initial commit of ebook 8122HEADmain

10 files changed, 19096 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/8122-8.txt b/8122-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..96aca2f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/8122-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,6051 @@
+Project Gutenberg's Legends of the Northwest, by Hanford Lennox Gordon
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Legends of the Northwest
+
+Author: Hanford Lennox Gordon
+
+
+Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8122]
+This file was first posted on June 16, 2003
+Last Updated: May 8, 2013
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEGENDS OF THE NORTHWEST ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Susan Skinner, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+LEGENDS OF THE NORTHWEST.
+
+By H. L. Gordon
+
+_Author of Pauline_.
+
+
+
+
+CONTAINING
+
+PRELUDE--THE MISSISSIPPI.
+
+THE FEAST OF THE VIRGINS, A LEGEND OF THE DAKOTAS.
+
+WINONA, A LEGEND OF THE DAKOTAS.
+
+THE LEGEND OF THE FALLS, A LEGEND OF THE DAKOTAS.
+
+THE SEA-GULL, THE OJIBWA LEGEND OF THE PICTURED ROCKS OF LAKE SUPERIOR.
+
+MINNETONKA.
+
+      *       *       *       *       *
+
+PREFACE.
+
+I have for several years devoted many of my leisure hours to the study
+of the language, history, traditions, customs and superstitions of the
+Dakotas. These Indians are now commonly called the "Sioux"--a name given
+them by the early French traders and _voyageurs_. "Dakota" signifies
+_alliance_ or _confederation_. Many separate bands, all having a common
+origin and speaking a common tongue, were united under this name. See
+"_Tah-Koo Wah-Kan_," or "_The Gospel Among the Dakotas_," by Stephen R.
+Riggs, pp. 1 to 6 inc.
+
+They were, but yesterday, the occupants and owners of the fair forests
+and fertile prairies of Minnesota--a brave, hospitable and generous
+people,--barbarians, indeed, but noble in their barbarism. They may be
+fitly called the Iroquois of the West. In form and features, in language
+and traditions, they are distinct from all other Indian tribes. When
+first visited by white men, and for many years afterwards, the Falls of
+St. Anthony (by them called the Ha-Ha) was the center of their country.
+They cultivated tobacco, and hunted the elk, the beaver and the bison.
+They were open-hearted, truthful and brave. In their wars with other
+tribes they seldom slew women or children, and rarely sacrificed the
+lives of their prisoners.
+
+For many years their chiefs and head men successfully resisted the
+attempts to introduce spirituous liquors among them. More than a century
+ago an English trader was killed at Mendota, because he persisted,
+after repeated warnings by the chiefs, in dealing out _mini-wakan_
+(Devil-water) to the Dakota braves.
+
+With open arms and generous hospitality they welcomed the first white
+men to their land; and were ever faithful in their friendship,
+till years of wrong and robbery, and want and insult, drove them to
+desperation and to war. They were barbarians, and their warfare was
+barbarous, but not more barbarous than the warfare of our Saxon and
+Celtic ancestors. They were ignorant and superstitious, but their
+condition closely resembled the condition of our British forefathers
+at the beginning of the Christian era. Macaulay says of Britain, "Her
+inhabitants, when first they became known to the Tyrian mariners, were
+little superior to the natives of the Sandwich Islands." And again,
+"While the German princes who reigned at Paris, Toledo, Arles and
+Ravenna listened with reverence to the instructions of Bishops, adored
+the relics of martyrs, and took part eagerly in disputes touching the
+Nicene theology, the rulers of Wessex and Mercia were still performing
+savage rites in the temples of Thor and Woden."
+
+The day of the Dakotas is done. The degenerate remnants of that once
+powerful and warlike people still linger around the forts and agencies
+of the Northwest, or chase the caribou and the bison on the banks of the
+Sascatchewan, but the Dakotas of old are no more. The brilliant defeat
+of Custer, by Sitting Bull and his braves, was their last grand rally
+against the resistless march of the sons of the Saxons and the Celts.
+The plow-shares of a superior race are fast leveling the sacred mounds
+of their dead. But yesterday, the shores of our lakes, and our rivers,
+were dotted with their tepees. Their light canoes glided over our
+waters, and their hunters chased the deer and the buffalo on the sites
+of our cities. To-day, they are not. Let us do justice to their memory,
+for there was much that was noble in their natures. In the following
+Dakota Legends I have endeavored to faithfully represent many of the
+customs and superstitions, and some of the traditions, of that people.
+I have taken very little "poetic license" with their traditions; none,
+whatever, with their customs and superstitions. In my studies for these
+Legends I have been greatly aided by Rev. S. R. Riggs, author of the
+Grammar and Dictionary of the Dakota language, "Tah-Koo Wah-Kan," &c.,
+and for many years a missionary among the Dakotas. He has patiently
+answered my numerous inquiries and given me valuable information. I am
+also indebted to Gen. H. H. Sibley, one of the earliest American traders
+among them, and to Rev. S. W. Pond, of Shakopee, one of the first
+Protestant missionaries to these people, and himself the author of
+poetical versions of some of their principal legends; to Mrs. Eastman's
+"Dacotah." and last, but not least, to the Rev. E. D. Neill, whose
+admirable "History of Minnesota" so fully and faithfully presents almost
+all that is known of the history, traditions, customs, manners and
+superstitions of the Dakotas. In _Winona_ I have "tried my hand" on
+Hexameter verse. With what success, I leave to those who are better able
+to judge than I. If I have failed, I have but added another failure to
+the numerous vain attempts to naturalize Hexameter verse in the English
+language.
+
+The Earl of Derby, in the preface to his translation of the Iliad, calls
+it "That pestilent heresy of the so-called English Hexameter; a metre
+wholly repugnant to the genius of our language; which can only be
+pressed into the service by a violation of every rule of prosody." Lord
+Kames, in his "Elements of Criticism." says, "Many attempts have been
+made to introduce Hexameter verse into the living languages, but
+without success. The English language, I am inclined to think, is
+not susceptible of this melody, and my reasons are these: First, the
+polysyllables in Latin and Greek are finely diversified by long and
+short syllables, a circumstance that qualifies them for the melody of
+Hexameter verse: ours are extremely ill qualified for that service,
+because they super-abound in short syllables. Secondly, the bulk of our
+monosyllables are arbitrary with regard to length, which is an unlucky
+circumstance in Hexameter. * * * In Latin and Greek Hexameter invariable
+sounds direct and ascertain the melody. English Hexameter would
+be destitute of melody, unless by artful pronunciation; because of
+necessity the bulk of its sounds must be arbitrary. The pronunciation
+is easy in a simple movement of alternate long and short syllables;
+but would be perplexing and unpleasant in the diversified movement of
+Hexameter verse."
+
+Beautiful as is the _Evangeline_ of Longfellow, his Hexameter lines
+are sometimes hard to scan, and often grate harshly on the ear. He is
+frequently forced to divide a word by the central or pivotal pause of
+the line, and sometimes to make a pause in the sense where the rhythm
+forbids it. Take for example some of the opening lines of _Evangeline_:
+
+  "This is the forest prime|val. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
+    Bearded with moss, and in gar|ments green, indistinct in the twilight.
+  Loud from its rocky cav|erns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
+    Speaks, and in accents discon|solate answers the wail of the forest.
+  Lay in the fruitful val|ley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward."
+
+Again, in order to comply with the Greek and Latin rule of beginning
+each line with a _long_ syllable, he is compelled to emphasize words
+contrary to the sense. Examples:
+
+  _In_ the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of  Minas
+  _Some_what apart from the village, and nearer the Basin of Minas.
+  _But_ a celestial bright|ness--a more etherial beauty.
+  _And_ the retreating sun the sign of the scorpion enters.
+  _In_-doors, warmed by the wide-|mouthed fireplace idly the farmer,
+  _Four_ times the sun had ris|en and set; and now on the fifth day,
+
+"Greek and Latin Hexameter lines, as to time, are all of the same
+length, being equivalent to the time taken in pronouncing twelve long
+syllables, or twenty-four short ones. An Hexameter line may consist of
+seventeen syllables, and when regular and not Spondiac, it never has
+fewer than thirteen: whence it follows that where the syllables are
+many, the plurality must be short; where few, the plurality must be
+long. This line is susceptible of much variety as to the succession of
+long and short syllables. It is however subject to laws that confine its
+variety within certain limits. * * *
+
+1st. The line must always commence with a _long_ syllable, and close
+with two long preceded by two short.
+
+2d. More than two short syllables can never be found together, nor
+_fewer_ than two.
+
+3d. Two long syllables which have been preceded by two short can not
+also be followed by two short.
+
+These few rules fulfill all the conditions of an Hexameter line
+with relation to order of arrangement."--_Lord Kames, "Elements of
+Criticism."_ One who attempts to write English Hexameter, under the
+Greek and Latin rules, will speedily be made aware that the English
+language "super-abounds in short syllables." Why then should we rigidly
+adhere to rules repugnant to the genius of our language, if they can be
+modified so as to adapt the sonorous Hexameter to the structure of our
+mother-tongue? Can they be so modified? I have attempted it. I venture
+to change them as follows:
+
+1st. By beginning each line with a _short_ syllable instead of a long
+one. And it will be seen that I often begin a line with two short
+syllables.
+
+2d. By often using one short syllable unaccompanied by another.
+
+3d. I have increased the average number of syllables in the line to
+better adapt it to our super-abundance of short syllables.
+
+4th. In _Winona_ I have introduced a rhyme at the pivotal pause of
+the line, not because my Hexameter requires it, but because I think it
+increases the melody, and more emphatically marks the central pause.
+
+I am not quite sure that, in a long poem, the rhyme is not detrimental.
+That depends greatly, however, upon the skill with which it is handled.
+Surely the same Hexameter can be written as smoothly and more vigorously
+without rhyme. Rhyme adds greatly to the labor of composition; it rarely
+assists, but often hinders, the expression of the sense which the author
+would convey. At times I have been on the point of abandoning it
+in despair, but after having been under the hammer and the file, at
+intervals for the last four years, _Winona_ is at last _done_, if not
+finished.
+
+It will be observed that I have slightly changed the length and the
+rhythm of the old Hexameter line, but it is still Hexameter, and, I
+think, improved. I am not afraid of intelligent criticism. I invoke it,
+and will endeavor to profit by it in the future as in the past.
+
+The reception of my _Pauline_ at home and abroad has been so flattering
+that I have been encouraged to attempt something better. That was my
+first real effort and full of crudities but if the Legends are received
+by our best critics as well as _Pauline_ was received I shall be well
+pleased with my efforts.
+
+After much thought I have decided to publish the first edition of my
+_Legends_ here at home:
+
+1st Because they pertain particularly to the lakes and rivers to the
+fair forests and fertile fields of our own Minnesota and ought to be
+appreciated here if anywhere.
+
+2d Because many of our people are competent to judge whether my
+representations of Dakota customs, life, traditions, and superstitions
+are correct or not and at the same time the reading public of the North
+west is as intelligent and discriminating as that of any other portion
+of our country. If these _Legends_ be appreciated and approved by our
+own people who are familiar with the scenery described and more or less,
+with the customs, traditions and superstitions of the Dakotas, and if
+beyond that these poems shall stand the test of candid criticism I may
+give them a wider publication.
+
+H. L. GORDON.
+
+MINNEAPOLIS. June 1, 1881.
+
+
+[Illustration: VIEW OF THE MISSISSIPPI AT FORT SNELLING]
+
+
+
+
+PRELUDE.
+
+
+
+
+THE MISSISSIPPI.
+
+
+  Onward rolls the Royal River, proudly sweeping to the sea,
+  Dark and deep and grand, forever wrapt in myth and mystery.
+  Lo he laughs along the highlands, leaping o'er the granite walls:
+  Lo he sleeps among the islands, where the loon her lover calls.
+  Still like some huge monster winding downward through the prairie plains,
+  Seeking rest but never finding, till the tropic gulf he gains.
+  In his mighty arms he claspeth now an empire broad and grand;
+  In his left hand lo he graspeth leagues of fen and forest land;
+  In his right the mighty mountains, hoary with eternal snow.
+  Where a thousand foaming fountains singing seek the plains below.
+  Fields of corn and feet of cities lo the mighty river laves,
+  Where the Saxon sings his ditties o'er the swarthy warriors' graves.
+  Aye, before the birth, of Moses--ere the Pyramids were piled--
+  All his banks were red with roses from the sea to nor'lands wild,
+  And from forest, fen and meadows, in the deserts of the north,
+  Elk and bison stalked like shadows, and the tawny tribes came forth;
+  Deeds of death and deeds of daring on his leafy banks were done--
+  Women loved and men went warring--ere the siege of Troy begun.
+  Where his wayward waters thundered, roaring o'er the rocky walls,
+  Dusky hunters sat and wondered, listening to the spirits' calls.
+  "Ha-ha!" [76] cried the warrior greeting from afar the cataract's roar;
+  "Ha-ha!" rolled the answer, beating down the rock-ribbed leagues of shore.
+  Now, alas, the bow and quiver and the dusky braves have fled,
+  And the sullen, shackled river drives the droning mills instead.
+
+  Where the war whoop rose, and, after, women wailed their warriors slain,
+  List the Saxon's silvery laughter, and his humming hives of gain.
+  Swiftly sped the tawny runner o'er the pathless prairies then,
+  Now the iron-reindeer sooner carries weal or woe to men.
+  On thy bosom, Royal River, silent sped the birch canoe,
+  Bearing brave with bow and quiver, on his way to war or woo;
+  Now with flaunting flags and streamers--mighty monsters of the deep--
+  Lo the puffing, panting steamers, through thy foaming waters sweep;
+  And behold the grain-fields golden, where the bison grazed of eld;
+  See the fanes of forests olden by the ruthless Saxon felled,--
+  Pluméd pines that spread their shadows ere Columbus spread his sails.
+  Firs that fringed the mossy meadows ere the Mayflower braved the gales,
+  Iron oaks that nourished bruin while the Vikings roamed the main,
+  Crashing fall in broken ruin for the greedy marts of gain.
+
+  Still forever and forever rolls the restless river on,
+  Slumbering oft but ceasing never, while the circling centuries run.
+  In his palm the lakelet lingers, in his hair the brooklets hide,
+  Grasped within his thousand fingers lies a continent fair and wide,--
+  Yea, a mighty empire swarming with its millions like the bees,
+  Delving, drudging, striving, storming, all their lives, for golden ease.
+
+  Still, methinks, the dusky shadows of the days that are no more
+  Stalk around the lakes and meadows, haunting oft the wonted shore,--
+  Hunters from the land of spirits seek the bison and the deer,
+  Where the Saxon now inherits golden field and silver mere;
+  And beside the mound where burried lies the dark-eyed maid he loves,
+  Some tall warrior, wan and wearied, in the misty moonlight moves.
+  See--he stands erect and lingers--stoic still, but loth to go--
+  Clutching in his tawny fingers feathered shaft and polished bow.
+  Never wail or moan he utters and no tear is on his face,
+  But a warrior's curse he mutters on the crafty Saxon race.
+
+  O thou dark, mysterious River, speak and tell thy tales to me;
+  Seal not up thy lips forever--veiled in mist and mystery.
+  I will sit and lowly listen at the phantom-haunted falls,
+  Where thy waters foam and glisten o'er the rugged, rocky walls.
+  Till some spirit of the olden, mystic, weird, romantic days
+  Shall emerge and pour her golden tales and legends through my lays.
+  Then again the elk and bison on thy grassy banks shall feed,
+  And along the low horizon shall the pluméd hunter speed;
+  Then again on lake and river shall the silent birch canoe
+  Bear the brave with bow and quiver on his way to war or woo:
+  Then the beaver on the meadow shall rebuild his broken wall,
+  And the wolf shall chase his shadow and his mate the panther call.
+  From the prairies and the regions where the pine-plumed forest grows
+  Shall arise the tawny legions with their lances and their bows;
+  And again the shouts of battle shall resound along the plain,
+  Bows shall twang and quivers rattle, women wail their warriors slain.
+
+
+
+
+THE FEAST OF THE VIRGINS. [1]
+
+A LEGEND OF THE DAKOTAS.
+
+
+(In pronouncing Dakota words give "a" the sound of "ah"--"e" the sound
+of "a"--"i" the sound of "e" and "u" the sound of "oo," sound "ee" as
+in English. The numerals, 1, 2, etc. refer to explanatory notes in the
+appendix.)
+
+
+
+
+THE GAME OF BALL. [2]
+
+
+  Clear was the sky as a silver shield;
+  The bright sun blazed on the frozen field.
+  On icebound river and white robed prairie
+  The diamonds gleamed in the flame of noon;
+  But cold and keen were the breezes airy
+  Wa-zi-ya [3] blew from his icy throne.
+
+  On the solid ice of the silent river
+  The bounds are marked, and a splendid prize,
+  A robe of black fox lined with beaver--
+  Is hung in view of the eager eyes;
+  And fifty merry Dakota maidens,
+  The fairest moulded of woman kind,
+  Are gathered in groups on the level ice.
+  They look on the robe and its beauty gladdens,
+  And maddens their hearts for the splendid prize.
+  Lo the rounded ankles and raven hair
+  That floats at will on the wanton wind,
+  And the round brown arms to the breezes bare,
+  And breasts like the mounds where the waters meet, [4]
+  And feet as fleet as the red deer's feet,
+  And faces that glow like the full, round moon
+  When she laughs in the luminous skies of June.
+
+  The leaders are chosen and swiftly divide
+  The opposing parties on either side.
+  Wiwâstè [5] is chief of a nimble band.
+  The star-eyed daughter of Little Crow; [6]
+  And the leader chosen to hold command
+  Of the band adverse is a haughty foe--
+  The dusky, impetuous Hârpstinà, [7]
+  The queenly cousin of Wapasa. [8]
+  Kapóza's chief and his tawny hunters
+  Are gathered to witness the queenly game.
+  The ball is thrown and a bat encounters,
+  And away it flies with a loud acclaim.
+  Swift are the maidens that follow after,
+  And swiftly it flies for the farther bound:
+  And long and loud are the peals of laughter,
+  As some fair runner is flung to ground;
+  While backward and forward, and to and fro,
+  The maidens contend on the trampled snow.
+  With loud "Ihó!--Itó!--Ihó!" [9]
+  And waving the beautiful prize anon,
+  The dusky warriors cheer them on.
+  And often the limits are almost passed,
+  As the swift ball flies and returns. At last
+  It leaps the line at a single bound
+  From the fair Wiwâstè's sturdy stroke,
+  Like a fawn that flies from the baying hound.
+  Wild were the shouts, and they rolled and broke
+  On the beetling bluffs and the hills profound,
+  An echoing, jubilant sea of sound.
+  Wakâwa, the chief, and the loud acclaim
+  Announced the end of the well-fought game,
+  And the fair Wiwâstè was victor crowned.
+
+  Dark was the visage of Hârpstinà
+  When the robe was laid at her rival's feet,
+  And merry maidens and warriors saw
+  Her flashing eyes and her look of hate,
+  As she turned to Wakâwa, the chief, and said:--
+  "The game was mine were it fairly played.
+  I was stunned by a blow on my bended head,
+  As I snatched the ball from slippery ground
+  Not half a fling from Wiwâstè's bound.
+  And the cheat--behold her! for there she stands
+  With the prize that is mine in her treacherous hands.
+  The fawn may fly, but the wolf is fleet;
+  The fox creeps sly on Magâ's [10] retreat;
+  And a woman's revenge--it is swift and sweet."
+  She turned to her lodge, but a roar of laughter
+  And merry mockery followed after.
+  Little they heeded the words she said,
+  Little they cared for her haughty tread,
+  For maidens and warriors and chieftain knew
+  That her lips were false and her charge untrue.
+
+  Wiwâstè, the fairest Dakota maiden,
+  The sweet-faced daughter of Little Crow,
+  To her teepee [11] turned with her trophy laden--
+  The black robe trailing the virgin snow.
+  Beloved was she by her princely father,
+  Beloved was she by the young and old,
+  By merry maidens and many a mother,
+  And many a warrior bronzed and bold.
+  For her face was as fair as a beautiful dream,
+  And her voice like the song of the mountain stream;
+  And her eyes like the stars when they glow and gleam.
+  Through the somber pines of the nor'land wold,
+  When the winds of winter are keen and cold.
+
+  Mah-pí-ya Dú-ta [12] the tall Red Cloud,
+  A hunter swift and a warrior proud,
+  With many a scar and many a feather,
+  Was a suitor bold and a lover fond.
+  Long had he courted Wiwâstè's father,
+  Long had he sued for the maiden's hand.
+  Aye, brave and proud was the tall Red Cloud,
+  A peerless son of a giant race,
+  And the eyes of the panther were set in his face.
+  He strode like a stag, and he stood like a pine:
+  Ten feathers he wore of the great Wanmdeè; [13]
+  With crimsoned quills of the porcupine
+  His leggins were worked to his brawny knee.
+  The bow he bent was a giant's bow;
+  The swift red elk could he overtake,
+  And the necklace that girdled his brawny neck
+  Was the polished claws of the great Mató [14]
+  He grappled and slew in the northern snow.
+
+  Wiwâstè looked on the warrior tall;
+  She saw he was brawny and brave and great,
+  But the eyes of the panther she could but hate,
+  And a brave Hóhé [15] loved she better than all.
+  Loved was Mahpíya by Hârpstinà,
+  But the warrior she never could charm or draw;
+  And bitter indeed was her secret hate
+  For the maiden she reckoned so fortunate.
+
+
+
+
+HEYÓKA WACÍPEE [16]--THE GIANT'S DANCE.
+
+
+  The night-sun [17] sails in his gold canoe,
+  The spirits [18] walk in the realms of air
+  With their glowing faces and flaming hair,
+  And the shrill, chill winds o'er the prairies blow.
+  In the Tee [19] of the Council the Virgins light
+  The Virgin-fire [20] for the feast to-night;
+  For the Sons of Heyóka will celebrate
+  The sacred dance to the giant great.
+  The kettle boils on the blazing fire,
+  And the flesh is done to the chief's desire.
+  With his stoic face to sacred East, [21]
+  He takes his seat at the Giant's Feast.
+
+  For the feast of Heyóka [22] the braves are dressed
+  With crowns from the bark of the white-birch trees,
+  And new skin leggins that reach the knees;
+  With robes of the bison and swarthy bear,
+  And eagle-plumes in their coal-black hair,
+  And marvelous rings in their tawny ears,
+  Which were pierced with the points of their shining spears.
+  To honor Heyóka, Wakâwa lifts
+  His fuming pipe from the Red-stone Quarry. [23]
+  The warriors follow. The white cloud drifts
+  From the Council-lodge to the welkin starry,
+  Like a fog at morn on the fir-clad hill,
+  When the meadows are damp and the winds are still.
+
+  They dance to the tune of their wild "Ha-ha!"
+  A warrior's shout and a raven's caw--
+  Circling the pot and the blaming fire
+  To the tom-tom's bray and the rude bassoon;
+  Round and round to their heart's desire,
+  And ever the same wild chant and tune--
+  A warrior's shout and a raven's caw--
+  "Ha-ha,--ha-ha,--ha-ha,--ha!"
+  They crouch, they leap, and their burning eyes
+  Flash fierce in the light of the flaming fire,
+  As fiercer and fiercer and higher and higher
+  The rude, wild notes of their chant arise.
+  They cease, they sit, and the curling smoke
+  Ascends again from their polished pipes,
+  And upward curls from their swarthy lips
+  To the God whose favor their hearts invoke.
+
+  Then tall Wakâwa arose and said:
+  "Brave warriors, listen, and give due heed.
+  Great is Heyóka, the magical god;
+  He can walk on the air; he can float on the flood.
+  He's a worker of magic and wonderful wise;
+  He cries when he laughs and he laughs when he cries;
+  He sweats when he's cold, and he shivers when hot,
+  And the water is cold in his boiling pot.
+  He hides in the earth and he walks in disguise,
+  But he loves the brave and their sacrifice.
+  We are sons of Heyóka. The Giant commands
+  In the boiling water to thrust our hands;
+  And the warrior that scorneth the foe and fire
+  Heyóka will crown with his hearts desire."
+
+  They thrust their hands in the boiling pot;
+  They swallow the bison meat steaming hot,
+  Not a wince on their stoical faces bold.
+  For the meat and the water, they say, are cold,
+  And great is Heyóka and wonderful wise;
+  He floats on the flood and he walks in the skies,
+  And ever appears in a strange disguise;
+  But he loves the brave and their sacrifice;
+  And the warrior that scorneth the foe and fire
+  Heyóka will crown with his heart's desire.
+
+  Proud was the chief of his warriors proud,
+  The sinewy sons of the Giant's race;
+  But the bravest of all was the tall Red Cloud;
+  The eyes of the panther were set in his face;
+  He strode like a stag and he stood like a pine;
+  Ten feathers he wore at the great Wanmdeé; [13]
+  With crimsoned quills of the porcupine
+  His leggins were worked to his brawny knee.
+  Blood-red were the stripes on his swarthy cheek,
+  And the necklace that girdled his brawny neck
+  Was the polished claws of the great Mató [14]
+  He grappled and slew in the northern snow.
