His lodge was gone, and he saw his son sitting near the spot where it
had stood, shedding tears. On a nearer approach he saw a few remains of
his wife, and his son related all the circumstances of her death. The
man blackened his face and vowed in his heart he would have revenge. He
built another lodge, and collecting the remains of his wife, placed
them in the hollow part of a dry tree. He left his boy to take care of
the lodge while he was absent, hunting, and would roam about from place
to place, trying to forget his misfortune. He made a bow and arrows for
his son, and did every thing in his power to please him.
One day, while he was absent, his son shot his arrows out, through the
top of the lodge, but when he went out to look for them he could not
find them. His father made him some more, and when he was again left
alone, he shot one of them out, but although he paid particular
attention to the spot where it fell, he could not find it. He shot
another, and immediately ran out of the lodge to see where it fell. He
was surprised to see a beautiful boy, just in the act of taking it up,
and running with it toward a large tree, where he disappeared. He
followed, and having come to the tree, he beheld the face of the boy,
looking out through an opening in the hollow part. Nha-ha[29] (oh dear,)
he said, my friend, come out and play with me. And he urged him till he
consented. They played and shot their arrows by turns. Suddenly the
younger boy said, "your father is coming. We must stop. Promise me that
you will not tell him." The elder promised, and the other disappeared in
the tree. The elder boy then went home, and when his father returned
from the chase, sat demurely by the fire. In the course of the evening
he asked his father to make him a new bow. To an inquiry of his father
as to the use he meant to make of two bows, he replied, that one might
break, or get lost; he then consented. Next day, after his father had
gone, he went to his friend, and invited him to come out and play, and
at the same lime presented him the new bow. They went and played in the
lodge together, and raised the ashes all over it. Suddenly again the
youngest said, "your father is coming, I must leave." He again exacted a
promise of secrecy, and went back to his tree. The eldest took his seat
near the fire. When the hunter came in, he was surprised to see the
ashes scattered about. "Why, my son," said he, "you must have played
very hard to day, to raise such a dust, all alone." "Yes," said the boy,
"I was lonesome, and ran round and round--_that_ is the cause of it."
Next day the hunter made ready for the chase as usual. The boy said,
"Father, try and hunt all day, and see what you can kill." As soon as he
had gone, the boy called his friend, and they played and chased each
other round the lodge. The man was returning and came to a rising piece
of ground, when he heard his son laughing and making a noise, but the
sounds appeared as if they arose from _two_ persons playing. At the same
instant the young boy of the tree stopped, and after saying, "your
father is coming," ran off to the tree, which stood near the lodge. The
hunter, on entering found his son sitting near the fire, very quiet, but
he was much surprised to see all the articles of the lodge lying in
various directions. "Why, my son," said he, "you must play _very_ hard,
every day, and what do you do, all alone to throw about all our things
in this manner, and cause the ashes to spread about the lodge." The boy
again made excuse. "Father," said he, "I play in _this_ manner--I chase
and drag my coat around the lodge, and that is the reason you see ashes
spread about." The hunter was not satisfied until he saw his son play
with the coat, which he did so adroitly as to deceive him. Next day the
boy repeated his request that the father would be absent all day, and
see if he could not kill _two_ deer. He thought it strange for his son
to make such a request, and rather suspected something. He, however,
went into the forest, and when out of sight, his son went for his young
companion to the tree, and they resumed their sports. The father, on
coming home at evening, when he reached the rising ground, which almost
overlooked the lodge, heard again the sounds of laughing and playing,
and could not be mistaken; he was now certain there were two voices. The
boy from the tree had barely time to escape, when he entered and found
his son, sitting as usual, near the fire. When he was seated and cast
his eyes around, he saw the lodge was in worse confusion than before.
"My son," said he, "you must be very foolish, when alone, to play so.
