On the northern branch of the river of the Cherokees, the most
numerous and powerful tribe of the south, there are two high mountains
nearly covered with mossy rocks, and lofty cedars, and pines. These
mountains, rugged and terrible to behold, are made yet more fearful to
the mind of the red man of the forest, who sees the Great Being in the
clouds, and hears him in the winds, and fancies a spirit in every
thing that moves, by the horrid sights and awful sounds which proceed
from them. Often, as the sun sinks behind those mountains, persons who
have their eyes intently fixed upon them will see lofty forms whose
heads stretch far into the sky, standing upon their summits, or
oftener leaping from one mountain to the other clean across the wide
valley which separates them. Those shapes we can see wear the shape of
man, yet their actions do not seem to belong to a race of mortals, and
we deem them spirits--giant spirits, which never had the sinews, and
bones, and muscle, and flesh, of men. And often, in the midnight
hour, the listener hears sounds proceeding from those mountains--the
whispers of love, the loud tones of strife, or the merry ones of
joy--laughing and weeping--wooing and strife--expressing all the
various passions and emotions which find a place in the bosoms of
mortals. With these mighty spirits no mortal hath had communication,
for they never leave the mountain--and who shall dare approach their
villages? No one has heard their story, no one knows their creator,
nor when they were born, nor when they shall die, if death be
appointed to them. They have lived in mystery: showing their forms as
the trunk of a decayed, and branch-less tree shows itself from out a
morning mist, and raising their voices but as a thunder-cloud in
summer, they will depart as a spirit departs, noiselessly, and go no
one knows whither.
Between these two lofty and dreaded mountains, there is a deep valley,
or rather a succession of deep valleys, for the occurrence at short
spaces of low hills breaks the continuousness of that with which the
space between those mountains commences. In these valleys the beams of
the sun are concentrated and drawn together, creating at times a heat
so great, that nothing can live in them but those reptiles, which are
ripened and fattened to full growth only by suns which scorch like
fire. In these same valleys have dwelt, ever since the earth was first
placed on the back of the great tortoise, those Kind Old Kings, the
_Bright Old Inhabitants_(1), which are rattlesnakes of a most
prodigious size, possessed of singular properties, and endowed with
tremendous and fearful powers. It is death to venture within their
limits, and equally fatal to displease them. So well convinced are the
people of my nation of their power to inflict an instant and dreadful
death on all, that no temptation can induce them to betray their
secret recesses to the wanton stranger. They well know that, if they
do so, they shall be exposed to the unceasing attacks of all the
inferior species of snakes who love their kings, which are these
Bright Old Inhabitants, and know by instinct those who injure, or
attempt to injure them. They know that, let but those kings issue
their commands, there is not a snake that crawls but will open his
mouth or use his sting to inflict the greatest possible degree of
vengeance in his power on the enemies and oppressors of those whom he
loves and obeys. Hence the place of residence of the Kind Old Kings is
kept a secret by our people. For a long time they did not know it
themselves, and only became acquainted with it when the occurrence
took place which I am about to relate to my brother.
Once upon a time, many years ago, there lived among the Cherokees a
man who was neither a warrior nor a hunter, yet was the most
celebrated man of his nation, and further known than its proudest
warrior or most expert hunter. He was a priest, and knew the secret
ways, and the will, and the wishes, of his master, the Great Spirit.
Not only was he skilled in the wisdom of the land of souls, but he was
learned in matters which affect the dwellers in the body. He knew how
to cure the ailments of the body, as well as to give answers to the
questions which related to the ways and doings of the Being above all.
He could tell at what time in the morning men should go to the Hill of
Prayer, with clay on their heads, to cry for mercy and aid, and when
they should repair to the Cave of Sacrifice, to gather the will of the
Great Spirit from the hollow voice[A] within it. He alone, of all the
mighty nation of the Cherokees, had seen that Spirit; he alone had
heard him speak, and to none other would that Spirit deign to listen,
or to give reply. Chepiasquit, for that was the name of this famous
priest, was indeed a very wise man, and his sayings were reckoned of
scarcely less authority then the words of his master. Whatever he said
had a weight which other men's words had not; and all his actions,
however trifling in their nature, were magnified into actions of
importance, and became invested with a character, which did not
belong to those of men in other respects more gifted than he. Yet the
unbounded respect in which his nation held him was not undeserved.
