Of course, the Hawk could not endure this, and he fell heavily to the
ground, carrying Mosique with him.
Then all the birds flocked together, and had a feast which lasted many
days, singing songs, and dancing, and shaking hands with Mosique in
token of their gratitude and joy. The Little Ants also came to attend
this great feast; and after it was over, Mosique made a long speech,
bidding them: “Tell all the Hawks, his brothers, his sisters, his sons,
and his daughters, to insult me no more. If they do, they must share the
same fate as their chief. You see him now dead. I will give his skull to
our neighbors, the ants, for their wigwam, and also a part of his old
carcass for food.”
The ants ran hastily into Hawk’s skull, and fed upon his brain.
“Now,” added Mosique, “my dear Little Birds, you know I have lived in my
wigwam for a long time. I have never troubled any one, and no one has
troubled me. This is the first one who ever came to disturb me. Here he
lies. Tell your leader, the great Woodpecker, my worst enemy,[34] what I
say. I have never talked so much before in all my life; but do you tell
him that if he ever comes to try to destroy my wigwam, I will serve him
the same as that Hawk. I do not wish to defy him myself, but you can
tell him for me.”
The Little Birds sewed leaves together, placed the Honorable Mosique on
them, raised him high in air, and sang songs of rejoicing over him:--
“K’mūs’m S’n nāhā kisi nāhāhāt ō-usell ennīt kīlon wecki w’litt hassūl
tīgiqu’,” or “our Grandfather Wood Worm has killed Hūhuss. This is what
makes us so happy.”
Then they flew up almost to the sky, came down again, left Mosique in
his wigwam and presented him with a tiny Wīsūwīgesisl, or Little Yellow
Bird,--one of their best singers,--to be his comrade and musician.
Every morning she sings: “Ētuch ūlināgusk tīke ūspesswin!” (Oh, what a
lovely, bright morning! Awake, all ye who sleep!)
This delighted Mosique.
Time passed, and the Raven fancied the looks of Mosique’s Singer, with
her bright yellow feathers shining like gold. He said: “There is but one
way to get the beautiful Singer, and that is to kill Mosique.
“But that is well-nigh impossible. While he is in his wigwam, no living
creature can destroy him. There is but one way to kill him; but it is a
sure way, I never knew it to fail. I have a piece of punk which my
grandfather, the White Otter, gave me, that will do the work.”
So next morning, it being very windy, he went to the foot of the big
tree where Mosique lived, put the punk close against the tree, set it on
fire, and it soon blazed up. Now this was sure death to Mosique.
(Here part of the story seems to be missing, telling how the Worm
escaped this “sure death,” but I have been unable to recover it, in
spite of all my efforts.--A. L. A.)
Mosique, in his rage, gathered together all the Little Birds, and told
his sad story to them.
“That White Bird,” said he, “has not treated me right; but I will have
my revenge. I want you to take me where he lives.”
“We will take you to his wigwam, Grandpa,” said the Little Birds. So
they sewed the leaves together again,[35] and placing Mosique on them,
flew off with him. They soon reached the residence of Raven. Mosique
had with him a lot of “tebequenignel,” or Indian birch-bark torches. The
Little Birds set him down within a few feet of the tall spruce-tree
where the Raven lived. Now the Raven is an early riser, and goes to bed
equally early; so, as soon as it was dark, Mosique crawled up the tree,
and soon came to Raven’s door. He slipped in without being seen or
heard, and bound Raven while he slept. Then he easily made his way down
again, lighted his torches, and soon had the tree in flames. When the
fire reached the Raven, he awaked and cried out: “Oh, Mosique, have pity
on me, and untie me!” but Mosique heeded him not.
These bark torches always make a dense smoke, which soon blackened the
Raven. As the flames drew nearer, the cords which bound the Raven were
burned away, or snapped asunder, and he escaped uninjured. But his
beauty was gone forever. Up to this time, he was a snow-white bird; but
ever since he has been as black as charcoal, down to this very day.
THE END.
* * * * *
_Messrs. Roberts Brothers’ Publications._
FAR FROM TO-DAY.
A Volume of Stories.
BY GERTRUDE HALL,
_16mo. Cloth. Price, $1.00_.
These stories are marked with originality and power. The titles are as
follows: viz., Tristiane, The Sons of Philemon, Servirol, Sylvanus,
Theodolind, Shepherds.
