Chapter V: The Six Nanticokes

Once upon a time, there was a very bright and sunny day on the earth, and, upon this day so bright and sunny, a strange thing happened. It was in the country inhabited by the tribe of Nanticokes, and upon the borders of the Great Lake. It was in the morning of the day, and the moon was the moon in which the shad, leaving the waters which are salt, make their journey to those which are fresh. Beautiful was the day; the salt and bitter waters lay as motionless as a little child sleeping on the bosom of its mother. The winds were hushed in the caverns of the earth, and the beams of the sun fell gladdening and refreshing every thing beneath them. They shone upon field and forest, hill and valley; upon bird and beast, and fish and reptile, and many other things, beautiful or ugly, curious or strange; but they fell not upon man, for he was not. The tall and erect form, which commands obedience from all other creatures, was not then seen walking among the glades of the forest, with the firm step and haughty eye which distinguishes him. Beasts were many, birds were many, fishes were many, but of men, the lords of all, there were none.

Before the sun descended behind the mountains of the West, he shone upon man also. Six Indians, the first men that were ever on earth, and the ancestors of the tribe of Nanticokes, all at once, they knew not how, nor by what means, found themselves sitting upon the same shore, upon the verge of the ocean. Whether they were created on the spot, or came from some other place beyond the seas; whether they had swum up from the waters, or crawled out of the mud, or bounded from the depths of the forest, or alighted from the regions of the air, and were changed into men, receiving a gift to forget their former state, they knew not, or if they dropped from the skies, and forgot whence they came through dizziness and the violence of the fall. But this they knew, that they found themselves sitting on the shores of the Great Lake, in the country now inhabited by the Nanticokes, on the latter part of a warm and pleasant day, in the moon in which the shad leave the waters which are salt, and make their journey to those which are fresh. And they knew that there were six of them, and this was all they knew.

These six Indians were all men; there was not amongst them, nor on the earth, a single woman. The song-sparrow, and the mocking-bird, and the dove, and the crested wren, and the spotted lynx, and the gorgeous woodpecker, and the fish with shining scales, and all the other beautiful creatures that have since lived, and now live, were then upon the earth, even in greater numbers, and possessed of greater beauty than now; but woman, more beautiful than any, the most glorious thing that walks the earth, lived not then. It was soon that these Indians found out their wants, and began to provide themselves with food and clothing by means of hunting. They built themselves canoes, and made them bows and arrows, wherewith they took the spoils of land and water; and they set springes for birds, and traps for those creatures which live alike on the land and water. And they cultivated the various plants which they found growing spontaneously--corn, and tobacco, and roots; and gathered ripe grapes, and abundance of delicious berries. They lived well enough, and had they been wise would have sought no further; but they took it into their heads, that they could not live without women. So, led by the gloomy and solitary feeling of a vacant heart, they left the cabins which they had built, and wandered forth in search of the coveted objects. That their chance of success might be greater, they agreed to separate, and each to travel on different paths, and so they parted. One went towards the clime of the snows, another towards the land of the summer winds, the third sought the distant east, the fourth bent his steps towards the mountains of the setting sun, the fifth descended into the bowels of the earth, and the sixth climbed a sunbeam. Before they separated, they agreed that those who were living when the Moon of Grapes again came round, should repair to the same great tree in the shade of which they were then sitting, and there, while the pipe of friendship was passing around, recount their adventures.

The Moon of Grapes again came round, and found, upon one of its pleasantest days, these six Nanticokes sitting beneath the great tree, on the bank of the river which gives its name to the tribe. With them sate six beautiful women, and laughing, and sporting, and rolling about on the green and grassy sod at their feet, lay six beautiful children. The six Indians and their wives appeared very happy, and while they passed the pipe about, laughed and talked very loud and joyfully, and were very, very merry, as though they had been drinking something much stronger than water. At last, one of them, whose name was Sinipuxent, rose and said:

Brothers! it was in the Moon of Grapes of the last year, that we found ourselves sitting on the shore of the Great Lake, endued with the faculties that we now exercise. It was in the Moon of Grapes, that we departed in quest of the beloved beings who are now the light of our eyes. And we agreed, that those who were living when the next Grape-Moon came round should repair to the same great tree, beneath whose shade we then sate, and there, while the pipe of friendship was passing round, we should relate what had befallen us. The Great Spirit has permitted our return to that spot, and the beautiful beings, whom we have brought with us from countries so far apart, are proofs that adventures have befallen us, which are worth recounting. Brothers, you shall hear of what befel Sinipuxent, who left you to climb the sunbeam.

When he parted from his five brothers, he climbed a sunbeam for many days, until he came to the land where the glorious luminary of the earth, the Sun, takes his refreshment of sleep and rest during the dark hours. It was in the morning of the day, and the great light of the world had risen from his couch, and set out upon his journey, but his wife and his children were all, save one, stretched out in profound sleep. That one, the most beautiful of all creatures--look at her, and say if she is not!--sat bathing her lovely cheeks and stately neck in the morning dew, and brushing off the stray drops with the white lily of the lake. Her little feet were carelessly thrust into the clear stream gliding by her, beneath which they glittered like the sparkling sands washed from the mountains into the river of the Nanticokes. Her long bright hair, coloured by the beams of her father, the Sun, lay floating over her naked shoulders and bosom, more beautiful--but ye behold her. Beautiful creature! she saw not the Nanticoke till he stood at her side. When she raised her head, and found a stranger standing near her, she would have fled, but he detained her gently with these words:

