Part 8

There was in the neighbouring nation of Ottawas a maiden who was as much celebrated for her beauty, and her charms, and her wit, as the Andirondack youth was for strength, and wisdom, and prudence. Her Indian name was Menana, which means the Daughter of the Flood. She had reached the sixteenth summer of her residence among the Ottawas, the gentlest and lightest hearted, the mildest and sweetest maiden, that ever gazed on the pale full moon, or the glittering stars, or listened to the song of the sparrow, or the waterfall. She knew how to do every thing that was beautiful, or useful. If you saw a piece of gorgeously dyed wampum, or a robe curiously plaited of the bark of the mulberry, or the feathers of the canieu or war-eagle, you needed not ask who did it--you might be sure it was Menana. Her voice was the sweetest thing ever heard, her face the most beautiful ever seen--the first had in it the melody of birds, with the expression they can never have till they are gifted with the reason given to man--the last--but what is so beautiful as the face of a beautiful woman! And then her laugh was as joyous as a dance of warriors after a great victory, and her foot was the speediest foot that ever brushed the dew from the grass. Every body loved her, and she loved every body. So kind, and so good, and so sweet-tempered, and so beautiful a maiden, was never known among the Ottawas, famed as they are throughout the land for kind, and good, and sweet-tempered, and beautiful maidens.

She was not the daughter of an Ottawa woman, or any other woman, nor was her father an Ottawa man, or any other man. She was the daughter of the mighty cataract. The moon in which she came to the land of the Ottawas was the moon in which the forest trees put forth their earliest buds, and the blooming takes place of the little blue flower, which our forest maidens love to twine with their hair, and our forest boys to gather as the harbinger of returning warmth, and joy, and gladness. She came not at first to the village of the Ottawas in the perfect shape of a human being. It was many years before that, one morning, as the head warrior of the nation went out, as was his wont, to look abroad on the early sky, he found sitting at his door a little creature of a form such as he had never beheld, nor ever dreamed of. Woman she seemed from her waist upward, but fish or rather two fishes below. Her face was that of a most beautiful maiden in the charming hours when she begins to dream of tall youths; her eyes were blue as the deepest tinge of the water, and mild as a summer morning, her teeth white as the teeth of a salmon, and her locks fell sweeping the very earth. Her hands and arms were perfectly shaped, but they were covered with scales, and here and there tinted with red, which glittered like the evening sun on the folds of a cloud. Her height was about that of a small child who is just beginning to use its feet. The strange little creature did not stir as the warrior approached it, but suffered him to survey it unmoved, and, when he kindly wiped the dew from its waving locks, bent its eyes upon him with the deepest gratitude depicted in its countenance. As an Indian believes that every thing, even trees, and rivers, and mountains, have souls, or spirits, and are all worthy to be adopted as his protecting okkis, the warrior addressed the strange creature, and besought it to become his intercessor with the Great Spirit, his okki in peace and war. What was his surprise when it made reply to him, in a tone very nearly like the tone of a human being, and in a dialect of the Ottawas, as follows!

"I cannot be thy guardian spirit, for I am about to throw off my spiritual nature, and to become as thou art, a mortal, or rather I am to assume my former nature and state. Though I wear a form which is neither fish nor flesh, yet have I not always been thus. Once, many years ago, I was a human being. Gazing one evening on the blue sky, filled with shining lights, a passion came over my soul to behold them nearer. I besought the Master of Life to suffer me to ascend to the land of those bright things, and to visit the beautiful rainbows which had been equally the objects of my fond contemplation. My prayer was heard; I fell asleep, and, when I awoke, found myself where I wished to be. I was among the stars, sailing with them as an eagle or a cloud is wafted along on the winds which sweep the lower world. I beheld them glorious as you behold them from the earth, bright, round, and twinkling balls of every size, all endued with life, and all busily engaged in dancing their intricate dances, to music which came from unseen hands. My words cannot describe the splendour of the scene. Yet shall I tell the Ottawa warrior that the scene and the dances soon ceased to give pleasure. Who would wish to gaze for ever on the sun, bright and dazzling though he be? What one of all the fair things of the earth may be looked on for ever with delight? Its lakes, its rivers, its mountains, its bold youths, and lovely maidens, and many other things, are very fair, but each would tire were the eye to be chained to that alone. I was soon tired of the splendour of the starry world, and wished myself again upon the earth. I asked the Master of all for permission to return. He said, 'Thou hast been disembodied, thy flesh is decayed--thou art but a spirit, it may not be.' 'May I not', said I, 're-animate some form from which the breath has just departed? may I not enter the corse of some child, and live out the remainder of the days of a favoured mortal?'

