his dog-brother then stripped a tall pine of all its branches, and
stuck the carcass on the top, taking the usual sign of his having
killed an animal--the tongue. He told the Toad-Woman where he had left
it, saying, "It is very far, even to the end of the earth." She
answered, "It is not so far but I can get it;" so off she set. As soon
as she was gone, the young man and his dog killed the Toad-Woman's
children, and staked them on each side of the door, with a piece of fat
in their mouths, and then went to his real mother and hastened her
departure with them. The Toad-Woman spent a long time in finding the
bear, and had much ado in climbing the tree to get down the carcass. As
she got near home, she saw the children looking out, apparently, with
the fat in their mouths, and was angry at them, saying, "Why do you
destroy the pomatum of your brother?" But her fury was great indeed,
when she saw they were killed and impaled. She ran after the fugitives
as fast as she could, and was near overtaking them, when the young man
said, "We are pressed hard, but let this stay her progress," throwing
his fire steel behind him, which caused the Toad-Woman to slip and fall
repeatedly. But still she pursued and gained on them, when he threw
behind him his flint, which again retarded her, for it made her slip
and stumble, so that her knees were bleeding; but she continued to
follow on, and was gaining ground, when the young man said, "Let the
Oshau shaw go min un (snake berry) spring up to detain her," and
immediately these berries spread like scarlet all over the path for a
long distance, which she could not avoid stooping down to pick and eat.
Still she went on, and was again advancing on them, when the young man
at last said to the dog, "Brother, chew her into mummy, for she plagues
us." So the dog, turning round, seized her and tore her to pieces, and
they escaped.
[85] A term compounded from _sheegowiss_, a widow, and _mowigh_,
something nasty.
ERONENIERA,
OR
AN INDIAN VISIT TO THE GREAT SPIRIT.[86]
AN ALGONQUIN LEGEND.
A Delaware Indian, called Eroneniera, anxious to know the Master of
Life, resolved, without mentioning his design to any one, to undertake
a journey to Paradise, which he knew to be God's residence. But, to
succeed in his project, it was necessary for him to know the way to the
celestial regions. Not knowing any person who, having been there
himself, might aid him in finding the road, he commenced juggling, in
the hope of drawing a good augury from his dream.
The Indian, in his dream, imagined that he had only to commence his
journey, and that a continued walk would take him to the celestial
abode. The next morning very early, he equipped himself as a hunter,
taking a gun, powder-horn, ammunition, and a boiler to cook his
provisions. The first part of his journey was pretty favorable; he
walked a long time without being discouraged, having always a firm
conviction that he should attain his aim. Eight days had already
elapsed without his meeting with any one to oppose his desire. On the
evening of the eighth day, at sunset, he stopped as usual on the bank
of a brook, at the entrance of a little prairie, a place which he
thought favorable for his night's encampment. As he was preparing his
lodging, he perceived at the other end of the prairie three very wide
and well-beaten paths; he thought this somewhat singular; he, however,
continued to prepare his wigwam, that he might shelter himself from the
weather. He also lighted a fire. While cooking, he found that, the
darker it grew, the more distinct were those paths. This surprised,
nay, even frightened him; he hesitated a few moments. Was it better for
him to remain in his camp, or seek another at some distance? While in
this incertitude, he remembered his juggling, or rather his dream. He
thought that his only aim in undertaking his journey was to see the
Master of Life. This restored him to his senses. He thought it probable
that one of those three roads led to the place which he wished to
visit. He therefore resolved upon remaining in his camp until the
morrow, when he would, at random, take one of them. His curiosity,
however, scarcely allowed him time to take his meal; he left his
encampment and fire, and took the widest of the paths. He followed it
until the middle of the day without seeing anything to impede his
progress; but, as he was resting a little to take breath, he suddenly
perceived a large fire coming from under ground. It excited his
curiosity; he went towards it to see what it might be; but, as the fire
appeared to increase as he drew nearer, he was so overcome with fear,
that he turned back and took the widest of the other two paths. Having
followed it for the same space of time as he had the first, he
perceived a similar spectacle. His fright, which had been lulled by the
change of road, awoke him, and he was obliged to take the third path,
in which he walked a whole day without seeing anything. All at once, a
mountain of a marvellous whiteness burst upon his sight. This filled
him with astonishment; nevertheless, he took courage and advanced to
examine it. Having arrived at the foot, he saw no signs of a road. He
became very sad, not knowing how to continue his journey. In this
conjuncture, he looked on all sides and perceived a female seated upon
the mountain; her beauty was dazzling, and the whiteness of her
garments surpassed that of snow. The woman said to him in his own
language, "You appear surprised to find no longer a path to reach your
wishes. I know that you have for a long time longed to see and speak to
the Master of Life; and that you have undertaken this journey purposely
to see him. The way which leads to his abode is upon this mountain. To
ascend it, you must undress yourself completely, and leave all your
accoutrements and clothing at the foot. No person shall injure them.
