It was midsummer, and there was a terrible plague in the wilderness.
Many a Chippeway village on the borders of Lake Superior had been
depopulated. The only band of the great northern nation which had thus
far escaped, was the one whose hunting grounds lay on the northern shore
of the St. Mary’s River. Their principal village stood upon a gentle
promontory overlooking the Great Lake, immediately at the head of the
_Sault_ or Falls, and at this village the chiefs and warriors of the
tribe were assembled in council. Incantations of every possible
description had for many days been performed, and yet nightly tidings
were received, showing that the fatal disease was sweeping over the
land, like the fires of autumn over the prairies. The signs in the sky,
as well as these tidings, convinced the poor Indians that their days
were numbered. It was now the last night of their council, and they were
in despair. They knew that the plague had been sent upon the earth by
the Great Spirit, as a punishment for some crime, and they also knew
that there was but one thing that could possibly appease his anger. And
what was this? The sacrifice of the most beautiful girl of her tribe.
And such was the decree, that she should enter her canoe, and throwing
away her paddle, cast herself upon the waters, just above the _Sault_.
Morning dawned, and loud and dismal beyond compare, was the wail of
sorrow which broke upon the silent air. Another council was held, and
the victim for the sacrifice was selected. She was an only child, and
her mother was a widow, feeble and infirm. They told the maiden of her
fate, and she uttered not a repining word. The girls and women of the
village flocked around their long-loved companion, and decked her hair
and her neck with all the brightest wampum, and the most beautiful
feathers and shells that could be found in all the tribe. The time
appointed for the sacrifice was the sunset hour; and as the day was
rapidly waning, the gloom which pervaded the entire village gradually
increased, and it even seemed as if a murmuring tone mingled with the
roar of the mighty waterfall. The day had been one of uncommon splendor,
and as the sun descended to the horizon a retinue of gorgeous clouds
gathered around him, and the great lake, whose waters receded to the
sky, was covered with a deeper blue than had ever before been seen.
All things were now ready, and the Indian maiden was ready for the
sacrifice. In silence was she conducted to her canoe, and loud was the
wail of lamentation. It died away; and now, to the astonishment of all
the people, a strange echo came from over the waters. What could it
mean? A breathless silence ensued, and even the old men listened with
fear. And now a louder and a clearer continuation of the same echo
breaks upon the air. A speck is seen upon the waters. The sun has
disappeared, and a small canoe is seen rapidly approaching, as if from
the very spot where the orb touched the waters. The song increases; and
as the fairy-like canoe sweeps mysteriously over the watery waste, it is
now seen to contain a beautiful being, resembling a girl, clothed in a
snow-white robe. She is in a standing attitude, her arms are folded, and
her eyes are fixed upon the heavens. Her soul is absorbed in a song, of
which this is the burden:—
“I come from the Spirit land,
To appease the Great Spirit,
To stay the plague,
And to save the life of the beautiful Chippeway.”
Onward she came, and her pathway lay directly towards the mighty rapids.
With utter astonishment did the Indians look upon this unheard of
spectacle, and while they looked they saw the canoe and its spirit
voyager pass directly into the foam, where it was lost to them for ever.
And so did the poor Indians escape the plague. The St. Mary is a
beautiful river; and during the summer time its shores are always lined
with lilies, large, and of a marvelous whiteness; and it is a common
belief among the Chippeways, that they owe their origin to the
mysterious spirit, from whose mutilated body they sprang. And so endeth
the Legend of the Spirit Sacrifice.