this singular kettle in some way unknown to his guests. He carefully
gave each their portion to eat, but made so many odd movements that the
Otter could not refrain from laughing, for he is the only one who is
spoken of as a jester. The Manito looked at him with a terrible look,
and then made a spring at him, and got on him to smother him, for that
was his mode of killing animals. But the Otter, when he felt him on his
neck, slipped his head back and made for the door, which he passed in
safety; but went out with the curse of the Manito. The others passed
the night, and they conversed on different subjects. The Manito told
the Fisher that he would accomplish his object, but that it would
probably cost him his life. He gave them his advice, directed them how
to act, and described a certain road which they must follow, and they
would thereby be led to the place of action.
They set off in the morning, and met their friend, the Otter, shivering
with cold; but Ojeeg had taken care to bring along some of the meat
that had been given him, which he presented to his friend. They pursued
their way, and travelled twenty days more before they got to the place
which the Manito had told them of. It was a most lofty mountain. They
rested on its highest peak to fill their pipes and refresh themselves.
Before smoking, they made the customary ceremony, pointing to the
heavens, the four winds, the earth, and the zenith; in the mean time,
speaking in a loud voice, addressed the Great Spirit, hoping that their
object would be accomplished. They then commenced smoking.
They gazed on the sky in silent admiration and astonishment, for they
were on so elevated a point, that it appeared to be only a short
distance above their heads. After they had finished smoking, they
prepared themselves. Ojeeg told the Otter to make the first attempt to
try and make a hole in the sky. He consented with a grin. He made a
leap, but fell down the hill stunned by the force of his fall; and the
snow being moist, and falling on his back, he slid with velocity down
the side of the mountain. When he found himself at the bottom, he
thought to himself, it is the last time I make such another jump, so I
will make the best of my way home. Then it was the turn of the Beaver,
who made the attempt, but fell down senseless; then of the Lynx and
Badger, who had no better success.
"Now," says Fisher to the Wolverine, "try your skill; your ancestors
were celebrated for their activity, hardihood, and perseverance, and I
depend on you for success. Now make the attempt." He did so, but also
without success. He leaped the second time, but now they could see that
the sky was giving way to their repeated attempts. Mustering strength,
he made the third leap, and went in. The Fisher nimbly followed him.
They found themselves in a beautiful plain, extending as far as the eye
could reach, covered with flowers of a thousand different hues and
fragrance. Here and there were clusters of tall, shady trees, separated
by innumerable streams of the purest water, which wound around their
courses under the cooling shades, and filled the plain with countless
beautiful lakes, whose banks and bosom were covered with water-fowl,
basking and sporting in the sun. The trees were alive with birds of
different plumage, warbling their sweet notes, and delighted with
perpetual spring.
The Fisher and his friend beheld very long lodges, and the celestial
inhabitants amusing themselves at a distance. Words cannot express the
beauty and charms of the place. The lodges were empty of inhabitants,
but they saw them lined with mocuks[55] of different sizes, filled with
birds and fowls of different plumage. Ojeeg thought of his son, and
immediately commenced cutting open the mocuks and letting out the
birds, who descended in whole flocks through the opening which they had
made. The warm air of those regions also rushed down through the
opening, and spread its genial influence over the north.
When the celestial inhabitants saw the birds let loose, and the warm
gales descending, they raised a shout like thunder, and ran for their
lodges. But it was too late. Spring, summer, and autumn had gone; even
perpetual summer had almost all gone; but they separated it with a
blow, and only a part descended; but the ends were so mangled, that,
wherever it prevails among the lower inhabitants, it is always
sickly.[56]
When the Wolverine heard the noise, he made for the opening and safely
descended. Not so the Fisher. Anxious to fulfil his son's wishes, he
continued to break open the mocuks. He was, at last, obliged to run
also, but the opening was now closed by the inhabitants. He ran with
all his might over the plains of heaven, and, it would appear, took a
northerly direction. He saw his pursuers so close that he had to climb
the first large tree he came to. They commenced shooting at him with
their arrows, but without effect, for all his body was invulnerable
except the space of about an inch near the tip of his tail. At last one
of the arrows hit the spot, for he had in this chase assumed the shape
of the Fisher after whom he was named.