But tell me--I heard two voices I am certain," and he looked closely on
the prints of the footsteps in the ashes. "True," he said, "here is the
print of a foot that is smaller than my son's," which satisfied him that
his suspicions were well founded, and that some very young person had
played with his son. The boy, at this time, thought best to tell his
father all that had been done. "Why, father," said he, "I found a boy in
the hollow of the tree, near the lodge, where you put my mother's
bones." Strange thoughts came over the man; he thought that this little
boy might have been created from the remains of his deceased wife. But
as Indians are generally fearful of disturbing the dead, he did not dare
to go near the place where he had placed her remains. He thought best to
tell his son, and make him promise, that he would entice his friend to a
dead tree, that was near their lodge, by telling him that they could
kill many flying squirrels by setting fire to it. He said he would
conceal himself near by, and take the boy. Next day the hunter went into
the woods, and his son went and insisted on his friend's going with him
to kill the squirrels. He objected that his father was near, but was, at
length, persuaded to go, and, after they had set fire to the tree, and
while they were busy in killing the squirrels, the father suddenly made
his appearance and clasped the boy in his arms. He cried out, Kago!
Kago! (don't, don't) you will tear my clothes--which appeared to have
been made of a fine transparent skin. The father tried to reassure him
by every means in his power. By long-continued kindness, he, at last,
succeeded, and the boy was reconciled to his new situation; but it was
owing principally to the society of his friend. The father now knew that
it was the Great Spirit who had thus miraculously raised him a son from
the remains of his wife; and he felt persuaded that the boy would, in
time, become a great man, and aid him in his revenge on the Weendigoes.
The hunter was now more reconciled to the loss of his wife, and spent as
much time as he could spare from the chase, in attending to his sons.
But what was very remarkable, both his sons retained their low stature,
although they were well formed and beautiful.
One day he advised his sons not to go near a certain lake, which, he
said, was inhabited by foul birds, who were vicious and dangerous. In
the course of one of their rambles, the boys had wandered near it, and
they came out and stood on its banks. They saw, on one side, a mountain,
rising precipitously from the water, and reaching apparently to the sky.
They stood and looked for some time with astonishment at the sight. The
youngest spoke and said, "I see no harm in climbing the rock to see what
is to be discovered on its top." They ascended, and had got up, with
difficulty, half way, when the rumbling noise of thunder was heard, and
lightning began to play near them. But they were undaunted, and reached
the top, where they beheld an enormous bird's nest, and in it two very
large young birds. Although they had only the soft down, as yet, on
their bodies, they appeared to be monsters, and when the young men put a
stick near their eyes, which they opened and shut very quick, the
flashes they emitted broke the stick in pieces. They, however, took the
young birds, and with great difficulty reached the lodge with them. When
their father came home, they told him what fine birds they had, and
requested him to tame them, and bring them up as pets, "for," said
they, "when we took them we intended them for you." They told him where
they had procured them, saying, that he need not have given them the
caution respecting the dangers of the lake. The father was now convinced
that both his sons were gifted with supernatural powers. He, however,
advised them not to go near another lake he told them of, which was
inhabited by _Mishe-genabigoes_.[30] When he was again absent, the boys
wandered near that lake, and as they were talking, they heard some one
ordering them away, and telling them not to make so much noise. "Who are
you?" they answered. "I am Mishegenabig," cried the same voice; "and who
are you that dare to disobey me?" The youngest boy told his brother to
sing some magic words, while he went in search of the one who had so
insultingly spoken to them; and while he waded into the water, the other
sang these words:
O pau neence
In de go wish
Se nau bun
Opunai sun
Mau moke e sagin.
_Literal translation._
Little slave--
Bad monster--
I spy him--
His diminutive liver--
Peeping out (as a mushroom
suddenly shooting out of the ground, or a thing appearing from
beneath the water, and applied generally to a person, or noun
animate, unexpectedly appearing as a mushroom, &c.)
He continued singing as he was directed, and he soon saw pieces of liver
floating on the water. Soon after his brother returned from under the
water with a mishegenabig, whom he dragged by his horns. "Brother," said
he, "this is the one who was so insolent to us. We will now go home and
make a pet of him." When they reached home they told their father that
they had brought him another pet. Their father was thoughtful. He was
surprised to see his son overcome all manner of monsters; he, however,
kept silent, and rejoiced in spirit to think that his sons were so
fortunate in commencing life.
