CHAPTER IV.

_Their Method of reckoning_ TIME, _&c._

CONSIDERING their ignorance of astronomy, time is very rationally divided by the Indians. Those in the interior parts (and of those I would generally be understood to speak) count their years by winters; or, as they express themselves, by snows.

Some nations among them reckon their years by moons, and make them consist of twelve synodical or lunar months, observing, when thirty moons have waned, to add a supernumerary one, which they term the lost moon; and then begin to count as before. They pay a great regard to the first appearance of every moon, and on the occasion always repeat some joyful sounds, stretching at the same time their hands towards it.

Every month has with them a name expressive of its season; for instance, they call the month of March (in which their year generally begins at the first New Moon after the vernal Equinox) the Worm Month or Moon; because at this time the worms quit their retreats in the bark of the trees, wood, &c. where they have sheltered themselves during the winter.

The month of April is termed by them the month of Plants. May, the Month of Flowers. June, the Hot Moon. July, the Buck Moon. Their reason for thus denominating these is obvious.

August, the Sturgeon Moon; because in this month they catch great numbers of that fish.

September, the Corn Moon; because in that month they gather in their Indian Corn.

October, the Travelling Moon; as they leave at this time their villages, and travel towards the places where they intend to hunt during the winter.

November, the Beaver Moon; for in this month the beavers begin to take shelter in their houses, having laid up a sufficient store of provisions for the winter season.

December, the Hunting Moon, because they employ this month in pursuit of their game.

January, the Cold Moon, as it generally freezes harder, and the cold is more intense in this than in any other month.

February they call the Snow Moon, because more snow commonly falls during this month, than any other in the winter.

When the moon does not shine they say the moon is dead; and some call the three last days of it the naked days. The moon’s first appearance they term its coming to life again.

They make no division of weeks; but days they count by sleeps; half days by pointing to the sun at noon; and quarters by the rising and the setting of the sun: to express which in their traditions they make use of very significant hieroglyphicks.

The Indians are totally unskilled in geography as well as all the other sciences, and yet, as I have before hinted, they draw on their birch bark very exact charts or maps of the countries with which they are acquainted. The latitude and longitude is only wanting to make them tolerably complete.

Their sole knowledge in astronomy consists in being able to point out the pole-star; by which they regulate their course when they travel in the night.

They reckon the distance of places, not by miles or leagues, but by a day’s journey, which, according to the best calculations I could make, appears to be about twenty English miles. These they also divide into halves and quarters, and will demonstrate them in their maps with great exactness, by the hieroglyphicks just mentioned, when they regulate in council their war parties, or their most distant hunting excursions.

They have no idea of arithmetic; and though they are able to count to any number, figures as well as letters appear mysterious to them, and above their comprehension.

During my abode with the Naudowessies, some of the chiefs observing one day a draft of an eclipse of the moon, in a book of astronomy which I held in my hand, they desired I would permit them to look at it. Happening to give them the book shut, they began to count the leaves till they came to the place in which the plate was. After they had viewed it, and asked many questions relative to it, I told them they needed not to have taken so much pains to find the leaf on which it was drawn, for I could not only tell in an instant the place, without counting the leaves, but also how many preceded it.

They seemed greatly amazed at my assertion, and begged that I would demonstrate to them the possibility of doing it. To this purpose I desired the chief that held the book, to open it at any particular place, and just shewing me the page carefully to conceal the edges of the leaves, so that I might not be able to count them.

This he did with the greatest caution; notwithstanding which, by looking at the folio, I told him, to his great surprize, the number of leaves. He counted them regularly over, and discovered that I was exact. And when, after repeated trials, the Indians found I could do it with great readiness, and without ever erring in my calculation, they all seemed as much astonished as if I had raised the dead. The only way they could account for my knowledge, was by concluding that the book was a spirit, and whispered me answers to whatever I demanded of it.

This circumstance, trifling as it might appear to those who are less illiterate, contributed to increase my consequence, and to augment the favourable opinion they already entertained of me.