descended. Not so the Fisher. Anxious to fulfil his son's wishes, he
continued to break open the mocuks. He was, at last, obliged to run
also, but the opening was now closed by the inhabitants. He ran with all
his might over the plains of heaven, and, it would appear, took a
northerly direction. He saw his pursuers so close that he had to climb
the first large tree he came to. They commenced shooting at him with
their arrows, but without effect, for all his body was invulnerable
except the space of about an inch near the tip of his tail. At last one
of the arrows hit the spot, for he had in this chase assumed the shape
of the Fisher after whom he was named.
He looked down from the tree, and saw some among his assailants with the
totems[15] of his ancestors. He claimed relationship, and told them to
desist, which they only did at the approach of night. He then came down
to try and find an opening in the celestial plain, by which he might
descend to the earth. But he could find none. At last, becoming faint
from the loss of blood from the wound on his tail, he laid himself down
towards the north of the plain, and, stretching out his limbs, said, "I
have fulfilled my promise to my son, though it has cost me my life; but
I die satisfied in the idea that I have done so much good, not only for
him, but for my fellow-beings. Hereafter I will be a sign to the
inhabitants below for ages to come, who will venerate my name for having
succeeded in procuring the varying seasons. They will now have from
eight to ten moons without snow."
He was found dead next morning, but they left him as they found him,
with the arrow sticking in his tail, as it can be plainly seen, at this
time, in the heavens.
FOOTNOTES:
[11] There is a group of stars in the Northern hemisphere which the
Odjibwas call _Ojeeg Annung_, or the Fisher Stars. It is believed to be
identical with the group of the Plough. They relate the following tale
respecting it.
[12] This term is used, in these tales, as synonymous with Chippewa.
[13] Baskets, or cages.
[14] The idea here indicated is among the peculiar notions of these
tribes, and is grafted in the forms of their language, which will be
pointed out in the progress of these researches.
[15] Family arms, or armorial mark.
THE CELESTIAL SISTERS.
A SHAWNEE TALE.
Waupee, or the White Hawk, lived in a remote part of the forest, where
animals and birds were abundant. Every day he returned from the chase
with the reward of his toil, for he was one of the most skilful and
celebrated hunters of his tribe. With a tall, manly form, and the fire
of youth beaming from his eye, there was no forest too gloomy for him to
penetrate, and no track made by the numerous kinds of birds and beasts
which he could not follow.
One day he penetrated beyond any point which he had before visited. He
travelled through an open forest, which enabled him to see a great
distance. At length he beheld a light breaking through the foliage,
which made him sure that he was on the borders of a prairie. It was a
wide plain covered with grass and flowers. After walking some time
without a path, he suddenly came to a ring worn through the sod, as if
it had been made by footsteps following a circle. But what excited his
surprise was, that there was no path leading to or from it. Not the
least trace of footsteps could be found, even in a crushed leaf or
broken twig. He thought he would hide himself, and lie in wait to see
what this circle meant. Presently he heard the faint sounds of music in
the air. He looked up in the direction they came from, and saw a small
object descending from above. At first it looked like a mere speck, but
rapidly increased, and, as it came down, the music became plainer and
sweeter. It assumed the form of a basket, and was filled with twelve
sisters of the most lovely forms and enchanting beauty. As soon as the
basket touched the ground, they leaped out, and began to dance round the
magic ring, striking, as they did so, a shining ball as we strike the
drum. Waupee gazed upon their graceful forms and motions from his place
of concealment. He admired them all, but was most pleased with the
youngest. Unable longer to restrain his admiration, he rushed out and
endeavoured to seize her. But the sisters, with the quickness of birds,
the moment they descried the form of a man, leaped back into the basket
and were drawn up into the sky.
Regretting his ill luck and indiscretion, he gazed till he saw them
disappear, and then said, "They are gone, and I shall see them no
more." He returned to his solitary lodge, but found no relief to his
mind. Next day he went back to the prairie, and took his station near
the ring; but in order to deceive the sisters, he assumed the form of an
opossum. He had not waited long, when he saw the wicker car descend, and
heard the same sweet music. They commenced the same sportive dance, and
seemed even more beautiful and graceful than before. He crept slowly
towards the ring, but the instant the sisters saw him they were
startled, and sprang into their car. It rose but a short distance, when
one of the elder sisters spoke. "Perhaps," said she, "it is come to show
us how the game is played by mortals." "Oh no!" the youngest replied;
"quick, let us ascend." And all joining in a chant, they rose out of
sight.
