Part 4

Michabou was married to a woman quite as odd and deformed as himself, who bore him many children, of strange and various shapes. When the time had come for her to bring forth her one thousandth child, she had a strange dream. She dreamed that the child within her refused to see the light, till he had something firm and stable to stand upon--something which would permit him to enjoy rest undisturbed by motion. She told this dream to her husband, whom it puzzled very much. At length he made out that he was to create a world. He knew before, that the bottom of the ocean was covered with sand. So he dived down, and brought up from thence a glittering grain to serve as the germ of the world.

Having taken this grain of glittering sand into the hollow of his hand, Michabou blew upon it until it so expanded, that it became a little earth. He then set it afloat upon the waters, where it continued increasing in magnitude, until it was large enough to sustain, without sinking, the child which the wife of the great chief, after bearing about her for forty seasons, brought forth to the light of day. This child, upon being born, had the form of a man, and was placed upon the earth thus created. He was the first being which had ever borne the form of a man, and the first occupier of the earth. They gave him the name of Atoacan, which signifies the "great father, or beginner of a race." When he was born, he was larger in stature than any man that has been born since, and he increased in size, until his head towered above the tallest woods.

But Atoacan was alone, and life soon became a burthen to him. He was solitary and sad, and found no pleasure in the beautiful things which were daily, hourly, springing up on the earth. He saw the flowers bloom, and scent the air, but they afforded no pleasure to his eyes, no refreshment to his soul. Sweet fruits were bending the bushes to the earth, or clustering on the boughs, but they were tasteless; for it was in his nature to enjoy nothing, prize nothing, unless participated in by another--the counterpart of himself. So he put clay upon his head, and cried loud to his father, the Great Hare, for a companion. Michabou, perceiving that he and his strange-shaped creatures would be supplanted in power by the son whom he had begotten, the new creature man, had ascended to the heavens: he heard the prayer of his son, and listened to it.

There was among the people of the skies a beautiful maiden, whose name was Atahensic. She was fairest of all the daughters of the air, beautiful as the sun, mild as the moon, and sportive as the stars. Michabou asked her if she would descend to the earth, and become the companion and wife of his son; and she, delighted as women always are, at the prospect of a journey, no matter whither, consented. So Michabou made a long string of the sinews and tendons of the various land animals, and by this string he lowered Atahensic into the arms of his delighted son.

The man, no longer solitary, but furnished with the being, intended by the constitution of nature and the Great Master of all for the companion and comfort of his life, set about appropriating to his use the various things he saw. He was no longer solitary, but met the difficulties which spring up in the path of human life, and the labours which he is compelled to bestow upon the procuring of food, with cheerfulness and alacrity. He now went in the morning to the forest glade to hunt the red deer, and his toils were not thought of, because, when they were ended, when the woods, made dark by the coming shades of night, rang shrill with the lay of the fire-bird, and his shafts were all spent, he could bear home the spoils they had won, and be rejoiced by the smiles of his companion and wife.

Atahensic bore her husband two children, a son and a daughter. These two married, and built themselves a lodge far from their parents. They had many children, but Michabou, who came down now and then, to see how things were going on, observing the slow rate at which the world was peopling, determined to adopt another plan. So he told Atoacan that, upon the death of every animal, he must skin it. He must burn the skin, drop a drop of his own blood upon the carcase, and cover it up carefully with dry leaves from the forest trees. Upon the fourth day after he had covered it with leaves, if he would remove the leaves, he would find beneath them a sleeping infant, which, upon waking, would utter a cry of surprise, at finding itself no longer a beast but a human being. Each of these beings would possess the power to assist in the like multiplication of the species, but be denied other power of procreation. Having thus left directions for the speedy peopling of the world, Michabou again ascended to the heavens, which he has not left since.

Atoacan and his son carefully obeyed the commands which had been laid upon them, and of every beast or four-footed creature that died he formed a human being. These human beings were gifted with the qualities and passions which belonged to them in life: these they have retained, and thence it is that, at this day, the dispositions of men are so various. We see one crafty and subtle--he has the blood of the fox; another cruel, malicious, blood-thirsty--he is descended from the wolf. The red skin is courageous--the horse was his father; the white man is a coward--his mother was a sheep. One is full of sprightliness and agility--he is of the blood of the mountain-cat; another is clumsy--the musk-ox was his father. Strange and various are the dispositions which men have--cunning, subtle, sly, wise, brave, prudent, careless, cowardly, peaceable, blood-thirsty. These are qualities derived from the beasts, which died as beasts, and became men and the ancestors of the tribes living on the earth.

