their wigwam fires in the winter evenings. There are, in fact, especially throughout the north-west, professed story-tellers, as among the Arabs, who employ themselves by the hour with gathering circles of savage listeners around, and telling over their strange fictions, which they relate in an infinite diversity, garnishing them with new wonders at every fresh recital. Many of these, it is probable, had once a foundation in fact; but intrusted, as they are, only to oral preservation, inevitable obscurity soon magnifies and distorts them, and the more so, that each narrator considers it as concerning his honor to make his hero as wonderful as possible, exaggerating his exploits accordingly. Already, among the north-western tribes, the great efforts of Pontiac, Little-Turtle, and Tecumseh, are diversified in narration with a thousand feats which they never performed. The remainder of the number is filled with a medley of interesting matter, anecdotes, antiquarian extracts, historical and biographical notices, personal reminiscences, and scattered remarks on Indian character, distinguished by great justness of philosophical perception; together with some observations on Indian names among us, and the first part of an extended article on what has had almost no attention given to it by others, the picture-writing and mnemonic symbols of the race. Most of these are fruitful and attractive topics of remark. The Indian system of hieroglyphics especially, and geographical terminology in North America, are deserving of more particular investigation than has ever been given to them. The most interesting chapter, however, is the first of a projected series on Indian music, songs, and poetry, in connection with their dancing. A wide inquiry would show that all nations are accustomed to dancing, and to some kind of singing or rude chanting. Farther inquiry would make it evident that there can be no kind of chanting without some sort of melody in the accompanying words, so that all nations, where they employ any words with their singing, must use some species of versification, however unregulated. But all nations have not the Indian's naturally poetic mind, leading him to the frequent use of apposite imagery, and the question comes at once-To what extent is the Indian, with his continual song-singing, a maker of poetry? On these points, Mr. School craft has many clear and satisfactory remarks: "Dancing is both an amusement and a religious observance among the American Indians, and is known to constitute one of the most wide-spread traits in their manners and customs. It is accompanied, in all cases, with singing, and, omitting a few cases, with the beating of time on instruments. Tribes the most diverse in lan. guage, and situated at the greatest distances apart, concur in this. It is believed to be passion or feeling on any subject, and it is the ordinary mode of expressing intense with the least variation, through all the a custom which has been persevered in, phases of their history, and probably exists among the remote tribes precisely at this time as it did in the era of Columbus. It is observed to be the last thing abandoned by bands and individuals in their progress to civilization and Christianity. 66 Every one has heard of the war dance, the medicine dance, the wabeno dance, the dance of honor, (generally called the begging dance,) and various others, each of which has its appropriate movement, its air, and its words. There is no feast, and is not attended with dancing and songs. no religious ceremony among them, which hunting, for triumphs in war, and for ordiThanks are thus expressed for success in nary providential cares. called to pressing objects by a dance, at Public opinion is which addresses are made, and, in fact, moral instructions and advice are given to the young in the course of their being assembled at social feasts and dances. The priests and prophets have, more than any other class, cultivated their national songs skalds and poets of the tribes. and dances, and may be regarded as the They are generally the composers of the songs, and and it is found that their memories are the the leaders in the dance and ceremonies, best stored, not only with the sacred songs and chants, but also with the traditions and general lore of the tribes. "The instances where singing is adopted without dancing, are nearly confined to occurrences of a domestic character.Among these are wails for the dead, and love-songs of a simple and plaintive character. Maternal affection evinces itself by singing words to a cheerful air, over the slumbers of the child, which being suspended in a kind of cradle, receives at the same time a vibratory motion. Children utter in the evenings, while playing around have likewise certain chants, which they the lodge door, or at other seasons of youthful hilarity. Some of the Indian fables are in the shape of duets, and the songs introduced in narrating their fictitious tales, are always sung in the