Folklore Tales and Legends of The American Indian
A selection of Native American folklore tales and legends, from pages
in vintage publications
SEDNA, MISTRESS OF THE UNDERWORLD
(Eskimo: Boas, Report of the Bureau of American
Ethnology, vi, 583)
Once upon a time there lived on a solitary shore an Inung with his
daughter Sedna. His wife had been dead for some time and the two led a
quiet life. Sedna grew up to be a handsome girl and the youths came from
all around to sue for her hand, but none of them could touch her proud
heart. Finally, at the breaking up of the ice in the spring a fulmar
flew from over the ice and wooed Sedna with enticing song. "Come to
me," it said; "come into the land of the birds, where there is
never hunger, where my tent is made of the most beautiful skins. You
shall rest on soft bearskins. My fellows, the fulmars, shall bring you
all your heart may desire; their feathers shall clothe you; your lamp
shall always be filled with oil, your pot with meat." Sedna could
not long resist such wooing and they went together over the vast sea[3].
When at last they reached the country of the fulmar, after a long and
hard journey, Sedna discovered that her spouse had shamefully deceived
her. Her new home was not built of beautiful pelts, but was covered with
wretched fishskins, full of holes, that gave free entrance to wind and
snow. Instead of soft reindeer skins her bed was made of hard walrus
hides and she had to live on miserable fish, which the birds brought
her. Too soon she discovered that she had thrown away her opportunities
when in her foolish pride she had rejected the Inuit youth. In her woe
she sang: "Aja. O father, if you knew how wretched I am you would
come to me and we would hurry away in your boat over the waters. The
birds look unkindly upon me the stranger; cold winds roar about my bed;
they give me but miserable food. O come and take me back home.
Aja."
When a year had passed and the sea was again stirred by warmer winds,
the father left his country to visit Sedna. His daughter greeted him
joyfully and besought him to take her
{p. 4}
back home. The father, hearing of the outrages wrought upon his
daughter, determined upon revenge. He killed the fulmar, took Sedna into
his boat, and they quickly left the country which had brought so much
sorrow to Sedna. When the other fulmars came home and found their
companion dead and his wife gone, they all flew away in search of the
fugitives. They were very sad over the death of their poor murdered
comrade and continue to mourn and cry until this day.[4]
Having flown a short distance they discerned the boat and stirred up
a heavy storm. The sea rose in immense waves that threatened the pair
with destruction. In this mortal peril the father determined to offer
Sedna to the birds and flung her overboard. She clung to the edge of the
boat with a death grip. The cruel father then took a knife and cut off
the first joints of her fingers. Falling into the sea they were
transformed into whales, the nails turning into whalebone. Sedna holding
on to the boat more tightly, the second finger joints fell under the
sharp knife and swam away as seals; when the father cut off the stumps
of the fingers they became ground seals.
Meantime the storm subsided, for the fulmars thought Sedna was
drowned. The father then allowed her to come into the boat again. But
from that time she cherished a deadly hatred against him and swore
bitter revenge. After they got ashore, she called her dogs and let them
gnaw off the feet and hands of her father while he was asleep. Upon this
he cursed himself, his daughter, and the dogs which had maimed him;
whereupon the earth opened and swallowed the hut, the father, the
daughter, and the dogs. They have since lived in the land of Adlivun,[5]
of which Sedna is the mistress. |
SUN SISTER AND MOON BROTHER[6]
(ESKIMO: Boas, Report of the Bureau of American
Ethnology, vi, 597)
In olden times a brother and his sister lived in a large village in
which there was a singing house, and every night the sister with her
playfellows enjoyed themselves in this house. Once upon a time, when all
the lamps in the singing house were extinguished, somebody came in and
outraged her. She was unable to recognize him; but she blackened her
hands with soot and when the same again happened besmeared the man's
back with it.[7] When the lamps were relighted she saw that the
{p. 5}
violator was her brother.[8] In great anger she sharpened a knife and
cut off her breasts, which she offered to him, saying: "Since you
seem to relish me, eat this." Her brother fell into a passion and
she fled from him, running about the room. She seized a piece of wood
(with which the lamps are kept in order) which was burning brightly and
rushed out of the house. The brother took another one, but in his
pursuit he fell down and extinguished his light, which continued to glow
only faintly. Gradually both were lifted up and continued their course
in the sky, the sister being transformed into the sun, the brother into
the moon.[9]Whenever the new moon first appears she sings:
Aningaga tapika, takirn tapika qaumidjatedlirpoq; qaumatitaudle.
Aningaga tapika, tikipoq tapika.
(My brother up there, the moon up there begins to shine; he will
be bright.
My brother up there, he is coming up there.
|
GLOOSCAP[10]
(MICMAC: Rand, Legends of the Micmacs, p. 232, No.
35)
The tradition respecting Glooscap is that he came to this country
from the east,--far across the great sea; that he was a divine being,
though in the form of a man. He was not far from any of the Indians
(this is the identical rendering of the Indian words used by my friend
Stephen in relating the sketches of his history here given). When
Glooscap went away, he went toward the west.[11] There he is still
tented; and two important personages are near him, who are called Kuhkw
and Coolpujot,--of whom more anon.
Glooscap was the friend and teacher of the Indians; all they knew of
the arts he taught them.[12] He taught them the names of the
constellations and stars; he taught them how to hunt and fish, and cure
what they took; how to cultivate the ground, as far as they were trained
in husbandry. When he first came, he brought a woman with him, whom he
ever addressed as Grandmother,[13]--a very general epithet for an old
woman. She was not his wife, nor did he ever have a wife. He was always
sober, grave, and good; all that the Indians knew of what was wise and
good he taught them.
{p. 6}
His canoe was a granite rock.[14] On one occasion he put to sea in
this craft, and took a young woman with him as a passenger. She proved
to be a bad girl; and this was manifested by the troubles that ensued. A
storm arose, and the waves dashed wildly over the canoe; he accused her
of being the cause, through her evil deeds, and so he determined to rid
himself of her. For this purpose he stood in for the land, leaped
ashore, but would not allow her to follow; putting his foot against the
heavy craft, he pushed it off to sea again with the girl on it, telling
her to become whatever she desired to be. She was transformed into a
large, ferocious fish, called by the Indians keeganibe, said to
have a huge dorsal fin,--like the sail of a boat, it is so large and
high out of the water.
