In dreams also, “Tapa” and the spirits bestow gifts on men in the shape

of magic stones, which being washed in cocoa milk the water forms one

of the ingredients in the mass of blood and tumeric which is considered

sacred and is used to anoint the people at the harvest-feasts. They are

ordinary black pebbles, and there is nothing in their appearance to

give a notion of their magic power and value.

On the banks of one of the rivers Mr. St. John discovered the effigy

of a bull cut in a sort of stone said to be unknown in the country;

its legs and part of its head had been knocked off. Its history is as

follows:--Many years ago on being discovered in the jungle the Malays

and Dayaks removed it to the banks of the river preparatory to its

being conveyed to the town, but before it could be put into a prahu

they say a tremendous storm of thunder and lightning, wind and rain,

arose, which lasted thirty days. Fearing that the bull was angry at

being disturbed in his forest home they left him in the mud, and there

Sir James Brooke found it and had it removed to his own house. Several

of the Dayak tribes sent deputations to him to express their fears of

the evil consequences that would be sure to ensue--everything would go

wrong, storms would arise, their crops would be blighted, and famine

would desolate the land. Humouring their prejudices, he answered that

they were mistaken, that the bull on the contrary would be pleased to

be removed from the dirty place in which the Malays had left him, and

that now he was kept dry and comfortable there would be no show of his

anger. This reply satisfied them. Occasionally the Dayaks would come

and wash the stone bull, taking away the precious water to fertilize

their fields.

Amongst some of the Bornean aborigines there is a superstition that

they must not laugh at a dog or a snake crossing their path. Should

they do so they would become stones. These Dayaks always refer with

respect and awe to some rocks scattered over the summit of a hill in

Sadong, saying that they were originally men. The place was a very

likely one to be haunted--a noble old forest but seldom visited. Many

years ago they say a great chief gave a feast there, in the midst of

which his lovely daughter came in; she was a spoilt child who did

nothing but annoy the guests. They at first tried to get rid of her by

mixing dirt with her food: finding she still teazed them, they gave her

poison. Her father in his anger went back to his house, shaved his dog

and painted him with alternate streaks of black and white. Then giving

him some intoxicating drink he carried him in his arms into the midst

of the assembly and set him on the ground. The dog began to caper about

in the most ludicrous manner which set them all off laughing, the host

as well as the guests, and they were immediately turned into stone.

With one giant stride of our any-number-of-league boots we step from

Borneo into North America and among the many semi-savage tribes that

there reside. As a rule the North-American savage believes in one

Supreme Being whom he knows as the Great Spirit, and whose abode is

Paradise, or the “happy hunting ground.” This Supreme Being, however,

they regard as much too exalted to trouble himself about the petty

businesses of the world, and therefore governs by deputy. There are,

according to Indian belief, numerous subordinate deities, the business

of each of whom it is to govern and control the earth, the forests and

the game there abounding, the winds, the air, and the water, together

with its finny denizens. Besides those--at least in the case of the

Ojibbeway, who may fairly be taken as the type of the North-American

Indian--they have a host of evil spirits or munedoos, or manitou,

headed by one arch Matchi-munedoo, and who, it is to be feared on

account of their predilection for mischief, occupy a greater portion of

the Indian’s time and attention in the way of propitiation and friendly

peace-offering, than ever is devoted to Kitchi-manitou, the Great

Spirit to whom, if the Indian’s religion is worth a straw, it should be

sufficient to obey to render one self-defiant of Matchi-munedoo and all

his works.

As might be expected the Indian language is rich in mythological lore,

and is often found to be a curious tangle of what we acknowledge

as Biblical truth, and nonsense, remarkable chiefly for its quaint

grotesqueness. Take the following narrative of the Deluge:

“Before the general deluge there lived two enormous creatures, each

possessed of vast power. One was an animal with a great horn on his

head; the other was a huge toad. The latter had the whole management

of the waters, keeping them secure in its own body, and emitting only

a certain quantity for the watering of the earth. Between these two

creatures there arose a quarrel, which terminated in a fight. The toad

in vain tried to swallow its antagonist, but the latter rushed upon

it, and with his horn pierced a hole in its side, out of which the

water gushed in floods, and soon overflowed the face of the earth. At

this time Nanahbozhoo was living on the earth, and observing the water

rising higher and higher, he fled to the loftiest mountain for refuge.

Perceiving that even this retreat would be soon inundated, he selected

a large cedar tree which he purposed to ascend, should the waters come

up to him. Before they reached him he caught a number of animals and

fowls, and put them into his bosom. At length the water covered the

mountain. Nanahbozhoo then ascended the cedar tree, and as he went up

he plucked its branches and stuck them in the belt which girdled his

waist. When he reached the top of the tree he sang, and beat the tune

with his arrow upon his bow, and as he sang the tree grew and kept pace

with the water for a long time. At length he abandoned the idea of

remaining any longer on the tree, and took the branches he had plucked,

and with them constructed a raft, on which he placed himself with the

animals and fowls. On this raft he floated about for a long time, till

all the mountains were covered, and all the beasts of the earth and

fowls of the air, except those he had with him, perished.

“At length Nanahbozhoo thought of forming a new world, but how to

accomplish it without any materials he knew not, till the idea occurred

to him that if he could only obtain a little of the earth, which was

then under water, he might succeed in making a new world out of the

old one. He accordingly employed the different animals he had with him

that were accustomed to diving. First, he sent the loon, a water fowl

of the penguin species, down into the water in order to bring up some

of the old earth; but it was not able to reach the bottom, and after

remaining in the water some time, came up dead. Nanahbozhoo then took

it, blew upon it, and it came to life again. He next sent the otter,

which also failing to reach the bottom, came up dead, and was restored

to life in the same manner as the loon. He then tried the skill of

the heaver, but without success. Having failed with all these diving

animals, he last of all took the musk-rat; on account of the distance

it had to go to reach the bottom, it was gone a long time, and came up

dead. On taking it up, Nanahbozhoo found, to his great joy, that it had

reached the earth, and had retained some of the soil in each of its

paws and mouth. He then blew upon it, and brought it to life again, at

the same time pronouncing many blessings on it, saying, that as long

as the world he was about to make should endure, the musk-rat should

never become extinct. This prediction of Nanahbozhoo is still spoken of

by the Indians when referring to the rapid increase of the musk-rat.

Nanahbozhoo then took the earth which he found in the musk-rat’s paws

and mouth, and having rubbed it with his hands to fine dust, he placed

it on the waters and blew upon it; then it began to grow larger and

larger, until it was beyond the reach of his eye. In order to ascertain

the size of the world, and the progress of its growth and expansion,

he sent a wolf to run to the end of it, measuring its extent by the

time consumed in his journey. The first journey he performed in one

day, the second took him five days, the third ten, the fourth a month,

then a year, five years, and so on, until the world was so large that

Nanahbozhoo sent a young wolf that could just run, which died of old

age before he could accomplish the journey. Nanahbozhoo then said the

world was large enough, and commanded it to cease from growing. After

this Nanahbozhoo took a journey to view the new world he had made, and

as he travelled he created various tribes of Indians, and placed them

in different parts of the earth; he then gave them various religions,

customs, and manners.

“This Nanahbozhoo now sits at the North Pole, overlooking all the

transactions and affairs of the people he has placed on the earth. The

Northern tribes say that Nanahbozhoo always sleeps during the winter;

but, previous to his falling asleep, fills his great pipe, and smokes

for several days, and that it is the smoke arising from the mouth and

pipe of Nanahbozhoo which produces what is called ‘Indian summer.’”

They have, however, legends that relate to times anterior to the flood,

even to the beginning of Time itself and the days of Adam and Eve. Mr.

Kohl, of “Lake Superior” celebrity, contributes the following:

“On Torch Lake it is said, that Kitchi-Manitou (the Good Spirit) first

made the coast of our lake. He strewed the sand and formed a fine flat

dry beach or road round the lake. He found that it was splendid walking

upon it, and often wandered along the beach. One day he saw something

lying on the white sand. He picked it up. It was a very little root.

He wondered whether it would grow if planted in the ground, and made

the trial. He planted it close to the edge of the water in the sand,

and when he came again, the next day, a thick and large reed-bed had

grown out of it through which the wind rustled. This pleased him, and

he sought for and collected more little roots and other seeds from the

sand and spread them around so that they soon covered the rocks and

land with grass and fine forests, in which the birds and other animals

came to live. Every day he added something new to the creation, and did

not forget to place fish and other creatures in the water.

“One day when Kitchi-Manitou was again walking along the sand, he saw

something moving in the reeds, and noticed a being coming out of the

water entirely covered with silver-glistening scales like a fish, but

otherwise formed like a man. Kitchi-Manitou was curious to see on

what the being lived and whether it ate herbs, especially as he saw

it constantly stooping and plucking herbs which it swallowed. The man

could not speak, but at times when he stooped he sighed and groaned.

“The sight moved Kitchi-Manitou with compassion in the highest degree,

and as a good thought occurred to him, he immediately stepped into his

canoe and paddled across to the island, which still lies in the centre

of the lake. Here he set to work providing the man the company of a

squaw. He formed her nearly like what he had seen the man to be, and

also covered her body with silver-glistening scales. Then he breathed

life into her, and carried her across in his canoe to the other bank

of the lake, telling her that if she wandered busily along the lake

and looked about her, she would perhaps find something to please her.

For days the squaw wandered about one shore of the lake, while the man

was seeking herbs for food on the other. One day the latter went a

little further, and, to his great surprise, saw footsteps in the sand

much like those he himself made. At once he gave up seeking herbs and

followed these footsteps, as he hoped there were other beings like

himself on the lake. The squaw during her long search had left so many

footsteps that the man at first feared they might belong to a number

of Indians, and they might perhaps be hostile. Hence he crept along

carefully in the bush, but always kept an eye on the trail in the sand.

“At last he found the being he sought sitting on a log near the shore.

Through great fatigue she had fallen asleep. He looked around to the

right and left but she was quite alone. At length he ventured to come

out of the bushes; he approached her with uncertain and hesitating

steps; he seized her and she opened her eyes.

“‘Who art thou?’ he said, for he could now suddenly speak, ‘Who art

thou, what is thy name, and whither dost thou come?’

“‘My name is Mami,’ she replied, ‘and Kitchi-Manitou brought me here

from that island, and told me I should find something here I liked. I

think that thou art the promised one.’

“‘On what dost thou live?’ the man asked the woman.

“‘Up to this time I have eaten nothing, for I was looking for thee. But

now I feel very hungry; hast thou anything to eat?’

“Straightway the man ran into the bushes, and collected some roots and

herbs he had found good to eat, and brought them to the squaw, who

greedily devoured them.

“The sight of this moved Kitchi-Manitou, who had watched the whole

scene from his lodge. He immediately came over in his canoe, and

invited the couple to his island. Here they found a handsome large

house prepared for them, and a splendid garden round it. In the

house were glass windows, and in the rooms tables and chairs and

beds and conveniences of every description. In the garden grew every

possible sort of useful and nourishing fruits, potatoes, strawberries,

apple-trees, cherry and plum trees; and close by were large fine fields

planted with Indian corn and beans.

“They ate and lived there for days and years in pleasure and happiness;

and Kitchi-Manitou often came to them and conversed with them. ‘One

thing,’ he said, ‘I must warn you against. Come hither; see, this

tree in the middle of the garden is not good. I did not plant it, but

Matchi-Manitou planted it. In a short time this tree will blossom and

bear fruits which look very fine and taste very sweet; but do not eat

of them, for if ye do so ye will die.’ They paid attention to this, and

kept the command a long time, even when the tree had blossomed and the

fruit had set. One day, however, when Mami went walking in the garden,

she heard a very friendly and sweet voice say to her, ‘Mami, Mami, why

dost thou not eat of this beautiful fruit? it tastes splendidly.’ She

saw no one, but she was certain the voice did not come either from

Kitchi-Manitou or her husband. She was afraid and went into the house.