The White Hawk returned to his own form again, and walked sorrowfully
back to his lodge. But the night seemed a very long one, and he went
back betimes the next day. He reflected upon the sort of plan to follow
to secure success. He found an old stump near by, in which there were a
number of mice. He thought their small form would not create alarm, and
accordingly assumed it. He brought the stump and sat it up near the
ring. The sisters came down and resumed their sport. "But see," cried
the younger sister, "that stump was not there before." She ran
affrighted towards the car. They only smiled, and gathering round the
stump, struck it in jest, when out ran the mice, and Waupee among the
rest. They killed them all but one, which was pursued by the youngest
sister; but just as she had raised her stick to kill it, the form of
White Hawk arose, and he clasped his prize in his arms. The other eleven
sprang to their basket and were drawn up to the skies.
Waupee exerted all his skill to please his bride and win her affections.
He wiped the tears from her eyes. He related his adventures in the
chase. He dwelt upon the charms of life on the earth. He was incessant
in his attentions, and picked out the way for her to walk as he led her
gently towards his lodge. He felt his heart glow with joy as she entered
it, and from that moment he was one of the happiest of men. Winter and
summer passed rapidly away, and their happiness was increased by the
addition of a beautiful boy to their lodge. Waupee's wife was a daughter
of one of the stars, and as the scenes of earth began to pall upon her
sight, she sighed to revisit her father. But she was obliged to hide
these feelings from her husband. She remembered the charm that would
carry her up, and took occasion, while the White Hawk was engaged in
the chase, to construct a wicker basket, which she kept concealed. In
the mean time she collected such rarities from the earth as she thought
would please her father, as well as the most dainty kinds of food. When
all was in readiness, she went out one day, while Waupee was absent, to
the charmed ring, taking her little son with her. As soon as they got
into the car, she commenced her song and the basket rose. As the song
was wafted by the wind, it caught her husband's ear. It was a voice
which he well knew, and he instantly ran to the prairie. But he could
not reach the ring before he saw his wife and child ascend. He lifted up
his voice in loud appeals, but they were unavailing. The basket still
went up. He watched it till it became a small speck, and finally it
vanished in the sky. He then bent his head down to the ground, and was
miserable.
Waupee bewailed his loss through a long winter and a long summer. But he
found no relief. He mourned his wife's loss sorely, but his son's still
more. In the mean time his wife had reached her home in the stars, and
almost forgot, in the blissful employments there, that she had left a
husband on the earth. She was reminded of this by the presence of her
son, who, as he grew up, became anxious to visit the scene of his birth.
His grandfather said to his daughter one day, "Go, my child, and take
your son down to his father, and ask him to come up and live with us.
But tell him to bring along a specimen of each kind of bird and animal
he kills in the chase." She accordingly took the boy and descended. The
White Hawk, who was ever near the enchanted spot, heard her voice as she
came down the sky. His heart beat with impatience as he saw her form and
that of his son, and they were soon clasped in his arms.
He heard the message of the Star, and began to hunt with the greatest
activity, that he might collect the present. He spent whole nights, as
well as days, in searching for every curious and beautiful bird or
animal. He only preserved a tail, foot, or wing of each, to identify the
species; and, when all was ready, they went to the circle and were
carried up.
Great joy was manifested on their arrival at the starry plains. The Star
Chief invited all his people to a feast, and, when they had assembled,
he proclaimed aloud, that each one might take of the earthly gifts such
as he liked best. A very strange confusion immediately arose. Some chose
a foot, some a wing, some a tail, and some a claw. Those who selected
tails or claws were changed into animals, and ran off; the others
assumed the form of birds, and flew away. Waupee chose a white hawk's
feather. His wife and son followed his example, when each one became a
white hawk. He spread his wings, and, followed by his wife and son,
descended with the other birds to the earth, where his species are still
to be found.