The Indians sometimes visit Glooscap at his present residence, so
says tradition; this is in a beautiful land in the west. He taught them
when he was with them that there was such a place, and led them to look
forward to a residence there, and to call it their beautiful home in the
far west,--where, if good, they would go at death.
The journey to that fair region far away is long, difficult, and
dangerous; the way back is short and easy. Some years ago, seven
stout-hearted young men attempted the journey, and succeeded. Before
reaching the place, they had to pass over a mountain, the ascent of
which was up a perpendicular bluff, and the descent on the other side
was still more difficult, for the top hung far over the base. The
fearful and unbelieving could not pass at all; but the good and
confident could travel it with ease and safety, as though it were a
level path.
Having crossed the mountain, the road ran between the heads of two
huge serpents, which lay just opposite each other; and they darted out
their tongues, so as to destroy whomsoever they hit. But the good and
the firm of heart could dart past between the strokes of their tongues,
so as to evade them.[113b] One more difficulty remained; it was a wall,
as of a thick, heavy cloud, that separated the present world from that
beautiful region beyond. This cloudy wall rose and fell at intervals,
and struck the ground with such force that whatever was caught under it
would be crushed to atoms; but the good could dart under when it rose,
and come out on the other side unscathed.[15]
This our seven young heroes succeeded in doing. There they found
three wigwams,--one for Glooscap, one for Coolpujot,
{p. 7}
and one for Kuhkw. These are all mighty personages, but Glooscap is
supreme; the other two are subordinates. Coolpujot has no bones. He
cannot move himself, but is rolled over each spring and fall by
Glooscap's order, being turned with handspikes; hence the name Coolpujot
(rolled over by handspikes). In the autumn he is turned towards the
west, in the spring towards the east; and this is a figure of speech,
denoting the revolving seasons of the year,[16]--his mighty breath and
looks, by which he can sweep down whole armies and work wonders on a
grand scale, indicating the weather: frost, snow, ice, and sunshine.
(Such was Stephen's very satisfactory explanation.)
Kuhkw means Earthquake; this mighty personage can pass along under
the surface of the ground, making all things shake and tremble by his
power.
All these seven visitors had requests to proffer, and each received
what he asked for;[17] though the gift did not always correspond with
the spirit of the request, it oftentimes agreed with the letter. For
instance, one of these seven visitors was wonderfully enamoured of a
fine country, and expressed a desire to remain there, and to live long;
whereupon, at Glooscap's direction, Earthquake took him and stood him
up, and he became a cedar-tree.[18] When the wind blew through its
boughs, they were bent and broken with great fracas,--making a
thunder-storm that rolled far and wide over the country, accompanied by
strong winds, which scattered the cedar-boughs and seeds in all
directions, producing all the cedar-groves that exist in New Brunswick,
Nova Scotia, and elsewhere.
The other men started, and reached home in a short time.
One of them had asked for a medicine that would be effectual in
curing disease. This he obtained; but, neglecting to follow implicitly
the directions given, he lost it before he reached home. It was
carefully wrapped up in a piece of paper, and he was charged not to undo
the parcel until he reached home. His curiosity got the better of his
judgment; he could not see what difference it could make if he just
looked at his prize as he was going along. So he undid the parcel, and presto!
the medicine slipped out on the ground, spread and slid in all
directions, covering up the face of the earth, and vanishing from
sight.[19]
{p. 8}
On another occasion several young men went to see Glooscap in his
present abode. One of them went to obtain the power of winning the heart
of some fair one, which all his unaided skill had failed hitherto to do;
an hundred times he had tried to get a wife, but the girls all shunned
him. Many of the party who started on this perilous expedition failed to
overcome the difficulties that lay in their way, and turned back,
baffled and defeated; but several of them succeeded. They were all
hospitably entertained; all presented their requests, and were favorably
heard. The man who sought power to captivate some female heart was the
last to proffer his petition. Glooscap and his two subordinates
conferred together in a whisper, and then Earthquake informed him that
his ugly looks and still more ugly manners were the chief hindrances to
his success; but they must try to help him. So he was handed a small
parcel, and directed not to open it until he reached his own village;
this he took, and they all set off for home together. The night before
they arrived, he could restrain his curiosity no longer; he opened the
parcel, the foolish fellow! Out flew young women by the scores and
hundreds, covering the face of the earth, piling themselves in towering
heaps, and burying the poor fellow, crushing him to the earth under the
accumulating weight of their bodies. His comrades had cautioned him
against disobeying the mandate, and had begged him not to undo the
parcel; but he had not heeded the caution. They now heard him calling
for help, but he called in vain, they could not help him; and his cries
became fainter and fainter, and finally ceased altogether. Morning came
at last. The young women had all vanished, and the fragments of their
comrade were scattered over the ground; he had been killed and ground to
atoms as the result of his unbridled curiosity and disobedience.
|
MANABOZHO'S BIRTH
(MENOMINI: Skinner and Satterlee, Anthropological
Papers of the American Museum of Natural History, xiii, 239)
In the beginning, there was a lone old woman living on this island.
Nobody knows where she came from, nor how she got here, but it is true
that she dwelt in a wigwam with her only daughter. Wild potatoes were
the only food of the two women.
{p. 9}
Every day the old woman took her wooden hoe and went out to gather
them. She packed them home and dried them in the sun, for in those days,
there was no such thing as fire in that part of the world.
One day her daughter begged to go with her. "Mother, let me go
and help you; between us we can dig more potatoes than you can
alone." "No, my daughter, you stay here," said the old
woman; "I don't want you to go. Your place is at home caring for
the lodge." "Oh dear! I don't like to stay here alone all
day," teased the girl; "it's so lonely when you are gone! I'd
much rather go with you. There is another old hoe here that I can use.
Please let me go too."
At last, the old woman consented to her daughter's pleading; the two
armed themselves with their tools and set out. After a little journey
they came to a damp ravine. "Here is the place where I always come
to gather the potatoes," cried the mother; "you can dig here
too. But there is one thing that I must warn you about, when you are
digging these potatoes; I want you to face the south. Be sure not to
forget this. It was because I was afraid that you could not be trusted
to remember that I never brought you here before." "Oh, that's
all right, I won't forget," cried the girl. "Very well then,
you stay right here and work; I am going to dig over there."
The girl set to work with a will, and enjoyed her task very much.
