Chapter XXVI (3)

The Sea Dayaks pay homage to evil spirits of various kinds, who reside in the jungles, in the mountains, and in the earth; all sicknesses, misfortunes, or death, proceed from them; while to Batara is attributed every blessing. When they make offerings, however, both are propitiated and, as usual, the wicked ones have the larger share. The priests offer a long prayer and supplicate them to depart from the afflicted house or from the sick man. Of the seven platesful of food, four are given to the evil spirits and cast forth or exposed in the forest, while the others are offered to the good spirits, who are implored to protect and bless them. The food offered to the latter is not considered to be interdicted, but may be, and always is eaten.

The Lingga Dayaks, besides Batara, have various good spirits--as Stampandei, who superintends the propagation of mankind; Pulang Ganah, who inhabits the earth and gives fertility to it, and to him are addressed the offerings at the feasts given whilst preparing the rice for cultivation: Singallong Burong, the god of war, excites their utmost reverence, and to him are offered the Head feasts. On these occasions he comes down and hovers in the form of a kite over the house, and guns are fired and gongs beaten in his honour. His brave followers married to his daughters appear in the form of his omen birds. No wonder he is honoured; he gives success in war and delights in their acquisitions of the heads of their enemies. Nattiang inhabits the summits of the hills and is one of their demigods. The Linggas tell many stories of his exploits. The most famous was his expedition to the skies to recover his wife who had been caught in a noose and hoisted up there by an old enemy of his. To dream of him is to receive the gift of bravery.

When the small-pox was committing dreadful havoc among the Sakarangs the villagers would not allow themselves to be innoculated; they ran into the jungle in every direction, caring for no one but themselves, leaving their houses empty and dwelling far away in the most silent spots in parties of two and three and sheltered only by a few leaves. When these calamities come upon them they utterly lose all command over themselves and become as timid as children. When the fugitives become short of provisions a few of the old men who have already had the complaint creep back to the houses at night and take a supply of rice. In the daytime they do not dare to stir or speak above a whisper for fear the spirits should see or hear them. They do not call the small-pox by its name, but are in the habit of saying, “Has he left you?” at other times they call it jungle-leaves or fruit; at other places the Datu or chief.

Their priests frequently use the names of invisible spirits, and are supposed to be able to interpret their language as well as to hold communion with them; and in ordinary times they pretend to work the cure of the sick by means of incantations, and after blinding the patient’s eyes pretend, by the aid of the spirits, to draw the bones of fish or fowl out of their flesh. When the Dayaks are questioned as to their belief in these easily-exposed deceits, they say, No; but the custom has descended to them from their ancestors, and they still pay their priests heavy sums to perform the ancient rites.

They believe in a future state--considering that the Simaūgat or spiritual part of man lives for ever; that they awake shortly after death in the Sabayan or future abode, and that there they find those of their relatives and friends who have departed before them. Some tribes divide their Sabayan into seven distinct stories which are occupied by the souls of the departed according to their rank and position in life. The really wicked occupy the lowest, but whether happy or miserable they acknowledge ignorance.

The Kayans of Baram have some singular ideas concerning a future state. The name of their god is Totadungan and he reigns over all; they say he has a wife but no children, and beneath him are many gods of inferior power. They believe in a future state with separate places for the souls of the good and the bad, and that both heaven and hell are divided into many distinct residences--that those who die from wounds, or sickness, or drowning, go to separate places. If a woman dies before her husband they hold that she goes to heaven and marries again; but that if when her earthly husband dies he goes to heaven the celestial match is broken off and the old husband claims his partner.

Among both Land and Sea Dayaks dreams are regarded as actual occurrences. They think that in sleep the soul sometimes remains in the body and sometimes leaves it and travels far away, and that both when in and out of the body it sees and hears and talks and altogether has a presence given it which when the body is in a natural state it does not enjoy. Fainting fits or a state of coma are thought to be caused by the departure of the soul on some expedition of its own. Elders and priestesses often assert that in their dreams they have visited the mansion of the blessed and seen the Creator dwelling in a house like that of a Malay, the interior of which was adorned with guns and gongs and jars innumerable, Himself being clothed like a Dayak.

A dream of sickness to any member of a family always ensures a ceremony; and no one presumes to enter the priesthood, or to learn the art of a blacksmith, without being or pretending to be warned in a dream that he should undertake to learn it. A man has been known to give one of his two children to another who has no children because he dreamed that unless he did so the child would die.

In dreams also, “Tapa” and the spirits bestow gifts on men in the shape of magic stones, which being washed in cocoa milk the water forms one of the ingredients in the mass of blood and tumeric which is considered sacred and is used to anoint the people at the harvest-feasts. They are ordinary black pebbles, and there is nothing in their appearance to give a notion of their magic power and value.