recital." But though their songs are thus common, it is singular how few accurate specimens we actually have of them. Mr. Schoolcraft has remarked on the causes in a manner to throw light on the exact nature of their songs : "Even after the difficulties of the notation have been accomplished, it is not easy to satisfy the requisitions of a correct taste and judgment in their exhibition. There is always a lingering fear of misapprehension, or misconception, on the part of the interpreter-or of some things being withheld by the never-sleeping suspicion, or the superstitious fear of disclosure, on the part of the Indian. To these must be added, the idiomatic and imaginative peculiarities of this species of wild composition-so very different from every notion of English versification. In the first place there is no unity of theme or plot, unless it be that the subject, war for instance, is kept in the sing. er's mind. In the next place both the narration and the description, when introduced, are very imperfect, broken, or disjointed. Prominent ideas flash out, and are dropped. These are often most striking and beautiful, but we wait in vain for any sequence. A brief allusion--a shining symbol, a burst of feeling or passion, a fine sentiment, or a bold assertion, come in as so many independent parts, and there is but little in the composition to indicate the leading theme, which is, as it were, kept in mental reserve by the singer. Popular or favorite expressions are often repeated, often transposed, and often exhibited with some new shade of meaning. The structure and flexibility of the language are highly favorable to this kind of wild improvisation. But it is difficult to translate, and next to impossible to preserve its spirit. Two languages more unlike in all their leading characteristics than the English and the Indian, were never brought into contact. The one monosyllabic, and nearly without inflections-the other polysyllabic, polysynthetic, and so full of inflections of every imaginative kind, as to be completely transpositive;-the one from the north of Europe, the other, probably, from Central Asia-it would seem that these families of the human race had not wandered wider apart in their location than they have in the sounds of their language, the accidence of their grammar, and the definition of their words. So that to find equivalent single words in translation, appears often as hopeless as the quadrature of the circle. "The great store-house of Indian image ry is the heavens. The clouds, the planets, the sun and moon, the phenomena of light. ning, thunder, electricity, aerial sounds, electric or atmospheric; and the endless variety produced in the heavens by light and shade, and by elemental action,-these constitute the fruitful themes of allusion in their songs and poetic chants. But they are mere allusions, or broken description, like touches on the canvass, without being united to produce a perfect object. When "In war excursions great attention is paid to the flight of birds, particularly those of the carnivorous species, which are deemed typical of war and bravery, and their wing and tail feathers are appropriated as marks of honor by the successful warrior. the minds of a war party have been roused up to the subject, and they are prepared to give utterance to their feelings by singing and dancing, they are naturally led to appeal to the agency of this class of birds. Hence the frequent allusions to them in their songs. 66 Generally the expressions are of an exalted and poetic character, but the remark before made of their efforts in song being discontinuous and abrupt, applies with peculiar force to the war songs. To speak of a brave man-of a battle-or the scene of a battle, or of the hovering of birds of prey above it, appears sufficient to bring up to the warrior's mind all the details consequent on personal bravery or heroic achieve. ment. It would naturally be expected that they should delight to dwell on scenes of carnage and blood; but however this may be, all such details are omitted or suppressed in their war songs, which only excite ideas of noble daring. The birds of the brave take a flight round the sky, They cross the enemy's line, In fact, however, sufficient specimens of their songs are collected to show not only that they are sentimental, imaginative, poetic, but that they throw poetic expression into the forms of poetry. Mr. Schoolcraft, in the present collection, has given one, which, with the occasion of it, is certainly very pleasing, and contains many of the recognised turns of able in it, as in nearly all their songs-a poetic expression. One thing is observkind of repetition somewhat akin to the Hebrew parallelism : "In 1759, great exertions were made by the French Indian department, under Gen. Montcalm, to bring a body of Indians into the valley of the lower St. Lawrence, and invitations for this purpose reached the utmost shores of Lake Superior. In one of the canoes from that