You will then go and wash yourself in the river which I am now showing
you, and afterward ascend the mountain."
The Indian obeyed punctually the woman's words; but one difficulty
remained. How could he arrive at the top of the mountain, which was
steep, without a path, and as smooth as glass? He asked the woman how
he was to accomplish it. She replied, that if he really wished to see
the Master of Life, he must, in mounting, only use his left hand and
foot. This appeared almost impossible to the Indian. Encouraged,
however, by the female, he commenced ascending, and succeeded after
much trouble. When at the top, he was astonished to see no person, the
woman having disappeared. He found himself alone, and without a guide.
Three unknown villages were in sight; they were constructed on a
different plan from his own, much handsomer, and more regular. After a
few moments' reflection, he took his way towards the handsomest. When
about half way from the top of the mountain, he recollected that he was
naked, and was afraid to proceed; but a voice told him to advance, and
have no apprehensions; that, as he had washed himself, he might walk in
confidence. He proceeded without hesitation to a place which appeared
to be the gate of the village, and stopped until some one came to open
it. While he was considering the exterior of the village, the gate
opened, and the Indian saw coming towards him a handsome man dressed
all in white, who took him by the hand, and said he was going to
satisfy his wishes by leading him to the presence of the Master of
Life.
The Indian suffered himself to be conducted, and they arrived at a
place of unequalled beauty. The Indian was lost in admiration. He there
saw the Master of Life, who took him by the hand, and gave him for a
seat a hat bordered with gold. The Indian, afraid of spoiling the hat,
hesitated to sit down; but, being again ordered to do so, he obeyed
without reply.
The Indian being seated, God said to him, "I am the Master of Life,
whom thou wishest to see, and to whom thou wishest to speak. Listen to
that which I will tell thee for thyself and for all the Indians. I am
the Maker of Heaven and earth, the trees, lakes, rivers, men, and all
that thou seest or hast seen on the earth or in the heavens; and
because I love you, you must do my will; you must also avoid that which
I hate; I hate you to drink as you do, until you lose your reason; I
wish you not to fight one another; you take two wives, or run after
other people's wives; you do wrong; I hate such conduct; you should
have but one wife, and keep her until death. When you go to war, you
juggle, you sing the medicine song, thinking you speak to me; you
deceive yourselves; it is to the Manito that you speak; he is a wicked
spirit who induces you to evil, and for want of knowing me, you listen
to him.
"The land on which you are, I have made for you, not for others:
wherefore do you suffer the whites to dwell upon your lands? Can you
not do without them? I know that those whom you call the children of
your great Father supply your wants. But, were you not wicked as you
are, you would not need them. You might live as you did before you knew
them. Before those whom you call your brothers had arrived, did not
your bow and arrow maintain you? You needed neither gun, powder, nor
any other object. The flesh of animals was your food, their skins your
raiment. But when I saw you inclined to evil, I removed the animals
into the depths of the forests, that you might depend on your brothers
for your necessaries for your clothing. Again become good and do my
will, and I will send animals for your sustenance. I do not, however,
forbid suffering among you your Father's children; I love them, they
know me, they pray to me; I supply their own wants, and give them that
which they bring to you. Not so with those who are come to trouble your
possessions. Drive them away; wage war against them. I love them not.