On the banks of one of the rivers Mr. St. John discovered the effigy of a bull cut in a sort of stone said to be unknown in the country; its legs and part of its head had been knocked off. Its history is as follows:--Many years ago on being discovered in the jungle the Malays and Dayaks removed it to the banks of the river preparatory to its being conveyed to the town, but before it could be put into a prahu they say a tremendous storm of thunder and lightning, wind and rain, arose, which lasted thirty days. Fearing that the bull was angry at being disturbed in his forest home they left him in the mud, and there Sir James Brooke found it and had it removed to his own house. Several of the Dayak tribes sent deputations to him to express their fears of the evil consequences that would be sure to ensue--everything would go wrong, storms would arise, their crops would be blighted, and famine would desolate the land. Humouring their prejudices, he answered that they were mistaken, that the bull on the contrary would be pleased to be removed from the dirty place in which the Malays had left him, and that now he was kept dry and comfortable there would be no show of his anger. This reply satisfied them. Occasionally the Dayaks would come and wash the stone bull, taking away the precious water to fertilize their fields.

Amongst some of the Bornean aborigines there is a superstition that they must not laugh at a dog or a snake crossing their path. Should they do so they would become stones. These Dayaks always refer with respect and awe to some rocks scattered over the summit of a hill in Sadong, saying that they were originally men. The place was a very likely one to be haunted--a noble old forest but seldom visited. Many years ago they say a great chief gave a feast there, in the midst of which his lovely daughter came in; she was a spoilt child who did nothing but annoy the guests. They at first tried to get rid of her by mixing dirt with her food: finding she still teazed them, they gave her poison. Her father in his anger went back to his house, shaved his dog and painted him with alternate streaks of black and white. Then giving him some intoxicating drink he carried him in his arms into the midst of the assembly and set him on the ground. The dog began to caper about in the most ludicrous manner which set them all off laughing, the host as well as the guests, and they were immediately turned into stone.

With one giant stride of our any-number-of-league boots we step from Borneo into North America and among the many semi-savage tribes that there reside. As a rule the North-American savage believes in one Supreme Being whom he knows as the Great Spirit, and whose abode is Paradise, or the “happy hunting ground.” This Supreme Being, however, they regard as much too exalted to trouble himself about the petty businesses of the world, and therefore governs by deputy. There are, according to Indian belief, numerous subordinate deities, the business of each of whom it is to govern and control the earth, the forests and the game there abounding, the winds, the air, and the water, together with its finny denizens. Besides those--at least in the case of the Ojibbeway, who may fairly be taken as the type of the North-American Indian--they have a host of evil spirits or munedoos, or manitou, headed by one arch Matchi-munedoo, and who, it is to be feared on account of their predilection for mischief, occupy a greater portion of the Indian’s time and attention in the way of propitiation and friendly peace-offering, than ever is devoted to Kitchi-manitou, the Great Spirit to whom, if the Indian’s religion is worth a straw, it should be sufficient to obey to render one self-defiant of Matchi-munedoo and all his works.

As might be expected the Indian language is rich in mythological lore, and is often found to be a curious tangle of what we acknowledge as Biblical truth, and nonsense, remarkable chiefly for its quaint grotesqueness. Take the following narrative of the Deluge:

“Before the general deluge there lived two enormous creatures, each possessed of vast power. One was an animal with a great horn on his head; the other was a huge toad. The latter had the whole management of the waters, keeping them secure in its own body, and emitting only a certain quantity for the watering of the earth. Between these two creatures there arose a quarrel, which terminated in a fight. The toad in vain tried to swallow its antagonist, but the latter rushed upon it, and with his horn pierced a hole in its side, out of which the water gushed in floods, and soon overflowed the face of the earth. At this time Nanahbozhoo was living on the earth, and observing the water rising higher and higher, he fled to the loftiest mountain for refuge. Perceiving that even this retreat would be soon inundated, he selected a large cedar tree which he purposed to ascend, should the waters come up to him. Before they reached him he caught a number of animals and fowls, and put them into his bosom. At length the water covered the mountain. Nanahbozhoo then ascended the cedar tree, and as he went up he plucked its branches and stuck them in the belt which girdled his waist. When he reached the top of the tree he sang, and beat the tune with his arrow upon his bow, and as he sang the tree grew and kept pace with the water for a long time. At length he abandoned the idea of remaining any longer on the tree, and took the branches he had plucked, and with them constructed a raft, on which he placed himself with the animals and fowls. On this raft he floated about for a long time, till all the mountains were covered, and all the beasts of the earth and fowls of the air, except those he had with him, perished.

