lad, I pity you, and the bad usage you have received from your uncle
has led me to visit you: follow me, and step in my tracks." Immediately
his sleep left him, and he rose up and followed his guide, mounting up
higher and higher into the air, until he reached the upper sky. Here
twelve arrows were put into his hands, and he was told that there were
a great many manitoes in the northern sky, against whom he must go to
war, and try to waylay and shoot them. Accordingly he went to that part
of the sky, and, at long intervals, shot arrow after arrow, until he
had expended eleven, in vain attempt to kill the manitoes. At the
flight of each arrow, there was a long and solitary streak of lightning
in the sky--then all was clear again, and not a cloud or spot could be
seen. The twelfth arrow he held a long time in his hands, and looked
around keenly on every side to spy the manitoes he was after. But these
manitoes were very cunning, and could change their form in a moment.
All they feared was the boy's arrows, for these were magic arrows,
which had been given to him by a good spirit, and had power to kill
them, if aimed aright. At length, the boy drew up his last arrow,
settled in his aim, and let fly, as he thought, into the very heart of
the chief of the manitoes; but before the arrow reached him, the manito
changed himself into a rock. Into this rock, the head of the arrow sank
deep and stuck fast.
"Now your gifts are all expended," cried the enraged manito, "and I
will make an example of your audacity and pride of heart, for lifting
your bow against me"--and so saying, he transformed the boy into the
Nezhik-e-wä wä sun, or Lone Lightning, which may be observed in the
northern sky, to this day.
THE AK UK O JEESH,
OR
THE GROUNDHOG FAMILY.
AN ODJIBWA FABLE.
A female akukojeesh, or groundhog, with a numerous family of young
ones, was burrowing in her wauzh, or hole in the ground, one long
winter, in the north, when the young ones became impatient for spring.
Every day the mother would go out and get roots and other things, which
she brought in to them to eat; and she always told them to lie close
and keep warm, and never to venture towards the mouth of the wauzh. But
they became very impatient at last to see the light and the green
woods. "Mother," said they, "is it not almost spring?" "No! no!" said
she, in a cross humor, "keep still and wait patiently; it hails, it
snows, it is cold--it is windy. Why should you wish to go out?" This
she told them so often, and said it in such a bad temper, that they at
last suspected some deception. One day she came in, after having been a
long while absent, and fell asleep, with her mouth open. The little
ones peeped in slily, and saw on her teeth the remains of the nice
white bulbous roots of the mo-na-wing, or adder's tongue violet. They
at once knew it was spring, and without disturbing the old one, who
only wanted to keep them in till they were full grown, away they
scampered, out of the hole, and dispersed themselves about the forest,
and so the family were all scattered.
OPEECHEE,
OR
THE ORIGIN OF THE ROBIN.
FROM THE ODJIBWA.
An old man had an only son named Opeechee, who had come to that age
which is thought to be most proper to make the long and final fast,
that is to secure through life a guardian genius or spirit. In the
influence of this choice, it is well known, our people have relied for
their prosperity in after life; it was, therefore, an event of deep
importance.
The old man was ambitious that his son should surpass all others in
whatever was deemed most wise and great among his tribe; and, to fulfil
his wishes, he thought it necessary that he should fast a much longer
time than any of those persons, renowned for their prowess or wisdom,
whose fame he coveted. He therefore directed his son to prepare, with
great ceremony, for the important event. After he had been in the
sweating lodge and bath several times, he ordered him to lie down upon
a clean mat, in a little lodge expressly prepared for him; telling him,
at the same time, to endure his fast like a man, and that, at the
expiration of _twelve_ days, he should receive food and the blessing of
his father.
The lad carefully observed this injunction, lying with perfect
composure, with his face covered, awaiting those mystic visitations
which were to seal his good or evil fortune. His father visited him
regularly every morning, to encourage him to perseverance, expatiating
at length on the honor and renown that would attend him through life if
he accomplished the full term prescribed. To these admonitions and
encouragements the boy never replied, but lay, without the least sign
of discontent or murmuring, until the ninth day, when he addressed his
father as follows:--
"My father, my dreams forebode evil. May I break my fast now, and at a
more propitious time make a new fast?" The father answered--
"My son, you know not what you ask. If you get up now, all your glory
will depart. Wait patiently a little longer. You have but three days
yet to accomplish your desire. You know it is for your own good, and I
encourage you to persevere."
