Pleas if you would give something; you must git in ordir in store is
woyth (worth) them mocsin, porcupine quill on et. One dollers foure
yard.
[Illustration: The Prairie]
This curious billet was the production of the hunter's eldest son, and
is meant to intimate that if I would buy the mocassins the price was one
dollar, or an order on one of the stores for four yards of calico; for
so the squaw interpreted its meaning. The order for four yards of
printed cotton was delivered over to Mrs. Peter, who carefully pinned it
within the folds of her blanket, and departed well satisfied with the
payment. And this reminds me of our visit to the Indian's camp last
week. Feeling some desire to see these singular people in their winter
encampment, I expressed my wish to S------, who happens to be a grand
favourite with the old hunter and his family; as a mark of a distinction
they have bestowed on him the title of Chippewa, the name of their
tribe. He was delighted with the opportunity of doing the honours of the
Indian wigwam, and it was agreed that he, with some of his brothers and
sisters-in-law, who happened to be on a visit at his house, should come
and drink tea with us and accompany us to the camp in the woods.
A merry party we were that sallied forth that evening into the glorious
starlight; the snow sparkled with a thousand diamonds on its frozen
surface, over which we bounded with hearts as light as hearts could be
in this careful world. And truly never did I look upon a lovelier sight
than the woods presented; there had been a heavy fall of snow the
preceding day; owing to the extreme stillness of the air not a particle
of it had been shaken from the trees. The evergreens were bending
beneath their brilliant burden; every twig, every leaf, and spray was
covered, and some of the weak saplings actually bowed down to the earth
with the weight of snow, forming the most lovely and fanciful bowers and
arcades across our path. As you looked up towards the tops of the trees
the snowy branches seen against the deep blue sky formed a silvery veil,
through which the bright stars were gleaming with a chastened
brilliancy.
I was always an admirer of a snowy landscape, but neither in this
country nor at home did I ever see any thing so surpassingly lovely as
the forest appeared that night.
Leaving the broad road we struck into a bye-path, deep tracked by the
Indians, and soon perceived the wigwam by the red smoke that issued from
the open basket-work top of the little hut. This is first formed with
light poles, planted round so as to enclose a circle of ten or twelve
feet in diameter; between these poles are drawn large sheets of birch
bark both within and without, leaving an opening of the bare poles at
the top so as to form an outlet for the smoke; the outer walls were also
banked up with snow, so as to exclude the air entirely from beneath.
Some of our party, who were younger and lighter of foot than we sober
married folks, ran on before; so that when the blanket, that served the
purpose of a door, was unfastened, we found a motley group of the dark
skins and the pale faces reposing on the blankets and skins that were
spread round the walls of the wigwam.
The swarthy complexions, shaggy black hair, and singular costume of the
Indians formed a striking contrast with the fair-faced Europeans that
were mingled with them, seen as they were by the red and fitful glare of
the wood-fire that occupied the centre of the circle. The deer-hounds
lay stretched in indolent enjoyment, close to the embers, while three or
four dark-skinned little urchins were playing with each other, or
angrily screaming out their indignation against the apish tricks of the
hunchback, my old acquaintance Maquin, that Indian Flibberty-gibbet,
whose delight appeared to be in teazing and tormenting the little
papouses, casting as he did so sidelong glances of impish glee at the
guests, while as quick as thought his features assumed an impenetrable
gravity when the eyes of his father or the squaws seemed directed
towards his tricks.
There was a slight bustle among the party when we entered one by one
through the low blanket-doorway. The merry laugh rang round among our
friends, which was echoed by more than one of the Indian men, and joined
by the peculiar half-laugh or chuckle of the squaws. "_Chippewa_" was
directed to a post of honour beside the hunter Peter; and squaw Peter,
with an air of great good humour, made room for me on a corner of her
own blanket; to effect which two papouses and a hound were sent
lamenting to the neighbourhood of the hunchback Maquin.
The most attractive persons in the wigwam were two Indian girls, one
about eighteen, Jane, the hunter's eldest daughter, and her cousin
Margaret. I was greatly struck with the beauty of Jane; her features
were positively fine, and though of gipsey darkness the tint of
vermilion on her cheek and lip rendered it, if not beautiful, very
attractive. Her hair, which was of jetty blackness, was soft and
shining, and was neatly folded over her forehead, not hanging loose and
disorderly in shaggy masses, as is generally the case with the squaws.
