stem

With the crimson tuft of feathers,
With the blood-red crest of Mama.
But the wealth of Megissogwon,
All the trophies of the battle,
He divided with his people,
Shared it equally among them.

X.

HIAWATHA'S WOOING.

As unto the bow the cord is, So unto the man is woman, Though she bends him, she obeys him,

Though she draws him, yet she follows,

Useless each without the other!"

Thus the youthful Hiawatha Said within himself and pondered, Much perplexed by various feelings, Listless, longing, hoping, fearing, Dreaming still of Minnehaha, Of the lovely Laughing Water, In the land of the Dacotahs. "Wed a maiden of your people," Warning said the old Nokomis ; "Go not eastward, go not westward, For a stranger, whom we know not! Like a fire upon the hearthstone Is a neighbor's homely daughter, Like the starlight or the moonlight Is the handsomest of strangers!"

Thus dissuading spake Nokomis, And my Hiawatha answered Only this: "Dear old Nokomis, Very pleasant is the firelight, But I like the starlight better, Better do I like the moonlight!"

Gravely then said old Nokomis : 'Bring not here an idle maiden, Bring not here a useless woman, Hands unskilful, feet unwilling; Bring a wife with nimble fingers, Heart and hand that move together, Feet that run on willing errands!" Smiling answered Hiawatha ; "In the land of the Dacotahs Lives the Arrow-maker's daughter, Minnehaha, Laughing Water, Handsomest of all the women. 23-L & B-I

She shall run upon your errands, Be your starlight, moonlight, firelight,

Be the sunlight of my people !"
- Still dissuading said Nokomis :
Bring not to my lodge a stranger
From the land of the Dacotahs !
Very fierce are the Dacotahs,
Often is there war between us,
There are feuds yet unforgotten,
Wounds that ache and still may

open!"

Laughing answered Hiawatha : "For that reason, if no other, Would I wed the fair Dacotah, That our tribes might be united, That old feuds might be forgotten, And old wounds be healed forever!"

Thus departed Hiawatha To the land of the Dacotahs, To the land of handsome women; Striding over moor and meadow, Through interminable forests, Through uninterrupted silence.

With his moccasins of magic, At each stride a mile he measured; Yet the way seemed long before him, And his heart outrun his footsteps; And he journeyed without resting, Till he heard the cataract's thunder, Heard the Falls of Minnehaha, Calling to him through the silence. "Pleasant is the sound !" he murmured,

"Pleasant is the voice that calls me !"

On the outskirts of the forest, "Twixt the shadow and the sunshine, Herds of fallow deer were feeding, But they saw not Hiawatha;

To his bow he whispered, "Fail not !"

To his arrow whispered, "Swerve not!"

Sent it singing on its errand,
To the red heart of the roebuck;
Threw the deer across his shoulder,
And sped forward without pausing.

At the doorway of his wigwam
Sat the ancient Arrow-maker,
In the land of the Dacotahs,
Making arrow-heads of jasper,
Arrow-heads of chalcedony.

She was thinking of a hunter, From another tribe and country, Young and tall and very handsome, Who one morning, in the Springtime,

Came to buy her father's arrows,
Sat and rested in the wigwam,
Lingered long about the doorway,
Looking back as he departed.
She had heard her father praise him,
Praise his courage and his wisdom;
Would he come again for arrows
To the Falls of Minnehaha ?
On the mat her hands lay idle,
And her eyes were very dreamy.
Through their thoughts they
heard a footstep,
Heard a rustling in the branches,
And with glowing cheek and fore-
head,

With the deer upon his shoulders,
Suddenly from out the woodlands
Hiawatha stood before them.

Straight the ancient Arrow-maker
Looked up gravely from his labor,
Laid aside the unfinished arrow,
Bade him enter at the doorway,
Saying, as he rose to meet him,
"Hiawatha, you are welcome!"

At the feet of Laughing Water Hiawatha laid his burden,

Very spacious was the wigwam, Made of deerskin dressed and whitened,1

With the Gods of the Dacotahs
Drawn and painted on its curtains,
And so tall the doorway, hardly
Hiawatha stooped to enter,
Hardly touched his eagle-feathers
As he entered at the doorway.

Then uprose the Laughing Water, From the ground fair Minnehaha, Lay aside her mat unfinished, Brought forth food and set before them,

Water brought them from the brooklet,

Gave them food in earthen vessels, Gave them drink in bowls of basswood,

Listened while the guest was speaking,

Listened while her father answered, But not once her lips she opened, Not a single word she uttered.

Yes, as in a dream she listened
To the words of Hiawatha,
As he talked of old Nokomis,
Who had nursed him in his child-
hood,

As he told of his companions,
Chibiabos, the musician,

Minnehaha, Laughing Water,
Loveliest of Dacotah women !"

And the ancient Arrow-maker Paused a moment ere he answered, Smoked a little while in silence, Looked at Hiawatha proudly, Fondly looked at Laughing Water, And made answer very gravely:

Yes, if Minnehaha wishes ;

Let your heart speak, Minnehaha !"
And the lovely Laughing Water
Seemed more lovely, as she stood
there,

Neither willing nor reluctant,
As she went to Hiawatha,
Softly took the seat beside him,
While she said, and blushed to say it,
"I will follow you, my husband!'
This was Hiawatha's wooing !
Thus it was he won the daughter
Of the ancient Arrow-maker,
In the land of the Dacotahs!

