Chapter III: Part 3

So it came to pass that the next morning Dame Kah-kah-gooch, the Crow, [Footnote: _Kah-kah-gooch_, Micmac, _Kah-kah-goos_, Passamaquoddy. The Crow is represented in several stories as always peeping, spying, begging, pilfering, and tale-bearing about a town. The Passamaquoddy Indians hare peculiar superstitions as regards killing the crow.] observed that Marten was drying meat on his wigwam. And this she spread abroad. But when the people learned that the child had done this, a great fear came upon them all, and they sat every man in his lodge and awaited death, for they knew that the Master had come.

And he indeed came; but when he saw them all as frightened as rabbits before the wild-cat, he laughed aloud and forgave them, for he was noble and generous. And as they were hungry--for he had come in hard times--he gave them much venison, and sorrow departed from their wigwams. But as they had left him of old, he now left them. When they knew him not they left him to die; now that they knew him they feared lest they should perish without him. But he turned his steps towards other paths.

Now having made a canoe, the Master, with Marten and Dame Bear, went upon a mighty river. As the story says, it was broad and beautiful at first, and so they sailed away down towards its mouth. Then they came to great cliffs, which gathered round and closed over them. But the river ran on beneath these, and ever on far underground, deeper and deeper in the earth, till it dashed headlong into rapids, among rocks and ravines, and under cataracts which were so horrible that death seemed to come and go with every plunge of the canoe. And the water grew narrower and the current more dreadful, and fear came upon Marten and the woman, so that they died. But the Master sat with silent soul, though he sang the songs of magic, and so passed into the night, but came forth again into sunlight. And there was a lonely wigwam on the bank, into which he bore Marten and the grandmother, and saying, "_Numchahse_! arise!" lo, they arose, and deemed they had only slept. And now Glooskap had gained the greatest power. [Footnote: This incident of the passage underground is deeply suggestive of Wabeno mystery and initiation. It will strike every student of classic lore as almost identical with much that he has read. If it has not the same symbolical meaning here, it has apparently none whatever.]

This incident of passing through darkness, on a roaring stream in a frail bark, before emerging to sunlight or illumination, was not only in the ancient heathen myths. We are reminded of it by the storm through which Jesus passed with the disciples. That it made a great impression upon the Indians is shown by its being told of Pulewech, the Partridge, who is a type of Glooskap, and who, like him, makes war on the powers of evil, set forth in the Porcupines. The Indians, who imagined and selected so many wild and terrible tests to form the Shaman, or sorcerer, as well as the warrior, would hardly neglect that of _de profundis clamari_, the storm, the waves, darkness, and the roaring flood.

If there is really any Norse influence in this tale, this river must be the one mentioned in the Vafthrudnismal,--

"Ifing the stream is called
which earth divides between
the Jotuns and the gods.
Open it shall run
throughout all time.
On that stream no ice shall he."

It will be observed that, having gone down or across this stream, Pulewech finds himself in the country of the Evil sorcerers; that is, Jotunheim. To conquer a river among the Norse, in a dream, was a sign of victory; to be carried away by one was a terrible omen.

"Methought a river ran
Through the whole house,
that it roared violently,
rushed over the benches,
brake the feet of yon
brothers twain;
Nothing the water spared;
Something that will portend."

(Atlamal, in Groenlewzku, 25.)

_Of the Great Works which Glooskap made in the Land._

(Micmac, Passamaquoddy, Penobscot.)

Over all the Land of the Wabanaki there is no place which was not marked by the hand of the Master. And it is to be seen on hills and rivers and great roads, as well as mighty rocks, which were in their day living monsters.

For there is a very wonderful highway from Cwesowra legek [Footnote: Hardwood Point, Fort Cumberland.] to Parrsborough, running parallel with the river now called Hebert, and this road is called by Indians Ou-wokun, the Causeway, but by white men, or the Iglesmani, the Boar's Back. For it is said that he meant to visit Partridge Island and Cape Blomidon, but they who were with him had got tired of the sea, and wished to cross over by land. And while they were resting and getting ready for their trip across, the Master, raising his magic power to a great deed to be spoken of forever, went away a little time, and cast up a great and beautiful level ridge, throwing it over bogs and streams; and on this they traveled, rejoicing, and, having reached the island, awaited him.

And yet again the Master did a mighty deed. It came to pass in those days that the Beavers had built a dam across from Utkoguncheek, or Cape Blomidon, to the opposite shore, and thereby made a pond that filled all the valley of Annapolis. Now in those times the Beavers were monstrous beasts, and the Master, though kind of heart, seems to have had but little love for them ever since the day when Qwah-beetsis, the son of the Great Beaver, tempted Malsum to slay his brother. Now the bones of these Beavers may be found to this day, and many there are on Oonamahgik, and their teeth are six inches across, and there are no such _qwah-beet_ to-day. [Footnote: Both Mr. Rand and myself have been solemnly assured by Indians who had seen these antediluvian remains that they are the petrified relics of Glooskap's victims.] And these are the remains of the Beavers who built the dam at Cape Blomidon and forded the Annapolis Valley. Now Glooskap would have a hunt and do a deed which should equal the great whale-fishing of Kit-pooseeog-unow. So he cut the great dam near the shore, and bade Marten watch; for he said, "I mistrust that there is a little Beaver hiding hereabouts." And when the dam was cut from where it joined the shore there was a mighty rush of many waters, so that it swung round to the westward, yet it did not break away from the other shore. Therefore the end of it lodged with a great split therein when the flood had found a free course, and the whole may be seen there still, even to this day, and may be seen by all of those who pass up the bay; and this point, or Cape Split, is called by the Micmacs Pleegun, which, being interpreted, means the opening of a beaver dam.

