Birch Bark Legends of Niagara

Part 1

Produced by Bill Boerst, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team

BIRCH BARK LEGENDS OF NIAGARA

FOUNDED ON TRADITIONS AMONG THE IROQUOIS, OR SIX NATIONS

A STORY OF THE LUNAR-BOW; (Which Brilliantly Adorns Niagara Falls by Moonlight),

OR,

ORIGIN OF THE TOTEM OF THE WOLF

DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF JOINSTAGA, FROM WHOM MANY LEGENDS OF THE ALMOST FORGOTTEN PAST WERE OBTAINED BY THE AUTHOR OWAHYAH

PREFACE

My preface will be a few citations from reliable authorities to introduce to my readers the people of whom I write:

GOV. CLINTON, in a discourse delivered before the New York Historical Society, says: "Previous to the occupation of this country by the progenitors of the present race of Indians, it was inhabited by a race of men much more populous and much farther advanced in civilization; that the confederacy of the Iroquois is a remarkable and peculiar piece of legislation; that the more we study the Indian history the more we will be impressed with the injustice done them. While writers have truthfully described their deeds of cruelties, why not also quote their deeds of kindness, their integrity, hospitality, love of truth, and, above all, unbroken fidelity?"

WASHINGTON IRVING says: "The current opinion of Indian character is too apt to be formed from the degenerate beings, corrupted and enfeebled by the vice of society, without being benefitted by its civilization. That there are those, and a large class of them that have with moral firmness resisted the temptations, with which they have been surrounded, and command our highest esteem."

VOLNEY, the French Historian, pronounces the Iroquois "The Romans of the West."

W. H. C. HOSMER, "The Warriors of Genesee."

ORSEMUS TURNER, in his History of the Holland Purchase, says. "The existence of the IROQUOIS upon the soil now constituting Western and Middle New York, is distinctly traced back to the Period of the discovery of America.

"Their traditions go beyond that period. They fix upon no definite period in reference to the origin of their confederacy. Their Councils were held along the southern shores of Lake Ontario, and upon the Niagara River, before the first adventurers, the Dutch, and French Jesuits appeared in the valley of the Mohawk; and there are evidences of a long precedent existence that corresponds with their traditions."

And their Council Fires are still kindled though they burn not as brightly as of yore. Nor do the young braves listen to the wisdom, or ever now in their Councils witness the allegorical or figurative language so beautifully illustrating the discourses of Red Jacket, Corn Planter, Farmers Brother and other Chiefs, thus eulogized by PRES. DWIGHT: "In strength and sublimity of their eloquence they may be fairly compared with the Greeks."

The INDIANS say: "We listen to your stories, why do you not listen to ours? Although civilized, you use not the rules of common civility."

OWAHYAH

BIRCH BARK LEGENDS OF NIAGARA

FOUNDED ON TRADITIONS AMONG THE IROQUOIS OR SIX NATIONS

Within sound of the thundering cataract's roar once worshipped the roaming sons of the forest in all their primitive freedom. They recognized in its thunder the voice, in its mad waves the wrath, and in its crashing whirlpool the Omnipotence of the Great Spirit--the Manitou of their simple creed.

Also in the rising mist, the flight of the soul, and in the beautiful bow--the brilliant path followed by the spirits of good Indians to their Happy Hunting Ground.

With this belief came the custom of yearly offering a sacrifice to the Great Spirit, or whenever any particular blessing was to be acknowledged, or for some wrong perpetrated, to propitiate the righteous anger of their Deity of the roaring waters.

The sacrifice, or offering, consisted of a boat filled with fruit, flowers and any precious gift, which was to be paddled over the foaming cataract by one either drawn by lot or selected by the chiefs; or, as often happened, a voluntary offering of life, as it manifested heroism beyond their usual test of torture. Martyrs thus sacrificed had this consolation: that their spirits were sure to rise in the mist and follow the bright path above, while bad Indians' spirits passed down in the boiling, crashing current, to be torn and tossed in the whirlpool, there to linger in misery forever.