“At length Nanahbozhoo thought of forming a new world, but how to accomplish it without any materials he knew not, till the idea occurred to him that if he could only obtain a little of the earth, which was then under water, he might succeed in making a new world out of the old one. He accordingly employed the different animals he had with him that were accustomed to diving. First, he sent the loon, a water fowl of the penguin species, down into the water in order to bring up some of the old earth; but it was not able to reach the bottom, and after remaining in the water some time, came up dead. Nanahbozhoo then took it, blew upon it, and it came to life again. He next sent the otter, which also failing to reach the bottom, came up dead, and was restored to life in the same manner as the loon. He then tried the skill of the heaver, but without success. Having failed with all these diving animals, he last of all took the musk-rat; on account of the distance it had to go to reach the bottom, it was gone a long time, and came up dead. On taking it up, Nanahbozhoo found, to his great joy, that it had reached the earth, and had retained some of the soil in each of its paws and mouth. He then blew upon it, and brought it to life again, at the same time pronouncing many blessings on it, saying, that as long as the world he was about to make should endure, the musk-rat should never become extinct. This prediction of Nanahbozhoo is still spoken of by the Indians when referring to the rapid increase of the musk-rat. Nanahbozhoo then took the earth which he found in the musk-rat’s paws and mouth, and having rubbed it with his hands to fine dust, he placed it on the waters and blew upon it; then it began to grow larger and larger, until it was beyond the reach of his eye. In order to ascertain the size of the world, and the progress of its growth and expansion, he sent a wolf to run to the end of it, measuring its extent by the time consumed in his journey. The first journey he performed in one day, the second took him five days, the third ten, the fourth a month, then a year, five years, and so on, until the world was so large that Nanahbozhoo sent a young wolf that could just run, which died of old age before he could accomplish the journey. Nanahbozhoo then said the world was large enough, and commanded it to cease from growing. After this Nanahbozhoo took a journey to view the new world he had made, and as he travelled he created various tribes of Indians, and placed them in different parts of the earth; he then gave them various religions, customs, and manners.

“This Nanahbozhoo now sits at the North Pole, overlooking all the transactions and affairs of the people he has placed on the earth. The Northern tribes say that Nanahbozhoo always sleeps during the winter; but, previous to his falling asleep, fills his great pipe, and smokes for several days, and that it is the smoke arising from the mouth and pipe of Nanahbozhoo which produces what is called ‘Indian summer.’”

They have, however, legends that relate to times anterior to the flood, even to the beginning of Time itself and the days of Adam and Eve. Mr. Kohl, of “Lake Superior” celebrity, contributes the following:

“On Torch Lake it is said, that Kitchi-Manitou (the Good Spirit) first made the coast of our lake. He strewed the sand and formed a fine flat dry beach or road round the lake. He found that it was splendid walking upon it, and often wandered along the beach. One day he saw something lying on the white sand. He picked it up. It was a very little root. He wondered whether it would grow if planted in the ground, and made the trial. He planted it close to the edge of the water in the sand, and when he came again, the next day, a thick and large reed-bed had grown out of it through which the wind rustled. This pleased him, and he sought for and collected more little roots and other seeds from the sand and spread them around so that they soon covered the rocks and land with grass and fine forests, in which the birds and other animals came to live. Every day he added something new to the creation, and did not forget to place fish and other creatures in the water.

“One day when Kitchi-Manitou was again walking along the sand, he saw something moving in the reeds, and noticed a being coming out of the water entirely covered with silver-glistening scales like a fish, but otherwise formed like a man. Kitchi-Manitou was curious to see on what the being lived and whether it ate herbs, especially as he saw it constantly stooping and plucking herbs which it swallowed. The man could not speak, but at times when he stooped he sighed and groaned.

“The sight moved Kitchi-Manitou with compassion in the highest degree, and as a good thought occurred to him, he immediately stepped into his canoe and paddled across to the island, which still lies in the centre of the lake. Here he set to work providing the man the company of a squaw. He formed her nearly like what he had seen the man to be, and also covered her body with silver-glistening scales. Then he breathed life into her, and carried her across in his canoe to the other bank of the lake, telling her that if she wandered busily along the lake and looked about her, she would perhaps find something to please her. For days the squaw wandered about one shore of the lake, while the man was seeking herbs for food on the other. One day the latter went a little further, and, to his great surprise, saw footsteps in the sand much like those he himself made. At once he gave up seeking herbs and followed these footsteps, as he hoped there were other beings like himself on the lake. The squaw during her long search had left so many footsteps that the man at first feared they might belong to a number of Indians, and they might perhaps be hostile. Hence he crept along carefully in the bush, but always kept an eye on the trail in the sand.

“At last he found the being he sought sitting on a log near the shore. Through great fatigue she had fallen asleep. He looked around to the right and left but she was quite alone. At length he ventured to come out of the bushes; he approached her with uncertain and hesitating steps; he seized her and she opened her eyes.

“‘Who art thou?’ he said, for he could now suddenly speak, ‘Who art thou, what is thy name, and whither dost thou come?’