"Oh how nice it is to dig potatoes!" she said, and kept up a
running stream of conversation with her mother as she labored. As the
time passed by, the daughter gradually forgot her promise and at last
turned round and faced in the opposite direction as she dug. All at once
there came a great rushing, roaring noise from the heavens and the wind
swept down where she stood and whirled her round and round. "Oh,
mother! Help! Come quick!" she screamed. Her mother dropped
everything and rushed to her aid. "Grab me by the back and hold me
down!" cried the girl in terror. The old lady seized her with one
hand and steadied herself, meanwhile, by catching hold of some bushes.
"Hold me as tightly as you can!" she gasped. "Now you see
why I told you to stay at home! You are being properly punished for your
disobedience."
Suddenly the wind stopped. The air was as calm as though nothing had
ever happened. The two women hastily gathered up their potatoes and
hurried home. After that the old woman
{p. 10}
worked alone. Everything went well for a while, and then, one day the
daughter complained. "I feel very strange and different, mother;
there seems to be something within me." The old woman scrutinized
the girl narrowly, but made no answer, for she knew that her daughter
was pregnant." At last, she was brought to bed and gave birth to
three children. The first of these was Manabozho, the second was a
little wolf, Muh'wäse, and the last was a sharp flint stone. When the
unfortunate mother gave issue to the rock, it cut her and she died. The
old woman mourned her daughter greatly. In a paroxysm of rage and grief,
she threw away the flint stone, but Manabozho[*] and Muh'wäse she
cherished and cared for until they grew to be children.
B. MANABOZHO'S WOLF BROTHER
(MENOMINI: Hoffman, Report of the Bureau of
American Ethnology, xiv, 115)
When Manabozho had accomplished the works for which Kishä'
Ma'nido[22] sent him down to the earth, he went far away and built his
wigwam on the northeastern shore of a large lake, where he took up his
abode. As he was alone, the good manidos concluded to give him for a
companion his twin brother, whom they brought to life and called
Naq'pote (which signifies an expert marksman). He was formed like a
human being, but, being a manido, could assume the shape of a wolf, in
which form he hunted for food. Manabozho was aware of the anger of the
bad manidos who dwelt beneath the earth, and warned his brother, the
Wolf, never to return home by crossing the lake, but always to go around
along the shore. Once after the Wolf had been hunting all day long he
found himself directly opposite his wigwam, and being tired, concluded
to cross the lake. He had not gone halfway across when the ice broke, so
the Wolf was seized by the bad manidos, and destroyed.[23]
Manabozho at once knew what had befallen his brother, and in his
distress mourned for four days. Every time that Manabozho sighed the
earth trembled, which caused the hills and ridges to form over its
surface. Then the shade of Moquaio, the Wolf, appeared before Manabozho,
and knowing that his brother could not be restored Manabozho told him to
follow the path of the setting sun and become the chief of the shades in
[*. The hero's name appears in many forms. In this collection it is
standardized.]
{p. 11}
the Hereafter where all would meet.[24] Manabozho then secreted
himself in a large rock near Mackinaw. Here his uncles, the people, for
many years visited Manabozho, and always built a long lodge, the mitä'wiko'mik,
where they sang; so when Manabozho did not wish to see them in his human
form he appeared to them in the form of a little white rabbit, with
trembling ears, just as he had first appeared to Nokomis.
|
THE WOMAN WHO FELL FROM THE SKY[27]
(SENECA: Curtin and Hewitt, Report of the Bureau
of American Ethnology, xxxii, 460, No. 98)
A long time ago human beings lived high up in what is now called
heaven. They had a great and illustrious chief.
It so happened that this chief's daughter was taken very ill with a
strange affection. All the people were very anxious as to the outcome of
her illness. Every known remedy was tried in an attempt to cure her, but
none had any effect.
Near the lodge of this chief stood a great tree, which every year
bore corn used for food. One of the friends of the chief had a dream, in
which he was advised to tell the chief that in order to cure his
daughter he must lay her beside this tree, and that he must have the
tree dug up. This advice was carried out to the letter. While the people
were at work and the young woman lay there, a young man came along. He
was very angry and said: "It is not at all right to destroy this
tree. Its fruit is all that we have to live on." With this remark
he gave the young woman who lay there ill a shove with his foot, causing
her to fall into the hole that had been dug.
Now, that hole opened into this world,[28] which was then all
water,[29] on which floated waterfowl of many kinds. There was no land
at that time. It came to pass that as these waterfowl saw this young
woman falling they shouted, "Let us receive her," whereupon
they, at least some of them, joined their bodies together, and the young
woman fell on this platform of bodies. When these were wearied they
asked, "Who will volunteer to care for this woman?" The great
Turtle then took her, and when he got tired of holding her, he in turn
asked who would take his place. At last the question arose as to what
they should do to provide her with a permanent resting place in this
world. Finally it was decided to prepare the earth, on which
{p. 15}
she would live in the future. To do this it was determined that soil
from the bottom of the primal sea should be brought up and placed on the
broad, firm carapace of the Turtle, where it would increase in size to
such an extent that it would accommodate all the creatures that should
be produced thereafter. After much discussion the toad was finally
persuaded to dive to the bottom of the waters in search of soil. Bravely
making the attempt, he succeeded in bringing up soil from the depths of
the sea.[30] This was carefully spread over the carapace of the
Turtle,[31] and at once both began to grow in size and depth.
After the young woman recovered from the illness from which she
suffered when she was cast down from the upper world, she built herself
a shelter, in which she lived quite contentedly. In the course of time
she brought forth a girl baby, who grew rapidly in size and
intelligence.
When the daughter had grown to young womanhood, the mother and she
were accustomed to go out to dig wild potatoes. Her mother had said to
her that in doing this she must face the West at all times. Before long
the young daughter gave signs that she was about to become a mother. Her
mother reproved her, saying that she had violated the injunction not to
face the east, as her condition showed that she had faced the wrong way
while digging potatoes. It is said that the breath of the West Wind had
entered her person, causing conceptions When the days of her delivery
were at hand, she overheard twins within her body in a hot debate as to
which should be born first and as to the proper place of exit, one
declaring that he was going to emerge through the armpit of his mother,
the other saying that he would emerge in the natural way.[33] The first
one born, who was of a reddish color, was called Othagwenda; that is,
Flint. The other, who was light in color, was called Djuskaha; that is,
the Little Sprout.
