Kind nature in plenty supplies,
We skip o'er the beautiful wide-stretching plain,
And sport in the vault of the skies.
At evening we perch in some neighbouring tree
To carol our evening adieu,
And feel, although man may assert he is free,
We only have liberty true.
We sing out our praises to God and to man,
We live as heaven taught us to live,
And I would not change back to mortality's plan
For all that the mortal can give.
Here ceased the sweet singer; then pluming his breast,
He winged the blue firmament free,
Repeating, as homeward he flew to his rest,
Tshee-ree-lee--Tshee-ree-lee--Tshee-ree-lee!
THE
ENCHANTED MOCCASINS.
A MASKEGO TALE.
There once lived a little boy with his sister, entirely alone, in an
uninhabited country. He was called the Boy that carries the Ball on his
Back, from an idea of his having supernatural powers. This boy was
constantly in the habit of meditating, and asking within himself whether
there were other and similar beings to themselves on the earth. When he
grew up to manhood, he asked his sister if she knew of any human beings
besides themselves. She replied that she did; and that there was, at a
great distance, a large village. As soon as he heard this, he said to
his sister, "I am now a young man, and very much in want of a partner;"
and he asked his sister to make him several pairs of moccasins. She
complied with his request; and, as soon as he received the moccasins, he
took up his war-club and set out in quest of the distant village. He
travelled on, till at length he came to a small wigwam, and, on looking
into it, discovered a very old woman setting alone by the fire. As soon
as she saw the stranger, she invited him in, and thus addressed him: "My
poor grandchild, I suppose you are one of those who seek for the distant
village, from which no person has ever yet returned. Unless your
guardian is more powerful than the guardian of your predecessors, you
too will share a similar fate to theirs. Be careful to provide yourself
with the Ozhebahguhnun--the bones they use in the medicine dance,[65]
without which you cannot succeed." After she had thus spoken, she gave
him the following directions for his journey. "When you come near to the
village which you seek, you will see in the centre a large lodge, in
which the chief of the village, who has two daughters, resides. Before
the door you will see a great tree, which is smooth and destitute of
bark. On this tree, about the height of a man from the ground, a small
lodge is suspended, in which these two daughters dwell. It is here so
many have been destroyed. Be wise, my grandchild, and abide strictly by
my directions." The old woman then gave him the Ozhebahguhnun, which
would cause his success. Placing them in his bosom, he continued his
journey, till at length he arrived at the sought-for village; and, as he
was gazing around him, he saw both the tree and the lodge which the old
woman had mentioned. Immediately he bent his steps for the tree, and
approaching, he endeavoured to reach the suspended lodge. But all his
efforts were vain; for as often as he attempted to reach it, the tree
began to tremble, and soon shot up so that the lodge could hardly be
perceived. Foiled as he was in all his attempts, he thought of his
guardian, and changed himself into a small squirrel, that he might more
easily accomplish his design. He then mounted the tree in quest of the
lodge. After climbing for some time, he became fatigued and panted for
breath; but, remembering the instructions which the old woman had given
him, he took from his bosom one of the bones, and thrust it into the
trunk of the tree on which he sat. In this way he quickly found relief;
and, as often as he became fatigued, he repeated this; but whenever he
came near the lodge and attempted to touch it, the tree would shoot up
as before, and place the lodge beyond his reach. At length, the bones
being exhausted, he began to despair, for the earth had long since
vanished from his sight. Summoning all resolution, he determined to make
another effort to reach the object of his wishes. On he went; yet, as
soon as he came near the lodge and attempted to touch it, the tree again
shook, but it had reached the arch of heaven, and could go no higher; so
now he entered the lodge, and beheld the two sisters sitting opposite
each other. He asked their names. The one on his left hand called
herself Azhabee,[66] and the one on the right Negahnahbee.[67] Whenever
he addressed the one on his left hand, the tree would tremble as before,
and settle down to its former position. But when he addressed the one on
his right hand, it would again shoot upward as before. When he thus
discovered that, by addressing the one on his left hand, the tree would
descend, he continued to do so until it had resumed its former position;
then seizing his war-club, he thus addressed the sisters: "You, who have
caused the death of so many of my brothers, I will now put an end to,
and thus have revenge for the numbers you have destroyed." As he said
this he raised the club and laid them dead at his feet. He then
descended, and learning that these sisters had a brother living with
their father, who would pursue him for the deed he had done, he set off
at random, not knowing whither he went. Soon after, the father and
mother of the young women visited their residence and found their
remains. They immediately told their son Mudjikewis that his sisters
had been slain. He replied, "The person who has done this must be the
Boy that carries the Ball on his Back. I will pursue him, and have
revenge for the blood of my sisters." "It is well, my son," replied the
father. "The spirit of your life grant you success. I counsel you to be
wary in the pursuit. It is a strong spirit who has done this injury to
us, and he will try to deceive you in every way. Above all, avoid
tasting food till you succeed; for if you break your fast before you see
his blood, your power will be destroyed." So saying, they parted.