TAU-WAU-CHEE-HEZKAW;
OR,
THE WHITE FEATHER.
A SIOUX TALE.
There was an old man living in the centre of a forest, with his
grandson, whom he had taken when quite an infant. The child had no
parents, brothers, or sisters; they had all been destroyed by six large
giants, and he had been informed that he had no other relative living
besides his grandfather. The band to whom he belonged had put up their
children on a wager in a race against those of the giants, and had thus
lost them. There was an old tradition in the band, that it would produce
a great man, who would wear a white feather, and who would astonish
every one with his skill and feats of bravery.
The grandfather, as soon as the child could play about, gave him a bow
and arrows to amuse himself. He went into the edge of the woods one day,
and saw a rabbit; but, not knowing what it was, he ran home and
described it to his grandfather. He told him what it was, that its
flesh was good to eat, and that, if he would shoot one of his arrows
into its body, he would kill it. He did so, and brought the little
animal home, which he asked his grandfather to boil, that they might
feast on it. He humoured the boy in this, and encouraged him to go on in
acquiring the knowledge of hunting, until he could kill deer and larger
animals; and he became, as he grew up, an expert hunter. As they lived
alone, and away from other Indians, his curiosity was excited to know
what was passing in the world. One day he came to the edge of a prairie,
where he saw ashes like those at his grandfather's lodge, and
lodge-poles left standing. He returned and inquired whether his
grandfather had put up the poles and made the fire. He was answered no,
nor did he believe that he had seen anything of the kind. It was all
imagination.
Another day he went out to see what there was curious; and, on entering
the woods, he heard a voice calling out to him, "Come here, you destined
wearer of the White Feather. You do not yet wear it, but you are worthy
of it. Return home and take a short nap. You will dream of hearing a
voice, which will tell you to rise and smoke. You will see in your dream
a pipe, smoking-sack, and a large white feather. When you awake you
will find these articles. Put the feather on your head, and you will
become a great hunter, a great warrior, and a great man, capable of
doing anything. As a proof that you will become a great hunter, when you
smoke the smoke will turn into pigeons." The voice then informed him who
he was, and disclosed the true character of his grandfather, who had
imposed upon him. The voice-spirit then gave him a _vine_, and told him
he was of an age to revenge the injuries of his relations. "When you
meet your enemy," continued the spirit, "you will run a race with him.
He will not see the vine, because it is enchanted. While you are
running, you will throw it over his head and entangle him, so that you
will win the race."
Long ere this speech was ended he had turned to the quarter from which
the voice proceeded, and was astonished to behold a man, for as yet he
had never seen any man besides his grandfather, whose object it was to
keep him in ignorance. But the circumstance that gave him the most
surprise was, that this man, who had the looks of great age, was
composed of _wood_ from his breast downward, and appeared to be fixed in
the earth.
He returned home, slept, heard the voice, awoke, and found the promised
articles. His grandfather was greatly surprised to find him with a
white feather on his forehead, and to see flocks of pigeons flying out
of his lodge. He then recollected what had been predicted, and began to
weep at the prospect of losing his charge.
Invested with these honours, the young man departed the next morning to
seek his enemies and gratify his revenge. The giants lived in a very
high lodge in the middle of a wood. He travelled on till he came to this
lodge, where he found that his coming had been made known by the _little
spirits who carry the news_. The giants came out, and gave a cry of joy
as they saw him coming. When he approached nearer, they began to make
sport of him, saying, "Here comes the little man with the white feather,
who is to achieve such wonders." They, however, spoke very fair to him
when he came up, saying he was a brave man, and would do brave things.
This they said to encourage, and the more surely to deceive him. He,
however, understood the object.
He went fearlessly up to the lodge. They told him to commence the race
with the smallest of their number. The point to which they were to run
was a peeled tree towards the rising sun, and then back to the
starting-place, which was marked by a CHAUNKEHPEE, or war-club, made of
iron. This club was the stake, and whoever won it was to use it in
beating the other's brains out. If he beat the first giant, he was to
try the second, and so on until they had all measured speed with him. He
won the first race by a dexterous use of the vine, and immediately
despatched his competitor, and cut off his head. Next morning he ran
with the second giant, whom he also outran, killed, and decapitated. He
proceeded in this way for five successive mornings, always conquering by
the use of his vine, and cutting off the heads of the vanquished. The
survivors acknowledged his power, but prepared secretly to deceive him.