The grandmother of the twins liked Djuskaha and hated the other; so
they cast Othagwenda into a hollow tree some distance from the
lodge.[34]
The boy that remained in the lodge grew very rapidly, and soon was
able to make himself bows and arrows and to go out to hunt in the
vicinity. Finally, for several days he returned home without his bow and
arrows. At last he was asked why he had to have a new bow and arrows
every morning. He replied
{p. 16}
that there was a young boy in a hollow tree in the neighborhood who
used them. The grandmother inquired where the tree stood, and he told
her; whereupon then they went there and brought the other boy home
again.
When the boys had grown to man's estate, they decided that it was
necessary for them to increase the size of their island, so they agreed
to start out together, afterward separating to create forests and lakes
and other things. They parted as agreed, Othagwenda going westward and
Djuskaha eastward. In the course of time, on returning, they met in
their shelter or lodge at night, then agreeing to go the next day to see
what each had made. First they went west to see what Othagwenda had
made. It was found that he had made the country all rocks and full of
ledges, and also a mosquito which was very large. Djuskaha asked the
mosquito to run, in order that he might see 'whether the insect could
fight. The mosquito ran, and sticking his bill through a sapling,
thereby made it fall, at which Djuskaha said, "That will not be
right, for you would kill the people who are about to come." So,
seizing him, he rubbed him down in his hands, causing him to become very
small. then he blew on the mosquito, whereupon he flew away. He also
modified some of the other animals which his brother had made. After
returning to their lodge, they agreed to go the next day to see what
Djuskaha had fashioned. On visiting the east the next day, they found
that Djuskaha had made a large number of animals which were so fat that
they could hardly move; that he had made the sugar-maple trees to drop
syrup; that he had made the sycamore tree to bear fine fruit; that the
rivers were so formed that half the water flowed upstream and the other
half downstream. Then the reddish colored brother, Othagwenda, was
greatly displeased with what his brother had made, saying that the
people who were about to come would live too easily and be too happy. So
he shook violently the various animals--the bears, deer, and
turkeys--causing them to become small at once, a characteristic which
attached itself to their descendants. He also caused the sugar maple to
drop sweetened water only, and the fruit of the sycamore to become small
and useless; and lastly he caused the water of the rivers to flow in
only one direction, because the original plan would make it too easy for
the human beings who were about to come to navigate the streams.
{p. 17}
The inspection of each other's work resulted in a deadly disagreement
between the brothers,[35] who finally came to grips and blows, and
Othagwenda was killed in the fierce struggle.
|
THE BEGINNING OF NEWNESS[36]
(Zuni: Cushing, Report of the Bureau of American
Ethnology, xiii, 379)
Before the beginning of the new-making, Awonawilona (the Maker and
Container of All, the All-father Father), solely had being. There was
nothing else whatsoever throughout the great space of the ages save
everywhere black darkness in it, and everywhere void desolation.
In the beginning of the new-made, Awonawilona conceived within
himself and thought outward in space, whereby mists of increase, steams
potent of growth, were evolved and uplifted. Thus, by means of his
innate knowledge, the All-container made himself in person and form of
the Sun whom we hold to be our father and who thus came to exist and
appear. With his appearance came the brightening of the spaces with
light, and with the brightening of the spaces the great mist-clouds were
thickened together and fell, whereby was evolved water in water; yea,
and the world-holding sea.
With his substance of flesh outdrawn from the surface of his person,
the Sun-father formed the seed-stuff of twain worlds, impregnating
therewith the great waters, and lo! in the heat of his light these
waters of the sea grew green and scums rose upon them, waxing wide and
weighty until, behold! they became Awitelin Tsita, the "Four-fold
Containing Mother-earth," and Apoyan Tä'chu, the
"All-covering Father-sky."[37]
From the lying together of these twain upon the great world-waters,
so vitalizing, terrestrial life was conceived; whence began all beings
of earth, men and the creatures, in the Fourfold womb of the World.
Thereupon the Earth-mother repulsed the Sky-father, growing big and
sinking deep into the embrace of the waters below, thus separating from
the Sky-father in the embrace of the waters above. As a woman forebodes
evil for her first-born ere born, even so did the Earth-mother forebode,
long withholding from birth her myriad progeny and meantime seeking
counsel with the Sky-father. "How," said they to one another,
"shall our children when brought forth, know one place from
another, even by the white light of the Sun-father?"
{p. 18}
Now like all the surpassing beings the Earth-mother and the
Sky-father were changeable, even as smoke in the wind; transmutable at
thought, manifesting themselves in any form at will, like as dancers may
by mask-making.
Thus, as a man and woman, spake they, one to the other.
"Behold!" said the Earth-mother as a great terraced bowl
appeared at hand and within it water, "this is as upon me the homes
of my tiny children shall be. On the rim of each world-country they
wander in, terraced mountains shall stand, making in one region many,
whereby country shall be known from country, and within each, place from
place. Behold, again!" said she as she spat on the water and
rapidly smote and stirred it with her fingers. Foam formed, gathering
about the terraced rim, mounting higher and higher. "Yea,"
said she, "and from my bosom they shall draw nourishment, for in
such as this shall they find the substance of life whence we were
ourselves sustained, for see!" Then with her warm breath she blew
across the terraces; white flecks of the foam broke away, and, floating
over above the water, were shattered by the cold breath of the
Sky-father attending, and forthwith shed downward abundantly fine mist
and spray! "Even so, shall white clouds float up from the great
waters at the borders of the world, and clustering about the mountain
terraces of the horizons be borne aloft and abroad by the breaths of the
surpassing of soul-beings, and of the children, and shall hardened and
broken be by thy cold, shedding downward, in rain-spray, the water of
life, even into the hollow places of my lap! For therein chiefly shall
nestle our children mankind and creature-kind, for warmth in thy
coldness."
Lo! even the trees on high mountains near the clouds and the
Sky-father crouch low toward the Earth-mother for warmth and protection!
Warm is the Earth-mother, cold the Sky-father, even as woman is the
warm, man the cold being!
