Nis-cha
Na-cha
Ne-wo
Pa-le-nach
Gut-tasch
Nis-chash
Chasch
Pes-chonk
Tel-len
14. Mahnomonie.
Ne-kotes
Neesh
Nah-new
Ne-ew
Nean-nun
Ne-kot-was-sa-tah
No-ha-kun
Suah-sek
Shaw-ka-waw
Me-tah-tah
15. Cree—From Say.
Paynk
Ne-shuh
Nesh-to
Na-a-wo
Nean-nun
Ne-go-to-ah-sek
Ta-pa-coh
Aa-na-nes
Ta-ka-to
Me-ta-ta
16. Winnebago.
Zhunk-he-rah
Noam-pee-wee
Tah-nee-wee
Kho-a-pee-wee
Saut-shah
Ah-ka-a-way
Shau-koa
Ar-waw-oank
Zhunke-schoonk-schoone
Kar-ra-pun-na-nah
17. Adage—From Duponceau.
Nan-cas
Nass
Colle
Cac-ca-che
Sep-pa-can
Pa-ca-nan-cus
Pa-can-ess
Pa-ca-lon
Sic-kin-ish
Neus-ne
18. Muskogee—From Adair.
Hom-mai
Hok-kole
Too-che-na
Osh-ta
Cha-ka-pe
E-pah-ghe
Ho-loo-pha-ge
Chee-ne-pa
Oh-sta-pe
Pa-ko-le
19. Choktah and Chiksah—From Adair.
Cheph-pho
Too-ga-lo
Toot-che-na
Oos-ta
Tath-la-be
Han-nah-le
Un-too-ga-lo
Un-too-che-na
Chak-ka-le
Po-koo-le
20. Cherokee—From Adair.
So-guo
Tah-ne
Choch
Nauk-ke
Ish-ke
Soo-tare
Ka-re-koge
Sah-nay-ra
Soh-nay-ra
Skoch
So-at-too (11)
Ta-ra-too (12)
21. Quaddies, (Maine.)—From Duponceau.
Nai-get
Nes
Nane
Ga-mat-chine
A-lo-he-gan-nah
Ni-hi
Na-ho
Ok-muh-hine
As-kwi-nan-dak
Ney-dinsk
22. Quawpaw—From Duponceau’s MS.
Milch-tih
Non-ne-pah
Dag-he-nig
Tu-ah
Sat-ton
Schap-peh
Pen-na-pah
Pe-dag-he-nih
Schunk-kah
Ge-deh-bo-nah
23. Penobscot—From Duponceau’s MS.
Pe-suock
Neise
Nhas
Yeuf
Pa-le-neusg
Neuk-tansg
Ta-boos
San-suk
No-cle
Ma-ta-ta
24. Miami—From Duponceau’s MS.
Ng-goo-teh
Nii-ju-eh
Nisth-ueh
Nu-ueh
Ilaan-ueh
Ka-kat-sueh
Nii-ju-eh
Po-laa-neh
Ngo-te-me-neh-kek
Mo-taat-sueh
25. Shawnese—From Duponceau’s MS.
In-gut-i, or, n’gut-i
Nis-chwe
N’swe
Ni-wi
Nia-lan-wi
Ka-kat-swi
Swach-tet-swy
Pal-la-ni
N’gut-ti-me-pech-gi
Mat-tat-swy
26. Unachog—From Duponceau’s MS.
Na-gwut
Nees
Nos
Yaut
Pa, or, na-paa
Na-cut-tah, or, cut-tah
Tum-po-wa
Swat
Neone
Pay-ac
27. Natick—From Elliot’s Bib.
Ne-gunt
Neese
Nish
Yau
Na-pan-na-tah-she
Ne-kwut-ta-tah-she
Ne-sau-suk-tah-she
Shwo-suk-tah-she
Pa-skoo-gun-tah-she
Pi-uk
28. Nousaghauset—From Elliot’s Bib. in MS.
Ne-guit
Nase
Nish
Yoh
Na-pau-na
Kwut-ta
E-na-da
Shwo-suk
Pas-ku-git
Pi-uk
29. Sourikwosiorum.—From John De Laet.
Ne-gout
Ta-bo
Chicht
Ne-ou
Nau
Ka-ma-chin
E-roe-kwe-sink
Meg-on-ma-chin
Egh-ko-na-deck
Me-tun
30. Canadenses, Ib.—From Auct. Lescarbot.
Be-gou
Ni-chou
Nich-toa
Rau
A-pa-te-ta
Con-tou-sai-hin
Ne-o-va-chin
Nes-to-va-chin
Pes-co-va-det
Me-tun
31. Saukikani—From J. Daet, Auct. Johan. Smith
Cotte
Nysse
Na-cha
Wy-we
Pa-re-nagh
Cot-tash
Nys-sas
Ge-chas
Pes-chon
Ter-ren
32. Algonkin—From J. Long.
Pay-jik
Ninch
Na-ran
Nin-goot-was-soo
Nin-cho-was-soo
Nis-soo
Neoo
Nis-so-was-so
Shon-gas-soo
Ni-tas-soo
33. Chippeway—From J. Long.
Pay-shik
Neesh
Nees-swoy
Ni-on
Na-ran
Ne-gut-wos-swoy
Swos-swoy
Shau-gos-swoy
Me-tos-swoy
34. New Stockbridge—From Kao-no-mut, a woman who had been living on Fox
River, 1827.
N’got-tah
Ne-shah
Nah-hah
Nah-wah
No-nun
N’ko-taus
To-pau-wus
Khous-so
Nah-ne-we
N’tan-net
35. Mohegan.
Ug-wit-toh
Nes-oh
Nogh-hoh
Nau-woh
Nu-non
Ug-wit-tus
Tu-pou-wus
Ghu-sooh
Nau-ne-weh
Ne-tau-nit
36. Monsee—From an Indian at Buffaloe.
N’got-tah
Ne-shah
N’hah
Na-ah
Naw-bun
N’got-waws
Nush-waus
N’haus
No-wa-lah
Wim-bat
37. Naudoway—From Tanner.
Wis-ka-ut
Tik-ke-ne
Os-sah
Kia-nec
Whisk
Yah-gah
Shah-tuk
Sah-ta-gah
Te-unk-teuh
We-go-ne
38. Seneca—From an Indian at Buffaloe, 1827.
Skaut
Tik-thnee
Snu-ah
Ka-ae
Weish
Yah-eh
Chah-duk
Ta-ke-oh
Teu-tohn
Wus-han
39. Potiwattomie—From an Indian at Detroit, 1827.
Ne-got
Neesh
Nees-wa
Na-ow
Na-nun
Ne-got-waut-so
No-okt-so
Su-aut-so
Shah-kah
Kwetch
40. Ottawwaw—From Tanner.
Ne-goch-waw
Neesh-waw
Nis-waw
Ne-win
Nah-nun
Nin-got-wau-swa
Neesh-wau-swa
Nis-waw
Shaunk
Kwetch
41. Chippewyan—From a German Interpreter.
Ish-li-a
Nuh-ka
Tah-sha
Taing-a
Sah-zhun-lah-ha
I-ka-lah-rah
I-ka-taing-ha
Ish-lah-in-ding-ga
Kas-ka-koo-un-nee-rah
Koo-un-nu-ah
42. Chippewyan—From M’Kenzie.
Sta-chy
Na-ghur
Tagh-y
Dengk-y
Sas-sou-la-chee
Al-ke-tar-hy-y
Al-ki-deing-hy
Ca-ki-na-ha-noth-na
Ca-noth-na
43. Chippewyan—From a woman, a native of Churchill.
Ith-lia
Nuk-ka
Krah-ha, or tah-rhe
Shah-zet-te
Il-ket-ting
Ting-he
Sah-zun-lah-ha
Il-ket-tah-rah
Kah-kin-ho-en-er-nah
Ho-en-er-nah
44. Anglo Saxon.
Aen
Twe-gen, or, twa
Threo, or, thry
Feo-ther, or, feo-wer
Six
Se-o-fou
Eaghta
Ni-gone
Tyn
45. Cree—From M’Kenzie.
Pey-ac
Ni-sheu
Nish-tou
Ne-way
Ni-an-nan
Ne-gou-ta-woe-sic
Nish-wi-o-sic
Jan-na-new
Shack
Mi-ta-tat
46. Algonkin—From M’Kenzie.
Pe-cheik
Nije
Nis-wois
Neau
Na-nan
Ni-gou-ta-wa-swois
Ni-gi-was-wois
She-was-wois
Shan-gwos-wois
Mit-as-swois
47. Chippewyan—From a Chippewyan.
Eth-li-ah
Nuk-kur
Tor-ri
Ding-he
Sos-su-li-he
El-kat-har-ri
Slus-ing-ding-he
El-ket-ding-he
Kutch-e-no-ner-re
Ho-ner-ne-nuh
48. Winnebago—From a Winnebago.
Zhunk-kaid
Noamp
Tarn
T’joab
Sarj
Har-ker-ra
Shar-goan
Kad-do-unk
Yunk-ked-joos-koon
Ker-reb-hon-na
49. Cree—From a native.
Pe-ak
Nees-to
Ne-o
Ne-ah-nun
Ning-good-waw-sik
Ne-su
Ta-be-ko
E-nah-ne
Kam-me-tah-tat
Me-tah-tat
50. Mahnesheet, (slow-tongues,) residing on the St. Johns, N. B. From a
native.
Na-koot
Tah-bo
Sheist
Na-oo
Nahn
Kah-mutch-in
Lo-he-gin-nuk
O-go-mul-chin
Aish-ko-nah-daig
Ko-dainsk
CHAPTER III.
MUSIC AND POETRY OF THE INDIANS.
Here, it must be acknowledged, we enter a barren field, offering little
to excite industry, or to reward inquiry. Without literature to give
perpetuity to the creations of genius, or to bear to succeeding times
the record of remarkable events, the Americans have no store house of
ancient learning to open to the curiosity of the European race. They have
probably never thought like the Arabs, that the cultivation of their
language was an object of importance; and though the orator must at times
have experienced the effect of a happy choice of expression, he must
always have been confined to a narrow range, by the necessity of keeping
within the comprehension of his hearers. Hence their public speakers
appear to depend more on a certain vehemence and earnestness of manner,
which is intelligible without words, than upon any elegance of thought,
or refinement of diction.
Their songs, whether of war or devotion, consist, for the most, of a
few words or short phrases many times repeated; and in their speeches,
they dwell long and vehemently on the same idea. One who hears an Indian
orator without comprehending his language, would confidently suppose
that his discourse abounded with meaning; but these speeches, like
their tedious and monotonous chants, when clearly understood, appear
so poor and jejune, that few white men would listen to either, were it
not with the hope of extracting information, of which the speaker, or
the singer himself, must be wholly unconscious. But after all is heard
and explained, and carefully examined in all its bearings, it must be
principally the business of a quick and fertile imagination, to find
in them moral instruction or historical information. If we find among
the American Indians traditional items, bearing manifest and strong
resemblance to those of the great Asiatic family, from whom we have
adopted many of our religious opinions, this can only be considered
as indicating what needed no proof; namely: That this people, as well
as ourselves, have descended from that primeval stock, which, planted
somewhere upon the mountains of Asia, has sent forth its branches into
all parts of the earth. Thither, we are taught by the most ancient human
records, and by the concurrent deductions of all sound philosophy, and
honest inquiry, to look for the great fountain of the human race: and
if some of the streams, in descending thence, have been concealed in
swamps, or sunk beneath sands, we ought not therefore to doubt that
their origin is to be thence deduced. But that existing or retrieveable
monuments or resemblances, will ever enable the curious satisfactorily
to trace the American branch to its origin, need not now be expected.
Nevertheless, this part of the subject may have interest for those who
love to trace the human character through all situations and exposures,
and to contemplate the effect of revolutions in external circumstances,
on manners, language, and metaphysical opinions.
Sufficient evidence probably exists, to convince many, that the natives
of the central regions of North America, whatever diversities of dialect
may now exist, are essentially of the same race with the Peruvians, the
Mexicans, and the Natchez; between whom and the ancient inhabitants of
Greece and Italy, and that portion of the present population of India
who worship Brama, Boudd, Ganesa, Iswara, etc. a near relationship
has already been ascertained. In the metamorphoses which the Indian
traditions assign to many trees, plants, animals, and other things, we
are strongly reminded of the similar superstitions preserved by the Roman
poets. We find, also, in the American traditions, distinct allusions
to a general deluge, and to several other particulars which we are
accustomed to consider as resting solely on the authority of the Mosaic
history. But when we reflect on the almost universal distribution of
these opinions, in some shape or other, among all known races of men, we
may admit a doubt whether they have been derived from the historical
books of the Hebrews, or whether they are not rather the glimmerings
of that primitive light, which, at the first great division after the
flood, into the families of Shem, Ham, and Japhet, and more recently at
the dispersion of Babel, must have been in possession of all mankind. We
find in the Mosaic history, written, as it was, long after the period
here spoken of, abundant evidence, not only that traditional remembrance
of the deluge, and other great events in the early history of mankind,
was still preserved; but that direct revelations of the mind and will
of the Creator had been, and were still made to men, at sundry times,
and in divers places. Within two or three hundred years of the deluge,
some knowledge of the mechanic arts, at least ship building and masonry,
must have remained, or so many men would not have been found ready to
undertake the erection of a tower whose top should reach _unto Heaven_.
