Once upon a time, there was a very bright and sunny day on the earth,
and, upon this day so bright and sunny, a strange thing happened. It
was in the country inhabited by the tribe of Nanticokes, and upon the
borders of the Great Lake. It was in the morning of the day, and the
moon was the moon in which the shad, leaving the waters which are
salt, make their journey to those which are fresh. Beautiful was the
day; the salt and bitter waters lay as motionless as a little child
sleeping on the bosom of its mother. The winds were hushed in the
caverns of the earth, and the beams of the sun fell gladdening and
refreshing every thing beneath them. They shone upon field and forest,
hill and valley; upon bird and beast, and fish and reptile, and many
other things, beautiful or ugly, curious or strange; but they fell not
upon man, for he was not. The tall and erect form, which commands
obedience from all other creatures, was not then seen walking among
the glades of the forest, with the firm step and haughty eye which
distinguishes him. Beasts were many, birds were many, fishes were
many, but of men, the lords of all, there were none.
Before the sun descended behind the mountains of the West, he shone
upon man also. Six Indians, the first men that were ever on earth, and
the ancestors of the tribe of Nanticokes, all at once, they knew not
how, nor by what means, found themselves sitting upon the same shore,
upon the verge of the ocean. Whether they were created on the spot, or
came from some other place beyond the seas; whether they had swum up
from the waters, or crawled out of the mud, or bounded from the depths
of the forest, or alighted from the regions of the air, and were
changed into men, receiving a gift to forget their former state, they
knew not, or if they dropped from the skies, and forgot whence they
came through dizziness and the violence of the fall. But this they
knew, that they found themselves sitting on the shores of the Great
Lake, in the country now inhabited by the Nanticokes, on the latter
part of a warm and pleasant day, in the moon in which the shad leave
the waters which are salt, and make their journey to those which are
fresh. And they knew that there were six of them, and this was all
they knew.
These six Indians were all men; there was not amongst them, nor on the
earth, a single woman. The song-sparrow, and the mocking-bird, and the
dove, and the crested wren, and the spotted lynx, and the gorgeous
woodpecker, and the fish with shining scales, and all the other
beautiful creatures that have since lived, and now live, were then
upon the earth, even in greater numbers, and possessed of greater
beauty than now; but woman, more beautiful than any, the most glorious
thing that walks the earth, lived not then. It was soon that these
Indians found out their wants, and began to provide themselves with
food and clothing by means of hunting. They built themselves canoes,
and made them bows and arrows, wherewith they took the spoils of land
and water; and they set springes for birds, and traps for those
creatures which live alike on the land and water. And they cultivated
the various plants which they found growing spontaneously--corn, and
tobacco, and roots; and gathered ripe grapes, and abundance of
delicious berries. They lived well enough, and had they been wise
would have sought no further; but they took it into their heads, that
they could not live without women. So, led by the gloomy and solitary
feeling of a vacant heart, they left the cabins which they had built,
and wandered forth in search of the coveted objects. That their chance
of success might be greater, they agreed to separate, and each to
travel on different paths, and so they parted. One went towards the
clime of the snows, another towards the land of the summer winds, the
third sought the distant east, the fourth bent his steps towards the
mountains of the setting sun, the fifth descended into the bowels of
the earth, and the sixth climbed a sunbeam. Before they separated,
they agreed that those who were living when the Moon of Grapes again
came round, should repair to the same great tree in the shade of which
they were then sitting, and there, while the pipe of friendship was
passing around, recount their adventures.
The Moon of Grapes again came round, and found, upon one of its
pleasantest days, these six Nanticokes sitting beneath the great tree,
on the bank of the river which gives its name to the tribe. With them
sate six beautiful women, and laughing, and sporting, and rolling
about on the green and grassy sod at their feet, lay six beautiful
children. The six Indians and their wives appeared very happy, and
while they passed the pipe about, laughed and talked very loud and
joyfully, and were very, very merry, as though they had been drinking
something much stronger than water. At last, one of them, whose name
was Sinipuxent, rose and said:
Brothers! it was in the Moon of Grapes of the last year, that we found
ourselves sitting on the shore of the Great Lake, endued with the
faculties that we now exercise. It was in the Moon of Grapes, that we
departed in quest of the beloved beings who are now the light of our
eyes. And we agreed, that those who were living when the next
Grape-Moon came round should repair to the same great tree, beneath
whose shade we then sate, and there, while the pipe of friendship was
passing round, we should relate what had befallen us. The Great Spirit
has permitted our return to that spot, and the beautiful beings, whom
we have brought with us from countries so far apart, are proofs that
adventures have befallen us, which are worth recounting. Brothers, you
shall hear of what befel Sinipuxent, who left you to climb the sunbeam.
