon told in the village, that the Wahconda's son had come from\nhis father's lodge among the mountains, to ask the beautiful Star-flower\nfor his wife. And it was also told, that with the rising of the sun on\nthe next morning, he would convince the Little Black Bear, that he had\nnot a forked tongue, nor spoke with the lips of a mocking-bird. There\nwas little sleep that night in the Otto village. Our nation awaited with\ngreat dread and much trembling the coming of the morning, fearing danger\nto themselves and the very earth on which they dwelt, from the\nthreatened waking of the Wahconda's voice, and the glancing of his eye.\n\nThe nation had assembled beside the cabin of the warrior, when the sun\ncame out from behind the mountains. The young man kept his promise. When\nthe sun first came in view, there was not a cloud on the face of the\nsky. In the space of a breath, thick darkness overspread the earth,\nrendering it as dark as the darkest night, and the thunders rolled so\nawfully, that the very earth seemed to reel like a man who has drunken\ntwice of the fire-eater, which the brothers of our friend sell us in the\nVillage of the High Rock.[A] But what astonished our people most was,\nthat no lightning accompanied the thunder. In a few minutes the darkness\nwas driven away by the same mighty hand which called it forth; the\nthunder became as mute as the sleep of a child which is filled with its\nmother's milk, and the sun shone out full and clear as before the\nWahconda had shut his mouth. Then succeeded most terrific lightnings;\nlightnings which rent the solid trees, and clove asunder the flinty\nrocks. A moment, and they too were called back;--the Great Being had\nclosed his eyes, and the lightnings were imprisoned between their lids.\nThe Indians stood for a moment aghast, and then fell on their faces in\nworship of the Being who could command all things so promptly to do his\nbidding, and who kept his mouth shut, and his eyes closed, in mercy to\nthe poor creatures of the earth.\n\n[Footnote A: Quebec--Heights of Abraham.]\n\nWhen they had recovered from their fright, they rose to an upright\nposture, and paid their obeisance to the stranger, now proved to be the\nWahconda's son by signs that no one would dare dispute. He showed his\nlove for them by the kind look he gave them. Turning to the Little Black\nBear, he said, \"Has the Wahconda's son proved himself worthy to have the\nbeautiful daughter of the Otto chief to be his wife?\"\n\nWasabajinga answered, \"The Wahconda's son has proved himself worthy to\nhave for his wife the daughter of the head chief of the Ottoes. The\nchief gives her to him (6), in the presence of all his nation.\"\n\nThe chief went into his lodge, and brought out his daughter. The son of\nthe Wahconda then went up to the beautiful maiden, and fondly pressing\nher in his arms, called her his wife, and told her that, moved by her\nbeauty and goodness, he had left the pleasant skies of his dwelling, to\ncome into the cold and misty region where the Ottoes had their lodges.\nShe wept, but the tears came not from her heart, and smiles beamed\nthrough them, as the stars of night shine through mist, or the sun of a\nspring morning looks, through a cloud of vapour. Then the beautiful\ncouple went through the Indian form of marriage(7). When this was ended,\nthe tribe gathered to the feast in the cabin of the chief. Rich and\njuicy was the bear's meat, set out on the buffalo robe, and ripe were\nthe berries, and sweet was the roasted corn, which the women brought to\nfeed the guests. They sung, and danced, and recounted their warlike\nexploits in the ears of the listening boy. They told of their hostile\nvisits to the countries of the Padoucas and Bald-heads; they mimicked\nthe cry of terror which burst from the letans when a painted man of the\nOttoes crept with an uplifted hatchet into their camp by midnight, and\ntook five scalps as they slept. Then one arose and sung a song of\nmarriage. Brothers, this was the song he sung:\n\n    OTTO SONG OF MARRIAGE.\n\n    Who is that?\n    Oh, it is the Master's fair-haired son,\n    Come to wed the warrior's beauteous daughter.\n    Tall and manly is his form;\n    Beautiful and fair is she;\n    See his step how light,\n    See his eyes how bright with love and joy;\n    How glad he looks:\n    So turns his eyes the husband-dove\n    Upon its gentle little wife.\n\n    He came and caught the maiden in his arms,\n    He pressed her to his bosom as a mother\n    Presses her infant.\n    She was pleased, and wept,\n    But her's were tears of joy;\n    Hung her head, and hid her beautuous face,\n    Yet was she not ashamed.\n    Her's was maiden bashfulness.\n    Blushes she to be so caught in love?\n    See her stolen glances! sunlit glances! see!\n    She doth not altogether hate the youth.\n\n    Why dost thou weep, mother of the bride?\n    Weepst thou to be parted from thy daughter?\n    Weep no more.\n    What is life?\n    A reed beat down by every wind that stirs,\n    A flower nipt by the first autumnal blast,\n    A deer that perishes by prick of thorn,\n    Here at morning,\n    Gone at evening.\n    Weep not, tender mother of the bride;\n    Soon thou'lt meet her in the happy vales\n    Beyond the setting sun:\n    Ask the lover, he will tell thee so.\n\n[Illustration: _Designed & Etched by W. M. Brookefield R. H. A._\n\nThen mounting the noble Horse they bade farewell.]\n\nWhen the feast was concluded, the songs and dances, and sacrifices,\nfinished, the Wahconda's son prepared to take his departure to the\nmountains where his father dwelt. The tribe attended him to the edge of\nthe forest, which had been the hunting-grounds of the Ottoes ever since\nthe rivers ran, and there they left him to pursue his journey with his\nbeautiful and happy wife to the abodes of spirits, and great warriors,\nand just men. But before the chief parted from his daughter, he made her\nhusband a long speech, and prayed that peace might ever be between them\nand their people. He told him he had given him his all--his dearly\nbeloved daughter, to whom he must be kind and affectionate. He must not\nput heavy burdens upon her; he must not send her to cut wood, nor bring\nhome the bison's flesh, nor pound the corn, for her hands had never been\nhardened in tasks like these, nor her shoulders bowed in her father's\nhouse to the labours of the field, or forest, or cabin. \"She had been,\"\nhe said, \"the darling of her father's household, and knew not labour but\nby name.\"\n\nThe Wahconda's son smiled at the words of the old chief, and told him\n\"that services, like those he had mentioned, were never required of\nwomen in the Wahconda's dwelling. The people of the happy vales and the\nspirits of the mountains fed not,\" he said, \"upon bison's meat, nor\npounded corn; and the sun, which was the same at all seasons, beamed so\nwarm, that they kept no fires. It was a lovely land, far pleasanter than\nthat which the Ottoes abode in, nor was it subject to those dreadful\nstorms and tempests which terrified and annoyed those who dwelt upon the\nbanks of the Great River.\" And then, mounting his noble horse, and\ntaking his little wife behind him, he again bade them farewell and rode\naway.\n\nHe had been gone two moons--the third was in its wane, and the parents\nhad become consoled for the loss of their daughter. It was upon a clear\nand beautiful evening in the Moon of Harvest, when the forest was losing\nits robe of green, and putting on its garment of brown and scarlet, and\ncool and steady winds were succeeding to the hot and parching breezes of\nsummer, that the Ottoes assembled to dance and feast in the cabin of\ntheir chief. It was one of the most beautiful nights ever beheld.\nNothing was heard to break the stillness of the hour, save the rustling\nof the branches of the cedar and pine, the slight music of a little\nrivulet, and the mournful singing of the wekolis,[A] perched in the low\nbranches of the willow. The feast was prepared, the Master was\npropitiated, and they were sitting down to partake of the good things of\nthe land and water, when suddenly the earth began to move like the\nwaters of lake Huron, when agitated by winds from the regions of the\nfrozen star. Upon every side of them, above them, and beneath them, the\nearth thundered, with a rattling sound. In vain did the Ottoes attempt\nto leave the cabin; they rolled about like a canoe launched upon a\nstormy river, or a ball tossed upon frozen water. The rocking of the\nearth continued throughout the hours of darkness. When light came, it\nwas frightful to behold the disfigured face of the earth. In some places\nlakes were scooped out, and mountains piled up on their brink. Trees\nwere rooted up and broken; little streams had disappeared, even large\nrivers had ceased to be. The tall magnolia lay broken in many pieces,\nthe larch tree had been snapped like a rotten reed. The flowers of the\nmeadows were scorched and seared, the deer in the thicket lay mangled\nand bruised, the birds sat timid and shy on the broken bough. The people\ncalled their priests together, and demanded why these things were. The\npriests answered, \"Because the Master of Life was angry, but with whom\nthey knew not. Yet soon should they learn, for there was one coming\nhither who would be able to tell them.\"\n\n[Footnote A: Wekolis--the whip-poor-will.]\n\nThree suns had passed, and the knowledge of the cause still remained\nhidden from them. On the morning of the fourth day, when the chief went\nout of his lodge, he found his beloved daughter weeping by the door of\nthe cabin. Oh! how changed was the beautiful Mekaia--she was no longer a\nStar-flower. The brightness of her eye had departed, as the beauty of\nthe green fields and leafy forests is driven hence by the chills of\nwinter, her cheek was sunken and hollow, her long black locks lay\nuncombed upon her shoulders, and the joy and cheerfulness which once\nwarmed her heart, and made her foot lighter than the antelope's, were no\nmore. She, whose feet were fleeter than the deer's, now walked feebly,\nand rested oft; she, whose tongue outchirped the merriest birds of the\ngrove, and warbled sweeter music than the song-sparrow, now spoke in\nstrains as gloomy and sad as the bittern that cries in the swamps when\nnight is coming on, or the solitary bird of wisdom perched among the\nleaves of the oak. The father sat down by her, and asked her whence she\ncame.\n\n\"From the valley upon this side of the mountains,\" she answered.\n\n\"Where is thy husband?\" demanded Wasabajinga.\n\n\"Dead,\" answered the Starflower, and wept afresh.\n\n\"Wah!\" exclaimed the warrior, and hid his face with his hands. When he\nhad sat thus awhile, he inquired the manner of his death. She told him,\nthat, before they reached the mountains of the Wahconda, they saw a pale\nman coming towards them, mounted on a low, black horse. When he came up\nthem, he asked her husband if he would buy blankets, and beads, and the\nfire-eater. That the Wahconda's son answered, \"No;\" and told him it was\nvery--very bad in him to carry the fire-eater, to destroy the poor\nmisguided Indians. The man upon the black horse answered, \"That he was a\nbetter man than the Wahconda's son, for he was no heathen, but lived\nwhere men worshipped a greater Wahconda than his father in a beautiful\nhouse built with hands, and not beneath the shade of the cypress and the\noak.\" Upon this, her husband did but smile, when the pale man elevated\nthe spear he carried in his hand, and, with the bolts which issued from\nit, struck him to the earth, from which he never rose again. Then there\ncame a cry of mourning from the cabin of the Little Black Bear. The\nwomen rushed out, and tore their hair, and cut their flesh with sharp\nstones, through grief for the death of the husband of their beloved\nStarflower. And they sung a melancholy lament, for the youth who had\nperished in the morning of life, while the down was yet upon his cheek,\nand his heart had never felt the shaft of sorrow. They sung how happy\nthe lovers were, ere the malice and cruelty of white men destroyed their\njoys; ere their sacrilegious hands had laid one low in the dust, and\nleft the other to pine under the bereavement, till death would be a\nblessing. They painted the anger and grief of the great Wahconda when he\nfound the darling of his house numbered with the slain. They sung that,\nexasperated with the children of earth for the murder of his beloved\nson, he called upon his earthquakes to deface and lay waste their\ncountry. They bade the eye note how well these ministers of his wrath\nhad performed his dread commands. So they sung--\"For many a weary day's\njourney upon the banks of the Mighty River, for many a long encamping in\nthe direction of the setting sun, the land lies in ruins. The bough is\nbroken, and the solid trunk is rent. The flower lies bleeding, and the\nvoice of the dove is hushed. But see, he has bidden the marks of havoc\nbe effaced from the country of the Ottoes, because it is the native land\nof the beautiful woman who had become the wife of his son.\"\n\nLong was the mourning continued, and deep the grief, which for many a\nmoon pervaded the cabins and camp of the Ottoes. The Great Wahconda did\nnot permit the Starflower to remain long upon the earth, but soon called\nher away to be re-united to his beloved son in the land of spirits. Yet\nshe often returns to look upon the place of her birth, to breathe on the\nthings she loved, and to sit beneath the shade of the trees she planted.\nIn the season of flowers, she is often seen by moonlight, binding\ntogether the choicest which grow on the prairie, and her voice is often\nheard in the sighs of the breeze in spring. The Wahconda's son never\ncomes with her, for he fears the treachery and violence of the pale\nfaces.\n\n\nNOTES.\n\n(1) _Stealing horses_--p. 148.\n\nStealing horses is one of the most meritorious acts an Indian can\nperform, and is boasted of at his feasts among his other praiseworthy\ndeeds. Next to scalping, it is the greatest feat of the Indian warrior.\nBefore going out to war they pray to the Great Spirit to favour them,\namong other things, with the ability to steal horses.\n\n\n(2) _Struck dead bodies._--p. 148.\n\nStriking the dead, or the disabled body of a living person, is\nconsidered the third in the scale of honours. These things are\nregulated, among the Indians, with the nicety which attends the\ndistribution of academical prizes at the Universities.\n\n(3) _Lived in the same cabin, &c._--p. 149.\n\nAll the wives of an Indian reside under the same roof. As an Indian is\ndespotic in his family, there is seldom any domestic disagreement in his\ncabin; if there be, the whip is called in to arbitrate the difference,\nand the dispute is soon adjusted. I shall notice this subject in a note\nin another part of the work.\n\n(4) _Lodge of his father._--p. 152.\n\nThe dwelling-place of the Supreme Being is variously located by the\nIndians. I shall not notice their reported belief, which places the Good\nSpirit \"above the blue sky,\" and gives the Evil Spirit the Antipodes.\nSuch, as it is mentioned by Loskiel and by Purchas, are the opinions of\nthe Eastern Indians. These are obviously derived from the white people.\nThe following may be pronounced the unsophisticated traditions of the\ndifferent tribes on this point, and they are very curious.\n\n\"About thirty miles below the falls of St. Anthony, at which I arrived\nthe tenth day after I left Lape Pepin, is a remarkable cave of an\namazing depth. The Indians term it Wakon-teebe, that is, the Dwelling of\nthe Great Spirit. The entrance into it is about four feet wide; the\nheight of it fire feet. The arch within it is near fifteen feet high,\nand about thirty feet broad. The bottom of it consists of fine, clear\nsand. About twenty feet from the entrance begins a lake, the water of\nwhich is transparent, and extends to an unsearchable distance; for the\ndarkness of the cave prevents all possibility of acquiring a knowledge\nof it. I threw a small pebble towards the interior parts of it with my\nutmost strength: I could hear that it fell into the water, and,\nnotwithstanding that it was of so small a size, it caused an astonishing\nand horrible noise, that reverberated through all those gloomy regions.\nI found in this cave many Indian hieroglyphics, which appeared very\nancient, for time had nearly covered them with moss, so that it was with\ndifficulty I could trace them. They were cut in a rude manner upon the\ninside of the walls, which were composed of a stone so extremely soft,\nthat it might easily be penetrated with a knife; a stone every where to\nbe found near the Mississippi.\" _Carver's Travels_, p. 39, 40.\n\nVery many of the Western Indians believe that the Supreme Being has his\nresidence in the Rocky Mountains; and some of them make him the\nSun.--_Charlevoix_, ii, 180, 117.\n\nThe Chippeways suppose the islands in Lake Superior to have been, from\ntheir first formation, the residence of the Great Spirit, and relate\nmany stories of enchantment and magical tricks that had been experienced\nby such as were obliged, through stress of weather, to take shelter\nthere.--See one of them further on.\n\nThe Hurons believe that Michabou, the God of the Waters, and sometimes\ntheir Great Spirit, formerly dwelt at Michillimackinac where he was\nborn.\n\n(5) _The thunder_.--p. 153.\n\nThe Indians have but one way to account for atmospherical phenomena; it\nis always by the intervention of a Supreme or Spiritual Being of the\nearth, the air, or the waters. Thus they ascribe earthquakes to the\nmoving of the Great Tortoise which bears the _Island_ (continent) on its\nback. They say he shakes himself or changes his position. The Missouri\nIndians believe earthquakes to be the effect of supernatural agency,\nconnected like the thunder with the immediate operations of the Master\nof Life. Thunder and lightning impress them with inconceivable terror.\nTheir opinions of the cause are various. Some take it for a voice of a\nparticular species of men who fly in the air. Others say the noise comes\nfrom certain birds that are unknown to them. The Montagnais say it is\nthe effort of a genius to bring up a snake which he hath swallowed; and\nthey found this notion on observing that when the thunder falls upon a\ntree, it leaves something like, the shape of a snake.\n\nThe Konzas believe that, when a man is killed in battle, the thunder\ntakes him up, they do not know whither. In going to battle each man\ntraces an imaginary figure of the thunder on the soil, and he who\nrepresents it incorrectly is killed by the thunder.\n\nThe Delawares, who knew nothing of the cause of natural phenomena, nor\ndo they desire to be informed of them, conceived thunder to be a spirit\ndwelling in the mountains, and now and then sallying forth to make\nhimself heard. Some of them imagined it to proceed from the crowing of a\nmonstrous turkey-cock in the heavens; others from enraged evil spirits.\n\nCarver says in his _Travels_: \"We had just landed, and were preparing to\nset up our tents for the night, when a heavy cloud overspread the\nheavens, and the most dreadful thunder, lightning, and rain, issued from\nit that ever I beheld. The Indians were greatly terrified, and ran to\nseek such shelter as they could. The Indian chiefs themselves, though\ntheir courage in war is usually invincible, could not help trembling at\nthe horrid combustion.\"--_Carver_, 56. The southern Indians believe\nthunder to be the voice of the Almighty.--_Adair,_ 86. They believe that\nMinggo Ishto Eloa, \"the great chieftain of thunder\" sometimes binds up\nthe clouds and withholds rain.--_Ibid_., 89.\n\nEclipses they attribute to the attempts of the Evil Spirits to embarrass\nthe labours of the luminary which is eclipsed. \"The first lunar\neclipse,\" says Adair, \"I saw, after I lived with the Indians, was among\nthe Cherokees in 1736; and, during the continuance of it, their conduct\nappeared surprising to one who had not seen the like before; they all\nran wild, this way and that way, like lunatics, firing their guns,\nwhooping and hallooing, beating of kettles, ringing horse-bells, and\nmaking the most horrid noises that human beings possibly could. This was\ndone to assist the suffering moon.\"--_Adair_, 65.\n\n(6) _The chief gives her to him_.--p. 156.\n\nMarriages among the Indians are proposed and concluded in different\nways. Thus, among the Delawares, the parents on both sides, having\nobserved an attachment growing up between two young persons, negotiate\nfor them. This generally commences from the house where the bridegroom\nlives, whose mother is the negotiatrix for him, and begins her duties by\ntaking a good leg of venison or bear's meat, or something else of the\nsame kind, to the house where the bride dwells, not forgetting to\nmention that her son has killed it. In return for this, the mother of\nthe bride, if she otherwise approves the match, which she well\nunderstands by the presents to be intended, will prepare a good dish of\nvictuals, the produce of the labour of women--such as beans, Indian\ncorn, or the like--and then, taking it to the house where the bridegroom\nlives, will say, \"This is the produce of my daughter's field, and she\nalso prepared it.\" From this time (if the presents be accepted) not only\npresents of this kind are continued on both sides, but articles of\nclothing are presented to the parents of each party by way of return for\nwhat they have received, and of these the young people always have a\nshare. The friendship between the two families daily increasing, they do\ntheir domestic and field-work jointly, and when the young people have\nagreed to live together, the parents supply them with necessaries, such\nas a kettle, dishes, bowls, &c. &c.\n\nThe men who have no parents to negotiate for them, or who otherwise\nchoose to manage the matter for themselves, have two simple ways of\nattaining their object. The first is by stepping up to the woman whom\nthey wish to marry, saying, \"If you are willing, I will take you as\nwife;\" when, if she answers in the affirmative, she either goes with him\nimmediately, or meets him at an appointed time or place. The other\nmethod is--(I give it in their bad English)--\"Indian, when he see\nindustrious squaw, which he like, he go to _him,_ place his two\nfore-fingers close aside each other, make two look like one--look squaw\nin the face--see _him_ smile, which is all one _he_ say _yes!_ So he\ntake _him_ home.\"\n\nAmong the Iroquois, Miamis, &c. treaties of marriage are entirely\ncarried on by the parents; the parties interested do not appear at all,\nbut give themselves up entirely to the will of those on whom they\ndepend. The parents, however, do not conclude any thing without their\nconsent, but this is only a formality. The first advances must be made\nby the matrons. Not but that, if any girl were to continue too long\nwithout being sued for, her family would act underhand to procure her a\nsuitor.\n\nIn some places the young man is contented to go and sit by the side of\nthe young woman in her cabin; and, if she suffers it and continues in\nher place, it is taken for her consent, and the marriage is concluded.\nThe customs of the different tribes do not essentially vary. What should\nyou say, my fair readers, at being \"wooed and won\" in this way?\n\n(7) _Indian farm of marriage_.--p. 156.\n\nThe Indian nations differ but little from each other in their marriage\nceremonies. The tribes that inhabit the borders of Canada have the\nfollowing custom:--When every preliminary is agreed on, and the day\nappointed, the friends and acquaintance of both parties assemble at the\nhouse or tent of the oldest relation of the bridegroom, where a feast is\nprepared on the occasion. The company who meet to assist at the festival\nare sometimes very numerous; they dance, they sing, and enter into every\nother diversion usual at any of their public rejoicings. When these are\nfinished, all those who attended merely out of ceremony depart, and the\nbridegroom and the bride are left alone with three or four of the\nnearest and oldest relations on either side; those of the bridegroom\nbeing men, and those of the bride women.