At this time, Noah, the second father of mankind, and his three sons,
who, as well as himself, had known the “world before the flood,” were
still alive. Any branch, therefore, of the family of either of the three
sons of Noah, removed at this time to “the isles of the gentiles,” or to
whatever remote part of the earth their knowledge of navigation and other
arts might enable them to reach, would retain at least a traditional
cosmogony and theogony, which, after ever so many years, or ever so wide
and devious a wandering, must probably have preserved resemblance, in
some particulars, to the originals. Hence it will, we think, be evident,
that although we may find a strong resemblance between some of the
observances of the Indians and the Hebrews, we are by no means to infer,
that one of these races must have descended from the other. All that they
have in common, will probably be found to have grown out of similarity of
circumstances; or may be traced to times long previous to the calling of
Abraham.
But let us leave this profitless discussion, which has long since
received more attention than it deserves, and return to the subject
before us.
The poetry of the Indians, if they can properly be said to have any,
is the language of excitement, and the expression of passion; and if
whatever has this character, and is at the same time raised above the
tone and style of ordinary conversation, and is or may be sung to music,
is poetry, it cannot be denied that they have among them poetry and poets
in abundance. Excitement of whatever kind, calls forth a peculiar manner
of expression; and though measure and rhythm, polished and artificial
structure, equally balanced and harmonious periods, may be wanting, they
commonly accompany the utterance of their words by some modulation of
the voice, like what we call singing. In all their religious feasts and
solemnities, they address their prayers and praises to superior beings in
song. In all times of distress and danger, or when suffering under the
apprehension of immediate starvation, or awaiting the approach of death
in some more horrid form, the Indian expresses his anxiety, offers up
his petition, or perhaps recalls some favourite and cherished idea, his
boast in life, and his consolation in death, by a measured and monotonous
chant, in which the ear of the stranger distinguishes principally the
frequent repetition of the same word.
Nor is it on the serious and momentous occasions of life only, that
we witness these rude efforts at poetry and music. Love, in its
disappointment, or in its success; sorrow, hope, and intoxication,
choose the same method of utterance. When in a state of intoxication,
as they often are, the men, and more particularly the women of some
tribes, are heard by night, and often almost throughout the night,
singing in a plaintive and melancholy tone of the death of their friends,
or of other misfortunes. One who listens to these lamentations, while
darkness and distance interpose to conceal the too often disgusting
objects who utter them, and to soften down and mellow the tone of high
pitched voices, will often find something affecting in their honest
and unpremeditated complaints. Their voices are often fine, and the
sentences they utter, are the language, most commonly, of real suffering,
devested of affectation or art. From the great frequency with which
these melancholy chantings, and the profuse flow of tears occur, as the
consequences of intoxication among them, one might infer, either that
their condition has in it a greater share of sorrow and of suffering
than that of some other races, or that the excitement of strong drink
affects them in a different manner. A fair inference, at least, is, that
in their sober moments, they, like other men, wear a mask. Indeed, those
who best know the Indians, are best acquainted with the constant efforts
they make at concealment, and how well they at length teach the outward
aspect to conceal or misrepresent the internal emotions. But for these
unpremeditated effusions, particularly for the whining and drivelling
of intoxication, the most enthusiastic admirer of the Indians will not
claim the appellation of poetry. If any thing among them deserves this
name, we must search for it among those traditionary songs which descend
from father to son, and are transferred from man to man by purchase, to
be used in their feasts, in the administration of remedies to the sick,
and above all, in medicine hunting. That some of the songs thus preserved
have considerable antiquity, we do not doubt; that they have much merit
as poetical compositions, we are not disposed to assert. The poetry
of the Indians, like their eloquence, requires the assistance of able
translators, and those not too scrupulous to draw only from the materials
of the original.
The method of delineation, by which they aid the memory in retaining the
recalling, on occasion, these compositions, exhibits, perhaps, one of the
earliest steps towards a written language. Yet, from its existence among
them, in the present form, one would not hastily infer, that they had
never been intruded upon by men of another race, learning or arts would
finally have flourished among them. There are but too many evidences,
that the aboriginal Americans are, by temperament, by some peculiarity
of physical structure, or moral propensity, a more sluggish race, than
the European; consequently, destined to a slow advance, or, perhaps,
like most of the Asiatics, to be for ages stationary, or retrogradent,
in the journey of improvement. We would not risk the assertion, that the
Americans are an inferior race; the barrier to their improvement appears
to be that indolence which is not less a habit of their minds than of
their bodies, and which disqualifies them for spontaneous and long
continued and laborious thinking. Hunger may, and does, overcome the
habit of bodily indolence, or, at least, sometimes interrupts it; but,
in the Indian character, the tendency is always to quiescence. Instances
are infinitely rare, among them, of that restlessness of mind so common
in the European race, which is ever in quest of something beyond the
complete gratification of the wants of the body, and which has been the
true source of so many great and ennobling actions. The past history
of this race of men, is not wanting in instances of the manifestation
of that inherent sluggishness of disposition, which has kept them back
from the knowledge, the improvements, and the civilization, which have
been so long urged upon them. Let it be granted, as doubtless it should
be, that the Jesuits, and, to some extent, at least the Moravian, and
other protestant missionaries, commenced their labours where they should
have ended them, by offering to the benighted minds of the Indians, the
stupendous, and, to them, totally incomprehensible doctrines of the
christian religion; and that they, in a great measure, neglected to
teach them those arts, which, by ensuring an abundance of means for the
sustenance of life, might enable them, first of all, to fix in settled
habitations, and afterwards gradually to adopt those habits and opinions
which have ever been found indispensable in preparing the wilderness for
the reception of the good seed. Yet, must we not acknowledge, that the
descendants of those who were early received into intimate association
with the whites, and learned from them the mechanical, and all the common
arts of life, are, at this time, lamentably deficient in the virtues, as
well as the knowledge we might have expected from them?
It is no part of the design of these remarks, to discourage any
attempts that may be made to introduce the christian religion among
these people; on the contrary, we look upon these efforts as always,
in a greater or less degree, useful to the Indians; they originate as
well in a diffusive and amiable benevolence, as a feeling of justice,
and severe, though tardy compunction, which would seek, at this late
day, to render to the starved and shivering remnant of the people who
received us to their country in our day of small things, some recompense
for the fair inheritance which we have wrested from their forefathers.
The example of the Cherokees, and some others in the south, has been
sufficient to prove, that under the influence of a mild climate, and
a fertile soil, these people can be taught habits of settled, if not
of persevering industry. From this condition of things, we can already
see how, among that people, habits of mental enterprise and industry
are to spring up, and we look forward with confidence to a source of
continued improvement. That all the other bands and tribes, under similar
auspices, and similar influences, would pursue a similar course, cannot
be doubted. Philologists and speculative theorists may divide and class
as they please; to the patient and industrious observer, who has mingled
intimately with this race, in the low and fertile districts of the
Mississippi, in the broad and smiling plains of Arkansaw and Red River,
in the forests of the Upper Mississippi, and among the pines and the
mosses of the upper lakes, it will be evident that the aboriginal people
of the United States Territory, are all of one family, not by physical
constitution and habit only, but by the structure and temperament
of their minds; their modes of thinking and acting; and, indeed, in
all physical and mental peculiarities, which set them apart from the
remainder of the human family, as a peculiar people. Whatever course has,
in one situation, proved in any measure effectual, to reclaim them from
their vague and idle habits, will certainly succeed in another situation,
though perhaps more slowly, as they may be influenced by a less genial
climate, or a more barren soil.
_Song for the metai, or for medicine hunting._
[Illustration: Fig. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.]
Fig. 1. Shi-e-gwuh ne-no-no-nen-dum ah-me, Me-tai we-nin-ne-wug,
ne-kau-nug ane-mub-be-un-neh.[59]
Now I hear it, my friends, of the Metai, who are sitting about me.
This, and the three following, are sung by the principal chief of the
Metai, to the beat of his bwoin ah-keek, or drum. The lines from the
sides of the head of the figure indicate hearing.
2. O-wa-nain ba-me-je-waun-ga? Man-i-to O-ba-me-je-wa-un-ga.
Who makes this river flow? The Spirit, he makes this river flow.
The second figure is intended to represent a river, and a beaver swimming
down it.
3. Ka-weh-whau-bo-me-tai, ka-weh-whau-bo-me-tai neh-kau-nuk neej-huh
nish-a-nau-ba ka-ke-ka-ne-me-kwain neh-kau-nuk.
Look at me well, my friends; examine me, and let us understand that we
are all companions.
This translation is by no means literal. The words express the boastful
claims of a man, who sets himself up for the best and most skilful in the
fraternity.
4. O-wa-nain ba-bah-mis-sa-haht, weej-huh nish-a-nau-ba? Be-nais-se-wah
ba-bah-mo-sa-haht, weej-huh nish-a-nau-ba.
Who maketh to walk about, the social people? A bird maketh to walk about
the social people.
By the bird, the medicine man means himself; he says, that his voice
has called the people together. Weej-huh nish-a-nau-ba, or weej-a
nish-a-nau-ba, seems to have the first syllable from the verb, which
means, to accompany. The two lines drawn across, between this figure and
the next, indicate that here the dancing is to commence.
5. Neen ba-pah-mis-sa-gahn ne-goche ah-wes-sie neen-gah-kwa-tin ah-waw.
I fly about, and if any where I see an animal, I can shoot him.
This figure of a bird, (probably an eagle or hawk,) seems intended to
indicate the wakefulness of the senses, and the activity required to
ensure success in hunting. The figure of the moose, which immediately
follows, reminding the singer of the cunning and extreme shyness of that
animal, the most difficult of all to kill.
[Illustration: 6. 7. 8. 9.]
6. Neen-go-te-naun ke-da-ne,[60] ne-miz-zho-taun ke-da-ne, ah-wis-sie
ke-da-ne, ne-miz-zho-taun ke-da-ne.
I shoot your heart; I hit your heart, oh animal, your heart, I hit your
heart.
This apostrophe is mere boasting, and is sung with much gesticulation and
grimace.
7. A-zhe-nahng gwit-to iah-na ish-ko-tang a-zhe-nahng gwit-to iah-na.
I make myself look like fire.
This is a medicine man, disguised in the skin of a bear. The small
parallelogram, under the bear, signifies fire, and they, by some
composition of gunpowder, or other means, contrive to give the appearance
of fire to the mouth and eyes of the bear skin, in which they go about
the village late at night, bent on deeds of mischief, oftentimes of
blood. We learn how mischievous are these superstitions, when we are
informed, that they are the principal men of the Metai, who thus wander
about the villages, in the disguise of a bear, to wreak their hatred on
a sleeping rival, or their malice on an unsuspecting adversary. But the
customs of the Indians require of any one who may see a medicine man on
one of these excursions, to take his life immediately, and whoever does
so is accounted guiltless.
8. Ga-tah e-no-tum mau-na ne-be-way me-ze-ween, ne-be-way neen-dai,
gin-no-tah mau-na.
I am able to call water from above, from beneath, and from around.
Here the medicine man boasts of his power over the elements, and his
ability to do injury or benefit. The segment of a circle with dots in it,
represents the water, and the two short lines touching the head of the
figure, indicate that he can draw it to him.
9. Yah-nah-we nah-gwe-hah-ga e-nai-ne-wah, kin-ne-nah.
Yah-nah-we nah-gwe-hah-ga ma-tai-mo-sah, kin-ne-nah.
Yah-nah-we nah-gwe-hah-ga o-ba-no-sah, kin-ne-nah.
I cause to look like the dead, a man I did.
I cause to look like the dead, a woman I did.
I cause to look like the dead, a child I did.
The lines drawn across the face of this figure, indicate poverty,
distress, and sickness; the person is supposed to have suffered from the
displeasure of the medicine man. Such is the religion of the Indians!
Its boast is to put into the hands of the devout, supernatural means, by
which he may wreak vengeance on his enemies, whether weak or powerful,
whether they be found among the foes of his tribe, or the people of
his own village. This Metai, so much valued and revered by them, seems
to be only the instrument, in the hands of the crafty, for keeping in
subjection the weak and the credulous, which may readily be supposed to
be the greater part of the people.
