In this manner the first years of their marriage passed away. But it so

happened, that as years went by, the reputation of her husband in the

tribe increased, and he soon came to be regarded as a Weetshahstshy

Atapee, or chief. This opened a new field for his ambition and pride.

The fame of a chief, it is well known, is often increased by the number

of his wives. His lodge was now thronged with visitors. Some came to

consult him; some to gain his favour. All this gave Ampata Sapa no

uneasiness, for the Red People like to have visitors, and to show

hospitality. The first thing that caused a jar in her mind, was the

rumour that her husband was about to take a new wife. This was like a

poison in her veins; for she had a big heart. She was much attached to

her husband, and she could not bear the idea of sharing his affections

with another. But she found that the idea had already got strong hold of

her husband's mind, and her remonstrances did little good. He defended

himself on the ground, that it would give him greater influence in the

tribe if he took the daughter of a noted chief. But before he had time

to bring her to his lodge, Ampata Sapa had fled from it, taking her two

children, and returned to her father's lodge. Her father lived at some

distance, and here she remained a short time in quiet. The whole band

soon moved up the Mississippi, to their hunting ground. She was glad to

go with them, and would, indeed, have been glad to go any where, to get

farther from the lodge of her faithless husband.

Here the winter wore away. When the Spring opened, they came back again

to the banks of the river, and mended and fitted up the canoes, which

they had left in the fall. In these they put their furs, and descended

to the Falls of St. Anthony. Ampata Sapa lingered behind a short time

the morning of their embarkation, as they began to draw near the rapids

which precede the great plunge. She then put her canoe in the water, and

embarked with her children. As she approached the falls, the increasing

velocity of the current rendered the paddles of but little use. She

rested with her's suspended in her hands, while she arose, and uttered

her lament:

"It was him only that I loved, with the love of my heart. It was for him

that I prepared, with joy, the fresh killed meat, and swept with boughs

my lodge-fire. It was for him I dressed the skin of the noble deer, and

worked, with my hands, the Moccasins that graced his feet.

"I waited while the sun ran his daily course, for his return from the

chase, and I rejoiced in my heart when I heard his manly footsteps

approach the lodge. He threw down his burden at the door--it was a

haunch of the deer;--I flew to prepare the meat for his use.

"My heart was bound up in him, and he was all the world to me. But he has

left me for another, and life is now a burden which I cannot bear. Even

my children add to my griefs--they look so much like him. How can I

support life, when all its moments are bitter! I have lifted up my voice

to the Master of life. I have asked him to take back that life, which he

gave, and which I no longer wish. I am on the current that hastens to

fulfil my prayer. I see the white foam of the water. It is my shroud. I

hear the deep murmur from below. It is my funeral song. Farewell."

It was too late to arrest her course. She had approached too near the

abyss, before her purpose was discovered by her friends. They beheld her

enter the foam--they saw the canoe for an instant, on the verge, and

then disappear for ever. Such was the end of Ampata Sapa; and they say

her canoe can sometimes be seen, by moonlight, plunging over the falls.

* * * * *

Internal dissention has done more to destroy the Indian power in

America, than the white man's sword. Could the tribes learn the wisdom

of confederation, they might yet be saved. This is a problem now

undergoing an interesting process of solution.

MUKAKEE MINDEMOEA;

OR,

THE TOAD-WOMAN

AN ODJIBWA TALE.

Great good luck once happened to a young woman who was living all alone

in the woods, with nobody near her but her little dog, for, to her

surprise, she found fresh meat every morning at her door. She felt very

anxious to know who it was that supplied her, and watching one morning,

very early, she saw a handsome young man deposit the meat. After his

being seen by her, he became her husband, and she had a son by him. One

day not long after this, the man did not return at evening, as usual,

from hunting. She waited till late at night, but all in vain. Next day

she swung her baby to sleep in its tikenágun, or cradle, and then said

to her dog: "Take care of your brother whilst I am gone, and when he

cries, halloo for me." The cradle was made of the finest wampum, and all

its bandages and decorations were of the same costly material. After a

short time the woman heard the cry of her faithful dog, and running home

as fast as she could, she found her child gone and the dog too. But on

looking round, she saw pieces of the wampum of her child's cradle bit

off by the dog, who strove to retain the child and prevent his being

carried off by an old woman called Mukakee Mindemoea, or the Toad-Woman.

The mother followed at full speed, and occasionally came to lodges

inhabited by old women, who told her at what time the thief had passed;

they also gave her shoes, that she might follow on. There were a number

of these old women, who seemed as if they were all prophetesses. Each of

them would say to her, that when she arrived in pursuit of her stolen

child at the next lodge, she must set the toes of the moccasins they had

loaned her pointing homewards, and they would return of themselves. She

would get others from her entertainers farther on, who would also give

her directions how to proceed to recover her son. She thus followed in

the pursuit, from valley to valley, and stream to stream, for months and

years; when she came, at length, to the lodge of the last of the

friendly old Nocoes, or grandmothers, as they were called, who gave her

final instructions how to proceed. She told her she was near the place

where her son was, and directed her to build a lodge of shingoob, or

cedar boughs, near the old Toad-Woman's lodge, and to make a little bark

dish and squeeze her milk into it. "Then," she said, "your first child

(meaning the dog) will come and find you out." She did accordingly, and

in a short time she heard her son, now grown, going but to hunt, with

his dog, calling out to him, "Monedo Pewaubik (that is, Steel or Spirit

Iron,) Twee! Twee!" She then set ready the dish and filled it with her

milk. The dog soon scented it and came into the lodge; she placed it

before him. "See my child," said she, addressing him, "the food you used

to have from me, your mother." The dog went and told his young master

that he had found his _real_ mother; and informed him that the old

woman, whom he _called_ his mother, was not his mother, that she had

stolen him when an infant in his cradle, and that he had himself

followed her in hopes of getting him back. The young man and his dog

then went on their hunting excursion, and brought back a great quantity

of meat of all kinds. He said to his pretended mother, as he laid it

down, "Send some to the stranger that has arrived lately." The old hag

answered, "No! why should I send to her--the Sheegowish."[6] He

insisted; and she at last consented to take something, throwing it in at

the door, with the remark, "My son gives you, or feeds you this." But it

was of such an offensive nature, that she threw it immediately out after

her.

After this the young man paid the stranger a visit, at her lodge of

cedar boughs, and partook of her dish of milk. She then told him she was

his real mother, and that he had been stolen away from her by the

detestable Toad-Woman, who was a witch. He was not quite convinced. She

said to him, "Feign yourself sick, when you go home, and when the

Toad-Woman asks what ails you, say that you want to see your cradle; for

your cradle was of wampum, and your faithful brother, the dog, bit a

piece off to try and detain you, which I picked up, as I followed in

your track. They were real wampum, white and blue, shining and

beautiful." She then showed him the pieces. He went home and did as his

real mother bid him. "Mother," said he, "why am I so different in my

looks from the rest of your children?" "Oh," said she, "it was a very

bright clear blue sky when you were born; that is the reason." When the

Toad-Woman saw he was ill, she asked what she could do for him. He said

nothing would do him good, but the sight of his cradle. She ran

immediately and got a cedar cradle; but he said "That is not my cradle."

She went and got one of her own children's cradles, (for she had four,)

but he turned his head and said, "That is not mine." She then produced

the real cradle, and he saw it was the same, in substance, with the

pieces the other had shown him; and he was convinced, for he could even

see the marks of the dog's teeth upon it.

He soon got well, and went out hunting, and killed a fat bear. He and

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.

* * * * *

Death is frightful, or welcome, according to the theories men have of

it. To the Indian, it is a pleasing and welcome event. He believes a

future state to be one of rewards, and restitutions, and not of

punishments.

The Indian idea of paradise is the idea of the orientals. It consists of

sensualities, not spiritualities. He expects the scene to furnish him

ease and plenty. Ease and plenty make the Indian's happiness here, and

his heaven is but a bright transcript of his earth.

Paganism and idolatry, require more mysteries for their support than

Christianity. The Christian has but one God, existing in three

hypostases. It would be below the truth to say that the Indian has one

hundred thousand gods.

The Hindoos _worship_ their multiform gods of the earth, air and sea.

The North American Indian only _believes_ in them. He worships the Great

Spirit.

Wild thoughts are often bright thoughts, but like the wild leaps of a

mountain torrent, they are evanescent and unequal. We are dazzled by a

single figure in an Indian speech, but it is too often like a spark amid

a shower of ashes.

FOOTNOTES:

[6] _Sheegowiss_, a widow, and _mowigh_, something nasty.

THE FLIGHT OF THE SHAWNEES FROM THE SOUTH.

A MOHEGAN TRADITION.

Metoxon states, that the Shawnees were, in ancient times, while they

lived in the south, defeated by a confederacy of surrounding tribes, and

in danger of being totally cut off and annihilated, had it not been for

the interference of the Mohegans and Delawares. An alliance between them

and the Mohegans, happened in this way. Whilst the Mohegans lived at

Schodack, on the Hudson river, a young warrior of that tribe visited the

Shawnees, at their southern residence, and formed a close friendship

with a young warrior of his own age. They became as brothers, and vowed

for ever to treat each other as such.

The Mohegan warrior had returned, and been some years living with his

nation, on the banks of the Chatimac, or Hudson, when a general war

broke out against the Shawnees. The restless and warlike disposition of

this tribe, kept them constantly embroiled with their neighbours. They

were unfaithful to their treaties, and this was the cause of perpetual

troubles and wars. At length the nations of the south resolved, by a

general effort, to rid themselves of so troublesome a people, and began

a war, in which the Shawnees were defeated, battle after battle, with

great loss. In this emergency, the Mohegan thought of his Shawnee

brother, and resolved to rescue him. He raised a war-party and being

joined by the Lenapees, since called Delawares, they marched to their

relief, and brought off the remnant of the tribe to the country of the

Lenapees. Here they were put under the charge of the latter, as their

grandfather.

They were now, in the Indian phrase, put between their grandfather's

knees, and treated as little children. Their hands were clasped and tied

together--that is to say, they were taken under their protection, and

formed a close alliance. But still, sometimes the child would creep out

under the old man's legs, and get into trouble--implying that the

Shawnees could never forget their warlike propensities.

The events of the subsequent history of this tribe, after the settlement

of America are well known. With the Lenapees, or Delawares, they

migrated westward.

The above tradition was received from the respectable and venerable

chief, above named, in 1827, during the negotiation of the treaty of

_Buttes des Morts_, on Fox river. At this treaty his people, bearing the

modern name of Stockbridges, were present, having, within a few years,

migrated from their former position in Oneida county, New York, to the

waters of Fox river, in Wisconsin.

Metoxon was a man of veracity, and of reflective and temperate habits,

united to urbanity of manners, and estimable qualities of head and

heart, as I had occasion to know from several years' acquaintance with

him, before he, and his people went from Vernon to the west, as well as

after he migrated thither.