Wisdom he possessed, and he used it to the furthering of the
interests, and the advancing of the happiness, of his people. If they
wanted rain, they asked Chepiasquit for it, and he gave it to them. If
too much fell, they had only to complain to him, and the clouds
witheld their floods, and the waters were locked up in the hollow of
the hand of him that created them. If the thunders were heard to roll
awfully, and the fearful lightnings were seen to flash along the black
sky, they spoke to Chepiasquit, who uttered a short prayer to Him who
controuls the elements as well as man, and all became hushed and
still; the black clouds passed away, and the bright stars looked out
from their places of rest in the clear blue sky. All things seemed
obedient to him, when he chose to open his lips in supplication to his
master. The fame which he had acquired by this intimacy and friendship
with the Great Spirit was the means of giving peace to his nation. His
reputation being spread far and near, no tribe durst try their
strength in war, or measure their weapons in combat, with a people who
were possessed of such a friend, protector, leader, and priest. So the
Cherokees rested in peace, and the earth was no more made red with
blood, but wore the robe which nature provided for it--the robe of
green. They planted their corn in the Budding-Moon, and lived to see
it harvested in the Moon of Falling Leaves. They left the doors of
their cabins unlatched at night, and the sentinel slept as sound and
as long as the new-born babe. Their arrows were eaten up by the rust
of sloth and inactivity, and the strings of their bows were rotted by
the mildew of carelessness and idleness. The aged met not now in the
great council-house, to plan distant expeditions, or frustrate
expected invasions; the youth spent their time in courting and
marrying. The fame of Chepiasquit changed the character of the nation
from warlike to peaceable, and banished from the land the vulture of
war and havoc, to give place to the dove of peace and tranquillity.
[Footnote A: Hollow voice--echo.]
Four wives had this wise priest; they bore him many children: but,
great as was his power with the Master of the World, it did not enable
him to obtain for them a continuance of life beyond the second moon of
their birth. All, save one, died while they were yet swinging in their
cradles of willow-bark from the bough of the tree--that one, a
daughter, was spared to his entreaties and prayers. Winona, or the
first-born, for that was the name bestowed on the child, grew up in
the cabin of her father, beautiful beyond any maiden that ever graced
the nation of Cherokees. How shall I describe to my brother from the
far country the matchless charms of Chepiasquit's virgin daughter!
Shall I tell him that her eyes were the eyes of the mountain kid, and
her hair long and glossier than the plumage of the raven, and her
teeth white and even, and her hand delicate and plump, and her foot
small and speedy? Shall I say that her voice was joyful as the voice
of a mated bird in spring, and her temper cheerful, sweet, mild, kind,
and always the same? Shall I increase his admiration for the beautiful
creature, by telling him that she best loved to sit by the quiet
hearth of her parents, leaving it to lighter and less amiable maidens
to rove on idle errands and frivolous pursuits through the village.
For, let my brother learn, she was that wonder, a woman, contented and
happy in her own house, with none but her own father to listen or
reply. During the long evenings of the period when the sun is away
from the earth for so great a portion of the day, she would sit on her
soft couch of skins and dried moss, listening to the tales he would
repeat of the wonderful things he had seen and heard; the dreams of
strange and fearful creatures which had troubled his hours of sleep,
and the actual appearance to him, when sleep was far from his eyelids,
of beings or phantoms not of this world; and the traditions which
told of the love, or hatred, or favour, or punishment, of the Great
Spirit--of his bounties sent to the Cherokees, when famine reared his
gaunt form among them, or of wrath provoked, and punishment inflicted,
when pride dwelt in their villages, when their thoughts were far from
him, when no clay was put on their heads, when the tender and juicy
flesh of the deer smoked not in his sacrifice. Wars he had seen,
though he had left victory to be achieved by others, for he had been a
man of peace. To the tales of her beloved father would the fair maiden
listen with great delight, for they accorded with the belief in
wonderful events and supernatural appearances, which is early
impressed on the mind of every Indian, and never leaves him but with
life. She would sit for hours with her little head rested on her palm,
her whole soul absorbed by the wild narratives, which, during the long
season of winter, are related to while away the hours spared from war
and the chace.
Beloved with a greater degree of affection than is usually felt even
among those whose lives are little subject to the incidents which
weaken or destroy attachments, the beautiful daughter of the Cherokee
priest grew up to womanhood, the cherished idol of all her friends,
the boast and pride of the nation. The young and ardent Braves sought
her hand in marriage; but she was deaf to all their entreaties and
protestations, and refused all their offers. Yet she did it with so
much kindness, and said so many sweet words to blunt the severity of
the refusal, that all her lovers became her friends, and each, with
affectionate kindness, blended with the bold bearing of one who says
what he knows he has courage to perform, promised that his love
mellowed into friendship should remain firmly fixed in his heart, and
that he would defend its object, should danger cross her path, as long
as strength was given him to carry a spear. The rejection by the fair
Winona of so many youths, most of whom were deemed worthy of her
choice, gave the father pain; but he loved his daughter too well to
wish to make her unhappy by a marriage with one she did not love. He
had seen--and who does not?--that the bird selects for its mate the
bird it likes best; that love and affection go to the pairing of all
creatures, save man and woman; and that only with them is it a practice
to bind together, and fetter for life, those whose hearts are far
apart. And he knew, that the Great Spirit disliked that force or
constraint should be used in affairs of this kind. So, in obedience to
the will of his master, as well as the dictates of his own reason,
and the affection he bore her, he permitted his lovely and gentle
child to remain unmarried in his house.