\n\nPresently the bride, attended by these few friends, having withdrawn\nherself for the purpose, appears at one of the doors of the house, and\nis led to the bridegroom, who stands ready to receive her. Having now\ntaken their station on a mat, placed in the centre of the room, they lay\nhold of the extremities of a wand about four feet long, by which they\ncontinue separated, whilst the old men pronounce some short harangues\nsuitable to the occasion. The married couple after this make a public\ndeclaration of the love and regard they entertain for each other, and\nstill holding the rod between them they dance and sing. When they have\nfinished this part of the ceremony, they break the rod into as many\npieces as there are witnesses present, who each take a piece, and\npreserve it with great care. The bride is then re-conducted out of the\ndoor as she entered, where her young companions wait to attend her to\nher father's house; there the bridegroom is obliged to seek her.\n\nAnother manner of performing the ceremony is said to be peculiar to the\nNaudowessies. When one of their young men has fixed on a young woman he\napproves of, he discovers his passion to her parents, who give him an\ninvitation to come and live with them in their tents. He accordingly\naccepts their offer, and by so doing engages to reside in it for a whole\nyear in the character of a menial servant. During this time he hunts,\nand brings all the game he kills to the family; by which means the\nfather has an opportunity of seeing whether he can provide for the\nsupport of his daughter and the children that might be the consequence\nof their union. When this period is expired, the marriage is solemnized\nafter the custom of the country, in the following manner:--Three or four\nof the oldest male relations of the bridegroom, and as many of the\nbride's, accompany the young couple from their respective tents to an\nopen part in the centre of the camp. The chiefs and warriors being here\nassembled to receive them, a party of the latter are drawn up into two\nranks on each side of the bride and bridegroom, immediately on their\narrival. The principal chief then acquaints the whole assembly with the\ndesign of their meeting, and tells them that the couple before them,\nmentioning at the same time their names, are come to avow publicly their\nintention of living together as man and wife. He then asks the young\npeople alternately whether they desire that the union may take place.\nHaving declared, with an audible voice, that they do so, the warriors\nfix their arrows, and discharge them over the needs of the married pair;\nthis done, the chief pronounces them man and wife. The bridegroom then\nturns around, and, bending his body, takes his wife upon his back, in\nwhich manner he carries her, amidst the acclamations of the spectators,\nto his tent. The ceremony is concluded by the most plentiful feast the\nnew-married man can afford, and songs and dances, according to the usual\ncustom, conclude the festival.\n\nAmong the Quapaws, as I have been informed, the husband, on the\nconsummation of his marriage, presents his wife with a leg of deer, and\nshe in return offers him an ear of maize.\n\n\n\n\nTHE IDOLS.\n\nA TRADITION OF THE RICARAS.\n\n\n    \"Whither goest thou, valiant warrior?\n    Whither goest thou, Son of the Beaver?\n    Man whom the Mahas fear;\n    Man whom the Pawnees shun;\n    Man of the red and painted cheek;\n    Man of the fierce and fearful shout;\n    Whither goest thou?\"\n    \"I go to make an offering,\n    I go to give to the Idols a bow,\n    An arrow, and a spear,\n    The Man, and Woman, and Dog of Stone,\n    That stand on the willow bank,\n    On the willow bank, that o'erlooks the stream,\n    The shallow and turbid stream;\n    I go to ask that my heart may be made,\n    Like the heart of the panther, fierce and stout,\n    And my soul as clean as the soul of a child,\n    And my foot as swift as the foot of a buck,\n    That victory may be mine,\n    That the pole of my lodge may bend with scalps,\n    And the song of my lips\n    Be the song of a Brave,\n    Who sings of bright deeds in the ears of his tribe.\"\n    \"Go! Warrior, go!\"\n\n    \"Whither goest thou, Hunter?\n    Whither goest thou, keen eyed-man?\n    Man whom the Beaver fears;\n    Man whom the Panther shuns;\n    Man of the fleet and ardent foot,\n    And the firm and patient heart,\n    And the never blanching-cheek,\n    Whither goest thou?\"\n    \"I go to make an offering,\n    I go to give to the Idols flesh,\n    The juicy flesh of the elk,\n    The Man, and Woman, and Dog of Stone,\n    That stand on the willow bank,\n    On the willow bank that o'erlooks the stream,\n    The shallow and turbid stream;\n    I go to ask that my eye maybe true\n    To follow the trail of the deer,\n    And to lead in the fox's track,\n    And strong my arm to send the dart\n    To the life of the bison-ox,\n    And stout my heart, when I list to the growl\n    Of the cubs in the panther's den.\"\n    \"Go! Hunter, go!\"\n\n    \"Whither goest thou, Priest?\n    Man of wisdom, whither goest thou?\n    Man that commun'st with the Voice[A],\n    And notest the lightning's words;\n    Man that hast knowledge of things unseen\n    By the eye of thy brothers,\n    Whither goest thou?\"\n\n    \"I go to make an offering:\n    I go to lay my magic robe,\n    My shaggy hide of the old black bear,\n    Before the Idols,\n    The Man, and Woman, and Dog of Stone,\n    That stand on the willow bank,\n    On the willow bank that o'erlooks the stream,\n    The shallow and turbid stream;\n    I go to ask my Okkis[B] to give\n    To the sleep of my nights the dream that shows\n    The image of things to come,\n    That I may behold the fate of my tribe,\n    And the fate of the Indian race;\n    And count the scalps from Mahas torn,\n    And the prisoners brought from Pawnee lands,\n    And the beads from the town of the Rock[C];\n    And number the coal-black horses,\n    The Ricara Braves shall steal\n    From the men who wear the cross,\n    That shines like the cold, pale moon\"[D].\n    \"Go! Priest, go!\"\n\n    \"And whither goest thou, Maiden?\n    Dove of the forest, whither goest thou?\n    Maiden, as bright as the Hunter's Star,\n    Maiden, whose hair is the grape-clustered vine,\n    Whose neck is the neck of the swan,\n    Whose eyes are the eyes of the dove,\n    Whose hand is as small as the red-oak's leaf,\n    Whose foot is the length of the lark's spread wing,\n    Whose step is the step of the antelope's child,\n    Whose voice is the voice of a rill in the moon,\n    Of the rill's most gentle song;\n    Whither goest thou?\"\n\n \"I go to make an offering.\n    I go to lay the gifts of my Brave,\n    The crest of the Song Sparrow[E], that which sang\n    From her bower in the bush, on the beautiful night,\n    When he called me \"dearest,\"\n    And the rainbow-tail of the Spirit Bird,\n    And the shells that were dyed in the sunset's blush,\n    And the beads that he brought from a far-off land,\n    And the skin of the striped lynx that he slew\n    Ere the mocassins deck'd his feet,\n    Before the Idols,\n    The Man, and Woman, and Dog of Stone,\n    That stand on the willow-bank,\n    On the willow-bank that o'erlooks the stream,\n    The shallow and turbid stream.\n    I make them my Okkis to guard my Brave;\n    I go to ask them to shield his breast\n    Against the Maha's darts;\n    To give to his arm the strength of two;\n    To give to his foot the fleetness of two;\n    To wring from his heart the drop of blood,\n    If he hath such drop, that causes fear\n    To make his cry like the Serpent's hiss[F],\n    Among the hills of the setting sun,\n    And when there is Maha blood on his hand,\n    And a bunch of Maha scalps at his back.\n    To send him back to these longing arms,\n    That I may wipe from his weary brow\n    The drops that spring from his toil.\"\n    \"Go! Maiden, go!\"\n\n[Footnote A: Thunder, sometimes called by the Indians, _par excellence_,\n\"the Voice.\"]\n\n[Footnote B: \"Okkis\"--_protecting spirit_. See note 1, page 195.]\n\n[Footnote C: Quebec--Heights of Abraham.]\n\n[Footnote D: The Spaniards, from whom the Indians first procured the\nhorse. This great acquisition is referred to in many of their\ntraditions. See \"The Wahconda's Son,\" &c.]\n\n[Footnote E: Song Sparrow--_Fringilla melodica_.]\n\n[Footnote F: Serpent's hiss, the thunder. See note 5, p. 167.]\n\nWith the above characteristic and wild song, chanted with the action and\nin the tones peculiar to the Indian story-teller, and which, in truth,\nis always the manner in which their traditions are related, the Little\nSnake, the principal chief of the Ricaras, and who was as celebrated\nthroughout the wilds of the west for his skill in song as Carolan in the\npalace of his mountain lord, or Blondel at the court of Coeur de Lion,\ncommenced his tale. As far as the visual organ was concerned, Mr.\nVerdier was before acquainted with the curious images to which it\nreferred. He had seen, a few miles back, from the Mississippi, a small\n\"willow-bank,\" rising in the words of the song above a \"shallow and\nturbid stream,\" upon which were two stones bearing a great resemblance\nto the human form, and a third having a still greater resemblance to a\ndog. He knew that they were objects of exceeding veneration with all\nthe tribes of the west, especially with the Ricaras, and that whenever\nthey passed them, and they often deviated many miles from their path for\nthat purpose, they never failed to make an offering, generally of some\nornament, or valued part of their dress, or martial equipment, to\npropitiate the intelligences supposed to inhabit the statues, and render\nthem favourable to their wants and wishes, and to their success in war,\nor the chace He saw that the continued observance of this rite for a\nlong period, probably for ages, had collected around the \"Idols\" a large\nheap of stones, sticks, blankets, deer-skins, eagle's' feathers, &c.,\nbut he had remained till now in ignorance of the tradition, which\nassigned to them a past existence as human beings. He knew that every\nthing which is not in the common order of things, even a tree singularly\nshaped, or presenting an unusual excrescence, a blade of grass twisted\ninto an uncommon form, a berry or a stalk of maize growing to an unusual\nsize, become, in the eyes of these wild and superstitious children of\nthe forest, invested with supernatural interest; but he had supposed\nthat it was the mere resemblance which these statues bore to human\nbeings that had caused the Indians to regard them as objects worthy of\nthe most hallowed form of their rude worship.\n\nIt may be as well to say in this place, what I had contemplated making\nthe subject of a note. It is this--that Indian poetry always wants the\ncorrespondence of the last sound of one verse with the last sound or\nsyllable of another. There cannot, I imagine, be found a single instance\nof their having attempted to produce the \"harmonical succession of\nsounds,\" which has imparted so much richness and beauty to the\ncultivated languages. It is necessary to state this, that my readers may\nnot suppose that the omission to make the lines rhyme grew out of an\nattempt to give to the poetry an appearance of greater originality, and\nof greater singularity and wildness, the supposed first step to success.\nI could not, consistently with my determination to represent truly the\nmanners and customs of that interesting and hard-used race in their own\nstyle and method, attempt to introduce rhyme into their rude lyrics. The\npoetry I have given, though it may want the inspiration of Indian\npoetry, will be found to possess its method. Another trait of Indian\npoetry to be noticed is the frequent repetition of favourite passages\nand incidents.\n\nThe Indian story-teller, having paused a moment to recruit his strength\nand voice, which had suffered by his energy, and to gather the opinion\nof the audience, which, for the first time in the present assembly, was\nexpressed by audible signs of satisfaction, an unusual occurrence in an\nIndian audience, resumed his tale as follows:--\n\n    And who are they\n    To whom the Brave has given his bow,\n    His arrow, and his spear;\n    To whom the Hunter has given the flesh,\n    The juicy flesh of the elk,\n    At whose feet the Priest has laid his robe,\n    The shaggy skin of the old black bear,\n    Where she, as bright as the Hunter's Star[A],\n    The Maid with hair like the clustering grapes,\n    Whose neck is the neck of the swan,\n    Whose eyes are the eyes of the dove,\n    Whose hand is as small as the red-oak's leaf,\n    Whose foot is the length of the lark's spread wing.\n    Whose step is the step of the antelope's child,\n    Whose voice is the voice of a rill in the moon,\n    Of the rill's most gentle song,\n    Has cast the gifts of her Brave,\n    Cast, without a tear,\n    The tuft of the Song Sparrow, that which sang\n    From its bower in the bush on the beautiful night,\n    That he called his maiden, \"dearest,\"\n    And the rainbow-tail of the Spirit Bird,\n    And the shells that were dyed in the sunset's blush,\n    And the beads that he brought from a far-off land,\n    And the skin of the striped lynx that he slew,\n    Ere the mocassins decked his feet?\n    I will tell you who they are:\n    Listen, brother!\n    Thou from the distant land,\n    Pour oil into thine ears, for I\n    Will fill them with a song.\n\n    They both were Ricaras,\n    And the Dog was a Ricara Dog;\n    It was many suns ago,\n    Yet ask me not how long,\n    For the warrior cannot tell,\n    But this do I know the rivers ran\n    Through forest, and prairie, and copse,\n    And the mountains were piled to the base of the clouds,\n    And the waters were deep,\n    And the winter was cold,\n    And the summer was hot;\n    Grass grew on the prairies,\n    Flowers bloomed on the lea,\n    The lark sang in the morning,\n    The owl hooted at night,\n    And the world was such a world\n    As the Ricara world is now:--\n    My brother hears.\n\n    One was a Ricara boy,\n    And one was a Ricara girl,\n    And one was a Ricara dog.\n    My brother hears.\n    The boy and the girl were lovers,\n    And the dog loved both,\n    They loved each other more\n    Than the soul of an Indian loves his home;\n    The lodge of his wife and babes,\n    Or the graves,\n    The mossy graves,\n    The green and grass-covered graves,\n    Of his fathers mouldered and gone;\n    They loved each other more\n    Than the warrior loves the shout of his foe,\n    Or the festival of scalps,\n    Or the hunter to see the wing,\n    Of a plover beating the air.\n\n    Their fathers were friends;\n    They dwelt together in one cabin;\n    They hunted the woods together;\n    They warred together,\n    Raising the self-same shout of onset,\n    Waking the self-same song of triumph:\n    Their mothers were sisters;\n    They dwelt together in one cabin;\n    Together they wrought in the field of maize;\n    Each bent her back to the bison's flesh,\n    Load and load alike;\n    And they went to the wild wood together,\n    To bring home the food for the fire;\n    Kind were these sisters to each other;\n    There was always a clear sky[B] in their cabins:--\n    My brother hears.\n\n    One Ricara father said to his friend,\n    While these babes yet swung\n    In their baskets of bark\n    From the bough of the oak,\n    Listen!\n    I have a young eagle in my eyrie,\n    Thou hast a young dove in thy nest,\n    Let us mate them.\n    Though now they be but squabs,\n    There will be but twice eight chills of the lake;\n    And twice eight fails of the maple leaf;\n    And twice eight bursts of the earth from frosts;\n    The corn will ripen bat twice eight times,\n    Tall, sweet corn;\n    The rose will bloom but twice eight times,\n    Beautiful rose!\n    The vine will give but twice eight times\n    Its rich black clusters,\n    Sweet ripe clusters,\n    Grapes of the land of the Ricaras,\n    Ere thy squab shall be an eagle,\n    Ere my little dove shall wear\n    The feathers and plumes of a full-grown bird.\n    Let us pledge them now\n    To each other,\n    That when thy son has become a man,\n    And painted his face as a brave man paints,\n    Red on the cheek,\n    Red on the brow,\n    And wears but the single lock[C],\n    That is graced with the plumes of the Warrior-bird,\n    And has stolen thy bow for the field of strife,\n    And run away with thy spear,\n    And thou findest thy sheaf of arrows gone,\n    And nearest his shout as he follows the steps\n    Of his chief to the Pawnee lodge,\n    And my little dove,\n    My beautiful dove,\n    Sings in the grove, in the hour of eve,\n    All alone, soft songs.\n    Maiden's songs of the restless hour,\n    When the full heart sings, it knows not why:\n    My son shall build himself a lodge,\n    And thy daughter shall light his fires.\n\n    Then said his friend,\n    'Tis well;\n    Nor hast thou a forked tongue:\n    My son is pledged to thee,\n    And to thy little daughter.\n    When he has become a warrior-man,\n    And painted his face with the ochre of wrath,\n    Red on the cheek,\n    Red on the brow,\n    And wears but a scalp-lock,\n    Decked with the plumes of the warrior-bird,\n    And has stolen my bow for the field of strife,\n    And run away with my spear,\n    And I find my sheaf of arrows gone,\n    And hear his shout as he follows the step\n    Of his chief to the Pawnee lodge,\n    And thy dove\n    Sings in the grove in the hour of eve,\n    All alone, soft songs,\n    Maiden songs, songs of the unquiet hour,\n    Songs that gush out of the swelling soul,\n    As the river breaks over its banks:\n    My son shall build himself a cabin,\n    And thy daughter shall light his fires.\n\n    When these two Ricara babes were grown,\n    To know the meaning of words,\n    And to read the language of eyes,\n    And to guess by the throbs of the heart,\n    It was said to them,\n    To the girl, he will build thee a lodge,\n    And bring thee a good fat deer of the glade;\n    To the boy, she will light thy fires, and be\n    The partner of thy lot.\n    And knowing this they loved:\n    No more were they seen apart,\n    They went together to pluck the grape,\n    To look for the berry which grew on the moor,\n    To fright the birds from the maize;\n    They hunted together the lonely copse,\n    To search for the bittern's eggs,\n    And they wandered together to pluck from the waste\n    The first blue flower of the budding moon;\n    And, when the village children were come,\n    Where the rope of grass,\n    Or the twisted thong of bison-hide,\n    Hung from the bough,\n    To swing in childish sport,\n    These two did always swing each other,\n    And if by chance they found themselves apart,\n    Then tears bedew'd their little cheeks,\n    And the gobs of grief came thick and fast,\n    Till they found each other's arms again,\n    And so they grew:--\n    My brother hears.\n\n    The maiden grew up beautiful,\n    Tall as the chin of a lofty man,\n    Bright as the star that shines,\n    To guide the Indian hunter through\n    The pathless wilds to his home.\n    Her hair was like the grape-clustered vine;\n    Her neck was the neck of the swan;\n    Her eyes were the eyes of the dove;\n    Her hand was as small as the red oak's leaf;\n    Her foot was the length of the lark's spread wing;\n    Her step was the step of the antelope's child;\n    Her voice was the voice of a rill in the moon,\n    Of the rill's most gentle song:\n    Oh, how beautiful was the Ricara girl!\n    How worthy to be the wife of the man,\n    And to light-the fires of a _Brave_!\n    How fit-to be the mother\n    Of stout warriors and expert hunters!\n\n    And how grew the Ricara boy?--\n    Does my brother listen?\n    He does, it is well.--\n    He grew to be fair to the eye,\n    Like a tree that hath smooth bark,\n    But is rotten or hollow at core;\n    A vine that cumbers the earth\n    With the weight of leaves and flowers,\n    But never brings forth fruit:\n    He did not become a man:\n    He painted not as a warrior paints,\n    Red on the cheek,\n    Red on the brow,\n    Nor wore the gallant scalp-lock,\n    Black with the plumes of the warrior-bird,\n    Nor stole his father's bow,\n    Nor ran away with his spear,\n    Nor took down the barbed sheaf,\n    Nor raised his shout as he followed the step\n    Of his chief to the Pawnee lodge.\n    He better loved to sit by the fire,\n    While the women were spinning the mulberry-bark(2)\n    Or to lie at his length by the stream,\n    To watch the nimble salmon's sport,\n    Or, placed by the leafy perch of the bird,\n    To snare the poor simple thing;\n    He better loved to rove with girls\n    In search of early flowers.\n\n    The Ricara father said to the maid,\n    \"Listen to me, my dove,\n    When I gave thee away,\n    I deem'd that I gave\n    My child to one who would gain renown,\n    By the deeds which had given his sires renown,\n    To a boy who would snatch, ere his limbs were grown,\n    The heaviest bow of the strongest man,\n    And hie to the strife with a painted face,\n    And a shout that should ring in the lonely glades,\n    Like a spirit's among the hills;\n    I did not deem I had given my dove\n    To a youth with the heart of a doe;\n    A gatherer-in of flowers,\n    A snarer of simple birds,\n    A weeder with women of maize[D],\n    A man with the cheek of a girl--\n    Dost thou listen?\n\n    \"Now, since thy lover is weak in heart,\n    A woman in mind and soul,\n    Nor boasts, nor wishes to boast,\n    Of deeds in battle done,\n    Nor sings, nor wishes to sing,\n    Of men by his arm laid low,\n    Nor tells how he bore the flames, his foes\n    Did kindle around his fettered limbs;\n    And, since he finds more joy in flowers,\n    And had rather work in the maize-clad field,\n    Than wend to the glorious strife\n    With the warriors of his tribe,\n    I will not keep my faith.--\n    My daughter hears.--\n    I bid thee see the youth once more,\n    And then behold his face no more.\n    Tell him, the child of the Red Wing weds\n    With none but the fierce and bold,\n    Tell him, the man, whose fires she lights,\n    Must be strong of soul, and stout of arm,\n    Able to send a shaft to the heart\n    Of him who would quench that fire,\n    Able to bend a warrior's bow,\n    Able to poise a warrior's spear,\n    Able to bear, without a groan,\n    The torments devised by hungry foes,\n    The pincers rending his flesh,\n    The hot stones searing his eye-balls.--\n    Dost thou hear?\"\n\n    Then down the daughter's beauteous cheeks\n    Ran drops like the plenteous summer rain.\n    \"I hear, my father,\n    Yet, hard thy words weigh on my heart;\n    Thou gav'st me to him, while we lay,\n    Unknowing the pledge, in our willow cage(3),\n    When first we opened our eyes on the world,\n    And saw the bright and twinkling stars,\n    And the dazzling sun, and the moon alive(4),\n    And the fields bespread with blooming flowers,\n    And we breath'd the balmy winds of spring;\n    The old men said, to one another,\n    'Dost thou know, brother,\n    Thar, when his years are the years of a man,\n    And his deeds are the deeds of the good and true,\n    The son of the Yellow Pine\n    Shall marry the Red Wing's daughter?'\n    And the women took up the tale,\n    And the boys and girls, when met to play,\n    Told in our ears the pleasing words,\n    That I was to be his wife.\n\n    \"And, knowing this, we loved,\n    And 'tis hard to break the chains of love;\n    Thou may'st sooner rive the flinty oak,\n    With the alder spear of a sickly boy,\n    Than chase him away from my soul.\n    Twice eight bright years have our hearts been wed.