quarter-which was left on their way down at the Lake of Two Mountains, near the mouth of the Utawas, He was still standing on a fallen treethat had fallen into the water, my sweetheart; my Algonquin. VII. Nia! indenaindum Odishquagumee. Alas! when I think of him-when I think of him-it is when I think of him; my Algonquin." Long, in his Journal of an Expedition to the Rocky Mountains, gives two or three fragments of love-songs which are very quaint and simple. The first appears to be the lover's: "Father-I love your daughter Will you give her to me, I pray you? And the strongest wind that blows, which, if sung openly, was hardly acThe other is of the maiden herself; cording to modern etiquette. The last two lines contain a very beautiful comparison-the more so for its extreme suitableness-a quality in which, whatever others they may lack, Indian song and oratory always excel:"It is true, I love him only; For his heart is like the sweet sap That in spring-time runs from the sugar. tree, And is brother alone to the aspen-leaf Mr. Schoolcraft has given us, in another place, some simple words of Indian children to the lightning-bug, curious for the imaginative form of expression : "In the hot summer evenings, the children of the Chippewa Algonquins, along the shores of the upper lakes, and in the northern latitudes, frequently assemble before their parents' lodges, and amuse themselves by little chants of various kinds, with shouts and wild dancing. Attracted by such shouts of merriment and gambols, I walked out one evening, to a green lawn with the fall in full view, to get hold of the skirting the edge of the St. Mary's river, meaning of some of these chants. The air and the plain were literally sparkling with the phosphorescent light of the fire-fly. By dint of attention, repeated on one or two occasions, the following succession of words was caught. They were addressed to this insect: Wau wau tay see! Wau wau tay see! E mow e shin 'Tshe bwau ne baun-e wee! Be eghaun-be eghaun-ewee! Wa wau tay see! Flitting-white-fire-insect! waving-white. fire-bug! give me light before I go to bed! give me light before I go to sleep. Come, little dancing-white-fire-bug! Come, little flitting-white-fire-beast! Light me with your bright white-flame-instrument-your little candle. Metre there was none, at least, of a regular character: they were the wild improvisa. tions of children in a merry mood." As a farther illustration of the real elements of poetry native with the Indians-especially that perfect simplicity of pathos which makes numerous passages and little snatches of stories in the Bible so exceedingly touching, and which is found the most, and in the greatest purity, among nations not highly cultivated the following unaffected lament may be cited. It was obtained a great distance in the north-west-the plaint of an Indian mother, by Athabasca Lake, nearly a thousand miles beyond the waters of Lake Superior : "My son! my son!—why hast thou left me? Who now will hold thy head? I gave to thee herbs from the plain, But nothing could save thee, or keep thee! Why hast thou thus left me, my child! Ah! where art thou gone, my boy!" But we have not space for further illustrations or remarks. The general subject is one which will bear recurring to. We trust such a reception will be given to the numbers of Oneöta, of which we understand there will be six or eight, as to encourage the author to edit soon the long-projected "Indian Cyclopædia." Such a work, if rightly executed, would be the most valuable by far that has ever appeared on the character, history, customs, feelings, and opinions of the aboriginal race. INFLUENCE OF THE TRADING SPIRIT UPON THE SOCIAL AND MORAL LIFE OF AMERICA. THOSE influences which affect the characters of a whole people are less observed, although more important, than such as are peculiar to classes or individuals. The exertions which one may make to protect himself from error, or demeaning influences, are sometimes rendered ineffectual from his ignorance of the tremendous biases which he receives from a corrupt public opinion; as the most careful observations of the mariner are sometimes vitiated by an unknown current which insensibly drifts him from his supposed position. What everybody does in our own community, we are apt to suppose to be universal with men; and universal custom is, by general consent, not to be disputed. We are not disposed to suspect public opin ion, or to question common custom. Nay, we do not even, for the most part, distinguish between a prevailing sentiment and an innate idea-between a universal or national habit and a law of nature. The customs of the city in which we are brought up seem to most persons of divine appointment. We are apt to account a foreigner who prefers (in accordance with his own national manners and prejudices) a different division of the day, different hours at the table, a different style of dress, as almost immoral. This proves how little aware we may be of the