Miss Hall has put together here a set of gracefully written
tales,--tales of long ago. They have an old-world mediæval feeling
about them, soft with intervening distance, like the light upon
some feudal castle wall, seen through the openings of the forest. A
refined fancy and many an artistic touch has been spent upon the
composition with good result.--_London Bookseller._
“Although these six stories are dreams of the misty past, their
morals have a most direct bearing on the present. An author who has
the soul to conceive such stories is worthy to rank among the
highest. One of our best literary critics, Mrs. Louise Chandler
Moulton, says: ‘I think it is a work of real genius, Homeric in its
simplicity, and beautiful exceedingly.’”
Mrs. Harriet Prescott Spofford, in the _Newburyport Herald_:--
“A volume giving evidence of surprising genius is a collection of
six tales by Gertrude Hall, called ‘Far from To-day.’ I recall no
stories at once so powerful and subtle as these. Their literary
charm is complete, their range of learning is vast, and their human
interest is intense. ‘Tristiane,’ the first one, is as brilliant
and ingenious, to say the least, as the best chapter of Arthur
Hardy’s ‘Passe Rose;’ ‘Sylvanus’ tells a heart-breaking tale, full
of wild delight in hills and winds and skies, full of pathos and
poetry; in ‘The Sons of Philemon’ the Greek spirit is perfect, the
story absolutely beautiful; ‘Theodolind,’ again, repeats the Norse
life to the echo, even to the very measure of the runes; and ‘The
Shepherds’ gives another reading to the meaning of ‘The Statue and
the Bust.’ Portions of these stories are told with an almost
archaic simplicity, while other portions mount on great wings of
poetry, ‘Far from To-day,’ as the time of the stories is placed;
the hearts that beat in them are the hearts of to-day, and each one
of these stories breathes the joy and the sorrow of life, and is
rich with the beauty of the world.”
From the _London Academy_, December 24th:--
“The six stories in the dainty volume entitled ‘Far from To-day’
are of imagination all compact. The American short tales, which
have of late attained a wide and deserved popularity in this
country, have not been lacking in this vitalizing quality; but the
art of Mrs. Slosson and Miss Wilkins is that of imaginative
realism, while that of Miss Gertrude Hall is that of imaginative
romance; theirs is the work of impassioned observation, hers of
impassioned invention. There is in her book a fine, delicate
fantasy that reminds one of Hawthorne in his sweetest moods; and
while Hawthorne had certain gifts which were all his own, the new
writer exhibits a certain winning tenderness in which he was
generally deficient. In the domain of pure romance it is long since
we have had anything so rich in simple beauty as is the work which
is to be found between the covers of ‘Far from To-day.’”
_Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price, by the
publishers_,
ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.
* * * * *
The Keynotes Series.
16mo. Cloth. Price, $1.00.
I. =KEYNOTES.= By GEORGE EGERTON.
II. =THE DANCING FAUN.= By FLORENCE FARR.
III. =POOR FOLK.= By FEDOR DOSTOIEVSKY. Translated from the Russian
by LENA MILMAN. With an Introduction by GEORGE MOORE.
IV. =A CHILD OF THE AGE.= By FRANCIS ADAMS.
V. =THE GREAT GOD PAN AND THE INMOST LIGHT.= By ARTHUR MACHEN.
VI. =DISCORDS.= By GEORGE EGERTON.
VII. =PRINCE ZALESKI.= By M. P. SHIEL.
VIII. =THE WOMAN WHO DID.= By GRANT ALLEN.
IX. =WOMEN’S TRAGEDIES.= By H. D. LOWRY.
X. =GREY ROSES AND OTHER STORIES.= By HENRY HARLAND.
XI. =AT THE FIRST CORNER AND OTHER STORIES.= By H. B. MARRIOTT
WATSON.
XII. =MONOCHROMES.= By ELLA D’ARCY.
XIII. =AT THE RELTON ARMS.= By EVELYN SHARP.
XIV. =THE GIRL FROM THE FARM.= By GERTRUDE DIX.
XV. =THE MIRROR OF MUSIC.= By STANLEY V. MAKOWER.
XVI. =YELLOW AND WHITE.= By W. CARLTON DAWE.
XVII. =THE MOUNTAIN LOVERS.= By FIONA MACLEOD.
XVIII. =THE WOMAN WHO DID NOT.= By VICTORIA CROSSE.
XIX. =THE THREE IMPOSTORS.= By ARTHUR MACHEN.
XX. =NOBODY’S FAULT.= By NETTA SYRETT.
XXI. =PLATONIC AFFECTIONS.= By JOHN SMITH.
XXII. =IN HOMESPUN.= By E. NESBIT.
XXIII. =NETS FOR THE WIND.= By UNA A. TAYLOR.
XXIV. =WHERE THE ATLANTIC MEETS THE LAND.= By CALDWELL LIPSETT.
XXV. =DAY-BOOKS.= Chronicles of Good and Evil. By MABEL E. WOTTON.
XXVI. =IN SCARLET AND GREY.= Stories of Soldiers and Others. By
FLORENCE HENNIKER; with =THE SPECTRE OF THE REAL=, by THOMAS HARDY
and FLORENCE HENNIKER (in collaboration).