\n    And thou hast look'd on and smiled;\n    And now thou com'st, with a frowning brow,\n    And bid'st me chase him from my soul.\n    I know his arm is weak,\n    I know his heart is the heart of a deer,\n    And his soul is the soul of a dove;\n    Yet hath he won my virgin heart,\n    And I cannot drive him hence.\"\n    But the father would not hear,\n    And he bade his daughter think no more\n    Of the Ricara youth for her mate;\n    And he said, ere the Moon of Harvest passed,\n    She should light the fires of a Brave.\n\n    What said the Ricara youth,\n    When he heard the stern command,\n    Which broke his being's strongest bond,\n    As ye break an untwisted rope of grass?\n    Sorrow o'erwhelm'd his soul,\n    And grief gush'd out at his eyes.\n    With an aching heart he left his lodge,\n    When evening gray-mist walk'd out of the earth,\n    And wandered forth with his dog--\n    To the woods he went,\n    To the lonely, dim, and silent woods,\n    To weep and sigh:\n    Whom saw he there?--\n    Does my brother hear?--\n    He saw the maiden, so long beloved,\n    Her with hair like the grape-cluster'd vine,\n    Whose neck was the neck of the swan,\n    Whose eyes were the eyes of the dove,\n    Whose hand was as small as the red-oak's leaf,\n    Whose foot was the length of the lark's spread wwig,\n    Whose step was the step of the antelope's child.\n    Whose voice was the voice of a rill in the moon,\n    Of the rill's most gentle song;\n    But oh, how chang'd!\n    Beaming eye and bounding foot,\n    Laughing lip and placid brow,\n    Hath the beauteous maid no more.\n    Slow is her step as a crippled bird's,\n    And mournful her voice as the dying note\n    Of a thunder-cloud that hath passed;\n    And yet she joys to meet the youth.\n    Into his arms she flies,\n    Like a fawn that escapes from the hunter's shaft,\n    And reaches its dam unhurt.\n    Lock'd in a soft and fond embrace,\n    The lovers recline on the flowery bank,\n    And pledge their faith anew;\n\n    And loudly they call on the host of stars,\n    And the cold and dimly shining moon,\n    And the spirits, that watch by night in the air,\n    Or chirp in the hollow oak[E], to see\n    The plighting of their hands:\n    They married themselves,\n    And man and wife\n    Became in the wilderness.\n\n    But love alone could not keep alive\n    The Ricara boy and girl;\n    The woods were scarce of game,\n    No berries were on the heath,\n    The winds had shaken the grapes from the vine,\n    And hunger assail'd the pair.\n    What did they then?\n    They knelt and pray'd to the Master of Life--\n    Him of the terrible voice in the cloud--\n    To send them food, or call\n    Their spirits away to the happy lands\n    Beyond the vale of death.\n    Did the Master hear?\n    Brother he always hears\n    When mortals go in clay(5)\n\n    The Master sat on the crest of the world[F],\n    Sat at the door of his mighty lodge,\n    Tossing bright stars at the waning moon[G],\n    When there came on the winds the woes of the pair,\n    And pity filled his soul,\n    And grief weighed down his heart.\n    He called to his side the spirit that guards\n    The warlike Indian race,\n    The spirit of courage, and wisdom, and strength,\n    And the fearless spirit came.\n    \"Dost thou see,\" said he, \"the Ricara pair,\n    Caltacotah and Miskwa, the Red,\n    They have married themselves in the wilderness,\n    And now they die for food.\n    Look at the husband, note him well?\n    He hath never dared to look on a foe,\n    Nor paints his face as a warrior paints,\n    Nor wears the gallant scalp-lock,\n    Nor hath he a hunter's eye;\n    Unable is he to strike a deer:\n    The white and fringed skin of the goat,\n    Which covers the breast of the maiden, conceals\n    A manlier heart than his.\n    Go, and end their woes.\"\n    The spirit answered, \"I hear.\"\n\n    The shadows of evening fell on the earth,\n    And the mists were out,\n    And the bat was abroad.\n    The Ricara pair were joyful now,\n    For they had found a vine of grapes.\n    On the willow bank that o'erlooks the stream,\n    The shallow and turbid stream,\n    And, though the grapes were shrivell'd and sour,\n    These two were joyful now,\n    When all at once, ere their lips had touch'd,\n    The Manitou stood at their side,\n    And trembling shook their limbs.\n    He saw the woes of the pair,\n    And he bade them cease to be;\n    He bade them become a thing to show\n    The mercy and goodness of Him that rules--\n    The flintiness of her father's heart--\n    Their own tried constancy;\n    And he bade them remain in the wilderness,\n    Till the rivers should cease to flow,\n    And the stars should cease to shine.\n\n    And they became the Idols,\n    The Man, and Woman, and Dog of Stone,\n    That stood on the willow bank.\n    'Tis thither the tribes of the land resort,\n    To make their offerings;\n    Thither the warrior carries his bow,\n    His arrow, and his spear,\n    And the hunter, the juicy flesh of the elk;\n    The priest, the shaggy skins of the bear,\n    And she of the fair and youthful form,\n    The gifts of the favour'd Brave.\n    All bear thither a valued gift,\n    And lay it at their feet;\n    No Ricara takes his bow, till he\n    Has oft besought their aid,\n    No Ricara paints as a warrior paints,\n    Red on the cheek,\n    Red on the brow,\n    Till he has thrice before them bow'd,\n    And said to them, \"Make me strong!\"\n    And the maiden and the priest\n    Petition there for aid.\n\n[Footnote A: The North Star.]\n\n[Footnote B: Clear sky, domestic peace, absence of family brawls.]\n\n[Footnote C: The Indian warriors shave off all their hair, except a\nsingle lock on the top, of the head, which is left for the enemy to take\nthe scalp, in case he overcomes.]\n\n[Footnote D: Maize, Indian corn--\"Cobbett's corn.\"]\n\n[Footnote E: The tree-toad is an object that impresses the Indians with\ngreat fear.]\n\n[Footnote F: Rocky Mountains.]\n\n[Footnote G: The Indians suppose the shooting of stars to be occasioned\nby spirits who are at war with the moon, and assail her in this way.]\n\n\nNOTES.\n\n(1) _Okkis._--p. 175.\n\nThe particular object of the devotion of an Indian is termed his\n\"Okkis,\" or \"Medicine,\" or \"Manitou,\" all meaning the same thing, which\nis neither more nor less than a \"household God.\" The latter, however,\nmay mean a spirit of the air; the former is tied to one predicament. It\nis selected by himself, sometimes at a very early age, but generally at\nthe period when he enters the duties of life, and is some invisible\nbeing, or, more commonly, some animal, which thenceforward becomes his\nprotector or intercessor with the Great Spirit. The Indians place\nunbounded confidence in these Okkis, and always carry them wherever they\ngo, being persuaded that they take upon them the office of sentinels.\nHence, they sleep in perfect security, convinced of the entire good\nfaith of the guardian. There is no possible form which they have not\npermitted these \"medicines\" to take. Birds, beasts, and especially of\nthe carnivorous species, are most frequently the adopted sentinels; but\nsticks, trees, stones, &c., have been known to be selected for that\nresponsible office. If they prove treacherous, and permit any disaster\nto happen to their charge, they are frequently soundly whipped, and\nsometimes committed to the flames.\n\nNot only are inanimate objects elected to take the guardianship of\nindividuals--they sometimes become protectors of the national interests.\nThere is a large, fiat rock, about ten miles from Plymouth,\nMassachusetts, which continues to receive tribute from the Indians,\nprobably from having, at a former period, been their tutelary genius. It\nis called, if I mistake not, by the white people resident in the\nneighbourhood, \"The Sacrifice Rock,\" and is still deeply venerated by\nthe few Indians spared by the cupidity of the Pilgrims and their\ndescendants.\n\nLewis and Clarke, in the account of their Travels across the Rocky\nMountains, (vol. i. p. 163) speaking of the national great Memahopa, or\n\"Medicine Stone,\" of the Mandans, remarks: \"This Medicine Stone is the\ngreat oracle of the Mandans, and, whatever it announces, is received\nwith the most implicit confidence. Every spring, and on some occasions\nduring the summer, a deputation visits the sacred spot, where there is a\nthick porous stone, twenty feet in circumference, with a smooth surface.\nHaving reached the place, the ceremony of smoking to it is performed by\nthe deputies, who alternately take a, whiff themselves, and then present\nthe pipe to the stone; after this, they retire to the adjoining wood for\nthe night, during which it may be safely presumed, that all the embassy\ndo not sleep. In the morning, they read the destinies of the nation in\nthe white marks on the stone.\"\n\n(2) _The mulberry bark._--p. 187.\n\nThe Dress of the Indian women.--The dress of the Indian females is\nregulated, of course, by the nature of the climate. The Southern\nIndians, by which I mean those occupying the tract of country which is\nnow parcelled out into the States of Louisiana, Florida, Missouri,\nMississippi, Alabama, and Georgia, at the period of its first settlement\nby the whites, wore cloaks of the bark of the mulberry tree, or of the\nfeathers of swans, turkeys, &c. The bark they procured from the young\nmulberry shoots that came up from the roots of the trees which had been\ncut down. After it was dried in the sun, they beat it to make all the\nwoody part fall off; and then gave the threads that remained a handsome\nbeating; after which, they bleached them by exposing them to the dew.\nWhen they were well whitened, they spun them about the coarseness of\npack-thread, and wove them in the following manner: two stakes were set\nin the ground about a yard and a half asunder; having stretched a cord\nfrom one to the other, they fastened their threads of bark, double, to\nthis cord, and then interlaced them in a curious manner into a cloak of\nabout a yard square, with a wrought border round the edges. Such is\nnearly the description given by Du Pratz in his history of Louisiana.\n\n(3) _Willow cage_.--p. 189.\n\nIndian children, instead of being placed in cradles, are suspended from\nthe boughs of trees beyond the reach of wild animals, in baskets woven\nof twigs of the willow, when they can be easily procured: the motion,\nwhich is a kind of circular swing, is far more pleasant than that of the\ncradle in use among civilized nations.\n\n(4) _Moon alive_.--p. 189.\n\nThe astronomical knowledge of the Indians is very small, and they\nentertain singular ideas respecting the heavenly, bodies. When the sun\nsets they imagine it goes under water. When the moon does not shine,\nthey suppose she it dead; and some call the three last days before the\nnew moon, the _naked days_. Her first appearance after her last quarter\nis hailed with great joy. If either sun or moon is eclipsed, they say\nthe sun or moon is in a swoon. I have mentioned before their opinion of\nthe cause of shooting-stars. Adair, who was acquainted only with the\nFlorida Indians, says that when it thundered and blew sharp for a\nconsiderable time, they believed that the beloved or holy people were at\nwar above the clouds; and they believed that the war was hot or\nmoderate, in proportion to the noise or violence of the storm. Of all\nthe writers who have ever written on the Indians, Adair, with the usual\nexception of La Hontan, is the worst. He wrote with a preconceived\ndetermination to make them a portion, or \"the remnant,\" of the ten\ntribes of Israel, to whom they bear about the same resemblance that an\nEnglishman bears to an Otaheitean.\n\n(5) _Mortals go in clay._--p. 192.\n\nThe Indian mode of worship is wild and singular in the extreme. Nutall,\na judicious and scientific traveller, thus describes the solemnity:\n\n\"This morning, about day-break, the Indians, who had encamped around us,\nbroke out into their usual lamentations and complaints to the Great\nSpirit. Their mourning was truly pathetic, and uttered in a peculiar\ntone. The commencing tone was exceeding loud, and gradually fell off\ninto a low, long continued, and almost monotonous bass; to this tone of\nlamentation was modulated the subject of their distress or petition.\nThose who had experienced any recent distress, or misfortune previously\nblackened their faces with coal, or besmeared them with\nashes.\"--_Nutall_, p. 190.\n\nI will quote one more extract from a favourite author for the benefit\nof those who may wish to view the Indian as a worshipper of the Eternal\nBeing whom they are early taught to worship. \"From the age of about five\nyears,\" says Long, \"to that of ten or twelve, custom obliges the boy to\nascend to a hill-top, or other elevated position, fasting, that he may\ncry aloud to the Wahconda. At the proper season his mother reminds him\nthat 'the ice is breaking up in the river, the ducks and geese are\nmigrating, and it is time for you to prepare to go in clay.' He then\nrubs his person over with a whitish clay, and is sent off to the\nhill-top at sunrise, previously instructed by a warrior what to say, and\nhow to demean himself in the presence of the Master of Life. From this\nelevation he cries out to the great Wahconda, humming a melancholy tune,\nand calling on him to have pity on him, and make him a great hunter,\nhorse-stealer, and warrior. This is repeated once or twice a week,\nduring the months of March and April.\"--_Long's First Expedition, vol._.\ni. p. 240.\n\n\n\n\nDISCOVERY OF THE UPPER WORLD.\n\nA TRADITION OF THE MINNATAREES.\n\n\nThe Minnatarees, and all the other Indians who are of the stock of the\ngrandfather of nations, were once not of this upper air, but dwelt in\nthe bowels of the earth. The Good Spirit, when he made them, no doubt\nmeant, at a proper time, to put them in the enjoyment of all the good\nthings which he had prepared for them upon the earth, but he ordered\nthat their first stage of existence should be within it, as the infant\nis formed, and takes its first growth in the womb of its natural mother.\nThey all dwelt under ground, like moles, in one great cavern, which\ncovered the whole island; when they emerged, it was in different places,\nbut generally near where they now inhabit. At that time, few of the\nIndian tribes wore the human form; some had the figures or semblances of\nbeasts. The Paukunnawkuts were rabbits, some of the Delawares were\nground-hogs, others tortoises, and the Tuscaroras and a great many\nothers, were rattlesnakes. The Sioux were the hissing-snake(1); but the\nMinatarees were always men. Their part of the great cavern was situated\nfar towards the Mountains of Snow.\n\nThe great cavern in which the Indians dwelt was indeed a dark and dismal\nregion. In the country of the Minnatarees it was lighted up only by the\nrays of the sun which strayed through the fissures of the rock, and the\ncrevices in the roof of the cavern, while in that of the Mengwe it was\ndark and sunless. The life of the Indians was a life of misery compared\nwith that they now enjoy, and it was endured only because they were\nignorant of a fairer or richer world, or a better or happier state of\nbeing. Clothes they had none; they lived and died naked as they came\ninto the world. Their food was mice, and snakes, and worms, and moles,\nwith now and then a bat, and the roots of trees, which crept downward\nfrom the regions of the upper air till they reached the subterranean\nabodes of the poor benighted Indian. They ate sand, it is true, and fed\nupon a dirt which glittered like the sun, but which was tasteless, and\ncontained no nutriment, and they grew poor upon it, and early sickened\nand died. A miserably poor and weak race they were, and the Great Spirit\nwas kindest, when he took them from their dismal dwellings to the happy\nmansions in the green vales and quiet lakes which lie hid in the\nmountains. And, so well convinced were the Indians that the exchange\nwould be for the better, that they celebrated the death of a man with\ngreat rejoicing, but wept and howled loud and long when a child was\nborn. And thus they dwelt, in the caverns which lie beneath the surface\nof the earth, unknowing of the beautiful and glorious world over their\nheads, till the Good Spirit sent agents for their deliverance.\n\nThere were among the Minnatarees two boys, who, from the hour of their\nbirth, showed superior wisdom, sagacity, and cunning. Even while they\nwere children, they were wiser than their fathers and mothers. They\nasked their parents whence the light which streamed through the fissures\nof the rock and played along the sides of the cavern came, and whence\nand from what descended the roots of the great vine. Their father said\nhe could not tell; and their mother only laughed at the question, which\nappeared to her very foolish. They asked the priest; neither could he\ntell, but said he supposed the light came from the eyes of some great\nwolf. The boys told him he was a fool. They asked the king tortoise, who\nsulkily drew his head into his shell, and made no answer. But, when they\nasked the chief rattlesnake, he answered that he knew, and would tell\nthem all about it if they would promise to make peace with his tribe,\nand on no account ever to kill one of his descendants. The boys\npromised, and the chief rattlesnake then told them that there was a\nworld above them, composed of ore more shining than that they had tossed\nin boyish play in each other's eyes--a beautiful world, peopled by\ncreatures in the shape of beasts, having a pure atmosphere and a soft\nsky, sweet fruits and mellow water, well-stocked hunting-grounds and\nwell-filled ponds. He told them to ascend by the roots, which were those\nof a great grape-vine. A while after the boys were missing. Another\nwhile they had not returned; nor did they come back until the\nMinnatarees had celebrated the feast of rejoicing for their death(2),\nand the lying priest had, as he falsely said, in a vision seen them\ninhabitants of the Land of Spirits.\n\nOne day, the Indians were surprised by the return of the boys. They came\nback singing and dancing, and were grown so much, and looked so\ndifferent from what they did when they left the cavern, that their\nfather and mother scarcely knew them. They were sleek and fat; and when\nthey walked it was with so strong a step that the hollow space rung with\nthe sound of their feet. Their bodies were covered with something which\nthe Minnatarees had never seen before, but which they since know was\nfeathers and the skins of animals. They had blankets wrapt around them\nof the skins of racoons and beavers. Each of them had at his back a\nbundle of beautiful ripe grapes, and of the flesh of a great animal,\nwhich they had been taught to kill by people looking much like the\nMinnatarees, only handsomer and stronger--people who lived by hunting,\nand delighted in shedding the blood of each other, who painted their\nbodies with strange figures, and loved to drink a water which made them\ncrazy and boisterous.\n\nOn first emerging from the caverns, they came, they said, into a world\nwhere all was light and beauty. It was directly over that part of the\ncavern where our tribe dwelt. They saw a great round ball of fire, which\ngave light and heat to the earth, and whose beams it was which had shot\ndown through the fissures of the rock, partially illumining the cavern.\nThe earth above them they had found covered with green, and scented with\nsweet-smelling flowers. Here and there were beautiful groves of trees,\nin whose shady branches birds of soft notes and varied and lovely\nplumage were singing all the day long. Its waters, which flowed cool and\nclear, were peopled by sportive fishes, and by many kinds of fowls,\nwhose motions in their element were beautiful to the eye; and whose\nmeat, when cooked, was exceedingly sweet to the taste. They saw a\nbeautiful river, gliding rapidly through banks, shaded by lofty trees;\nits smooth current wafting the Indian brave to distant expeditions of\nwar and the chase. Here were vast herds of wild animals, called by the\ninhabitants bisons, whose flesh they had found very good and juicy, and\nwhich animals were killed with arrows and sharp spears. The eyes of the\nboys glistened like coals of fire, and became of double size, while they\ndescribed the beauties and wonders of the upper earth.\n\nThe Indians were very much delighted with the boys' story. They tasted\nof the meat, and the grapes, and liked them so well, that they resolved\nto leave their dull residence under ground, for the charms of the upper\nair. All the inhabitants of the cavern agreed to leave it for the\nnewly-discovered hunting-grounds, except the ground-hog, the badger, and\nthe mole, who said as their maker had placed them there, there they\nwould live, and there they would die. The rabbit said he would live\nsometimes below and sometimes above, and the rattlesnake, and the\ntortoise, promised to spend the winter in the caverns, which they always\ndo.\n\nWhen the Indians had determined to leave their habitations under ground,\nthey agreed to do it at different points, that they might sooner be on\nthe surface. The Minnatarees began, men, women, and children, to clamber\nup the vine. One half of them had already reached the surface of the\nearth, when a dire mishap involved the remainder in a still more\ndesolate captivity within its bowels. There was among the Minnatarees a\nvery big and fat old woman, who was heavier than any six of her nation.\nNothing would do but she must go up before certain of her neighbours.\nAway she clambered, but her weight was so great, that the vine broke\nwith it; and the opening, to which it afforded the sole means of\nascending, closed upon her and the rest of the nation. Other tribes\nfared better: in particular the beasts. The tortoise, who always took\nthe lead, because he was descended from the Great Tortoise who bears the\nworld on his back, and can live both on the land and in the water, very\neasily crept out, but the Monseys or Wolves, who dwelt under Lake\nOnondaga, did not emerge so easily. After trying to reach the upper air\nfor a long time in vain, one of their number, a cunning old wolf,\ndiscovered a hole through which he crept out. He soon caught a deer,\nwhich he carried down to his tribe, who found it so sweet that they\nredoubled their exertions to reach a spot where such good things were to\nbe had, and fortunately soon reached it in company with the Turkeys,\nwhom they overtook on the way. The Mengwe crept out of the same hole,\nbut it was a long while afterwards. The Tortoise, the Wolves, and the\nTurkeys, all confederated to declare war against the Bears, who were a\nvery numerous and savage tribe; and the hatchet has not been buried yet.\nBut they made a firm peace with the Rattlesnakes, which lasted till the\ncoming of the Big-knives, when the latter broke the calumet of peace by\nbiting an Indian, whom they mistook for a white man. Since then these\ntwo people have also been at war.\n\nWhen the Minnatarees arrived in the upper air, they established\nthemselves on the spot where they now reside. Very soon after, a party\nof strange men appeared among them, mounted on animals, or rather they\nseemed a part of strange animals, with four legs, possessed of great\nfleetness, and whose long and beautiful tails swept the earth where they\ntrod. They attacked the wonderful creatures with their bows and arrows,\nand succeeded in killing one of them, upon which the others ran away.\nNot at first perceiving that the man and horse were two distinct\nanimals, how much were they surprised to see the former fall to the\nearth, as if one part of the compound of the animal was dead, and the\nother still active, having received no injury. They at length succeeding\nin capturing the horse, and, after admiring the beauty of his form, and\nbecoming familiar with him, they proceeded to tie one of their young men\nupon his back with cords that he might not fall off. The horse was then\nled cautiously by the halter until he became sufficiently tame to ride\nalone, and without a leader. It was in this manner that our nation\nprocured the horse, and from this one sprung the breed we now have.