And the rain-shower and the snowstorm,

And the rushing of great rivers
Through their palisades of pinetrees,
And the thunder in the mountains,
Whose innumerable echoes
Flap like eagles in their eyries ;-
Listen to these wild traditions,
To this Song of Hiawatha

!

Ye whose love a nation's legends,
Love the ballads of a people,
That like voices from afar off
Waving like a hand that beckons,
Call to us to pause and listen,
Speak in tones so plain and childlike,
Scarcely can the ear distinguish
Whether they are sung or spoken;
Listen to this Indian Legend,
To this Song of Hiawatha !
Ye whose hearts are fresh and
simple,

Who have faith in God and Nature,
Who believe, that in all ages
Every human heart is human,
That in even savage bosoms
There are longings, yearnings, striv-
ings

For the good they comprehend not,
That the feeble hands and helpless,
Groping blindly in the darkness,
Touch God's right hand in that dark-

Homely phrases, but each letter Full of hope, and yet of heart-break, Full of all the tender pathos

Of the Here and the Hereafter;

I.

THE PEACE-PIPE.

ON the Mountains of the Prairie,1
On the great Red Pipe-stone Quarry,
Gitche Manito, the mighty,
He the Master of Life, descending,
On the red crags of the quarry
Stood erect, and called the nations,
Called the tribes of men together.

From his footprints flowed a river, Leaped into the light of morning, O'er the precipice plunging downward

Gleamed like Ishkoodah, the comet. And the Spirit, stooping earthward, With his finger on the meadow Traced a winding pathway for it, Saying to it, "Run in this way!

From the red stone of the quarry

1 Mr. Catlin, in his Letters and Notes on the Manners, Customs, and Conditions of the North American Indians, Vol. II., p. 160, gives an interesting account of the Coteau des Prairies, and the Red-Pipe stone Quarry. He says:

"Here (according to their traditions) pipe, which has blown its fumes of peace happened the mysterious birth of the red

and war to the remotest corners of the continent; which has visited every warrior and passed through its reddened stem the irrevocable oath of war and desolation. And here also the peace-breathing calumet was born, and fringed with the eagle's quills, which has shed its thrilling fumes over the land, and soothed the fury of the relentless savage.

"The Great Spirit at an ancient period here called the Indian nations together, and standing on the precipice of the red pipe-stone rock, broke from its wall a piece, and made a huge pipe by turning it and to the North, the South, the East, in his hand, which he smoked over them, and the West, and told them that this

stone was red,-that it was their flesh,that they must use it for their pipes of peace, that it belonged to them all, and that the war-club and scalping-knife must not be raised on its ground. At the last cloud, and the whole surface of the rock whiff of his pipe his head went into a great for several miles was melted and glazed; two great ovens were opened beneath, and two women (guardian spirits of the place) entered them in a blaze of fire; and they are heard there yet (Tso-mec-cos-tee and Tso-me-cos-te-won-dee), answering to the invocations of the high-priests or

Read this Song of Hiawatha !

they are visitors to this sacred place."

With his hand he broke a fragment, |
Moulded it into a pipe-head,
Shaped and fashioned it with fig-

ures;

From the margin of the river
Took a long reed for a pipe-stem,
With its dark green leaves upon it;
Filled the pipe with bark of willow,
With the bark of the red willow;
Breathed upon the neighboring for-
est,

Made its great boughs chafe together,

Till in flame they burst and kindled; And erect upon the mountains, Gitche Manito, the mighty,

Came the Mandans and Dacotahs,
Came the Hurons and Ojibways,
All the warriors drawn together
By the signal of the Peace-Pipe,
To the Mountains of the Prairie,
To the Great Red Pipe-stone Quarry.
And they stood there on the mea-

dow,

With their weapons and their wargear,

Painted like the leaves of Autumn,
Painted like the sky of morning,
Wildly glaring at each other;
In their faces stern defiance,
In their hearts the feuds of ages,
The hereditary hatred,

Pipe,

As a signal to the nations.

And the smoke rose slowly, slowly,

Through the tranquil air of morning,

First a single line of darkness,
Then a denser, bluer vapor,
Then a snow-white cloud unfolding,
Like the tree-tops of the forest,
Ever rising, rising, rising,
Till it touched the top of heaven,
Till it broke against the heaven,
And rolled outward all around it.
From the Vale of Tawasentha,
From the Valley of Wyoming,
From the groves of Tuscaloosa,
From the far-off Rocky Mountains,
From the Northern lakes and rivers
All the tribes beheld the signal,
Saw the distant smoke ascending,
The Pukwana 1 of the Peace Pipe.
And the Prophets of the nations
Said: "Behold it, the Pukwana,
By this signal from afar off,
Bending like a wand of willow,
Gitche Manito, the mighty,
Calls the tribes of men together,
Calls the warriors to his council !"

