Indian Superstitions and Legends.

  INDIAN SUPERSTITIONS AND LEGENDS.

  UNTIL twelve years old I could speak only nin-gaw odaw-naw-naw (my mother-tongue). Before then I had bitter thoughts of the white men; regarding them as robbers of the worst sort, and destitute of all love or sympathy for our race. When I saw them I fled and hid myself, like the young partridge from the hawk.

  About that time I became acquainted with Edward Coles, a travelling Indian missionary, who frequently called at our wigwam in Pokagon, my father's village, in Southwestern Michigan. He had had a fair English education, and was a fine Christian teacher. He saw how bitterly I felt toward the dominant race, and often told me that the better class were as good as our own people, and that I was very prejudiced. No doubt this was the case, and was due to the fact, that the white men who generally came in contact with the Indians were the worst of their kind. He also said that numbers of white men believed in Kigi Manito,--the God we worshipped,--and that many, many years before, He had sent from Waw-kwi (Heaven) to their forefathers His son Jesus, whom they murdered, and that He arose from the dead, and ascended to Heaven; that He now there stood, with open arms, ready to receive all who put their trust in Him; and that when life was ended here, they would dwell with Him in Waw-kwi forever. I could not understand how white men could be so good as red men, and yet be guilt of taking the life of a noble chief who had come to save them. I inquired of him if those white men who had brought ruin upon our people, by selling them fire- water, would be permitted to enter the garden of Waw-kwi. He claimed that if they would quit their accursed business, and humbly repent, and try to repair the great wrong they had done, it was barely possible they might enter the land of promise. This noble Christian missionary greatly impressed me with the wonderful things white men could do, through the mighty inventions and discoveries they had made; and these so excited my love of the marvellous, that my youthful heart thirsted night and day to drink from the fountain of knowledge at the white man's school.

  About this time my dear father died; and, soon after, my mother, on the advice of one of the Catholic Fathers, sent me to Notre Dame School, near South Bend, Indiana, where I remained four or five years. But, desiring a more liberal education than I was likely to get there, I sought out my old missionary friend Coles, and laid before him my great anxiety to go to school at Oberlin, Ohio, where race and color were disregarded. The good man finally persuaded my mother to send me to that school. I was about to leave home, when, to my surprise, some of the older members of the Pokagon band objected to my going to the white man's school; believing it would displease the Great Spirit for a son of the Great Chief, who had passed into the hunting-ground beyond, to attend the Pale-face school.

  I listened to their admonitions and advice; well knowing their objection was too weak for consideration. Yet, I must confess that their words lingered about my heart, and worried me, in spite of all my reasoning; and I said to myself, "Pokagon, such superstition you must inherit from your race." I was troubled; for I thought I should not be able to compete in my studies with white class-mates, who would have better sense than to worry over that which they did not believe.

  A short time after this I mentioned to one of the most intelligent of my class-mates, that on the following day I was going into an advanced class. He replied, "You had better wait until Monday." "Why so?" I asked. "Because," said he, "to-morrow is Friday--an unlucky day--and very likely, if you start then, you will always be at the tail-end of your class." This foolish suggestion, coming from such a source, fairly staggered me; and yet it encouraged me to know that my rival had weak points like those which had lessened my faith in myself.

  Notwithstanding the superstitions of our Algonquin fathers, they were no idol-worshippers. Their "religion" taught them that each mountain, stream, and lake had its spirit that governed and ruled over it. They also believed that some deity controlled the winds and waves, and rode upon the clouds; commanding the storm, and guiding the whirlwind in its course.

  They believed in four sister-deities, who controlled the four seasons of the year. Bi-bon (Winter) brought down from the north agon (the snow), and, with her chilly fingers, touched the lakes and streams; leaving them ice-bound, until her sister Sig-wan (Spring) came. She, with her warm breath, melted the snow and ice; letting the imprisoned lakes and streams go free, clothing the naked trees in robes of green, covering the earth with grass and fragrant flowers, filling the air with song-birds and insect life, and the waters with fish, and working with might and main until the arrival of her sister Ne-bin (Summer) on hasty wings, to help on the work Sig-wan had so well begun. Man, beasts, and fowls sought the shade, to avoid the scorching sunshine of her face. Last of all, the oldest sister, Baw-waw-gi (Autumn), came to ripen all the fruit, grain, and nuts; painting in gold and red the forest leaves, which for a few short days flaunted their glories in the breeze, then shed themselves, leaving their parent branches to combat with the winter's storms.