But it was not decreed by him who governs all things that the
beautiful maiden should always remain a stranger to the delightful
pains and agonising pleasures of love. It was in the second month of
spring, when all nature feels the influence of the returning sun, when
birds are carolling on every spray, and the grass and flowers are
waking up from their long and chilled, sleep, and the joyous deer is
out to nip the young buds, that a company of young hunters from the
distant but far-famed nation of the Muscogulgees, passing through the
lands of the Cherokees, stopped for rest and refreshment, and to try
the strength of our young men in the exercises which youth love, at
the village in which the father of the beautiful maiden abode. These
young hunters were the flower of that valiant nation, bred up to
pursue with equal courage and ardour the savage bear into his fearful
retreats, and the foe, notwithstanding his treacherous ambuscades,
through the dark and almost impervious forest. War was their natural
and most beloved pursuit; but now they had doffed their martial
habiliments, wiped off their war-paint, and taken up the bow and spear
to pursue the peaceful occupation of hunting. The leader of this
youthful band of Muscogulgees, was a tall and stately youth, formed in
the noblest and most animated mould of the human form, straight as a
young cedar, with eyes that indicated the fire of his soul, and brow,
and cheek, and lip, that showed the mildness of his heart. With a
small eagle feather, the badge of his chieftainship in his hair, his
robe of dressed deer-skin thrown lightly over his shoulder, at which
hung his bow and well filled quiver, he walked among the admiring
youths and maidens of our nation, a thing to be feared, dreaded, and
loved. He and his company of chosen young Braves now received the
welcome, and experienced, the hospitality, which, in every situation,
and at every season, the red man of the forest offers to those who
visit him. They were feasted and caressed by each and all. The painted
pole was erected and the feast prepared, that an opportunity might be
afforded them of recounting their exploits in the ears of the
listening Braves of our nation; the wrestling ring was formed, that
their skill and strength, if they possessed such, in that exercise,
might be shown; games of chance were appointed, that the favour of the
Great Spirit, and the strength of the protecting _okkis_ of each
nation and individual, might be demonstrated. In every undertaking,
was the superior skill and strength of the youthful leader of the
Muscogulgee band made apparent. In the wrestling ring, the strongest
man of the Cherokees was but a child in his hands; his voice, in the
song of his own exploits, and the recital of the glories of his
nation, was sweeter than the sighing of the gentlest spring wind, and
clearer than the prattling music of the waterfall. In the games which
were played he was equally successful, and he rose from the _match of
straws_ winner of half the valued treasures and trophies of the
opposing Braves. Was it strange, that one so bold and brave should
ingratiate himself with the beautiful maidens of our tribe? Was it
strange, that bright eyes should glisten with tears, and soft bosoms
be filled with throbs, and red lips be fraught with sighs, when the
Guard of the Red Arrows passed before the eyes of beauty? Was it any
thing to excite especial wonder, that the beautiful daughter of the
priest should suffer the fires of love to be lit in her tender bosom?
or that the valiant and handsome Muscogulgee should think her the
fairest creature he had ever seen, should reciprocate the soft passion
which glowed in her bosom, and wish to transfer the lovely flower of
the Cherokees from the cabin of her father to his distant home?
The Guard of the Red Arrows said to the father of the maiden, "I love
your daughter. Her bright black eyes, and long black locks, her
melodious voice, and her gentleness, and her sweet temper, and her
winning air, have caught my heart, as a bird is entangled in the snare
of the fowler, or a deer entrapped in the toils of the hunter. She has
become the light of my soul--when I see her not, all is darkness. I
have no eyes but for her; my ears drink in no other accents than hers;
my last thought when I sink to rest is of the beautiful Fawn, my first
when I awake of the bright-eyed little maiden who gits by the
cabin-fire of the wise priest of her nation. I hare opened my heart to
this charming maiden, and have heard from her lips a soft confession
of her love for the Muscogulgee. She consents to leave the house of
her father, and the home of her childhood, to go, with the Guard of
the Red Arrows, to the cabin he has built himself beside the beautiful
and rapid river of his nation."
The father answered, "I cannot spare my daughter to go to the far home
of him who asks her hand. She is the light of my eyes, and the joy of
my heart. What would her mother say, and how should I answer the fond
questions which, with eyes streaming with tears, she would ask, if I
permitted the little fawn she has nursed with so much care to go forth
to a distant land--to be in the morning of her youth separated from
all her friends and companions, and taken to a new and unknown abode?