Down the rivers o'er the prairies, Came the warriors of the nations, Came the Delawares and Mohawks, Came the Choctaws and Camanches, Came the Shoshonies and Blackfeet, Came the Pawnees and Omawhas, 2

1 Smoke.

Note the pronunciation, the accent 23-L & B-H

Gitche Manito, the mighty,
The creator of the nations,
Looked upon them with compassion,
With paternal love and pity;
Looked upon their wrath and
wrangling

But as quarrels among children,
But as feuds and fights of children!
Over them he stretched his right

hand,

To subdue their stubborn natures,
To allay their thirst and fever,
By the shadow of his right hand;
Spake to them with voice majestic
As the sound of far-off waters,
Falling into deep abysses,
Warning, chiding, spake in this
wise :-

"O my children! my poor chil-
dren !

Listen to the words of wisdom, Listen to the words of warning, From the lips of the Great Spirit, From the Master of Life, who made you:

"I have given you lands to hunt
in,

I have given you streams to fish in,
I have given you bear and bison,
I have given you roe and reindeer,
I have given you brant and beaver,
Filled the marshes full of wild fowl,

being on the second syllable which makes the word euphonious,--very different from the pronunciation of the present day. A similar remark may be made of the Indian words Ida'ho, Ötta'wa, and others.

Soiled and stained with streaks of crimson,

As if blood were mingled with it!

From the river came the warriors, Clean and washed from all their war-paint;

On the banks their clubs they buried,
Buried all their warlike weapons.
Gitche Manito, the mighty,
The Great Spirit, the creator,
Smiled upon his helpless children!
And in silence all the warriors
Broke the red stone of the quarry.
Smoothed and formed it into Peace-
Pipes,

Broke the long reeds by the river, Decked them with their brightest feathers,

And departed each one homeward, While the Master of Life, ascending,

Through the opening of cloud-curtains,

Through the doorway of the heaven,
Vanished from before their faces,
In the smoke that rolled around him,
The Pukwana of the Peace-Pipe!

II.

THE FOUR WINDS.

"HONOR be to Mudjekeewis ! "2 Cried the warriors, cried the old men, When he came in triumph homeward

With the sacred Belt of Wampum, From the regions of the North-Wind, From the kingdom of Wabasso,8 From the land of the White Rabbit. He had stolen the Belt of Wam

pum From the neck of Mishe-Mokwa, From the Great Bear of the mountains,

From the terror of the nations,
As he lay asleep and cumbrous
On the summit of the mountains,
Like a rock with mosses on it.

The father of Hiawatha, the Wind, afterwards Kabeyun the West Wind.

This word means both the North and the white rabbit.

Silently he stole upon him,
Till the red nails of the monster
Almost touched him, almost scared
him,

Till the hot breath of his nostrils
Warmed the hands of Mudjekeewis,
As he drew the Belt of Wampum
Over the round ears, that heard not,
Over the small eyes, that saw not,
Over the long nose and nostrils,
The black muffle of the nostrils,
Out of which the heavy breathing
Warmed the hands of Mudjekeewis.
Then he swung aloft his war-club,
Shouted loud and long his war-cry,
Smote the mighty Mishe-Mokwa
In the middle of the forehead,
Right between the eyes he smote
him.

With the heavy blow bewildered, Rose the Great Bear of the mountains;

But his knees beneath him trembled,
And he whimpered like a woman,
As he reeled and staggered forward,
As he sat upon his haunches;
And the mighty Mudjekeewis,
Standing fearlessly before him,
Taunted him in loud derision,
Spake disdainfully in this wise:-
"Hark you, Bear! you are a cow-
ard, 1

And no Brave, as you pretended;
Else you would not cry and whimper
Like a miserable woman!
Bear! you know our tribes are

hostile,

Long have been at war together;
Now you find that we are strongest,
You go sneaking in the forest,
You go hiding in the mountains!

1This anecdote is from Heckewelder.

In his account of the Indian Nations, he describes an Indian hunter as addressing a bear in nearly these words. "I was present," he says, "at the delivery of this curious invective; when the hunter had despatched the bear, I asked him how he thought that poor animal could under

stand what he said to it? O,' said he in an

swer, the bear understood me very well; did you not observe how ashamed he looked while I was upbraiding him ?'”— Transactions of the American Philosophi cal Society, Vol. I., p. 240.

| Had you conquered me in battle
Not a groan would I have uttered;
But you, Bear! sit here and whimper,
And disgrace your tribe by crying,
Like a wretched Shaugodaya,
Like a cowardly old woman!"