When he parted from his five brothers, he climbed a sunbeam for many
days, until he came to the land where the glorious luminary of the
earth, the Sun, takes his refreshment of sleep and rest during the
dark hours. It was in the morning of the day, and the great light of
the world had risen from his couch, and set out upon his journey, but
his wife and his children were all, save one, stretched out in
profound sleep. That one, the most beautiful of all creatures--look at
her, and say if she is not!--sat bathing her lovely cheeks and stately
neck in the morning dew, and brushing off the stray drops with the
white lily of the lake. Her little feet were carelessly thrust into
the clear stream gliding by her, beneath which they glittered like the
sparkling sands washed from the mountains into the river of the
Nanticokes. Her long bright hair, coloured by the beams of her father,
the Sun, lay floating over her naked shoulders and bosom, more
beautiful--but ye behold her. Beautiful creature! she saw not the
Nanticoke till he stood at her side. When she raised her head, and
found a stranger standing near her, she would have fled, but he
detained her gently with these words:
"Beautiful creature! what is it thou fearest? I am not he that would
harm thee. On the contrary, I would encounter any risk, brave any
peril, rather than harm one of the glossy hairs that is straying over
thy beautiful brow. My heart tells me, gentle creature, that thou art
the object for which my soul hath panted, ever since I first knew that
I was. I love thee, deeply and fervently, and wish thee to be mine. I
ask thee to leave the clime of thy father, and go with me to the
pleasant land and beautiful river of the Nanticokes. Though its skies
be not so bright as those in which thou wert born, yet are they
mellower. And the waters of the land are clear, cool, and sweet, and
the shades are refreshing. The vines are bending to the earth with
rich ripe grapes, berries are loading every bush, and the earth is
covered with flowers. Thou shalt become my companion in the cabin I
have built me beside the Nanticoke; and even as that river, when
unvexed by the swell of rains, glides along in the months of summer,
so shall our lives pass away. Thou shalt be the wife of my bosom, and
together will we live, till we are called to the land revealed to us
by our dreams as the land of souls."
The lovely maiden heard the words of the Nanticoke, and answered that
she knew not well what she should say. She knew not where the land of
the Nanticokes lay, nor did she know who was he that spoke to her. But
she timidly confessed that she loved him, and would become the wife of
his bosom, if the consent of her father and mother could be obtained.
So he asked the mother, who gave her consent at once, if that of her
husband could be procured.
When the Sun came home at night, his wife said to him, "One of the six
Indians that dropped from the North Star, on the shores of the Great
Lake in the Frog-Moon, has come hither, and demanded our daughter
Atahensic in marriage. He appears to be a bold and handsome youth, and
our daughter loves him."
"But he shall not have her," answered the fiery father; "the blood of
the Sun shall not mingle with the blood of the beings of the earth."
Then he called the Nanticoke to him, and spoke to him thus: "Thou
canst not have my daughter--thy blood cannot mingle with mine.--Depart."
The Nanticoke, who, like all the others of that tribe, was brave and
fearless, but prudent, held his peace, but departed not. When the Sun
was asleep he wooed the maiden; when he was awake, and his eyes were
peering into every spot however obscure, and every dingle however
dark, he hid himself where even those rays could not penetrate. And
often was the beautiful maiden of his love prevailed upon to hide
herself with him. But he had suffered himself to forget the
consequences of a mutual and unrestrained love. The beautiful
Atahensic gave evidence that she should in due time become a mother.
The quick-eyed father soon discovered what had happened, and heard the
whole from the lips of his weeping daughter. Nothing could equal the
rage of the mighty king of the skies, when he learned the disgrace
inflicted upon his family. In the frenzy of the moment, he seized both
the daughter and her lover, and hurled them from the highest part of
the skies to the region where the land of the Nanticokes lay. But the
kind mother protected both from the consequences of the fall, and the
earth, by her command, received them unhurt upon her lap. Brothers, I
am that Nanticoke, and the beautiful Atahensic is the woman by my
side, and the child at her feet is the child of our love. I have no
more to say.
* * * * *
When the first Nanticoke had finished his story, the second, whose
name was Conestogo, rose, and thus addressed his brothers:
Listen, said he, and you shall hear of what befel Conestogo, who left
you to travel into the bowels of the earth.
When he parted from his five brothers, he went to the deep cavern
which lies among the mountains west of the river of the Nanticokes,
and into this cavern he entered at the time of nightfall. After having
groped his way for many days through deep darkness, over rocks and
many other obstructions, living on the dried meat he had taken with
him, all at once, upon passing through a small door or opening, he
came to a great chamber, vaulted like the rooms which are unfolded to
our eyes, when we enter those great houses in the City of the Rock,
where men dressed in glittering robes, and little boys clothed in
white, call upon the Great Spirit, and sing loud songs to his praise.
Around the sides of this great room were tall pillars, which looked
liked icicles, and glittered like them when they are visited by the
beams of the sun. Over-head was a vast field of ice, of many different
colours, green, red, white, yellow; the reflection of which on the
floor of the mighty building occasioned a strange blending of rays.
Beautiful, wonderful, was the appearance of this room, and of all
within it.
But the most beautiful, wonderful things of the cavern remain to be
spoken of. In the further corner of this spacious apartment was a
company of beautiful maidens, clothed in robes of the same colours as
those which glittered on the roof and walls of the building; the
dazzling beauty of their dress may be guessed, but who shall paint
their own charms? who shall describe their bright black eyes, long
black locks, and voice like the music of the streams in spring? their
beautiful necks, and little feet and hands, their swelling bosoms, and
graceful footsteps? When I entered they were employed in chasing each
other around the apartment, and amongst the lofty pillars; but, when
they saw a stranger invade their retirement, they uttered a shrill cry
of terror, and fled along the vaulted passages. The Nanticoke pursued
them until he came to an inner range of apartments, all glittering
like that he had left, but smaller in dimensions; there were a great
many little recesses, and behind those pillars he saw many little
heads peering out, which he knew to be those of the beautiful maidens
who had escaped from the room of mighty pillars. He could see upon
their countenances that they were not so fearful as they pretended to
be; but when they hid, always preferred to be found. There was an arch
smile upon their beautiful little faces, and their red lips were
pursed up in affected contempt of the Nanticoke. He, whom nature
quickly taught the best means of winning woman's love, which was not
to seem over-anxious to obtain it, said nothing; but, seating himself
upon a broken pillar, leisurely drew out his pipe and fell to smoking,
rightly judging that if the fair creatures were not sought they would
seek. It was not long that they remained hidden. First one contrived
to put forth her little hand or foot; then a head became visible;
still the Nanticoke affected to see neither. At last, finding that
Conestogo would not play their childish game, one stepped forth, then
another, and soon the whole stood visible. They now came up to the
hunter, and, with many soft smiles, bade him welcome. Seating
themselves upon the smooth floor around him, they commenced asking
questions. "Who was he? what was he? how old was he? where did he come
from? how far was he going? who was his father? what was the name of
his mother? how many brothers had he? how many sisters? was his
grandmother living? how long would he stay with them? to what place
would he go when he left them?" and many other questions, which,
fortunately for him, were asked with so little pause, that he had no
opportunity to answer one of them. Nor did they seem to expect an
answer, but appeared to ask, only that they might have the pleasure of
talking. All were not so talkative, however. There was one beautiful
creature, the most beautiful of all the company, who sat apart from
the rest, said nothing with her tongue, but spoke a language with her
downcast eyes, which the smitten Nanticoke interpreted into that of
bashful love. While the rest were talking and laughing, displaying
their white teeth, and shaking their black hair over their polished
foreheads, he was thinking only of the silent woman, and contrasting
her modest and quiet deportment with the noisy and boisterous mirth
of her sisters. When she saw that the stranger bent his eyes a great
portion of the time on herself, and that their expression denoted the
same sentiment in him as filled her own bosom, she turned her face
away to fix them in listless gaze upon a distant object.
