CHAPTER III.

MUSIC AND POETRY OF THE INDIANS.

Here, it must be acknowledged, we enter a barren field, offering little to excite industry, or to reward inquiry. Without literature to give perpetuity to the creations of genius, or to bear to succeeding times the record of remarkable events, the Americans have no store house of ancient learning to open to the curiosity of the European race. They have probably never thought like the Arabs, that the cultivation of their language was an object of importance; and though the orator must at times have experienced the effect of a happy choice of expression, he must always have been confined to a narrow range, by the necessity of keeping within the comprehension of his hearers. Hence their public speakers appear to depend more on a certain vehemence and earnestness of manner, which is intelligible without words, than upon any elegance of thought, or refinement of diction.

Their songs, whether of war or devotion, consist, for the most, of a few words or short phrases many times repeated; and in their speeches, they dwell long and vehemently on the same idea. One who hears an Indian orator without comprehending his language, would confidently suppose that his discourse abounded with meaning; but these speeches, like their tedious and monotonous chants, when clearly understood, appear so poor and jejune, that few white men would listen to either, were it not with the hope of extracting information, of which the speaker, or the singer himself, must be wholly unconscious. But after all is heard and explained, and carefully examined in all its bearings, it must be principally the business of a quick and fertile imagination, to find in them moral instruction or historical information. If we find among the American Indians traditional items, bearing manifest and strong resemblance to those of the great Asiatic family, from whom we have adopted many of our religious opinions, this can only be considered as indicating what needed no proof; namely: That this people, as well as ourselves, have descended from that primeval stock, which, planted somewhere upon the mountains of Asia, has sent forth its branches into all parts of the earth. Thither, we are taught by the most ancient human records, and by the concurrent deductions of all sound philosophy, and honest inquiry, to look for the great fountain of the human race: and if some of the streams, in descending thence, have been concealed in swamps, or sunk beneath sands, we ought not therefore to doubt that their origin is to be thence deduced. But that existing or retrieveable monuments or resemblances, will ever enable the curious satisfactorily to trace the American branch to its origin, need not now be expected. Nevertheless, this part of the subject may have interest for those who love to trace the human character through all situations and exposures, and to contemplate the effect of revolutions in external circumstances, on manners, language, and metaphysical opinions.

Sufficient evidence probably exists, to convince many, that the natives of the central regions of North America, whatever diversities of dialect may now exist, are essentially of the same race with the Peruvians, the Mexicans, and the Natchez; between whom and the ancient inhabitants of Greece and Italy, and that portion of the present population of India who worship Brama, Boudd, Ganesa, Iswara, etc. a near relationship has already been ascertained. In the metamorphoses which the Indian traditions assign to many trees, plants, animals, and other things, we are strongly reminded of the similar superstitions preserved by the Roman poets. We find, also, in the American traditions, distinct allusions to a general deluge, and to several other particulars which we are accustomed to consider as resting solely on the authority of the Mosaic history. But when we reflect on the almost universal distribution of these opinions, in some shape or other, among all known races of men, we may admit a doubt whether they have been derived from the historical books of the Hebrews, or whether they are not rather the glimmerings of that primitive light, which, at the first great division after the flood, into the families of Shem, Ham, and Japhet, and more recently at the dispersion of Babel, must have been in possession of all mankind. We find in the Mosaic history, written, as it was, long after the period here spoken of, abundant evidence, not only that traditional remembrance of the deluge, and other great events in the early history of mankind, was still preserved; but that direct revelations of the mind and will of the Creator had been, and were still made to men, at sundry times, and in divers places. Within two or three hundred years of the deluge, some knowledge of the mechanic arts, at least ship building and masonry, must have remained, or so many men would not have been found ready to undertake the erection of a tower whose top should reach _unto Heaven_. At this time, Noah, the second father of mankind, and his three sons, who, as well as himself, had known the “world before the flood,” were still alive. Any branch, therefore, of the family of either of the three sons of Noah, removed at this time to “the isles of the gentiles,” or to whatever remote part of the earth their knowledge of navigation and other arts might enable them to reach, would retain at least a traditional cosmogony and theogony, which, after ever so many years, or ever so wide and devious a wandering, must probably have preserved resemblance, in some particulars, to the originals. Hence it will, we think, be evident, that although we may find a strong resemblance between some of the observances of the Indians and the Hebrews, we are by no means to infer, that one of these races must have descended from the other. All that they have in common, will probably be found to have grown out of similarity of circumstances; or may be traced to times long previous to the calling of Abraham.

But let us leave this profitless discussion, which has long since received more attention than it deserves, and return to the subject before us.

The poetry of the Indians, if they can properly be said to have any, is the language of excitement, and the expression of passion; and if whatever has this character, and is at the same time raised above the tone and style of ordinary conversation, and is or may be sung to music, is poetry, it cannot be denied that they have among them poetry and poets in abundance. Excitement of whatever kind, calls forth a peculiar manner of expression; and though measure and rhythm, polished and artificial structure, equally balanced and harmonious periods, may be wanting, they commonly accompany the utterance of their words by some modulation of the voice, like what we call singing. In all their religious feasts and solemnities, they address their prayers and praises to superior beings in song. In all times of distress and danger, or when suffering under the apprehension of immediate starvation, or awaiting the approach of death in some more horrid form, the Indian expresses his anxiety, offers up his petition, or perhaps recalls some favourite and cherished idea, his boast in life, and his consolation in death, by a measured and monotonous chant, in which the ear of the stranger distinguishes principally the frequent repetition of the same word.

Nor is it on the serious and momentous occasions of life only, that we witness these rude efforts at poetry and music. Love, in its disappointment, or in its success; sorrow, hope, and intoxication, choose the same method of utterance. When in a state of intoxication, as they often are, the men, and more particularly the women of some tribes, are heard by night, and often almost throughout the night, singing in a plaintive and melancholy tone of the death of their friends, or of other misfortunes. One who listens to these lamentations, while darkness and distance interpose to conceal the too often disgusting objects who utter them, and to soften down and mellow the tone of high pitched voices, will often find something affecting in their honest and unpremeditated complaints. Their voices are often fine, and the sentences they utter, are the language, most commonly, of real suffering, devested of affectation or art. From the great frequency with which these melancholy chantings, and the profuse flow of tears occur, as the consequences of intoxication among them, one might infer, either that their condition has in it a greater share of sorrow and of suffering than that of some other races, or that the excitement of strong drink affects them in a different manner. A fair inference, at least, is, that in their sober moments, they, like other men, wear a mask. Indeed, those who best know the Indians, are best acquainted with the constant efforts they make at concealment, and how well they at length teach the outward aspect to conceal or misrepresent the internal emotions. But for these unpremeditated effusions, particularly for the whining and drivelling of intoxication, the most enthusiastic admirer of the Indians will not claim the appellation of poetry. If any thing among them deserves this name, we must search for it among those traditionary songs which descend from father to son, and are transferred from man to man by purchase, to be used in their feasts, in the administration of remedies to the sick, and above all, in medicine hunting. That some of the songs thus preserved have considerable antiquity, we do not doubt; that they have much merit as poetical compositions, we are not disposed to assert. The poetry of the Indians, like their eloquence, requires the assistance of able translators, and those not too scrupulous to draw only from the materials of the original.

