THE HOME OF THE INDIAN WEED
The white man landed—need the rest be told?
The new world stretch’d its dusk hand to the old.
Each was to each a marvel, and the tie
Of wonder warmed to better sympathy.
THE ISLAND.
Looking back towards the source whence the old world derived the Indian
weed and the habit of smoking it, the career of Columbus presents
itself crowded with marvellous exploits and instances of indomitable
courage that have left their imprint on men’s minds for all succeeding
generations. Though an old and oft-repeated story it has an abiding
interest for adventurous explorers whose highest glory is to link
themselves with the free and fearless Vikings. His imagination aglow with
the wondrous story Marco Polo had told of his voyages in the far east,
and possibly under the prompting of Toscanelli whose map was his guide,
Columbus conceived the bold idea of reaching India by sailing west.
Difficulties inevitable to so daring a project were met and overcome with
the patience born of genius. At last he gained the ear of Queen Isabel,
and to her he poured out his heart’s grief, and made her acquainted with
the dream of his life. Pointing to his chart he pictured a new world
teeming with every precious thing of earth, where wealth, and power, and
majesty, were to be won by courage and enterprise; and all should be hers
were he but equipped with royal authority and means of transport. The
sincere, impassioned eloquence with which he pleaded the reasonableness
of his cause and its triumphant success enlisted the sympathy of the
noble-hearted Queen. She entered with spirit into the grand scheme that
was to bring renown and riches to her impoverished country. ‘I will
assume the undertaking for my own kingdom of Castile,’ she exclaimed, ‘I
will pawn my jewels if the money you raise is not sufficient.’
On Friday, August 3, 1492, Columbus set sail from the bar of Saltos,
near the little maritime town of Palos (Andalusia), as admiral of the
three small ships his indomitable energy had brought together. His own
vessel, the _Santa Maria_, had been built expressly for the voyage, and
was manned by a crew of fifty ruthless, unskilful adventurers. The two
others were caravels named the _Pinta_ and the _Niña_; they were owned
by the Pinzon family, and were commanded, respectively, by Martin Alonzo
and his brother Vicente Yañez. In all one hundred and twenty men embarked
under the inspiriting influence of Columbus on their perilous adventure
into unknown seas. Three months have well-nigh passed and yet no sign
is visible of the promised land. After enduring hardships the severest,
worn out by storm and tempest in regions leading they knew not whither,
their murmurs deepen into open mutiny; the crew gathers round the great
captain with threats to throw him overboard unless he will turn the
rudder and sail home. The vision of Columbus rises before us: tall, fair,
blue-eyed, beaming with the confidence of a life’s devotion to a great
purpose, he confronts his boisterous crew, and, with chart in hand, once
more subdues them with an enthusiasm fired by profound conviction. On the
morning of October 12, a sailor, Rodirego de Triano on board the _Niña_
scanning the horizon, calls to his mates to look out for land, pointing
to a dark mass looming in the distance. Then there breaks forth from the
mast-head the wild cry, _Tierra! Tierra!_ and the helmsmen steer their
course into the calm waters of San Salvador.
Here among the fair Bahamas where on Nassau’s most conspicuous site
is reared a statue to Columbus, let us linger a moment while the
great navigator and his adventurers prepare for landing in order to
take possession of the new territory in the names of their Majesties,
Ferdinand and Isabel. Richly attired in scarlet and plumes, and
accompanied by the two Pinzons, with a chosen escort bearing the standard
of Spain, they enter their boats and are rowed to the shore. With tears
of joy Columbus kneels and kisses the ground, while thanking Heaven for
the great mercy vouchsafed to him and his companions. Very soon they
become aware that the island is populated; they see natives running
hither and thither, peering from among the trees that stretch down to
the shore, and making gestures to one another in evident amazement.
By-and-by they approach nearer and nearer to the white men; now they
throw themselves on the ground in attitudes of wonder and supplication.
Columbus is struck with their child-like simplicity; he reassures them,
offering to each some trifling article—beads, buttons, etc.—which they
take with eager delight. Their curiosity leads them to touch the hands
and faces of the white men, whose garments are a great surprise. From
a creek hard by canoes shoot out into the open, but the moment the
occupants see the towering vessels of the Spaniards with their flapping
sails, amazement strikes them dumb and motionless. Columbus directs his
men to capture them, but the spell broken, they struggle desperately and
plunge into the water. Two, however, are secured and brought on board,
where they are treated with the utmost kindness by Columbus, for he
wishes to learn from them something of their language, their country, and
its products, particularly about gold and where it is to be obtained.