"Even so!" said the Sky-father; "Yet not alone shalt thou
helpful be unto our children, for behold!" and he spread his hand
abroad with the palm downward and into all the wrinkles and crevices
thereof he set the semblance of shining yellow corn-grains; in the dark
of the early world-dawn they gleamed like sparks of fire, and moved as
his hand was moved over the bowl, shining up from and also moving in the
depths of the water therein. "See!" said he, pointing to the
seven grains
{p. 19}
clasped by his thumb and four fingers, "by such shall our
children be guided; for behold, when the Sun-father is not nigh, and thy
terraces are as the dark itself (being all hidden therein), then shall
our children be guided by lights--like to these lights of all the six
regions turning round the midmost one--as in and around the midmost
place, where these our children shall abide, lie all the other regions
of space! Yea! and even as these grains gleam up from the water, so
shall seed-grains like to them, yet numberless, spring up from thy bosom
when touched by my waters, to nourish our children." Thus and in
other ways many devised they for their offspring. |
THE CREATION[47]
(MAIDU: Dixon, Bulletin of the American Museum of
Natural History, xvii, 39, No. 1)
In the beginning there was no sun, no moon, no stars. All was dark,
and everywhere there was only water.[29] A raft came floating on the
water. It came from the north, and in it were two persons,--Turtle and
Father-of-the-Secret-Society. The stream flowed very rapidly. Then from
the sky a rope of feathers,[48] was let down, and down it came
Earth-Initiate. When he reached the end of the rope, he tied it to the
bow of the raft, and stepped in. His face was covered and was never
seen, but his body shone like the sun. He sat down, and for a long time
said nothing.
[*. Pronunciation approximately represented in English by
"Chemsem."]
{p. 25}
At last Turtle said, "Where do you come from?" and earth
Initiate answered, "I come from above." Then Turtle said,
"Brother, can you not make for me some good dry land so that I may
sometimes come up out of the water?" Then he asked another time,
"Are there going to be any people in the world?"
Earth-Initiate thought awhile, then said, "Yes." Turtle asked,
"How long before you are going to make people?" Earth-Initiate
replied, "I don't know. You want to have some dry land: well, how
am I going to get any earth to make it of?"
Turtle answered, "If you will tie a rock about my left arm, I'll
dive for some."[30] Earth-Initiate did as Turtle asked, and then,
reaching around, took the end of a rope from somewhere, and tied it to
Turtle. When Earth-Initiate came to the raft, there was no rope there:
he just reached out and found one. Turtle said, "If the rope is not
long enough, I'll jerk it once, and you must haul me up; if it is long
enough, I'll give two jerks, and then you must pull me up quickly, as I
shall have all the earth that I can carry." Just as Turtle went
over the side of the boat, Father-of-the-Secret-Society began to shout
loudly.
Turtle was gone a long time. He was gone six years; and when he came
up, he was covered with green slime, he had been down so long. When he
reached the top of the water, the only earth he had was a very little
under his nails: the rest had all washed away. Earth-Initiate took with
his right hand a stone knife from under his left armpit, and carefully
scraped the earth out from under Turtle's nails. He put the earth in the
palm of his hand, and rolled it about till it was round; it was as large
as a small pebble. He laid it on the stern of the raft. By and by he
went to look at it: it had not grown at all. The third time that he went
to look at it, it had grown so that it could be spanned by the arms. The
fourth time he looked, it was as big as the world, the raft was aground,
and all around were mountains as far as he could see. The raft came
ashore at Ta'doikö, and the place can be seen to-day.
When the raft had come to land, Turtle said, "I can't stay in
the dark all the time. Can't you make a light, so that I can see?"
Earth-Initiate replied, "Let us get out of the raft, and then we
will see what we can do." So all three got out. Then Earth-Initiate
said, "Look that way, to the east! I am going to tell my sister to
come up." Then it began to grow light, and
{p. 26}
day began to break; then Father-of-the-Secret-Society began to shout
loudly, and the sun came up. Turtle said, "Which way is the sun
going to travel?" Earth-Initiate answered, "I'll tell her to
go this way, and go down there." After the sun went down,
Father-of-the-Secret-Society began to cry and shout again, and it grew
very dark. Earth-Initiate said, "I'll tell my brother to come
up." Then the moon rose. Then Earth-Initiate asked Turtle and
Father-of-the-Secret-Society, "How do you like it?" and they
both answered, "It is very good." Then Turtle asked, "Is
that all you are going to do for us?" and Earth-Initiate answered,
"No, I am going to do more yet." Then he called the stars each
by its name, and they came out. When this was done, Turtle asked,
"Now what shall we do?" Earth-Initiate replied, "Wait,
and I'll show you." Then he made a tree grow at Ta'doikö,--the
tree called Hu'kiimtsa; and Earth-Initiate and Turtle and
Father-of-the-Secret-Society sat in its shade for two days. The tree was
very large, and had twelve different kinds of acorns growing on it.
After they had sat for two days under the tree, they all went off to
see the world that Earth-Initiate had made. They started at sunrise, and
were back by sunset. Earth-Initiate traveled so fast that all they could
see was a ball of fire flashing about under the ground and the water.
While they were gone, Coyote and his dog Rattlesnake came up out of the
ground. It is said that Coyote could see Earth-Initiate's face. When
Earth-Initiate and the others came back, they found Coyote at Ta'doikö.
All five of them then built huts for themselves, and lived there at
Ta'doikö, but no one could go inside of Earth-Initiate's house. Soon
after the travelers came back, Earth-Initiate called the birds from the
air, and made the trees and then the animals. He took some mud, and of
this made first a deer; after that, he made all the other animals.
Sometimes Turtle would say, "That does not look well: can't you
make it some other way?"
Some time after this, Earth-Initiate and Coyote were at Marysville
Buttes. Earth-Initiate said, "I am going to make people." In
the middle of the afternoon he began, for he had returned to Ta'doikö.
He took dark red earth, mixed it with water, and made two figures,--one
a man, and one a woman. He laid the man on his right side, and the woman
on his left, inside his house. Then he lay down himself, flat on his
back,
{p. 27}
with his arms stretched out. He lay thus and sweated all the
afternoon and night. Early in the morning the woman began to tickle him
in the side. He kept very still, did not laugh. By and by he got up,
thrust a piece of pitch-wood into the ground, and fire burst out. The
two people were very white. No one to-day is as white as they were.
Their eyes were pink, their hair was black, their teeth shone brightly,
and they were very handsome. It is said that Earth-Initiate did not
finish the hands of the people, as he did not know how it would be best
to do it. Coyote saw the people, and suggested that they ought to have
hands like his. Earth-Initiate said, "No, their hands shall be like
mine." Then he finished them. When Coyote asked why their hands
were to be like that, Earth-Initiate answered, " So that, if they
are chased by bears, they can climb trees." This first man was
called Ku'ksuu; and the woman, Morning-Star Woman.