"Beautiful creature! what is it thou fearest? I am not he that would harm thee. On the contrary, I would encounter any risk, brave any peril, rather than harm one of the glossy hairs that is straying over thy beautiful brow. My heart tells me, gentle creature, that thou art the object for which my soul hath panted, ever since I first knew that I was. I love thee, deeply and fervently, and wish thee to be mine. I ask thee to leave the clime of thy father, and go with me to the pleasant land and beautiful river of the Nanticokes. Though its skies be not so bright as those in which thou wert born, yet are they mellower. And the waters of the land are clear, cool, and sweet, and the shades are refreshing. The vines are bending to the earth with rich ripe grapes, berries are loading every bush, and the earth is covered with flowers. Thou shalt become my companion in the cabin I have built me beside the Nanticoke; and even as that river, when unvexed by the swell of rains, glides along in the months of summer, so shall our lives pass away. Thou shalt be the wife of my bosom, and together will we live, till we are called to the land revealed to us by our dreams as the land of souls."

The lovely maiden heard the words of the Nanticoke, and answered that she knew not well what she should say. She knew not where the land of the Nanticokes lay, nor did she know who was he that spoke to her. But she timidly confessed that she loved him, and would become the wife of his bosom, if the consent of her father and mother could be obtained. So he asked the mother, who gave her consent at once, if that of her husband could be procured.

When the Sun came home at night, his wife said to him, "One of the six Indians that dropped from the North Star, on the shores of the Great Lake in the Frog-Moon, has come hither, and demanded our daughter Atahensic in marriage. He appears to be a bold and handsome youth, and our daughter loves him."

"But he shall not have her," answered the fiery father; "the blood of the Sun shall not mingle with the blood of the beings of the earth."

Then he called the Nanticoke to him, and spoke to him thus: "Thou canst not have my daughter--thy blood cannot mingle with mine.--Depart."

The Nanticoke, who, like all the others of that tribe, was brave and fearless, but prudent, held his peace, but departed not. When the Sun was asleep he wooed the maiden; when he was awake, and his eyes were peering into every spot however obscure, and every dingle however dark, he hid himself where even those rays could not penetrate. And often was the beautiful maiden of his love prevailed upon to hide herself with him. But he had suffered himself to forget the consequences of a mutual and unrestrained love. The beautiful Atahensic gave evidence that she should in due time become a mother. The quick-eyed father soon discovered what had happened, and heard the whole from the lips of his weeping daughter. Nothing could equal the rage of the mighty king of the skies, when he learned the disgrace inflicted upon his family. In the frenzy of the moment, he seized both the daughter and her lover, and hurled them from the highest part of the skies to the region where the land of the Nanticokes lay. But the kind mother protected both from the consequences of the fall, and the earth, by her command, received them unhurt upon her lap. Brothers, I am that Nanticoke, and the beautiful Atahensic is the woman by my side, and the child at her feet is the child of our love. I have no more to say.

* * * * *

When the first Nanticoke had finished his story, the second, whose name was Conestogo, rose, and thus addressed his brothers:

Listen, said he, and you shall hear of what befel Conestogo, who left you to travel into the bowels of the earth.

When he parted from his five brothers, he went to the deep cavern which lies among the mountains west of the river of the Nanticokes, and into this cavern he entered at the time of nightfall. After having groped his way for many days through deep darkness, over rocks and many other obstructions, living on the dried meat he had taken with him, all at once, upon passing through a small door or opening, he came to a great chamber, vaulted like the rooms which are unfolded to our eyes, when we enter those great houses in the City of the Rock, where men dressed in glittering robes, and little boys clothed in white, call upon the Great Spirit, and sing loud songs to his praise. Around the sides of this great room were tall pillars, which looked liked icicles, and glittered like them when they are visited by the beams of the sun. Over-head was a vast field of ice, of many different colours, green, red, white, yellow; the reflection of which on the floor of the mighty building occasioned a strange blending of rays. Beautiful, wonderful, was the appearance of this room, and of all within it.

But the most beautiful, wonderful things of the cavern remain to be spoken of. In the further corner of this spacious apartment was a company of beautiful maidens, clothed in robes of the same colours as those which glittered on the roof and walls of the building; the dazzling beauty of their dress may be guessed, but who shall paint their own charms? who shall describe their bright black eyes, long black locks, and voice like the music of the streams in spring? their beautiful necks, and little feet and hands, their swelling bosoms, and graceful footsteps? When I entered they were employed in chasing each other around the apartment, and amongst the lofty pillars; but, when they saw a stranger invade their retirement, they uttered a shrill cry of terror, and fled along the vaulted passages. The Nanticoke pursued them until he came to an inner range of apartments, all glittering like that he had left, but smaller in dimensions; there were a great many little recesses, and behind those pillars he saw many little heads peering out, which he knew to be those of the beautiful maidens who had escaped from the room of mighty pillars. He could see upon their countenances that they were not so fearful as they pretended to be; but when they hid, always preferred to be found. There was an arch smile upon their beautiful little faces, and their red lips were pursed up in affected contempt of the Nanticoke. He, whom nature quickly taught the best means of winning woman's love, which was not to seem over-anxious to obtain it, said nothing; but, seating himself upon a broken pillar, leisurely drew out his pipe and fell to smoking, rightly judging that if the fair creatures were not sought they would seek. It was not long that they remained hidden. First one contrived to put forth her little hand or foot; then a head became visible; still the Nanticoke affected to see neither. At last, finding that Conestogo would not play their childish game, one stepped forth, then another, and soon the whole stood visible. They now came up to the hunter, and, with many soft smiles, bade him welcome. Seating themselves upon the smooth floor around him, they commenced asking questions. "Who was he? what was he? how old was he? where did he come from? how far was he going? who was his father? what was the name of his mother? how many brothers had he? how many sisters? was his grandmother living? how long would he stay with them? to what place would he go when he left them?" and many other questions, which, fortunately for him, were asked with so little pause, that he had no opportunity to answer one of them. Nor did they seem to expect an answer, but appeared to ask, only that they might have the pleasure of talking. All were not so talkative, however. There was one beautiful creature, the most beautiful of all the company, who sat apart from the rest, said nothing with her tongue, but spoke a language with her downcast eyes, which the smitten Nanticoke interpreted into that of bashful love. While the rest were talking and laughing, displaying their white teeth, and shaking their black hair over their polished foreheads, he was thinking only of the silent woman, and contrasting her modest and quiet deportment with the noisy and boisterous mirth of her sisters. When she saw that the stranger bent his eyes a great portion of the time on herself, and that their expression denoted the same sentiment in him as filled her own bosom, she turned her face away to fix them in listless gaze upon a distant object.

