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.
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?
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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 FROM 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 Bawating, 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 Bawating, 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.
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 north-west 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 Pittsburgh 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 besieged 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 south-western 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 north-west. The tribe known as Kenistenos, had passed through the Lake of the Woods, through the great lake Nipesing, 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 war-parties.
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.
Expeditions of one Indian tribe against another, require the utmost caution, skill, and secrecy. There are a hundred things to give information to such a party, or influence its action, which are unknown to civilized nations. The breaking of a twig, the slightest impression of a foot print, and other like circumstances, determine a halt, a retreat, or an advance. The most scrupulous attention is also paid to the signs of the heavens, the flight of birds, and above all, to the dreams and predictions of the jossakeed, priest, or prophet, who accompanies them, and who is entrusted with the sacred sack. The theory upon which all these parties are conducted, is secrecy and stratagem: to steal upon the enemy unawares; to lay in ambush, or decoy; to kill and to avoid as much as possible the hazard of being killed. An intimate geographical knowledge of the country, is also required by a successful war leader, and such a man piques himself, not only on knowing every prominent stream, hill, valley, wood, or rock, but the particular productions, animal, and vegetable, of the scene of operations. When it is considered that this species of knowledge, shrewdness and sagacity, is possessed on both sides, and that the nations at war watch each other, as a lynx for its prey, it may be conceived, that many of these border war parties are either light skirmishes, sudden on-rushes, or utter failures. It is seldom that a close, well contested, long continued hard battle is fought. To kill a few men, tear off their scalps in haste, and retreat with these trophies, is a brave and honourable trait with them, and may be boasted of, in their triumphal dances and warlike festivities.
To glean the details of these movements, would be to acquire the modern history of the tribe, which induced me to direct my enquiries to the subject; but the lapse of even forty or fifty years, had shorn tradition of most of these details, and often left the memory of results only. The Chippewas told me, that this chief had led them seven times to successful battle against the Sioux and the Outagamies, and that he had been wounded thrice—once in the thigh, once in the right shoulder, and a third time in the side and breast, being a glancing shot. His war parties consisted either of volunteers who had joined his standard at the war dance, or of auxiliaries, who had accepted his messages of wampum and tobacco, and come forward in a body, to the appointed place of rendezvous. These parties varied greatly in number; his first party consisted of but forty men, his greatest and most renowned, of three hundred, who were mustered from the villages on the shores of the lake, as far east as St. Mary’s falls.
It is to the incidents of this last expedition, which had an important influence on the progress of the war, that we may devote a few moments. The place of rendezvous was La Pointe Chagoimegon, or as it is called in modern days, La Pointe of Lake Superior. The scene of the conflict, which was a long and bloody one, was the falls of the St. Croix. The two places are distant about two hundred and fifty miles, by the most direct route. This area embraces the summit land between Lake Superior and the upper Mississippi. The streams flowing each way interlock, which enables the natives to ascend them in their light canoes, and after carrying the latter over the portages, to descend on the opposite side. On this occasion Wabojeeg and his partizan army, ascended the Muskigo, or Mauvais river, to its connecting portage with the Namakagon branch of the St. Croix. On crossing the summit, they embarked in their small and light war canoes on their descent westward. This portion of the route was passed with the utmost caution. They were now rapidly approaching the enemy’s borders, and every sign was regarded with deep attention. They were seven days from the time they first reached the waters of the St. Croix, until they found the enemy. They went but a short distance each day, and encamped. On the evening of the seventh day, the scouts discovered a large body of Sioux and Outagamies encamped on the lower side of the portage of the great falls of the St. Croix. The discovery was a surprise on both sides. The advance of the Chippewas had landed at the upper end of the portage, intending to encamp there. The Sioux and their allies had just preceded them, from the lower part of the stream with the same object. The Foxes or Outagamies immediately fired, and a battle ensued. It is a spot indeed, from which a retreat either way is impracticable, in the face of an enemy. It is a mere neck of rugged rock. The river forces a passage through this dark and solid barrier. It is equally rapid and dangerous for canoes above and below. It cannot be crossed direct. After the firing began Wabojeeg landed and brought up his men. He directed a part of them to extend themselves in the wood around the small neck, or peninsula, of the portage, whence alone escape was possible. Both parties fought with bravery; the Foxes with desperation. But they were outnumbered, overpowered, and defeated. Some attempted to descend the rapids, and were lost. A few only escaped. But the Chippewas paid dearly for their victory. Wabojeeg was slightly wounded in the breast: his brother was killed. Many brave warriors fell. It was a most sanguinary scene. The tradition of this battle is one of the most prominent and wide spread of the events of their modern history. I have conversed with more than one chief, who dated his first military honours in youth, to this scene. It put an end to their feud with the Foxes, who retired from the intermediate rice lakes, and fled down the Wisconsin. It raised the name of the Chippewa leader, to the acme of his renown among his people: but Wabojeeg, as humane as he was brave, grieved over the loss of his people who had fallen in the action. This feeling was expressed touchingly and characteristically, in a war song, which he uttered after this victory which has been preserved by the late Mr. Johnston of St. Mary’s, in the following stanzas.