After the beautiful maidens had laughed, and chattered, and questioned,
as much as they would, they left the Nanticoke to enjoy his slumbers.
The silent maiden retired last, and the look which she gave him, as
she left the little chamber, did not quit his soul till more than half
of the hours of darkness had run through. The next morning he rose
early, and wandered about till he came to a little spring, which
rattled over a bed of pebbles, and fell into a cavern beneath; it was
a beautiful little spring, and its waters were cold and sweet, and as
clear as the sky. He had just placed himself by the side of this
little stream, when the silent maiden came thither also. The Nanticoke
sat hidden from observation by one of the pillars, while she whispered
her soft tale of love to the echoes of the cavern. She told them that
she loved the stranger with the black hair, and sunny eyes, and proud
mien; that she wished them to carry to the Great Spirit her wishes
that he should ask her to become his own--his companion--his wife.
More she would have said, but the Nanticoke caught her gently in his
arms, preventing her slight screams with the kiss of love. "Thou shalt
become my own--my companion--my wife," said he. "Lovely, and gentle,
and dearly beloved creature! I had feared thou hadst no tongue,
because to hear thee silent for a little while was something so new
and strange in thy sex. But thou hast found a tongue to tell the
echoes what thy bashful lips would not have dared tell me. I thank the
Great Spirit that I overheard thy soft confession; it has removed
those impediments which thy bashful timidity would else have
interposed to our immediate union. Lovely maiden! with the black hair,
and the bright forehead, and the slender waist, and the beautiful hand
and foot, and the white teeth, what prevents thy accompanying me at
once--to-day--this minute, to the land where I have taken up my abode,
the pleasant and fruitful land of the Nanticokes? Again thou art
silent, but the soft smile upon thy features tells me that thou art
not averse to my proposal. I see in the look of thy sunny eye, in thy
decreasing hesitation, and yielding reluctance, that thou wilt become
the star of my pleasant cabin, the hope, the solace, and the joy of my
life. Let us go then; ere ten suns be passed, thou shalt find thyself
seated upon a bank, whose flowers are only less sweet than thyself.
Thou shalt listen to a stream whose voice is only less musical than
thine own, and see the beautiful night lit up by its very many
glorious lamps.
"Brothers, I am that Nanticoke, and the beautiful maiden is she that
sits by my side, and the child that rolls about on the green sod is
the child of our love. I have no more to say."
* * * * *
The story of the second Nanticoke being finished, the third, whose
name was Appomattox, rose, and thus addressed his brothers:--
Listen, said he, and you shall hear what befel Appomattox, who left
you to travel eastward.
When he parted from his five brothers, he crossed the Great Arm[A] of
the Salt Lake, and, in consequence of the revelations made by the
spirit of a dream, pursued his journey towards the land of the cold
spring-storms. He travelled fast, till he had wearied himself out, and
then, building a small hut of bark to protect him from the rains and
night-dews, he laid himself down to repose. He had not slept long, for
the moon, that was a far way up when he sunk to sleep, had not
reached the highest part of the heavens, when he heard a voice crying,
"Appomattox! Appomattox!"
[Footnote A: Chesapeak Bay.]
"Here I am," answered the Nanticoke. As he spoke, he raised himself up
from his couch of leaves, and saw standing at his feet a strange-looking
creature, whom the beams of the moon revealed to be a little, ugly,
squat, brown man, not much higher than an Indian's hip. His shape was
odd and singular, beyond anything the Nanticoke had ever seen. His
legs were each as large as his body, and his feet were quite as much
out of proportion. But his arms and hands were not larger than the
arms and hands of the child which is playing at my feet, and his head
was of the size of the head of a small dog, and similarly shaped. His
eyes were red as the leaf of the maple in autumn; his skin was green
as the bosom of the meadow in spring; yellow hair, as coarse as
rock-moss, fell over his shoulders; and his nose was turned up till it
reached his forehead; his ears were scarce larger than a man's
thumb-nail, and his mouth than the blade of a pipe. It would have been
a matter of wonder with the Nanticoke, how he could get the victuals
into such a little mouth, if he had not been employed in noting the
odd actions of the strange creature, and in listening to the tones of
his voice, which resembled those of a cat when you tread upon its
tail.
"Who are you!" asked the strange creature, and then gave a jump,
turning himself head over heels, and stood upon his feet as before.