\n\nBrothers, this is what our fathers told us of the manner in which the\nMinnatarees and other Indian tribes became possessed of their present\nhunting-grounds, and of the way in which our nation procured the\nhorse.--I have done.\n\n\nNOTES.\n\n(1) _The Hissing-Snake_.--p. 201.\n\nThis snake is the most remarkable of the different species of snake that\ninfest the western wilds. It is of the small speckled kind, and about\neight inches long. When any thing approaches, it flattens itself in a\nmoment, and its spots, which are of various dyes, become visibly\nbrighter through rage; at the same time it blows from its mouth, with\ngreat force, a subtle wind, that is reported to be of a nauseous smell,\nand, if drawn in with the breath of the unwary traveller, it is said,\nwill infallibly bring on a decline, that in a few months must prove\nmortal. So says Carver.\n\n(2) _Feast of rejoicing for their death_.--p. 204.\n\nThe early travellers report, that some of the tribes on the banks of the\nMississippi, in the words of the text, \"celebrated the death of a man\nwith great rejoicing.\"\n\n\n\n\nLOVE AND WAR.\n\n\nMany a winter has passed away, and many a season's snow mixed with the\ndeep current of the great lake Superior, since the fame of Wanawosh was\nsounded along its shores. He was the son of an ancient line, who had\npreserved the chieftainship in their family from the remotest times. His\nfathers had all been renowned warriors and hunters, and hence he\ncherished a lofty pride of ancestry, and the belief that he himself, as\nwell as they, were better than those by whom he was surrounded. To the\nreputation of his descent from eminent ancestors he added the advantages\nof a tall and commanding person, and the dazzling qualities of great\npersonal strength and activity--qualities ever appreciated most highly\nby those who are deficient in mental power. His bow was renowned\nthroughout the surrounding tribes, for its weight and extraordinary\ndimensions; and there were few that could raise his ponderous war-club,\nor poise his mighty spear. He was often known to have shot one of his\nflint-headed arrows through the body of a deer, and to have beat in the\nskull of a male buffalo with a single blow of his club. His counsel was\nas much sought as his prowess was feared, so that he came in tune to be\nequally famed as a hunter, a warrior, and a sage. But he had now passed\nthe meridian of his days, and the term Akkeewaisee, \"one who had been\nlong above the earth,\" was familiarly applied to him. Such was Wanawosh,\nto whom the united voice of the nation awarded the first place in their\nesteem and the highest seat in authority. Even had he wanted the\nhereditary power and dignity, the esteem, and affection, and veneration,\nof his people, would have conferred upon him rule, quite as potential in\nits nature as that which he enjoyed by his birthright. But pride was the\nruling passion of this great chieftain, and to that he sacrificed every\nother passion.\n\nWanawosh had an only daughter, who had now lived to witness the budding\nof the leaves for the eighteenth spring. Her father was not more\ncelebrated for his deeds of strength and valour, than his gentle\ndaughter for her goodness, her slender and graceful form, her dark and\nbeaming eyes, and her black and flowing hair. There had never been seen,\namong the Indian nations, so lovely and perfect a maiden as the daughter\nof Wanawosh. Warriors came from distant tribes to court the fair\ndaughter of the chieftain but they departed, some with bitter reproofs\nfor their presumption, and none with encouragement or permission to\nhope.\n\nAmong others, her hand was sought by a youth of humble parentage, one\nwho had no other merits to recommend him, but such as might arise from a\ngraceful person, a manly step, and an eye beaming with the fires of\nyouth and love. These were sufficient to attract the favourable notice\nof the daughter; but they were by no means satisfactory to the father,\nwho sought an alliance more suitable to his rank and the high\npretensions of his family. Little thought he of the happiness of his\ndaughter, so that he secured for his son-in-law a warrior of celebrity.\n\n\"Listen to me, young man,\" he replied to the trembling hunter, who had\nsought the interview, \"and be attentive to what you hear. You ask me to\nbestow upon you my daughter, the chief solace of my age, and my choicest\ngift from the Master of Life. Others have asked of me this boon, who\nwere as young, as active, and as ardent, as yourself. Some of these\npersons had better claims to become my son-in-law than you. Some of them\nhad _struck_ the enemies of their country in distant forests, others had\nbeen leaders of successful expeditions. Young man, have you considered\nwell who it is that you would choose for a father-in-law? Have you\nreflected upon the deeds which have raised me in authority, and made my\nname known to every one who has ever heard of the Chippewas, and dreaded\nas the bolt of death by all the enemies of my nation? Where is a chief\nwho is not proud to be considered the friend of Wanawosh? Where is a\nhunter who can bend the bow of Wanawosh? or a warrior who can wield his\nclub, or poise his weighty lance? And who is he, whose proudest wish is\nnot, that he may some day be equal in bravery to Wanawosh? Have you not\nalso heard, that my fathers came, ages ago, from the land of the rising\nsun, decked with plumes, and clothed with authority? Have you not heard,\nthat my family have been chiefs of the Chippewas ever since the\nmoss-covered oaks on the hills were little sprouts?\n\n\"And what, young man, have you to boast that you should claim an\nalliance with my warlike line? Have you ever met your enemies on the\nfield of battle? Have you ever brought home a trophy of victory? Where\nare the prisoners your arm has made; where have you hung your scalps?\nHave you ever proved your fortitude, by suffering protracted pain,\nenduring continued hunger, or sustaining great fatigue? Is your name\nknown beyond the humble limits of your native village? Do the warriors\nof distant tribes relate your splendid deeds, and, when they speak of a\nwar with the Chippewas, take into account the lance of the son of\nKayneewee? Go then, young man, and earn a name for yourself. It is none\nbut the brave that can ever hope to claim an alliance with the house of\nWanawosh. Think not my ancient and honoured blood shall mingle with the\nhumble mark of the Awausees, fit _totem_ for fishermen.\"\n\nThe intimidated lover departed, but he resolved to do a deed that should\nrender him worthy of the daughter of Wanawosh, or perish in the attempt.\nHe called together several of his young companions and equals in years,\nimparted to them his design of conducting an expedition against the\nenemy, and requested their assistance. Several embraced the proposal\nimmediately; others were soon brought to acquiesce, and, before ten suns\nhad set, he saw himself at the head of a formidable party of young\nwarriors, all eager, like himself, to distinguish themselves in battle.\nEach warrior was armed, according to the custom of the period, with a\nbow and quiver of arrows, tipped with flint or jasper, and each carried\na _mushkeemoot_ upon his back, provided with a small quantity of parched\nand pounded corn, mixed with a little pemmican or pounded meat. Each was\nfurnished with a kind of stone knife, and a war-club of hard wood,\nfastened to a girth of deer-skin. In addition to this, some carried the\nancient sheemaugun or Indian lance, consisting of a smooth pole above\none fathom in length, with a spear of flint firmly tied on with splints\nof hard wood, bound down with deer's sinews. Thus equipped, and each\nwarrior painted in a manner to suit his fancy, and ornamented with\nappropriate feathers, they repaired to the spot appointed for the\nwar-dance.[A]\n\n[Footnote A: See the description of this dance in a note to The\nExpedition of the Lenni Lenape in vol. ii.]\n\nA level grassy plain extended for some distance from the lodge of\nWanawosh, towards a point of land jutting into the lake. Lodges of green\nbark were promiscuously interspersed over this spot, with here and there\na cluster of trees, or a solitary pine, which had escaped the fury of\ntempests for a thousand years. A belt of yellow sand skirted the lake\nshore in front, and a tall forest of oaks, pines, and poplars, formed\nthe back-ground. In the centre of this green, stood a large pine,\nshattered and branchless from the conflicts of the elements, with a\nclear space around, famous as the scene of the war-dance, time out of\nmind. Here the youths assembled with their tall and graceful leader,\ndistinguished, not only by his bearing, but by the feathers of the white\neagle, which he wore on his head. A bright fire of pine-wood blazed\nupon the green, throwing its gleams upon the surrounding darkness. The\nyoung warrior led his men twice or thrice in a circular manner around\nthis fire, with a measured step and solemn chant. Then, suddenly\nhalting, the war-whoop was raised, and the dance immediately begun. An\nold man, sitting at the head of the ring, beat time upon the drum, while\nthe grim array of warriors made the woods re-echo with their yells. Each\nwarrior chanted alternately the verse of a song, all the rest joining in\nchorus:--\n\n    The eagles scream on high;\n      They whet their forked beaks;\n    Raise--raise the battle-cry,\n      'Tis fame our leader seeks.\n\nThus they continued the dance for two days and nights, with short\nintermissions; when, dropping off, one by one, from the fire, each\nsought his several way to the place appointed for the rendezvous, on the\nconfines of the enemy's country. A braver or more determined war-party\nnever left the village of the Chippewas. Their leader was not among the\nlast to depart; but he did not quit the village without bidding a tender\nadieu to the daughter of Wanawosh. He imparted to her his firm\ndetermination, to perform an act that should establish his name as a\nwarrior, or die in the attempt. He told her of the hitter pangs he had\nfelt at her father's taunts--that his soul spurned the imputations of\neffeminacy and cowardice, implied by his language. He declared, that he\nnever could be happy, either with or without her, until he had proved to\nthe whole tribe the strength of his heart, which is the Indian term for\ncourage. He said, that his dreams had not been so propitious as he could\nwish; but that he should not cease to invoke the favour of the Great\nSpirit in his behalf. He repeated his protestations of inviolable\nattachment, which she returned, and, pledging vows of mutual fidelity,\nthey separated.\n\nThey never met again. The war-party, which he led, were conducted by him\nto victory. After having distinguished himself by most heroic bravery,\nhe received an arrow in his breast, just as the enemy had fled, with the\nloss of many of their best warriors. On examining his wound, it was\nperceived to be beyond the power of cure. He languished a short time,\nand expired in the arms of his friends.\n\nFrom the hour that she received the intelligence of his death, from the\nmoment that the ominous death-howl met her ear, no smile was ever seen\nin the once happy lodge of Wanawosh. His daughter pined away by day and\nby night. Tears and sighs sorrow and lamentations, were heard\ncontinually. No efforts to amuse were capable of restoring her lost\nserenity of mind. Persuasives and reproofs were alternately employed,\nbut employed in vain. It became her favourite custom to fly to a\nsequestered spot in the woods, and there sit under a shady tree, and\nsing her mournful laments. She would do so for days together. The\nfollowing fragment of one of these songs is yet repeated:--\n\n    Oh! how can I sing the praise of my love!\n    His spirit still lingers around me.\n    The grass which grows upon his bed of earth\n    Is yet too low;\n    Its sighs cannot be heard upon the wind.\n    Oh, he was beautiful!\n    And he was brave!\n\n    I must not break the silence,\n    The quiet of his still retreat,\n    Nor waste the time in song,\n    When his spirit still whispers to mine.\n    I hear his gentle voice\n    In the sounds of the newly-budded leaves;\n    It tells me that he yet lingers near me;\n    It says he loves in death\n    Her whom he loved in life,\n    Though deeply buried in the cold, cold earth.\n    Whisper, spirit, to me, whisper.\n\n    And I shall sing; my song,\n    When the green grass answers to my plaint,\n    When in sighs respond to my moan,\n    Then my voice shall be heard in his praise:\n    Linger, lover, linger!\n    Stay, spirit, stay!\n\n    The spirit of my love will soon leave me.\n    He goes to the land of joyful repose;\n    He gees to prepare my bridal bower.\n    Sorrowing, I must wait,\n    Until he comes, to call my soul away.\n    Hasten, lover, hasten!\n    Come, spirit, come!\n\nThus she daily repeated her plaintive song. It was not long before a\nsmall bird of beautiful plumage flew upon the tree, beneath which she\nusually sat, and, with its sweet and artless notes, seemed to respond to\nher voice. It was a bird of strange character, such as she had never\nseen before. It came every day and sang to her, remaining until it\nbecame dark. Her fond imagination soon led her to suppose that it was\nthe spirit of her lover, and her visits to the favourite spot were\nrepeated with greater frequency. She now gave herself up to singing and\nfasting. Thus she pined away, until that death which she had so\nfervently desired came to her relief. After her decease, the bird was\nnever more seen. It became a popular opinion with her nation, that this\nmysterious bird had flown away with her soul to the land of bliss. But\nthe bitter tears of remorse fell in the tent of Wanawosh, and he lived\nmany years to regret his false pride and his harsh treatment of the\nunfortunate youth.\n\n\n\n\nLEGENDS OF THE HAPPY HUNTING-GROUNDS.\n\n\nI.--AKKEEWAISEE, THE AGED.\n\nLet my brother listen to my words, and ponder deeply. Let him remain\nmute, and his question shall be answered. He has asked the opinion\nwhich the red men of the wilderness entertain of the Country of\nSouls;--he has asked us whither the spirits of good men repair when\nthe sleep which knows no waking has come over them. Again, I say, let\nmy brother listen deeply, for the words he will hear are concerning\nthe question he has asked. We shall sing in his ears no tale of bloody\ndeeds--of scalps taken from stricken warriors, or of victims bound to\na naming stake. Our songs shall be songs of a state far happier than\nthat enjoyed by mortals; we shall tell of worlds, the air of which is\npurer, the sun brighter, the moon milder, and the stars far more\nglorious--of the Land of the Happy Hunting-Grounds. As my brother will\nsee, each nation has its own beloved place of rest for the soul. It is\nwell. Could the Chippewas dwell with the Hurons, whose blood they\nhave so frequently shed? Could a man of the Pawnee Loups embrace an\nOmawhaw, who carried at his back the scalps of his wife and his\nchildren? No; and, therefore, as they could not on earth dwell in\npeace together, so each has in the world of souls his separate\nhunting-grounds, his own rivers, lakes, valleys, mountains, forests,\nwhere no envious hunter may intrude, which no bloody-minded warrior\nmay invade. An insurmountable and eternal barrier is placed between\ntribes who had formerly been at war, lest they disturb the peace of\nthe blessed shades by a renewal of the quarrel, and shake the glorious\nmansions with the violence of wars, like those they wage on earth. My\nbrother asks how, the Dahcotahs know these things. I answer, it was\nseen by one of them in his sleep; it came in the shape of a dream to a\nvery wise man of our nation.\n\nThere was among us, in the days that are gone, a priest who was much\nbeloved by his Master, and was taught by him to know the future as he\nknew the present, and to see and speak truly of things unseen by other\neyes. He had been many years on the earth, and was now called\n\"Akkeewaisee,\" a name signifying his great age. That he might better\nconverse with, and worship his master he had taken up his abode in a\nhollow hill, near the great village of the Dahcotahs. Thither the tribe\nresorted, to be taught those things which were necessary to be known in\nrespect to the proper ordering of the hunt or the war expedition, to the\nseason at which the corn should be planted, or the gathering of the\ntribe at the chosen waters of the salmon should take place. Having never\nknown any thing predicted by him prove false; having ordered, under his\nguidance, all their hunting and war expeditions right, and never failed,\nwhen relying on his presentiments, to go to the haunts of the salmon, at\nthe proper season, and to return from thence with full bellies and glad\nhearts, they listened to the words of Akkeewaisee, the Aged, and\nbelieved the tale which he told them of the Land of Spirits.\n\nAkkeewaisee, the Aged, was sleeping on his bed of skins and soft grass,\nwhen the Manitou of Dreams came to him, and led him out of the hollow\ncave towards the Wanare-tebe, or dwelling-place of the souls of the\nDahcotahs, and their kindred tribes. Onward they travelled for many\nsuns, over lofty mountains, up whose rocky sides they were obliged to\nscramble as a wild goat scrambles; now swimming deep rivers, now\nthreading mazy forests, now frozen in the regions of intense cold, and\nnow burnt in those of great heat, till at length they came to a very\nhigh rock, the edge of which was as sharp as the sharpest knife.\nWaiting, at its hither end, their turn to essay the dangerous test of\ntheir good or bad deeds, the unerring trial of their guilt or purity,\nstood many souls of Dahcotahs, and others whom Akkeewaisee had known on\nthe earth. He stood and beheld the punishment of the bad, and the\nblessed escape of the good from the dreadful ordeal to which all alike\nwere subjected. He saw a Dahcotah attempt the dangerous passage who had\nbeen too lazy to hunt, who had lain whole days stretched out upon his\nmat, while his wife begged food of the husbands of other women, and his\nchildren were clothed with skins, the produce of the labours of other\nmen. He saw him precipitated from the dizzy height into the depths\nbelow, where the Evil Spirit received him into ids arms, and condemned\nhim to that--to the criminal--hardest of punishments, a life of labour\nand fatigue. The great stick of wood was placed upon his shoulders, and\na great pail of water in each hand, while the evil creature appointed to\nbe his task-master flogged him incessantly to incite to a quicker walk.\nAgain was the passage attempted by another. A Dahcotah came forward, who\nhad dared to paint his cheeks as a warrior paints, and to shave his\ncrown to the scalp-lock, and to prepare a sheaf of arrows, and to strike\nthe painted pole, that stood by the council fire, and to dance the\nwar-dance, and to utter the whoop of a warrior. Yet, when he came to the\nfield where the hostile Tetons were assembled to do battle with his\ntribe--when his brothers had rushed like men upon their foes--he wiped\nthe paint from his cheeks, he cut off the scalp-lock, he threw away his\nsheaf of arrows, he forgot that he had struck the war-pole, or danced,\nor whooped, and fled from the field as a deer flies from the bark of a\ndog. Him the master of the fetes of the bad ordained to a ceaseless\nwarfare with the shades of the Tetons, from whom he had fled. He saw a\nliar attempt the dreadful passage--he fared no better than those who had\npreceded him; a reviler of the priests, and disbeliever in their power,\nmet with the same fate. He saw the son of the aged Tadeus-kund, who had\nbeaten his mother and spat in the face of his father, double chained to\na wheel which moved over the floor of the abyss, at the top of the speed\nof the unnatural son.\n\nThen came the turn of the good to make the trial of the rock. He saw\npass safely over all who had been good to their parents, who had hunted\nwell, fought bravely, told no lies, nor ridiculed, nor doubted, the\npriests. Having seen them all arrive in safety at the other end of the\nrode, the spirit conducted Akkeewaisee over also. They had yet a long\nway to travel, but they were guided by their observation of the\nencamping places of the souls who had preceded them. At each of these\nplaces tents were pitched, and fires always lighted where they could\nwarm themselves, and rest until they had driven away the pains of\nfatigue, and recovered strength to pursue their journey. After many\nmoons of weary travel, they arrived at the habitation of the Waktan\nTanka, or Great Spirit. It was situated in the middle of a flowery vale,\nwatered by cool and refreshing streams, and shaded by groves of larch\nand cypress. Many villages of the dead were scattered over it; here one,\nand there one, like single buffaloes feeding on a prairie. Akkeewaisee\nasked if the souls of his father and mother had reached the happy vale,\nand was directed to the village in which they dwelt. He found, gathered\nin this village, the souls of all his race who had passed the rock; the\njoyful reunion had there taken place for a long succession of ages--of\nfathers and mothers, husbands and wives, brothers and sisters: they now\ncomposed one great family. Their life--the life of all assembled in the\nvalley of the Waktan Tanka--was blissful and happy beyond measure. They\nplanted corn, which never failed to grow tall; they hunted the buffalo\nthrough flowery vales, till they pierced his side with a never-varying\narrow, Akkeewaisee asked the spirits if it was permitted to them to\nrevisit the land of the living. They answered never, except when\nchildren were about to die, and then their departed relatives recrossed\nthe rock of judgment to guide their tender feet to their latest home.\n\nHaving lain three moons in the trance, the soul of the Aged Man\nre-animated his body, and he awoke. He related to the people of the tribe\nhis dream of the Land of departed Spirits, and it has travelled down to\nmy time as I have told it to my brother.\n\n\nII.--THE DELAWARE HEAVEN.\n\nThe stranger has been shown the Dahcotah land of souls--let him behold\nthat of the Delawares. The Delawares, who are the grandfather of\nnations, believe that the habitation of good spirits is beyond the\nbeautiful sky, which forms the partition between them and those who are\ndoomed yet longer to inhabit the frail, and sickly, and feverish,\ntenement of flesh. The road to this bright land of spirits leads over a\nmighty and fearful rock, upon which the sky rolls to and fro with a\nstupendous sound. I am asked, \"How do the Delawares know this?\" I will\ntell you.