They wished him to leave the heads he had cut off, as they believed they
could again reunite them with the bodies, by means of one of their
_medicines_. White Feather insisted, however, in carrying all the heads
to his grandfather. One more contest was to be tried, which would decide
the victory; but, before going to the giant's lodge on the sixth
morning, he met his old counsellor in the woods, who was stationary. He
told him that he was about to be deceived. That he had never known any
other sex but his own; but that, as he went on his way to the lodge, he
would meet the most beautiful woman in the world. He must pay no
attention to her, but, on meeting her, he must wish himself changed into
a male elk. The transformation would take place immediately, when he
must go to feeding and not regard her.
He proceeded towards the lodge, met the female, and became an elk. She
reproached him for having turned himself into an elk on seeing her; said
she had travelled a great distance for the purpose of seeing him, and
becoming his wife. Now this woman was the sixth giant, who had assumed
this disguise; but Tau-Wau-Chee-Hezkaw remained in ignorance of it. Her
reproaches and her beauty affected him so much, that he wished himself a
man again, and he at once resumed his natural shape. They sat down
together, and he began to caress her, and make love to her. He finally
ventured to lay his head on her lap and went to sleep. She pushed his
head aside at first, for the purpose of trying if he was really asleep;
and when she was satisfied he was, she took her axe and broke his back.
She then assumed her natural shape, which was in the form of the sixth
giant, and afterward changed him into a dog, in which degraded form he
followed his enemy to the lodge. He took the white feather from his
brow, and wore it as a trophy on his own head.
There was an Indian village at some distance, in which there lived two
girls, who were rival sisters, the daughters of a chief. They were
fasting to acquire power for the purpose of enticing the wearer of the
white feather to visit their village. They each secretly hoped to engage
his affections. Each one built herself a lodge at a short distance from
the village. The giant, knowing this, and having now obtained the valued
plume, went immediately to visit them. As he approached, the girls saw
and recognised the feather. The eldest sister prepared her lodge with
great care and parade, so as to attract the eye. The younger, supposing
that he was a man of sense, and would not be enticed by mere parade,
touched nothing in her lodge, but left it as it ordinarily was. The
eldest went out to meet him, and invited him in. He accepted her
invitation, and made her his wife. The younger invited the enchanted dog
into her lodge, and made him a good bed, and treated him with as much
attention as if he were her husband.
The giant, supposing that whoever possessed the white feather possessed
also all its virtues, went out upon the prairie to hunt, but returned
unsuccessful. The dog went out the same day a hunting upon the banks of
a river. He drew a stone out of the water, which immediately became a
beaver. The next day the giant followed the dog, and, hiding behind a
tree, saw the manner in which the dog went into the river and drew out a
stone, which at once turned into a beaver. As soon as the dog left the
place, the giant went to the river, and observing the same manner, drew
out a stone, and had the satisfaction of seeing it transformed into a
beaver. Tying it to his belt, he carried it home, and, as is customary,
threw it down at the door of the lodge before he entered. After being
seated a short time, he told his wife to bring in his belt or hunting
girdle. She did so, and returned with it, with nothing tied to it but a
_stone_.
The next day, the dog, finding his method of catching beavers had been
discovered, went to a wood at some distance, and broke off a charred
limb from a burned tree, which instantly became a bear. The giant, who
had again watched him, did the same, and carried a bear home; but his
wife, when she came to go out for it, found nothing but a black stick
tied to his belt.
The giant's wife determined she would go to her father, and tell him
what a valuable husband she had, who furnished her lodge with abundance.
She set out while her husband went to hunt. As soon as they had
departed, the dog made signs to his mistress to sweat him after the
manner of the Indians. She accordingly made a lodge just large enough
for him to creep in. She then put in heated stones, and poured on water.
After this had been continued the usual time, he came out a very
handsome young man, but had not the power of speech.
