Chapter X: Part 10

Next morning they took the northerly shore, to walk around it, but had only gone a short distance when they came to a large river. They again encamped, and while sitting before the fire, the question was put, whether any one of them had ever dreamed of water, or of walking on it. After a long silence, the eldest said he had. Soon after they lay down to sleep. When they arose the following morning, the eldest addressed them: "We have done wrong in coming north. Last night my spirit appeared to me, and told me to go south, and that but a short distance beyond the spot we left yesterday, we should come to a river with high banks. That by looking off its mouth, we should see an island, which would approach to us. He directed that we should all get on it. He then told me to cast my eyes toward the water. I did so, and I saw all he had declared. He then informed me that we must return south, and wait at the river until the day after tomorrow. I believe all that was revealed to me in this dream, and that we shall do well to follow it."

The party immediately retraced their footsteps in exact obedience to these intimations. Toward the evening they came to the borders of the indicated river. It had high banks, behind which they encamped, and here they patiently awaited the fulfilment of the dream. The appointed day arrived. They said, "We will see if that which has been said will be seen." Midday is the promised time. Early in the morning two had gone to the shore to keep a look-out. They waited anxiously for the middle of the day, straining their eyes to see if they could discover anything. Suddenly they raised a shout. "Ewaddee suh neen! There it is! There it is!" On rushing to the spot they beheld something like an _island_ steadily advancing toward the shore. As it approached, they could discover that something was moving on it in various directions. They said, "It is a Manito, let us be off into the woods." "No, no," cried the eldest, "let us stay and watch." It now became stationary, and lost much of its imagined height. They could only see _three_ trees, as they thought, resembling trees in a pinery that had been burnt. The wind, which had been off the sea, now died away into a perfect calm. They saw something leaving the fancied island and approaching the shore, throwing and flapping its wings, like a loon when he attempts to fly in calm weather. It entered the mouth of the river. They were on the point of running away, but the eldest dissuaded them. "Let us hide in this hollow," he said, "and we will see what it can be." They did so. They soon heard the sounds of chopping, and quickly after they heard the falling of trees. Suddenly a man came up to the place of their concealment. He stood still and gazed at them. They did the same in utter amazement. After looking at them for some time, the person advanced and extended his hand toward them. The eldest took it, and they shook hands. He then spoke, but they could not understand each other. He then cried out for his comrades. They came, and examined very minutely their dresses. They again tried to converse. Finding it impossible, the strangers then motioned to the Naubequon, and to the Naubequon-ais,[94] wishing them to embark. They consulted with each other for a short time. The eldest then motioned that they should go on board. They embarked on board the boat, which they found to be loaded with wood. When they reached the side of the supposed island, they were surprised to see a great number of people, who all came to the side and looked at them with open mouths. One spoke out, above the others, and appeared to be the leader. He motioned them to get on board. He looked at and examined them, and took them down into the cabin, and set things before them to eat. He treated them very kindly.

When they came on deck again, all the sails were spread, and they were fast losing sight of land. In the course of the night and the following day they were sick at the stomach, but soon recovered. When they had been out at sea ten days, they became sorrowful, as they could not converse with those who had hats on.[95]

The following night Ioscoda dreamed that his spirit appeared to him. He told him not to be discouraged, that he would open his ears, so as to be able to understand the people with hats. I will not permit you to understand much, said he, only sufficient to reveal your wants, and to know what is said to you. He repeated this dream to his friends, and they were satisfied and encouraged by it. When they had been out about thirty days, the master of the ship told them, and motioned them to change their dresses of leather, for such as his people wore; for if they did not, his master would be displeased. It was on this occasion that the elder first understood a few words of the language. The first phrase he comprehended was _La que notte_, and from one word to another he was soon able to speak it.

One day the men cried out, land! and soon after they heard a noise resembling thunder, in repeated peals. When they had got over their fears, they were shown the large guns which made this noise. Soon after they saw a vessel smaller than their own, sailing out of a bay, in the direction toward them. She had flags on her masts, and when she came near she fired a gun. The large vessel also hoisted her flags, and the boat came alongside. The master told the person who came in it, to tell his master or king, that he had six strangers on board, such as had never been seen before, and that they were coming to visit him. It was some time after the departure of this messenger before the vessel got up to the town. It was then dark, but they could see people, and horses, and odawbons[96] ashore. They were landed and placed in a covered vehicle, and driven off. When they stopped, they were taken into a large and splendid room. They were here told that the great chief wished to see them. They were shown into another large room, filled with men and women. All the room was Shoneancauda.[97] The chief asked them their business, and the object of their journey. They told him where they were from, and where they were going, and the nature of the enterprise which they had undertaken. He tried to dissuade them from its execution, telling them of the many trials and difficulties they would have to undergo; that so many days' march from his country dwelt a bad spirit, or Manito, who foreknew and foretold the existence and arrival of all who entered into his country. It is impossible, he said, my children, for you ever to arrive at the object you are in search of.

Ioscoda replied: "Nosa,"[98] and they could see the chief blush in being called _father_, "we have come so far on our way, and we will continue it; we have resolved firmly that we will do so. We think our lives are of no value, for we have given them up for this object. Nosa," he repeated, "do not then prevent us from going on our journey." The chief then dismissed them with valuable presents, after having appointed the next day to speak to them again, and provided everything that they needed or wished for.