When Coyote had seen the two people, he asked Earth-Initiate how he
had made them. When he was told, he thought, "That is not
difficult. I'll do it myself." He did just as Earth-Initiate had
told him, but could not help laughing, when, early in the morning, the
woman poked him in the ribs. As a result of his failing to keep still,
the people were glass-eyed. Earth-Initiate said, "I told you not to
laugh," but Coyote declared he had not. This was the first lie.
By and by there came to be a good many people. Earth-Initiate had
wanted to have everything comfortable and easy for people, so that none
of them should have to work. All fruits were easy to obtain, no one was
ever to get sick and die. As the people grew numerous, Earth-Initiate
did not come as often as formerly, he only came to see Ku'ksuu in the
night. One night he said to him, "To-morrow morning you must go to
the little lake near here. Take all the people with you. I'll make you a
very old man before you get to the lake." So in the morning Ku'ksuu
collected all the people, and went to the lake. By the time he had
reached it, he was a very old man. He fell into the lake, and sank down
out of sight. Pretty soon the ground began to shake, the waves
overflowed the shore, and there was a great roaring under the water,
like thunder. By and by Ku'ksuu came up out of the water, but young
again, just like a young, man.[50] Then Earth-Initiate came and spoke to
the people, and said, "If you do as I tell you, everything will
{p. 28}
be well. When any of you grow old, so old that you cannot walk, come
to this lake, or get some one to bring you here. You must then go down
into the water as you have seen Ku'ksuu do, and you will come out young
again." When he had said this, he went away. He left in the night,
and went up above.
All this time food had been easy to get, as Earth-Initiate had
wished. The women set out baskets at night, and in the morning they
found them full of food, all ready to eat, and lukewarm. One day Coyote
came along. He asked the people how they lived, and they told him that
all they had to do was to eat and sleep. Coyote replied, "That is
no way to do: I can show you something better." Then he told them
how he and Earth-Initiate had had a discussion before men had been made;
how Earth-Initiate wanted everything easy, and that there should be no
sickness or death, but how he had thought it would be better to have
people work, get sick, and die.[51] He said, "We'll have a
burning." The people did not know what he meant; but Coyote said,
"I'll show you. It is better to have a burning, for then the widows
can be free." So he took all the baskets and things that the people
had, hung them up on poles, made everything all ready. When all was
prepared, Coyote said, "At this time you must always have
games." So he fixed the moon during which these games were to be
played.
Coyote told them to start the games with a foot-race, and every one
got ready to run. Ku'ksuu did not come, however. He sat in his hut
alone, and was sad, for he knew what was going to occur. just at this
moment Rattlesnake came to Ku'ksuu, and said, "What shall we do
now? Everything is spoiled!" Ku'ksuu did not answer, so Rattlesnake
said, "Well, I'll do what I think is best." Then he went out
and along the course that the racers were to go over, and hid himself,
leaving his head just sticking out of a hole. By this time all the
racers had started, and among them Coyote's son. He was Coyote's only
child, and was very quick. He soon began to outstrip all the runners,
and was in the lead. As he passed the spot where Rattlesnake had hidden
himself, however, Rattlesnake raised his head and bit the boy in the
ankle. In a minute the boy was dead.
Coyote was dancing about the home-stake. He was very happy, and was
shouting at his son and praising him. When Rattlesnake bit the boy, and
he fell dead, every one laughed at
{p. 29}
Coyote, and said, "Your son has fallen down, and is so ashamed
that he does not dare to get up." Coyote said, "No, that is
not it. He is dead." This was the first death. The people, however,
did not understand, and picked the boy up, and brought him to Coyote.
Then Coyote began to cry,[52] and every one did the same. These were the
first tears. Then Coyote took his son's body and carried it to the lake
of which Earth-Initiate had told them, and threw the body in. But there
was no noise, and nothing happened, and the body drifted about for four
days on the surface, like a log. On the fifth day Coyote took four sacks
of beads and brought them to Ku'ksuu, begging him to restore his son to
life. Ku'ksuu did not answer. For five days Coyote begged, then Ku'ksuu
came out of his house bringing all his bead and bear-skins, and calling
to all the people to come and watch him. He laid the body on a
bear-skin, dressed it, and wrapped it up carefully. Then he dug a grave,
put the body into it, and covered it up. Then he told the people,
"From now on, this is what you must do. This is the way you must do
till the world shall be made over."
About a year after this, in the spring, all was changed. Up to this
time everybody spoke the same language. The people were having a
burning, everything was ready for the next day, when in the night
everybody suddenly began to speak a different language. Each man and his
wife, however, spoke the same. Earth-Initiate had come in the night to
Ku'ksuu, and had told him about it all, and given him instructions for
the next day. So, when morning came, Ku'ksuu called all the people
together, for he was able to speak all the languages. He told them each
the names of the different animals, etc., in their languages, taught
them how to cook and to hunt ' gave them all their laws, and set the
time for all their dances and festivals. Then he called each tribe by
name, and sent them off in different directions, telling them where they
were to live.[54] He sent the warriors to the north, the singers to the
west, the flute-players to the east, and the dancers to the south. So
all the people went away, and left Ku'ksuu and his, wife alone at
Ta'doikö. By and by his wife went away, leaving in the night, and going
first to Marysville Buttes. Ku'ksuu staid a little while longer, and
then he also left. He too went to the Buttes, went into the spirit
house, and sat down on the south side. He found Coyote's son there,
sitting on the north side. The door was on the west.