Then, to frighten the Beaver, Glooskap threw at it a few handfuls of earth, and these, falling somewhat to the eastward of Partridge Island, became the Five Islands. And the pond which was left was the Basin of Minas.

And yet another tradition tells that, after cutting the dam, Glooskap sat and watched, but no beaver came out; [Footnote: This is the Anglo-Indian manuscript, already referred to.] for _Qwah-beet_ had gone out of a back door. So he took a rock and threw it afar, [Footnote: "He took Rock tructed 150 miles ip River to sker beaber bock down, but beaber has gone ober granfalls."]--one hundred and fifty miles,--to scare the Beaver back again; but the Beaver had gone over the Grand Falls, and the stone remaineth there even to this day.

_The Story of Glooskap as told in a few Words by a Woman of the Penobscots._

"Glus-gahbe gave names to everything. He made men and gave them life, and made the winds to make the waters move. The Turtle was his uncle; the Mink, _Uk-see-meezel_, his adopted son; and _Monin-kwessos_, the Woodchuck, his grandmother. The Beaver built a great dam, and Glus-gahbe turned it away and killed the Beaver. At Moose-tchick he killed a moose; the bones may be seen at Bar Harbor turned to stone. He threw the entrails of the Moose across the bay to his dogs, and they, too, may be seen there to this day, as I myself have seen them; and there, too, in the rock are the prints of his bow and arrow." [Footnote: Many a place is pointed out as the locality of the same legend. In addition to those in New Brunswick and Bar Harbor, Thoreau found another in Maine, which he thus describes:--

"While we were crossing this bay" (that is, the mouth of Moose River), "where Mount Kineo rose dark before us, within two or three miles, the Indian repeated the tradition respecting this mountain's having been anciently a cow-moose,--how a mighty Indian hunter, whose name I forget, succeeded in killing this queen of the moose tribe with great difficulty, while her calf was killed somewhere among the islands in Penobscot Bay; and to his eyes this mountain had still the form of the moose in a reclining posture, its precipitous side presenting the outline of her head. He told this at some length, though it did not amount to much, and with apparent good faith, and asked us how we supposed the hunter could have killed such a mighty moose as that; how we could do it. Whereupon a man-of-war to fire broadsides into her was suggested, etc. An Indian tells such a story as if he thought it deserved to have a good deal said about it, only he has not got it to say; and so he makes up for the deficiency by a drawling tone, long-windedness, and a dumb wonder which he hopes will be contagious."

This concluding criticism is indeed singularly characteristic of Mr. Thoreau's own nasal stories about Nature, but it is as utterly untrue as ridiculous when applied to any Indian storytelling to which I have ever listened, and I have known the near relatives of the Indians of whom he speaks, and heard many of them tell their tales. This writer passed months in Maine, choosing Penobscot guides expressly to study them, to read Indian feelings and get at Indian secrets, and this account of Glooskap, whose name he forgets, is a fair specimen of what he learned. Yet he could in the same book write as follows: "The Anglo-American can indeed cut down and grub up all this waving forest, And make a stump and vote for Buchanan on its ruins; but he cannot Converse with the spirit of the tree he fells, he cannot read the poetry and mythology which retires as he advances."

If Mr. Thoreau had known the Indian legend of the spirit of the fallen tree--and his guide knew it well--he might have been credited with speaking wisely of the poetry and _mythology_ which he ridicules the poor rural Yankees for not possessing.

Such a writer can, indeed, peep and botanize on the grave of Mother Nature, but never evoke _her_ spirit.

The moving the island is evidently of Eskimo origin, since Crantz (_History of Greenland_) heard nearly the same story of some magician-giant. It was probably suggested by the very common floating away of ice-islands.]

_How Glooskap, leaving the World, all the Animals mourned for him, and how, ere he departed, he gave Gifts to Men._

(Micmac.)

Now Glooskap had freed the world from all the mighty monsters of an early time: the giants wandered no longer in the wilderness; the _cullo_ terrified man no more, as it spread its wings like the cloud between him and the sun; the dreadful Chenoo of the North devoured him not; no evil beasts, devils, and serpents were to be found near his home. And the Master had, moreover, taught men the arts which made them happier; but they were not grateful to him, and though they worshiped him they were not the less wicked.

