Chapter 5

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

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

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

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

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

"What is your wish?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

The last of the Six Nanticokes commenced his story thus:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

VI. THE UNIVERSAL MOTHER.

Before the world existed, and before mountains, men, and animals, were created; while the sky was yet without a sun, ere the moon and stars were hung up for the lamps of darkness, the Great Being, who is alike the preserver and sustainer of the red man and his younger brother the white man, was with the woman, the beautiful spirit, the Universal Mother. This woman was not of the same nature as the Great Being. He was a spirit, bloodless, fleshless, bodiless; she bore the form, and was gifted with the properties of a human being.

At that time all was water, at least water covered all things. No eye could have discovered aught else, had there been an eye to see. That which existed was darkness--all was darkness--darkness.--Darkness was all, in all, and over all. There were no sounds abroad, no winds swept the face of the waters, which lay black, still, and stagnant, as the slime of a pool surrounded by a thick copse. The waters were rotted by their long continued stagnation, and the winds could not exist in the heavy and murky air.

Upon a certain time, this beautiful woman descended from heaven, till she came to the sleeping and stagnant waters. She was pregnant by the Great Being; and her immense proportions denoted that she would bring forth more than one. When she struck the waters, in her fall, she did not sink deep into them, but where she settled down, immediately land appeared, upon which she rested, and continued sitting. The land grew by degrees, and increased around her, so that in a short time there was so much spare room, that she could draw up her legs out of the water, in which they had hung for so long a time, that they were covered with grass, like logs which have been floating in the sea. And still wider grew the space of solid earth, like that which would appear when the water recedes from sand which it had previously covered. Gradually the land spread itself from the seat of the beautiful woman, until its extent was soon beyond the reach of the eye. And, as the land increased, the motion of the waves, from the rush of the new-born winds, threw it up into the heaps and piles which are the hills and mountains, leaving, along its low spaces, the waters, which are the rills and rivers of the earth.

While the woman sat thus, watching the growth of the earth, she perceived unusual appearances upon its surface. Grass and herbs began to appear; trees, both fruitful and unfruitful, sprang up; and, in a short time, all things proceeded, and grew as they now are. Soon was a robe of grass and flowers spread over the naked sod; and soon, though not so soon, was it shadowed by a thick and almost impervious forest. The pine, and the oak, and the walnut, and the spruce, and the hemlock, broke through the crust of the earth, and the inferior shrubs made themselves a way to the light of the air. Soon all things proceeded, and grew as they now are, and the world became the beautifully green, and verdant, and flourishing, world it is now.

When the earth had grown to its present size, and had become covered with grass, the beautiful woman, who had carried her burthen in her womb for forty seasons, gave it to the light. She was delivered of three kinds of fruit. The first was like a deer, in every respect; the second had the shape of a bear; the third had the form and nature of a wolf. The woman nursed these fruits with great care and tenderness, until they had attained their full growth. Then she took all the three sons, or kinds of fruit, as husbands, living with each by turns. The result of this connexion or cohabitation was the production of other animals, always more than one at a birth, and from these sprung all the other animals of the various kinds and species to be seen at this day. In time, as well from natural instinct as suitableness, each associated, with its own kind and species, and has so continued to do ever since. But the connexion did not always produce progeny of the same nature and stock as the parents. Every production and re-production further diversified the animal race, until the almost infinite variety of creatures was produced. The dog was the son of the wolf, and the house-cat was the daughter of the panther; the teal was of the children of the grey goose; and who fathered the sparrow-hawk but the eagle?