[Illustration: 10.]
10. Ain-de-aun, ain-de-aun, ne-kau-neh; ah-wes-sie, an-wes-sie,
ne-kau-neh, ne-mah-meek ko-naw-waw, ne-kau-neh.
I am such, I am such, my friends; any animal, any animal, my friends, I
hit him right, my friends.
This boast of certain success in hunting, is another method by which he
hopes to elevate himself in the estimation of his hearers. Having told
them that he has the power to put them all to death, he goes on to speak
of his infallible success in hunting, which will always enable him to be
a valuable friend to such as are careful to secure his good will.
_Song for the Metai only._
[Illustration: Fig. 1. 2. 3.]
Fig. 1. Nah-ne-bah o-sa aun neen-no ne-mah-che oos-sa ya-ah-ne-no.
(Twice.)
I walk about in the night time.
This first figure represents the wild cat, to whom, on account of his
vigilance, the medicines for the cure of diseases were committed.
The meaning probably is, that to those who have the shrewdness, the
watchfulness, and intelligence of the wild cat, is entrusted the
knowledge of those powerful remedies, which, in the opinion of the
Indians, not only control life, and avail to the restoration of health,
but give an almost unlimited power over animals and birds.
2. Neen-none-da-aun ke-to-ne-a, ma-ni-to we-un-ne.
I hear your mouth, you are an ill (or evil) spirit.
The wild cat, (or the sensible and intelligent medicine man,) is always
awake; or if he seems to sleep, by means of the supernatural powers of
his medicine, he becomes acquainted with all that passes around him. If
one man speaks evil of another, to bring sickness upon him, the wild
cat hears and knows it; but confident in his own superior strength, he
disregards it. At the bar they begin to dance. The lines from the mouth
of the human figure, represent the speeches of the evil minded and
malicious.
3. Shi-a ne-mo-kin-nuh-we, be-zhe-wa-wah[61] neah-wa. (Twice.)
Now I come up out of the ground; I am wild cat.
I am master of the wild cats; and having heard your talk, I come up
out of the ground to see what you do. This man, it appears, claims
superiority over the other medicine men, and now rouses himself to attend
to what is passing. The bar across the neck of the figure representing
the wild cat, indicates that he is just coming out of the earth.
[Illustration: 4. 5. 6.]
4. Bin-nah! neen be-zhe-wa-wah ke-meen-waw-bum-me-na.
Behold! I am wild cat; I am glad to see you all wild cats.
This figure, with open eyes and erect ears, denotes earnestness and
attention.
The word ke-meen-waw-bum-me-na, affords a strong instance of what
has been called the synthetic character of this language; _ke_,
the inseparable pronoun, in the accusative plural, _meen_, from
ne-mee-noan-dun, (I love, or am pleased,) and waw-bum from ne-waw-bo-maw,
(I see.)
5. Ne-man-i-to, o-wa-she-na a-ai-gah nee-na ketto-we goh-we-ke-na.
I am a spirit; what I have I give to you in your body.
This is the figure of a medicine man, with his pah-gah-ko-gua-un, or the
instrument with which he beats his drum, in his hand. He appears to be
boasting of his own powers.
6. Ah-ne ah-gah, kah-neen-na ke-taus-saw-wa-unna ke-nis-se-go-na.
Your own tongue kills you; you have too much tongue.
This is addressed to the malicious man, and the slanderer, one who speaks
evil of others. His crooked and double speech goes out of his mouth, but
is changed to an arrow in his hand, and turned against himself; his own
body bears the marks of the injuries he would have inflicted on others.
The lines across the chest are the traces of misfortune, brought on him
by the indulgence of his own malicious disposition. In the songs and
addresses of some of the most esteemed chiefs, or persons, who may be
considered in some measure set apart for the Metai, are many attempts to
convey and enforce moral instruction, or rather the inculcation of those
opinions and actions which constitute the virtues of savage life.
_Song for beaver hunting and the Metai._
[Illustration: Fig. 1. 2. 3. 4.]
Fig. 1. O-nub-be-tum-maun, Metai-we-gaun, Manito-we-ga-un.
I sit down in the lodge of the Metai, the lodge of the Spirit.
This figure is intended to represent the area of the Metai-we-gaun, or
medicine lodge, which is called also the lodge of the Manito, and two men
have taken their seats in it. The matter of the song seems to be merely
introductory.
2. Neezh-o-go-na we-tah-bim mah-kum-ma ne-kaun; ne-o-go-na we-tah-bim
mah-kum-ma ne-ka-un.
Two days must you sit fast, my friend; four days must you sit fast, my
friend.
The two perpendicular lines on the breast of this figure, are read
neo-gone, (two days,) but are understood to mean two years; so of the
four lines drawn obliquely across the legs, these are four years. The
heart must be given to this business for two years, and the constrained
attitude of the legs indicates the rigid attention, and serious
consideration, which the subject requires.
3. Wha-be-nia, Meen-de-mo-sah, ke-ko-nia wha-be-nia.
Throw off, woman, thy garments, throw off.
The power of their medicines, and the incantations of the Metai, are
not confined in their effect to animals of the chase, to the lives and
the health of men; they control, also, the minds of all, and overcome
the modesty, as well as the antipathies of women. The Indians firmly
believe that many a woman, who has been unsuccessfully solicited by a
man, is not only, by the power of the Metai, made to yield, but even in a
state of madness, to tear off her garments, and pursue after the man she
before despised. These charms have greater power than those in the times
of superstition among the English, ascribed to the fairies, and they
need not, like the plant used by Puck, be applied to the person of the
unfortunate being who is to be transformed; they operate at a distance,
through the medium of the Miz-zin-ne-neens.
4. Na-wy-o-kun-ne-nah wun-nah-he-nun-ne-wah ba-mo-sa keen-nah-na.
Who makes the people walk about? It is I that calls you.
This is in praise of the virtue of hospitality, that man being most
esteemed among them, who most frequently calls his neighbours to his
feast.
[Illustration: 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.]
5. He-o-win-nah ha-ne-mo-we-tah neen-ge-te-mah-hah bo-che-ga-ha-ne
Mo-e-tah neen-ge-te-mah hah-nah.
Any thing I can shoot with it, (this medicine,) even a dog I can kill
with it.
6. Nin-goo-te-naun ke-ta-he, e-nah-ne-wah ke-ta-he.
I shoot thy heart, man, thy heart.
He means, perhaps, a buck moose by the word e-nah-ne-wah, or man.
7. Neen ne-na-sah waw-be-maung neen-ne-na-sah.
I can kill a white loon, I can kill.
The white loon, _rara avis nigroque simillino cygno_, is certainly a rare
and most difficult bird to kill; so we may infer, that this boaster can
kill any thing, which is the amount of the meaning intended in that part
of his song, recorded by the five last figures. Success in hunting they
look upon as a virtue of a higher character, if we may judge from this
song, than the patience under suffering, or the rakishness among women,
or even the hospitality recommended in the former part.
8. Ne-kau-nah-ga....
My friends....
This seems to be an attempt to delineate a man sitting with his hands
raised to address his friends; but the remainder of his speech is not
remembered. This is sufficient to show that the meaning of the characters
in this kind of picture writing is not well settled, and requires a
traditional interpretation to render it intelligible.
9. Shah bwo-ah-hah-mah ne-mow-why-waw-ne-no ah-buh-hah-mah
ge-we-na-she-mah-ga.
I open my wolf skin, and the death struggle must follow.
This is a wolf skin, used as a medicine bag, and he boasts, that whenever
he opens it, something must die in consequence.
_Song for medicine hunting—rarely for the Metai._
[Illustration: Fig. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.]
Fig. 1. Waw-ne-ge-ah-na gah-ne-geah-na Manito-wah-ga gah-ge-zhe-hah-gwaw
gah-ne-ge-ah-na.
I wished to be born, I was born, and after I was born I made all spirits.
2. Gee-she-hah-ga manito-whah-ga.
I created the spirits.
The figures in the commencement of this long and much esteemed religious
song, represent Na-na-bush, the intercessor, the nephew of mankind.
They seem designed to carry back the thoughts towards the beginning of
time, and have a manifest allusion to a period when this mysterious and
powerful being exercised a wish to assume the form of a man. In the
second figure he is represented as holding a rattle snake in his hand,
and he calls himself the creator of the mani-toge. The Indians calling
invisible and spiritual beings by the same name which they give to the
lowest class of reptiles, it is doubtful whether Na-na-bush here claims
to have created intelligences superior to man, or only reptiles, insects,
and other small creatures, which they commonly call Mani-toag.
3. Na-hah-be-ah-na na-nah-boo-shoo, o-tish-ko-tahn ma-jhe-ke-sha.
He sat down Na-na-bush; his fire burns forever.
This figure appears to be descriptive of the first assumption by
Na-na-bush of his office, as the friend and patron of men. He is
represented as taking a seat on the ground. Fire, with the northern
Indians, is the emblem of peace, happiness, and abundance. When one band
goes against another, they go, according to their language, to put out
the fire of their enemies; therefore, it is probable that in speaking of
the perpetual fire of Na-na-bush, it is only intended to allude to his
great power, and the permanence of his independence and happiness.[62]
4. Tah-gwa ne-mah-go-so-me-go, ne-ah-ge-zhe-we ne-kaun, ne-kaun.
Notwithstanding you speak evil of me, from above are my friends, my
friends.
The fourth figure, which, in the original, is a priapus, indicates that
a man takes up the discourse. The circle about his head, but descending
no lower than his shoulders, shows that his help and his protection are
from above, and in the strength thus derived he is able to defy those who
speak evil of him, or seek, by the power of their medicines, to break his
life.
5. Chaw-gaw ko-no mau-na se-maun-duk waw-wan-o-sa-wah.
I can use many kinds of wood to make a bear unable to walk.
The business of hunting is one of the first importance to the Indians,
consequently, it finds a place in his devotions; indeed, devotion itself
having apparently no object beyond the wants and weaknesses of this life,
relief in times of hunger, is one of the most important blessings they
ever ask for in their prayers. Accordingly, their young men are directed
never to use these songs, or to have recourse to the medicine hunt,
except in times of the extremest need.
6. Ke-te-na-ne-me-na we-nis-ze-bug-go-na an-no-kau-tum-mau-na,
ke-te-na-ne-me-na.
Of you I think, that you use the We-nis-ze-bug-gone, I think this of you.
The common spicy wintergreen, a stalk of which this figure is intended
to represent, is much valued as a medicine by the Indians. It is called
_we-nis-se-bug-goon_, from _we-ne-sik_, the spicy birch, and _bug-goon_,
which in composition means leaf.
7. Ma-mo-yah-na, mis-kwe, ma-mo-yah-na.
That which I take (is) blood, that which I take.
Here is the figure of a bear lying dead on the ground, and a hand is
thrust into the body, to take out some of the blood. The instruction
communicated probably is, that when the prayers offered in the
preparation for the medicine hunt have been answered, and an animal
killed, offerings should be immediately made, by taking some of the blood
in the hand, and pouring it on the ground; or, as is more commonly done,
by throwing a handful of it towards each of the four cardinal points.
8. Hi-a-gwo ne-ma-nah-ho-gahn nah-we-he-a! whe-e-ya!
Now I have something to eat.
The two last words seem to have no very definite meaning; they are
repeated at the end of some of the sentences, apparently only to lengthen
out the sound. This figure is that of a lean and hungry man, who, having
asked for food, has been heard, and is now proceeding to allay his hunger.
[Illustration: 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15.]
9. We-wah-kwa be-gah-na mani-to-ga.
I cover my head, sitting down to sleep, ye spirits.
The figure is that of a man, probably designed to be represented in a
recumbent position, and drawing his blanket over him. His prayer having
been answered, his wants supplied, he declares to the spirits his
intention to take repose.
10. Moosh-kin a guh-wah man-i-to-whah, whah-he-yah! whe-ha-ya! etc.
I fill my kettle for the spirit.
This is the hunter’s lodge, and the kettle hanging in it contains the
heart of the animal killed in the medicine hunt, of which none but a
man and a hunter must venture to taste. Should a woman or a dog even
touch this heart, or the blood of the animal, sudden death, or lingering
sickness, would follow it. This effect, as well as the dark colour which
the Indians say the skin of the females assumes, in instances of the
violation of this rule, they attribute to the effect of the medicine
applied by the hunter to the heart of the Me-ze-nin-ne-shah. They point
out instances of women, formerly distinguished among them for beauty, and
particularly for the fairness of the skin, who, by eating of the heart,
or touching the blood of an animal killed in medicine hunting, have not
only lost that enviable distinction, but have become disgusting and
frightful objects, the skin being blackened and covered with ulcers.