"I am a Nanticoke--one of the six who found themselves, in the morning
of a clear day, in the Frog-Moon, standing upon the shores of the
Great Lake, in the country where we have built cabins, and planted
corn and tobacco. We know not how we were carried thither. We were,
when we first knew we were--that is all we know. And who are you?"
"And that is as much as anybody knows," squeaked, or rather snarled,
the strange creature, and again he took his tumble. "Wherever you came
from, you seem a fine fellow, and I don't doubt wish for a wife. Come,
go home with me. I live in a cave, in the hill close by, and will give
you some fine fat toads, stewed with greens, for supper--or, if you
like better, you shall have a roasted rabbit. As to who I am, I don't
know myself. I only know that I am an odd sort of a fish."
The Nanticoke, who had not tasted food for many days, liked the offer
of the rabbit very well, though he felt no relish for the stewed
toads. So he went home with the strange creature to his dwelling in
the hill. When they came to the the door of the cabin, the creature
gave a knock with his foot, when the door was opened by a creature,
stranger, if possible, than that which had conducted him to the cave.
Upon entering, he beheld, scattered about the floor, a great many
little children, quite as ugly and misshapen as the parents. Here lay
one with a large leg and a little one, a full arm and a shrunken one,
one-handed, or one-footed, or one-eyed. One had no hair: one was
completely enveloped in it--in truth, the shapes were most various and
singular. But all were not thus. Upon a bench, upon one side of the
cave, sat a very little maiden--ye see how very little, and ye see how
beautiful. When the Nanticoke entered, she drew her furred mantle
around her, and pretended to hide her face, but she hid not her eyes,
which were bent on the stranger youth. He had seen enough of her
countenance to judge that she was very beautiful, and he loved her
slight form, which he saw was light and graceful as the young fawn. He
now entered into conversation with the old man, and they talked of
many matters--he conversing quite like a sensible man, except that now
and then he would take his strange tumble. At length, victuals were
placed before them, and they sat down. The beautiful little maiden--with
the usual pride of woman--dressed herself, and her black locks, with
much care, and then came and placed herself at the table at which they
were eating. Soft and fond glances were interchanged; and, before they
had finished their meal, each had as good as said "I love." When they
had done eating, the old man and woman arose, and under some pretence
or other left the room, carrying with them the whole brood of odd and
beast-like creatures. So the Nanticoke was left alone with the
beautiful little maiden, to press her soft little hand, and to say in
her ears those affectionate things which are always held sweeter by
lovers for being told in whispers. Not much persuasion was necessary
to obtain her consent to leave her father's house, and go with
Appomattox to the spot where he had taken up his abode--to the cabin
he had built beside the beautiful river Nanticoke. Their journey
thither was not long--upon the sixth sun, they sat down upon the
little plat of grass before the door of the cabin, and plucked the
ripe grapes from the vines that leant upon its roof, and drank of the
crystal stream which rattled over the pebbly bottom to the gentle
river, and gathered the delicious berries that hung on every bush. And
they saw the glorious sun illumine the earth, and the moon and stars
lighting up the night, and the northern skies red with the dance of
departed friends, and both blessed the moment that carried the
Nanticoke to the hut of the very odd fish.
Brothers, I am that Nanticoke; and the beautiful little creature is
she that sits at my side, and the little child that rolls about on the
grass is the child of our love. My story is told.
* * * * *
And then the fourth Nanticoke rose, and told his story in the
following words:
When I left my five brothers, said he, I crossed the river that glides
by my cabin, and travelled towards the mountains which are called by
Indians the Backbone of the Great Spirit. Upon the sixth day, I came
to the hither part of the mountain, and sat down upon its eastern edge
to rest my wearied limbs. It was near the hour of evening; the sun had
not retired from the earth, but the lofty peaks of the mountains hid
his beams from those who sat in the shade of those peaks, making it
night to them. At length the sun set, and a thick veil of darkness was
cast over the face of the earth. The ugly bat came forth, the mournful
night-bird began his song, the wise owl hooted on the limb of the
tree, and the dazzling little fire-fly twinkled in the glades, and
among the trunks of the giant oaks. Then it was that a distant sound
of music came to the ears of Apaumax the Nanticoke, who is myself. He
listened, and caught the words, of a song issuing from a valley near
the hillock upon which he sate. Softer than the plaintive cry of the
dove, sweeter than the love-notes of the song-sparrow, was that song.
Presently other voices could be heard laughing or singing, singly, or
in concert. The Nanticoke was so greatly charmed with those notes that
he determined to know whence they issued, and whose were the voices
that sang them. So, descending the hill, he approached cautiously the
spot where he had heard them, until he came suddenly upon a company of
strange women who were dancing upon a green spot in the valley. They
were the greater part of them very small, many being not taller than
the sprout of three moons; but there were others, whose stature arose
to the height of a full-grown person. Of the latter there was one whom
the whole seemed to obey, the tallest woman of the group, and the most
beautiful. She did not seem very youthful; at least her features spoke
not of youth, nor did they imply age, but the period of life when
woman is like a ripe grape, the sweetness of which is diminished by
being suffered to hang a single day more on the vine untasted. She had
a pale skin--ye see how pale--her cheeks were red as the flower that
blooms among thorns, and her eye shone like the little flower which
emulates the blue of the sky. Her lips were red and pouting, and her
teeth whiter than the lily. Beautiful creature! lovely and beloved
woman!