  Our forefathers did not grasp the grand idea of an infinite, all-wise being whose presence is everywhere. Hence they believed that these deities, scattered throughout the world, were the agents of a mighty chief, one Mi-chi Ogaw-maw, who ruled all the rest. They saw the beauty of his face in the rainbow; the majesty of his eyes flashed in the clouds; the terror of his voice thundered in the storm, rumbled in the earthquake, and roared in the sea. They taught their children, that Ke-sus (the sun) represented the eyes of this mighty Kigi Manito by day; that Te-bik Kesus and Anong (the moon and stars) were his eyes by night; and that they could not hide their words or acts from him.Indians never swear in their own language; and, as they generally believe all white men to be Christians, they do not understand why so many should indulge in profanity.

  Our traditions show most clearly that the children were obedient to their parents, kind to the old and unfortunate, and respectful to all. They had no cigarettes to smoke, no fire-water to drink, no saloons to lounge in. As a race they were held in great Nature's lap, close to her heart: they listened to her words, and obeyed, as they understood them. All believed in the immortality of the soul.

  I never saw nor heard of an Indian atheist. Their Heaven was not paved with gold and precious stones; but it was a grand, romantic paradise of forests and wide, extended plains,--filled with beasts and birds, with lakes and streams swarming with fish close to shore,--where want never came, and where all were contented and happy.

  Among the most ancient traditions of our race is one that our first parents found themselves here surrounded by beasts of prey without number, whose physical strength far exceeded theirs, and whose young had greater strength and more knowledge than the Indian children. Stones and clubs were used for weapons, until the bow and arrow were invented; and but for the fact, that a manito was impressed upon the human countenance, before which the fiercest brute stood in awe, our first parents and their children would have been destroyed from off the face of the earth.

  THE GREAT FLOOD.

  One very remarkable character reported in our legends, dimly seen through the mist of untold centuries, is Kwi-wi-sens Nenaw-bo- zhoo, meaning, in Algonquin dialect, "The greatest clown-boy in the world." When he became a man, he was not only a great prophet among his people, but a giant of such marvellous strength, that he could wield his war-club with force enough to shatter in pieces the largest pine-tree. His hunting-dog was a monstrous black wolf, as large as a full-grown buffalo, with long, soft hair, and eyes that shone in the night like the moon. The deity of the sea saw the charming beauty of this wolf-dog, and was so extremely jealous of him, that he was determined to take his life. So he appeared before him in the form of a deer; and as the dog rushed to seize him, he was grasped by the deity and dr
owned in the depths of the sea. He then made a great barbecue and invited as his guests whales, serpents, and all the monsters of the deep, that they might exult and rejoice with him that he had slain the dog of the prophet.

  When the seer-clown learned of the fate of his noble dog, through cunning Waw-goosh (the fox), whose keen eyes saw the deception that cost the wolf-dog his life, he sought to take revenge upon the sea-god. So he went at once to the place where the latter was accustomed to come on land with his monster servants to bathe in the sunshine, and there concealed himself among the tall rushes until the "caravan of the deep" came ashore. When they had fallen fast asleep, he drew his giant bow, twice as long as he was tall, and shot a poisoned arrow that pierced Neben Manito, the water-god, through the heart. Neben Manito rolled into the sea, and cried, "Revenge! Revenge!" Then all the assembled monsters of the deep rushed headlong after the slayer of their king. The prophet fled in consternation before the outraged creatures that hurled after him mountains of water, which swept down the forests like grass before the whirlwind. He continued to flee before the raging flood, but could find no dry land. In sore despair he then called upon the God of Heaven to save him, when there appeared before him a great canoe, in which were pairs of all kinds of land- beasts and birds, being rowed by a most beautiful maiden, who let down a rope and drew him up into the boat.

  The flood raged on; but, though mountains of water were continually being hurled after the prophet, he was safe. When he had floated on the water many days, he ordered Aw-milk (the beaver) to dive down and, if he could reach the bottom, to bring up some earth. Down the latter plunged, but in a few minutes came floating to the surface lifeless. The prophet pulled him into the boat, blew into his mouth, and he became alive again. He then said to Waw-jashk (the musk-rat), "You are the best diver among all the animal creation. Go down to the bottom and bring me up some earth, out of which I will create a new world; for we cannot much longer live on the face of the deep."