Next day they were again summoned to appear before the king. He again tried to dissuade them. He said he would send them back to their country in one of his vessels: but all he said had no effect. "Well," said he, "if you will go, I will furnish you all that is needed for your journey." He had everything provided accordingly. He told them, that three days before they reached the Bad Spirit he had warned them of, they would hear his Shéshegwun.[99] He cautioned them to be wise, for he felt that he should never see them all again.

They resumed their journey, and travelled sometimes through villages, but they soon left them behind and passed over a region of forests and plains, without inhabitants. They found all the productions of a new country: trees, animals, birds, were entirely different from those they were accustomed to, on the other side of the great waters. They travelled, and travelled, till they wore out all of the clothing that had been given to them, and had to take to their leather clothing again.

The three days the chief spoke of meant three years, for it was only at the end of the third year, that they came within the sight of the spirit's shéshegwun. The sound appeared to be near, but they continued walking on, day after day, without apparently getting any nearer to it. Suddenly they came to a very extensive plain; they could see the blue ridges of distant mountains rising on the horizon beyond it; they pushed on, thinking to get over the plain before night, but they were overtaken by darkness; they were now on a stony part of the plain, covered by about a foot's depth of water; they were weary and fatigued; some of them said, let us lie down; no, no, said the others, let us push on. Soon they stood on firm ground, but it was as much as they could do to stand, for they were very weary. They, however, made an effort to encamp, lighted up a fire, and refreshed themselves by eating. They then commenced conversing about the sound of the spirit's shéshegwun, which they had heard for several days. Suddenly the instrument commenced; it sounded as if it was subterraneous, and it shook the ground: they tied up their bundles and went toward the spot. They soon came to a large building, which was illuminated. As soon as they came to the door, they were met by a rather elderly man. "How do ye do," said he, "my grandsons? Walk in, walk in; I am glad to see you: I knew when you started: I saw you encamp this evening: sit down, and tell me the news of the country you left, for I feel interested in it." They complied with his wishes, and when they had concluded, each one presented him with a piece of tobacco. He then revealed to them things that would happen in their journey, and predicted its successful accomplishment. "I do not say that all of you," said he, "will successfully go through it. You have passed over three-fourths of your way, and I will tell you how to proceed after you get to the edge of the earth. Soon after you leave this place, you will hear a deafening sound: it is the sky descending on the edge, but it keeps moving up and down; you will watch, and when it moves up, you will see a vacant space between it and the earth. You must not be afraid. A chasm of awful depth is there, which separates the unknown from this earth, and a veil of darkness conceals it. Fear not. You must leap through; and if you succeed, you will find yourselves on a beautiful plain, and in a soft and mild light emitted by the moon." They thanked him for his advice. A pause ensued.

"I have told you the way," he said; "now tell me again of the country you have left; for I committed dreadful ravages while I was there: does not the country show marks of it? and do not the inhabitants tell of me to their children? I came to this place to mourn over my bad actions, and am trying, by my present course of life, to relieve my mind of the load that is on it." They told him that their fathers spoke often of a celebrated personage called Manabozho, who performed great exploits. "I am he," said the Spirit. They gazed with astonishment and fear. "Do you see this pointed house?" said he, pointing to one that resembled a sugar-loaf; "you can now each speak your wishes, and will be answered from that house. Speak out, and ask what each wants, and it shall be granted." One of them, who was vain, asked with presumption, that he might live forever, and never be in want. He was answered, "Your wish shall be granted." The second made the same request, and received the same answer. The third asked to live longer than common people, and to be always successful in his war excursions, never losing any of his young men. He was told, "Your wishes are granted." The fourth joined in the same request, and received the same reply. The fifth made an humble request, asking to live as long as men generally do, and that he might be crowned with such success in hunting as to be able to provide for his parents and relatives. The sixth made the same request, and it was granted to both, in pleasing tones, from the pointed house.

After hearing these responses they prepared to depart. They were told by Manabozho, that they had been with him but one day, but they afterward found that they had remained there upward of a year. When they were on the point of setting out, Manabozho exclaimed, "Stop! you two, who asked me for eternal life, will receive the boon you wish immediately." He spake, and one was turned into a stone called Shin-gauba-wossin,[100] and the other into a cedar tree. "Now," said he to the others, "you can go." They left him in fear, saying, "We were fortunate to escape so, for the king told us he was wicked, and that we should not probably escape from him." They had not proceeded far, when they began to hear the sound of the beating sky. It appeared to be near at hand, but they had a long interval to travel before they came near, and the sound was then stunning to their senses; for when the sky came down, its pressure would force gusts of wind from the opening, so strong that it was with difficulty they could keep their feet, and the sun passed but a short distance above their heads. They however approached boldly, but had to wait sometime before they could muster courage enough to leap through the dark veil that covered the passage. The sky would come down with violence, but it would rise slowly and gradually. The two who had made the humble request, stood near the edge, and with no little exertion succeeded, one after the other, in leaping through, and gaining a firm foothold. The remaining two were fearful and undecided: the others spoke to them through the darkness, saying, "Leap! leap! the sky is on its way down." These two looked up and saw it descending, but fear paralyzed their efforts; they made but a feeble attempt, so as to reach the opposite side with their hands; but the sky at the same time struck on the earth with great violence and a terrible sound, and forced them into the dreadful black chasm.

