"Here the wren of softest note
Builds its nest and warbles well,
Here the blackbird strains his throat
Welcome, welcome to our cell."
--COLERIDGE.
The day was far advanced before the sick Indian girl could be brought
home to their sylvan lodge, where Catharine made up a comfortable
couch for her with boughs and grass, and spread one of the deer-skins
over it, and laid her down as tenderly and carefully as if she had
been a dear sister. This good girl was overjoyed at having found a
companion of her own age and sex. "Now," said she, "I shall no more be
lonely, I shall have a companion and friend to talk to and assist me."
But when she turned in the fulness of her heart to address herself to
the young stranger, she felt herself embarrassed in what way to make
her comprehend the words she used to express the kindness that she
felt for her and her sorrow for her sufferings.
The young stranger would raise her head, look intently at her as if
striving to interpret her words, then sadly shake her head, and utter
her words in her own plaintive language, but, alas! Catharine felt it
was to her as a sealed book.
She tried to recall some Indian words of familiar import that she had
heard from the Indians when they came to her father's house, but in
vain. Not the simplest phrase occurred to her, and she almost cried
with vexation at her own stupidity. Neither was Hector or Louis more
fortunate in attempts at conversing with their guest.
At the end of three days the fever began to abate; the restless eye
grew more steady in its gaze, the dark flush faded from the cheek,
leaving it of a gray ashy tint, not the hue of health, such as even
the swarthy Indian shows, but wan and pallid, her eyes bent mournfully
on the ground.
She would sit quiet and passive while Catharine bound up the long
tresses of her hair, and smoothed them with her hands and the small
wooden comb that Louis had cut for her use. Sometimes she would raise
her eyes to her new friend's face with a quiet sad smile, and once she
took her hands within her own and gently pressed them to her breast
and lips and forehead, in token of gratitude; but she seldom gave
utterance to any words, and would remain with her eyes fixed vacantly
on some object which seemed unseen, or to awaken no idea in her mind.
At such times the face of the young squaw, wore a dreamy apathy of
expression, or rather it might with more propriety have been said the
absence of all expression, almost as blank as that of an infant of a
few weeks old.
How intently did Catharine study that face, and strive to read what
was passing within her mind! How did the lively intelligent Canadian
girl, the offspring of a more intellectual race, long to instruct her
Indian friend, to enlarge her mind by pointing out such things to her
attention as she herself took interest in! She would then repeat the
name of the object that she showed her several times over, and by
degrees the young squaw learned the names of all the familiar
household articles about the shanty, and could repeat them in her own
soft plaintive tone; and when she had learned a new word, and could
pronounce it distinctly, she would laugh, and a gleam of innocent joy
and pleasure would lighten up her fine dark eyes, generally so fixed
and sad-looking.
It was Catharine's delight to teach her pupil to speak a language
familiar to her own ears. She would lead her out among the trees, and
name to her all the natural objects that presented themselves to view.
And she in her turn mae "Indiana" (for so they named the young squaw,
after a negress that she had heard her father tell of, a nurse to one
of his colonel's infant children) tell her the Indian names for each
object they saw. Indiana soon began to enjoy in her turn the amusement
arising from instructing Catharine and the boys, and often seemed to
enjoy the blunders they made in pronouncing the words she taught them.
When really interested in anything that was going on, her eyes would
beam out, and her smile gave an inexpressible charm to her face; for
her lips were red, and her teeth even and brilliantly white, so purely
white that Catharine thought she had never seen any so beautiful in
her life before. At such times her face was joyous and innocent as a
little child's; but there were also hours of gloom, that transformed
it into an expression of sullen apathy. Then a dull glassy look took
possession of her eye, the full lip drooped and the form seemed rigid
and stiff. Obstinate determination neither to move nor speak
characterized her in what Louis used to call the young squaw's "dark
hour." Then it was that the savage nature seemed predominant, and her
gentle nurse almost feared to look at her _protegee_ or approach
her.
"Hector," said Louis, "you spoke about a jar of water being left at
the camp. The jar would be a great treasure to us. Let us go over for
it." Hector assented to the proposal. "And we may possibly pick up a
few grains of Indian corn, to add to what you showed us."