Gloom would be in my cabin, and tears would rush from the eyes, that
for seventeen harvests have been accustomed to see the gentle maiden
performing her acts of dutiful kindness, and gliding with a foot
noiseless as snow around the couches of her beloved parents. We should
listen in the morning for the carol of the sweetest of all birds, and
miss in the evening the tread of the lightest mortal foot that ever
brushed the dew from the flowers of the prairie. There would be one
missing from the repast of meat; one from the dance of maidens beneath
the shady oak; one from the couch of moss where we sleep. No,
Muscogulgee! I cannot spare the fawn. How should I answer the fond
questions of her mother, when, with eyes streaming with tears, she
should ask me for her daughter? When I told her the truth, she would
cry, 'Hard and cruel man! thou hast torn from me the darling of my
heart, the idol of my soul.--What shall become of me--of thee, thus
deprived of our sweet child?' No, Muscogulgee! I must refuse thee my
daughter. And yet, if thou wilt renounce thine own nation, and come
and take up thy residence in the native land of her thou lovest, or
pretendest to love, the maiden shall be thine. Thou shalt have a cabin
built beside my own, and, as is our Indian wont, the friends of thy
bride shall place within it all the household implements needed in our
simple life. Her friends shall be thy friends, and her father thy
father, and her mother thy mother. When there is thunder and darkness
in the sky of the Cherokees, it shall thunder and be dark in the sky
of the Muscogulgee sojourner among them, and with whomsoever the
Cherokees have buried the hatchet of war, and made a league of amity,
with that tribe or people shall the Muscogulgee keep terms of peace."
The Muscogulgee answered, as became him, that "his father, and his
mother, and his brothers, and his sisters, and all the friends of his
youth, were dwelling in the land of his birth--the land of his
father's bones--how could he quit it? Why should he fly his
father-land, a land pleasant to look upon, and healthful to live in,
abounding in quiet glades where the deer loved to browze, in pleasant
streams filled with fish, in smooth and tranquil lakes, fanned by the
wings of the innumerable fowls which went thither for food. Much as he
loved the beautiful flower of the Cherokees, and much as he wished to
make her his bride, he could not become an exile to obtain her. Why
should her father object to her following the steps of him she loved,
and who would be unto her father, mother, sister, brother, friend, in
that one word _husband_?"
And thus pleaded the lover, but he pleaded in vain, for the father
remained deaf to his entreaties and prayers. Not so the daughter. She
had drunk the sweet poison of his words, and, when he clasped her to
his breast, felt that there was more bliss in that clasp than could be
communicated by the kindest words, and fondest looks, and richest
gifts, of those who were the authors of her being. She heard his fond
words, and believed them true; she saw his face, and knew it fair, and
she trusted him. It was agreed between them, that when the moon had
hid herself behind the lofty woods which skirted the village of her
birth, she should fly from the house of her father, with the Guard of
the Red Arrows, to the cabin he had built him beside the beautiful
river of his nation. But they forgot--these fond and foolish
lovers!--that the Great Spirit was the friend of Chepiasquit, and made
him acquainted with all the secret doings of those who would harm him,
or interfere with his family concerns. They forgot,--simple
children!--that the wise powwow had but to feel the stirring of the
ant under the skin of the left hand, when, binding over his eyes the
hide of a young badger, and laying his head upon a pillow composed of
the leaves of the black hornbeam, the Manitou of Dreams would make
known to him every machination of his enemies. The plans of the
youthful pair for flight were soon revealed to the cunning powwow by
his faithful spirit, and he arose in the morning, knowing what the
night would bring forth, and fully prepared to punish the attempts
which were to be made against the peace of his family. He made all
those careful preparations for impending danger which a wise and
prudent chief should make. He shut up his daughter in his lodge, and,
calling around him the Braves of his nation, he made them acquainted
with the designs of the Muscogulgee, and bade them keep guard around
the endangered cabin and its coveted treasure, but on no account--if
it could be dispensed with--to do harm to the strangers. Having
prepared to oppose violence by violence, if need should be, he,
wishing to prevent bloodshed, for he was a man of peace, called to him
the lover of his daughter, and addressed him thus:
"I did say thou couldst not have my daughter, but upon one
condition--I recall my word, and add thereto a second. She shall be,
with the consent of her father, the companies of thy homeward journey,
if thy heart be strong enough to undertake one quest, and it be the
will of the Great Spirit that thou be spared to accomplish it. Let the
valiant Muscogulgee, who has man written on his brow and eye, though
the down on his cheek proclaims him boy, listen to the words of the
father of Winona, and remember that the manifestation of a strong
heart, at this time, may avail much to gain him the object he so
ardently covets.