The tradition, perhaps with the natural partiality of a tribesman, lays

too much stress upon a noble and generous act of individual and tribal

friendship, but is not inconsistant with other relations, of the early

southern position, and irrascible temper of the Shawnee tribe. Their

name itself, which is a derivative from O-shá-wan-ong, the place of the

South, is strong presumptive evidence of a former residence in, or

origin from, the extreme south. Mr. John Johnston, who was for many

years the government agent of this tribe at Piqua, in Ohio, traces them,

in an article in the Archælogia Americana (vol. 1, p. 273) to the

Suwanee river in Florida. Mr. Gallatin, in the second volume of the same

work (p. 65) points out their track, from historical sources of

undoubted authority, to the banks of the upper Savannah, in Georgia; but

remarks that they have only been well known to us since 1680. They are

first mentioned in our scattered Indian annals, by De Laet, in 1632.

It may further be said, in relation to Metoxon's tradition, that there

is authority for asserting, that in the flight of the Shawnees from the

south, a part of them descended the Kentucky river west, to the Ohio

valley, where, in after times, the Shawnees of Pennsylvania and New

Jersey, rather formed a re-union with this division of their kindred

than led the way for them.

* * * * *

To depart one step from barbarism, is to take one step towards

civilization. To abandon the lodge of bark--to throw aside the

blanket--to discontinue the use of paints--or to neglect the nocturnal

orgies of the wabeno, are as certain indications of incipient

civilization, as it unquestionably is, to substitute alphabetical

characters for rude hieroglyphics, or to prefer the regular cadences of

the gamut, to the wild chanting of the chichigwun.

BOSH-KWA-DOSH,

OR

THE QUADRUPED WITH THE HAIR BLOWN OFF ITS SKIN.

There was once a man who found himself alone in the world. He knew not

whence he came, nor who were his parents, and he wandered about from

place to place, in search of something. At last he became wearied and

fell asleep. He dreamed that he heard a voice saying, "Nosis," that is,

my grandchild. When he awoke he actually heard the word repeated, and

looking around, he saw a tiny little animal hardly big enough to be seen

on the plain. While doubting whether the voice could come from such a

diminutive source, the little animal said to him, "My grandson, you will

call me Bosh-kwa-dosh. Why are you so desolate. Listen to me, and you

shall find friends and be happy. You must take me up and bind me to your

body, and never put me aside, and success in life shall attend you." He

obeyed the voice, sewing up the little animal in the folds of a string,

or narrow belt, which he tied around his body, at his navel. He then set

out in search of some one like himself, or other object. He walked a

long time in woods without seeing man or animal. He seemed all alone in

the world. At length he came to a place where a stump was cut, and on

going over a hill he descried a large town in a plain. A wide road led

through the middle of it; but what seemed strange was, that on one side

there were no inhabitants in the lodges, while the other side was

thickly inhabited. He walked boldly into the town.

The inhabitants came out and said; "Why here is the being we have heard

so much of--here is Anish-in-á-ba. See his eyes, and his teeth in a half

circle--see the Wyaukenawbedaid! See his bowels, how they are

formed;"--for it seems they could look through him. The king's son, the

Mudjékewis, was particularly kind to him, and calling him

brother-in-law, commanded that he should be taken to his father's lodge

and received with attention. The king gave him one of his daughters.

These people, (who are supposed to be human, but whose rank in the scale

of being is left equivocal,) passed much of their time in play and

sports and trials of various kinds. When some time had passed, and he

had become refreshed and rested, he was invited to join in these

sports. The first test which they put him to, was the trial of frost. At

some distance was a large body of frozen water, and the trial consisted

in lying down naked on the ice, and seeing who could endure the longest.

He went out with two young men, who began, by pulling off their

garments, and lying down on their faces. He did likewise, only keeping

on the narrow magic belt with the tiny little animal sewed in it; for he

felt that in this alone was to be his reliance and preservation. His

competitors laughed and tittered during the early part of the night, and

amused themselves by thoughts of his fate. Once they called out to him,

but he made no reply. He felt a manifest warmth given out by his belt.

About midnight finding they were still, he called out to them, in

return,--"What!" said he, "are you benumbed already, I am but just

beginning to feel a little cold." All was silence. He, however, kept his

position till early day break, when he got up and went to them. They

were both quite dead, and frozen so hard, that the flesh had bursted out

under their finger nails, and their teeth stood out. As he looked more

closely, what was his surprise to find them both transformed into

buffalo cows. He tied them together, and carried them towards the

village. As he came in sight, those who had wished his death were

disappointed, but the Mudjékewis, who was really his friend, rejoiced.

"See!" said he "but one person approaches,--it is my brother-in-law." He

then threw down the carcasses in triumph, but it was found that by their

death he had restored two inhabitants to the before empty lodges, and he

afterwards perceived, that every one of these beings, whom he killed,

had the like effect; so that the depopulated part of the village soon

became filled with people.

The next test they put him to was the trial of speed. He was challenged

to the race ground, and began his career with one whom he thought to be

a man; but every thing was enchanted here, for he soon discovered that

his competitor was a large black bear. The animal outran him, tore up

the ground, and sported before him, and put out its large claws as if to

frighten him. He thought of his little guardian spirit in the belt, and

wishing to have the swiftness of the Kakake, i. e. sparrow hawk, he

found himself rising from the ground, and with the speed of this bird he

outwent his rival, and won the race, while the bear came up exhausted

and lolling out his tongue. His friend the Mudjékewis stood ready, with

his war-club, at the goal, and the moment the bear came up, dispatched

him. He then turned to the assembly, who had wished his friend and

brother's death, and after reproaching them, he lifted up his club and

began to slay them on every side. They fell in heaps on all sides; but

it was plain to be seen, the moment they fell, that they were not men,

but animals,--foxes, wolves, tigers, lynxes, and other kinds, lay thick

around the Mudjékewis.

Still the villagers were not satisfied. They thought the trial of

frost, had not been fairly accomplished, and wished it repeated. He

agreed to repeat it, but being fatigued with the race, he undid his

guardian belt, and laying it under his head, fell asleep. When he awoke,

he felt refreshed, and feeling strong in his own strength, he went

forward to renew the trial on the ice, but quite forgot the belt, nor

did it at all occur to him when he awoke, or when he lay down to repeat

the trial. About midnight his limbs became stiff, the blood soon ceased

to circulate, and he was found in the morning, a stiff corpse. The

victors took him up and carried him to the village, where the loudest

tumult of victorious joy was made, and they cut the body into a thousand

pieces, that each one might eat a piece.

The Mudjékewis bemoaned his fate, but his wife was inconsolable. She lay

in a state of partial distraction, in the lodge. As she lay here, she

thought she heard some one groaning. It was repeated through the night,

and in the morning, she carefully scanned the place, and running her

fingers through the grass, she discovered the secret belt, on the spot

where her husband had last reposed. "Aubishin!" cried the belt--that is,

untie me, or unloose me. Looking carefully, she found the small seam

which enclosed the tiny little animal. It cried out the more earnestly

"Aubishin!" and when she had carefully ripped the seams, she beheld, to

her surprise, a minute, naked little beast, smaller than the smallest

new born mouse, without any vestige of hair, except at the tip of its

tail, it could crawl a few inches, but reposed from fatigue. It then

went forward again. At each movement it would _pupowee_, that is to say,

shake itself, like a dog, and at each shake it became larger. This it

continued until it acquired the strength and size of a middle sized dog,

when it ran off.

The mysterious dog ran to the lodges, about the village, looking for the

bones of his friend, which he carried to a secret place, and as fast as

he found them arranged all in their natural order. At length he had

formed all the skeleton complete, except the heel bone of one foot. It

so happened that two sisters were out of the camp, according to custom,

at the time the body was cut up, and this heel was sent out to them. The

dog hunted every lodge, and being satisfied that it was not to be found

in the camp, he sought it outside of it, and found the lodge of the two

sisters. The younger sister was pleased to see him, and admired and

patted the pretty dog, but the elder sat mumbling the very heel-bone he

was seeking, and was surly and sour, and repelled the dog, although he

looked most wistfully up in her face, while she sucked the bone from one

side of her mouth to the other. At last she held it in such a manner

that it made her cheek stick out, when the dog, by a quick spring,

seized the cheek, and tore cheek and bone away and fled.

He now completed the skeleton, and placing himself before it, uttered a

hollow, low, long-drawn-out-howl, when the bones came compactly

together. He then modulated his howl, when the bones knit together and

became tense. The third howl brought sinews upon them, and the fourth,

flesh. He then turned his head upwards, looking into the sky, and gave a

howl, which caused every one in the village to startle, and the ground

itself to tremble, at which the breath entered into his body, and he

first breathed and then arose. "Hy kow!" I have overslept myself, he

exclaimed, "I will be too late for the trial." "Trial!" said the dog, "I

told you never to let me be separate from your body, you have neglected

this. You were defeated, and your frozen body cut into a thousand

pieces, and scattered over the village, but my skill has restored you.

Now I will declare myself to you, and show who and what I am!"

He then began to PUPOWEE, or shake himself, and at every shake, he grew.

His body became heavy and massy, his legs thick and long, with big

clumsy ends, or feet. He still shook himself, and rose and swelled. A

long snout grew from his head, and two great shining teeth out of his

mouth. His skin remained as it was, naked, and only a tuft of hair grew

on his tail. He rose up above the trees. He was enormous. "I should fill

the earth," said he, "were I to exert my utmost power, and all there is

on the earth would not satisfy me to eat. Neither could it fatten me or

do me good. I should want more. It were useless, therefore, and the gift

I have, I will bestow on you. The animals shall henceforth be _your

food_. They were not designed to feed on man, neither shall they

hereafter do it, but shall _feed_ him, and he only shall prey on beasts.

But you will respect me, and not eat _my kind_."

[The preceding is a traditionary tale of Maidosegee, an aged and

respected hunter, of Sault-ste-Mairie, who was the ruling chief of

the band of Chippewas at those falls, and the progenitor of the

present line of ruling chiefs. It is preserved through the Johnston

family, where he was a frequent guest, prior to 1810, and was happy

to while away many of his winter's evenings, in return for the

ready hospitalities which were sure to await him at the house of

the Indian's friend.]

MÄSH-KWA-SHA-KWONG,

OR

THE TRADITIONARY STORY OF THE RED HEAD AND HIS TWO SONS.

BY NABINOI, AN AGED ODJIBWA CHIEF.