+
+  Proud Red Cloud turned to the braves and said,
+  As he shook the plumes on his haughty head:
+
+  "Ho! the warrior that scorneth the foe and fire
+  Heyóka will crown with his heart's desire!"
+  He snatched from the embers a red-hot brand,
+  And held it aloft in his naked hand.
+  He stood like a statue in bronze or stone,--
+  Not a muscle moved, and the braves looked on.
+  He turned to the chieftain,--"I scorn the fire,--
+  Ten feathers I wear of the great Wanmdeé;
+  Then grant me, Wakâwa, my heart's desire;
+  Let the sunlight shine in my lonely tee. [19]
+  I laugh at red death and I laugh at red fire;
+  Brave Red Cloud is only afraid of fear;
+  But Wiwâstè is fair to his heart and dear;
+  Then grant him, Wakâwa, his heart's desire."
+
+  The warriors applauded with loud "Ho! Ho!" [24]
+  And he flung the brand to the drifting snow.
+  Three times Wakâwa puffed forth the smoke
+  From his silent lips; then he slowly spoke:
+  "Mâhpíya is strong as the stout-armed oak
+  That stands on the bluff by the windy plain,
+  And laughs at the roar of the hurricane.
+  He has slain the foe and the great Mató
+  With his hissing arrow and deadly stroke.
+  My heart is swift but my tongue is slow.
+  Let the warrior come to my lodge and smoke;
+  He may bring the gifts; [25] but the timid doe
+  May fly from the hunter and say him no."
+
+  Wiwâstè sat late in the lodge alone,
+  Her dark eyes bent on the glowing fire.
+  She heard not the wild winds shrill and moan;
+  She heard not the tall elms toss and groan;
+  Her face was lit like the harvest moon;
+  For her thoughts flew far to her heart's desire.
+  Far away in the land of the Hóhé [15] dwelt
+  The warrior she held in her secret heart;
+  But little he dreamed of the pain she felt,
+  For she hid her love with a maiden's art.
+  Not a tear she shed, not a word she said,
+  When the fair young chief from the lodge departed;
+  But she sat on the mound when the day was dead,
+  And gazed at the full moon mellow hearted.
+  Fair was the chief as the morning-star;
+  His eyes were mild and his words were low,
+  But his heart was stouter than lance or bow;
+  And her young heart flew to her love afar
+  O'er his trail long covered with drifted snow.
+  But she heard a warrior's stealthy tread,
+  And the tall Wakâwa appeared, and said--
+  "Is Wiwâstè afraid of the spirit dread
+  That fires the sky in the fatal north? [26]
+  Behold the mysterious lights. Come forth
+  Some evil threatens,--some danger nears,
+  For the skies are pierced with the burning spears."
+
+  The warriors rally beneath the moon;
+  They shoot their shafts at the evil spirit.
+  The spirit is slain and the flame is gone,
+  And his blood lies red on the snow fields near it.
+  But again from the dead will the spirit rise,
+  And flash his spears in the northern skies.
+
+  Then the chief and the queenly Wiwâstè stood
+  Alone in the moon-lit solitude,
+  And she was silent and he was grave.
+  "And fears not my daughter the evil spirit?
+  The strongest warriors and bravest fear it
+  The burning spears are an evil omen;
+  They threaten the wrath of a wicked woman,
+  Or a treacherous foe; but my warriors brave,
+  When danger nears, or the foe appears,
+  Are a cloud of arrows,--a grove of spears."
+
+  "My Father," she said, and her words were low,
+  "Why should I fear? for I soon will go
+  To the broad, blue lodge in the Spirit land,
+  Where my dark eyed mother went long ago,
+  And my dear twin sisters walk hand in hand.
+  My Father, listen,--my words are true,"
+  And sad was her voice as the whippowil
+  When she mourns her mate by the moon-lit rill,
+  "Wiwâstè lingers alone with you,
+  The rest are sleeping on yonder hill,--
+  Save one--and he an undutiful son,--
+  And you, my Father, will sit alone
+  When Sisóka [27] sings and the snow is gone.
+  I sat, when the maple leaves were red,
+  By the foaming falls of the haunted river;
+  The night sun was walking above my head,
+  And the arrows shone in his burnished quiver;
+  And the winds were hushed and the hour was dread
+  With the walking ghosts of the silent dead.
+  I heard the voice of the Water-Fairy; [28]
+  I saw her form in the moon-lit mist,
+  As she sat on a stone with her burden weary,
+  By the foaming eddies of amethyst.
+  And robed in her mantle of mist the sprite
+  Her low wail poured on the silent night.
+  Then the spirit spake, and the floods were still--
+  They hushed and listened to what she said,
+  And hushed was the plaint of the whippowil
+  In the silver-birches above her head:
+  'Wiwâstè,--the prairies are green and fair,
+  When the robin sings and the whippowil;
+  But the land of the Spirits is fairer still,
+  For the winds of winter blow never there;
+  And forever the songs of the whippowils
+  And the robins are heard on the leafy hills.
+  Thy mother looks from her lodge above,--
+  Her fair face shines in the sky afar,
+  And the eyes of thy sisters are bright with love,
+  As they peep from the tee of the mother-star.
+  To her happy lodge in the spirit-land
+  She beckons Wiwâstè with shining hand.'
+
+  "My Father,--my Father, her words were true;
+  And the death of Wiwâstè will rest on you.
+  You have pledged me as wife to the tall Red Cloud;
+  You will take the gifts of the warrior proud;
+  But I, Wakâwa,--I answer--never!
+  I will stain your knife in my heart's red blood,
+  I will plunge and sink in the sullen river,
+  Ere I will be wife to the fierce Red Cloud!"
+
+  "Wiwâstè," he said, and his voice was low,
+  "Let it be as you will, for Wakâwa's tongue
+  Has spoken no promise;--his lips are slow,
+  And the love of a father is deep and strong.
+  Be happy, Micúnksee [29], the flames are gone,--
+  They flash no more in the Northern sky.
+  See the smile on the face of the watching moon;
+  No more will the fatal red arrows fly;
+  For the singing shafts of my warriors sped
+  To the bad spirit's bosom and laid him dead,
+  And his blood on the snow of the North lies red.
+  Go,--sleep in the robe that you won to-day,
+  And dream of your hunter--the brave Chaskè."
+
+  Light was her heart as she turned away;
+  It sang like the lark in the skies of May.
+  The round moon laughed, but a lone red star, [30]
+  As she turned to the teepee and entered in,
+  Fell flashing and swift in the sky afar,
+  Like the polished point of a javelin.
+  Nor chief nor daughter the shadow saw
+  Of the crouching listener--Hârpstinà.
+
+  Wiwâstè, wrapped in her robe and sleep
+  Heard not the storm-sprites wail and weep,
+  As they rode on the winds in the frosty air;
+  But she heard the voice of her hunter fair;
+  For a shadowy spirit with fairy fingers
+  The curtains drew from the land of dreams;
+  And lo in her teepee her lover lingers;
+  The light of love in his dark eye beams,
+  And his voice is the music of mountain streams.
+
+  And then with her round, brown arms she pressed
+  His phantom form to her throbbing breast,
+  And whispered the name, in her happy sleep,
+  Of her Hóhé hunter so fair and far.
+  And then she saw in her dreams the deep
+  Where the spirit wailed, and a falling star;
+  Then stealthily crouching under the trees,
+  By the light of the moon, the Kan-ó-ti-dan, [31]
+  The little, wizened, mysterious man,
+  With his long locks tossed by the moaning breeze.
+  Then a flap of wings, like a thunder-bird, [32]
+  And a wailing spirit the sleeper heard;
+  And lo, through the mists of the moon, she saw
+  The hateful visage of Hârpstinà.
+
+  But waking she murmured--"And what are these--
+  The flap of wings and the falling star,
+  The wailing spirit that's never at ease,
+  The little man crouching under the trees,
+  And the hateful visage of Hârpstinà?
+  My dreams are like feathers that float on the breeze,
+  And none can tell what the omens are--
+  Save the beautiful dream of my love afar
+  In the happy land of the tall Hóhé [15]--
+  My beautiful hunter--my brave Chaskè."
+
+  "Ta-tânka! Ta-tânka!" [33] the hunters cried,
+  With a joyous shout at the break of dawn;
+  And darkly lined on the white hill-side,
+  A herd of bison went marching on
+  Through the drifted snow like a caravan.
+  Swift to their ponies the hunters sped,
+  And dashed away on the hurried chase.
+  The wild steeds scented the game ahead,
+  And sprang like hounds to the eager race.
+  But the brawny bulls in the swarthy van
+  Turned their polished horns to the charging foes,
+  And reckless rider and fleet foot-man
+  Were held at bay in the drifted snows,
+  While the bellowing herd o'er the hill-tops ran,
+  Like the frightened beasts of a caravan
+  On the Sahara's sands when the simoon blows.
+  Sharp were the twangs of the hunters' bows,
+  And swift and humming the arrows sped,
+  Till ten huge bulls on the bloody snows
+  Lay pierced with arrows and dumb and dead.
+  But the chief with the flankers had gained the rear,
+  And flew on the trail of the flying herd.
+  The shouts of the riders rang loud and clear,
+  As their frothing steeds to the chase they spurred.
+  And now like the roar of an avalanche
+  Rolls the sullen wrath of the maddened bulls.
+  They charge on the riders and runners stanch,
+  And a dying steed in the snow-drift rolls,
+  While the rider, flung to the frozen ground
+  Escapes the horns by a panther's bound.
+  But the raging monsters are held at bay,
+  While the flankers dash on the swarthy rout.
+  With lance and arrow they slay and slay;
+  And the welkin rings to the gladsome shout--
+  To the loud Inâs and the wild Ihós, [34]--
+  And dark and dead, on the bloody snows,
+  Lie the swarthy heaps of the buffaloes.
+
+  All snug in the teepee Wiwâstè lay,
+  All wrapped in her robe, at the dawn of day,--
+  All snug and warm from the wind and snow,
+  While the hunters followed the buffalo.
+  Her dreams and her slumber their wild shouts broke;
+  The chase was afoot when the maid awoke;
+  She heard the twangs of the hunter's bows,
+  And the bellowing bulls and the loud Ihós,
+  And she murmured--"My hunter is far away
+  In the happy land of the tall Hóhé--
+  My beautiful hunter, my brave Chaskè;
+  But the robins will come and my warrior too,
+  And Wiwâstè will find her a way to woo."
+
+  And long she lay in a reverie,
+  And dreamed, wide-awake, of her brave Chaskè,
+  Till a trampling of feet on the crispy snow
+  She heard, and the murmur of voices low;--
+  Then the hunters' greeting--Ihó! Ihó!
+  And behold, in the blaze of the risen day,
+  With the hunters that followed the buffalo,--
+  Came her beautiful hunter--her brave Chaskè.
+  Far south has he followed the bison-trail
+  With his band of warriors so brave and true.
+  Right glad is Wakâwa his friend to hail,
+  And Wiwâstè will find her a way to woo.
+
+  Tall and straight as the larch tree stood
+  The manly form of the brave young chief,
+  And fair as the larch in its vernal leaf,
+  When the red fawn bleats in the feathering wood.
+  Mild was his face as the morning skies,
+  And friendship shone in his laughing eyes;
+  But swift were his feet o'er the drifted snow
+  On the trail of the elk or the buffalo;
+  And his heart was stouter than lance or bow,
+  When he heard the whoop of his enemies.
+  Five feathers he wore of the great Wanmdeè,
+  And each for the scalp of a warrior slain,
+  When down on his camp from the northern plain,
+  With their murder cries rode the bloody Cree. [35]
+  But never the stain of an infant slain,
+  Or the blood of a mother that plead in vain,
+  Soiled the honored plumes of the brave Hóhé.
+  A mountain bear to his enemies,
+  To his friends like the red fawn's dappled form;
+  In peace, like the breeze from the summer seas;
+  In war, like the roar of the mountain storm.
+  His fame in the voice of the winds went forth
+  From his hunting grounds in the happy north,
+  And far as the shores of the Great Medè [36]
+  The nations spoke of the brave Chaskè.
+
+  Dark was the visage of grim Red Cloud,
+  Fierce were the eyes of the warrior proud,
+  When the chief to his lodge led the brave Chaskè,
+  And Wiwâstè smiled on the tall Hóhé.
+  Away he strode with a sullen frown,
+  And alone in his teepee he sat him down.
+  From the gladsome greeting of braves he stole,
+  And wrapped himself in his gloomy soul.
+  But the eagle eyes of the Hârpstinà
+  The clouded face of the warrior saw.
+  Softly she spoke to the sullen brave:
+  "Mah-pí-ya Dúta,--his face is sad.
+  And why is the warrior so glum and grave?
+  For the fair Wiwâstè is gay and glad.
+  She will sit in the teepee the live-long day,
+  And laugh with her lover--the brave Hóhé.
+  Does the tall Red Cloud for the false one sigh?
+  There are fairer maidens than she, and proud
+  Were their hearts to be loved by the brave Red Cloud.
+  And trust not the chief with the smiling eyes;
+  His tongue is swift, but his words are lies;
+  And the proud Mah-pí-ya will surely find
+  That Wakâwa's promise is hollow wind.
+  Last night I stood by his lodge, and lo
+  I heard the voice of the Little Crow;
+  But the fox is sly and his words were low.
+  But I heard her answer her father--"Never!
+  I will stain your knife in my heart's red blood,
+  I will plunge and sink in the sullen river,
+  Ere I will be wife to the fierce Red Cloud!"
+  Then he spake again, and his voice was low,
+  But I heard the answer of Little Crow:
+  "Let it be as you will, for Wakâwa's tongue
+  Has spoken no promise,--his lips are slow,
+  And the love of a father is deep and strong."
+
+  Mâh-pí-ya Dúta, they scorn your love,
+  But the false chief covets the warrior's gifts.
+  False to his promise the fox will prove,
+  And fickle as snow in Wo-kâ-da-weè, [37]
+  That slips into brooks when the gray cloud lifts,
+  Or the red sun looks through the ragged rifts.
+  Mah-pí-ya Dúta will listen to me
+  There are fairer birds in the bush than she,
+  And the fairest would gladly be Red Cloud's wife.
+  Will the warrior sit like a girl bereft,
+  When fairer and truer than she are left
+  That love Red Cloud as they love their life?
+  Mah-pí-ya Dúta will listen to me
+  I love him well,--I have loved him long:
+  A woman is weak, but a warrior is strong,
+  And a lovelorn brave is a scorn to see.
+
+  Mah-pí-ya Dúta, O listen to me!
+  Revenge is swift and revenge is strong,
+  And sweet as the hive in the hollow tree.
+  The proud Red Cloud will revenge his wrong
+  Let the brave be patient, it is not long
+  Till the leaves be green on the maple tree,
+  And the Feast of the Virgins is then to be;--
+  The Feast of the Virgins is then to be!"
+
+  Proudly she turned from the silent brave,
+  And went her way; but the warrior's eyes--
+  They flashed with the flame of a sudden fire,
+  Like the lights that gleam in the Sacred Cave, [38]
+  When the black night covers the autumn skies,
+  And the stars from their welkin watch retire.
+
+  Three nights he tarried--the brave Chaskè;
+  Winged were the hours and they flitted away;
+  On the wings of Wakândee [39] they silently flew,
+  For Wiwâstè had found her a way to woo.
+  Ah, little he cared for the bison-chase;
+  For the red lilies bloomed on the fair maid's face;
+  Ah, little he cared for the winds that blew,
+  For Wiwâstè had found her a way to woo.
+  Brown-bosomed she sat on her fox-robe dark,
+  Her ear to the tales of the brave inclined,
+  Or tripped from the tee like the song of a lark,
+  And gathered her hair from the wanton wind.
+  Ah, little he thought of the leagues of snow
+  He trode on the trail of the buffalo;
+  And little he recked of the hurricanes
+  That swept the snow from the frozen plains
+  And piled the banks of the Bloody River. [40]
+  His bow unstrung and forgotten hung
+  With his beaver hood and his otter quiver;
+  He sat spell-bound by the artless grace
+  Of her star-lit eyes and her moon-lit face.
+  Ah, little he cared for the storms that blew,
+  For Wiwâstè had found her a way to woo.
+  When he spoke with Wakâwa her sidelong eyes
+  Sought the handsome chief in his hunter-guise.
+  Wakâwa marked, and the lilies fair
+  On her round cheeks spread to her raven hair.
+  They feasted on rib of the bison fat,
+  On the tongue of the Ta [41] that the hunters prize,
+  On the savory flesh of the red Hogân, [42]
+  On sweet tipsânna [43] and pemmican,
+  And the dun-brown cakes of the golden maize;
+  And hour after hour the young chief sat,
+  And feasted his soul on the maiden's eyes.
+
+  The sweeter the moments the swifter they fly;
+  Love takes no account of the fleeting hours;
+  He walks in a dream mid the blooming of flowers,
+  And never awakes till the blossoms die.
+  Ah, lovers are lovers the wide world over--
+  In the hunter's lodge and the royal palace.
+  Sweet are the lips of his love to the lover,--
+  Sweet as new wine in a golden chalice,
+  From the Tajo's [44] slopes or the hills beyond;
+  And blindly he sips from his loved one's lips,
+  In lodge or palace the wide world over,
+  The maddening honey of Trebizond. [45]
+
+  O, what are leagues to the loving hunter,
+  Or the blinding drift of the hurricane,
+  When it raves and roars o'er the frozen plain!
+  He would face the storm,--he would death encounter
+  The darling prize of his heart to gain.
+  But his hunters chafed at the long delay,
+  For the swarthy bison were far away,
+  And the brave young chief from the lodge departed.
+  He promised to come with the robin in May,
+  With the bridal gifts for the bridal day;
+  And the fair Wiwâstè was happy-hearted,
+  For Wakâwa promised the brave Chaskè.
+
+  Birds of a feather will flock together.
+  The robin sings to his ruddy mate,
+  And the chattering jays, in the winter weather,
+  To prate and gossip will congregate;
+  And the cawing crows on the autumn heather,
+  Like evil omens, will flock together,
+  In extra-session, for high debate;
+  And the lass will slip from a doting mother
+  To hang with her lad on the garden gate.
+  Birds of a feather will flock together,--
+  'Tis an adage old,--it is nature's law,
+  And sure as the pole will the needle draw,
+  The fierce Red Cloud with the flaunting feather,
+  Will follow the finger of Hârpstinà.
+
+  The winter wanes and the south-wind blows
+  From the Summer Islands legendary.
+  The skéskas [46] fly and the melted snows
+  In lakelets lie on the dimpled prairie.
+  The frost-flowers [47] peep from their winter sleep
+  Under the snow-drifts cold and deep.
+
+  To the April sun and the April showers,
+  In field and forest, the baby flowers
+  Lift their golden faces and azure eyes;
+  And wet with the tears of the winter-fairies,
+  Soon bloom and blossom the emerald prairies,
+  Like the fabled Garden of Paradise.
+
+  The plum-trees, white with their bloom in May,
+  Their sweet perfume on the vernal breeze
+  Wide strew like the isles of the tropic seas,
+  Where the paroquet chatters the livelong day.
+  But the May-days pass and the brave Chaskè--
+  O, why does the lover so long delay?
+  Wiwâstè waits in the lonely tee,
+  Has her fair face fled from his memory?
+  For the robin cherups his mate to please,
+  The blue bird pipes in the poplar trees,
+  The meadow lark warbles his jubilees,
+  Shrilling his song in the azure seas,
+  Till the welkin throbs to his melodies;
+  And low is the hum of the humble bees,
+  And the Feast of the Virgins is now to be.
+
+
+
+THE FEAST OF THE VIRGINS.
+
+
+  The sun sails high in his azure realms;
+  Beneath the arch of the breezy elms
+  The feast is spread by the murmuring river.
+  With his battle spear and his bow and quiver,
+  And eagle plumes in his ebon hair,
+  The chief Wakâwa himself is there;
+  And round the feast in the Sacred Ring, [48]
+  Sit his weaponed warriors witnessing.
+  Not a morsel of food have the Virgins tasted
+  For three long days ere the holy feast;
+  They sat in their teepee alone and fasted,
+  Their faces turned to the Sacred East. [21]
+  In the polished bowls lies the golden maize
+  And the flesh of fawn on the polished trays.
+  For the Virgins the bloom of the prairies wide--
+  The blushing pink and the meek blue-bell,
+  The purple plumes of the prairie's pride, [49]
+  The wild, uncultured asphodel,
+  And the beautiful, blue-eyed violet
+  That the Virgins call "Let-me-not-forget,"
+  In gay festoons and garlands twine
+  With the cedar sprigs [50] and the wildwood vine.
+  So gaily the Virgins are decked and dressed,
+  And none but a virgin may enter there;
+  And clad is each in a scarlet vest,
+  And a fawn skin frock to the brown calves bare.
+  Wild rosebuds peep from their flowing hair,
+  And a rose half-blown on the budding breast;
+  And bright with the quills of the porcupine
+  The moccasined feet of the maidens shine.
+
+  Hand in hand round the feast they dance,
+  And sing to the notes of a rude bassoon,
+  And never a pause or a dissonance
+  In the merry dance or the merry tune.
+  Brown-bosomed and fair as the rising moon,
+  When she peeps o'er the hills of the dewy east,
+  Wiwâstè sings at the Virgins Feast;
+  And bright is the light in her luminous eyes;
+  They glow like the stars in the winter skies;
+  And the lilies that bloom in her virgin heart
+  Their golden blush to her cheeks impart--
+  Her cheeks half hid in her midnight hair.
+  Fair is her form--as the red fawn's fair,
+  And long is the flow of her raven hair;
+  It falls to her knees, and it streams on the breeze
+  Like the path of a storm on the swelling seas.
+
+  Proud of their rites are the Virgins fair,
+  For none but a Virgin may enter there.
+  'Tis a custom of old and a sacred thing;
+  Nor rank nor beauty the warriors spare,
+  If a tarnished maiden should enter there.
+  And her that enters the Sacred Ring
+  With a blot that is known or a secret stain
+  The warrior who knows is bound to expose,
+  And lead her forth from the ring again.
+  And the word of the warrior is a sacred by law;
+  For the Virgins' Feast is a sacred thing.
+  Aside with the mothers sat Hârpstinà:
+  She durst not enter the virgins' ring.
+
+  Round and round to the merry song
+  The maidens dance in their gay attire.
+  While the loud "Ho-Ho's" of the tawny throng
+  Their flying feet and their song inspire.
+  They have finished the song and the sacred dance,
+  And hand in hand to the feast advance--
+  To the polished bowls of the golden maize,
+  And the sweet fawn meat in the polished trays.
+
+  Then up from his seat in the silent crowd
+  Rose the frowning, fierce-eyed, tall Red Cloud;
+  Swift was his stride as the panther's spring,
+  When he leaps on the fawn from his cavern lair;
+  Wiwâstè he caught by her flowing hair,
+  And dragged her forth from the Sacred Ring.
+  She turned on the warrior. Her eyes flashed fire;
+  Her proud lips quivered with queenly ire;
+  Her hand to the Spirits she raised and said,
+  And her sun browned cheeks were aflame with red:
+  "I am pure!--I am pure as falling snow!
+  Great Tâku-Skan-Skan [51] will testify!
+  And dares the tall coward to say me no?"
+  But the sullen warrior made no reply.
+  She turned to the chief with her frantic cries:
+  "Wakâwa--my Father; he lies!--he lies!
+  Wiwâstè is pure as the faun unborn;
+  Lead me back to the feast, or Wiwâstè dies!"
+  But the warriors uttered a cry of scorn,
+  And he turned his face from her pleading eyes.
+
+  Then the sullen warrior, the tall Red Cloud,
+  Looked up and spoke and his voice was loud;
+  But he held his wrath and spoke with care:
+  "Wiwâstè is young, she is proud and fair,
+  But she may not boast of the virgin snows.
+  The Virgins Feast is a Sacred thing:
+  How durst she enter the Virgins ring?
+  The warrior would fain, but he dares not spare;
+  She is tarnished and only the Red Cloud knows."
+
+  She clutched her hair in her clenched hand:
+  She stood like statue bronzed and grand:
+  Wakân-deè [39] flashed in her fiery eyes;
+  Then, swift as the meteor cleaves the skies--
+  Nay, swift as the fiery Wakinyan's dart, [32]
+  She snatch the knife from the warriors belt,
+  And plunged it clean to the polished hilt--
+  With deadly cry--in the villain's heart.
+  Staggering he clutched the air and fell;
+  His life-blood smoked on the trampled sand,
+  And dripped from the knife in the virgin's hand.
+  Then rose his kinsmen's savage yell.
+  Swift as the doe's Wiwâstè's feet
+  Fled away to the forest. The hunters fleet
+  In vain pursue, and in vain they prowl,
+  And lurk in the forest till dawn of day.
+  They hear the hoot of the mottled owl;
+  They hear the were-wolf's [52] winding howl;
+  But the swift Wiwâstè is far away.