Cautiously did the Nanticoke approach the merry dancers, and, seating
himself upon the earth where they could not observe him, he watched
their sprightly and rapid motions. Nothing could exceed the beauty of
the dances, or the grace of the dancers, or the sweetness of the tunes
to which they danced. At last, one of the little maidens, in a fit of
frolic, ran out of the circle of dancers, and by chance came to the
spot where the Nanticoke had seated himself; a loud scream told him
that he was discovered. When they found that a stranger had hidden
near them, and witnessed their mystic dances, they were filled with
great wrath, and all, as one, rushed up to the spot where he had
concealed himself. He, knowing no fear, stood up boldly amongst them,
and suffered them to scrutinize his person, rightly judging that
nothing would so soon mollify their anger as to look upon his handsome
and finely proportioned form. When they had gazed as much as they
liked, she, the tallest, the one whom all obeyed, spoke in a stern
voice, and asked, why he had dared to steal upon them while they were
dancing the Sacred Dance of Darkness, and singing the Spirit's Song of
Midnight? Did he not know that they were Spirits, the Spirits of the
Mountain, who, for many hundred years, had nightly come, while summer
lasted, to this green spot, to hold their joyous carousals, mixing
music with mirth, and drinking the sweet drink which they found in the
cups of the flowers and mottling the leaves of the rose. What had he
to say why death should not be inflicted upon him?
The Nanticoke answered that he had much to say why death should not be
inflicted upon him; that, having heard tones sweeter than those of the
mocking-bird, and wishing to see who they were that laughed so
merrily, and sung so sweetly, he had approached cautiously for that
purpose. When he beheld the most beautiful creatures of the earth or
the air engaged in dancing, and heard them singing their sweet songs,
he was struck with wonder, astonishment, and admiration; and, fearing
lest his discovering himself should frighten them away, he had hidden
himself. This was all the crime he had committed. And, as for
punishment, rather than die he was content to take the tall young
woman to wife.
Upon this the spirits all laughed, except the one thus singled out,
and she held down her head, though apparently not displeased. The
Nanticoke, emboldened by her silence, whispered in her ear that he
loved her; and, notwithstanding that her manner was at first
repulsive, and she pretended to be displeased, and to frown upon the
confident Apaumax, he could perceive that she had not suffered his
words to fall to the ground. At first her face was averted, presently
he caught a view of her mouth, and at last her face was actually
turned towards him, and she was smiling bashfully upon the bold lover.
Before the moon had advanced to the highest part of the heavens, they
had given each other the kiss of love, and she had promised the
Nanticoke to leave the cold regions of the mountain, and to go with
him to his own sunny clime.
Brothers, I am that Nanticoke, and the tall, beautiful woman is she
that sits at my side, and the child that is playing at my feet is the
child of our love.
* * * * *
When Apaumax had finished his story, the fifth Nanticoke, whose name
dwells not in my memory, rose and said:
When I left my five brothers, I went according to my agreement with
them to the land of the warm sun, the smiling south. I travelled many
days, and became hungry, faint, and weary. I saw no beasts upon which
I could exercise my bow, no fish gliding about the waters, provoking
the thrust of my spear. Here and there were scattered a few birds, but
they were those upon which none can afford to feed, but a very patient
man, or one that has nothing to do but eat. So, finding a pleasant
resting-place, I lay down, and tried to call to my aid the Good Spirit,
that refreshes the soul of man with pleasant dreams. He came and bade
me arise with the morning sun, and travel further on, following the
bend of the little river, at whose source I stood. I should come, he
said, to a little hill upon the banks of a lake, filled with shining
fish, and not far from the Great River. And, so saying, he left me to
the sleep of night.
I rose refreshed by my slumbers, and pursued the route pointed out by
the Spirit. Travelling in this path, I came on the morning of the next
day to a little hill on the backs of a lake, and saw in its clear
current the shining fish which had been spoken of by the spirit of
dreams, and by this I knew that I had travelled right. The hill was a
very little hill, and the lake was a very little lake, and the fish
were very little fish. The hill was scarce half so high as the flight
of an arrow; the lake was not broader than twice the flight of the
same, when impelled by a vigorous arm; and the fishes were minnows
indeed. Upon either side of the lake arose tall trees, around which
grape-vines had wreathed themselves, and upon which fruit, ripe,
black, and delicious, hung temptingly exposed to the eye of the
traveller. The birds were twittering about the boughs, and swallows
were skimming the bosom of the lake. But what most astonished the
Nanticoke was, the great number of little cabins scattered along its
shores. They were none of them higher than his hip, and were built of
mud and grass. The Nanticoke, who loved to look upon the fair things
of nature, the sun, and moon, and stars, and leafy woods, and green
meads, and quiet waters, and other beautiful things of nature, sat
down upon the border of the lake, and permitted the throb of delight
to enter his bosom, through the medium of his eyes. While he sate thus
absorbed, he saw a little black creature, with four legs, creep out of
the water near him, and stretch itself at its length upon the green
sod. It was black, glossy, and not longer than a man's arm. While it
was devouring its food, which in this instance was roots dug from the
marsh, it raised itself upon its two hind legs, to an upright posture,
sitting erect as a Nanticoke, until it had finished. During the time
it was eating, it was continually talking and chattering to itself, in
a language, which the Nanticoke could discover, by the few words
which reached his ear, to be that in which he himself spoke. Astonished,
beyond the power of words to express, at hearing a beast speak, a
beast, too, of such a mean appearance, he rose and advanced towards
it. When it saw him coming, instead of retreating to the water, as
beasts which are untamed usually do at the approach of man, whom all
inferior creatures thus acknowledge as their chief, it advanced to
meet him, made the sign of friendship in use among the Nanticokes, and
spoke to him thus:
"Stranger! I bid thee welcome to the waters of the Lake of Musk-rats.
Thou hast come to a region, rich in sunny skies, and yielding
abundance of fruit. Thou hast come to the great village of my race, to
the spot where we have dwelt ever since ourselves, and this lake, and
that hill, were formed at the nod of the Great Spirit. Hitherto we
have dwelt in peace, unvisited by one of thy race, but reason, and
instinct alike inform me that thou wilt become the enemy of my tribe.