The next day though, she again went into the garden, and was rather

curious whether the same pleasant voice would speak to her again. She

had hardly approached the forbidden tree, when the voice was heard once

more, ‘Mami, Mami, why dost thou not taste this splendid fruit? it will

make thy heart glad.’ And with these words a young handsome Indian came

out of the bushes, plucked a fruit, and placed it in her hand. ‘Thou

canst make famous preserves of it for thy household,’ the friendly

Indian added.

“The fruit smelled pleasantly, and Mami licked it a little. At length

she swallowed it entirely, and felt as if drunk. When her husband came

to her soon after she persuaded him also to eat of it; he did so, and

also felt as if drunk. But this had scarce happened ere the silver

scales with which their bodies had been covered, fell off; only twenty

of these scales remained on, but they had lost their brilliancy,--ten

on the fingers and ten on the toes. They saw themselves to be quite

uncovered, and began to be ashamed, and withdrew timidly into the

bushes of the garden.

“The young Indian had disappeared, but the angry Kitchi-Manitou soon

came to them, and said ‘It is done; ye have eaten of Matchi-Manitou’s

fruit, and must now die. Hence it is necessary that I should marry you,

lest the whole human race might die out with you. Ye must perish, but

shall live on in your children and children’s children.’ Kitchi-Manitou

banished them also from the happy isle, which immediately grew wild,

and bore them in his canoe to the shores of the lake. But he had mercy

on them still. He gave the man a bow and arrow, and told him he would

find animals which were called deer. These he was to shoot, and Mami

would get ready the meat for him, and make mocassins and clothing of

the hide.

“When they reached the other shore, Mami’s husband tried first of all

this bow and the arrows. He shot into the sand, and the arrows went

three inches deep into the ground.

“Mami’s husband then went for the first time to hunt, and saw in the

reeds on the lake an animal moving, which he recognised for a deer,

as Kitchi-Manitou had described it to him. He shot his arrow, and the

animal straightway leaped from the water on shore, sank on its knees,

and died. He ran up and drew his arrow from the wound, examined it,

found that it was quite uninjured, and placed it again in his quiver,

as he thought he could use it again. When he brought the deer to his

squaw, she cut it into pieces, washed it, and laid the hide aside for

shoes and clothing; but soon saw that they, as Indians, could not

possibly eat the meat raw, as the barbarous Eskimos in the north do:

she must cook it, and for that purpose have fire.

“This demand embarrassed the man for a moment, as he had never yet seen

any meat boiling or roasting before the fire. But he soon knew how to

help himself. He took two different descriptions of wood, rubbed them

against each other, and soon made a bright fire for his squaw. The

squaw in the meanwhile had prepared a piece of wood as a spit, placed

a lump of meat on it, and held it in the fire. They both tasted it,

and found it excellent. ‘As this is so good, the rest will be famous,’

she said, and cut it all up and put it in the kettle, and then they

ate nearly all the deer that same evening. This gave Mami’s husband

strength and courage, and he went out hunting again the next morning,

and shot a deer; and so he did every day, while his squaw built a lodge

for him, and sewed clothes and mocassins.

“One day when he went a-hunting again, the man found a book lying under

a tree. He stopped and looked at it. The book began speaking to him,

and told him what he was to do, and what to leave undone. It gave him a

whole series of orders and prohibitions. He found this curious, and did

not much like it; but he took it home to his squaw.

“‘I found this book under a tree,’ he said to her, ‘which tells me

to do all sorts of things, and forbids me doing others; I find this

hard, and I will carry it back to where I found it.’ And this he did

too, although his squaw begged him to keep it. ‘No,’ he said, ‘it is

too thick; how could I drag it about with me in my medicine bag?’ And

he laid the book again, the next day, under the tree, where he had

taken it up; and so soon as he laid it down, it disappeared. The earth

swallowed it up.

“Instead of it, however, another book appeared in the grass. That was

easy and light, and only written on a couple of pieces of birch bark.

It also spoke to him in the clear and pure Ojibbeway language; forbade

him nothing, and ordered him nothing; and only taught him the use and

advantages of the plants in the forest and on the prairie. This pleased

him much, and he put the book at once in his hunting bag, and went into

the forest, and collected all the plants, roots, flowers, and herbs

which it pointed out to him.

“Quite loaded with herbs of fifty different sorts, he returned to his

squaw Mami. He sorted them out, and found they were all medicine,

good in every accident of life. As he had in this way become a great

medicine man, as well as a mighty hunter, he wanted but little more to

satisfy his earthly wants. The children his wife bore him he brought up

as good hunters; taught them the use of the bow; explained to them the

medicine book; and told them, shortly before his and Mami’s death, the

history of their creation and their former mode of life on the Torch

Lake island with Kitchi-Manitou, who now, after so much suffering and

sorrow, was graciously pleased to receive them again.”

The following story was communicated to Mr. Jones, a native minister,

by an Ojibbeway Indian named _Netahgawineneh_, and will serve

to illustrate the source whence they derive their ideas of a future

state:--

“In the Indian country far west an Indian once fell into a trance,

and when he came to life again, he gave the following account of his

journey to the world of spirits.

“I started, said he, my soul or spirit in company with a number of

Indians who were travelling to the same spirit land. We directed our

footsteps towards the sun-setting. On our journey we passed through a

beautiful country, and on each side of our trail saw strawberries as

large as a man’s head. We ate some of them, and found them very sweet;

but one of our party who kept loitering behind, came up to us and

demanded, ‘Why were we eating a ball of fire?’ We tried to persuade

him to the contrary, but the foolish fellow would not listen to our

words, and so went on his way hungry. We travelled on until we came to

a dark, swollen and rapid river, over which was laid a log vibrating

in a constant wavering motion. On this log we ventured to cross, and

having arrived at the further end of it, we found that it did not reach

the shore; this obliged us to spring with all our might to the land. As

soon as we had done this, we perceived that the supposed log on which

we had crossed was a large serpent, waving and playing with his huge

body over the river. The foolish man behind was tossed about until he

fell off, but he at length succeeded in swimming to shore. No sooner

was he on land than a fierce and famished pack of wolves fell on him

and began to tear him to pieces, and we saw him no more. We journeyed

on, and by and by came within sight of the town of spirits. As soon

as we made our appearance there was a great shout heard, and all our

relatives ran to meet us and to welcome us to their happy country. My

mother made a feast for me, and prepared everything that was pleasant

to eat and to look upon; here we saw all our forefathers; and game and

corn in abundance; all were happy and contented.

“After staying a short time, the Great Spirit of the place told me

that I must go back to the country I had left, as the time had not yet

arrived for me to dwell there. I accordingly made ready to return; and

as I was leaving, my mother reproached me by all manner of foolish

names for wishing to leave so lovely and beautiful a place. I took my

departure, and soon found myself in the body and in the world I had

left.”

The allegorical traditions of the North American Indians regarding the

introduction into the world of the art of medicine and of religious

mysteries are still more extravagant than their theogony. We will cite

from Dominech the principal among them, to give an idea of all the

others of the same kind.

“A great Manitou of heaven came once on earth and married a woman,

who died, after giving birth to four children. The first was called

Manabozho, and was the protector and friend of men; the second

Chibiabos, took care of the dead and ruled over the empire of shadows,

that is to say, of souls; the third, called Onabasso, fled towards the

north as soon as he saw the day, and was metamorphosed into a white

rabbit without ceasing to be a Manitou; the last of the four brothers

was called Chokanipok, that is to say, the man of the fire-stone.

“When Manabozho grew up, he declared war against Chokanipok, whom he

accused of being the cause of their mother’s death. The struggle was

long and terrible. The surface of the earth still preserves traces of

the battles which were fought between them. Chokanipok was conquered

by his brother, his entrails were taken out, and changed into vines,

and the fragments of his body became fire-stones, which were scattered

all over the globe, and supplied man with the principle of fire.

Manabozho it was who taught the Red Indians the mode of manufacturing

axe blades, arrow points, traps, nets, how to turn stones and bones

to use to capture wild animals, fish, and birds. He was very much

attached to Chibiabos, with whom he lived in the desert, where they

conferred together for the good of humanity. The material power and

the extraordinary intelligence of these two superior beings excited

the jealousy of the Manitous, who lived in the air, on earth, and

in the water. This jealousy gave rise to a conspiracy against the

life of Chibiabos. Manabozho warned him to be on his guard against

the machinations of the Manitous, and never to quit him. But one day

Chibiabos ventured alone during the winter on one of the great frozen

lakes; when he arrived in the middle of the lake the Manitous broke

the ice, and Chibiabos sank to the bottom of the water, where his body

remained buried.

“Manabozho wandered for a long time on the banks of the lake, calling

his beloved brother; his voice trembling with fear and hope, was

heard from afar. When he had no longer any doubt of the misfortune

which had befallen him, his fury knew no bounds; he declared war

against the wicked Manitous, killed a great number of them, and his

rage no less than his despair spread consternation through the whole

desert. After the first moments devoted to revenge, he painted his

face black, covered his head with a veil of the same colour, then sat

down on the shore of the lake and mourned the deceased for six years,

making the neighbouring echoes incessantly ring with the cherished

name of Chibiabos. The Manitous deeply moved by his profound grief,

assembled to consult on the means they should take to console the

unhappy mourner. The oldest and wisest of them all, who had not been

concerned in the death of Chibiabos, took the task of reconciliation

on himself. Aided by the other spirits, he built a sacred lodge near

that of Manabozho, and prepared a great feast. He procured the best

tobacco imaginable, and put it in a beautiful calumet; then placing

himself at the head of the Manitous, who walked in procession, each

carrying under his arm a bag made of the skins of various animals,

and filled with precious medicine, he went to invite Manabozho to the

festival. Manabozho uncovered his head, washed his face, and followed

the Manitous to the sacred lodge. On his entrance he was offered a

drink composed of the most exquisite medicines, a rite initiatory to

propitiation. Manabozho drank it in a single draught, and immediately

felt the grief and sadness lifted from his soul. The Manitous then

began their dances and songs, which were succeeded by several

ceremonies and by feats of address and magic, performed with the

intention of restoring serenity of mind to the unconsolable protector

and friend of the human race. It was thus the mysteries of the dance

and of medicine were introduced on the earth.

“The Manitous then united all their powers to recall Chibiabos to life,

which they did without difficulty. He was, however, forbidden to enter

the sacred lodge; but receiving a flaming brand, he was sent to preside

over the empire of the dead. Manabozho, quite consoled, ate, drank,

danced, and smoked the sacred pipe, went away to the Great Spirit, and

returned to earth to instruct men in the useful arts, in the mysteries

of dancing and medicine, and in the curative properties of plants. It

is he who causes the medicinal plants to grow which cure sickness and

wounds; it is he who killed all the monsters with which the desert was

peopled. He placed spirits at the four cardinal points to protect the

human race: that of the north sends snow and ice to facilitate the

chase in winter; that of the south causes the maize to grow, as well

as all kinds of fruit and tobacco; that of the west gives rain; and

that of the east brings light, by commanding the sun to move round the

globe. Thunder is the voice of these four spirits, to whom tobacco is

offered in thanksgiving for the various blessings which they confer on

the inhabitants of the earth.”

Among the more ignorant tribes of North American Indians the god of

thunder is believed to be the eagle. The Rev. Peter Jones asserts this

to be the belief of the Ojibbeways. When a thunderbolt strikes a tree

or the ground, they fancy that the thunder has shot his fiery arrow at

a serpent and caught it away in the twinkling of an eye. Some Indians

affirm that they have seen the serpent taken up by the thunder into

the clouds. They believe that the thunder has its abode on the top of

a high mountain in the west, where it lays its eggs and hatches its

young, like an eagle, and whence it takes its flight into different

parts of the earth in search of serpents.

The following is a story related by an Indian who is said to have

ventured, at the risk of his life, to visit the abode of the thunders:

“After fasting, and offering my devotions to the thunder, I with much

difficulty ascended the mountain, the top of which reached to the

clouds. To my great astonishment, as I looked I saw the thunder’s

nest, where a brood of young thunders had been hatched and reared. I

saw all sorts of curious bones of serpents, on the flesh of which the

old thunders had been feeding their young; and the bark of the young

cedar trees peeled and stripped, on which the young thunders had been

trying their skill in shooting their arrows before going abroad to hunt

serpents.”