His son instantly set out in search of the murderer, who, finding he was
closely pursued by the brother of the slain, climbed up into one of the
tallest trees and shot forth his magic arrows. Finding that his pursuer
was not turned back by his arrows, he renewed his flight; and when he
found himself hard pressed, and his enemy close behind him, he
transformed himself into the skeleton of a moose that had been killed,
whose flesh had come off from his bones. He then remembered the
moccasins which his sister had given him, which were enchanted. Taking a
pair of them, he placed them near the skeleton. "Go," said he to them,
"to the end of the earth."
The moccasins then left him and their tracks remained. Mudjikewis at
length came to the skeleton of the moose, when he perceived that the
track he had long been pursuing did not end there, so he continued to
follow it up, till he came to the end of the earth, where he found only
a pair of moccasins. Mortified that he had been outwitted by following a
pair of moccasins instead of the object of his revenge, he bitterly
complained, resolving not to give up the pursuit, and to be more wary
and wise in scrutinizing signs. He then called to mind the skeleton he
met with on his way, and concluded that _it_ must be the object of his
search. He retraced his steps towards the skeleton, but found, to his
surprise, that it had disappeared, and that the tracks of _Onwee
Bahmondung_, or he who carries the Ball, were in another direction. He
now became faint with hunger, and resolved to give up the pursuit; but
when he remembered the blood of his sisters, he determined again to
pursue.
The other, finding he was closely pursued, now changed himself into a
very old man, with two daughters, who lived in a large lodge in the
centre of a beautiful garden, which was filled with everything that
could delight the eye or was pleasant to the taste. He made himself
appear so very old as to be unable to leave his lodge, and had his
daughters to bring him food and wait on him. The garden, also had the
appearance of ancient occupancy, and was highly cultivated.
His pursuer continued on till he was nearly starved and ready to sink.
He exclaimed, "Oh! I will forget the blood of my sisters, for I am
starving." But again he thought of the blood of his sisters, and again
he resolved to pursue, and be satisfied with nothing but the attainment
of his right to revenge.
He went on till he came to the beautiful garden. He approached the
lodge. As soon as the daughters of the owner perceived him, they ran and
told their father that a stranger approached the lodge. Their father
replied, "Invite him in, my children, invite him in." They quickly did
so; and, by the command of their father, they boiled some corn and
prepared other savoury food. Mudjikewis had no suspicion of the
deception. He was faint and weary with travel, and felt that he could
endure fasting no longer. Without hesitancy, he partook heartily of the
meal, and in so doing was overcome. All at once he seemed to forget the
blood of his sisters, and even the village of his nativity. He ate so
heartily as to produce drowsiness, and soon fell into a profound sleep.
Onwee Bahmondung watched his opportunity, and, as soon as he found his
slumbers sound, resumed his youthful form. He then drew the magic ball
from his back, which turned out to be a heavy war-club, with one blow of
which he put an end to his pursuer, and thus vindicated his title as the
Wearer of the Ball.