The method of delineation, by which they aid the memory in retaining the recalling, on occasion, these compositions, exhibits, perhaps, one of the earliest steps towards a written language. Yet, from its existence among them, in the present form, one would not hastily infer, that they had never been intruded upon by men of another race, learning or arts would finally have flourished among them. There are but too many evidences, that the aboriginal Americans are, by temperament, by some peculiarity of physical structure, or moral propensity, a more sluggish race, than the European; consequently, destined to a slow advance, or, perhaps, like most of the Asiatics, to be for ages stationary, or retrogradent, in the journey of improvement. We would not risk the assertion, that the Americans are an inferior race; the barrier to their improvement appears to be that indolence which is not less a habit of their minds than of their bodies, and which disqualifies them for spontaneous and long continued and laborious thinking. Hunger may, and does, overcome the habit of bodily indolence, or, at least, sometimes interrupts it; but, in the Indian character, the tendency is always to quiescence. Instances are infinitely rare, among them, of that restlessness of mind so common in the European race, which is ever in quest of something beyond the complete gratification of the wants of the body, and which has been the true source of so many great and ennobling actions. The past history of this race of men, is not wanting in instances of the manifestation of that inherent sluggishness of disposition, which has kept them back from the knowledge, the improvements, and the civilization, which have been so long urged upon them. Let it be granted, as doubtless it should be, that the Jesuits, and, to some extent, at least the Moravian, and other protestant missionaries, commenced their labours where they should have ended them, by offering to the benighted minds of the Indians, the stupendous, and, to them, totally incomprehensible doctrines of the christian religion; and that they, in a great measure, neglected to teach them those arts, which, by ensuring an abundance of means for the sustenance of life, might enable them, first of all, to fix in settled habitations, and afterwards gradually to adopt those habits and opinions which have ever been found indispensable in preparing the wilderness for the reception of the good seed. Yet, must we not acknowledge, that the descendants of those who were early received into intimate association with the whites, and learned from them the mechanical, and all the common arts of life, are, at this time, lamentably deficient in the virtues, as well as the knowledge we might have expected from them?

It is no part of the design of these remarks, to discourage any attempts that may be made to introduce the christian religion among these people; on the contrary, we look upon these efforts as always, in a greater or less degree, useful to the Indians; they originate as well in a diffusive and amiable benevolence, as a feeling of justice, and severe, though tardy compunction, which would seek, at this late day, to render to the starved and shivering remnant of the people who received us to their country in our day of small things, some recompense for the fair inheritance which we have wrested from their forefathers. The example of the Cherokees, and some others in the south, has been sufficient to prove, that under the influence of a mild climate, and a fertile soil, these people can be taught habits of settled, if not of persevering industry. From this condition of things, we can already see how, among that people, habits of mental enterprise and industry are to spring up, and we look forward with confidence to a source of continued improvement. That all the other bands and tribes, under similar auspices, and similar influences, would pursue a similar course, cannot be doubted. Philologists and speculative theorists may divide and class as they please; to the patient and industrious observer, who has mingled intimately with this race, in the low and fertile districts of the Mississippi, in the broad and smiling plains of Arkansaw and Red River, in the forests of the Upper Mississippi, and among the pines and the mosses of the upper lakes, it will be evident that the aboriginal people of the United States Territory, are all of one family, not by physical constitution and habit only, but by the structure and temperament of their minds; their modes of thinking and acting; and, indeed, in all physical and mental peculiarities, which set them apart from the remainder of the human family, as a peculiar people. Whatever course has, in one situation, proved in any measure effectual, to reclaim them from their vague and idle habits, will certainly succeed in another situation, though perhaps more slowly, as they may be influenced by a less genial climate, or a more barren soil.

_Song for the metai, or for medicine hunting._

Fig. 1. Shi-e-gwuh ne-no-no-nen-dum ah-me, Me-tai we-nin-ne-wug, ne-kau-nug ane-mub-be-un-neh.[59]

Now I hear it, my friends, of the Metai, who are sitting about me.

This, and the three following, are sung by the principal chief of the Metai, to the beat of his bwoin ah-keek, or drum. The lines from the sides of the head of the figure indicate hearing.

2. O-wa-nain ba-me-je-waun-ga? Man-i-to O-ba-me-je-wa-un-ga.

Who makes this river flow? The Spirit, he makes this river flow.

The second figure is intended to represent a river, and a beaver swimming down it.

3. Ka-weh-whau-bo-me-tai, ka-weh-whau-bo-me-tai neh-kau-nuk neej-huh nish-a-nau-ba ka-ke-ka-ne-me-kwain neh-kau-nuk.

Look at me well, my friends; examine me, and let us understand that we are all companions.

This translation is by no means literal. The words express the boastful claims of a man, who sets himself up for the best and most skilful in the fraternity.

4. O-wa-nain ba-bah-mis-sa-haht, weej-huh nish-a-nau-ba? Be-nais-se-wah ba-bah-mo-sa-haht, weej-huh nish-a-nau-ba.

Who maketh to walk about, the social people? A bird maketh to walk about the social people.

By the bird, the medicine man means himself; he says, that his voice has called the people together. Weej-huh nish-a-nau-ba, or weej-a nish-a-nau-ba, seems to have the first syllable from the verb, which means, to accompany. The two lines drawn across, between this figure and the next, indicate that here the dancing is to commence.

5. Neen ba-pah-mis-sa-gahn ne-goche ah-wes-sie neen-gah-kwa-tin ah-waw.

I fly about, and if any where I see an animal, I can shoot him.

This figure of a bird, (probably an eagle or hawk,) seems intended to indicate the wakefulness of the senses, and the activity required to ensure success in hunting. The figure of the moose, which immediately follows, reminding the singer of the cunning and extreme shyness of that animal, the most difficult of all to kill.

6. Neen-go-te-naun ke-da-ne,[60] ne-miz-zho-taun ke-da-ne, ah-wis-sie ke-da-ne, ne-miz-zho-taun ke-da-ne.

I shoot your heart; I hit your heart, oh animal, your heart, I hit your heart.

This apostrophe is mere boasting, and is sung with much gesticulation and grimace.

7. A-zhe-nahng gwit-to iah-na ish-ko-tang a-zhe-nahng gwit-to iah-na.

I make myself look like fire.

This is a medicine man, disguised in the skin of a bear. The small parallelogram, under the bear, signifies fire, and they, by some composition of gunpowder, or other means, contrive to give the appearance of fire to the mouth and eyes of the bear skin, in which they go about the village late at night, bent on deeds of mischief, oftentimes of blood. We learn how mischievous are these superstitions, when we are informed, that they are the principal men of the Metai, who thus wander about the villages, in the disguise of a bear, to wreak their hatred on a sleeping rival, or their malice on an unsuspecting adversary. But the customs of the Indians require of any one who may see a medicine man on one of these excursions, to take his life immediately, and whoever does so is accounted guiltless.

8. Ga-tah e-no-tum mau-na ne-be-way me-ze-ween, ne-be-way neen-dai, gin-no-tah mau-na.

I am able to call water from above, from beneath, and from around.

Here the medicine man boasts of his power over the elements, and his ability to do injury or benefit. The segment of a circle with dots in it, represents the water, and the two short lines touching the head of the figure, indicate that he can draw it to him.

9. Yah-nah-we nah-gwe-hah-ga e-nai-ne-wah, kin-ne-nah.

Yah-nah-we nah-gwe-hah-ga ma-tai-mo-sah, kin-ne-nah.

Yah-nah-we nah-gwe-hah-ga o-ba-no-sah, kin-ne-nah.

I cause to look like the dead, a man I did.

I cause to look like the dead, a woman I did.

I cause to look like the dead, a child I did.

The lines drawn across the face of this figure, indicate poverty, distress, and sickness; the person is supposed to have suffered from the displeasure of the medicine man. Such is the religion of the Indians! Its boast is to put into the hands of the devout, supernatural means, by which he may wreak vengeance on his enemies, whether weak or powerful, whether they be found among the foes of his tribe, or the people of his own village. This Metai, so much valued and revered by them, seems to be only the instrument, in the hands of the crafty, for keeping in subjection the weak and the credulous, which may readily be supposed to be the greater part of the people.

10. Ain-de-aun, ain-de-aun, ne-kau-neh; ah-wes-sie, an-wes-sie, ne-kau-neh, ne-mah-meek ko-naw-waw, ne-kau-neh.

I am such, I am such, my friends; any animal, any animal, my friends, I hit him right, my friends.