Jane was evidently aware of her superior charms, and may be considered
as an Indian belle, by the peculiar care she displayed in the
arrangement of the black cloth mantle, bound with scarlet, that was
gracefully wrapped over one shoulder, and fastened at her left side with
a gilt brooch. Margaret was younger, of lower stature, and though lively
and rather pretty, yet wanted the quiet dignity of her cousin; she had
more of the squaw in face and figure. The two girls occupied a blanket
by themselves, and were busily engaged in working some most elegant
sheaths of deer-skin, richly wrought over with coloured quills and
beads: they kept the beads and quills in a small tin baking-pan on their
knees; but my old squaw (as I always call Mrs. Peter) held her
porcupine-quills in her mouth, and the fine dried sinews of the deer,
which they make use of instead of thread in work of this sort, in her
bosom.
On my expressing a desire to have some of the porcupine-quills, she gave
me a few of different colour that she was working a pair of mocassins
with, but signified that she wanted "'bead' to work mocsin," by which I
understood I was to give some in exchange for the quills. Indians never
give since they have learned to trade with white men.
She was greatly delighted with the praises I bestowed on Jane. She told
me Jane was soon to marry the young Indian who sat on one side of her in
all the pride of a new blanket coat, red sash, embroidered powder-pouch,
and great gilt clasps to the collar of his coat, which looked as warm
and as white as a newly washed fleece. The old squaw evidently felt
proud of the young couple as she gazed on them, and often repeated, with
a good-tempered laugh, "Jane's husband--marry by and by."
We had so often listened with pleasure to the Indians singing their
hymns of a Sunday night that I requested some of them to sing to us; the
old hunter nodded assent; and, without removing his pipe, with the
gravity and phlegm of a Dutchman, issued his commands, which were as
instantly obeyed by the younger part of the community, and a chorus of
rich voices filled the little hut with a melody that thrilled to our
very hearts.
The hymn was sung in the Indian tongue, a language that is peculiarly
sweet and soft in its cadences, and seems to be composed with many
vowels. I could not but notice the modest air of the girls; as if
anxious to avoid observation that they felt was attracted by their sweet
voices, they turned away from the gaze of the strangers, facing each
other and bending their heads down over the work they still held in
their hands. The attitude, which is that of the Eastern nations; the
dress, dark hair and eyes, the olive complexion, heightened colour, and
meek expression of face, would have formed a study for a painter. I wish
you could have witnessed the scene; I think you would not easily have
forgotten it. I was pleased with the air of deep reverence that sat on
the faces of the elders of the Indian family, as they listened to the
voices of their children singing praise and glory to the God and Saviour
they had learned to fear and love.
The Indians seem most tender parents; it is pleasing to see the
affectionate manner in which they treat their young children, fondly and
gently caressing them with eyes overflowing and looks of love. During
the singing each papouse crept to the feet of its respective father and
mother, and those that were too young to join their voices to the little
choir, remained quite silent till the hymn was at an end. One little
girl, a fat brown roly-poly, of three years old, beat time on her
father's knee, and from time to time chimed in her infant voice; she
evidently possessed a fine ear and natural taste for music.
I was at a loss to conceive where the Indians kept their stores,
clothes, and other moveables, the wigwam being so small that there
seemed no room for any thing besides themselves and their hounds. Their
ingenuity, however, supplied the want of room, and I soon discovered a
plan that answered all the purposes of closets, bags, boxes, &c., the
inner lining of birch-bark being drawn between the poles so as to form
hollow pouches all round; in these pouches were stowed their goods; one
set held their stock of dried deer's flesh, another dried fish, a third
contained some flat cakes, which I have been told they bake in a way
peculiar to themselves, with hot ashes over and under; for my part I
think they must be far from palatable so seasoned. Their dressed skins,
clothes, materials for their various toys, such as beads, quills, bits
of cloth, silk, with a thousand other miscellaneous articles, occupied
the rest of these reservoirs.
Though open for a considerable space at the top, the interior of the
wigwam was so hot, I could scarcely breathe, and was constrained to
throw off all my wrappings during the time we staid. Before we went away
the hunter insisted on showing us a game, which was something after the
manner of our cup and ball, only more complicated, and requires more
sleight of hand: the Indians seemed evidently well pleased at our want
of adroitness. They also showed us another game, which was a little like
nine-pins, only the number of sticks stuck in the ground was greater. I
was unable to stay to see the little rows of sticks knocked out, as the
heat of the wigwam oppressed me almost to suffocation, and I was glad to
feel myself once more breathing the pure air.