"Now when the ways of men and beasts waxed evil they greatly vexed Glooskap, and at length he could no longer endure them, and he made a rich feast by the shore of the great Lake Minas. All the beasts came to it, and when the feast was over he got into a great canoe, and the beasts looked after him till they saw him no more. And after they ceased to see him, they still heard his voice as he sang; but the sounds grew fainter and fainter in the distance, and at last they wholly died away; and then deep silence fell on them all, and a great marvel came to pass, and the beasts, who had till now spoken but one language, were no longer able to understand each other, and they fled away, each his own way, and never again have they met together in council. Until the day when Glooskap shall return to restore the Golden Age, and make men and animals dwell once more together in amity and peace, all Nature mourns. And tradition says that on his departure from Acadia the Great Snowy Owl retired to the deep forests, to return no more until he could come to welcome Glooskap; and in those sylvan depths the owls even yet repeat to the night _Koo-koo-skoos_! which is to say in the Indian tongue, 'Oh, I am sorry! Oh, I am sorry!' And the Loons, who had been the huntsmen of Glooskap, go restlessly up and down through the world, seeking vainly for their master, whom they cannot find, and wailing sadly because they find him not." [Footnote: This passage is one of seven on the subject of Glooskap, cited in Osgood's _Maritime Provinces_, without giving either the name of the author or the book from which they were taken.]

But ere the Master went away from life, or ceased to wander in the ways of men, he bade it be made known by the Loons, his faithful messengers, that before his departure years would pass, and that whoever would seek him might have one wish granted, whatever that wish might be. Now, though the journey was long and the trials were terrible which those must endure who would find Glooskap, there were still many men who adventured them. [Footnote: There is a great embarrassment of riches, or rather a great wealth of embarrassment, as regards this chapter. In the Rand manuscript there are three histories of the adventures of the pilgrims who sought Glooskap. Another and very different was given to me by John Gabriel. In one account there are three travelers, in another four; others speak of seven and twelve. Finally, there are many incidents which apparently belong to this part of the Glooskap cycle, scattered here and there in different disconnected legends.

Mrs. W. Wallace Brown was told by the Passamaquoddy Indians that when Glooskap departed he took with him the king of each of the different kinds of animals; so that the wolves, loons, etc., mourn not only for the lord, but for their masters.]

Now ye shall hear who some of these were and what happened to them. And this is the first tale as it was told me in the tent of John Gabriel, the Passamaquoddy.

When all men had heard that Glooskap would grant a wish to any one who would come to him, three Indians resolved to try this thing; and one was a Maliseet from St. John, and the other two were Penobscots from Old Town. And the path was long and the way was hard, and they suffered much, and they were seven years on it ere they came to him. But while they were yet three months' journey from his dwelling, they heard the barking of his dogs, and as they drew nearer, day by day, it was louder. And so, after great trials, they found the lord of men and beasts, and he made them welcome and entertained them.

But, ere they went, he asked them what they wanted. And the eldest, who was an honest, simple man, and of but little account among his people, because he was a bad hunter, asked that he might excel in the killing and catching of game. Then the Master gave him a flute, or the magic pipe, which pleases every ear, and has the power of persuading every animal to follow him who plays it. And he thanked the lord, and left.

Now the second Indian, being asked what he would have, replied, 'The love of many women.' And when Glooskap asked how many, he said, "I care not how many; so that there are but enough of them, and more than enough." At hearing this the Master seemed displeased, but, smiling anon, he gave him a bag which was tightly tied, and told him not to open it until he had reached his home. So he thanked the lord, and left.

Now the third Indian was a gay and handsome but foolish young fellow, whose whole heart was set on making people laugh, and on winning a welcome at every merry-making. And he, being asked what he would have or what he chiefly wanted, said that it would please him most to be able to make a certain quaint and marvelous sound or noise, [Footnote: Pedere, crepitare.] which was frequent in those primitive times among all the Wabanaki, and which it is said may even yet be heard in a few sequestered wigwams far in the wilderness, away from men; there being still here and there a deep magician, or man of mystery, who knows the art of producing it. And the property of this wondrous sound is such that they who hear it must needs burst into a laugh; whence it is the cause that the men of these our modern times are so sorrowful, since that sound is no more heard in the land. And to him Glooskap was also affable, sending Marten into the woods to seek a certain mystical and magic root, which when eaten would make the miracle the young man sought. But he warned him not to touch the root ere he got to his home, or it would be the worse for him. And so he kindly thanked the lord, and left.

It had taken seven years to come, but seven days were all that was required to tread the path returning to their home, that is, for him who got there. Only one of all the three beheld his lodge again. This was the hunter, who, with his pipe in his pocket, and not a care in his heart, trudged through the woods, satisfied that so long as he should live, there would always be venison in the larder.

But he who loved women, and had never won even a wife, was filled with anxious wishfulness. And he had, not gone very far into the woods before he opened the bag. And there flew out by hundreds, like white doves, swarming all about him, beautiful girls, with black burning eyes and flowing hair. And wild with passion the winsome witches threw their arms about him, and kissed him as he responded to their embraces; but they came ever more and more, wilder and more passionate. And he bade them give way, but they would not, and he sought to escape, but he could not; and so panting, crying for breath, smothered, he perished. And those who came that way found him dead, but what became of the girls no man knows.

Now the third went merrily onward alone, when all at once it flashed upon his mind that Glooskap had given him a present, and without the least heed to the injunction that he was to wait till he had reached his home drew out the root and ate it; and scarce had he done this ere he realized that he possessed the power of uttering the weird and mystic sound to absolute perfection. And as it rang o'er many a hill and dale, and woke the echoes of the distant hills, until it was answered by the solemn owl, he felt that it was indeed wonderful. So he walked on gayly, trumpeting as he went, over hill and vale, happy as a bird.