  Down plunged the musk-rat; but, like the beaver, he, too, soon came to the surface lifeless, and was drawn into the boat, whereupon the prophet blew into his mouth, and he became alive again. In his paw, however, was found a small quantity of earth, which the prophet rolled into a small ball, and tied to the neck of Ka-ke-gi (the raven), saying, "Go thou, and fly to and fro over the surface of the deep, that dry land may appear." The raven did so; the waters rolled away; the world resumed its former shape; and, in course of time, the maiden and prophet were united and repeopled the world.

  PICTURES OF GOD BEFORE AND AFTER HE MADE THE WORLD.

  About forty years ago two Indians, who were cutting cord-wood near Little Traverse village, one day returned in great haste, pale and excited, to Kaw-kee, their employer, saying, "Oh Kaw-kee, we cut down this morning a large maple-tree; and when we had sawn off the butt cut, behold, we found painted on the end of the log a figure of God before He made the world! It seemed so strange and wonderful that we dared not stay longer on the work; feeling sure that something awful would happen if we did." I will complete the story as it was told me by Kaw-kee about the time it occurred:

  "Well," said he, "I laughed at them for such foolish superstition. They then tried to get me to return with them and examine the strange picture. I was sick at the time, and persuaded them to go back and saw off a thin piece of the log, and bring it to me, that I might see the picture for myself.

  They started off very reluctantly. Returning in about two hours more excited than before, they exclaimed, 'Oh Kaw-kee, we have cut off the end of the log as you requested; and, as it fell picture-side to the ground--Na! Mash-kee! On the other side was a plain figure of God after He had made the world. And we do not dare to meddle further with it, for we feel that something dreadful will happen if we do.' On the following day I went with them to see what had so alarmed them, and to soothe their fears, if possible.

  I must confess that as we approached the fallen tree I felt a curious sort of awe about my heart. I picked up the slice of wood which they had sawn off, and looked it carefully over on both sides. I was indeed astonished; for on each side Nature had traced a wonderful picture!"

  At this point I became so intensely interested in his wonderful story, that I said, "Kaw-kee, what has become of that piece of wood?"

  "Here it is," he replied; handing it to me as he stepped to one corner of his wigwam.

  It was indeed a natural curiosity, well calculated to deceive anyone. On one side appeared the figure of a man with folded arms, and with a blanket wrapped about him, standing in what appeared to be the outlines of the segment of a rainbow. This had been regarded as a picture of God before He made the world. On the other side, appeared the same figure, with the right arm extended at full length, holding in his right hand a large ball, apparently in the act of throwing it. This had been considered to be a picture of God after He had made the world.

  On close inspection, I saw that these pictures were caused in some way by the growth of the timber. The heart, or red part, of the wood forming the figures was surrounded by the white of the wood, which made the outlines clear. As I looked first at one side, and then at the other, I said to myself, "Those pictures might deceive the very elect."

  INDIAN SPIRITUALISM.

  There is a tradition among the Ottawa branch of the great Algonquin family, believed to this day, that, centuries ago, their first parents migrated westward from the sea-coast, near the mouth of the St. Lawrence River, and settled in the valley of the Ottawa River in Canada, where they lived for untold centuries, and that their main village was at a place they named Ke-tchi-nebis-sing, which name it still bears. There a daughter of the chief of the village went down to the lake to bathe one morning; leaving her infant boy tied to a flat piece of wood, as was the custom. On returning to the spot where she had left her child, he could nowhere be found. Distracted, she ran back to the village; frantically screaming that her child had been stolen. The villagers turned out and searched long and well; but not a trace of the child could be found.

  A few days after this two young lovers sat on a mound near the spot where the child had been lost; and while they were kissing and making love, they were startled by hearing, deep in the ground beneath them, an infant crying and sobbing as if its heart would break. They ran in great haste to the village, and reported what they had heard. All the inhabitants believed that it was the lost child which had been heard crying underground. The old chief called together all the magicians,--as is the custom to this day, where the Indians are not under the influence of Christianity,--to hold a seance, for communion with the unseen spirits, to divine what had become of the child. I will here briefly describe the manner in which Indians proceed to receive communications from the spiritual world, as I have myself witnessed.