Hitherto we have dwelt in peace, with none to vex us, or make us
afraid--that period is past, and now thou wilt destroy us, unless
something is done to unite us in the bonds of firm friendship. Thou
hast proclaimed thyself a Nanticoke--one of the six that found
themselves sitting upon the shores of the Great Lake, in the latter
part of a warm and pleasant day, in the Moon in which the shad leave
the waters that are salt, and journey to those that are fresh. It is
well. Thou must be joined with the nation of Musk-rats in a lasting
league. Come to my cabin."
So saying, the grave old Musk-rat led the Nanticoke to his dwelling,
which stood at the farther part of the lake. It was built like the
rest of the cabins in the village, but it was very much larger and
handsomer than the rest, and there were a great many doors to it, and
little houses around it, all of which showed it to be the residence of
a Musk-rat of honour and eminence, a chief of high degree among his
people. The chief of the Musk-rats bade the Nanticoke enter this
cabin, but a moment after he said, "No, no, that cannot be done. It is
not high enough for such a tall, strapping gawky as you are. So sit
you here, while I go and fetch you food." So the Nanticoke seated
himself on the sward, while the chief of the Musk-rats went to his
house to fetch food for his guest.
He soon returned, and brought with him a variety of things to eat,
which he placed on the sward, beside the Nanticoke. Some were such
things as men may well eat, and some were only fit for a Musk-rat. The
Nanticoke drew out his flint, and struck fire, while the chief of the
Musk-rats, who had never seen fire before, sat looking on and
expressing loud amazement. After they had finished the meal, the chief
gave a loud cry, upon which a number of little Musk-rats ran out of
the house, and approached the spot where they were sitting. They were
of all sizes, fat, sleek, glossy, little things, which seemed to
delight in the pure air, and to enjoy greatly a roll about on the
grassy sod. Approaching the Nanticoke, those which were old enough,
with a very pretty nod, bade him welcome to the village of the
Musk-rats--which showed that they had been taught good manners, though
they were four-legged creatures. Shortly after, a beautiful Musk-rat
was observed to leave the cabin of the chief, and to approach them
circuitously. It came timidly, the beautiful creature, and sat down at
a short distance from them. The chief of the Musk-rats upon this spoke
to the Nanticoke, and asked him what he thought of his little
daughter. The Nanticoke who, like all other good and brave men, always
spoke the truth, answered that "she was indeed a most beautiful
Musk-rat--what a pity that she was still a Musk-rat!"
"True, but she is the finest Musk-rat in the waters of the lake,"
answered the father; "and she knows better than any other the best
method of keeping a house tidy. And as for her knowledge--Musk-rat
knowledge--who has more? and for cunning and stratagem, match me my
little daughter among all the females of the lakes. What say you to
marrying her?"
"All you have said in praise of your daughter, no doubt, is very
true," answered the Nanticoke, "but she has four legs, and besides is
too little to be the wife of a big fellow like myself."
"She has no more legs than you have," answered the wise creature.
"What are your arms pray, but legs? But all her faults can be
remedied. Wait here till I return."
So saying, the chief of the Musk-rats retired behind a little hillock,
and, digging a small hole in the earth, he filled it with a kind of
red sand mixed with mud. When he had done this, he dropped into it
seven drops of a kind of green water, and seven times repeated the
word "Tuscaloosa," which was, as he said, the name of the guardian
Spirit of the Musk-rats. When he had done invoking the name, he laid
himself down upon the earth, hid his head between his paws, and his
tail between his legs, and pretended to be sleeping. Presently, the
Nanticoke saw arise from the bottom of the lake a creature shaped like
a Musk-rat, but larger than any beast he had ever seen. Each of his
legs was as large as a tree, and his tail was broader than the length
of a man, and his ears were of great size. He had a great white ring
around his neck, and around each leg, and his belly was as red as the
leaf of the maple in autumn. But the most singular things about him
were his face, which was like the face of a man, and his fore-paws,
which were like the hands of a man. The strange creature, who was the
guardian Spirit of the nation of Musk-rats, came swimming along as a
frog swims, and in scarce more than two breaths landed upon the shore
where they sat. Going up to the chief of the Musk-rats, he gave him a
slight blow on the back, exclaiming:
"What is your wish?"
"Take away from my daughter the shape of a Musk-rat, and give her the
shape of a Nanticoke," answered the father.
"Not of me, but of my master must the favour be asked," answered the
Spirit. "I will try what can be done for you." So saying, he went to
the side of the little maiden Musk-rat, and whispered certain words in
her ear. When he had done this, he went to the forest near them, cut
down a young pine-tree, dug up a root of the hemlock, took a spruce
cone, an oak acorn, a hickery nut, and a birch-leaf, and laid them all
in the fire which the Nanticoke had kindled. While they were burning,
he walked round the fire muttering many words in an unknown tongue,
and striking the earth repeatedly with the stone staff which he held
in his hand. When the different things he had put in the fire were
reduced to ashes, he gathered the ashes into the hollow of his hand,
dropped upon them seven drops of a kind of green water, and seven
times cried aloud to his master, with his mouth applied to the ear of
the earth. Ere the echo of the last cry had died away among the hills,
a little red man crept out of the hole which had been dug by the chief
of the Musk-rats, and stood before them. He was shaped like a
Nanticoke, but he was exceeding small. His face was very beautiful,
his eyes shone like the blue of the sky, and his hair like the blush
of sunset. When he came, all the Musk-rats, as well as the genius who
presided over them, bowed themselves to the earth, and remained with
their eyes hidden, while he addressed them thus:
"What would you with the Master of Life, Musk-rats, that you summon
him from his house of shining stone, in the bowels of the earth, to
smell the tainted breezes of the upper air?"