With all thy present loveliness--smooth paths cut round thy rocky banks, covered with trailing vines and bright, soft mosses, nature's beautiful tapestry; flights of steps, half hidden with gay foliage, displaying at almost every turn majestic scenery; bridges thrown over the bounding, foaming rapids, from island to island, opening bower after bower with surprises of beauty at every step. Scattered here and there the nut-brown Indian maids and mothers; among the last of the race--still lingering around their fathers' places and working at the gay embroidery--soon to pass away forever.

Yes, with all thy loveliness, the circle of mirth and gaiety, reflecting happy faces of thy present worshippers, tame is the scene compared with the traditions of a by-gone race, which, notwithstanding the simplicity in forms of customs that governed them, were among the brightest pictures of American life--always associated with the beautiful forest, which together are passing away, and oblivion's veil fast gathering around them.

Thy rocks, now echoing the gay laugh of idlers, first rang with the wild war-whoop, or sent back the Indian's low, mellow songs of peace, or mingled with the heavy roar of thy failing waters the mournful dirge of the doomed one, to the Great Manitou.

STORY OF THE LUNAR BOW, (Which brilliantly adorns Niagara Falls by moonlight),

Part 2

Origin of the Totem [Footnote: The coat of arms of a clan.] of the Wolf.

FIRST LEGEND.

The tradition of the Lunar Bow, the Manitou's bright path, or the origin of the totem of the wolf, was traced with a scene long remembered at their councils, passing from generation to generation, and still sung by the Indian mothers in their far-off home towards the setting sun--the last foot-hold of the dark sons of the forest on this their native land. On the east side of the Falls of Niagara, before the hallowed waters of the mist fell, on the pale-faced warrior or the sound of the axe had even broken the great stillness of their undisputed soil, the dark shadows of the primeval forest fell only on rock and wigwam.

The red-topped sumach and sweet sassafras grew thick on either side, while ledges of rocks here and there pierced the foliage of the cedar-crowned banks 'round which tumbled and roared the mad waves, leaping like frightened does in wild confusion to their final plunge. The narrow Indian trails, winding around swamps, over hills, and through ravines, were the only paths that led to this their Great Manitou.

The drowsy sultriness of an American summer pervaded this secluded spot, harmonizing with the unceasing roar of the Great Falls. Ever and anon, tall, dark forms might be seen suddenly appearing from the thick foliage of the underbrush, through which their paths with difficulty wound, and silently their painted faces and gayly plumed heads dropped round the big wigwam. Important questions waited the decision of their wisest Sachems, and runners had been sent with wampum to call together distant Chiefs, who, with braves and warriors, as became the dignity of the wampum, answered by their presence quickly and in silence.

Near the brink of the Falls, beneath an aged pine, reclined a well-guarded, sorrowful, but haughty band. Their fine symmetry, noble height, and free carriage, were especially attractive. They were all young warriors, whose white paint presented emblems of peace: their plumes were from the beautiful white crane of the sunny forest, which designated the southern land from whence they came.

A gleam of pride flashed across their dark faces, while their attitudes bespoke both defiance and despair. A tall, stately looking youth appeared to command from these few the deference due a Chief. He was leaning against the old tree, looking for the first time on the great sheet of falling waters, where soon himself and followers would probably end their tortures by a welcome leap. Their noble bearing had attracted the eye of the Sachem's daughter, the Gentle Fawn; she, with a few young Indian girls, half hid among the whortleberry bushes growing luxuriantly around the smaller wigwams of the camp, were dividing their attention between the stately captives and weaving the gaudy wampums to be bestowed, with the shy little weavers themselves, upon such young braves as should be deemed worthy by the great council. Their stolen glances of admiration and pity, however, were intercepted by the young brave who brought home and so suspiciously guarded the prisoners. He was a fierce, wicked savage, with repulsive, glistening eyes, evincing a cunning, revengeful disposition.

At the side of this savage hung a string of fresh scalps, and a gleam of exultation shot across his swarthy visage as he pointed to the gory trophies at his belt, saying:

"The Black Snakes scalps are fresh from his enemies; the fingers of the Gentle Fawn cannot number them."

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