One day, after musing for a long time, he told his sons that his time
was come, and that he should have to follow his forefathers to the land
of the west. "But," he continued, "before I leave this earth, my sons,
listen to my advice." He proceeded to speak to them, and when he had
done, the youngest said, "Father, you must remember the Weendigoes, and
the misery they brought on you. You will now leave earth, with your two
feathered favourites; but first we will feed them with the flesh of the
mishegenabig." They did so, and their father departed amid thunder and
lightnings, for the two birds were the offspring of thunder. He fixed
his residence as directed by the Great Manito in the sky toward the
north, and he retains his name to the present day, which is, The Thunder
commencing in the north, and going south.[31]
* * * * *
[This story exhibits the mind of the Saginaws in a characteristic light.
This tribe are emphatically the Seminoles of the North, consisting
originally of individuals who were refugees from the great Odjibwa
family. Their origin, as a distinct band, is comparatively recent,
dating no farther back than the time of the flight of the Sauks from the
district of country which is now, in allusion to them, denominated
Saginaw. The principal town of that adventurous and warlike tribe, was,
and is still, called by the natives SAUKINONG (i. e. Sauk-town), and the
Chippewa refugees who succeeded, took their denomination of Saginaws
from the term. Without farther allusion to their history, it may be
observed, that the Saginaws have never made the least advances in
education or religion. Cruelty, deception, intemperance, and a blind
adherence to the idolatrous customs and superstitions of the nation from
which they sprang, have been their characteristics. Up to this day,
there is not a school, or teacher, or preacher, among them. There is not
one individual of unmixed blood in the tribe, who can read, or has any
pretence to the knowledge of Christianity. Most of their lore is of
murders and thefts committed, or vicious adventures of some sort. They
have been, emphatically, a band of plunderers. They bore a conspicuous
part in the depredations committed on the frontiers of Virginia and
Pennsylvania, during the revolutionary, and Wayne's war. Their late
leader and head chief, KISHKAKO, was a perfect Abaellino in purpose, who
spent a long life in iniquities, private and public, and would, at last,
have paid the forfeit of his life on the gallows, had he not committed
suicide in jail.
The tales of this tribe, of which there are three specimens furnished,
partake strongly of the character of the tribe. They have less
originality, less moral, and less adherence to the ancient manners and
customs of the original stock, than any other of the traditionary
fictions yet examined. There is also less purity of language in the
original, and a strong dash of vulgarity, which it has required some
care to keep out of the translation.]
FOOTNOTES:
[28] The radix of this word is not apparent. The term is used to signify
cannibal, giant, monster. The plural termination in _es_ is in
accordance with the rule of number in English orthography, applied to
originally foreign substantives ending in _o_, as in potatoes,
mulattoes, &c., and previously applied in relation to Indian words, in
Winnebagoes, Otoes, &c.
[29] This phrase is peculiar to boys and girls, and is sung repeating it
several times.
[30] Monstrous serpents.
[31] Thunder from this part of the heavens is called, by the Indians,
the autumnal thunder. It is the last generally heard for the season, and
they say, speaking of it in the plural, that "they are hollaing on their
way home."
THE RACOON AND CRAWFISH.
A FABLE.
FROM THE ODJIBWA.
The Racoon searches the margins of streams for shell-fish, where he is
generally sure of finding the AS-SHOG-AISH-I, or crawfish. Indian story
says, that the enmity between these two species, and the consequent
wariness of each for the other, was such, that the poor racoon, with all
his stealthiness, was at last put to great straits for a meal. The
crawfish would no longer venture near the shore, and the racoon was on
the point of starvation. At length he fixed on this expedient to decoy
his enemy.
Knowing the crawfish to feed on worms, he procured a quantity of old
rotten wood (filled with these worms) and stuffing it in his mouth and
ears, and powdering it over his body, he lay down by the water's edge,
to induce the belief that he was dead.
An old crawfish came out warily from the water, and crawled around and
over his apparently deceased enemy. He rejoiced to find an end put to
his murderous career, and cried out to his fellows, "Come up my
brothers and sisters, Aissibun[32] is dead, come up and eat him." When a
great multitude had gathered around, the racoon suddenly sprung up, and
set to killing and devouring them in such a way that not one was left
alive.