"Between the two mountains which rear their lofty heads on the
northern branch of the river of the Cherokees, there is a deep valley,
in which the beams of the sun, being concentrated and drawn together,
create a heat so insupportable that nothing can live there but those
reptiles, which are ripened and fattened to full growth only by fervid
and burning suns. In these deep valleys have dwelt, ever since the
beginning of the world, those Bright Old Inhabitants, the chiefs and
fathers of the rattlesnakes, who are called by our nation the "Kind
Old Kings," being, indeed, the sovereigns of all the tribes or species
of snakes to be found on the earth. It has been death to venture
within their limits, and almost as fatal to displease them by speaking
ill of them, or by harming any of their subjects. Hence we know
nothing of their villages, or their numbers, or their policy--whether
they die like ourselves, or if the copy of nature be eternal in them.
These things would I know; but above all would I know if the lights
which shine so transcendently in those valleys be, as many say, the
eyes of those Kind Old Kings, or be substances not connected with
them--precious stones lit up by the beams of the sun, or dazzling
meteors shining by their own light. Go, brave young man, visit this
valley; confer with the wise old reptiles that inhabit it: above all
see if the lights which illumine it be the eyes of those snakes, or
dazzling meteors shining by their own light, or precious stones lit up
by the beams of the sun. And thou must bring me a tooth from the jaw
of a living king, and a rattle from his tail, and an eye from his
skull. When thou shalt bring us an account of these things, the hand
of my daughter shall accompany her heart, and the one shall become, as
the other hath been, the property of the valiant Muscogulgee. But,
until thou hast performed the required task, my daughter remains
guarded in my cabin."
The Muscogulgee heard the words of the father, and grief filled his
soul. He had heard--for who in those wilds was ignorant of the
tradition?--of the "bright old inhabitants," and he knew how deadly
the enmity which they bear to those who trespass upon their sacred and
secluded retreats. He knew that, in undertaking this invasion of their
solitudes, small chance remained to him of escaping death from their
dreadful fangs. Though they were called the Kind Old Kings, they were
known not to deserve that appellation when just cause was given for
anger. These considerations presented themselves to the young
Muscogulgee, but they did not appal him. He loved the beautiful
daughter of the priest, and, deeming that life passed without her
would not be worth possessing, he determined to attempt the task which
would end it, or give to his arms the object of his love, the bright
and blooming Cherokee maiden. So he made answer to Chepiasquit, that
he would do, or attempt to do, the thing required of him, and received
from the wise old _powwow_ a renewal of his promise, that the maiden
should be his when his task should be accomplished. Then, turning to
his companions, who had gathered around him, he bade them return
immediately to the land of the Muscogulgees, and impart to his friends
a knowledge of the hazardous expedition which he had undertaken. And
then, in the presence of her father and mother, he bade adieu to the
blushing maiden, who received, with many tears, the kiss of affection
upon her soft cheek, and raised her wet eyes in speechless prayer to
the Great Spirit that he might be returned to her arms.
The powwow said to the Muscogulgee, "Thou hast undertaken a fearful
thing, and one which I warn thee will require much and deep thought
and caution, and great valour and wisdom. Thou shalt have my aid and
counsel, but they may not avail so much as thine own steadiness of
soul, and strength of arm. Nevertheless, I will give thee a charm, a
potent charm, and see thou rememberest my directions for its use."
So saying, he drew forth from his basket of amulets the skin of a
mountain cat, in which was a medicine, compounded of those powerful
substances which nature furnishes, to enable men to acquire command
over their own and the inferior species. There were the vine which
never bore fruit, the dry cones of the pine, steeped in the dew that
drops from the leaves of the mountain-laurel, the claws of the tiger,
the teeth of the alligator, the thighbone of the tortoise, and the
ribs of the snail, reduced to a powder, and mixed up with water
dropped from the shell of the butternut, through the ochre of war. The
wise master of the spell had drawn from field, and forest, earth, air,
and water, from beast and bird, and fish and reptile, and insect and
tree, and flower and fruit, all the various properties which have an
agency in subduing things to the will of him, to whom those properties
have been taught. From these he had compounded a medicine, the mighty
power of which was unknown even to himself. Placing this amulet in
the hands of the wondering youth, he bade him remember to repeat aloud
the following words, and in the following manner, should he deem there
was occasion for its use. "I am lost! I am lost! save me! save me! In
the name of the seven men that were bewildered in a foggy morning, and
cooked for the breakfast of the Kind Old Kings, I call upon thee,
Maiden in Green, to protect me from the like fate." The youthful lover
received the sacred amulet, with all the reverence which it ought to
inspire, and, before the great star of day had sunk to sleep behind
the hills of the west, he had slung his bow and quiver to his
shoulder, and taken up the line of his march to the fated valley.