In any other climate one would scarcely have undergone such sudden
extremes of temperature without catching a severe cold; but fortunately
that distressing complaint _catchee le cold_, as the Frenchman termed
it, is not so prevalent in Canada as at home.
Some twenty years ago, while a feeling of dread still existed in the
minds of the British settlers towards the Indians, from the remembrance
of atrocities committed during the war of independence, a poor woman,
the widow of a settler who occupied a farm in one of the then but
thinly-settled townships back of the Ontario, was alarmed by the sudden
appearance of an Indian within the walls of her log-hut. He had entered
so silently that it was not till he planted himself before the blazing
fire that he was perceived by the frightened widow and her little ones,
who retreated, trembling with ill-concealed terror to the furthest
corner of the room.
Without seeming to notice the dismay which his appearance had excited,
the Indian proceeded to disencumber himself from his hunting
accoutrements; he then unfastened his wet mocassins, which he hung up to
dry, plainly intimating his design was to pass the night beneath their
roof, it being nearly dark, and snowing heavily.
Scarcely daring to draw an audible breath, the little group watched the
movements of their unwelcome guest. Imagine their horror when they
beheld him take from his girdle a hunting-knife, and deliberately
proceed to try its edge. After this his tomahawk and rifle underwent a
similar examination.
The despair of the horror-stricken mother was now approaching a climax.
She already beheld in idea the frightful mangled corpses of her murdered
children upon that hearth which had so often been the scene of their
innocent gambols. Instinctively she clasped the two youngest to her
breast at a forward movement of the Indian. With streaming eyes she was
about to throw herself at his feet, as he advanced towards her with the
dreaded weapons in his hands, and implore his mercy for herself and her
babes. What then was her surprise and joy when he gently laid the rifle,
knife, and tomahawk beside her, signifying by this action that she had
nothing to fear at his hands*.
[* It is almost an invariable custom now for the Indians on entering a
dwelling-house to leave all their weapons, as rife, tomahawk, &c.,
outside the door, even if the weather be ever so wet; as they consider
it unpolite to enter a family dwelling armed.]
A reprieve to a condemned criminal at the moment previous to his
execution was not more welcome than this action of the Indian to the
poor widow. Eager to prove her confidence and her gratitude at the same
time, she hastened to prepare food for the refreshment of the now no
longer dreaded guest; and, assisted by the eldest of her children, put
clean sheets and the best blankets on her own bed, which she joyfully
devoted to the accommodation of the stranger. An expressive "Hugh!
hugh!" was the only reply to this act of hospitality; but when he went
to take possession of his luxurious couch he seemed sorely puzzled. It
was evident the Indian had never seen, and certainly never reposed on,
an European bed. After a mute examination of the bed-clothes for some
minutes, with a satisfied laugh, he sprang upon the bed, and, curling
himself up like a dog, in a few minutes was sound asleep.
By dawn of day the Indian had departed; but whenever he came on the
hunting-grounds in the neighbourhood of the widow, she was sure to see
him. The children, no longer terrified at his swarthy countenance and
warlike weapons, would gather round his knees, admire the feathered
pouch that contained his shot, finger the beautiful embroidered sheath
that held the hunting-knife, or the finely-worked mocassins and
leggings; whilst he would pat their heads, and bestow upon them an equal
share of caresses with his deer-hounds.
Such was the story related to me by a young missionary. I thought it
might prove not uninteresting, as a trait of character of one of these
singular people. _Chiboya_ (for that was the name of the Indian) was one
of the Chippewas of Rice Lake, most of whom are now converts to
Christianity, and making considerable advancement in civilisation and
knowledge of agriculture. Hunting and fishing, however, appear to be
their favourite pursuits: for these they leave the comfortable houses at
the Indian villages, and return at stated times to their forest haunts.
I believe it is generally considered that their numbers are diminishing,
and some tribes have become nearly if not totally extinct in the
Canadas*. The race is slowly passing away from the face of the earth, or
mingling by degrees with the colonists, till, a few centuries hence,
even the names of their tribes will scarcely remain to tell that they
once existed.
[* It is stated that the North-West Company had a census of all the
tribes, and that the whole Indian population of that immense continent
did not now exceed 100,000 souls. In a Parliamentary document of 1834,
the Indians of Lower Canada are estimated at 3,437, and those of Upper
Canada at 13,700, which latter number is stated to include those on the
shores of Lake Huron, and to the westward.-Ed.]