V. THE SIX NANTICOKES.

Once upon a time, there was a very bright and sunny day on the earth, and, upon this day so bright and sunny, a strange thing happened. It was in the country inhabited by the tribe of Nanticokes, and upon the borders of the Great Lake. It was in the morning of the day, and the moon was the moon in which the shad, leaving the waters which are salt, make their journey to those which are fresh. Beautiful was the day; the salt and bitter waters lay as motionless as a little child sleeping on the bosom of its mother. The winds were hushed in the caverns of the earth, and the beams of the sun fell gladdening and refreshing every thing beneath them. They shone upon field and forest, hill and valley; upon bird and beast, and fish and reptile, and many other things, beautiful or ugly, curious or strange; but they fell not upon man, for he was not. The tall and erect form, which commands obedience from all other creatures, was not then seen walking among the glades of the forest, with the firm step and haughty eye which distinguishes him. Beasts were many, birds were many, fishes were many, but of men, the lords of all, there were none.

Before the sun descended behind the mountains of the West, he shone upon man also. Six Indians, the first men that were ever on earth, and the ancestors of the tribe of Nanticokes, all at once, they knew not how, nor by what means, found themselves sitting upon the same shore, upon the verge of the ocean. Whether they were created on the spot, or came from some other place beyond the seas; whether they had swum up from the waters, or crawled out of the mud, or bounded from the depths of the forest, or alighted from the regions of the air, and were changed into men, receiving a gift to forget their former state, they knew not, or if they dropped from the skies, and forgot whence they came through dizziness and the violence of the fall. But this they knew, that they found themselves sitting on the shores of the Great Lake, in the country now inhabited by the Nanticokes, on the latter part of a warm and pleasant day, in the moon in which the shad leave the waters which are salt, and make their journey to those which are fresh. And they knew that there were six of them, and this was all they knew.

These six Indians were all men; there was not amongst them, nor on the earth, a single woman. The song-sparrow, and the mocking-bird, and the dove, and the crested wren, and the spotted lynx, and the gorgeous woodpecker, and the fish with shining scales, and all the other beautiful creatures that have since lived, and now live, were then upon the earth, even in greater numbers, and possessed of greater beauty than now; but woman, more beautiful than any, the most glorious thing that walks the earth, lived not then. It was soon that these Indians found out their wants, and began to provide themselves with food and clothing by means of hunting. They built themselves canoes, and made them bows and arrows, wherewith they took the spoils of land and water; and they set springes for birds, and traps for those creatures which live alike on the land and water. And they cultivated the various plants which they found growing spontaneously--corn, and tobacco, and roots; and gathered ripe grapes, and abundance of delicious berries. They lived well enough, and had they been wise would have sought no further; but they took it into their heads, that they could not live without women. So, led by the gloomy and solitary feeling of a vacant heart, they left the cabins which they had built, and wandered forth in search of the coveted objects. That their chance of success might be greater, they agreed to separate, and each to travel on different paths, and so they parted. One went towards the clime of the snows, another towards the land of the summer winds, the third sought the distant east, the fourth bent his steps towards the mountains of the setting sun, the fifth descended into the bowels of the earth, and the sixth climbed a sunbeam. Before they separated, they agreed that those who were living when the Moon of Grapes again came round, should repair to the same great tree in the shade of which they were then sitting, and there, while the pipe of friendship was passing around, recount their adventures.

The Moon of Grapes again came round, and found, upon one of its pleasantest days, these six Nanticokes sitting beneath the great tree, on the bank of the river which gives its name to the tribe. With them sate six beautiful women, and laughing, and sporting, and rolling about on the green and grassy sod at their feet, lay six beautiful children. The six Indians and their wives appeared very happy, and while they passed the pipe about, laughed and talked very loud and joyfully, and were very, very merry, as though they had been drinking something much stronger than water. At last, one of them, whose name was Sinipuxent, rose and said:

Brothers! it was in the Moon of Grapes of the last year, that we found ourselves sitting on the shore of the Great Lake, endued with the faculties that we now exercise. It was in the Moon of Grapes, that we departed in quest of the beloved beings who are now the light of our eyes. And we agreed, that those who were living when the next Grape-Moon came round should repair to the same great tree, beneath whose shade we then sate, and there, while the pipe of friendship was passing round, we should relate what had befallen us. The Great Spirit has permitted our return to that spot, and the beautiful beings, whom we have brought with us from countries so far apart, are proofs that adventures have befallen us, which are worth recounting. Brothers, you shall hear of what befel Sinipuxent, who left you to climb the sunbeam.