The two successful adventurers, of whom Iosco now was chief, found themselves in a beautiful country, lighted by the moon, which shed around a mild and pleasant light. They could see the moon approaching as if it were from behind a hill. They advanced, and an aged woman spoke to them; she had a white face and pleasing air, and looked rather old, though she spoke to them very kindly: they knew from her first appearance that she was the moon: she asked them several questions: she told them that she knew of their coming, and was happy to see them: she informed them that they were half way to her brother's, and that from the earth to her abode was half the distance. "I will, by and by, have leisure," said she, "and will go and conduct you to my brother, for he is now absent on his daily course: you will succeed in your object, and return in safety to your country and friends, with the good wishes, I am sure, of my brother." While the travellers were with her, they received every attention. When the proper time arrived, she said to them, "My brother is now rising from below, and we shall see his light as he comes over the distant edge: come," said she, "I will lead you up." They went forward, but in some mysterious way, they hardly knew how: they rose almost directly up, as if they had ascended steps. They then came upon an immense plain, declining in the direction of the sun's approach. When he came near, the moon spake--"I have brought you these persons, whom we knew were coming;" and with this she disappeared. The sun motioned with his hand for them to follow him. They did so, but found it rather difficult, as the way was steep: they found it particularly so from the edge of the earth till they got halfway between that point and midday: when they reached this spot, the sun stopped, and sat down to rest. "What, my children," said he, "has brought you here? I could not speak to you before: I could not stop at any place but this, for this is my first resting-place--then at the centre, which is at midday, and then halfway from that to the western edge.[101] Tell me," he continued, "the object of your undertaking this journey and all the circumstances which have happened to you on the way." They complied, Iosco told him their main object was to see him. They had lost four of their friends on the way, and they wished to know whether they could return in safety to the earth, that they might inform their friends and relatives of all that had befallen them. They concluded by requesting him to grant their wishes. He replied, "Yes, you shall certainly return in safety; but your companions were vain and presumptuous in their demands. They were Gug-ge-baw-diz-ze-wug.[102] They aspired to what Manitoes only could enjoy. But you two, as I said, shall get back to your country, and become as happy as the hunter's life can make you. You shall never be in want of the necessaries of life, as long as you are permitted to live; and you will have the satisfaction of relating your journey to your friends, and also of telling them of me. Follow me, follow me," he said, commencing his course again. The ascent was now gradual, and they soon came to a level plain. After travelling some time he again sat down to rest, for we had arrived at Nau-we-qua.[103] "You see," said he, "it is level at this place, but a short distance onwards, my way descends gradually to my last resting-place, from which there is an abrupt descent." He repeated his assurance that they should be shielded from danger, if they relied firmly on his power. "Come here quickly," he said, placing something before them on which they could descend; "keep firm," said he, as they resumed the descent. They went downward as if they had been let down by ropes.

In the mean time the parents of these two young men dreamed that their sons were returning, and that they should soon see them. They placed the fullest confidence in their dreams. Early in the morning they left their lodges for a remote point in the forest, where they expected to meet them. They were not long at the place before they saw the adventurers returning, for they had descended not far from that place. The young men knew they were their fathers. They met, and were happy. They related all that had befallen them. They did not conceal anything; and they expressed their gratitude to the different Manitoes who had preserved them, by feasting and gifts, and particularly to the sun and moon, who had received them as their children.

[93] The East--_i.e._ place of light.

[94] Ship and boat. These terms exhibit the simple and the
diminutive forms of the name for ship or vessel. It is also the
term for a woman's needlework, and seems to imply a tangled
thready mass, and was perhaps transferred in allusion to a ship's
ropes.

[95] Wewaquonidjig, a term early and extensively applied to white
men, by our Indians, and still frequently used.

[96] Odawbon comprehends all vehicles between a dog train and a
coach, whether on wheels or runners. The term is nearest allied
to vehicle.

[97] Massive silver.

[98] My father.

[99] A rattle.

[100] A hard primitive stone, frequently found along the borders
of the lakes and watercourses, generally fretted into image
shapes. Hardness and indestructibility are regarded as its
characteristics by the Indians. It is often granite.

[101] This computation of time separates the day into four
portions of six hours each--two of which, from 1 to 6, and from 6
to 12 A.M. compose the _morning_, and the other two, from 1 to 6,
and from 6 to 12 P.M. compose the _evening_.

[102] This is a verbal form, plural number, of the transitive
adjective--foolish.

[103] Midday, or middle line.

THE ENCHANTED MOCCASINS.

ODJIBWA.