+  They found no trace in the forest land,
+  They found no trail in the dew-damp grass,
+  They found no track in the river sand,
+  Where they thought Wiwâstè would surely pass.
+
+  The braves returned to the troubled chief;
+  In his lodge he sat in his silent grief.
+  "Surely," they said, "she has turned a spirit.
+  No trail she left with her flying feet;
+  No pathway leads to her far retreat.
+  She flew in the air, and her wail--we could hear it,
+  As she upward rose to the shining stars;
+  And we heard on the river, as we stood near it,
+  The falling drops of Wiwâstè's tears."
+
+  Wakâwa thought of his daughter's words
+  Ere the south-wind came and the piping birds--
+  "My Father, listen,--my words are true,"
+  And sad was her voice as the whippowil
+  When she mourns her mate by the moon-lit rill,
+  "Wiwâstè lingers alone with you;
+  The rest are sleeping on yonder hill--
+  Save one--and he an undutiful son,--
+  And you, my Father, will sit alone
+  When Sisóka [53] sings and the snow is gone."
+  His broad breast heaved on his troubled soul,
+  The shadow of grief o'er his visage stole
+  Like a cloud on the face of the setting sun.
+
+  "She has followed the years that are gone," he said;
+  "The spirits the words of the witch fulfill;
+  For I saw the ghost of my father dead,
+  By the moon's dim light on the misty hill.
+  He shook the plumes on his withered head,
+  And the wind through his pale form whistled shrill.
+  And a low, sad voice on the hill I heard.
+  Like the mournful wail of a widowed bird."
+  Then lo, as he looked from his lodge afar,
+  He saw the glow of the Evening-star;
+  "And yonder," he said, "is Wiwâstè's face;
+  She looks from her lodge on our fading race.
+  Devoured by famine, and fraud, and war,
+  And chased and hounded from woe to woe,
+  As the white wolves follow the buffalo."
+  And he named the planet the _Virgin Star_. [54]
+
+  "Wakâwa," he muttered, "the guilt is thine!
+  She was pure,--she was pure as the fawn unborn.
+  O, why did I hark to the cry of scorn,
+  Or the words of the lying libertine?
+  Wakâwa, Wakâwa, the guilt is thine!
+  The springs will return with the voice of birds,
+  But the voice of my daughter will come no more.
+
+  She wakened the woods with her musical words,
+  And the sky-lark, ashamed of his voice, forbore.
+  She called back the years that had passed, and long
+  I heard their voice in her happy song.
+  Her heart was the home of the sunbeam. Bright
+  Poured the stream of her song on the starry night.
+  O, why did the chief of the tall Hóhé
+  His feet from Kapóza [6] so long delay?
+  For his father sat at my father's feast,
+  And he at Wakâwa's--an honored guest.
+  He is dead!--he is slain on the Bloody Plain,
+  By the hand of the treacherous Chippeway;
+  And the face shall I never behold again
+  Of my brave young brother--the chief Chaskè.
+  Death walks like a shadow among my kin;
+  And swift are the feet of the flying years
+  That cover Wakâwa with frost and tears,
+  And leave their tracks on his wrinkled skin.
+  Wakâwa, the voice of the years that are gone
+  Will follow thy feet like the shadow of death,
+  Till the paths of the forest and desert lone
+  Shall forget thy footsteps. O living breath,
+  Whence art thou, and whither so soon to fly?
+  And whence are the years? Shall I overtake
+  Their flying feet in the star-lit sky?
+  From his last long sleep will the warrior wake?
+  Will the morning break in Wakâwa's tomb,
+  As it breaks and glows in the eastern skies?
+  Is it true?--will the spirits of kinsmen come
+  And bid the bones of the brave arise?"
+
+  "Wakâwa, Wakâwa, for thee the years
+  Are red with blood and bitter with tears.
+  Gone,--brothers, and daughters, and wife,--all gone
+  That are kin to Wakâwa,--but one--but one--
+  Wakínyan Tanka--undutiful son!
+  And he estranged from his fathers tee,
+  Will never return till the chief shall die.
+  And what cares he for his father's grief?
+  He will smile at my death,--it will make him chief.
+  Woe burns in my bosom. Ho, Warriors,--Ho!
+  Raise the song of red war; for your chief must go
+  To drown his grief in the blood of the foe!
+  I shall fall.  Raise my mound on the sacred hill.
+  Let my warriors the wish of their chief fulfill;
+  For my fathers sleep in the sacred ground.
+  The Autumn blasts o'er Wakâwa's mound
+  Shall chase the hair of the thistle's head,
+  And the bare armed oak o'er the silent dead.
+  When the whirling snows from the north descend,
+  Shall wail and moan in the midnight wind.
+  In the famine of winter the wolf shall prowl,
+  And scratch the snow from the heap of stones,
+  And sit in the gathering storm and howl,
+  On the frozen mound, for Wakâwa's bones.
+  But the years that are gone shall return again.
+  As the robin returns and the whippowil
+  When my warriors stand on the sacred hill
+  And remember the deeds of their brave chief slain."
+
+  Beneath the glow of the Virgin Star
+  They raised the song of the red war dance.
+  At the break of dawn with the bow and lance
+  They followed the chief on the path of war.
+  To the north--to the forests of fir and pine--
+  Led their stealthy steps on the winding trail,
+  Till they saw the Lake of the Spirit [55] shine
+  Through somber pines of the dusky dale.
+
+  Then they heard the hoot of the mottled owl; [56]
+  They heard the gray wolf's dismal howl;
+  Then shrill and sudden the war whoop rose
+  From an hundred throats of their swarthy foes,
+  In ambush crouched in the tangled wood.
+  Death shrieked in the twang of their deadly bows,
+  And their hissing arrows drank brave men's blood.
+  From rock, and thicket, and brush, and brakes,
+  Gleamed the burning eyes of the forest snakes. [57]
+  From brake, and thicket, and brush, and stone,
+  The bow string hummed and the arrow hissed,
+  And the lance of a crouching Ojibway shone,
+  Or the scalp-knife gleamed in a swarthy fist.
+  Undaunted the braves of Wakâwa's band
+  Jumped into the thicket with lance and knife,
+  And grappled the Chippewas hand to hand;
+  And foe with foe, in the deadly strife,
+  Lay clutching the scalp of his foe and dead,
+  With a tomahawk sunk in his ghastly head,
+  Or his still heart sheathing a bloody blade.
+  Like a bear in the battle Wakâwa raves,
+  And cheers the hearts of his falling braves.
+  But a panther crouches along his track,--
+  He springs with a yell on Wakâwa's back!
+
+  The tall Chief, stabbed to the heart, lies low;
+  But his left hand clutches his deadly foe,
+  And his red right clenches the bloody hilt
+  Of his knife in the heart of the slayer dyed.
+  And thus was the life of Wakâwa spilt,
+  And slain and slayer lay side by side.
+  The unscalped corpse of their honored chief
+  His warriors snatched from the yelling pack,
+  And homeward fled on their forest track
+  With their bloody burden and load of grief.
+
+  The spirits the words of the brave fulfill,--
+  Wakâwa sleeps on the sacred hill,
+  And Wakínyan Tânka, his son, is chief.
+  Ah, soon shall the lips of men forget
+  Wakâwa's name, and the mound of stone
+  Will speak of the dead to the winds alone,
+  And the winds will whistle their mock-regret.
+
+  The speckled cones of the scarlet berries [58]
+  Lie red and ripe in the prairie grass.
+  The Sí-yo [59] clucks on the emerald prairies
+  To her infant brood. From the wild morass,
+  On the sapphire lakelet set within it,
+  Magâ [60] sails forth with her wee ones daily.
+  They ride on the dimpling waters gaily,
+  Like a fleet of yachts and a man of war.
+  The piping plover, the laughing linnet,
+  And the swallow sail in the sunset skies.
+  The whippowil from her cover hies,
+  And trills her song on the amber air.
+
+  Anon, to her loitering mate she cries
+  "Flip, O Will!--trip, O Will!--skip, O Will!"
+  And her merry mate from afar replies:
+  "Flip I will,--skip I will,--trip I will;"
+  And away on the wings of the wind he flies.
+  And bright from her lodge in the skies afar
+  Peeps the glowing face of the Virgin Star.
+  The fox pups [60] creep from the mother's lair
+  And leap in the light of the rising moon;
+  And loud on the luminous moonlit lake
+  Shrill the bugle notes of the lover loon;
+  And woods and waters and welkin break
+  Into jubilant song,--it is joyful June.
+
+  But where is Wiwâstè? O where is she--
+  The  Virgin avenged--the queenly queen--
+  The womanly woman--the heroine?
+  Has she gone to the spirits and can it be
+  That her beautiful face is the Virgin Star
+  Peeping out from the door of her lodge afar,
+  Or upward sailing the silver sea.
+  Star-beaconed and lit like an avenue,
+  In the shining stern of her gold canoe?
+  No tidings came--nor the brave Chaskè:
+  O, why did the lover so long delay?
+  He promised to come with the robins in May,
+  With the bridal gifts for the bridal day;
+  But the fair May mornings have slipped away,
+  And where is the lover--the brave Chaskè?
+
+  But what of the venomous Hârpstinà--
+  The serpent that tempted the proud Red Cloud,
+  And kindled revenge in his savage soul?
+  He paid for his crime with his false heart's blood,
+  But his angry spirit has brought her dole; [61]
+  It has entered her breast and her burning head,
+  And she raves and burns on her fevered bed.
+  "He is dead! He is dead!" is her wailing cry.
+  "And the blame is mine,--it was I,--it was I!
+  I hated Wiwâstè, for she was fair,
+  And my brave was caught in her net of hair.
+  I turned his love to a bitter hate;
+  I nourished revenge, and I pricked his pride;
+  Till the Feast of the Virgins I bade him wait.
+  He had his revenge, but he died,--he died!
+  And the blame is mine,--it was I,--it was I!
+  And his spirit burns me, I die,--I die!"
+  Thus, alone in her lodge and her agonies,
+  She wails to the winds of the night, and dies.
+
+  But where is Wiwâstè? Her swift feet flew
+  To the somber shades of the tangled thicket.
+  She hid in the copse like a wary cricket,
+  And the fleetest hunters in vain pursue.
+  Seeing unseen from her hiding place,
+  She sees them fly on the hurried chase;
+  She sees their fierce eyes glance and dart,
+  As they pass and peer for a track or trace,
+  And she trembles with fear in the copse apart.
+  Lest her nest be betrayed by her throbbing heart.
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+  Weary the hours; but the sun at last
+  Went down to his lodge in the west, and fast
+  The wings of the spirits of night were spread
+  O'er the darkling woods and Wiwâstè's head.
+  Then, slyly she slipped from her snug retreat,
+  And guiding her course by Wazíya's star, [62]
+  That shone through the shadowy forms afar,
+  She northward hurried with silent feet;
+  And long ere the sky was aflame in the east,
+  She was leagues from the place of the fatal feast.
+  'Twas the hoot of the owl that the hunters heard,
+  And the scattering drops of the threat'ning shower,
+  And the far wolf's cry to the moon preferred.
+  Their ears were their fancies,--the scene was weird,
+  And the witches [63] dance at the midnight hour.
+  She leaped the brook and she swam the river;
+  Her course through the forest Wiwâstè wist
+  By the star that gleamed through the glimmering mist
+  That fell from the dim moon's downy quiver.
+  In her heart she spoke to her spirit-mother:
+  "Look down from your teepee, O starry spirit.
+  The cry of Wiwâstè, O mother, hear it;
+  And touch the heart of my cruel father.
+  He hearkened not to a virgin's words;
+  He listened not to a daughter's wail.
+  O give me the wings of the thunder-birds,
+  For his were-wolves [52] follow Wiwâstè's trail;
+  O, guide my flight to the far Hóhé--
+  The sheltering lodge of my brave Chaskè."
+
+  The shadows paled in the hazy east,
+  And the light of the kindling morn increased.
+  The pale-faced stars fled one by one,
+  And hid in the vast from the rising sun.
+  From woods and waters and welkin soon
+  Fled the hovering mists of the vanished moon.
+  The young robins chirped in their feathery beds,
+  The loon's song shrilled like a winding horn,
+  And the green hills lifted their dewy heads
+  To greet the god of the rising morn.
+
+  She reached the rim of the rolling prairie--
+  The boundless ocean of solitude;
+  She hid in the feathery hazel wood,
+  For her heart was sick and her feet were weary;
+  She fain would rest, and she needed food.
+  Alone by the billowy, boundless prairies,
+  She plucked the cones of the scarlet berries;
+  In feathering copse and the grassy field
+  She found the bulbs of the young Tipsânna, [43]
+  And the sweet medó [64] that the meadows yield.
+  With the precious gift of his priceless manna
+  God fed his fainting and famished child.
+
+  At night again to the northward far
+  She followed the torch of Wazíya's star.
+  For leagues away o'er the prairies green,
+  On the billowy vast, may a man be seen,
+  When the sun is high and the stars are low;
+  And the sable breast of the strutting crow
+  Looms up like the form of the buffalo.
+  The Bloody River [40] she reached at last,
+  And boldly walked in the light of day,
+  On the level plain of the valley vast;
+  Nor thought of the terrible Chippeway.
+  She was safe from the wolves of her father's band,
+  But she trode on the treacherous "Bloody Land."
+  And lo--from afar o'er the level plain--
+  As far as the sails of a ship at sea
+  May be seen as they lift from the rolling main--
+  A band of warriors rode rapidly.
+  She shadowed her eyes with her sun browned hand;
+  All backward streamed on the wind her hair,
+  And terror spread o'er her visage fair,
+  As she bent her brow to the far off band.
+  For she thought of the terrible Chippeway--
+  The fiends that the babe and the mother slay;
+  And yonder they came in their war-array!
+  She hid like a grouse in the meadow-grass,
+  And moaned--"I am lost!--I am lost! alas;
+  And why did I fly my native land
+  To die by the cruel Ojibway's hand?"
+  And on rode the braves. She could hear the steeds
+  Come galloping on o'er the level meads;
+  And lowly she crouched in the waving grass,
+  And hoped against hope that the braves would pass.
+
+  They have passed, she is safe,--she is safe! Ah, no,
+  They have struck her trail and the hunters halt.
+  Like wolves on the track of the bleeding doe,
+  That grappled breaks from the dread assault,
+  Dash the warriors wild on Wiwâstè's trail.
+  She flies,--but what can her flight avail?
+  Her feet are fleet, but the flying feet
+  Of the steeds of the prairie are fleeter still;
+  And where can she fly for a safe retreat?
+
+  But hark to the shouting:--"Ihó!--Ihó!" [9]
+  Rings over the wide plain sharp and shrill.
+  She halts, and the hunters come riding on;
+  But the horrible fear from her heart is gone,
+  For it is not the shout of the dreaded foe;
+  'Tis the welcome shout of her native land!
+
+  Up galloped the chief of the band, and lo--
+  The clutched knife dropped from her trembling hand;
+  She uttered a cry and she swooned away;
+  For there; on his steed in the blaze of day,
+  On the boundless prairie, so far away,
+  With his burnished lance and his feathers gay,
+  Sat the manly form of her own Chaskè!
+
+  There's a mote in my eye or a blot on the page,
+  And I cannot tell of the joyful greeting;
+  You may take it for granted and I will engage,
+  There were kisses and tears at the strange, glad meeting;
+  For aye since the birth of the swift-winged years,
+  In the desert drear, in the field of clover,
+  In the cot, and the palace, and all the world over,--
+  Yea, away on the stars to the ultimate spheres,
+  The language of love to the long sought lover,--
+  Is tears and kisses and kisses and tears.
+
+  But why did the lover so long delay?
+  And whitherward rideth the chief to-day?
+  As he followed the trail of the buffalo,
+  From the tees of Kapóza a maiden, lo,
+  Came running in haste o'er the drifted snow.
+  She spoke to the chief of the tall Hóhé:
+  "Wiwâstè requests that the brave Chaskè
+  Will abide with his band and his coming delay
+  'Till the moon when the strawberries are ripe and red,
+  And then will the chief and Wiwâstè wed--
+  When the Feast of the Virgins is past," she said.
+  Wiwâstè's wish was her lover's law;
+  And so his coming the chief delayed
+  Till the mid-May blossoms should bloom and fade,--
+  But the lying runner was Hârpstinà.
+  And now with the gifts for the bridal day
+  And his chosen warriors he took his way,
+  And followed his heart to his moon-faced maid,
+  And thus was the lover so long delayed;
+  And so as he rode with his warriors gay,
+  On that bright and beautiful summer day,
+  His bride he met on the trail mid-way,
+  By the haunts of the treacherous Chippeway.
+
+  God arms the innocent. He is there--
+  In the desert vast, in the wilderness,
+  On the bellowing sea, in the lion's lair,
+  In the midst of battle, and everywhere.
+  In his hand he holds with a father's care
+  The tender hearts of the motherless;
+  The maid and the mother in sore distress
+  He shields with his love and his tenderness;
+  He comforts the widowed--the comfortless,
+  And sweetens her chalice of bitterness;
+  He clothes the naked--the numberless,--
+  His charity covers their nakedness,--
+  And he feeds the famished and fatherless
+  With the hand that feedeth the birds of air.
+  Let the myriad tongues of the earth confess
+  His infinite love and his holiness;
+  For his pity pities the pitiless,
+  His wayward children his bounties bless,
+  And his mercy flows to the merciless;
+  And the countless worlds in the realms above,
+  Revolve in the light of his boundless love.
+
+  And what of the lovers? you ask, I trow.
+  She told him all ere the sun was low,--
+  Why she fled from the Feast to a safe retreat.
+  She laid her heart at her lover's feet,
+  And her words were tears and her lips were slow.
+  As she sadly related the bitter tale
+  His face was aflame and anon grew pale,
+  And his dark eyes flashed with a brave desire,
+  Like the midnight gleam of the sacred fire. [65]
+  "Mitâwin," [66] he said, and his voice was low,
+  "Thy father no more is the false Little Crow;
+  But the fairest plume shall Wiwâstè wear
+  Of the great Wanmdeè [13] in her midnight hair.
+  In my lodge, in the land of the tall Hóhé,
+  The robins will sing all the long summer day
+  To the beautiful bride of the brave Chaskè."
+
+  Aye, love is tested by stress and trial
+  Since the finger of time on the endless dial
+  Began its rounds, and the orbs to move
+  In the boundless vast, and the sunbeams clove
+  The chaos; but only by fate's denial
+  Are fathomed the fathomless depths of love.
+  Man is the rugged and wrinkled oak,
+  And woman the trusting and tender vine--
+  That clasps and climbs till its arms entwine
+  The brawny arms of the sturdy stoke. [67]
+  The dimpled babes are the flowers divine
+  That the blessing of God on the vine and oak
+  With their cooing and blossoming lips invoke.
+
+  To the pleasant land of the brave Hóhé
+  Wiwâstè rode with her proud Chaskè.
+  She ruled like a queen in his bountiful tee,
+  And the life of the twain was a jubilee.
+  Their wee ones climbed on the father's knee,
+  And played with his plumes of the great Wanmdeè.
+  The silken threads of the happy years
+  They wove into beautiful robes of love
+  That the spirits wear in the lodge above;
+  And time from the reel of the rolling spheres
+  His silver threads with the raven wove;
+  But never the stain of a mother's tears
+  Soiled the shining web of their happy years.
+
+  When the wrinkled mask of the years they wore,
+  And the raven hair of their youth was gray,
+  Their love grew deeper, and more and more;
+  For he was a lover for aye and aye,
+  And ever her beautiful, brave Chaskè.
+  Through the wrinkled mask of the hoary years
+  To the loving eyes of the lover aye
+  The blossom of beautiful youth appears.
+
+  At last, when their locks were as white as snow,
+  Beloved and honored by all the band,
+  They silently slipped from their lodge below,
+  And walked together, and hand in hand,
+  O'er the Shining Path [68] to the Spirit-land;
+  Where the hills and the meadows for aye and aye
+  Are clad with the verdure and flowers of May,
+  And the unsown prairies of Paradise
+  Yield the golden maize and the sweet wild rice.
+  There ever ripe in the groves and prairies
+  Hang the purple plums and the luscious berries.
+  And the swarthy herds of bison feed
+  On the sun-lit slope and the waving mead;
+  The dappled fawns from their coverts peep,
+  And countless flocks on the waters sleep;
+  And the silent years with their fingers trace
+  No furrows for aye on the hunter's face.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+WINONA.
+
+
+[Illustration: FALLS OF ST. ANTHONY. FACSIMILE OF THE CUT IN CARVER'S
+TRAVELS, PUBLISHED AT LONDON, IN 1778, FROM A SURVEY AND SKETCH MADE
+BY CAPT. J. CARVER, NOV. 17, 1766. PERPENDICULAR FALL, 30 FEET; BREADTH
+NEAR 600 FEET.]
+
+
+  _When the meadow-lark trilled o'er the leas
+                  and the oriole piped in the maples,
+  From my hammock, all under the trees,
+                  by the sweet scented field of red-clover,
+  I harked to the hum of the bees,
+                  as they gathered the mead of the blossoms,
+  And caught from their low melodies
+                  the rhythm of the song of Winona_.
+
+(In pronouncing Dakota words give "a" the sound of "ah,"--"e" the sound
+of "a,"--"i" the sound of "e" and "u" the sound of "oo." Sound "ee"
+the same as in English. The numerals 1-2 etc. refer to notes in the
+appendix).
+
+
+  Two hundred white Winters and more
+          have fled from the face of the Summer,
+  Since here on the oak shaded shore
+          of the dark winding swift Mississippi,
+  Where his foaming floods tumble and roar,
+          on the falls and white rolling rapids,
+  In the fair, fabled center of Earth,
+          sat the Indian town of Ka-thá-ga. [86]
+  Far rolling away to the north, and the south,
+          lay the emerald prairies,
+  Alternate with woodlands and lakes,
+          and above them the blue vast of ether.
+  And here where the dark river breaks into spray
+          and the roar of the Ha-Ha, [76]
+  Were gathered the bison-skin tees
+          of the chief tawny tribe of Dakotas;
+  For here, in the blast and the breeze,
+          flew the flag of the chief of Isantees, [86]
+  Up-raised on the stem of a lance
+          --the feathery flag of the eagle.
+  And here to the feast and the dance,
+          from the prairies remote and the forests,
+  Oft gathered the out-lying bands,
+          and honored the gods of the nation.
+  On the islands and murmuring strands
+          they danced to the god of the waters,
+  Unktéhee, [69] who dwelt in the caves
+          deep under the flood of the Ha-Ha; [76]
+  And high o'er the eddies and waves
+          hung their offerings of fur and tobacco. [a]
+  And here to the Master of life
+          --Anpé-tu-wee, [70] god of the heavens,
+  Chief, warrior, and maiden, and wife,
+          burned the sacred green sprigs of the cedar.
+  And here to the Searcher-of-hearts
+          --fierce Tá-ku Skan-skán, [51] the avenger,
+  Who dwells in the uttermost parts
+          --in the earth and the blue, starry ether,
+  Ever watching, with all-seeing eyes,
+          the deeds of the wives and the warriors,
+  As an osprey afar in the skies,
+          sees the fish as they swim in the waters,
+  Oft spread they the bison-tongue feast,
+          and singing preferred their petitions,
+  Till the Day-Spirit [70] rose in the East
+          --in the red, rosy robes of the morning,
+  To sail o'er the sea of the skies,
+          to his lodge in the land of the shadows,
+  Where the black winged tornadoes [b] arise
+          --rushing loud from the mouths of their caverns.
+  And here with a shudder they heard,
+          flying far from his tee in the mountains,
+  Wa-kin-yan, [32] the huge Thunder-Bird,
+          --with the arrows of fire in his talons.
+
+  [a] See Hennepin's Description of Louisiana by Shea pp 243 and
+  256. Parkman's Discovery p. 246--and Carver's Travels, p. 67
+
+  [b] The Dakotas like the ancient Romans and Greeks think the home
+  of the winds is in the caverns of the mountains, and their great Thunder
+  bird resembles in many respects the Jupiter of the Romans and the Zeus
+  of the Greeks. The resemblance of the Dakota mythology to that of the
+  older Greeks and Romans is striking.
+
+  Two hundred white Winters and more
+          have fled from the face of the Summer,
+  Since here by the cataract's roar,
+          in the moon of the red blooming lilies, [71]
+  In the tee of Ta-té-psin [a] was born Winona
+          --wild-rose of the prairies.
+  Like the summer sun peeping, at morn,
+          o'er the hills was the face of Winona;
+  And here she grew up like a queen
+          --a romping and lily-lipped laughter,
+  And danced on the undulant green,
+          and played in the frolicsome waters,
+  Where the foaming tide tumbles and twirls
+          o'er the murmuring rocks in the rapids;
+  And whiter than foam were the pearls
+          that gleamed in the midst of her laughter.
+  Long and dark was her flowing hair flung,
+          like the robe of the night to the breezes;
+  And gay as the robin she sung,
+          or the gold-breasted lark of the meadows.