After the beautiful maidens had laughed, and chattered, and questioned, as much as they would, they left the Nanticoke to enjoy his slumbers. The silent maiden retired last, and the look which she gave him, as she left the little chamber, did not quit his soul till more than half of the hours of darkness had run through. The next morning he rose early, and wandered about till he came to a little spring, which rattled over a bed of pebbles, and fell into a cavern beneath; it was a beautiful little spring, and its waters were cold and sweet, and as clear as the sky. He had just placed himself by the side of this little stream, when the silent maiden came thither also. The Nanticoke sat hidden from observation by one of the pillars, while she whispered her soft tale of love to the echoes of the cavern. She told them that she loved the stranger with the black hair, and sunny eyes, and proud mien; that she wished them to carry to the Great Spirit her wishes that he should ask her to become his own--his companion--his wife. More she would have said, but the Nanticoke caught her gently in his arms, preventing her slight screams with the kiss of love. "Thou shalt become my own--my companion--my wife," said he. "Lovely, and gentle, and dearly beloved creature! I had feared thou hadst no tongue, because to hear thee silent for a little while was something so new and strange in thy sex. But thou hast found a tongue to tell the echoes what thy bashful lips would not have dared tell me. I thank the Great Spirit that I overheard thy soft confession; it has removed those impediments which thy bashful timidity would else have interposed to our immediate union. Lovely maiden! with the black hair, and the bright forehead, and the slender waist, and the beautiful hand and foot, and the white teeth, what prevents thy accompanying me at once--to-day--this minute, to the land where I have taken up my abode, the pleasant and fruitful land of the Nanticokes? Again thou art silent, but the soft smile upon thy features tells me that thou art not averse to my proposal. I see in the look of thy sunny eye, in thy decreasing hesitation, and yielding reluctance, that thou wilt become the star of my pleasant cabin, the hope, the solace, and the joy of my life. Let us go then; ere ten suns be passed, thou shalt find thyself seated upon a bank, whose flowers are only less sweet than thyself. Thou shalt listen to a stream whose voice is only less musical than thine own, and see the beautiful night lit up by its very many glorious lamps.

"Brothers, I am that Nanticoke, and the beautiful maiden is she that sits by my side, and the child that rolls about on the green sod is the child of our love. I have no more to say."

* * * * *

The story of the second Nanticoke being finished, the third, whose name was Appomattox, rose, and thus addressed his brothers:--

Listen, said he, and you shall hear what befel Appomattox, who left you to travel eastward.

When he parted from his five brothers, he crossed the Great Arm[A] of the Salt Lake, and, in consequence of the revelations made by the spirit of a dream, pursued his journey towards the land of the cold spring-storms. He travelled fast, till he had wearied himself out, and then, building a small hut of bark to protect him from the rains and night-dews, he laid himself down to repose. He had not slept long, for the moon, that was a far way up when he sunk to sleep, had not reached the highest part of the heavens, when he heard a voice crying, "Appomattox! Appomattox!"

[Footnote A: Chesapeak Bay.]

"Here I am," answered the Nanticoke. As he spoke, he raised himself up from his couch of leaves, and saw standing at his feet a strange-looking creature, whom the beams of the moon revealed to be a little, ugly, squat, brown man, not much higher than an Indian's hip. His shape was odd and singular, beyond anything the Nanticoke had ever seen. His legs were each as large as his body, and his feet were quite as much out of proportion. But his arms and hands were not larger than the arms and hands of the child which is playing at my feet, and his head was of the size of the head of a small dog, and similarly shaped. His eyes were red as the leaf of the maple in autumn; his skin was green as the bosom of the meadow in spring; yellow hair, as coarse as rock-moss, fell over his shoulders; and his nose was turned up till it reached his forehead; his ears were scarce larger than a man's thumb-nail, and his mouth than the blade of a pipe. It would have been a matter of wonder with the Nanticoke, how he could get the victuals into such a little mouth, if he had not been employed in noting the odd actions of the strange creature, and in listening to the tones of his voice, which resembled those of a cat when you tread upon its tail.

"Who are you!" asked the strange creature, and then gave a jump, turning himself head over heels, and stood upon his feet as before.