Another thunder tradition says: “That a party of Indians were once

travelling on an extensive plain, when they came upon two young

thunders lying in their nest in their downy feathers, the old thunders

being absent at the time. Some of the party took their arrows, and with

the point touched the eyes of the young thunders. The moment they did

so their arrows were shivered to pieces, as if a young thunder arrow

had struck them. One of the party, more wise than his companions,

entreated them not to meddle with them, warning them that if they did

they would pay dearly for their folly. The foolish young men would not

listen, but continued to teaze and finally killed them. As soon as

they had done this a black cloud appeared, advancing towards them with

great fury. Presently the thunder began to roar and send forth volumes

of its fiery indignation. It was too evident that the old thunders

were enraged on account of the destruction of their young--soon, with

a tremendous crash, the arrows of the mighty thunder-god fell on the

foolish men and destroyed them, but the wise and good Indian escaped

unhurt.”

In proof of the American Indian’s suspicious nature, especially as

regards matters connected with a religion differing from his own, Dr.

Franklin furnishes the following little story:--

“Conrad Weiser, the Indian interpreter, who had gone to Ouondago with

a message from Government, demanded hospitality of one of his old

friends, the famous Canastatego, one of the chiefs of the six nations.

Happy to meet after a long separation, the two friends were joyous and

chatty. Conrad was soon seated on furs spread on the ground, with a

meal of boiled vegetables, venison, and rum and water before him. After

dinner Canastatego asked how the years since they had parted had passed

with his friend, whence he came, where going, and what the aim of his

journey. When all these questions were answered, the old Indian said,

‘Conrad, you have lived a great deal among white people, and know their

customs. I have myself been several times to Albany, and have observed

that once every seven days they shut up their shops and assemble in

a large house; tell me wherefore, and what they do there?’--‘They

assemble to hear and learn good things,’ replied Conrad.--‘I have no

doubt,’ said the Indian, ‘that they have told you that; but I do not

much believe in their words, and I will tell you why. Some time ago I

went to Albany to sell furs and to buy blankets, powder, and knives.

You know I am in the habit of dealing with Hans Hanson, but on that day

I had a mind to try another merchant, but first went to Hans Hanson and

asked what he would give for beaver skins. He answered that he could

not pay a higher price than four shillings a pound. “But,” added he,

“I cannot talk of such affairs to-day; it is the day of our meeting

to hear _good things_, and I am going to the assembly.” I then

reflected that as there was no possibility of my transacting business

on that day, I too might as well go to the great house and hear good

things.

“‘There was a man in black who seemed in a great passion while speaking

to the people. I did not understand what he said, but perceiving that

he looked a good deal at me, I thought that perhaps he was angry at

seeing me in the house. I therefore hastened to leave it, and went and

seated myself outside on the ground against the wall, and began to

smoke till the end of the ceremony. I fancied that the man in black had

spoken about beavers, and I suspected that that was the motive of the

meeting, so that as the crowd was coming out, I stopped my merchant,

and said to him, “Well, Hans Hanson, I hope you will give me more than

four shillings a pound.”--“No,” answered he, “I can only give you three

shillings and a half.”

“‘I then spoke to other merchants, but all were unanimous in the price.

This proved clearly that I was right in my suspicions, and that the

pretended intention of meeting to hear good things was only given out

to mislead opinions, and that the real aim of the meeting was to come

to an understanding to cheat the Indians as to the price of their

goods. Reflect, Conrad, and you will see that I have guessed the truth;

for if white people meet so often to hear good things, they would have

finished by knowing some long since, but on that head they are still

very ignorant. You know our ways when white men travel over our lands

and enter our colonies: we treat them as I treat you; when wet we dry

them, we warm them when they are cold, we give them food and drink,

and spread our best furs for them to repose on, asking for nothing

in return. But if I go to a white man and ask for eat and drink, he

answers me, “Begone, Indian dog!” You thus see that they have as yet

learned very few _good things_, which we know, because our mothers

taught them to us when we were little children, and that the subject of

all these assemblies is to cheat us in the price of our beavers.’”

Here is a strange story of North American Indian “second sight” and not

the less remarkable as it is recorded by a highly respectable Wesleyan

Missionary who had it from a Government Indian Agent in Upper Canada.

“In the year 1804, wintering with the Winebagos on the Rock river, I

had occasion to send three of my men to another wintering house, for

some flour which I had left there in the fall on my way up the river.

The distance being about one and a half day’s journey from where I

lived, they were expected to return in about three days. On the sixth

day after their absence I was about sending in quest of them, when

some Indians, arriving from the spot, said that they had seen nothing

of them. I could now use no means to ascertain where they were: the

plains were extensive, the paths numerous, and the tracks they had made

were the next moment covered by the drift snow. Patience was my only

resource; and at length I gave them up for lost.

“On the fourteenth night after their departure, as several Indians

were smoking their pipes, and telling stories of their war parties,

huntings, etc., an old fellow, who was a daily visitor, came in. My

interpreter, a Canadian named Felix, pressed me, as he had frequently

done before, to employ this conjuror, as he could inform me about the

men in question. The dread of being laughed at had hitherto prevented

my acceding to his importunities; but now, excited by curiosity, I gave

the old man a quarter-pound of tobacco and two yards of ribbon, telling

him that if he gave me a true account of the missing ones, I would,

when I ascertained the fact, give him a bottle of rum. The night was

exceedingly dark and the house situated on a point of land in a thick

wood. The old fellow withdrew, and the other Indians retired to their

lodges.

“A few minutes after, I heard Wahwun (an egg) begin a lamentable song,

his voice increasing to such a degree that I really thought he would

have injured himself. The whole forest appeared to be in agitation, as

if the trees were knocking against each other; then all would be silent

for a few seconds; again the old fellow would scream and yell, as if he

were in great distress. A chill seized me, and my hair stood on end;

the interpreter and I stared at each other without power to express our

feelings. After remaining in this situation a few minutes the noise

ceased, and we distinctly heard the old chap singing a lively air. We

expected him in, but he did not come. After waiting some time, and all

appearing tranquil in the woods, we went to bed. The next morning I

sent for my friend Wahwun to inform me of his jaunt to see the men.

“‘I went,’ said he, ‘to smoke the pipe with your men last night, and

found them cooking some elk meat, which they got from an Ottawa Indian.

On leaving this place they took the wrong road on the top of the hill;

they travelled hard on, and did not know for two days that they were

lost. When they discovered their situation they were much alarmed, and,

having nothing more to eat, were afraid they would starve to death.

They walked on without knowing which way they were going until the

seventh day, when they were met near the Illinois river by the Ottawa

before named, who was out hunting. He took them to his lodge, fed them

well, and wanted to detain them some days until they had recovered

their strength; but they would not stay. He then gave them some elk

meat for their journey home, and sent his son to put them into the

right road. They will go to Lagothenes for the flour you sent them,

and will be at home in three days.’ I then asked him what kind of place

they were encamped in when he was there? He said, ‘they had made a

shelter by the side of a large oak tree that had been torn up by the

roots, and which had fallen with the head towards the rising sun.’

“All this I noted down, and from the circumstantial manner in which he

related every particular, though he could not possibly have had any

personal communication with or from them by any other Indians, I began

to hope my men were safe, and that I should again see them. On the

appointed day the interpreter and myself watched most anxiously, but

without effect. We got our suppers, gave up all hopes, and heartily

abused Wahwun for deceiving us. Just as we were preparing for bed,

to my great joy the men rapped at the door, and in they came with

the flour on their backs. My first business was to enquire of their

travels. They told me the whole exactly as the old Indian had before

stated, not omitting the tree or any other occurrence; and I could have

no doubt but that the old fellow had got his information from some evil

or familiar spirit.”

As has already been mentioned in this book, belief in dreams is very

intimately associated with North-American Indian religious belief; and

when an Indian dreams anything that seems to him important, he does not

fail to enter in his birch bark “note book” the most salient points

of it. Being, as a rule, however, incapable of giving his thoughts a

tangible appearance by the ordinary caligraphic process, he draws the

pictures just as he sees them in his vision. From the birch bark of a

brave, by name the “Little Wasp,” Mr. Kohl copied the picture which

appears on the next page: and this is the explanation of it:--

“The dreamer lying on his bed of moss and grass is dreaming the dream

of a true hunter, and there are the heads of the birds and beasts which

his guardian spirit promises that he shall not chase in vain. The man

wearing the hat is a Frenchman, which the Little Wasp also dreams about.

“The Indians picture themselves without a hat because they usually have

no other head gear than their matted hair, or, at most, a cloth wound

turban-wise round the head. The hat, however, appears to them such a

material part of a European--as much a part of their heads as the horse

to the Centaur--that a hat in a picture-writing always indicates a

European.

“It was not at all stupid of Little Wasp to dream of a Frenchman,

for of what use would a sky full of animals prove to him unless he

had a good honest French traiteur to whom he could sell the skins

and receive in exchange fine European wares? The vault of the sky is

represented by several semi-circular lines in the same way as it is

usually drawn on their gravestones. On some occasions I saw the strata

or lines variously coloured--blue, red, and yellow, like the hues of

the rainbow. Perhaps, too, they may wish to represent that phenomenon

as well. But that the whole is intended for the sky is proved by the

fact that the ordinary colour is a plain blue or grey. The bird soaring

in the heavens was meant for the kimou which so often appears in the

dreams of these warlike hunters.

“When I asked the dreamer what he meant by the strokes and figures at

the foot of the drawing, he said: ‘It is a notice that I fasted nine

days on account of this dream. The nine strokes indicate the number

nine, and a small figure of the sun over them means days.’

“His own self he indicated by the human figure. It has no head but an

enormous heart in the centre of the breast.

“Though the head is frequently missing, the heart is never omitted in

Indian figures, because they have as a general rule, more heart than

brains, more courage than sense. ‘I purposely made the heart rather

large,’ the author of the picture remarked, ‘in order to show that I

had so much courage as to endure a nine days’ fast.’ He omitted the

head, probably because he felt that sense was but little mixed up with

such nonsensical fasting.

“‘But why hast thou painted the sun once more, and with so much care

over it?’ asked I. ‘Because,’ replied he, ‘the very next morning after

my fast was at an end, the sun rose with extraordinary splendour, which

I shall never forget, for a fine sunrise after a dream is the best sign

that it will come to pass.’”

The superstitions, in fact, of all Indians, are singularly wild,

poetic, and primitive. Catlin, in his “Descriptive Catalogue,” gives

some strange and interesting particulars. He says, for instance, the

Sioux have a superstitious belief that they will conquer their enemy if

they go through the following ceremony:--A dog’s liver and heart are

taken raw and bleeding and placed upon a sort of platform, and, being

cut into slips, each man dances upon it, bites off and swallows a piece

of it, in the certain belief that he has thus swallowed a piece of the

heart of his enemy whom he has slain in battle. Again, it is supposed

that he most is in the favour of the Great Spirit who can throw most

arrows from an Indian bow before the first cast reaches the ground,

and Catlin says: “So eager are the Indians for this supremacy that I

have known men who could get eight arrows in the air, all moving at

the same time.” Another superstition takes the shape of a belief in

dancing compelling a flock of buffaloes to turn upon the path of the

dancers. This superstitious gyration is only resorted to when a tribe

is absolutely starving, and it is accompanied by a song to the Great

Spirit, imploring Him to help them, promising, at the same time, a

burnt sacrifice, or, as they themselves generally put it, that the

Great Spirit shall have the best of the meat cooked for himself.

A far more charming use of the superstitious, or rather religious,

dances is that of the warriors upon their return from battle, when, if

they can exhibit scalps, they are justified in dancing and wailing in

front of the wigwams of the widows of their companions who have been

killed. If the widow is one of a man of any importance in the tribe,

especially if he has been a medicine man, they cast presents upon the

ground for the use of the widowed woman.

Another strange superstition is the green corn dance--the sacrifice of

the first kettle to the Great Spirit. Four medicine men, whose bodies

are painted with white clay, dance around the kettle until the corn is

well boiled, and they then burn it to cinders as an offering to the

Great Spirit. The fire is then destroyed, and _new_ fire created

by rubbing two sticks together, with which the corn for their own feast

is cooked.