Mash-kwa-sha-kwong, was a first rate hunter, and he loved the chase

exceedingly, and pursued it with unceasing vigilance. One day, on his

return home, arriving at his lodge, he was informed by his two sons, who

were but small then, that they were very lonesome, because their mother

was in the habit of daily leaving them alone, and this occurred so soon

as he started upon his daily chase. This circumstance was not unknown

to Mäsh-kwa-sha-kwong, but he seemed fully aware of it; he took his boys

in his arms and kissed them, and told them that their mother behaved

improperly and was acting the part of a wicked and faithless woman. But

Mäsh-kwa-sha-kwong behaved towards his wife as if ignorant of her vile

course. One morning rising very early, he told his sons to take courage,

and that they must not be lonesome, he also strictly enjoined them not

to absent themselves nor quit their lodge; after this injunction was

given to the boys, he made preparations, and starting much earlier than

usual, he travelled but a short distance from his lodge, when he halted

and secreted himself. After waiting a short time, he saw his wife coming

out of their lodge, and immediately after a man made his appearance and

meeting Mäsh-kwa-sha-kwong's wife, they greeted one another. His

suspicions were now confirmed, and when he saw them in the act of

carrying on an illegal intercourse, his anger arose, he went up to them,

and killed them with one blow; he then dragged them both to his lodge,

and tying them together, he dug a hole beneath the fire-place in his

lodge and buried them. He then told his sons that it was necessary that

he should go away, as he would surely be killed if he remained, and

their safety would depend upon their ability of keeping the matter a

secret. He gave his eldest son a small bird, (Kichig-e-chig-aw-na-she)

to roast for his small brother over the ashes and embers where their

mother was buried, he also provided a small leather bag, and then told

his sons the necessity of his immediate flight to heaven, or to the

skies. And that it would be expedient for them to fly and journey

southward, and thus prepared their minds for the separation about to

take place. "By and bye," said Mäsh-kwa-sha-kwong to his sons, "persons

will come to you and enquire for me and for your mother, you will say to

them that I am gone hunting, and your little brother in the mean time

will continually point to the fire place, this will lead the persons to

whom I allude, to make inquiries of the cause of this pointing, and you

will tell them that you have a little bird roasting for your brother,

this will cause them to desist from further inquiry at the time. As soon

as they are gone escape! While you are journeying agreeably to my

instructions, I will look from on high upon you, I will lead and conduct

you, and you shall hear my voice from day to day." Mäsh-kwa-sha-kwong at

this time gave his sons an awl, a beaver's tooth, and a hone, also a dry

coal, and directed them to place a small piece of the coal on the ground

every evening, so soon as they should encamp, from which fire would be

produced and given to them; he told his eldest son to place his brother

in the leather bag, and in that manner carry him upon his back; he then

bade them farewell.

The two boys being thus left alone in the lodge, and while in the act of

roasting the little bird provided for them, a man came in, and then

another, and another, until they numbered ten in all; the youngest boy

would from time to time point at the fire, and the men enquired to know

the reason, the eldest boy said that he was roasting a bird for his

brother, and digging the ashes produced it. They enquired, where their

father and mother were, the boy answered them saying, that their father

was absent hunting, and that their mother had gone to chop and collect

wood; upon this information the men rose and searched around the

outskirts of the lodge, endeavouring to find traces of the man and his

wife, but they were not successful, and returned to the lodge. Before

this, however, and during the absence of the ten men,

Mäsh-kwa-sha-kwong's eldest son placed his little brother in the leather

bag, (Ouskemood,) and ran away southward.

One of the ten men observed, that the smallest boy had repeatedly

pointed to the fire place, and that they might find out something by

digging; they set to work, and found the woman and the man tied

together. On this discovery their wrath was kindled, they brandished

their weapons, denouncing impercations upon Mäsh-kwa-sha-kwong, who was

of course suspected of having committed the deed.

The ten men again renewed their search in order to avenge themselves

upon the perpetrator of this dark deed, but Mäsh-kwa-sha-kwong, in order

to avoid instant death, had sought a large hollow tree, and entering at

the bottom or root part, passed through and reached the top of it, from

whence he took his flight upwards to the sky. His pursuers finally

traced him, and followed him as far as the tree, and into the sky, with

loud and unceasing impercations of revenge and their determination to

kill him. The spirit of the mother alone followed her children. About

mid-day the boys heard, as they ran, a noise in the heavens like the

rolling of distant thunder.[7] The boys continued their journey south,

when the noise ceased; towards night they encamped; they put a small

piece of the coal on the ground, then a log of fire-wood was dropped

down from the skies to them, from whence a good blazing fire was

kindled. This was done daily, and when the fire was lit, a raccoon would

fall from on high upon the fire, and in this manner the boys were fed,

and this over-ruling care they experienced daily. In the evenings at

their camping place, and sometimes during the day, the Red Head's voice

was heard speaking to his children, and encouraging them to use their

utmost exertions to fly from the pursuit of their mother. To aid them in

escaping, they were told to throw away their awl, and immediately there

grew a strong and almost impassable hedge of thorn bushes behind them,

in their path, which the pursuing mother could scarcely penetrate, and

thus impeding her progress, tearing away her whole body and leaving

nothing but the head. So they escaped the first day.

The next day they resumed their march and could distinctly hear the

noise of combat in the sky, as if it were a roaring thunder; they also

heard the voice of their mother behind them, desiring her eldest son to

stop and wait for her, saying that she wished to give the breast to his

brother; then again Mäsh-kwa-sha-kwong's voice, encouraging his sons to

fly for their lives, and saying that if their mother overtook them she

would surely kill them.

In the evening of the second day the boys prepared to encamp, and the

noise of combat on high ceased; on placing a small piece of the coal on

the ground, a log and some fire-wood was let down as on the preceding

night, and the fire was kindled, and then the raccoon placed on it for

their food. This was fulfilling the promise made by their father, that

they would be provided for during their flight. The beaver's tooth was

here thrown away, and this is the cause why the northern country now

abounds with beaver, and also the innumerable little lakes and marshes,

and consequently the rugged and tedious travelling now experienced.

On the third day the boys resumed their flight, and threw away their

hone, and it became a high rocky mountainous ridge, the same now seen on

the north shore of these straits, (St. Mary's) which was a great

obstacle in the way of the woman of the Head, for this was now her name,

because that part alone remained of her whole frame, and with it she was

incessantly uttering determinations to kill her eldest son; the boys

finally reached the fishing place known as the eddy of Wah-zah-zhawing,

at the rapids of Bawating, situated on the north shore of the river.

Here Mäsh-kwa-sha-kwong, told his sons that he had himself been

overtaken in his flight by his pursuers and killed, and he appeared to

them in the shape of a red headed wood-pecker, or a _mama_. This is a

bird that is seldom or never attacked by birds of prey, for no vestiges

of his remains are ever seen or found by the Indian hunter. "Now my

sons," said the red headed wood-pecker, "I have brought you to this

river, you will now see your grand father and he will convey you across

to the opposite side." Then the boys looked to the southern shore of the

river, and they saw in the middle of the rapid, an OSHUGGAY standing on

a rock; to the Oshuggay the boys spoke, and accosted him as their grand

father, requesting him to carry them across the river Bawating. The

Oshuggay stretching his long neck over the river to the place where the

boys stood, told them to get upon his head and neck, and again

stretching to the southern shore, he landed the boys in safety, upon a

prairie: the crane was seen walking in state, up and down the prairie.

The persevering mother soon arrived at Wah-zah-hawing, and immediately

requested the Oshuggay to cross her over, that she was in pursuit of

her children and stating that she wished to overtake them; but the

Oshuggay seemed well aware of her character, and objected to conveying

her across, giving her to understand that she was a lewd and bad woman;

he continued giving her a long moral lecture upon the course she had

pursued and the bad results to mankind in consequence, such as quarrels,

murders, deaths, and hence widowhood.

The woman of the Head persisted in her request of being conveyed across.

Objections and entreaties followed. She talked as if she were still a

woman, whose favour was to be sought; and he, as if he were above such

favours. After this dialogue the Oshuggay said that he would convey her

across, on the condition that she would adhere strictly to his

injunctions; he told her not to touch the bare part of his head, but to

get upon the hollow or crooked part of his neck; to this she agreed, and

got on. The Oshuggay then withdrew his long neck to about half way

across, when feeling that she had forgotten her pledge he dashed her

head upon the rocks, and the small fish, that were so abundant instantly

fed upon the brain and fragments of the skull and became large white

fish. "A fish" said the Oshuggay, "that from this time forth shall be

abundant, and remain in these rapids to feed the Indians and their

issue, from generation to generation."[8]

After this transaction of the Oshuggay's, landing the boys safely

across, and dashing the woman's head upon the rocks, he spake to the

Crane and mutually consulting one another in relation to

Mäsh-kwa-sha-kwong's sons they agreed to invite two women from the

eastward, of the tribe of the WASSISSIG, and the two lads took them for

wives. The Oshuggay plucked one of his largest wing feathers and gave it

to the eldest boy, and the Crane likewise did the same, giving his

feathers to the youngest; they were told to consider the feathers as

their sons after this, one feather appeared like an Oshuggay and the

other like a young Crane. By and by they appeared like human beings to

the lads. Thus the alliance was formed with the Wassissig, and the

circumstance of the Oshuggay and Crane interesting themselves in behalf

of the boys and the gift to them of their feathers and the result, is

the origin of the Indian _Totem_.

Here Mäsh-kwa-sha-kwong's sons were told that they would be considered

as chieftains and that this office would be hereditary and continue in

their generations. After this, they multiplied exceedingly and became

strong and powerful. About this time the Obinangoes, (or the Bears'

Totem) came down from Shaugah-wah-mickong, near the extremity of Lake

Superior. On their way eastward they were surprised on reaching Bawating

to find such a numerous population of human beings: they were not aware

of its being in existence; fear came upon the Obinangoes, and they

devised the plan of securing friendship with the Oshuggays and Cranes,

by adopting and claiming a relationship with them, and calling them

their grandsons. This claim was yielded, and they were permitted to

remain at Bawaiting upon the score of relationship thus happily

attained. The Obenangoes eventually emigrated eastward and settled upon

the northern coast of Lakes Huron and Ontario.

Population increased so rapidly at Bawaiting, that it was necessary to

form new villages, some settling on the Garden River, some upon the

Pakaysaugauegan River, and others upon the island of St. Joseph's, and

upon the Menashkong Bay and Mashkotay Saugie River.

About this time, a person in the shape of a human being came down from

the sky; his clothing was exceedingly pure and white; he was seated as

it were in a nest, with a very fine cord attached to it, by which this

mysterious person was let down, and the cord or string reached heaven.

He addressed the Indians in a very humane, mild, and compasionate tone,

saying that they were very poor and needy, but telling them that they

were perpetually _asleep_, and this was caused by the Mache Monedo who

was in the midst of them, and leading them to death and ruin.

This mysterious personage informed them also that above, where he came

from, there was no night, that the inhabitants never slept, that it was

perpetually day and they required no sleep; that Kezha Monedo was their

light. He then invited four of the Indians to ascend up with him

promising that they would be brought back in safety; that an opportunity

would thereby present itself to view the beauty of the sky, or heavens.

But the Indians doubted and feared lest the cord should break, because

it appeared to them so small. They did not believe it possible it could

bear their weight. With this objection they excused themselves. They

were, however, again assured that the cord was sufficiently strong and

that Kezha Monedo had the power to make it so. Yet the Indians doubted

and feared, and did not accompany the messenger sent down to them. After

this refusal the mysterious person produced a small bow and arrows with

which he shot at the Indians in different parts of their bodies: the

result was the killing of multitudes of small white worms, which he

showed to them; telling them that they were the Mache Monedo which

caused them to sleep, and prevented their awakening from their

death-like state.

This divine messenger then gave to the Indians laws and rules, whereby

they should be guided: first, to love and fear Kezha Monedo, and next

that they must love one another, and be charitable and hospitable; and

finally, that they must not covet their neighbours property, but acquire

it by labour and honest industry. He then instituted the grand medicine

or metay we win dance: this ceremony was to be observed annually, and

with due solemnity, and the Indians, said Nabinoi, experienced much good

from it; but unfortunately, the foolish young men were cheated by Mache

Monedo, who caused them to adopt the Wabano dance and its ceremonies.