The gladsome sight that everywhere met their eyes must have been very
refreshing to the weary mariners. As far as the eye could reach there
was a luxuriant vegetation, and a forest of trees bearing an amplitude
of rich and varied fruit stretching down to the shore temptingly
over-hanging its sides, as if inviting the strangers to feast and enjoy
the good things of this Elysium. Perennial springtime seemed to reign
over the happy island, whose inhabitants knew no want nor suffering. Its
waters were liquid sapphire and malachite, looking through which could
be seen graceful branching corals; sky-blue fishes playing hide-and-seek
with golden ones among a delicate network of purple and yellow; there,
too, were miniature willows of lilac, and many another rare thing in the
mermaids’ pleasure gardens. Here and there the coast was strewn with
shells of exquisite beauty—trumpets for Tritons; the king conch, out of
whose pink lining lissome fingers create lovely cameos; tiny rice shells,
pink ones like ladies’ finger-nails, and cowries, and many another rare
shell that, in the days of England’s shell mania, would have realised a
handsome fortune for the happy possessor.
Sailing amidst these scenes of wondrous beauty they, sixteen days later,
October 28, sighted the island of Cuba, to which Columbus gave the name
of Juana, in honour of Prince Juan. In his selected letters, translated
by R.H. Major, F.S.A., Columbus says: ‘I followed the coast westward, and
found it so large that I thought it must be the mainland, the province of
Cathay, China.’ Continuing his narrative he says, ‘And as I found neither
towns nor villages on the coast, but only a few hamlets with the natives
of which I could not hold conversation because they immediately fled,
I kept on the same route, thinking I could not fail to light upon some
large cities and towns.… Returning to the harbour I had remarked, I sent
two men ashore to ascertain whether there was any king or large cities in
that part.’
Cruising in this region of enchantment, Cuba had fallen upon his
enraptured gaze like a vision of Eden. Soft and gentle breezes, an
azure sunlight sky, a rich luxuriant landscape, the carolling of birds,
exercised a powerful influence over his imagination. He exclaims: ‘It
is the most beautiful island the eyes ever beheld. I am told that the
trees never lose their foliage, and I can well understand it, for I
observed they were all as green and luxuriant as in Spain in the month
of May. Some were in blossom and others bearing fruit, others otherwise,
according to their nature. The nightingale was singing as well as other
birds of a thousand different kinds, and that in November, the month in
which I myself was roaming amongst them.’
After an absence of three days, the two men whom Columbus had sent to
explore returned. They had found no king nor large city, but had come
upon many small hamlets with numberless inhabitants; yet nothing could be
seen that in any way corresponded to their ideas of settled government.
On their way back they for the first time witnessed the use of a herb
which, says Washington Irving, ‘the ingenious caprice of man has since
converted into an universal luxury in defiance of the opposition of the
senses.’ Among other tales, strange and wonderful, the two men told
how they had come upon naked Indians with lighted fire-brands in their
mouths, from which they drew in the fumes, expelling them again through
their nostrils! They were simple, inoffensive people, and well disposed
towards the white men, whom they allowed to examine their fire-brands.
They had found them to be composed of the dried leaves of a herb rolled
up tightly in a leaf of maize. Lighting one end of the roll, they put the
other end between their teeth, and inhaled the fragrant vapour with an
air of placid enjoyment which seems to have produced in the Spaniards a
craving for the weed that to this day has never left them.
Here was a race of beings living in happy ignorance of the strifes and
ambitions, the anxieties and vexations of civilised man, reclining in
every posture of ease while breathing the fragrant odours of their
treasured weed: civilised man, indeed, gazed with amazement and longing.
Sweeter far than incense from Arabi was this new delight to the
Spaniards, it became a necessity; it was their morning comforter that
fortified them for the combat of the day, and their evening solace. Thus
it happened that the new world gave to the old its first lesson in the
art of regaling tired nature with her own anodyne. Navarrete says: ‘The
habit has since become universal, and hence the origin of the so much
prized and so far celebrated havanas.’