From the wigwam he departed, Leading with him Laughing Water; Hand in hand they went together, Through the woodland and the meadow,

Left the old man standing lonely At the doorway of his wig wam, Heard the Falls of Minnehaha Calling to them from the distance, Crying to them from afar off,

66

Fare thee well, O Minnehaha !" And the ancient Arrow-maker Turned again unto his labor, Sat down by his sunny doorway, Murmuring to himself, and saying: 'Thus it is our daughters leave us, Those we love, and those who love us !

Just when they have learned to help

Over meadow, over mountain,
Over river, hill, and hollow.
Short it seemed to Hiawatha,
Though they journeyed very slowly,
Though his pace he checked and
slackened

To the steps of Laughing Water.

Over wide and rushing rivers In his arms he bore the maiden ; Light he thought her as a feather, As the plume upon his headgear ; Cleared the tangled pathway for her, Bent aside the swaying branches, Made at night a lodge of branches, And a bed with boughs of hemlock, And a fire before the doorway With the dry cones of the pine tree. All the travelling winds went with

them,

O'er the meadow, through the forest ; All the stars of night looked at them, Watched with sleepless eyes their slumber;

From his ambush in the oak tree Peeped the squirrel, Adjidaumo, Watched with eager eyes the lovers ; And the rabbit, the Wabasso, Scampered from the path before them,

Peering, peeping from his burrow, Sat erect upon his haunches, Watched with curious eyes the lovers.

Pleasant was the journey home-
ward!

All the birds sang loud and sweetly
Songs of happiness and heart's-ease;
Sang the bluebird, the Owaissa,
"Happy are you, Hiawatha,
Having such a wife to love you!"
Sang the Opechee, the robin,
"Happy are you, Laughing Water,
Having such a noble husband!"

From the sky the sun benignant Looked upon them through the branches,

Saying to them, "O my children, Love is sunshine, hate is shadow, Life is checkered shade and sunshine, Rule by love, O Hiawatha !"

From the sky the moon looked at

them, Filled the lodge with mystic splen dors,

Wildly in the air around him ;
Till the wind became a whirlwind,

wis.

He was dressed in shirt of doeskin, White and soft, and fringed with ermine,

All inwrought with beads of wampum ;

He was dressed in deerskin leggings, Fringed with hedgehog quills and ermine,

And in moccasins of buckskin, Thick with quills and beads embroidered.

On his head were plumes of swan's down,

On his heels were tails of foxes,
In one hand a fan of feathers,
And a pipe was in the other.
Barred with streaks of red

and

yellow, Streaks of blue and bright vermilion, Shone the face of Pau-Puk-Keewis. From his forehead fell his tresses, Smooth, and parted like a woman's, Shining bright with oil, and plaited, Hung with braids of scented grasses, As among the guests assembled, To the sound of flutes and singing, To the sound of drums and voices, Rose the handsome Pau-Puk-Keewis,

And began his mystic dances.

First he danced a solemn measure,
Very slow in step and gesture,
In and out among the pine trees,
Through the shadows and the sun-
shine,

Treading softly like a panther,
Then more swiftly and still swifter,
Whirling, spinning round in circles,
Leaping o'er the guests assembled,
Eddying round and round the wig

Like great snowdrifts o'er the landscape,

Heaping all the shores with Sand Dunes,

Sand Hills of the Nagow Wudjoo!1 Thus the merry Pau-Puk-Keewis Danced his Beggar's Dance to please them,

And, returning, sat down laughing There among the guests assembled, Sat and fanned himself serenely With his fan of turkey-feathers.

Then they said to Chibiabos, To the friend of Hiawatha, To the sweetest of all singers, To the best of all musicians, 'Sing to us, O Chibiabos ! Songs of love and songs of longing, That the feast may be more joyous, That the time may pass more gayly, And our guests be more contented !'

And the gentle Chibiabos Sang in accents sweet and tender, Sang in tones of deep emotion, Songs of love and songs of longing; Looking still at Hiawatha, Looking at fair Laughing Water, Sang he softly, sang in this wise.

Onaway! Awake, beloved ! 2 Thou the wild flower of the forest ! Thou the wild bird of the prairie ! Thou with eyes so soft and fawnlike !

1 A description of the Grand Sable, or great sand dunes of Lake Superior, is given in Foster and Whitney's Report on the Geology of the Lake Superior Land District Part II., p. 131.

"The Grand Sable possesses a scenic interest little inferior to that of the Pictured Rocks. The explorer passes abruptly from a coast of consolidated sand to one

of loose materials; and although in the one case the cliffs are less precipitous, yet in the other they attain a higher altitude. He sees before him a long reach of coast, resembling a vast sand-bank, more than three hundred and fifty feet in height, without a trace of vegetation. Ascending to the top, rounded hillocks of blown sand are observed, with occasional clumps of trees, standing out like oases in the des

ert.

2 The original of this song may be found in Littell's Living Age, Vol. XXV., p. 45.