Travelling onward with great expedition, he came near the close of the
next day to the entrance of the eventful spot. He saw the high
mountains covered with mossy rocks, and tall cedars, and pines, and
beheld the "lofty forms, whose heads stretched far into the sky," and
heard the sounds which proceeded from their lips, the soft whispers of
love, the loud tones of strife, or the merry ones of joy, laughing and
weeping, wooing and strife, signs that they were possessed of the
various passions and emotions which find a place in the breasts of
mortals. Between these mountains lay the deep valley spoken of, but
what it was which glittered and glistened in it, he knew not. Whatever
it was, it shone with a splendour which eclipsed the meridian beams of
the sun. The whole space between the two mountains seemed a glare of
light, which dazzled even more than the fiercest glare of noon in the
Month of Thunder. What still more astonished and perplexed the youth
was, that the light seemed of various colours, ever changing, never
for a moment wearing the same appearance. Now it wore the hue of the
maple leaf in autumn, now of the tuft of the blue heron--now it was
purple, now green, now yellow, and then it seemed a mixture of them
all, a blending of all the colours ever beheld into one. Astonished
and dismayed, but still determined to win the hand of the beautiful
Winona or perish, the Guard of the Red Arrows undauntedly entered the
valley, and approached the scene of wondrous splendour. Moving with
great difficulty, for the entrance was overrun with briars and many
other vicious impediments, he came all at once to a clear field, and
beheld what had so enchanted and spell-bound at a distance--what so
filled with horror now it was nearer beheld. He saw the earth covered
with rattlesnakes of a more enormous size than any ever beheld by man,
ay, beyond what even his imagination had pictured in his most
restless and diseased hours of sleep. The bodies of many of them were
larger than the trunks of the largest forest trees, and so unwieldy
that, when they would turn round, they were compelled to take a circle
almost as wide as their length. But bountiful nature, which always
compensates for a defect or disadvantage by adding an excellence, made
up for the heavy motion of their bodies by bestowing upon them the
power of irresistible fascination. She gave to them an eye--to each a
single eye--placing it in the centre of their foreheads, possessing
the power to draw to them every living creature. It was this eye which
emitted the wonderful light which had so dazzled the Muscogulgee at a
distance, and still more dazzled now that he was within reach of the
horrid fascination. These eyes were of every possible colour, and the
light they sent forth was as various as the colour of the eyes. Nor
could the colour of any one of those eyes be set down as positively
this or that, for each moment was it changing. Now the green eye
became blue as the midnight sky--look again, it was yellow as the
fallen leaf; a fourth time, the scarlet hue was entering upon one
side, while the yellow was retreating from the other, leaving the
middle a strange combination of both. Long might the Muscogulgee have
gazed on the brilliant, but terrible scene--a field, stretching
farther than the eye could reach, and all covered with immense snakes,
hissing with a sound loud as the roar of the tempest, shaking their
rattles with a noise like thunder, the while their eyes emitted the
light which he shuddered to look at, and yet, such was their power of
fascination, he was unable to turn from--long, I repeat, might he have
gazed on the scene, but he found himself irresistibly impelled to
enter the field of light. His feet were irresistibly drawn forward,
his mouth was opened to deprecate the anger of the Great Being, his
hands were upraised at what he knew must be instant destruction, for
already were their dreadful jaws expanded, and their hideous tongues,
red as burning coals, twinkling with a motion so quick that it seemed
but the soul of a vapour, when he bethought himself of the charm given
to him by the wise priest, and drew it forth. Bowing, as he was
bidden, to the spirit of storms, who rules the east, to the kind
genius of the south, to the master of the west wind, and to the North
Star, which is the best friend of hunters and bewildered men, he
thrice called upon the Great Spirit, crying in a loud voice, "I am
lost! I am lost! save me! save me! In the name of the seven men who
were bewildered in a foggy morning, and cooked for the breakfast of
the Kind Old Kings, I call upon thee, Maiden in Green, to protect me
from a like fate." Is my brother prepared to hear what was the effect
produced by these words? Does he wish to know if that shrill cry
called up a being unable to protect him, or if the rattles were
stilled, and the jaws were closed, and if darkness was imparted to
those glittering eyes, and silence to those wicked tongues? Listen.