With the experiences of a new world just dawning upon them, the
explorers were prepared at every step to encounter prodigies of a
startling character. So far, however, they had seen nothing to cause
them apprehension; nothing had yet fallen in their way more interesting
than these primitive people clad merely in nature’s copper-coloured
cuticle, and adorned with ornaments of pure gold and rare and curious
shells intermingled with their braided locks. And yet still more strange,
these very simple-minded children of nature looked up to the white men as
visitors from the spirit-land of their dreams, and with awe and wonder
made offerings to them of whatever things they esteemed most precious.
The ships in the offing with flapping wings had come from the blue
beyond their ken, and the white men were denizens of the skies. This
curious idea—so soon to be dispelled by the rapacity and cruelty of the
Spaniards—which the natives had conceived of the strangers is alluded to
by many early writers who afterwards visited the new world. Sir Francis
Drake, in _The World Encompassed_ (1572-73), speaking of the North
American Indians, says: ‘They brought to the ship a little basket made
of rushes and filled with a herb which they called tabah.… They came now
a second time bringing with them as before had been done, feathers and
bags of tabah for presents, or rather, indeed, for sacrifice, upon this
persuasion that we were gods.’
The chief object Columbus had in view, that indeed which had secured him
the powerful influence of the Church, was not merely the discovery of the
marvellous country of the East Indies, mentioned by Marco Polo, but the
conversion to Christianity of the Grand Khan who ruled over the land. To
this end, and to obtain for him friendly treatment, he bore for the Khan
a royal letter of introduction signed by their Christian majesties of
Spain.
Meanwhile, Columbus had been busily occupied in collecting the spoils of
his easily acquired possessions in the West India Islands, in readiness
to return home and render an account to his magnanimous friend and
protectress, Queen Isabel, of the perils of his voyage and the ultimate
realisation of his dreams. His own vessel, the _Santa Maria_, having run
aground had to be abandoned, but the _Niña_ was soon made ready for him,
and without undue delay the little craft weighed anchor on January 16,
1493. On his arrival in Spain the Court was at Barcelona, and thither
Columbus journeyed, attended by his train, bearing the trophies of his
adventure. He was received by the king and queen with every mark of royal
favour. Seated in their presence, he displayed to their eager gaze the
specimens he had brought for their acceptance of various products of
the new found land: virgin gold, cotton, mysterious plants (assuredly
the tobacco plant would be here), birds of rare plumage, and animals of
unknown species. But rising in importance above all these things were
nine native Indians for conversion and baptism to attest to the reality
of his triumph. Though the Grand Khan had not been seen, yet in presence
of these Indians even the learned Bishop of Talavera could no longer look
askance at the great navigator as a vain dreamer not altogether free from
suspicion of magic. In grateful remembrance of Her Majesty’s bounty and
enthusiastic protection, Columbus presented to her the casket which had
contained the jewels she so generously gave up for his use, now filled
with pure gold, as an earnest of what was in store for Spain in their
Majesties’ new dominions. The casket is preserved to this day in the
sacristy of the cathedral at Grenada.
Columbus was of too active a disposition to indulge his well-earned
repose; the old craving for adventure and exploration left him no peace.
Under royal command a fleet worthy of his grand scheme of conquest and
colonisation was prepared for him, consisting of three large galleons and
fourteen caravels, carrying 1,500 men, and all things necessary for the
establishment of a new colony. He was invested with supreme authority
as admiral, viceroy, and captain-general of all islands and continents
in the Western Ocean. Second in authority was Gonzalo Fernandez de
Oviedo, who accompanied the expedition bearing the royal commission of
inspector-general of the West India Islands. By the end of September 1493
the fleet was speeding its way towards the Far West, and with favouring
gales was wafted straight amongst the Windward Islands. Had some good
genius guided their course across the deep in order to disclose to them
the beauties of the new world, no fairer island could have been found
than the one which, on that bright morning in January 1494 lay before the
adventurers as the great master mariner steered his vessel into the safe
harbour of Hayti—land of mountains. The climate was perfect; a perpetual
summer was tempered by cool mountain breezes and periodical showers,
which swept in from the Atlantic. By the banks of this beautiful harbour,
on the north shore, Columbus planted the first Spanish settlement, and in
grateful tribute to the Queen he named it Isabella. The country, which
in all probability he believed to be the continent he was in search of,
he named San Domingo, a name which soon disappears from the records,
substituted by that of Hispaniola. From this island came to Europe the
first written allusion to the use of tobacco by the natives. It is from
Fra Ramono Pane, a Franciscan, whom Columbus had left at Hayti. In a
letter to his friend Peter Martyr, Queen Isabel’s secretary, he tells