He looked down from the tree, and saw some among his assailants with
the totems[57] of his ancestors. He claimed relationship, and told them
to desist, which they only did at the approach of night. He then came
down to try and find an opening in the celestial plain, by which he
might descend to the earth. But he could find none. At last, becoming
faint from the loss of blood from the wound on his tail, he laid
himself down towards the north of the plain, and, stretching out his
limbs, said, "I have fulfilled my promise to my son, though it has cost
me my life; but I die satisfied in the idea that I have done so much
good, not only for him, but for my fellow-beings. Hereafter I will be a
sign to the inhabitants below for ages to come, who will venerate my
name for having succeeded in procuring the varying seasons. They will
now have from eight to ten moons without snow."
He was found dead next morning, but they left him as they found him,
with the arrow sticking in his tail, as it can be plainly seen, at this
time, in the heavens.
[54] There is a group of stars in the Northern hemisphere which
the Odjibwas call _Ojeeg Annung_, or the Fisher Stars. It is
believed to be identical with the group of the Plough. They
relate the following tale respecting it.
[55] Baskets, or cages.
[56] The idea here indicated is among the peculiar notions of
these tribes, and is grafted in the forms of their language,
which will be pointed out in the progress of these researches.
[57] Family arms, or armorial mark.
CHILEELI,
OR
THE RED LOVER.
ODJIBWA.
Many years ago there lived a warrior on the banks of Lake Superior,
whose name was Wawanosh. He was the chief of an ancient family of his
tribe, who had preserved the line of chieftainship unbroken from a
remote time, and he consequently cherished a pride of ancestry. To the
reputation of birth he added the advantages of a tall and commanding
person, and the dazzling qualities of personal strength, courage, and
activity. His bow was noted for its size, and the feats he had
performed with it. His counsel was sought as much as his strength was
feared, so that he came to be equally regarded as a hunter, a warrior,
and a counsellor. He had now passed the meridian of his days, and the
term Akkee-waizee, _i.e._, one who has been long on the earth, was
applied to him.
Such was Wawanosh, to whom the united voice of the nation awarded the
first place in their esteem, and the highest authority in council. But
distinction, it seems, is apt to engender haughtiness in the hunter
state as well as civilized life. Pride was his ruling passion, and he
clung with tenacity to the distinctions which he regarded as an
inheritance.
Wawanosh had an only daughter, who had now lived to witness the budding
of the leaves of the eighteenth spring. Her father was not more
celebrated for his deeds of strength than she for her gentle virtues,
her slender form, her full beaming hazel eyes, and her dark and flowing
hair.
"And through her cheek
The blush would make its way, and all but speak.
The sunborn blood suffused her neck, and threw
O'er her clear brown skin a lucid hue,
Like coral reddening through the darken'd wave,
Which draws the diver to the crimson cave."
Her hand was sought by a young man of humble parentage, who had no
other merits to recommend him but such as might arise from a tall and
commanding person, a manly step, and an eye beaming with the tropical
fires of youth and love. These were sufficient to attract the favorable
notice of the daughter, but were by no means satisfactory to the
father, who sought an alliance more suitable to the rank and the high
pretensions of his family.
"Listen to me, young man," he replied to the trembling hunter, who had
sought the interview, "and be attentive to my words. You ask me to
bestow upon you my daughter, the chief solace of my age, and my
choicest gift from the Master of Life. Others have asked of me this
boon, who were as young, as active, and as ardent as yourself. Some of
these persons have had better claims to become my son-in-law. Have you
reflected upon the deeds which have raised me in authority, and made my
name known to the enemies of my nation? Where is there a chief who is
not proud to be considered the friend of Wawanosh? Where, in all the
land, is there a hunter who has excelled Wawanosh? Where is there a
warrior who can boast the taking of an equal number of scalps? Besides,
have you not heard that my fathers came from the East, bearing the
marks of chieftaincy?