"I am a Nanticoke--one of the six who found themselves, in the morning of a clear day, in the Frog-Moon, standing upon the shores of the Great Lake, in the country where we have built cabins, and planted corn and tobacco. We know not how we were carried thither. We were, when we first knew we were--that is all we know. And who are you?"

"And that is as much as anybody knows," squeaked, or rather snarled, the strange creature, and again he took his tumble. "Wherever you came from, you seem a fine fellow, and I don't doubt wish for a wife. Come, go home with me. I live in a cave, in the hill close by, and will give you some fine fat toads, stewed with greens, for supper--or, if you like better, you shall have a roasted rabbit. As to who I am, I don't know myself. I only know that I am an odd sort of a fish."

The Nanticoke, who had not tasted food for many days, liked the offer of the rabbit very well, though he felt no relish for the stewed toads. So he went home with the strange creature to his dwelling in the hill. When they came to the the door of the cabin, the creature gave a knock with his foot, when the door was opened by a creature, stranger, if possible, than that which had conducted him to the cave. Upon entering, he beheld, scattered about the floor, a great many little children, quite as ugly and misshapen as the parents. Here lay one with a large leg and a little one, a full arm and a shrunken one, one-handed, or one-footed, or one-eyed. One had no hair: one was completely enveloped in it--in truth, the shapes were most various and singular. But all were not thus. Upon a bench, upon one side of the cave, sat a very little maiden--ye see how very little, and ye see how beautiful. When the Nanticoke entered, she drew her furred mantle around her, and pretended to hide her face, but she hid not her eyes, which were bent on the stranger youth. He had seen enough of her countenance to judge that she was very beautiful, and he loved her slight form, which he saw was light and graceful as the young fawn. He now entered into conversation with the old man, and they talked of many matters--he conversing quite like a sensible man, except that now and then he would take his strange tumble. At length, victuals were placed before them, and they sat down. The beautiful little maiden--with the usual pride of woman--dressed herself, and her black locks, with much care, and then came and placed herself at the table at which they were eating. Soft and fond glances were interchanged; and, before they had finished their meal, each had as good as said "I love." When they had done eating, the old man and woman arose, and under some pretence or other left the room, carrying with them the whole brood of odd and beast-like creatures. So the Nanticoke was left alone with the beautiful little maiden, to press her soft little hand, and to say in her ears those affectionate things which are always held sweeter by lovers for being told in whispers. Not much persuasion was necessary to obtain her consent to leave her father's house, and go with Appomattox to the spot where he had taken up his abode--to the cabin he had built beside the beautiful river Nanticoke. Their journey thither was not long--upon the sixth sun, they sat down upon the little plat of grass before the door of the cabin, and plucked the ripe grapes from the vines that leant upon its roof, and drank of the crystal stream which rattled over the pebbly bottom to the gentle river, and gathered the delicious berries that hung on every bush. And they saw the glorious sun illumine the earth, and the moon and stars lighting up the night, and the northern skies red with the dance of departed friends, and both blessed the moment that carried the Nanticoke to the hut of the very odd fish.

Brothers, I am that Nanticoke; and the beautiful little creature is she that sits at my side, and the little child that rolls about on the grass is the child of our love. My story is told.

* * * * *

And then the fourth Nanticoke rose, and told his story in the following words:

When I left my five brothers, said he, I crossed the river that glides by my cabin, and travelled towards the mountains which are called by Indians the Backbone of the Great Spirit. Upon the sixth day, I came to the hither part of the mountain, and sat down upon its eastern edge to rest my wearied limbs. It was near the hour of evening; the sun had not retired from the earth, but the lofty peaks of the mountains hid his beams from those who sat in the shade of those peaks, making it night to them. At length the sun set, and a thick veil of darkness was cast over the face of the earth. The ugly bat came forth, the mournful night-bird began his song, the wise owl hooted on the limb of the tree, and the dazzling little fire-fly twinkled in the glades, and among the trunks of the giant oaks. Then it was that a distant sound of music came to the ears of Apaumax the Nanticoke, who is myself. He listened, and caught the words, of a song issuing from a valley near the hillock upon which he sate. Softer than the plaintive cry of the dove, sweeter than the love-notes of the song-sparrow, was that song. Presently other voices could be heard laughing or singing, singly, or in concert. The Nanticoke was so greatly charmed with those notes that he determined to know whence they issued, and whose were the voices that sang them. So, descending the hill, he approached cautiously the spot where he had heard them, until he came suddenly upon a company of strange women who were dancing upon a green spot in the valley. They were the greater part of them very small, many being not taller than the sprout of three moons; but there were others, whose stature arose to the height of a full-grown person. Of the latter there was one whom the whole seemed to obey, the tallest woman of the group, and the most beautiful. She did not seem very youthful; at least her features spoke not of youth, nor did they imply age, but the period of life when woman is like a ripe grape, the sweetness of which is diminished by being suffered to hang a single day more on the vine untasted. She had a pale skin--ye see how pale--her cheeks were red as the flower that blooms among thorns, and her eye shone like the little flower which emulates the blue of the sky. Her lips were red and pouting, and her teeth whiter than the lily. Beautiful creature! lovely and beloved woman!

