whom grew up to womanhood. They were noted for their beauty, but
especially Oweenee, the youngest, who was very independent in her way
of thinking. She was a great admirer of romantic places, and paid very
little attention to the numerous young men who came to her father's
lodge for the purpose of seeing her. Her elder sisters were all
solicited in marriage from their parents, and one after another, went
off to dwell in the lodges of their husbands, or mothers-in-law, but
she would listen to no proposals of the kind. At last she married an
old man called OSSEO, who was scarcely able to walk, and was too poor
to have things like others. They jeered and laughed at her, on all
sides, but she seemed to be quite happy, and said to them, "It is my
choice, and you will see in the end, who has acted the wisest." Soon
after, the sisters and their husbands and their parents were all
invited to a feast, and as they walked along the path, they could not
help pitying their young and handsome sister, who had such an
unsuitable mate. Osseo often stopped and gazed upwards, but they could
perceive nothing in the direction he looked, unless it was the faint
glimmering of the evening star. They heard him muttering to himself as
they went along, and one of the elder sisters caught the words,
"Sho-wain-ne-me-shin nosa."[37] "Poor old man," said she, "he is talking
to his father, what a pity it is, that he would not fall and break his
neck, that our sister might have a handsome young husband." Presently
they passed a large hollow log, lying with one end toward the path. The
moment Osseo, who was of the turtle totem, came to it, he stopped
short, uttered a loud and peculiar yell, and then dashing into one end
of the log, he came out at the other, a most beautiful young man, and
springing back to the road, he led off the party with steps as light as
the reindeer.[38] But on turning round to look for his wife, behold, she
had been changed into an old, decrepit woman, who was bent almost
double, and walked with a cane. The husband, however, treated her very
kindly, as she had done him during the time of his enchantment, and
constantly addressed her by the term of ne-ne-moosh-a, or my sweetheart.
When they came to the hunter's lodge with whom they were to feast, they
found the feast ready prepared, and as soon as their entertainer had
finished his harangue (in which he told them his feasting was in honor
of the Evening or Woman's Star), they began to partake of the portion
dealt out, according to age and character, to each one. The food was
very delicious, and they were all happy but Osseo, who looked at his
wife and then gazed upward, as if he was looking into the substance of
the sky. Sounds were soon heard, as if from far-off voices in the air,
and they became plainer and plainer, till he could clearly distinguish
some of the words.
"My son--my son," said the voice, "I have seen your afflictions and
pity your wants. I come to call you away from a scene that is stained
with blood and tears. The earth is full of sorrows. Giants and
sorcerers, the enemies of mankind, walk abroad in it, and are scattered
throughout its length. Every night they are lifting their voices to the
Power of Evil, and every day they make themselves busy in casting evil
in the hunter's path. You have long been their victim, but shall be
their victim no more. The spell you were under is broken. Your evil
genius is overcome. I have cast him down by my superior strength, and
it is this strength I now exert for your happiness. Ascend, my
son--ascend into the skies, and partake of the feast I have prepared
for you in the stars, and bring with you those you love.
"The food set before you is enchanted and blessed. Fear not to partake
of it. It is endowed with magic power to give immortality to mortals,
and to change men to spirits. Your bowls and kettles shall be no longer
wood and earth. The one shall become silver, and the other wampum. They
shall shine like fire, and glisten like the most beautiful scarlet.
Every female shall also change her state and looks, and no longer be
doomed to laborious tasks. She shall put on the beauty of the
starlight, and become a shining bird of the air, clothed with shining
feathers. She shall dance and not work--she shall sing and not cry."
"My beams," continued the voice, "shine faintly on your lodge, but they
have a power to transform it into the lightness of the skies, and
decorate it with the colors of the clouds. Come, Osseo, my son, and
dwell no longer on earth. Think strongly on my words, and look
steadfastly at my beams. My power is now at its height. Doubt
not--delay not. It is the voice of the Spirit of the stars that calls
you away to happiness and celestial rest."