+  Like the wings of the wind were her feet,
+          and as sure as the feet of Ta-tó-ka; [b]
+  And oft like an antelope fleet
+          o'er the hills and the prairies she bounded,
+  Lightly laughing in sport as she ran,
+          and looking back over her shoulder,
+  At the fleet footed maiden or man,
+          that vainly her flying steps followed.
+  The belle of the village was she,
+          and the pride of the aged Ta-té-psin,
+  Like a sunbeam she lighted his tee,
+          and gladdened the heart of her father.
+
+  [a] Ta te--Wind, Psin--Wild Rice,--wild rice wind.
+
+  [b] The Mountain Antelope.
+
+  In the golden hued Wázu-pe-weé
+          --the moon when the wild rice is gathered;
+  When the leaves on the tall sugar-tree
+          are as red as the breast of the robin,
+  And the red-oaks that border the lea
+          are aflame with the fire of the sunset,
+  From the wide waving fields of wild-rice
+          --from the meadows of Psin-ta-wak-pá-dan, [a]
+  Where the geese and the mallards rejoice,
+          and grow fat on the bountiful harvest,
+  Came the hunters with saddles of moose
+          and the flesh of the bear and the bison,
+  And the women in birchen canoes
+          well laden with rice from the meadows,
+  With the tall, dusky hunters, behold,
+          came a marvelous man or a spirit,
+  White-faced and so wrinkled and old,
+          and clad in the robe of the raven.
+  Unsteady his steps were and slow,
+          and he walked with a staff in his right hand,
+  And white as the first-falling snow
+          were the thin locks that lay on his shoulders.
+  Like rime-covered moss hung his beard,
+          flowing down from his face to his girdle;
+  And wan was his aspect and weird;
+          and often he chanted and mumbled
+  In a strange and mysterious tongue,
+          as he bent o'er his book in devotion.
+  Or lifted his dim eyes and sung,
+          in a low voice, the solemn "_Te Deum_."
+  Or Latin, or Hebrew, or Greek
+          --all the same were his words to the warriors,--
+  All the same to the maids
+          and the meek, wide-wondering-eyed, hazel-brown children.
+
+  [a] Little Rice River. It bears the name of Rice Creek to-day
+  and empties into the Mississippi from the east, a few miles above
+  Minneapolis.
+
+  Father Renè Menard [a]--it was he,
+          long lost to his Jesuit brothers,
+  Sent forth by an holy decree
+          to carry the Cross to the heathen.
+  In his old age abandoned to die,
+          in the swamps, by his timid companions,
+  He prayed to the Virgin on high,
+          and she led him forth from the forest;
+  For angels she sent him as men
+          --in the forms of the tawny Dakotas,
+  And they led his feet from the fen,
+          --from the slough of despond and the desert.
+  Half-dead in a dismal morass,
+          as they followed the red-deer they found him,
+  In the midst of the mire and the grass,
+          and mumbling "_Te Deum laudamus_."
+  "Unktómee [72]--Ho!" muttered the braves,
+          for they deemed him the black Spider-Spirit
+  That dwells in the drearisome caves,
+          and walks on the marshes at midnight,
+  With a flickering torch in his hand,
+          to decoy to his den the unwary.
+  His tongue could they not understand,
+          but his torn hands all shriveled with famine,
+  He stretched to the hunters and said:
+          "He feedeth his chosen with manna;
+  And ye are the angels of God,
+          sent to save me from death in the desert."
+  His famished and woe-begone face,
+          and his tones touched the hearts of the hunters;
+  They fed the poor father apace,
+          and they led him away to Ka-thá-ga.
+
+  [a] See the account of Father Menard, his mission and disappearance in the
+  wilderness, etc. Neill's Hist. Minnesota, pp 104 to 107 inc.
+
+  There little by little he learned
+          the tongue of the tawny Dakotas;
+  And the heart of the good father yearned
+          to lead them away from their idols--
+  Their giants [16] and dread Thunder-birds
+          --their worship of stones [73] and the devil.
+  "Wakán-de!" [a] they answered his words,
+          for he read from his book in the Latin,
+  Lest the Nazarene's holy commands
+          by his tongue should be marred in translation;
+  And oft with his beads in his hands,
+          or the cross and the crucified Jesus,
+  He knelt by himself on the sands,
+          and his dim eyes uplifted to heaven.
+  But the braves bade him look to the East
+          --to the silvery lodge of Han-nán-na; [b]
+  And to dance with the chiefs at the feast
+          --at the feast of the Giant Heyó-ka. [16]
+  They frowned when the good father
+          spurned the flesh of the dog in the kettle,
+  And laughed when his fingers were burned
+          in the hot, boiling pot of the giant.
+  "The Blackrobe" they called the poor priest,
+          from the hue of his robe and his girdle;
+  And never a game or a feast
+          but the father must grace with his presence.
+  His prayer book the hunters revered,
+          --they deemed it a marvelous spirit;
+  It spoke and the white father heard,
+          --it interpreted visions and omens.
+  And often they bade him
+          to pray this marvelous spirit to answer,
+  And tell where the sly Chippeway might be ambushed
+          and slain in his forests.
+  For Menard was the first in the land,
+          proclaiming, like John in the desert--
+  "The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand;
+          repent ye, and turn from your idols."--
+  The first of the brave brotherhood that,
+          threading the fens and the forest,
+  Stood afar by the turbulent flood
+          at the falls of the Father of Waters.
+
+  [a] It is wonderful.
+
+  [b] The morning.
+
+  In the lodge of the Stranger [a]
+          he sat awaiting the crown of a martyr;
+  His sad face compassion begat
+          in the heart of the dark eyed Winona.
+  Oft she came to the teepee and spoke;
+          she brought him the tongue of the bison,
+  Sweet nuts from the hazel and oak,
+          and flesh of the fawn and the mallard.
+  Soft hánpa [b] she made for his feet
+          and leggins of velvety fawn-skin,--
+  A blanket of beaver complete,
+          and a hood of the hide of the otter.
+  And oft at his feet on the mat,
+          deftly braiding the flags and the rushes,
+  Till the sun sought his teepee she sat,
+          enchanted with what he related
+  Of the white winged ships on the sea
+          and the teepees far over the ocean,
+  Of the love and the sweet charity of the Christ
+          and the beautiful Virgin.
+
+  [a] A lodge set apart for guests of the village.
+
+  [b] Moccasins.
+
+  She listened like one in a trance
+          when he spoke of the brave, bearded Frenchmen,
+  From the green sun-lit valleys of France
+          to the wild Hochelága [a] transplanted,
+  Oft trailing the deserts of snow
+          in the heart of the dense Huron forests,
+  Or steering the dauntless canoe
+          through the waves of the fresh water ocean.
+  "Yea, stronger and braver are they,"
+          said the aged Menard to Winona,
+  "Than the head-chief, tall Wazi-kuté, [74]
+          but their words are as soft as a maiden's;
+  Their eyes are the eyes of the swan,
+          but their hearts are the hearts of the eagles;
+  And the terrible Máza Wakán [b] ever walks,
+          by their side like a spirit.
+  Like a Thunder-bird, roaring in wrath,
+          flinging fire from his terrible talons,
+  It sends to their enemies death,
+          in the flash of the fatal Wakándee." [c]
+
+  [a] The Ottawa name for the region of the St. Lawrence River.
+
+  [b] "Mysterious metal"--or metal having a spirit in it. This is the
+  common name applied by the Dakotas to all fire arms.
+
+  [c] Lightning.
+
+  The Autumn was past and the snow
+          lay drifted and deep on the prairies;
+  From his teepee of ice came the foe
+          --came the storm-breathing god of the winter.
+  Then roared in the groves,--on the plains,
+          --on the ice-covered lakes and the river--
+  The blasts of the fierce hurricanes
+          blown abroad from the breast of Wazíya. [3]
+  The bear cuddled down in his den,
+          and the elk fled away to the forest;
+  The pheasant and gray prairie-hen
+          made their beds in the heart of the snow-drift;
+  The bison-herds huddled and stood
+          in the hollows and under the hill-sides;
+  Or rooted the snow for their food
+          in the lee of the bluffs and the timber;
+  And the mad winds that howled from the north,
+          from the ice-covered seas of Wazíya,
+  Chased the gray wolf and red fox and swarth
+          to their dens in the hills of the forest.
+
+  Poor Father Menard,--he was ill;
+          in his breast burned the fire of the fever;
+  All in vain was the magical skill
+          of Wicásta Wakán [61] with his rattle;
+  Into soft child-like slumber he fell,
+          and awoke in the land of the blessèd--
+  To the holy applause of "Well done!"
+          and the harps in the hands of the angels.
+  Long he carried the cross,
+          and he won the coveted crown of a martyr.
+
+  In the land of the heathen he died,
+          meekly following the voice of his Master,
+  One mourner alone by his side
+          --Ta-té-psin's compassionate daughter.
+  She wailed the dead father with tears,
+          and his bones by her kindred she buried.
+  Then winter followed winter.
+          The years sprinkled frost on the head of her father;
+  And three weary winters she dreamed
+          of the fearless and fair-bearded Frenchmen;
+  In her sweet sleep their swift paddles gleamed
+          on the breast of the broad Mississippi,
+  And the eyes of the brave strangers beamed
+          on the maid in the midst of her slumber.
+
+  She lacked not admirers;
+          the light of the lover oft burned in her teepee--
+  At her couch in the midst of the night,
+          --but she never extinguished the flambeau.
+  The son of Chief Wazi-kuté
+          --a fearless and eagle plumed warrior--
+  Long sighed for Winona, and he
+          --was the pride of the band of Isántees.
+  Three times, in the night, at her bed,
+           had the brave held the torch of the lover, [75]And thrice had she
+  covered her head
+          and rejected the handsome Tamdóka. [a]
+
+  [a] Tah-mdo-kah--literally the buck deer.
+
+  'Twas Summer. The merry voiced birds
+          trilled and warbled in woodland and meadow;
+  And abroad on the prairies the herds
+          cropped the grass in the land of the lilies,--
+  And sweet was the odor of rose
+          wide-wafted from hillside and heather;
+  In the leaf-shaded lap of repose
+          lay the bright, blue eyed babes of the summer;
+  And low was the murmur of brooks
+          and low was the laugh of the Ha-Ha; [76]
+  And asleep in the eddies and nooks
+          lay the broods of magá [60] and the mallard.
+  'Twas the moon of Wasúnpa. [71]
+          The band lay at rest in the tees at Ka-thá-ga,
+  And abroad o'er the beautiful land
+          walked the spirits of Peace and of Plenty--
+  Twin sisters, with bountiful hand,
+          wide scatt'ring wild rice and the lilies.
+  An-pé-tu-wee [70] walked in the west
+          --to his lodge in the midst of the mountains,
+  And the war eagle flew to her nest
+          in the oak on the Isle of the Spirit. [a]
+  And now at the end of the day,
+          by the shore of the Beautiful Island, [b]
+  A score of fair maidens and gay
+          made joy in the midst of the waters.
+  Half-robed in their dark, flowing hair,
+          and limbed like the fair Aphroditè,
+  They played in the waters,
+          and there they dived and they swam like the beavers,--
+  Loud-laughing like loons on the lake
+          when the moon is a round shield of silver,
+  And the songs of the whippowils
+          wake on the shore in the midst of the maples.
+
+  [a] The Dakotas say that for many years in olden times a war-eagle
+  made her nest in an oak tree on Spirit island--Wanagi-wita just below the
+  Falls till frightened away by the advent of white men.
+
+  [b] The Dakotas called Nicollet Island "Wi-ta Waste"--the Beautiful Island.
+
+  But hark!--on the river a song,
+          --strange voices commingled in chorus;
+  On the current a boat swept along
+          with DuLuth and his hardy companions;
+  To the stroke of their paddles they sung,
+          and this the refrain that they chanted:
+
+   "Dans mon chemin j'ai recontré
+    Deux cavaliers bien monteés.
+          Lon, lon, laridon daine,
+          Lon, lon, laridon dai."
+
+   "Deux cavaliers bien monteés;
+    L'un a cheval, et l'autre a pied.
+          Lon, lon, laridon daine,
+          Lon, lon, laridon dai." [a]
+
+  Like the red, dappled deer in the glade,
+          alarmed by the footsteps of hunters,
+  Discovered, disordered, dismayed,
+          the nude nymphs fled forth from the waters,
+  And scampered away to the shade,
+          and peered from the screen of the lindens.
+
+  [a] A part of one of the favorite songs of the French _voyageurs_.
+
+  A bold and and adventuresome man was DuLuth,
+          and a dauntless in danger,
+  And straight to Kathága he ran,
+          and boldly advanced to the warriors,
+  Now gathering, a cloud, on the strand,
+          and gazing amazed on the strangers;
+  And straightway he offered his hand
+          unto Wázi-kuté, the Itáncan.
+  To the Lodge of the Stranger were led
+          DuLuth and his hardy companions;
+  Robes of beaver and bison were spread,
+          and the Peace pipe [23] was smoked with the Frenchman.
+
+  There was dancing and feasting at night,
+          and joy at the presents he lavished.
+  All the maidens were wild with delight
+          with the flaming red robes and the ribbons,
+  With the beads and the trinkets untold,
+          and the fair, bearded face of the giver;
+  And glad were they all to behold the friends
+          from the Land of the Sunrise.
+  But one stood apart from the rest
+          --the queenly and peerless Winona,
+  Intently regarding the guest
+          --hardly heeding the robes and the ribbons,
+  Whom the White Chief beholding admired,
+          and straightway he spread on her shoulders
+  A lily-red robe and attired,
+          with necklet and ribbons, the maiden.
+  The red lilies bloomed in her face,
+          and her glad eyes gave thanks to the giver,
+  And forth from her teepee apace
+          she brought him the robe and the missal
+  Of the father--poor Renè Menard;
+          and related the tale of the "Black Robe."
+  She spoke of the sacred regard
+          he inspired in the hearts of Dakotas;
+  That she buried his bones with her kin,
+          in the mound by the Cave of the Council;
+  That she treasured and wrapt
+          in the skin of the red-deer his robe and his prayer-book--
+  "Till his brothers should come from the East
+          --from the land of the far Hochelága,
+  To smoke with the braves at the feast,
+          on the shores of the Loud-laughing Waters. [76]
+  For the "Black Robe" spake much of his youth
+          and his friends in the Land of the Sunrise;
+  It was then as a dream, now in truth,
+          I behold them, and not in a vision."
+  But more spake her blushes, I ween,
+          and her eyes full of language unspoken,
+  As she turned with the grace of a queen,
+          and carried her gifts to the teepee.
+
+  Far away from his beautiful France
+          --from his home in the city of Lyons,
+  A noble youth full of romance,
+          with a Norman heart big with adventure,
+  In the new world a wanderer, by chance,
+          DuLuth sought the wild Huron forests.
+  But afar by the vale of the Rhone,
+          the winding and musical river,
+  And the vine-covered hills of the Saône,
+          the heart of the wanderer lingered,--
+  'Mid the vineyards and mulberry trees,
+          and the fair fields of corn and of clover
+  That rippled and waved in the breeze,
+          while the honey-bees hummed in the blossoms
+  For there, where the impetuous Rhone,
+          leaping down from the Switzerland mountains,
+  And the silver-lipped soft flowing Saône,
+          meeting, kiss and commingle together,
+  Down-winding by vineyards and leas,
+          by the orchards of fig trees and olives,
+  To the island-gemmed, sapphire-blue seas
+          of the glorious Greeks and the Romans;
+  Aye, there, on the vine covered shore,
+          'mid the mulberry trees and the olives,
+  Dwelt his blue-eyed and beautiful Flore,
+          with her hair like a wheat field at harvest,
+  All rippled and tossed by the breeze,
+          and her cheeks like the glow of the morning,
+  Far away o'er the emerald seas,
+          ere the sun lifts his brow from the billows,
+  Or the red-clover fields when the bees,
+          singing sip the sweet cups of the blossoms.
+  Wherever he wandered
+          --alone in the heart of the wild Huron forests,
+  Or cruising the rivers unknown
+          to the land of the Crees or Dakotas--
+  His heart lingered still on the Rhone,
+          'mid the mulberry-trees and the vineyards,
+  Fast-fettered and bound by the zone
+          that girdled the robes of his darling.
+
+  Till the red Harvest Moon [71]
+          he remained in the vale of the swift Mississippi.
+  The esteem of the warriors he gained,
+          and the love of the dark eyed Winona.
+  He joined in the sports and the chase;
+          with the hunters he followed the bison,
+  And swift were his feet in the race
+          when the red elk they ran on the prairies.
+  At the Game of the Plum-stones [77] he played
+          and he won from the skillfulest players;
+  A feast to Wa'tánka [78] he made,
+          and he danced at the feast of Heyóka. [16]
+  With the flash and the roar of his gun
+          he astonished the fearless Dakotas;
+  They called it the "Máza Wakán"
+          --the mighty, mysterious metal.
+  "'Tis a brother," they said,
+          "of the fire in the talons of dreadful Wakínyan, [32]
+  When he flaps his huge wings in his ire,
+          and shoots his red shafts at Unktéhee." [69]
+
+  The Itancan, [74] tall Wazí-kuté,
+          appointed a day for the races.
+  From the red stake that stood by his tee,
+          on the southerly side of the Ha-ha
+  To a stake at the Lake of the Loons [79]
+          --a league and return--was the distance.
+  On the crest of the hills red batons
+          marked the course for the feet of the runners.
+  They gathered from near and afar,
+          to the races and dancing and feasting.
+  Five hundred tall warriors were there
+          from Kapóza [6] and far off Keóza; [8]
+  Remnica, [a] too, furnished a share
+          of the legions that thronged to the races,
+  And a bountiful feast was prepared
+          by the diligent hands of the women,
+  And gaily the multitudes fared
+          in the generous tees of Kathága.
+  The chief of the mystical clan
+          appointed a feast to Unktéhee--
+  The mystic "Wacípee Wakán" [b]--
+          at the end of the day and the races.
+  A band of sworn brothers are they,
+          and the secrets of each one are sacred.
+  And death to the lips that betray
+          is the doom of the swarthy avengers,
+  And the son of tall Wazí-kuté
+          was the chief of the mystical order.
+
+  [a] Pronounced Ray mne chah--the village of the Mountains situate where
+  Red Wing now stands.
+
+  [b] Sacred Dance--The Medicine dance--See description infra.
+
+  On an arm of an oak hangs the prize
+          for the swiftest and strongest of runners--
+  A blanket as red as the skies,
+          when the flames sweep the plains in October.
+  And beside it a strong, polished bow,
+          and a quiver of iron tipped arrows,
+  Which Kapóza's tall chief will bestow
+          on the fleet-footed second that follows.
+  A score of swift-runners are there
+          from the several bands of the nation;
+  And now for the race they prepare,
+          and among them fleet-footed Tamdóka.
+  With the oil of the buck and the bear
+          their sinewy limbs are anointed,
+  For fleet are the feet of the deer
+          and strong are the limbs of the bruin,
+  And long is the course and severe
+          for the swiftest and strongest of runners.
+
+  Hark!--the shouts and the braying of drums,
+          and the Babel of tongues and confusion!
+  From his teepee the tall chieftain comes,
+          and Duluth brings a prize for the runners--
+  A keen hunting-knife from the Seine,
+          horn-handled and mounted with silver.
+  The runners are ranged on the plain,
+          and the Chief waves a flag as a signal,
+  And away like the gray wolves they fly
+          --like the wolves on the trail of the red deer;
+  O'er the hills and the prairie they vie,
+          and strain their strong limbs to the utmost,
+  While high on the hills hangs a cloud
+          of warriors and maidens and mothers,
+  To behold the swift runners,
+          and loud are the cheers and the shouts of the warriors.
+
+  Now swift from the lake they return,
+          o'er the emerald hills and the heather;
+  Like grey-hounds they pant and they yearn,
+          and the leader of all is Tamdóka.
+  At his heels flies Hu-pá-hu, [a] the fleet
+          --the pride of the band of Kaóza,
+  A warrior with eagle-winged feet,
+          but his prize is the bow and the quiver.
+  Tamdóka first reaches the post,
+          and his are the knife and the blanket,
+  By the mighty acclaim of the host
+          and award of the chief and the judges.
+  Then proud was the tall warrior's stride,
+          and haughty his look and demeanor;
+  He boasted aloud in his pride,
+          and he scoffed at the rest of the runners.
+  "Behold me, for I am a man! [b]
+          my feet are as swift as the West wind.
+  With the coons and the beavers I ran;
+          but where is the elk or the cabri? [80]
+  Come!--where is the hunter will dare
+          match his feet with the feet of Tamdóka?
+  Let him think of Taté [c] and beware,
+          ere he stake his last robe on the trial."
+  "Ohó! Ho! Hó-héca!" [d] they jeered,
+          for they liked not the boast of the boaster;
+  But to match him no warrior appeared,
+          for his feet wore the wings of the west-wind.
+
+  [a] The wings.
+
+  [b] A favorite boast of the Dakota braves.
+
+  [c] The wind.
+
+  [d] About equivalent to Oho--Aha--fudge.
+
+  Then forth from the side of the chief
+          stepped DuLuth and he looked on the boaster;
+  "The words of a warrior are brief,
+          --I will run with the brave," said the Frenchman;
+  "But the feet of Tamdóka are tired;
+          abide till the cool of the sunset."
+  All the hunters and maidens admired,
+          for strong were the limbs of the stranger.
+  "Hiwó! Ho!" [a] they shouted
+          and loud rose the cheers of the multitude mingled;
+  And there in the midst of the crowd
+          stood the glad-eyed and blushing Winona.
+
+  [a] Hurra there!
+
+  Now afar o'er the plains of the west
+          walked the sun at the end of his journey,
+  And forth came the brave and the guest,
+          at the tap of the drum, for the trial.
+  Like a forest of larches the hordes
+          were gathered to witness the contest;
+  As loud is the drums were their words
+          and they roared like the roar of the Ha-ha.
+  For some for Tamdóka contend,
+          and some for the fair, bearded stranger,
+  And the betting runs high to the end,
+          with the skins of the bison and beaver.
+  A wife of tall Wazi-kuté
+          --the mother of boastful Tamdóka--
+  Brought her handsomest robe from the tee,
+          with a vaunting and loud proclamation:
+  She would stake her last robe on her son who,
+          she boasted, was fleet as the Cábri [80]
+  And the tall, tawny chieftain looked on,
+          approving the boast of the mother.
+  Then fleet as the feet of a fawn to her lodge
+          ran the dark eyed Winona,
+  She brought and she staked on the lawn,
+          by the side of the robe of the boaster,
+  The lily-red mantle Duluth, with his own hands,
+          had laid on her shoulders.
+  "Tamdóka is swift, but forsooth,
+          the tongue of his mother is swifter,"
+  She said, and her face was aflame
+          with the red of the rose and the lily,
+  And loud was the roar of acclaim;
+          but dark was the face of Tamdóka.
+
+  They strip for the race and prepare,
+          --DuLuth in his breeches and leggins;
+  And the brown, curling locks of his hair
+          downward droop to his bare, brawny shoulders,
+  And his face wears a smile debonair,
+          as he tightens his red sash around him;
+  But stripped to the moccasins bare,
+          save the belt and the breech-clout of buckskin,
+  Stands the haughty Tamdóka aware
+          that the eyes of the warriors admire him;
+  For his arms are the arms of a bear
+          and his legs are the legs of a panther.
+
+  The drum beats,--the chief waves the flag,
+          and away on the course speed the runners,
+  And away leads the brave like a stag,
+          --like a hound on his track flies the Frenchman;
+  And away haste the hunters, once more,
+          to the hills for a view to the lake-side,
+  And the dark-swarming hill-tops,
+          they roar with the storm of loud voices commingled.
+  Far away o'er the prairie they fly,
+          and still in the lead is Tamdóka,
+  But the feet of his rival are nigh,
+          and slowly he gains on the hunter.
+  Now they turn on the post at the lake,
+          --now they run full abreast on the home-stretch;
+  Side by side they contend for the stake,
+          for a long mile or more on the prairie.
+  They strain like a stag and a hound,
+          when the swift river gleams through the thicket,
+  And the horns of the rulers resound,
+          winding shrill through the depths of the forest.
+  But behold!--at full length on the ground
+          falls the fleet-footed Frenchman abruptly.
+  And away with a whoop and a bound,
+          springs the eager, exulting Tamdóka.
+  Long and loud on the hills
+          is the shout of his swarthy admirers and backers;
+  "But the race is not won till it's out,"
+          said DuLuth, to himself as he gathered,
+  With a frown on his face,
+          for the foot of the wily Tamdóka had tripped him.
+  Far ahead ran the brave on the route,
+          and turning he boasted exultant.
+  Like spurs to the steed to DuLuth
+          were the jeers and the taunts of the boaster;
+  Indignant was he and red wroth,
+          at the trick of the runner dishonest;
+  And away like a whirlwind he speeds
+          --like a hurricane mad from the mountains;
+  He gains on Tamdóka,--he leads!
+          --and behold, with the spring of a panther,
+  He leaps to the goal and succeeds,
+          'mid the roar of the mad acclamation.