“‘My name is Mami,’ she replied, ‘and Kitchi-Manitou brought me here from that island, and told me I should find something here I liked. I think that thou art the promised one.’

“‘On what dost thou live?’ the man asked the woman.

“‘Up to this time I have eaten nothing, for I was looking for thee. But now I feel very hungry; hast thou anything to eat?’

“Straightway the man ran into the bushes, and collected some roots and herbs he had found good to eat, and brought them to the squaw, who greedily devoured them.

“The sight of this moved Kitchi-Manitou, who had watched the whole scene from his lodge. He immediately came over in his canoe, and invited the couple to his island. Here they found a handsome large house prepared for them, and a splendid garden round it. In the house were glass windows, and in the rooms tables and chairs and beds and conveniences of every description. In the garden grew every possible sort of useful and nourishing fruits, potatoes, strawberries, apple-trees, cherry and plum trees; and close by were large fine fields planted with Indian corn and beans.

“They ate and lived there for days and years in pleasure and happiness; and Kitchi-Manitou often came to them and conversed with them. ‘One thing,’ he said, ‘I must warn you against. Come hither; see, this tree in the middle of the garden is not good. I did not plant it, but Matchi-Manitou planted it. In a short time this tree will blossom and bear fruits which look very fine and taste very sweet; but do not eat of them, for if ye do so ye will die.’ They paid attention to this, and kept the command a long time, even when the tree had blossomed and the fruit had set. One day, however, when Mami went walking in the garden, she heard a very friendly and sweet voice say to her, ‘Mami, Mami, why dost thou not eat of this beautiful fruit? it tastes splendidly.’ She saw no one, but she was certain the voice did not come either from Kitchi-Manitou or her husband. She was afraid and went into the house. The next day though, she again went into the garden, and was rather curious whether the same pleasant voice would speak to her again. She had hardly approached the forbidden tree, when the voice was heard once more, ‘Mami, Mami, why dost thou not taste this splendid fruit? it will make thy heart glad.’ And with these words a young handsome Indian came out of the bushes, plucked a fruit, and placed it in her hand. ‘Thou canst make famous preserves of it for thy household,’ the friendly Indian added.

“The fruit smelled pleasantly, and Mami licked it a little. At length she swallowed it entirely, and felt as if drunk. When her husband came to her soon after she persuaded him also to eat of it; he did so, and also felt as if drunk. But this had scarce happened ere the silver scales with which their bodies had been covered, fell off; only twenty of these scales remained on, but they had lost their brilliancy,--ten on the fingers and ten on the toes. They saw themselves to be quite uncovered, and began to be ashamed, and withdrew timidly into the bushes of the garden.

“The young Indian had disappeared, but the angry Kitchi-Manitou soon came to them, and said ‘It is done; ye have eaten of Matchi-Manitou’s fruit, and must now die. Hence it is necessary that I should marry you, lest the whole human race might die out with you. Ye must perish, but shall live on in your children and children’s children.’ Kitchi-Manitou banished them also from the happy isle, which immediately grew wild, and bore them in his canoe to the shores of the lake. But he had mercy on them still. He gave the man a bow and arrow, and told him he would find animals which were called deer. These he was to shoot, and Mami would get ready the meat for him, and make mocassins and clothing of the hide.

“When they reached the other shore, Mami’s husband tried first of all this bow and the arrows. He shot into the sand, and the arrows went three inches deep into the ground.

“Mami’s husband then went for the first time to hunt, and saw in the reeds on the lake an animal moving, which he recognised for a deer, as Kitchi-Manitou had described it to him. He shot his arrow, and the animal straightway leaped from the water on shore, sank on its knees, and died. He ran up and drew his arrow from the wound, examined it, found that it was quite uninjured, and placed it again in his quiver, as he thought he could use it again. When he brought the deer to his squaw, she cut it into pieces, washed it, and laid the hide aside for shoes and clothing; but soon saw that they, as Indians, could not possibly eat the meat raw, as the barbarous Eskimos in the north do: she must cook it, and for that purpose have fire.

“This demand embarrassed the man for a moment, as he had never yet seen any meat boiling or roasting before the fire. But he soon knew how to help himself. He took two different descriptions of wood, rubbed them against each other, and soon made a bright fire for his squaw. The squaw in the meanwhile had prepared a piece of wood as a spit, placed a lump of meat on it, and held it in the fire. They both tasted it, and found it excellent. ‘As this is so good, the rest will be famous,’ she said, and cut it all up and put it in the kettle, and then they ate nearly all the deer that same evening. This gave Mami’s husband strength and courage, and he went out hunting again the next morning, and shot a deer; and so he did every day, while his squaw built a lodge for him, and sewed clothes and mocassins.