When he parted from his five brothers, he climbed a sunbeam for many days, until he came to the land where the glorious luminary of the earth, the Sun, takes his refreshment of sleep and rest during the dark hours. It was in the morning of the day, and the great light of the world had risen from his couch, and set out upon his journey, but his wife and his children were all, save one, stretched out in profound sleep. That one, the most beautiful of all creatures--look at her, and say if she is not!--sat bathing her lovely cheeks and stately neck in the morning dew, and brushing off the stray drops with the white lily of the lake. Her little feet were carelessly thrust into the clear stream gliding by her, beneath which they glittered like the sparkling sands washed from the mountains into the river of the Nanticokes. Her long bright hair, coloured by the beams of her father, the Sun, lay floating over her naked shoulders and bosom, more beautiful--but ye behold her. Beautiful creature! she saw not the Nanticoke till he stood at her side. When she raised her head, and found a stranger standing near her, she would have fled, but he detained her gently with these words:

"Beautiful creature! what is it thou fearest? I am not he that would harm thee. On the contrary, I would encounter any risk, brave any peril, rather than harm one of the glossy hairs that is straying over thy beautiful brow. My heart tells me, gentle creature, that thou art the object for which my soul hath panted, ever since I first knew that I was. I love thee, deeply and fervently, and wish thee to be mine. I ask thee to leave the clime of thy father, and go with me to the pleasant land and beautiful river of the Nanticokes. Though its skies be not so bright as those in which thou wert born, yet are they mellower. And the waters of the land are clear, cool, and sweet, and the shades are refreshing. The vines are bending to the earth with rich ripe grapes, berries are loading every bush, and the earth is covered with flowers. Thou shalt become my companion in the cabin I have built me beside the Nanticoke; and even as that river, when unvexed by the swell of rains, glides along in the months of summer, so shall our lives pass away. Thou shalt be the wife of my bosom, and together will we live, till we are called to the land revealed to us by our dreams as the land of souls."

The lovely maiden heard the words of the Nanticoke, and answered that she knew not well what she should say. She knew not where the land of the Nanticokes lay, nor did she know who was he that spoke to her. But she timidly confessed that she loved him, and would become the wife of his bosom, if the consent of her father and mother could be obtained. So he asked the mother, who gave her consent at once, if that of her husband could be procured.

When the Sun came home at night, his wife said to him, "One of the six Indians that dropped from the North Star, on the shores of the Great Lake in the Frog-Moon, has come hither, and demanded our daughter Atahensic in marriage. He appears to be a bold and handsome youth, and our daughter loves him."

"But he shall not have her," answered the fiery father; "the blood of the Sun shall not mingle with the blood of the beings of the earth."

Then he called the Nanticoke to him, and spoke to him thus: "Thou canst not have my daughter--thy blood cannot mingle with mine.--Depart."

The Nanticoke, who, like all the others of that tribe, was brave and fearless, but prudent, held his peace, but departed not. When the Sun was asleep he wooed the maiden; when he was awake, and his eyes were peering into every spot however obscure, and every dingle however dark, he hid himself where even those rays could not penetrate. And often was the beautiful maiden of his love prevailed upon to hide herself with him. But he had suffered himself to forget the consequences of a mutual and unrestrained love. The beautiful Atahensic gave evidence that she should in due time become a mother. The quick-eyed father soon discovered what had happened, and heard the whole from the lips of his weeping daughter. Nothing could equal the rage of the mighty king of the skies, when he learned the disgrace inflicted upon his family. In the frenzy of the moment, he seized both the daughter and her lover, and hurled them from the highest part of the skies to the region where the land of the Nanticokes lay. But the kind mother protected both from the consequences of the fall, and the earth, by her command, received them unhurt upon her lap. Brothers, I am that Nanticoke, and the beautiful Atahensic is the woman by my side, and the child at her feet is the child of our love. I have no more to say.

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When the first Nanticoke had finished his story, the second, whose name was Conestogo, rose, and thus addressed his brothers:

Listen, said he, and you shall hear of what befel Conestogo, who left you to travel into the bowels of the earth.

When he parted from his five brothers, he went to the deep cavern which lies among the mountains west of the river of the Nanticokes, and into this cavern he entered at the time of nightfall. After having groped his way for many days through deep darkness, over rocks and many other obstructions, living on the dried meat he had taken with him, all at once, upon passing through a small door or opening, he came to a great chamber, vaulted like the rooms which are unfolded to our eyes, when we enter those great houses in the City of the Rock, where men dressed in glittering robes, and little boys clothed in white, call upon the Great Spirit, and sing loud songs to his praise. Around the sides of this great room were tall pillars, which looked liked icicles, and glittered like them when they are visited by the beams of the sun. Over-head was a vast field of ice, of many different colours, green, red, white, yellow; the reflection of which on the floor of the mighty building occasioned a strange blending of rays. Beautiful, wonderful, was the appearance of this room, and of all within it.