\n\nThere were, once upon a time, in the tribe of the Unamis or Turtles, the\nmost potent and warlike tribe of the Delawares, two valiant warriors,\nwho feared nothing greatly but shame and disgrace. One of them loved and\nwas beloved by a beautiful girl of the same nation, who, in a\nthoughtless moment, for at no other would she have made her lover incur\nso great a danger, expressed a wish to know if the soul of her deceased\nsister remembered the promise she had made her, of feeding with sweet\nberries, and nursing in her bosom, the spirit of the little bird which\ndropped dead from the bough of the locust-tree on the evening of her own\ndeath. The other warrior had lost his mother, whom he tenderly loved,\nand he wished to go and see, with his own eyes, if they used her well in\nthe land of spirits, nor bowed her back to heavier burdens than accorded\nwith the faintness of advanced years. They concluded, one to gain a\nsmile from his beloved maiden, and the other to gratify his affectionate\nregards for his mother, to obtain a view of the Land of departed Souls;\nbut it was not till they had been frequently reminded of their\nundertaking, and their courage had been repeatedly taxed(1), that, brave\nas they were, they could make their hearts strong enough to face the\nspirits of the winds that rove about the sky, or the thunders that leap\nfrom the black cloud. They left the village of the Unamis, and travelled\nfor many moons in a path very crooked and difficult to be travelled,\ntill at length they came to a mighty and fearful rock, upon which the\nsky was rolling to and fro with a tremendous sound, and a motion\nresembling that of the waves of the Great Lake Superior, when tossed\nabout by a tempest. The winds were gambolling about the pathway, not as\nupon the earth, invisible to the eye, but in shapes, some of which were\nthe most beautiful ever beheld, and some more frightful than ever\nentered into the conception of a son of the earth. The stars, which the\ninhabitants of the world are accustomed to see chained to their allotted\nbounds, were there floating and dashing about in the thin air, like a\nboat moving on troubled waters. After travelling with extreme pain and\nsuffering for a long time upon this road, now buffetted by the terrific\nand angry forms of the north and east winds, and now soothed and\ncomforted by the ministering shapes of the breezes of the west and\nsouth--now assisted by the strength of their own hearts, and by turns\nassailed or protected by the stars, they reached the Land of Souls. It\nwas a beautiful country, they said, and the employments to which souls\nwere there subjected, produced to them all the pleasant consequences\nthey produced on earth to those who followed them, while they were\nunattended by the labour and difficulties attached to them in the\nearthly stage of existence. The sky was always cloudless, and a\nperpetual spring reigned throughout those happy regions. The forests\nwere always full of game, and the lakes of fish, which were taken\nwithout the laborious pursuit and painful exertion of skill, which were\nnecessary to secure them in the earthly habitation. The embodied forms\nof their friends retained the same wishes, inclinations, and habits,\nwhich had belonged to them while occupying the terrestrial house. So say\nthe Unamis.\n\nAnother tribe of Delawares do not believe as the Unamis do--they think\nthat the land of departed souls lies in another part of the sky, and\nthat the path to it is not over mighty and fearful rocks, through the\nhideous army of embattled winds, and among the bounds and rebounds of\nunchained stars. There were once, but the time was many ages ago, in the\ntribe of the Unalachtas, two fearless and prudent hunters, who had one\nfather, but not one mother, who had never offended the Great Spirit, or\nthe inferior spirits, but duly observed in all their actions a full and\nunceasing remembrance of the Giver of all good gifts, as well as those\nwho take a lesser part in the government of the world; and, whether in\ntheir cabins or in the wild forests, had never failed to offer\nsacrifices to him of the most valued part of all their acquisitions.\nWhen they came to the river or the lake, they threw in a large piece of\ntheir tobacco, and cast in birds, whose throats had been cut, and\nfeathers plucked from the tip of the wings, to propitiate and render\nfavourable to their prayers the haughty Michabou, the God of the Waters.\nWhen the kind and beneficent sun rose, they were careful to throw into\nthe fire, to which he imparts the heat, a portion of every thing they\nintended to use that day; and when the mistress of bad spirits, the\nMoon, came out of the far woods, they took great care to propitiate the\nevil intelligences which sit upon her horns, plotting mischief to\nmortals, by liberal gifts of _petun_, or collars of beads, or ears of\nmaize, or skins of animals. When their feet stood upon the edge of the\nmighty cataract, then was the most valued dog precipitated, then was the\nmost valued drink poured into the overwhelming torrent, to appease the\nangry spirit of the abyss. And thus, performing their duties to the\nGreat Master and their fellow-creatures, lived the two good Unalachta\nhunters.\n\nBut death at length at their request came to them. They wished to see\nthe Country of Souls, and to judge with their own eyes if its situation\nand its delights had been truly told to them. Much had it been talked\nof, but who were they that talked? They were mortals--men, who had never\nquitted the corporeal state, nor stood forth disembodied spirits; things\nwith the feelings which attend human nature. They wished to see if\nthorns and arrows would not wound the flesh of those who had departed\nhence; nor fire burn, nor cold freeze, nor hunger pinch, nor repletion\ndistress, nor grief draw tears, nor joy produce excitement. Bending low\nbefore the Master of Life, with clay upon their heads, one of them, the\nelder, thus addressed him:\n\n\"Spirit of the Happy Lands! Tamenund, and the son of his father's wife,\nare on their knees before thee, with clay spread on their hair. It is\nnot required that we name our wishes to thee; if thou art, as we think,\nthe all-pervading and all-knowing spirit, thou knowest what they are\nbefore we have uttered them; if thou art not gifted with these\nattributes, why should we pour our words into the ears of one unable to\ngrant us the boon we ask? We wish to die for a time; we wish that our\neyes may be enabled to see the Happy Hunting-Grounds, if there be such\ngrounds, and our ears to drink in the music of the streams which our\nfathers told us welled softly along beside the village of the dead.\nMaster of Life, hear us, and grant our request.\"\n\nTamenund, and the son of his father's wife, lay down upon their couch of\nskins and soft grass, when the dews first began to descend upon the\nearth, and the deep sleep of death came over them. They found that their\nprayers had been heard, and themselves released from the thraldom of\nlife and the load of the flesh. The spirit, unchained from the matter\nthat shrivels and becomes dust, danced about like the winds of spring\nover the bosom of a prairie. It could stand upon the slenderest stalk\nof grass without bending it, and ascend and descend upon the sunbeams,\nas a healthy boy rung up and down a slight hill. Soon they found\nthemselves irresistibly impelled by a wish to rise, and travel towards\nthe bright track in the skies, where the light of innumerable stars is\nmingled in such confusion. They rose, and as a canoe, moving in the\nvicinity of the dwelling of Michabou[A], is drawn rapidly towards it by\nthe hands of unseen spirits, so were they hurried towards the road of\nsouls, which our white brother calls the Milky Way. They came to it, and\nfound it thronged by innumerable hosts of spirits of all colours, all\nbound in the same bright path to the same glorious home. After\ntravelling in this path for two suns, they came to a great city\nsurrounded by the shade of a high wall. Within this wall, which was of\nimmense extent, enclosing rivers and lakes, and forests and prairies,\nand all the things which are found on earth, dwelt the souls of good\nmen; without, hovering around, as a hawk hovers around a dove's nest,\ninto which he dares not pounce, because he sees near it a bent bow in\nthe hands of a practised archer, were the souls of the bad, debarred\nentrance, and, as often as they approached very near, driven away by the\nministering spirits of the Great Master of ail. Within the wall were\nall the things which give pleasure to the red man; the river filled with\nfishes disporting in their loved element, the lakes thronged with glad\nfowls, wheeling in their devious paths, and the woods with beautiful\nbirds, singing their soft songs of love and joy from the flowery boughs\nof the tulip-tree and the Osage apple. They saw in the open space a\npanther, fangless and powerless, and heard in the thicket the growl of a\nfat bear, that could neither bite nor scratch. The speed of the bison\nwas outstripped by that of the spirits; the wings of the wild turkey and\nsoland-goose could not convey them out of the reach of the sprightly\ninhabitants of the City of Souls. Their corn grew up like trees, with\ntwo ears upon every stalk, and the produce of their bean-garden was a\nthousand for one. But while the souls of the good were so happy, and\ntheir joys so many, miserable, miserable was the state of the bad who\nwere excluded from the city. They saw the happiness of the good souls,\nmany of whom had been known to them on the earth, and they gnashed their\nteeth with impotent rage, and uttered a war-whoop, as a leg-broken bear\ngrowls or a chained man threatens, at the sight of the bliss of which\nthey were not permitted to partake.\n\n[Footnote A: Many of the Indians suppose that the God of the Waters\n(Michabou) resides in the Cataract of St. Anthony.]\n\nWhen they had remained three suns in the Joyful Abodes, the Great\nSpirit bade them prepare for their return to the earth. He told them\nthere were human duties for them to perform before they could be\npermitted to take up their residence for ever in the Happy City. He bade\nTamenund remember, that he had not taught his little son how to toughen\na young ash bow, nor how to splint a shaken arrow. And he told the son\nof his father's wife that he had suffered the bird of his cabin to sow\nmore corn than she could gather in, and that he must return to the\nearth, and see that her shoulders were not bowed by the heavy task of\nthe harvest. \"There were other duties for them to perform,\" he said,\n\"and many must yet be their years on the earth.\"\n\nIn obedience to the orders of the Great Master of all, they returned to\nthe Unalachta village, and again re-animated the bodies they had left.\nTamenund taught his son how to toughen a young ash bow, and splint a\nshaken arrow; and the son of his father's wife forgot the dignity of an\napproved hunter, to assist his beloved woman in harvesting the corn.\nThey lived long, and acted well, and when their years were many, when\ntheir limbs had grown feeble and their eyes dark with the mists of age,\nwhen they could no longer bend the bow of their youth, nor run the race\nof vigorous manhood, they were called from the earth, to enjoy that\nhappiness which they had been permitted to behold with the eyes of\nhumanity.\n\n\nNOTE.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n(1) _Courage had been repeatedly taxed_.--p. 234.\n\nThere is nothing which an Indian will not attempt to perform when his\ncourage is taxed, or the honour of his nation called in question. \"An\nOmawhaw,\" says Long, \"being on a visit to the Pawnees, was present at a\nkind of grand incantation, during which many extraordinary feats were\nperformed. He there saw, for the first time, the mountebank trick of\nappearing to cut off the tongue, and afterwards replacing the severed\nportions without a wound. 'There,' said Katterfelto, 'your medicine is\nnot strong enough to enable you to perform this operation. The stranger,\njealous of his national honour, and unwilling to be exceeded,\nunhesitatingly drew forth his knife, and actually cut off nearly the\nwhole of his tongue, and bled to death before their eyes.\"\n\n\nIII.--THE HUNTING-GROUNDS OF THE BLACKFOOTS.\n\nThe Blackfoot believes that his fathers have told him truly, when they\ntold him that the people of his tribe, when released from the load of\nflesh, come to a steep mountain, up whose huge projecting sides they\nhave to scramble. After many moons of unwearied labour, tired and\nexhausted, they reach the top, from which they behold the land of the\ndead. They see stretched out before them an extensive plain,\ninterspersed with new tents, pitched by the sides of beautiful streams,\nthe banks of which resound with the humming of bees and the music of\nbirds, and are shaded from the summer sun by the ever-blooming tree with\ngreat white flowers. Some of the tents are pitched upon hills, some in\nvalleys, some to meet the whispering breezes of the Month of Buds, and\nsome the strengthening winds of the Harvest-Moon. While, from the top of\nthe mountain they are absorbed in contemplation of this delightful\nscene, the inhabitants of the happy land discover them, and come singing\nand dancing along, clothed in new skins, to meet them, with the blanket\nof friendship widely spread to the winds (1). Those Indians who have led\ngood lives approach with that fearless step and eye which the\nrecollection of good deeds always inspires, and are received with every\ndemonstration of joy common among Indians; but those who have embrued\ntheir hands in the blood of their countrymen, and betray, by their pale\ncheeks and trembling steps, that they expect and deserve punishment, and\nthose whose foreheads have been in any way blackened by the smoke of the\nbreath of the Spirit of Evil, are told to return whence they came, and\nwithout more words are pitched down the sides of the mountain. Women,\nwhose hard hearts have made their feeble hands take the life to which\nthey had given birth, quenching the little spark struck out from the\nhalf-burnt brand, never reach the mountain at all, but are compelled by\nthe Master of all to hover around the seats of their crimes, with\nbranches of the mountain pine tied to their legs. The melancholy sounds\nheard in the still summer evenings, and which ignorant white men think\nthe screams of the goat-sucker, or the groans of the owl, are the\nmoanings of these wicked and unhappy mothers, lamenting the unnatural\nmurder of their helpless little ones. They are trying to recall them to\nlife, that their doom may be revoked, and that they may be permitted to\napproach the mountain.\n\nIn the Blackfoot land of souls, all are treated according as the deeds\nthey have done have been good or evil in their intent or their\nconsequences. If they have truly and faithfully performed those things\nfor which they were sent upon the earth, if they have been good sons,\ngood husbands, good fathers, good friends; if they have fought bravely,\nhunted well, told no lies, nor spoken evil of the Great Spirit, nor made\nlaugh at his priests, they know neither pain nor sorrow, their time is\nspent in singing and dancing, and they feed upon mushrooms, which are\nvery abundant and grow without cultivation. They are attended to the\nHappy Regions by the shades of their dogs and guns, and the shades of\ntheir huts and every thing they contained are ready for them the moment\nthey arrive in these happy regions. The souls of bad men, which are not\nseparated from the good save by the different feelings and pursuits\nwhich belonged to them in life, wander about, haunted by the phantoms of\nthe persons or things they have injured. If a man has destroyed his\nneighbour's canoe, or his gun, or his bow and arrows, the phantoms of\nthe wrecks of this property obstruct his passage wherever he goes. He\nsees every where the bow, self-drawn, ready to impel an arrow pointed\nat his breast, the gun ready poised, the canoe threatening to sink him.\nIf he has been cruel to his dogs and horses, they also are permitted to\ntorment him, and to hunt him down, as he in his life-time hunted the\nwolf and the deer. The ghosts of the men whom he injured in life are now\npermitted to avenge their wrongs, and to inflict on his shade pains\ncommensurate with those he made them suffer. The spirit of the man, from\nwhom he stole the ear of soft maize, now snatches from his hungry lips\nthe red-gilled mushroom, and he, into whose crystal stream he threw\nimpure substances, in revenge, strikes from his lip the gourd of crystal\nwater. The good hunter, whose bowstring he enviously cut, fillips him on\nthe forehead; the warrior whose spear he broke when no human eye beheld\nhim, now, informed of the unmanly deed by the Spirit who sees all, spits\nin his face, as a coward should be spat upon. The soul of the horse\nwhich he overrode, or otherwise maltreated, runs backwards upon him,\nwith elevated heels and a loud neigh; the dog he whipped too much or too\noften rushes upon him with open mouth, and the growl of bitter and\ninextinguishable hatred. He steps into the canoe, it sinks beneath him,\nand, when his chin is level with the water, it rises beyond his reach.\nLo, there is a gun before him, and the shade of a stately stag nipping\nthe phantom of a youthful hazel. He makes the attempt to point the gun\ntowards it, and just as he supposes he has attained the object, and puts\nforth his hand to give vent to the winged weapon of death, he finds the\ngun has changed its position--the muzzle is pointed towards his own\nbreast. Thus opposed, thwarted, baffled, by every thing around him,\ndespised by all things, whether gifted with life or not, he passes an\nexistence, the horrors of which may be felt but not described.\n\nThe soul of the Blackfoot never returns to earth, except to forewarn his\nfriends of their approaching dissolution. When the Great Spirit says to\nhim, \"Spirit of a Blackfoot, the son or the daughter of your father is\nabout to leave the green vales of the earth,\"--\"the foot of your father\nis shaking off the drowsiness of age, that he may prepare for the long\njourney of spirits,\"--\"the babe that was born yesterday will be\njourneying hither to-day,\"--\"the heart of your kind mother wants courage\nto die,\"--\"the soul of your beloved maiden, much as it longs for the\narms of its tender lover, faints at the near prospect of the pang that\nrends asunder the flesh and the spirit--go, and comfort them,\"--then,\nand then only--always at the bidding of the Great Master, never of its\nown accord--does the soul revisit the gross and unhappy world it has\nleft. Then does it knock at the ear of the sleeper, whispering, \"Take\ncourage, for the Master despises cowards--meet the pang as a brave\nwarrior--as a good hunter--as a wise priest--as a beauteous maiden\nshould meet it, and rejoin the happy souls of thy race, in the valley of\nthe kind and good Waktan Tanka.\" The sleeper, thus admonished, wakes\nwith the words of the spirit deeply engraved on the green leaf of his\nmemory--that leaf never becomes dry. Is he a warrior, and has he the\nfate to be taken in the toils of the enemy?--when bound to the stake,\nand the fire scorches his limbs, and the pincers rend his flesh, and the\nhot stone sears his eye-balls, and the other torments are inflicted,\nthat serve to feed the revenge of the conqueror, and test the resolution\nof the captive, no groan can be forced from him, in the utmost extremity\nof his anguish; he never stains his death-song with grief, but dies as\nhe lived, a man, because he knows that the Great Spirit despises\ncowards. Is he a hunter?--he enters boldly the den of the black bear,\nthough surrounded by her cubs, and he laughs at the cry of the\ncatamount, though he crouches for his bound. Is he a priest?--he calls\nlouder and more frequently and joyfully than before upon his familiar\nspirit; he thanks the Master that his prayers are heard; and he is to be\npermitted to visit the happy lands. And what if the tears of the\nbright-eyed maiden do drop on the bosom of those who pillow her head in\nthe Hour of Dread, they are not tears of sorrow, but flow from an eye,\nby the command of Him who made it the window of the soul, fated to the\nweakness of tears, and a heart prone to irresolution and trembling. The\nGreat Waktan Tanka knows that he made her with the heart of a dove, that\nshakes at the fall of a leaf, and the soul of a song-sparrow, that\nutters its cry of fear at the fall of a flake of snow. He will not\nnumber tears and sighs, and tremblings and faintings, among the\ntransgressions of a woman.\n\nThis is all I have to say.\n\n\nNOTE.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n(1) _To meet them with the blanket of friendship widely spread to the\nwinds_.--p. 246.\n\nThe Indian manner of displaying friendship is very singular; in that\nmentioned in the second extract, the reader will perceive a strong\nresemblance to the Oriental practice of saluting a new acquaintance, as\ndepicted in that admirable tale, The Crusaders.\n\n\"When they were within a mile of us, the Indian suddenly stopt. Captain\nLewis immediately followed his example, took the blanket from his\nknapsack, and, holding it with both hands at each corner, threw it above\nhis head, and unfolded it as he brought it to the ground, as if in the\nact of spreading it. This signal, which originates in the practice of\nspreading a robe or a skin as a seat for guests to whom they wish to\nshow a distinguished kindness, is the universal sign of friendship among\nthe Indians of the Missouri and the Rocky Mountains. It is repeated\nthree times.\"--_Lewis and Clarke,_ i. 355.\n\n\"As our canoes approached the shore, and had reached about three score\nrods of it, the Indians began a _feu-de-joie,_ in which they fired their\npieces loaded with balls, but at the same time they took care to\ndischarge them in such a manner as to cause the balls to fly a few yards\nabove our heads; during this, they ran from one tree or stump to\nanother, shouting and behaving as if they were in the heat of battle. At\nfirst I was greatly surprised, and was on the point of ordering my\nattendants to return their fire, concluding that their intentions were\nhostile; but, being undeceived by some of the traders, who informed me\nthat this was the usual mode of receiving friends, I happily\ndesisted.\"--_Carver_, 15.\n\n\"Among the Shoshonees of the Rocky Mountains, they put their left arms\nover the right shoulder of the person they welcome, clapping his back,\nand applying their left cheek to his, shouting, 'Ah, hi e! Ah, hie e!' I\nam much rejoiced, I am much pleased to see you.\"--_Lewis and Clarke_, i.\n363.\n\n\"When two parties of those Indians meet,\" (the Northern Indians,) says\nHearne, \"the ceremonies which pass between them are quite different from\nthose made use of in Europe on similar occasions; for, when they advance\nwithin twenty or thirty yards of each other, they make a full halt, and\nin general sit or lie down on the ground, and do not speak for some\nminutes. At length one of them, generally an elderly man, if any such be\nin the company, breaks silence, by acquainting the other party with\nevery misfortune that had befallen him, &c. When he has finished his\noration, another orator of the other party relates, in like manner, all\nthe bad news.\"--p. 332.\n\n\nIV.--THE STONE CANOE.\n\nWhere is the land of the Chepewyans? Where have that tribe of valiant\nwarriors and expert hunters built their lodges? I will tell you. It is\nin the regions of almost perpetual snows; regions whose suns are never\nwarm enough to pierce the frozen earth, which, therefore, produces\nnothing but moss. No sweet ears of corn grow to reward the toils of the\nwoman; no wild flowers spring up for the youthful maiden to pluck. The\nchild wanders forth to gather no berries; no bird of sweet music sings\non the branch; no butterfly flits in the valley. Chill and dreary are\nthe autumns, cold and bitter the winters; men drink melted ice, when in\nother lands buds are bursting open, and wear for a summer garment the\nskins of the otter and the beaver. Instead of the mild and whispering\nbreezes of southern skies, we have the wild winds rushing impetuously\nforth from their caves in the icy north, and the sun of the land of the\nChepewyans, knowing his uselessness, and the inability of his beams to\nrend the fetters which ice has thrown around our bleak hills and\nverdureless plains, stays with us but for a little season, leaving us\nfor many weary days to be lighted only by the glare of the moon and\nstars, on the field of ice and snow. Yet the Chepewyan is not without\nhis pleasures, as those who live in the land of the sun have their\npains. He may drive from their frozen dens the beasts that make their\nbeds in the bank of snow, and he may pursue the bear on the iceberg, and\nthe musk-ox in the glade. In summer he may strike the salmon as he\nglides through the waters of the Bear Lake, and send his darts through\nthe brown eagle, and make captive the white owl, hidden in the foliage\nof the dwarf-pine. In the winter, when the storm of hail rattles around\nhis lodge of ice, stretched out on his bed of moss, he may recount the\nglories of his nation, and the great deeds of his fathers; And he may\nsolace himself for the privations he endures, in his present state of\nbeing, by fancying those he will enjoy in that land of rest upon which\nhe will enter when his spirit goes hence, and returns to the body no\nmore.