This boast of certain success in hunting, is another method by which he hopes to elevate himself in the estimation of his hearers. Having told them that he has the power to put them all to death, he goes on to speak of his infallible success in hunting, which will always enable him to be a valuable friend to such as are careful to secure his good will.

_Song for the Metai only._

Fig. 1. Nah-ne-bah o-sa aun neen-no ne-mah-che oos-sa ya-ah-ne-no. (Twice.)

I walk about in the night time.

This first figure represents the wild cat, to whom, on account of his vigilance, the medicines for the cure of diseases were committed. The meaning probably is, that to those who have the shrewdness, the watchfulness, and intelligence of the wild cat, is entrusted the knowledge of those powerful remedies, which, in the opinion of the Indians, not only control life, and avail to the restoration of health, but give an almost unlimited power over animals and birds.

2. Neen-none-da-aun ke-to-ne-a, ma-ni-to we-un-ne.

I hear your mouth, you are an ill (or evil) spirit.

The wild cat, (or the sensible and intelligent medicine man,) is always awake; or if he seems to sleep, by means of the supernatural powers of his medicine, he becomes acquainted with all that passes around him. If one man speaks evil of another, to bring sickness upon him, the wild cat hears and knows it; but confident in his own superior strength, he disregards it. At the bar they begin to dance. The lines from the mouth of the human figure, represent the speeches of the evil minded and malicious.

3. Shi-a ne-mo-kin-nuh-we, be-zhe-wa-wah[61] neah-wa. (Twice.)

Now I come up out of the ground; I am wild cat.

I am master of the wild cats; and having heard your talk, I come up out of the ground to see what you do. This man, it appears, claims superiority over the other medicine men, and now rouses himself to attend to what is passing. The bar across the neck of the figure representing the wild cat, indicates that he is just coming out of the earth.

4. Bin-nah! neen be-zhe-wa-wah ke-meen-waw-bum-me-na.

Behold! I am wild cat; I am glad to see you all wild cats.

This figure, with open eyes and erect ears, denotes earnestness and attention.

The word ke-meen-waw-bum-me-na, affords a strong instance of what has been called the synthetic character of this language; _ke_, the inseparable pronoun, in the accusative plural, _meen_, from ne-mee-noan-dun, (I love, or am pleased,) and waw-bum from ne-waw-bo-maw, (I see.)

5. Ne-man-i-to, o-wa-she-na a-ai-gah nee-na ketto-we goh-we-ke-na.

I am a spirit; what I have I give to you in your body.

This is the figure of a medicine man, with his pah-gah-ko-gua-un, or the instrument with which he beats his drum, in his hand. He appears to be boasting of his own powers.

6. Ah-ne ah-gah, kah-neen-na ke-taus-saw-wa-unna ke-nis-se-go-na.

Your own tongue kills you; you have too much tongue.

This is addressed to the malicious man, and the slanderer, one who speaks evil of others. His crooked and double speech goes out of his mouth, but is changed to an arrow in his hand, and turned against himself; his own body bears the marks of the injuries he would have inflicted on others. The lines across the chest are the traces of misfortune, brought on him by the indulgence of his own malicious disposition. In the songs and addresses of some of the most esteemed chiefs, or persons, who may be considered in some measure set apart for the Metai, are many attempts to convey and enforce moral instruction, or rather the inculcation of those opinions and actions which constitute the virtues of savage life.

_Song for beaver hunting and the Metai._

Fig. 1. O-nub-be-tum-maun, Metai-we-gaun, Manito-we-ga-un.

I sit down in the lodge of the Metai, the lodge of the Spirit.

This figure is intended to represent the area of the Metai-we-gaun, or medicine lodge, which is called also the lodge of the Manito, and two men have taken their seats in it. The matter of the song seems to be merely introductory.

2. Neezh-o-go-na we-tah-bim mah-kum-ma ne-kaun; ne-o-go-na we-tah-bim mah-kum-ma ne-ka-un.

Two days must you sit fast, my friend; four days must you sit fast, my friend.

The two perpendicular lines on the breast of this figure, are read neo-gone, (two days,) but are understood to mean two years; so of the four lines drawn obliquely across the legs, these are four years. The heart must be given to this business for two years, and the constrained attitude of the legs indicates the rigid attention, and serious consideration, which the subject requires.

3. Wha-be-nia, Meen-de-mo-sah, ke-ko-nia wha-be-nia.

Throw off, woman, thy garments, throw off.

The power of their medicines, and the incantations of the Metai, are not confined in their effect to animals of the chase, to the lives and the health of men; they control, also, the minds of all, and overcome the modesty, as well as the antipathies of women. The Indians firmly believe that many a woman, who has been unsuccessfully solicited by a man, is not only, by the power of the Metai, made to yield, but even in a state of madness, to tear off her garments, and pursue after the man she before despised. These charms have greater power than those in the times of superstition among the English, ascribed to the fairies, and they need not, like the plant used by Puck, be applied to the person of the unfortunate being who is to be transformed; they operate at a distance, through the medium of the Miz-zin-ne-neens.

4. Na-wy-o-kun-ne-nah wun-nah-he-nun-ne-wah ba-mo-sa keen-nah-na.

Who makes the people walk about? It is I that calls you.

This is in praise of the virtue of hospitality, that man being most esteemed among them, who most frequently calls his neighbours to his feast.

5. He-o-win-nah ha-ne-mo-we-tah neen-ge-te-mah-hah bo-che-ga-ha-ne Mo-e-tah neen-ge-te-mah hah-nah.

Any thing I can shoot with it, (this medicine,) even a dog I can kill with it.

6. Nin-goo-te-naun ke-ta-he, e-nah-ne-wah ke-ta-he.

I shoot thy heart, man, thy heart.

He means, perhaps, a buck moose by the word e-nah-ne-wah, or man.

7. Neen ne-na-sah waw-be-maung neen-ne-na-sah.

I can kill a white loon, I can kill.

The white loon, _rara avis nigroque simillino cygno_, is certainly a rare and most difficult bird to kill; so we may infer, that this boaster can kill any thing, which is the amount of the meaning intended in that part of his song, recorded by the five last figures. Success in hunting they look upon as a virtue of a higher character, if we may judge from this song, than the patience under suffering, or the rakishness among women, or even the hospitality recommended in the former part.

8. Ne-kau-nah-ga....

My friends....

This seems to be an attempt to delineate a man sitting with his hands raised to address his friends; but the remainder of his speech is not remembered. This is sufficient to show that the meaning of the characters in this kind of picture writing is not well settled, and requires a traditional interpretation to render it intelligible.

9. Shah bwo-ah-hah-mah ne-mow-why-waw-ne-no ah-buh-hah-mah ge-we-na-she-mah-ga.

I open my wolf skin, and the death struggle must follow.

This is a wolf skin, used as a medicine bag, and he boasts, that whenever he opens it, something must die in consequence.

_Song for medicine hunting—rarely for the Metai._

Fig. 1. Waw-ne-ge-ah-na gah-ne-geah-na Manito-wah-ga gah-ge-zhe-hah-gwaw gah-ne-ge-ah-na.

I wished to be born, I was born, and after I was born I made all spirits.

2. Gee-she-hah-ga manito-whah-ga.

I created the spirits.

The figures in the commencement of this long and much esteemed religious song, represent Na-na-bush, the intercessor, the nephew of mankind. They seem designed to carry back the thoughts towards the beginning of time, and have a manifest allusion to a period when this mysterious and powerful being exercised a wish to assume the form of a man. In the second figure he is represented as holding a rattle snake in his hand, and he calls himself the creator of the mani-toge. The Indians calling invisible and spiritual beings by the same name which they give to the lowest class of reptiles, it is doubtful whether Na-na-bush here claims to have created intelligences superior to man, or only reptiles, insects, and other small creatures, which they commonly call Mani-toag.