“One day when he went a-hunting again, the man found a book lying under a tree. He stopped and looked at it. The book began speaking to him, and told him what he was to do, and what to leave undone. It gave him a whole series of orders and prohibitions. He found this curious, and did not much like it; but he took it home to his squaw.

“‘I found this book under a tree,’ he said to her, ‘which tells me to do all sorts of things, and forbids me doing others; I find this hard, and I will carry it back to where I found it.’ And this he did too, although his squaw begged him to keep it. ‘No,’ he said, ‘it is too thick; how could I drag it about with me in my medicine bag?’ And he laid the book again, the next day, under the tree, where he had taken it up; and so soon as he laid it down, it disappeared. The earth swallowed it up.

“Instead of it, however, another book appeared in the grass. That was easy and light, and only written on a couple of pieces of birch bark. It also spoke to him in the clear and pure Ojibbeway language; forbade him nothing, and ordered him nothing; and only taught him the use and advantages of the plants in the forest and on the prairie. This pleased him much, and he put the book at once in his hunting bag, and went into the forest, and collected all the plants, roots, flowers, and herbs which it pointed out to him.

“Quite loaded with herbs of fifty different sorts, he returned to his squaw Mami. He sorted them out, and found they were all medicine, good in every accident of life. As he had in this way become a great medicine man, as well as a mighty hunter, he wanted but little more to satisfy his earthly wants. The children his wife bore him he brought up as good hunters; taught them the use of the bow; explained to them the medicine book; and told them, shortly before his and Mami’s death, the history of their creation and their former mode of life on the Torch Lake island with Kitchi-Manitou, who now, after so much suffering and sorrow, was graciously pleased to receive them again.”

The following story was communicated to Mr. Jones, a native minister, by an Ojibbeway Indian named _Netahgawineneh_, and will serve to illustrate the source whence they derive their ideas of a future state:--

“In the Indian country far west an Indian once fell into a trance, and when he came to life again, he gave the following account of his journey to the world of spirits.

“I started, said he, my soul or spirit in company with a number of Indians who were travelling to the same spirit land. We directed our footsteps towards the sun-setting. On our journey we passed through a beautiful country, and on each side of our trail saw strawberries as large as a man’s head. We ate some of them, and found them very sweet; but one of our party who kept loitering behind, came up to us and demanded, ‘Why were we eating a ball of fire?’ We tried to persuade him to the contrary, but the foolish fellow would not listen to our words, and so went on his way hungry. We travelled on until we came to a dark, swollen and rapid river, over which was laid a log vibrating in a constant wavering motion. On this log we ventured to cross, and having arrived at the further end of it, we found that it did not reach the shore; this obliged us to spring with all our might to the land. As soon as we had done this, we perceived that the supposed log on which we had crossed was a large serpent, waving and playing with his huge body over the river. The foolish man behind was tossed about until he fell off, but he at length succeeded in swimming to shore. No sooner was he on land than a fierce and famished pack of wolves fell on him and began to tear him to pieces, and we saw him no more. We journeyed on, and by and by came within sight of the town of spirits. As soon as we made our appearance there was a great shout heard, and all our relatives ran to meet us and to welcome us to their happy country. My mother made a feast for me, and prepared everything that was pleasant to eat and to look upon; here we saw all our forefathers; and game and corn in abundance; all were happy and contented.

“After staying a short time, the Great Spirit of the place told me that I must go back to the country I had left, as the time had not yet arrived for me to dwell there. I accordingly made ready to return; and as I was leaving, my mother reproached me by all manner of foolish names for wishing to leave so lovely and beautiful a place. I took my departure, and soon found myself in the body and in the world I had left.”

The allegorical traditions of the North American Indians regarding the introduction into the world of the art of medicine and of religious mysteries are still more extravagant than their theogony. We will cite from Dominech the principal among them, to give an idea of all the others of the same kind.

“A great Manitou of heaven came once on earth and married a woman, who died, after giving birth to four children. The first was called Manabozho, and was the protector and friend of men; the second Chibiabos, took care of the dead and ruled over the empire of shadows, that is to say, of souls; the third, called Onabasso, fled towards the north as soon as he saw the day, and was metamorphosed into a white rabbit without ceasing to be a Manitou; the last of the four brothers was called Chokanipok, that is to say, the man of the fire-stone.