But by and by he began to weary of himself. Seeing a deer he drew an arrow and stealing silently to the game was just about to shoot, when despite himself the wild, unearthly sound broke forth like a demon's warble. The deer bounded away, and the young man cursed! And when he reached Old Town, half dead with hanger, he was worth little to make laughter, though the honest Indians at first did not fail to do so, and thereby somewhat cheered his heart. But as the days went on they wearied of him, and, life becoming a burden, he went into the woods and slew himself. And the evil spirit of the night-air even Bumole, [Footnote: For an account of Bumole, or Pamola, see the chapter on Supernatural Beings. Bumole seems to have been the personification of the night-hawk.] or Pamola, from whom came the gift, swooped down from the clouds and bore him away to 'Lahmkekqu', the dwelling place of darkness, and he was no more heard of among men.

As regards the destruction of the giants by Glooskap, it may be observed that the same tradition exists among the Six Nations. Cusick tells us that about 1250 years before Columbus discovered America a powerful tribe called Otne-yar-heh, that is, Stone Giants, who were ravenous cannibals, overran the country, and nearly exterminated the inhabitants. These Stone Giants practiced, themselves in rolling on the sand; by this means their bodies became hard. Then Tas-enyawa-gen, the Holder of the Heavens, came to earth as a giant, and being made their chief, led them into a hollow, where he overwhelmed them with rocks. Only one escaped to the far North. The reader will recognize in these the Chenoos, or Kewahqu', who cover themselves with pitch and roll on the ground. But no one can deny that, while that which Cusick narrates has much in common with the mythology of the Wabanaki, it is much less like that of the Edda; that Indian grotesqueness has in it greatly perverted an original: and finally, that it certainly occupies a position midway between the mythology of the Northeastern Algonquins and that of the Chippewas, Ottawas, and other Western tribes. Examination shows this in every story. Thus the Wabanaki warrior makes his bow infallible in aim by stringing it with a cord made of his sister's hair. This is Norse, as it was of old Latin. But in the Iroquois the young man "adorns his arms with the hairs of his sister." Here the tradition has begun to weaken.

It may be interesting to visitors to Niagara to know that the army of Stone Giants crossed the river during their journey just below the Falls.

_How Glooskap had a great Frolic with Kitpooseagunow, a Mighty Giant who caught a Whale._

(Micmac.)

_N'kah-nee-oo_. In the old time (P.) Glooskap came to Pulewech Munegoo (M., Partridge Island), and here he met with Kitpooseagunow, [Footnote: _Kitpooseagunow_, "one born after his mother's death," is a magician-giant, who plays in the Algonquin mythology a part only inferior to that of Glooskap, whom he in every way resembles. Both are benevolent, both make war on wicked sorcerers and evil wild beasts, and both, finally, are much like Gargantua and Pantagruel in their sense of humor. They are sometimes made the heroes of the same adventure in different stories. The true origin of the name, according to Mr. Rand, is as follows: "After a cow moose or caribou has been killed, her calf is sometimes taken out alive, and reared by hand. As may be supposed, the calf is very easily tamed. The animal thus born is called _Kitpooseagunow_, and from this a verb is formed which denotes the act."--_Legends of the Mic Macs, Old Dominion Monthly_, 1871.

This giant was also called the Protector of the Oppressed. He probably represents the Glooskap myth in another form.] whose mother had been slain by a fearful cannibal giant. And it was against these that he made war all his life long, as did Glooskap. Whence it came to pass that they loved one another, which did not at all hinder them from having a hearty and merry encounter, in which they missed but little of killing one or the other, and all in the best natured way in the world.

Now, having come to Pulewech Munegoo, the lord of men and beasts was entertained by Kitpooseagunow. And when the night came, he who was born after his mother's death said to his guest, "Let us go on the sea in a canoe and catch whales by torchlight;" to which Glooskap, nothing loath, consented, for he was a mighty fisherman, as are all the Wabanaki of the seacoast. [Footnote: Glooskap would seem to have been the prototype of the giant fisher so well known in song:--

"His rod was made of a sturdy oak,
His line, a cable, in storms ne'er broke;
He baited his hook with a dragon's tail,
And sat on a rock and bobbed for whale."

A fabulous monster, apparently identical with the dragon, is common in Micmac stories.]

Now when they came to the beach there were only great rocks, lying here and there; but Kitpooseagunow, lifting the largest of these, put it on his head, and it became a canoe. And picking up another, it turned to a paddle, while a long splinter which he split from a ledge seemed to be a spear. Then Glooskap asked, "Who shall sit in the stern and paddle, and who will take the spear?" Kitpooseagunow said "That will I." So Glooskap paddled, and soon the canoe passed over a mighty whale; in all the great sea there was not his like; but he who held the spear sent it like a thunderbolt down into the waters, and as the handle rose again to sight he snatched it up, and the great fish was caught. And as Kitpooseagunow whirled it on high, the whale, roaring, touched the clouds. Then taking him from the point, the fisher tossed him into the bark as if he had been a trout. And the giants laughed; the sound of their laughter was heard all over the land of the Wabanaki. And being at home, the host took a stone knife and split the whale, and threw one half to the guest Glooskap, and they roasted each his piece over the fire and ate it.

