Rude as was the exterior of Wayish,ky's hut, the interior presented
every appearance of comfort, and even _elegance_, according to the
Indian notions of both. It formed a good-sized room: a raised couch ran
all round like a Turkish divan, serving both for seats and beds, and
covered with very soft and beautiful matting of various colours and
patterns. The chests and baskets of birch-bark, containing the family
wardrobe and property; the rifles, the hunting and fishing tackle, were
stowed away all round very tidily; I observed a coffee-mill nailed up to
one of the posts or stakes; the floor was trodden down hard and
perfectly clean, and there was a place for a fire in the middle: there
was no window, but quite sufficient light and air were admitted through
the door, and through an aperture in the roof. There was no disagreeable
smell, and everything looked neat and clean. We found Wayish,ky and his
wife and three of their children seated in the lodge, and as it was
Sunday, and they are all Christians, no work was going forward. They
received me with genuine and simple politeness, each taking my hand with
a gentle inclination of the head, and some words of welcome murmured in
their own soft language. We then sat down.
The conversation became very lively; and, if I might judge from looks
and tones, very affectionate. I _sported_ my last new words and phrases
with great effect, and when I had exhausted my vocabulary--which was
very soon--I amused myself with looking and listening.
Mrs. Wayish,ky (I forget her proper name) must have been a very
beautiful woman. Though now no longer young, and the mother of twelve
children, she is one of the handsomest Indian women I have yet seen. The
number of her children is remarkable, for in general there are few large
families among the Indians. Her daughter, Zah,gah,see,ga,quay (_the
sunbeams breaking through a cloud_), is a very beautiful girl, with eyes
that are a warrant for her poetical name--she is about sixteen.
Wayish,ky himself is a grave, dignified man about fifty. He told me that
his eldest son had gone down to the Manitoolin Island to represent his
family, and receive his quota of presents. His youngest son he had sent
to a college in the United States, to be educated in the learning of the
white men. Mrs. Schoolcraft whispered me that this poor boy is now dying
of consumption, owing to the confinement and change of living, and that
the parents knew it. Wayish,ky seemed aware that we were alluding to
his son, for his eye at that moment rested on me, and such an expression
of keen pain came suddenly over his fine countenance, it was as if a
knife had struck him, and I really felt it in my heart, and see it still
before me--that look of misery.
After about an hour we left this good and interesting family. I lingered
for a while on the burial-ground, looking over the rapids, and watching
with a mixture of admiration and terror several little canoes which were
fishing in the midst of the boiling surge, dancing and popping about
like corks. The canoe used for fishing is very small and light; one man
(or woman more commonly) sits in the stern, and steers with a paddle;
the fisher places himself upright on the prow, balancing a long pole
with both hands, at the end of which is a scoop-net. This he every
minute dips into the water, bringing up at each dip a fish, and
sometimes two. I used to admire the fishermen on the Arno, and those on
the Lagune, and above all the Neapolitan fishermen, hauling in their
nets, or diving like ducks, but I never saw anything like these Indians.
The manner in which they keep their position upon a footing of a few
inches, is to me as incomprehensible as the beauty of their forms and
attitudes, swayed by every movement and turn of their dancing, fragile
barks, is admirable.
George Johnston, on whose arm I was leaning (and I had much ado to
_reach_ it), gave me such a vivid idea of the delight of coming down the
cataract in a canoe, that I am half resolved to attempt it. Terrific as
it appears, yet in a good canoe, and with experienced guides, there is
no absolute danger, and it must be a glorious sensation.