The Great Spirit was sorry that the chief's daughter had fallen into the water and lost her life, and the next night he bore her up to the stars and gave her a home in the moon. There she lives again, but her face is white, as it was when she fell from the canoe. On moonlight nights she always looks down upon the earth, searching for the wind, for she does not know that he is invisible. The wind does not know that far away in the moon is the white face of his lost wife, and so he roams through the forest and wanders about the rocks and the mountains, but never thinks of looking up to the moon.
Thunder and Lightning were going to give a feast. It was to be a most delightful banquet, for all the good things that could be imagined were to be brought from every corner of the world.
For many days before the feast these good things were coming. The birds flew up with what they could find in the cold air of the north and the warm air of the south. The fishes came from the east and from the west with what they could find in the cold water or in the warm water. As for what grew on the earth, there was no end to the luxuries that came every morning and every evening. Squirrels brought nuts, crows brought corn, the ants brought sweet things of many kinds. Food that was rich and rare came from India and Japan. The butterflies and the humming-birds were to arrange the flowers, the peacocks and the orioles promised to help make the place beautiful, and the waves and the brooks agreed to make their most charming music.
Thunder and Lightning were talking about whom to invite, and they questioned whether to ask the sun, the moon, and the wind. These three were children of the star mother.
"The star mother has been so kind to us that I suppose we ought to invite her children," said Thunder.
"The moon is charming, but the sun and the wind are rough and wild. If I were the star mother, I would keep them in a corner all day, and they should stay there all night, too, if they did not promise to be gentle," said Lightning.
"We must invite them," replied Thunder, with what sounded much like a little growl, "but it would be delightful if they would agree to stay away, all but the moon."
That is why the sun and wind were invited as well as the moon. When the invitation came, the two brothers said to their little sister, "You are too small to go to a feast, but perhaps they asked you because they were going to ask us."
"Star mother, I think I will stay at home," said the moon tearfully.
"No, little moon," replied the star mother; "go to the feast with the other children."
So the three children went to the feast, and the star mother waited for them to come home.
When they came, she asked, "What did you bring for me?" The hands of the sun were full of good things, but he said, "I brought only what I am going to eat myself," and he sat down in a corner with his back to the others, and went on eating.
"Did you bring anything for me?" she asked the wind.
"I brought some good things halfway home, and then I was weary of carrying them," answered the wind, "so I have eaten them."
"I should never have imagined that you would be so selfish," said the star mother sadly, and she asked the little moon, "My daughter, did you bring anything for me?"
"Yes, star mother," answered the little moon, and she gave her mother more good things than any one had ever seen in their home before. There were rare luxuries that the fishes and the birds had brought. There were rich colors that the peacocks and orioles had promised, and there was even some of the charming music that the waves and brooks had agreed to make.
The star mother praised the little maiden. Then she looked at her two boys. She was sad, for she knew that they must be punished for their selfishness. "Sun," said she, "you wish to turn your back on all, and your punishment shall be that when the warm days of summer have come, all men will turn their backs on you." To the wind she said, "Wind, you thought of no one but yourself. When the storm is coming and you are afraid and fly before it, no one shall think of you. All men shall close their doors against you and fasten them." Then to her little daughter she said, "My little moon, you were unselfish and thoughtful. You shall always be bright and beautiful, and men shall love you and praise you whenever they look upon your gentle, kindly face."
This is why men hide from the sun and the wind, but never from the moon.
Many strange things happened long ago, and one of them was that a hare, a monkey, and a fox agreed to live together. They talked about their plan a long time. Then the hare said, "I promise to help the monkey and the fox." The monkey declared, "I promise to help the fox and the hare." The fox said, "I promise to help the hare and the monkey." They shook hands, or rather shook paws. There was something else to which they agreed, and that was that they would kill no living creature.
The manito was much pleased when he heard of this plan, but he said to himself, "I should like to make sure that what I have heard is true, and that they are really gentle and kind to others as well as to themselves. I will go to the forest and see how they behave toward strangers."
The manito appeared before the three animals, but they thought he was a hunter. "May I come into your lodge and rest?" he asked. "I am very weary."
All three came toward him and gave him a welcome. "Come into our lodge," they said. "We have agreed to help one another, so we will help one another to help you."
"I have been hungry all day," said the manito, "but I should rather have such a welcome than food."
"But if you are hungry, you must have food," declared the three animals. "If there were anything in our lodge that you would care to eat, you might have part of it or all of it, but there is nothing here that you would like."
Then said the monkey, "I have a plan. I will go out into the forest and find you some food."