3. Na-hah-be-ah-na na-nah-boo-shoo, o-tish-ko-tahn ma-jhe-ke-sha.

He sat down Na-na-bush; his fire burns forever.

This figure appears to be descriptive of the first assumption by Na-na-bush of his office, as the friend and patron of men. He is represented as taking a seat on the ground. Fire, with the northern Indians, is the emblem of peace, happiness, and abundance. When one band goes against another, they go, according to their language, to put out the fire of their enemies; therefore, it is probable that in speaking of the perpetual fire of Na-na-bush, it is only intended to allude to his great power, and the permanence of his independence and happiness.[62]

4. Tah-gwa ne-mah-go-so-me-go, ne-ah-ge-zhe-we ne-kaun, ne-kaun.

Notwithstanding you speak evil of me, from above are my friends, my friends.

The fourth figure, which, in the original, is a priapus, indicates that a man takes up the discourse. The circle about his head, but descending no lower than his shoulders, shows that his help and his protection are from above, and in the strength thus derived he is able to defy those who speak evil of him, or seek, by the power of their medicines, to break his life.

5. Chaw-gaw ko-no mau-na se-maun-duk waw-wan-o-sa-wah.

I can use many kinds of wood to make a bear unable to walk.

The business of hunting is one of the first importance to the Indians, consequently, it finds a place in his devotions; indeed, devotion itself having apparently no object beyond the wants and weaknesses of this life, relief in times of hunger, is one of the most important blessings they ever ask for in their prayers. Accordingly, their young men are directed never to use these songs, or to have recourse to the medicine hunt, except in times of the extremest need.

6. Ke-te-na-ne-me-na we-nis-ze-bug-go-na an-no-kau-tum-mau-na, ke-te-na-ne-me-na.

Of you I think, that you use the We-nis-ze-bug-gone, I think this of you.

The common spicy wintergreen, a stalk of which this figure is intended to represent, is much valued as a medicine by the Indians. It is called _we-nis-se-bug-goon_, from _we-ne-sik_, the spicy birch, and _bug-goon_, which in composition means leaf.

7. Ma-mo-yah-na, mis-kwe, ma-mo-yah-na.

That which I take (is) blood, that which I take.

Here is the figure of a bear lying dead on the ground, and a hand is thrust into the body, to take out some of the blood. The instruction communicated probably is, that when the prayers offered in the preparation for the medicine hunt have been answered, and an animal killed, offerings should be immediately made, by taking some of the blood in the hand, and pouring it on the ground; or, as is more commonly done, by throwing a handful of it towards each of the four cardinal points.

8. Hi-a-gwo ne-ma-nah-ho-gahn nah-we-he-a! whe-e-ya!

Now I have something to eat.

The two last words seem to have no very definite meaning; they are repeated at the end of some of the sentences, apparently only to lengthen out the sound. This figure is that of a lean and hungry man, who, having asked for food, has been heard, and is now proceeding to allay his hunger.

9. We-wah-kwa be-gah-na mani-to-ga.

I cover my head, sitting down to sleep, ye spirits.

The figure is that of a man, probably designed to be represented in a recumbent position, and drawing his blanket over him. His prayer having been answered, his wants supplied, he declares to the spirits his intention to take repose.

10. Moosh-kin a guh-wah man-i-to-whah, whah-he-yah! whe-ha-ya! etc.

I fill my kettle for the spirit.

This is the hunter’s lodge, and the kettle hanging in it contains the heart of the animal killed in the medicine hunt, of which none but a man and a hunter must venture to taste. Should a woman or a dog even touch this heart, or the blood of the animal, sudden death, or lingering sickness, would follow it. This effect, as well as the dark colour which the Indians say the skin of the females assumes, in instances of the violation of this rule, they attribute to the effect of the medicine applied by the hunter to the heart of the Me-ze-nin-ne-shah. They point out instances of women, formerly distinguished among them for beauty, and particularly for the fairness of the skin, who, by eating of the heart, or touching the blood of an animal killed in medicine hunting, have not only lost that enviable distinction, but have become disgusting and frightful objects, the skin being blackened and covered with ulcers.

11. Nah-nah-wa-kum-me-ga wa-nuk-ke-she nah-neh keen-o-wah man-i-to-whah.

Long ago, in the old time, since I laid myself down, ye are spirits.

This is the figure of a snake running over the ground; but some are of opinion that the delineation should be different, namely, an old woman lying down in the middle of the ground. A new speaker is here introduced, which is the mythological personage called Me-suk-kum-me-go-kwa, the grand mother of mankind, to whom Na-na-bush gave in keeping, for the use of his uncles and aunts, all roots and plants, and other medicines, derived from the earth. She received, at the same time, especial direction never to leave home, and always to surrender to men the treasures deposited in her bosom, when they should be, in a suitable manner, demanded of her. Hence it is, that the medicine men make an address to Me-suk-kum-me-go-kwa, whenever they take any thing from the earth, which is to be used as medicine.

12. Ne-mo-kin-nen-naun she-maun-duk kwun-ne-no nuh-pe-mo-ke-ne-naun.

I open you for a bear, I open you.

Me-suk-kum-me-go-kwa speaks to one of the medicines whose power she had just acknowledged, by calling them spirits, and says, I disclose, or reveal you for a bear, or to enable the hunter to kill a bear.

13. Me-too-ga man-i-to-too-ga, heo-yeo-yah-yoh! he-ge-tah-waw-kum-me-ga wy-oan do-sa-jeek me-to-ga-nah, whe-i-ah! whe-i-ah!

That is a Spirit which comes both from above and below. (Here they begin to dance.)

14. Whain-je-neen-da su-mah-ga chah-ge-mah-ni-to-whah-ga. (Twice.)

Neen-nis-sah ween-neen-dah so-mah-we-neen-nah chah-ga-to man-i-to whah-ga, yah-we-he-ya! whe-ge-a! (Twice.)

I am he that giveth success, because all spirits help me.

15. Me-ge-ne-nah me-ge-ne-nah me-gwun-nah-ga me-ge-ne-nah, WHE-HE-YA! (Twice.)

The feather, the feather; it is the thing, the feather.

It sometimes happens that the hunter has wandered far from his lodge, and has neither birch bark on which to delineate his Me-zen-ne-neens, nor o-num-nu, or other powerful medicine to apply to its heart. In these cases he takes some of the ashes of his fire, and spreading it on a smooth place, he traces in it the figure of the animal; he then takes a feather and sticks it in the heart, then applies fire until it is consumed to the surface of the ashes, and on this he places the same reliance as on the more common method of treating the Me-zen-ne-neens.

16. Wha o-man-i-to-whah? HE-AH-E-WHE-YA! ma-she-ge-na pe-po-sa-jeek wha-in-je man-i-to-whah, ah-keeng pa-mo-sah HAH-HE-WHE-YA!

Who is a spirit? He that walketh with the serpent, walking on the ground; he is a spirit.

This figure is nearly the same as is given to Nana-bush, in the beginning of the song, and an allusion is probably intended to the time when this interpreter between mankind and the Supreme Spirit, the Creator of all things, was driven from the presence of his father, to dwell with the meanest things of this world. The allusions in the traditionary fables of the Algonkins, to the quarrel between Na-na-bush and the Great Spirit, are frequent, and cannot fail to remind any one of the most important of the doctrines of the christian religion. It can scarce be doubted that, from some source or other, these people have derived some obscure conceptions of the incarnation and mediatorial office of the second person in the Divine Trinity.[63]

17. He-ah gut-tah wees-sene, wun-no-kwa neen-nah neen-de-kwa-wug-ge-ga ween-dum mah-wah neen-nah-hah neen-nah whe-he-ya!

Now they will eat something, my women; now I tell them they will eat.

This figure, with open mouth and distended belly, seems to speak the language of human thanksgiving, and gratitude for favours conferred by a superior power.