This latter is decidedly an institution of the _sagemaus_, or evil

spirits, and this was finally introduced into the metay we wining, (i.

e. medicine dance) and thereby corrupted it.

The old chief continued his moral strain thus: While the Indians were

instructed by the heavenly messenger they were told that it would snow

continually for the space of five years, winter and summer, and the end

would then be nigh at hand; and again that it would rain incessantly as

many winters and summers more, which would cause the waters to rise and

overflow the earth, destroying trees and all manner of vegetation. After

this, ten winters and summers of drought would follow, drying up the

land, and mostly the lakes and rivers; not a cloud would be seen during

this period. The earth would become so dry, that it will then burn up

with fire of itself, and it will also burn the waters to a certain

depth, until it attains the first created earth and waters. Then the

good Indians will rise from death to enjoy a new earth, filled with an

abundance of all manner of living creatures. The only animal which will

not be seen is the beaver. The bad Indians will not enjoy any portion of

the new earth; they will be condemned and given to the evil spirits.

Four generations, he went on to say, have now passed away, since that

brotherly love and charity, formerly known, still existed among the

Indians. There was in those ancient times an annual meeting among the

Indians, resembling the French New Year's Day, which was generally

observed on the new moon's first appearance, Gitchy Monedo gesus. The

Indians of our village would visit these of another, and sometimes meet

one another dancing; and on those occasions they would exchange bows and

arrows, their rude axes, awls, and kettles, and their clothing. This was

an annual festival, which was duly observed by them. In those days the

Indians lived happy; but every thing is now changed to the Indian mind,

indicating the drawing near and approach of the end of time. The Indians

who still adhere to the laws of the heavenly messenger experience

happiness; and, on the contrary, concluded the old man, those who are

wicked and adhere to the Wabano institution, generally meet with their

reward; and it is singular to say that they generally come to their end

by accidents, such as drowning, or miserable deaths.

He then reverted to the former part of his story. The Oshuggays, and the

Cranes quarrelled, and this quarrel commenced on a trivial point. It

appears that the Cranes took a pole, without leave, from the Oshuggays,

and they broke the pole; this circumstance led to a separation. The

Oshuggays emigrated south, and are now known as the Shawnees.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] Note by Mr. George Johnston, from whom this tale was received.--Any

thing of the kind, or a similar noise heard, is attributed by the

Indian, to this day, as an indication of the contention between

Mäsh-kwa-sha-kwong and his pursuers, and hence a prelude to wars and

contentions among the nations of the world.

[8] The small white shells that the white fish live upon, and the white

substance found in its gizzard are to this day considered by the

Indians, the brain and skull of the woman of the Head.

WA-WA-BE-ZO-WIN,

OR

THE SWING ON THE LAKE SHORE.

FROM THE TRADITIONS OF THE ODJIBWAS.

There was an old hag of a woman living with her daughter-in-law, and

son, and a little orphan boy, whom she was bringing up. When her

son-in-law came home from hunting, it was his custom to bring his wife

the moose's lip, the kidney of the bear, or some other choice bits of

different animals. These she would cook crisp, so as to make a sound

with her teeth in eating them. This kind attention of the hunter to his

wife, at last, excited the envy of the old woman. She wished to have the

same luxuries, and in order to get them she finally resolved to make way

with her son's wife. One day, she asked her to leave her infant son to

the care of the orphan boy, and come out and swing with her. She took

her to the shore of a lake, where there was a high range of rocks

overhanging the water. Upon the top of this rock, she erected a swing.

She then undressed, and fastened a piece of leather around her body, and

commenced swinging, going over the precipice at every swing. She

continued it but a short time, when she told her daughter to do the

same. The daughter obeyed. She undressed, and tying the leather string

as she was directed, began swinging. When the swing had got in full

motion and well a going, so that it went clear beyond the precipice, at

every sweep, the old woman slyly cut the cords and let her daughter drop

into the lake. She then put on her daughter's clothing, and thus

disguised went home in the dusk of the evening and counterfeited her

appearance and duties. She found the child crying, and gave it the

breast, but it would not draw. The orphan boy asked her where its mother

was. She answered, "She is still swinging." He said, "I shall go and

look for her." "No!" said she, "you must not--what should you go for?"

When the husband came in, in the evening, he gave the coveted morsel to

his supposed wife. He missed his mother-in-law, but said nothing. She

eagerly ate the dainty, and tried to keep the child still. The husband

looked rather astonished to see his wife studiously averting her face,

and asked her why the child cried so. She said, she did not know--that

it would not draw.

In the meantime the orphan boy went to the lake shores, and found no

one. He mentioned his suspicions, and while the old woman was out

getting wood, he told him all that he had heard or seen. The man then

painted his face black, and placed his spear upside down in the earth

and requested the Great Spirit to send lightning, thunder, and rain, in

the hope that the body of his wife might arise from the water. He then

began to fast, and told the boy to take the child and play on the lake

shore.

We must now go back to the swing. After the wife had plunged into the

lake, she found herself taken hold of by a water tiger, whose tail

twisted itself round her body, and drew her to the bottom. There she

found a fine lodge, and all things ready for her reception, and she

became the wife of the water tiger. Whilst the children were playing

along the shore, and the boy was casting pebbles into the lake, he saw a

gull coming from its centre, and flying towards the shore, and when on

shore, the bird immediately assumed the human shape. When he looked

again he recognized the lost mother. She had a leather belt around her

loins, and another belt of white metal, which was, in reality, the tail

of the water tiger, her husband. She suckled the babe, and said to the

boy--"Come here with him, whenever he cries, and I will nurse him."

The boy carried the child home, and told these things to the father.

When the child again cried, the father went also with the boy to the

lake shore, and hid himself in a clump of trees. Soon the appearance of

a gull was seen, with a long shining belt, or chain, and as soon as it

came to the shore, it assumed the mother's shape, and began to suckle

the child. The husband had brought along his spear, and seeing the

shining chain, he boldly struck it and broke the links apart. He then

took his wife and child home, with the orphan boy. When they entered the

lodge, the old woman looked up, but it was a look of despair, she

instantly dropped her head. A rustling was heard in the lodge, and the

next moment, she leaped up, and flew out of the lodge, and was never

heard of more.

* * * * *

The name of God, among the ancient Mexicans, was Teo, a word seldom

found, except in compound phrases. Among the Mohawks and Onondagas, it

is Neo. With the western Senecas, as given by Smith, Owayneo. With the

Odjibwas, Monedo; with the Ottowas, Maneto. Many modifications of the

word by prefixes, to its radix Edo, appear among the cognate dialects.

It is remarkable that there is so striking a similarity in the principal

syllable, and it is curious to observe that Edo, is, in sound, both the

Greek term Deo, and the Azteek Teo, transposed. Is there any thing

absolutely _fixed_ in the sounds of languages?

TAKOZID,

OR

THE SHORT-FOOT.

A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.

Most of the individuals who have figured amongst the Red Race in

America, have appeared under circumstances which have precluded any

thing like a full and consistent biography. There is, in truth, but

little in savage life, to furnish materials for such biographies. The

very scantiness of events determines this. A man suddenly appears among

these tribes as a warrior, a negociator, an orator, or a prophet, by a

name that nobody ever before heard of. He excites attention for a short

time, and then sinks back into the mass of Indian society, and is no

more heard of. His courage, his eloquence, or his diplomatic skill, are

regarded as evidences of talent, and energy of thought or action, which,

under better auspices, might have produced a shining and consistent

character. But he has been left by events, and is sunk in the mass. He

appeared rather like an erratic body, or flash, than a fixed light amid

his people. The circumstances that brought him into notice have passed

away. A victory has been won, a speech made, a noble example given. The

affair has been adjusted, the tribe resumed its hunting, or

corn-planting, or wandering, or internal discords, and the new name,

which promised for a while to raise a Tamerlane, or Tippoo Saib in the

west, settles down in the popular mind; and if it be not wholly lost, is

only heard of now and then, as one of the signatures to some land

treaty. There is not, in fact, sufficient, in the population, military

strength, or importance of the affairs of most of our tribes, to work

out incidents for a sustained and full biography. Even the most

considerable personages of past times, who have been honoured with such

full notices, have too much resemblance to a stout boy in his father's

regimentals. They hang loosely about him. The most that can be done--all

indeed which the occasion requires in general--is a sketch of such

particular events, in aboriginal history, as the individual has

connected his name with. It is proposed in the progress of this work, to

furnish some of such sketches from the unwritten annals of the west and

the north.

Among that class of aboriginal chiefs and actors, who have not risen to

the highest distinction, or attained general notoriety out of the circle

of their own tribes, was Takozid, or the Short-Foot; a Mukundwa, or

pillager; a fierce, warlike, and predatory tribe of the Odjibwa

Algonquin stock, who, at an early time seated themselves on the sources

of the Mississippi, making their head quarters at Leech Lake. To this

place, their traditions assert, they came from Chagoimegon, or still

farther east, prior to the discovery of the country by Europeans. They

were consequently intruders in, or conquerors of the country, and drove

back some other people. It seems equally probable that this people were

the Dacotahs, the Naddowassies, or as it is abbreviated, Sioux, of early

French writers. The Sioux are a numerous and warlike stock, who occupy

portions of the banks of the Missouri and the Mississippi, at, and about

the latitude of St. Anthony's Falls. A hereditary war of which "the

memory of man runneth not to the contrary," was the consequence of this

ancient inroad. Of all this region of country we can speak from personal

knowledge, having traversed it at sundry times, and in various

directions. It is in local reminiscence, little more than a widely

extended scene of Indian battles, ambuscades and murders. There is

hardly a prominent stream, plain or forest, which is not referred to, as

the traveller proceeds, as the particular locality of some fight,

tragedy, or hair-breath escape among the Red Men. The Olympic games were

not a surer test of fame in successful rivalry, than is this wide area

of aboriginal warfare, for the opposing nations of the Sioux and

Chippewas. War is the prime avenue to distinction to the Indian mind. As

soon as a hunter has acquired any distinction, and begins to look upon

himself as a person of courage and address, he turns his efforts to the

war path. Whatever else he is famous for, this is the crowning test and

seal of his reputation. And none have pursued it with more incessant

devotion than the Chippewas.

Takozid determined from his earliest youth to take a part in the strife

for barbaric glory. He early joined the war parties going into the great

plains. He learned their arts, repeated their songs, and became expert

in all the warrior's arts. He established the reputation of a brave

young man. The next step was to lead a war party himself. He courted

popularity by generosity, self denial, and attention to their religious

rites and ceremonies. These things may be done on a smaller scale, as

effectually among a band of savages, as in the hall or forum. He

succeeded. He raised a war party, conducted it into the plains,

discovered his enemies, approached them slily, fell upon them, defeated

them, and returned in triumph with their scalps to his village. His deep

and hollow CHE KWAN DUM, or death-cry of victory as he came to the

eminence which overlooked his village, announced all this before he set

foot in his village: and the number of his scalps.