The words were intelligible to Osseo, but his companions thought them
some far-off sounds of music, or birds singing in the woods. Very soon
the lodge began to shake and tremble, and they felt it rising into the
air. It was too late to run out, for they were already as high as the
tops of the trees. Osseo looked around him as the lodge passed through
the topmost boughs, and behold! their wooden dishes were changed into
shells of a scarlet color, the poles of the lodge to glittering wires of
silver, and the bark that covered them into the gorgeous wings of
insects. A moment more, and his brothers and sisters, and their parents
and friends, were transformed into birds of various plumage. Some were
jays, some partridges and pigeons, and others gay singing birds, who
hopped about displaying their glittering feathers, and singing their
song. But Oweenee still kept her earthly garb, and exhibited all the
indications of extreme age. He again cast his eyes in the direction of
the clouds, and uttered that peculiar yell, which had given him the
victory at the hollow log. In a moment the youth and beauty of his wife
returned; her dingy garments assumed the shining appearance of green
silk, and her cane was changed into a silver feather. The lodge again
shook and trembled, for they were now passing through the uppermost
clouds, and they immediately after found themselves in the Evening Star,
the residence of Osseo's father.
"My son," said the old man, "hang that cage of birds, which you have
brought along in your hand, at the door, and I will inform you why you
and your wife have been sent for." Osseo obeyed the directions, and
then took his seat in the lodge. "Pity was shown to you," resumed the
king of the star, "on account of the contempt of your wife's sister,
who laughed at her ill fortune, and ridiculed you while you were under
the power of that wicked spirit, whom you overcame at the log. That
spirit lives in the next lodge, being a small star you see on the left
of mine, and he has always felt envious of my family, because we had
greater power than he had, and especially on account of our having had
the care committed to us of the female world. He failed in several
attempts to destroy your brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law, but
succeeded at last in transforming yourself and your wife into decrepit
old persons. You must be careful and not let the light of his beams
fall on you, while you are here, for therein is the power of his
enchantment; a ray of light is the bow and arrows he uses."
Osseo lived happy and contented in the parental lodge, and in due time
his wife presented him with a son, who grew up rapidly, and was the
image of his father. He was very quick and ready in learning everything
that was done in his grandfather's dominions, but he wished also to
learn the art of hunting, for he had heard that this was a favorite
pursuit below. To gratify him, his father made him a bow and arrows,
and he then let the birds out of the cage that he might practise in
shooting. He soon became expert, and the very first day brought down a
bird, but when he went to pick it up, to his amazement, it was a
beautiful young woman with the arrow sticking in her breast. It was one
of his younger _aunts_. The moment her blood fell upon the surface of
that pure and spotless planet, the charm was dissolved. The boy
immediately found himself sinking, but was partly upheld, by something
like wings, till he passed through the lower clouds, and he then
suddenly dropped upon a high, romantic island in a large lake. He was
pleased on looking up, to see all his aunts and uncles following him in
the form of birds, and he soon discovered the silver lodge, with his
father and mother, descending with its waving barks looking like so
many insects' gilded wings. It rested on the highest cliffs of the
island, and here they fixed their residence. They all resumed their
natural _shapes_, but were diminished to the _size_ of fairies; as a
mark of homage to the King of the Evening Star, they never failed, on
every pleasant evening, during the summer season, to join hands, and
dance upon the top of the rocks. These rocks were quickly observed by
the Indians to be covered, in moonlight evenings, with a larger sort of
Puk Wudj Ininees, or little men, and were called Mish-in-e-mok-in-ok-ong,
or turtle spirits, and the island is named from them to this day.[39]
Their shining lodge can be seen in the summer evenings when the moon
shines strongly on the pinnacles of the rocks, and the fishermen, who
go near those high cliffs at night, have even heard the voices of the
happy little dancers.
[37] Pity me, my father.
[38] The C. Sylvestris inhabits North America, north of latitude
46°.
[39] Michilimackinac, the term alluded to, is the original French
orthography of Mish En I Mok In Ong, the _local_ form (sing. and
plu.), of Turtle Spirits.
KWASIND,
OR
THE FEARFULLY STRONG MAN.
Pauwating[40] was a village where the young men amused themselves very
much in ancient times, in sports and ball-playing.