  Poles, ten to twelve feet high, are set in the ground, in the form of a circle from six to eight feet in diameter. The top of the lodge is left open. The sides are tightly covered with birch- bark, or the skins of animals. A fire is built close to the ledge for the purpose of enabling the spectators to light their pipes, as they generally smoke during the strange performance. All being ready, a low, tinkling sound is heard, like several small bells at a distance. With a rush, on comes the leading performer, carrying a magician's little, flat rattle-box, somewhat like a tambourine. He sits down by the fire, and begins by telling his audience how he can call up spirits of the dead, as well as of those yet living in the world, and that any present can ask them questions and receive true answers thereto. He next sings a peculiar song, which can scarcely be understood. He then either goes into the lodge by crawling under, or sits outside with the audience; throwing his blanket or some other clothing over the top of it. Immediately the lodge begins to shake, like a creature of life with an ague chill. Then is heard in the lodge a sound like that of a distant, strong wind sweeping through leafless trees, and intermingled with strange voices. When questions are asked by anyone present they are always answered in an unknown tongue; but, luckily, among the spirits th
ere is always a special interpreter to explain what the spirits say.

  According to the tradition above referred to, when the performance closed a party was sent to the lake to dig near where the lost child was left by its mother. They did so; and, as deep down in the ground as they were tall, they found the remains of the child in a cavern, from which fled, through an underground channel into the lake, a spirit monster. The magicians then declared that the country was ruled by Mau-tchi Manito, the evil one, who was an enemy seeking to do them all the harm possible; that all the misfortunes which had befallen them came from that source alone; and that their only means of safety was to seek a new land toward the setting sun. Thus it was, that those tribes of the great valley of the Ottawa moved westward along the northern limits of Lake Huron and Lake Michigan and all about Ot-chip-we-ki-tchi- gami (Lake Superior), where many of them remain to this day.

  ORIGIN OF OUR TRIBAL FLOWER--THE TRAILING ARBUTUS.

  Many, many moons ago, there lived an old man alone in his lodge beside a stream in the thick woods. He was heavily clad in furs; for it was winter, and all the world was covered with snow and ice. The winds swept through the woods; searching every bush and tree for birds to chill, and chasing evil spirits over high hills, through tangled swamps, and valleys deep. The old man went about, and peered vainly in the deep snow for pieces of wood to sustain the fire in his lodge. Sitting down by the last dying embers, he cried to Kigi Manito Waw-kwi (the God of Heaven) that he might not perish. The winds howled, and blew aside the door of his lodge, when in came a most beautiful maiden. Her cheeks were like red roses; her eyes were large, and glowed like the fawn's in the moonlight; her hair was long and black as the raven's plumes, and touched the ground as she walked; her hands were covered with willow-buds; on her head were wreaths of wild flowers; her clothing was sweet grass and ferns; her moccasons were fair white lilies; and, when she breathed, the air of the lodge became warm and fragrant. The old man said, "My daughter, I am indeed glad to see you. My lodge is cold and cheerless; yet it will shield you from the tempest. But tell me who you are, that you should come to my lodge in such strange clothing. Come, sit down here, and tell me of thy country and thy victories, and I will tell thee of my exploits. For I am Manito." He then filled two pipes with tobacco, that they might smoke together as they talked. When the smoke had warmed the old man's tongue, again he said, "I am Manito. I blow my breath, and the lakes and streams become flint." The maiden answered, "I breathe, and flowers spring up on all the plains." The old man replied, "I breathe, and the snow covers all the earth." "I shake my tresses," returned the maiden, "and warm rains fall from the clouds." "When I walk about," answered the old man, "leaves wither and fall from the trees. At my command the animals hide themselves in the ground, and the fowls forsake the waters and fly away. Again I say, 'I am Manito.'" The maiden made answer: "When I walk about, the plants lift up their heads, and the naked trees robe themselves in living green; the birds come back; and all who see me sing for joy. Music is everywhere." As they talked the air became warmer and more fragrant in the lodge; and the old man's head drooped upon his breast, and he slept. Then the sun came back, and the bluebirds came to the top of the lodge and sang, "We are thirsty. We are thirsty." And Sebin (the river) replied, "I am free. Come, come and drink." And while the old man was sleeping, the maiden passed her hand over his head; and he began to grow small. Streams of water poured out of his mouth; very soon he became a small mass upon the ground; and his clothing turned to withered leaves.