When the monkey came back, he said, "I found a tree with some fruit on it. I climbed it and shook it, and here is the fruit. There was only a little of it, for fruit was scarce."
"Will you not eat part of it yourself?" asked the manito.
"No," answered the monkey. "I had rather see you eat it, for I think you are more hungry than I."
The manito wished to know whether the fox and the hare would behave as unselfishly toward him, and he said, "My good friends, the fruit was indeed welcome, but I am still hungry."
Then the fox said, "I will go out into the forest and see what I can find for you."
When the fox came back, he said, "I shook the trees, but no more fruit fell. I could not climb the trees, for my paws are not made for climbing, but I searched on the ground, and at last I found some hominy that a traveler had left, and I have brought you that."
The manito had soon eaten the hominy. He wished to know whether the hare would behave as kindly as the others, and before long he said, "My good friends, the hominy was indeed welcome, but I am still hungry."
Then the hare said, "I will gladly go out into the forest and search for food." He was gone a long time, but when he came back, he brought no food.
"I am very hungry," said the manito.
"Stranger," said the hare, "if you will build a fire beside the rock, I can give you some food."
The manito built a fire, and the hare said, "Now I will spring from the top of the rock upon the fire. I have heard that men eat flesh, that is taken from the fire, and I will give you my own."
The hare sprang from the rock, but the manito caught him in his hands before the flame could touch him, and said, "Dear, unselfish little hare, the monkey and the fox have welcomed me and searched the forest through to find me food, but you have done more, for you have given me yourself. I will take the gift, little hare, and I will carry you in my arms up to the moon, so that every one on the earth may see you and hear the tale of your kindness and unselfishness."
The Indians can see a hare in the moon, and this is the story that they tell their children about it.
They had no idea where they came from. All they knew was that they lived on the hill, and that the old man of the hill called them Jack and Jill. They had plenty of berries to eat, and when night came, they had soft beds of fir to sleep on. There were all kinds of animals on the hill, and they were friendly to the two children. They could have had a most delightful time playing all day long if it had not been for having to carry water.
Every morning, just as soon as the first rays of the sun could be seen from their home, they heard the voice of the old man of the hill calling, "Jack! Jill! Take your pail and get some water." Whenever they were having an especially pleasant game with some of the animals, they heard the same call, "Take your pail and get some water." It is no wonder that Jack awoke one night when no one called and said, "Jill, did he say we must get some water?" "I suppose so," answered Jill sleepily, and they went out with the pail.
The moon was shining down through the trees, and they imagined that she was nearer than ever before. The forest was not half so lonely with her gentle face looking down upon them. Soon they felt happier than at first, and they played little games together, running from tree to tree.
"We have spilled half the water," said Jill.
"There's plenty left," said Jack, "if half is spilled."
"Do you suppose there are any children who play games whenever they like and do not have to carry water?"
"Plenty of them," declared Jack.
sang a voice so clear that it seemed close at hand, and so soft that it seemed far away.
Jack started, fell, and rolled down the hillside, and Jill came tumbling after. As for the water, what was left was spilled before Jack had rolled over once; and before he had rolled over twice, the same voice sang,—
"It is about us," cried Jill.
"I have not broken any crown," said Jack.
"It is the crown of your head," declared Jill.
"Oh!" said Jack; "but where's the water?"
"It has gone tumbling down the hill," answered the same voice.
"How can water go tumbling?" cried Jill. "We tumbled."
"Water tumbles too," replied the voice, "especially when it is frozen."
"Oh!" said Jack.
"The stream is frozen," called the voice.
"What stream?" asked the children together.
"The stream that goes down the hill," answered the voice. "Did you not know that you were bringing water to keep the stream full?"
"No, indeed," said the children.
"The old man of the hill is only a rock, and what you thought his voice was only the water flowing around it."
"Oh!" cried Jack.
"Oh!" cried Jill.
"The stream is frozen," said the voice, "and the earth has a cloak of snow and ice."
"Who are you?" asked Jill shyly.
"Do you really not know? What a strange child you are! I am the moon, of course. Very pleasant people live with me, and I have come to invite you both to go home with me. Will you come?"
The children looked up through the trees, and there was the gentle face of the moon, looking more gentle and kind than ever. "Come," said she, and they went very willingly. They have lived in the moon many years, but they never again carried a pail of water for a stream. "That is the work of the clouds and the sun," says the moon.
"Goodman," said the goodwife, "you must go out into the forest and gather sticks for the fire. To-morrow will be Sunday, and we have no wood to burn."
