Part 15

The Welsh name for the robin.

In amber sky the swallows fly, and sail and circle o'er the deep; The light-winged night-hawks whir and cry; the silver pike and salmon leap. The rising moon, the woods aboon, looks laughing down on lake and lea; Weird o'er the waters shrills the loon; the high stars twinkle in the sea. From bank and hill the whippowil sends piping forth his flute-like notes, And clear and shrill the answers trill from leafy isles and silver throats. The twinkling light on cape and height; the hum of voices on the shores; The merry laughter on the night; the dip and plash of frolic oars,-- These tell the tale. On hill and dale the cities pour their gay and fair; Along the sapphire lake they sail, and quaff like wine the balmy air.

'Tis well. Of yore from isle and shore the smoke of Indian teepees rose; The hunter plied the silent oar; the forest lay in still repose. The moon-faced maid, in leafy glade, her warrior waited from the chase; The nut-brown, naked children played, and chased the gopher on the grass. The dappled fawn, on wooded lawn, peeped out upon the birch canoe, Swift-gliding in the gray of dawn along the silent waters blue. In yonder tree the great Wanm-dee securely built her spacious nest; The blast that swept the land-locked sea but rocked her clamorous babes to rest. By grassy mere the elk and deer gazed on the hunter as he came; Nor fled with fear from bow or spear;--"so wild were they that they were tame."

Lodges.

Wanm-dee--the war-eagle of the Dakotas.

Lake Superior.

Ah, birch canoe, and hunter, too, have long forsaken lake and shore: He bade his father's bones adieu and turned away forevermore. But still, methinks, on dusky brinks the spirit of the warrior moves; At crystal springs the hunter drinks, and nightly haunts the spot he loves. For oft at night I see the light of lodge-fires on the shadowy shores, And hear the wail some maiden's sprite above her slaughtered warrior pours. I hear the sob on Spirit Knob of Indian mother o'er her child; And on the midnight waters throb her low yun-he-he's weird and wild. And sometimes, too, the light canoe glides like a shadow o'er the deep At midnight, when the moon is low, and all the shores are hushed in sleep.

Spirit Knob is a small hill up on a point in the lake in full view from Wayzata. The spirit of a Dakota mother whose only child was drowned in the lake during a storm, many, many years ago often wails at midnight (so the Dakotas say), on this hill. So they called it Wa-na-gee Pa-ze-dan--Spirit Knob. (Literally--little hill of the spirit.)

Pronounced Yoon-hay-hay--the exclamation used by Dakota women in their lament for the dead, and equivalent to "woe is me."

Alas--Alas!--for all things pass; and we shall vanish, too, as they; We build our monuments of brass, and granite, but they waste away.

FOOTNOTES:

"* * * * Bees of Trebizond-- Which from the sunniest flowers that glad With their pure smile the gardens round, Draw venom forth that drives men mad."

--Thomas Moore]

January--Wee-té-rhee--The Hard Moon, i.e.--the cold moon.

February--Wee-câ-ta-wee--The Coon Moon.

March--Istâ-wee-ca-ya-zang-wee--the sore eyes moon (from snow blindness.)

April--Magâ-okâ-da-wee--the moon when the geese lay eggs; also called Wokâda-wee--egg-moon, and sometimes Wató-papee-wee, the canoe moon, or moon when the streams become free from ice.

May--Wó-zu-pee-wee--the planting moon.

June--Wazú-ste-ca-sa-wee--the strawberry moon.

July--Wa-sun-pa-wee--moon when the geese shed their feathers, also called Chang-pâ-sapa-wee--Choke-Cherry moon, and sometimes--Mna-rchâ-rhca-wee--"The moon of the red blooming lilies", literally, the red-lily moon.

August--Wasú-ton-wee--the ripe moon, i.e. Harvest Moon.

September--Psin-na-ké-tu-wee--the ripe rice moon.

October--Wà-zu-pee-wee or Wee-wa-zú-pee--the moon when wild rice is gathered and laid up for winter.

November--Ta-kee-yu-hrâ-wee--the deer-rutting moon.

December--Ta-hé-cha-psung-wee--the moon when deer shed their horns.]

The Chân-che-ga--is a drum or "Wooden Kettle." The hoop of the drum is from a foot to eighteen inches in diameter, and from three to ten inches deep. The skin covering is stretched over one end making a drum with one end only. The magical drum sticks are ornamented with down, and heads of birds or animals are carved on them. This makes them Wakan.]

The flute called Cho-tanka (big pith) is of two varieties--one made of sumac, the pith of which is punched out, etc. The second variety is made of the long bone of the wing or thigh of the swan or crane. They call the first the bubbling chotanka from the tremulous note it gives when blown with all the holes stopped. Riggs' Tahkoo Wahkan, p. 476, et seq.]

E-né-pee--vapor bath is used as a purification preparatory to the sacred feasts. The vapor bath is taken in this way: "A number of poles the size of hoop-poles or less are taken, and their larger ends being set in the ground in a circle, the flexible tops are bent over and tied in the centre. This frame work is then covered with robes and blankets, a small hole being left on one side for an entrance. Before the door a fire is built, and round stones about the size of a man's head are heated in it. When hot, they are rolled within, and the door being closed, steam is made by pouring water on them. The devotee, stripped to the skin, sits within this steam-tight dome, sweating profusely at every pore, until he is nearly suffocated. Sometimes a number engage in it together and unite their prayers and songs." "Tâhkoo Wakan," p. 83. Father Hennepin was subjected to the vapour-bath at Mille Lacs by Chief Aqui-pa-que-tin, two hundred years ago. After describing the method Hennepin says: "When he had made me sweat thus three times in a week, I felt as strong as ever." Shea's Hennepin, p. 228. For a very full and accurate account of the Medicine men of the Dakotas, and their rites etc., see Chap. II, Neill's Hist. Minnesota.]