There once lived a little boy, all alone with his sister, in a very wild uninhabitable country. They saw nothing but beasts, and birds, the sky above them, and the earth beneath them. But there were no human beings besides themselves. The boy often retired to think, in lone places, and the opinion was formed that he had supernatural powers. It was supposed that he would perform some extraordinary exploits, and he was called Onwe Bahmondoong, or he that carries a ball on his back. As he grew up he was impatient to know whether there were other beings near them: she replied, that there was, but they lived in a remote distance. There was a large village of hunters and warriors. Being now well grown, he determined to seek his fortune, and asked her to make him several pairs of moccasins to last him on the journey. With this request she complied. Then taking his bow and arrows, and his war-club, and a little sack containing his _nawappo_, or travelling victuals, he immediately set out on his journey. He travelled on, not knowing exactly where he went. Hills, plains, trees, rocks, forests, meadows, spread before him. Sometimes he killed an animal, sometimes a bird. The deer often started in his path. He saw the fox, the bear, and the ground-hog. The eagles screamed above him. The ducks chattered in the ponds and lakes. He lay down and slept when he was tired, he rose up when he was refreshed. At last he came to a small wigwam, and, on looking into it, discovered a very old woman sitting alone by the fire. As soon as she saw the stranger, she invited him in, and thus addressed him: "My poor grandchild, I suppose you are one of those who seek for the distant village, from which no person has ever yet returned. Unless your guardian is more powerful than the guardian of your predecessors, you too will share a similar fate of theirs. Be careful to provide yourself with the Ozhebahguhnun--the bones they use in the medicine dance[104]--without which you cannot succeed." After she had thus spoken, she gave him the following directions for his journey. "When you come near to the village which you seek, you will see in the centre a large lodge, in which the chief of the village, who has two daughters, resides. Before the door you will see a great tree, which is smooth and destitute of bark. On this tree, about the height of a man from the ground, a small lodge is suspended, in which these two daughters dwell. It is here so many have been destroyed. Be wise, my grandchild, and abide strictly by my directions." The old woman then gave him the Ozhebahguhnun, which would cause his success. Placing them in his bosom, he continued his journey, till at length he arrived at the sought-for village; and, as he was gazing around him, he saw both the tree and the lodge which the old woman had mentioned. Immediately he bent his steps for the tree, and approaching, he endeavored to reach the suspended lodge. But all his efforts were vain; for as often as he attempted to reach it, the tree began to tremble, and soon shot up so that the lodge could hardly be perceived. Foiled as he was in all his attempts, he thought of his guardian and changed himself into a small squirrel, that he might more easily accomplish his design. He then mounted the tree in quest of the lodge. After climbing for some time, he became fatigued, and panted for breath; but, remembering the instructions which the old woman had given him, he took from his bosom one of the bones, and thrust it into the trunk of the tree, on which he sat. In this way he quickly found relief; and, as often as he became fatigued, he repeated this; but whenever he came near the lodge and attempted to touch it, the tree would shoot up as before, and place the lodge beyond his reach. At length, the bones being exhausted, he began to despair, for the earth had long since vanished from his sight. Summoning all resolution, he determined to make another effort to reach the object of his wishes. On he went; yet, as soon as he came near the lodge and attempted to touch it, the tree again shook, but it had reached the arch of heaven, and could go no higher; so now he entered the lodge, and beheld the two sisters sitting opposite each other. He asked their names. The one on his left hand called herself Azhabee,[105] and the one on the right Negahnahbee.[106] Whenever he addressed the one on his left hand, the tree would tremble as before, and settle down to its former position. But when he addressed the one on his right hand, it would again shoot upward as before. When he thus discovered that, by addressing the one on his left hand, the tree would descend, he continued to do so until it had resumed its former position; then seizing his war-club, he thus addressed the sisters: "You, who have caused the death of so many of my brothers, I will now put an end to, and thus have revenge for the numbers you have destroyed." As he said this he raised the club and laid them dead at his feet. He then descended, and learning that these sisters had a brother living with their father, who would pursue him for the deed he had done, he set off at random, not knowing whither he went. Soon after, the father and mother of the young women visited their residence and found their remains. They immediately told their son Mudjikewis that his sisters had been slain. He replied, "The person who has done this must be the Boy that carries the Ball on his Back. I will pursue him, and have revenge for the blood of my sisters." "It is well, my son," replied the father. "The spirit of your life grant you success. I counsel you to be wary in the pursuit. It is a strong spirit who has done this injury to us, and he will try to deceive you in every way. Above all, avoid tasting food till you succeed; for if you break your fast before you see his blood, your power will be destroyed." So saying, they parted.

His son instantly set out in search of the murderer, who, finding he was closely pursued by the brother of the slain, climbed up into one of the tallest trees and shot forth his magic arrows. Finding that his pursuer was not turned back by his arrows, he renewed his flight; and when he found himself hard pressed, and his enemy close behind him, he transformed himself into the skeleton of a moose that had been killed, whose flesh had come off from his bones. He then remembered the moccasins which his sister had given him, which were enchanted. Taking a pair of them, he placed them near the skeleton. "Go," said he to them, "to the end of the earth."