{p. 30}
Coyote had been trying to find out where Ku'ksuu had gone, and where
his own son had gone, and at last found the tracks, and followed them to
the spirit house. Here he saw Ku'ksuu and his son, the latter eating
spirit food. Coyote wanted to go in, but Ku'ksuu said, "No, wait
there. You have just what you wanted, it is your own fault. Every man
will now have all kinds of troubles and accidents, will have to work to
get his food, and will die and be buried. This must go on till the time
is out, and Earth-Initiate comes again,[55] and everything will be made
over. You must go home, and tell all the people that you have seen your
son, that he is not dead." Coyote said he would go, but that he was
hungry, and wanted some of the food. Ku'ksuu replied, "You cannot
eat that. Only ghosts may eat that food." Then Coyote went away and
told all the people, "I saw my son and Ku'ksuu, and he told me to
kill myself." So he climbed up to the top of a tall tree, jumped
off, and was killed. Then he went to the spirit house, thinking he could
now have some of the food; but there was no one there, nothing at all,
and so he went out, and walked away to the west,[11] and was never seen
again. Ku'ksuu and Coyote's son, however, had gone up above.
|
DETERMINATION OF THE SEASONS
(TAHLTAN: Teit, .Journal of American Folk-Lore,
xxxii, 226)
Once Porcupine and Beaver quarrelled about the seasons. Porcupine
wanted five winter months. He held up one hand and showed his five
fingers. He said, Let the winter months be the same in number as the
fingers on my hand." Beaver said, "No," and held up his
tail, which had many cracks or scratches on it. He said, "Let the
winter months be the same in number as the scratches on my tail."
Now they quarrelled and argued. Porcupine got angry and bit off his
thumb. Then, holding up his hand with the four fingers, he said
emphatically, "There must be only four winter months." Beaver
became a little afraid, and gave in. For this reason porcupines have
four claws on each foot now.
Since Porcupine won, the winter remained four months in length, until
later Raven changed it a little. Raven considered what Porcupine and
Beaver had said about the winters, and decided that Porcupine had done
right. He said, "Porcupine was right. If the winters were made too
long, people could not live. Henceforth the winters will be about
this length, but they will be variable. I will tell you of the gaxewisa
month, when people will meet together and talk. At that time of the year
{p. 39}
people will ask questions (or propound riddles), and others will
answer. If the riddle is answered correctly, then the person who
propounded it must answer, "Fool-hen." Raven chose this word
because the fool-hen has a shorter beak than any other gamebird.
"If people guess riddles correctly at this time of year, then the
winter will be short, and the spring come early."
|
DETERMINATION OF NIGHT AND DAY[62]
(IROQUOIS: Smith, Report of the Bureau of American
Ethnology, ii, 80)
Once upon a time the porcupine was appointed to be the leader of all
the animals. Soon after his appointment he called them and presented the
question, "Shall we have night and darkness, or daylight with its
sunshine?"
{p. 40}
This was a very important question, and a violent discussion arose,
some wishing for daylight and the sun to rule, and others for continual
night.
The chipmunk wished for night and day, weeks and months, and night to
be separate from the day, so he began singing, "The light will
come; we must have light," which he continued to repeat. Meanwhile
the bear began singing, "Night is best; we must have
darkness."
While the chipmunk was singing, the day began to dawn. Then the other
party saw that the chipmunk was prevailing, and were very angry; and
their leader, the bear, pursued the chipmunk, who managed to escape
uninjured, the huge paw of the bear simply grazing his back as he
entered his hole in a hollow tree, leaving its black imprint, which the
chipmunk has ever since retained. But night and day have ever continued
to alternate.
|
THE THEFT OF FIRE[62]
(MAIDU: Dixon, Bulletin of the .American Museum of
Natural History, xvii, 65, No. 5)
At one time the people had found fire, and were going to use it; but
Thunder wanted to take it away from them, as he desired to be the only
one who should have fire. He thought that if he could do this, he would
be able to kill all the people. After a time he succeeded, and carried
the fire home with him, far to the south. He put Woswosim (a small bird)
to guard the fire, and see that no one should steal it. Thunder thought
that people would die after he had stolen their fire, for they would not
be able to cook their food; but the people managed to get along. They
ate most of their food raw, and sometimes got Toyeskom (another small
bird) to look for a long time at a piece of meat; and as he had a red
eye, this after a long time would cook the meat almost as well as a
fire. Only the chiefs had their food cooked in this way. All the people
lived together in a big sweat-house. The house was as big as a mountain.
Among the people was Lizard and his brother; and they were always the
first in the morning to go outside and sun themselves on the roof of the
sweat-house. One morning as they lay there sunning themselves, they
looked west, toward the Coast Range, and saw smoke. They called to all
the other people, saying that they had seen smoke far away to the west.
The
{p. 41}
people, however, would not believe them, and Coyote came out, and
threw a lot of dirt and dust over the two. One of the people did not
like this. He said to Coyote, " Why do you trouble people? Why
don't you let others alone? Why don't you behave? You are always the
first to start a quarrel. You always want to kill people without any
reason." Then the other people felt sorry. They asked the two
Lizards about what they had seen, and asked them to point out the smoke.
The Lizards did so, and all could see the- thin column rising up far to
the west. One person said, "How shall we get that fire back? How
shall we get it away from Thunder? He is a bad man. I don't know whether
we had better try to get it or not." Then the chief said, "The
best one among you had better try to get it. Even if Thunder is a bad
man, we must try to get the fire. When we get there, I don't know how we
shall get in but the one who is the best, who thinks he can get in, let
him try." Mouse, Deer, Dog, and Coyote were the ones who were to
try, but all the other people went too. They took a flute with them for
they meant to put the fire in it.
They traveled a long time, and finally reached the place where the
fire was. They were within a little distance of Thunder's house, when
they all stopped to see what they would do. Woswosim, who was supposed
to guard the fire in the house, began to sing, "I am the man who
never sleeps. I am the man who never sleeps." Thunder had paid him
for his work in beads, and he wore them about his neck and around his
waist. He sat on the top of the sweat-house, by the smoke-hole.
After a while Mouse was sent up to try and see if he could get in. He
crept up slowly till he got close to Woswosim, and then saw that his
eyes were shut. He was asleep, in spite of the song that he sang. When
Mouse saw that the watcher was asleep, he crawled to the opening and
went in. Thunder had several daughters, and they were lying there
asleep. Mouse stole up quietly, and untied the waist-string of each
one's apron, so that should the alarm be given, and they jump up, these
aprons or skirts would fall off, and they would have to stop to fix
them. This done, Mouse took the flute, filled it with fire, then crept
out, and rejoined the other people who were waiting outside.