While he was still engaged with the broken limbs, a little female
crawfish, carrying her infant sister on her back, came up, seeking her
relations. Finding they had all been devoured by the Racoon, she
resolved not to survive the destruction of her kindred, but went boldly
up to the enemy and said, "Here, Aissibun, you behold me and my little
sister. We are all alone. You have eaten up our parents, and all our
friends, eat us too." And she continued plaintively singing her chant.
Racoon, racoon, monster thin!
You have murdered all my kin:
Leave not one to pine alone
On those shores so late our own.
You have glutted not a few,
Stealthy monster, eat us too--
Let the work be finished soon,
Aissibun amoon.[33]
Here, behold us! linger not,
Sad and lone is now my lot:
One poor sister, young and small,
Now makes up my little all--
She a baby--faint and weak,
Who cannot yet "mother" speak--
Come, you monster, eat us soon,
Aissibun amoon.
Once my people, lodge and band,
Stretched their numbers through the land;
Roving brooks and limpid streams,
By the moon's benignant beams.
First in revel, dance, and play,
Now, alas! ah! where are they?
Clutch us, monster,--eat us soon,
Aissibun amoon.
The Racoon felt reproached by this act of courage and magnanimity. "No,"
said he, "I have banqueted on the largest and the fattest,--I will not
dishonour myself by such little prey."
At this moment Manabozho happened to pass by seeing how things were.
"Tyau!" said he to the Racoon, "thou art a thief and an unmerciful dog.
Get thee up into trees, lest I change thee into one of these same
worm-fish, for thou wast thyself originally a shell, and bearest in thy
name the influence of my transforming hand."[34]
He then took up the little supplicant crawfish and her infant sister and
cast them into the stream. "There," said he, "you may dwell. Hide
yourselves under the stones, and hereafter you shall be playthings for
little children."
FOOTNOTES:
[32] The Racoon.
[33] Racoon, eat us.
[34] The name of the racoon in the Chippewa language, appears to be a
derivation from _Ais_ a shell, with the inflection for the perfect past
tense (bun) united with the copulative vowel _i_. But no tale of such
transformation as is here alluded to, has been met with.
LA POUDRE,
OR
THE STORM-FOOL.
FROM THE ODJIBWA.
The vernal equinox in America, north of the 44 deg. of north latitude,
generally takes place while the ground is covered with snow, and winter
still wears a polar aspect. Storms of wind and light drifting snow,
expressively called _poudre_ by the French of the upper Lakes, fill the
atmosphere, and render it impossible to distinguish objects at a short
distance. The fine powdery flakes of snow are driven into the smallest
crannies of buildings and fixtures, and seem to be endowed with a
subtile power of insinuation, which renders northern joinerwork but a
poor defence. It is not uncommon for the sleeper on waking up in the
morning, to find heaps of snow, where he had supposed himself quite
secure on lying down.
Such seasons are, almost invariably, times of scarcity and hunger with
the Indians, for the light snows have buried up the traps of the
hunters, and the fishermen are deterred from exercising their customary
skill in decoying fish through the ice. They are often reduced to the
greatest straits, and compelled to exercise their utmost ingenuity to
keep their children from starving. Abstinence, on the part of the elder
members of the family, is regarded both as a duty and a merit. Every
effort is made to satisfy the importunity of the little ones for food,
and if there be a story-teller in the lodge, he is sure to draw upon his
cabin lore, to amuse their minds, and beguile the time.
In these storms, when each inmate of the lodge has his _conaus_, or
wrapper, tightly drawn around him, and all are cowering around the cabin
fire, should some sudden puff of wind drive a volume of light snow into
the lodge, it would scarcely happen, but that some one of the group
would cry out "Ah, Pauppukeewiss is now gathering his harvest," an
expression which has the effect to put them all into good humour.
Pauppukeewiss, was a crazy brain, who played many queer tricks, but took
care, nevertheless, to supply his family and children with food. But, in
this, he was not always successful. Many winters have passed since he
was overtaken; at this very season of the year, with great want, and
he, with his whole family, was on the point of starvation. Every
resource seemed to have failed. The snow was so deep, and the storm
continued so long, that he could not even find a partridge or a hare.