One day, as they were engaged in their sports, one of the strongest and
most active, at the moment he was about to succeed in a trial of
lifting, slipped and fell upon his back. "Ha! ha! ha!" cried the
lookers-on, "you will never rival Kwasind." He was deeply mortified,
and when the sport was over, these words came to his mind. He could not
recollect any man of this name. He thought he would ask the old man,
the story-teller of the village, the next time he came to the lodge.
The opportunity soon occurred.
"My grandfather," said he, "who was Kwasind? I am very anxious to know
what he could do."
"Kwasind," the old man replied, "was a listless idle boy. He would not
play when the other boys played, and his parents could never get him to
do any kind of labor. He was always making excuses. His parents took
notice, however, that he fasted for days together, but they could not
learn what spirit he supplicated, or had chosen as the guardian spirit
to attend him through life. He was so inattentive to his parents'
requests, that he, at last, became a subject of reproach.
"'Ah,' said his mother to him one day, 'is there any young man of your
age, in all the village, who does so little for his parents? You
neither hunt nor fish. You take no interest in anything, whether labor
or amusement, which engages the attention of your equals in years. I
have often set my nets[41] in the coldest days of winter, without any
assistance from you. And I have taken them up again, while you remained
inactive at the lodge fire. Are you not ashamed of such idleness? Go, I
bid you, and wring out that net, which I have just taken from the
water.'
"Kwasind saw that there was a determination to make him obey. He did
not, therefore, make any excuses, but went out and took up the net. He
carefully folded it, doubled and redoubled it, forming it into a roll,
and then with an easy twist of his hands wrung it short off, with as
much ease as if every twine had been a thin brittle fibre. Here they at
once saw the secret of his reluctance. He possessed supernatural
strength.
"After this, the young men were playing one day on the plain, where
there was lying one of those large, heavy, black pieces of rock, which
Manabozho is said to have cast at his father. Kwasind took it up with
much ease, and threw it into the river. After this, he accompanied his
father on a hunting excursion into a remote forest. They came to a
place where the wind had thrown a great many trees into a narrow pass.
'We must go the other way,' said the old man, 'it is impossible to get
the burdens through this place.' He sat down to rest himself, took out
his smoking apparatus, and gave a short time to reflection. When he had
finished, Kwasind had lifted away the largest pine trees, and pulled
them out of the path.
"Sailing one day in his canoe, Kwasind saw a large furred animal, which
he immediately recognized to be the king of beavers. He plunged into
the water in pursuit of it. His companions were in the greatest
astonishment and alarm, supposing he would perish. He often dove down
and remained a long time under water, pursuing the animal from island
to island; and at last returned with the kingly prize. After this, his
fame spread far and wide, and no hunter would presume to compete with
him.
"He helped Manabozho to clear away the obstructions in the streams, and
to remove the great wind-falls of trees from the valleys, the better to
fit them for the residence of man.
"He performed so many feats of strength and skill, that he excited the
envy of the Puck-wudj In-in-ee-sug, or fairies, who conspired against
his life. 'For,' said they, 'if this man is suffered to go on, in his
career of strength and exploits, we shall presently have no work to
perform. Our agency in the affairs of men must cease. He will undermine
our power, and drive us, at last, into the water, where we must all
perish, or be devoured by the wicked Neebanawbaig.'[42]
"The strength of Kwasind was all concentrated in the crown of his head.
This was, at the same time, the only vulnerable part of his body; and
there was but one species of weapon which could be successfully
employed in making any impression upon it. The fairies carefully hunted
through the woods to find this weapon. It was the burr or seed vessel
of the white pine. They gathered a quantity of this article, and
waylaid Kwasind at a point on the river, where the red rocks jut into
the water, forming rude castles--a point which he was accustomed to
pass in his canoe. They waited a long time, making merry upon these
rocks, for it was a highly romantic spot. At last the wished-for object
appeared; Kwasind came floating calmly down the stream, on the
afternoon of a summer's day, languid with the heat of the weather, and
almost asleep. When his canoe came directly beneath the cliff, the
tallest and stoutest fairy began the attack. Others followed his
example. It was a long time before they could hit the vulnerable part,
but success at length crowned their efforts, and Kwasind sunk, never to
rise more.