\n\nA Chepewyan chief sat by the fire of his cabin in the time of winter,\nand the hour of a fall of snow, and told, in the ears of the listening\ntribe, a legend of the land of souls, the Chepewyan tradition of the\nHappy Hunting-Grounds. Let the assembled nations listen, and hear it\nrepeated by the tongue of his son, who sat with open ears at his\nfather's knee, drinking in the beloved words of beloved lips, and\nengraving them deeply on the core of his heart.\n\n\"Once upon a time,\" my father began, \"there lived in our nation a most\nbeautiful maiden, the flower of the wilderness--the delight and wonder\nof all who saw her. She was called the Rock-rose, and was beloved by a\nyouthful hunter, whose advances she met with an equal ardour. No one but\nthe brave Outalissa was permitted to whisper tales of love by the side\nof her nocturnal couch in the hour of darkness(1). The rock-moss he\ngathered was always the sweetest; and the produce of his hunt, however\nold and tough, was, in her opinion, the youngest and tenderest. They had\nloved from childhood, and with the deepest affection. But it was not\npermitted them to become inhabitants of one lodge, the occupants of one\nconch. Death came to the flower of the Chepewyans, in the morning of her\ndays, and the body of the tender maiden was laid in the dust with the\ncustomary rites of burial. First, dressed in the richest garb she\npossessed, the gay-tinted robe of curiously woven feathers, and decked\nout with the ornaments bestowed upon her by the youth she loved, they\nplaced her in the grave, lined with pine branches, amidst the groans\nand lamentations of the whole nation. The men howled loud and long, and\nthe women cut off their hair, and scarred their flesh, and pierced their\narms with sharp knives, and blackened their faces with charred wood.\nWhen the earth covered her from human sight, then woke their loudest\nburst of sorrow--all wept, save him who had most cause to weep; he stood\nmotionless as a tree in the hour of calm, as the wave that is frozen up\nby the breath of the cold wind.\n\n\"Joy came no more to the bereaved lover. The chase afforded him no\npleasure, for who was to share his spoils? He found no joy in pursuing\nthe salmon, for no one lived to reward his successful quest with the\nsmile of approbation. He told his discontent in the ears of his people,\nand spoke of his determination, at all events, to rejoin his beloved\nmaiden. She had but removed, he said, to some happier region, as the\nArctic birds fly south at the approach of winter; and it required but\ndue diligence on his part to find her. Having prepared himself, as a\nhunter prepares himself, with a store of pemmican, or dried beef, and\narmed himself with his war-spear and bow and arrow, he set out upon his\njourney to the Land of Souls. Directed by the old tradition of his\nfathers, he travelled south to reach that region, leaving behind him the\ngreat star, and the fields of eternal ice. As he moved onwards he found\na more pleasant region succeeding to that in which he had lived. Daily,\nhourly, he remarked the change. The ice grew thinner, the air warmer,\nthe trees taller. Birds, such as he had never seen before, sang in the\nbushes, and fowls of many kinds, before unknown, were pluming themselves\nin the warm sun on the shores of the lake. The gay woodpecker was\ntapping the hollow beech; the swallow and the martin were skimming along\nthe level of the green vales. He heard no more the cracking of branches\nof trees beneath the weight of icicles and snow;--he saw no more the\nspirits of departed men dancing wild dances on the skirts of the\nNorthern clouds(2); and the farther he travelled the milder grew the\nskies, the longer was the period of the sun's stay upon the earth, and\nthe softer, though less brilliant, the light of the moon. Noting these\nchanges as he went with a joyful heart--for they were indications of his\nnear approach to the land of joy and delight--he came at length to a\ncabin, situated on the brow of a steep hill, in the middle of a narrow\nroad. At the door of this cabin stood a man of a most ancient and\nvenerable appearance. He was bent nearly double with age; his locks were\nwhite as snow; his eyes were sunk very far into his head, and the flesh\nwas wasted from his bones till they were like trees from which the bark\nhad been peeled. He was clothed in a robe of white goat-skin, and a long\nstaff supported his tottering limbs whithersoever he walked. The\nChepewyan began to tell him who he was, and why he had come thither, but\nthe aged man prevented him, by saying that he knew all. \"There had\npassed,\" he said, \"to the beautiful island, a little while before, the\nsoul of a tender and lovely maiden, well known to the son of the Red\nElk. Being fatigued with her long journey, he had rested awhile in his\ncabin, and had then told him the story of their long and affectionate\nattachment, and her persuasion that her lover would attempt to follow\nher to the Lake of Spirits. She had but just passed, and a little more\nspeed on his part would enable him to overtake her. But he could not be\npermitted to carry his body, nor the body of his dog, nor his bow, nor\nhis war-spear, beyond the door of the cabin, which was the gate of the\nland. He must leave them in his charge till his return, but he need not\nfear that harm would happen to them. So saying, he opened the gate, and\ngave him a glimpse of the wide and spacious road beyond.\"\"\n\nThe Chepewyan was not long in disincumbering himself of the deadening\nclog of mortality. Leaving his body, and the bodies of his dog, and\nspear, and bow, in the hands of the gatekeeper, with a charge to have\nthem delivered to his friends if he should not return, he entered upon\nthe road to the Blissful Island. He had travelled but a couple of\nbowshots, when it met his view still more beautiful than his fathers had\npainted it. He stood upon the brow of a hill, sloping gently away to a\nsmooth lake, which stretched as far as the eye could see. Upon its banks\nwere groves of beautiful trees of all kinds, and many, very many canoes\nwere seen gliding over its waters. A light breeze ruffled its waves--so\nlight that they only reminded him of the opposition which a weak man\nmakes to the will of the strong. Afar, in the centre of the lake, lay\nthe beautiful island appointed for the residence of the good Chepewyan.\nAnd scarcely three bowshots from him, leaning upon a bank of flowers, in\ncontemplation of the glorious scene, was the soul of her so fondly\nloved. Beautiful vision! The sight lends to his steps the fleetness of\nan antelope; he bounds forward, and is soon at her side. Into his arms\nshe flies, and though they clasp but thin air, embrace but her\nresemblance, yet the doing so gives a hundred times the joy it could\nhave done, when his spirit was clogged with the grossness of mortality,\nand he folded to his breast a corporeal form.\n\nAt length they reached the lake. They found upon its bank, chained by a\nrope of sand to the shade of a willow, two canoes made of a white stone\nthat glittered in the sun like a field of ice. There were paddles in\neach canoe of the same material. The lovers were prepared for this by\nthe tradition of their fathers, which informed them that a canoe of\nstone was the conveyance by which they were to reach the happy mansions.\nThey also knew that each soul must have its separate conveyance, because\nthe passage was to give rise to the judgment which permitted them to sit\ndown in the happy dwellings, or doomed them to the punishment prepared\nfor the wicked. Casting off the rope of sand, each stepped into a canoe,\nand committed it to the Water of Judgment. Who can describe their joy\nand satisfaction, when they found that, though the actions of their\nlife-time had not been entirely pure; though the man had sometimes\nslaughtered more musk-oxen than he could eat, speared salmon to be\ndevoured by the brown eagle, and gathered rock-moss to rot in the rain;\nthough he had once made mock of a priest, and once trembled at the\nwar-cry of the Knisteneaux, and once forgotten to throw into the fire\nthe tongue of a beaver as an offering to the Being who bade it cross his\nhunting-path in a season of scarcity; and though the maiden had suffered\nher father to wear tattered mocassins, and her brothers broken\nsnow-shoes, and thought of her lover when she should have been thinking\nof the Master of Life--still the canoes did not sink, but floated slowly\non, level with the water, towards the Happy Island. They found that the\npaddles were not needed--once passed the Judgment test, once pronounced\nfit for the happy lands, the canoe moved, self-impelled, to the\nappointed harbour. As they floated onwards, their eyes and ears were\npained by a thousand sights and sounds of horror. Now they saw a canoe\nsink from under the person it was appointed to judge--a father, perhaps,\nwith his children in view; a husband, or wife, or friend, with the\nobject dearest to their hearts, to listen to the bubling cry of their\nagony, as they sank to their chins in the water, there to remain for\never, beholding and regretting the rewards enjoyed by the good, and\ndoomed to struggle, till the stars shall cease to shine, in unavailing\nendeavours to reach the blissful island. They beheld the lake thick and\nblack with the heads of the unhappy swimmers, as the surface of the\nGreat Bear Lake is dotted in summer with the wild fowl that seek\nsubsistence in its bosom.\n\nAt length the happy pair reached the island. It is impossible to tell\nthe delights with which they found it filled. Mild and soft winds, clear\nand sweet waters, cool and refreshing shades, perpetual verdure,\ninexhaustible fertility, adorned the retreats of the Island of Souls.\nThere were no tempests of wind laden with snows to smother the unhappy\nChepewyan caught at a distance from his cabin; no rains to sweep the\nhills of ice into the vales where he gathered his rock-moss, or tear his\nfishing-nets and weirs from their place in the river. Gladly would the\nson of the Red Elk have remained for ever with his beloved Rock-rose in\nthe happy island, but the words of the Master were heard in the pauses\nof the breeze, discoursing to him thus:--\n\n\"Return to thy father-land, hunter, and tell in the ears of thy nation\nthe things thou hast seen. Paint to them the joys of the Happy Island,\nbut be careful to say that they can be enjoyed by the spirits of those\nonly whose good actions predominate over their evil ones. Say that the\nMaster does not expect perfection in man, but he expects that man will\ndo all he can to deserve his love; he expects that sooner than suffer\nthe wife of his bosom, or the children of his love, to be hungry, he\nwill journey even to the far Coppermine for salmon, and hunt the white\nbear on the distant shores of the Frozen Sea. He expects from him good\ntemper in his cabin; fearlessness and daring in war; patience and\nassiduity in the chase, and great and unceasing kindness to the father\nthat begot, and the mother that bore him. What, though he have several\ntimes slaughtered more musk-beef than he can eat, speared salmon to be\ndevoured by the brown eagle, and gathered rock-moss to rot in the\nrain?--what, though he have once made game of a priest, and once\ntrembled at the war-cry of the Knistenaux, and once forgotten to throw\ninto the fire the tongue of the beaver, as an offering to the Being who\nbade it cross his path in a season of scarcity?--and what though _she_\nhave suffered her father to wear tattered mocassins, and her brothers\nbroken snow-shoes, and thought of her lover when she should have been\nthinking of me, yet will I forgive them, and endow them with felicity,\nif their good deeds outweigh the bad. The Master does not expect that\nman will never commit folly or error. The clearest stream will sometimes\nbecome turbid; the sky cannot always be cloudless; the stars will\nsometimes become erratic--even snow will fall tinged with a colouring\nwhich was not in its nature when I ordered it to be. Man of the\nChepewyans, write down these words on the green leaf of thy memory, nor\nsuffer them to fade as the leaf grows dry. Be good, and thy spirit in a\nfew more moons shall rejoin that of thy beloved rock-rose in the\nblissful island. Depart, son of the Red Elk; the canoe which brought\nthee hither will waft thee hence. Thou lingerest!--it is well! I know\nthy thoughts and wishes--clasp her to thy heart then. It is well! The\nrecollection of the embrace will do more to keep thy spirit purified\nthan all the sayings of thy fathers, and the traditional learning of thy\npriests. Away!\"\n\n\nNOTES.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n(1) _Nocturnal couch_.--p. 257.\n\nOne, and the most frequently adopted method of Indian courtship, is that\nof approaching the couch of the beloved maiden, and whispering tales of\nlove while she is reposing. When an Indian imagines, from the behaviour\nof the person he has chosen for his mistress, that his suit will be\nagreeable to her, he pursues the following plan.\n\nAs the Indians are under no apprehensions of robbers or secret enemies,\nthey leave the doors of their tents or huts unfastened during the night\nas well as the day. Two or three hours after sunset, the slaves or old\npeople cover over the fire, that is generally burning in the midst of\ntheir apartment, with ashes, and retire to their repose. Whilst darkness\nthus prevails, and all is quiet, wrapped closely up in a blanket, to\nprevent his being known, the lover will enter the apartment of his\nintended mistress. Having first lighted at the smothered fire a small\nsplinter of wood, which answers the purpose of a match, he approaches\nthe place where she reposes, and, gently pulling away the covering from\nthe head, jogs her till she awakes. If she then rises up, and blows out\nthe light, he needs no farther confirmation that his company is not\ndisagreeable; but, if she hides her head, and takes no notice of him,\nbe may rest assured that any farther solicitation will prove vain, and\nthat it is necessary immediately for him to retire.\n\n(2)_The skirts the Northern clouds_.--p. 250.\n\n\"The idea which the Southern Indians have of the Aurora Borealis is very\npleasing and romantic. They believe it to be the spirit of their\ndeparted friends dancing in the clouds, and when the Aurora Borealis is\nremarkably bright, at which time it varies most in colour, form, and\nsituation, they say their friends are very merry.\"--_Hearne,346._ And\nsee the tradition _post_.\n\n\"The Northern Indians call this meteor by a less romantic\nname--_Ed-thin,_ that is, \"deer;\" and, when that meteor is very bright,\nthey say, that deer is plentiful in that part of the atmosphere. Their\nideas, in this respect, are founded on a principle one would not imagine\nthem to possess a knowledge of. Experience has shown them, that, when a\nhairy deer-skin is briskly stroked with a hand in a dark night, it will\nemit many sparks of electric fire, as the back of a cat will.\"--_Ibid_.\n\n\n\n\nV. THE LITTLE WHITE DOVE.\n\n\nI have heard the words of the son of the Chepewyan, and the tale he has\ntold of the Happy Island, and the Stone Canoe. It is the belief of his\nfathers, and he does well to treasure it up in his soul. The Knisteneaux\nhave too their land of delight. It is in a different clime from that of\nthe Chepewyan--how could it be, and continue a land of delight? Wars\nwould arise between these ancient and implacable enemies, and the peace\nand quiet of the blessed regions be destroyed by their cries of hatred\nand revenge. Ask a Knisteneau to throw away his war-spear with a\nChepewyan in his hunting-grounds? Ask a Chepewyan to wipe off his\nwar-paint while there was the print of a Knisteneau mocassin in his\nwar-path? The Great Spirit, knowing the impossibility of reconciling the\njarring tribes of the Wilderness, appointed to each tribe or nation its\nplace of happiness, and placed, between each, impassable barriers, that\nwars enkindled on earth might not be transferred to the Land of Souls.\n\nThe \"Foot of the Fawn,\" the most beautiful woman of the nation, and the\nbeloved wife of the great chief, died suddenly of the labour of nature\nin the Moon of Buds. The body of the deceased mother, dressed in the\nbest garments she possessed, the robe of white fox-skin with the\nembroidered sandals of dressed deer-skin, the feathers with which she\nused to deck her long black hair, and the bracelets of pierced bones\nwhich encircled her slender wrists, were placed in the grave lined with\npine branches. They buried with her all the domestic utensils she had\nused, and all the articles she was known to have prized. While they were\nfilling in the earth into her grave, and erecting over it the canopy to\nprotect it from the rains and the winds, loud were the lamentations\nwhich filled the air. They spoke of her patience, her industry, her care\nof her family, her love of her husband, her kindness and pity to the\nsick and afflicted, her benevolence to the stranger. The child, in\ngiving birth to which she had died, was buried, according to the custom\nof our nation, by the side of the public footpath, or highway, that,\nhaving enjoyed but little life, merely seen the light of the sun to have\nits eye pained by its beams, some woman as she passed by might receive\nits little soul, and thus it might be born again, and still enjoy its\nshare of existence. With these rites were the wife and child of the\ngreat chief of the Knisteneaux laid in the earth from whence they\nsprung.\n\nIt was many suns after the decease of the beloved Fawn's Foot, that two\ndoves, one of which was of the size of a full grown dove, and the other\na very little one, were seen sitting upon a spray by the side of the\nwarrior's lodge. Our people, who recollected the tradition of our\nfathers, that the souls of the good, after their entrance upon the land\nof never-ceasing happiness, were transformed into doves, and that not\nalways were little children appointed to be received into the bosom of a\nsecond mother[A], and to re-enter into another stage of existence,\nimmediately conjectured that they were the spirits of the mother and the\nchild returned to the land of their bodies, on some errand yet to be\nlearned. They knew by the tradition of their fathers, that they had\nentered on the Land of Souls, for the Festival of the Dead[B] had been\ncelebrated, and all the rites duly observed which release the soul from\nits compelled attendance on the body, until the baked meats have been\neaten, and the howling and the piercing of flesh, and the tearing of\nhair, and the weeping in secret, have taken place. \"They have come! they\nhave come! The Fawn's Foot and her child have returned from the Land of\nSouls,\" was shouted through the village. \"The beautiful Fawn's Foot and\nher child, that disdained to be born again, but clung to its first\nmother, have returned to visit us, and tell us the secrets of the land\nof departed souls. Now we shall hear from our fathers, mothers,\nchildren, sisters, brothers, lovers, and friends. We shall be told the\nlength of the journey to the _Cheke Checkecame_, and whether the\ntraveller thither must take him stores of provisions, and go armed. We\nshall know if the soul of the Little Serpent, who was taken prisoner by\nthe Coppermines, and burnt at the stake, is yet subjected to the pinches\nand goadings of the bad spirits in the place of torment prepared for\nthose who die the death of fire; we shall hear about the Great Dog which\nstands on the hither bank of the river, over which all must pass who\nwould enter on the land of spirits, to guard it against the approach of\nthose who break from their chains in the place of torment before the\nexpiation is duly made, and attempt, with impure hands, to lay hold of\nthe pleasures of the happy regions.\" Thus they ran about the village,\nshouting and singing, until all the people were collected together, and\nthen they moved in a procession towards the tree upon which the doves\nwere perched. They found them--beautiful birds! but they were not\nbirds, but souls changed into the form which betokens innocence and\npurity; they found them, and long and earnestly did they gaze upon the\ntenderly beloved beings they had formerly been, the pure souls they now\nwere. The happiness they enjoyed in their present state was seen in\ntheir eyes, which were mild and beautiful beyond my power to tell. And\ngreat appeared the love subsisting between them. The little dovelet\nhopped on the back of its parent, who playfully pecked it in return, and\noften were the eyes of the child turned fondly on its mother, as if\nthanking her for the existence she had bestowed upon it, at the expense\nof her own life. Glorious birds with soft eyes, and skyey plumage! never\nhath aught so beautiful been seen in the land of the Knisteneaux.\n\n[Footnote A: They (the Chepewyans) have some faint notion of transmigration\nof the soul; so that if a child be born with teeth, they instantly\nimagine, from its premature appearance, that it bears a resemblance to\nsome person who had lived to an advanced age, and that he has assumed\na renovated life, with these extraordinary symptoms.--_Mackenzie_,\ncxix.]\n\n[Footnote B: See note 4, p. 306 of this vol.]\n\nAt length the bereaved husband and father made his appearance, slowly\nand with eyes which would have shed tears, had they been other than\nthose of a warrior. No sooner was he in view, than the little wings of\nthe doves were rapidly fanning the air towards him. One, the lesser, and\nscarce larger than a fly, lighted on his lip, the larger crept to his\nbosom, as it was wont to do in life, and was fondly pressed to his\nheart, which loved the form it bore when living, and deeply cherished\nits memory, and hailed its return to the earth, in a new shape, with\ninconceivable delight. Having nestled awhile in his bosom, the soul of\nthe good and beautiful Fawn's Foot perched upon his shoulders, and thus\naddressed the listening Knisteneaux:\n\n\"I am one of the souls of the Fawn's Foot, who died of the labour of\nnature, in the Moon of Buds, and the little dove at my side is the\nspirit of my child. It is an old tradition of our fathers, and will not\ntherefore surprise you, that every person is gifted by the Great Master\nof Life with two souls. One of these souls, which is the breath, never\nleaves the body, but to go into another, which nevertheless seldom\nhappens, save to that of children, which, having enjoyed but little\nlife, is allowed to begin a new one, and live out a second and more\nprotracted term of existence. When the breath departs from the body, the\nother soul goes to the region which is appointed to be the everlasting\nabode of the Knisteneaux. It is situated very far towards the setting\nsun, so far, that even those souls which are pardoned are many moons\nreaching it. Many dangers are to be encountered before the souls bound\nthither arrive. They first come to the place of torment, appointed for\nthe souls of those who have been taken prisoners and burnt. They pass a\nriver where many have been wrecked, and at length come to another, at\nthe hither edge of which lies a dog of immense proportions, which\nattacks indiscriminately every one that attempts to cross. The souls\nwhose good deeds outweigh the bad are assisted by the Good Spirit to\novercome the dog, while the bad, conquered by him in the conflict, are\nincessantly worried by him thereafter. The next place of danger and\ndread, is the country where the spirits of the beasts, birds, fishes,\n&c.