The Spirit told his master what was wanted by the Musk-rats. "It shall
be done," said the kind and beneficent Master. "Man of the Six
Nanticokes, who found themselves, all at once, they knew not how, nor
by what means, sitting upon the shores of the Great Lake, upon a sunny
day in the Frog-Moon, rise, take thy bride, and lead her to the border
of the lake. When thou shalt come to the water, bid her dip her feet
in the water, while thou, standing over her, shalt pronounce these
words: "For the last time as a Musk-rat, for the first time as a
woman. Go in a beast--come out a human being. In the name of the
Master of Life, I command thee to wear no more the form of an animal,
but to assume that shape which is appointed by Him to be the ruler,
the head chief, the governor of all. This do, and thou shalt see the
change that will come.""
The Master ceased speaking, and the Nanticoke did as he was bid. He
took the glossy little maiden Musk-rat by the paw, led her to the
border of the lake, and, while she dipped her feet in the water, he
pronounced aloud the words: "For the last time as a Musk-rat, for the
first time as a woman. Go in a beast--come out a human being. In the
name of the Master of Life, I command thee to wear no more the form of
an animal, but to assume that shape which is appointed by Him to be
the ruler, the head chief, the governor of all."
Scarcely were the words spoken, when the change commenced upon the
little animal. Her body was observed to be assuming the posture of a
human being, gradually erecting itself, as a sapling, which has been
bent to the earth, re-ascends to its upright position. When the little
animal became erect, the skin began to fall from the head and neck,
and gradually unveiling the body to the very feet, displayed to all
around the form of a maiden, beautiful as the flowery mead, or the
blue sky filled with stars, or the north, lit up by the dance of
departed friends, or the rainbow, which precedes, or follows the
summer rain; but not so large as the little child which stands at my
feet. Her hand was scarce larger than a hazel-leaf, and her foot not
longer than the wing of the ring-dove. Her arm was so very slight,
that it seemed the breeze might break it. The Nanticoke gazed with
delight on his beauteous bride, and how was his delight heightened
when he saw that she was gradually increasing in stature, and swelling
to the fair size and proportions of a human being, as exhibited in
himself! Before the great star of day had retired beyond the mountains
of the west, she stood fair in size as matchless in charms, and was
pressed to the heart of the Nanticoke, with a suitable acknowledgment
to the Great Being, who had bestowed her upon him.
Brothers, I am that Nanticoke, and the beautiful woman that was once a
Musk-rat is she that sits at my side, and the child that is playing
at my feet is the child of our love. And this is all I have to say.
* * * * *
The last of the Six Nanticokes commenced his story thus:
I left my brothers, and travelled towards the regions of cold and
snow--the land of perpetual ice and frost. I travelled many, very many
days, over hill and through dale, now encountering the keen air of the
mountains, and now the damp fogs of the low grounds, when I came, at
the hour of noon, to the bottom of a deep valley. In the bottom of
this valley, was a well dug in the earth, and which appeared to have
no bottom. It was half as wide over as the flight of an arrow, and how
deep no one could say. The waters which met the eye at a vast distance
below the surface of the earth were green as grass, and, what seemed
most strange to those who saw them, appeared to be full of eyes,
bright shining eyes, resembling what bubbles blown upon the water
would be, if they could be lit up by the beams of the sun. And whether
it was that there were winds uttering sounds in the well or not, could
not be told, but certain it is that whispers proceeded therefrom like
those of human voices, sounding in deep caves. Fatigued by my long
journey, I lay down upon the earth by the side of the well, intending
to sleep. But the spirit which presides over the night came not at my
summoning, and I lay restless and discontented, until the moon had
climbed the tops of the highest hills. Then it was that shapes of
strange appearance, Spirits, which bore the likeness of human beings
in all save their eyes, began to come out of the well. They were of
all colours and sizes, tall, short, thick, spare, black, white, grey,
green, yellow, red. But in colour the eyes of all were alike--all were
bright, and shining, and glittering like the blush of sunset. There
were both men and women, and there were also many children. As soon as
the Spirits of the Well stood upon the earth, they immediately formed
themselves into a circle, and began dancing. Lightly did they trip
away on the green sod, dancing without intermission for the whole
period between their first appearance on the earth and the first
glimmer of day upon the tall peaks of the mountains. When the red
tinge which announces the approach of the sun first appeared, they all
stole into their hiding-place, and again were the waters of the well
filled with eyes, resembling sun-lit bubbles, and again whispers
proceeded therefrom like those of human voices sounding from deep caves.
The Nanticoke--that is myself--who was now burning with curiosity to
know something more of the strange creatures dwelling in the well,
determined to stay yet another night to accost them, and to learn who
and what they were. So he built him a hut of bark near, and reposed
beneath it, until the shadows of night again descended upon the earth.
With the beam of the rising moon again ascended these merry dancers,
the Spirits of the Well, and commenced their gambols on the green sod.
But what most astonished him was, that on neither night had they
spoken to him, or given indications that they considered him a living
being. In performing their mazy dances, they had several times come
within a few feet of him, and once one of the agile creatures, running
out of the circle, cleared his head with a bound, which showed that
the impediment was observed and avoided. Determined to make himself
known to them, if words could do so, the Nanticoke, a stranger to
fear, approaching the circle of dancers, thrust himself into the midst
of them. Yet was his object unaccomplished. They danced around him,
they crossed their hands touching him, they leaped over him, in
appearance they ran against him, though he felt them not. Still none
of the circumstances produced recognition. He hallooed, apparently
they heard him not; he danced with them, they heeded not his motions.