Cautiously did the Nanticoke approach the merry dancers, and, seating himself upon the earth where they could not observe him, he watched their sprightly and rapid motions. Nothing could exceed the beauty of the dances, or the grace of the dancers, or the sweetness of the tunes to which they danced. At last, one of the little maidens, in a fit of frolic, ran out of the circle of dancers, and by chance came to the spot where the Nanticoke had seated himself; a loud scream told him that he was discovered. When they found that a stranger had hidden near them, and witnessed their mystic dances, they were filled with great wrath, and all, as one, rushed up to the spot where he had concealed himself. He, knowing no fear, stood up boldly amongst them, and suffered them to scrutinize his person, rightly judging that nothing would so soon mollify their anger as to look upon his handsome and finely proportioned form. When they had gazed as much as they liked, she, the tallest, the one whom all obeyed, spoke in a stern voice, and asked, why he had dared to steal upon them while they were dancing the Sacred Dance of Darkness, and singing the Spirit's Song of Midnight? Did he not know that they were Spirits, the Spirits of the Mountain, who, for many hundred years, had nightly come, while summer lasted, to this green spot, to hold their joyous carousals, mixing music with mirth, and drinking the sweet drink which they found in the cups of the flowers and mottling the leaves of the rose. What had he to say why death should not be inflicted upon him?

The Nanticoke answered that he had much to say why death should not be inflicted upon him; that, having heard tones sweeter than those of the mocking-bird, and wishing to see who they were that laughed so merrily, and sung so sweetly, he had approached cautiously for that purpose. When he beheld the most beautiful creatures of the earth or the air engaged in dancing, and heard them singing their sweet songs, he was struck with wonder, astonishment, and admiration; and, fearing lest his discovering himself should frighten them away, he had hidden himself. This was all the crime he had committed. And, as for punishment, rather than die he was content to take the tall young woman to wife.

Upon this the spirits all laughed, except the one thus singled out, and she held down her head, though apparently not displeased. The Nanticoke, emboldened by her silence, whispered in her ear that he loved her; and, notwithstanding that her manner was at first repulsive, and she pretended to be displeased, and to frown upon the confident Apaumax, he could perceive that she had not suffered his words to fall to the ground. At first her face was averted, presently he caught a view of her mouth, and at last her face was actually turned towards him, and she was smiling bashfully upon the bold lover. Before the moon had advanced to the highest part of the heavens, they had given each other the kiss of love, and she had promised the Nanticoke to leave the cold regions of the mountain, and to go with him to his own sunny clime.

Brothers, I am that Nanticoke, and the tall, beautiful woman is she that sits at my side, and the child that is playing at my feet is the child of our love.

* * * * *

When Apaumax had finished his story, the fifth Nanticoke, whose name dwells not in my memory, rose and said:

When I left my five brothers, I went according to my agreement with them to the land of the warm sun, the smiling south. I travelled many days, and became hungry, faint, and weary. I saw no beasts upon which I could exercise my bow, no fish gliding about the waters, provoking the thrust of my spear. Here and there were scattered a few birds, but they were those upon which none can afford to feed, but a very patient man, or one that has nothing to do but eat. So, finding a pleasant resting-place, I lay down, and tried to call to my aid the Good Spirit, that refreshes the soul of man with pleasant dreams. He came and bade me arise with the morning sun, and travel further on, following the bend of the little river, at whose source I stood. I should come, he said, to a little hill upon the banks of a lake, filled with shining fish, and not far from the Great River. And, so saying, he left me to the sleep of night.

I rose refreshed by my slumbers, and pursued the route pointed out by the Spirit. Travelling in this path, I came on the morning of the next day to a little hill on the backs of a lake, and saw in its clear current the shining fish which had been spoken of by the spirit of dreams, and by this I knew that I had travelled right. The hill was a very little hill, and the lake was a very little lake, and the fish were very little fish. The hill was scarce half so high as the flight of an arrow; the lake was not broader than twice the flight of the same, when impelled by a vigorous arm; and the fishes were minnows indeed. Upon either side of the lake arose tall trees, around which grape-vines had wreathed themselves, and upon which fruit, ripe, black, and delicious, hung temptingly exposed to the eye of the traveller. The birds were twittering about the boughs, and swallows were skimming the bosom of the lake. But what most astonished the Nanticoke was, the great number of little cabins scattered along its shores. They were none of them higher than his hip, and were built of mud and grass. The Nanticoke, who loved to look upon the fair things of nature, the sun, and moon, and stars, and leafy woods, and green meads, and quiet waters, and other beautiful things of nature, sat down upon the border of the lake, and permitted the throb of delight to enter his bosom, through the medium of his eyes. While he sate thus absorbed, he saw a little black creature, with four legs, creep out of the water near him, and stretch itself at its length upon the green sod. It was black, glossy, and not longer than a man's arm. While it was devouring its food, which in this instance was roots dug from the marsh, it raised itself upon its two hind legs, to an upright posture, sitting erect as a Nanticoke, until it had finished. During the time it was eating, it was continually talking and chattering to itself, in a language, which the Nanticoke could discover, by the few words which reached his ear, to be that in which he himself spoke. Astonished, beyond the power of words to express, at hearing a beast speak, a beast, too, of such a mean appearance, he rose and advanced towards it. When it saw him coming, instead of retreating to the water, as beasts which are untamed usually do at the approach of man, whom all inferior creatures thus acknowledge as their chief, it advanced to meet him, made the sign of friendship in use among the Nanticokes, and spoke to him thus:

"Stranger! I bid thee welcome to the waters of the Lake of Musk-rats. Thou hast come to a region, rich in sunny skies, and yielding abundance of fruit. Thou hast come to the great village of my race, to the spot where we have dwelt ever since ourselves, and this lake, and that hill, were formed at the nod of the Great Spirit. Hitherto we have dwelt in peace, unvisited by one of thy race, but reason, and instinct alike inform me that thou wilt become the enemy of my tribe. Hitherto we have dwelt in peace, with none to vex us, or make us afraid--that period is past, and now thou wilt destroy us, unless something is done to unite us in the bonds of firm friendship. Thou hast proclaimed thyself a Nanticoke--one of the six that found themselves sitting upon the shores of the Great Lake, in the latter part of a warm and pleasant day, in the Moon in which the shad leave the waters that are salt, and journey to those that are fresh. It is well. Thou must be joined with the nation of Musk-rats in a lasting league. Come to my cabin."