+
+  Then glad as the robin in May
+          was the voice of Winona exulting;
+  And the crest-fallen brave turned away,
+          and lonely he walked by the river;
+  He glowered as he went
+          and the fire of revenge in his bosom was kindled,
+  But he strove to dissemble his ire,
+          and he whistled alone by the Ha-ha.
+
+
+
+  THE "WAKAN WACEPEE," OR SACRED DANCE. [81]
+
+
+  Lo the lights in the "Teepee Wakán!"
+          'tis the night of the Wakán-Wacépee.
+  Round and round walks the chief of the clan,
+          as he rattles the sacred Ta-shá-kay; [81]
+  Long and loud on the Chân-che-ga [81]
+          beat the drummers with magical drumsticks,
+  And the notes of the Chô-tánka [81] greet,
+          like the murmur of winds on the waters.
+  By the friction of white-cedar wood
+          for the feast was a Virgin-fire [20] kindled.
+  They that enter the firm brotherhood
+          first must fast and be cleansed by E-neé-pee; [81]
+  And from foot-sole to crown of the head
+          must they paint with the favorite colors;
+  For Unktéhee likes bands of blood-red,
+          with the stripings of blue intermingled.
+  In the hollow earth, dark and profound,
+          Unktéhee and fiery Wakín-yan
+  Long fought and the terrible sound
+          of the battle was louder than thunder;
+  The mountains were heaved and around
+          were scattered the hills and the boulders,
+  And the vast solid plains of the ground
+          rose and fell like the waves of the ocean.
+  But the god of the waters prevailed.
+          Wakín-yan escaped from the cavern,
+  And long on the mountains he wailed,
+          and his hatred endureth forever.
+
+  When Unktéhee had finished the earth,
+          and the beasts and the birds and the fishes,
+  And men at his bidding came forth
+          from the heart of the huge hollow mountains [69]
+  A band chose the god from the hordes,
+          and he said "Ye are sons of Unktéhee;
+  Ye are lords of the beasts and the birds,
+          and the fishes that swim in the waters.
+  But hearken ye now to my words,
+          --let them sound in your bosoms forever.
+  Ye shall honor Unktéhee and hate Wakínyan,
+          the Spirit of Thunder,
+  For the power of Unktéhee is great,
+          and he laughs at the darts of Wakínyan.
+  Ye shall honor the Earth and the Sun,
+          --for they are your father and mother. [70]
+  Let your prayer to the Sun be
+          --_Wakán, Até: on-si-má-da oheé-neé_ [a]
+  And remember the Táku Wakán, [73]
+          all pervading in earth and in ether--
+  Invisible ever to man,
+          but he dwells in the midst of all matter;
+  Yea, he dwells in the heart of the stone
+          --in the hard granite heart of the boulder;
+  Ye shall call him forever Tunkán
+          --grandfather of all the Dakotas.
+  Ye are men that I choose for my own;
+          ye shall be as a strong band of brothers,
+  Now I give you the magical bone
+          and the magical pouch of the spirits. [b]
+  And these are the laws ye shall heed:
+          Ye shall honor the pouch and the giver.
+  Ye shall walk as twin-brothers;
+          in need, one shall forfeit his life for another.
+  Listen not to the voice of the crow. [c]
+          Hold as sacred the wife of a brother.
+  Strike, and fear not the shaft of the foe,
+          for the soul of the brave is immortal.
+  Slay the warrior in battle,
+          but spare the innocent babe and the mother.
+  Remember a promise;--beware,
+          --let the word of a warrior be sacred.
+  When a stranger arrives at the tee
+          --be he friend of the band or a foeman,
+  Give him food; let your bounty be free;
+          lay a robe for the guest by the lodge-fire;
+  Let him go to his kindred in peace,
+          if the peace-pipe he smoke in the teepee;
+  And so shall your children increase,
+          and your lodges shall laugh with abundance.
+  And long shall ye live in the land,
+          and the spirits of earth and the waters
+  Shall come to your aid, at command,
+          with the power of invisible magic.
+  And at last, when you journey afar
+          --o'er the shining "_Wanágee Ta-chán-ku_," [70]
+  You shall walk as a red, shining star, [18]
+          in the land of perpetual summer."
+
+  [a] "Sacred Spirit, Father have pity on me always"
+
+  [b] Riggs' Tahkoo Wakan, p. 90.
+
+  [c] Slander.
+
+  All the night in the teepee they sang,
+          and they danced to the mighty Unktéhee,
+  While the loud-braying Chán-che-ga rang
+          and the shrill-piping flute and the rattle,
+  Till Anpétuwee [70] rose in the east
+          --from the couch of the blushing Han-nân-na.
+  And then at the dance and the feast
+          sang the song of Unktéhee in chorus:
+
+    "Wa-dú-ta o-hna mi-ká-ge!
+    Wa-dú-ta o-hná mi-ká-ge!
+    Mini-yâta ité wakândè makù,
+    Atè wakán--Tunkánsidán,
+
+    Tunkânsidán pejihúta wakán
+    Micâgè--he Wicâgè!
+    Miniyáta ité wakándé makú.
+    Taukánsidán ite, nápè dú-win-ta woo,
+    Wahutôpa wan yúha, nápè dú-win-ta too."
+
+       TRANSLATION
+
+    In red swan-down he made it for me;
+    In red swan-down he made it for me;
+    He of the water--he of the mysterious face--
+             Gave it to me;
+    Sacred Father--Grandfather!
+
+    Grandfather made me magical medicine
+             That is true!
+    Being of mystery,--grown in the water--
+             He gave it to me!
+    To the face of our Grandfather stretch out your hand;
+    Holding a quadruped, stretch out your hand!
+
+  Till high o'er the hills of the east
+          Anpétuwee walked on his journey,
+  In secret they danced at the feast,
+          and communed with the mighty Unktéhee.
+  Then opened the door of the tee
+          to the eyes of the day and the people,
+  And the sons of Unktéhee, to be,
+          were endowed with the sacred Ozúha [82]
+  By the son of tall Wazí-kuté, Tamdóka,
+          the chief of the Magi.
+  And thus since the birth-day of man
+          --since he sprang from the heart of the mountains, [69]
+  Has the sacred "Wacépee Wakán"
+          by the warlike Dakotas been honored,
+  And the god-favored sons of the clan
+          work their will with the help of the spirits.
+
+  'Twas sunrise; the spirits of mist
+          trailed their white robes on dewy  savannas,
+  And the flowers raised their heads to be kissed
+          by the first golden beams of the morning.
+  The breeze was abroad with the breath
+          of the rose of the Isles of the Summer,
+  And the humming-bird hummed on the heath
+          from his home in the land of the rain-bow. [a]
+  'Twas the morn of departure.
+          Duluth stood alone by the roar of the Ha-ha;
+  Tall and fair in the strength of his youth
+          stood the blue-eyed and fair-bearded Frenchman.
+  A rustle of robes on the grass broke his dream
+          as he mused by the waters,
+  And, turning, he looked on the face of Winona,
+          wild rose of the prairies,
+  Half hid in her forest of hair,
+          like the round, golden moon in the pine tops.
+  Admiring he gazed--she was fair
+          as his own blooming Flore in her orchards,
+  With her golden locks loose on the air,
+          like the gleam of the sun through the olives,
+  Far away on the vine-covered shore,
+          in the sun-favored land of his fathers.
+  "Lists the chief to the cataract's roar
+          for the mournful lament of the Spirit?" [b]
+  Said Winona,--"The wail of the sprite
+          for her babe and its father unfaithful,
+  Is heard in the midst of the night,
+          when the moon wanders dim in the heavens."
+
+  [a] The Dakotas say the humming-bird comes from the "land of the
+  rain-bow."
+
+  [b] See Legend of the Falls or Note 28--Appendix.
+
+  "Wild-Rose of the Prairies," he said,
+          "DuLuth listens not to the Ha-ha,
+  For the wail of the ghost of the dead,
+          for her babe and its father unfaithful;
+  But he lists to a voice in his heart
+          that is heard by the ear of no other,
+  And to-day will the White Chief depart
+          --he returns to the land of the sunrise."
+  "Let Winona depart with the chief,
+          --she will kindle the fire in his teepee;
+  For long are the days of her grief,
+          if she stay in the tee of Ta-té-psin,"
+  She replied and her cheeks were aflame
+          with the bloom of the wild prairie lilies.
+  "Tanké, [a] is the White Chief to blame?"
+          said DuLuth to the blushing Winona.
+  "The White Chief is blameless," she said,
+          "but the heart of Winona will follow
+  Wherever thy footsteps may lead,
+          O blue-eyed brave Chief of the white men.
+  For her mother sleeps long in the mound,
+          and a step-mother rules in the teepee.
+  And her father, once strong and renowned,
+          is bent with the weight of his winters.
+  No longer he handles the spear,
+          --no longer his swift, humming arrows
+  Overtake the fleet feet of the deer,
+          or the bear of the woods, or the bison;
+  But he bends as he walks, and the wind
+          shakes his white hair and hinders his footsteps;
+  And soon will he leave me behind,
+          without brother or sister or kindred.
+  The doe scents the wolf in the wind,
+          and a wolf walks the path of Winona.
+  Three times have the gifts for the bride [25]
+          to the lodge of Ta-té-psin been carried.
+  But the voice of Winona replied
+          that she liked not the haughty Tamdóka.
+  And thrice were the gifts sent away,
+          but the tongue of the mother protested,
+  And the were wolf [52] still follows his prey,
+          abides but the death of my father."
+
+  [a] My Sister.
+
+  "I pity Winona," he said,
+          "but my path is a pathway of danger,
+  And long is the trail for the maid
+          to the far-away land of the sunrise;
+  And few are the braves of my band,
+          and the braves of Tamdóka are many;
+  But soon I return to the land,
+          and a cloud of my hunters will follow.
+  When the cold winds of winter return,
+          and toss the white robes of the prairies,
+  The fire of the White Chief will burn
+          in his lodge at the Meeting-of-Waters; [a]
+  And when from the Sunrise again
+          comes the chief of the suns of the Morning,
+  Many moons will his hunters remain
+          in the land of the friendly Dakotas.
+  The son of Chief Wazí-kuté
+          guides the White Chief afar on his journey;
+  Nor long on the Tonka Medé [b]
+          --on the breast of the blue, bounding billows--
+  Shall the bark of the Frenchman delay,
+          but his pathway shall kindle behind him."
+
+  [a] Mendota, properly _Mdó-tè_--meaning the outlet of lake or river into
+  another,
+  commonly applied to the region about Fort Snelling.
+
+  [b] Tonka Mede--Great Lake, i.e. Lake Superior. The Dakotas seem to have
+  had no other name for it. They generally referred to it as
+  _Mini-ya-ta--There at the water._
+
+  She was pale, and her hurried voice swelled
+          with alarm as she questioned replying
+  "Tamdóka thy guide?
+          --I beheld thy death in his face at the races!
+  He covers his heart with a smile,
+          but revenge never sleeps in his bosom;
+  His tongue--it is soft to beguile;
+          but beware of the pur of the panther!
+  For death, like a shadow,
+          will walk by thy side in the midst of the forest,
+  Or follow thy path like a hawk
+          on the trail of a wounded Mastinca. [a]
+  A son of Unktéhee is he,
+          --the Chief of the crafty magicians;
+  They have plotted thy death; I foresee,
+          and thy trail, it is red in the forest;
+  Beware of Tamdóka,--beware.
+          Slumber not like the grouse of the woodlands,
+  With head under wing,
+          for the glare of the eyes that sleep not are upon thee."
+
+  [a] The rabbit. The Dakotas called the Crees "Mastincapi"--Rabbits.
+
+  "Winona, fear not," said Duluth,
+          "for I carry the fire of Wakínyan, [a]
+  And strong is the arm of my youth,
+          and stout are the hearts of my warriors;
+  But Winona has spoken the truth,
+          and the heart of the White Chief is thankful.
+  Hide this in thy bosom, dear maid,
+          --'tis the crucified Christ of the white men. [b]
+  Lift thy voice to his spirit in need,
+          and his spirit will hear thee and answer;
+  For often he comes to my aid;
+          he is stronger than all the Dakotas;
+  And the Spirits of evil, afraid,
+          hide away when he looks from the heavens."
+  In her swelling brown bosom
+          she hid the crucified Jesus in silver;
+  "Niwástè," [c] she sadly replied;
+          in her low voice the rising tears trembled;
+  Her dewy eyes turned she aside,
+          and she slowly returned to the teepees.
+  But still on the swift river's strand,
+          admiring the graceful Winona,
+  As she gathered, with brown, dimpled hand,
+          her hair from the wind, stood the Frenchman.
+
+  [a] i.e. a fire arm which the Dakotas compare to the roar of the wings of
+  the Thunder-bird and the fiery arrows he shoots.
+
+  [b] Duluth was a devout Catholic.
+
+  [c] Nee-wahshtay--Thou art good.
+
+  To bid the brave White Chief adieu,
+          on the shady shore gathered the warriors;
+  His glad boatmen manned the canoe,
+          and the oars in their hands were impatient.
+  Spake the Chief of Isántees,
+          --"A feast will await the return of my brother
+  In peace rose the sun in the East,
+          in peace in the West he descended.
+  May the feet of my brother be swift,
+          till they bring him again to our teepees;
+  The red pipe he takes as a gift,
+          may he smoke that red pipe many winters.
+  At my lodge-fire his pipe shall be lit,
+          when the White Chief returns to Kathága;
+  On the robes of my tee shall he sit,
+          he shall smoke with the chiefs of my people.
+  The brave love the brave;
+          and his son sends the Chief as a guide for his brother,
+  By the way of the Wákpa Wakán [a]
+          to the Chief at the Lake of the Spirits.
+
+  [a] Spirit River, now called _Rum_ River.
+
+  As light as the foot-steps of dawn
+          are the feet of the stealthy Tamdóka,
+  And he fears not the Máza Wakán; [a]
+          he is sly as the fox of the forest.
+  When he dances the dance of red war
+          all the hungry wolves howl by the Big Sea, [b]
+  For they scent on the south-wind
+          afar their feast on the bones of Ojibways."
+  Thrice the Chief puffed the red pipe of peace,
+          ere it passed to the lips of the Frenchman.
+  Spake DuLuth,--"May the Great Spirit
+          bless with abundance the Chief and his people;
+  May their sons and their daughters increase,
+          and the fire ever burn in their teepees."
+  Then he waved with a flag his adieu
+          to the Chief and the warriors assembled;
+  And away shot Tamdóka's canoe
+          to the strokes of ten sinewy hunters;
+  And a white path he clove up the blue,
+          bubbling stream of the swift Mississippi;
+  And away on his foaming trail flew,
+          like a Sea-Gull the bark of the Frenchman.
+  Then merrily rose the blithe song
+          of the _voyageurs_ homeward returning,
+  And thus, as they glided along,
+          sang the bugle-voiced boatmen in chorus:
+
+SONG
+
+  Home again! home again! bend to the oar!
+  Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_
+  He rides on the river with his paddle in his hand,
+  And his boat is his shelter on the water and the land.
+  The clam in his shell and the water turtle too,
+  And the brave boatman's shell is his birch bark canoe.
+  So pull away, boatmen, bend to the oar;
+  Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
+
+  Home again! home again! bend to the oar!
+  Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
+  His couch is as downy as a couch can be,
+  For he sleeps on the feathers of the green fir-tree.
+  He dines on the fat of the pemmican-sack,
+  And his _eau de vie_ is the _eau de lac_.
+  So pull away, boatmen; bend to the oar;
+  Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
+
+  Home again! home again! bend to the oar!
+  Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
+  The brave, jolly boatman,--he never is afraid
+  When he meets at the portage a red, forest maid,
+  A Huron, or a Cree, or a blooming Chippeway;
+  And he marks his trail with the _bois brulès_.
+  So pull away, boatmen; bend to the oar;
+  Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
+  Home again! home again! bend to the oar!
+  Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
+
+  [a] Fire arm--spirit metal.
+
+
+  [b] Lake Superior--at that time the home of the Ojibways. (Chippewas)
+
+  In the reeds of the meadow the stag
+          lifts his branchy head stately and listens,
+  And the bobolink, perched on the flag,
+          her ear sidelong bends to the chorus.
+  From the brow of the Beautiful Isle, [a]
+          half hid in the midst of the maples,
+  The sad-faced Winona, the while,
+          watched the boat growing less in the distance.
+  Till away in the bend of the stream,
+          where it turned and was lost in the lindens,
+  She saw the last dip and the gleam
+          of the oars ere they vanished forever.
+  Still afar on the waters the song,
+          like bridal bells distantly chiming,
+  The stout, jolly boatmen prolong,
+          beating time with the stroke of their paddles;
+  And Winona's ear, turned to the breeze,
+          lists the air falling fainter and fainter
+  Till it dies like the murmur of bees
+          when the sun is aslant on the meadows.
+  Blow, breezes,--blow softly
+          and sing in the dark, flowing hair of the maiden;
+  But never again shall you bring
+          the voice that she loves to Winona.
+
+  [a] Wista Waste--Nicollet Island.
+
+  Now a light, rustling wind from the South
+          shakes his wings o'er the wide, wimpling waters;
+  Up the dark winding river
+          DuLuth follows fast in the wake of Tamdóka.
+  On the slopes of the emerald shores
+          leafy woodlands and prairies alternate;
+  On the vine-tangled islands
+          the flowers peep timidly out at the white men;
+  In the dark-winding eddy the loon sits warily,
+          watching and voiceless,
+  And the wild goose, in reedy lagoon,
+          stills the prattle and play of her children.
+  The does and their sleek, dappled fawns
+          prick their ears and peer out from the thickets,
+  And the bison-calves play on the lawns,
+          and gambol like colts in the clover.
+  Up the still flowing Wákpa Wakán's winding path
+          through the groves and the meadows.
+  Now DuLuth's brawny boatmen
+          pursue the swift gliding bark of Tamdóka;
+  And hardly the red braves out-do
+          the stout, steady oars of the white men.
+
+  Now they bend to their oars in the race
+          --the ten tawny braves of Tamdóka;
+  And hard on their heels in the chase
+          ply the six stalwart oars of the Frenchmen.
+  In the stern of his boat sits DuLuth,
+          in the stern of his boat stands Tamdóka;
+  And warily, cheerily,
+          both urge the oars of their men to the utmost.
+  Far-stretching away to the eyes,
+          winding blue in the midst of the meadows,
+  As a necklet of sapphires
+          that lies unclaspt in the lap of a virgin,
+  Here asleep in the lap of the plain
+          lies the reed-bordered, beautiful river.
+  Like two flying coursers that strain,
+          on the track, neck and neck, on the home-stretch,
+  With nostrils distended, and mane froth-flecked,
+          and the neck and the shoulders,
+  Each urged to his best by the cry
+          and the whip and the rein of his rider,
+  Now they skim o'er the waters and fly,
+          side by side, neck and neck, through the meadows.
+  The blue heron flaps from the reeds,
+          and away wings her course up the river;
+  Straight and swift is her flight o'er the meads,
+          but she hardly outstrips the canoemen.
+  See! the _voyageurs_ bend to their oars
+          till the blue veins swell out on their foreheads;
+  And the sweat from their brawny breasts pours;
+          but in vain their Herculean labor;
+  For the oars of Tamdôka are ten,
+          and but six are the oars of the Frenchmen,
+  And the red warriors' burden of men
+          is matched by the _voyageur's_ luggage.
+  Side by side, neck and neck, for a mile,
+          still they strain their strong arms to the utmost,
+  Till rounding a willowy isle, now ahead creeps the boat of Tamdóka,
+  And the neighboring forests profound,
+          and the far-stretching plain of the meadows
+  To the whoop of the victors resound,
+          while the panting French rest on their paddles.
+
+  With sable wings wide o'er the land,
+          night sprinkles the dew of the heavens;
+  And hard by the dark river's strand,
+          in the midst of a tall, somber forest,
+  Two camp-fires are lighted, and beam
+          on the trunks and the arms of the pine-trees.
+  In the fitful light darkle and gleam
+          the swarthy-hued faces around them.
+  And one is the camp of DuLuth,
+          and the other the camp of Tamdóka,
+  But few are the jests and uncouth
+          of the _voyageurs_ over their supper,
+  While moody and silent the braves
+          round their fire in a circle sit crouching;
+  And low is the whisper of leaves
+          and the sough of the wind in the branches;
+  And low is the long-winding howl
+          of the lone wolf afar in the forest;
+  But shrill is the hoot of the owl,
+          like a bugle blast blown in the pine-tops,
+  And the half-startled _voyageurs_
+          scowl at the sudden and saucy intruder.
+  Like the eyes of the wolves are the eyes
+          of the watchful and silent Dakotas;
+  Like the face of the moon in the skies,
+          when the clouds chase each other across it.
+  Is Tamdóka's dark face in the light
+          of the flickering flames of the camp fire.
+  They have plotted red murder by night,
+          and securely contemplate their victims.
+  But wary and armed to the teeth
+          are the resolute Frenchmen and ready,
+  If need be, to grapple with death,
+          and to die hand to hand in the desert.
+  Yet skilled in the arts and the wiles
+          of the cunning and crafty Algonkins,
+  They cover their hearts with their smiles,
+          and hide their suspicions of evil.
+  Round their low, smouldering fire,
+          feigning sleep, lie the watchful and wily Dakotas;
+  But DuLuth and his _voyageurs_ heap their fire
+          that shall blaze till the morning,
+  Ere they lay themselves snugly to rest,
+          with their guns by their side on the blankets,
+  As if there were none to molest
+          but the ravening beasts of the forest.
+
+  'Tis midnight. The rising moon gleams,
+          weird and still o'er the dusky horizon;
+  Through the hushed, somber forest she beams,
+          and fitfully gloams on the meadows;
+  And a dim, glimmering pathway she paves,
+          at times, on the dark stretch of river.
+  The winds are asleep in the caves
+          --in the heart of the far-away mountains;
+  And here on the meadows and there,
+          the lazy mists gather and hover;
+  And the lights of the Fen-Spirits [72] flare
+          and dance on the low-lying marshes,
+  As still as the footsteps of death
+          by the bed of the babe and its mother;
+  And hushed are the pines, and beneath
+          lie the weary limbed boatmen in slumber.
+  Walk softly,--walk softly, O Moon,
+          through the gray, broken clouds in thy pathway,
+  For the earth lies asleep, and the boon
+          of repose is bestowed on the weary.
+  Toiling hands have forgotten their care;
+          e'en the brooks have forgotten to murmur;
+  But hark!--there's a sound on the air!
+          --'tis the light-rustling robes of the Spirits.
+  Like the breath of the night in the leaves,
+          or the murmur of reeds on the river,
+  In the cool of the mid-summer eves,
+          when the blaze of the day has descended.
+  Low-crouching and shadowy forms,
+          as still as the gray morning's footsteps,
+  Creep sly as the serpent that charms,
+          on her nest in the meadow, the plover;
+  In the shadows of pine-trunks they creep,
+          but their panther-eyes gleam in the fire-light,
+  As they peer on the white men asleep,
+          in the glow of the fire, on their blankets.
+  Lo, in each swarthy right hand a knife,
+          in the left hand, the bow and the arrows!
+  Brave Frenchmen! awake to the strife!
+          --or you sleep in the forest forever.
+  Nay, nearer and nearer they glide,
+          like ghosts on the fields of their battles,
+  Till close on the sleepers, they bide
+          but the signal of death from Tamdóka.
+  Still the sleepers sleep on.
+          Not a breath stirs the leaves of the awe-stricken forest;
+  The hushed air is heavy with death;
+          like the footsteps of death are the moments.
+  "_Arise_!"--At the word, with a bound,
+          to their feet spring the vigilant Frenchmen;
+  And the dark, dismal forests resound
+          to the crack and the roar of their rifles;
+  And seven writhing forms on the ground
+          clutch the earth. From the pine-tops the screech owl
+  Screams and flaps his wide wings in affright,
+          and plunges away through the shadows;
+  And swift on the wings of the night
+          flee the dim, phantom forms of the spirit.
+  Like cabris [80] when white wolves pursue,
+          fled the four yet remaining Dakotas;
+  Through forest and fen-land they flew,
+          and wild terror howled on their footsteps.
+  And one was Tamdóka. DuLuth through the night
+          sent his voice like a trumpet;
+  "Ye are Sons of Unktéhee, forsooth!
+          Return to your mothers, ye cowards!"
+  His shrill voice they heard as they fled,
+          but only the echoes made answer.
+  At the feet of the brave Frenchmen, dead,
+          lay seven swarthy Sons of Unktéhee;
+  And there, in the midst of the slain,
+          they found, as it gleamed in the fire light,
+  The horn-handled knife from the Seine,
+          where it fell from the hand of Tamdóka.
+
+  [Illustration: THE RIVER WAKPA WAKAN OR SPIRIT RIVER]
+
+  In the gray of the morn,
+          ere the sun peeped over the dewy horizon,
+  Their journey again was begun,
+          and they toiled up the swift, winding river;
+  And many a shallow they passed
+          on their way to the Lake of the Spirits;
+  But dauntless they reached it at last,
+          and found Akee-pá-kee-tin's village, [a]
+  On an isle in the midst of the lake;
+          and a day in his teepee they tarried.