Determined, whatever it might cost him, to make them know him, he
caught at a passing form, selecting, for the object of his embrace,
the most beautiful of all the dancers, a lovely woman, whose beauties
cannot be described. What did he embrace? A shadow! a mere phantom!
That beautiful form is a shade! He draws not to his bosom a creature
invested with the attributes of humanity, with its virtues, its
faults, its weaknesses. He feels not the soft breath of woman fanning
his cheek, nor the throb of her little heart bounding against his own.
There comes a cold, clammy air to his brow, like that of water in a
cold morning, and the pulsation of his heart is checked instead of
quickened. She is gone. He finds he has no more power to retain her in
his arms, or to awaken in her a knowledge of his existence, than he
has to arrest the march of the summer wind, or to hold conversation
with the stars of night. Another, and another, and yet another
fruitless attempt to clasp that form, for whom he begins to feel a
new, and strange, and predominating interest, convince him that they
are not of his order, but exist unapproachable by beings of clay.
Again the morning dawns, and again they fly to their damp and chill
retreat.
The Nanticoke, exhausted by long watching, and wearied out by
incessant exertion to embrace the beautiful phantom, lay down upon the
earth, and sunk into a deep sleep. Then it was that the Manitou of
Dreams came to his couch, and whispered in his ear these words:
"Nanticoke! the shadows which nightly appear to thee are the Spirits
of the Well. In this well for many hundred years have they dwelt, and
every night do they visit the upper air to respire its breezes. Unlike
other spirits, they see not human beings, nor can they by any means,
short of the direct interference of the Master of Life, be made
sensible of their presence. Blows touch them not, nor do their eyes
behold those things which mortals behold, but those which mortals
behold not. They have a world of their own, which, though it be
comprised within the space of the world we inhabit, is distinctly
separate in its nature and properties, and requires things of a
different order to inhabit it. They wear, as you see, the shape of a
human being, but they have none of its properties save the shape.
"How shall I make myself known to them? how shall I make myself known
to the beautiful creature I have so often tried to clasp in my arms?"
demanded the Nanticoke.
"It is to tell thee how that I am now at thine ear," answered the
Master of Dreams. "Listen."
"Peel from the vine that bears no fruit its inner bark, and of this
twist thee a long cord that shall carry to the water of the well the
thing thou shalt tie to it. When it is finished, attach to it the
white flat stone having in it little shining specks, which thou shalt
find lying upon the edge of the near rivulet, where the feet of deer
have worn a deep and broad path. Thou must let this stone descend with
a quick motion till it reach the water, the whilst crying aloud, 'Come
forth, maiden spirit with the bright eyes, and assume the corporeal
state which shall fit thee for becoming a resident of the upper earth.
Quit the impalpable form thou didst wear in the world of thine own,
and be flesh, and blood, and bones, and marrow, in ours. Be no more
the cold and chilled inhabitant of a dark, damp, and murky well, but
become a warm and impassioned woman. Awake to the joys and sorrows,
and hopes and fears, and doubts and disappointments, and cares and
anxieties, which belong to human life. Awake to the throbs of love,
and the joys of maternity.'" So saying, the Spirit departed to the
place of his rest in the land of dreams.
The Nanticoke arose, and did as he was bidden. He peeled from the vine
that bore no fruit its inner bark, and with it he made a cord of
sufficient length to reach the water of the well. He searched for the
flat, white stone with little shining specks in it, and having found
it he attached it to the cord, and let it descend with a quick motion
till it reached the water. Whilst it was descending, he cried aloud,
"Come forth, maiden spirit with the bright eyes, and assume the
corporeal state of a human being. Quit the impalpable form thou didst
wear in the world of thine own, and be flesh, and blood, and bones,
and marrow, in ours. Be no more the cold and chilled inhabitant of a
dark, damp, and murky well, but become a warm and impassioned woman.
Awake to the joys and sorrows, and hopes and fears, and doubts and
disappointments, and cares and anxieties, which belong to human life.
Awake to the throbs of love, and the feelings of maternity."
Scarce had the words escaped from his lips, when, by a ray of light
which beamed into the well, he saw her he loved, her whose beauteous
form he had so often attempted to clasp to his breast, ascending. Now
she rises, suspended as it were, by nothing, now she has gained the
earth. Already has she felt the change which has come over her,
already she knows herself invested with other feelings and properties
than those which have accompanied her in the state which she has
quitted. Sounds are ringing in her ears which never rang there till
now; visions are before her eyes which are now awakened for the first
time. The music of birds, and the hum of bees, and the rattling of the
distant rill, and the sighing of the wind, greet her ear, and her eyes
are made happy by all the bright things which the Great Being has
placed in this glorious world. And, most of all the objects which meet
her eye, does the form of the Nanticoke please and gratify her. Her
beautiful cheek is covered with a blush, her eye grows mellower, and
her heart beats with a new, and till now unfelt passion. Few minutes
pass ere she is in his arms, and has given and received the kiss of
affection. She has awoke to the feelings of humanity, her heart has
felt the throb of love, her bosom has been pained by the fear that it
may not be returned; and anxiety, and joy, and grief, and many of the
other passions of human nature, have visited her bosom. Beautiful
creature! she has blushed on the Nanticoke her consent to be his, she
has whispered in his delighted ear her happiness and pleasure; and,
while she sits on the green sod at his side, she lays her head on his
shoulder, and sings a sweet song of happy lovers, in the language of
the Nanticoke which has become her own. I recollect not the words of
that song, but it came to the ears of the enraptured Indian as the
first word of a little child to the ears of its mother.
Brothers! I am that Nanticoke, and the beautiful spirit is she that
sits at my side, and the child at my feet is the child she bore me.
And this is all I have to say.