But the most beautiful, wonderful things of the cavern remain to be spoken of. In the further corner of this spacious apartment was a company of beautiful maidens, clothed in robes of the same colours as those which glittered on the roof and walls of the building; the dazzling beauty of their dress may be guessed, but who shall paint their own charms? who shall describe their bright black eyes, long black locks, and voice like the music of the streams in spring? their beautiful necks, and little feet and hands, their swelling bosoms, and graceful footsteps? When I entered they were employed in chasing each other around the apartment, and amongst the lofty pillars; but, when they saw a stranger invade their retirement, they uttered a shrill cry of terror, and fled along the vaulted passages. The Nanticoke pursued them until he came to an inner range of apartments, all glittering like that he had left, but smaller in dimensions; there were a great many little recesses, and behind those pillars he saw many little heads peering out, which he knew to be those of the beautiful maidens who had escaped from the room of mighty pillars. He could see upon their countenances that they were not so fearful as they pretended to be; but when they hid, always preferred to be found. There was an arch smile upon their beautiful little faces, and their red lips were pursed up in affected contempt of the Nanticoke. He, whom nature quickly taught the best means of winning woman's love, which was not to seem over-anxious to obtain it, said nothing; but, seating himself upon a broken pillar, leisurely drew out his pipe and fell to smoking, rightly judging that if the fair creatures were not sought they would seek. It was not long that they remained hidden. First one contrived to put forth her little hand or foot; then a head became visible; still the Nanticoke affected to see neither. At last, finding that Conestogo would not play their childish game, one stepped forth, then another, and soon the whole stood visible. They now came up to the hunter, and, with many soft smiles, bade him welcome. Seating themselves upon the smooth floor around him, they commenced asking questions. "Who was he? what was he? how old was he? where did he come from? how far was he going? who was his father? what was the name of his mother? how many brothers had he? how many sisters? was his grandmother living? how long would he stay with them? to what place would he go when he left them?" and many other questions, which, fortunately for him, were asked with so little pause, that he had no opportunity to answer one of them. Nor did they seem to expect an answer, but appeared to ask, only that they might have the pleasure of talking. All were not so talkative, however. There was one beautiful creature, the most beautiful of all the company, who sat apart from the rest, said nothing with her tongue, but spoke a language with her downcast eyes, which the smitten Nanticoke interpreted into that of bashful love. While the rest were talking and laughing, displaying their white teeth, and shaking their black hair over their polished foreheads, he was thinking only of the silent woman, and contrasting her modest and quiet deportment with the noisy and boisterous mirth of her sisters. When she saw that the stranger bent his eyes a great portion of the time on herself, and that their expression denoted the same sentiment in him as filled her own bosom, she turned her face away to fix them in listless gaze upon a distant object.

After the beautiful maidens had laughed, and chattered, and questioned, as much as they would, they left the Nanticoke to enjoy his slumbers. The silent maiden retired last, and the look which she gave him, as she left the little chamber, did not quit his soul till more than half of the hours of darkness had run through. The next morning he rose early, and wandered about till he came to a little spring, which rattled over a bed of pebbles, and fell into a cavern beneath; it was a beautiful little spring, and its waters were cold and sweet, and as clear as the sky. He had just placed himself by the side of this little stream, when the silent maiden came thither also. The Nanticoke sat hidden from observation by one of the pillars, while she whispered her soft tale of love to the echoes of the cavern. She told them that she loved the stranger with the black hair, and sunny eyes, and proud mien; that she wished them to carry to the Great Spirit her wishes that he should ask her to become his own--his companion--his wife. More she would have said, but the Nanticoke caught her gently in his arms, preventing her slight screams with the kiss of love. "Thou shalt become my own--my companion--my wife," said he. "Lovely, and gentle, and dearly beloved creature! I had feared thou hadst no tongue, because to hear thee silent for a little while was something so new and strange in thy sex. But thou hast found a tongue to tell the echoes what thy bashful lips would not have dared tell me. I thank the Great Spirit that I overheard thy soft confession; it has removed those impediments which thy bashful timidity would else have interposed to our immediate union. Lovely maiden! with the black hair, and the bright forehead, and the slender waist, and the beautiful hand and foot, and the white teeth, what prevents thy accompanying me at once--to-day--this minute, to the land where I have taken up my abode, the pleasant and fruitful land of the Nanticokes? Again thou art silent, but the soft smile upon thy features tells me that thou art not averse to my proposal. I see in the look of thy sunny eye, in thy decreasing hesitation, and yielding reluctance, that thou wilt become the star of my pleasant cabin, the hope, the solace, and the joy of my life. Let us go then; ere ten suns be passed, thou shalt find thyself seated upon a bank, whose flowers are only less sweet than thyself. Thou shalt listen to a stream whose voice is only less musical than thine own, and see the beautiful night lit up by its very many glorious lamps.

"Brothers, I am that Nanticoke, and the beautiful maiden is she that sits by my side, and the child that rolls about on the green sod is the child of our love. I have no more to say."

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