"The Great Spirit answered, 'It cannot be. But if thou art content to return to the earth and assume a form which shall be neither mortal nor immortal, neither man nor beast, be it so. Remember thou shalt not be endowed with the shape of a human being till thou shalt hear in the cataract, where I doom thee to dwell, the voice of one crying, 'Now is the time.' Then shalt thou leave the flood, repair to the land of my beloved people, the Ottawas, and there gradually return to the shape which once was thine. But, an immortal soul shalt thou not possess till thy bosom shall be lit up by the flame of love.'

"Thus spake the Great Being, and in a breath I found myself descending from the land of the stars upon the glorious rainbow. Speedy and uninterrupted was my descent, till I came to the mighty cataract; its capacious and stormy bosom received me, and there have I dwelt with the Spirits of the Flood, the adopted daughter of their chief, till now. Lo, Ottawa! I am at thy door, a strange creature, but demanding hospitality and protection from thee. Wilt thou give it me till I am permitted to take that form which shall give me the powers of a human being, and feel my bosom lit up by that flame which may give me one bound to feed and protect me?"

The Ottawa answered, that "his cabin had a quiet corner, and there should the strange maiden--if, indeed, she were a woman--rest; his house was always the abode of plenty, and of that should the stranger partake." So the creature, who was neither fish nor flesh, continued to reside in the cabin of the Ottawa warrior.

But each day was she observed to be assuming more and more the appearance of a mortal maiden. The scales fell from her arms and hands, which lost their red tints, and became soft and fair as the flesh of a new-born child. The two fishes gradually became two well proportioned legs. But though she had now become identified in form with the human race, she retained many of the propensities of that with which she had formerly dwelt. She loved to sport in the cataract, and lave herself in the lakes and rivers. Often would she fly from the company of the Ottawas to that of her old friends, the Spirits of the Flood. How her eyes would glow with childish delight, when the rain dashed from the clouds in torrents, and how mirthful she would be when the spring thaws swelled the noise and the volume of the cataract! And she better loved to feed on the ooze and the seeds of the grass, which were found in the torrent, and on those species of fish which are made the prey of the larger, than on the food prepared on the hearth of the Ottawa. Gradually, however, and at length fully, did her tastes conform to the tastes of those with whom she dwelt.

Yet she had no soul--the spirit of a fish was in her, but not the spirit of a mortal. She could not weep with the afflicted, nor laugh with the joyful. She knew indeed her Creator, for all things, whether animate or inanimate, know Him; but the worship paid by her was not the worship of one who has reason for what he does, but of one who follows the prompting of instinct. She still retained her passion for the evening, and the bright balls which light it, but better loved to see their reflection in the water, than to behold them dancing about in the blue sky.

At length, there arose a black cloud in the atmosphere--the Andirondacks and the Ottawas were no longer friends. A little thing breeds a quarrel among the sons of the wilderness. A word lightly spoken, a deer stricken an arrow's flight over a certain limit, an insult of old date, but unavenged, a woman borne away from an approved lover, are each deemed of sufficient importance to enlist all the energies of a nation in the purpose of revenge. A deputation of Andirondacks came to the chief village of the Ottawas, demanding satisfaction for a trespass on their hunting-ground, and for doing the foolish thing, so much reprobated by the red men of the forest as to occasion frequent wars--the slaying of beasts of venery out of season. Among the chiefs was the youth Piskaret, who, although he had but just reached his twentieth summer, was, as I have before said, counted the strongest, the wisest, and, by anticipation, the bravest, man of the nation. And with him came his aged father, the great chief of the Andirondacks.

The feast was made and eaten, the dance was concluded, and the chiefs, and counsellors, and warriors, were smoking in the great pipe of peace, when the beautiful maiden, who bore the name of Menana, entered the council cabin. She had now lost all traces of her origin from the waters, and to all appearance was a mortal woman. She entered without that timid step which mortal maidens have when they find themselves suddenly cast into a crowd of the other sex, with none of their own to give them countenance. But Menana was not versed in the ways of mortals, and had none of the feelings which send the blush to the cheek and trembling to the heart of the maidens of the world. After surveying the stern array of warriors for a moment, with a curious and enquiring look, she walked up to the youthful Piskaret, and said to him in a sweet and soft tone, "Thou art very beautiful. Tell me if I may not win thy love?"