When next you send a box or parcel, let me have a few good tracts and
hymn-books; as they prize a gift of this sort extremely. I send you a
hymn, the one they sang to us in the wigwam; it is the Indian
translation, and written by the hunter, Peter's eldest son: he was
delighted when I told him I wanted him to copy it for me, that I might
send it across the seas to my own country, that English people might see
how well Indians could write.
[Illustration: Red-bird]
[Illustration: Blue-bird]
The hunchback Maquin has made me a miniature canoe of birch-bark, which
I send; you will prize it as a curiosity, and token of remembrance. The
red and black squirrel-skins are for Jane; the feather fans, and papers
of feathers, for Sarah. Tell the latter the next time I send a packet
home, she shall have specimens fit for stuffing of our splendid red-
bird, which, I am sure, is the Virginian nightingale; it comes in May or
April, and leaves us late in the summer: it exactly corresponds to a
stuffed Virginian nightingale that I saw in a fine collection of
American birds. The blue-bird is equally lovely, and migrates much about
the same time; the plumage is of a celestial blue; but I have never seen
one otherwise than upon the wing, so cannot describe it minutely. The
cross-bills are very pretty; the male and female quite opposite in
colour, one having a lovely mixture of scarlet and orange on the breast
and back, shading into greenish olive and brown; the other more like our
yellowhammer, only it is not quite so bright in colour, though much
softer, and more innocent-looking: they come to our windows and doors in
the winter as familiarly as your robins. During the winter most of our
birds depart; even the hollow tapping of the red-headed and the small
speckled grey and white woodpecker ceases to be heard; the sharp
chittering of the squirrel, too, is seldomer distinguished; and silence,
awful and unbroken silence, reigns in the forest during the season of
midwinter.
I had well nigh forgotten my little favourites, a species of the
titmouse, that does not entirely forsake us. Of a bright warm, sunny day
we see flocks of these tiny birds swinging among the feathery sprigs of
the hemlocks or shrubby pines on the plains or in the forest; and many a
time have I stayed my steps to watch their playful frolics, and listen
to their gay warbling. I am not quite certain, but I think this is the
same little bird that is known among the natives by the name of Thit-a-
be-bee; its note, though weak, and with few changes, is not unpleasing;
and we prize it from its being almost the only bird that sings during
the winter.
I had heard much of the snow-bunting, but never had seen it till the
other day, and then not near enough to mark its form or colours. The day
was one of uncommon brilliancy; the sky cloudless, and the air almost
warm; when, looking towards the lake, I was surprised by the appearance
of one of the pine-trees near the shore: it seemed as if covered with
stars of silver that twinkled and sparkled against the blue sky. I was
so charmed by the novelty, that I ran out to observe them nearer; when,
to my surprise, my stars all took flight to another tree, where, by the
constant waving and fluttering of their small white wings against the
sunlight, they produced the beautiful effect that had at first attracted
my observation: soon all the pines within sight of the window were
illuminated by these lovely creatures. About mid-day they went away, and
I have seen them but once since. They never lit on the ground, or any
low tree or bough, for me to examine them nearer.
Of our singing-birds, the robin; the blackbird, and a tiny bird, like
our common wren, are those I am most intimate with. The Canadian robin
is much larger than our dear robin at home; he is too coarse and large a
bird to realize the idea of our little favourite, "the household-bird
with the red stomacher," as he is called by Bishop-Carey, in a sonnet
addressed to Elizabeth, the daughter of James I., on her marriage with
the unfortunate Frederic Prince Palatine.
The song of the Canadian robin is by no means despicable; its notes are
clear, sweet, and various; it possesses the same cheerful lively
character that distinguishes the carol of its namesake; but the general
habits of the bird are very dissimilar. The Canadian robin is less
sociable with man, but more so with his own species: they assemble in
flocks soon after the breeding season is over, and appear very amicable
one to another; but seldom, if ever, approach very near to our dwelling.
The breast is of a pinkish, salmon colour; the head black; the back of a
sort of bluish steel, or slate colour; in size they are as big as a
thrush.
[Illustration: Snow-Bunting]
The blackbird is perhaps our best songster, according to my taste; full
as fine as our English blackbird, and much handsomer in its plumage,
which is a glossy, changeable, greenish black. The upper part of the
wing of the male bird of full growth is of a lively orange; this is not
apparent in the younger birds, nor in the female, which is slightly
speckled.