Again, there is a snow-shoe dance, performed at the first fall of snow,

and which is as solemn a rite as any in the Indian faith.

Another strange superstition is that by which an Indian becomes a

_medicine_ or _mystery_ man. Splints of wood are thrust through his

flesh and by these he hangs from a pole, and gazes, medicine bag in

hand, at the sun, from its rising to its setting. This voluntary

torture entitles him to great respect for the remainder of his life as

a medicine or mystery man--in another word, an astrologer. The history

of Indian superstition has yet to be written.

The North American is no less adept at picture “talking” than at

picture writing. Burton, while sojourning among the Prairie Indians,

devoted considerable attention to this art as practised among them.

He describes it as a system of signs, some conventional, others

instinctive or imitative, which enables tribes who have no acquaintance

with each other’s customs and tongues to hold limited but sufficient

communication, An interpreter who knows all the signs, which, however,

are so numerous and complicated that to acquire them is the labour

of years, is preferred by the whites even to a good speaker. The

sign system doubtless arose from the necessity of a communicating

medium between races speaking many different dialects and debarred by

circumstances from social intercourse.

The first lesson is to distinguish the signs of the different tribes,

and it will be observed that the French voyageurs and traders have

often named the Indian nations from their totemic or masonic gestures.

The Pawnees imitate a wolf’s ears with the two forefingers--the

right hand is always understood unless otherwise specified--extended

together, upright, on the left side of the head.

The Araphos, or Dirty Noses, rub the right side of that organ with the

forefingers; some call this bad tribe the Smellers, and make their sign

to consist of seizing the nose with the thumb and forefinger.

The Comanches imitate by the waving of the hand or forefinger the

forward crawling motion of a snake.

The Cheyennes, Piakanoves, or Cut Wrists, draw the lower edge of the

hand across the left arm, as if gashing it with a knife.

The Sioux, by drawing the lower edge of the hand across the throat; it

is a gesture not unknown to us, but forms a truly ominous salutation,

considering those by whom it is practised; hence the Sioux are called

by the Yutas Hand-cutters.

The Hapsaroke, by imitating the flapping of the bird’s wings with the

two hands, palms downwards, brought close to the shoulders.

The Kiowas, or Prairie-men, make the signs of the prairie, and of

drinking water.

The Yutas, they who live on mountains, have a complicated sign which

denotes “living in mountains.”

The Black-feet, called by the Yutas Paike or Goers, pass the right

hand, bent spoon-fashion, from the heel to the little toe of the right

foot.

The following are a few preliminaries indispensable to the prairie

traveller:

_Halt!_ Raise the hand, with the palm in front, and push it

backward and forward several times, a gesture well known in the East.

_I don’t know you._ Move the raised hand, with the palm in front,

slowly to the right and left.

_I am angry._ Close the fist, place it against the forehead, and

turn it to and fro in that position.

_Are you friendly?_ Raise both hands, grasped as if in the act of

shaking hands, or lock the two forefingers together, while the hands

are raised.

_See._ Strike out the two forefingers forward from the eyes.

_Smell._ Touch the nose-tip. A bad smell is expressed by the same

sign, ejaculating at the same time, “pooh,” and making the sign of bad.

_Taste._ Touch the tongue-tip.

_Eat._ Imitate the actions of conveying food with the fingers to

the mouth.

_Drink._ Scoop up with the hand imaginary water into the mouth.

_Smoke._ With the crooked index describe a pipe in the air,

beginning at the lips, then wave the open hand from the mouth to

imitate curls of smoke.

_Speak._ Extend the open hand from the chin.

_Fight._ Make a motion with both fists to and fro like a pugilist

of the eighteenth century who preferred a high guard.

_Kill._ Smite the sinister palm earthwards, with the dexter fist

sharply, the sign of going down, or strike out with the dexter fist

towards the ground, meaning to “shut down,” or pass the dexter index

under the left forefinger, meaning to “go under.”

Some of the symbols of relationship are highly appropriate and not

ungraceful or unpicturesque. Man is denoted by a sign which will not

admit of description; woman by passing the hand down both sides of the

head, as if smoothing or stroking the long hair. For a child, a bit

of the index held between the antagonised thumb and medius is shown.

The same sign expresses both parents, with additional explanations. To

say, for instance, _my mother_, you would first pantomime “I,” or,

which is the same thing, _my_, then _woman_, and finally, the

symbol of parentage. _My grandmother_ would be conveyed in the

same way, adding to the end, clasped hands, closed eyes, and like an

old woman’s bent back. The sign for brother and sister is perhaps the

prettiest; the two first finger-tips are put into the mouth, denoting

that they fed from the same breast. For the wife--squaw is now becoming

a word of reproach amongst the Indians--the dexter forefinger is passed

between the extended thumb and index of the left.

Of course there is a sign for every weapon. The knife--scalp or

other--is shown by cutting the sinister palm with the dexter ferient

downward and towards oneself: if the cuts be made upward with the

palm downwards, meat is understood. The tomahawk, hatchet, or axe,

is denoted by chopping the left hand with the right; the sword by

the motion of drawing it: the bow by the movement of bending it,

and a spear or lance by an imitation of darting it. For the gun the

dexter thumb or fingers are flashed or scattered, _i.e._ thrown

outwards and upwards, to denote fire. The same movement made lower down

expresses a pistol. The arrow is expressed by knocking it upon an

imaginary bow, and by snapping with the index and medius. The shield

is shown by pointing with the index over the left shoulder where it is

slung ready to be brought over the breast when required.

The pantomime, as may be seen, is capable of expressing detailed

narratives. For instance, supposing an Indian would tell the following

tale:--“Early this morning I mounted my horse, rode off at a gallop,

traversed a ravine, then over a mountain to a plain where there was no

water, sighted bisons, followed them, killed three of them, skinned

them, packed the flesh upon my pony, remounted, and returned home,”--he

would symbolize it thus:

Touches nose--“I.”

Opens out the palms of his hand--“this morning.”

Points to east--“early.”

Places two dexter forefingers astraddle over sinister index--“mounted

my horse.”

Moves both hands upwards and rocking-horse fashion towards the

left--“galloped.”

Passes the dexter hand right through thumb and forefinger of the

sinister, which are widely extended--“traversed a ravine.”

Closes the finger-tips high over the head and waves both palms

outwards--“over a mountain to a plain.”

Scoops up with the hand imaginary water into the mouth, and waves the

hand from the face to denote no--“where there was no water.”

Touches eye--“sighted.”

Raises the forefingers crooked inwards on both sides of the

head--“bison.”

Smites the sinister palm downwards with the dexter first--“killed.”

Shows three fingers--“three of them.”

Scrapes the left palm with the edge of the right hand--“skinned them.”

Places the dexter on the sinister palm and then the dexter palm on the

sinister dorsum--“packed the flesh upon my pony.”

Straddles the two forefingers on the index of the left--“remounted.”

Finally, beckons towards self--“returned home.”

“While on the subject of savage modes of correspondence, it may not

be out of place to quote an amusing incident furnished by the Western

African traveller Hutchinson. There was, it seems, a newspaper

established in the region in question for the benefit of the civilized

inhabitants, and an old native lady having a grievance, “writes to

the editor.” Let us give her epistle, and afterwards Mr. Hutchinson’s

explanation of it:

“_To Daddy Nah, Tampin Office._

“HA DADDY,--Do yah nah beg you tell dem people for me

make dem Sally own pussin know--Do yah. Berrah well. Ah lib nah

Pademba Road--one buoy lib dah ober side lakah dem two docta lib

overside you Tampin office. Berrah well. Dah buoy head big too

much--he say nah Militie Ban--he got one long long ting--so so

brass someting lib da dah go flip flap dem call am key. Berry

well. Had dah buoy kin blow she--ah na marnin, oh na sun time,

oh na evenin, oh nah middle night oh--all same--no make pussin

sleep. Not ebry bit dat more lib dah One Boney buoy lib overside

nah he like blow bugle. When dem two woh woh buoy blow dem ting

de nize too much to much. When white man blow dat ting and

pussin sleep he kin tap wah make dem buoy carn do so. Dem buoy

kin blow ebry day, eben Sunday dem kin blow. When ah yerry dem

blow Sunday ah wish dah bugle kin blow dem head bone inside. Do

nah beg you yah tell all dem people bout dah ting, wah dem to

buoy dah blow. Tell am Amstrang Boboh hab feber bad. Tell am

Titty carn sleep nah night. Dah nize go kill me two picken oh.

Plabba done--Good by, Daddy.

“CRASHEY JANE.”

“For the information of those not accustomed to the Anglo-African

style of writing or speaking, I deem a commentary necessary in order

to make this epistle intelligible. The whole gist of Crashey Jane’s

complaint is against two black boys who are torturing her morning,

noon, and night--Sunday as well as every day in the week--by blowing

into some ‘long, long brass ting,’ as well as a bugle. Though there

might appear to some unbelievers a doubt as to the possibility of the

boys furnishing wind for such a lengthened performance, still the

complaint is not more extravagant than those made by many scribbling

grievance-mongers amongst ourselves about the organ nuisance.

“The appellative Daddy is used by the Africans as expressive of their

respect as well as confidence. ‘To Daddy in the stamping (_alias_

printing) office,’ which is the literal rendering of the foregoing

address, contains a much more respectful appeal than ‘To the Editor’

would convey, and the words ‘Berrah well’ at the end of the first

sentence are ludicrously expressive of the writer’s having opened the

subject of complaint to her own satisfaction and of being prepared to

go on with what follows without any dread of failure.

“The epithet ‘woh-woh’ applied to the censured boys means to entitle

them very bad; and I understand this term, which is general over

the coast, is derived from the belief that those persons to whom

it is applied have a capacity to bring double woe on all who have

dealings with them. ‘Amstrang Boboh,’ who has the fever bad, is

Robert Armstrong, the stipendiary magistrate of Sierra Leone, and

the inversion of his name in this manner is as expressive of negro

classicality as was the title of Jupiter Tonans to the dwellers on

Mount Olympus.”

It is probable that to his passion for “picture making” Mr. Catlin is

indebted for his great success among North-American children of the

wilderness. A glance through the two big volumes published by that

gentleman shows at once that he could have little time either for

eating, drinking, or sleeping; his pencil was all in all to him. No

one would suppose it by the specimens Mr. Catlin has presented to the

public, but we have his word for it, that some of the likenesses he

painted of the chiefs were marvels of perfection--so much so, indeed,

that he was almost tomahawked as a witch in consequence. He says:

“I had trouble brewing from another source; one of the _medicines_

commenced howling and haranguing around my domicile amongst the throng

that was outside, proclaiming that all who were inside and being

painted were fools and would soon die, and very naturally affecting

thereby my popularity. I, however, sent for him, and called him in

the next morning when I was alone, having only the interpreter with

me, telling him that I had had my eye upon him for several days and

had been so well pleased with his looks that I had taken great pains

to find out his history, which had been explained by all as one of a

most extraordinary kind, and his character and standing in his tribe

as worthy of my particular notice; and that I had several days since

resolved, that as soon as I had practised my hand long enough upon the

others to get the stiffness out of it (after paddling my canoe so far

as I had) and make it to work easily and succesfully, I would begin

on his portrait, which I was then prepared to commence on that day,

and that I felt as if I could do him justice. He shook me by the hand,

giving me the Doctor’s grip, and beckoned me to sit down, which I did,

and we smoked a pipe together. After this was over he told me that

he had no inimical feelings towards me, although he had been telling

the chiefs that they were all fools and all would die who had their

portraits painted; that although he had set the old women and children

all crying, and even made some of the young warriors tremble, yet he

had no unfriendly feelings towards me, nor any fear or dread of my art.