him of a curious practice said to be common among the natives of rubbing
the dried leaves of a herb into a powder, and then with a hollow forked
tube, two prongs of which they put up their nostrils while holding the
lower one in the powder, ‘they drew the powder into their noses, which
purges them very much of humours.… The cane or tube is about half a
cubit long.’ This description would seem to indicate snuffing rather than
smoking. It seems clear that we have here come upon the origin of the
practice of titillating the olfactories which towards the close of the
sixteenth century, had become, says Molière, ‘la passion des honnetes
gens.’ Catherine de Medici became one of the earliest devotees to the new
indulgence; fashion led the _poudre à la Reine_ through the courts of
Europe, where elegant dilettanti vied with each other in the display of
jewelled snuff boxes filled with _odeur de Rome_, or other right puissant
sternutatories, not always of a harmless kind. Prelates and abbés were
enamoured of the delightfully-scented refresher, and in Spain they did
not scruple to place their brilliant boxes on the altar for their use,
in spite of Pontifical ordinances and anathemas from Urban VIII. and
Innocent XII. Physicians, carried away with the belief that a grand
sternutatory had been discovered, proclaimed its advent to a grateful
people, and prescribed its use liberally; for, said they, ‘it must needs
do good where the brain is replete with many humours, for senselessness
or benumming of the brains, and for a hicket that proceedeth of
repletion.’ Yet there were divisions in the ranks of medical men; there
were different sides of the question, different interests or tastes to
be considered. Had not the Duc d’Harcourt suffered martyrdom in the new
cause in order to please Louis le Grand? The Court physician, Monsieur
Fagon, devoted his brilliant talents to a public denunciation of the
new vice which, springing from heathen soil, was fast spreading over
Christendom! Unhappily for the success his eloquence merited, in the
warmth of his oratory he so far forgot himself as to dip his fingers into
his waistcoat pocket and take copious pinches of _tabac en poudre_ in
order to refresh his fickle brain.
The early writers on the smoking habit were perplexed about the origin of
the name given to the weed. Many favoured the opinion that the plant and
its use had first come under the observation of Europeans in the island
of Tobago. This notion is shewn to be incorrect in a work bearing the
rather long and ambitious title of _Tobago: a Geographical Description,
Natural and Civil History, together with a full Representation of the
Produce and other Advantages arising from the Fertility, excellent
Harbours, and Happy Situation of that Famous Island_. The author says, ‘I
do not recollect any author who has given a clear account of this name;
and as many have expressed a doubt whether the island was so called from
the herb, or the herb from the island, I hope the curious and inquisitive
reader will be well pleased to see that matter set in its true light; for
the fact is that neither the island received its name from the herb, nor
the herb from the island. The appellation is, indeed, Indian, and yet was
bestowed by the Spaniards. The thing happened thus: the Caribbees were
extremely fond of tobacco, which in their language they called _kohiha_,
and fancied when they were drunk with the fumes of it the dreams they
had were in some sort inspired. Now their method of taking it was this:
they first made a fire of wood, and when it was burnt out they scattered
upon the living embers the leaves of the plant, and received the smoke
of it by the help of an instrument that was hollow, made exactly in
the shape of the letter Y, putting the larger tube into the smoke, and
thrusting the shorter tubes up their nostrils. This instrument they
called _tabago_, and when the Admiral Christopher Columbus passed to
the southward of this island he judged the form of it to resemble that
instrument, and thence it received its name.’
Among the continental tribes, however, smoking instruments were found
which, in variety of form, originality of design, and skilful execution,
equal the best productions of Europe; indeed, they have to the present
day served as models for the rest of the world. Those who, inspired
by Cooper born-ideals of the noble savage in his native wilds, long
for a sight of real Indian life, unspoiled by contact with civilised
man, will now look in vain across the American continent. The Indian,
to his sorrow, soon learnt the vices of the white man who, by craft
and arms, ousted him from his heritage. Occasionally, however, far up
the Mississippi valley, or on the confines of the Canadian forests,
the desire may, to some extent, be appeased. The observer may with
admiration note the fine physique, the strongly marked physiognomy, the
untrammelled freedom of these primitive lords of the land. Old chiefs
may be seen gravely smoking by their wigwams, while reclining against
the trunk of a fallen tree and discussing among themselves the prospects
of war or peace, or perhaps congratulating themselves on the accession
to their numbers of some neighbouring tribe. A little way off young
warriors are furbishing up arms for the chase, or war as may be. Others
are elaborately ornamenting with carving and paint their curious tobacco
pipes, some of wood with long stems adorned with feathers, some cut out
from the treasured red pipe-stone brought from the mountain quarry.
