“Here the wren of softest note
Builds its nest and warbles well;
Here the blackbird strains his throat;
Welcome, welcome to our cell.”--COLERIDGE.
The day was far advanced, before the sick Indian girl could be brought
home to their sylvan lodge, where Catharine made up a comfortable couch
for her, with boughs and grass, and spread one of the deer-skins over
it, and laid her down as tenderly and carefully as if she had been a
dear sister. This good girl was overjoyed at having found a companion
of her own age and sex. “Now,” said she, “I shall no more be lonely, I
shall have a companion and friend to talk to and assist me;” but when
she turned in the fulness of her heart to address herself to the
young stranger, she felt herself embarrassed in what way to make her
comprehend the words she used to express the kindness that she felt for
her, and her sorrow for her sufferings.
The young stranger would raise her head, look intently at her, as if
striving to interpret her words, then sadly shake her head, and utter
her words in her own plaintive language, but, alas! Catharine felt it
was to her as a sealed book.
She tried to recall some Indian words of familiar import, that she had
heard from the Indians when they came to her father’s house, but in
vain; not the simplest phrase occurred to her, and she almost cried
with vexation at her own stupidity; neither was Hector or Louis more
fortunate in attempts at conversing with their guest.
At the end of three days, the fever began to abate; the restless eye
grew more steady in its gaze, the dark flush faded from the cheek,
leaving it of a grey ashy tint, not the hue of health, such as even the
swarthy Indian shows, but wan and pallid, her eyes bent mournfully on
the ground.
She would sit quiet and passive while Catharine bound up the long
tresses of her hair, and smoothed them with her hands and the small
wooden comb that Louis had cut for her use. Sometimes she would raise
her eyes to her new friend’s face, with a quiet sad smile, and once she
took her hands within her own, and gently pressed them to her breast and
lips and forehead in token of gratitude, but she seldom gave utterance
to any words, and would remain with her eyes fixed vacantly on some
object which seemed unseen or to awaken no idea in her mind. At such
times the face of the young squaw wore a dreamy apathy of expression, or
rather it might with more propriety have been said, the absence of all
expression, almost as blank as that of an infant of a few weeks old.
How intently did Catharine study that face, and strive to read what was
passing within her mind! how did the lively intelligent Canadian girl,
the offspring of a more intellectual race, long to instruct her Indian
friend, to enlarge her mind by pointing out such things to her attention
as she herself took interest in! She would then repeat the name of the
object that she showed her several times over, and by degrees the young
squaw learned the names of all the familiar household articles about the
shanty, and could repeat them in her own soft plaintive tone; and when
she had learned a new word, and could pronounce it distinctly, she would
laugh, and a gleam of innocent joy and pleasure would lighten up her
fine dark eyes, generally so fixed and sad-looking.
It was Catharine’s delight to teach her pupil to speak a language
familiar to her own ears; she would lead her out among the trees, and
name to her all the natural objects that presented themselves to view.
And she in her turn made “Indiana” (for so they named the young squaw,
after a negress that she had heard her father tell of, a nurse to one
of his Colonel’s infant children,) tell her the Indian names for each
object they saw. Indiana soon began to enjoy in her turn the amusement
arising from instructing Catharine and the boys, and often seemed to
enjoy the blunders they made in pronouncing the words she taught them.
When really interested in anything that was going on, her eyes would
beam out, and her smile gave an inexpressible charm to her face, for her
lips were red and her teeth even and brilliantly white, so purely white
that Catharine thought she had never seen any so beautiful in her life
before; at such times her face was joyous and innocent as a little
child’s, but there were also hours of gloom, that transformed it into an
expression of sullen apathy; then a dull glassy look took possession
of her eye, the full lip drooped and the form seemed rigid and stiff;
obstinate determination neither to move nor speak characterised her in
what Louis used to call the young squaw’s “_dark hour._” Then it was
that the savage nature seemed predominant, and her gentle nurse almost
feared to look at her protegée or approach her.
“Hector,” said Louis, “you spoke about a jar of water being left at the
camp; the jar would be a great treasure to us, let us go over for it.”
Hector assented to the proposal. “And we may possibly pick up a few
grains of Indian corn, to add to what you showed us.”