These exploits placed him on the pinnacle of fame. It is a curious fact,

in the lives of our Red men, to observe that war is a stimulus to

poligamy. One of the first things he thought of, as a proper reward for

his bravery, was to take another wife. In this, his friends and

partizans concurred, although he had no cause of dissatisfaction with

his first wife, to whom he had been married but a short time, and who

had borne him a son. Time added confirmation to this plan. It was talked

of, and even debated by the chiefs. It was conceded to be due to his

bravery. All, indeed, appeared to approve of it, but his wife. She heard

of the rumor with alarm, and received the account of its confirmation,

with pain. It could no longer be doubted, for the individual who was to

share, nay, control the lodge with her was named, and the consent of her

parents had been obtained.

Monon, or the Little-Iron-Wood-Tree, as she was called, was a female of

no ordinary firmness of character. She was ardently attached to her

husband, not the less so for his rising fame, jealous of her rights, and

prompted by strong feelings to maintain them. In all these points she

was above the generality of her country women. Like others, however, in

a community where poligamy was common, she might have submitted at

length, to her fate, had not her rival in the affections of Takozid,

appealed to a deeper seated principle, and waked up, in the breast of

the injured wife, the feeling of revenge: a principle reckless enough,

in communities where there are the safeguards of education and

christianity to restrain and regulate it; but horrible in wild and

roving bands of barbarians. Monon's fidelity was slandered. She was a

pure and high minded woman, and the imputation goaded her to the quick.

When this slander first reached her ears, through the ordinary channel

of village gossip, a chord was struck, which vibrated through every

throe, and steeled her heart for some extraordinary act; although none

could anticipate the sanguinary deed which marked the nuptial night. An

Indian marriage is often a matter of little ceremony. It was not so, on

this occasion. To render the events imposing, many had been invited. The

bride was dressed in her best apparel. Her father was present. Many

young and old, males and females were either present or thronged around

the lodge. The broad clear blue waters of the lake, studded with green

islands, spread before the door. A wide grassy lawn, which was the

village ball and play ground, extended down to its margin. It was a

public event. A throng had gathered around. Takozid was to be married.

He was to take a second wife, in the daughter of Obegwud. Takozid

himself was there. Hilarity reigned within and without. All indeed, were

there, but the dejected and deserted Monon, who had been left with her

child, at the chieftain's own lodge.

But a spirit had been aroused in her breast, which would not permit her

to remain absent. She crossed the green silently, stealthily. She stood

gazing awhile at the lake. She approached the bridal lodge. She passed

easily among the group. She entered the lodge. Nor had any one, at that

moment, a thought of suspicion or alarm. The bride was seated on her

envied abbinos; her affianced husband was at her side.

All at once, there arose a shrill cry, in the Chippewa tongue. "_This_,

vociferated the enraged Monon, _This_ for the bastard!" and at each

repetition of the words, she raised an Indian poignard, in her hand.

The suddenness of her movement had paralyzed every attempt to arrest

her. Amazement sat in every face. She had plunged a pointed knife into

the breast of her rival.

There is little to be added to such a catastrophe. Its very suddenness

and atrocity appalled every one. Nobody arrested her, and nobody pursued

her. She returned as she came, and re-entered her lodge. Her victim

never spoke.

From this moment the fame of Takozid declined. The event appeared to

have unmanned him. He went no more to war. His martial spirits appeared

to have left him. He sank back into the mass of Indian society, and was

scarcely ever mentioned. Nor should we, indeed, have recalled his name

from its obscurity, were it not associated in the Indian reminiscences

of Leach lake, with this sanguinary deed.

I had this relation a few years ago, from a trader, who had lived at

Leech lake, who personally knew the parties, and whose veracity I had no

reason at all, to call into question. It is one of the elements that go

into the sum of my personal observations, on savage life, and as such I

cast it among these papers. To judge of the Red race aright, we must

view it, in all its phases, and if we would perform our duty towards

them, as christians and men, we should gather our data from small, as

well as great events, and from afar as well as near. When all has been

done, in the way of such collections and researches, it will be found,

we think, that their errors and crimes, whatever they are, assume no

deeper dye than philanthropy has had reason to apprehend them to take,

without a knowledge of the principles of the gospel. _Thou shall not

kill_, is a law, yet to be enforced, among more than two hundred

thousand souls, who bear the impress of a red skin, within the

acknowledged limits of the American Union.

MACHINITO, THE EVIL SPIRIT;

FROM THE LEGENDS OF IAGOU.

BY MRS. E. OAKES SMITH.

"The Pagan world not only believes in a myriad of gods, but

worships them also. It is the peculiarity of the North American

Indian, that while he _believes_ in as many, he _worships_ but one,

the Great Spirit."--(_Schoolcraft._)

CHEMANITOU, being the master of life, at one time became the origin of a

spirit, that has ever since caused himself and all others of his

creation a great deal of disquiet. His birth was owing to an accident.

It was in this wise.

METÓWAC, or as the white people now call it, Long Island, was originally

a vast plain, so level and free from any kind of growth, that it looked

like a portion of the great sea that had suddenly been made to move back

and let the sand below appear, which was the case in fact.

Here it was that Chemanitou used to come and sit, when he wished to

bring any new creation to the life. The place being spacious and

solitary, the water upon every side, he had not only room enough, but

was free from interruption.

It is well known that some of these early creations were of very great

size, so that very few could live in the same place, and their strength

made it difficult for Chemanitou, even to controul them; for when he has

given them certain elements, they have the use of the laws that govern

these elements, till it is his will to take them back to himself.

Accordingly, it was the custom of Chemanitou, when he wished to try the

effect of these creatures, to set them in motion upon the island of

Metówac, and if they did not please him, he took the life out before

they were suffered to escape. He would set up a mammoth or other large

animal, in the centre of the island, and build him up with great care,

somewhat in the manner that a cabin or a canoe is made.

Even to this day may be found traces of what had been done here in

former years; and the manner in which the earth sometimes sinks down

[even wells fall out at the bottom here,] shows that this island is

nothing more than a great cake of earth, a sort of platter laid upon the

sea, for the convenience of Chemanitou, who used it as a table upon

which he might work, never having designed it for anything else; the

margin of the CHATIEMAC, (the stately swan,) or Hudson river, being

better adapted to the purposes of habitation.

When the master of life wished to build up an elephant or mammoth he

placed four cakes of clay upon the ground, at proper distances, which

were moulded into shape, and became the feet of the animal.

Now sometimes these were left unfinished; and to this day the green

tussocks, to be seen like little islands about the marshes, show where

these cakes of clay had been placed.

As Chemanitou went on with his work, the NEEBANAWBAIGS (or water

spirits,) the PUCK-WUD-JINNIES, (Fairies[9]) and indeed all the lesser

manittoes, used to come and look on, and wonder what it would be, and

how it would act.

When the animal was quite done, and had dried a long time in the sun,

Chemanitou opened a place in the side, and entering in, remained there

many days.

When he came forth, the creature began to shiver and sway from side to

side, in such a manner as shook the whole island for many leagues. If

his appearance pleased the master of life he was suffered to depart, and

it was generally found that these animals plunged into the sea upon the

north side of the island, and disappeared in the great forests beyond.

Now at one time Chemanitou was a very long while building an animal, of

such great bulk, that it looked like a mountain upon the centre of the

island; and all the manittoes, from all parts, came to see what it was.

The Puck-wud-jinnies especially made themselves very merry, capering

behind his great ears, sitting within his mouth, each perched upon a

tooth, and running in and out of the sockets of the eyes, thinking

Chemanitou, who was finishing off other parts of the animal, could not

see them.

But he can see right through every thing he has made. He was glad to see

them so lively, and bethought himself of many new creations while he

watched their motions.

When the Master of Life had completed this large animal, he was fearful

to give it life, and so it was left upon the island, or work-table of

Chemanitou, till its great weight caused it to break through, and

sinking partly down it stuck fast, the head and tail holding it in such

a manner as to prevent it from going down.

Chemanitou then lifted up a piece of the back, and found it made a very

good cavity, into which the old creations, which failed to please him,

might be thrown.

He sometimes amused himself by making creatures very small and active,

with which he disported awhile, and finding them of very little use in

the world, and not so attractive as the little Vanishers, he would take

out the life, holding it in himself, and then cast them into the cave

made by the body of the unfinished animal. In this way great quantities

of very odd shapes were heaped together in this _Roncomcomon_, or "Place

of Fragments."

He was always careful to first take out the life.

One day the Master of Life took two pieces of clay and moulded them into

two large feet, like those of a panther. He did not make four--there

were two only.

He stepped his own feet into them, and found the tread very light and

springy, so that he might go with great speed, and yet make no noise.

Next he built up a pair of very tall legs, in the shape of his own, and

made them walk about awhile--he was pleased with the motion. Then

followed a round body, covered with large scales, like the alligator.

He now found the figure doubling forward, and he fastened a long black

snake, that was gliding by, to the back part of the body, and let it

wind itself about a sapling near, which held the body upright, and made

a very good tail.

The shoulders were broad and strong, like those of the buffaloe, and

covered with hair--the neck thick and short, and full at the back.

Thus far Chemanitou had worked with little thought, but when he came to

the head he thought a long while.

He took a round ball of clay into his lap, and worked it over with great

care. While he thought, he patted the ball upon the top, which made it

very broad and low; for Chemanitou was thinking of the panther feet, and

the buffaloe neck. He remembered the Puck-wud-jinnies playing in the eye

sockets of the great unfinished animal, and he bethought him to set the

eyes out, like those of a lobster, so that the animal might see upon

every side.

He made the forehead broad and full, but low; for here was to be the

wisdom of the forked tongue, like that of the serpent, which should be

in his mouth. He should see all things, and know all things. Here

Chemanitou stopped, for he saw that he had never thought of such a

creation before, one with but two feet, a creature who should stand

upright, and see upon every side.

The jaws were very strong, with ivory teeth, and gills upon either side,

which arose and fell whenever breath passed through them. The nose was

like the beak of the vulture. A tuft of porcupine quills made the

scalp-lock.

Chemanitou held the head out the length of his arm, and turned it first

upon one side and then upon the other. He passed it rapidly through the

air, and saw the gills rise and fall, the lobster eyes whirl round, and

the vulture nose look keen.

Chemanitou became very sad; yet he put the head upon the shoulders. It

was the first time he had made an upright figure.

It seemed to be the first idea of a man.

It was now nearly night; the bats were flying through the air, and the

roar of wild beasts began to be heard. A gusty wind swept in from the

ocean, and passed over the island of Metówac, casting the light sand to

and fro. A heavy scud was skimming along the horizon, while higher up in

the sky was a dark thick cloud, upon the verge of which the moon hung

for a moment, and then was shut in.

A panther came by and stayed a moment, with one foot raised and bent

inward, while he looked up at the image, and smelt the feet, that were

like his own.

A vulture swooped down with a great noise of its wings, and made a dash

at the beak, but Chemanitou held him back.

Then came the porcupine, and the lizard, and the snake, each drawn by

its kind in the image.

Chemanitou veiled his face for many hours, and the gusty wind swept by,

but he did not stir.

He saw that every beast of the earth seeketh its kind; and that which is

like draweth its likeness unto himself.

The Master of Life thought and thought. The idea grew into his mind that

at some time he would create a creature who should be made not after the

things of the earth, but after himself.

He should link this world to the spirit world,--being made in the

likeness of the Great Spirit, he should be drawn unto his likeness.