“When Manabozho grew up, he declared war against Chokanipok, whom he accused of being the cause of their mother’s death. The struggle was long and terrible. The surface of the earth still preserves traces of the battles which were fought between them. Chokanipok was conquered by his brother, his entrails were taken out, and changed into vines, and the fragments of his body became fire-stones, which were scattered all over the globe, and supplied man with the principle of fire. Manabozho it was who taught the Red Indians the mode of manufacturing axe blades, arrow points, traps, nets, how to turn stones and bones to use to capture wild animals, fish, and birds. He was very much attached to Chibiabos, with whom he lived in the desert, where they conferred together for the good of humanity. The material power and the extraordinary intelligence of these two superior beings excited the jealousy of the Manitous, who lived in the air, on earth, and in the water. This jealousy gave rise to a conspiracy against the life of Chibiabos. Manabozho warned him to be on his guard against the machinations of the Manitous, and never to quit him. But one day Chibiabos ventured alone during the winter on one of the great frozen lakes; when he arrived in the middle of the lake the Manitous broke the ice, and Chibiabos sank to the bottom of the water, where his body remained buried.

“Manabozho wandered for a long time on the banks of the lake, calling his beloved brother; his voice trembling with fear and hope, was heard from afar. When he had no longer any doubt of the misfortune which had befallen him, his fury knew no bounds; he declared war against the wicked Manitous, killed a great number of them, and his rage no less than his despair spread consternation through the whole desert. After the first moments devoted to revenge, he painted his face black, covered his head with a veil of the same colour, then sat down on the shore of the lake and mourned the deceased for six years, making the neighbouring echoes incessantly ring with the cherished name of Chibiabos. The Manitous deeply moved by his profound grief, assembled to consult on the means they should take to console the unhappy mourner. The oldest and wisest of them all, who had not been concerned in the death of Chibiabos, took the task of reconciliation on himself. Aided by the other spirits, he built a sacred lodge near that of Manabozho, and prepared a great feast. He procured the best tobacco imaginable, and put it in a beautiful calumet; then placing himself at the head of the Manitous, who walked in procession, each carrying under his arm a bag made of the skins of various animals, and filled with precious medicine, he went to invite Manabozho to the festival. Manabozho uncovered his head, washed his face, and followed the Manitous to the sacred lodge. On his entrance he was offered a drink composed of the most exquisite medicines, a rite initiatory to propitiation. Manabozho drank it in a single draught, and immediately felt the grief and sadness lifted from his soul. The Manitous then began their dances and songs, which were succeeded by several ceremonies and by feats of address and magic, performed with the intention of restoring serenity of mind to the unconsolable protector and friend of the human race. It was thus the mysteries of the dance and of medicine were introduced on the earth.

“The Manitous then united all their powers to recall Chibiabos to life, which they did without difficulty. He was, however, forbidden to enter the sacred lodge; but receiving a flaming brand, he was sent to preside over the empire of the dead. Manabozho, quite consoled, ate, drank, danced, and smoked the sacred pipe, went away to the Great Spirit, and returned to earth to instruct men in the useful arts, in the mysteries of dancing and medicine, and in the curative properties of plants. It is he who causes the medicinal plants to grow which cure sickness and wounds; it is he who killed all the monsters with which the desert was peopled. He placed spirits at the four cardinal points to protect the human race: that of the north sends snow and ice to facilitate the chase in winter; that of the south causes the maize to grow, as well as all kinds of fruit and tobacco; that of the west gives rain; and that of the east brings light, by commanding the sun to move round the globe. Thunder is the voice of these four spirits, to whom tobacco is offered in thanksgiving for the various blessings which they confer on the inhabitants of the earth.”

Among the more ignorant tribes of North American Indians the god of thunder is believed to be the eagle. The Rev. Peter Jones asserts this to be the belief of the Ojibbeways. When a thunderbolt strikes a tree or the ground, they fancy that the thunder has shot his fiery arrow at a serpent and caught it away in the twinkling of an eye. Some Indians affirm that they have seen the serpent taken up by the thunder into the clouds. They believe that the thunder has its abode on the top of a high mountain in the west, where it lays its eggs and hatches its young, like an eagle, and whence it takes its flight into different parts of the earth in search of serpents.

The following is a story related by an Indian who is said to have ventured, at the risk of his life, to visit the abode of the thunders: “After fasting, and offering my devotions to the thunder, I with much difficulty ascended the mountain, the top of which reached to the clouds. To my great astonishment, as I looked I saw the thunder’s nest, where a brood of young thunders had been hatched and reared. I saw all sorts of curious bones of serpents, on the flesh of which the old thunders had been feeding their young; and the bark of the young cedar trees peeled and stripped, on which the young thunders had been trying their skill in shooting their arrows before going abroad to hunt serpents.”

Another thunder tradition says: “That a party of Indians were once travelling on an extensive plain, when they came upon two young thunders lying in their nest in their downy feathers, the old thunders being absent at the time. Some of the party took their arrows, and with the point touched the eyes of the young thunders. The moment they did so their arrows were shivered to pieces, as if a young thunder arrow had struck them. One of the party, more wise than his companions, entreated them not to meddle with them, warning them that if they did they would pay dearly for their folly. The foolish young men would not listen, but continued to teaze and finally killed them. As soon as they had done this a black cloud appeared, advancing towards them with great fury. Presently the thunder began to roar and send forth volumes of its fiery indignation. It was too evident that the old thunders were enraged on account of the destruction of their young--soon, with a tremendous crash, the arrows of the mighty thunder-god fell on the foolish men and destroyed them, but the wise and good Indian escaped unhurt.”