Towards the middle of the summer, when the grain begins to ripen, these
birds assemble in large flocks: the management of their marauding
parties appears to be superintended by the elders of the family. When
they are about to descend upon a field of oats or wheat, two or three
mount guard as sentinels, and on the approach of danger, cry _Geck-geck-
geck_; this precaution seems a work of supererogation, as they are so
saucy that they will hardly be frightened away; and if they rise it is
only to alight on the same field at a little distance, or fly up to the
trees, where their look-out posts are.
They have a peculiarly melancholy call-note at times, which sounds
exactly like the sudden twang of a harp-string, vibrating for a second
or two on the ear. This, I am inclined to think, they use to collect
their distant comrades, as I have never observed it when they were all
in full assembly, but when a few were sitting in some tree near the
lake's edge. I have called them the "_harpers_" from this peculiar note.
I shall tire you with my ornithological sketches, but must enumerate two
or three more birds.
The bald eagle frequently flies over our clearing; it has a dark body,
and snow-white head. It is sometimes troublesome to the poultry-yards:
those we have seen have disdained such low game, and soared majestically
away across the lake.
The fish-hawk we occasionally see skimming the surface of the water, and
it is regarded as an enemy by those who take delight in spearing fish
upon the lakes.
Then we have the night or mosquito-hawk, which may be seen in the air
pursuing the insect tribe in the higher regions, whilst hundreds of
great dragonflies pursue them below; notwithstanding their assistance,
we are bitten mercilessly by those summer pests the mosquitoes and black
flies.
The red-headed woodpecker is very splendid; the head and neck being of a
rich crimson; the back, wings, and breast are divided between the most
snowy white and jetty black. The incessant tapping of the woodpeckers,
and the discordant shriek of the blue jay, are heard from sunrise to
sunset, as soon as the spring is fairly set in.
I found a little family of woodpeckers last spring comfortably nested in
an old pine, between the bark and the trunk of the tree, where the
former had started away, and left a hollow space, in which the old birds
had built a soft but careless sort of nest; the little creatures seemed
very happy, poking their funny bare heads out to greet the old ones, who
were knocking away at the old stumps in their neighbourhood to supply
their cravings, as busy as so many carpenters at work.
[Illustration: Baltimore Oriole defending her Nest against the Black
Snake.]
A very curious bird's-nest was given me by one of our choppers; it was
woven over a forked spray, so that it had all the appearance of having
been sewn to the bough with grey thread. The nest was only secured at
the two sides that formed the angle, but so strong was it fastened that
it seemed to resist any weight or pressure of a moderate kind; it was
composed of the fibres of the bass-wood bark; which are very thready,
and may be drawn to great fineness: on the whole it was a curious
specimen of the ingenuity of these admirable little architects. I could
not discover the builder; but rather suspect the nest to have belonged
to my protege, the little winter titmouse that I told you of.
The nest of the Canadian robin, which I discovered while seeking for a
hen's nest in a bush-heap, just at the further edge of the clearing, is
very much like our home-robin's, allowing something for difference of
size in the bird, and in the material; the eggs, five in number, were
deep blue.
Before I quit the subject of birds, I must recall to your remembrance
the little houses that the Americans build for the swallow; I have since
found out one of their great reasons for cherishing this useful bird. It
appears that a most rooted antipathy exists between this species and the
hawk tribe, and no hawk will abide their neighbourhood; as they pursue
them for miles, annoying them in every possible way, haunting the hawk
like its evil genius: it is most singular that so small a creature
should thus overcome one that is the formidable enemy of so many of the
feathered race. I should have been somewhat sceptical on the subject,
had I not myself been an eyewitness to the fact. I was looking out of my
window one bright summer-day, when I noticed a hawk of a large
description flying heavily along the lake, uttering cries of distress;
within a yard or two of it was a small--in the distance it appeared to
me a very small--bird pursuing it closely, and also screaming. I watched
this strange pair till the pine-wood hid them from my sight; and I often
marvelled at the circumstance, till a very intelligent French Canadian
traveller happened to name the fact, and said so great was the value
placed on these birds, that they had been sold at high prices to be sent
to different parts of the province. They never forsake their old haunts
when once naturalized, the same pairs constantly returning year after
year, to their old house.
The singular fact of these swallows driving the hawk from his haunts is
worthy of attention; as it is well authenticated, and adds one more to
the many interesting and surprising anecdotes recorded by naturalists of
the sagacity and instinct of these birds.
I have, however, scribbled so many sheets, that I fear my long letter
must weary you.
Adieu.