The stranger has been shown the Dahcotah land of souls--let him behold
that of the Delawares. The Delawares, who are the grandfather of
nations, believe that the habitation of good spirits is beyond the
beautiful sky, which forms the partition between them and those who are
doomed yet longer to inhabit the frail, and sickly, and feverish,
tenement of flesh. The road to this bright land of spirits leads over a
mighty and fearful rock, upon which the sky rolls to and fro with a
stupendous sound. I am asked, "How do the Delawares know this?" I will
tell you.
There were, once upon a time, in the tribe of the Unamis or Turtles, the
most potent and warlike tribe of the Delawares, two valiant warriors,
who feared nothing greatly but shame and disgrace. One of them loved and
was beloved by a beautiful girl of the same nation, who, in a
thoughtless moment, for at no other would she have made her lover incur
so great a danger, expressed a wish to know if the soul of her deceased
sister remembered the promise she had made her, of feeding with sweet
berries, and nursing in her bosom, the spirit of the little bird which
dropped dead from the bough of the locust-tree on the evening of her own
death. The other warrior had lost his mother, whom he tenderly loved,
and he wished to go and see, with his own eyes, if they used her well in
the land of spirits, nor bowed her back to heavier burdens than accorded
with the faintness of advanced years. They concluded, one to gain a
smile from his beloved maiden, and the other to gratify his affectionate
regards for his mother, to obtain a view of the Land of departed Souls;
but it was not till they had been frequently reminded of their
undertaking, and their courage had been repeatedly taxed(1), that, brave
as they were, they could make their hearts strong enough to face the
spirits of the winds that rove about the sky, or the thunders that leap
from the black cloud. They left the village of the Unamis, and travelled
for many moons in a path very crooked and difficult to be travelled,
till at length they came to a mighty and fearful rock, upon which the
sky was rolling to and fro with a tremendous sound, and a motion
resembling that of the waves of the Great Lake Superior, when tossed
about by a tempest. The winds were gambolling about the pathway, not as
upon the earth, invisible to the eye, but in shapes, some of which were
the most beautiful ever beheld, and some more frightful than ever
entered into the conception of a son of the earth. The stars, which the
inhabitants of the world are accustomed to see chained to their allotted
bounds, were there floating and dashing about in the thin air, like a
boat moving on troubled waters. After travelling with extreme pain and
suffering for a long time upon this road, now buffetted by the terrific
and angry forms of the north and east winds, and now soothed and
comforted by the ministering shapes of the breezes of the west and
south--now assisted by the strength of their own hearts, and by turns
assailed or protected by the stars, they reached the Land of Souls. It
was a beautiful country, they said, and the employments to which souls
were there subjected, produced to them all the pleasant consequences
they produced on earth to those who followed them, while they were
unattended by the labour and difficulties attached to them in the
earthly stage of existence. The sky was always cloudless, and a
perpetual spring reigned throughout those happy regions. The forests
were always full of game, and the lakes of fish, which were taken
without the laborious pursuit and painful exertion of skill, which were
necessary to secure them in the earthly habitation. The embodied forms
of their friends retained the same wishes, inclinations, and habits,
which had belonged to them while occupying the terrestrial house. So say
the Unamis.
Another tribe of Delawares do not believe as the Unamis do--they think
that the land of departed souls lies in another part of the sky, and
that the path to it is not over mighty and fearful rocks, through the
hideous army of embattled winds, and among the bounds and rebounds of
unchained stars. There were once, but the time was many ages ago, in the
tribe of the Unalachtas, two fearless and prudent hunters, who had one
father, but not one mother, who had never offended the Great Spirit, or
the inferior spirits, but duly observed in all their actions a full and
unceasing remembrance of the Giver of all good gifts, as well as those
who take a lesser part in the government of the world; and, whether in
their cabins or in the wild forests, had never failed to offer
sacrifices to him of the most valued part of all their acquisitions.
When they came to the river or the lake, they threw in a large piece of
their tobacco, and cast in birds, whose throats had been cut, and
feathers plucked from the tip of the wings, to propitiate and render
favourable to their prayers the haughty Michabou, the God of the Waters.
When the kind and beneficent sun rose, they were careful to throw into
the fire, to which he imparts the heat, a portion of every thing they
intended to use that day; and when the mistress of bad spirits, the
Moon, came out of the far woods, they took great care to propitiate the
evil intelligences which sit upon her horns, plotting mischief to
mortals, by liberal gifts of _petun_, or collars of beads, or ears of
maize, or skins of animals. When their feet stood upon the edge of the
mighty cataract, then was the most valued dog precipitated, then was the
most valued drink poured into the overwhelming torrent, to appease the
angry spirit of the abyss. And thus, performing their duties to the
Great Master and their fellow-creatures, lived the two good Unalachta
hunters.