Now the Master, having marked the light, which was long in the heaven after the sun went down, said, "The sky is red; we shall have a cold night." And his host understood him well, and saw that he would make it cold by magic. So he bade Marten bring in all the fuel he could find, and all there was of the oil of a porpoise; and this oil he so multiplied by magic that there was ten times more of it. And they sat them down and smoked, and told tales of old times; but it grew ever colder and colder. And at midnight, when all was burnt out, Marten froze to death, and then the grandmother, but the two giants smoked on, and laughed and talked. Then the rocks out-of-doors split with the cold, the great trees in the forest split; the sound thereof was as thunder, but the Master and he who was born after his mother's death laughed even louder. And so they sat until the sun rose. Then Glooskap said to the dead woman, "_Noogume, numchahse_!" (M.) "Grandmother, arise!" and to his boy, "_Abistanooch numchahse_!" "Marten, arise!" and they arose, and went about their work.

And the morning being bright, they went forth far into the forest to find game. But they got very little, for they caught only one small beaver, and Glooskap gave up his share of this to Kitpooseagunow. And he, taking the skin, fastened it to his garter, whence it dangled like the skin of a mouse at the knee of a tall man. But as he went on through the woods the skin grew larger and larger and larger, till it broke away by its own weight. Then the giant twisted a mighty sapling into a withe, and fastened it around his waist. But it still grew apace as he went on, till, trailing after, it tore down all the forest, pulling away the trees, so that Kitpooseagunow left a clean, fair road behind him. [Footnote: Many of these stories have received later additions, which can be detected by their occurring only in single versions of them. In the story of Kitpooseagunow (Rand's manuscript) the giants arrive at a "large town," and go to a "store," where they sell the skin for all the money, goods, houses, and lands which, the merchant possesses. "And the skin was so heavy that it took the greater part of the day to weigh it."]

And when the night came on they fished again, as they had done before; and again it was said, but this time by the host, "The sky is red; we shall have a cold night." So they heaped up wood more than the first time, but now it was far colder. And soon the boy was dead, and the grandmother also lay frozen. But when the sun rose the Master brought them back to life, and, bidding good-by to Kitpooseagunow, went his way. [Footnote: It is possible that there is a version of this story in which Glooskap kills his friend with frost, and then revives him. In one story it is a _frozen stream_, incarnate as a man, which attempts in vain to freeze Glooskap. The extraordinary manner in which host and guest, or even intimate friends, endeavor to _kill_ one another in the most good-natured rivalry, is of constant occurrence in the Eskimo legends. It is not infrequent among our own backwoods or frontier-men.

The stone-canoe occurs in Eskimo legends (_vide_ Rink), as it does in those of all American Indians.]

The most striking feature, however, of this legend is its Norse-like breadth or grandeur and its genial humor, which are very remarkable characteristics for the fictions of savages. Its resemblance to the Scandinavian tales is, if accidental, very remarkable. The two heroes are, like Thor and Odin, giant heroes who make war on Jotuns and Trolls; that is, giant-like sorcerers. It is their profession; they live in it. No one can read Beowulf or the Eddas without being struck by the great resemblance between Grendel, the hideous, semi-human night prowler, and the Kewahqu', a precisely similar monster, who rises from the depths of waters to wantonly murder man. I do not recall any two beings in any other two disconnected mythologies so strangely similar. The fishing for the whale recalls that which is told in the Older Edda (Hymiskrida, 21), where Hymir succeeds in hooking two of these fish:--

"Then he and Hymir rowed out to sea. Thor rowed oft with two oars, and so powerfully that the giant was obliged to acknowledge they were speeding very fast. _He himself rowed at the prow_."

If the reader will compare this account of the Edda with the Micmac story, he cannot fail to be struck with the great resemblance between them. It is even specified in both that the hero, though a guest, paddles. And in both instances the host catches a whale. Now compare with this the legend of Manobozho-Hiawatha, who merely catches the great sunfish, and is swallowed by it. Does it not seem as if the Western Indians had here borrowed from the Micmacs, and the Micmacs from the Norse? Whether this was done directly or through the Eskimo is as yet a problem. It may also be noted that both in the Edda and in the Micmac story, it is declared that one of the giants picked up the boat and carried it.

It may be observed that most of these Indian traditions were originally poems. It is probable that all were sung, while they still retained the character of serious mythical or sacred narrative. Now they are in the transition state of heroic tales. But they unquestionably still retain many passages of very great antiquity, and it is not impossible that Eskimo and even Norse songs are still preserved in them. In this tale the following coincidences with passages in the Elder Edda (Hymiskrida) are remarkable. In both the host asks his guest to go with him to catch whales, to which the latter assents.

"'We three to-morrow night
Shall be compelled
On what we catch to live.'
Thor said he would
On the sea row."

Kitpooseagunow picks up the heavy canoe, with its oars and a spear, and carries them.

"Thor went,
grasped the prow
quickly with its hold-water,
lifted the boat
together with its oars
and scoop;
bore to the dwelling
the curved vessel."