‘I know you are a good man (said he), I know you will do no harm to any

one; your medicine is great, and you are a great medicine-man. I would

like to see myself very well, and so would all of the chiefs; but they

have all been many days in this medicine-house, and they all know me

well, and they have not asked me to come in and be _made alive_

with paints. My friend, I am glad that my people have told you who I

am; my heart is glad; I will go to my wigwam and eat, and in a little

while I will come and you may go to work.’ Another pipe was lit and

smoked, and he got up and went off. I prepared my canvass and palette,

and whistled away the time until twelve o’clock, before he made his

appearance, having employed the whole forepart of the day at his

toilette, arranging his dress and ornamenting his body for his picture.

“At that hour then, bedaubed and streaked with paints of various

colours, with bear’s-grease and charcoal, with medicine-pipes in his

hands, and foxes’ tails attached to his heels, entered Mah-to-he-bah

(the old bear) with a train of his profession, who seated themselves

around him, and also a number of boys whom it was requested should

remain with him, and whom I supposed it possible might have been his

pupils whom he was instructing in the mysteries of his art. He took

his position in the middle of the room, waving his evil calumets in

each hand and singing the medicine song which he sings over his dying

patient, looking me full in the face until I completed his picture at

full length. His vanity has been completely gratified in the operation;

he lies for hours together day after day in my room in front of his

picture gazing intently upon it, lights my pipe for me while I am

painting, shakes hands with me a dozen times each day, and talks of me

and enlarges upon my medicine virtues and my talents wherever he goes,

so that this new difficulty is now removed, and instead of preaching

against me he is one of my strongest and most enthusiastic friends and

aids in the country.

“Perhaps nothing ever more completely astonished these people than the

operations of my brush. The art of portrait painting was a subject

entirely new to them and of course unthought of, and my appearance here

has commenced a new era in the arcana of _medicine_ or mystery.

Soon after arriving here I commenced and finished the portraits of

the two principal chiefs. This was done without having awakened the

curiosity of the villagers, as they had heard nothing of what was going

on, and even the chiefs themselves seemed to be ignorant of my designs

until the pictures were completed. No one else was admitted into my

lodge during the operation, and when finished it was exceedingly

amusing to see them mutually recognizing each other’s likeness and

assuring each other of the striking resemblance which they bore to the

originals. Both of these pressed their hand over their mouths awhile in

dead silence (a custom amongst most tribes when anything surprises them

very much); looking attentively upon the portraits and myself and upon

the palette and colours with which these unaccountable effects had been

produced.

“Then they walked up to me in the most gentle manner, taking me in

turn by the hand with a firm grip, and, with head and eyes inclined

downwards, in a tone of a little above a whisper, pronounced the words

_te-ho-pe-nee Wash-ee_, and walked off.

“Readers, at that moment I was christened with a new and a great name,

one by which I am now familiarly hailed and talked of in this village,

and no doubt will be as long as traditions last in this strange

community.

“That moment conferred an honour on me which you, as yet, do not

understand. I took the degree (not of Doctor of Law, nor Bachelor

of Arts) of Master of Arts--of mysteries, of magic, and of hocus

pocus. I was recognized in that short sentence as a great _medicine

white man_, and since that time have been regularly installed

_medicine_, or mystery,--which is the most honourable degree that

could be conferred upon me here, and I now hold a place amongst the

most eminent and envied personages, the doctors and conjurati of this

titled community.

“Te-ho-pe-nee Wash-ee--pronounced ‘tup’penny’--is the name I now go by,

and it will prove to me no doubt of more value than gold, for I have

been called upon and feasted by the doctors, who are all mystery-men,

and it has been an easy and successful passport already to many

strange and mysterious places, and has put me in possession of a vast

deal of curious and interesting information which I am sure I never

should have otherwise learned. I am daily growing in the estimation

of the medicine-men and the chiefs, and by assuming all the gravity

and circumspection due from so high a dignity (and even considerably

more), and endeavouring to perform now and then some art or trick that

is unfathomable, I am in hopes of supporting my standing until the

great annual ceremony commences, on which occasion I may possibly be

allowed a seat in the _medicine_ lodge by the doctors, who are the

sole conductors of this great source and fountain of all priestcraft

and conjuration in this country. After I had finished the portraits of

the two chiefs and they had returned to their wigwams and deliberately

seated themselves by their respective firesides and silently smoked a

pipe or two (according to an universal custom), they gradually began

to tell what had taken place; and at length crowds of gaping listeners,

with mouths wide open, thronged their lodges, and a throng of women

and girls were about my house, and through every crack and crevice I

could see their glistening eyes which were piercing my hut in a hundred

places, from a natural and restless propensity--a curiosity to see what

was going on within. An hour or more passed in this way and the soft

and silken throng continually increased until some hundreds of them

were clung and piled about my wigwam like a swarm of bees hanging on

the front and sides of their hive. During this time not a man made his

appearance about the premises; after awhile, however, they could be

seen folded in their robes gradually sidling up towards the lodge with

a silly look upon their faces, which confessed at once that curiosity

was leading them reluctantly where their pride checked and forbade

them to go. The rush soon after became general, and the chiefs and

medicine-men took possession of my room, placing soldiers (braves,

with spears in their hands) at the door, admitting no one but such as

were allowed by the chiefs to come in. The likenesses were instantly

recognized, and many of the gaping multitude commenced yelping; some

were stamping off in the jarring dance, others were singing, and others

again were crying; hundreds covered their mouth with their hands and

were mute; others, indignant, drove their spears frightfully into the

ground, and some threw a reddened arrow at the sun and went home to

their wigwams.

“The pictures seen, the next curiosity was to see the man who made

them, and I was called forth. Readers, if you have any imagination,

save me the trouble of painting this scene. I stepped forth and was

instantly hemmed in in the throng. Women were gazing, and warriors

and braves were offering me their hands, whilst little boys and girls

by dozens were struggling through the crowd to touch me with the ends

of their fingers, and while I was engaged from the waist upwards

in fending off the throng and shaking hands my legs were assailed

(not unlike the nibbling of little fish when I have been standing in

deep water) by children who were creeping between the legs of the

bystanders for the curiosity or honour of touching me with the end

of their finger. The eager curiosity and expression of astonishment

with which they gazed upon me plainly showed that they looked upon

me as some strange and unaccountable being. They pronounced me the

greatest _medicine-man_ in the world, for they said I had made

a _living being_; they said they could see their chief alive in

two places--those that I had made were a little alive; they could see

their eyes move, could see them smile and laugh; they could certainly

speak if they should try, and they must therefore have some life in

them.

“The squaws generally agreed that they had discovered life enough in

them to render my _medicine_ too great for the Mandans, saying

that such an operation could not be performed without taking away from

the original something of his existence, which I put in the picture,

and they could see it move, see it stir.

“This curtailing of the natural existence for the purpose of

instilling life into the secondary one they decided to be an useless

and destructive operation, and one which was calculated to do great

mischief in their happy community, and they commenced a mournful and

doleful chant against me, crying and weeping bitterly through the

village, proclaiming me a most dangerous man, one who could make living

persons by looking at them, and at the same time could, as a matter of

course, destroy life in the same way, if I chose; that my medicine was

dangerous to their lives and that I must leave the village immediately;

that bad luck would happen to those whom I painted, and that when they

died they would never sleep quiet in their graves.

“In this way the women and some old quack medicine-men together

had succeeded in raising an opposition against me, and the reasons

they assigned were so plausible and so exactly suited for their

superstitious feelings, that they completely succeeded in exciting

fears and a general panic in the minds of a number of chiefs who had

agreed to sit for their portraits, and my operations were of course

for several days completely at a stand. A grave council was held on

the subject from day to day, and there seemed great difficulty in

deciding what was to be done with me and the dangerous art which I was

practising and which had far exceeded their original expectations. I

finally got admitted to their sacred conclave and assured them that I

was but a man like themselves, that my art had no _medicine_ or

mystery about it, but could be learned by any of them, if they would

practice it as long as I had; that my intentions towards them were of

the most friendly kind, and that in the country where I lived brave

men never allowed their squaws to frighten them with their foolish

whims and stories. They all immediately arose, shook me by the hand,

and dressed themselves for their pictures. After this there was no

further difficulty about sitting, all were ready to be painted; the

squaws were silent, and my painting-room was a continual resort for the

chiefs and braves and medicine-men, where they waited with impatience

for the completion of each one’s picture, that they could decide as

to the likeness as it came from under the brush, that they could laugh

and yell and sing a new song, and smoke a fresh pipe to the health and

success of him who had just been safely delivered from the hands and

the mystic operation of the _white medicine_.”

The Mandans celebrate the anniversary of the feast of the deluge with

great pomp. During the first four days of this religious ceremony

they perform the buffalo dances four times the first day, eight the

second, twelve the third, and sixteen the fourth day, around the great

canoe placed in the centre of the village. This canoe represents the

ark which saved the human race from the flood, and the total-number

of the dances executed is forty, in commemoration of the forty nights

during which the rain did not cease to fall upon the earth. The dancers

chosen for this occasion are eight in number and divided into four

pairs corresponding to the four cardinal points. They are naked and

painted various colours; round their ankles they wear tufts of buffalo

hair; a skin of the same animal with the head and horns is thrown over

their shoulders; the head serves as a mask to the dancers. In one of

their hands they hold a racket, in the other a lance, or rather a long

inoffensive stick. On their shoulders is bound a bundle of branches. In

dancing they stoop down towards the ground and imitate the movements

and the bellowing of buffaloes.

Alternating with these pairs is a single dancer, also naked and

painted, and wearing no other garments than a beautiful girdle and a

head-dress of eagles’ feathers mingled with the fur of the ermine.

These four dancers also carry each a racket and a stick in their hands;

in dancing they turn their backs to the great canoe. Two of them are

painted black with white spots all over their bodies to represent the

sky and stars. The two others are painted red to represent the day,

with white marks to signify the spirits chased away by the first rays

of the sun. None but these twelve individuals dance in this ceremony

of solemnity. During the dance the master of the ceremonies stands by

the great canoe and smokes in honour of each of the cardinal points.

Four old men also approach the great canoe, and during the whole dance,

which continues a quarter of an hour, the actors sing and make all

the noise possible with their instruments, but always preserving the

measure.

Besides the dancers and musicians there are other actors who represent

symbolical characters and have a peculiar dress during this festival.

Near the great canoe are two men dressed like bears who growl

continually and try to interrupt the actors. In order to appease them

women continually bring them plates of food, which two other Indians

disguised as eagles often seize and carry off into the prairie. The

bears are then chased by troops of children, naked and painted like

fawns and representing antelopes, which eagerly devour the food that

is served. This is an allegory, signifying that in the end Providence

always causes the innocent to triumph over the wicked.

All at once on the fourth day the women begin to weep and lament, the

children cry out, the dogs bark, the men are overwhelmed with profound

despair. This is the cause: A naked man painted of a brilliant black

like the plumage of a raven and marked with white lines, having a

bear’s tusk painted at each side of his mouth, and holding a long wand

in his hand, appears on the prairie running in a zigzag direction,

but still advancing rapidly towards the village and uttering the most

terrific cries. Arriving at the place where the dance is performing he

strikes right and left at men, women, and children, and dogs, who fly

in all directions to avoid the blows of this singular being, who is a

symbol of the evil spirit.

The master of the ceremonies on perceiving the disorder quits his post

near the great canoe and goes toward the enemy with his medicine-pipe,

and the evil spirit, charmed by the magic calumet, becomes as gentle as

a child and as ashamed as a fox caught stealing a fowl. At this sudden

change the terror of the crowd changes to laughter, and the women cease

to tremble at the evil spirit and take to pelting him with mud; he is

overtaken and deprived of his wand and is glad to take to his heels and

escape from the village as quickly as he can.

It is to be hoped that the North-American Indian when communicating

with Kitchi-Manitou does not forget to pray to be cured of his

intolerable vice of covetousness. He can let nothing odd or valuable

pass him without yearning for it, or so says every traveller whose lot

it has been to sojourn among Red men. So says Mr. Murray, and quotes a

rather ludicrous case in support of the assertion:

“While I was sitting near my packs of goods, like an Israelite in

Monmouth Street, an elderly chief approached and signified his wish

to trade. Our squaws placed some meat before him, after which I gave

him the pipe, and in the meantime had desired my servant to search my

saddle bags, and to add to the heap of saleable articles everything

of every kind beyond what was absolutely necessary for my covering

on my return. A spare shirt, a handkerchief, and a waistcoat were

thus drafted, and among other things was a kind of elastic flannel

waistcoat made for wearing next to the skin and to be drawn over the

head as it was without buttons or any opening in front. It was too

small for me and altogether so tight and uncomfortable, although

elastic, that I determined to part with it.