+
+  [a] see Hennepin's account of Aqui-pa-que-tin and his village.
+  Shea's Hennepin 227.
+
+  Of the deed in the wilderness spake,
+          to the brave Chief, the frank-hearted Frenchman.
+  A generous man was the Chief
+          and a friend of the fearless explorer;
+  And dark was his visage with grief
+          at the treacherous act of the warriors.
+  "Brave Wazi-Kuté is a man,
+          and his heart is as clear as the sun-light;
+  But the head of a treacherous clan,
+          and a snake in the bush is Tamdóka,"
+  Said the chief; and he promised Duluth,
+          on the word of a friend and a warrior,
+  To carry the pipe and the truth
+          to his cousin, the chief at Kathága;
+  For thrice at the Tânka Medé
+          had he smoked in the lodge of the Frenchman;
+  And thrice had he carried away
+          the bountiful gifts of the trader.
+
+  When the chief could no longer prevail
+          on the white men to rest in his teepee,
+  He guided their feet on the trail
+          to the lakes of the winding Rice-River. [a]
+  Now on speeds the light bark canoe,
+          through the lakes to the broad Gitchee Seebee; [b]
+  And up the great river they row,
+          --up the Big Sandy Lake and Savanna;
+  And down through the meadows they go
+          to the river of broad Gitchee Gumee. [c]
+
+  [a] Now called "Mud River"--it empties into the Mississippi at Aitkin.
+
+  [b] _Gitchee seebee_--Big River--the Ojibway name for the Mississippi,
+  which is a corruption of Gitchee Seebee--as Michigan is a corruption of
+  _Gitchee Gumee_--Great Lake, the Ojibway name of Lake Superior.
+
+  [c] The Ojibways call the St. Louis River
+  _Gitchee-Gumee See-bee--Great-lake River_, i.e. the river of the Great Lake
+  (Lake Superior).
+
+  [Illustration: DALLES OF THE ST. LOUIS]
+
+  Still onward they speed to the Dalles
+          --to the roar of the white-rolling rapids,
+  Where the dark river tumbles and falls
+          down the ragged ravine of the mountains,
+  And singing his wild jubilee
+          to the low-moaning pines and the cedars,
+  Rushes on to the unsalted sea
+          o'er the ledges upheaved by volcanoes.
+  Their luggage the _voyageurs_ bore
+          down the long, winding path of the portage, [a]
+  While they mingled their song
+          with the roar of the turbid and turbulent waters.
+  Down-wimpling and murmuring there,
+          twixt two dewy hills winds a streamlet,
+  Like a long, flaxen ringlet of hair
+          on the breast of a maid in her slumber.
+
+  [a] The route of Duluth above described--from the mouth of the Wild Rice
+  Mud River to Lake Superior--was for centuries and still is, the Indians'
+  canoe route. I have walked over the old portage from the foot of the
+  Dalles to the St. Louis above--trod by the feet of half-breeds and
+  _voyageurs_ for more than two centuries, and by the Indians for,
+  perhaps, a thousand years.
+
+  All safe at the foot of the trail,
+          where they left it, they found their felucca,
+  And soon to the wind spread the sail,
+          and glided at ease through the waters,
+  Through the meadows and lakelets and forth,
+          round the point stretching south like a finger,
+  From the mist-wreathen hill on the north,
+          sloping down to the bay and the lake-side
+  And behold, at the foot of the hill,
+          a cluster of Chippewa wigwams,
+  And the busy wives plying with skill
+          their nets in the emerald waters.
+  Two hundred white winters and more
+          have fled from the face of the Summer
+  Since DuLuth, on that wild, somber shore,
+          in the unbroken forest primeval,
+  From the midst of the spruce and the pines,
+          saw the smoke of the wigwams up-curling,
+  Like the fumes from the temples and shrines
+          of the Druids of old in their forests.
+  Ah, little he dreamed then, forsooth,
+          that a city would stand on that hill-side,
+  And bear the proud name of Duluth,
+          the untiring and dauntless explorer.
+  A refuge for ships from the storms,
+          and for men from the bee-hives of Europe.
+  Out-stretching her long, iron arms
+          o'er an empire of Saxons and Normans.
+
+  The swift west-wind sang in the sails,
+          and on flew the boat like a Sea-Gull,
+  By the green, templed hills and the dales,
+          and the dark rugged rocks of the North Shore;
+  For the course of the brave Frenchman
+          lay to his fort at the Gáh-mah-na-ték-wáhk, [83]
+  By the shore of the grand Thunder Bay,
+          where the gray rocks loom up into mountains;
+  Where the Stone Giant sleeps on the Cape,
+          and the god of the storms makes the thunder, [83]
+  And the Makinak [83] lifts his huge shape
+          from the breast of the blue-rolling waters,
+  And thence to the south-westward led his course
+          to the Holy Ghost Mission. [84]
+  Where the Black Robes, the brave shepherds,
+          fed their wild sheep on the isle Wau-ga-bá-mé. [84]
+
+  [Illustration: SUNSET BAY, LAKE SUPERIOR.]
+
+  In the enchanting Cha-quam-e-gon Bay,
+          defended by all the Apostles; [a]
+  And thence by the Ké-we-naw,
+          lay his course to the Mission Sainte Marie. [b]
+  Now the waves drop their myriad hands,
+          and streams the white hair of the surges;
+  DuLuth at the steady helm stands,
+          and he hums as he bounds o'er the billows:
+
+    O sweet is the carol of bird,
+    And sweet is the murmur of streams,
+    But sweeter the voice that I heard--
+    In the night--in the midst of my dreams.
+
+  [a] The Apostle Islands.
+
+  [b] At the Saut St. Marie.
+
+  'Tis the moon of the sere, falling leaves.
+          From the heads of the maples the west-wind
+  Plucks the red-and-gold plumage
+          and grieves on the meads for the rose and the lily;
+  Their brown leaves the moaning oaks strew,
+          and the breezes that roam on the prairies,
+  Low-whistling and wanton pursue
+          the down of the silk weed and thistle.
+  All sere are the prairies and brown,
+          in the glimmer and haze of the Autumn;
+  From the far northern marshes flock down,
+          by thousands, the geese and the mallards.
+  From the meadows and wide-prairied plains,
+          for their long southward journey preparing,
+  In croaking flocks gather the cranes,
+          and choose with loud clamor their leaders.
+  The breath of the evening is cold,
+          and lurid along the horizon
+  The flames of the prairies are rolled,
+          on the somber skies flashing their torches.
+  At noontide a shimmer of gold,
+          through the haze, pours the sun from his pathway.
+  The wild-rice is gathered and ripe,
+          on the moors, lie the scarlet po-pán-ka; [a]
+  Michabo [85] is smoking his pipe,
+          --'tis the soft, dreamy Indian Summer,
+  When the god of the South as he flies
+          from Wazíya, the god of the Winter,
+  For a time turns his beautiful eyes,
+          and backward looks over his shoulder.
+
+  [a] Cranberries.
+
+  It is noon. From his path in the skies
+          the red sun looks down on Kathága,
+  Asleep in the valley it lies,
+          for the swift hunters follow the bison.
+  Ta-té-psin, the aged brave, bends
+          as he walks by the side of Winona;
+  Her arm to his left hand she lends,
+          and he feels with his staff for the pathway;
+  On his slow, feeble footsteps attends
+          his gray dog, the watchful Wicháka; [a]
+  For blind in his years is the chief
+          of a fever that followed the Summer,
+  And the days of Ta-té-psin are brief.
+          Once more by the dark-rolling river
+  Sits the Chief in the warm, dreamy haze
+          of the beautiful Summer in Autumn;
+  And the faithful dog lovingly lays his head
+          at the feet of his master.
+  On a dead, withered branch sits a crow,
+          down-peering askance at the old man;
+  On the marge of the river below
+          romp the nut-brown and merry-voiced children,
+  And the dark waters silently flow,
+          broad and deep, to the plunge of the Ha-ha.
+
+  [a] Wee-chah kah--literally "Faithful".
+
+  By his side sat Winona.
+          He laid his thin, shriveled hand on her tresses,
+  "Winona my daughter," he said,
+          "no longer thy father beholds thee;
+  But he feels the long locks of thy hair,
+          and the days that are gone are remembered,
+  When Sisóka [a] sat faithful and fair
+          in the lodge of swift footed Ta-té-psin.
+  The white years have broken my spear;
+          from my bow they have taken the bow-string;
+  But once on the trail of the deer,
+          like a gray wolf from sunrise till sunset,
+  By woodland and meadow and mere,
+          ran the feet of Ta-té-psin untiring.
+  But dim are the days that are gone,
+          and darkly around me they wander,
+  Like the pale, misty face of the moon
+          when she walks through the storm of the winter;
+  And sadly they speak in my ear.
+          I have looked on the graves of my kindred.
+  The Land of the Spirits is near.
+          Death walks by my side like a shadow.
+  Now open thine ear to my voice,
+          and thy heart to the wish of thy father,
+  And long will Winona rejoice
+          that she heeded the words of Ta-té-psin.
+  The cold, cruel winter is near,
+          and famine will sit in the teepee.
+  What hunter will bring me the deer,
+          or the flesh of the bear or the bison?
+  For my kinsmen before me have gone;
+          they hunt in the land of the shadows.
+  In my old age forsaken, alone,
+          must I die in my teepee of hunger?
+  Winona, Tamdóka can make my empty lodge
+          laugh with abundance;
+  For thine aged and blind father's sake,
+          to the son of the Chief speak the promise.
+  For gladly again to my tee
+          will the bridal gifts come for my daughter.
+  A fleet-footed hunter is he,
+          and the good spirits feather his arrows;
+  And the cold, cruel winter
+          will be a feast-time instead of a famine."
+
+  [a] The Robin--the name of Winona's Mother.
+
+  "My father," she said, and her voice
+          was filial and full of compassion,
+  "Would the heart of Ta-té-psin rejoice
+          at the death of Winona, his daughter?
+  The crafty Tamdóka I hate.
+          Must I die in his teepee of sorrow?
+  For I love the White Chief,
+          and I wait his return to the land of Dakotas.
+  When the cold winds of winter return,
+          and toss the white robes of the prairies,
+  The fire of the White Chief will burn,
+          in his lodge, at the Meeting-of-Waters.
+  Winona's heart followed his feet
+          far away to the land of the morning,
+  And she hears in her slumber
+          his sweet, kindly voice call the name of thy daughter.
+  My father, abide, I entreat,
+          the return of the brave to Kathága.
+  The wild-rice is gathered,
+          the meat of the bison is stored in the teepee;
+  Till the Coon-Moon [71] enough and to spare;
+          and if then the white warrior return not,
+  Winona will follow the bear, and the coon,
+          to their dens in the forest.
+  She is strong; she can handle the spear;
+          she can bend the stout bow of the hunter;
+  And swift on the trail of the deer
+          will she run o'er the snow on her snow-shoes.
+  Let the step-mother sit in the tee,
+          and kindle the fire for my father;
+  And the cold, cruel winter shall be
+          a feast-time instead of a famine."
+  "The White Chief will never return,"
+          half angrily muttered Ta-té-psin;
+
+  "His camp-fire will nevermore burn
+          in the land of the warriors he slaughtered.
+  I grieve, for my daughter has said
+          that she loves the false friend of her kindred;
+  For the hands of the White Chief are red
+          with the blood of the trustful Dakotas."
+  Then warmly Winona replied,
+          "Tamdóka himself is the traitor,
+  And the white-hearted stranger had died
+          by his treacherous hand in the forest,
+  But thy daughter's voice bade him beware
+          of the sly death that followed his footsteps.
+  The words of Tamdóka are fair,
+          but his heart is the den of the serpents.
+  When the braves told their tale,
+          like a bird sang the heart of Winona rejoicing,
+  But gladlier still had she heard
+          of the death of the crafty Tamdóka.
+  The Chief will return, he is bold,
+          and he carries the fire of Wakínyan;
+  To our people the truth will be told,
+          and Tamdóka will hide like a coward."
+  His thin locks the aged brave shook;
+          to himself half inaudibly muttered;
+  To Winona no answer he spoke
+          --only moaned he "Micunksee! Micunksee! [a]
+  In my old age forsaken and blind!
+          Yun! He he! Micúnksee! Micúnksee!" [b]
+  And Wicháka, the pitying dog, whined,
+          as he looked on the face of his master.
+
+  [a] My Daughter! My Daughter!
+
+  [b] Alas! O My Daughter,--My Daughter!
+
+  Wazíya came down from the North
+          --from his land of perpetual winter.
+  From his frost-covered beard issued forth
+          the sharp-biting, shrill-whistling North-wind;
+  At the touch of his breath the wide earth turned to stone,
+          and the lakes and the rivers;
+  From his nostrils the white vapors rose,
+          and they covered the sky like a blanket.
+  Like the down of Magá [a] fell the snows,
+          tossed and whirled into heaps by the North-wind.
+  Then the blinding storms roared on the plains,
+          like the simoons on sandy Sahara;
+  From the fangs of the fierce hurricanes
+          fled the elk and the deer and the bison.
+  Ever colder and colder it grew,
+          till the frozen earth cracked and split open;
+  And harder and harder it blew,
+          till the prairies were bare as the boulders.
+  To the southward the buffaloes fled,
+          and the white rabbits hid in their burrows;
+  On the bare sacred mounds of the dead
+          howled the gaunt, hungry wolves in the night-time.
+  The strong hunters crouched in their tees;
+          by the lodge-fires the little ones shivered;
+  And the Magic Men [b] danced to appease,
+          in their teepee, the wrath of Wazíya;
+  But famine and fatal disease,
+          like phantoms, crept into the village.
+  The Hard Moon [c] was past, but the moon
+          when the coons make their trails in the forest [d]
+  Grew colder and colder. The coon or the bear,
+          ventured not from his cover;
+  For the cold, cruel Arctic Simoon swept the earth
+          like the breath of a furnace.
+  In the tee of Ta-té-psin the store of wild-rice
+          and dried meat was exhausted;
+  And Famine crept in at the door,
+          and sat crouching and gaunt by the lodge-fire.
+  But now with the saddle of deer,
+          and the gifts, came the crafty Tamdóka;
+  And he said, "Lo I bring you good cheer,
+          for I love the blind Chief and his daughter.
+  Take the gifts of Tamdóka,
+          for dear to his heart is the dark-eyed Winona."
+  The aged chief opened his ears;
+          in his heart he already consented;
+  But the moans of his child and her tears
+          touched the age-softened heart of the father,
+  And he said, "I am burdened with years,
+          --I am bent by the snows of my winters;
+  Ta-té-psin will die in his tee;
+          let him pass to the Land of the Spirits;
+  But Winona is young; she is free,
+          and her own heart shall choose her a husband."
+  The dark warrior strode from the tee;
+          low-muttering and grim he departed.
+  "Let him die in his lodge," muttered he,
+          "but Winona shall kindle my lodge-fire."
+
+  [a] Wild goose.
+
+  [b] Medicine men.
+
+  [c] January.
+
+  [d] February.
+
+  Then forth went Winona. The bow of Ta-té-psin
+          she took and his arrows,
+  And afar o'er the deep, drifted snow,
+          through the forest, she sped on her snow-shoes.
+  Over meadow and ice-covered mere,
+          through the thickets of red oak and hazel,
+  She followed the tracks of the deer,
+          but like phantoms they fled from her vision.
+  From sunrise till sunset she sped;
+          half-famished she camped in the thicket;
+  In the cold snow she made her lone bed;
+          on the buds of the birch [a] made her supper.
+  To the dim moon the gray owl preferred,
+          from the tree top, his shrill lamentation,
+  And around her at midnight she heard
+          the dread famine-cries of the gray wolves.
+  In the gloam of the morning again
+          on the trail of the red-deer she followed--
+  All day long through the thickets in vain,
+          for the gray wolves were chasing the roebucks;
+  And the cold, hungry winds from the plain
+          chased the wolves and the deer and Winona.
+
+  [a] The pheasant feeds on birch-buds in winter. Indians eat them when very
+  hungry.
+
+  In the twilight of sundown she sat,
+          in the forest, all weak and despairing;
+  Ta-té-psin's bow lay at her feet,
+          and his otter skin quiver of arrows.
+  "He promised,--he promised," she said
+          --half-dreamily uttered and mournful,--
+  "And why comes he not? Is he dead?
+          Was he slain by the crafty Tamdóka?
+  Must Winona, alas, make her choice
+          --make her choice between death and Tamdóka?
+  She will die but her soul will rejoice
+          in the far Summer-land of the spirits.
+  Hark! I hear his low, musical voice!
+          He is coming! My White Chief is coming!
+  Ah, no; I am half in a dream!
+          --'twas the mem'ry of days long departed;
+  But the birds of the green Summer
+          seem to be singing above in the branches."
+  Then forth from her bosom she drew
+          the crucified Jesus in silver.
+  In her dark hair the cold north wind blew,
+          as meekly she bent o'er the image.
+  "O Christ of the White man," she prayed,
+          "lead the feet of my brave to Kathága;
+  Send a good spirit down to my aid,
+          or the friend of the White Chief will perish."
+  Then a smile on her wan features played,
+          and she lifted her pale face and chanted:
+
+  "E-ye-he-ktá! E-ye-he-ktá!
+   Hé-kta-cè; é-ye-ce-quón.
+   Mí-Wamdee-ská, he-he-ktá;
+   He-kta-cè; é-ye-ce-quón,
+   Mí-Wamdee-ská."
+
+  [TRANSLATION.]
+
+   He will come; he will come;
+   He will come, for he promised.
+   My White Eagle, he will come;
+   He will come, for he promised,--
+   My White Eagle.
+
+  Thus sadly she chanted, and lo
+          --allured by her sorrowful accents--
+  From the dark covert crept a red doe
+          and wondrously gazed on Winona.
+  Then swift caught the huntress her bow;
+          from her trembling hand hummed the keen arrow.
+  Up-leaped the red gazer and fled,
+          but the white snow was sprinkled with scarlet,
+  And she fell in the oak thicket dead.
+          On the trail ran the eager Winona.
+  Half-famished the raw flesh she ate.
+          To the hungry maid sweet was her supper.
+  Then swift through the night ran her feet,
+          and she trailed the sleek red-deer behind her.
+  And the guide of her steps was a star
+          --the cold-glinting star of Wazíya--[a]
+  Over meadow and hilltop afar,
+          on the way to the lodge of her father.
+  But hark! on the keen frosty air
+          wind the shrill hunger-howls of the gray wolves!
+  And nearer,--still nearer!
+          --the blood of the doe have they scented and follow;
+  Through the thicket, the meadow,
+          the wood, dash the pack on the trail of Winona.
+  Swift she speeds with her burden,
+          but swift on her track fly the minions of famine;
+  Now they yell on the view from the drift,
+          in the reeds at the marge of the meadow;
+  Red gleam their wild, ravenous eyes;
+          for they see on the hill-side their supper;
+  The dark forest echoes their cries;
+          but her heart is the heart of a warrior.
+  From its sheath snatched Winona her knife,
+          and a leg from the red doe she severed;
+  With the carcass she ran for her life,
+          --to a low-branching oak ran the maiden;
+  Round the deer's neck her head-strap [b] was tied;
+          swiftly she sprang to the arms of the oak-tree;
+  Quick her burden she drew to her side,
+          and higher she clomb on the branches,
+  While the maddened wolves battled and bled,
+          dealing death o'er the leg to each other;
+  Their keen fangs devouring the dead,
+          --yea, devouring the flesh of the living,
+  They raved and they gnashed and they growled,
+          like the fiends in the regions infernal;
+  The wide night re-echoing howled,
+          and the hoarse North wind laughed o'er the slaughter.
+  But their ravenous maws unappeased
+          by the blood and the flesh of their fellows,
+  To the cold wind their muzzles they raised,
+          and the trail to the oak-tree they followed.
+  Round and round it they howled for the prey,
+          madly leaping and snarling and snapping;
+  But the brave maiden's keen arrows slay,
+          till the dead number more than the living.
+  All the long, dreary night-time, at bay,
+          in the oak sat the shivering Winona;
+  But the sun gleamed at last, and away
+          skulked the gray cowards [c] down through the forest.
+  Then down dropped the doe and the maid.
+          Ere the sun reached the midst of his journey,
+  Her red, welcome burden she laid
+          at the feet of her famishing father.
+
+  [a] Wazíya's Star is the North Star.
+
+  [b] A strap used in carrying burdens.
+
+  [c] Wolves sometimes attack people at night but rarely if ever in the day
+  time. If they have followed a hunter all night, or "treed" him they will
+  skulk away as soon as the sun rises.
+
+  Wazíya's wild wrath was appeased,
+          and homeward he turned to his teepee, [3]
+  O'er the plains and the forest-land breezed,
+          from the Islands of Summer, the South wind.
+  From their dens came the coon and the bear;
+          o'er the snow through the woodlands they wandered;
+  On her snow shoes with stout bow and spear
+          on their trails ran the huntress Winona.
+  The coon to his den in the tree,
+          and the bear to his burrow she followed;
+  A brave, skillful hunter was she,
+          and Ta-té-psin's lodge laughed with abundance.
+
+  The long winter wanes. On the wings
+          of the spring come the geese and the mallards;
+  On the bare oak the red-robin sings,
+          and the crocuses peep on the prairies,
+  And the bobolink pipes, but he brings,
+          of the blue-eyed, brave White Chief, no tidings.
+  With the waning of winter, alas,
+          waned the life of the aged Tatépsin;
+  Ere the blue pansies peeped from the grass,
+          to the Land of the Spirits he journeyed;
+  Like a babe in its slumber he passed,
+          or the snow from the hill tops in April;
+  And the dark-eyed Winona, at last,
+          stood alone by the graves of her kindred.
+  When their myriad mouths opened the trees
+          to the sweet dew of heaven and the rain drops,
+  And the April showers fell on the leas,
+          on his mound fell the tears of Winona.
+  Round her drooping form gathered the years
+          and the spirits unseen of her kindred,
+  As low, in the midst of her tears,
+          at the grave of her father she chanted:
+
+      E-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah ké-yày!
+      E-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah ké-yày!
+      E-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah ké-yày!
+    Ma-káh kin háy-chay-dan táy-han wan-kày.
+    Tú-way ne ktáy snee e-yáy-chen e-wáh chày.
+      E-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah ké-yày!
+      E-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah ké-yày!
+    Ma-káh kin háy-chay-dan táy-han wan-kày.
+
+    [TRANSLATION]
+
+      Sore is my sorrow!
+      Sore is my sorrow!
+      Sore is my sorrow!
+    The earth alone lasts.
+    I speak as one dying;
+      Sore is my sorrow!
+      Sore is my sorrow!
+    The earth alone lasts.
+
+  Still hope, like a star in the night
+          gleaming oft through the broken clouds somber,
+  Cheered the heart of Winona, and bright,
+          on her dreams, beamed the face of the Frenchman.
+  As the thought of a loved one and lost,
+          sad and sweet were her thoughts of the White Chief;
+  In the moon's mellow light, like a ghost,
+          walked Winona alone by the Ha-ha,
+  Ever wrapped in a dream. Far away
+          --to the land of the sunrise--she wandered;
+  On the blue rolling Tánka Medé, [a]
+          in the midst of her dreams, she beheld him--
+  In his white-winged canoe, like a bird,
+          to the land of Dakotas returning;
+  And often in fancy she heard
+          the dip of his oars on the river.
+  On the dark waters glimmered the moon,
+          but she saw not the boat of the Frenchman;
+  On the somber night bugled the loon,
+          but she heard not the song of the boatmen.
+  The moon waxed and waned, but the star
+          of her hope never waned to the setting;
+  Through her tears she beheld it afar,
+          like a torch on the eastern horizon.
+  "He will come,--he is coming," she said;
+          "he will come, for my White Eagle promised,"
+  And low to the bare earth the maid
+          bent her ear for the sound of his footsteps.
+  "He is gone, but his voice in my ear
+          still remains like the voice of the robin;
+  He is far, but his footsteps I hear;
+          he is coming; my White Chief is coming!"
+
+  [a] Lake Superior,--The _Gitchee Gumee_ of the Chippewas.
+
+  But the moon waxed and waned. Nevermore
+          will the eyes of Winona behold him.
+  Far away on the dark, rugged shore
+          of the blue Gitchee Gúmee he lingers.
+  No tidings the rising sun brings;
+          no tidings the star of the evening;
+  But morning and evening she sings,
+          like a turtle-doe widowed and waiting;
+
+    Aké u, aké u, aké u;
+    Ma cântè maséca.
+    Aké u, aké u, aké u;
+    Ma cântè maséca.
+
+    Come again, come again, come again;
+    For my heart is sad.
+    Come again, come again, come again;
+    For my heart is sad.
+
+  Down the broad Gitchee Seebee [a]
+          the band took their way to the Games at Keóza.
+  While the swift-footed hunters by land
+          ran the shores for the elk and the bison.