So saying, the grave old Musk-rat led the Nanticoke to his dwelling, which stood at the farther part of the lake. It was built like the rest of the cabins in the village, but it was very much larger and handsomer than the rest, and there were a great many doors to it, and little houses around it, all of which showed it to be the residence of a Musk-rat of honour and eminence, a chief of high degree among his people. The chief of the Musk-rats bade the Nanticoke enter this cabin, but a moment after he said, "No, no, that cannot be done. It is not high enough for such a tall, strapping gawky as you are. So sit you here, while I go and fetch you food." So the Nanticoke seated himself on the sward, while the chief of the Musk-rats went to his house to fetch food for his guest.

He soon returned, and brought with him a variety of things to eat, which he placed on the sward, beside the Nanticoke. Some were such things as men may well eat, and some were only fit for a Musk-rat. The Nanticoke drew out his flint, and struck fire, while the chief of the Musk-rats, who had never seen fire before, sat looking on and expressing loud amazement. After they had finished the meal, the chief gave a loud cry, upon which a number of little Musk-rats ran out of the house, and approached the spot where they were sitting. They were of all sizes, fat, sleek, glossy, little things, which seemed to delight in the pure air, and to enjoy greatly a roll about on the grassy sod. Approaching the Nanticoke, those which were old enough, with a very pretty nod, bade him welcome to the village of the Musk-rats--which showed that they had been taught good manners, though they were four-legged creatures. Shortly after, a beautiful Musk-rat was observed to leave the cabin of the chief, and to approach them circuitously. It came timidly, the beautiful creature, and sat down at a short distance from them. The chief of the Musk-rats upon this spoke to the Nanticoke, and asked him what he thought of his little daughter. The Nanticoke who, like all other good and brave men, always spoke the truth, answered that "she was indeed a most beautiful Musk-rat--what a pity that she was still a Musk-rat!"

"True, but she is the finest Musk-rat in the waters of the lake," answered the father; "and she knows better than any other the best method of keeping a house tidy. And as for her knowledge--Musk-rat knowledge--who has more? and for cunning and stratagem, match me my little daughter among all the females of the lakes. What say you to marrying her?"

"All you have said in praise of your daughter, no doubt, is very true," answered the Nanticoke, "but she has four legs, and besides is too little to be the wife of a big fellow like myself."

"She has no more legs than you have," answered the wise creature. "What are your arms pray, but legs? But all her faults can be remedied. Wait here till I return."

So saying, the chief of the Musk-rats retired behind a little hillock, and, digging a small hole in the earth, he filled it with a kind of red sand mixed with mud. When he had done this, he dropped into it seven drops of a kind of green water, and seven times repeated the word "Tuscaloosa," which was, as he said, the name of the guardian Spirit of the Musk-rats. When he had done invoking the name, he laid himself down upon the earth, hid his head between his paws, and his tail between his legs, and pretended to be sleeping. Presently, the Nanticoke saw arise from the bottom of the lake a creature shaped like a Musk-rat, but larger than any beast he had ever seen. Each of his legs was as large as a tree, and his tail was broader than the length of a man, and his ears were of great size. He had a great white ring around his neck, and around each leg, and his belly was as red as the leaf of the maple in autumn. But the most singular things about him were his face, which was like the face of a man, and his fore-paws, which were like the hands of a man. The strange creature, who was the guardian Spirit of the nation of Musk-rats, came swimming along as a frog swims, and in scarce more than two breaths landed upon the shore where they sat. Going up to the chief of the Musk-rats, he gave him a slight blow on the back, exclaiming:

"What is your wish?"

"Take away from my daughter the shape of a Musk-rat, and give her the shape of a Nanticoke," answered the father.

"Not of me, but of my master must the favour be asked," answered the Spirit. "I will try what can be done for you." So saying, he went to the side of the little maiden Musk-rat, and whispered certain words in her ear. When he had done this, he went to the forest near them, cut down a young pine-tree, dug up a root of the hemlock, took a spruce cone, an oak acorn, a hickery nut, and a birch-leaf, and laid them all in the fire which the Nanticoke had kindled. While they were burning, he walked round the fire muttering many words in an unknown tongue, and striking the earth repeatedly with the stone staff which he held in his hand. When the different things he had put in the fire were reduced to ashes, he gathered the ashes into the hollow of his hand, dropped upon them seven drops of a kind of green water, and seven times cried aloud to his master, with his mouth applied to the ear of the earth. Ere the echo of the last cry had died away among the hills, a little red man crept out of the hole which had been dug by the chief of the Musk-rats, and stood before them. He was shaped like a Nanticoke, but he was exceeding small. His face was very beautiful, his eyes shone like the blue of the sky, and his hair like the blush of sunset. When he came, all the Musk-rats, as well as the genius who presided over them, bowed themselves to the earth, and remained with their eyes hidden, while he addressed them thus:

"What would you with the Master of Life, Musk-rats, that you summon him from his house of shining stone, in the bowels of the earth, to smell the tainted breezes of the upper air?"