The Brave, who was smitten with the charms of the fair creature, pressing to her side, whispered that he loved her better than all the world, and wished her to become the wife of his bosom. Then he painted, to her willing ear, the charms of his native land, and spoke of the tall old oaks which threw their giant shade over the banks of the gentle and placid river, and the many thick glades filled with lusty deer, and lakes stocked with delicious wild fowl, which were to be found within the hunting-grounds of his nation. He told her of the plenty that reigned in the cabins of the Andirondacks, and how much better their women fared than those of the surrounding tribes. The Daughter of the Flood smiled sweetly on the youth, and tears, the first she had ever shed--and sighs, the first she had ever breathed--proofs of her having acquired a human soul--stole to her heart and her eyes.

And now she had received a soul, and become possessed of those faculties which confer pleasure and pain, and create for their possessor happiness and misery, and joy and sorrow. She was now alive to the hopes and fears which exalt or depress existence--had tears for those that wept, and a laugh for those that laughed. She, who entered that assembly of warriors, fearless as an eagle seated on the top of a lofty pine, now at once, in the twinkling of an eye, became filled with trembling, and alarm, and apprehension, and strove to hide her blushes by half hiding her face in the bosom of him she loved.

But pride, which has often interrupted the course of love, as well as led to the downfall of nations, crept into the councils of the Andirondacks, and they refused to permit the young warrior to take to wife the maiden who was not of mortal parentage. They said that she was of the blood of the spirits of the cataract, of a race who had delighted to shed a cold and pestilential vapour over the villages of their nation, and had destroyed several Andirondacks, whose blood remained unrevenged. In vain did the youth plead his love; in vain did he show, that if the spirits of the flood warred on their neighbours, who were unable to inflict a wound on their adversaries, it furnished no reason why the beautiful maiden, so lovely and so inoffensive, should be banned. She had not injured, then why should she be spurned? But his argument availed not to influence the warriors, or to bend their stern hearts to pity. They drove the fair Menana from the arms of him she loved best, and, exerting the authority, so potent among the red men of the wilderness, of a father, and of chiefs, and of elders, they carried away the lover from the village of the Ottawas, thus dividing those whom the Great Being had so clearly created for each other.

But my brother asks what became of the beautiful maiden. Let him listen, and I will tell him. She pined away with grief at being separated from the man she loved. She sang not the sweet song which young maidens sing, who know neither love nor care--but her song was lonely and sad, as that of the bird of night. She wandered by herself in the dark and gloomy woods, as the bird flits when deprived of its mate, or the deer which carries its death-wound from the shaft of the hunter. Each day her eye lost a portion of its light, and her step of its buoyancy. She laughed no more, nor joined the dance of maidens, nor went with them to gather wild flowers; but her amusements, if amusements they could be called, were to weep and sigh, to wander alone with listless step, and to sit by the edge of the cataract, telling her sad story to the spirits of the flood. The Great Spirit, seeing her grief, and knowing that a heart that is broken hath no more business among the things of this world, bade her rejoin her friends in the surge of the cataract. She heard the well-known and well-remembered voice, and prepared to obey. Calling around her the friends whom her sweetness and good-humour had won her, she bade them a tearful adieu, and received the like tribute of kindness. The young Braves, who had before attempted to win her love, crowded around her to catch her last farewell, anxious yet fearing to attempt to change a resolution which had been dictated by the Great Spirit. They had tough spears in their hands, and well filled quivers at their shoulders, and their cheeks and brows were stained with the hue of wrath, for they were prepared to avenge on the haughty Andirondacks the slight and injury done the beauteous Menana. The maidens came to witness her departure, with tears bedewing their cheeks. All accompanied her to the brink of the cataract, and beheld her throw herself into its fearful bosom.

No sooner had she reached the waters of that boiling torrent, than uprose from its bosom the grisly heads of the fell spirits, who were its inhabitants. Rage filled their countenances, and horrid imprecations burst from their lips, as they vowed to be avenged on that arrogant and wicked people, the Andirondacks, who had inflicted misery upon an adopted and cherished daughter of the flood. The last the Ottawas saw of them, they were soothing and comforting the beautiful Menana, whom, after sustaining for a few moments upon the surface of the water, they bore to their crystal dwelling beneath the foaming torrent. They first, however, employed an Ottawa messenger to bear their defiance to their enemies, and to assure them of their eternal hatred.