There came to the ears of the Muscogulgee youth, from the summit of
the Northern mountains, a sound of distant thunder, which in a moment
was succeeded by the sweetest song that ever was breathed upon mortal
ears. He could not distinguish all the words, but he heard enough to
teach him that it was a song of supplication to the Great Spirit for a
"brave and good Muscogulgee hunter, about to be caught in the fangs of
the Kind Old Kings." The moment the thunder and the song were heard,
the rattles were still, the bright eyes sent forth no more light, and
the fiery tongues retreated within the closed and recumbent jaws. Of
all that body of hideous reptiles not one seemed to be imbued with
breath. Nearer and nearer came the song, and as it came the hunter
fancied that it was the music of a being moving level with the earth,
if not beneath its surface. He was right. Soon, in the grass at his
feet, appeared a little snake scarcely thicker than his little finger,
and not longer than the space between his hand and his shoulder. The
colours of this little reptile were as various and beautiful as those
of the eyes of the Kind Old Kings, but these were fixed and permanent,
those as I have said changeable and changing as a woman's mind. The
head was green, the sides were yellow, the belly white, down its back
ran two red stripes, and there were rings of bright crimson around its
tail. Elevating its head as it drew near, it remained stationary and
silent for a moment, and then addressed the Muscogulgee in these
words:--
"I am the spirit raised by the potent _medicine_ of the Cherokee priest;
and, invoked by thy call, I have hastened hither at thy cry of distress,
to tell thee thou art not _lost_. Though thou didst a foolish thing to
come to this valley of death, and he, at whose bidding the thing was
undertaken, a wicked one in sending thee, yet thou shalt not die this
time. I am the Maiden in Green, the ruling Spirit of both mountain and
valley, having power over even the Bright Old Inhabitants, and they
shall not harm thee. Thou art, if I remember right, commanded, as the
price of the beautiful daughter of the Cherokee _powwow_, to carry to
him a tooth from the jaw of a living King and a rattle from his tail,
and an eye from his skull; and to report of sundry things not
necessary to be named. Thou shalt have my aid to accomplish these
things."
So saying, the Maiden in Green re-commenced her song, the while making
a circuit around the prisoner at a small distance from him. When she
had finished the circuit, she changed her song to one which seemed a
song of reproach and threatening. Whatever was the subject, it had the
effect of rekindling the Bright Old Inhabitants to their former state
of wrath. Their eyes were relit with the glittering beams, and the
hissing and the rattling re-commenced. Seemingly determined to take
instant vengeance upon the intruder, they were now seen making such
haste as their natural tardiness admitted of, towards the Muscogulgee.
From every part of the valley heads could be seen displaying forked
tongues, and all pressing towards the alarmed warrior. But he stood
invulnerable to them, though he knew it not, within the charmed circle
made by his protecting spirit. Their powers of fascination had been
taken away by the Maiden in Green, or rather the counter-fascination,
which kept him within the charmed space, was more powerful than the
influence of their eyes.
Calling to one of the largest of the Kind Old Kings to come near, the
Maiden in Green spoke to him thus:--"This youth is a brave youth, and
he is a Muscogulgee. He loves the beautiful daughter of the _powwow_
Chepiasquit, and has asked her of her father to wife. The father has
imposed on him the task to visit your valley, and make report whether
your eyes are dazzling meteors, or precious stones. And he has bidden
him bring a tooth from the jaw of a living King, and a rattle from his
tail, and an eye from his skull, the which, being faithfully and fully
accomplished, entitles him to claim, as a pledged boon, the hand of
the lovely Winona. What say you, chief of the kings, shall he return
and be made happy?"
The chief of the kings answered that he knew of no one who would
willingly spare an eye, or a tooth, or a rattle. For himself, he had
found them all of use, and could spare neither eye, tooth, nor rattle.
And he bade the Spirit remember, that though queen of both valley and
mountain, her sway extended but to protect, and not to injure. She had
no right to demand from the Kind Old Kings a thing which should
inflict pain or death upon them. And did she not know that, whenever
one of those eyes of light should be carried beyond the limits of the
valley, the transcendent power and brightness which their owners now
possessed should be enjoyed by them no more. Such was the will of the
Great Being; strange that the Maiden in Green should be ignorant of it.
The Spirit answered that she knew not this, yet she was prepared to
say that the decree should be revoked, if they would, without any
further molestation, impart to the Muscogulgee the required
information, and bestow upon him the gift which would make him happy
and prosperous in his suit to the Cherokee maiden. Should they favour
his request, brilliancy should be added to, rather than taken from,
their eyes, and their rattles should grow in size, and increase in
number and speed of motion. But, if they refused to grant him the
boon, the eye, and the tooth, and the rattle, should be taken from
them by force, whereby they would lose the benefit of having done
something to be thanked for.
Upon hearing this, the chief of the Wise Old Kings called a council of
his nation. I know not what was said in this council, but I can tell
my brother what was done. They drew lots among them, and he upon whom
the lot fell submitted to lose an eye, and a tooth, and a rattle.
Having given these to the Muscogulgee, the eldest of the Kings
instructed him in their history, their laws, and their policy,
replying particularly to the questions suggested by the Cherokee
_powwow_.
"We were created," said he, "after all the other beings were created,
and were formed from the variegated sand which is found on the shores
of the distant Lake of the Woods. It was in a pleasant and sunny
morning in the Buck-Moon, that the Great Spirit, having nothing else
to do, amused himself, as he sat in the warm sun on the bank of this
lake, with twisting ropes of those particoloured sands. Having
twisted, in mere sport, a considerable number, and laid them aside, it
came to his mind that amidst all the variety of creatures he had
formed, whose means of locomotion were walking, flying, swimming,
hopping, trotting, running, there were none ordained to move
altogether by crawling. 'Now,' said he to himself, 'if I were breathe
into these ropes the breath of life, and to invest them with the power
to run about, would it not be a sight worth seeing?--would it not
create a deal of sport among the other animals? But I will make them
more wonderful yet.'