--all animate nature which is not man--is found. Here are the spirits\nof bears, and wolves, and snakes, all that is cruel, or bloody, or\nhideous. And these are sure to give battle to the shades of the human\nbeings, as they cross the lands and waters where they dwell. The\npunishment they inflict consists alone in the terror they excite, for\nthe jaws, so thickly studded with teeth, are but a shadow, and the claws\ncould only retain in their grasp a shade. The dwelling place of the\nsouls of the brutes has its enjoyments and pleasures suited to their\ntastes. The snail, that delights to crawl in slime, will have full\npermission to do so; the tortoise, and the prairie dog, and the mole,\nmay still creep into the earth if they choose, and the squirrel still\nsuspend himself by his tail from the bough of the tree. If the bear\nchoose to suck his claws, none shall say him nay, and the neeshaw may\nbury himself as deep in the mud as he likes.\n\n\"At length the souls arrive at the region where they are destined to\nspread their tents for ever. I have heard from the lips of our fathers\nof its pleasures and its joys; all are well and truly described in your\nold tradition. Happiness and rest are for the good, misery and labour\nfor the bad. Bright skies, eternal springs, and plenty of all things,\nreward him who did his duty well; continual storms, endless winter,\nparching thirst, pinching hunger, and crying nakedness, punish him who\nperformed them ill. Men and women of my nation! forsake evil ways, and\nearn, by so doing, unbounded happiness. Hunter, dread not the bear, and\nbe patient and industrious; warrior, fear not thine enemy, and shouldst\nthou unhappily fall into his power, bear his torments as a warrior\nshould bear them, and sing thy death-song in the ears of his tribe. And\nthou, my beloved husband, persevere for a few more moons in the course\nwhich made thee the light of my eyes while living, and renders thee not\nless dear now I inhabit the world of spirits. Thou wilt soon rejoin the\nsouls of thy wife and child in the land of unceasing delights. Till\nthen, farewell.\"\n\nHaving spoken thus, the little doves flung out their skyey wings to\ncatch the breath of the Great Spirit sent to waft them home, and were\nsoon swept away from the sight of the Knisteneaux. Not so their tale,\nwhich has resisted the current of time, and survives in the memories of\nall our nation.\n\n\n\n\nVI. THE TETON'S PARADISE.\n\n\nIf my brother will go abroad in a clear evening in the Moon of Falling\nLeaves[A], and turn his eyes towards the cold regions of the Hunter's\nStar, and the north wind, and the never-melting snows, he will often see\nthe skies flushed with a hue like that which mounts to the cheeks of a\nyoung maiden, when the name of her lover is whispered in her ear, or\nwhen that same lover presses her to his heart in the presence of curious\neyes and slandering tongues. At first, he will see a faint beam darting\nup in the north, like the spray which shoots into the air, when the\nwaters dash upon a rocky frontlet. Gradually he will behold it arise,\ntill half the heavens, and sometimes the whole, is lit up with exceeding\nbrightness. Then will he hear in the skies a noise as of half-suppressed\nlaughter, and sometimes, though more rarely, he will behold the\nlight-winged aerial forms of the merry laughers, as they thread the\nmazes of their dance among the clustering stars. The sight fills the\nsoul of an Indian with great joy, for he thinks that it is occasioned by\nthe spirits of his departed friends, indulging in the sport they loved\nso well on earth, and dancing merrily to the music of the stars. The red\nblush which tinges the face of night with a hue like that which mounts\nto the cheeks of a beautiful maiden, when the name of her beloved youth\nis whispered in her ear, is the flame which arises from the fires\nkindled by the kind spirits of the north, to thaw the frozen mist which\nimpedes their light footsteps across the face of the heavens. And the\nlaugh is the laugh of eager joy, which those spirits utter when,\nindulging in their loved pastime, they remember the occurrence which led\nto their glorious destiny, and made the bright and starry north their\nplace of residence after death.\n\n[Footnote A: This month (November) is sometimes called by them the\n\"Beaver-Moon,\" being the month in which they commence their hunt of that\nanimal.]\n\nOnce upon a time, the tribe of the Burntwood Tetons had assembled to\nhold a merry feast and joyful dance upon the coming-in of the green\ncorn. It was a season of unusual plenty; the stalks of maize had grown\nalmost to the height and thickness of the surrounding trees, and the\nears thereon were many, sound, and sweet. Not only was this best beloved\nfood of the Indian in great plenty, but every thing else which\ncontributes to the enjoyment of Indian life, and makes the red man\nhappy, was in equal abundance. Every bush was loaded with rich, ripe\nberries; and never, in the memory of the oldest Teton, had the woods\nbeen so stocked with game, or the waters so frequently made to ripple\nwith the gambols of the nimble fish. The boy of twelve summers could\nfeed all his father's children with the spoils of his feeble bow and\ntiny arrows, and the daughter of six would pluck more berries from the\nprairie and hill-side, in the space of half a sun, than could be eaten\nin her father's cabin by its hungry inmates for four sleeps. The Moon of\nPlanting saw the Great Spirit in good humour with his children, the\nTetons, because they had kept his commands, as laid down by his priests\nand prophets: the Moon of Green Corn found him equally pleased and\ngracious. Thence it was that he had showered prosperity upon all the\nundertakings of our nation, and thence that he had given to our corn to\ngrow up like trees, and made the feet of our young warriors swift in the\nchase, and their hearts strong in the combat, and had given to our\nmaidens the power to win, by their soft smiles and softer words, and\nendearing glances, and whispers of affection, the hearts of whomsoever\nthey would. The Great Spirit loves to bestow gifts upon mortals, and to\nsee them happy, and never withholds his blessings from them when they\nhave duly besought his aid, and remembered to walk in the path he has\npointed out to them. When our tribe drove the Mahas from their\nhunting-grounds, and came back with many scalps, it was because they\ninvoked his protection ere they went, and offered him frequent\nsacrifices--when they left the bones of half their warriors to whiten on\nthe prairies which skirt the distant Wisconsan, it was because, in the\npride of their hearts, they remembered him not, and forgot that death\nand destruction go before the steps of the hardened and contumacious.\n\nI have said, that the warriors of my nation had assembled to the dance\nand the feast. They had, and there were gathered together with them that\npart of the tribe which better loved the pursuits of peace than those of\nwar--were better pleased to gather in the maize and nuts of autumn, and\nto spear the gliding tenants of the waters, and to follow the trail of\nthe deer through the leafy coverts which he makes his hiding-place, than\nto join in the tumult, and fatigues, and bloodshed, of the strife of\nmen. While the blithe young warriors danced their dance, the crowd\naround them, from time to time, approved of their performances, by loud\nand oft-repeated shouts of joy and delight. They said, that more expert\nand graceful dancers had never been seen in the tribe, and predicted,\nthat limbs so light and agile in the dance, and eyes so true in\ndirecting the spear to the painted post, around which they were dancing,\nmust needs show their agility and truth in the first expedition they\nshould undertake against a foe. And the young maidens--those whose\npraise is sweetest, at least to the ears of youth--were equally loud in\ntheir commendations of the sprightly Tetons, who were worshipping the\nMaster of Life in the manner supposed to be the most acceptable to him.\n\nWhile our people were thus employed in their worship and dance, although\nit was the hottest month of summer, and the day was one of singular and\noverpowering heat, they were surprised and terrified by a sudden\ndarkness, accompanied by a great fall of snow and hail. All at once, to\ntheir unspeakable consternation and confusion, there stood, in the\ncentre of the space around which the dance was danced, a spirit of the\nair, wearing the form and proportions of a woman of exceeding beauty.\nWhite and pure was her skin, as the snow ere it touches the earth; her\nhair, which flowed to her knees in many folds, was white as the snow\nwhich was falling around her; but her eyes were blue as the sky from\nwhich she had taken her flight, and these alone, of all that appertained\nto her, were of a different hue from the snows which had accompanied\nher descent to the earth. She was of the usual height of the women of\nour nation, and more beautiful than any thing that had ever entered into\nthe imagination of mortals. In a moment the dance was suspended, and,\nthroughout the camp of the Tetons, not a voice or sound was heard, save\nthe hushed respiration of the terrified and astonished crowd, as they\ngazed upon the beautiful and majestic spirit. Awhile it stood in earnest\nbut tranquil look upon the silent warriors, and then spoke in whispers\nthe words which I shall repeat to my brothers:\n\n\"Men of the Burntwood Tetons! I am the chief spirit of the Land of\nSnows--the power which, by the decree of the Great Being, presides over\nthe regions of ice and frost. I have come from my dwelling in the far\nnorth, to look upon the brave and good Tetons, and to behold the dances\nwhich they are so famed for dancing, and to see with my own eyes their\nskill in shooting with the bow, and throwing the spear, and their\nstrength in wielding the war-club, and their patience under afflictions,\nand their endurance of fatigue, and hunger, and cold, and want. I had\nheard in my dwelling-place in the bright skies that they were the best\nand bravest of men; I shall see if the report is true. But not for this\nalone have I left the glorious regions of the north; I have suffered\nmyself to be coaxed to the earth, by a wish to feel in my bosom the\nworkings of that soft passion, which possesses both mortals and\nimmortals--things of the earth, and the air--and sometimes blesses with\njoy and happiness, but oftener afflicts with pain and misery, and days\nof anxiety, and nights of anguish, those whose lot it is to make it the\nall-controlling guest of their bosoms; thou knowest that I mean the\nalmighty passion of love. Although I dwell in the regions of eternal\nfrost and never-melting snows, yet would I that my bosom should feel the\ngentle flame; though my flesh be of the consistence and coldness of ice,\nI would feel the raging of a fire like that which exists in the bosoms\nof those who love to madness. I, who lived in the skies many, very many,\nages before the Elder Chappewee brought up the earth from the bottom of\nthe ocean to the present hour, without a touch of human passion--who\nnever knew or wished to know joy or sorrow, hope or despair, pleasure or\npain, melancholy, regret, anger, disappointment, or aught that elevates\nor depresses the souls of mortals--would now partake of all and each in\nan equal degree with the children of the earth. I would have my bosom\ntorn with the conflicting passions of humanity--be chilled with the\nhorrid doubts of jealousy, and with agonising fears for the duration of\nthe affection which will become a part of my existence.\"\n\nHere the Spirit of Snow ceased speaking, while her tears fell thick and\nfast in the shape of frozen rain upon the Tetons. Seeing the emotion of\nthe beautiful Spirit, and fearing that further silence on the part of\nthe tribe whom she had come to visit might be offensive to her, the aged\nNikanape, who was wisest of all the men of the land, rose and addressed\nher thus:\n\n\"Beautiful Spirit of the Land of Snows! Thou wouldst feel, thou sayest,\nthe passion of love, and wouldst admit to thy bosom a soft feeling of\npreference for one dearer than all the other beings of earth. Although\nthou art a spirit, and shouldst be wise, yet, to judge from thy\nspeech--be not offended--the words of an aged Teton may better thy\nwisdom. They whose bosoms are not afflicted by the passions of humanity,\nwho know neither love nor hate, nor joy nor sorrow, nor revenge nor\npity, nor anger, nor the other passions and emotions which distract\nhuman life, and reduce it to a few brief and unhappy years, have only to\npray that the Great Spirit would keep them in their happy state of\nignorance. Why wouldst thou love?\"\n\n\"To know its pleasures.\"\n\n\"They are fewer than the throbs of fear in the breast of a true\nwarrior, and shorter lived than the flower that blooms to-day, and\nto-morrow is blasted by the unwholesome dew.\"\n\n\"I would know its pains.\"\n\n\"They are more numerous than the fire-flies which light up a summer\nprairie, and die but with the being who entertains the passion upon\nwhich they attend.\"\n\n\"I have seen otherwise. Once, while keeping my night-watch in my own\nclime of snows, I beheld the return of one to the embrace of a maiden\nfrom whom he had long been separated. I saw the eager flush of delight\non her cheek, as she rushed into his outstretched arms, and beheld the\nsweet kisses of affection which were interchanged between the enraptured\npair, and heard the thrilling words of heartfelt tenderness which these\ntwo did murmur in each other's ears. Was not this happiness?\"\n\n\"It was.\"\n\n\"Would he not do well who should exchange a space of time equal to\nthrice the years of a brown eagle, of existence so passionless as mine,\nfor one moon of happiness like that which those lovers enjoyed?\"\n\n\"The great prophet of the Tetons is a man of few words. He sees the\nSpirit of the Land of Snows determined to become a mortal, and why\nshould he seek to change her mind? May it be the happy lot of a man of\nhis nation to gain the affections of a being so beautiful as thou art!\nSpeak, fair Spirit! my people listen in anxious hope that thou wilt call\nsome Teton youth to thine arms.\"\n\nSoftly, and with a fearful look did the unearthly maiden make reply to\nthe Teton prophet. \"I saw from my place in the land of frost one whom I\ndeemed worthy to be the husband of her at whose command the snows\ndescend upon the earth, and the waters are locked up with a chain, the\nrivets of which can only be unclasped by the warm sun of summer. I\nbeheld him, in my eyes, the bravest of all thy warriors. None hath so\nfleet a foot, none so sure a hand, none so fair a cheek, none so stately\na form.\"\n\n\"Surely thou hast named the pride of our nation--thou has described the\nSwift Foot,\" replied the prophet. \"Call him hither.\"\n\nThey carried the message to the youthful warrior, who came with the\nspeed of foot for which he was so well known, and stood by the side of\nthe beautiful maiden from the Land of Snows. Though it was evident that\nshe liked the young Brave, yet was not her love shown by the signs which\nusually give evidence of the existence of that tender passion. No blush\nlit up her snowy cheek, or flushed her lily neck, as it does the cheek\nand neck of maidens of the earth when pressed to the enraptured bosoms\nof those they love. No tear bedewed her eye, no trembling seized her\nframe, no throb of rapture lifted the snowy mantle that hid her bosom.\nHer body was bent slightly forward, her snowy lips were parted like a\nwater-lily, about to unfold itself to the face of day, and her arms were\nextended as if they would press to her heart, all icy as it was, the\nnoble warrior who stood at her side.\n\n\"Dost thou love me?\" she faintly asked.\n\n\"Does the dove love his little mate? does the spring bud love the beams\nof the sun? does a mother love her first-born? does a warrior love the\nshout of a foe? I love thee more than words can express; let my actions\nshow the deep affection I bear thee. The Swift Foot will make thee the\nwife of his bosom.\"\n\n\"Dost thou know who it is that thou wouldst wed?\"\n\n\"A Spirit.\"\n\n\"Dost thou know that when thou shalt take me to thy bosom thou wilt\nembrace a form of ice? Thou art warm and impassioned, I chilled and\nchilling as the winds of winter, and frozen as the ice of the bleak\nCoppermine.\"\n\n\"Still will I dare the union. My love shall kindle in thy bosom a\nwarmth equal to that which possesses mine own.\"\n\n\"My breath is the breath of the northern blast.\"\n\n\"And mine hath the warmth of the breeze which blows in summer from the\nland of never-failing verdure. Wilt thou, beautiful Spirit! be the wife\nof a Teton, who has more scalps in his lodge than fingers on his hands,\nwho has struck dead bodies of six different nations, and stolen half the\nhorses upon which his brother warriors ride to the combat?\"\n\n\"I will--I am thine, brave warrior!\"\n\n\"Thou art indeed cold, beautiful Spirit!\" said the Teton, as he pressed\nthe consenting maiden to his bosom for a moment, and then, shuddering\nwith an icy chill, his teeth shaking like the rattles of a snake, put\nher from him. \"But thou art mine, though it were death to embrace thee.\"\n\nAgain, summoning all his resolution, he held her to his heart. Then\ncalling the women to him, the warrior bade them prepare a bridal feast.\nThe youth and the maiden then went through the Indian form of marriage,\nand the beautiful spirit of the Laud of Snows became the wife of the\nTeton warrior.\n\nWith the sun of the next day the whole tribe gathered around the bridal\ncabin, eager to learn if the Spirit of the North still remained to\nbless the arms of her husband. Soon she appeared with her beloved Teton.\nBut oh how changed! Her cheek and neck were now suffused with blushes as\ndeep as those which stain the cheeks of mortal maidens; her hair had\nchanged from a snowy whiteness to a glossy brown: she had become to all\nappearance a beautiful mortal. Ever and anon her eyes were fondly turned\non the Swift Foot, who repaid her fond glances by pressing her _now_\nwarm and ardent bosom to his own. The aged Nicanape again approached the\npair, and asked the Spirit if she did not regret that she had left the\nregions of the skies to assume the attributes of mortality. With a fond\nglance at the object of her love, she replied that a single moon of\nbliss like that she now enjoyed was worth an eternity of the cold and\npassionless existence which was hers before she had quitted the skies.\nAgain was she enfolded in the arms of the doating warrior, and the crowd\nretired to permit the full, and free, and undisturbed, interchange of\nthose fond attentions, which are wont to occupy the first moon of\nmarried life.\n\nAnd thus passed away the first year after the marriage of the Teton\nBrave with the beautiful Spirit of the frozen North. Ere that year had\npassed, there was a stranger in their cabin--a little son, with the\nwondrous beauty of its mother and the fearless soul of its father. Never\nwas there a being so beloved as the Spirit-wife was by the whole nation.\nThough she now possessed the soul of a human being, her breast was\nvisited only by the softer and purer passions of human nature; anger,\nrevenge, cruelty, jealousy, and the other turbulent passions and\nemotions, never came near her gentle bosom. Her love for her husband\ngrew with the growth of years, and strengthened with the progress of\ntime; her pity and compassion for the poor, and hungry, and sick, and\nfainting, knew no bounds. Ever mild and affectionate, and kind, and\nhumane, never prone to break the quiet of her cabin by those querulous\ncomplaints and angry invectives wherewith wives destroy the comfort of\ntheir husbands, and bring storms and tempests, hail, rain, thunder, and\nlightning, into the sky of domestic peace, the Teton loved her better\nthan mortal ever before loved another. Her goodness not only brought joy\nand happiness to her husband, but benefits to the nation, which made\ntheir lives pass as pleasantly and glide along as smoothly as a canoe\nfloating down a quiet stream in the time of summer. When the hunters\nwould go to their forest sports and labours, they asked the wife of the\nSwift Foot if their hunt should be successful, and as she told them\n_ay_ or _no_ was their expedition undertaken or abandoned. When she bade\nthe women plant the maize, they might be sure of the fair weather\nwithout which the task could not be well accomplished; when she cast her\nbright eyes on the sheaf of arrows rusting on the wall, the warriors\nwithout more ado rose, and prepared the corn and pemmican, and examined\nthe condition of their bows and casse-tetes[A], and painted themselves\nwith the ochre of wrath[B], and sang with a hollow and sepulchral voice\ntheir songs of war, and killed the fat dog, sacred to Areskoui[C], for\nthey knew that the keen look of the Spirit-wife upon the instruments of\ndeath boded victory and glory to those who should employ them in the\nstrife of warriors. On the contrary, if, tired with a long peace, one\nrose with the string of wampum(1) in his hand, and said to his brothers,\n\"The blood of him whom our foes slew in such or such a moon is not yet\nwiped away; his corpse remains above the earth unburied; I go to wash\nthe clotted gore from his breast, to give him the rites of sepulture,\nand to eat up the nation(2) by whom the base wrongs were done him\"--if,\nhaving spoken thus, the Spirit-wife but cast her meek blue eye upon him,\nand suffered a sigh to pass her beautiful bosom, the speaker rose, and\nwashed off the black paint, and effaced from his cheeks all traces of\nthe bloody design by which he had been actuated, and declared that a\nkind bird had whispered in his ear that the \"enemy were gone to the\nmountain streams for sturgeon,\" or, \"to the plains of the Osage to\ngather bitter snow[D],\" or, \"to the prairies of the Wisconsan to hunt\nthe buffalo,\" or, \"to the stormy lake of Michabou(3) to take the fish\nwherewith the god had so plentifully stocked it.\" The assembled\nwarriors, knowing that he had a sufficient motive for changing his mind,\nwould follow his example, and lay by the weapons of war to resume those\nof peace, without any inquiry why he had changed his mind. And thus,\nmore by soft persuasion, and kind entreaties, and wise prophecies, than\nby stern commands, and bitter denunciations, the beautiful Spirit-wife\nruled the Burntwood Tetons to their glory and happiness.\n\n[Footnote A: The war-clubs.]\n\n[Footnote B: Black paint, as I have before observed, the symbol among\nthe Indians of belligerent intentions.]\n\n[Footnote C: A fat dog is the chief and sometimes the only dish at the\nfeast, preparatory to a war expedition. This animal is sacred to\nAreskoui, or the God of War.]\n\n[Footnote D: Salt.]\n\nYet, with all her love for her husband, and her children, of whom in ten\nsprings ten stood in their father's cabin, she appeared at times to be\nfar from happy. It was observed that nothing could induce her to go\nabroad after darkness had veiled the earth. When the robe of night was\nthrown over the face of things, then the Spirit-wife would be found\nseated in the darkest corner of her dwelling, nor could entreaties draw\nher out. Insensible to fear, while the sun shone, the moment it\ndisappeared, her cheek became pallid as death; and if, during the period\nof darkness, there happened a high wind from the north, and a fall of\nhail, her agony knew no bounds, and excessive trembling would for awhile\ndeprive her of the power to move, and almost to utter intelligible\nsounds. Her husband asked her wherefore this trembling, but could gain\nno answer. And thus time passed away.