"Yes, goodwife," answered the goodman, "I will go to the forest."
He did go to the forest, but he sat on a mossy rock and fished till it was dark, and so he brought home no wood. "The goodwife shall not know it," he thought. "I will go to the forest to-morrow morning and gather sticks."
When morning came, he crept softly out of the house when it was hardly light, and went to the forest. Soon he had as many sticks as he could carry, and he was starting for home when a voice called sternly, "Put those sticks down." He looked to the right, to the left, before him, behind him, and over his head. There was no one to be seen.
"Put those sticks down," said the voice again.
"Please, I do not dare to put them down," replied the goodman, trembling with fear. "They are to burn, and my wife cannot cook the dinner without them."
"You will have no dinner to-day," said the voice.
"The goodwife will not know that I did not gather them last night, and she will let me have some dinner. I am almost sure she will," the goodman replied.
"You must not gather sticks to-day," said the voice more sternly than ever. "It is Sunday. Put them down."
"Indeed, Mr. Voice, I dare not," whispered the goodman; and afar off he thought he heard his wife calling, "Goodman, where are you? There is no wood to burn."
"Will you put them down, or will you carry them forever?" cried the voice angrily.
"Truly, I cannot put them down, for I dare not go home without them," answered the goodman, shaking with fear from head to foot. "The goodwife would not like it."
"Then carry them forever," said the voice. "You care not for Sunday, and you shall never have another Sunday."
The goodman could not tell how it came about, but he felt himself being lifted, up, up, up, sticks and all, till he was in the moon.
"Here you shall stay," said the voice sternly. "You will not keep Sunday, and here you need not. This is the moon, and so it is always the moon's day, or Monday, and Monday it shall be with you always. Whenever any one looks up at the moon, he will say, 'See the man with the sticks on his back. He was taken to the moon because he gathered wood on Sunday.'"
"Oh dear, oh dear," cried the goodman, "what will the goodwife say?"
In front of the little house was a pine-tree, and every night at the time when the children went to bed, a bright star appeared over the top of the tree and looked in at the window. The children were brother and sister. They were twins, and so they always had each other to play with.
"Now go to sleep," the mother would say when she had kissed them good-night, but it was hard to go to sleep when such a beautiful, radiant thing was shining in at the window of the little house.
"What do you suppose is in the star?" asked the sister.
"I think there are daisies and honey and violets and butterflies and bluebirds," answered the brother.
"And I think there are roses and robins and berries and humming-birds," said the sister.
"There must be trees and grass too, and I am sure there are pearls and diamonds."
"I can almost see them now," declared the sister. "I wish we could really see them. To-morrow let us go and find the star."
When morning came, the star was gone, but they said, "It was just behind the pine-tree, and so it must be on the blue mountain." The blue mountain was a long way off, but it looked near, and the twins thought they could walk to it in an hour. All day long they walked. They went through the lonely woods, they crossed brooks, they climbed hills, and still they could not find the radiant star that had looked in at their window. The hour had come when their mother always put them to bed and kissed them and said good-night, but now they had no mother, no good-night kiss, and no bed. They were tired and sleepy. They heard strange sounds in the forest, and they were frightened. "I am so tired," the sister whispered. "I am afraid a bear will come. I wish we could see the star."
The sky had grown dark, and a star could be seen here and there, but it was not their star. They went on till they could go no farther. "We will lie down on the grass," said the brother, "and cover ourselves up with leaves, and go to sleep."
Tired as they were, they did not have time to go to sleep before they heard a bear calling "Ugh! Ugh!" in the woods. They sprang up and ran out of the woods, and just before they came to the bottom of the hill, they saw right in front of them a beautiful little lake. They were not frightened any more, for there in the water was something radiant and shining. "It is our own star," said they, "and it has come down to us." They never thought of looking up into the sky over their heads. It was enough for them that the star was in the water and so near them. But was it calling them? They thought so. "Come," cried the brother, "take my hand, and we will go to the star." Then the spirit of the skies lifted them up gently and carried them away on a beautiful cloud.
The father and mother sat alone in the little house one evening, looking sadly out of the window through which the twins had looked. "There is the star that they loved," the mother said. "I have often listened to them while they talked of it. It is rising over the pine-tree in front of the house." They sat and watched the star. It was brighter and more radiant than ever, and in it the father and mother saw the faces of their lost children. "Oh, take us too, good spirit of the skies!" they cried. The spirit heard them, and when the next evening came, close beside the star there was another star. In that were the father and mother, and at last they and the children were all very happy to be together again.