The moccasins then left him and their tracks remained. Mudjikewis at length came to the skeleton of the moose, when he perceived that the track he had long been pursuing did not end there, so he continued to follow it up, till he came to the end of the earth, where he found only a pair of moccasins. Mortified that he had been outwitted by following a pair of moccasins instead of the object of his revenge, he bitterly complained, resolving not to give up the pursuit, and to be more wary and wise in scrutinizing signs. He then called to mind the skeleton he met on his way, and concluded that _it_ must be the object of his search. He retraced his steps towards the skeleton, but found, to his surprise, that it had disappeared, and that the tracks of _Onwe Bahmondoong_, or he who carries the Ball, were in another direction. He now became faint with hunger, and resolved to give up the pursuit; but when he remembered the blood of his sisters, he determined again to pursue.

The other, finding he was closely pursued, now changed himself into a very old man, with two daughters, who lived in a large lodge in the centre of a beautiful garden, which was filled with everything that could delight the eye or was pleasant to the taste. He made himself appear so very old as to be unable to leave his lodge, and had his daughters to bring him food and wait on him. The garden also had the appearance of ancient occupancy, and was highly cultivated.

His pursuer continued on till he was nearly starved and ready to sink. He exclaimed, "Oh! I will forget the blood of my sisters, for I am starving;" but again he thought of the blood of his sisters, and again he resolved to pursue, and be satisfied with nothing but the attainment of his right to revenge.

He went on till he came to the beautiful garden. He approached the lodge. As soon as the daughters of the owner perceived him, they ran and told their father that a stranger approached the lodge. Their father replied, "Invite him in, my children, invite him in." They quickly did so; and by the command of their father, they boiled some corn and prepared other savory food. Mudjikewis had no suspicion of the deception. He was faint and weary with travel, and felt that he could endure fasting no longer. Without hesitancy, he partook heartily of the meal, and in so doing was overcome. All at once he seemed to forget the blood of his sisters, and even the village of his nativity. He ate so heartily as to produce drowsiness, and soon fell into a profound sleep. Onwe Bahmondoong watched his opportunity, and, as soon as he found his slumbers sound, resumed his youthful form. He then drew the magic ball from his back, which turned out to be a heavy war-club, with one blow of which he put an end to his pursuer, and thus vindicated his title as the Wearer of the Ball.

[104] The idea attached to the use of these bones in the medicine
dance is, that, by their magical influence, the actor can
penetrate and go through any substance.

[105] One who sits behind.

[106] One who sits before.

LEELINAU.

A CHIPPEWA TALE.

The Pukwudjininees, or fairies of Lake Superior, had one of their most noted places of residence at the great sand dunes of _Naigow Wudjoo_, called by the French _La Grandes Sables_. Here they were frequently seen in bright moonlight evenings, and the fishermen while sitting in their canoes on the lake often saw them playing their pranks, and skipping over the hills. There was a grove of pines in that vicinity called the manito wac, or Spirit wood, into which they might be seen to flee, on the approach of evening, and there is a romantic little lake on those elevated sand-hills, not far back from the Great Lake, on the shores of which their tracks could be plainly seen in the sand. These tracks were not bigger than little children's footprints, and the spirits were often seen in the act of vanishing behind the little pine-trees. They love to dance in the most lonesome places, and were always full of glee and merriment, for their little voices could be plainly heard. These little men, the pukwudjininees, are not deeply malicious, but rather delighted in mischief and freaks, and would sometimes steal away a fisherman's paddle, or come at night and pluck the hunter's feathers out of his cap in the lodge, or pilfer away some of his game, or fish. On one occasion they went so far as to entice away into their sacred grove, and carry off a chief's daughter--a small but beautiful girl, who had been always inclined to be pensive, and took her seat often in these lonesome haunts. From her baby name of _Neenizu_, my dear life, she was called Leelinau, but she never attained to much size, remaining very slender, but of the most pleasing and sylph-like features, with very bright black eyes, and little feet. Her mother often cautioned her of the danger of visiting these lonely fairy haunts, and predicted, playfully, that she would one day be carried off by the Pukwudjees, for they were very frolicsome, mischievous and full of tricks.

To divert her mind from these recluse moods and tastes, she endeavored to bring about an alliance with a neighboring forester, who, though older than herself, had the reputation of being an excellent hunter, and active man, and he had even creditably been on the war path, though he had never brought home a scalp. To these suggestions Leelinau had turned rather a deaf ear. She had imbibed ideas of a spiritual life and existence, which she fancied could only be enjoyed in the Indian elysium, and instructed as she was by the old story-tellers, she could not do otherwise than deem the light and sprightly little men who made the fairy footprints as emissaries from the _Happy Land_. For this happy land she sighed and pined. Blood, and the taking of life, she said, the Great Spirit did not approve, and it could never be agreeable to minds of pure and spiritual moulds. And she longed to go to a region where there was no weeping, no cares, and no deaths. If her parents laughed at these notions as childish, her only resource was silence, or she merely revealed here motions in her eyes. She was capable of the deepest concealment, and locked up in her heart what she feared to utter, or uttered to deceive. This proved her ruin.