Meantime the elder daughter had reached her father's, and told him of
the manner in which her sister supported a dog, treating him as her
husband, and of the singular skill this animal had in hunting. The old
man, suspecting there was some magic in it, sent a deputation of young
men and women to ask her to come to him, and bring her dog along. When
this deputation arrived, they were surprised to find, in the place of
the dog, so fine a young man. They both accompanied the messengers to
the father, who was no less astonished. He assembled all the old and
wise men of the nation to see the exploits which, it was reported, the
young man could perform. The giant was among the number. He took his
pipe and filled it, and passed it to the Indians, to see if anything
would happen when they smoked. It was passed around to the dog, who made
a sign to hand it to the giant first, which was done, but nothing
effected. He then look it himself. He made a sign to them to put the
white feather upon his head. This was done, and immediately he regained
his speech. He then commenced smoking, and behold! immense flocks of
white and blue pigeons rushed from the smoke.
The chief demanded of him his history, which he faithfully recounted.
When it was finished, the chief ordered that the giant should be
transformed into a dog, and turned into the middle of the village, where
the boys should pelt him to death with clubs. This sentence was
executed.
The chief then ordered, on the request of the White Feather, that all
the young men should employ themselves four days in making arrows. He
also asked for a buffalo robe. This robe he cut into thin shreds, and
sowed in the prairie. At the end of the four days he invited them to
gather together all their arrows, and accompany him to a buffalo hunt.
They found that these shreds of skin had grown into a very large herd of
buffalo. They killed as many as they pleased, and enjoyed a grand
festival, in honour of his triumph over the Giants.
Having accomplished their labour, the White Feather got his wife to ask
her father's permission to go with him on a visit to his grandfather. He
replied to this solicitation, that a woman must follow her husband into
whatever quarter of the world he may choose to go.
The young man then placed the white feather in his frontlet, and, taking
his war-club in his hand, led the way into the forest, followed by his
faithful wife.
PEBOAN AND SEEGWUN.
AN
ALLEGORY OF THE SEASONS.
FROM THE ODJIBWA.
An old man was sitting alone in his lodge, by the side of a frozen
stream. It was the close of winter, and his fire was almost out. He
appeared very old and very desolate. His locks were white with age, and
he trembled in every joint. Day after day passed in solitude, and he
heard nothing but the sounds of the tempest, sweeping before it the
new-fallen snow.
One day, as his fire was just dying, a handsome young man approached and
entered his dwelling. His cheeks were red with the blood of youth, his
eyes sparkled with animation, and a smile played upon his lips. He
walked with a light and quick step. His forehead was bound with a wreath
of sweet grass, in place of a warrior's frontlet, and he carried a bunch
of flowers in his hand.
"Ah, my son," said the old man, "I am happy to see you. Come in. Come,
tell me of your adventures, and what strange lands you have been to see.
Let us pass the night together. I will tell you of my prowess and
exploits, and what I can perform. You shall do the same, and we will
amuse ourselves."
He then drew from his sack a curiously-wrought antique pipe, and having
filled it with tobacco, rendered mild by an admixture of certain leaves,
handed it to his guest. When this ceremony was concluded they began to
speak.
"I blow my breath," said the old man, "and the streams stand still. The
water becomes stiff and hard as clear stone."
"I breathe," said the young man, "and flowers spring up all over the
plains."
"I shake my locks," retorted the old man, "and snow covers the land. The
leaves fall from the trees at my command, and my breath blows them away.
The birds get up from the water, and fly to a distant land. The animals
hide themselves from my breath, and the very ground becomes as hard as
flint."
"I shake my ringlets," rejoined the young man, "and warm showers of soft
rain fall upon the earth. The plants lift up their heads out of the
earth, like the eyes of children glistening with delight. My voice
recalls the birds. The warmth of my breath unlocks the streams. Music
fills the groves wherever I walk, and all nature rejoices."
At length the sun began to rise. A gentle warmth came over the place.
The tongue of the old man became silent. The robin and bluebird began to
sing on the top of the lodge. The stream began to murmur by the door,
and the fragrance of growing herbs and flowers came softly on the vernal
breeze.