The son assented; and, covering himself closer, he lay till the
eleventh day, when he repeated his request. Very nearly the same answer
was given him by his father, who added that the next day he would
himself prepare his first meal, and bring it to him. The boy remained
silent, but lay as motionless as a corpse. No one would have known he
was living but by the gentle heaving of his breast.
The next morning, the father, elated at having gained his end, prepared
a repast for his son, and hastened to set it before him. On coming to
the door, he was surprised to hear his son talking to himself. He
stooped to listen; and, looking through a small aperture, was more
astonished when he beheld his son painted with vermilion over all his
breast, and in the act of finishing his work by laying on the paint as
far back on his shoulders as he could reach with his hands, saying, at
the same time, to himself, "My father has destroyed my fortune as a
man. He would not listen to my requests. He will be the loser. I shall
be forever happy in my new state, for I have been obedient to my
parent; he alone will be the sufferer, for my guardian spirit is a just
one; though not propitious to me in the manner I desired, he has shown
me pity in another way; he has given me another shape; and now I must
go."
At this moment the old man broke in, exclaiming, "My son! my son! I
pray you leave me not." But the young man, with the quickness of a
bird, had flown to the top of the lodge, and perched himself on the
highest pole, having been changed into a beautiful robin redbreast.
He looked down upon his father with pity beaming in his eyes, and
addressed him as follows: "Regret not, my father, the change you
behold. I shall be happier in my present state than I could have been
as a man. I shall always be the friend of men, and keep near their
dwellings. I shall ever be happy and contented; and although I could
not gratify your wishes as a warrior, it will be my daily aim to make
you amends for it as a harbinger of peace and joy. I will cheer you by
my songs, and strive to inspire in others the joy and lightsomeness I
feel in my present state. This will be some compensation to you for the
loss of the glory you expected. I am now free from the cares and pains
of human life. My food is spontaneously furnished by the mountains and
fields, and my pathway of life is in the bright air." Then stretching
himself on his toes, as if delighted with the gift of wings, he
carolled one of his sweetest songs, and flew away into a neighboring
grove.[52]
[52] See Notes of the Pibbigwun.
SHINGEBISS.
AN ALLEGORY OF SELF-RELIANCE.
FROM THE ODJIBWA.
There was once a Shingebiss, the name of the fall duck living alone, in
a solitary lodge, on the shores of the deep bay of a lake, in the
coldest winter weather. The ice had formed on the water, and he had but
four logs of wood to keep his fire. Each of these would, however, burn
a month, and as there were but four cold winter months, they were
sufficient to carry him through till spring.
Shingebiss was hardy and fearless, and cared for no one. He would go
out during the coldest day, and seek for places where flags and rushes
grew through the ice, and plucking them up with his bill, would dive
through the openings, in quest of fish. In this way he found plenty of
food, while others were starving, and he went home daily to his lodge,
dragging strings of fish after him, on the ice.
Kabebonicca[53] observed him, and felt a little piqued at his
perseverance and good luck in defiance of the severest blasts of wind
he could send from the northwest. "Why! this is a wonderful man," said
he; "he does not mind the cold, and appears as happy and contented as
if it were the month of June. I will try whether he cannot be
mastered." He poured forth tenfold colder blasts, and drifts of snow,
so that it was next to impossible to live in the open air. Still, the
fire of Shingebiss did not go out: he wore but a single strip of
leather around his body, and he was seen, in the worst weather,
searching the shores for rushes, and carrying home fish.
"I shall go and visit him," said Kabebonicca, one day, as he saw
Shingebiss dragging along a quantity of fish. And, accordingly, that
very night, he went to the door of his lodge. Meantime Shingebiss had
cooked his fish, and finished his meal, and was lying, partly on his
side, before the fire, singing his songs. After Kabebonicca had come to
the door, and stood listening there, he sang as follows:--
Ka Neej Ka Neej
Be In Be In
Bon In Bon In
Oc Ee. Oc Ee.