+  Like magás [b] ride the birchen canoes
+          on the breast of the dark Gitchee Seebee;
+  By the willow-fringed islands they cruise
+          by the grassy hills green to their summits;
+  By the lofty bluffs hooded with oaks
+          that darken the deep with their shadows;
+  And bright in the sun gleam the strokes
+          of the oars in the hands of the women.
+  With the band went Winona.
+          The oar plied the maid with the skill of a hunter.
+  They loitered and camped on the shore of Remníca
+          --the Lake of the Mountains. [c]
+  There the fleet hunters followed the deer,
+          and the thorny _pahin_ [d] for the women.
+
+  [a] Chippewa name of the Mississippi
+
+  [b] Wild Geese
+
+  [c] Lake Pepin; by Hennepin called Lake of Tears--Called by the Dakotas
+  Remnee-chah-Mday--Lake of the Mountains.
+
+  [d] Pah hin--the porcupine--the quill of which are greatly prized for
+  ornamental work.
+
+  From the tees rose the smoke of good cheer,
+          curling blue through the tops of the maples,
+  Near the foot of a cliff that arose,
+          like the battle-scarred walls of a castle.
+  Up-towering, in rugged repose,
+          to a dizzy height over the waters.
+
+  But the man-wolf still followed his prey,
+          and the step-mother ruled in the tepee;
+  Her will must Winona obey,
+          by the custom and law of Dakotas.
+  The gifts to the teepee were brought
+          --the blankets, and beads of the White men,
+  And Winona, the orphaned, was bought
+          by the crafty relentless Tamdóka.
+  In the Spring-time of life,
+          in the flush of the gladsome mid-May days of Summer,
+  When the bobolink sang and the thrush,
+          and the red robin chirped in the branches,
+  To the tent of the brave must she go;
+          she must kindle the fire in his tepee;
+  She must sit in the lodge of her foe,
+          as a slave at the feet of her master.
+  Alas for her waiting!
+          the wings of the East-wind have brought her no tidings;
+  On the meadow the meadow-lark sings
+          but sad is her song to Winona,
+  For the glad warblers melody brings
+          but the memory of voices departed.
+
+  The Day-Spirit walked in the west
+          to his lodge in the land of the shadows;
+  His shining face gleamed on the crest
+          of the oak-hooded hills and the mountains,
+  And the meadow-lark hied to her nest,
+          and the mottled owl peeped from her cover.
+  But hark! from the teepees a cry!
+          Hear the shouts of the hurrying warriors!
+  Are the steps of the enemy nigh,
+          --of the crafty and creeping Ojibways?
+  Nay; look on the dizzy cliff high!
+          --on the brink of the cliff stands Winona!
+  Her sad face up-turned to the sky. Hark!
+          I hear the wild chant of her death-song:
+
+    My Father's Spirit, look down, look down--
+    From your hunting-grounds in the shining skies;
+    Behold, for the light of my soul is gone,--
+    The light is gone and Winona dies.
+
+    I looked to the East, but I saw no star;
+    The face of my White Chief was turned away.
+    I harked for his footsteps in vain; afar
+    His bark sailed over the Sunrise-sea.
+
+    Long have I watched till my heart is cold;
+    In my breast it is heavy and cold as stone.
+    No more shall Winona his face behold,
+    And the robin that sang in her heart is gone.
+
+    Shall I sit at the feet of the treacherous brave?
+    On his hateful couch shall Winona lie?
+    Shall she kindle his fire like a coward slave?
+    No!--a warrior's daughter can bravely die.
+
+    My Father's Spirit, look down, look down--
+    From your hunting-grounds in the shining skies;
+    Behold, for the light of my soul is gone,--
+      The light is gone and Winona dies.
+
+  Swift the strong hunters clomb as she sang,
+          and the foremost of all was Tamdóka;
+  From crag to crag upward he sprang;
+          like a panther he leaped to the summit.
+  Too late! on the brave as he crept
+          turned the maid in her scorn and defiance;
+  Then swift from the dizzy height leaped.
+          Like a brant arrow-pierced in mid-heaven.
+  Down-whirling and fluttering she fell,
+          and headlong plunged into the waters.
+  Forever she sank mid the wail,
+          and the wild lamentation of women.
+  Her lone spirit evermore dwells
+          in the depths of the Lake of the Mountains,
+  And the lofty cliff evermore tells
+          to the years as they pass her sad story. [a]
+  In the silence of sorrow the night
+          o'er the earth spread her wide, sable pinions;
+  And the stars [18] hid their faces,
+          and light on the lake fell the tears of the spirits.
+  As her sad sisters watched on the shore
+          for her spirit to rise from the waters,
+  They heard the swift dip of an oar,
+          and a boat they beheld like a shadow,
+  Gliding down through the night
+          in the gray, gloaming mists on the face of the waters.
+  'Twas the bark of DuLuth on his way
+          from the Falls to the Games at Keóza.
+
+  [a] The Dakotas say that the spirit of Winona forever haunts the lake.
+  They say that it was many, many winters ago when Winona leaped from the
+  rock--that the rock was then perpendicular to the water's edge and she
+  leaped into the lake, but now the rock has worn away, or the water has
+  receded, so that it does not reach the foot of the rock.
+
+  [Illustration: "DOWN THE RAGGED RAVINE OF THE MOUNTAINS." DALLES OF THE
+  ST LOUIS.]
+
+
+
+
+THE LEGEND OF THE FALLS.
+
+Note: An-pe-tu Sa-pa--Clouded Day--was the name of the Dakota mother who
+committed suicide, as related in this legend, by plunging over the Falls
+of St. Anthony. Schoolcraft calls her "_Ampata_ Sapa." _Ampata_ is not
+Dakota. There are several versions of this legend, all agreeing in the
+main points.
+
+[Read at the celebration of the Old Settlers of Hennepin County, at the
+Academy of Music, Minneapolis, July 4, 1879.]
+
+(The numerals refer to notes in the Appendix.)
+
+
+  On the Spirit-Island [a] sitting under midnight's misty moon,
+  Lo I see the spirits flitting o'er the waters one by one!
+  Slumber wraps the silent city, and the droning mills are dumb;
+  One lone whippowil's shrill ditty calls her mate that ne'er will come.
+  Sadly moans the mighty river, foaming down the fettered falls,
+  Where of old he thundered ever o'er abrupt and lofty walls.
+  Great Unktèhee [69]--god of waters--lifts no more his mighty head;--
+    Fled he with the timid otters?--lies he in the cavern dead?
+
+  [a] The small island of rock a few rods below the Falls, was called by the
+  Dakotas Wanagee We-ta—-Spirit-Island. They say the spirit of Anpetu Sapa
+  sits upon that island at night and pours forth her sorrow in song. They
+  also say that from time out of mind, war-eagles nested on that island,
+  until the advent of white men frightened them away. This seems to be true.
+  Carver's Travels. London. 1778, p. 71.
+
+  Hark!--the waters hush their sighing, and the whippowil her call,
+  Through the moon-lit mists are flying dusky shadows silent all.
+  Lo from out the waters foaming--from the cavern deep and dread--
+    Through the glamour and the gloaming, comes a spirit of the dead.
+  Sad she seems, her tresses raven on her tawny shoulders rest;
+
+  Sorrow on her brow is graven, in her arms a babe is pressed.
+  Hark!--she chants the solemn story,--sings the legend sad and old,
+  And the river wrapt in glory listens while the tale is told.
+  Would you hear the legend olden, hearken while I tell the tale--
+    Shorn, alas, of many a golden, weird Dakota chant and wail.
+
+
+
+
+THE LEGEND.
+
+
+  Tall was young Wanâta, stronger than Heyóka's [16] giant form.
+  Laughed at flood and fire and hunger, faced the fiercest winter storm.
+  When Wakínyan [32] flashed and thundered, when Unktéhee raved and roared,
+  All but brave Wanâta wondered, and the gods with fear implored.
+  When the war-whoop wild resounded, calling friends to meet the foe,
+  From the teepee swift he bounded, armed with polished lance and bow.
+
+  In the battle's din and clangor fast his fatal arrows flew,
+  Flashed his fiery eyes with anger,--many a haughty foe he slew.
+  Hunter, swift was he and cunning, caught the beaver, slew the bear,
+  Overtook the roebuck running, dragged the panther from his lair.
+  Loved was he by many a maiden; many a dark eye glanced in vain;
+  Many a heart with sighs was laden for the love it might not gain.
+  So they called the brave "Ska Câpa"; [a] but the fairest of the band--
+    Moon-faced, meek Anpétu-Sâpa--won the hunter's heart and hand.
+
+  [a] Or Capa Ska--White beaver. White beavers are very rare, very cunning
+  and hard to catch.
+
+  From the wars with triumph burning, from the chase of bison fleet,
+  To his lodge the brave returning, spread his trophies at her feet.
+  Love and joy sat in the tepee; him a black-eyed boy she bore;
+  But alas, she lived to weep a love she lost forevermore.
+  For the warriors chose Wanâta first Itâncan [a] of the band.
+  At the council-fire he sat a leader loved a chieftain grand.
+  Proud was fair Anpétu-Sâpa, and her eyes were glad with joy;
+  Proud was she and very happy, with her chieftain and her boy.
+  But alas, the fatal honor that her brave Wanâta won,
+  Brought a bitter woe upon her,--hid with clouds the summer sun
+  For among the brave Dakotas, wives bring honor to the chief.
+  On the vine-clad Minnesota's banks he met the Scarlet Leaf.
+  Young and fair was Apè-dúta [b]--full of craft and very fair;
+  Proud she walked a queen of beauty with her wondrous flowing hair.
+  In her net of hair she caught him--caught Wanâta with her wiles;
+  All in vain his wife besought him--begged in vain his wonted smiles.
+  Apè-dúta ruled the teepee--all Wanâta's smiles were hers;
+  When the lodge was wrapped in sleep a star [c] beheld the mother's tears.
+  Long she strove to do her duty for the black-eyed babe she bore;
+  But the proud, imperious beauty made her sad forevermore.
+  Still she dressed the skins of beaver, bore the burdens, spread the fare;
+  Patient ever, murmuring never, while her cheeks were creased with care.
+
+  [a] E-tan-can--Chief.
+
+
+  [b] A-pe--leaf,--duta--Scarlet,--Scarlet leaf.
+
+
+  [c] Stars, the Dakotas say, are the faces of departed friends and
+  relatives on earth.
+
+  In the moon Magâ-o-Kâda, [71] twice an hundred years ago--
+  Ere the "Black Robe's" [a] sacred shadow
+          stalked the prairies' pathless snow
+  Down the swollen, rushing river, in the sunset's golden hues,
+  From the hunt of bear and beaver came the band in swift canoes.
+  On the queen of fairy islands, on the Wita-Wâstè's [b] shore,
+  Camped Wanâta, on the highlands, just above the cataract's roar.
+  Many braves were with Wanâta; Apè-dúta, too, was there,
+  And the sad Anpétu-sâpa spread the lodge with wonted care.
+  Then above the leafless prairie leaped the fat faced, laughing moon,
+  And the stars--the spirits fairy--walked the welkin one by one.
+  Swift and silent in the gloaming on the waste of waters blue,
+  Speeding downward to the foaming, shot Wanâta's birch canoe,
+  In it stood Anpétu-sâpa--in her arms her sleeping child;
+  Like a wailing Norse-land _drapa_ [c] rose her death-song weird and wild:
+
+    Mihihna, [d] Mihihna, my heart is stone;
+    The light is gone from my longing eyes;
+    The wounded loon in the lake alone
+    Her death-song sings to the moon and dies.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, the path is long.
+    The burden is heavy and hard to bear;
+    I sink,--I die, and my dying song
+    Is a song of joy to the false one's ear.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, my young heart flew
+    Far away with my brave to the bison-chase;
+    To the battle it went with my warrior true,
+    And never returned till I saw his face.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, my brave was glad
+    When he came from the chase of the roebuck fleet;
+    Sweet were the words that my hunter said,
+    As his trophies he laid at Anpétu's feet.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, the boy I bore--
+    When the robin sang and my brave was true,
+    I can bear to look on his face no more.
+    For he looks, Mihihna, so much like you.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, the Scarlet Leaf
+    Has robbed my boy of his father's love;
+    He sleeps in my arms--he will find no grief
+    In the star-lit lodge in the land above.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, my heart is stone,
+    The light is gone from my longing eyes;
+    The wounded loon in the lake alone,
+    Her death-song sings to the moon and dies.
+
+  [a] The Dakotas called the Jesuit priests "Black Robes" from the color of
+  their vestments.
+
+  [b] Wee tah Wah-stay--Beautiful Island,--the Dakota name for Nicollet
+  Island just above the Falls.
+
+  [c] _Drapa_, a Norse funeral wail in which the virtues of the
+  deceased are recounted.
+
+  [d] Mee heen-yah--My husband.
+
+  Swiftly down the turbid torrent, as she sung her song she flew;
+  Like a swan upon the current, dancing rode the light canoe.
+  Hunters hurry in the gloaming, all in vain Wanâta calls;
+  Singing through the surges foaming, lo she plunges o'er the Falls.
+
+  Long they search the sullen river--searched for leagues along the shore,
+  Bark or babe or mother never saw the sad Dakotas more;
+  But at night or misty morning oft the hunters heard her song,
+  Oft the maidens heard her warning in their mellow mother-tongue.
+
+  On the bluffs they sat enchanted till the blush of beamy dawn;
+  Spirit Isle they say, is haunted, and they call the spot "Wakân." [a]
+  Many summers on the highland, in the full-moon's golden glow--
+  In the woods on Fairy Island, [b] walked a snow white fawn and doe
+  Spirits of the babe and mother sadly seeking evermore,
+  For a father's love another turned with evil charm and power.
+
+  [a] Pronounced Walk on--Sacred, inhabited by a Spirit.
+
+  [b] Fairy Island--Wita Waste--Nicollet Island.
+
+  Sometimes still when moonbeams shimmer through the maples on the lawn,
+  In the gloaming and the glimmer walk the silent doe and fawn;
+  And on Spirit-Isle or near it, under midnight's misty moon,
+  Oft is seen the mother's spirit, oft is heard her mournful tune.
+
+  [Illustration: SCENE ON THUNDER BAY, LAKE SUPERIOR.]
+
+
+
+
+THE SEAGULL. [101]
+
+THE LEGEND OF THE PICTURED ROCKS OF LAKE SUPERIOR. OJIBWAY.
+
+IN THE MEASURE OF HIAWATHA
+
+(The numerals 1 2 etc., refer to Notes to Sea-Gull in Appendix.)
+
+
+  On the shore of Gitchee Gumee--[102]
+  Deep, mysterious, mighty waters--Where the mânitoes--the spirits--
+  Ride the storms and speak in thunder,
+  In the days of Neme-Shómis, [103]
+  In the days that are forgotten,
+  Dwelt a tall and tawny hunter--
+  Gitchee Péz-ze-ú--the panther,
+  Son of Waub-Ojeeg, [104] the warrior,
+  Famous Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior.
+  Strong was he and fleet as roebuck,
+  Brave was he and very stealthy;
+  On the deer crept like a panther;
+  Grappled with Makwá, [105] the monster,
+  Grappled with the bear and conquered;
+  Took his black claws for a necklet,
+  Took his black hide for a blanket.
+
+  When the Panther wed the Sea-Gull,
+  Young was he and very gladsome;
+  Fair was she and full of laughter;
+  Like the robin in the spring time,
+  Sang from sunrise till the sunset;
+  For she loved the handsome hunter.
+  Deep as Gitchee Gumee's waters
+  Was her love--as broad and boundless;
+  And the wedded twain were happy--
+  Happy as the mated robins.
+  When their first born saw the sunlight
+  Joyful was the heart of Panther,
+  Proud and joyful was the mother.
+  All the days were full of sunshine;
+  All the nights were full of star light.
+  Nightly from the land of spirits
+  On them smiled the starry faces,--
+  Faces of their friends departed.
+  Little moccasins she made him,
+  Feathered cap and belt of wampum;
+  From the hide of fawn a blanket,
+  Fringed with feathers soft as sable;
+  Singing at her pleasant labor,
+  By her side the tekenâgun [106]
+  And the little hunter in it.
+  Oft the Panther smiled and fondled,
+  Smiled upon the babe and mother,
+  Frolicked with the boy and fondled.
+  Tall he grew and like his father,
+  And they called the boy the Raven--
+  Called him Kâk-kâh-gè--the Raven.
+  Happy hunter was the Panther.
+  From the woods he brought the pheasant,
+  Brought the red deer and the rabbit,
+  Brought the trout from Gitchee Gumee--
+
+  Brought the mallard from the marshes,--
+  Royal feast for boy and mother:
+  Brought the hides of fox and beaver,
+  Brought the skins of mink and otter,
+  Lured the loon and took his blanket,
+  Took his blanket for the Raven.
+
+  Winter swiftly followed winter,
+
+  And again the tekenâgun
+  Held a babe--a tawny daughter,
+  Held a dark-eyed, dimpled daughter;
+  And they called her Waub-omeé-meé,--
+  Thus they named her--the White-Pigeon.
+  But as winter followed winter
+  Cold and sullen grew the Panther;
+  Sat and smoked his pipe in silence;
+  When he spoke he spoke in anger;
+  In the forest often tarried
+  Many days, and homeward turning,
+  Brought no game unto his wigwam:
+  Only brought his empty quiver,
+  Brought his dark and sullen visage.
+
+  Sad at heart and very lonely
+  Sat the Sea-Gull in the wigwam;
+  Sat and swung the tekenâgun,
+  Sat and sang to Waub-omeé-meé;
+  Thus she sang to Waub-omeé-meé,
+  Thus the lullaby she chanted:
+
+    Wâ-wa, wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà;
+    Kah-wéen, nee-zhéka kè-diaus-âi,
+    Ke-gâh nau-wâi, ne-mé-go s'wéen,
+    Ne-bâun, ne-bâun, ne-dâun-is-âis,
+    Wâ-wa, wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà;
+
+    Ne-bâun, ne-bâun, ne-dâun-is-âis,
+
+    E-we wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà,
+    E-we wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà,
+
+    [TRANSLATION]
+
+    Swing, swing little one, lullaby;
+    Thou'rt not left alone to weep;
+    Mother cares for you,--she is nigh;
+    Sleep, my little one, sweetly sleep;
+    Swing, swing, little one, lullaby;
+    Mother watches you--she is nigh;
+    Gently, gently, wee one swing;
+    Gently, gently, while I sing
+
+      E-we wâ-wa--lullaby,
+      E-we wâ-wa—-lullaby.
+
+
+  Homeward to his lodge returning
+  Kindly greeting found the hunter,
+  Fire to warm and food to nourish,
+  Golden trout from Gitchee Gumee,
+  Caught by Kâk-kâh-gè--the Raven.
+  With a snare he caught the rabbit--
+  Caught Wabóse, the furry footed, [107]
+  Caught Penây, the forest drummer; [107]
+  Sometimes with his bow and arrows,
+  Shot the red deer in the forest.
+  Shot the squirrel in the pine top,
+  Shot Ne-kâ, the wild goose, flying.
+  Proud as Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior,
+  To the lodge he bore his trophies
+  So when homeward turned the Panther
+  Ever found he food provided,
+  Found the lodge-fire brightly burning,
+  Found the faithful Sea-Gull waiting.
+  "You are cold," she said, "and famished;
+  Here are fire and food, my husband."
+  Not by word or look he answered;
+  Only ate the food provided,
+  Filled, his pipe and pensive puffed it,
+  Smoked and sat in sullen silence.
+
+  Once--her dark eyes full of hunger--
+  Thus she spoke and thus besought him:
+  "Tell me, O my silent Panther,
+  Tell me, O beloved husband,
+  What has made you sad and sullen?
+  Have you met some evil spirit--
+  Met some goblin in the forest?
+  Has he put a spell upon you--
+  Filled your heart with bitter waters,
+  That you sit so sad and sullen,
+  Sit and smoke, but never answer,
+  Only when the storm is on you?"
+
+  Gruffly then the Panther answered:
+  "Brave among the brave is Panther,
+  Son of Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior,
+  And the brave are ever silent;
+  But a whining dog is woman,
+  Whining ever like a coward."
+
+  Forth into the tangled forest,
+  Threading through the thorny thickets,
+  Treading, trails on marsh and meadow,
+  Sullen strode the moody hunter.
+  Saw he not the bear or beaver,
+  Saw he not the elk or roebuck;
+  From his path the red fawn scampered,
+  But no arrow followed after;
+  From his den the sly wolf listened,
+  But no twang of bow-string heard he.
+  Like one walking in his slumber,
+  Listless, dreaming walked the Panther;
+  Surely had some witch bewitched him,
+  Some bad spirit of the forest.
+
+  When the Sea-Gull wed the Panther,
+  Fair was she and full of laughter;
+  Like the robin in the spring-time,
+  Sang from sunrise till the sunset;
+  But the storms of many winters
+  Sifted frost upon her tresses,
+  Seamed her tawny face with wrinkles.
+
+  Not alone the storms of winters
+  Seamed her tawny face with wrinkles.
+  Twenty winters for the Panther
+  Had she ruled the humble wigwam;
+  For her haughty lord and master
+  Borne the burdens on the journey,
+  Gathered fagots for the lodge-fire,
+  Tanned the skins of bear and beaver,
+  Tanned the hides of moose and red deer;
+  Made him moccasins and leggings,
+  Decked his hood with quills and feathers--
+  Colored quills of Kaug, the thorny, [108]
+  Feathers from Kenéw--the eagle. [108]
+  For a warrior brave was Panther;
+  Often had he met the foemen,
+  Met the bold and fierce Dakotas;
+  Westward on the war-path met them;
+  And the scalps he won were numbered,
+  Numbered seven by Kenéw-feathers.
+  Sad at heart was Sea-Gull waiting,
+  Watching, waiting in the wigwam;
+  Not alone the storms of winters
+  Sifted frost upon her tresses.
+
+  Ka-be-bón-ík-ka, the mighty, [109]
+  He that sends the cruel winter,
+  He that turned to stone the Giant,
+  From the distant Thunder-mountain,
+  Far across broad Gitchee Gumee,
+  Sent his warning of the winter,
+  Sent the white frost and Kewâydin, [1010]
+  Sent the swift and hungry North-wind.
+  Homeward to the South the Summer
+  Turned and fled the naked forests.
+  With the Summer flew the robin,
+  Flew the bobolink and blue-bird.
+  Flock wise following chosen leaders,
+  Like the shaftless heads of arrows
+  Southward cleaving through the ether,
+  Soon the wild geese followed after.
+
+  One long moon the Sea-Gull waited,
+  Watched and waited for her husband,
+  Till at last she heard his footsteps,
+  Heard him coming through the thicket.
+  Forth she went to meet her husband,
+  Joyful went to greet her husband.
+  Lo behind the haughty hunter,
+  Closely following in his footsteps,
+  Walked a young and handsome woman,
+  Walked the Red Fox from the island--
+  Gitchee Ménis--the Grand Island,--
+  Followed him into the wigwam,
+  Proudly took her seat beside him.
+  On the Red Fox smiled the hunter,
+  On the hunter smiled the woman.
+
+  Old and wrinkled was the Sea-Gull,
+  Good and true, but old and wrinkled.
+  Twenty winters for the Panther
+  Had she ruled the humble wigwam,
+  Borne the burdens on the journey,
+  Gathered fagots for the lodge-fire,
+  Tanned the skins of bear and beaver,
+  Tanned the hides of moose and red deer,
+  Made him moccasins and leggings,
+  Decked his hood with quills and feathers,
+  Colored quills of Kaug, the thorny,
+  Feathers from the great war-eagle;
+  Ever diligent and faithful,
+  Ever patient, ne'er complaining.
+  but like all brave men the Panther
+  Loved a young and handsome woman;
+  So he dallied with the danger,
+  Dallied with the fair Algónkin, [1011]
+  Till a magic mead she gave him,
+  Brewed of buds of birch and cedar. [1012]Madly then he loved the woman;
+  Then she ruled him, then she held him
+  Tangled in her raven tresses,
+  Tied and tangled in her tresses.
+
+  Ah, the tail and tawny Panther!
+  Ah, the brave and brawny Panther!
+  Son of Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior!
+  With a slender hair she led him,
+  With a slender hair he drew him,
+  Drew him often to her wigwam;
+  There she bound him, there she held him
+  Tangled in her raven tresses,
+  Tied and tangled in her tresses.
+  Ah, the best of men are tangled--
+  Sometime tangled in the tresses
+  Of a fair and crafty woman.
+
+  So the Panther wed the Red Fox,
+  And she followed to his wigwam.
+  Young again he seemed and gladsome,
+  Glad as Raven when the father
+  Made his first bow from the elm-tree,
+  From the ash tree made his arrows,
+  Taught him how to aim his arrows,
+  How to shoot Wabóse--the rabbit.
+
+  Then again the brawny hunter
+  Brought the black bear and the beaver,
+  Brought the haunch of elk and red-deer,
+  Brought the rabbit and the pheasant--
+  Choicest bits of all for Red Fox.