“If we are here in the spring,” said Hector, “you and I will prepare a
small patch of ground and plant it with this corn;” and he sat down on
the end of a log and began carefully to count the rows of grain on the
cob, and then each corn grain by grain. “Three hundred and ten sound
grains. Now if every one of these produces a strong plant, we shall have
a great increase, and beside seed for another year, there will be, if it
is a good year, several bushels to eat.”
“We shall have a glorious summer, mon ami, no doubt, and a fine
flourishing crop, and Kate is a good hand at making supporne.”
_[FN: Supporne, probably an Indian word for a stir-about, or
porridge, made of Indian meal, a common dish in every Canadian or Yankee
farmer’s house.]_
“You forget we have no porridge pot.”
“I was thinking of that Indian jar all the time. You will see what fine
cookery we will make when we get it, if it will but stand fire. Come,
let us be off, I am impatient till we get it home;” and Louis, who had
now a new crotchet at work in his fertile and vivacious brain, was quite
on the _qui vive_, and walked and danced along at a rate which proved
a great disturbance to his graver companion, who tried to keep down his
cousin’s lively spirits, by suggesting the probability of the jar being
cracked, or that the Indians might have returned for it; but Louis was
not one of the doubting sort, and Louis was right in not damping the
ardour of his mind by causeless fears. The jar was there at the deserted
camp, and though it had been knocked over by some animal, it was sound
and strong, and excited great speculation in the two cousins, as to the
particular material of which it was made, as it was unlike any sort of
pottery they had ever before seen. It seemed to have been manufactured
from some very dark red earth, or clay mixed up with pounded granite,
as it presented the appearance of some coarse crystals; it was very hard
and ponderous, and the surface was marked over in a rude sort of pattern
as if punctured and scratched with some pointed instrument. It seemed
to have been hardened by fire, and, from the smoked hue of one side,
had evidently done good service as a cooking utensil. Subsequently they
learned the way in which it was used:_[FN: Pieces of this rude
pottery are often found along the shores of the inland lakes, but I have
never met with any of the perfect vessels in use with the Indians, who
probably find it now easier to supply themselves with iron pots and
crockery from the towns of the European settlers.]_ the jar being placed
near but not on the fire, was surrounded by hot embers, and the water
made to boil by stones being made red hot and plunged into it: in this
way soup and other food were prepared, and kept stewing, with no further
trouble after once the simmering began, than adding a few fresh embers
at the side furthest from the fir; a hot stone also placed on the top,
facilitated the cooking process.
Louis, who like all French people was addicted to cookery,--indeed it
was an accomplishment he prided himself on,--was enchanted with the
improvement made in their diet by the acquisition of the said earthen
jar, or pipkin, and gave Indiana some praise for initiating his cousin
in the use of it. Catharine and Hector declared that he went out with
his bow and arrows, and visited his dead-falls and snares, ten times
oftener than he used to do, just for the sake of proving the admirable
properties of this precious utensil, and finding out some new way of
dressing his game. At all events there was a valuable increase of furs,
for making up into clothing, caps, leggings, mitts, and other articles.
From the Indian girl Catharine learned the value of many of the herbs
and shrubs that grew in her path, the bark and leaves of various trees,
and many dyes she could extract, with which she stained the quills of
the porcupine and the strips of the wood of which she made baskets
and mats. The little creeping winter-green, _[FN: Gualtheria
procumbens,--Spice Winter-green.]_ with its scarlet berries, that grows
on the dry flats, or sandy hills, which the Canadians call spice-berry,
she showed them was good to eat, and she would crush the leaves, draw
forth their fine aromatic flavour in her hands, and then inhale their
fragrance with delight. She made an infusion of the leaves, and drank it
as a tonic. The inner bark of the wild black cherry, she said was good
to cure ague and fever. The root of the _dulçamara_, or bitter-sweet,
she scraped down and boiled in the deer-fat, or the fat of any other
animal, and made an ointment that possessed very healing qualities,
especially as an immediate application to fresh burns.