[Illustration: The Covetous Pawnee.]

“To this last article my new customer took a great fancy and he made me

describe to him the method of putting it on and the warmth and comfort

of it when on. Be it remembered that he was a very large corpulent man,

probably weighing sixteen stone. I knew him to be very good-natured,

as I had hunted once with his son and on returning to the lodge the

father had feasted me, chatted by signs, and taught me some of the

most extraordinary Indian methods of communication. He said he should

like to try on the jacket, and as he threw the buffalo robe off his

huge shoulders I could scarcely keep my gravity when I compared their

dimensions with the garment into which we were about to attempt their

introduction. At last by dint of great industry and care, we contrived

to get him into it. In the body it was a foot too short, and fitted him

so close that every thread was stretched to the uttermost; the sleeves

reached a very little way above his elbow. However, he looked upon his

arms and person with great complacency and elicited many smiles from

the squaws at the drollery of his attire; but as the weather was very

hot he soon began to find himself too warm and confined, and he wished

to take it off again. He moved his arms, he pulled his sleeves, he

twisted and turned himself in every direction, but in vain. The old man

exerted himself till the drops of perspiration fell from his forehead,

but had I not been there he must either have made some person cut it up

or have sat in it till this minute.

“For some time I enjoyed this scene with malicious and demure gravity,

and then I showed him that he must try and pull it off over his

head. A lad who stood by then drew it till it enveloped his nose,

eyes, mouth, and ears; his arms were raised above his head, and for

some minutes he remained in that melancholy plight, blinded, choked,

and smothered, with his hands rendered useless for the time. He

rolled about, sneezing, sputtering, and struggling, until all around

him were convulsed with laughter and our squaws shrieked in their

ungovernable mirth in a manner that I had never before witnessed. At

length I slit a piece of the edge and released the old fellow from his

straight-waistcoat confinement; he turned it round often in his hands

and made a kind of comic-grave address to it, of which I could only

gather a few words: I believe the import of them was that it would be

‘a good creature’ in the ice-month of the village. I was so pleased

with his good humour that I gave it to him to warm his squaw in the

‘ice-month.’”

As this will probably be the last occasion of discussing in this volume

the physical and moral characteristics of the North American Indian,

it may not be out of place here to give a brief descriptive sketch of

the chief tribes with an account of their strength and power in bygone

times and their present condition. The names of Murray, Dominech,

Catlin, etc., afford sufficient guarantee of the accuracy of the

information here supplied.

The Ojibbeway nation occupies a large amount of territory, partly

within the United States, and partly within British America. They

are the largest community of savages in North America: the entire

population, in 1842, amounted to thirty thousand. That part of the

tribe occupying territory within the United States inhabit all the

northern part of Michigan, the whole northern portion of Wisconsin

Territory, all the south shore of Lake Superior, for eight hundred

miles, the upper part of the Mississippi, and Sandy, Leech, and

Red Lakes. Those of the nation living within the British dominions

occupy all Western Canada, the north of Lake Huron, the north of Lake

Superior, the north of Lake Winnibeg, and the north of Red River Lake,

about one hundred miles. The whole extent of territory occupied by

this single nation, extends one thousand nine hundred miles east and

west, and from two to three hundred miles north and south. There are

about five thousand in British America, and twenty-five thousand in the

United States. Of their past history nothing is known, except what may

be gathered from their traditions. All the chiefs and elder men of the

tribe agree that they originally migrated from the west. A great number

of their traditions are doubtless unworthy of credence, but a few that

relate to the foundation of the world, the subsequent disobedience of

the people,--which, the Ojibbeways say, was brought about by climbing

of a vine that connected the world of spirits with the human race,

which was strictly forbidden the mortals below, and how they were

punished by the introduction of disease and death, which before they

knew not;--all this and much more of the same nature, is a subject of

more than ordinary interest to the contemplative mind.

Their first intercourse with Europeans was in 1609, when they, as

well as many of the other tribes belonging to the Algonquin stock,

met Champlain, the adventurous French trader. They were described

by him as the most polished in manners of the northern tribes; but

depended for subsistence entirely on the chase, disdaining altogether

the more effeminate occupation of the cultivation of the soil. From

that time they eagerly sought and very soon obtained the friendship of

the French. The more so that their ancient and inveterate foes, the

Iroquois, were extremely jealous of the intrusive white men. With the

help of the French they gained many bloody and decisive battles over

the Iroquois, and considerably extended their territories. The history

of the nation from this time is not very interesting. From the ravages

of war and disease the tribe, as may be perceived from a comparison

with many others, has escaped with more than ordinary success; partly

owing to the simplicity and general intelligence of the tribe in

guarding against these evils.

Their religion is very simple, the fundamental points of which are

nearly the same as all the North American Indians. They believe in

one Ruler or Great Spirit--He-sha-mon-e-doo, “Benevolent Spirit,” or

He-ehe-mon-edoo, ”“Great Spirit.” This spirit is over the universe at

the same time, but under different names, as the “God of man,” the

“God of fish,” and many others. It is supposed by many travellers that

sun-worship was a part of their mythology, from the extreme respect

which they were observed to pay to that luminary. But we find the

reason of this supposed homage is, that the Indian regards the sun as

the wigwam of the Great Spirit, and is naturally an object of great

veneration. In this particular, perhaps, they are not greater idolaters

than civilized people, who have every advantage that art and nature

can bestow. The Indian, because the sun doesn’t shine to-day, won’t

transfer his adoration to the moon to-morrow; and in this respect at

least is superior to many a wise and educated “pale face.”

In addition to the good spirit they have a bad spirit, whom, however,

they believe to be inferior to the good spirit. He is supposed to have

the power of inflicting all manner of evils, and, moreover, to take

a delight in doing so. This spirit was sent to them as a punishment

for their original disobediences. They have, besides these, spirits

innumerable. In their idea every little flower of the field, every

beast of the land, and every fish in the water, possesses one.

PAWNEES.--This tribe, which is scattered between Kansas and

Nebraska, was at one time very numerous and powerful, but at the

present time numbers no more than about ten thousand. They have an

established reputation for daring, cunning, and dishonesty. In the

year 1832 small-pox made its appearance among the Pawnees, and in the

course of a few months destroyed fully half their numbers. They shave

the head, all but the scalp lock. They cultivate a little Indian corn,

but are passionately fond of hunting and adventure. The use of the

Indian corn is confined to the women and old men. The warriors feed

on the game they kill on the great prairies, or on animals they steal

from those who cross their territory. The Pawnees are divided into four

bands, with each a chief. Above these four chiefs is a single one, whom

the whole nation obey. This tribe has four villages, situated near the

Nebraska. It is allied with the neighbouring tribe of the Omahas and

Ottoes. It was till recently the custom of these people to torture

their prisoners, but it is now discontinued, owing to the fact of a

squaw of the hostile tribe being snatched from the stake by a white

man. The circumstance was regarded as a direct interposition of the

Great Spirit, and as an expression of his will that torture should he

discontinued. They do not appear to possess any historical traditions,

but on certain other subjects preserve some curious legends. The “sign”

of the Pawnees is the two forefingers held at the sides of the head in

imitation of a wolf’s ears.

THE DELAWARES.--This ancient people, once the most renowned

and powerful among American Indians, has of late years so dwindled

that were the entire nation to be gathered, it would scarcely count

one thousand souls. They are now settled in the Valley of the Canadian

river, and their pursuits are almost strictly agricultural. According

to their traditions, several centuries ago they inhabited the western

part of the American continent, but afterwards emigrated in a body to

the banks of the Mississippi, where they met the Iroquois, who, like

themselves, had abandoned the far west and settled near the same river.

In a short time, however, the new comers and the previous holders

of the land, the Allegavis, ceased to be on friendly terms, and the

combined Delawares and Iroquois declared war against them to settle the

question. The combined forces were victorious, and divided the land

of the Allegavis between them. After living peaceably for two hundred

years, another migration was resolved upon, and, according to some

accounts, the whole of both nations, and according to others, but part

of them, settled on the shores of the four great rivers, the Delaware,

the Hudson, the Susquehanna, and the Potomac. Up to this time the

Delawares remained, as they had ever been, superior to the Iroquois,

and by-and-by the latter grew jealous of their powerful neighbours, and

by way of thinning their numbers sought to breed a deadly feud between

the Delawares and certain other near-living tribes, amongst which were

the warlike Cherokees. This was an easy matter. The arms of every tribe

are more or less peculiar and may be safely sworn to by any other.

Stealing a Delaware axe, an Iroquois lay wait for a Cherokee, and

having brained him with the weapon laid it by the side of the scalpless

body. The bait took, and speedily the Delawares and the Cherokees were

plunged into deadly strife.

[Illustration: An Iroquois Warrior.]

The Iroquois, however, were not destined to escape scot free for their

diabolical trick. The Delawares discovered it, and swore in council to

exterminate their malicious neighbours. But the latter were much too

wise to attempt a single-handed struggle with their justly incensed

foes, so soliciting the attention of the other tribes they set out

their grievances in so artful a manner that the others resolved to

help them, and there was straightway formed against the unoffending

Delawares a confederation called the Six Nations. “This,” says the

Abbé Dominech, “was about the end of the fifteenth and beginning of

the sixteenth century, and from this period dates the commencement of

the most bloody battles the New World has witnessed. The Delawares

were generally victorious. It was during this war that the French

landed in Canada, and the Iroquois not wishing them to settle in the

country took arms against them; but finding themselves thus placed

between two fires, and despairing of subduing the Delawares by force

of arms, they had recourse to a stratagem in order to make peace with

the latter, and induce them to join the war against the French. Their

plan was to destroy the Delawares’ fame for military bravery, and to

make them (to use an Indian expression) into old women. To make the

plan of the Iroquois understood, we must mention that most of the wars

between these tribes are brought to an end only by the intervention of

the women. They adjure the warriors by all they hold dear to take pity

on their poor wives and on the children who weep for their fathers,

to lay aside their arms and to smoke the calumet of peace with their

enemies. These discourses rarely fail in their effect and the women

place themselves in an advantageous position as peace-makers. The

Iroquois persuaded the Delawares that it would be no disgrace to

become “women,” but that on the contrary, it would be an honour to a

nation so powerful, and which could not be suspected of deficiency in

courage or strength, to be the means of bringing about a general peace

and of preserving the Indian race from further extermination. These

representations determined the Delawares to become “women” by asking

for peace. So they came to be contemptuously known by other tribes as

“Iroquois Squaws,” and losing heart, from that time grew more few.

SHAWNEES.--The ancient “hunting grounds” of this important

tribe were Pennsylvania and New Jersey; but they are now found in

the Valley of the Canadian. “Some authors are of opinion,” says the

author of “The Deserts of North America,” “that these Indians come

from Eastern Florida, because there is in that country a river called

Su-wa-nee, whence the word Shawanas, which is also used to design

the Shawnees, might be derived. It is certain, however, that they

were known on the coast of the Atlantic, near Delaware and Chesapeak,

subsequent to the historical era: that is to say, after the arrival of

the Anglo-Saxons in the land. The Shawnees, as well as the Aborigines

of whom they formed part, held a tradition of their transatlantic

origin. It is but a few years ago that they ceased to offer animal

sacrifices to render thanks to the Great Spirit for their happy

arrival in America. The Shawnees and their neighbours the Delawares

were alternately friends and enemies. They frequently made war on each

other, and retreated to the west in consequence of the invasion of the

whites. The present Shawnees are as much civilized as the Chactas; they

are perhaps less rudely attired; with the exception of rings, earrings,

and brooches of their own manufacturing, they care little for the

ornaments by which other Indians set so much store. Their features are

peculiar; their nose has a Grecian cut not devoid of beauty; their hair

is short to the neck and parted in the front; the men wear moustaches;

the women are rather good looking, and notwithstanding the dark colour

of their complexion their cheeks show signs of robust health. Some of

the most renowned of American chiefs are found among the Shawnees. The

present actual population is 1,500.”