In a Japanese village there once lived a man who had two sons. When the sons were grown up, each brought home a wife from another village a long distance away. The father was greatly pleased with his two daughters-in-law, and for many months they all lived very happily together.
At last the two young wives asked to go home to visit their friends. Among the Japanese the sons and the sons' wives must always obey the father, so the two wives said, "Father-in-law, it is a long, long time since we have seen our friends. May we go to our old home and visit them?" The father-in-law answered, "No." After many months they asked again, and again he answered, "No." Once more they asked. The father-in-law thought, "They care nothing for me, or they would not wish to leave me, but I have a plan, and I can soon know whether they love their father-in-law or not." Then he said to the older of the two wives, "You may go if you wish, but you must never come back unless you bring me fire wrapped in paper." To the younger he said, "You may go if you wish, but you must never come back unless you bring me wind wrapped in paper." The father-in-law thought, "Now I shall find out. If they care for me, they will search the country through till they find paper that will hold fire and wind."
The two young wives were so glad to visit their old friends that for almost a month they forgot all about the gifts that they were to carry to their father-in-law. At last, when it was time to go home, they were greatly troubled about what they must carry with them, and they asked a wise man where to find the strange things. "Paper that will hold fire and wind!" he cried. "There is no such paper in Japan." The two women asked one wise man after another, and every one declared, "There is no such paper in Japan." What should they do? They feared they would never see their home again. They were so sad that they left their friends and wandered a long distance into the forest. Great tears fell from their eyes.
"I do not let people cry in my woods," said a voice. "My trees do not grow well in salt water."
The poor wives were so sorrowful that they forgot to be afraid, and the older one said, "Can we help crying? Unless I can carry to my father-in-law fire wrapped in paper, I can never go home." "And I," wailed the younger, "unless I can carry wind wrapped in paper, I can never go home. None of the wise men ever heard of such things. What shall we do?"
"It is easy enough to wrap fire in paper," answered the voice. "Here is a piece of paper. Now watch." They watched, and the strangest thing in all the world happened right before their eyes. There was no one to be seen, but a piece of paper appeared on the ground and folded itself into a Japanese lantern. "Now put a candle inside," said the voice, "and you have paper holding fire. What more could you ask?"
Then the older woman was happy, but the younger was still sad. She saw now that fire could be carried in paper, but surely no one could carry wind. "O dear voice," she cried, "can any one carry wind in paper?"
"That is much easier than to carry fire," replied the voice, "for wind does not burn holes. Watch."
They watched eagerly. Another piece of paper came all by itself and lay on the ground between them. There was a picture on it of a tree covered with white blossoms. Two women stood under the tree, gathering the blossoms.
"The two women are yourselves," said the voice, "and the blossoms are the gifts that the father-in-law will give you when you go home."
"But I cannot go home," the younger wailed, "for I cannot carry wind wrapped in paper."
"Here is the paper, and there is always plenty of wind. Why not take them?"
"Indeed, I do not know how," the younger woman answered sorrowfully.
"This way, of course," said the voice. Some long, light twigs flew to the paper. It folded itself, over, under, together. It opened and closed, and it waved itself before the tearful face of the younger woman. "Does not the wind come to your face?" asked the voice, "and is it not the fan that has brought it? The lantern carries fire wrapped in paper, and the fan carries wind wrapped in paper."
Then, indeed, the two young women were happy, and when they came to the home of their father-in-law, he was as glad as they. He gave them beautiful gifts of gold and silver, and he said, "No one ever had such marvels before as the lantern and the fan, but in my home there are two more precious things than these, and they are my two dear daughters."
Note.—This vocabulary is supplementary to that of The Hiawatha Primer. Nouns and verbs which are inflected regularly are entered under but one form.
Pages 1-4
first
humming-bird
ago
know
flames
last
people
Pages 4-7
again
fled
Pages 7-9
grew
Pages 10-12
butterflies
stones
some
would
men
could
beauty
life
Pages 13-15
woodpecker
man
cake
put
bake
large
small
Pages 15-19
magician
fever
breath
shot
fight
ever
wound
head
crest
another
blood
Pages 19-23
serpent
hissed
cat
shut
quick
always
fall
Pages 23-28
swallow
tail
forked
animals
year
meet
mosquito
whose
tore
tongue
Pages 28-31
hares
snowflakes
feet
firebrand
Pages 31-34
magpie
time
home
warm
brought
merrily
sorry
eggs
busy
taking
care
well
Pages 34-36
raven
thief
happened
wood-worm
only
himself
pieces
Pages 36-40
more
gone
get
let
any
wolf
pond
near
bat
rain
quickly
Pages 40, 41
catch
caught
tried
curled
throw
Pages 41, 42
fast
hand
soon
Pages 43-46
quail
snipe
never
crept
carrying
pulled
bill
legs
mole
Pages 47-49
sheds
grandfather
marsh
drink
drank
burst
done
off
Pages 50-52
dove
manito
brave
crying
Hoots
too
known
most
Pages 52-56
parrot
repeats
truth
ox
owner
yes
villagers
punish
next
think
jar
even
storm
thunder
mocking-bird
replied
Pages 56-59
cunning
baby
voices
owned
own
mock
Pages 60-64
fox
sheep
cows
fields
growl
should
Mr.