\n\nThe snows of ten winters had fallen to rush to the embrace of the\nrivers, and black clouds, and cold winds, and falling leaves, were\nbetokening the near approach of the eleventh, when, upon a clear and\nstarry night, a stranger, wearing a garment which glittered like ice\nupon which the sun is shining, and whose hair was a body of icicles,\nentered the village of the Tetons. He was of very small stature, being\nscarcely taller than the child who has seen twelve harvests: and his\nlimbs and features were proportionably small. The colour of his skin,\nand the robe which he wore, as well as the shape of the latter, so\nnearly resembled those of the Spirit-wife on the morning she came to the\nTeton village, that all deemed they were of the same nation, perhaps\nbrother and sister. When they asked the stranger who he was, and why he\nhad come hither, he made no answer, but to the question said, with a\nvoice that sounded like the wind of the Cold Moon:\n\n\"Have you seen my wife?\"\n\n\"Wife?--What wife?\" demanded the chief.\n\n\"She who _yesterday_ fled from my arms--the beautiful Spirit of Snow.\"\n\n\"Ten seasons have passed,\" said the chief, \"and the eleventh is near at\nhand, since there came among us a being, exceedingly beautiful, and\nhabited much like him to whom the great chief of the Tetons is now\nspeaking. She has become the wife of one of my Braves. Was she thine ere\nshe was his?\"\n\n\"Ten of thy seasons are but a day, nay, but an hour, nay, but a minute,\nin the eyes of spirits. In my computation, it was yesterday that the\nfair Spirit of Snow left my bosom.\"\n\n\"And who art thou?\"\n\n\"The Spirit of Tempests--the ruler over the realms of the bleak north;\nhe who harnesses his horses to the east winds, and drives the furious\nwhirlwind and crashing tempest over the lands of the affrighted Tetons\nand their forest brothers.\"\n\n\"Thou seemest too small of stature to undertake wrathful purposes, and\nall unfit to represent the mighty winds that rend the stubborn oak, and\nthe fierce tempests that scatter yet wilder desolation,\" said the Teton\nchief, surveying, almost contemptuously, the diminutive form of the\nstrange Spirit.\n\n\"Tax but my powers--excite but my ire,\" said the demon, \"and the chief\nof the Burntwood Tetons may rue the hour that gave birth to his doubts\nof the strength of the master of the northern blast. But why do I waste\nwords upon thee? Bring hither my wicked wife.\"\n\nSeeing the angry and ireful Spirit determined upon mischief, the chief\ndeparted, his bosom filled with sorrow, to summon the beautiful and\nbeloved Spirit of Snow to the presence of the being who claimed her as\nhis wife. He found her not unapprised of the dreadful fate which awaited\nher. Bathed in tears, her head reclined on the shoulder of the doting\nTeton, sat the lovely Spirit, her eyes now bent on him she loved so\nfondly, and now on their beautiful children, who slept all unconscious\nof the grief which wrung their fond mother's bosom. At length, with\nsudden resolution, she rose from her seat, and, folding the beloved\nwarrior to her breast in one long and passionate embrace, she left the\ncabin.\n\n\"I have found thee at last,\" exclaimed the angry ruler of tempests, as\nthe beautiful woman approached him. \"Thou, who fledst from my arms to\nthose of an earthly paramour, how dost thou like the exchange?\"\n\n\"So well,\" replied the trembling Spirit, \"that if thou wilt consent to\nlet me remain where I am, I will never return to thee or to my clime of\nsnows.\"\n\n\"Base-minded woman! And wilt thou abandon the glorious destiny of ruling\nthe elements for the mean one of sharing in the labours of a Teton\ncabin?\"\n\n\"The destiny which thou deemest glorious may be well abandoned for that\nwhich thou holdest mean. However well it may once have suited me to\ndwell in the bleak climes of the north, and be the mistress of the flaky\ndew, it now more glads my heart to share in the labours of a Teton\ncabin. I know, from my own brief experience, that the fevers and agues\nof mortality are to be preferred a thousand times to the unvarying,\nunchanging, existence of a Spirit without passion, feeling, sympathy,\nlove, or tenderness. I pray thee let me remain as I am, and where I am.\"\n\n\"And so thou preferrest the earth to the sky; sensibility to\ninsensibility; a humble Teton warrior to the mighty Spirit of the clime\nover which thou wast created to exert thyself a wondrous influence?\"\n\n\"Let it not displease thee that I do. I have become in love with the\npains of human life, and delighted with the anxieties which cling to it,\nas moist snow clings to a pine in the warm spring.\"\n\n\"Becoming a mortal being thou must die.\"\n\n\"I shall first have lived.\"\n\n\"Thy spirit--\"\n\n\"Disincumbered of its earthly load, will return to its former starry\nmansion.\"\n\n\"Once more I ask, dost thou prefer to remain on earth? Rough and noisy\nthough I be, yet will I not exert force to compel thee back to thine own\nregion.\"\n\n\"I would remain. In my cabin is a Teton warrior--him I love; there are\nten beautiful children at his side--the Spirit of Snow fed them with her\nown milk--the Teton warrior is their father. Thou canst not, passionless\nas thou art, know my feelings; but, believe me, that to part me from\nthem is to banish all peace and joy from my soul, and to drive me into a\ndepth of affliction, which will last till time shall be no more. Nor\ndeem that aught save death can weaken the force of those affections\nwhich are now kindled in my bosom.\"\n\n\"I see, I see; and, but that stern pride forbids it, I, too, would,\nthrow off the state of a ruler of tempests and wintry winds, to become\nthe master of a cabin in one of the green vales of the earth, to gather\naround me children like thine, and to feel the hopes and fears, which\nhave rendered thee so unlike the being thou wast. But we shall meet\nagain. When thou wert invested with the attributes of mortality, death\nwas also appointed to thee--a few years, and thou wilt quit the house of\nclay, again to rove free and unconfined among the glittering stars, and\nthrough the endless realms of space.\"\n\nWith these words, the Spirit of Storms took his departure from the land\nof the Tetons, and none ever saw him more. Released from his presence,\njoy again took possession of the bosom of the beautiful wife of the\nTeton, and the traces of tears were soon removed from her fair cheek.\nHis assurance had quieted her soul, and fear was no longer an inhabitant\nof her bosom. She no longer sought the gloomy privacy of the cabin at\nthe approach of night, but joined the dance of maidens, herself the most\nsportive of them all. Every season added a little stranger to the\nlaughing and merry groupe, till twenty and seven sons and daughters\nwere in the cabin of the Teton Swift Foot. Old age came over the\nhusband, but not the wife. When his knees had grown feeble, and his\nvoice faint, and his eye dim, and his heart craven, her faculties were\nin full perfection--her cheek still wore the blush of youth, and her\nstep was lighter than the fawn of four moons. And, if time had abated\nnothing of her wondrous beauty and sprightliness, neither had it of her\ngoodness, and kind attention to the wants of the poor Indians. Her care\nthat they should want for nothing was as much exerted as ever--still\ntheir hunting-grounds and their rivers were the best stocked of any in\nall the land, and their war expeditions for forty seasons were\ninvariably blest with success. Let not my brother wonder, then, if the\nTetons almost forgot their duty to the Great Spirit, in their affection\nfor the good being whom they deemed his fatherly care had sent among\nthem.\n\nAt length, the Teton warrior, overcome by years, lay down and died. Then\nit was that deep grief visited the bosom of his still beautiful and\nstill youthful wife. In vain, did the priest remind her that all must\ndie--she would not be consoled. They dressed the body of the deceased\nwarrior in his robe of fur, and then laid it, together with his spear,\nand bow, and war-hatchet, and sheaf of arrows, and pipe, and\ncamp-kettle, in the house of death(4). While they were rendering the\nlast service to the body of the Swift Foot, the wife sat motionless,\nlooking on--when they had finished, she rose, and spoke to them thus:--\n\n\"We have now dwelt together, Tetons, for forty summers, and, during that\ntime, there has been a pure, unclouded sky in our village. We have been\nfriends, and so we will part. I cannot abide longer on the earth; I go\nto take the soul of my beloved husband to the mansion prepared for him\nin my own bright clime of the north. My children I leave to the care of\nthe brave warriors and good hunters, bidding one to protect, and the\nother to feed them, till the Good Spirit sees fit to deprive them of the\nlife he has given. Be this your recompense.\n\n\"It is known that, among all the red men of the forest, none are so fond\nof dancing, and none so excellent therein, as the Tetons. Ask any man,\nor any woman, of any nation, who best and most gracefully perform the\nWar Dance, and the Scalp Dance, and the Calumet Dance, and the Dance of\nGreen Corn, and he will answer, 'The Burntwood Tetons.' Now, if ye will\ncontinue to watch over my helpless children till their days of\nhelplessness are past, ye shall continue to dance even after death--the\nspirit released from the flesh shall still caper as merrily as ever over\nthe clear skies of the north. Those skies were once mine--to-morrow I\nshall resume dominion over them.\"\n\n\"It is cold, very cold in those regions,\" said the great chief. \"The\ndance will not keep us warm, and our way will be impeded by the ice and\nsnow.\"\n\n\"Neither shall be an impediment,\" answered the beautiful Spirit. \"I will\ncause my little people to kindle huge fires, the flames of which,\nflashing over the northern skies, shall at once dissipate the flaky\nmists, and be a light to the steps of the dancers. And thus shall it be.\nWhen a Teton departs, his spirit shall go to the northern skies, which\nhenceforth shall be the Teton's Paradise. There shall he enjoy,\nuninterrupted, his beloved pastime; and, till time shall be no more,\nhave full permission to foot it as joyfully as he did on earth.\"\n\nThese were the concluding words of the Spirit-wife. When they looked up\nshe was gone from their sight, no one knew whither. Presently there was\na slight fall of snow, which soon, however, again gave place to the\nbeams of the warm and refreshing sun. They never saw her again. They\nnever saw her again, but they forgot neither her nor her wishes. The\nchildren she left were adopted by the nation, and became in time so many\nof them fathers and mothers, that, at this day, half the tribe are\ndescended from them.\n\nMy brother asks, if the good Spirit-wife kept her promise to the Tetons.\nShe did, as he will see, if he will but look at the northern skies in\nthe time of summer and autumn. He will then see flashing over the face\nof the broad heavens the flames which the good people kindle to thaw the\nfrosty air, and thus remove the impediments which exist to the merry\ndance of the souls of those Tetons, who have repaired to the Happy\nAbode. He will hear very plain the laugh[A] of the sprightly dancers;\nand frequently, when the air is very clear, he will see their nimble\nforms dancing up and down the moonbeams. Who would not wish that his\nspirit might be permitted to go to THE TETON'S PARADISE?\n\n[Footnote A: The _aurora borealis_, or \"northern light,\" as my readers\nknow, is usually attended by a whizzing sound, somewhat resembling\nlaughter.]\n\nBrother, this is no lie.\n\n\nNOTES.\n\n(1) _String of Wampum_.--p. 293.\n\nA party of Indians, intending to go to war, first observe a rigorous and\nprotracted fast. When the fast is ended, he who is to command it\nassembles his friends, and, holding in his hand a string of wampum,\nmakes a speech, in which the causes of war, and the injuries and insults\nwhich justify it, are fully and artfully set forth. When he has\nfinished, he lays the collar on the ground, and he who takes it up, by\nso doing, declares himself embarked in the same expedition.\n\n(2) _Eat up the Nation_.--p. 294.\n\nThis is a frequent figure of the Indian orator, when endeavouring to\ninflame the passions of his hearers. It signifies that a war is to be\nwaged against the nation respecting whom the \"talk\" is held, in the most\noutrageous and destructive manner. When they wish to engage in their\nquarrel an ally who is not present, they send a belt of wampum, with an\ninvitation to him to drink the \"blood\" or \"the broth of the flesh of\ntheir enemies.\" It is not to be inferred from this, that the North\nAmerican Indians are _Anthropophagi_. It is undoubtedly an allegorical\nmanner of speaking, with frequent examples of which the Scriptures\nfurnish us, _e.g._ Psalms xxvii. 2.\n\n(3) _The stormy Lake of Michabou._--p. 294.\n\nThe Indians believe that Michabou, the God of the Waters, formed Lake\nSuperior to serve as a nursery for beavers. The rocks at the _Sault de\nSaint Marie_, or Falls of St. Mary, according to the tradition of the\nIndians, are the remains of a causeway made by the God in order to dam\nup the waters of the rivers, which supply this great lake. At the time\nhe did this, he lived, they add, at Michillimackinac, _i.e._ a great\nplace for turtles, pronounced Mak-i-naw. He it was who taught the\nancestors of the Indians to fish, and invented nets, of which he took\nthe idea from the spider's web. Very many of the northern tribes\nrecognise this same divinity, but the Hurons alone assign Lake Superior\nas the place of his residence.\n\n(4) _House of Death._--p. 302.\n\nThe funeral customs of the Indians are very various, and all are\nsufficiently curious to merit a place in this note. I have only space\nfor a few. The first extract relates rather to the place of deposit for\nthe dead, than to the dead themselves. It describes the common cemetery\nof the tribes living west of the Rocky Mountains.\n\n\"Among the Pishquitpaws, who live beyond the Rocky Mountains, the place\nin which the dead are deposited is a building about sixty feet long, and\ntwelve feet wide, and is formed by placing in the ground poles or forks\nsix feet high, across which a long pole is extended the whole length of\nthe structure. Against this ridge-pole are placed broad boards and\npieces of canoes in a slanting direction, so as to form a shed. It\nstands east and west, and neither of the extremities are closed. On\nentering the western end we observed a number of bodies, wrapped\ncarefully in leather robes, and arranged in rows on boards, which were\nthen covered with mats. This was the part destined for those who had\nrecently died: a little further on, bones half decayed were scattered\nabout, and in the centre of the building was a large pile of them heaped\npromiscuously on each other. At the western extremity was a mat on which\ntwenty-one sculls were placed in a circular form, the mode of interment\nbeing first to wrap the body in robes, and as it decays the bones are\nthrown into the heap, and the sculls placed together. From the different\nboards and pieces of canoes which form the vault were suspended on the\ninside fishing-nets, baskets, wooden bowls, robes, skins, trenchers, and\ntrinkets of various kinds, obviously intended as offerings of affection\nto deceased relatives. On the outside of the vault were the skeletons of\nseveral horses, and great quantities of bones were in the neighbourhood,\nwhich induced us to believe that these animals were most probably\nsacrificed at the funeral rites of their masters.\"--_Lewis and Clarke_,\nii, 24.\n\nIt was not worth while for these travellers to imply a doubt that those\nanimals were sacrificed. The custom obtains among all the tribes of the\nWestern continent, from Labrador to Cape Horn, of sacrificing the most\nvaluable animals, on the death of their master. In this they are\nactuated by a common belief that the deceased will need their assistance\nin the land of spirits. See the various traditions.\n\nThe Choctaws, a tribe living near the gulf of Mexico, till very late\nyears had a practice similar to that of the Pishquitpaws, of exposing\ntheir dead upon scaffolds, till such time as the flesh was decayed; it\nwas then separated from the bones by a set of old men, who devoted\nthemselves to this custom, and were called \"bone-pickers;\" after which,\nthe bones were interred in some place set apart for the purpose.\n\nWith the tribes living far towards the northern lakes, the ceremonies\nand superstitions which formerly preceded inhumation, were\nthese:--Charlevoix, the best writer that ever treated of the Indians, is\nmy authority. \"As soon as the sick person expires, the place is filled\nwith mournful cries. The dead body, dressed in the finest robe, with the\nface painted, the arms, and all that belonged to the deceased, by his\nside, is exposed at the door of the cabin, in the posture it is to be\nlaid in the tomb; and this posture is the same in many places as that of\na child in the mother's womb. The custom of some nations is for the\nrelations to fast to the end of the funeral; and all this interval is\npassed in tears and cries, in treating their visiters, in praising the\ndead, and in mutual compliments. In other places, they hire women to\nweep, who perform their part punctually: they sing, they dance, they\nweep, without ceasing, always keeping time: but these demonstrations of\na borrowed sorrow do not prevent what nature requires from the relations\nof the deceased.\n\n\"It appears that they carry the body without ceremony to the place of\ninterment, at least I find no mention made about it in any relation:\nbut, when it is in the grave, they take care to cover it in such a\nmanner that the earth does not touch it. It lies as in a little cave\nlined with skin, much richer and better adorned than their cabins. Then\nthey set up a post on the grave, and fix on it every thing that may shew\nthe esteem they had for the deceased. They sometimes put on it his\nportrait, and every thing that may serve to shew to passengers who he\nwas, and the finest actions of his life. They carry fresh provisions to\nthe tomb every morning; and, as the dogs and other beasts do not fail to\nreap the benefit of it, they are willing to persuade themselves that\nthese things have been eaten by the souls of the dead.\n\n\"When any one dies in the time of hunting, they expose his body on a\nvery high scaffold, and it remains there till the departure of the\ntroop, who carry it with them to the village. There are some nations who\npractice the same with regard to all their dead. The bodies of those who\ndie in war are burnt, and their ashes brought back to be laid in the\nburying-place of their fathers. Others bury their dead in the woods, at\nthe foot of a tree; or dry them, and keep them in chests, till the\nfestival of the dead. In some places they observe an odd ceremony for\nthose that are drowned or frozen to death. The savages believe, when\nthese accidents happen, that the spirits are incensed, and that their\nanger is not appeased till the body is found. Then the preliminaries of\ntears, dances, songs, and feasts, being ended, they carry the body to\nthe usual burying-place; or, if they are too far off, to the place where\nit is to remain till the festival of the dead. They dig a very large\npit, and make a fire in it; then some young persons approach the corpse,\ncut out the flesh in the parts which had been marked by the master of\nthe ceremonies, and throw them into the fire with the bowels. Then they\nplace the corpse, thus mangled, in the place destined for it. During the\nwhole operation, the women, especially the relations of the deceased, go\ncontinually around those that are at it, exhorting them to acquit\nthemselves well of their employment, and put beads in their months, as\nwe would give sugar-plums to children, to entice them to do what we\ndesire.\"\n\nThe customs among some of the tribes, especially those who have had\nlittle intercourse with the white people, are substantially the same at\nthis day. But, it has been the effect of their acquaintance with their\nconquerors to make them forget every thing laudable and praiseworthy,\namong which was their singular veneration for the dust of their\nancestors. These now bury their dead with as few ceremonies as we\nobserve in burying a dog.\n\nMackenzie's description of the funeral solemnities of the Knistenaux,\nwho live further north than Charlevoix went, is something different from\nthe above:--The funeral rites begin, like all other solemn solemnities,\nwith smoking, and are concluded by a feast. The body is dressed in the\nbest habiliments possessed by the deceased or his relations, and is then\ndeposited in a grave lined with branches. Some domestic utensils are\nplaced on it, and a kind of canopy erected over it. During this ceremony\ngreat lamentations are made, and the departed person is very much\nregretted; the near relations cut off their hair, pierce the fleshy part\nof their thighs with arms, knives, &c. and blacken their faces with\ncharcoal. If they have distinguished themselves in war, they are\nsometimes laid on a kind of scaffolding; and I have been informed that\nwomen, as in the East, have been known to sacrifice themselves to the\nmanes of their husbands. The whole of the property belonging to the\ndeceased person is destroyed, and the relations take in exchange for\ntheir wearing apparel any rags that will cover their\nnakedness.--_Mackenzie_, p. xcix. _Journal_, 148.\n\nThe Delawares, and other Indians on the Atlantic coast, buried their\ndead after the following manner. Immediately after death, the corpse\nwas dressed in a new suit, with the face and shirt painted red, and laid\nupon a mat or skin in the middle of the hut or cottage. The arms and\neffects of the deceased were then piled up near the body. In the\nevening, soon after sunset, and in the morning before day-break, the\nfemale relations and friends assembled round the corpse and mourned over\nit. Their lamentations were loud in proportion to the love and esteem\nthey bore the deceased, or to his rank, or to the _pains he suffered in\ndying_. And they were repeated daily till his interment.\n\nThe burying-places of the Delawares were at some distance from the\ndwellings. The graves were generally dug by the old women, as the young\npeople abhorred this kind of work. If they had a coffin, it was placed\nin the grave empty. Then the corpse was carried out, lying upon a linen\ncloth, full in view, that the finery and ornaments, with all the effects\nleft by the deceased, might appear to advantage. The funeral was\naccompanied by as great a number of friends as could be collected. It\nwas then let down into the coffin covered with the cloth. During the\nletting down of the corpse, the women set up a dreadful howl, but it was\ndeemed a shame to weep. Yet, in silence and unobserved, they could not\nrefrain from tears. It may be seen that they had partially conformed to\nthe customs of the white people. The \"coffin\" and \"linen cloth\" were not\nIndian.\n\nThe funeral ceremonies of the tribes inhabiting New England were similar\nto the authentic part of those practised by the Delawares. Graves were\ndug and the body deposited therein, together with such utensils of\ncookery, and weapons of war, as it was deemed would be wanted by the\nspirits of the deceased in the world they were about to visit. They had\none custom, however, which I did not observe among the southern\ntribes--that of placing weights on the grave to prevent the body from\ngetting out again, and haunting its friends.\n\nIt will be seen from these various customs, that one belief is common to\nall the tribes scattered over the western continent--that of the\nexistence in man of the spiritual essence which we call _soul_; of its\nflight after death to another and better world, variously located\nhowever; and of its being there actuated by the same wants and wishes,\nengaged in the same occupation and pursuits, and requiring the same\nmeans for the attainment of the same ends, as in this.\n\n\nEND OF THE FIRST VOLUME.\n\nLONDON:\nF. SHOBERL, JUN., LAZENBY COURT, LONG ACRE.","title":"Traditions of the North American Indians, Vol. 1","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":79034}