And his usual resource of fish had entirely failed. His lodge stood in a
point of woods, not far back from the shores of the Gitchiguma, or great
water, where the autumnal storms had piled up the ice into high
pinnacles, resembling castles.
"I will go," said he to his family one morning, "to these castles, and
solicit the pity of the spirits, who inhabit them, for I know that they
are the residence of some of the spirits of Kabiboonoka." He did so, and
found that his petition was not disregarded. They told him to fill his
mushkemoots, or sacks, with the ice and snow, and pass on toward his
lodge, without looking back, until he came to a certain hill. He must
then drop his sacks, and leave them till morning, when he would find
them filled with fish.
They cautioned him, that he must by no means look back, although he
would hear a great many voices crying out to him, in abusive terms, for
these voices were nothing but the wind playing through the branches of
the trees. He faithfully obeyed the injunction, although he found it
hard to avoid turning round, to see who was calling out to him. And
when he visited his sacks in the morning, he found them filled with
fish.
It chanced that Manabozho visited him on the morning that he brought
home the sacks of fish. He was invited to partake of a feast, which
Pauppukeewiss ordered to be prepared for him. While they were eating,
Manabozho could not help asking him, by what means he had procured such
an abundance of food, at a time when they were all in a state of
starvation.
Pauppukeewiss frankly told him the secret, and repeated the precautions
which were necessary to ensure success. Manabozho determined to profit
by his information, and as soon as he could, he set out to visit the icy
castles. All things happened as he had been told. The spirits seemed
propitious, and told him to fill and carry. He accordingly filled his
sacks with ice and snow, and proceeded rapidly toward the hill of
transmutation. But as he ran he heard voices calling out behind him,
"thief!" "thief! He has stolen fish from Kabiboonoka," cried one.
"Mukumik! mukumik! Take it away! Take it away!" cried another.
In fine his ears were so assailed by all manner of opprobrious terms,
that he could not avoid turning his head, to see who it was that thus
abused him. But his curiosity dissolved the charm. When he came to
visit his bags next morning, he found them filled with ice and snow.
In consequence, he is condemned every year, during the month of March,
to run over the hills, with Pauppukeewiss following him, with the cries
of mukumik! mukumik!
* * * * *
[NOTE. This trick seems put, with allegoric justice, on Manabozho, on
account of his vain-glorious boasting, and imitation of others; for
there was nothing done by any one, which he did not deem himself
adequate to, and immediately set about to perform. Story-tellers say, he
was once rebuked for this spirit, by a little child, who picking up his
foot put his great toe in his mouth, which Manabozho tried, but could
not do. The Odjibwas apply the term PEEWUN to the kind of finely
granulated snow-storm, above alluded to.]
GIT-CHEE-GAU-ZINEE,
OR
THE TRANCE.
[The following story is related by the Odjibwas, as semi-traditionary.
Without attaching importance to it, in that light, it may be regarded as
indicating Indian opinion on the temporary suspension of nervous action
in trance, and on the (to them) great unknown void of a future state.
The individual, whose name it bears, is vouched to have been an actual
personage living on the shores of Lake Superior, where he exercised the
authority of a village chief.
In former times, it is averred, the Chippewas followed the custom of
interring many articles with the dead, including, if the deceased was a
male, his gun, trap, pipe, kettle, war club, clothes, wampum, ornaments,
and even a portion of food. This practice has been gradually falling
into disuse, until at present, it is rare to see the Indians deposit
any articles of value with adults. What effect tales like the following
may have had, in bringing this ancient pagan custom into discredit, we
will not undertake to decide. Much of the change of opinion which has
supervened, within the last century, may be fairly attributable to the
intercourse of the Indians with white men, and in some situations, to
the gradual and almost imperceptible influence of Christianity on their
external manners and customs. Still, more is probably due to the keen
observation of a people, who have very little property, and may be
naturally judged to have ascertained the folly of burying any valuable
portion of it with the dead.]
* * * * *