At length, after a series of conversational interviews on the subject, she announced her willingness to accede to the matrimonial proposals, and the day was fixed for this purpose. She dressed herself in the finest manner possible, putting flowers in her hair, and carrying a bunch of wild flowers, mixed with tassels of the pine-tree in her hand. One only request she made, which was to make a farewell visit to the sacred grove of the fairies, before she visited the nuptial bower. This was granted, on the evening of the proposed ceremony, while the bridegroom and his friends gathered in her father's lodge, and impatiently waited her return. But they waited in vain. Night came but Leelina was never more seen, except by a fisherman on the lake shore, who conceived that he had seen her go off with one of the tall fairies known as the fairy of Green Pines, with green plumes nodding o'er his brows; and it is supposed that she is still roving with him over the elysian fields.

WILD NOTES OF THE PIBBIGWUN.

CONTENTS.

The Pibbigwun 307

The Chippewa Girl 307

Doubt 308

Fairy Whisperings 309

Song of the Opechee 310

Chant to the Fire-fly, the Watasee 311

Fairy Chief's Carol 312

Song of a Captive Creek Girl 312

Female Song 313

Male Song 313

Love of the Forest 314

Light of Christianity in the Wigwam 315

The Nocturnal Grave Lights 316

Manito 317

Niagara, an Allegory 318

Chileeli, a Spirit's Whisperings 319

Stanzas on the State of the Iroquois 322

The Loon's Foot--a Song 324

Tulco, Prince of Notto 325

On Presenting a Wild Rose plucked on the Sources of the Mississippi 326

The Red Man 327

The Skeleton wrapped in Gold 330

Waub Ojeeg's Death Whisperings 332

To the Miscodeed 333

The Star Family 335

Song of the Wolf-Brother 339

Abbinochi 341

To Pauguk 342

NOTES.

THE PIBBIGWUN.[107]

I ope my voice, not with the organ's tone, Deep, solemn and majestic; not with sounds Of trump or drum, that cheer armed squadrons on, In coats of steel, o'er lines of bloody grounds, Nor is my tone, the tone of rushing storms, That sweep in mad career through forests tall, Up-tearing gnarled oaks, with sounds of hellish forms, That bode destruction black, and death to all. Nor is it yet the screaming warrior, loud, With hand upraised to mouth, hyena-strong, That tells of midnight onrush, hell-endowed, And bleeding scalp of aged, mild and young. Ah no! it is a note that's only blown, Where kindness fills the heart, and every thrill Is peace and love, while music's softer tone Steals on the evening air, its simple aims to fill, Waking the female ear to carols of the Pibbigwun.

[107] Indian flute.

THE CHIPPEWA GIRL.

They tell me, the men with a white-white face Belong to a purer, nobler race; But why, if they do, and it may be so, Do their tongues cry, "Yes"--and their actions, "No?"

They tell me, that white is a heavenly hue, And it may be so, but the sky is blue; And the first of men--as our old men say, Had earth-brown skins, and were made of clay.

But throughout my life, I've heard it said, There's nothing surpasses a tint of red; Oh, the white man's cheeks look pale and sad, Compared to my beautiful Indian lad.

Then let them talk of their race divine, Their glittering domes, and sparkling wine; Give me a lodge, like my fathers had, And my tall, straight, beautiful Indian lad.

DOUBT.

Ninimosha,[108] think'st thou of me, When beneath the forest tree? Do'st thou in the passing wind, Catch the sighs I've cast behind? Ah! I fear--I fear--I fear, Evil bird hath filled thine ear.

Ninimosha, in the clear blue sky, Canst thou read my constancy, Or in whispering branches near, Aught from thy true lover hear? Ah! I fear--I fear--I fear, Evil bird hath filled thine ear.

[108] My sweetheart.

FAIRY WHISPERINGS.

Supposed to be addressed to, and responded by a young pine-tree, in a state of transformation.

INVOCATION.

Spirit of the dancing leaves, Hear a throbbing heart that grieves, Not for joys this world can give, But the life that spirits live: Spirit of the foaming billow, Visit thou my nightly pillow, Shedding o'er it silver dreams, Of the mountain brooks and streams, Sunny glades, and golden hours, Such as suit thy buoyant powers: Spirit of the starry night, Pencil out thy fleecy light, That my footprints still my lead To the blush-let Miscodeed,[109] Or the flower to passion true Yielding free its carmine hue: Spirit of the morning dawn, Waft thy fleecy columns on, Snowy white, or tender blue, Such as brave men love to view. Spirit of the greenwood plume, Shed around thy leaf perfume, Such as springs from buds of gold Which thy tiny hands unfold. Spirits, hither quick repair, Hear a maiden's evening prayer.

[109] Claytonia Virginica.

RESPONSE.

Maiden, think me not a tree, But thine own dear lover free, Tall and youthful in my bloom With the bright green nodding plume. Thou art leaning on my breast, Lean forever there, and rest! Fly from man, that bloody race, Pards, assassins, bold and base; Quit their dim, and false parade For the quiet lonely shade. Leave the windy birchen cot For my own light happy lot; O'er thee I my veil will fling, Light as beetle's silken wing; I will breathe perfume of flowers, O'er thy happy evening hours; I will in my shell canoe Waft thee o'er the waters blue; I will deck thy mantle fold, With the sun's last rays of gold. Come, and on the mountain free Rove a fairy bright with me.

SONG OF THE OPECHEE, THE ROBIN.

The Chippewas relate that the robin originated from a youth who was subjected to too severe a task of fasting.