In proof of the American Indian’s suspicious nature, especially as regards matters connected with a religion differing from his own, Dr. Franklin furnishes the following little story:--

“Conrad Weiser, the Indian interpreter, who had gone to Ouondago with a message from Government, demanded hospitality of one of his old friends, the famous Canastatego, one of the chiefs of the six nations. Happy to meet after a long separation, the two friends were joyous and chatty. Conrad was soon seated on furs spread on the ground, with a meal of boiled vegetables, venison, and rum and water before him. After dinner Canastatego asked how the years since they had parted had passed with his friend, whence he came, where going, and what the aim of his journey. When all these questions were answered, the old Indian said, ‘Conrad, you have lived a great deal among white people, and know their customs. I have myself been several times to Albany, and have observed that once every seven days they shut up their shops and assemble in a large house; tell me wherefore, and what they do there?’--‘They assemble to hear and learn good things,’ replied Conrad.--‘I have no doubt,’ said the Indian, ‘that they have told you that; but I do not much believe in their words, and I will tell you why. Some time ago I went to Albany to sell furs and to buy blankets, powder, and knives. You know I am in the habit of dealing with Hans Hanson, but on that day I had a mind to try another merchant, but first went to Hans Hanson and asked what he would give for beaver skins. He answered that he could not pay a higher price than four shillings a pound. “But,” added he, “I cannot talk of such affairs to-day; it is the day of our meeting to hear _good things_, and I am going to the assembly.” I then reflected that as there was no possibility of my transacting business on that day, I too might as well go to the great house and hear good things.

“‘There was a man in black who seemed in a great passion while speaking to the people. I did not understand what he said, but perceiving that he looked a good deal at me, I thought that perhaps he was angry at seeing me in the house. I therefore hastened to leave it, and went and seated myself outside on the ground against the wall, and began to smoke till the end of the ceremony. I fancied that the man in black had spoken about beavers, and I suspected that that was the motive of the meeting, so that as the crowd was coming out, I stopped my merchant, and said to him, “Well, Hans Hanson, I hope you will give me more than four shillings a pound.”--“No,” answered he, “I can only give you three shillings and a half.”

“‘I then spoke to other merchants, but all were unanimous in the price. This proved clearly that I was right in my suspicions, and that the pretended intention of meeting to hear good things was only given out to mislead opinions, and that the real aim of the meeting was to come to an understanding to cheat the Indians as to the price of their goods. Reflect, Conrad, and you will see that I have guessed the truth; for if white people meet so often to hear good things, they would have finished by knowing some long since, but on that head they are still very ignorant. You know our ways when white men travel over our lands and enter our colonies: we treat them as I treat you; when wet we dry them, we warm them when they are cold, we give them food and drink, and spread our best furs for them to repose on, asking for nothing in return. But if I go to a white man and ask for eat and drink, he answers me, “Begone, Indian dog!” You thus see that they have as yet learned very few _good things_, which we know, because our mothers taught them to us when we were little children, and that the subject of all these assemblies is to cheat us in the price of our beavers.’”

Here is a strange story of North American Indian “second sight” and not the less remarkable as it is recorded by a highly respectable Wesleyan Missionary who had it from a Government Indian Agent in Upper Canada.

“In the year 1804, wintering with the Winebagos on the Rock river, I had occasion to send three of my men to another wintering house, for some flour which I had left there in the fall on my way up the river. The distance being about one and a half day’s journey from where I lived, they were expected to return in about three days. On the sixth day after their absence I was about sending in quest of them, when some Indians, arriving from the spot, said that they had seen nothing of them. I could now use no means to ascertain where they were: the plains were extensive, the paths numerous, and the tracks they had made were the next moment covered by the drift snow. Patience was my only resource; and at length I gave them up for lost.

“On the fourteenth night after their departure, as several Indians were smoking their pipes, and telling stories of their war parties, huntings, etc., an old fellow, who was a daily visitor, came in. My interpreter, a Canadian named Felix, pressed me, as he had frequently done before, to employ this conjuror, as he could inform me about the men in question. The dread of being laughed at had hitherto prevented my acceding to his importunities; but now, excited by curiosity, I gave the old man a quarter-pound of tobacco and two yards of ribbon, telling him that if he gave me a true account of the missing ones, I would, when I ascertained the fact, give him a bottle of rum. The night was exceedingly dark and the house situated on a point of land in a thick wood. The old fellow withdrew, and the other Indians retired to their lodges.