Sometimes she showed a disposition to mystery, and would conceal the
knowledge of the particular herbs she made use of; and Catharine several
times noticed that she would go out and sprinkle a portion of the food
she had assisted her in preparing, on the earth, or under some of the
trees or bushes. When she was more familiar with their language, she
told Catharine this was done in token of gratitude to the Good Spirit,
who had given them success in hunting or trapping; or else it was to
appease the malice of the Evil Spirit, who might bring mischief or loss
to them, or sickness or death, unless his forbearance was purchased by
some particular mark of attention. _[FN: By the testimony of many
of the Indians themselves, they appear to entertain a certain Polytheism
in their belief. “We believed in one great wise benevolent being,
Thesha-mon-e-doo, whose dwelling was in the sun. We believed also
in many other lesser spirits--gods of the elements, and in one bad
unappeasable spirit, Mah-je-mah-ne-doo, to whom we attributed bad
luck, evil accidents, and sickness and death. This bad spirit has to
be conciliated with meat and drink offerings.”--_Life of George Copway,
Native Missionary_]_
Attention, memory, and imitation, appeared to form the three most
remarkable of the mental faculties developed by the Indian girl. She
examined (when once her attention was roused) any object with critical
minuteness. Any knowledge she had once acquired, she retained; her
memory was great, she never missed a path she had once trodden; she
seemed even to single out particular birds in a flock, to know them from
their congeners. Her powers of imitation were also great; she brought
patience and perseverance to assist her, and when once thoroughly
interested in any work she began, she would toil on untiringly till it
was completed; and then what triumph shone in her eyes! At such times
they became darkly brilliant with the joy that filled her heart. But she
possessed little talent for invention; what she had seen done, after a
few imperfect attempts, she could do again, but she rarely struck out
any new path for herself.
At times she was docile and even playful, and appeared grateful for the
kindness with which she was treated; each day seemed to increase her
fondness for Catharine, and she appeared to delight in doing any little
service to please and gratify her, but it was towards Hector that she
displayed the deepest feeling of affection and respect. It was to him
her first tribute of fruit or flowers, furs, mocassins, or ornamental
plumage of rare birds was offered. She seemed to turn to him as to a
master and protector. He was in her eyes the _“Chief,”_ the head of his
tribe. His bow was strung by her, and stained with quaint figures and
devices; his arrows were carved by her; the sheath of deer-skin was made
and ornamented by her hands, that he carried his knife in; and the case
for his arrows, of birch-bark, was wrought with especial neatness, and
suspended by thongs to his neck, when he was preparing to go out in
search of game. She gave him the name of the “Young Eagle.” While she
called Louis, “Nee-chee,” or friend; to Catharine she gave the poetical
name of, “Music of the Winds,”--Ma-wah-osh.
When they asked her to tell them her own name, she would bend down her
head in sorrow and refuse to pronounce it. She soon answered to the name
of Indiana, and seemed pleased with the sound.
But of all the household, next to Hector, old Wolfe was her greatest
favourite. At first, it is true, the old dog regarded the new inmate
with a jealous eye, and seemed uneasy when he saw her approach to
caress him, but Indiana soon reconciled him to her person, and a mutual
friendly feeling became established between them, which seemed daily and
hourly to increase, greatly to the delight of the young stranger. She
would seat herself Eastern fashion, cross-legged on the floor of the
shanty, with the capacious head of the old dog in her lap, and address
herself to this mute companion, in wailing tones, as if she would
unburthen her heart by pouring into his unconscious ear her tale of
desolation and woe.
Catharine was always very particular and punctual in performing her
personal ablutions, and she intimated to Indiana that it was good for
her to do the same; but the young girl seemed reluctant to follow her
example, till daily custom had reconciled her to what she evidently at
first regarded as an unnecessary ceremony; but she soon took pleasure in
dressing her dark hair, and suffering Catharine to braid it, and polish
it till it looked glossy and soft. Indiana in her turn would adorn
Catharine with the wings of the blue-bird or red-bird, the crest of
the wood-duck, or quill feathers of the golden-winged flicker, which
is called in the Indian tongue the shot-bird, in allusion to the round
spots on its cream-coloured breast: _[FN: The Golden-winged Flicker
belongs to a sub-genus of woodpeckers; it is very handsome, and is said
to be eatable; it lives on fruits and insects.]_ but it was not in these
things alone she showed her grateful sense of the sisterly kindness that
her young hostess showed to her; she soon learned to lighten her labours
in every household work, and above all, she spent her time most usefully
in manufacturing clothing from the skins of the wild animals, and in
teaching Catharine how to fit and prepare them; but these were the
occupation of the winter months. I must not forestall my narrative.