Glooskap asks which of the two shall take the paddle, and which sit in the stern. Hymir inquires,--

"Wilt thou do
half the work with me?
either the whales
home to the dwelling bear,
Or the boat
fast bind?"

Kitpooseagunow drew up a whale.

"The mighty Hymir,
He alone
two whales drew
up with his hook."

After this whale-fishing, the Scandinavian giants at home have a trial of strength and endurance. Thor throws a cup at Hymir. This cup can only be broken on Hymir's head, which is of ice, and intensely hard.

"That is harder
than any cup."

This is therefore an effort on the part of Thor to overcome Cold. Hymir is the incarnation of Cold itself.

"The icebergs resounded
as the churl approached;
the thicket on his cheeks
was frozen.
In shivers flew the pillars
At the Jotun's glance."

That is, the frost cracks the stones and rocks. In the Indian tale the two giants try to see which can freeze the other. In both there is distinctly a contest. In the Norse tale Strength or Heat fights Frost; in the American, Frost is battled with by Frost as a rival.

It may be observed that the Indian tale is far from being perfect, and that in all probability the whole of it includes a fishing for the sea-serpent.

It is plainly set forth in the Edda that Cold may be overcome by a magic spell. Thus Groa (Grougaldr, 12) promises her son a rune to effect this:--

"A seventh (charm) I will sing thee:
If on a mountain high
frost should assail thee,
deadly cold shall not
thy body injure,
nor draw it to thy limbs."

_How Glooskap made a Magician of a Young Man, who aided another to win a Wife and do Wonderful Deeds_.

(Micmac.)

It is well known unto all Indians who still keep the true faith of the olden time that there are wondrous dwellers in the lonely woods, such as elves and fairies, called by the Micmacs _Mikumwessos_, and by the Passamaquoddies _Oonahgawessos_. And these can work great wonders, and also sing so as to charm the wildest beasts. From them alone come the magic pipes or flutes, which sometimes pass into possession of noted sorcerers and great warriors; and when these are played upon, the woman who hears the melody is bewitched with love, and the moose and caribou follow the sound even to their death. And when the _Megumawessos_ are pleased with a mortal they make him a fairy, even like themselves.

_N'Karnayoo_. In old times there was an Indian village, and in it were two young men, [Footnote: According to another Micmac version of this legend, the elder of these pilgrims was Keekwahjoo, the Badger, and the younger Caktoogwasees, or Little Thunder.] who had heard that Glooskap, ere he left the world, would bestow on those who came to him whatever they wanted. So they went their way, an exceeding long pilgrimage, until they came to a great island, where he dwelt. And there they first met with Dame Bear and Marten, and next with the Master himself. Then they all, sitting down to supper, had placed before them only one extremely small dish, and on this there was a tiny bit of meat, and nothing more. But being a bold and jolly fellow, the first of the pilgrims, thinking himself mocked for sport, cut off a great part of the meat, and ate it, when that which was in the dish grew in a twinkling to its former size; and so this went on all through the supper, every one eating his fill, the dish at the end being as full as ever.

Of these two, one wished to become a Mikum-wess, and the other to win a very beautiful girl, the daughter of a great chief, who imposed such cruel tasks on all who came for her, that they died in attempting them.

And the first was taken by Glooskap; and after he had by a merry trick covered him with filth and put him to great shame, he took him to the river, and after washing him clean and combing his hair gave him a change of raiment and a hair string of exceeding great magic virtue, since when he had bound it on he became a Mikumwess, having all the power of the elfin-world. And also because he desired to excel in singing and music, the Master gave him a small pipe, and it was that which charmed all living beings; [Footnote: The identity of these incidents with those of "classic" times is worth noting. There is a lustration and the clothing the neophyte in a new garment, and he receives the magic fillet, as in the Mysteries of the old world. Nor is the resemblance of the pipe to that of Orpheus less striking. In many respects this is the most remarkable old Indian myth I have ever met with.] and then singing a song bade him join in with him. And doing this he found that he could sing, and ever after had a wondrous voice.

Now to seek the beautiful girl it was necessary to sail afar over the sea; and during this adventure the Mikumwess was charged to take care of the younger pilgrim. So he begged the Master to lend him his canoe. And Glooskap answered, "Yes, I will do this for thee, if thou wilt honestly return it when thou needest it no more. Yet in very truth I did never yet lend it to mortal man but that I had to go after it myself." [Footnote: One of the traits of _bonhomie_ and common humanity which continually occur in the Glooskap tales, even in the most serious situations and solemn myths. In this respect the resemblance of the Northwest Algonquin tales to the Norse is truly striking. The canoe is among all Indians, even in Central America, exactly what the umbrella is in civilized society. With all his immense originality Glooskap had a number of "old Joes," of which he never seems to have tired. One was the inexhaustible dish, and another the giant skunk set upon end to salute his visitors, and this of the canoe was probably the commonest of all. He is a true Indian divinity, shining like the lightning and striking only when there is a storm, but appearing like the Aurora Borealis, or even the Robin Goodfellow-Will-o'-the-Wisp at others.]