But death at length at their request came to them. They wished to see
the Country of Souls, and to judge with their own eyes if its situation
and its delights had been truly told to them. Much had it been talked
of, but who were they that talked? They were mortals--men, who had never
quitted the corporeal state, nor stood forth disembodied spirits; things
with the feelings which attend human nature. They wished to see if
thorns and arrows would not wound the flesh of those who had departed
hence; nor fire burn, nor cold freeze, nor hunger pinch, nor repletion
distress, nor grief draw tears, nor joy produce excitement. Bending low
before the Master of Life, with clay upon their heads, one of them, the
elder, thus addressed him:
"Spirit of the Happy Lands! Tamenund, and the son of his father's wife,
are on their knees before thee, with clay spread on their hair. It is
not required that we name our wishes to thee; if thou art, as we think,
the all-pervading and all-knowing spirit, thou knowest what they are
before we have uttered them; if thou art not gifted with these
attributes, why should we pour our words into the ears of one unable to
grant us the boon we ask? We wish to die for a time; we wish that our
eyes may be enabled to see the Happy Hunting-Grounds, if there be such
grounds, and our ears to drink in the music of the streams which our
fathers told us welled softly along beside the village of the dead.
Master of Life, hear us, and grant our request."
Tamenund, and the son of his father's wife, lay down upon their couch of
skins and soft grass, when the dews first began to descend upon the
earth, and the deep sleep of death came over them. They found that their
prayers had been heard, and themselves released from the thraldom of
life and the load of the flesh. The spirit, unchained from the matter
that shrivels and becomes dust, danced about like the winds of spring
over the bosom of a prairie. It could stand upon the slenderest stalk
of grass without bending it, and ascend and descend upon the sunbeams,
as a healthy boy rung up and down a slight hill. Soon they found
themselves irresistibly impelled by a wish to rise, and travel towards
the bright track in the skies, where the light of innumerable stars is
mingled in such confusion. They rose, and as a canoe, moving in the
vicinity of the dwelling of Michabou[A], is drawn rapidly towards it by
the hands of unseen spirits, so were they hurried towards the road of
souls, which our white brother calls the Milky Way. They came to it, and
found it thronged by innumerable hosts of spirits of all colours, all
bound in the same bright path to the same glorious home. After
travelling in this path for two suns, they came to a great city
surrounded by the shade of a high wall. Within this wall, which was of
immense extent, enclosing rivers and lakes, and forests and prairies,
and all the things which are found on earth, dwelt the souls of good
men; without, hovering around, as a hawk hovers around a dove's nest,
into which he dares not pounce, because he sees near it a bent bow in
the hands of a practised archer, were the souls of the bad, debarred
entrance, and, as often as they approached very near, driven away by the
ministering spirits of the Great Master of ail. Within the wall were
all the things which give pleasure to the red man; the river filled with
fishes disporting in their loved element, the lakes thronged with glad
fowls, wheeling in their devious paths, and the woods with beautiful
birds, singing their soft songs of love and joy from the flowery boughs
of the tulip-tree and the Osage apple. They saw in the open space a
panther, fangless and powerless, and heard in the thicket the growl of a
fat bear, that could neither bite nor scratch. The speed of the bison
was outstripped by that of the spirits; the wings of the wild turkey and
soland-goose could not convey them out of the reach of the sprightly
inhabitants of the City of Souls. Their corn grew up like trees, with
two ears upon every stalk, and the produce of their bean-garden was a
thousand for one. But while the souls of the good were so happy, and
their joys so many, miserable, miserable was the state of the bad who
were excluded from the city. They saw the happiness of the good souls,
many of whom had been known to them on the earth, and they gnashed their
teeth with impotent rage, and uttered a war-whoop, as a leg-broken bear
growls or a chained man threatens, at the sight of the bliss of which
they were not permitted to partake.
[Footnote A: Many of the Indians suppose that the God of the Waters
(Michabou) resides in the Cataract of St. Anthony.]
When they had remained three suns in the Joyful Abodes, the Great
Spirit bade them prepare for their return to the earth. He told them
there were human duties for them to perform before they could be
permitted to take up their residence for ever in the Happy City. He bade
Tamenund remember, that he had not taught his little son how to toughen
a young ash bow, nor how to splint a shaken arrow. And he told the son
of his father's wife that he had suffered the bird of his cabin to sow
more corn than she could gather in, and that he must return to the
earth, and see that her shoulders were not bowed by the heavy task of
the harvest. "There were other duties for them to perform," he said,
"and many must yet be their years on the earth."
In obedience to the orders of the Great Master of all, they returned to
the Unalachta village, and again re-animated the bodies they had left.
Tamenund taught his son how to toughen a young ash bow, and splint a
shaken arrow; and the son of his father's wife forgot the dignity of an
approved hunter, to assist his beloved woman in harvesting the corn.
They lived long, and acted well, and when their years were many, when
their limbs had grown feeble and their eyes dark with the mists of age,
when they could no longer bend the bow of their youth, nor run the race
of vigorous manhood, they were called from the earth, to enjoy that
happiness which they had been permitted to behold with the eyes of
humanity.