Many days and nights, whole seasons, passed while Chemanitou thought

upon these things. He saw all things.

Then the Master of Life lifted up his head; the stars were looking down

upon the image, and a bat had alighted upon the forehead, spreading its

great wings upon each side. Chemanitou took the bat and held out its

whole leathery wings, (and ever since the bat, when he rests, lets his

body hang down,) so that he could try them over the head of the image.

He then took the life of the bat away, and twisted off the body, by

which means the whole thin part fell down over the head, and upon each

side, making the ears, and a covering for the forehead like that of the

hooded serpent.

Chemanitou did not cut off the face of the image below, he went on and

made a chin, and lips that were firm and round, that they might shut in

the forked tongue, and the ivory teeth; and he knew that with the lips

and the chin it would smile, when life should be given to it.

The image was now all done but the arms, and Chemanitou saw that with a

chin it must have hands. He grew more grave.

He had never given hands to any creature.

He made the arms and the hands very beautiful, after the manner of his

own.

Chemanitou now took no pleasure in his work that was done--it was not

good in his sight.

He wished he had not given it hands; might it not, when trusted with

life, might it not begin to create? might it not thwart the plans of the

master of life himself?

He looked long at the image. He saw what it would do when life should be

given it. He knew all things.

He now put fire in the image: but fire is not life.

He put fire within, and a red glow passed through and through it. The

fire dried the clay of which it was made, and gave the image an

exceedingly fierce aspect. It shone through the scales upon the breast,

and the gills, and the bat-winged ears. The lobster eyes were like a

living coal.

Chemanitou opened the side of the image, _but he did not enter_. He had

given it hands and a chin.

It could smile like the manittoes themselves.

He made it walk all about the island of Metówac, that he might see how

it would act. This he did by means of his will.

He now put a little life into it, but he did not take out the fire.

Chemanitou saw the aspect of the creature would be very terrible, and

yet that he could smile in such a manner that he ceased to be ugly. He

thought much upon these things. He felt it would not be best to let such

a creature live; a creature made up mostly from the beasts of the field,

but with hands of power, a chin lifting the head upward, and lips

holding all things within themselves.

While he thought upon these things, he took the image in his hands and

cast it into the cave.

_But Chemanitou forgot to take out the life!_

The creature lay a long time in the cave and did not stir, for his fall

was very great. He lay amongst the old creations that had been thrown in

there without life.

Now when a long time had passed Chemanitou heard a great noise in the

cave. He looked in and saw the image sitting there, and he was trying to

put together the old broken things that had been cast in as of no value.

Chemanitou gathered together a vast heap of stones and sand, for large

rocks are not to be had upon the island, and stopped the mouth of the

cave. Many days passed and the noise grew louder within the cave. The

earth shook, and hot smoke came from the ground. The Manittoes crowded

to Metówac to see what was the matter.

Chemanitou came also, for he remembered the image he had cast in there,

and forgotten to take away the life.

Suddenly there was a great rising of the stones and sand--the sky grew

black with wind and dust. Fire played about the ground, and water gushed

high into the air.

All the Manittoes fled with fear; and the image came forth with a great

noise and most terrible to behold. His life had grown strong within him,

for the fire had made it very fierce.

Everything fled before him and cried--MACHINITO--MACHINITO--which means

a god, but an evil god!

* * * * *

The above legend is gathered from the traditions of Iagou, the great

Indian narrator, who seems to have dipped deeper into philosophy than

most of his compeers. The aboriginal language abounds with stories

related by this remarkable _personage_, which we hope to bring before

the public at some future time. Whether subsequent events justify the

Indian in making Long Island the arena of the production of Machinito or

the Evil Spirit, will seem more than apocryphal to a white resident.

However we have nothing to do except to relate the fact as it was

related.

As to these primitive metaphysics, they are at least curious; and the

coolness with which the fact is assumed that the origin of evil was

accidental in the process of developing a perfect humanity, would, at an

earlier day, have been quite appalling to the schoolmen.

E. O. S.

FOOTNOTES:

[9] Literally, little men, who vanish.

REPOSE OF THE SOUL.

When an Indian corpse is put in a coffin, among the tribes of the

Lake-Algonquins, the lid is _tied_ down, and not nailed. On depositing

it in the grave, the rope or string is loosed, and the weight of the

earth alone relied on, to keep it in a fixed position. The reason they

give for this, is, that the soul may have free egress from the body.

Over the top of the grave a covering of cedar bark is put, to shed the

rain. This is roof-shaped and the whole structure looks, slightly, like

a house in miniature. It has gable ends. Through one of these, being the

head, an aperture is cut. On asking a Chippewa why this was done, he

replied,--"To allow the soul to pass out, and in."

"I thought," I replied, "that you believed that the soul went up from

the body at the time of death, to a land of happiness. How, then, can it

remain in the body?"

"There are two souls," replied the Indian philosopher.

"How can this be? my friend."

"It is easily explained," said he.

"You know that, in dreams, we pass over wide countries, and see hills

and lakes and mountains, and many scenes, which pass before our eyes,

and affect us. Yet, at the same time, our bodies do not stir, and there

is a soul left with the body,--else it would be dead. So, you perceive,

it must be another soul that accompanies us."

This conversation took place, in the Indian country. I knew the Indian

very well, and had noticed the practice, not general now, on the

frontiers, of _tying_ the coffin-lid, in burials. It is at the orifice

in the bark sheeting mentioned, that the portion of food, consecrated in

feasts for the dead, is set. It could not but happen, that the food

should be eaten by the hystrix, wolf, or some other animal, known to

prowl at night; nor that, Indian superstition, ever ready to turn slight

appearances of this kind to account, should attribute its abstraction to

the spirit of the deceased.

THE LITTLE SPIRIT, OR BOY-MAN.

AN ODJIBWA FAIRY TALE.

WRITTEN OUT FROM THE VERBAL NARRATIVE BY THE LATE MRS. H. R.

SCHOOLCRAFT.

There was once a little boy, remarkable for the smallness of his

stature. He was living alone with his sister older than himself. They

were orphans, they lived in a beautiful spot on the Lake shore; many

large rocks were scattered around their habitation. The boy never grew

larger as he advanced in years. One day, in winter, he asked his sister

to make him a ball to play with along shore on the clear ice. She made

one for him, but cautioned him not to go too far.--Off he went in high

glee, throwing his ball before him, and running after it at full speed;

and he went as fast as his ball. At last his ball flew to a great

distance: he followed it as fast as he could. After he had run for some

time, he saw four dark substances on the ice straight before him. When

he came up to the spot he was surprised to see four large, tall men

lying on the ice, spearing fish. When he went up to them, the nearest

looked up and in turn was surprised to see such a diminutive being, and

turning to his brothers, he said, "Tia! look! see what a little fellow

is here." After they had all looked a moment, they resumed their

position, covered their heads, intent in searching for fish. The boy

thought to himself, they imagine me too insignificant for common

courtesy, because they are tall and large; I shall teach them

notwithstanding, that I am not to be treated so lightly. After they were

covered up the boy saw they had each a large trout lying beside them. He

slyly took the one nearest him, and placing his fingers in the gills,

and tossing his ball before him, ran off at full speed. When the man to

whom the fish belonged looked up, he saw his trout sliding away as if of

itself, at a great rate--the boy being so small he was not distinguished

from the fish. He addressed his brothers and said, "See how that tiny

boy has stolen my fish; what a shame it is he should do so." The boy

reached home, and told his sister to go out and get the fish he had

brought home. She exclaimed, "where could you have got it? I hope you

have not stolen it." "O no," he replied, "I found it on the ice." "How"

persisted the sister, "could you have got it there?"--"No matter," said

the boy, "go and cook it." He disdained to answer her again, but thought

he would one day show her how to appreciate him. She went to the place

he left it, and there indeed she found a monstrous trout. She did as she

was bid, and cooked it for that day's consumption. Next morning he went

off again as at first. When he came near the large men, who fished every

day, he threw his ball with such force that it rolled into the ice-hole

of the man of whom he had stolen the day before. As he happened to raise

himself at the time, the boy said, "Neejee, pray hand me my ball." "No

indeed," answered the man, "I shall not," and thrust the ball under the

ice. The boy took hold of his arm and broke it in two in a moment, and

threw him to one side, and picked up his ball, which had bounded back

from under the ice, and tossed it as usual before him. Outstripping it

in speed, he got home and remained within till the next morning. The man

whose arm he had broken hallooed out to his brothers, and told them his

case, and deplored his fate. They hurried to their brother, and as loud

as they could roar threatened vengeance on the morrow, knowing the

boy's speed that they could not overtake him, and he was near out of

sight; yet he heard their threats and awaited their coming in perfect

indifference. The four brothers the next morning prepared to take their

revenge. Their old mother begged them not to go--"Better" said she "that

one only should suffer, than that all should perish; for he must be a

monedo, or he could not perform such feats." But her sons would not

listen; and taking their wounded brother along, started for the boy's

lodge, having learnt that he lived at the place of rocks. The boy's

sister thought she heard the noise of snow-shoes on the crusted snow at

a distance advancing. She saw the large, tall men coming straight to

their lodge, or rather cave, for they lived in a large rock. She ran in

with great fear, and told her brother the fact. He said, "Why do you

mind them? give me something to eat." "How can you think of eating at

such a time," she replied,--"Do as I request you, and be quick." She

then gave him his dish, which was a large _mis-qua-dace_ shell, and he

commenced eating. Just then the men came to the door, and were about

lifting the curtain placed there, when the boy-man turned his dish

upside-down, and immediately the door was closed with a stone; the men

tried hard with their clubs to crack it; at length they succeeded in

making a slight opening. When one of them peeped in with one eye, the

boy-man shot his arrow into his eye and brain, and he dropped down dead.

The others, not knowing what had happened their brother, did the same,

and all fell in like manner; their curiosity was so great to see what

the boy was about. So they all shared the same fate. After they were

killed the boy-man told his sister to go out and see them. She opened

the door, but feared they were not dead, and entered back again hastily,

and told her fears to her brother. He went out and hacked them in small

pieces, saying, "henceforth let no man be larger than you are now." So

men became of the present size. When spring came on, the boy-man said to

his sister, "Make me a new set of arrows and bow." She obeyed, as he

never did any thing himself of a nature that required manual labour,

though he provided for their sustenance. After she made them, she again

cautioned him not to shoot into the lake; but regardless of all

admonition, he, on purpose, shot his arrow into the lake, and waded some

distance till he got into deep water, and paddled about for his arrow,

so as to attract the attention of his sister. She came in haste to the

shore, calling him to return, but instead of minding her he called out,

"Ma-mis-quon-je-gun-a, be-nau-wa-con-zhe-shin," that is, "_you_, of the

_red fins_ come and swallow me." Immediately that monstrous fish came

and swallowed him; and seeing his sister standing on the shore in

despair, he hallooed out to her, "Me-zush-ke-zin-ance." She wondered

what he meant. But on reflection she thought it must be an old mockesin.