And now, having so long endured the trying climate of North

America, let us turn to a warmer country--to one of the warmest and

quaintest--to Abyssinia. Not the least quaint of its features is the

fact that there are more churches there than in any other country;

and, though it is very mountainous, and consequently the view much

obstructed, it is very seldom you see less than five or six; and,

if you are on a commanding ground, five times that number. Every

Abyssinian that dies thinks he has atoned for all his wickedness, if

he leaves a fund to build a church, or has built one in his lifetime.

The king builds many. Wherever a victory is gained, there a church is

erected in the very field--and that before the bodies of the slain

are buried. Formerly this was only the case when the enemy was Pagan

or Infidel; now the same is observable when the victories are over

Christians. The situation of a church is always chosen near running

water, for the convenience of their purifications and ablutions, in

which they strictly observe the Levitical law. They are always placed

on the top of some beautiful round hill, which is surrounded entirely

with rows of the oxycedrus, or Virgin cedar, which grows here in great

beauty and perfection, and is called Arz. Nothing adds so much to the

beauty of the country as these churches, and the plantations about

them. In the middle of this plantation of cedars is interspersed, at

proper distances, a number of those beautiful trees called Cuffo, which

grow very high, and are all extremely picturesque.

The churches are all round, with thatched roofs; their summits are

perfect cones; the outside is surrounded by a number of wooden

pillars, which are nothing else than the trunks of the cedar-tree,

and are placed to support the edifice, about eight feet of the roof

projecting beyond the wall of the church, which forms an agreeable

walk or colonnade around it in hot weather or in rain. The inside of

the church is in several divisions, according as is prescribed by the

law of Moses. The first is a circle somewhat wider than the inner one;

here the congregation sit and pray. Within this is a square, and that

square is divided by a veil or curtain, in which is another very small

division answering to the holy of holies. This is so narrow, that none

but the priests can go into it. You are barefooted, whenever you enter

the church, and, if barefooted, you may go through every part of it,

if you have any such curiosity, provided you are pure, that is, have

not had connexion with woman for twenty-four hours before, or touched

carrion or dead bodies (a curious assemblage of ideas), for in that

case you are not to go within the precincts, or outer circumference, of

the church, but stand and say your prayers at an awful distance among

the cedars.

Every person, of both sexes, under Jewish disqualifications, is

obliged to observe this distance; and this is always a place belonging

to the church, where, except in Lent, you see the greatest part of

the congregation; but this is left to your own conscience; and, if

there was either great inconvenience in the one situation, or great

satisfaction in the other, the case would be otherwise.

On your first entering the church, you put off your shoes: but you must

leave a servant there with them, or else they will be stolen, if good

for anything, by the priests and monks, before you come out of the

church. At entering you kiss the threshold and the two door-posts, go

in and say what prayer you please; that finished you come out again,

and your duty is over. The churches are full of pictures, painted

on parchment, and nailed upon the walls a little less slovenly than

you see paltry prints in beggarly country ale-houses. There has been

always a sort of painting known among the scribes, a daubing much

inferior to the worst of our sign-painters. Sometimes, for a particular

church, they get a number of pictures of saints, on skins of parchment,

ready finished from Cairo, in a style very little superior to these

performances of their own. They are placed like a frieze, and hung

in the upper part of the wall. St. George is generally there with

his dragon, and St. Demetrius fighting a lion. There is no choice in

their saints; they are both of the Old and New Testament, and those

that might be dispensed with from both. There is St. Pontius Pilate

and his wife; there is St. Balaam and his ass; Samson and his jawbone;

and so of the rest. But the thing that surprised Mr. Bruce most was a

kind of square miniature upon the head-piece or mitre of the priest,

administering the sacrament at Adowa, representing Pharaoh on a white

horse plunging in the Red Sea, with many guns and pistols swimming upon

the surface of it around him.

Nothing embossed, or in relief, ever appears in any of their churches;

all this would be reckoned idolatry, so much so that they do not wear a

cross, as has been represented, on the top of the ball of the sendick

or standard, because it casts a shade; but there is no doubt that

pictures have been used in their churches from the very earliest ages

of Christianity.

The primate or patriarch of the Abyssinian Church is styled Abuna. The

first of these prelates mentioned in history is Tecla Haimanout, who

distinguished himself by the restoration of the royal family, and the

regulations which he made both in church and state. A wise ordinance

was then enacted that the Abyssinians should not have it in their

power to raise one of their own countrymen to the dignity of Abuna. As

this dignitary of the church very seldom understands the language of

the country, he has no share in the government. His chief employment

is in ordinations, which ceremony is thus performed:--A number of men

and children present themselves at a distance, and there stand from

humility, not daring to approach him. He then asks who these are, and

they tell him that they wish to be deacons. On this he makes two or

three signs with a small cross in his hand, and blows with his mouth

twice or thrice upon them, saying, “Let them be deacons.” Mr. Bruce

once saw the whole army of Begemder, when just returned from shedding

the blood of 10,000 men, made deacons by the Abuna, who stood about a

quarter of a mile distant from them.

The Abyssinians neither eat nor drink with strangers, though they have

no reason for this; and it is now a mere prejudice, because the old

occasion for this regulation is lost. They break, or purify, however,

every vessel a stranger of any kind shall have eaten or drunk out of.

The custom, then, is copied from the Egyptians; and they have preserved

it, though the Egyptian reason does no longer hold.

The Egyptians made no account of the mother what her state was; if the

father was free, the child followed the condition of the father. This

is strictly so in Abyssinia. The king’s child by a negro-slave, bought

with money, or taken in war, is as near in succeeding to the crown as

any one of twenty children that he has older than that one, and born of

the noblest women of the country.

In Abyssinia, once every year they baptize all grown people, or adults.

Mr. Bruce here relates what he himself saw on the spot, and what is

nothing more than the celebration of our Saviour’s baptism:--“The

small river, running between the town of Adowa and the church, had

been dammed up for several days; the stream was scanty, so that it

scarcely overflowed. It was in places three feet deep, in some perhaps

four, or little more. Three large tents were pitched the morning

before the feast of the Epiphany; one on the north for the priests to

repose in during the intervals of the service, and, besides this, one

to communicate in: on the south there was a third tent for the monks

and priests of another church to rest themselves in their turn. About

twelve o’clock at night the monks and priests met together, and began

their prayers and psalms at the water-side, one party relieving each

other. At dawn of day, the governor, Welleta Michael, came thither,

with some soldiers, to raise men for Ras Michael, then on his march

against Waragna Fasil, and sat down on a small hill by the water-side,

the troops all skirmishing on foot and on horseback around them.

“As soon as the sun began to appear, three large crosses of wood

were carried by three priests dressed in their sacerdotal vestments,

and who, coming to the side of the river, dipped the cross into the

water, and all this time the firing, skirmishing, and praying, went

on together. The priests with their crosses returned, one of their

number before them carrying something less than an English quart of

water in a silver cup or chalice; when they were about fifty yards from

Welleta Michael, that general stood up, and the priest took as much

water as he could hold in his hands, and sprinkled it upon his head

holding the cup at the same time to Welleta Michael’s mouth to taste;

after which the priest received it back again, saying at the same

time, “Gzier y’barak,” which is simply, “May God bless you.” Each of

the three crosses was then brought forward to Welleta Michael, and he

kissed them. The ceremony of sprinkling the water was then repeated to

all the great men in the tent, all cleanly dressed as in gala. Some of

them, not contented with aspersion, received it in the palms of their

hands joined, and drank it there; more water was brought for those that

had not partaken of the first; and after the whole of the governor’s

company was sprinkled, the crosses returned to the river, their bearers

singing _hallelujahs_, and the skirmishing and firing continuing.”

Mr. Bruce observed, that, a very little time after the governor had

been sprinkled, two horses and two mules, belonging to Ras Michael and

Ozoro Esther, came and were washed. Afterwards the soldiers went in and

bathed their horses and guns; those who had wounds bathed them also.

Heaps of platters and pots, that had been used by Mahometans or Jews,

were brought thither likewise to be purified; and thus the whole ended.

The men in Egypt neither bought nor sold; the same is the case in

Abyssinia to this day. It is infamy for a man to go to market to buy

any thing. He cannot carry water or bake bread; but he must wash the

clothes belonging to both sexes; and, in this function, the women

cannot help him. In Abyssinia the men carried their burdens on their

heads, the women on their shoulders: and this difference, we are told,

obtained in Egypt. It is plain that this buying in the public market by

women must have ended whenever jealousy or sequestration of that sex

began. For this reason it ended early in Egypt; but, for the opposite

reason, it subsists in Abyssinia to this day. It was a sort of impiety

in Egypt to eat a calf; and the reason was plain, they worshipped the

cow. In Abyssinia, to this day, no man eats veal, although every one

very willingly eats beef. The Egyptian reason no longer subsists, as in

the former case, but the prejudice remains, though they have forgotten

their reason.

The Abyssinians eat no wild or water-fowl, not even the goose, which

was a great delicacy in Egypt. The reason of this is, that, upon their

conversion to Judaism, they were forced to relinquish their ancient

municipal customs, as far as they were contrary to the Mosaical law,

and the animals in their country not corresponding in form, kind, or

name with those mentioned in the Septuagint, or original Hebrew, it

has followed that there are many of each class that know not whether

they are clean or not, and a wonderful confusion and uncertainty has

followed through ignorance or mistake, being unwilling to violate the

law in any one instance, though not understanding it.

Among the Gallas of Abyssinia, the Kalijas (magicians) and the Lubas

(priests) reign supreme. It is the business of the latter to determine

whether any impending war will be successful, and for this purpose

the entrails of a goat are consulted. With his long hair streaming

wildly, a bright copper circlet decorating his brow, and with a

sonorous bell, which he beats to enjoin the silence and attention of

the assembled multitude, he plunges his naked arm into the bowels of

the freshly-slaughtered animal, and withdrawing part of the intestines,

according to their colour declares the prospects of the savage army.

In such matters, however, the Kalijas never interferes. His business

is to cast out from sick men the evil spirits that torment them.

There are eighty-eight evil spirits, say the Kalijas, divided into

two bands of forty-three each and ruled and directed by a chief. The

Kalijas is untiring in his efforts to hunt out this formidable army

of eighty-eight. He goes about with a bell in one hand and a whip in

the other, and with a festoon of dried goat’s entrails about his neck.

Sent for by a patient he rubs him well with grease, smokes him with

aromatic herbs, cries out at the top of his voice, rings his bell

with a deafening din, and then lays into the sick person with the

whipthong. If all these powerful remedies fail to drive out the Sao or

evil spirit, why, the Kalijas resignedly takes his fee and goes away,

leaving the victory to the doughty soldier of the eighty six.

In debating on the ills the Abyssinian is heir to the Bouda and Zar

must not be forgotten, since they occupy a most prominent place in the

catalogue of evils which torture the brown-skinned children of the

sun. Of the two the _Bouda_, or sorcerer, as the word signifies,

is the most dreaded. His powers in the black art are reported to be of

a most varied character. At one time he will enslave the objects of

his malice, at another he will subject them to nameless tortures, and

not unfrequently his vengeance will even compass their death. Like the

genii and egrets of the Arabian Nights the Bouda invariably selects

those possessed of youth and talent, beauty and wit, on whom to work

his evil deeds.

A variety of charms have been invented to counteract the Bouda’s

power, but the most potent are the amulets written by the pious

_deleteras_ and worn round the neck. The dread of the sorcerer

has introduced a whole tribe of exorcists who pretend both to be able

to conjure the evil spirit and also to detect his whereabout; and

these are accordingly held in great awe by the people. Their traffic

resembles that of the highwayman; with this difference only--that the

one in bold and unblushing language calls on his victim to stand and

deliver, the other stealthily creeps into the midst of a troop of

soldiers, or amongst a convivial party of friends, and pronounces the

mystical word _Bouda_. The uncouth appearance and sepulchral voice

of the exorcist everywhere produce the deepest sensation, and young

and old, men and women, gladly part with some article to get rid of

his hated and feared presence. If, as sometimes happens, one or two

less superstitious individuals object to these wicked exactions, the

exorcist has a right to compel every one present to smell an abominable

concoction of foul herbs and decayed bones which he carries in his

pouch; those who unflinchingly inhale the offensive scent are declared

innocent, but those who have not such strong olfactory nerves are

declared _Boudas_ and shunned as allies of the evil one.