Thereupon the young man promised most faithfully that he would indeed return the canoe, and with this they got them ready for the journey. But when they came to the bay there was no canoe, and they knew not what was to be done. But Glooskap pointed to a small island of granite which rose amid the waves, and it was covered with tall pine-trees. "There is my canoe!" said he; [Footnote: Another standard "piece of witt" with the incorrigible joker. Glooskap's "floating island" was served up as a dessert to all guests, and I doubt not that if the double meaning of the word had been known to him, they would have had that too.] and when he had taken them unto it, it became a real canoe, with masts, and they set sail on it, rejoicing.

So they came in time to a very large island, where they drew up the canoe and hid it in the bushes. Then they went forward to seek for people, and found a village in which dwelt the chief who had the beautiful daughter, in seeking whom so many had lost their lives.

And having found him, they went into his wigwam, and were placed on the seat of honor. Now when an Indian seeks a wife, he or his mutual friend makes no great ado about it, but utters two words, which tell the whole story. And these are _Sewin-coadoo-gwah-loogwet_', which mean--in Micmac, "I am tired of living alone." And the chief, hearing this, consented that the young man should marry her whom he sought; but on one condition: and this was that he should slay and bring unto him the head of a certain horned dragon, called in Micmac _Chepichealm_. [Footnote: Vide "Supernatural Beings." The _Chepichealm_ (M.) is an immense horned serpent or wingless dragon. It is probably identical with the Wiwillmekq' (P. and Pen.), which is a singular horned worm found on trees or by water. It is believed to be capable of assuming a vast size and to be gifted with supernatural powers.] So this was agreed upon, and the two strangers went to the wigwam which was assigned them.

Now in the night he that was Mikumwess arose and went alone and afar until he came to the den of the dragon, and this was a great hole in the ground. And over this he laid a mighty log, and then began the magic dance around the den. So the serpent, or the great Chepichcalm, hearing the call, came forth, putting out his head after the manner of snakes, waving it all about in every way and looking round him. While doing this he rested his neck upon the log, when the Indian with a blow of his hatchet severed it. Then taking the head by one of the shining yellow horns he bore it to his friend, who in the morning gave it to the chief. And the old man said to himself, "This time I fear me I shall lose my child."

Yet the young man had more to do; for the chief said, "I would fain see my son coast down yonder hill on hand-sled." Now this lull was an exceeding high mountain; the sides thereof were ragged with rocks and terrible with trees and ice. Then two toboggins [Footnote: Toboggin: a sled or sledge.] were brought out, one of them for the two strangers, and this he that was Mikumwess was to direct. And on the other were two powerful men, and these were both _boo-oinak_, [Footnote: Magicians, the original of _pow-wow-in_. It is apparently the same in meaning as the _angakok_ of the neighboring Eskimo.] who hoped to see the former soon fall out, and then to run over them. And at the word they went flying fearfully down the mountain, and yet ever faster, as if to death. And soon he that sought the girl went whirling headlong from the sled, and the two _boo-oinak_ gave a loud hurrah; for they knew not that this had been done with intent by the Mikumwess, that he might get them before him. So he put forth his hand, and, seizing the younger man, turned a little aside, but in an instant went on after; and erelong the sled of the _boo-oinak_ stopped, but the other, bounding upwards from a mighty wall of ice, flew far over their heads onwards; nor did it stop in the valley, but, running with tremendous speed up the opposite hill and into the village, struck the side of the chief's wigwam, ripping it up from end to end ere it stopped. And the old man, seeing this, said, "This time I have lost my daughter!"

Yet the young man had more to do; for the chief said, "There is here a man who has never been beaten in running, and thou must strive with him in that and overcome him, to win thy wife." And the race was appointed; but ere it came off he that was Mikumwess lent to his friend the magic pipe to give him power. [Footnote: It may be observed that Indian magic depends on fetich, or objects having innate power. Glooskap himself relies on his belt, and when he lends it to Marten, the boy becomes "manitoo," as the more Western Indians term it. There is in the early red Indian mythology really no God; only more or less powerful magicians.] And when he that was the racer of the village met the young man, the youth said, "Who art thou?" and he replied, "I am Wey-ad-esk" (the Northern Lights, M.); "but who art thou?" And he answered, "I am Wosogwodesk" (the Chain Lightning). And they ran. In an instant they were no longer in sight; they were far away over the most distant hills. Then all sat and waited, and ere it was noon he that was the Chain Lightning returned, and he was not out of breath, nor weary, and he had gone round the world. And at evening they saw the Northern Lights return, and he trembled and quivered with fatigue; yet for all that he had not been round the world, but had turned back. And the old chief, seeing him beaten, exclaimed, "This time I shall lose my child!"

And yet there was another trial of the young man ere he could win her whom he wanted. For the chief had a man whom no one could overcome in swimming and diving, and it was chiefly in this last thing that he excelled. And the young man must strive with him. And when they met he asked the man of the village his name, and he replied, "I am an _Ukchigumooech_" (a Sea Duck, M.); "but who are you?" And he answered, "I am a _Kweemoo_" (a Loon, M.). So they dived, and after a time the Sea Duck rose again for breath, but those who waited waited long indeed ere they saw the Loon. And an hour passed, and he came not, and yet another ere they beheld him; but when he at last rose the old chief said, "This is the end of all our weary work, for this time truly I have lost my child."