She accordingly tied the old mockesin to a string, and fastened it to a

tree. The fish said to the boy-man, under water, "What is that

floating?" the boy-man said to the fish, "Go, take hold of it, swallow

it as fast as you can." The fish darted towards the old shoe, and

swallowed it. The boy-man laughed in himself, but said nothing, till the

fish was fairly caught; he then took hold of the line and began to pull

himself and fish to shore. The sister, who was watching, was surprised

to see so large a fish; and hauling it ashore she took her knife and

commenced cutting it open. When she heard her brother's voice inside of

the fish, saying, "Make haste and release me from this nasty place," his

sister was in such haste that she almost hit his head with her knife;

but succeeded in making an opening large enough for her brother to get

out. When he was fairly out, he told his sister to cut up the fish and

dry it, as it would last a long time for their sustenance, and said to

her, never, never more to doubt his ability in any way. So ends the

story.

AINGODON AND NAYWADAHA.

STORY OF A FAMILY OF NADOWAS, OR PEOPLE OF THE SIX NATIONS OF

TORONTO, CONSISTING OF SIX BROTHERS, THEIR YOUNGEST SISTER, AND TWO

AUNTS. THEIR FATHER AND MOTHER HAVING DIED, THEY WERE LEFT ORPHANS,

THEIR ORIGIN, HOWEVER, WAS FROM THE FIRST CLASS OF CHIEFTAINS IN

THEIR NATION.

NARRATED PROM THE ORAL RELATION OF NABANOI, BY MR. GEORGE JOHNSTON.

In the days of this story, wars, murders, and cruelty existed in the

country now comprising the province of Upper Canada, or that portion

bordering upon Lakes Simcoe, Erie, and Ontario, which was claimed and

belonged to the powerful tribe of the eight nations of the Nawtoways.

The young men had, on a day, started for a hunting excursion: in the

evening five only of the brothers returned, one was missing. Upon search

being made the body was found, and it appeared evident that he had been

killed: this gave a great blow to the family, but particularly causing

great affliction to the sister, who was the youngest of the family. She

mourned and lamented her brother's death, and she wept incessantly.

The ensuing year another was killed, and so on till four were killed.

The remaining two brothers did all they could to afford consolation to

their pining sister, but she would not be consoled: they did all they

could to divert her mind from so much mourning, but all their endeavours

proved ineffectual: she scarcely took any food, and what she ate was

hardly sufficient to sustain nature. The two brothers said that they

would go hunting, which they did from day to day. They would bring

ducks and birds of every description to their sister, in order to tempt

her appetite, but she persisted in refusing nourishment, or taking very

little. At the expiration of the year when the fourth brother had been

killed, the two young men set out upon the chase; one of them returned

in the evening, the other was missing, and found killed in like manner

as the others had been. This again augmented the afflictions of the

young girl; she had been very delicate, but was now reduced to a mere

skeleton. At the expiration of the year the only and last of her

brothers, taking pity upon his pining sister, said to her that he would

go and kill her some fresh venison, to entice her to eat. He started

early in the morning, and his sister would go out from time to time, in

the course of the day, to see if her brother was returning. Night set

in, and no indications of his coming--she sat up all night, exhibiting

fear and apprehension bordering upon despair--day light appeared, and he

did not come--search was made, and he was finally found killed, like all

the other brothers. After this event the girl became perfectly

disconsolate, hardly tasting food, and would wander in the woods the

whole day, returning at nights. One of her aunts had the care of her at

this time. One day in one of her rambles she did not return; her aunt

became very anxious, and searched for her, and continued her search

daily. On the tenth day, the aunt in her search lost her way and was

bewildered, and finally was benighted. While lying down, worn with

fatigue, she thought she heard the voice of some one speaking: she got

up, and directing her course to the spot, she came upon a small lodge

made of bushes, and in it lay her niece, with her face to the ground.

She prevailed upon her to return home. Before reaching their lodge the

girl stopt, and her aunt built her a small lodge, and she resided in it.

Here her aunt would attend upon her daily.

One day as she lay alone in her little lodge, a person appeared to her

from on high: he had on white raiment that was extremely pure, clean and

white: he did not touch the earth, but remained at some distance from

it. He spoke to her in a mild tone and said, Daughter, why do you remain

here mourning? I have come to console you, and you must arise, and I

will give you all the land, and deliver into your hands the persons who

have killed your brothers. All things living and created are mine, I

give and take away. Now therefore arise, slay and eat of my dog that

lays there. You will go to your village and firstly tell your relatives

and nation of this vision, and you must act conformably to my word and

to the mind I'll give you, and your enemies will I put into your hands.

I will be with you again.

After this, he ascended on high. When the girl looked to the place where

the heavenly being pointed, she saw a bear. She arose and went home, and

mentioned to her relatives the vision she had seen, and made a request

that the people might be assembled to partake of her feast. She directed

her relations to the spot where the bear was to be found; it was killed

and brought to the village, and singed upon a fire, and the feast was

made, and the nature of the vision explained. Preparations were

immediately set on foot, messengers were sent to each tribe of the six

nations, and an invitation given to them, to come upon a given day to

the village of Toronto. Messengers were also sent all along the north

coast of lake Huron to Bawiting, inviting the Indians to form an

alliance and fight against the enemies of the young girl who had lost so

many brothers.

In the midst of the Nadowas, there lived two chieftains, twin brothers.

They were Nadowas also of the Bear tribe, perfect devils in disposition,

cruel and tyrannical. They were at the head of two nations of the

Nadowas, reigning together, keeping the other nations in great fear and

awe, and enslaving them; particularly the Indians of the Deer totem, who

resided in one portion of their great village. Indians in connection

with the Chippewas were also kept in bondage by the two tyrants, whose

names were _Aingodon_ and _Naywadaha_. When the Chippewas received the

young girl's messengers, they were told that they must rescue their

relatives, and secretly apprize them of their intention, and the great

calamity that would befall Aingodon and Naywadaha's villages and towns.

Many therefore made their escape; but one remained with his family,

sending an excuse for not obeying the summons, as he had a great

quantity of corn laid up, and that he must attend to his crops. The

Indians all along the north shore of lake Huron and of Bawiting,

embarked to join the general and common cause; they passed through the

lakes, and reached Toronto late in the fall. In the beginning of the

winter the assembled allies marched, headed by the young girl. She

passed through lake Simcoe, and the line covered the whole lake,

cracking the ice as they marched over it. They encamped at the head of

the lake. Here the young girl produced a garnished bag, and she hung it

up, and told the assembled multitude that she would make chingodam; and

after this she sent hunters out directing them to bring in eighteen

bears, and before the sun had risen high the bears were all brought in,

and they were singed, and the feast of sacrifice offered. At this place

the person from on high appeared to the girl in presence of the

assembled multitude, and he stretched forth his hand and shook hands

with her only. He here directed her to send secret messengers into the

land, to warn the Indians who had the deer totem to put out their totems

on poles before their lodge door, in order that they might be known and

saved from the approaching destruction; and they were enjoined not to go

out of their lodges, neither man, woman, or child; if they did so they

would be surely consumed and destroyed; and the person on high said--Do

not approach nigh the open plain until the rising sun, you will then see

destruction come upon your enemies, and they will be delivered into your

hands.

The messengers were sent to the Deer Totems, and they entered the town

at night, and communicated their message to them. After this all the

Indians bearing that mark were informed of the approaching calamity, and

they instantly made preparations, setting out poles before their lodge

doors, and attaching deer skins to the poles, as marks to escape the

vengeance that was to come upon Aingodon and Nawadaha, and their tribes.

The next morning at daylight the Aingodons and Nawadahas rose, and

seeing the poles and deer skins planted before the doors of the lodges,

said in derision, that their friends, the Deer Totems, had, or must have

had, bad dreams, thus to set their totems on poles. The Indians of the

deer totems remained quiet and silent, and they did not venture out of

their lodges. The young girl was nigh the skirts of the wood with her

host, bordering upon the plain; and just as the sun rose she marched,

and as she and her allied forces neared the village of the twin tyrants,

it became a flame of fire, destroying all its inhabitants. The Deer

Totems escaped. Aingodon and Nawadaha were not consumed. The allied

Indians drew their bows and shot their arrows at them, but they bounded

off, and the blows inflicted upon them were of no avail, until the young

girl came up and subdued them, and took them alive, and made them

prisoners.

The whole of Aingodon's and Nawadaha's towns and villages were destroyed

in the same way; and the land was in possession of the young girl and

the six remaining tribes of the Nadowas. After this signal vengeance was

taken the young girl returned with her host, and again encamped at the

head of lake Simcoe, at her former encamping place; and the two tyrants

were asked, what was their object for making chingodam, and what weight

could it have? They said, in answer, that their implements for war, were

war axes, and if permitted they would make chingodam, and on doing so

they killed each two men. They were bound immediately, and their flesh

was cut off from their bodies in slices. One of them was dissected, and

upon examination it was discovered that he had no liver, and his heart

was small, and composed of hard flint stone. There are marks upon a

perpendicular ledge of rocks at the narrows, or head of lake Simcoe,

visible to this day, representing two bound persons, who are recognized

by the Indians of this generation as the two tyrants, or twin brothers,

Aingodon and Nawadaha. One of the tyrants was kept bound, until the time

the French discovered and possessed the Canadas, and he was taken to

Quebec. After this the young girl was taken away by the god of light.

GEO. JOHNSTON.

_Sault Ste. Marie, May 12th, 1838._

* * * * *

The Indian warriors of the plains west of the sources of the

Mississippi, chew a bitter root, before going into battle, which they

suppose imparts courage, and renders them insensible to pain. It is

called zhigowak.

SKETCHES OF THE LIVES OF NOTED RED MEN AND WOMEN WHO HAVE APPEARED ON

THE WESTERN CONTINENT.

WABOJEEG, OR THE WHITE FISHER.

This individual has indelibly interwoven his name with the history of

the Chippewa nation, during the latter half of the 18th century. His

ancestors had, from the earliest times, held the principal chieftainship

in lake Superior. His father, Ma-mongazida, was the ruling chief during

the war of the conquest of the Canadas by the British crown. In common

with his tribe and the northern nations generally, he was the fast

friend of the French government, and was present with his warriors,

under Gen. Montcalm, at the loss of Quebec, in 1759. He carried a short

speech from that celebrated officer to his people in the north, which is

said to have been verbally delivered a short time before he went to the

field.

The period of the fall of the French power in the Canadas, is one of the

most marked events in Indian reminiscence throughout all northwest

America. They refer to the days of French supremacy as a kind of golden

era, when all things in their affairs were better than they now are; and

I have heard them lament over the change as one which was in every

respect detrimental to their power and happiness. No European nation, it

is evident from these allusions, ever pleased them as well. The French

character and manners adapted themselves admirably to the existing

customs of forest life. The common people, who went up into the interior

to trade, fell in with their customs with a degree of plasticity and an

air of gaiety and full assent, which no other foreigners have, at least

to the same extent, shown. These _Couriers du Bois_ had not much to

boast of on the score of rigid morals themselves. They had nearly as

much superstition as the wildest Indians. They were in fact, at least

nine-tenths of them, quite as illiterate. Very many of them were far

inferior in their mental structure and capacity to the bold, eloquent,

and well formed and athletic northern chiefs and hunters. They respected

their religious and festive ceremonies. They never, as a chief once told

me, _laughed_ at them. They met their old friends on their annual

returns from Montreal, with a kiss. They took the daughters of the red

men for wives, and reared large families, who thus constituted a strong

bond of union between the two races, which remains unbroken at this

day.