In the boundless woods there are berries of red,
And fruits of a beautiful blue,
Where, by nature's own hand, the sweet singers are fed,
And to nature they ever are true.

We go not with arrow and bow to the field,
Like men of the fierce ruddy race,
To take away lives which they never can give,
And revel the lords of the chase.

If danger approaches, with instant alarm
We fly to our own leafy woods,
And there, with an innocent carol and charm,
We sing to our dear little broods.

At morning we sally in quest of the grain
Kind nature in plenty supplies,
We skip o'er the beautiful wide-stretching plain,
And sport in the vault of the skies.

At evening we perch in some neighboring tree
To carol our evening adieu,
And feel, although man assert he is free,
We only have liberty true.

We sing out our praises to God and to man,
We live as heaven taught us to live,
And I would not change back to mortality's plan
For all that the mortal can give.

Here ceased the sweet singer; then pluming his breast,
He winged the blue firmament free,
Repeating, as homeward he flew to his rest,
Tshee-ree-lee--Tshee-ree-lee--Tshee-ree-lee!

EVENING CHANT OF INDIAN CHILDREN TO THE WATASEE, THE FIRE-FLY.

Fire-fly, fire-fly! bright little thing, Light me to bed, and my song I will sing. Give me your light, as you fly o'er my head, That I may merrily go to my bed. Give me your light o'er the grass as you creep, That I may joyfully go to my sleep. Come, little fire-fly--come, little beast-- Come! and I'll make you to-morrow a feast. Come, little candle that flies as I sing, Bright little fairy-bug--night's little king; Come, and I'll dance as you guide me along, Come, and I'll pay you, my bug, with a song.

SONG OF A FAIRY CHIEF.

Addressed to the winds on transferring his sister to a position as one of the planets in the morning sky.

Blow, winds, blow, my sister lingers
From her dwelling in the sky,
Where the moon with rosy fingers
Shall her cheeks with vermil dye.

There my earliest views directed,
Shall from her their brilliance take
And her smiles through clouds reflected,
Guide me on, by wood and lake.

While I range the highest mountains,
Sport in valleys, green and low,
Or beside our Indian fountains,
Raise my tiny hip hallo.

SONG OF A CAPTIVE CREEK GIRL,

Who was an exile in a distant northern tribe, confined on an island in Lake Superior.

To sunny vales, to balmy skies, My thoughts, a flowery arrow, flies; I see the wood, the bank, the glade, Where first, a wild wood girl, I played. I think on scenes and faces dear; They are not here--they are not here.

In this cold sky, in this lone isle, I meet no friends, no mother's smile. I list the wind, I list the wave; They seem like requiems, round the grave, And all my heart's young joys are gone; It is alone--it is alone.

FEMALE SONG.

My love is a hunter--he hunts the fleet deer, With fusil or arrow, one-half of the year; He hunts the fleet deer over mountain and lea, But his heart is still hunting for love and for me.

My love is a warrior; when warriors go, With fusil or arrow, to strike the bold foe, He treads the bright war-path with step bold and free, But still his thoughts wander to love and to me.

But hunter or warrior, where'er he may go, To track the swift deer, or to follow the foe, His heart's warm desire, field and forest still flee, To go hunting his love, and make captive of me.

MALE SONG.

My love, she gave to me a belt, a belt of texture fine, Of snowy hue, emboss'd with blue and scarlet porcupine; This tender braid sustain'd the blade I drew against the foe, And ever prest upon my breast, to mark its ardent glow. And if with art I act my part, and bravely fighting stand, I, in the din, a trophy win, that gains Nimosha's hand.

My love, she is a handsome girl, she has a sparkling eye, And a head of flowing raven hair, and a forehead arched and high; Her teeth are white as cowry shells, brought from the distant sea, And she is tall, and graceful all, and fair as fair can be. And if with art I act my part, and bravely wooing stand, And with address my suit I press, I gain Nimosha's hand.

Oh, I will search the silver brooks for skin of blackest dye, And scale the highest mountain-tops, a warrior's gift to spy! I'll place them where my love shall see, and know my present true; Perhaps when she admires the gift, she'll love the giver, too. And if with art I act my part, and bravely wooing stand, I'll gain my love's unsullied heart, and then I'll gain her hand.

THE LOVE OF THE FOREST.

To rove with the wild bird, and go where we will, Oh, this is the charm of the forest-life still! With our houses of bark, and our food on the plain, We are off like an eagle, and back there again.

No farms can detain us, no chattels prevent; We live not by ploughing--we thrive not by rent; Our herds rove the forest, our flocks swim the floods, And we skim the broad waters, and trip through the woods.

With ships not of oak wood, nor pitchy, nor strong, We sail along rivers, and sail with a song; We care not for taxes--our laws are but few; The dart is our sickle, our ship the canoe.

If enemies press us, and evil fear stray, We seize on our war-clubs, and drive them away, And when there is nothing to fear or withstand, We lift the proud rattle, and dance on the land.

In feasting and dancing, our moments are gay; We trust in the God who made heaven and day; We read no big volumes, no science implore, But ask of our wise men to teach us their lore.