"If we are here in the spring," said Hector, "you and I will prepare a
small patch of ground and plant it with this corn;" and he sat down on
the end of a log and began carefully to count the rows of grain on the
cob, and then each corn, grain by grain. "Three hundred and ten sound
grains. Now if every one of these produce a strong plant, we shall
have a great increase, and besides seed for another year, there will
be, if it is a good year, several bushels to eat."
"We shall have a glorious summer, mon ami, no doubt, and a fine
flourishing crop; and Kate is a good hand at making supporne."
[Footnote: Supporne probably an Indian word for a stirabout, or
porridge, made of Indian meal, a common dish in every Canadian or
Yankee farmer's house.]
"You forget we have no porridge pot."
"I was thinking of that Indian jar all the time. You will see what
fine cookery we will make when we get it, if it will but stand fire.
Come, let us be off; I am impatient till we get it home;" and Louis,
who had now a new crotchet at work in his fertile and vivacious brain,
walked and danced along at a rate which proved a great disturbance to
his graver companion, who tried to keep down his cousin's lively
spirits by suggesting the probability of the jar being cracked, or
that the Indians might have returned for it; but Louis was not one of
the doubting sort, and was right in not damping the ardour of his mind
by causeless fears. The jar was there at the deserted camp, and though
it had been knocked over by some animal, it was sound and strong, and
excited great speculation in the two cousins as to the particular
material of which it was made, as it was unlike any sort of pottery
they had ever before seen. It seemed to have been manufactured from
some very dark red earth, or clay mixed up with pounded granite, as it
presented the appearance of some coarse crystals. It was very hard and
ponderous, and the surface was marked over in a rude sort of pattern,
as if punctured and scratched with some pointed instrument. It seemed
to have been hardened by fire, and, from the smoked hue of one side,
had evidently done good service as a cooking utensil. Subsequently
they learned the way in which it was used. [Footnote: Pieces of this
rude pottery are often found along the shores of the inland lakes, but
I have never met with any of the perfect vessels in use with the
Indians, who probably find it now easier to supply themselves with
iron pots and crockery from the towns of the European settlers.] The
jar, being placed near but not on the fire, was surrounded by hot
embers, and the water made to boil by stones being made red hot and
plunged into it. In this way soups and other food were prepared and
kept stewing, with no further trouble, after once the simmering began,
than adding a few fresh embers at the side farthest from the fire. A
hot stone, also, placed on the top, facilitated the cooking process.
Louis, who like all French people was addicted to cookery,--indeed it
was an accomplishment he prided himself on,--was enchanted with the
improvement made in their diet by the acquisition of the said earthen
jar, or pipkin, and gave Indiana some praise for initiating his cousin
in the use of it. Catharine and Hector declared that he went out with
his bow and arrows, and visited his dead-falls and snares, ten times
oftener than he used to do, just for the sake of proving the admirable
properties of this precious utensil, and finding out some new way of
dressing his game.
At all events, there was a valuable increase of furs, for making up
into clothing, caps, leggings, mitts, and other articles.
From the Indian girl Catharine learned the value of many of the herbs
and shrubs that grew in her path, the bark and leaves of various
trees, and many dyes she could extract, with which she stained the
quills of the porcupine and the strips of the wood of which she made
baskets and mats. The little creeping winter-green, [Footnote:
Gaultheria procumbens,--spice winter-green.] with its scarlet berries,
that grows on the dry flats or sandy hills, which the Canadians call
spice-berry, she showed them was good to eat; and she would crush the
leaves, draw forth their fine aromatic flavour in her hands, and then
inhale their fragrance with delight. She made an infusion of the
leaves, and drank it as a tonic. The inner bark of the wild black
cherry she said was good to cure ague and fever. The root of the
bitter-sweet she scraped down and boiled in the deer-fat, or the fat
of any other animal, and made an ointment that possessed very healing
qualities, especially as an immediate application to fresh burns.