XXVII. =MARIS STELLA.= By MARIE CLOTHILDE BALFOUR.
XXVIII. =UGLY IDOL.= By CLAUD NICHOLSON.
XXIX. =SHAPES IN THE FIRE.= A Mid-Winter Entertainment. With an
Interlude. By M. P. SHIEL.
_Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, postpaid, on receipt of price, by the
Publishers_,
ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON, MASS.
John Lane, The Bodley Head, Vigo Street, London, W.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
NEW ENGLAND LEGENDS AND FOLK LORE.
_By SAMUEL ADAMS DRAKE_,
_Author of “Old Landmarks of ‘Boston’ and ‘Middlesex,’” “Around the
Hub,” etc._
One volume, 12mo, cloth, illustrated. Price, $2.00.
This volume brings together, for the first time, the scattered Legendary
and Folk Lore of New England. No subject is so thoroughly fascinating as
this is, while very few indeed afford materials at once so rich, so
varied, and so picturesque. It is confidently believed that every one
who sees how fertile is the field the author’s research has opened, will
now wonder why such a work was not long ago undertaken.
The collection, preservation, and effective presentation of the
Legendary Tales of New England is then the purpose of this book; and
that purpose presupposes a work of permanent interest and value.
For a work of this character no man is better qualified than Mr. SAMUEL
ADAMS DRAKE, the author who has already a high reputation as a writer of
HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, and TRAVEL, and who is thoroughly at home in any and
every phase of Old New England Life. His “Old Landmarks of Boston,” his
“Nooks and Corners of the New England Coast,” are unique works of their
kind, to which his “New England Legends” will unquestionably be the
appropriate companion and claimant for public favor.
Having diligently searched out the origin of the Legendary Tales that
compose this volume, Mr. Drake’s method has been to rewrite them in an
entertaining manner for his readers of to-day; and as some of these
pieces have been the theme of poetry and romance, he has placed the
prose and poetic versions side by side, in order that the thousands to
whom “The Scarlet Letter,” “The Buccaneer,” or “The Skeleton in Armor”
are as familiar as household words, may have as ready access to the
truth as hitherto they have had to the romance of history.
In this way many of the poetical gems of such authors as Longfellow,
Whittier, Holmes, Dana, Lowell, Brainard, Sigourney, and others, are
newly interpreted for the public, besides going to enrich the
collection. Motley, Hawthorne, Sir Walter Scott, Austin, the
Mathers,--whoever in fact may have drawn upon this subject for
inspiration,--are quoted for its illustration.
The popular superstitions of our ancestors, which included a firm belief
in Witchcraft, in the Special Providences of God, and in the
Manifestations of the Invisible World,--not to speak of Omens, Charms,
and the like,--are an unfailing source of interest to our age. Mr. Drake
shows us what those beliefs were, and in what way they worked for good
or evil, as moral or physical agents, and so moulded the history of the
times. Although they possess all the charm of romance, these stories are
really the sober record of the startling or marvellous occurrences that
they narrate. One cannot rise from a perusal of this most fascinating
book without saying, “I now know what kind of men and women the founders
of New England really were. Truth is indeed stranger than fiction!”
ROBERTS BROTHERS,
_3 Somerset Street, Boston, Mass._
* * * * *
_Messrs. Roberts Brothers’ Publications._
A STRANGE CAREER.
LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF JOHN GLADWYN JEBB.
BY HIS WIDOW.
With an Introduction by H. RIDER HAGGARD, and a portrait of Mr. Jebb.
12mo, cloth. Price, $1.25.