Ca We-ya! Ca We-ya!
The number of words, in this song, are few and simple, but they are
made up from compounds which carry the whole of their original
meanings, and are rather suggestive of the ideas floating in the mind
than actual expressions of those ideas. Literally, he sings:--
Spirit of the Northwest--you are but my fellow man.
By being broken into syllables, to correspond with a simple chant, and
by the power of intonation and repetition, with a chorus, these words
are expanded into melodious utterance, if we may be allowed the term,
and may be thus rendered:--
Windy god, I know your plan,
You are but my fellow man;
Blow you may your coldest breeze,
Shingebiss you cannot freeze.
Sweep the strongest wind you can,
Shingebiss is still your man;
Heigh! for life--and ho! for bliss,
Who so free as Shingebiss?
The hunter knew that Kabebonicca was at his door, for he felt his cold
and strong breath; but he kept on singing his songs, and affected utter
indifference. At length Kabebonicca entered, and took his seat on the
opposite side of the lodge. But Shingebiss did not regard, or notice
him. He got up, as if nobody were present, and taking his poker, pushed
the log, which made his fire burn brighter, repeating, as he sat down
again:--
You are but my fellow man.
Very soon the tears began to flow down Kabebonicca's cheeks, which
increased so fast, that, presently, he said to himself: "I cannot stand
this--I must go out." He did so, and left Shingebiss to his songs; but
resolved to freeze up all the flag orifices, and make the ice thick, so
that he could not get any more fish. Still, Shingebiss, by dint of
great diligence, found means to pull up new roots, and dive under for
fish. At last, Kabebonicca was compelled to give up the contest. "He
must be aided by some Monedo," said he. "I can neither freeze him nor
starve him; he is a very singular being--I will let him alone."
[53] A personification of the Northwest.
THE STAR FAMILY,
OR
CELESTIAL SISTERS.
SHAWNEE.
Waupee, or the White Hawk, lived in a remote part of the forest, where
animals and birds were abundant. Every day he returned from the chase
with the reward of his toil, for he was one of the most skilful and
celebrated hunters of his tribe. With a tall, manly form, and the fire
of youth beaming from his eye, there was no forest too gloomy for him
to penetrate, and no track made by the numerous kinds of birds and
beasts which he could not follow.
One day he penetrated beyond any point which he had before visited. He
travelled through an open forest, which enabled him to see a great
distance. At length he beheld a light breaking through the foliage,
which made him sure that he was on the borders of a prairie. It was a
wide plain covered with grass and flowers. After walking some time
without a path, he suddenly came to a ring worn through the sod, as if
it had been made by footsteps following a circle. But what excited his
surprise was, that there was no path leading to or from it. Not the
least trace of footsteps could be found, even in a crushed leaf or
broken twig. He thought he would hide himself, and lie in wait to see
what this circle meant. Presently he heard the faint sounds of music in
the air. He looked up in the direction they came from, and saw a small
object descending from above. At first it looked like a mere speck, but
rapidly increased, and, as it came down, the music became plainer and
sweeter. It assumed the form of a basket, and was filled with twelve
sisters of the most lovely forms and enchanting beauty. As soon as the
basket touched the ground, they leaped out, and began to dance round
the magic ring, striking, as they did so, a shining ball as we strike
the drum. Waupee gazed upon their graceful forms and motions from his
place of concealment. He admired them all, but was most pleased with
the youngest. Unable longer to restrain his admiration, he rushed out
and endeavored to seize her. But the sisters, with the quickness of
birds, the moment they descried the form of a man, leaped back into the
basket and were drawn up into the sky.
Regretting his ill luck and indiscretion, he gazed till he saw them
disappear, and then said, "They are gone, and I shall see them no
more." He returned to his solitary lodge, but found no relief to his
mind. Next day he went back to the prairie, and took his station near
the ring; but in order to deceive the sisters, he assumed the form of
an opossum. He had not waited long, when he saw the wicker car descend,
and heard the same sweet music. They commenced the same sportive dance,
and seemed even more beautiful and graceful than before. He crept
slowly towards the ring, but the instant the sisters saw him they were
startled, and sprang into their car. It rose but a short distance, when
one of the elder sisters spoke. "Perhaps," said she, "it is come to
show us how the game is played by mortals." "Oh no!" the youngest
replied; "quick, let us ascend." And all joining in a chant, they rose
out of sight.