"Ever since this victory, the Puck Wudj Ininee have made that point of
rock a favorite resort. The hunters often hear them laugh, and see
their little plumes shake as they pass this scene on light summer
evenings.
"My son," continued the old man, "take care that you do not imitate the
faults of Kwasind. If he had not so often exerted his strength merely
for the sake of _boasting_, he would not, perhaps, have made the
fairies feel jealous of him. It is better to use the strength you have,
in a quiet useful way, than to sigh after the possession of a giant's
power. For if you run, or wrestle, or jump, or fire at a mark, only as
well as your equals in years, nobody will envy you. But if you would
needs be a Kwasind, you must expect a Kwasind's fate."
[40] _i.e._ Place of shallow cataract, named _Sault de Ste.
Marie_ on the arrival of the French. This is the _local_ form of
the word, the substantive proper terminates in Eeg.
[41] Nets are set in winter, in high northern latitudes, through
orifices cut in the ice.
[42] A kind of water spirits.
THE JEEBI,
OR
TWO GHOSTS.
FROM THE ODJIBWA.
There lived a hunter in the north who had a wife and one child. His
lodge stood far off in the forest, several days' journey from any
other. He spent his days in hunting, and his evenings in relating to
his wife the incidents that had befallen him. As game was very
abundant, he found no difficulty in killing as much as they wanted.
Just in all his acts, he lived a peaceful and happy life.
One evening during the winter season, it chanced that he remained out
later than usual, and his wife began to feel uneasy, for fear some
accident had befallen him. It was already dark. She listened
attentively, and at last heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Not
doubting it was her husband, she went to the door and beheld two
strange females. She bade them enter, and invited them to remain.
She observed that they were total strangers in the country. There was
something so peculiar in their looks, air, and manner, that she was
uneasy in their company. They would not come near the fire; they sat in
a remote part of the lodge, were shy and taciturn, and drew their
garments about them in such a manner as nearly to hide their faces. So
far as she could judge, they were pale, hollow-eyed, and long-visaged,
very thin and emaciated. There was but little light in the lodge, as
the fire was low, and served by its fitful flashes, rather to increase
than dispel their fears. "Merciful spirit!" cried a voice from the
opposite part of the lodge, "there are two corpses clothed with
garments." The hunter's wife turned around, but seeing nobody, she
concluded the sounds were but gusts of wind. She trembled, and was
ready to sink to the earth.
Her husband at this moment entered and dispelled her fears. He threw
down the carcass of a large fat deer. "Behold what a fine and fat
animal," cried the mysterious females, and they immediately ran and
pulled off pieces of the whitest fat,[43] which they ate with
greediness. The hunter and his wife looked on with astonishment, but
remained silent. They supposed their guests might have been famished.
Next day, however, the same unusual conduct was repeated. The strange
females tore off the fat and devoured it with eagerness. The third day
the hunter thought he would anticipate their wants by tying up a
portion of the fattest pieces for them, which he placed on the top of
his load. They accepted it, but still appeared dissatisfied, and went
to the wife's portion and tore off more. The man and his wife felt
surprised at such rude and unaccountable conduct, but they remained
silent, for they respected their guests, and had observed that they had
been attended with marked good luck during the residence of these
mysterious visitors.
In other respects, the deportment of the females was strictly
unexceptionable. They were modest, distant, and silent. They never
uttered a word during the day. At night they would occupy themselves in
procuring wood, which they carried to the lodge, and then returning the
implements exactly to the places in which they had found them, resume
their places without speaking. They were never known to stay out until
daylight. They never laughed or jested.