The Spirit told his master what was wanted by the Musk-rats. "It shall be done," said the kind and beneficent Master. "Man of the Six Nanticokes, who found themselves, all at once, they knew not how, nor by what means, sitting upon the shores of the Great Lake, upon a sunny day in the Frog-Moon, rise, take thy bride, and lead her to the border of the lake. When thou shalt come to the water, bid her dip her feet in the water, while thou, standing over her, shalt pronounce these words: "For the last time as a Musk-rat, for the first time as a woman. Go in a beast--come out a human being. In the name of the Master of Life, I command thee to wear no more the form of an animal, but to assume that shape which is appointed by Him to be the ruler, the head chief, the governor of all. This do, and thou shalt see the change that will come.""

The Master ceased speaking, and the Nanticoke did as he was bid. He took the glossy little maiden Musk-rat by the paw, led her to the border of the lake, and, while she dipped her feet in the water, he pronounced aloud the words: "For the last time as a Musk-rat, for the first time as a woman. Go in a beast--come out a human being. In the name of the Master of Life, I command thee to wear no more the form of an animal, but to assume that shape which is appointed by Him to be the ruler, the head chief, the governor of all."

Scarcely were the words spoken, when the change commenced upon the little animal. Her body was observed to be assuming the posture of a human being, gradually erecting itself, as a sapling, which has been bent to the earth, re-ascends to its upright position. When the little animal became erect, the skin began to fall from the head and neck, and gradually unveiling the body to the very feet, displayed to all around the form of a maiden, beautiful as the flowery mead, or the blue sky filled with stars, or the north, lit up by the dance of departed friends, or the rainbow, which precedes, or follows the summer rain; but not so large as the little child which stands at my feet. Her hand was scarce larger than a hazel-leaf, and her foot not longer than the wing of the ring-dove. Her arm was so very slight, that it seemed the breeze might break it. The Nanticoke gazed with delight on his beauteous bride, and how was his delight heightened when he saw that she was gradually increasing in stature, and swelling to the fair size and proportions of a human being, as exhibited in himself! Before the great star of day had retired beyond the mountains of the west, she stood fair in size as matchless in charms, and was pressed to the heart of the Nanticoke, with a suitable acknowledgment to the Great Being, who had bestowed her upon him.

Brothers, I am that Nanticoke, and the beautiful woman that was once a Musk-rat is she that sits at my side, and the child that is playing at my feet is the child of our love. And this is all I have to say.

* * * * *

The last of the Six Nanticokes commenced his story thus:

I left my brothers, and travelled towards the regions of cold and snow--the land of perpetual ice and frost. I travelled many, very many days, over hill and through dale, now encountering the keen air of the mountains, and now the damp fogs of the low grounds, when I came, at the hour of noon, to the bottom of a deep valley. In the bottom of this valley, was a well dug in the earth, and which appeared to have no bottom. It was half as wide over as the flight of an arrow, and how deep no one could say. The waters which met the eye at a vast distance below the surface of the earth were green as grass, and, what seemed most strange to those who saw them, appeared to be full of eyes, bright shining eyes, resembling what bubbles blown upon the water would be, if they could be lit up by the beams of the sun. And whether it was that there were winds uttering sounds in the well or not, could not be told, but certain it is that whispers proceeded therefrom like those of human voices, sounding in deep caves. Fatigued by my long journey, I lay down upon the earth by the side of the well, intending to sleep. But the spirit which presides over the night came not at my summoning, and I lay restless and discontented, until the moon had climbed the tops of the highest hills. Then it was that shapes of strange appearance, Spirits, which bore the likeness of human beings in all save their eyes, began to come out of the well. They were of all colours and sizes, tall, short, thick, spare, black, white, grey, green, yellow, red. But in colour the eyes of all were alike--all were bright, and shining, and glittering like the blush of sunset. There were both men and women, and there were also many children. As soon as the Spirits of the Well stood upon the earth, they immediately formed themselves into a circle, and began dancing. Lightly did they trip away on the green sod, dancing without intermission for the whole period between their first appearance on the earth and the first glimmer of day upon the tall peaks of the mountains. When the red tinge which announces the approach of the sun first appeared, they all stole into their hiding-place, and again were the waters of the well filled with eyes, resembling sun-lit bubbles, and again whispers proceeded therefrom like those of human voices sounding from deep caves.

The Nanticoke--that is myself--who was now burning with curiosity to know something more of the strange creatures dwelling in the well, determined to stay yet another night to accost them, and to learn who and what they were. So he built him a hut of bark near, and reposed beneath it, until the shadows of night again descended upon the earth. With the beam of the rising moon again ascended these merry dancers, the Spirits of the Well, and commenced their gambols on the green sod. But what most astonished him was, that on neither night had they spoken to him, or given indications that they considered him a living being. In performing their mazy dances, they had several times come within a few feet of him, and once one of the agile creatures, running out of the circle, cleared his head with a bound, which showed that the impediment was observed and avoided. Determined to make himself known to them, if words could do so, the Nanticoke, a stranger to fear, approaching the circle of dancers, thrust himself into the midst of them. Yet was his object unaccomplished. They danced around him, they crossed their hands touching him, they leaped over him, in appearance they ran against him, though he felt them not. Still none of the circumstances produced recognition. He hallooed, apparently they heard him not; he danced with them, they heeded not his motions. Determined, whatever it might cost him, to make them know him, he caught at a passing form, selecting, for the object of his embrace, the most beautiful of all the dancers, a lovely woman, whose beauties cannot be described. What did he embrace? A shadow! a mere phantom! That beautiful form is a shade! He draws not to his bosom a creature invested with the attributes of humanity, with its virtues, its faults, its weaknesses. He feels not the soft breath of woman fanning his cheek, nor the throb of her little heart bounding against his own. There comes a cold, clammy air to his brow, like that of water in a cold morning, and the pulsation of his heart is checked instead of quickened. She is gone. He finds he has no more power to retain her in his arms, or to awaken in her a knowledge of his existence, than he has to arrest the march of the summer wind, or to hold conversation with the stars of night. Another, and another, and yet another fruitless attempt to clasp that form, for whom he begins to feel a new, and strange, and predominating interest, convince him that they are not of his order, but exist unapproachable by beings of clay. Again the morning dawns, and again they fly to their damp and chill retreat.