18. O-num-mun-nah nin-go-che-we-nah. (Twice.)

This yellow ochre, I will try it.

The o-num-mun, a yellowish earth, which they find in many places, and which is particularly abundant on one of the branches of the Illinois River, thence called O-num-mun-ne See-be, when roasted in the fire, becomes red, and is a medicine to which they attribute great power. It is a little sack of this which is disproportionately represented in the hand of the figure.

19. Yah-hah nin-go-che-we-nah whe-he-ya-ha! be-nais-se-waw yah-hah nin-go-tin-non-gay nin-go-che-hah-hah, yah-hah nin-go-te-non-ga.

Now I wish to try my bird; sometimes I used to try, and sometimes it used to be something.

The figure is that of a bird’s skin, in which his medicine is contained, and it is that, and not the skin itself, he wishes to try.

20. Ah-wes-sie nees-sah neen-no, ka-she-e-way ke-kaunne-nah; ah-wis-sie nees-sah neen-no, whe-he-ya! He-whe ya!

I can kill any animal, because the loudspeaking thunder helps me; I can kill any animal.

This large bird, whose open mouth indicates the power of his voice, is not one who inhabits the earth, or is ever seen; he lives in the clouds, and his voice is the thunder. He is more commonly called a-nim-me-kee, but here ke-kaun; our loud sounding medicine is strong to give us wind or rain, or whatever state of the air may be needful to ensure success in the hunt.

21. Mah-mo-yah-na hah-che-maun-duk hah-yo-ta-he mah-mo-yah-na.

I take a bear, his heart I take.

The allusion is here to the observances respecting the heart and blood of animals killed in medicine hunting, and the sacrifices to be made in the event of success.

22. O-she-she-gwa-waw-tun-wa-we-tun-ga neen-dah buh-zheen-ga tun-wa-we-tun-ga, whe-he-ya!

A rattle snake makes a noise on the poles of my lodge; he makes a noise.

The jealousy of rival hunters is a frequent cause of quarrels and troubles among the Indians. This man boasts that the rattle snake, which always gives notice when danger is near, is on the poles of his lodge, and no evil can come near him without his being informed of it. His life is guarded by a superior power, and he fears not what his enemies can do to him.

23. O-shaw-wah-no nah-o-bah-guh-he gun-nun-na, ho-kah-mik a-no-gweh, whe-he-ya! Neen-da-bwa-wa se-to nah-na, whe-he! ya-ha!

To a Shawnee, the four sticks used in this song belonged. When struck together they were heard all over the country.

This is the figure of a man holding in his left hand the four nah-o-bah-e-gun-nun, or sticks, on which this song was recorded, and the authorship is claimed by a Shawnee, from whom the Ojibbeways acknowledge to have received it; and here, it is probable, the performance originally concluded. The remaining figures appear to have been added from other songs.

24. Hi-ah shah-we mah-mo-ke-ah-na Man-i-to ne-whaw-baw-maw ah-mik-kwug ne-whaw-baw-maig, whe-ha-ya!

I come up from below; I come down from above; I see the spirit; I see beavers.

The design of this figure is to suggest to the mind, that the spirit, to whom the prayers in the medicine hunting are addressed, not only knows where animals are on the surface of the ground, but that so great is his power, he can create them where they did not before exist, to supply the wants of those that pray unto him, and can cause them to come up out of the earth.

25. We-waw-bun-o-kah-tawn neen-gah-beah no-kwa-nah we-waw-bun o-kah-tawn, we-he-ha-ya!

I can make an east wind come and pass over the ground.

This is sung four times, the north, the west, and the south winds being each, in turn, substituted for the east wind here spoken of. The meaning is, that the spirit has power to give a wind in any direction that may be necessary for the success of the hunter; that he controls all the changes of the atmosphere, and will overrule them in such a manner as to ensure the success of those whose medicine is strong; in other words, whose prayer is effectual. They must therefore neither regard the wind nor the sky, but go forward in confidence of success. The idea of the circle in this figure, into which the winds are represented as rushing, is derived from the apparent form of the visible horizon; the Indians neither know, nor will they believe that the form of the earth is globular.

26. Na-nah nub-be-gah-ne-na ha-ge-tah wah-kum-me-ga uk-ke-ko-no-dah go-na, neen-na-nah nah-be-yahn-ne-na, ke-na-nah nub-be-ah neen-na, whe-he-yah! we-he-ya!

Thus have I sat down, and the earth above and below has listened to me sitting here.

This is again the figure of Na-na-bush, sitting on the earth, in the same attitude in which he is represented in the first part of the performance. The meaning is, that all who join in these devotional exercises must, throughout their continuance, which is for the greater part of the night, retain immoveably the same attitude, and give a serious attention to the performer, who must observe the same rule; and when all is finished, he, without uttering a word to any of those about him, rises and walks out of the lodge.

27. Pa-mo-ta-yah-na che-maun duh-kwa pa-mo-ta-yah-ga, whe-he-ya-ha!

I make to crawl, a bear, I make to crawl.

Probably the meaning is, that by these observances and by this prayer, the hunter may cause to crawl (kill) a bear, or any animal. It is to be observed, that a bear is never, in these songs, called by the common name, but always che-mahn-duk.

It requires two years of attentive study, in the intervals of leisure that occur in the life of a hunter, to learn this song, and he must pay his instructor the value of many beaver skins. It was first introduced into the band to which Mr. Tanner belonged, by an Ojibbeway of the village of Was-waw-gun-nink. Our narrator, as well as his foster brother, Wa-me-gon-a-biew, had paid this man, whose name was Ke-zha-shoosh, great sums for his medicines, and it was a quarrel originating in this subject, which ended in his assassination by Wa-me-gon-a-biew, as related in the preceding narrative. The Ojibbeways of Red River relate, and _some of them believe_, that very wonderful effects have been produced by this song, and the medicine belonging to it, such as, that after using it for four days one man succeeded in bringing a live moose into the midst of the village at Was-waw-gun-nink in such a state of fatuity, that he made, though uninjured, no effort to escape. These extravagant fables remind us of the powers attributed by the ancients to the music of Orpheus, and others of the earliest poets.

One of the established customs of the Indians, in relation to hunting, though not immediately connected with the subject of the preceding song, may be here mentioned. As in the case of many other customs, its origin is unknown, but its tendency seems to be to encourage the spirit of generous hospitality, and to render the proceeds of the chase the common property of the band to which the hunter belongs. The custom is, that if any man, in returning from his hunt, no matter how long and laborious it may have been, or how great may be the necessities of his own family, meet another just starting out to hunt, or even a little boy walking from the camp or village, he is bound to throw down at his feet, and give him whatever he may have brought. It is partly to avoid the effect of this custom, that the men oftentimes leave their game on the spot where they killed it, and the women are sent to bring in the meat. In other instances the hunter carries the animal on his back as far as he thinks he can without the risk of meeting men, then conceals it, and goes home. No difference is said to be made when game is taken which is not needed in the village for food; beavers, otters, martins, or whatever the hunter may have taken, he is expected to relinquish to the person who meets him.

_Song for the medicine hunting, particularly for beavers._

Fig. 1. Che-mahn-duk-kwa ne-muh-kwi-o-sa ne-ah-hah-wa, ne-an-hah-wa, ne-muh-kwi-o-sa, HE-AH-WHE-HE-AH!

A bear, I walk like a bear myself; myself, I walk like a bear.

The medicine man here speaks in his disguise of a bear skin. Ne-muh-kwi-o-sa might be more literally translated “I walk a bear;” it is the compound of neen-muk-kwaw and pa-pah-mo-sa, or ba-bah-mo-sa. Che-mahn-duk is commonly used, in these songs, for a bear.

2. Ah-wes-sie hi-ah-wa-nah bah-twa-we-tahng-gah? Waw-wash-kesh e-wah bah-twa-we-tahng-gah.

A beast, what beast comes calling? It is a deer comes calling.