It was not long after that a large war-party of the Andirondacks, composed of the flower of that nation, and headed by Piskaret, ascended the Mississippi, to make an incursion into the territories of a nation who dwelt upon its borders above the Falls. It is the custom of the tribes, when travelling upon the river, to approach to the verge of the cataract, and then transport their canoes around it. The Andirondacks were within a bowshot of the cataract, when all at once the surface of the water became covered with grisly heads, which grinned hatred and defiance upon the Andirondacks, who, though filled with courage to dare encounter with men of their own form and nature, shook with a new sense of fear, as they beheld the hideous countenances and uplifted arms of the spirits of the flood. In the centre of the array of water spirits, they beheld the face of the beautiful Menana, still shining in all its former beauty, her eyes lit up by the fires of an unquenched and unquenchable love. Raising their dreadful shout of vengeance, the spirits now gathered about the canoes of the paralysed Andirondacks, and commenced their work of destruction. But one was protected by a being of their own order--the brave and youthful Piskaret found himself, ere an arrow had been impelled, or a thrust given by a spear, caught and shielded by the arms of his faithful Menana. While the water-spirits were employed in dealing death among their enemies, whose resistance availed not, the beautiful maiden drew her lover from his seat in his canoe, and disappeared with him beneath the waters. The moment the lovers had sunk into the flood, the spirits, with a dreadful shout, sunk also, leaving but few of the Andirondacks survivors of their attack. Nearly the whole had perished from the assaults of beings against whom human weapons were useless--who laughed at the puny resistance of mortals, and feared their battle less than the carcajou fears the mouse, or the canieu the humming-bird.

The Great Being, at the prayer of the water-spirits, bade the souls of the slaughtered Andirondacks assume the shape of eagles, commanding them to dwell for ever on the little island which stands just below the cataract, and within the full hearing of its incessant and tremendous roar. That they might receive the full reward of their arrogance, and pride, and cruelty, he so refined their sense of hearing, that the shaking of the wings of the bat was to them as loud as the thunder of the hills to a man having but the usual ear. What then must be the noise of the mighty cataract, which, leaping over a precipice of rocks, upon a stony bed, flies back again in foam and spray, higher than an arrow impelled by the toughest bow, bent by the strongest arm!

If my brother believes my story the song of a bird, let him visit the cataract, and use his own eyes and ears. If he do not behold that little island covered with eagles, whose wings never cleave any other air than its own; if he do not hear the angry voice of the spirits in the boiling waters, ay, and if he do not see them after nightfall; then let him call me a liar.

I have no more to say.

NOTE.

(1) Wampum.--p. 118.

Wampum is an Indian word signifying a muscle. A number of these muscles strung together is called a string of wampum, which when a fathom long is termed a belt of wampum, but the word string is commonly used whether it be long or short. Before the English came to North America, the Indians used to make their strings of wampum chiefly of small pieces of wood of equal size, stained either black or white. Few were made of muscles, which were esteemed valuable and difficult to make. But the Europeans soon contrived to make strings of wampum, both neat and elegant, and in great abundance. The Indians immediately gave up the use of the old wooden substitutes for wampum, and procured those made of muscles, which, though fallen in price, were always accounted valuable.