11. Nah-nah-wa-kum-me-ga wa-nuk-ke-she nah-neh keen-o-wah man-i-to-whah.
Long ago, in the old time, since I laid myself down, ye are spirits.
This is the figure of a snake running over the ground; but some are of
opinion that the delineation should be different, namely, an old woman
lying down in the middle of the ground. A new speaker is here introduced,
which is the mythological personage called Me-suk-kum-me-go-kwa, the
grand mother of mankind, to whom Na-na-bush gave in keeping, for the
use of his uncles and aunts, all roots and plants, and other medicines,
derived from the earth. She received, at the same time, especial
direction never to leave home, and always to surrender to men the
treasures deposited in her bosom, when they should be, in a suitable
manner, demanded of her. Hence it is, that the medicine men make an
address to Me-suk-kum-me-go-kwa, whenever they take any thing from the
earth, which is to be used as medicine.
12. Ne-mo-kin-nen-naun she-maun-duk kwun-ne-no nuh-pe-mo-ke-ne-naun.
I open you for a bear, I open you.
Me-suk-kum-me-go-kwa speaks to one of the medicines whose power she had
just acknowledged, by calling them spirits, and says, I disclose, or
reveal you for a bear, or to enable the hunter to kill a bear.
13. Me-too-ga man-i-to-too-ga, heo-yeo-yah-yoh! he-ge-tah-waw-kum-me-ga
wy-oan do-sa-jeek me-to-ga-nah, whe-i-ah! whe-i-ah!
That is a Spirit which comes both from above and below. (Here they begin
to dance.)
14. Whain-je-neen-da su-mah-ga chah-ge-mah-ni-to-whah-ga. (Twice.)
Neen-nis-sah ween-neen-dah so-mah-we-neen-nah chah-ga-to man-i-to
whah-ga, yah-we-he-ya! whe-ge-a! (Twice.)
I am he that giveth success, because all spirits help me.
15. Me-ge-ne-nah me-ge-ne-nah me-gwun-nah-ga me-ge-ne-nah, WHE-HE-YA!
(Twice.)
The feather, the feather; it is the thing, the feather.
It sometimes happens that the hunter has wandered far from his lodge,
and has neither birch bark on which to delineate his Me-zen-ne-neens,
nor o-num-nu, or other powerful medicine to apply to its heart. In
these cases he takes some of the ashes of his fire, and spreading it
on a smooth place, he traces in it the figure of the animal; he then
takes a feather and sticks it in the heart, then applies fire until it
is consumed to the surface of the ashes, and on this he places the same
reliance as on the more common method of treating the Me-zen-ne-neens.
[Illustration: 16. 17. 18. 19. 20.]
16. Wha o-man-i-to-whah? HE-AH-E-WHE-YA! ma-she-ge-na pe-po-sa-jeek
wha-in-je man-i-to-whah, ah-keeng pa-mo-sah HAH-HE-WHE-YA!
Who is a spirit? He that walketh with the serpent, walking on the ground;
he is a spirit.
This figure is nearly the same as is given to Nana-bush, in the beginning
of the song, and an allusion is probably intended to the time when this
interpreter between mankind and the Supreme Spirit, the Creator of all
things, was driven from the presence of his father, to dwell with the
meanest things of this world. The allusions in the traditionary fables of
the Algonkins, to the quarrel between Na-na-bush and the Great Spirit,
are frequent, and cannot fail to remind any one of the most important
of the doctrines of the christian religion. It can scarce be doubted
that, from some source or other, these people have derived some obscure
conceptions of the incarnation and mediatorial office of the second
person in the Divine Trinity.[63]
17. He-ah gut-tah wees-sene, wun-no-kwa neen-nah neen-de-kwa-wug-ge-ga
ween-dum mah-wah neen-nah-hah neen-nah whe-he-ya!
Now they will eat something, my women; now I tell them they will eat.
This figure, with open mouth and distended belly, seems to speak the
language of human thanksgiving, and gratitude for favours conferred by a
superior power.
18. O-num-mun-nah nin-go-che-we-nah. (Twice.)
This yellow ochre, I will try it.
The o-num-mun, a yellowish earth, which they find in many places, and
which is particularly abundant on one of the branches of the Illinois
River, thence called O-num-mun-ne See-be, when roasted in the fire,
becomes red, and is a medicine to which they attribute great power. It is
a little sack of this which is disproportionately represented in the hand
of the figure.
19. Yah-hah nin-go-che-we-nah whe-he-ya-ha! be-nais-se-waw yah-hah
nin-go-tin-non-gay nin-go-che-hah-hah, yah-hah nin-go-te-non-ga.
Now I wish to try my bird; sometimes I used to try, and sometimes it used
to be something.
The figure is that of a bird’s skin, in which his medicine is contained,
and it is that, and not the skin itself, he wishes to try.
20. Ah-wes-sie nees-sah neen-no, ka-she-e-way ke-kaunne-nah; ah-wis-sie
nees-sah neen-no, whe-he-ya! He-whe ya!
I can kill any animal, because the loudspeaking thunder helps me; I can
kill any animal.
This large bird, whose open mouth indicates the power of his voice, is
not one who inhabits the earth, or is ever seen; he lives in the clouds,
and his voice is the thunder. He is more commonly called a-nim-me-kee,
but here ke-kaun; our loud sounding medicine is strong to give us wind or
rain, or whatever state of the air may be needful to ensure success in
the hunt.
[Illustration: 21. 22. 23. 24. 25.]
21. Mah-mo-yah-na hah-che-maun-duk hah-yo-ta-he mah-mo-yah-na.
I take a bear, his heart I take.
The allusion is here to the observances respecting the heart and blood of
animals killed in medicine hunting, and the sacrifices to be made in the
event of success.
22. O-she-she-gwa-waw-tun-wa-we-tun-ga neen-dah buh-zheen-ga
tun-wa-we-tun-ga, whe-he-ya!
A rattle snake makes a noise on the poles of my lodge; he makes a noise.
The jealousy of rival hunters is a frequent cause of quarrels and
troubles among the Indians. This man boasts that the rattle snake, which
always gives notice when danger is near, is on the poles of his lodge,
and no evil can come near him without his being informed of it. His life
is guarded by a superior power, and he fears not what his enemies can do
to him.
23. O-shaw-wah-no nah-o-bah-guh-he gun-nun-na, ho-kah-mik a-no-gweh,
whe-he-ya! Neen-da-bwa-wa se-to nah-na, whe-he! ya-ha!
To a Shawnee, the four sticks used in this song belonged. When struck
together they were heard all over the country.
This is the figure of a man holding in his left hand the four
nah-o-bah-e-gun-nun, or sticks, on which this song was recorded, and the
authorship is claimed by a Shawnee, from whom the Ojibbeways acknowledge
to have received it; and here, it is probable, the performance originally
concluded. The remaining figures appear to have been added from other
songs.
24. Hi-ah shah-we mah-mo-ke-ah-na Man-i-to ne-whaw-baw-maw ah-mik-kwug
ne-whaw-baw-maig, whe-ha-ya!
I come up from below; I come down from above; I see the spirit; I see
beavers.
The design of this figure is to suggest to the mind, that the spirit, to
whom the prayers in the medicine hunting are addressed, not only knows
where animals are on the surface of the ground, but that so great is his
power, he can create them where they did not before exist, to supply the
wants of those that pray unto him, and can cause them to come up out of
the earth.
25. We-waw-bun-o-kah-tawn neen-gah-beah no-kwa-nah we-waw-bun o-kah-tawn,
we-he-ha-ya!
I can make an east wind come and pass over the ground.
This is sung four times, the north, the west, and the south winds being
each, in turn, substituted for the east wind here spoken of. The meaning
is, that the spirit has power to give a wind in any direction that may be
necessary for the success of the hunter; that he controls all the changes
of the atmosphere, and will overrule them in such a manner as to ensure
the success of those whose medicine is strong; in other words, whose
prayer is effectual. They must therefore neither regard the wind nor the
sky, but go forward in confidence of success. The idea of the circle in
this figure, into which the winds are represented as rushing, is derived
from the apparent form of the visible horizon; the Indians neither know,
nor will they believe that the form of the earth is globular.
[Illustration: 26. 27.]
26. Na-nah nub-be-gah-ne-na ha-ge-tah wah-kum-me-ga uk-ke-ko-no-dah
go-na, neen-na-nah nah-be-yahn-ne-na, ke-na-nah nub-be-ah neen-na,
whe-he-yah! we-he-ya!
Thus have I sat down, and the earth above and below has listened to me
sitting here.
This is again the figure of Na-na-bush, sitting on the earth, in the same
attitude in which he is represented in the first part of the performance.
The meaning is, that all who join in these devotional exercises must,
throughout their continuance, which is for the greater part of the night,
retain immoveably the same attitude, and give a serious attention to the
performer, who must observe the same rule; and when all is finished, he,
without uttering a word to any of those about him, rises and walks out of
the lodge.
27. Pa-mo-ta-yah-na che-maun duh-kwa pa-mo-ta-yah-ga, whe-he-ya-ha!
I make to crawl, a bear, I make to crawl.
Probably the meaning is, that by these observances and by this prayer,
the hunter may cause to crawl (kill) a bear, or any animal. It is to be
observed, that a bear is never, in these songs, called by the common
name, but always che-mahn-duk.
It requires two years of attentive study, in the intervals of leisure
that occur in the life of a hunter, to learn this song, and he must pay
his instructor the value of many beaver skins. It was first introduced
into the band to which Mr. Tanner belonged, by an Ojibbeway of the
village of Was-waw-gun-nink. Our narrator, as well as his foster brother,
Wa-me-gon-a-biew, had paid this man, whose name was Ke-zha-shoosh, great
sums for his medicines, and it was a quarrel originating in this subject,
which ended in his assassination by Wa-me-gon-a-biew, as related in the
preceding narrative. The Ojibbeways of Red River relate, and _some of
them believe_, that very wonderful effects have been produced by this
song, and the medicine belonging to it, such as, that after using it for
four days one man succeeded in bringing a live moose into the midst of
the village at Was-waw-gun-nink in such a state of fatuity, that he made,
though uninjured, no effort to escape. These extravagant fables remind
us of the powers attributed by the ancients to the music of Orpheus, and
others of the earliest poets.
One of the established customs of the Indians, in relation to hunting,
though not immediately connected with the subject of the preceding song,
may be here mentioned. As in the case of many other customs, its origin
is unknown, but its tendency seems to be to encourage the spirit of
generous hospitality, and to render the proceeds of the chase the common
property of the band to which the hunter belongs. The custom is, that if
any man, in returning from his hunt, no matter how long and laborious it
may have been, or how great may be the necessities of his own family,
meet another just starting out to hunt, or even a little boy walking from
the camp or village, he is bound to throw down at his feet, and give
him whatever he may have brought. It is partly to avoid the effect of
this custom, that the men oftentimes leave their game on the spot where
they killed it, and the women are sent to bring in the meat. In other
instances the hunter carries the animal on his back as far as he thinks
he can without the risk of meeting men, then conceals it, and goes home.
No difference is said to be made when game is taken which is not needed
in the village for food; beavers, otters, martins, or whatever the hunter
may have taken, he is expected to relinquish to the person who meets him.
[Illustration: _Iswara of India, the Saturn of Italy, the Nanabush of the
Algonkins._
[See Asiatic Researches, Vol. I. p. 249]]
_Song for the medicine hunting, particularly for beavers._
[Illustration: Fig. 1. 2. 3. 4.]
Fig. 1. Che-mahn-duk-kwa ne-muh-kwi-o-sa ne-ah-hah-wa, ne-an-hah-wa,
ne-muh-kwi-o-sa, HE-AH-WHE-HE-AH!
A bear, I walk like a bear myself; myself, I walk like a bear.
The medicine man here speaks in his disguise of a bear skin.
Ne-muh-kwi-o-sa might be more literally translated “I walk a bear;” it
is the compound of neen-muk-kwaw and pa-pah-mo-sa, or ba-bah-mo-sa.
Che-mahn-duk is commonly used, in these songs, for a bear.
2. Ah-wes-sie hi-ah-wa-nah bah-twa-we-tahng-gah? Waw-wash-kesh e-wah
bah-twa-we-tahng-gah.
A beast, what beast comes calling? It is a deer comes calling.
The word bah-twa-we-tahng-gah is expressive not only of the peculiar call
of the male deer, at the rutting season, but also of the circumstance
that the animal is approaching the speaker: were he going the other way,
or even standing still, the word would be different.
3. O-num-mun-nah nin-go-che-we-nah. (Twice.)
This yellow ochre, I will try it.
This is the same, in all respects, as No. 18, in the preceding song to
Na-na-bush.