The word bah-twa-we-tahng-gah is expressive not only of the peculiar call of the male deer, at the rutting season, but also of the circumstance that the animal is approaching the speaker: were he going the other way, or even standing still, the word would be different.

3. O-num-mun-nah nin-go-che-we-nah. (Twice.)

This yellow ochre, I will try it.

This is the same, in all respects, as No. 18, in the preceding song to Na-na-bush.

4. Wun-ne ho-i-yahn, wun-ne ho-i-ah-na nah-we-he-a he-o-ge-mah-wah ka-be-waw-bum-me-kwain wun-ne-hoi-yah nah-we-ne-a.

I disguise myself to cheat you, so that only a chief, if he sees me, can know who I am.

The hunter, to deceive the animal he wishes to kill puts on the dress of a white man, or assumes the appearance of some harmless creature, and he boasts that his disguise is so perfect as to deceive any but a chief medicine man, or a great hunter. It should be remembered, that the language of these songs is commonly that of distant allusion, rather than direct figure; hence, though the words may seem unmeaning to us, they always convey much signification to the Indians. Thus, in this instance, though the hunter says he puts on the appearance of a white man, it is probable he means that he disguises himself as a bear, or some other animal, equally harmless with a man who wears a hat, or a white man. That the Indians should think little of the white man’s skill in hunting, is by no means surprising.

5. I-ah-ne-wah-ho go-mo-yaun, i-ah-ne-wah-ho go-mo-yaun! i-am-mik-gung-ga-nah; i-ah-ne-wah-ho go-mo-yaun.

Can any one remain longer under water than me? I am beaver, and I can remain longer than any under water.

This language, descriptive of the difficulties in taking beaver, is put into the mouth of the animal himself.

6. I-an-we-be-ah-ne ne-hub-be-ah-na be-ah-na. (Many times repeated.)

I am well loaded; I sit down to rest; I am loaded.

The hunter hears, but he regards not the boasting language of the beaver. The evidence of his skill and success is on his back, suspended by a strap passing round his forehead; and to signify that his load is heavy, he sits down to rest.

7. Mah-mo-ke-hea hi-ah-maung-wug-e-he-a man-i-to we-he-tah.

He must come up, even the loon, though he is Manito.

This is another answer of the hunter to the boast of the beaver. Are you a greater diver than the loon? Yet even he must rise to the surface after a certain time. The country of the Ojibbeways abounding in small lakes, which sometimes lie very near each other, without any visible communication, they have taken up the idea that communications exist under ground, and they believe a loon can dive down in one, and come up in another of them. They think, also, that the beaver can carry down so much air entangled in his coat, that if left undisturbed at the bottom, he can thrust his nose into his fur, and breathe for some time.

8. Whe-gah ween-ah-waw sah-ge-mah-tik-o-waw, hio-ge-mah-waw, sah-ge-mah-tik-o-waw.

I can cut down that chief tree, though it be the tree of a chief.

The beaver says he can cut down any tree. Though a great hunter, and a man of medicine, may claim the tree, though he may have placed it there, the beaver can cut it down. Sah-gem-ah-tik reminds us of the word Sa-chem, derived from some of the eastern dialects of the Algonkin.

9. Neen-dah no-je-ah we-ah-wing man-i-to-we-tah we-ah-wing, etc.

Though he is Manito, I can work to take his body.

This is the hunter, cutting open the ice, or breaking up the beaver’s lodge, in pursuit of him. (At the bar they begin to dance.)

10. N’whe-go-tin-no-waw a-zhe-un-na chaw-gaw-wais-sie a-zhe-un-na.

I would shoot, as you told me, any animal; as you told me.

This is addressed to Na-na-bush, and the hunter professes his desire to follow his advice in every thing, that he may be assured success in hunting. Na-na-bush is particularly the hunter’s god, and from him his best skill is derived.

11. Neen n’buh-we-hah he-na-ne-whaw, na-ne-buh-we-hah. Neen n’buh-we-hah meen-da-mo-sah, na-ne-buh-we-hah.

I make to stand, a man, I make him stand.

The words e-na-ne-wah and meen-da-mo-sah, mean here the male or female of the animals hunted; and as, at some seasons, only the males are fat, and at others only the females, the one line or the other is sung first, according to the season. The word n’buh-we-hah is more commonly spoken, particularly by the Mississippi Indians, n’po-we-ah.

12. Ne-ah-wa een-da-be-to-na ne-ah-how.

Myself, I do good to myself.

It is certainly politic for the medicine men, who receive extravagant fees not only for teaching their songs but for the medicines used conjointly with them, to remind their employers that all the expenditures they make are not unavailing. Here, then, is a figure which seems to be that of a female, covered profusely with the clothing purchased from the proceeds of the medicine hunts; over the head of the figure are blankets and cloth, and around the waist is suspended an ample garment, belonging to a woman.

13. Ne-kaun-naw nin-go-che-hah ne-kaun-naw.

My friends, I will try, my friends.

Prosperity, as among other men, leads to insolence and the abuse of power. This man, who, in imagination, has been successful in his pursuits, whose medicine has made him rich, and clothed his family, now proposes to turn its power against his fellows. The victim of his malice lies on the ground, transfixed with an enormous arrow.

14. Na-wi-ahn, na-wi-ah-na, o-ho-o wun-nah he-na-ne-waw we-gah-be-waw bum-me-kwi-a-ne.

A moccasin snake; a moccasin snake’s skin is my medicine bag; let any man come to see me that will.

If any man is jealous of my success in hunting, let him know that a moccasin snake skin is my medicine bag; let him know that he cannot, without danger, come in my way.

15. Ne-ah-we-na, ne-ah-we-na, waw-bun-dum-mo a-zhe-nah-gwuk ne-ah-we-na.

Myself, myself, behold me, and see that I look like myself.

This is some great medicine man, probably the author of the song, who shows himself to the people.

16. Che-be-gau-ze-naung gwit-to-i-ah-na maun-dah-ween ah-kee-ge neen-wa-nah gua-kwaik ke-nah gwit-to-i-ah-na.

I come to change the appearance of the ground, this ground; I make it look different in each season.

This is a Manito, who, on account of his immensity of tail, and other peculiarities, has no prototype. He claims to be the ruler over the seasons. He is probably Gitche-a-nah-mi-e-be-zhew, (great under-ground wild cat.)

17. Ka-whaw-bum-me-ta he-ah ne-haun-na che-mo-ke ah-na he-ah ne-haun-na.

You may see me, my friends; I have risen, my friends.

This is the Manito of the ground, who puts only his head above the surface to speak; but in this figure his horns are omitted, perhaps by mistake.

18. Muk-ko-we-tah-wa neen-dah-nees-sah e-kwuh-e-tah-wa.

Were he a bear, I could kill him, were he a louse.

Thus aided by the Manito of the seasons, or of the weather, and by him of the ground, as is expressed by the two preceding figures, the hunter says he could find and kill whatever was a bear, though it were no bigger than a louse. The figure is that of a bear, with a louse on it.

19. O-ta-nuh we-yo che-mahn-duk o-ta-nuh-we-yo.

His tongue, a bear, his tongue.

The tongue, like the heart and blood in the other song, is now to be kept from the profane touch of a woman or a dog.

20. Man-i-to uh-we-she-nah-na io-kun-na man-i-to we-she-nah-na.

A spirit is what I use; a spirit do thou use.

The speaker, in this instance, is Na-na-bush, who gave mankind an arrow; that is, all those arms which give man dominion over the brutes. He used these things before us, and we must use them agreeably to his instruction and example.

21. We-ah-hah muk-ko-we-e-tah yah nah-mah kummig, ain-dah-zheesh she-no-gwain muh-ko-we-tah.

Although it were a bear concealed under the ground, I could find him.

Thus aided by the Manitoag, and armed with the weapons of Na-na-bush, what animal shall be able to escape from the hunter?