Some of the fire was taken out and put in the Dog's ear, the
remainder in the flute being given to the swiftest runner to
{p. 42}
carry. Deer, however, took a little, which he carried on the hock of
his leg, where to-day there is a reddish spot. For a while all went
well, but when they were about half-way back, Thunder woke up, suspected
that something was wrong, and asked, "What is the matter with my
fire?" Then he jumped up with a roar of thunder, and his daughters
were thus awakened, and also jumped up; but their aprons fell off as
they did so, and they had to sit down again to put them on. After they
were all ready, they went out with Thunder to give chase. They carried
with them a heavy wind and a great rain and a hailstorm, so that they
might put out any fire the people had. Thunder and his daughters hurried
along, and soon caught up with the fugitives, and were about to catch
them, when Skunk shot at Thunder and killed him. Then Skunk called out,
"After this you must never try to follow and kill people. You must
stay up in the sky, and be the thunder. That is what you will be."
The daughters of Thunder did not follow any farther; so the people went
on safely, and got home with their fire, and people have had it ever
since.
|
THE MAN IN THE MOON[69]
(LILLOOET: Teit, Journal of American Folk-Lore,
xxv, 298, No. 3)
The three Frog sisters had a house in a swamp, where they lived
together. Not very far away lived a number of people in another house.
Among them were Snake and Beaver, who were friends. They were well-grown
lads, and wished to marry the Frog girls.
One night Snake went to Frog's house, and, crawling up to one of the
sisters, put his hand on her face. She awoke, and asked him who he was.
Learning that he was Snake, she said she would not marry him, and told
him to leave at once. She called him hard names, such as,
"slimy-fellow," "small-eyes," etc. Snake returned,
and told his friend of his failure.
Next night Beaver went to try, and, crawling up to one of the
sisters, he put his hand on her face. She awoke, and, finding out who he
was, she told him to be gone. She called him names, such as,
"short-legs," "big-belly," "big-buttocks."
Beaver felt hurt, and, going home, began to cry. His father asked him
what the matter was, and the boy told him. He said, "That is
nothing. Don't cry! It will rain too much." But young Beaver said,
"I will cry."
As he continued to cry, much rain fell, and soon the swamp where the
Frogs lived was flooded.[67] Their house was under
{p. 46}
the water, which covered the tops of the tall swamp-grass. The Frogs
got cold, and went to Beaver's house, and said to him, "We wish to
marry your sons." But old Beaver said, "No! You called us hard
names."
The water was now running in a regular stream. So the Frogs swam away
downstream until they reached a whirlpool, which sucked them in, and
they descended to the house of the Moon. The latter invited them to warm
themselves at the fire; but they said, "No. We do not wish to sit
by the fire. We wish to sit there," pointing at him. He said,
"Here?" at the same time pointing at his feet. They said,
"No, not there." Then he pointed to one part of his body after
another, until he reached his brow. When he said, "Will you sit
here?" they all cried out, "Yes," and jumped on his face,
thus spoiling his beauty. The Frog's sisters may be seen on the moon's
face at the present day.
|
THE BIRD WHOSE WINGS MADE THE WIND[74]
(MICMAC: Rand, Legends of the Micmacs, p. 360,
No. 68)
An Indian family resided on the sea-shore. They had two sons, the
oldest of whom was married and had a family of small children. They
lived principally by fishing, and their favorite food was eels.
Now it came to pass at a certain time that the weather was so stormy
they could not fish. The wind blew fiercely night and day, and they were
greatly reduced by hunger. Finally the old father told his boys to walk
along the shore, and perhaps they might find a fish that had floated
ashore, as sometimes happened. So one of the young men started off to
try his luck in this line; when he reached a point where the wind blew
so fiercely that he could hardly stand against it, he saw the cause of
all the trouble. At the end of the point there was a ledge of rocks,
called Rocky Point, extending far out; at low water the rocks were
separated from one another by the shallow water, but were nearly all
covered when the tide was in. On the farthest rock a large bird, the
storm-king, was standing, flapping his wings and causing all the trouble
by the wind he raised. The
{p. 49}
Indian planned to outwit him. He called to the big bird, and
addressing him as "my grandfather," said, "Are you
cold?" He answered, "No." The man replied, "You are
cold; let me carry you ashore on my back." "Do so," was
the answer. So the man waded over to the rock on which the bird was
sitting, took him on his back, and carefully carried him from rock to
rock, wading over the intervening spaces of shoal water. In going down
the last rock, he stumbled on purpose, but pretended that it was an
accident; and the poor old bird fell and broke one of his wings. The man
seemed very sorry, and immediately proceeded to set the bone and bind up
the wing. He then directed the old fellow to keep quiet and not move his
wings until the wounded one healed. He now inquired if it pained him
much, and was told that it did not. "Remain there and I will visit
you again soon, and bring you some food." He now returned home, and
found that the wind had all died away; there was a dead calm, so that
before long they were supplied with a great abundance of food, as the
eels were plenty and easily taken. But there can be too much even of a
good thing. Calm weather continued for a succession of days, causing the
salt water to be covered with a sort of scum. The Indians say it is the
result of sickness and vomiting among the larger fish; this scum
prevents the fishermen from seeing into the water, and consequently is
adverse to eel-spearing. This took place on the occasion referred to,
and so they sought for a remedy. The big bird was visited and his wing
examined. It was sufficiently recovered to admit of motion, and he was
told to keep both his wings going, but that the motion must be steady
and gentle. This produced the desired effect.
|
THE ORIGIN OF CORN
(ABABNAKI: Brown, Journal of American Folk-Lore,
iii, 214)
A long time ago, when Indians were first made, there lived one alone,
far, far from any others. He knew not of fire, and subsisted on roots,
barks, and nuts. This Indian became very lonesome for company. He grew
tired of digging roots, lost his appetite, and for several days lay
dreaming in the sunshine; when he awoke he saw something standing near,
at which, at first, he was very much frightened. But when it spoke, his
heart was glad, for it was a beautiful woman with long light
hair, very unlike any Indian. He asked her to come to him, but
{p. 52}
she would not, and if he tried to approach her she seemed to go
farther away; he sang to her of his loneliness and besought her not to
leave him; at last she told him, if he would do just as she should say,
he would always have her with him. He promised that he would.
She led him to where there was some very dry grass, told him to get
two very dry sticks, rub them together quickly, holding them in the
grass. Soon a spark flew out; the grass caught it, and quick as an arrow
the ground was burned over. Then she said, "When the sun sets, take
me by the hair and drag me over the burned ground." He did not like
to do this, but she told him that wherever he dragged her something like
grass would spring up, and he would see her hair coming from between the
leaves; then the seeds would be ready for his use. He did as she said,
and to this day, when they see the silk (hair) on the cornstalk, the
Indians know she has not forgotten them.
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