Then again he raised his war-club,
Smote again the Mishe-Mokwa
In the middle of his forehead,
Broke his skull, as ice is broken
When one goes to fish in Winter.
Thus was slain the Mishe-Mokwa,
He the Great Bear of the mountains,
He the terror of the nations.

Honor be to Mudjekeewis!" With a shout exclaimed the people, "Honor be to Mudjekeewis! Henceforth he shall be the WestWind,

And hereafter and forever
Shall he hold supreme dominion
Over all the winds of heaven.
Call him no more Mudjkeewis,
Call him Kabeyun, the West- Wind!"
Thus was Mudjekeewis chosen
Father of the Winds of Heaven.
For himself he kept the West-Wind,
Gave the others to his children;
Unto Wabun gave East-Wind,
Gave the South to Shawondasee,
And the North-Wind, wild and
cruel,

To the fierce Kabibonokka.

Young and beautiful was Wabun; He it was who brought the morning, | He it was whose silver arrows Chased the dark o'er hill and valley; He it was whose cheeks were painted With the brightest streaks of crim

son,

And whose voice awoke the village, Called the deer, and called the hunter.

Lonely in the sky was Wabun; Though the birds sang gayly to him, Though the wild-flowers of the meadow

Filled the air with odors for him, Though the forests and the rivers Sang and shouted at his coming. Still his heart was sad within him, For he was alone in heaven.

But one morning, gazing earthward,

And the fog lay on the river,
Like a ghost, that goes at sunrise,
He beheld a maiden walking
All alone upon a meadow,
Gathering water-flags and rushes
By a river in the meadow.

Every morning, gazing earthward,
Still the first thing he beheld there
Was her blue eyes looking at him,
Two blue lakes among the rushes.
And he loved the lonely maiden,
Who thus waited for his coming;
For they both were solitary,
She on earth and he in heaven.

And he wooed her with caresses, Wooed her with his smile of sunshine,

With his flattering words he wooed her,

With his sighing and his singing,
Gentlest whispers in the branches,
Softest music, sweetest odors,
Till he drew her to his bosom,
Folded in his robes of crimson,
Till into a star he changed her,
Trembling still upon his bosom;
And forever in the heavens

They are seen together walking,
Wabun and the Wabun-Annung,
Wabun and the Star of Morning.

But the fierce Kabibonokka
Had his dwelling among icebergs,
In the everlasting snowdrifts,
In the kingdom of Wabasso,
In the land of the White Rabbit.
He it was whose hand in Autumn
Painted all the trees with scarlet,
Stained the leaves with red and
yellow;

He it was who sent the snowflakes, Sifting, hissing through the forest, Froze the ponds, the lakes, the rivers,

Drove the loon and sea-gull south. ward,

Drove the cormorant and curlew
To their nests of sedge and sea-tang
In the realms of Shawondasee.

Once the fierce Kabibonokka Issued from his lodge of snowdrifts, From his home among the icebergs, And his hair, with snow besprinkled, Streamed behind him like a river,

As he howled and hurried southward,

Over frozen lakes and moorlands.

There among the reeds and rushes Found he Shingebis, the diver, Trailing strings of fish behind him, O'er the frozen fens and moorlands, Lingering still among the moorlands, Though his tribe had long departed To the land of Shawondasee.

Cried the fierce Kabibonokka, Who is this that dares to brave me?

Dares to stay in my dominions,
When the Wawa has departed,
When the wild-goose has gone south-
ward,

And the hearn, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
Long ago departed southward?
I will go into his wigwam,
I will put his smouldering fire out!"
And at night Kabibonokka
To the lodge came wild and wailing,
Heaped the snow in drifts about it,
Shouted down into the smoke-flue,
Shook the lodge-poles in his fury,
Flapped the curtain of the doorway.
Shingebis, the diver, feared not,
Shingebis, the diver, cared not;
Four great logs had he for firewood,
One for each moon of the winter,
And for food the fishes served him.
By his blazing fire he sat there,
Warm and merry, eating, laughing,
Singing "O Kabibonokka,
You are but my fellow-mortal!"

Then Kabibonokka entered,
And though Shingebis, the diver,
Felt his presence by the coldness,
Felt his icy breath upon him,
Still he did not cease his singing,
Still he did not leave his laughing,
Only turned the log a little,
Only made the fire burn brighter,
Made the sparks fly up the smoke-
flue.

From Kabibonokka's forehead, From his snow-besprinkled tresses, Drops of sweat fell fast and heavy, Making dints upon the ashes, As along the eaves of lodges, As from drooping boughs of hem lock,