_Medicine song, for hunting, and sometimes for making love._

Fig. 1. Neen-nah-hah ah-ne-an-do-gwain ga-no-zei wain-je man-i-to whe-gwain, we-hi-yah, we-he-ya!

What I know not makes gano-zhe (the long moon) Manito.

One of the winter moons, commonly called Gitche-manito-o-gee-zis, (the Great Spirit’s moon,) which corresponds to our month January, is considered particularly favourable for hunting. Children born in that month are reckoned long lived.

2. He-ah neen-gwi-o-ho o-ho man-i-to-we-tah-hah gah-neen-gwi-o we-i-ah-nah we-he-a!

My painting, that makes me a Manito.

One of the particular kinds of medicine to be used with this song, is mixed with o-num-un, and used in painting the face. The Indians attribute to it the greatest efficacy in giving immediate success; but many of them fear to use it, from a belief that it will have an injurious effect on them after death. A man who has used it will, they say, in the country to which we go after death, have no flesh upon those parts of his face where the medicine has touched. It is rare to observe, among the Indians, any ideas which would lead to the belief, that they look upon a future state as one of retribution. The innocent are those who fail to reach the villages of the dead; and the unfortunate are those who, when they arrive there, are distinguished from others, by being compelled to dance on their heads. As might be expected from a people in such profound ignorance, it is not to those actions which are pernicious to happiness, and the true well being of the society, or the individual here, that the idea of future punishment is attached.

3. (The words belonging to this figure are lost. He seems to be beating the Me-tig-waw-keek, or metai drum, and is doubtless boasting of his great medicine.)

4. Yah-hah-ween-gah we-ah-hah ye-hi-ah-yah we-he-a? yah-hah o-ge-mah-waw goan-dum-mo-nah o-ge-mah-waw.

I am able to make a chief swallow an arrow.

This has allusion to the thrusting of arrows, and similar instruments, into the stomach, by the medicine men. The words are put, perhaps, into the mouth of the medicine. Tricks of this kind are often exhibited in the Metai, as well as several miserable sleight of hand tricks, which all the initiated, at least, seem willing to look upon as miracles. A common performance is that of suffering one’s self to be shot at with a marked bullet, which had previously been shown to all the persons sitting in the lodge. The medicine man stands at one end of the lodge, with a small wooden bowl in his hand, and his companion, after having exhibited the bullet, loads the gun in the sight of all present; then dancing and singing backwards and forwards, discharges the piece, apparently at the head, but taking particular care not to hit him. As soon as the smoke is dispersed, the one who had stood to receive the fire is seen with a ball in his dish, marked accurately like the one which had been put in the gun. With this he dances, exulting and shouting, three or four times around the lodge. Other tricks are played with little puppets of wood and feathers moved by strings, but kept concealed in sacks, or otherwise. Many of these things, too childish and trifling to be minutely described, are the standing wonders of the boasted ceremonies of the Metai, or grand medicine, the principal religious ceremony of the Indians.

5. Wuh-we-kwa-be-yah neen-na neen-go-che meen-da-mo-sah nei-an dun-nub be-ah-neen-na.

I cover over myself, sitting down in a secret place with a woman.

6. Hug-ge-ta a-a-ho ke-ta-nee-na ke-ta-nee-na.

I speak of your heart; (to a moose.)

7. Do-je-teem mam-mo-e-yahn ween-e-se mam-mo-e-yahn o-nah-ge-che mam-mo-e-yahn.

Your tripe, I take your melt, I take; your straight gut I take.

These are the choice parts of a moose; the attitude of the hunter is expressive of his exultation; it is the o-nah-ge-che which he holds in his hands. It is this part of which those delicious sausages, called _Hunter’s Puddings_, are made.

8. Neen-dai-yah gutche-hah hi-e-kwa-waw-hah, neen-nonadah-waw sah-ween a-ye-ke-tote whe-i-ah-hah whe-he-ya!

I can make her ashamed, because I hear what she says of me.

9. Waus-suh wa-kum-me-ga na-bah-gwaim, whe-ah whe-he-a yag-gah-ming-go na-bah-gwa.

Though you slept very far off, though you slept on the other side.

He boasts of his success with women. If his mistress slept ever so far off, even across a lake, his arm is long enough to reach her, and she will hear his voice.

10. Neen-nah-mah neen-nah-je-ta-ha-zwaw-ga, neen-nah-mah n’do-to waw-wha-to-ga n’do-to waw-wa-we-hia-ah, ya-we-he-a!

I draw your heart up, that is what I do to you.

It is intended here to represent a moose at a distance; and the line from his heart to the lodge of the Indian, indicates that he draws it, or by means of the power of his medicine controls the inclination of the animal, and brings him to a situation where he can easily be found.

11. Ne-we-nah neezh-wah neen-nah hi-ah-wa-sah (a-wes-sie,) ne-wa neezh-wah neen-nah.

I can kill any animal, I can kill.

His large knife seems intended to represent his confidence of success, and the animal is before him which he cannot only kill, but cut up.

12. O-jee-bi-yahn man-i-to, yeo-wah-ne-he-e-nah, yeo-wah-ha o-jee-bi-yahn man-i-to, whe-he-ya!

A dead man’s skin is Manito.

Sometimes they use sacks of human skin to contain their medicines, and they fancy that something is thus added to their efficacy.

13. Me-nee-sing, a-be-gwain neen-ge-wun-naijh che-hah-ga-to-ga me-nee-sing a-be-gwain, whe-he-ya!

Were she on a distant island, I can make her crazy to swim over, were she on a distant island.

Here he again boasts of the power of his medicine over the inclinations of females. This song seems to present a fair view of the state of the _passion of love_ among the Ojibbeways.

_Song of a medicine man, at the giving of medicine to a sick person._

Fig. 1. Neen-gaw-gaw wain-e-me-ko o-ho-i-ah a-nish-a nau-ba.

I say some person has injured your life.

Among the Indians, when a doctor is called for the sick, it is usual to present him, on his entering the lodge of his patient, a kettle of the best food they are able to procure; and it is probable he commonly commences his treatment, as in this instance, by assuring his patient that he is suffering from the malice of some enemy, who has _shot medicine at him_, or practised upon his _me-zin-ne-neens_, to make him a victim of disease. Complaints of whatever kind, are commonly among them, if not always, attributed to _bad medicine_, under which comprehensive term they include every thing, except open violence, which can be the consequence of human malice and envy. The medicine man will generally go much farther than to tell his patient that he is under the influence of the incantations of somebody; he will name some person, either his own or his patient’s enemy, as he may think most for his interest. This point is fully illustrated in the history of Ais-kaw-ba-wis, in the preceding narrative. The figure has a little sack of medicine, and his song is represented by the two lines coming out of his mouth.

2. Bin-nah neen-ne-kaun, ne-mah-tah-ho-ne-go-ka. (Twice.)

Behold me, my friends, I distribute.

He directs his Me-zhin-no-way, or attendant, to distribute to his friends, and whatever persons may have assembled in the lodge on this occasion, the kettle which he holds in his hand, and which is a part of his fee.

3. Hah-we-yah be-zin-duh-wug-ga ha-be-zin-duh-wug-ga neej-a-nish-a-nau-ba nin-gat-tum-me-ga.

There is talking, there is talking, but I will eat my people.