"So saying, he selected a number of small round stones, of which he
thrust several into one end of the ropes. Before him, upon the shore,
were scattered many stones of different hues, but all of surpassing
brilliancy, and each outshining the beams of the meridian sun. He
placed one of these shining gems in the other end of each rope, and
then blew upon them until they exhibited signs of life. When the ropes
began to move, their strange and zigzag motions, and the rattling of
their tails, excited the mirth of the Great Being, who laughed loud
and long at the oddity he had formed. That portion of them to which he
had given rattles and the shining eye were appointed rulers over all
the other and inferior species of snakes. And he bade them remember
that he had formed them to crawl in the dust all the days of their
lives, and on no account to attempt an upright posture. 'But,' said
he, as he concluded the word which bade them be ever of the dust,
'this is no place for your tribes. Ye are a thin-skinned, or rather a
skinless race, and should have a habitation and a name only where
fervid suns beam, and the frosts and snows of winter are little known.
Ye could never reach that land if left to your own exertions--I must
assist you.' So saying, he gathered all the new-born reptiles into his
hand, and, hiding them in the folds of his robe, took his departure
towards the warm regions of the South. A few hours sufficed to bring
him to the valley which we now occupy, and here he committed us, and
all the tribes over which we are appointed rulers, to the fostering
care of the bright and glorious star of day. Having created us, and
breathed into us the breath of life, he bade us, as he had done all
the other creatures, each, for the future, to provide for his own
wants. We who carried the rattles were to live for ever; all the
others were to die at an appointed time. We were commanded never to
leave the valley, and, as a compensation for being restricted in our
walks, we were to exercise for ever dominion over all the other
species of snakes. And, as a protection from those who might wage a
war of invasion against us, our eyes were gifted with the power to
fascinate, and attract to us, every living creature that came within
the scope of their vision, save those who were specially favoured by
the Spirit of the Mountain. And thus it is. We, the Kind Old Kings,
are the identical ropes of sand which were twisted in the beginning of
the world by the Maker of all; those of small stature, which ye see
around us, are our children, and the children of our children. _They_
die, but to us who carry the dazzling eyes, death is not appointed.
Yet we increase in stature, and shall continue increasing in stature,
till the Great Tortoise upon which the earth reposes shall sink into
the endless abyss of waters, carrying with him that earth and all its
numerous creatures.
"You may thank the Spirit of the Mountain, Muscogulgee, for your life.
It was forfeited, and would have been taken, but for the intervention
of the Maiden in Green. You may now return--the bearer of what never
before left the valley of the Bright Old Inhabitants--an eye, and a
tooth, and a rattle--wisdom gathered from my words, and instruction
from my lips. They shall not avail him for whom they are intended,
since their possession would convey to him a power which the Great
Spirit would not--could not, without danger to himself--permit a
mortal to exercise. I hand you a tooth: already does the great
_powwow_ of the Cherokees feel, with the increase of the strength of
his mind, the decrease of the strength of his body: here is the
rattle, his strength is ebbing away; the eye, I behold him helpless on
the bed of death. His face is bright with the wisdom and knowledge
imparted by the gifts he hath obtained from us, but, alas! his tongue
is nerveless, he may not communicate the knowledge he hath gained.
Hasten back in peace, Muscogulgee, deliver to him the gifts which seal
his fate and thine--his, to die ere the moon be two days older--thine,
to gain the maiden thou so ardently longest for, and with her to
descend the stream of time, loving and beloved--the happiest of the
happy. But, remember, let none of thy race or name presume again to
visit this valley, lest the most dreadful fate be theirs."
So spoke the eldest of the Wise Old Kings, and his words were
repeated by all his brothers. They permitted the Muscogulgee to depart
in peace, and he returned to the village of the Cherokee priest. He
delivered the gifts as he had been directed, and witnessed the end he
had been taught to expect. He saw the countenance of the _powwow_
lighted up with intelligence more than mortal, but, at the delivery of
each gift, he beheld a third part of the vigour of animal life fade
away, as the eye, the bright, the unfading, but fatal eye, was placed
in his trembling hand, he saw the spark of life quivering like a lamp
in the socket. The priest had just time to beckon to him his lovely
daughter, when, placing her hand in that of the Muscogulgee youth, he
expired.
Brother, I am a Muscogulgee, and my mother was the beautiful daughter
of the Cherokee priest, and my father the brave youth who adventured
into the valley of the Bright Old Inhabitants. I have done.