These muscles are chiefly found on the coast of Virginia and Maryland, and are valued according to their colour--which is brown, violet, and white. The former are sometimes of so dark a shade that they pass for black, and are double the price of the white. Having first sawed them into square pieces, about a quarter of an inch in length, and an eighth in thickness, they grind them round or oval upon a common grind-stone. Then, a hole being bored lengthways through each, large enough to admit a wire, whipcord or large thong, they are strung like beads, and the string of wampum is completed. Four or six strings joined in one breadth, and fastened to each other with a fine thread, make a belt of wampum, being about three or four inches wide, and three feet long, containing, perhaps, four, eight, and twelve fathoms of wampum, in proportion to its required length and breadth. This is determined by the importance of the subject which these belts are intended to explain or confirm, or by the dignity of the persons to whom they are to be delivered. Every thing of moment, transacted at solemn councils, either between the Indians themselves or with the Europeans, is ratified and made valid by strings and belts of wampum. Formerly they used to give sanction to their treaties by delivering a wing of some large bird, and this custom still prevails among the more western nations, in transacting business with the Delawares. Upon the delivery of a string, a long speech may be made, and much said upon the subject under consideration: but when a belt is given few words are spoken, but they must be words of great importance, frequently requiring an explanation. Whenever the speaker has pronounced some important sentence, he delivers a string of wampum, adding, "I give this string of wampum as a confirmation of what I have spoken." But the chief subject of his discourse he confirms with a belt. The answers given to a speech thus delivered must also be confirmed by strings and belts of wampum, of the same size and number as those received. Neither the colour nor the quality of the wampum is matter of indifference, but both have an immediate reference to those things which they are meant to confirm. The brown or deep violet, called black by the Indians, always means something of a severe or doubtful import, but white is the colour of peace. Thus, if a string or belt of wampum is intended to confirm a warning against evil, or an earnest reproof, it is delivered in black. When a nation is called upon to go to war, or war is declared against it, the belt is black, or marked with red, called by them the colour of blood, having in the middle the figure of a hatchet in white wampum.

The Indian women are very dexterous in weaving the strings of wampum into belts, and marking them with different figures, perfectly agreeing with the different subjects contained in the speech. These figures are marked with white wampum on the black, and with black upon the white belts. For example, upon a belt of peace, they very dexterously represent in black wampum two hands joined. The belt of peace is a fathom long, and of the breadth of a hand. To distinguish one belt from the other, each has its peculiar mark. No belt, except the war-belt, must show any red colour. If they are obliged to use black wampum instead of white, they daub it over with white clay, and, though the black may shine through, yet in value and import it is considered as equal to white. These strings and belts of wampum are also documents by which the Indians remember the chief articles of the treaties made between themselves, or with the white people. They refer to them as to public records, carefully preserving them in a chest made for that purpose. At certain seasons they meet to study their meaning, and to renew the ideas of which they were an emblem and a confirmation. On such occasions they sit down around the chest, take out one string or belt after the other, handing it about to every person present; and, that they may all comprehend its meaning, they repeat the words pronounced on its delivery in their whole connexion. By these means they are enabled to remember the promises reciprocally made by the different parties. And, as it is their custom to admit even young boys, who are related to the chiefs, to these assemblies, they become early acquainted with all the affairs of state; and thus the contents of their documents are transmitted to posterity, and cannot be easily forgotten.

LEGEND OF ATON-LARRE.

When the Nansemonds occupied for their hunting-grounds the vast forests which lie between the Mountains and the Great Arm of the Sea, they were the lords and masters of the wilds, and ruled them according to their pleasure. Throughout the land there was none equal to them for swiftness and dexterity in the chase, and they were foremost amongst the nations for their prowess in war. When their shout was heard among the distant hills of the Lenapes, the craven cry of that timid people was, "A Nansemond! a Nansemond!"--when they launched their canoes upon the distant Mississippi, the men of that region fled, like a startled deer or elk from the growl of the carcajou.

Their numbers have now become thinned; many populous villages have disappeared--brother, the Nansemonds are not what they were, at least in numbers. But they have not lost their courage and valour, nor degenerated from the ancient renown of their fathers, nor has the thinning of their nation in the least tarnished the reputation of the few who yet live, or caused their enemies to deem them less than men. None can say that they ever turned their backs upon a foe, or shunned encountering one who wished for combat. Even the Iroquois, whose arms have always wielded a tomahawk against them, and who, in their turn, have encountered their deadly vengeance, confess them very brave, and, whenever they make them captives, honour them with the prolonged torture, which it is the right of the brave and valiant only to suffer.

There was once upon a time, in this tribe, formerly so potent and renowned, but now so few and feeble, a maiden, whose name was Aton-Larre, one of whose souls--that which speaks of things understood by all, and discourses in a language intelligible to all--had left its house of flesh to go to the Cheke Checkecame, or land of departed spirits. The other soul yet abode in the body, but it was the soul which takes care that the mouth has meat and drink, administering to the wants of the flesh which enshrouds it by supplying it with food and clothing, and protecting it from fire and frost. Yet, though the sensible soul had wandered out, it had not taken away her memory, nor her faculty of seeing things unseen by other mortals, or of relating entertaining stories.