"And what, young man, have _you_ to boast? Have _you_ ever met your
enemies in the field of battle? Have _you_ ever brought home a trophy
of victory? Have _you_ ever proved your fortitude by suffering
protracted pain, enduring continued hunger, or sustaining great
fatigue? Is your _name_ known beyond the humble limits of your native
village? Go, then, young man, and earn a name for yourself. It is none
but the brave that can ever hope to claim an alliance with the house of
Wawanosh. Think not my warrior blood shall mingle with the humble mark
of the Awasees[58]--fit totem for fishermen!"
The intimidated lover departed, but he resolved to do a deed that
should render him worthy of the daughter of Wawanosh, or die in the
attempt. He called together several of his young companions and equals
in years, and imparted to them his design of conducting an expedition
against the enemy, and requested their assistance. Several embraced the
proposal immediately; others were soon brought to acquiesce; and,
before ten suns set, he saw himself at the head of a formidable party
of young warriors, all eager, like himself, to distinguish themselves
in battle. Each warrior was armed, according to the custom of the
period, with a bow and a quiver of arrows, tipped with flint or jasper.
He carried a sack or wallet, provided with a small quantity of parched
and pounded corn, mixed with pemmican or maple sugar. He was furnished
with a Puggamaugun, or war-club of hard wood, fastened to a girdle of
deer skin, and a stone or copper knife. In addition to this, some
carried the ancient _shemagun_, or lance, a smooth pole about a fathom
in length, with a javelin of flint, firmly tied on with deer's sinews.
Thus equipped, and each warrior painted in a manner to suit his fancy,
and ornamented with appropriate feathers, they repaired to the spot
appointed for the war-dance.
A level, grassy plain extended for nearly a mile from the lodge of
Wawanosh along the lake shore. Lodges of bark were promiscuously
interspersed over this green, and here and there a cluster of trees, or
a solitary tall pine. A belt of yellow sand skirted the lake shore in
front, and a tall, thick forest formed the background. In the centre of
this plain stood a high shattered pine, with a clear space about,
renowned as the scene of the war-dance time out of mind. Here the
youths assembled, with their tall and graceful leader, distinguished by
the feathers of the bald eagle, which he wore on his head. A bright
fire of pine wood blazed upon the green. He led his men several times
around this fire, with a measured and solemn chant.[59] Then suddenly
halting, the war-whoop was raised, and the dance immediately began. An
old man, sitting at the head of the ring, beat time upon the drum,
while several of the elder warriors shook their rattles, and "ever and
anon" made the woods re-echo with their yells. Each warrior chanted
alternately the verse of a song, of which the words generally embraced
some prominent idea, often repeated.
The eagles scream on high,
They whet their forked beaks:
Raise--raise the battle cry,
'Tis fame our leader seeks.
Thus they continued the dance, till each had introduced his verse, with
short intermissions, for two successive days and nights. Sometimes the
village seer, who led the ceremony, would embrace the occasion of a
pause to address them with words of encouragement, in a prophetic voice
and air, suited to raise their voices.
In the dreamy hours of night
I beheld the bloody fight.
As reclined upon my bed,
Holy visions crowned my head;
High our guardian spirit bright
Stood above the dreadful fight;
Beaming eye and dazzling brand
Gleamed upon my chosen band,
While a black and awful shade
O'er the faithless foeman spread.
Soon they wavered, sunk, and fled,
Leaving wounded, dying, dead,
While my gallant warriors high
Waved their trophies in the sky.
At every recurrence of this kind, new energy was infused into the
dance, and the warriors renewed their gesticulations, and stamped upon
the ground as if they were trampling their enemies under their feet.
At length the prophet uttered his final prediction of success; and the
warriors dropping off, one by one, from the fire, took their way to the
place appointed for the rendezvous, on the confines of the enemy's
country. Their leader was not among the last to depart, but he did not
leave the village without seeking an interview with the daughter of
Wawanosh. He disclosed to her his firm determination never to return,
unless he could establish his name as a warrior. He told her of the
pangs he had felt at the bitter reproaches of her father, and declared
that his soul spurned the imputation of effeminacy and cowardice
implied by his language. He averred that he could never be happy until
he had proved to the whole tribe the strength of his heart, which is
the Indian term for courage. He said that his dreams had not been
propitious, but he should not cease to invoke the power of the Great
Spirit. He repeated his protestations of inviolable attachment, which
she returned, and, pledging vows of mutual fidelity, they parted.