nature of the social habits and sentiments which greatly influence our characters. We propose to offer a few observations upon some of our national habits and tendencies. There is but one thing to discourage such an inquiry, and that is, that after understanding the direction and force of the current on which we are borne, there is little hope of withstanding it, or guiding ourselves upon it. But to this it must be replied, that public opinion is made up of private opinions, and that the only way of ever changing it is by commencing to correct, be it ever so little, the judgments of one's own mind and of the few others under our influence. We must not despise humble means of influence, nor hesitate to do a little good, because an almost hopeless amount of evil surrounds us. All strangers who come among us remark the excessive anxiety written in the American countenance. The widespread comfort, the facilities for livelihood, the spontaneous and cheap lands, the high price of labor, are equally observed, and render it difficult to account for these lines of painful thoughtfulness. It is not poverty, nor tyranny, nor overcompetition which produces this anxiety; that is clear. It is the concentration of the faculties upon an object, which in its very nature is unattainable-the perpetual improvement of the outward condition. There are no bounds among us to the restless desire to be better off; and this is the ambition of all classes of society. We are not prepared to allow that wealth is more valued in America than elsewhere, but in other countries the successful pursuit of it is necessarily confined to a few, while here it is open to all. No man in America is contented to be poor, or expects to continue so. There are here no established limits within which the hopes of any class of society must be confined, as in other countries. There is consequently no condition of hopes realized, in other words, of contentment. In other lands, if children can maintain the station and enjoy the means, however moderate, of their father, they are happy. Not so with us. This is not the spirit of our institutions. Nor will it long be otherwise in other countries. That equality, that breaking down of artificial barriers which has produced this universal ambition and restless activity in America, is destined to prevail throughout the earth. But because we are in advance of the world in the great political principle, and are now experiencing some of its first effects, let us not mistake these for the desirable fruits of freedom. Commerce is to be come the universal pursuit of men. It is to be the first result of freedom, of popular institutions everywhere. Indeed, every land not steeped in tyranny is now feeling this impulse. But while trade is destined to free and employ the masses, it is also destined to destroy for the time much of the beauty and happiness of every land. This has been the result in our own country. We are free. It is a glorious thing that we have no serfs, with the large and unfortunate exception of our slaves-no artificial distinctionsno acknowledged superiority of bloodno station which merit may not fill-no rounds in the social ladder to which the humblest may not aspire. But the excitement, the commercial activity, the restlessness, to which this state of things has given birth, is far from being a desirable or a natural condition. It is natural to the circumstances, but not natural to the human soul. It is good and hopeful to the interests of the race, but destructive to the happiness, and dangerous to the virtue of the generation exposed to it. Those unaccustomed, by reading or travel, to other states of society, are probably not aware how very peculiar our manner of life here is. The laboriousness of Americans is beyond all comparison, should we except the starving operatives of English factories. And when we consider that here, to the labor of the body is added the great additional labor of mental responsibility and ambition, it is not to be wondered at that as a race, the commercial population is dwindling in size, and emaciated in health, so that palor is the national complexion. If this devotion to business were indispensable to living, it would demand our pity. It is unavoidable, we know, in one sense. That is, it is customary-it is universal. There is no necessity for the custom; but there is a necessity, weakly constituted as men are, that every individual should conform greatly to the prevailing habits of his fellows, and the expectations of the community in and with which he deals. It is thus that those who deeply feel the essentially demoralizing and wretched influences of this system are yet doomed to be victims of it. Nay, we are all, no matter what our occupations, more or less, and all greatly, sufferers from the excessive stimulus under which every thing is done. We are all worn out with thought that does not develop our thinking faculties in a right direction, and with feeling expended upon poor and |