4. Wun-ne ho-i-yahn, wun-ne ho-i-ah-na nah-we-he-a he-o-ge-mah-wah
ka-be-waw-bum-me-kwain wun-ne-hoi-yah nah-we-ne-a.
I disguise myself to cheat you, so that only a chief, if he sees me, can
know who I am.
The hunter, to deceive the animal he wishes to kill puts on the dress
of a white man, or assumes the appearance of some harmless creature,
and he boasts that his disguise is so perfect as to deceive any but a
chief medicine man, or a great hunter. It should be remembered, that the
language of these songs is commonly that of distant allusion, rather than
direct figure; hence, though the words may seem unmeaning to us, they
always convey much signification to the Indians. Thus, in this instance,
though the hunter says he puts on the appearance of a white man, it is
probable he means that he disguises himself as a bear, or some other
animal, equally harmless with a man who wears a hat, or a white man. That
the Indians should think little of the white man’s skill in hunting, is
by no means surprising.
[Illustration: 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.]
5. I-ah-ne-wah-ho go-mo-yaun, i-ah-ne-wah-ho go-mo-yaun!
i-am-mik-gung-ga-nah; i-ah-ne-wah-ho go-mo-yaun.
Can any one remain longer under water than me? I am beaver, and I can
remain longer than any under water.
This language, descriptive of the difficulties in taking beaver, is put
into the mouth of the animal himself.
6. I-an-we-be-ah-ne ne-hub-be-ah-na be-ah-na. (Many times repeated.)
I am well loaded; I sit down to rest; I am loaded.
The hunter hears, but he regards not the boasting language of the beaver.
The evidence of his skill and success is on his back, suspended by a
strap passing round his forehead; and to signify that his load is heavy,
he sits down to rest.
7. Mah-mo-ke-hea hi-ah-maung-wug-e-he-a man-i-to we-he-tah.
He must come up, even the loon, though he is Manito.
This is another answer of the hunter to the boast of the beaver. Are
you a greater diver than the loon? Yet even he must rise to the surface
after a certain time. The country of the Ojibbeways abounding in small
lakes, which sometimes lie very near each other, without any visible
communication, they have taken up the idea that communications exist
under ground, and they believe a loon can dive down in one, and come up
in another of them. They think, also, that the beaver can carry down so
much air entangled in his coat, that if left undisturbed at the bottom,
he can thrust his nose into his fur, and breathe for some time.
8. Whe-gah ween-ah-waw sah-ge-mah-tik-o-waw, hio-ge-mah-waw,
sah-ge-mah-tik-o-waw.
I can cut down that chief tree, though it be the tree of a chief.
The beaver says he can cut down any tree. Though a great hunter, and
a man of medicine, may claim the tree, though he may have placed it
there, the beaver can cut it down. Sah-gem-ah-tik reminds us of the word
Sa-chem, derived from some of the eastern dialects of the Algonkin.
9. Neen-dah no-je-ah we-ah-wing man-i-to-we-tah we-ah-wing, etc.
Though he is Manito, I can work to take his body.
This is the hunter, cutting open the ice, or breaking up the beaver’s
lodge, in pursuit of him. (At the bar they begin to dance.)
[Illustration: 10. 11. 12. 13. 14.]
10. N’whe-go-tin-no-waw a-zhe-un-na chaw-gaw-wais-sie a-zhe-un-na.
I would shoot, as you told me, any animal; as you told me.
This is addressed to Na-na-bush, and the hunter professes his desire
to follow his advice in every thing, that he may be assured success in
hunting. Na-na-bush is particularly the hunter’s god, and from him his
best skill is derived.
11. Neen n’buh-we-hah he-na-ne-whaw, na-ne-buh-we-hah. Neen n’buh-we-hah
meen-da-mo-sah, na-ne-buh-we-hah.
I make to stand, a man, I make him stand.
The words e-na-ne-wah and meen-da-mo-sah, mean here the male or female
of the animals hunted; and as, at some seasons, only the males are fat,
and at others only the females, the one line or the other is sung first,
according to the season. The word n’buh-we-hah is more commonly spoken,
particularly by the Mississippi Indians, n’po-we-ah.
12. Ne-ah-wa een-da-be-to-na ne-ah-how.
Myself, I do good to myself.
It is certainly politic for the medicine men, who receive extravagant
fees not only for teaching their songs but for the medicines used
conjointly with them, to remind their employers that all the expenditures
they make are not unavailing. Here, then, is a figure which seems to be
that of a female, covered profusely with the clothing purchased from the
proceeds of the medicine hunts; over the head of the figure are blankets
and cloth, and around the waist is suspended an ample garment, belonging
to a woman.
13. Ne-kaun-naw nin-go-che-hah ne-kaun-naw.
My friends, I will try, my friends.
Prosperity, as among other men, leads to insolence and the abuse of
power. This man, who, in imagination, has been successful in his
pursuits, whose medicine has made him rich, and clothed his family, now
proposes to turn its power against his fellows. The victim of his malice
lies on the ground, transfixed with an enormous arrow.
14. Na-wi-ahn, na-wi-ah-na, o-ho-o wun-nah he-na-ne-waw we-gah-be-waw
bum-me-kwi-a-ne.
A moccasin snake; a moccasin snake’s skin is my medicine bag; let any man
come to see me that will.
If any man is jealous of my success in hunting, let him know that a
moccasin snake skin is my medicine bag; let him know that he cannot,
without danger, come in my way.
[Illustration: 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21.]
15. Ne-ah-we-na, ne-ah-we-na, waw-bun-dum-mo a-zhe-nah-gwuk ne-ah-we-na.
Myself, myself, behold me, and see that I look like myself.
This is some great medicine man, probably the author of the song, who
shows himself to the people.
16. Che-be-gau-ze-naung gwit-to-i-ah-na maun-dah-ween ah-kee-ge
neen-wa-nah gua-kwaik ke-nah gwit-to-i-ah-na.
I come to change the appearance of the ground, this ground; I make it
look different in each season.
This is a Manito, who, on account of his immensity of tail, and other
peculiarities, has no prototype. He claims to be the ruler over the
seasons. He is probably Gitche-a-nah-mi-e-be-zhew, (great under-ground
wild cat.)
17. Ka-whaw-bum-me-ta he-ah ne-haun-na che-mo-ke ah-na he-ah ne-haun-na.
You may see me, my friends; I have risen, my friends.
This is the Manito of the ground, who puts only his head above the
surface to speak; but in this figure his horns are omitted, perhaps by
mistake.
18. Muk-ko-we-tah-wa neen-dah-nees-sah e-kwuh-e-tah-wa.
Were he a bear, I could kill him, were he a louse.
Thus aided by the Manito of the seasons, or of the weather, and by him of
the ground, as is expressed by the two preceding figures, the hunter says
he could find and kill whatever was a bear, though it were no bigger than
a louse. The figure is that of a bear, with a louse on it.
19. O-ta-nuh we-yo che-mahn-duk o-ta-nuh-we-yo.
His tongue, a bear, his tongue.
The tongue, like the heart and blood in the other song, is now to be kept
from the profane touch of a woman or a dog.
20. Man-i-to uh-we-she-nah-na io-kun-na man-i-to we-she-nah-na.
A spirit is what I use; a spirit do thou use.
The speaker, in this instance, is Na-na-bush, who gave mankind an arrow;
that is, all those arms which give man dominion over the brutes. He used
these things before us, and we must use them agreeably to his instruction
and example.
21. We-ah-hah muk-ko-we-e-tah yah nah-mah kummig, ain-dah-zheesh
she-no-gwain muh-ko-we-tah.
Although it were a bear concealed under the ground, I could find him.
Thus aided by the Manitoag, and armed with the weapons of Na-na-bush,
what animal shall be able to escape from the hunter?
_Medicine song, for hunting, and sometimes for making love._
[Illustration: Fig. 1. 2. 3. 4.]
Fig. 1. Neen-nah-hah ah-ne-an-do-gwain ga-no-zei wain-je man-i-to
whe-gwain, we-hi-yah, we-he-ya!
What I know not makes gano-zhe (the long moon) Manito.
One of the winter moons, commonly called Gitche-manito-o-gee-zis,
(the Great Spirit’s moon,) which corresponds to our month January, is
considered particularly favourable for hunting. Children born in that
month are reckoned long lived.
2. He-ah neen-gwi-o-ho o-ho man-i-to-we-tah-hah gah-neen-gwi-o
we-i-ah-nah we-he-a!
My painting, that makes me a Manito.
One of the particular kinds of medicine to be used with this song, is
mixed with o-num-un, and used in painting the face. The Indians attribute
to it the greatest efficacy in giving immediate success; but many of them
fear to use it, from a belief that it will have an injurious effect on
them after death. A man who has used it will, they say, in the country
to which we go after death, have no flesh upon those parts of his face
where the medicine has touched. It is rare to observe, among the Indians,
any ideas which would lead to the belief, that they look upon a future
state as one of retribution. The innocent are those who fail to reach
the villages of the dead; and the unfortunate are those who, when they
arrive there, are distinguished from others, by being compelled to dance
on their heads. As might be expected from a people in such profound
ignorance, it is not to those actions which are pernicious to happiness,
and the true well being of the society, or the individual here, that the
idea of future punishment is attached.
3. (The words belonging to this figure are lost. He seems to be beating
the Me-tig-waw-keek, or metai drum, and is doubtless boasting of his
great medicine.)
4. Yah-hah-ween-gah we-ah-hah ye-hi-ah-yah we-he-a? yah-hah o-ge-mah-waw
goan-dum-mo-nah o-ge-mah-waw.
I am able to make a chief swallow an arrow.
This has allusion to the thrusting of arrows, and similar instruments,
into the stomach, by the medicine men. The words are put, perhaps, into
the mouth of the medicine. Tricks of this kind are often exhibited in
the Metai, as well as several miserable sleight of hand tricks, which
all the initiated, at least, seem willing to look upon as miracles. A
common performance is that of suffering one’s self to be shot at with a
marked bullet, which had previously been shown to all the persons sitting
in the lodge. The medicine man stands at one end of the lodge, with a
small wooden bowl in his hand, and his companion, after having exhibited
the bullet, loads the gun in the sight of all present; then dancing and
singing backwards and forwards, discharges the piece, apparently at the
head, but taking particular care not to hit him. As soon as the smoke
is dispersed, the one who had stood to receive the fire is seen with a
ball in his dish, marked accurately like the one which had been put in
the gun. With this he dances, exulting and shouting, three or four times
around the lodge. Other tricks are played with little puppets of wood and
feathers moved by strings, but kept concealed in sacks, or otherwise.
Many of these things, too childish and trifling to be minutely described,
are the standing wonders of the boasted ceremonies of the Metai, or grand
medicine, the principal religious ceremony of the Indians.
[Illustration: 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.]
5. Wuh-we-kwa-be-yah neen-na neen-go-che meen-da-mo-sah nei-an dun-nub
be-ah-neen-na.
I cover over myself, sitting down in a secret place with a woman.
6. Hug-ge-ta a-a-ho ke-ta-nee-na ke-ta-nee-na.
I speak of your heart; (to a moose.)
7. Do-je-teem mam-mo-e-yahn ween-e-se mam-mo-e-yahn o-nah-ge-che
mam-mo-e-yahn.
Your tripe, I take your melt, I take; your straight gut I take.
These are the choice parts of a moose; the attitude of the hunter is
expressive of his exultation; it is the o-nah-ge-che which he holds in
his hands. It is this part of which those delicious sausages, called
_Hunter’s Puddings_, are made.
8. Neen-dai-yah gutche-hah hi-e-kwa-waw-hah, neen-nonadah-waw sah-ween
a-ye-ke-tote whe-i-ah-hah whe-he-ya!
I can make her ashamed, because I hear what she says of me.
9. Waus-suh wa-kum-me-ga na-bah-gwaim, whe-ah whe-he-a yag-gah-ming-go
na-bah-gwa.
Though you slept very far off, though you slept on the other side.
He boasts of his success with women. If his mistress slept ever so far
off, even across a lake, his arm is long enough to reach her, and she
will hear his voice.
[Illustration: 10. 11. 12. 13.]
10. Neen-nah-mah neen-nah-je-ta-ha-zwaw-ga, neen-nah-mah n’do-to
waw-wha-to-ga n’do-to waw-wa-we-hia-ah, ya-we-he-a!
I draw your heart up, that is what I do to you.
It is intended here to represent a moose at a distance; and the line
from his heart to the lodge of the Indian, indicates that he draws it,
or by means of the power of his medicine controls the inclination of the
animal, and brings him to a situation where he can easily be found.
11. Ne-we-nah neezh-wah neen-nah hi-ah-wa-sah (a-wes-sie,) ne-wa
neezh-wah neen-nah.
I can kill any animal, I can kill.
