Twenty-four men, and twenty-four women, from the twenty-four tribes of
the wilderness, were met upon the top of the hill Gerundewagh. There
were none upon the earth but those twenty-four tribes, and none upon
the hill but these twice twenty-four people. They were all friends,
and as brothers. There was no strife in the land; no blood deluged the
beautiful vales of the wilderness; no cry of war shook the hills. Bows
and arrows, and spears, were used for the destruction of bears, and
wolves, and panthers; and the ochre, which now stains the brow of the
Indian with the red hue of war, was used for the ornamenting of pipes.
There was but one language upon the earth--all the tribes understood
each other. If a Bomelmeek said to an Algonquin, "Give me meat or
drink," he brought him meat or drink--if he said, "Smoke in my pipe,"
he smoked in the proffered pledge of peace, or he refused. If an
Iroquois youth said to a girl of the Red Hurons, "Give me thy heart,
and become the star of my cabin," she gave him her heart, and became
the star of his cabin, or she bade him think of her no more. It was
not then as it is now, that men fell out, and came to blows, because
they mistook the words that were spoken. "Yes" was "yes," and "no" was
"no," with all the tribes of the land, and interpreters were a thing
unknown. So these twice twenty-four people from the twenty-four tribes
of the earth sat down upon the top of the hill Gerundewagh, and smoked
their pipes.
Whilst they were puffing out clouds of smoke, and enjoying greatly the
pleasure which an Indian so covets, one of them, whose sight was
keener than the rest, casting his eye far over the western wilderness,
cried out, that he saw two somethings whose heads peered far above
the woods. Very soon the rest of the people assembled at the hill
Gerundewagh were able to see the same somethings, which resembled much
the trunks of trees which have been divested of their branches, and
look out in the blush of the morning through the vapours of a damp
valley. What they were no human tongue could tell, but it was seen
that they were approaching the hill Gerundewagh. As the heads came
nearer, people were seen flying before them, and the heads following
in quick pursuit. At length the twice twenty-four on the hill were
able to see that the heads belonged to two enormous snakes, which were
moving in devious paths about the land, devouring the inhabitants as
fast as they were able to discover and swallow them. Seeing this, and
the danger to which they were exposed of becoming also food for the
monsters, they set about fortifying the high hill Gerundewagh, that
their lives might be safe from the appalling danger, and within their
fortification they collected all sorts of defensive materials. Having
made themselves tolerably secure, they had leisure to view the war of
extermination, which the snakes waged with the sons of the land who
were not thus protected.
In the mean time, the snakes, having discovered by their acute power
of smelling distant objects that the hill Gerundewagh contained human
bodies, with whose flesh they were now become much in love, they
immediately bent their course to it. In coming thither, they were
compelled to cross, or rather to come down the river Mohawk, which,
upon their thus getting lengthways of it, diverted from its natural
course, overflowed its banks, sweeping away every impediment, and
forming those beautiful meadows which have remained ever since covered
with a robe of green. Having at length reached the hill, around whose
base they threw themselves in many coils, they commenced the work of
death by poisoning the air with their pernicious breath. Soon the
atmosphere, which before had been pure, was changed in its nature;
appearances resembling the motions of the waves of the great lake
Superior when slightly agitated in the hot mornings of summer were
seen in the horizon, and have never left it. Before, the rains
descended in soft showers in the pauses of gentle winds, now they fell
in torrents, accompanied with howling tempests and cold hurricanes.
Lightnings, which before only played across the horizon, as the red
light of autumn evenings streaks the northern sky, now rent asunder
the flinty rock, and rived the knotty oak. Men, who had before died
only of old age, now poisoned by the breath of the monsters, fell sick
in the morning of life, with the brightness of youthful hope in their
eye, and the down of unripe years on their cheek. The hair now often
grew grey ere the knee became feeble; the teeth rotted out while there
was enough to put between them; the eye often failed to see the
beautiful objects, and the ear to drink in the soft sounds, which the
Great Master of all created for the food of each. The heart now grew
sometimes to be trembling and irresolute, and the soul to have its
visions of infelicity. But I speak of after-time; first let me talk of
that which is first.
The twice twenty-four, who were of a very bold and courageous nature,
and feared nothing more than to be thought cowards, attacked the
serpents with their bows and arrows. It was fruitless, however, to
wage war with creatures covered with an impenetrable coat of scales.
The serpents were not even startled by the arrows, so that no resource
but death remained to the twice twenty-four. Their food being soon
gone, they were compelled to venture out in quest of the means of
sustaining life. As fast as they came out at the gate of the
fortification, the one or other of the monsters snapped them up at a
mouthful, until there remained of all those who occupied it at first
but ten women and eleven men. What was to be done? I could not have
told had I been there, but the eleventh man had the art and cunning to
deliver the land from the assaults of the venomous serpents. He said
to his brothers, "One of the serpents is a woman. I know it by her
eyes, which are very bright, and beguiling, and roving, and
treacherous. I know it by her sputtering, if all does not go right,
and her frequent viewing herself in the waters of Lake Canandaigua,
and the noisy chatter she is continually making about nothing. These
are signs which cannot be misunderstood; she is a woman, I know. Now,
if I can but catch the _old man_, asleep, I will make love to her,
and it shall go hard but I will get her to assist in his destruction."