That parting proved final. All she ever heard from her lover after this
interview was brought by one of his successful warriors, who said that
he had distinguished himself by the most heroic bravery, but, at the
close of the fight, he had received an arrow in his breast. The enemy
fled, leaving many of their warriors dead on the field. On examining
the wound, it was perceived to be beyond their power to cure. They
carried him towards home a day's journey, but he languished and expired
in the arms of his friends. From the moment the report was received, no
smile was ever seen in the once happy lodge of Wawanosh. His daughter
pined away by day and by night. Tears, sighs, and lamentation, were
heard continually. Nothing could restore her lost serenity of mind.
Persuasives and reproofs were alternately employed, but employed in
vain. She would seek a sequestered spot, where she would sit under a
shady tree, and sing her mournful laments for hours together. Passages
of these are yet repeated by tradition.
It was not long before a small bird of beautiful plumage flew upon the
tree under which she usually sat. This mysterious visitor, which, from
its sweet and artless notes, is called Chileeli, seemed to respond in
sympathy to her plaintive voice. It was a strange bird, such as had not
before been observed. It came every day and remained chanting its notes
till nightfall; and when it left its perch on the tree, it seemed, from
the delicate play of the colors of its plumage, as if it had taken its
hues from the rainbow. Her fond imagination soon led her to suppose it
was the spirit of her lover, and her visits to the sequestered spot
were repeated more frequently. She passed much of her time in fasting
and singing her plaintive songs. There she pined away, taking little
nourishment, and constantly desiring to pass away to that land of
expected bliss and freedom from care, where it is believed that the
spirits of men will be again reunited, and tread over fields of flowery
enjoyment. And when death came to her, it was not as the bearer of
gloom and regrets, but as the herald of happiness. After her decease,
the mysterious bird was never more seen, and it became a popular
opinion that the mysterious visitor had flown away with her spirit.[60]
[58] Catfish.
[59] Notes of the Pibbigwun.
[60] Notes of the Pibbigwun.
SHEEM,
THE FORSAKEN BOY OR WOLF BROTHER.
AN ODJIBWA ALLEGORY OF FRATERNAL AFFECTION.
A solitary lodge stood on the banks of a remote lake. It was near the
hour of sunset. Silence reigned within and without. Not a sound was
heard but the low breathing of the dying inmate and head of this poor
family. His wife and three children surrounded his bed. Two of the
latter were almost grown up: the other was a mere child. All their
simple skill in medicine had been exhausted to no effect. They moved
about the lodge in whispers, and were waiting the departure of the
spirit. As one of the last acts of kindness, the skin door of the lodge
had been thrown back to admit the fresh air. The poor man felt a
momentary return of strength, and, raising himself a little, addressed
his family.
"I leave you in a world of care, in which it has required all my
strength and skill to supply you food, and protect you from the storms
and cold of a severe climate. For you, my partner in life, I have less
sorrow in parting, because I am persuaded you will not remain long
behind me, and will therefore find the period of your sufferings
shortened. But you, my children! my poor and forsaken children, who
have just commenced the career of life, who will protect you from its
evils? Listen to my words! Unkindness, ingratitude, and every
wickedness is in the scene before you. It is for this cause that, years
ago, I withdrew from my kindred and my tribe, to spend my days in this
lonely spot. I have contented myself with the company of your mother
and yourselves during seasons of very frequent scarcity and want, while
your kindred, feasting in a scene where food is plenty, have caused the
forests to echo with the shouts of successful war. I gave up these
things for the enjoyment of peace. I wished to shield you from the bad
examples you would inevitably have followed. I have seen you, thus far,
grow up in innocence. If we have sometimes suffered bodily want, we
have escaped pain of mind.[61] We have been kept from scenes of rioting
and bloodshed.
"My career is now at its close. I will shut my eyes in peace, if you,
my children, will promise me to cherish each other. Let not your mother
suffer during the few days that are left to her; and I charge you, on
no account, to forsake your youngest brother. Of him I give you both my
dying charge to take a tender care." He sank exhausted on his pallet.