The woods are our pastures; we eat what we find, And rush through the lands like a rattling wind. Heaven gave us the country; we cling to the west, And, dying, we fly to the Lands of the Blest!

LIGHT OF CHRISTIANITY IN THE WIGWAM.

Oh why, ye subtle spirits, why Lift I my eyes to yonder floating sky, Where clouds paint pictures with so clear a hue? A heaven so beautiful it must be true.

For if I but to earth withdraw my eyes, And fix them on the creature man To scan his acts, the dear, fond picture dies, And worse he seems in thought, and air, and plan Than the hyena, beast that only digs For food, and not rejoices in the dart, That stopped the warm blood current of the heart.

Had men but had just what the earth can give, It would be misery, and lies, and blood, Pinching and hunger, so that he who lives But lives, as some poor outcast drowning in a flood. And then--ah, tell me!--whither goes the soul?

Oh why, ye spirits blest, oh why Is truth so darkened to the human eye? As if a sombre cloud all heaven made black, And the sun shone but through a chink or crack, Within a wall, where light is but the accident of things, And not the purport. Truth may be then as the white men write, And all our tribes in a darkness set, instead of light.

NOCTURNAL GRAVE LIGHTS.

It is supposed to be four days' journey to the land of the dead; wherefore, during four nights, the Chippewas kindle a fire on the grave.

Light up a fire upon my grave When I am dead. 'Twill softly shed its beaming rays, To guide the soul its darkling ways; And ever, as the day's full light Goes down and leaves the world in night, These kindly gleams, with warmth possest, Shall show my spirit where to rest When I am dead.

Four days the funeral rite renew, When I am dead. While onward bent, with typic woes, I seek the red man's last repose; Let no rude hand the flame destroy, Nor mar the scene with festive joy; While night by night, a ghostly guest, I journey to my final rest, When I am dead.

No moral light directs my way When I am dead. A hunter's fate, a warrior's fame, A shade, a phantom, or a name, All life-long through my hands have sought, Unblest, unlettered, and untaught: Deny me not the boon I crave-- A symbol-light upon my grave, When I am dead.

MANITO.

"Every exhibition of elementary power, in earth or sky, is deemed, by the Indians, as a symbolic type of a deity."--_Hist. Inds._

In the frowning cliff, that high Glooms above the passing eye, Casting spectral shadows tall Over lower rock and wall; In its morn and sunset glow, I behold a Manito.

By the lake or river lone, In the humble fretted stone, Water-sculptured, and, by chance, Cast along the wave's expanse; In its morn and sunset glow, I behold a Manito.

In whatever's dark or new, And my senses cannot view, Complex work, appearance strange, Arts' advance, or nature's change-- Fearful e'er of hurt or woe, I behold a Manito.

In the motions of the sky, Where the angry lightnings fly, And the thunder, dread and dire, Lifts his mighty voice in fire-- Awed with fear of sudden woe, I behold a Manito.

Here my humble voice I lift, Here I lay my sacred gift, And, with heart of fear and awe, Raise my loud _Wau-la-le-au_.

Spirit of the fields above, Thee I fear, and Thee I love, Whether joy betide or woe, Thou, thou art my Manito.

NIAGARA, AN ALLEGORY.

An old gray man on a mountain lived,
He had daughters four and one,
And a tall bright lodge of the betula bark
That glittered in the sun.

He lived on the very highest top.
For he was a hunter free,
Where he could spy, on the clearest day,
Gleams of the distant sea.

"Come out! come out!" cried the youngest one;
"Let us off to look at the sea!"
And out they ran, in their gayest robes,
And skipped and ran with glee.

"Come, Su;[110] come, Mi;[111] come, Hu;[112] come, Cla;"[113]
Cried laughing little Er;[114]
"Let us go to yonder deep blue sea,
Where the breakers foam and roar."

And on they scampered by valley and wood,
By earth and air and sky,
Till they came to a steep where the bare rocks stood,
In a precipice mountain high.

"Inya!"[115] cried Er, "here's a dreadful leap!
But we are gone so far,
That, if we flinch and return in fear,
Nos[116] he will cry, 'Ha! ha!'"

Now, each was clad in a vesture light,
That floated far behind,
With sandals of frozen water drops,
And wings of painted wind.

And down they plunged with a merry skip,
Like birds that skim the plain;
And "Hey!" they cried, "let us up and try,
And down the steep again!"

And up and down the daughters skipped,
Like girls on a holiday,
And laughed outright at the sport and foam
They called Niagara.

If ye would see a sight so rare,
Where Nature's in her glee,
Go, view the spot in the wide wild West,
The land of the brave and free!

But mark--their shapes are only seen
In Fancy's deepest play;
But she plainly shows their wings and feet
In the dancing sunny spray.

[110] Superior.

[111] Michigan.

[112] Huron.

[113] St. Clair.

[114] Erie.

[115] An exclamation of wonder and surprise.--_Odj. lan._

[116] My father.--_Ib._

CHILEELI.

The Chippewas relate that the spirit of a young lover, who was killed in battle, determined to return to his affianced maid, in the shape of a bird, and console her by his songs. He found her in a chosen retreat, where she daily resorted to pass her pensive hours.