“A few minutes after, I heard Wahwun (an egg) begin a lamentable song, his voice increasing to such a degree that I really thought he would have injured himself. The whole forest appeared to be in agitation, as if the trees were knocking against each other; then all would be silent for a few seconds; again the old fellow would scream and yell, as if he were in great distress. A chill seized me, and my hair stood on end; the interpreter and I stared at each other without power to express our feelings. After remaining in this situation a few minutes the noise ceased, and we distinctly heard the old chap singing a lively air. We expected him in, but he did not come. After waiting some time, and all appearing tranquil in the woods, we went to bed. The next morning I sent for my friend Wahwun to inform me of his jaunt to see the men.

“‘I went,’ said he, ‘to smoke the pipe with your men last night, and found them cooking some elk meat, which they got from an Ottawa Indian. On leaving this place they took the wrong road on the top of the hill; they travelled hard on, and did not know for two days that they were lost. When they discovered their situation they were much alarmed, and, having nothing more to eat, were afraid they would starve to death. They walked on without knowing which way they were going until the seventh day, when they were met near the Illinois river by the Ottawa before named, who was out hunting. He took them to his lodge, fed them well, and wanted to detain them some days until they had recovered their strength; but they would not stay. He then gave them some elk meat for their journey home, and sent his son to put them into the right road. They will go to Lagothenes for the flour you sent them, and will be at home in three days.’ I then asked him what kind of place they were encamped in when he was there? He said, ‘they had made a shelter by the side of a large oak tree that had been torn up by the roots, and which had fallen with the head towards the rising sun.’

“All this I noted down, and from the circumstantial manner in which he related every particular, though he could not possibly have had any personal communication with or from them by any other Indians, I began to hope my men were safe, and that I should again see them. On the appointed day the interpreter and myself watched most anxiously, but without effect. We got our suppers, gave up all hopes, and heartily abused Wahwun for deceiving us. Just as we were preparing for bed, to my great joy the men rapped at the door, and in they came with the flour on their backs. My first business was to enquire of their travels. They told me the whole exactly as the old Indian had before stated, not omitting the tree or any other occurrence; and I could have no doubt but that the old fellow had got his information from some evil or familiar spirit.”

As has already been mentioned in this book, belief in dreams is very intimately associated with North-American Indian religious belief; and when an Indian dreams anything that seems to him important, he does not fail to enter in his birch bark “note book” the most salient points of it. Being, as a rule, however, incapable of giving his thoughts a tangible appearance by the ordinary caligraphic process, he draws the pictures just as he sees them in his vision. From the birch bark of a brave, by name the “Little Wasp,” Mr. Kohl copied the picture which appears on the next page: and this is the explanation of it:--

“The dreamer lying on his bed of moss and grass is dreaming the dream of a true hunter, and there are the heads of the birds and beasts which his guardian spirit promises that he shall not chase in vain. The man wearing the hat is a Frenchman, which the Little Wasp also dreams about.

“The Indians picture themselves without a hat because they usually have no other head gear than their matted hair, or, at most, a cloth wound turban-wise round the head. The hat, however, appears to them such a material part of a European--as much a part of their heads as the horse to the Centaur--that a hat in a picture-writing always indicates a European.

“It was not at all stupid of Little Wasp to dream of a Frenchman, for of what use would a sky full of animals prove to him unless he had a good honest French traiteur to whom he could sell the skins and receive in exchange fine European wares? The vault of the sky is represented by several semi-circular lines in the same way as it is usually drawn on their gravestones. On some occasions I saw the strata or lines variously coloured--blue, red, and yellow, like the hues of the rainbow. Perhaps, too, they may wish to represent that phenomenon as well. But that the whole is intended for the sky is proved by the fact that the ordinary colour is a plain blue or grey. The bird soaring in the heavens was meant for the kimou which so often appears in the dreams of these warlike hunters.

“When I asked the dreamer what he meant by the strokes and figures at the foot of the drawing, he said: ‘It is a notice that I fasted nine days on account of this dream. The nine strokes indicate the number nine, and a small figure of the sun over them means days.’

“His own self he indicated by the human figure. It has no head but an enormous heart in the centre of the breast.

“Though the head is frequently missing, the heart is never omitted in Indian figures, because they have as a general rule, more heart than brains, more courage than sense. ‘I purposely made the heart rather large,’ the author of the picture remarked, ‘in order to show that I had so much courage as to endure a nine days’ fast.’ He omitted the head, probably because he felt that sense was but little mixed up with such nonsensical fasting.

“‘But why hast thou painted the sun once more, and with so much care over it?’ asked I. ‘Because,’ replied he, ‘the very next morning after my fast was at an end, the sun rose with extraordinary splendour, which I shall never forget, for a fine sunrise after a dream is the best sign that it will come to pass.’”