Once upon a time an Indian chief sat alone in his wigwam thinking
about the needs of his tribe. For more than a year food had been very
scarce, and they were suffering from a scanty fare of roots, herbs,
and berries. Many of the people had come to him in their misery.
“We ask you to help us, brave chief,” they cried. “Will you not
entreat the Great Spirit to send us some of the food from the Happy
Hunting Grounds where it is so plentiful? See how weak and thin our
young braves are. Help us or we shall die.”
“I’ll go into the depths of the forest,” said the chief. “There I’ll
live until the Great Spirit tells me how to relieve the misery of my
people.”
He left his wigwam and walked far into the forest, where he waited
for several days before the Great Spirit spoke these words to him:
“In the moon of rains take thy family and go to the stretch of land
which joins this forest. Wait there until I send thee a message.”
The chief went back to the Indian village, and told what he had heard
from the Great Spirit. And in the Moon of Rains he called together
his honoured wife, his fleet-footed sons, and his graceful daughter,
and said, “Follow me to the stretch of land beyond the forest.”
When they reached the great plain, they stood in a group waiting for
a message from the Great Spirit. For three suns they stood patiently
without once changing their positions.
The Indians of the tribe grew anxious to know what had happened to
their chief and his family, and some of them slipped through the wood
to the plain where they knew he had been directed to go. There they
saw the group of figures standing with their hands uplifted, and
their eyes closed. The Indians were filled with awe.
“The Great Spirit is talking to them,” they whispered, as they went
back to their wigwams.
In a few days they returned to the plain. A marvelous sight met
their eyes. Instead of the chief and his family standing like images
of sleep, they saw wonderful green plants, tall and straight, with
broad, flat leaves, and in place of uplifted hands they beheld ears
of corn with silken fringe.
“The Great Spirit has called our chief and his family to the ‘Happy
Hunting Grounds,’” they said, “and has sent us this food as a symbol
of their sacrifice.”
They saved some of the kernels and planted them in the fields, and
each year when they reaped a golden harvest they remembered the brave
chief whose thoughtful care brought them the rich blessing of the
Indian corn.
Sing, O Song of Hiawatha,
Of the happy days that followed,
In the land of the Ojibways,
In the pleasant land and peaceful!
Sing the mysteries of Mondamin,
Sing the Blessing of the Cornfields!
HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.