Part 12

Once upon a time, many years ago, there was among the Minnatarees a woman, whose name was Namata-washta, or the Pretty Tree. It had been her misfortune to be married, when little more than a child, to a very proud and bad man; who soon came to use her with great cruelty and injustice. She was a very strict and devout worshipper of the Great Spirit, and never failed, whether in the field or in the cabin, by night or by day, to offer up prayers and a portion of every acquisition to the Being who bestowed it upon her. The Great Spirit saw her goodness, and loved her. He made her corn to grow much larger than that of any other woman in the village; and the produce of her garden was always much earlier and better. But she was a barren woman, and thence resulted her misery. For seven weary seasons had she lived in the lodge of her husband; and while his seven other wives had each children at her knee, crying, "My mother!" there was none to address her by that tender name, and to lisp in childish tones its delight, when she returned from the labours of the field of maize--and to bestow its innocent caresses upon her after the separations which unavoidably take place in forest life. Thence arose the extreme harshness of her husband, and the continued sneers and gibes of the wives who had been blest with offspring. The good Namata-washta bore their ill usage for a long time without repining; but, at length, the oft-repeated cruelties of her husband and the incessant insults of her companions became so painful, that she was wont to fly from them to the solitude of the forest.

One evening, she wandered out from the cabin of her husband until she came to the nearest of the two small hills, of which I have been telling my brother. Upon this hill she seated herself, and was occupied in bewailing her fatal misfortune of barrenness, and in praying the Great Spirit to avert it, when some one whispered at her shoulder, "Namata-washta!"

Looking up, she beheld a tall woman clothed in a long and flowing robe of white goat-skin; her mocassins were of a blood-red colour; her eyes were black as the shell of the butter-nut; her hair, which was also black, was dressed with gay flowers. After surveying the weeping Namata-washta for some time in silence, and with an appearance of much compassion, she said to her in a gentle voice, "Woman, why art thou weeping?"

"I am weeping," replied the poor Indian woman, "because I have borne my husband no children!"

"And therefore thou weepest, deluded and infatuated woman! Rather shouldst thou rejoice that thou hast not contributed to swell the amount of human suffering. Happier far is she who has added nothing, in respect of children, to the sum of human misery, than she who has become a mother, to see her offspring perish in the strife of warriors, or of hunger, or wretchedness, or wasting disease. That thou hast given birth to no heirs of misery should afford thee joy, rather than sorrow, Namata-washta!"

"But therefore I am held of little account, and of no value in the house of my husband. My place is usurped by those who have children; the other wives of my husband demand and exercise the right to impose hard and disgraceful burdens upon me, because I am barren. My husband beats me with blows, his wives assail me with taunts and reproaches--even the children of the village, as I pass them at their sports, cry out, 'A barren woman!' And thus do they incessantly worry me, till I am compelled to fly to the wilderness for rest and peace!"

"Wouldst thou become the mother of children, Namata-washta?"

"I would."

"Thou shalt have thy wish. Listen to my words. The hill upon which thou art sitting was once a beautiful woman, as its neighbour, the other and larger hill, was a man and a warrior. The woman, who is the hill upon which we now stand, was the first woman that ever lived, and the first that ever became a mother. I will tell thee, Namata-washta, who she was. When the Great Spirit determined to people the Island with human beings, he bade them spring out of the earth, as maize and vegetables do at this day; and bade each take the quality and nature of the soil in which he germinated. The red man forced his head out of a rich and hardy prairie surrounded by lofty trees; the white man took root in a stony and crabbed hill: and both have retained their first natures.