So the Eleventh Man--who was a curious creature for making love to
women, and knew all the arts necessary to be used, and all the
nonsense proper to be uttered, knew when to look, and when to shut his
eyes, when to be passionate, and when to be cold, and all that sort of
thing--set about winning the love of the frail wife of the Great
Snake. Whenever the old man took a nap, which was very often, then of
a certainty would you see the Bomelmeek on the top of the
fortification, winking and blinking, ogling and sighing, and doing
other fooleries, at the Squaw-Snake. And soon could it be seen that
she had noticed his declarations of love, and was not disposed to be
_very_ cruel or "ridiculous." Oh, it was a curious sight to see the
courtship, though not more curious than I have seen other courtships.
When he winked, she winked; when he ogled her, she ogled him; when he
sighed, she--taking care to turn her head the other way, for her
breath was not the myrtle's or the orange blossom's--sighed also, and
very loud. So foolery was exchanged for foolery, and the thing throve
well. Still the Eleventh Man dared not, for some time, venture out of
the fortification, for he had remarked her taste for human flesh, and
her dexterity in snapping off heads, and did not know but her love
for him might extend to a wish to try the flavour of his meat, and
that she might, in a moment of soft dalliance, practise on him her
skill in unjointing necks. Women have been known to inflict a greater
evil than either on the man they have pretended to love. At least, so
the Eleventh Man said, and, as I have before told my brother, he was a
knowing man in these matters. It soon became plain that something must
be done. There was no food remaining in the fort, and the speedy death
of all must ensue, unless it were procured. The Eleventh Man, who was
as courageous in war as he was in peace, with the high-mindedness
which belongs to an Indian(1), said he would go and submit himself to
the good will of the _pretty_ creature. So, taking his spear, and his
bow and arrow, for he knew that women like to be wooed by warriors,
and delight in the handsome bearing and gay dress of lovers, and often
die and perish of a fever for feathers and gewgaws, he chose the
moment when the old man was wrapped in a deep sleep, and ventured out.
A woman can hear the lightest step of a lover when she is fast asleep,
and when the thunder of the western hills would not awake her. And so
it was with the Squaw-Snake, who, though very drowsy with watching the
stars, and squinting at the moonas folks always do when they are in
love--had no sooner heard the step of her beloved on the green sod
than she advanced to meet him. Now comes the perilous moment!
Bomelmeek, beware! She is raising her tail, at whose end is a horrible
sting to clasp thee as with a pair of arms. And look, see her jaws,
white with foam, and larger than the largest tree of the forest, are
extended to kiss thy cheek, or scarcely worse to snap off thy head.
Brave man! With what undaunted firmness he suffers himself to be taken
to her arms--no, not to her arms, but her tail--and how patiently he
suffers his cheeks that have felt the breath of sweet lips to be
slabbered by a nasty snake! Oh! if he fall a victim to his love for
his nation, he will deserve to live as long in the remembrance of the
Bomelmeeks, as their great founder, the Earwig.
Fond and long continued were the caresses of the Eleventh Man and the
Squaw-Snake, and luckily they were not interrupted by the old man,
who, unlike many husbands I have known, contrived to sleep just as
long as they wished he should. Before he awaked, it had been agreed
between them that the death of the old man should be accomplished. So
she bade him dip in the poison of her sting the points of two arrows,
both intended to be put to a good use. He did so, and then retired
within the fortification. Drawing his bow to his ear, and pointing an
arrow at the head of the aged husband, he let fly with unerring skill.
This done, he levelled the other arrow with the same precision at the
head of the faithless wife. Wounded to death by the poisoned darts,
the horrid monsters rolled down the hill in great agony, sweeping
away, in their descent, all the trees upon the side to its very
bottom, and amidst their contortions disgorging the heads of the
Indians they had swallowed. Those heads rolled into Lake Canandaigua,
where they were converted into stones, and are to be found there to
this day. The Indian, as seated in his canoe he glides over the lake,
frequently sees them lying on its pebbly bottom, and the larger bark
of the white man is often dashed to pieces against them. So the eleven
men and the ten women were freed from the serpents.
But now it was that the strangest circumstance was revealed to the
survivors. The poison which the serpents had poured on the earth with
their pernicious breath had so operated that a confusion of tongues
had taken place, and different nations no longer understood each
other. The Iroquois could no longer speak in the dialect of the
Natchez; the Bomelmeeks of the land of Frost no longer sung their
war-songs in the tongue of the Walkullas of the land of Flowers. The
Senecas attempted in vain to make known their wishes to the Red
Hurons of the Lakes, who were alike puzzled to converse with the
Narragansetts of the Land of Fish. A youth of one nation, if he wished
to take a woman of another nation to wife, had now to talk with his
eyes, whereas before he made use of his tongue to tell his lies with.
So the land was re-peopled from the survivors of the hill Gerundewagh,
and the confusion of tongues went on increasing, and has done so to
this day. The Bomelmeeks have faded from the land; the descendants of
the Eleventh Man, of whom there were very many, alone remaining, one
of whom now tells this story, which is certainly true.