“During the rainy season,” says Mr. Stern, the most recent of

Abyssinian travellers, “when the weather, like the mind, is cheerless

and dull, the _Boudas_, as if in mockery of the universal gloom,

celebrate their saturnalia. In our small settlement at _Gaffat_

the monotony of our existence was constantly diversified by a Bouda

scene. Towards the close of August, when every tree and shrub began to

sprout and blossom, the disease degenerated into a regular epidemic;

and in the course of an evening two, three, and not unfrequently every

hut occupied by the natives would ring with that familiar household

cry. A heavy thunderstorm by some mysterious process seemed invariably

to predispose the people to the Bouda’s torturing influence.

“I remember one day about the end of August we had a most tremendous

tempest: it commenced a little after mid-day and lasted till nearly

five o’clock. During its continuance the air was completely darkened,

except when the lightning’s blaze flashed athwart the sky and relieved

for a few seconds the almost midnight gloom. No human voice could be

heard amidst the thunder’s deafening crash and the torrent’s impetuous

rage.

“The noise and tumult of the striving elements had scarcely subsided

when one of the servants, a stout, robust, and masculine woman, began

to exhibit the Bouda symptoms. She had been complaining the whole

noon of langour, faintness, and utter incapacity for all physical

exertion. About sunset her lethargy increased, and she gradually sank

into a state of apparent unconsciousness. Her fellow servants who were

familiar with the cause of her complaint at once pronounced her to be

possessed. To outwit the conjuror I thought it advisable to try the

effect of strong liquid ammonia on the nerves of the evil one. The

place being dark, faggots were ignited; and in their bright flickering

light we beheld a mass of dark figures squatted on the wet floor around

a rigid and apparently dead woman. I instantly applied my bottle to

her nose; but although the potent smell made all near raise a cry

of terror, it produced no more effect on the passive and insensible

patient than if it had been clear water.

“The owner of Gaffat, an amateur exorcist, almost by instinct, as if

anticipating something wrong in that part of his dominion occupied by

the Franks, made his appearance in the very nick of time, and no sooner

had the bloated and hideous fellow hobbled into the hut, than the

possessed woman, as if struck by a magnetic wire, burst into loud fits

of laughter and the paroxysms of a maniac.

“Half-a-dozen stalwart fellows caught hold of her, but frenzy imparted

vigour to her frame which even the united strength of these athletics

was barely sufficient to keep under control. She tried to bite, kick,

and tear every one within reach; and when she found herself foiled in

all these mischievous attempts she convulsively grasped the unpaved wet

floor and, in imitation of the hyæna, gave forth the most discordant

sounds. Manacled and shackled with leather thongs, she was now partly

dragged, and partly carried, to an open grassy spot; and there in

the presence of a considerable number of people the conjuror, in a

business-like manner, began his exorcising art.

[Illustration: A Woman under the Influence of Bouda.]

“The poor sufferer, as if conscious of the dreaded old man’s presence

struggled frantically to escape his performance; but the latter

disregarding her entreaties and lamentations, her fits of unnatural

gaiety and bursts of thrilling anguish, with one hand laid an amulet

on her heaving bosom, whilst with the other he made her smell a rag in

which the root of a strong-scented plant, a bone of a hyæna, and some

other abominable unguents, were bound up. The mad rage of the possessed

woman being instantly hushed by this operation, the conjuror addressed

himself to the _Bouda_, and in language unfit for polite ears,

requested him to give him his name. The _Bouda_, speaking through

the medium of the possessed, replied:

“‘Hailu Miriam.’

“‘Where do you reside?’

“‘In Damot.’

“‘What is the name of your father and confessor?’

“‘My father’s name is _Negouseye_, and my _Abadre’s_, _Oubie_.’

“‘Why did you come to this district?’

“‘I took possession of this person on the plain of Wadela, where I met

her on the road from _Magdala_.’

“‘How many persons have you already killed?

“‘Six.’

“‘I command thee, in the name of the blessed Trinity, the twelve

apostles, and the three hundred and eighteen bishops at the council of

Nicæa, to leave this woman and never more to molest her.’

“The Bouda did not feel disposed to obey the conjuror; but on being

threatened with a repast of glowing coals, he became docile, and in a

sulky voice promised to obey the request.

“Still anxious, however, to delay his exit, he demanded something to

eat; and to my utter disgust his taste was as coarse as the torments

inflicted on the young woman were ungallant. Filth and dirt of the

most revolting description, together with an admixture of water, were

the choice delicacies he selected for his supper. This strange fare,

which the most niggardly hospitality could not refuse, several persons

hastened to prepare; and when all was ready, and the earthen dish had

been hidden in the centre of a leafy shrub, the conjuror called to

the Bouda, ‘As thy father did, so do thou.’ These words had scarcely

escaped the lips of the exorcist when the possessed person leapt up

and, crawling on all fours, sought the dainty repast, which she lapped

up with a sickening avidity and greediness. She now laid hold of a

stone which three strong men could scarcely lift, and raising it aloft

in the air, whirled it round her head, and then fell senseless to the

ground. In half an hour she recovered, but was quite unconscious of

what had transpired.

“Next in importance to the _Bouda_ is the _Zar_. This malady

is exclusively confined to unmarried women, and has the peculiar

feature, that during the violence of the paroxysm it prompts the

patient to imitate the sharp discordant growl of the leopard. I

recollect that the first time I saw a case of this description it gave

me a shock that made my blood run cold. The sufferer was a handsome,

gay and lively girl of fifteen. In the morning she was engaged, as

usual, with her work, when a quarrel ensued between her and the other

domestics. The fierce dispute, though of a trifling character, roused

the passions of the fiery Ethiopian to such a pitch that it brought on

an hysterical affection. Her companions cried out, ‘She is possessed;’

and certainly her ghastly smile, nervous tremor, wild stare, and

unnatural howl, justified the notion. To expel the Zar, a conjuror, as

in the Bouda complaint, was formerly considered indispensable; but,

by dint of perseverance, the medical faculty of the country, to their

infinite satisfaction, have at length made the discovery that a sound

application of the whip is quite as potent an antidote against this

evil as the necromancer’s spell.”

Turning from Abyssinia to Dahomey we find, as might be expected from

all that one hears of that most sanguinary spot on earth, that religion

is at a very low ebb. Leopards and snakes are the chief gods worshipped

by the Dahomans, and surely the mantle of these deities must have

descended to their worshippers, who possess all the cunning of the

one and the bloodthirstiness of the other. Besides these, the Dahoman

worships thunder and lightning, and sundry meaningless wooden images.

The sacrifices are various. If of a bullock it is thus performed: the

priests and priestesses (the highest of the land, for the Dahoman

proverb has it that the poor are never priests) assemble within a ring

in a public square, a band of discordant music attends, and, after

arranging the emblems of their religion and the articles carried in

religious processions, such as banners, spears, tripods, and vessels

holding bones, skulls, congealed blood, and other barbarous trophies,

they dance, sing, and drink until sufficiently excited. The animals are

next produced and decapitated by the male priests with large chopper

knives. The altars are washed with the blood caught in basins; the rest

is taken round by the priests and priestesses, who strike the lintel

and two side posts of all the houses of the devotees with the blood

that is in the basin. The turkey buzzards swarm in the neighbourhood,

and with the familiarity of their nature gorge on the mangled carcass

as it is cut in pieces. The meat is next cooked and distributed among

the priests, portions being set aside to feed the spirits of the

departed and the fetishes. After the sacrifice the priesthood again

commence dancing, singing, and drinking, men, women, and children

grovelling in the dirt, every now and then receiving the touch and

blessing of these enthusiasts. Among the priesthood are members of the

royal family, wives and children. The mysteries are secret, and the

revelation of them is punished with death. Although different fetishes

are as common as the changes of language in Central Africa, there is

a perfect understanding between all fetish people. The priests of the

worship of the leopard, the snake, and the shark, are initiated into

the same obscure forms. Private sacrifices of fowls, ducks, and even

goats, are very common, and performed in a similar manner: the heads

are taken off by the priests, and the altars washed with the blood, and

the lintels and sides of the door posts are sprinkled; the body of the

animal or bird is eaten or exposed for the sacred turkey buzzards to

devour. The temples are extremely numerous, each having one altar of

clay. There is no worship within these temples, but small offerings are

daily given by devotees and removed by the priests.

Sickness is prevalent among the blacks, small-pox and fever being

unattended, except by bad practitioners in medicine. And here let me

remark that, after teachers of the Gospel and promoters of education,

there is no study that would so well ensure a good reception in Africa

as that of medicine. The doctor is always welcome, and, as in most

barbarous countries, all white men were supposed to be doctors. If an

African sickens, he makes a sacrifice first, a small one of some palm

oil food. Dozens of plates of this mixture are to be seen outside the

town, and the turkey buzzards horribly gorged, scarcely able to fly

from them. If the gods are not propitiated, owls, ducks, goats, and

bullocks are sacrificed; and if the invalid be a man of rank, he prays

the king to permit him to sacrifice one or more slaves, paying a fee

for each. Should he recover, he in his grateful joy liberates one or

more slaves, bullocks, goats, fowls, etc., giving them for ever, to the

fetish, and henceforward they are fed by the fetish-men. But should he

die, he invites with his last breath his principal wives to join him

in the next world, and according to his rank, his majesty permits a

portion of his slaves to be sacrificed on the tomb.

Should any one by design or accident--the former is scarcely

likely--hurt either a leopard or snake fetish, he is a ruined man. But

a very few years ago a cruel and lingering death was the penalty; but

Dahoman princes of modern times are more tender-hearted than their

predecessors, and are content with visiting the culprit with a thorough

scorching. Mr. Duncan instances such a case:

[Illustration: Punishment for Killing Fetish Snakes.]

“May 1st.--Punishment was inflicted for accidentally killing two fetish

snakes, while clearing some rubbish in the French fort. This is one of

the most absurd as well as savage customs I ever witnessed or heard of.

Still it is not so bad as it was in the reign of the preceding King of

Dahomey, when the law declared the head of the unfortunate individual

forfeited for killing one of these reptiles, even by accident. The

present king has reduced the capital punishment to that about to be

described. On this occasion three individuals were sentenced as guilty

of the murder of the fetish snakes. A small house is thereupon made for

each individual, composed of dry faggots for walls, and it is thatched

with dry grass. The fetish-men then assemble, and fully describe the

enormity of the crime committed. Each individual is then smeared over,

or rather has a quantity of palm-oil and yeast poured over him,

and then a bushel basket is placed on each of their heads. In this

basket are placed small calabashes, filled to the brim, so that the

slightest motion of the body spills both the oil and the yeast, which

runs through the bottom of the basket on to the head. Each individual

carries a dog and a kid, as well as two fowls, all fastened together,

across his shoulders. The culprits were then marched slowly round

their newly-prepared houses, the fetish-men haranguing them all the

time. Each individual is then brought to the door of his house, which

is not more than four feet high. He is then freed from his burthen,

and compelled to crawl into his house on his belly, for the door is

only eighteen inches high. He is then shut into this small space with

the dog, kid, and two fowls. The house is then fired, and the poor

wretch is allowed to make his escape through the flames to the nearest

running water. During his journey there he is pelted with sticks and

clods by the assembled mob; but if the culprit has any friends, they

generally contrive to get nearest to him during his race to the water,

and assist him, as well as hinder the mob in their endeavours to injure

him. When they reach the water they plunge themselves headlong into it,

and are then considered to be cleansed of all the sin or crime of the

snake-murder. After the lapse of thirteen days, “custom” or holiday is

held here for the deceased snakes.