This is the true secret of the strenuous efforts made by the northern

and western Indians to sustain the French power, when it was menaced in

the war of 1744, by the fleets and armies of Great Britain. They rallied

freely to their aid at Detroit, Vincennes, the present sites of

Pittsburg and Erie, at Fort Niagara, Montreal, and Quebec, and they

hovered with infuriated zeal around the outskirts of the northern and

western settlements, during the many and sanguinary wars carried on

between the English and French. And when the French were beaten they

still adhered to their cause, and their chiefs stimulated the French

local commanders to continue and renew the contest, even after the fall

of Niagara and Quebec, with a heroic consistency of purpose, which

reflects credit upon their foresight, bravery, and constancy. We hope in

a future number to bring forward a sketch of the man who put himself at

the head of this latter effort, who declared he would drive the Saxon

race into the sea, who beseiged _twelve_ and took _nine_ of the western

stockaded forts, and who for four years and upwards, maintained the war,

after the French had struck their colours and ceded the country. We

refer to the great Algic leader, Pontiac.

At present our attention is called to a cotemporary chief, of equal

personal bravery and conduct, certainly, but who lived and exercised his

authority at a more remote point, and had not the same masses and means

at his command. This point, so long hid in the great forests of the

north, and which, indeed, has been but lately revealed in our positive

geography, is the AREA OF LAKE SUPERIOR. It is here that we find the

Indian tradition to be rife with the name of Wabojeeg and his wars, and

his cotemporaries. It was one of the direct consequences of so remote a

position, that it withdrew his attention more from the actual conflicts

between the French and English, and fixed them upon his western and

southern frontiers, which were menaced and invaded by the numerous bands

of the Dacotahs, and by the perfidious kinsmen of his nation, the

Outagamies and Saucs. He came into active life, too, as a prominent war

leader, at the precise era when the Canadas had fallen into the British

power, and by engaging zealously in the defence of the borders of his

nation west, he allowed time to mitigate and adjust those feelings and

attachments which, so far as public policy was concerned, must be

considered to have moulded the Indian mind to a compliance with, and a

submission to, the British authority. Wabojeeg was, emphatically, the

defender of the Chippewa domain against the efforts of other branches of

the Red Race. He did not, therefore, lead his people to fight, as his

father, Ma-mongazida, and nearly all the great Indian war captains had,

to enable one type of the foreign race to triumph over another, but

raised his parties and led them forth to maintain his tribal supremacy.

He may be contemplated, therefore, as having had a more patriotic object

for his achievement.

Lake Superior, at the time of our earliest acquaintance with the region,

was occupied, as it is at this day, by the Chippewa race. The chief

seat of their power appeared to be near the southwestern extremity of

the lake, at Chagoimegon, where fathers Marquette and Alloez found their

way, and established a mission, so early as 1668. Another of their

principal, and probably more _ancient_ seats, was at the great rapids on

the outlet of that lake, which they named the Sault de Ste. Marie. It

was in allusion to their residence here that they called this tribe

Saulteur, that is to say, people of the leap or rapid.

Indian tradition makes the Chippewas one of the chief, certainly by far

the most _numerous and widely spread_, of the Algonquin stock proper. It

represents them to have migrated from the east to the west. On reaching

the vicinity of Michilimackinac, they separated at a comparatively

moderate era into three tribes, calling themselves, respectively,

Odjibwas, Odawas, and Podawadumees. What their name was before this era,

is not known. It is manifest that the term Odjibwa is not a very ancient

one, for it does not occur in the earliest authors. They were probably

of the Nipercinean or true Algonquin stock, and had taken the route of

the Utawas river, from the St. Lawrence valley into lake Huron. The term

itself is clearly from Bwa, a voice; and its prefix in Odji, was

probably designed to mark a peculiar intonation which the muscles are,

as it were, _gathered up_, to denote.

Whatever be the facts of their origin, they had taken the route up the

straits of St. Mary into lake Superior, both sides of which, and far

beyond, they occupied at the era of the French discovery. It is evident

that their course in this direction must have been aggressive. They were

advancing towards the west and northwest. The tribe known as Kenistenos,

had passed through the Lake of the Woods, through the great lake

Nipesíng, and as far as the heads of the Saskatchewine and the portage

of the Missinipi of Hudson's bay. The warlike band of Leech Lake, called

Mukundwas, had spread themselves over the entire sources of the

Mississippi and extended their hunting excursions west to Red River,

where they came into contact with the Assinaboines, or Stone Sioux. The

central power, at this era, still remained at Chagoimegon, on Superior,

where indeed, the force of early tradition asserts there was maintained

something like a frame of both civil and ecclesiastical polity and

government.

It is said in the traditions related to me by the Chippewas, that the

Outagamies, or Foxes, had preceded them into that particular section of

country which extends in a general course from the head of Fox River, of

Green Bay, towards the Falls of St. Anthony, reaching in some points

well nigh to the borders of lake Superior. They are remembered to have

occupied the interior wild rice lakes, which lie at the sources of the

Wisconsin, the Ontonagon, the Chippewa, and the St. Croix rivers. They

were associated with the Saucs, who had ascended the Mississippi some

distance above the Falls of St. Anthony, where they lived on friendly

terms with the Dacotahs or Sioux. This friendship extended also to the

Outagamies, and it was the means of preserving a good understanding

between the Dacotahs and Chippewas.

The Fox tribe is closely affiliated with the Chippewas. They call each

other brothers. They are of the same general origin and speak the same

general language, the chief difference in sound being that the Foxes use

the letter l, where the Odjibwas employ an n. The particular cause of

their disagreement is not known. They are said by the Chippewas to have

been unfaithful and treacherous. Individual quarrels and trespasses on

their hunting grounds led to murders, and in the end to a war, in which

the Menomonees and the French united, and they were thus driven from the

rice lakes and away from the Fox and upper Wisconsin. To maintain their

position they formed an alliance with the Sioux, and fought by their

side.

It was in this contest that Wabojeeg first distinguished himself, and

vindicated by his bravery and address the former reputation of his

family, and laid anew the foundations of his northern chieftaindom.

Having heard allusions made to this person on my first entrance into

that region, many years ago, I made particular enquiries; and found

living a sister, an old white-headed woman, and a son and daughter,

about the age of middle life. From these sources I gleaned the following

facts. He was born, as nearly as I could compute the time, about 1747.

By a singular and romantic incident his father, Ma-mongazida, was a

half-brother of the father of Wabashaw, a celebrated Sioux chief, who

but a few years ago died at his village on the upper Mississippi. The

connexion happened in this way.

While the Sioux and Chippewas were living in amity near each other, and

frequently met and feasted each other on their hunting grounds and at

their villages, a Sioux chief, of distinction, admired and married a

Chippewa girl, by whom he had two sons. When the war between these two

nations broke out, those persons of the hostile tribes who had married

Chippewa wives, and were living in the Chippewa country, withdrew, some

taking their wives along and others separating from them. Among the

latter was the Sioux chief. He remained a short time after hostilities

commenced, but finding his position demanded it, he was compelled, with

great reluctance, to leave his wife behind, as she could not, with

safety, have accompanied him into the Sioux territories. As the blood of

the Sioux flowed in the veins of her two sons, neither was it safe for

her to leave them among the Chippewas. They were, however, by mutual

agreement, allowed to return with the father. The eldest of these sons

became the father of Wabashaw.

The mother thus divorced by the mutual consent of all parties, remained

inconsolable for some time. She was still young and handsome, and after

a few years, became the wife of a young Chippewa chief of Chagoimegon,

of the honoured totem of the ADDICK or reindeer. Her first child by

this second marriage, was Ma Mongazida, the father of Wabojeeg. In this

manner, a connexion existed between two families, of separate hostile

nations, each of which distinguished itself, for bravery and skill in

war and council. It has already been stated that Ma Mongazida, was

present, on the side of the French, in the great action in which both

Montcalm and Wolf fell, and he continued to exercise the chieftainship

till his death, when his second son succeeded him.

It was one of the consequences of the hostility of the Indians to the

English rule, that many of the remote tribes were left, for a time,

without traders to supply their wants. This was the case, tradition

asserts, with Chagoimegon, which, for two years after the taking of old

Mackinac, was left without a trader. To remonstrate against this, Ma

Mongazida visited Sir William Johnson, the superintendant general of

Indian affairs, by whom he was well received, and presented with a broad

wampum belt and gorget. This act laid the foundation of a lasting peace

between the Chippewas and the English. The belt, it is added, was of

blue wampum, with figures of white. And when Wabojeeg came to the

chieftainship, he took from it the wampum employed by him to muster his

warparties.

In making traditionary enquiries I have found that the Indian narrators

were careful to preserve and note any fact, in the early lives of their

distinguished men, which appeared to prefigure their future eminence, or

had any thing of the wonderful or premonitory, in its character. The

following incident of this sort, was noticed respecting this chief. Ma

Mongazida generally went to make his fall hunts on the middle grounds

towards the Sioux territory, taking with him all his near relatives,

amounting usually to twenty persons, exclusive of children. Early one

morning while the young men were preparing for the chase, they were

startled by the report of several shots, directed towards the lodge. As

they had thought themselves in security, the first emotion was surprise,

and they had scarcely time to fly to their arms, when another volley was

fired, which wounded one man in the thigh, and killed a dog. Ma

Mongazida immediately sallied out with his young men, and pronouncing

his name aloud in the Sioux language, demanded if Wabasha or his

brother, were among the assailants. The firing instantly ceased--a pause

ensued, when a tall figure, in a war dress, with a profusion of feathers

upon his head, stepped forward and presented his hand. It was the elder

Wabasha, his half brother. The Sioux peaceably followed their leader

into the lodge, upon which they had, the moment before, directed their

shots. At the instant the Sioux chief entered, it was necessary to stoop

a little, in passing the door. In the act of stooping, he received a

blow from a war-club wielded by a small boy, who had posted himself

there for the purpose. It was the young Wabojeeg. Wabasha, pleased with

this early indication of courage, took the little lad in his arms,

caressed him, and pronounced that he would become a brave man, and

prove an inveterate enemy of the Sioux.

The border warfare in which the father of the infant warrior was

constantly engaged, early initiated him in the arts and ceremonies

pertaining to war. With the eager interest and love of novelty of the

young, he listened to their war songs and war stories, and longed for

the time when he would be old enough to join these parties, and also

make himself a name among warriors. While quite a youth he volunteered

to go out with a party, and soon gave convincing proofs of his courage.

He also early learned the arts of hunting the deer, the bear, the moose,

and all the smaller animals common to the country; and in these

pursuits, he took the ordinary lessons of Indian young men, in

abstinence, suffering, danger and endurance of fatigue. In this manner

his nerves were knit and formed for activity, and his mind stored with

those lessons of caution which are the result of local experience in the

forest. He possessed a tall and commanding person, with a full black

piercing eye, and the usual features of his countrymen. He had a clear

and full toned voice, and spoke his native language with grace and

fluency. To these attractions, he united an early reputation for bravery

and skill in the chase, and at the age of twenty-two, he was already a

war leader.