They know me not. They are my enemies, they are your brothers' enemies.
Send them back to the lands I have made for them. Let them remain
there.
"Here is a written prayer which I give thee; learn it by heart, and
teach it to all the Indians and children." (The Indian, observing here
that he could not read, the Master of Life told him that, on his return
upon earth, he should give it to the chief of his village, who would
read it, and also teach it to him, as also to all the Indians). "It must
be repeated," said the Master of Life, "morning and evening. Do all that
I have told thee, and announce it to all the Indians as coming from the
Master of Life. Let them drink but one draught, or two at most, in one
day. Let them have but one wife, and discontinue running after other
people's wives and daughters. Let them not fight one another. Let them
not sing the medicine song, for in singing the medicine song they speak
to the evil spirit. Drive from your lands," added the Master of Life,
"those dogs in red clothing; they are only an injury to you. When you
want anything, apply to me, as your brothers do, and I will give to
both. Do not sell to your brothers that which I have placed on the earth
as food. In short, become good, and you shall want nothing. When you
meet one another, bow, and give one another the ... hand of the heart.
Above all, I command thee to repeat, morning and evening, the prayer
which I have given thee."
The Indian promised to do the will of the Master of Life, and also to
recommend it strongly to the Indians; adding that the Master of Life
should be satisfied with them.
His conductor then came, and leading him to the foot of the mountain,
told him to take his garments and return to his village; which was
immediately done by the Indian.
His return much surprised the inhabitants of the village, who did not
know what had become of him. They asked him whence he came; but, as he
had been enjoined to speak to no one until he saw the chief of the
village, he motioned to them with his hand that he came from above.
Having entered the village, he went immediately to the chief's wigwam,
and delivered to him the prayer and laws intrusted to his care by the
Master of Life.
[86] Pontiac told this story to the assembled Indians in 1763, to
enlist them in his plan to resist the transfer of the country to
the English authority, on the fall of the French power in the
Canadas.
THE SIX HAWKS,
OR
BROKEN WING.
AN ALLEGORY OF FRATERNAL AFFECTION.
There were six young falcons living in a nest, all but one of whom were
still unable to fly, when it so happened that both the parent birds
were shot by the hunters in one day. The young brood waited with
impatience for their return; but night came, and they were left without
parents and without food. Meeji-geeg-wona, or the Gray Eagle, the
eldest, and the only one whose feathers had become stout enough to
enable him to leave the nest, assumed the duty of stilling their cries
and providing them with food, in which he was very successful. But,
after a short time had passed, he, by an unlucky mischance, got one of
his wings broken in pouncing upon a swan. This was the more unlucky,
because the season had arrived when they were soon to go off to a
southern climate to pass the winter, and they were only waiting to
become a little stouter and more expert for the journey. Finding that
he did not return, they resolved to go in search of him, and found him
sorely wounded and unable to fly.
"Brothers," he said, "an accident has befallen me, but let not this
prevent your going to a warmer climate. Winter is rapidly approaching,
and you cannot remain here. It is better that I alone should die than
for you all to suffer miserably on my account." "No! no!" they replied,
with one voice, "we will not forsake you; we will share your
sufferings; we will abandon our journey, and take care of you, as you
did of us, before we were able to take care of ourselves. If the
climate kills you, it shall kill us. Do you think we can so soon forget
your brotherly care, which has surpassed a father's and even a mother's
kindness? Whether you live or die, we will live or die with you."
They sought out a hollow tree to winter in, and contrived to carry
their wounded nestmate there; and, before the rigors of winter set in,
they had stored up food enough to carry them through its severities. To
make it last the better, two of the number went off south, leaving the
other three to watch over, feed, and protect the wounded bird.