The winter had nearly passed away, without anything uncommon happening,
when, one evening, the hunter stayed out very late. The moment he
entered and laid down his day's hunt as usual before his wife, the two
females began to tear off the fat, in so unceremonious a way, that her
anger was excited. She constrained herself, however, in a measure, but
did not conceal her feelings, although she said but little. The guests
observed the excited state of her mind, and became unusually reserved
and uneasy. The good hunter saw the change, and carefully inquired into
the cause, but his wife denied having used any hard words. They retired
to their couches, and he tried to compose himself to sleep, but could
not, for the sobs and sighs of the two females were incessant. He arose
on his couch and addressed them as follows:--
"Tell me," said he, "what is it that gives you pain of mind, and causes
you to utter those sighs. Has my wife given you offence, or trespassed
on the rights of hospitality?"
They replied in the negative. "We have been treated by you with
kindness and affection. It is not for any slight we have received that
we weep. Our mission is not to you only. We come from the land of the
dead to test mankind, and to try the sincerity of the living. Often we
have heard the bereaved by death say that if the dead could be
restored, they would devote their lives to make them happy. We have
been moved by the bitter lamentations which have reached the place of
the dead, and have come to make proof of the sincerity of those who
have lost friends. Three moons were allotted us by the Master of Life
to make the trial. More than half the time had been successfully past,
when the angry feelings of your wife indicated the irksomeness you felt
at our presence, and has made us resolve on our departure."
They continued to talk to the hunter and his wife, gave them
instructions as to a future life, and pronounced a blessing upon them.
"There is one point," they added, "of which we wish to speak. You have
thought our conduct very strange in rudely possessing ourselves of the
choicest parts of your hunt. _That_ was the point of trial selected to
put you to. It is the wife's peculiar privilege. For another to usurp
it, we knew to be the severest trial of her, and consequently of your
temper and feelings. We know your manners and customs, but we came to
prove you, not by a compliance with them, but a violation of them.
Pardon us. We are the agents of him who sent us. Peace to your
dwelling, adieu!"
When they ceased, total darkness filled the lodge. No object could be
seen. The inmates heard the door open and shut, but they never saw more
of the two Jeebi-ug.
The hunter found the success which they had promised. He became
celebrated in the chase, and never wanted for anything. He had many
children, all of whom grew up to manhood, and health; peace, and long
life were the rewards of his hospitality.
[43] The fat of animals is esteemed by the N.A. Indians among
the choicest parts.
IAGOO.
CHIPPEWA.
Iagoo is the name of a personage noted in Indian lore for having given
extravagant narrations of whatever he had seen, heard, or accomplished.
It seems that he always saw extraordinary things, made extraordinary
journeys, and performed extraordinary feats. He could not look out of
his lodge and see things as other men did. If he described a bird, it
had a most singular variety of brilliant plumage. The animals he met
with were all of the monstrous kind; they had eyes like orbs of fire,
and claws like hooks of steel, and could step over the top of an Indian
lodge. He told of a serpent he had seen, which had hair on its neck
like a mane, and feet resembling a quadruped; and if one were to take
his own account of his exploits and observations, it would be difficult
to decide whether his strength, his activity, or his wisdom should be
most admired.
Iagoo did not appear to have been endowed with the ordinary faculties
of other men. His eyes appeared to be magnifiers, and the tympanum of
his ears so constructed that what appeared to common observers to be
but the sound of a zephyr, to him had a far closer resemblance to the
noise of thunder. His imagination appeared to be of so exuberant a
character, that he scarcely required more than a drop of water to
construct an ocean, or a grain of sand to form the earth. And he had so
happy an exemption from both the restraints of judgment and moral
accountability, that he never found the slightest difficulty in
accommodating his facts to the most enlarged credulity. Nor was his
ample thirst for the marvellous ever quenched by attempts to reconcile
statements the most strange, unaccountable, and preposterous.
Such was Iagoo, the Indian story-teller, whose name is associated with
all that is extravagant and marvellous, and has long been established
in the hunter's vocabulary as a perfect synonym for liar, and is
bandied about as a familiar proverb. If a hunter or warrior, in telling
his exploits, undertakes to embellish them; to overrate his merits, or
in any other way to excite the incredulity of his hearers, he is liable
to be rebuked with the remark, "So here we have Iagoo come again." And
he seems to hold the relative rank in oral narration which our written
literature awards to Baron Munchausen, Jack Falstaff, and Captain
Lemuel Gulliver.