Yet it was not the end of the wonderful deeds which were done in that village by the power of the great Glooskap. For the Mikumwess, at the great dance which was held that evening at the wedding, astonished all who beheld him. As he danced around the circle, upon the very hard beaten floor, they saw his feet sink deeper at every step, and ever deeper as the dance went on; ploughing the ground up into high, uneven ridges, forming a trench as he went, until at length only his head was to be seen. [Footnote: This is very characteristic of the true magician, both in the Algonquin and Eskimo folk-lore. "The _angakok_," or sorcerer of Greenland, "after meeting with _tomarsuk_, or guardian spirits, sometimes manifested it by his feet sinking into the rocky ground _just as if in snow_." (Rink.) This phrase indicates the Northern origin of the idea, which occurs in many Indian stories. I have been assured in all faith that there is a Passamaquoddy _m'teoulin_, or sorcerer, now living, who can walk up to his knees in a floor or in the paved street, and an honest and trustworthy Indian assured me that he had seen him do it.]

And this ended the dancing for that night, since the ground was no longer to be danced upon by anybody except wizards and witches.

Then the young man and his wife and the Mikumwess entered their canoe and sailed _boosijk_ (homewards, M.). And yet their trials were not over. [Footnote: These subsequent trials were not inflicted by the old chief, but were, as appears by comparison with other legends, simply jokes played by the incorrigible Glooskap. It is most probable that in its original form this remarkable myth was all _maya_, or illusion, and the whole a series of illusions, caused by the arch-conjurer, typifying natural phenomena.] For they had not gone far ere they saw an awful storm coming to meet them; and he that had the Elfin spells knew that it was raised by _boo-oin_, or sorcery, since these storms are the worst of all. Then, without fear, he rose, and, filling his lungs and puffing his cheeks, he blew against the tempest, wind against wind, until he blew the wind away, and the great water was '_aoobuneak_', as calm and smooth as before.

So they sailed on over the sunlit sea, but it was not long before the Elf-gifted saw rising among the waves far before them a dark mass, which soon proved to be a tremendous Beast coming to attack them. And as he drew near they saw it was Quahbeet, the giant beaver, and his eyes were angry. [Footnote: From the beginning, when _Quahbeetsis_, the son of the Beaver, inspired Malsumsis with hatred of Glooskap, this quadruped appears as an enemy.] But the Mikumwess, seeing this, steered straight to meet the monster, and, coming to him, said, "I am the great hunter of beavers; lo, I am their butcher; many a one has fallen by my hand." [Footnote: This is oddly like the speech of the beaver-killer in _The Hunting of the Snark_.] Now the Beaver had placed himself under water, with his tail out of it and rising upwards, that he might sink the canoe with a blow thereof; for the Beaver strikes mightily in such wise, as is his wont. But he of the magic power, with one blow of his tomahawk, cut the tail from the body, and sailed onward.

Yet they had not gone far ere, on rounding a point, they saw before them another animal of giant size, who likewise had his tail in the air, waiting to overcome them, and this was A-bekk-thee-lo (M.), the Skunk. Yet ere he made his hideous attack the Mikumwess, ever on the watch, caught up his spear, and, hurling it, pierced A-bekk-thee-lo, who did but kick two or three times ere he died. And, stepping ashore, he who had slain him took a pole, a long dead pine, which lay upon the sand, and, transfixing the Skunk, lifted him high in air, and, planting the tree on the ground, left him, saying scornfully, as he left, "_Lik cho je nain_!" which, being interpreted, meaneth, "And now show your tail there!" [Footnote: The Skunk is here a parody on the Beaver.]

So they returned safely. And Glooskap met them at the landing, and his first words were, "Well, my friends, I see that you have brought back my canoe." And they answered, "We have, indeed." Then he inquired," Has all gone well with ye?" And they replied that it had. Then Glooskap, laughing, let them know that in all they had experienced he had been busy, and that in all their triumphs he had had a hand. And to the Mikumwess he said, "Go now thy ways, thou and these, and ever lead happy lives: thou amid the Elfin, they among mankind. And be sure of this, that if danger or trouble should come to you, you have but to think of me, and verily aid will come." So they rose and went to their wigwams. [Footnote: In its earlier form this must have been a very remarkable narrative, or poem. That the two combatants in the race were originally the personified Northern Lights and Lightning, and that these were _not_ merely names assumed for boasting, is shown by the incident that the Lightning actually _passed round the world_, while the Aurora Borealis only covered a portion of it. The diving is either a later addition, or it represents the same stupendous spirits taking on the appearance of mastering the element of water as well as that of fire. Without carrying the Solar myth theory to extremes, it cannot be denied that Glooskap appears in several of these stories as Spring, or as the melter of ice, the conqueror of the frozen stream and of the iceberg. In this narrative he is active and creative Nature itself, directing and sporting with the warring elements. His vast practical joking cannot fail to remind the reader yet again of the Norse deities and their jovial household godhood.

This tradition is Micmac, and taken almost entirely from Mr. Rand's manuscript. It should be borne in mind that it is not from a single story of this collection, but from a careful analysis and comparison of them all, that their entire value is to be ascertained.