The Nanticoke, exhausted by long watching, and wearied out by incessant exertion to embrace the beautiful phantom, lay down upon the earth, and sunk into a deep sleep. Then it was that the Manitou of Dreams came to his couch, and whispered in his ear these words:

"Nanticoke! the shadows which nightly appear to thee are the Spirits of the Well. In this well for many hundred years have they dwelt, and every night do they visit the upper air to respire its breezes. Unlike other spirits, they see not human beings, nor can they by any means, short of the direct interference of the Master of Life, be made sensible of their presence. Blows touch them not, nor do their eyes behold those things which mortals behold, but those which mortals behold not. They have a world of their own, which, though it be comprised within the space of the world we inhabit, is distinctly separate in its nature and properties, and requires things of a different order to inhabit it. They wear, as you see, the shape of a human being, but they have none of its properties save the shape.

"How shall I make myself known to them? how shall I make myself known to the beautiful creature I have so often tried to clasp in my arms?" demanded the Nanticoke.

"It is to tell thee how that I am now at thine ear," answered the Master of Dreams. "Listen."

"Peel from the vine that bears no fruit its inner bark, and of this twist thee a long cord that shall carry to the water of the well the thing thou shalt tie to it. When it is finished, attach to it the white flat stone having in it little shining specks, which thou shalt find lying upon the edge of the near rivulet, where the feet of deer have worn a deep and broad path. Thou must let this stone descend with a quick motion till it reach the water, the whilst crying aloud, 'Come forth, maiden spirit with the bright eyes, and assume the corporeal state which shall fit thee for becoming a resident of the upper earth. Quit the impalpable form thou didst wear in the world of thine own, and be flesh, and blood, and bones, and marrow, in ours. Be no more the cold and chilled inhabitant of a dark, damp, and murky well, but become a warm and impassioned woman. Awake to the joys and sorrows, and hopes and fears, and doubts and disappointments, and cares and anxieties, which belong to human life. Awake to the throbs of love, and the joys of maternity.'" So saying, the Spirit departed to the place of his rest in the land of dreams.

The Nanticoke arose, and did as he was bidden. He peeled from the vine that bore no fruit its inner bark, and with it he made a cord of sufficient length to reach the water of the well. He searched for the flat, white stone with little shining specks in it, and having found it he attached it to the cord, and let it descend with a quick motion till it reached the water. Whilst it was descending, he cried aloud, "Come forth, maiden spirit with the bright eyes, and assume the corporeal state of a human being. Quit the impalpable form thou didst wear in the world of thine own, and be flesh, and blood, and bones, and marrow, in ours. Be no more the cold and chilled inhabitant of a dark, damp, and murky well, but become a warm and impassioned woman. Awake to the joys and sorrows, and hopes and fears, and doubts and disappointments, and cares and anxieties, which belong to human life. Awake to the throbs of love, and the feelings of maternity."

Scarce had the words escaped from his lips, when, by a ray of light which beamed into the well, he saw her he loved, her whose beauteous form he had so often attempted to clasp to his breast, ascending. Now she rises, suspended as it were, by nothing, now she has gained the earth. Already has she felt the change which has come over her, already she knows herself invested with other feelings and properties than those which have accompanied her in the state which she has quitted. Sounds are ringing in her ears which never rang there till now; visions are before her eyes which are now awakened for the first time. The music of birds, and the hum of bees, and the rattling of the distant rill, and the sighing of the wind, greet her ear, and her eyes are made happy by all the bright things which the Great Being has placed in this glorious world. And, most of all the objects which meet her eye, does the form of the Nanticoke please and gratify her. Her beautiful cheek is covered with a blush, her eye grows mellower, and her heart beats with a new, and till now unfelt passion. Few minutes pass ere she is in his arms, and has given and received the kiss of affection. She has awoke to the feelings of humanity, her heart has felt the throb of love, her bosom has been pained by the fear that it may not be returned; and anxiety, and joy, and grief, and many of the other passions of human nature, have visited her bosom. Beautiful creature! she has blushed on the Nanticoke her consent to be his, she has whispered in his delighted ear her happiness and pleasure; and, while she sits on the green sod at his side, she lays her head on his shoulder, and sings a sweet song of happy lovers, in the language of the Nanticoke which has become her own. I recollect not the words of that song, but it came to the ears of the enraptured Indian as the first word of a little child to the ears of its mother.

Brothers! I am that Nanticoke, and the beautiful spirit is she that sits at my side, and the child at my feet is the child she bore me. And this is all I have to say.