The family waited a moment, as if expecting to hear something further;
but, when they came to his side, the spirit had taken its flight.
The mother and daughter gave vent to their feelings in lamentations.
The elder son witnessed the scene in silence. He soon exerted himself
to supply, with the bow and net, his father's place. Time, however,
wore away heavily. Five moons had filled and waned, and the sixth was
near its full, when the mother also died. In her last moments she
pressed the fulfilment of their promise to their father, which the
children readily renewed, because they were yet free from selfish
motives.
The winter passed; and the spring, with its enlivening effects in a
northern hemisphere, cheered the drooping spirits of the bereft little
family. The girl, being the eldest, dictated to her brothers, and
seemed to feel a tender and sisterly affection for the youngest, who
was rather sickly and delicate. The other boy soon showed symptoms of
restlessness and ambition, and addressed the sister as follows: "My
sister, are we always to live as if there were no other human beings in
the world? Must I deprive myself of the pleasure of associating with my
own kind? I have determined this question for myself. I shall seek the
villages of men, and you cannot prevent me."
The sister replied: "I do not say no, my brother, to what you desire.
We are not prohibited the society of our fellow-mortals; but we are
told to cherish each other, and to do nothing independent of each
other. Neither pleasure nor pain ought, therefore, to separate us,
especially from our younger brother, who being but a child, and weakly
withal, is entitled to a double share of our affection. If we follow
our separate gratifications, it will surely make us neglect him, whom
we are bound by vows, both to our father and mother, to support." The
young man received this address in silence. He appeared daily to grow
more restive and moody, and one day, taking his bow and arrows, left
the lodge and never returned.
Affection nerved the sister's arm. She was not so ignorant of the
forest arts as to let her brother want. For a long time she
administered to his necessities, and supplied a mother's cares. At
length, however, she began to be weary of solitude and of her charge.
No one came to be a witness of her assiduity, or to let fall a single
word in her native language. Years, which added to her strength and
capability of directing the affairs of the household, brought with them
the irrepressible desire of society, and made solitude irksome. At this
point, selfishness gained the ascendency of her heart; for, in
meditating a change in her mode of life, she lost sight of her younger
brother, and left him to be provided for by contingencies.
One day, after collecting all the provisions she had been able to save
for emergencies, after bringing a quantity of wood to the door, she
said to her little brother: "My brother, you must not stray from the
lodge. I am going to seek our elder brother. I shall be back soon."
Then, taking her bundle, she set off in search of habitations. She soon
found them, and was so much taken up with the pleasures and amusements
of social life, that the thought of her brother was almost entirely
obliterated. She accepted proposals of marriage; and, after that,
thought still less of her hapless and abandoned relative.
Meantime her elder brother had also married, and lived on the shores of
the same lake whose ample circuit contained the abandoned lodge of his
father and his forsaken brother. The latter was soon brought to the
pinching turn of his fate. As soon as he had eaten all the food left by
his sister, he was obliged to pick berries and dig up roots. These were
finally covered by the snow. Winter came on with all its rigors. He was
obliged to quit the lodge in search of other food. Sometimes he passed
the night in the clefts of old trees or caverns, and ate the refuse
meals of the wolves. The latter, at last, became his only resource; and
he became so fearless of these animals that he would sit close by them
while they devoured their prey. The wolves, on the other hand, became
so familiar with his face and form, that they were undisturbed by his
approach; and, appearing to sympathize with him in his outcast
condition, would always leave something for his repast. In this way he
lived till spring. As soon as the lake was free from ice, he followed
his new-found friends themselves to the shore. It happened, the same
day, that his elder brother was fishing in his canoe, a considerable
distance out in the lake, when he thought he heard the cries of a child
on the shore, and wondered how any could exist on so bleak and barren a
part of the coast. He listened again attentively, and distinctly heard
the cry repeated. He made for shore as quick as possible, and, as he
approached land, discovered and recognized his little brother, and
heard him singing, in a plaintive voice--
Neesia--neesia,
Shyegwuh goosuh!
Ni my een gwun iewh!
Ni my een gwun iewh!
Heo hwooh.
My brother--my brother,
Ah! see, I am turning into a wolf.[62]