Sometimes she showed a disposition to mystery, and would conceal the
knowledge of the particular herbs she made use of; and Catharine
several times noticed that she would go out and sprinkle a portion of
the food she had assisted her in preparing, on the earth, or under
some of the trees or bushes. When she was more familiar with their
language, she told Catharine this was done in token of gratitude to
the Good Spirit, who had given them success in hunting or trapping; or
else it was to appease the malice of the Evil Spirit; who might bring
mischief or loss to them, or sickness or death, unless his forbearance
was purchased by some particular mark of attention.
Attention, memory, and imitation appeared to form the three most
remarkable of the mental faculties developed by the Indian girl. She
examined (when once her attention was roused) any object with critical
minuteness. Any knowledge she had once acquired she retained; her
memory was great, she never missed a path she had once trodden; she
seemed even to single out particular birds in a flock, to know them
from their companions. Her powers of imitation were also great. She
brought patience and perseverance to assist her: when once thoroughly
interested in any work she began, she would toil on untiringly till it
was completed; and then what triumph shone in her eyes! At such times
they became darkly brilliant with the joy that filled her heart. But
she possessed little talent for invention; what she had seen done,
after a few imperfect attempts, she could do again, but she rarely
struck out any new path for herself.
At times she was docile and even playful, and appeared grateful for
the kindness with which she was treated, each day seemed to increase
her fondness for Catharine, and she appeared to delight in doing any
little service to please and gratify her; but it was towards Hector
that she displayed the deepest feeling of affection and respect. It
was to him her first tribute of fruit, or flowers, furs, moccasins, or
ornamental plumage of rare birds, was offered. She seemed to turn to
him as to a master and protector. He was in her eyes the "_chief_,"
the head of his tribe. His bow was strung by her, and stained with
quaint figures and devices; his arrows were carved by her; the sheath
of deer-skin he carried his knife in was made and ornamented by her
hands; also, the case for his arrows, of birch-bark, she wrought with
especial neatness, and suspended by thongs to his neck when he was
preparing to go out in search of game. She gave him the name of the
"Young Eagle," while she called Louis "Nee-chee," or "Friend," to
Catharine she gave the poetical name of "Music of the Winds,"--_Madwaosh_.
When they asked her to tell them her own name, she would bend down her
head in sorrow and refuse to pronounce it. She soon answered to the
name of Indiana, and seemed pleased with the sound.
But of all the household, next to Hector, old Wolfe was her greatest
favourite. At first, it is true, the old dog regarded the new inmate
with a jealous eye, and seemed uneasy when he saw her approach to
caress him; but Indiana soon reconciled him to her person, and a
mutual friendly feeling became established between them, which seemed
daily and hourly to increase, greatly to the delight of the young
stranger. She would seat herself Eastern fashion, cross-legged on the
floor of the shanty, with the capacious head of the old dog in her
lap, and address herself to this mute companion in wailing tones, as
if she would unburden her heart by pouring into his unconscious ear
her tale of desolation and woe.
Catharine was always very particular and punctual in performing her
personal ablutions, and she intimated to Indiana that it was good for
her to do the same. The young girl seemed reluctant to follow her
example, till daily custom had reconciled her to what she evidently at
first regarded as an unnecessary ceremony; but she soon took pleasure
in dressing her dark hair, and suffering Catharine to braid it and
polish it till it looked glossy and soft. Indiana in her turn would
adorn Catharine with the wings of the blue-bird or red-bird, the crest
of the wood-duck, or quill feathers of the golden-winged flicker,
which is called in the Indian tongue the shot-bird, in allusion to the
round spots on its cream-coloured breast. [Footnote: The golden-winged
flicker belongs to a sub-genus of woodpeckers, it is very handsome,
and is said to be eatable, it lives on fruits and insects.] It was not
in these things alone she indicated her grateful sense of the sisterly
kindness that her young hostess showed to her; she soon learned to
lighten her labours in every household work, and above all, she spent
her time most usefully in manufacturing clothing from the skins of the
wild animals, and in teaching Catharine how to fit and prepare them:
but these were the occupations of the winter months.