Economy of the precious weed is not overlooked, and the inner bark of the
red willow is peeled into fine shavings and when dried over a low fire is
mixed with the tobacco leaves. Their tobacco pouches well filled they may
start on the chase or the war path, assured that they are well provided
with refreshment for many days.
Europe, however, is indebted to Oviedo for the most intelligent account
of the tobacco plant, and the method commonly adopted by the Caribs of
preparing and using it. During his tenure of office in the West Indies he
collected an immense amount of information relating to the inhabitants,
their country and its products, the results of which he published in
1526, under the title of _Historia natural y general de las Indias_. In
the Seville edition of 1535 is an engraving of the smoking instrument
used by the Caribs. It is of the form already described. Oviedo says of
it that ‘it is about a span long; when used the forked ends are inserted
in the nostrils, the other end being applied to the burning leaves
of the herb. In this manner they inhale the smoke until they become
stupefied. And when forked canes cannot be procured, they make use of
a straight reed or hollow cane, and this implement is called _tabaco_
by the Indians.’ Oviedo speaks disparagingly of the smoking habit, and
classes it amongst their evil customs as a thing very pernicious, and
done in order to produce insensibility. Remarking on the prevalence of
the habit, he says that the consumption of tobacco by the various tribes
of the Indians is of universal and immemorial usage, in many cases bound
up with the most significant and solemn tribal ceremonies. No matters
of importance to the tribe or the family can be conducted, no compact
can be held binding, that has not been ratified by the passage of the
great pipe, be it the pipe of peace or the pipe of war—the calumet or
the tomahawk—from the lips of one chief to those of the others of the
conference. The pipe, then, is their great seal, the solemn pledge of
friendship, good faith, and such qualities as the chivalry of the forest
suggests to the untutored mind. Although Oviedo regards unfavourably
the practice of smoking, he evidently prized the plant, as we read
that on his return home he cultivated it in his private gardens. This
is but one step removed from its enjoyment in the pipe, and who can
say that in his retirement he did not take that step? Las Casas speaks
so slightingly of his work as to say that it contains almost as many
lies as pages. Las Casas, the renowned friend and protector of the poor
oppressed Indians, could certainly speak with confidence on matters
relating to the West India Islands. He had gone to the colony in the
train of Nicolas de Ovando in 1502, and settled in Cuba as parish priest
and vicar-apostolic of the islands. Possibly his intimate knowledge of
the cruelties practised by his countrymen on the unoffending natives and
their insatiable greed of gold, had turned him against all highly-placed
officials in the colonies. He agrees with Oviedo, however, in dislike of
tobacco-smoking. He says: ‘I cannot see what benefit can be derived from
it.… However extensive it may be in other countries (and common no doubt
it is there) the habit has become so general in this [Spain] that, to
the discredit of parents, it is even followed by children.… The eternal
cigar is seen in the mouths of old and young, even in that of the ragged
urchin.’
The third voyage of Columbus to the Far West, resulting in the discovery
of the South American continent, brought the Spaniards into contact with
new races well advanced in the arts of civilisation as compared with
the condition of the inhabitants of the islands, and opened the way for
intercourse and the development of mutual interests of no common order.
What use they made of this brilliant opening, leading to the conquest
of Mexico and Peru, is told in the fascinating pages of Prescott. Well
might the eyes of the Spaniards be dazzled by the splendours they beheld
in the palace of the great Montezume, where, on the occasion of their
reception by the Emperor, cigars were handed to the guests inserted in
tubes of richly-carved gold, tortoise-shell, or silver; or they imbibed
the soothing pleasures of the ‘intoxicating weed called tobacco mingled
with liquid amber.’ And while thus engaged a troop of almost phantom-like
tumblers and jugglers gaily disported themselves before their wondering
eyes. The after-dinner smoke, so dear to middle age, is a vestige of that
civilisation which, before the onward march of the Spaniards, vanished
like the mist of the morning. Our excellent guide through these realms of
a shadowy past relates how the Aztecs would smoke after dinner to prepare
for the siesta with as much regularity as an old Castilian does now. When
dinner was over they rinsed the mouth with scented water, and an officer
of the Court would then with much ceremony hand to the king his pipe.