A remarkable romance of modern life.--_Daily Chronicle._
Exciting to a degree.--_Black and White._
Full of breathless interest.--_Times._
Reads like fiction.--_Daily Graphic._
Pages which will hold their readers fast to the very end.--_Graphic._
A better told and more marvellous narrative of a real life was never put
into the covers of a small octavo volume.--_To-Day._
As fascinating as any romance.... The book is of the most entrancing
interest.--_St. James’s Budget._
Those who love stories of adventure will find a volume to their taste in
the “Life and Adventures of John Gladwyn Jebb,” just published, and to
which an introduction is furnished by Rider Haggard. The latter says
that rarely, if ever, in this nineteenth century, has a man lived so
strange and varied an existence as did Mr. Jebb. From the time that he
came to manhood he was a wanderer; and how he survived the many perils
of his daily life is certainly a mystery.... The strange and remarkable
adventures of which we have an account in this volume were in Guatemala,
Brazil, in our own far West with the Indians on the plains, in mining
camps in Colorado and California, in Texas, in Cuba and Mexico, where
occurred the search for Montezuma’s, or rather Guatemoc’s treasure, to
which Mr. Haggard believes that Mr. Jebb held the key, but which through
his death is now forever lost. The story is one of thrilling interest
from beginning to end, the story of a born adventurer, unselfish,
sanguine, romantic, of a man too mystical and poetic in his nature for
this prosaic nineteenth century, but who, as a crusader or a knight
errant, would have won distinguished success. The volume is a notable
addition to the literature of adventure.--_Boston Advertiser._
* * * * *
_Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, postpaid, by the publishers_,
ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] This plant is much used by an Indian tribe in Lower California
who are said to live to a great age, one hundred and eighty years
being no uncommon term of life with them. It is not now known to
exist among the Eastern Indians. It grew like maize, about two feet
high, and was always in motion, even when boiling in the pot. Louis
Mitchell’s mother, whom I knew well, received it from an Indian who
wished to marry, and to whom she gave in return enough goods to set up
housekeeping. She divided it with her four sisters, but at their death
no trace of it was found. It gave him who drank it great length of
life.
[2] C. G. Leland gives a similar story in his “Algonquin Legends of
New England.”
[3] Magician.
[4] A pack kettle made of birch bark, used by the Indian before the
days of trunks. I have a toy one a hundred years old or more.
[5] Grandmother.
[6] This incident occurs in several tales.
[7] Stones were heated in a fire on the ground, when red-hot, cold
water was thrown on them to make a steam.
[8] A different version of this story is given in C. G. Leland’s
“Algonquin Legends of New England,” Houghton & Mifflin, Boston, 1884.
[9] Red-headed duck.
[10] Leather pouch.
[11] A kiawākq’s little finger possesses the power of speech, and
always warns him of approaching danger.
[12] C. G. Leland gives similar stories in his “Algonquin Legends of
New England.”
[13] See also C. G. Leland’s “Algonquin Legends of New England,”
Houghton & Mifflin, for similar stories.
[14] An evil witch, see Leland’s “Algonquin Legends of New England.”
[15] Willow saplings, covered with fungus growth, found about marshy
places where frogs live.
[16] Friend.
[17] The Southwest Wind usually brings warm rain, which brightens the
face of Nature.
[18] The Southwest Wind blows hither and thither, very capriciously,
like the tossing of a ball.
[19] A mythical bird whose wings are so large as to darken the sun
when he flies between it and the earth. Indians believe that they must
fall on their faces when he flies by, or be blind till sunset.
[20] When Passamaquoddy Indians catch a grasshopper, they hold him in
the palm of the hand and say, “Give me a chew of tobacco.” The liquid
that the insect spits looks like tobacco juice.
[21] Wampum.
[22] The skin of a white bear is very powerful in magic.
[23] The Indian who told this tale explained it as being the story
of the white man and the red man. The white man is the Porcupine who
came from afar with an army of swords. He promised fairly; he had
everything; the Indian had only his arrows and his land. He thought it
was wisest to say: “Take what you will.” But the white man killed him,
and took all his land.
[24] Wood worms.
[25] This version of “The Fox and the Crane” shows how the Indian
changed the fables of Æsop and La Fontaine, told him by French
missionaries, to suit his own native surroundings.
[26] Old Māli Dana, the Passamaquoddy squaw, when asked to explain
these words, replied: “That what Squirrel say when he get frightened
or cross.”
[27] This bird seems to be the robin.
[28] This appears to have no meaning, but to be only an attempt on the
part of the Indian story-teller to imitate the notes of the bird.
[29] K’mūsamīs’n.
[30] Rabbits ever since have had short tails.
[31] These words are in an ancient tongue whose meaning is now known
to none of the Indians, the words only being retained.
[32] The Indians formerly used this with flint to light their fires.
[33] Mīko had made good his escape before the fire got to burning
well; but his beautiful silky coat of brown fur was scorched red by
the heat, and has remained so ever since.
[34] Woodpeckers devour the wood worms.
[35] A worm, of course, could not fly.