FOOTNOTES:
[65] The idea attached to the use of these bones in the medicine dance
is, that, by their magical influence, the actor can penetrate and go
through any substance.
[66] One who sits behind.
[67] One who sits before.
THE BROKEN WING.
AN ALLEGORY.
There were six young falcons living in a nest, all but one of whom, were
still unable to fly, when it so happened that both the parent birds were
shot by the hunters in one day. The young brood waited with impatience
for their return; but night came, and they were left without parents and
without food. Meeji-geeg-wona, or the Gray Eagle, the eldest, and the
only one whose feathers had become stout enough to enable him to leave
the nest, assumed the duty of stilling their cries and providing them
with food, in which he was very successful. But, after a short time had
passed, he, by an unlucky mischance, got one of his wings broken in
pouncing upon a swan. This was the more unlucky, because the season had
arrived when they were soon to go off to a southern climate to pass the
winter, and they were only waiting to become a little stouter and more
expert for the journey. Finding that he did not return, they resolved
to go in search of him, and found him sorely wounded and unable to fly.
"Brothers," he said, "an accident has befallen me, but let not this
prevent your going to a warmer climate. Winter is rapidly approaching,
and you cannot remain here. It is better that I alone should die than
for you all to suffer miserably on my account." "No! no!" they replied,
with one voice, "we will not forsake you; we will share your sufferings;
we will abandon our journey, and take care of you, as you did of us,
before we were able to take care of ourselves. If the climate kills you,
it shall kill us. Do you think we can so soon forget your brotherly
care, which has surpassed a father's, and even a mother's kindness?
Whether you live or die, we will live or die with you."
They sought out a hollow tree to winter in, and contrived to carry their
wounded nestmate there; and, before the rigours of winter set in, they
had stored up food enough to carry them through its severities. To make
it last the better, two of the number went off south, leaving the other
three to watch over, feed, and protect the wounded bird. Meeji-geeg-wona
in due time recovered from his wound, and he repaid their kindness by
giving them such advice and instruction in the art of hunting as his
experience had qualified him to impart. As spring advanced, they began
to venture out of their hiding-place, and were all successful in getting
food to eke out their winter's stock, except the youngest, who was
called Peepi-geewi-zains, or the Pigeon Hawk. Being small and foolish,
flying hither and yon, he always came back without anything. At last the
Gray Eagle spoke to him, and demanded the cause of his ill luck. "It is
not my smallness or weakness of body," said he, "that prevents my
bringing home flesh as well as my brothers. I kill ducks and other birds
every time I go out; but, just as I get to the woods, a large
Ko-ko-ko-ho[68] robs me of my prey." "Well! don't despair, brother,"
said Meeji-geeg-wona. "I now feel my strength perfectly recovered, and I
will go out with you to-morrow," for he was the most courageous and
warlike of them all.
Next day they went forth in company, the elder seating himself near the
lake. Peepi-geewi-zains started out and soon pounced upon a duck.
"Well done!" thought his brother, who saw his success; but, just as he
was getting to land with his prize, up came a large white owl from a
tree, where he had been watching, and laid claim to it. He was about
wresting it from him, when Meeji-geeg-wona came up, and, fixing his
talons in both sides of the owl, flew home with him.
The little pigeon hawk followed him closely, and was rejoiced and happy
to think he had brought home something at last. He then flew in the
owl's face, and wanted to tear out his eyes, and vented his passion in
abundance of reproachful terms. "Softly," said the Gray Eagle; "do not
be in such a passion, or exhibit so revengeful a disposition; for this
will be a lesson to him not to tyrannize over any one who is weaker than
himself for the future." So, after giving him good advice, and telling
him what kind of herbs would cure his wounds, they let the owl go.