Waupee returned to his own form again, and walked sorrowfully back to
his lodge. But the night seemed a very long one, and he went back
betimes the next day. He reflected upon the sort of plan to follow to
secure success. He found an old stump near by, in which there were a
number of mice. He thought their small form would not create alarm, and
accordingly assumed it. He brought the stump and sat it up near the
ring. The sisters came down and resumed their sport. "But see," cried
the younger sister, "that stump was not there before." She ran
affrighted towards the car. They only smiled, and gathering round the
stump, struck it in jest, when out ran the mice, and Waupee among the
rest. They killed them all but one, which was pursued by the youngest
sister; but just as she had raised her stick to kill it, the form of
Waupee arose, and he clasped his prize in his arms. The other eleven
sprang to their basket and were drawn up to the skies.
He exerted all his skill to please his bride and win her affections. He
wiped the tears from her eyes. He related his adventures in the chase.
He dwelt upon the charms of life on the earth. He was incessant in his
attentions, and picked out the way for her to walk as he led her gently
towards his lodge. He felt his heart glow with joy as she entered it,
and from that moment he was one of the happiest of men. Winter and
summer passed rapidly away, and their happiness was increased by the
addition of a beautiful boy to their lodge. She was a daughter of one
the stars, and as the scenes of earth began to pall her sight, she
sighed to revisit her father. But she was obliged to hide these
feelings from her husband. She remembered the charm that would carry
her up, and took occasion, while Waupee was engaged in the chase, to
construct a wicker basket, which she kept concealed. In the mean time
she collected such rarities from the earth as she thought would please
her father, as well as the most dainty kinds of food. When all was in
readiness, she went out one day, while Waupee was absent, to the
charmed ring, taking her little son with her. As soon as they got into
the car, she commenced her song and the basket rose. As the song was
wafted by the wind, it caught her husband's ear. It was a voice which
he well knew, and he instantly ran to the prairie. But he could not
reach the ring before he saw his wife and child ascend. He lifted up
his voice in loud appeals, but they were unavailing. The basket still
went up. He watched it till it became a small speck, and finally it
vanished in the sky. He then bent his head down to the ground, and was
miserable.
Waupee bewailed his loss through a long winter and a long summer. But
he found no relief. He mourned his wife's loss sorely, but his son's
still more. In the mean time his wife had reached her home in the
stars, and almost forgot, in the blissful employments there, that she
had left a husband on the earth. She was reminded of this by the
presence of her son, who, as he grew up, became anxious to visit the
scene of his birth. His grandfather said to his daughter one day, "Go,
my child, and take your son down to his father, and ask him to come up
and live with us. But tell him to bring along a specimen of each kind
of bird and animal he kills in the chase." She accordingly took the boy
and descended. Waupee, who was ever near the enchanted spot, heard her
voice as she came down the sky. His heart beat with impatience as he
saw her form and that of his son, and they were soon clasped in his
arms.
He heard the message of the Star, and began to hunt with the greatest
activity, that he might collect the present. He spent whole nights, as
well as days, in searching for every curious and beautiful bird or
animal. He only preserved a tail, foot, or wing of each, to identify
the species; and, when all was ready, they went to the circle and were
carried up.
Great joy was manifested on their arrival at the starry plains. The
Star Chief invited all his people to a feast, and, when they had
assembled, he proclaimed aloud, that each one might take of the earthly
gifts such as he liked best. A very strange confusion immediately
arose. Some chose a foot, some a wing, some a tail, and some a claw.
Those who selected tails or claws were changed into animals, and ran
off; the others assumed the form of birds, and flew away. Waupee chose
a white hawk's feather. His wife and son followed his example, when
each one became a white hawk. Pleased with his transformation, and new
vitality, the chief spread out gracefully his white wings, and followed
by his wife and son, descended to the earth, where the species are
still to be found.
OJEEG ANNUNG,[54]
OR
THE SUMMER-MAKER.
ODJIBWA.