"The woman who became this hill sprung up in a deep and very fat soil, and thence became very fruitful--the most fruitful woman ever known. She came out of the earth on the first day of the Moon of Buffaloes, and, ere it hung in the skies like a bended bow, she had a child at her breast. Every moon, she bestowed upon her husband a son or a daughter, and these sons and daughters were all equally fertile with their mother. The Great Spirit, seeing that if mankind continued thus prolific, the Island would soon be overstocked with inhabitants, determined to take away from the pair the breath he had given them, and with it the power of unlimited procreation and fecundity imparted to their descendants. He changed them into these two hills. But, that the faculty they possessed in so remarkable a degree might not be lost to the world, but might continue to be dispensed to those who wanted it, and should seek it in a proper manner, he said to the hill, which was the fruitful woman: 'Whenever a barren woman approaches thee, lamenting in sincerity her hard fate, and duly supplicating mercy, thou shalt listen to her with pity and compassion. I endow thee with power to grant her prayers. Thou shalt bid her return to her village and repair to the couch of her husband. When twelve suns shall have passed, she shall return to thee soon after the dawning of day. Upon a near approach to thee, she shall see a child, perhaps two children, very light of foot, and whose height shall scarce exceed that of a squirrel. She must approach them, but they will run from her, nor will her utmost speed enable her to overtake them. They will fly to thy protection, nor must thou deny it--they must be received into thy bosom. The chill of their cold hiding place will destroy them, and their souls will enter into the womb of the suppliant woman, and she will become a fruitful and honoured mother.'

"These were the words of the Great Spirit; and often has the power he imparted to that hill been felt to the taking away the reproach from the barren women. Namata-washta, go thou, and do likewise. Follow the directions I have given thee, and, if the having children will render thee happy, thou shalt be happy--if to be the mother of a more numerous offspring than any wife in thy nation may make thee an honoured woman, thou shalt be honoured."

With these words, the Spirit departed from before the eyes of Namata-washta, who never beheld her again. She returned to the cabin of her husband, obeyed the words of the stranger, and saw the results take place which had been foretold. She became the mother of a more numerous progeny than any woman of her nation, took the lead in the lodge of her husband, and was more beloved by him than any other of his wives. She became as much honoured by the people as she had been before despised by them, and died with the reputation of having been the greatest benefactress of the nation that had lived since the days of the two wise boys who discovered the upper world.

The faculty which this hill possessed of imparting fruitfulness was retained till the wickedness of the Minnatarees became so crying, that the Great Spirit, deeming that there would be full enough of these bad people, if left to their natural means of increase, withdrew it, and has never restored it.

TALES OF A WHITE MAN'S GHOST.

I. GARANGA.

If the feet of my brother from the distant land have ever carried him to the spot where the Oswegatchie joins with the river called by the people of his nation the St. Lawrence, he must have seen a broken wall of stone, which that same people built very soon after they had taken possession of the High Rock, and made it the great village of the pale faces. At that time the red men of the wilderness were not very well disposed towards the strangers who had come among them, viewing them as they do wolves, and panthers, and catamounts, which are very much in the way of Indians, and therefore they put them out of it as soon as possible. At length, the great chief or governor at the City of the High Rock, finding that the men whom he left within the big walls he had built on the Oswegatchie were every moment in danger of being massacred by their fierce and warlike neighbours, the Iroquois, recalled his soldiers to his wing from their perilous flight, and bade them soar no more in that dangerous direction. So the high walls he had thrown up to serve as a barrier against the forest warrior fell to the earth, and were never rebuilt. The grass grew up over them, the winds whistled among them, and many spirits, white and red, came and took up their residence in the corners and recesses of the deserted habitation.

Among the white spirits that sojourned in the ruined fort there was one who was very kind to the Indians, and often held long talks with them, though they never saw him. Often, when the sun had retired to his place of rest beyond the western mountains--for he would only hold conversation when darkness covered the earth--the Indians would repair to the outside of the ruins, and, calling upon the "Good Little Fellow," he would come and entertain them, until the purple and grey tints of morning shone in the eastern sky, with tales of his own pale race, and of that other, the red, as connected with them. The eager listeners would be told of cabins in which the Great Spirit was worshipped, that were twice the flight of an arrow broad, and three times its flight in length, and so high as to be beyond the daring of the bird of morning. And he taught them to wonder much, and laugh a little, by telling them that when men went to worship the Being in whose honour and for whose worship the cabin was built, they dressed themselves in their most gorgeous apparel, and put on long robes, painted to look like the gay birds of the forest, and emulating in the brightness of their dyes the bow in the clouds after a shower of rain. When the Indians laughed at this, he told them that the Great Spirit, the white people thought, never listened to those who were not well dressed, and "looked smart." He said the white people were not like the Indians; they only worshipped the Master of Life on the seventh day of the week and a few other days, whereas the Indians worshipped him every day--which was much the best way, he thought. And he told the Indians many other things, respecting the white people living over the Great Salt Lake, some of which made them think they were very wise, and valiant, and prudent, but the most of what he said went to prove them great fools. And when he told them that the men weeded the corn, while the women sat doing nothing, or "galloping from cabin to cabin," the Indians, who had become so well acquainted with him that they could speak with freedom, bade him return and tell his people how much better the Indians managed these things.