His large knife seems intended to represent his confidence of success,
and the animal is before him which he cannot only kill, but cut up.
12. O-jee-bi-yahn man-i-to, yeo-wah-ne-he-e-nah, yeo-wah-ha o-jee-bi-yahn
man-i-to, whe-he-ya!
A dead man’s skin is Manito.
Sometimes they use sacks of human skin to contain their medicines, and
they fancy that something is thus added to their efficacy.
13. Me-nee-sing, a-be-gwain neen-ge-wun-naijh che-hah-ga-to-ga
me-nee-sing a-be-gwain, whe-he-ya!
Were she on a distant island, I can make her crazy to swim over, were she
on a distant island.
Here he again boasts of the power of his medicine over the inclinations
of females. This song seems to present a fair view of the state of the
_passion of love_ among the Ojibbeways.
_Song of a medicine man, at the giving of medicine to a sick person._
[Illustration: Fig. 1. 2. 3. 4.]
Fig. 1. Neen-gaw-gaw wain-e-me-ko o-ho-i-ah a-nish-a nau-ba.
I say some person has injured your life.
Among the Indians, when a doctor is called for the sick, it is usual
to present him, on his entering the lodge of his patient, a kettle of
the best food they are able to procure; and it is probable he commonly
commences his treatment, as in this instance, by assuring his patient
that he is suffering from the malice of some enemy, who has _shot
medicine at him_, or practised upon his _me-zin-ne-neens_, to make him a
victim of disease. Complaints of whatever kind, are commonly among them,
if not always, attributed to _bad medicine_, under which comprehensive
term they include every thing, except open violence, which can be the
consequence of human malice and envy. The medicine man will generally go
much farther than to tell his patient that he is under the influence of
the incantations of somebody; he will name some person, either his own or
his patient’s enemy, as he may think most for his interest. This point
is fully illustrated in the history of Ais-kaw-ba-wis, in the preceding
narrative. The figure has a little sack of medicine, and his song is
represented by the two lines coming out of his mouth.
2. Bin-nah neen-ne-kaun, ne-mah-tah-ho-ne-go-ka. (Twice.)
Behold me, my friends, I distribute.
He directs his Me-zhin-no-way, or attendant, to distribute to his
friends, and whatever persons may have assembled in the lodge on this
occasion, the kettle which he holds in his hand, and which is a part of
his fee.
3. Hah-we-yah be-zin-duh-wug-ga ha-be-zin-duh-wug-ga neej-a-nish-a-nau-ba
nin-gat-tum-me-ga.
There is talking, there is talking, but I will eat my people.
Many diseases the Indians suppose to exist within the body, in form of a
worm, or something similar, and it is a being of this kind who now speaks
from the stomach of the sick person. He says, “I hear your threatening
and confident words, but it is not in your power to displace me. I will
devour my own, or those people that belong to me.” The medicines which
this song is intended to accompany, are often given in cases of a malady,
to which white men are rarely subject. It commences by a swelling of a
toe, or on some part of the foot, sometimes of the knee, and this at
length comes to a suppuration. An indolent and tumid ulcer gradually
takes possession of the whole foot, extending to the ankle and leg,
and life at length yields to it, though usually after many years. Two
distinguished men of the Sioux, namely, the son of the Red Wing, of the
village at Lake Pepin, and Tah-tunk-ah-nah-zhe, a chief from the plains,
were suffering with this complaint in 1825. The latter, who had lately
been attacked, found some benefit from the application, in various forms,
of the nitro-muriatic acid. The Indians look upon the complaint as
incurable, except by the extirpation of the diseased bone; and the author
of the foregoing narrative has known one successful instance of this
treatment. The Indian himself amputated the bone both above and below the
knee joint, preserving the muscles of the leg. He survived and recovered,
but his leg was of course useless. (At the bar they begin to dance.)
4. Hah-go-way ke-new-wug-ga ki-ah-ga ga-to-che-ga ki-ah-go ga-to-che-ga.
This is the gray eagle talking; he will talk.
Here the doctor speaks in his own person. He compares himself to the
gray eagle, whom the Ojibbeways consider undisputed sovereign among the
birds.
[Illustration: 5. 6. 7.]
5. This figure represents the sun, but the song is lost.
6. Ka-moke-yah-hah ka-moke-yah waw-be-gaw-gaw-ge waw-ga.
Come ye up, come ye up, white crows.
7. Ka-kaik koi-ah-na bub-bah mis-sa-wuh.
My henhawk’s skin will fly about.
_Song of Chi-ah-ba, a celebrated Ojibbeway Medicine man, at the
administration of his remedies._
[Illustration: Fig. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.]
Fig. 1. Ah-way-ah noan-dah-wug-ga muk-kud-da ge-na-beek goo-we-ah-we-aun
ne-kaun.
Some one, I hear him; but I make myself black snake, my friend.
The medicine man speaks in his own person. He hears some one; he knows
who it is that has used bad medicine to break his patient’s life; but he
brings, to oppose it, the power and craftiness of the black snake.
2. Ain-dun wa-we-tum-maun o-ge-tah-kum-maig ke-he-a. Ain-dun
wa-we-tum-maun, etc.
I myself speak, standing here on the ground.
He takes a bold and open stand against his enemies, and those of his
employer.
3. We-go-nain-wa-we-ow we-he-naun? O-ge-na-beek-o-ga wa-we-yah we-he-nah.
What is this I put in your body? Snake skins I put in your body.
The two first verses are sung on entering the lodge, and before he
commences giving his medicine. The third accompanies the exhibition of
the first dose, which consists either of eight snake skins tied together,
and the foremost having a small frog fastened to the head of it, as in
the figure, or of eight fathoms of a small cord, or thong of leather,
and eight wild cat’s claws fastened at equal intervals. Difficult as the
swallowing of this prescription may appear to us, and as it doubtless
is, the patient receives and swallows it, all the time on his knees, and
the doctor stands by singing the above song, and occasionally aiding
with his finger, or a little water, in the inglutition of his formidable
remedy. After this has remained a shorter or longer time in the stomach,
according to the inclination of the medicine man, it is to be withdrawn;
and it is in this operation, particularly when the cat’s claws are used,
that the patient suffers the most excruciating torture. The end which is
first given up is put into the hand of some of the attendants, and they
dance and sing with it about the lodge, as the remainder is gradually
given back. Then the medicine man sings the following, while the dance
becomes general.
4. Ne-man-i-to-we-tah hi-yo-che-be-kun-na on-je-man-i-to-wee-yaun
we-ug-usk.
I am Manito, the roots of shrubs and weeds make me Manito.
5. O-ge-na-beek-o-ga ne-kau-naug.
Snakes (are) my friends.
[Illustration: 6.]
6. A-nah-me be-zhe ne-kau-naw.
Under-ground wild cat, is my friend.
At the fourth verse, he exhibits his medicines, which he says are the
roots of shrubs, and of We-ug-gusk-oan, or herbs, and from these he
derives his power, at least in part; but lest his claim, founded on a
knowledge of these, should not be considered of sufficient importance,
he proceeds to say, in the fifth and sixth verses, that the snakes
and the under-ground wild cat are among his helpers and friends. The
ferocity and cunning, as well as the activity of the feline animals,
have not escaped the notice of the Indians, and very commonly they
give the form of animals of this family to those imaginary beings whose
attributes bear, in their opinion, some resemblance to the qualities of
these animals. Most of them have heard of the lion, the largest of the
cats known to white men, and all have heard of the devil; they consider
them the same. The wild cat here figured has horns, and his residence
is under the ground; but he has a master, Gitche-a-nah-mi-e-be-zhew,
(the great under-ground wild cat,) who is, as some think, Matche-Manito
himself, their evil spirit, or devil. Of this last they speak but rarely.
Gitche-a-nah-mi-e is a compound epithet, and in this application can
scarce fail to remind the Greek scholar of many similarly compounded
words in that language. The English reader will perceive the resemblance
in the following “most heroic” line, preserved by Cowper:—
“To whom replied the Devil yard-long tailed.”
There was never any thing more truly Grecian, says the learned translator
of the Iliad, than this triple epithet.
_War medicine song._
[Illustration: Fig. 1. 2. 3. 4.]
Fig. 1. Che-be-moke sa-aun.
I am rising.
This figure represents the rising sun, and intimates to the warrior the
vigilance and activity required in the business on which he goes.
2. Ma-mo-yah-na ge-zhik ma-mo-yah-na. Ma-mo-yah-na ah-ke ma-mo-yah-na.
I take the sky, I take. I take the earth, I take.
This is all grasping ambition; with one hand he seizes the earth, with
the other the sky, or the son, for ge-zhik means either.
He thinks it were an easy leap
it were an easy leap
To pluck bright honour from the pale faced moon;
but this effervescence of valour is apt to be of short duration, showing
itself more in words than in deeds.
3. Ba-mo-sa-yah-na kee-zhik-onk ba-mo-sah-yah-na.
I walk through the sky, I walk.
This figure is to represent the moon, and may be designed to intimate to
the warrior that his business is principally to be done in the night time.
4. Waw-bun-onk tuz-zhe-kwa[64] ne-waw-ween ne-go-ho-ga.
The eastern woman calls me.
This is, perhaps, some local allusion, or it may have been appended to
the song in those times when the idea of taking prisoners of white women
may have been a spur to the valour and enterprise of the Indian warrior.
Admiration of the beauty of white women, on the part of the Indians, is
not exclusively confined to the narratives of romance writers.
[Illustration]
5. This figure, the words for which are lost, or purposely withheld,
represents a lodge, a kettle, and a boy, who is a prisoner. The line
from his heart to the kettle, indicates too plainly the meaning of the
song. I know not whether any still doubt that the North American Indians
are cannibals; if so, they are only those who have taken little pains to
be correctly informed. The author of the preceding narrative had spent
the best years of his life among the Ojibbeways; a woman of that tribe
was, as he somewhere says, “the mother of his children;” and we need not
wonder that, after becoming aware of the strong feeling of white men on
this subject, he should be reluctant in speaking of it. Yet he makes
no hesitation in saying, that the Sioux eat their enemies, and he once
admitted, that in the large Ottawwaw settlement of Waw-gun-uk-ke-zie, he
believed there were few, if any, persons living in the late war, who did
not, at some time or other, eat the flesh of some people belonging to the
United States. I see no reason why we should disbelieve the assertions
of the Indians, and those who know them best, on this subject, or why we
should expect from this race a degree of refinement and humanity, which
we, and all who possess it, owe to a state of advanced civilization, and
the influence of the christian religion. We doubt not that our pagan
forefathers, in the wilds of Scotland, Ireland, or Hungary, ate the
flesh, and particularly the hearts, of their enemies slain in battle. Why
should we not believe this of the savages of our own continent?
_Song of the warriors about to start on a war party._
1. Ka-go sah-ween mow-we me-zhe-kain e-kwa-we-un-na ne-boi-ah-na mow-we
me-zhe-ka.
Do not mourn, my women, for me, who am about to die.
2. Hah-me-ge-neen a-na-ne-mo-e-yahn a-bitche e-nin-neeng a-na-ne-mo-kwain
ah-me-ge-neen a-na-ne-mo-e-yahn.
If any man thinks himself a great warrior, I think myself the same.
(This song has been published, and illustrated, by Mr. Schoolcraft.)
CHAPTER IV.
LANGUAGES OF THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS
Of a subject so imperfectly understood as that now before us, little
can be said, without some risk of falling into error. It is probable
that the threefold division, long since made by Mr. Heckewelder, of the
Indian languages, spoken within the territory of the United States, may
be well founded; and every advance of discovery has but confirmed the
views respecting the character of these languages, which were long since
elicited and announced in the correspondence between Heckewelder and Mr.
Duponceau. We may speak with confidence in relation to all the dialects
of the Algonkin, or Lenni Lennape, by which we mean all those having a
manifest resemblance to the Delaware, or the Ojibbeway, not only in all
the principal peculiarities of structure and idiom, but also in the sound
of words. But whenever assertions, founded on an acquaintance with the
languages of this family, are, without careful examination, extended to
other branches of the American race, they should doubtless be received
with caution. It may very probably be true, that the American languages,
from one extremity of the continent to the other, have the family
resemblance which is so manifest in the physical peculiarities of the
race; but this should neither be assumed nor admitted until it has been
proved.
That etymology has been of some use in historical inquiries, no one will
doubt; but the evidence it affords is commonly fallacious, and where it
elucidates one fact, it obscures a thousand. We know, says Sir William
Jones, _a posteriori_, that _fitz_ and _hijo_, by the nature of two
several dialects, are derived from _jilius_; that _uncle_ comes from
_avus_, and _stranger_ from _extra_; that _jour_ is deducible, through
the Italian, from _dies_, and _rossignol_ from _luscinia_, or the _singer
in groves_: that _sciuro ecureuil_, and _squirrel_, are compounded of two
Greek words, descriptive of the animal; which etymologies, though they
could not have been demonstrated _a priori_, might serve to confirm, if
any such confirmation were necessary, the proofs of a connection between
the members of one great empire.