eaten
cream
Pages 64-67
girl
whom
treated
sister
happy
please
covered
really
Pages 68-70
troubles
lies
remember
dies
lip
split
Pages 70-72
peetweet
flies
eagerly
lakes
hollows
thirsty
Pages 72-75
short
fish
such
easy
ice
frozen
hole
worse
slowly
angrily
wish
Pages 76-78
wren
king
choose
which
wise
than
eagle
wisest
Pages 79-82
often
does
wicked
strange
knife
sharpen
harm
Pages 83-86
grasshopper
country
Tithonus
goddess
Aurora
begged
speak
roamed
fairest
immortal
Pages 86-89
oriole
power
ruler
master
yield
clouds
lightning
may
hornet
Pages 89-93
peacock
Juno
queen
world
played
tricks
Argus
hundred
Mercury
belonged
Pages 93-95
bees
tribes
while
honey
Pages 96-98
rich
poor
sowed
ground
seed
mine
Pages 98-102
ants
full
almost
house
sense
smell
pearl
lost
dire
named
bag
box
bagged
Pages 103-106
face
after
top
gaze
side
far-away
Pages 107-110
diamonds
chief
enemies
stolen
search
mourned
wife
Moneta
mother
tears
indeed
Pages 111-114
Runoia
shyly
true
sweet
kinds
harp
touched
strings
wailing
Pages 114-117
emeralds
vase
precious
air
India
roll
waves
deepest
Pages 118-122
flown
berries
broken
might
spring
willow
spruce
juniper
Pages 122-125
aspen
guides
swarm
reason
despise
both
anywhere
places
Pages 125-128
heather
plants
contented
violet
fragrance
daisy
chose
Pages 128-132
flax
sight
hall
sparkling
gift
spin
weave
linen
Holda
Pages 133-135
cranberries
meadow
cranberry
woods
hominy
Pages 135-138
salt
Frothi
millstones
grind
gate
rest
weary
ship
else
bottom
Pages 138-141
crane
hold
bitterly
witch
obey
surely
taken
Pages 142-145
Turtle
fierce
dare
ready
sure
shields
breast
arms
just
declared
Pages 145-150
crocodile
wide
mouth
kingdom
calm
swim
suddenly
dragged
open
anything
carried
sword
able
Pages 150-154
Japan
picture
changing
dragon
island
mean
used
tell
moment
Pages 155-159
pass
perhaps
brooks
better
followed
course
hurt
left
enough
felt
pleasant
quiet
playmates
forgotten
complained
Pages 160-164
cousins
quarreled
less
hard
ought
mount
hunger
weak
pretty
daughter
Pages 165-168
dream
radiant
raised
peaks
rough
unkind
stay
spread
message
dropped
Pages 169-172
idea
rarely
lynx
twice
wolverine
chanced
realized
fingers
arched
end
nose
boo-hoo
Pages 172-175
otter
badger
summit
climb
reach
floor
Pages 175-179
snowdrop
deeds
muttered
counted
outside
interrupted
rumors
whether
tales
gravely
turn
shake
appear
Pages 179-184
tiny
neither
grove
invisible
discovered
became
blow
fell
deep
try
fallen
Pages 184-188
delightful
imagined
corner
luxuries
arrange
promised
agreed
charming
suppose
stay
invite
invitation
bring
Pages 188-193
monkey
plan
shook
rather
paws
something
part
behave
toward
fruit
welcome
hungry
Pages 193-197
hill
Jack
Jill
plenty
pail
especially
game
spilled
tumbling
crown
Pages 197-200
gather
sticks
to-morrow
Sunday
dinner
burn
sternly
cook
to-day
Monday
Pages 200-204
front
window
twins
kissed
tired
way
hour
frightened
grown
ourselves
Pages 204-209
fan
lantern
distance
law
months
wives
since
visit
unless
wrapped
paper
folded
under