While this act was taking place, and before the liberated owl had yet
got out of view, two visiters appeared at the hollow tree. They were the
two nestmates, who had just returned from the south after passing the
winter there, and they were thus all happily reunited, and each one soon
chose a mate and flew off to the woods. Spring had now revisited the
north. The cold winds had ceased, the ice had melted, the streams were
open, and the forest began rapidly to put on its vernal hue. "But it is
in vain," said the old man who related this story, "it is in vain that
spring returns, if we are not thankful to the Master of Life who has
preserved us through the winter. Nor does that man answer the end for
which he was made who does not show a kind and charitable feeling to
all who are in want or sickness, especially to his blood relations.
These six birds only represent one of our empoverished northern families
of children, who had been deprived of both their parents and the aid of
their elder brother nearly at the same time."
FOOTNOTES:
[68] Owl.
THE
THREE CRANBERRIES.
A CHIPPEWA FABLE.
Three cranberries were living in a lodge together. One was green, one
white, and one red. They were sisters. There was snow on the ground; and
as the men were absent, they felt afraid, and began to say to each
other, "What shall we do if the wolf comes?" "I," said the green one,
"will climb up a shingoub[69] tree." "I," said the white one, "will hide
myself in the kettle of boiled hommony;" "and I," said the red one,
"will conceal myself under the snow." Presently the wolves came, and
each one did as she had said. But only one of the three had judged
wisely. The wolves immediately ran to the kettle and ate up the corn,
and, with it, the white cranberry. The red one was trampled to pieces by
their feet, and her blood spotted the snow. But she who had climbed the
thick spruce-tree escaped notice, and was saved.
FOOTNOTES:
[69] Spruce.
PARADISE OPENED TO THE INDIANS.
_Historical Note._--The following is a literal translation of the story
related by the noted Algic chief Pontiac, to the Indian tribes whom he
wished to bring into his views in forming his general confederacy
against the Anglo-Saxon race in the last century. It is taken from an
ancient manuscript journal now in the possession of the Michigan
Historical Society. This journal, the preservation of which is due to
one of the French families at Detroit, appears to have been kept by a
person holding an official station, or intimate with the affairs of the
day, during the siege of the fort of Detroit by the confederate Indians
in 1763. It is minute in its details of the transactions of every day,
from the investment of the fort until the disaster of the sortie made by
the English garrison in the direction of Bloody Run. And its
authenticity has never been brought into question. There is no air of
exaggeration in the narrative. There is nothing recorded in the process
of the negotiations, the siege, or the disclosure of the plot preceding
it, which was not perfectly reasonable under the circumstances, and in
keeping with the character of the tribes and their means of action.
That a document of so much historical interest might be the better
preserved, the society took measures, about a twelvemonth since, for its
translation; and the tale here furnished is a transcript of this
particular portion of the journal. The only addition to the text
consists of the insertion of four or five words of ordinary use in the
narrative, which appear to have been obliterated by a chymical change in
the ink in a few places.
Without entering into the moral bearing of this curious specimen of
Indian fiction, it may be regarded as no equivocal testimony of the
sagacity and foresight of its celebrated author. To turn the mythology
and superstitious belief of his auditors to political account, was
certainly a capital stroke of policy. And no stronger proof could,
perhaps, be adduced of the existence of the popular belief on this head,
and the prevalence, at that time, of oral tales and fanciful legends
among the tribes.
* * * * *
An Indian of the Lenapee[70] tribe, anxious to know the Master of Life,
resolved, without mentioning his design to any one, to undertake a
journey to Paradise, which he knew to be God's residence. But, to
succeed in his project, it was necessary for him to know the way to the
celestial regions. Not knowing any person who, having been there
himself, might aid him in finding the road, he commenced juggling, in
the hope of drawing a good augury from his dream.