Philogists, on the ground solely of etymology, or rather of similarity
and dissimilarity of sound, assign to the limited territory of the United
States, many different languages; and if they are content to assign
these different languages, as they are pleased to call them, a common
origin, and that at no very remote period, it is a matter of indifference
how many stocks they enumerate. But if they would claim for each stock
a different origin, the sober inquirer will certainly receive their
opinions with caution.
It has been stated, that the languages of North America are not only
etymologically different from those of Europe and Asia, but that their
grammatical forms are also essentially unlike. Either to support or to
controvert this assertion, would require a more extensive acquaintance
both with American and European languages, than it falls to the lot
of many to possess. We may remark, however, that the _synthetic_,
or _agglutinated_ structure, is met with in many other languages.
_Riggajuhsamat’haroa_, according to Goverdhan Caul, is a compound word
in the Sanscrit, made up of _rich_, _yajush_, _saman_; and _at’harvan_,
_gauripituriswaren-draciranaihpushyat-sitimnogireh_, is a word in the
same language, which may challenge comparison with any of the long and
unutterable compounds in the Indian tongues; and at page 361, Vol. I. of
the Asiatic Researches, we have the translation of a word which reaches
_one hundred and fifty-two syllables_. Some of the compound words in the
Greek and Latin, as well as in the English, seem to be formed in a manner
precisely analogous to corresponding words in the American dialects.
Resemblances and disagreements of this kind, as well as those purely
etymological, doubtless may be traced between all languages. _Awight_,
the Saxon word equivalent to _aliquid_, has certainly an etymological
resemblance to _ahwao_, the same word in the Menomonie dialect; but it
will not be inferred from this, or many similar instances, that the
Menomonies are of Saxon origin. When we read the conjectures of the most
learned and sagacious etymologists, that not only _qualis_ and _talis_;
but πηλιος, and τηλιος, have been supposed to come from the Moeso-Gothic
_leiks_, and immediately from _guhdeiks_ and _thalik_, whence came also
the Anglo-Saxon _thylic_, _lic_, _like_. We shall scarce wish to base
upon such a foundation our opinions concerning the early history, or
the subsequent migrations of nations. It is admitted that many of the
American languages are similar in construction and general outline,
and when we see how wide and devious have been the wanderings of the
_roots_, even in written languages, we shall cease to expect uniformity
of sound, or similar etymology in the various members of a race exposed
to numberless and diversified influences in the widely separated parts of
our vast continent.
Of two great families of Asiatic languages, or dialects, one abounds
in polysyllabic and compound words, and inflected verbs, like the more
commonly known American tongues. This family includes the _Persian_,
_Sanscrit_, and many others. The second, to use the language of the
learned President of the Asiatic Society, _abhors the composition of
words_, and also the inflection of verbs. To the latter class belong the
Hebrew, the Arabic, and some others; and between these and our dialects
strong resemblances have been pointed out, or may be easily discovered
from the Hebrew, or some of its kindred idioms, from the Sanscrit,
or from the Tartar stock, it is probable the American languages must
originally have been derived. But when we have good reason to believe
that a rude and wholly illiterate people, removed from a low and
fertile, to a cold and mountainous country, will, in the course of a few
centuries, entirely change their language, why should we hope to be able
to trace the dialects of our Indians satisfactorily to their parent stock?
In a great measure, if not equally vague, must be all conjectures based
on mythological opinions and traditionary customs. We believe that
those who have been extensively acquainted with our Indians, and have
witnessed the variety of forms and dresses in which the same tradition
appears, when related in different dialects, will place little reliance
on opinions concerning remote history, deduced from such traditions.
One species of relics, found westward of the Mississippi, and perhaps
elsewhere, may be thought to afford more conclusive evidence than all
derived from language and customs, that the race of Ham have, for
immemorial ages, inhabited our country. I allude to those rocks bearing
very distinct and deeply indented figures, resembling the impressions of
human feet. That these are works of art, is unquestionable, and being
found in mountainous and scarce accessible parts of the country, remote
from any of the present seats of population, or routes of communication,
they afford, by their aspect of undoubted antiquity, conclusive evidence,
that in ages long since elapsed, regions now desolate were tenanted,
and that a wandering and hunter-population, has succeeded to one whose
habits of settled industry enabled them to leave such durable monuments.
I am satisfied that a person, in any measure familiar with the valuable
records of the Asiatic Society, cannot visit a locality of these ancient
relics, without being reminded of a passage in the _Puranes_, where King
_Stravana_ is described “on the _white mountains_, meditating on the
traces of the _divine foot_.” We are assured, by credible travellers,
that this language is not understood figuratively, but that the people
of the east boast of stones in their country, on which footsteps are
discernible, which they assert are those of _Vishnu_. What is more
probable, on the supposition that a branch of this race early found their
way to America, than that crafty priests, or persons still possessing
some of the arts of the east, should have engraved these figures from the
same motives that have supplied similar memorials for the worshippers of
_Vishnu_ and _Satyavrata_?
But though we cannot reasonably hope to derive from the study of the
American languages and dialects, any very important assistance to aid
inquiries into the remote history and connections of the various tribes
who speak them, yet there is one view in which these languages will
always excite a degree of interest. In them we have an authentic record
of a portion of the history of the human mind. To the inquirer of any
age, or any nation, who would enlarge his acquaintance with the powers
and properties, the capabilities and the propensities of the minds of
men, this field can never be entirely uninviting. Human language, it
is probable, must ever vary with the degree of refinement, the various
revolutions in the manner of thinking, and the endless variations of
external influence, to which, in progress of time, they must be exposed.
It is well known to every one conversant with the subject of languages
generally, that, viewed summarily and superficially, language presents a
great, not to say an infinite number of families and dialects. But the
Mosaic account of creation, as well as the conclusions of the more sane
of the physiologists and natural historians, assure us that all mankind
are descended from a single pair, who could consequently have spoken but
one language. It is by many supposed that some of the existing dialects
spoken as mother tongues at the present day, must have been in being in
the ages immediately succeeding the general deluge. At the time of this
great catastrophe, it may perhaps be safely supposed, that among the
eight persons saved in the ark, but one dialect was commonly spoken, as
we have the positive assurance of the inspired historian, that until
some time after the deluge, all the earth was of one speech and of one
language; according to the computation commonly received in Europe,
it is not more than four thousand years since all men spoke a common
language. The inquiry which naturally presents itself is, whether the
existing ramifications can be satisfactorily traced through any common
branches, or directly to their union with the primeval trunk. It may be
difficult to clear up this question, as the investigation presupposes a
more extensive acquaintance with ancient and modern languages, than falls
to the share of many to possess. Yet if, upon careful examination, we
find a part, or all the dialects of the American race agreeing, not in
the sound of words, but in certain grammatical peculiarities, which have
an intimate and inseparable connection with the structure and genius of
the language, as some of the physical peculiarities of the race depend
unalterably on temperament and peculiarity of structure, co-extensive
with the race, we shall then be compelled to adopt one or the other of
these conclusions, namely, that all these dialects, or languages, have
been derived from the same stock; or, secondly, if, with Malte Brun and
others, we admit a number of different emigrations from remote parts of
the world, we must then conclude that not only language, but physical
conformation, is modified, moulded, and revolutionized by the influence
of situation and external causes. If we admit the latter conclusion, and
believe that our American race are the descendants of people who came at
different and remote periods, from Asia, from Africa, and from Europe, we
may then dismiss the inquiry at once. Having admitted the position, that
the American languages are now all of the same family, that is, that they
resemble each other as much as the men of the different bands and tribes,
in external aspect, physical constitution, and moral character, resemble
each other, we may cease to inquire whence they derive the peculiarities
of person and language, by which they are distinguished from all other
men. But we believe that an hypothesis of this kind will gain few
advocates among considerate and well-informed inquirers. We believe there
will be found in the languages, manners, traditions, as well as in the
physical conformation and character of our Indians, proofs sufficient
to satisfy the candid inquirer, that they are derived from the Asiatic
stock, but not from that branch of it to which belonged the haughty, the
noble, the unconquered race of Ishmael; or to that race, more interesting
by their history, but less pleasing in person, manners, and character,
to which were committed the premises, and from which, according to the
flesh, sprang the Saviour of the world. The idea has been a favourite
one with many ingenious and pious men, that in our native Americans we
see the long lost tribes of Israel. Ingenuity and argument, as far as
they can be carried, unsupported by a firm basis of facts, have been
exhausted in the discussion of this question. We propose not to enter the
field of argument. We admit that several of the usages of the Indians,
such as their rigid separation of females during menstruation, the care
with which they, in certain feasts or sacrifices, watch that no bone
of the victim shall be broken, and many others, form points of strong
resemblance between this race and the Hebrews. Yet the one fact, that
their languages all delight in the composition of words, sufficiently
satisfies us that they cannot have been derived from that stock to which
belongs the Hebrew, the Chaldaic, and the Arabic. Other arguments, which,
to many minds, will not appear equally conclusive, may be derived from
their total ignorance of the rite of circumcision, their considering the
flesh of dogs as acceptable, in sacrifice, to their deities, etc. etc.
The two facts last mentioned may be allowed to have as much weight in an
argument against Hebrew original, as the separation of females, and the
practice of preserving entire the bones of animals eaten in war feasts,
can have for it. And thus would it be easy to bring some countervailing
objection to answer every one of the arguments founded on the customs
and opinions of the Indians. It is not, I believe, at this time
considered necessary to meet such proofs as those of Adair, which never
had any other existence than in his own fancy, nor need we take into
consideration the multiplied arguments, and the ingenious speculations
of others, who, without sufficient acquaintance with the habits,
languages, and opinions either of the remote Hebrews or of our own
Indians, have gone about to establish the belief of a strong similarity
between them. In the way of a summary answer to all the arguments of
these men, we may be allowed to state, that in language, rather than
in any other character, would the descendants of a people retain some
resemblance to their remote ancestors. Religious ceremonies, civil and
domestic customs, in the exposed and wandering life of barbarians,
all whose thoughts must often, and perhaps for a greater part of the
time, be absorbed in the necessary, and sometimes painful and laborious
struggle for self-preservation, often would be intermitted and dispensed
with. Previous usages would change to suit the new and ever varying
condition of the people. So might language. But being indispensable to
the intercourse of every day and every moment, in all situations and
emergencies, and unlike religious observances of such a nature, that what
is spoken to-day may, under any circumstances, with equal convenience, be
spoken to-morrow, and with infinitely more facility than new signs can be
invented or understood, is it not reasonable that language, of all those
things pertaining to men, by which their family identity might be marked,
should change slowest and last?
No extensive acquaintance with our Indians, and their languages, is
required to perceive, that in all emergencies of necessity, as in those
instances where they are compelled to exchange ideas with foreigners,
they readily adopt any terms in a foreign idiom, for which they may
not find a corresponding sign in their own; and words thus adopted
becoming parts of their own language, are subject to all the inflections
and modifications of sound of those which appertain originally to
their tongue. Hence that diversity in sound of words in the various
dialects, which bids defiance to etymological, or rather phonological
investigation. But though sounds, which, for the sake of illustration,
may be compared to planks on the frame of a vessel, or shingles on
the roof of a house, may be, one by one, removed and substituted by
new ones, still the original frame of the language, the grammatical
construction, the idiomatic forms, remaining the same, the language
certainly remains the same language, though altogether changed in sound,
as a vessel, covered with new planks of a different colour and aspect,
would still be the same vessel. Therefore, we think that if the American
languages can be proved closely and entirely to resemble each other in
grammatical forms and general arrangement, we may safely consider them
all as dialects of the same stock, though they should now present wide
and apparently unaccountable diversities in the sounds of words. How
much more easily the sounds of words, standing for the ideas we have
in our minds, may be changed, than the grammatical structure and idiom
of language, we may every day observe in foreigners, who, though they
may ever so carefully and perfectly have learned our language, rarely,
if ever, attain to some of the niceties peculiar to our tongue, or ever
lay entirely aside some of the characteristic peculiarities of their
own. If we reflect on the habits of the life the Indians lead, their
frequent migrations, intermarriages with distant bands, their conquests,
the numbers of prisoners they adopt, and, more than all, the want of
any written characters to represent sounds of what are acknowledged to
be the same words in different dialects of the same tongue; nor shall
we hastily, on the foundation of mere diversity of sound, attempt to
establish a multiplicity of different stocks. It is to be remembered,
that the Americans have never, like the ancient Arabs, made the
improvement of their idiom a common, or, in any shape, a general or
public concern; they have never appointed solemn assemblies for the
purpose of exercising their poetical talents, or held it a duty to make
their children acquainted with traditionary compositions of any sort,
which measures, even had they been adopted, could not have effectually
secured their languages against mutations of sound or structure.