Meeji-geeg-wona in due time recovered from his wound, and he repaid
their kindness by giving them such advice and instruction in the art of
hunting as his experience had qualified him to impart. As spring
advanced, they began to venture out of their hiding-place, and were all
successful in getting food to eke out their winter's stock, except the
youngest, who was called Peepi-geewi-zains, or the Pigeon Hawk. Being
small and foolish, flying hither and yon, he always came back without
anything. At last the Gray Eagle spoke to him, and demanded the cause
of his ill luck. "It is not my smallness or weakness of body," said he,
"that prevents my bringing home flesh as well as my brothers. I kill
ducks and other birds every time I go out; but, just as I get to the
woods, a large Ko-ko-ko-ho[87] robs me of my prey." "Well! don't
despair, brother," said Meeji-geeg-wona. "I now feel my strength
perfectly recovered, and I will go out with you to-morrow," for he was
the most courageous and warlike of them all.
Next day they went forth in company, the elder seating himself near the
lake. Peepi-geewi-zains started out, and soon pounced upon a duck.
"Well done!" thought his brother, who saw his success; but, just as he
was getting to land with his prize, up came a large white owl from a
tree, where he had been watching, and laid claim to it. He was about
wresting it from him, when Meeji-geeg-wona came up, and, fixing his
talons in both sides of the owl, flew home with him.
The little pigeon hawk followed him closely, and was rejoiced and happy
to think he had brought home something at last. He then flew in the
owl's face, and wanted to tear out his eyes, and vented his passion in
abundance of reproachful terms. "Softly," said the Gray Eagle; "do not
be in such a passion, or exhibit so revengeful a disposition; for this
will be a lesson to him not to tyrannize over any one who is weaker
than himself for the future." So, after giving him good advice, and
telling him what kind of herbs would cure his wounds, they let the owl
go.
While this act was taking place, and before the liberated owl had yet
got out of view, two visitors appeared at the hollow tree. They were
the two nestmates, who had just returned from the south after passing
the winter there, and they were thus all happily reunited, and each one
soon chose a mate and flew off to the woods. Spring had now revisited
the north. The cold winds had ceased, the ice had melted, the streams
were open, and the forest began rapidly to put on its vernal hue. "But
it is in vain," said the old man who related this story, "it is in vain
that spring returns, if we are not thankful to the Master of Life who
has preserved us through the winter. Nor does that man answer the end
for which he was made who does not show a kind and charitable feeling
to all who are in want or sickness, especially to his blood relations.
These six birds only represent one of our impoverished northern
families of children, who had been deprived of both their parents and
the aid of their elder brother nearly at the same time."
[87] Owl.
WEENG,
THE SPIRIT OF SLEEP.
Sleep is personified by the Odjibwas under the name of Weeng.[88] The
power of the Indian Morpheus is executed by a peculiar class of
gnome-like beings, called _Weengs_. These subordinate creations,
although invisible to the human eye, are each armed with a tiny
war-club, or puggamaugun, with which they nimbly climb up the forehead,
and knock the drowsy person on the head; on which sleepiness is
immediately produced. If the first blow is insufficient, another is
given, until the eyelids close, and a sound sleep is produced. It is
the constant duty of these little agents to put every one to sleep whom
they encounter--men, women, and children. And they are found secreted
around the bed, or on small protuberances of the bark of the Indian
lodges. They hide themselves in the Gushkeepitau-gun, or smoking pouch
of the hunter, and when he sits down to light his pipe in the woods,
are ready to fly out and exert their sleep-compelling power. If they
succeed, the game is suffered to pass, and the hunter obliged to return
to his lodge without a reward.
In general, however, they are represented to possess friendly
dispositions, seeking constantly to restore vigor and elasticity to the
exhausted body. But being without judgment, their power is sometimes
exerted at the hazard of reputation, or even life. Sleep may be induced
in a person carelessly floating in his canoe, above a fall; or in a war
party, on the borders of an enemy's country; or in a female, without
the protection of the lodge circle. Although their peculiar season of
action is in the night, they are also alert during the day.