There lived a celebrated hunter on the southern shores of Lake
Superior, who was considered a Manito by some, for there was nothing
but what he could accomplish. He lived off the path, in a wild,
lonesome, place, with a wife whom he loved, and they were blessed with
a son, who had attained his thirteenth year. The hunter's name was
Ojeeg, or the Fisher, which is the name of an expert, sprightly little
animal common to the region. He was so successful in the chase, that he
seldom returned without bringing his wife and son a plentiful supply of
venison, or other dainties of the woods. As hunting formed his constant
occupation, his son began early to emulate his father in the same
employment, and would take his bow and arrows, and exert his skill in
trying to kill birds and squirrels. The greatest impediment he met
with, was the coldness and severity of the climate. He often returned
home, his little fingers benumbed with cold, and crying with vexation
at his disappointment. Days, and months, and years passed away, but
still the same perpetual depth of snow was seen, covering all the
country as with a white cloak.
One day, after a fruitless trial of his forest skill, the little boy
was returning homeward with a heavy heart, when he saw a small red
squirrel gnawing the top of a pine bur. He had approached within a
proper distance to shoot, when the squirrel sat up on its hind legs and
thus addressed him:--
"My grandchild, put up your arrows, and listen to what I have to tell
you." The boy complied rather reluctantly, when the squirrel continued:
"My son, I see you pass frequently, with your fingers benumbed with
cold, and crying with vexation for not having killed any birds. Now, if
you will follow my advice, we will see if you cannot accomplish your
wishes. If you will strictly pursue my advice, we will have perpetual
summer, and you will then have the pleasure of killing as many birds as
you please; and I will also have something to eat, as I am now myself
on the point of starvation.
"Listen to me. As soon as you get home you must commence crying. You
must throw away your bow and arrows in discontent. If your mother asks
you what is the matter, you must not answer her, but continue crying
and sobbing. If she offers you anything to eat, you must push it away
with apparent discontent, and continue crying. In the evening, when
your father returns from hunting, he will inquire of your mother what
is the matter with you. She will answer that you came home crying, and
would not so much as mention the cause to her. All this while you must
not leave off sobbing. At last your father will say, 'My son, why is
this unnecessary grief? Tell me the cause. You know I am a spirit, and
that nothing is impossible for me to perform.' You must then answer
him, and say that you are sorry to see the snow continually on the
ground, and ask him if he could not cause it to melt, so that we might
have perpetual summer. Say it in a supplicating way, and tell him this
is the cause of your grief. Your father will reply, 'It is very hard to
accomplish your request, but for your sake, and for my love for you, I
will use my utmost endeavors.' He will tell you to be still, and cease
crying. He will try to bring summer with all its loveliness. You must
then be quiet, and eat that which is set before you."
The squirrel ceased. The boy promised obedience to his advice, and
departed. When he reached home, he did as he had been instructed, and
all was exactly fulfilled, as it had been predicted by the squirrel.
Ojeeg told him that it was a great undertaking. He must first make a
feast, and invite some of his friends to accompany him on a journey.
Next day he had a bear roasted whole. All who had been invited to the
feast came punctually to the appointment. There were the Otter, Beaver,
Lynx, Badger, and Wolverine. After the feast, they arranged it among
themselves to set out on the contemplated journey in three days. When
the time arrived, the Fisher took leave of his wife and son, as he
foresaw that it was for the last time. He and his companions travelled
in company day after day, meeting with nothing but the ordinary
incidents. On the twentieth day they arrived at the foot of a high
mountain, where they saw the tracks of some person who had recently
killed an animal, which they knew by the blood that marked the way. The
Fisher told his friends that they ought to follow the track, and see if
they could not procure something to eat. They followed it for some
time; at last they arrived at a lodge, which had been hidden from their
view by a hollow in the mountain. Ojeeg told his friends to be very
sedate, and not to laugh on any account. The first object that they saw
was a man standing at the door of the lodge, but of so deformed a shape
that they could not possibly make out who or what sort of a man it
could be. His head was enormously large; he had such a queer set of
teeth, and no arms. They wondered how he could kill animals. But the
secret was soon revealed. He was a great Manito. He invited them to
pass the night, to which they consented.