Many diseases the Indians suppose to exist within the body, in form of a worm, or something similar, and it is a being of this kind who now speaks from the stomach of the sick person. He says, “I hear your threatening and confident words, but it is not in your power to displace me. I will devour my own, or those people that belong to me.” The medicines which this song is intended to accompany, are often given in cases of a malady, to which white men are rarely subject. It commences by a swelling of a toe, or on some part of the foot, sometimes of the knee, and this at length comes to a suppuration. An indolent and tumid ulcer gradually takes possession of the whole foot, extending to the ankle and leg, and life at length yields to it, though usually after many years. Two distinguished men of the Sioux, namely, the son of the Red Wing, of the village at Lake Pepin, and Tah-tunk-ah-nah-zhe, a chief from the plains, were suffering with this complaint in 1825. The latter, who had lately been attacked, found some benefit from the application, in various forms, of the nitro-muriatic acid. The Indians look upon the complaint as incurable, except by the extirpation of the diseased bone; and the author of the foregoing narrative has known one successful instance of this treatment. The Indian himself amputated the bone both above and below the knee joint, preserving the muscles of the leg. He survived and recovered, but his leg was of course useless. (At the bar they begin to dance.)

4. Hah-go-way ke-new-wug-ga ki-ah-ga ga-to-che-ga ki-ah-go ga-to-che-ga.

This is the gray eagle talking; he will talk.

Here the doctor speaks in his own person. He compares himself to the gray eagle, whom the Ojibbeways consider undisputed sovereign among the birds.

5. This figure represents the sun, but the song is lost.

6. Ka-moke-yah-hah ka-moke-yah waw-be-gaw-gaw-ge waw-ga.

Come ye up, come ye up, white crows.

7. Ka-kaik koi-ah-na bub-bah mis-sa-wuh.

My henhawk’s skin will fly about.

_Song of Chi-ah-ba, a celebrated Ojibbeway Medicine man, at the administration of his remedies._

Fig. 1. Ah-way-ah noan-dah-wug-ga muk-kud-da ge-na-beek goo-we-ah-we-aun ne-kaun.

Some one, I hear him; but I make myself black snake, my friend.

The medicine man speaks in his own person. He hears some one; he knows who it is that has used bad medicine to break his patient’s life; but he brings, to oppose it, the power and craftiness of the black snake.

2. Ain-dun wa-we-tum-maun o-ge-tah-kum-maig ke-he-a. Ain-dun wa-we-tum-maun, etc.

I myself speak, standing here on the ground.

He takes a bold and open stand against his enemies, and those of his employer.

3. We-go-nain-wa-we-ow we-he-naun? O-ge-na-beek-o-ga wa-we-yah we-he-nah.

What is this I put in your body? Snake skins I put in your body.

The two first verses are sung on entering the lodge, and before he commences giving his medicine. The third accompanies the exhibition of the first dose, which consists either of eight snake skins tied together, and the foremost having a small frog fastened to the head of it, as in the figure, or of eight fathoms of a small cord, or thong of leather, and eight wild cat’s claws fastened at equal intervals. Difficult as the swallowing of this prescription may appear to us, and as it doubtless is, the patient receives and swallows it, all the time on his knees, and the doctor stands by singing the above song, and occasionally aiding with his finger, or a little water, in the inglutition of his formidable remedy. After this has remained a shorter or longer time in the stomach, according to the inclination of the medicine man, it is to be withdrawn; and it is in this operation, particularly when the cat’s claws are used, that the patient suffers the most excruciating torture. The end which is first given up is put into the hand of some of the attendants, and they dance and sing with it about the lodge, as the remainder is gradually given back. Then the medicine man sings the following, while the dance becomes general.

4. Ne-man-i-to-we-tah hi-yo-che-be-kun-na on-je-man-i-to-wee-yaun we-ug-usk.

I am Manito, the roots of shrubs and weeds make me Manito.

5. O-ge-na-beek-o-ga ne-kau-naug.

Snakes (are) my friends.

6. A-nah-me be-zhe ne-kau-naw.

Under-ground wild cat, is my friend.

At the fourth verse, he exhibits his medicines, which he says are the roots of shrubs, and of We-ug-gusk-oan, or herbs, and from these he derives his power, at least in part; but lest his claim, founded on a knowledge of these, should not be considered of sufficient importance, he proceeds to say, in the fifth and sixth verses, that the snakes and the under-ground wild cat are among his helpers and friends. The ferocity and cunning, as well as the activity of the feline animals, have not escaped the notice of the Indians, and very commonly they give the form of animals of this family to those imaginary beings whose attributes bear, in their opinion, some resemblance to the qualities of these animals. Most of them have heard of the lion, the largest of the cats known to white men, and all have heard of the devil; they consider them the same. The wild cat here figured has horns, and his residence is under the ground; but he has a master, Gitche-a-nah-mi-e-be-zhew, (the great under-ground wild cat,) who is, as some think, Matche-Manito himself, their evil spirit, or devil. Of this last they speak but rarely. Gitche-a-nah-mi-e is a compound epithet, and in this application can scarce fail to remind the Greek scholar of many similarly compounded words in that language. The English reader will perceive the resemblance in the following “most heroic” line, preserved by Cowper:—

“To whom replied the Devil yard-long tailed.”

There was never any thing more truly Grecian, says the learned translator of the Iliad, than this triple epithet.

_War medicine song._

Fig. 1. Che-be-moke sa-aun.

I am rising.

This figure represents the rising sun, and intimates to the warrior the vigilance and activity required in the business on which he goes.

2. Ma-mo-yah-na ge-zhik ma-mo-yah-na. Ma-mo-yah-na ah-ke ma-mo-yah-na.

I take the sky, I take. I take the earth, I take.

This is all grasping ambition; with one hand he seizes the earth, with the other the sky, or the son, for ge-zhik means either.

He thinks it were an easy leap

it were an easy leap To pluck bright honour from the pale faced moon;

but this effervescence of valour is apt to be of short duration, showing itself more in words than in deeds.

3. Ba-mo-sa-yah-na kee-zhik-onk ba-mo-sah-yah-na.

I walk through the sky, I walk.

This figure is to represent the moon, and may be designed to intimate to the warrior that his business is principally to be done in the night time.

4. Waw-bun-onk tuz-zhe-kwa[64] ne-waw-ween ne-go-ho-ga.

The eastern woman calls me.

This is, perhaps, some local allusion, or it may have been appended to the song in those times when the idea of taking prisoners of white women may have been a spur to the valour and enterprise of the Indian warrior. Admiration of the beauty of white women, on the part of the Indians, is not exclusively confined to the narratives of romance writers.

5. This figure, the words for which are lost, or purposely withheld, represents a lodge, a kettle, and a boy, who is a prisoner. The line from his heart to the kettle, indicates too plainly the meaning of the song. I know not whether any still doubt that the North American Indians are cannibals; if so, they are only those who have taken little pains to be correctly informed. The author of the preceding narrative had spent the best years of his life among the Ojibbeways; a woman of that tribe was, as he somewhere says, “the mother of his children;” and we need not wonder that, after becoming aware of the strong feeling of white men on this subject, he should be reluctant in speaking of it. Yet he makes no hesitation in saying, that the Sioux eat their enemies, and he once admitted, that in the large Ottawwaw settlement of Waw-gun-uk-ke-zie, he believed there were few, if any, persons living in the late war, who did not, at some time or other, eat the flesh of some people belonging to the United States. I see no reason why we should disbelieve the assertions of the Indians, and those who know them best, on this subject, or why we should expect from this race a degree of refinement and humanity, which we, and all who possess it, owe to a state of advanced civilization, and the influence of the christian religion. We doubt not that our pagan forefathers, in the wilds of Scotland, Ireland, or Hungary, ate the flesh, and particularly the hearts, of their enemies slain in battle. Why should we not believe this of the savages of our own continent?

_Song of the warriors about to start on a war party._

1. Ka-go sah-ween mow-we me-zhe-kain e-kwa-we-un-na ne-boi-ah-na mow-we me-zhe-ka.

Do not mourn, my women, for me, who am about to die.

2. Hah-me-ge-neen a-na-ne-mo-e-yahn a-bitche e-nin-neeng a-na-ne-mo-kwain ah-me-ge-neen a-na-ne-mo-e-yahn.

If any man thinks himself a great warrior, I think myself the same.

(This song has been published, and illustrated, by Mr. Schoolcraft.)