While the forms of these gnomes are believed to be those of _ininees_,
little or fairy men, the figure of Weeng himself is unknown, and it is
not certain that he has ever been seen. Most of what is known on this
subject, is derived from Iagoo, who related, that going out one day
with his dogs to hunt, he passed through a wide range of thicket, where
he lost his dogs. He became much alarmed, for they were faithful
animals, and he was greatly attached to them. He called out, and made
every exertion to recover them in vain. At length he came to a spot
where he found them asleep, having incautiously ran near the residence
of Weeng. After great exertions he aroused them, but not without having
felt the power of somnolency himself. As he cast his eyes up from the
place where the dogs were lying, he saw the Spirit of Sleep sitting
upon the branch of a tree. He was in the shape of a giant insect, or
_monetos_, with many wings from his back, which made a low deep
murmuring sound, like distant falling water. But Iagoo himself, being a
very great liar and braggart, but little credit was given to his
narration.
Weeng is not only the dispenser of sleep, but, it seems, he is also the
author of dulness, which renders the word susceptible of an ironical
use. If an orator fails, he is said to be struck by Weeng. If a warrior
_lingers_, he has ventured too near the sleepy god. If children begin
to nod or yawn, the Indian mother looks up smilingly, and says, "They
have been struck by Weeng," and puts them to bed.
[88] This word has the sound of _g_ hard, with a peculiarity as
if followed by _k_.
ADDIK KUM MAIG,[89]
OR
THE ORIGIN OF THE WHITE FISH.
A long time ago, there lived a famous hunter in a remote part of the
north. He had a handsome wife and two sons, who were left in the lodge
every day, while he went out in quest of the animals, upon whose flesh
they subsisted. Game was very abundant in those days, and his exertions
in the chase were well rewarded. The skins of animals furnished them
with clothing, and their flesh with food. They lived a long distance
from any other lodge, and very seldom saw any one. The two sons were
still too young to follow their father to the chase, and usually
diverted themselves within a short distance of the lodge. They noticed
that a young man visited the lodge during their father's absence, and
these visits were frequently repeated. At length the elder of the two
said to his mother:
"My mother, who is this tall young man that comes here so often during
our father's absence? Does he wish to see him? Shall I tell him when he
comes back this evening?" "Bad boy," said the mother, pettishly, "mind
your bow and arrows, and do not be afraid to enter the forest in search
of birds and squirrels, with your little brother. It is not manly to be
ever about the lodge. Nor will you become a warrior if you tell all the
little things you see and hear to your father. Say not a word to him on
the subject." The boys obeyed, but as they grew older, and still saw
the visits of this mysterious stranger, they resolved to speak again to
their mother, and told her that they meant to inform their father of
all they had observed, for they frequently saw this young man passing
through the woods, and he did not walk in the path, nor did he carry
anything to eat. If he had any message to deliver, they had observed
that messages were always addressed to the men, and not to the women.
At this, the mother flew into a rage. "I will kill you," said she, "if
you speak of it." They were again intimidated to hold their peace. But
observing the continuance of an improper intercourse, kept up by
stealth, as it were, they resolved at last to disclose the whole matter
to their father. They did so. The result was such as might have been
anticipated. The father, being satisfied of the infidelity of his wife,
watched a suitable occasion, when she was separated from the children,
that they might not have their feelings excited, and with a single blow
of his war-club dispatched her. He then buried her under the ashes of
his fire, took down the lodge, and removed, with his two sons, to a
distant position.
But the spirit of the woman haunted the children, who were now grown up
to the estate of young men. She appeared to them as they returned from
hunting in the evening. They were also terrified in their dreams, which
they attributed to her. She harassed their imaginations wherever they
went. Life became a scene of perpetual terrors. They resolved, together
with their father, to leave the country, and commenced a journey toward
the south. After travelling many days along the shores of Lake Superior,
they passed around a high promontory of rock where a large river issued
out of the lake, and soon after came to a place called Pauwateeg.[90]
They had no sooner come in sight of these falls, than they beheld the
skull of the woman rolling along the beach. They were in the utmost
fear, and knew not how to elude her. At this moment one of them looked
out, and saw a stately crane sitting on a rock in the middle of the
rapids. They called out to the bird, "See, grandfather, we are
persecuted by a spirit. Come and take us across the falls, so that we
may escape her."