The Indian, in his dream, imagined that he had only to commence his
journey, and that a continued walk would take him to the celestial
abode. The next morning very early, he equipped himself as a hunter,
taking a gun, powder-horn, ammunition, and a boiler to cook his
provisions. The first part of his journey was pretty favourable; he
walked a long time without being discouraged, having always a firm
conviction that he should attain his aim. Eight days had already elapsed
without his meeting with any one to oppose his desire. On the evening of
the eighth day, at sunset, he stopped as usual on the bank of a brook,
at the entrance of a little prairie, a place which he thought favourable
for his night's encampment. As he was preparing his lodging, he
perceived at the other end of the prairie three very wide and
well-beaten paths; he thought this somewhat singular; he, however,
continued to prepare his wigwam, that he might shelter himself from the
weather. He also lighted a fire. While cooking, he found that, the
darker it grew, the more distinct were those paths. This surprised, nay,
even frightened him; he hesitated a few moments. Was it better for him
to remain in his camp, or seek another at some distance? While in this
incertitude, he remembered his juggling, or rather his dream. He thought
that his only aim in undertaking his journey was to see the Master of
Life. This restored him to his senses. He thought it probable that one
of those three roads led to the place which he wished to visit. He
therefore resolved upon remaining in his camp until the morrow, when he
would, at random, take one of them. His curiosity, however, scarcely
allowed him time to take his meal; he left his encampment and fire, and
took the widest of the paths. He followed it until the middle of the day
without seeing anything to impede his progress; but, as he was resting a
little to take breath, he suddenly perceived a large fire coming from
under ground. It excited his curiosity; he went towards it to see what
it might be; but, as the fire appeared to increase as he drew nearer, he
was so overcome with fear, that he turned back and took the widest of
the other two paths. Having followed it for the same space of time as he
had the first, he perceived a similar spectacle. His fright, which had
been lulled by the change of road, awoke, and he was obliged to take the
third path, in which he walked a whole day without seeing anything. All
at once, a mountain of a marvellous whiteness burst upon his sight. This
filled him with astonishment; nevertheless, he took courage and advanced
to examine it. Having arrived at the foot, he saw no signs of a road. He
became very sad, not knowing how to continue his journey. In this
conjuncture, he looked on all sides and perceived a female seated upon
the mountain; her beauty was dazzling, and the whiteness of her garments
surpassed that of snow. The woman said to him in his own language, "You
appear surprised to find no longer a path to reach your wishes. I know
that you have for a long time longed to see and speak to the Master of
Life; and that you have undertaken this journey purposely to see him.
The way which leads to his abode is upon this mountain. To ascend it,
you must undress yourself completely, and leave all your accoutrements
and clothing at the foot. No person shall injure them. You will then go
and wash yourself in the river which I am now showing you, and afterward
ascend the mountain."
The Indian obeyed punctually the woman's words; but one difficulty
remained. How could he arrive at the top of the mountain, which was
steep, without a path, and as smooth as glass? He asked the woman how he
was to accomplish it. She replied, that if he really wished to see the
Master of Life, he must, in mounting, only use his left hand and foot.
This appeared almost impossible to the Indian. Encouraged, however, by
the female, he commenced ascending, and succeeded after much trouble.
When at the top, he was astonished to see no person, the woman having
disappeared. He found himself alone, and without a guide. Three unknown
villages were in sight; they were constructed on a different plan from
his own, much handsomer, and more regular. After a few moments'
reflection, he took his way towards the handsomest. When about half way
from the top of the mountain, he recollected that he was naked, and was
afraid to proceed; but a voice told him to advance, and have no
apprehensions; that, as he had washed himself, he might walk in
confidence. He proceeded without hesitation to a place which appeared to
be the gate of the village, and stopped until some one came to open it.
While he was considering the exterior of the village, the gate opened,
and the Indian saw coming towards him a handsome man dressed all in
white, who took him by the hand, and said he was going to satisfy his
wishes by leading him to the presence of the Master of Life.
The Indian suffered himself to be conducted, and they arrived at a place
of unequalled beauty. The Indian was lost in admiration. He there saw
the Master of Life, who took him by the hand, and gave him for a seat a
hat bordered with gold. The Indian, afraid of spoiling the hat,
hesitated to sit down; but, being again ordered to do so, he obeyed
without reply.