Once upon a time, as he sat repeating his tales to the wondering Indian visiters, he said to them: Did you ever hear about Garanga, the beautiful bird that was taken from her perch in the cabin of the White Crane, the great warrior of the Iroquois, by a man of my nation?

The Indians all answered, No; and so they would have answered had they heard it twenty times, for he varied his stories every time he repeated them, as the pale faces always do; so they were sure to have a new story though it had an old name. Then I will tell it you, said he, and he began as follows.

There came to this fort, while it was yet standing in all its pride, a young chief of my nation to be its governor. He was a mere youth to be entrusted with so high and responsible an office, but, though young in years, he was old in understanding. He was also very beautiful to look upon, and his stature was of the tallest of the sons of the earth. The Indian maidens that visited the fort with their fathers and brothers bestowed much praise upon his fine and manly form, and their friends of the other sex did the same upon his courageous spirit, and his superiority in those exercises in which one must excel if he would command the esteem, and excite the awe, of the red men of the forest. The men likened him for swiftness to the deer, and for agility to the mountain-cat, and for strength to the bear, and for courage to all that is courageous; the women compared his skin to the water-lily, and his eyes to the blue sky when it is bluest, and his hair to the silken tassels of ripened corn, and his step to the stag's, and his voice to the song-sparrow's. Whatever is beautiful among the works of nature was brought in by comparison, to express their admiration of the graceful and gallant stranger.

Among the bright-eyed maidens who visited the fort, as they said, to buy beads and gay toys, but in reality to gaze upon the noble chief, was the beautiful Garanga, the daughter of one of the principal warriors of the Iroquois. The first time she saw him her little bosom was filled with the flames of love, but she never spoke of it to any one. While the other maidens sat repeating the soft words he had whispered in their ears, for he had the forked tongue which the white man always possesses, the mild and lovely daughter of the White Crane said nothing, but sighed. Her heart had been taken captive at first sight, by the handsome stranger--her little bosom was filled with love for the noble warrior. Nor were the charms of the maiden unmarked by him she loved. He had singled her out among all the dusky maidens, in some degree for her beauty, but more for her softness and her modesty, and had asked himself what one among the women of his own clime was superior to her in all that would give delight to him who should make her his own. His heart answered, None. So, learning from the tell-tale eyes of the beautiful maiden, that she was entirely willing to become the bird of his bower, his companion, his wife, he asked her of her father. The chief, proud to be connected with so distinguished a warrior, gave her to him, without hesitation, and she became his wife.

They were married in the Harvest-Moon, and a great feast was given, which made glad the hearts of both white and red. There was a great firing of cannon, and the fire-eater was given to the Indians, who became very drunk, and made the woods ring again with their boisterous mirth. Before the month in which the Indians harvest their maize had come round again, there was a young bird of the sex of its father, in the house of the governor. Ere the child had lived a moon, the father said to the mother, thoughtfully but kindly,

"Dost thou love thy husband?"

"The Great Spirit only knows how much, and how deeply," answered the fond wife.

"Hast thou joy in the bright eyes, and smiling cheeks, and lovely laugh, of our little son?"

"I have exceeding joy in our son," answered the mother, pressing her infant with a warm embrace to her bosom. "When I look upon his young face, and his little laugh rings in mine ear, and when I mark the bright light of his eyes shining like stars upon me, my heart leaps like a deer stricken to death by the shaft of the hunter. And often while thou art slumbering by my side, do I lie sleepless, my eyes filled with tears, to think that he may die. And yet I have exceeding joy in our child."

"Does it not grieve thee to think that thou, and he, and I, may not meet together in the land of souls?"

"May not meet together in the land of souls? Why? Thou hast sent an arrow to my heart, my husband. Why are the gates of death to separate those who loved each other in life?"