But although we can by no means pretend either to trace the American
languages to the remote parent stock, or to assert that they have or
have not been derived from existing and known languages, we may easily
group together those which have manifest resemblance equally in structure
and in the sound of words, and the groups thus formed will always be
found to bring together assemblages of people, showing strong family
resemblance to each other. The threefold division which was long since
made by Mr. Heckewelder, of the languages within the United States’
territory, is probably founded in correct observation of the district
at that time known. The Lenni Lennape, or Algonkin, the Iroquois, and
the Floridian, presenting each numerous and widely dissimilar dialects,
occupy all the country from the Gulf of St. Lawrence to Cape Florida, and
westward to and beyond the Mississippi. Of the languages spoken in the
remote and almost unexplored countries about the Rocky Mountains, too
little information has been obtained, to enable us to indicate to what
extent the dialects of either of the above mentioned groups may prevail
in that direction. Toward the north the Iroquois seem to be limited to
a few remaining in the settled parts of Canada, and to the Dahcotah
bands extending northward, in the direction of the upper branches of the
Mississippi, but scarce reaching the parallel of forty degrees north.
Beyond this the Algonkin dialects, particularly the Ojibbeway and Cree,
and the Muskegoe, expand through all the country, from near the base of
the Rocky Mountains to the south western shores of Hudson’s Bay, and even
in the vast peninsula of Labrador.
Westward of Hudson’s Bay, from the Churchill River to the Pacific coast,
and northward to the country of the Esquimaux, are found the languages
of the Chip-pe-wi-yan[65] group, including the people commonly called
Chippewyans, the Sarcess, the Beaver, Red Knife, Strong Bow Indians, and
many other tribes. Here we meet with a language far more monosyllabic
than any hitherto known among the North Americans; one possessing a dual
termination for substantives, but no plural, and whose verbs are nearly
or quite incapable of inflection. Yet in the circumstance of a tendency
to compounding, we find it not unlike other dialects. The peculiarities
of these languages are as yet too little understood to enable the
philologist to pronounce with confidence that they have any nearer
resemblance to the Algonkin or the Iroquois, than to the Erse or German.
Yet the people who speak them have, in their persons, all the prominent
peculiarities of the American race.
Of all the remaining parts of North America, information is too scanty to
justify any attempt to class the dialects.
In the present state of information on these subjects, more important
service will be rendered to philology, by adding to the mass of
materials, than by any vague and general discussions; we shall
therefore devote the remainder of this chapter to such specimens of
Indian languages as have fallen in our way, premising that our aim
has been to conform, as nearly as possible, to the orthography of the
English language.[66] This orthography is liable to many objections; so
also would be any other that could be devised. The sounds of letters
must always be somewhat arbitrary, inasmuch as there is no manner of
resemblance between the sign and the thing signified.
COMPARISON OF WORDS AND SENTENCES IN THE DIALECTS OF THE OTTAWWAWS AND
MENOMONIES
_Ottawwaw._—_Menomonie._—_English._—_Free translation, etc._
Me-notch-pun-gee—Me-na-wutch—A little.
O-ta-me-ne-kwain—Kut-tai-me-no—He will drink. He will drink a
little.
Tun-ish-win—Tah-tah-we-nah—Wherefore.
Mow-wy-un?—Us-moke?—Doth he cry?
Ka-gaw-pung-ge-zhe-moke—Ka-zho-nicut—Near sun set. Almost sun
set.
Kaw-ween—Kun—Not.
Neen-dah-koose-se—Ne-wa-suk-ko-si-nun—I was not sick.
Ke-tah-koose-nah?—Ke-wa-suk-ko-si-met?—Art thou sick?
Kuh-kish-pin-at-tone-nah?—Kau-to-te-pai-hai-met?—Wilt thou
buy? For substances inanimate, or animals not entire, except a
stone is spoken of. In the case of entire, or living bodies,
Kuh-kish-pin-a-nah-nah, etc.
Ke-pe-nu-gin-nah—Ke-pe-now-wuk-ket—Doest thou bring
She-she-buk?—Sha-shai-puk?—ducks?
Ke-pe-nu-gin-nah—Ke-pe-now-wuk-ket—Dost thou bring
She-sheeb?—Sha-shaip?—a duck? More commonly the order of
arrangement is the reverse; Sha-shaip-ke-pe-now, etc.
En-to-kwain—Nin-nauk—I know not.
Ga-get-nah—Kat-ten-nah—Indeed (is)
O-ke-mah-ow?—O-ko-mow-waw-wew?—he is a chief? Is he indeed
a chief? or, doth he chief? The resemblance to the Greek
Βασιλενω, and the Latin _Regno_, both in composition and
signification, need not be pointed out to the philologist.
O-wa-nain—Wah-ne—Who
Gos-kitche-ah-na-pwa-ot?—Skesh-suk-ke-poutch?—bit his nose off?
Nish-a-nau-ba—Ma-cha-ti (adj.?)—An Indian
We-ko-mi-ko-onk—We-ko-mik-ko—at the lodge
We-tush-e—Owa—he will be
Ke-wus-kwa-be—Ke-wus-ke-pe-nun—drunk. He will be drunk at the
Indian lodge.
Een-gah-ke-way—Nuh-ke-waim—I will go home. For the ideas of
fitness, propriety, personal beauty, and fine quality, as of a
blanket, etc., they commonly use the same word.
Bo-zin—Po-she-nun—Embark, (imper.)
Kitche-kwi-naitch—Na-sha-wis-ke-wuh—it is very well
Bo-au-zi-un—Us-hab-po-si-un—that you embark.
O-wa-nain-waw-te-ga-mut?—Wah-wia-ke-mut?[67]—With whom lives he?
Ke-wus-shiz-ze-wuk—Ka-wis-so-wuk ah-wuk—They are orphans.
Ke-we-ah-m’woi-gin-nah?—Push-ke-mwow-wuk-ket?—Will you eat?
Me-she-min-ug?—Me-she-min-uk?—apples?
Maung—Mouk—A loon.
Ma-za-tah-go-zit—Kou-ke-to—he yells. A loon yells.
We’metai-we-wug—Kut-tai-metai-we-wuk—They will have metai.
A-gaw-mink—A-gaw-me—on the other side. They are about to have a
medicine dance and feast on the other side of the river.
Kitche—Ketch—Very much
Ke-te-mah-ki-zhe—Ka-ti-mok-ka-zhit—he is poor. He is very poor.
A-gaw-mink—A-gaw-me-um—From the other side
Ne-to-an-je-bah—Ne-to-pe-um—I came. I came across, or from the
other side.
Win-ne-ba-go-kwi—Win-ne-ba-go-ke-wun—A Winnebago woman
Mi-uk-e-kway-wan—Wa-wa—he wives;
_Pun-gee_ Ome-nom-o-ne-wew—_Me-na-wutch_ ah-wew—a little, he
Menomonies. A Winnebago woman is his wife, himself is a sort
of a Menomonie. The arrangement of the words differs in the
two dialects. The termination _ah-wew_, which marks the verb,
being separated in the Menomonie.
Ah-gwut-ching—A-guat-chew—Without. Out side of the lodge.
Nish-a-nau-haig—Ma-cha-ti-wuk—Indians
Ta-kosh-in-oag—Pe-wuk—they come,
Che-to-wug—Ah-wauk—they say. Indians are coming, they say; or,
it is said, Indians are coming.
Ke-ke-waw-nem—Ke-ka-no-kim—Thou liest,
Ke-sa-ah-gis-in-nah?—Ke-ko-ti-met?—Dost thou fear?
Nah-wutch—Ko-kai-win-ne-ko—More
Ke-zhe-kah—Ke-she-ah—he is swift. He is swifter.
U-ne-shaw—Ne-shup-naip—Without cause,
Tah-neen-a-ke-toi-un?—Kis-ke-zha-met? what sayest thou?
Εμισησαν με δωρεαν, John xv. 25. “They hated me, _without
cause_,” is a form of expression similar to this in the dialect
of the Monomonies. _Nas-kup-nai_ ke-pe-um-met? _Without cause,
or for nothing_, didst thou come?
Tah-neen a-ke-tote?—Kus-ha-wat-to?—What saith he?
Kub-ba—Ko-pai—Throughout
Ke-zhik—ka-zhik—the day.
Kom-ma-cee, or, kaw-ma-cie—Kun-ne-mah-shew—Not yet
Ne-we-she-ne-se—Ne-meet-che-shim—I eat. I have not yet eaten,
or, it is before I have eaten.
No-pe-mik[68]—No-pa-ma—Back
Pe-po-nish-she—Kin-nuh-pe-po-nup-pa—thou wilt winter. The
Ottawwaw is in the imperative mood; the Menomonie, in the
future, used as imperative.
_Tau-ne-pe_—Ko-pai-pe-pone—All winter,
Ke-pe-po-ne-sheak?—_Tae_ s-kesh-pe-po-na-piak?—when did ye
winter? There is here some difference in the arrangement of the
words.
Pe-po-nunk?—Winters.
Tau-ne-pe—Tas—Where
Ke-ne-bin-e-she?—O-e-at-ne-bin ah-kwo?—didst thou summer?
Where didst thou remain throughout the summer? is the
translation of the sentence in Menomonie.
Pe-kwut-tinn-onk—Pe-kwut-ti-no—At Peguttino
Ko-pa-een-je-tah—Ne-kes-kim-me-no ko-pa-ne-bin—I remained all
summer.
Tau-ne-pe ke-pe-po-ne-shit—Tas-kesh-pe-po-nup-pet—Where did he
winter,
Ke-si-ah?—Ka-sha—thy elder brother? Where did thy elder brother
pass the winter?
Tau-ne-pe as-hi-at—Tas-e-et—where remains
Non-gum—Muh-no-nah-new—now
Ke-si-ah?—Ka-sha?—thy elder brother? Where is now your elder
brother?
Shi-a—Sha—Soon
Neen-gah-waw-bo-maw—Nuh-nah-wow—I shall see
Ne-si-ah—Na-sha—my elder brother.
Paw-ne-maw—Kun-new—By and by
Neen-gah—Nuh—I shall
Kus-kau-dum—Kus-kai-ne-tum—sorrow. By and by I shall be sorry.
No-pe-mik—No-pa-ma—From back
Nee’toan-je-bah—Ne-to-pe-um—I came. I came from _the lands_, or
from the interior.
Ke-ke-pe-mish kaw-nah?—Oos-ke-pish o-met-us-pe-um?—Didst thou
paddle? Didst thou come by water? The expressions are not
similar in the two dialects.
Kaw-ween—Kum—No;
Pazh-ko-ka-she—Pazh-ko-ka-she—a horse
Neen-pe-pa-mo-mik—Ne-pish-nio-nik—me did bring. No; I came on
horse back.
Pah-ti-e-no-wug—Ma-sha—Many
In-nah.
Kah-pe-we-je-wuh-jik?—Pish-we-je-waw-wuk-ket?—did they
accompany thee? Did many persons come with thee? _Ket_, at the
end of the Menomonie verb, has the force of _in-nah_, or _nah_,
which is the mark of interrogation in the Ottawwaw.
Nah-nun—Ne-an-nun—Five
Neen-ge-pe-we-je-wauk—Pish-we-je-waw-wuk—accompanied. Five
persons came with me.
‘Nin-ne’ wi-gun—Match-o-to o-kau-nun—Man’s bones
Neen-ge-me-kah-nun—Ne-mah-kun-un—I found. I found human bones,
or, the bones of a man.
Tau-ne-pe-ke-ke muh-kum-un—Tas-kesh mak-kaw-mun—Where didst find
O-kun-nun?[69]—O-kau-nun?—bones? Where did you find bones?
Pe-guh-kum-me-gah-sink—Spaw-ke-uh—On a mound
Neen-ge-me-kaw-nun—Ne-mah-kun—I found
O-kun-nun—O-kau-nun—bones. _Ne-nah-kun_, in the Menomonie,
appears to be in the past time, without the usual syllable to
mark it.
Puk-kau-nun—Puk-kau-nuk—Nuts,
Ne-kish-pin-at-to-nun—Ne-kesh-tah-pah-hak-wuk—I bought them.
These examples are not entirely similar; the verb used in
the Menomonie being found also in the other dialect, and in
both meaning TO PAY, though it is commonly thus used by the
Menomonies.
Gau-gwug—Ke-ti-me-wuk—Porcupines,
Me-na-sun—Me-na-sun—thorn apples