They smoked out of pipes made of polished and richly-gilt wood, inhaling
the fragrant fumes of tobacco mixed with other aromatic herbs.
Girolamo Benzoni of Milan took a strong dislike to the Indian weed, and
saw in it only a noxious plant whose fumes poisoned the pure breath of
heaven. Like every European who visited the newly discovered countries
of the West, he had his attention drawn to the herb the Indians loved,
and in his _History of the New World_ through some portion of which
he travelled in 1642-45, he describes the tobacco plant as growing in
‘bushes, not very large, like reeds, that produce a leaf in shape like
that of a walnut, though rather larger.’ He says it is greatly esteemed
by the natives and the slaves whom the Spaniards have brought from
Ethiopia. He then describes the method of preparing it for smoking, which
corresponds pretty nearly with the process in operation at the present
day in America, and tells us that ‘when the leaves are in season they
pick them, tie them up in bundles, and suspend them near their fireplaces
till they are very dry; and when they wish to use them, they take a
leaf of their grain (maize) and putting one of the others into it they
roll them round tightly together; then they set fire to one end, and
putting the other end into the mouth they draw their breath up through
it, wherefore the smoke goes into the mouth, the throat, the head, and
they retain it as long as they can, for they find a pleasure in it; and
so much do they fill themselves with this cruel smoke that they lose
their reason. And there are some who take so much of it that they fall
down as if they were dead, and remain the greater part of the day or
night stupefied. Some men are found who are content with imbibing only
enough of this smoke to make them giddy, and no more. See what a wicked
and pestiferous poison from the devil this must be! It has happened to
me several times, that going through the provinces of Guatemala and
Nicaragua, I have entered the house of an Indian who had taken this
herb, which, in the Mexican language, is called tobacco, and immediately
perceiving the sharp fetid smell of this truly diabolical and stinking
smoke, I was obliged to go away in haste and seek some other place.’
These strong words call forth the remark from his translator, Admiral
Smith, that ‘surely the royal author of the famous _Counterblast_ must
have seen this graphic and early description of a cigar!’ Though in the
same key, Benzoni’s is but a feeble breath compared with the fulmination
of our British Solomon against the ‘lively image and pattern of hell,’
or the ‘Stygian fumes from the pit that is bottomless!’ The fame of the
Indian weed as a healer of the sick had not reached Europe when Benzoni
published his travels through the Spanish possessions of the West, but
its medicinal property had not escaped his acute observation. He gives
a drawing of the medicine man putting three of his patients through a
course of his tobacco treatment. The first is represented freely imbibing
the fumes of tobacco, the second is just dropping his pipe, and himself
off to sleep, and the third swings in a hammock attended by the doctor.
Benzoni relates how in La Espanola and the adjacent islands sick men went
to the place where the smoke was to be administered, and when they were
thoroughly intoxicated by it, the cure was mostly effected. ‘On returning
to his senses the patient told a thousand stories of his having been at
the council of the gods, and other high visions.’
And as to the origin of the plant, let the old chieftain of the
Susquehanna tribe himself relate the story. It will merely be necessary
to introduce him to the reader seated with his family, and a few braves
gathered around him, listening to the words of a Swedish missionary, who
expounds to them the creed of the Christian and the scriptural narrative
of our first parents. The sermon over, the old chief, with easy grace and
measured words, replies: ‘What you have told us is very good, we thank
you for coming so far to tell us those things you have heard from your
mothers; in return we will tell you what we have heard from ours.
‘In the beginning we had only flesh of animals to eat, and if they failed
they starved. Two of our hunters having killed a deer and broiled part of
it, saw a young woman descend from the clouds, and seat herself on a hill
hard by. Said one to the other, “It is a spirit, perhaps, that has smelt
our venison; let us offer some of it to her.” They accordingly gave her
the tongue. She was pleased with its flavour, and said, “Your kindness
shall be rewarded, come here thirteen moons hence and you shall find it.”
They did so, and found where her right hand had touched the ground maize
growing, where her left hand had been, kidney-beans, and where she had
sat they found tobacco!’