+  For her robes he brought the sable,
+  Brought the otter and the ermine,
+  Brought the black-fox tipped with silver.
+
+  But the Sea-Gull murmured never,
+  Not a word she spoke in anger,
+  Went about her work as ever,
+  Tanned the skins of bear and beaver,
+  Tanned the hides of moose and red deer,
+  Gathered fagots for the lodge-fire,
+  Gathered rushes from the marches;
+  Deftly into mats she wove them;
+  Kept the lodge as bright as ever.
+  Only to herself she murmured,
+  All alone with Waub-omeé-meé,
+  On the tall and toppling highland,
+  O'er the wilderness of waters;
+  Murmured to the murmuring waters,
+  Murmured to the Nébe-nâw-baigs--
+  To the spirits of the waters;
+  On the wild waves poured her sorrow,
+  Save the infant on her bosom
+  With her dark eyes wide with wonder,
+  None to hear her but the spirits,
+  And the murmuring pines above her.
+  Thus she cast away her burdens,
+  Cast her burdens on the waters;
+  Thus unto the Mighty Spirit,
+  Made her lowly lamentation:
+  "Wahonówin!--Wahonówin!" [1013]
+  Gitchee Mânito, benâ nin!
+  Nah, Ba-bâ, showâin neméshin!
+  "Wahonówin!--Wahonówin!"
+
+  Ka-be-bón-ík-ka, the mighty, [109]
+  He that sends the cruel winter,
+  From the distant Thunder-mountain,
+  On the shore of Gitchee Gumee--
+  On the rugged northern limit,
+  Sent his solemn, final warning,
+  Sent the white wolves of the Nor'land [1014]
+  Like the dust of stars in ether--
+  In the Pathway of the Spirits. [1015]
+  Like the sparkling dust of diamonds,
+  Fell the frost upon the forest,
+  On the mountains and the meadows,
+  On the wilderness of woodland.
+  On the wilderness of waters.
+  All the lingering fowls departed--
+  All that seek the South in winter,
+  All but Shingebís, the diver. [1016]
+  He defies the Winter-maker,
+  Sits and laughs at Winter-maker.
+
+  Ka-be-bón-ík-ka, the mighty,
+  From his wigwam called Kewáydin,--
+  From his home among the ice-bergs,
+  From the sea of frozen waters,
+  Called the swift and hungry North-wind.
+  Then he spread his mighty pinions
+  Over all the land and shook them,
+  Like the white down of Wâubésè [1017]
+  Fell the feathery snow and covered,
+  All the marshes and the meadows,
+  All the hill-tops and the highlands.
+  Then old Péboân--the winter--[1018]
+  Laughed along the stormy waters,
+  Danced upon the windy headlands,
+  On the storm his white hair streaming,--
+  And his steaming breath, ascending,
+  On the pine-tops and the cedars
+  Fell in frosty mists refulgent,
+  Sprinkling somber shades with silver,
+  Sprinkling all the woods with silver.
+
+  By the lodge-fire all the winter
+  Sat the Sea-Gull and the Red Fox,
+  Sat and kindly spoke and chatted,
+  Till the twain seemed friends together.
+  Friends they seemed in word and action,
+  But within the breast of either
+  Smouldered still the baneful embers--
+  Fires of jealousy and hatred,--
+
+  Like a camp-fire in the forest
+  Left by hunters and deserted;
+  Only seems a bed of ashes,
+  But the East-wind, Wâbun noódin,
+  Scatters through the woods the ashes,
+  Fans to flame the sleeping embers,
+  And the wild-fire roars and rages,
+  Roars and rages through the forest.
+  So the baneful embers smouldered,
+  Smouldered in the breast of either.
+
+  From the far-off Sunny Islands,
+  From the pleasant land of Summer,
+  Where the spirits of the blessèd
+  Feel no more the fangs of hunger,
+  Or the cold breath of Kewâydin,
+  Came a stately youth and handsome,
+  Came Según the foe of Winter. [1019]
+  Like the rising sun his face was,
+  Like the shining stars his eyes were,
+  Light his footsteps as the Morning's.
+  In his hand were buds and blossoms,
+  On his brow a blooming garland.
+  Straightway to the icy wigwam
+  Of old Péboân, the Winter,
+  Strode Según and quickly entered.
+  There old Péboân sat and shivered,
+  Shivered o'er his dying lodge-fire.
+
+  "Ah, my son, I bid you welcome;
+  Sit and tell me your adventures;
+  I will tell you of my power;
+  We will pass the night together."
+  Thus spake Péboân--the Winter;
+  Then he filled his pipe and lighted;
+  Then by sacred custom raised it
+  To the spirits in the ether;
+  To the spirits in the caverns
+  Of the hollow earth he lowered it.
+  Thus he passed it to the spirits,
+  And the unseen spirits puffed it.
+  Next himself old Péboân honored;
+  Thrice he puffed his pipe and passed it,
+  Passed it to the handsome stranger.
+
+  "Lo I blow my breath," said Winter,
+  "And the laughing brooks are silent;
+  Hard as flint become the waters,
+  And the rabbit runs upon them."
+
+  Then Según, the fair youth, answered:
+  "Lo I breathe upon the hill-sides,
+  On the valleys and the meadows,
+  And behold, as if by magic--
+  By the magic of the Spirits,
+  Spring the flowers and tender grasses."
+
+  Then old Péboân replying:
+  "Nah! [1020] I breathe upon the forests,
+  And the leaves fall sere and yellow;
+  Then I shake my locks and snow falls,
+  Covering all the naked landscape."
+
+  Then Según arose and answered:
+  "Nashké! [1020]--see!--I shake my ringlets;
+  On the earth the warm rain falleth,
+  And the flowers look up like children
+  Glad-eyed from their mother's bosom.
+  Lo my voice recalls the robin,
+  Brings the bobolink and blue-bird,
+  And the woods are full of music.
+  With my breath I melt their fetters,
+  And the brooks leap laughing onward."
+
+  Then old Péboân looked upon him,
+  Looked and knew Según, the Summer,
+  From his eyes the big tears started
+  And his boastful tongue was silent.
+
+  Now Keezís [1021]--the great life-giver,
+  From his wigwam in Waubú-nong [1021]
+  Rose and wrapped his shining blanket
+  Round his giant form and started;
+  Westward started on his journey,
+  Striding on from hill to hill-top.
+  Upward then he climbed the ether--
+  On the Bridge of Stars [1022] he traveled,
+  Westward traveled on his journey
+  To the far-off Sunset Mountains--
+  To the gloomy land of shadows.
+
+
+  On the lodge-poles sang the robin,--
+  And the brooks began to murmur.
+  On the South wind floated fragrance
+  Of the early buds and blossoms.
+  From old Péboân's eyes the teardrops
+  Down his pale face ran in streamlets;
+  Less and less he grew in stature
+  Till he melted doun to nothing;
+  And behold, from out the ashes,
+  From the ashes of his lodge-fire,
+  Sprang the Miscodeed [1023] and, blushing,
+  Welcomed Según to the North-land.
+
+  So from Sunny Isles returning,
+  From the Summer-Land of spirits,
+  On the poles of Panther's wigwam
+  Sang Opeé-chee--sang the robin.
+  In the maples cooed the pigeons--
+  Cooed and wooed like silly lovers.
+  "Hah!--hah!" laughed the crow derisive,
+  In the pine-top, at their folly,--
+  Laughed and jeered the silly lovers.
+  Blind with love were they, and saw not;
+  Deaf to all but love, and heard not;
+  So they cooed and wooed unheeding,
+  Till the gray hawk pounced upon them,
+  And the old crow shook with laughter.
+
+  On the tall cliff by the sea-shore
+  Red Fox made a swing. She fastened
+  Thongs of moose-hide to the pine-tree,
+  To the strong arm of the pine-tree.
+  like a hawk, above the waters,
+  There she swung herself and fluttered,
+
+  Laughing at the thought of danger,
+  Swung and fluttered o'er the waters.
+  Then she bantered Sea-Gull, saying,
+  "See!--I swing above the billows!
+  Dare you swing above the billows,--
+  Swing like me above the billows?"
+
+  To herself said Sea-Gull--"Surely
+  I will dare whatever danger
+  Dares the Red Fox--dares my rival;
+  She shall never call me coward."
+  So she swung above the waters--
+  Dizzy height above the waters,
+  Pushed and aided by her rival,
+  To and fro with reckless daring,
+  Till the strong tree rocked and trembled,
+  Rocked and trembled with its burden.
+  As above the yawning billows
+  Flew the Sea-Gull like a whirlwind,
+  Red Fox, swifter than red lightning,
+  Cut the cords, and headlong downward,
+  Like an osprey from the ether,
+  Like a wild-goose pierced with arrows,
+  Fluttering fell the frantic woman,
+  Fluttering fell into the waters--
+  Plunged and sank beneath the waters!
+  Hark!--the wailing of the West-wind!
+  Hark!--the wailing of the waters,
+  And the beating of the billows!
+  But no more the voice of Sea-Gull.
+
+  In the wigwam sat the Red Fox,
+  Hushed the wail of Waub-omeé-meé,
+  Weeping for her absent mother.
+  With the twinkling stars the hunter
+  From the forest came and Raven.
+  "Sea-Gull wanders late" said Red Fox,
+  "Late she wanders by the sea-shore,
+  And some evil may befall her."
+
+  In the misty morning twilight
+  Forth went Panther and the Raven,
+  Searched the forest and the marshes,
+  Searched for leagues along the lake-shore,
+  Searched the islands and the highlands;
+  But they found no trace or tidings,
+  Found no track in marsh or meadow,
+  Found no trail in fen or forest,
+  On the shore sand found no foot-prints.
+  Many days they sought and found not.
+  Then to Panther spoke the Raven:
+  "She is in the Land of Spirits--
+  Surely in the Land of Spirits.
+  High at midnight I beheld her--
+  Like a flying star beheld her--
+  To the waves of Gitchee Gumee,
+  Downward flashing through the ether.
+  Thus she flashed that I might see her,
+  See and know my mother's spirit;
+  Thus she pointed to the waters,
+  And beneath them lies her body,
+  In the wigwam of the spirits--
+  In the lodge of Nébe-nâw-baigs." [1024]
+
+  Then spoke Panther to the Raven:
+  "On the tall cliff by the waters
+  Wait and watch with Waub-omeé-meé.
+  If the Sea-Gull hear the wailing
+  Of her infant she will answer."
+
+  On the tall cliff by the waters
+  So the Raven watched and waited;
+  All the day he watched and waited,
+  But the hungry infant slumbered,
+  Slumbered by the side of Raven,
+  Till the pines' gigantic shadows
+  Stretched and pointed to Waubú-Nong--[1021]
+  To the far off land of Sunrise;
+  Then the wee one woke and famished,
+  Made a long and piteous wailing.
+
+  From afar where sky and waters
+  Meet in misty haze and mingle,
+  Straight toward the rocky highland,
+  Straight as flies die feathered arrow,
+  Straight to Raven and the infant
+  Swiftly flew a snow white sea-gull.--
+  Flew and touched the earth a woman.
+  And behold, the long-lost mother
+  Caught her wailing child and nursed her,
+  Sang a lullaby and nursed her.
+
+  Thrice was wound a chain of silver
+  Round her waist and strongly fastened.
+  Far away into the waters--
+  To the wigwam of the spirits,--
+  To the lodge of Nébe-nâw-baigs,--
+  Stretched the magic chain of silver.
+
+  Spoke the mother to the Raven:
+  "O my son--my brave young hunter,
+  Feed my tender little orphan;
+  Be a father to my orphan;
+  Be a mother to my orphan,--
+  For the Crafty Red Fox robbed us,--
+  Robbed the Sea-Gull of her husband,
+  Robbed the infant of her mother.
+  From this cliff the treacherous woman
+  Headlong into Gitchee Gumee
+  Plunged the mother of my orphan.
+  Then a Nébe-nâw-baig caught me,--
+  Chief of all the Nébe-nâw-baigs--
+  Took me to his shining wigwam,
+  In the cavern of the waters,
+  Deep beneath the might waters.
+  All below is burnished copper,
+  All above is burnished silver
+  Gemmed with amethyst and agates.
+  As his wife the Spirit holds me;
+  By this silver chain he holds me.
+
+  When my little one is famished,
+  When with long and piteous wailing
+  Cries the orphan for her mother,
+  Hither bring her, O my Raven;
+  I will hear her,--I will answer.
+  Now the Nébe-nâw-baig calls me,--
+  Pulls the chain,--I must obey him."
+
+  Thus she spoke and in the twinkling
+  Of a star the spirit-woman
+  Changed into a snow-white sea-gull,
+  Spread her wings and o'er the waters
+  Swiftly flew and swiftly vanished.
+
+  Then in secret to the Panther
+  Raven told his tale of wonder.
+  Sad and sullen was the hunter;
+  Sorrow gnawed his heart like hunger;
+  All the old love came upon him,
+  And the new love was a hatred.
+  Hateful to his heart was Red Fox,
+  But he kept from her the secret--
+  Kept his knowledge of the murder.
+  Vain was she and very haughty---
+
+  Oge-mâ-kwa [1025] of the wigwam.
+  All in vain her fond caresses
+  On the Panther now she lavished;
+  When she smiled his face was sullen,
+  When she laughed he frowned upon her;
+  In her net of raven tresses
+  Now no more she held him tangled.
+  Now through all her fair disguises
+  Panther saw an evil spirit,
+  Saw the false heart of the woman.
+
+  On the tall cliff o'er the waters
+  Raven sat with Waub-omeé-meé,
+  Sat and watched again and waited,
+  Till the wee one faint and famished,
+  Made a long and piteous wailing.
+  Then again the snow-white Sea-Gull
+  From afar where sky and waters
+  Meet in misty haze and mingle,
+  Straight toward the rocky highland,
+  Straight as flies the feathered arrow,
+  Straight to Raven and the infant,
+  With the silver chain around her,
+  Flew and touched the earth a woman.
+  In her arms she caught her infant--
+  Caught the wailing Waub-omeé-meé,
+  Sang a lullaby and nursed her.
+
+  Sprang the Panther from the thicket--
+  Sprang and broke the chain of silver!
+  With his tomahawk he broke it.
+  Thus he freed the willing Sea-Gull--
+  From the Water-Spirit freed her,
+  From the Chief of Nébe-nâw-baigs.
+
+  Very angry was the Spirit;
+  When he drew the chain of silver,
+  Drew and found that it was broken,
+  Found that he had lost the woman,
+  Very angry was the Spirit.
+  Then he raged beneath the waters,
+  Raged and smote the mighty waters,
+  Till the big sea boiled and bubbled,
+  Till the white-haired, bounding billows
+  Roared around the rocky head-lands,
+  Roared and plashed upon the shingle.
+
+  To the wigwam happy Panther,
+  As when first he wooed and won her,
+  Led his wife--as young and handsome.
+  For the waves of Gitchee Gumee
+  Washed away the frost and wrinkles,
+  And the Spirits by their magic
+  Made her young and fair forever.
+
+  In the wigwam sat the Red Fox,
+  Sat and sang a song of triumph,
+  For she little dreamed of danger,
+  Till the haughty hunter entered,
+  Followed by the happy mother,
+  Holding in her arms her infant.
+  Then the Red Fox saw the Sea-Gull--
+  Saw the dead a living woman,
+  One wild cry she gave despairing,
+  One wild cry as of a demon.
+  Up she sprang and from the wigwam
+  To the tall cliff flew in terror;
+  Frantic sprang upon the margin,
+  Frantic plunged into the water,
+  Headlong plunged into the waters.
+
+  Dead she tossed upon the billows;
+  For the Nébe-nâw-baigs knew her,
+  Knew the crafty, wicked woman,
+  And they cast her from the waters,
+  Spurned her from their shining wigwams;
+  Far away upon the shingle
+  With the roaring waves they cast her.
+  There upon her bloated body
+  Fed the cawing crows and ravens,
+  Fed the hungry wolves and foxes.
+
+  On the shore of Gitchee Gumee,
+  Ever young and ever handsome,
+  Long and happy lived the Sea-Gull,
+  Long and happy with the Panther.
+  Evermore the happy hunter
+  Loved the mother of his children.
+  Like a red star many winters
+  Blazed their lodge-fire on the sea-shore.
+  O'er the Bridge of Souls together [1026]
+  Walked the Sea-Gull and the Panther.
+  To the far-off Sunny Islands--
+  To the Summer-Land of Spirits,
+  Where no more the happy hunter
+  Feels the fangs of frost or famine,
+  Or the keen blasts of Kewâydin.
+  Where no pain or sorrow enters,
+  And no crafty, wicked woman,
+  Sea-Gull journeyed with her husband.
+  There she rules his lodge forever,
+  And the twain are very happy,
+  On the far-off Sunny Islands,
+  In the Summer-Land of Spirits.
+
+  On the rocks of Gitchee Gumee--
+  On the Pictured Rocks--the Legend
+  Long ago was traced and written,
+  Pictured by the Water Spirits;
+  But the storms of many winters
+  Have bedimmed the pictured story,
+  So that none can read the legend
+  But the Jossakeeds, the prophets. [1027]
+
+  [Illustration: CRYSTAL BAY, LAKE MINNETONKA.]
+
+
+
+
+MINNETONKA
+
+Note: The Dakota name for this beautiful lake is _Me-ne-a-tan-ka_--Broad
+Water. By dropping the a before tánka, we have changed the name to _Big
+Water_.
+
+
+  I sit once more on breezy shore, at sunset in this glorious June.
+  I hear the dip of gleaming oar. I list the singer's merry tune.
+  Beneath my feet the waters beat and ripple on the polished stones.
+  The squirrel chatters from his seat: the bag-pipe beetle hums and drones.
+  The pink and gold in blooming wold,--the green hills mirrored in the lake!
+  The deep, blue waters, zephyr-rolled, along the murmuring pebbles break.
+  The maples screen the ferns, and lean the leafy lindens o'er the deep;
+  The sapphire, set in emerald green, lies like an Orient gem asleep.
+  The crimsoned west glows like the breast of _Rhuddin_ [a]
+          when he pipes in May,
+  As downward droops the sun to rest, and shadows gather on the bay.
+
+  [a] The Welsh name for the robin.
+
+  In amber sky the swallows fly, and sail and circle o'er the deep;
+  The light-winged night-hawks whir and cry; the silver pike and salmon leap.
+  The rising moon, the woods aboon, looks laughing down on lake and lea;
+  Weird o'er the waters shrills the loon; the high stars twinkle in the sea.
+  From bank and hill the whippowil sends piping forth his flute-like notes,
+  And clear and shrill the answers trill from leafy isles and silver throats.
+  The twinkling light on cape and height; the hum of voices on the shores;
+  The merry laughter on the night; the dip and plash of frolic oars,--
+  These tell the tale. On hill and dale the cities pour their gay and fair;
+  Along the sapphire lake they sail, and quaff like wine the balmy air.
+
+  'Tis well. Of yore from isle and shore
+          the smoke of Indian teepees [a] rose;
+  The hunter plied the silent oar; the forest lay in still repose.
+  The moon-faced maid, in leafy glade, her warrior waited from the chase;
+  The nut-brown, naked children played, and chased the gopher on the grass.
+  The dappled fawn, on wooded lawn, peeped out upon the birch canoe,
+  Swift-gliding in the gray of dawn along the silent waters blue.
+  In yonder tree the great _Wanm-dee_ [b] securely built her spacious nest;
+  The blast that swept the land-locked sea [c]
+          but rocked her clamorous babes to rest.
+  By grassy mere the elk and deer gazed on the hunter as he came;
+  Nor fled with fear from bow or spear;--"so wild were they that they were
+  tame."
+
+  [a] Lodges.
+
+  [b] Wanm-dee--the war-eagle of the Dakotas.
+
+  [c] Lake Superior.
+
+  Ah, birch canoe, and hunter, too, have long forsaken lake and shore:
+  He bade his father's bones adieu and turned away forevermore.
+  But still, methinks, on dusky brinks the spirit of the warrior moves;
+  At crystal springs the hunter drinks, and nightly haunts the spot he loves.
+  For oft at night I see the light of lodge-fires on the shadowy shores,
+  And hear the wail some maiden's sprite above her slaughtered warrior pours.
+  I hear the sob on Spirit Knob [a] of Indian mother o'er her child;
+  And on the midnight waters throb her low _yun-he-he's_ [b] weird and wild.
+  And sometimes, too, the light canoe glides like a shadow o'er the deep
+  At midnight, when the moon is low, and all the shores are hushed in sleep.
+
+  [a] Spirit Knob is a small hill up on a point in the lake in full view
+  from Wayzata. The spirit of a Dakota mother whose only child was drowned
+  in the lake during a storm, many, many years ago often wails at midnight
+  (so the Dakotas say), on this hill.  So they called it _Wa-na-gee
+  Pa-ze-dan_--Spirit Knob. (Literally--little hill of the spirit.)
+
+  [b] Pronounced _Yoon-hay-hay_--the exclamation used by Dakota women
+  in their lament for the dead, and equivalent to "woe is me."
+
+  Alas--Alas!--for all things pass; and we shall vanish, too, as they;
+  We build our monuments of brass, and granite, but they waste away.
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+
+[Footnote 1: Called in the Dakota tongue "Hok-sée-win-nâ-pee
+Wo-hàn-pee"--Virgins Dance (or Feast).]
+
+[Footnote 2: One of the favorite and most exciting games of the Dakotas
+is ball-playing. A smooth place on the prairie, or in winter, on a
+frozen lake or river, is chosen. Each player has a sort of bat, called
+"Tâ-kée-cha-psé-cha," about thirty two inches long with a hoop at the
+lower end four or five inches in diameter, interlaced with thongs of
+deer-skin, forming a sort of pocket. With these bats they catch and
+throw the ball. Stakes are set as bounds at a considerable distance from
+the centre on either side. Two parties are then formed, and each chooses
+a leader or chief. The ball (Tâ-pa) is then thrown up half way between
+the bounds, and the game begins, the contestants contending with their
+bats for the ball as it falls. When one succeeds in getting it fairly in
+the pocket of his bat he swings it aloft and throws it as far as he can
+towards the bound to which his party is working, taking care to send it,
+if possible, where some of his own side will take it up. Thus the ball
+is thrown and contended for till one party succeeds in casting it
+beyond the bound of the opposite party. A hundred players on a side are
+sometimes engaged in this exciting game. Betting on the result often
+runs high. Moccasins, pipes, knives, hatchets, blankets, robes and guns
+are hung on the prize-pole. Not unfrequently horses are staked on the
+issue, and sometimes even women. Old men and mothers are among the
+spectators praising their swift-footed sons, and young wives and maidens
+are there to stimulate their husbands and lovers. This game is not
+confined to the warriors, but is also a favorite amusement of the Dakota
+maidens who generally play for prizes offered by the chief or warriors.
+See Neill's Hist. Minn. pp 74-5; Riggs' "Tâkoo Wakân," pp 44-5, and Mrs
+Eastman's Dacotah, p 55.]
+
+[Footnote 3: Pronounced Wah-zeé-yah. The god of the North, or Winter. A
+fabled spirit who dwells in the frozen North, in a great teepee of
+ice and snow. From his mouth and nostrils he blows the cold blasts of
+winter. He and "I-tó-ka-ga Wi-câs-ta"--the spirit or god of the South
+(literally the "South Man"), are inveterate enemies, and always on the
+war-path against each other. In winter Wa-zí-ya advances southward and
+drives "I-tó-ka-ga Wi-câs-ta" before him to the Summer-Islands. But in
+Spring the god of the South, having renewed his youth and strength, in
+the "Happy Hunting Grounds," is able to drive Wa-zí-ya back again to
+his icy wigwam in the North. Some Dakotas say that the numerous granite
+boulders, scattered over the prairies of Minnesota and Dakota, were
+hurled in battle by Wa-zí-ya from his home in the North at "I-tó-ka-ga
+Wi-câs-ta." The Wa-zí-ya of the Dakotas is substantially the name as
+"_Ka-be-bón-ik-ka_"--the "Winter-maker" of the Ojibways.]
+
+[Footnote 4: Mendota--(meeting of the waters) at the confluence of the
+Mississippi and Minnesota rivers. See view of the valley—front cut. The
+true Dakota word is Mdó tè--applied to the mouth of a river flowing into
+another,--also to the outlet of a lake.]
+
+[Footnote 5: Pronounced Wee-wâh-stay; literally--a beautiful virgin, or
+woman.]
+
+[Footnote 6: Cetân-wa-ká-wa-mâni--"He who shoots pigeon-hawks
+walking"--was the full Dakota name of the grandfather of the celebrated
+"Little Crow" (Ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta.--His Red People) who led his warriors
+in the terrible outbreak in Minnesota in 1862-3. The Chippewas called
+the grandfather "Kâ-kâ-keé"--crow or raven--from his war-badge, a
+crow-skin; and hence the French traders and _courriers du bois_ called
+him "_Petit Corbeau_"--Little Crow. This sobriquet, of which he was
+proud, descended to his son, Wakínyan Tânka--Big Thunder, who succeeded
+him as chief; and from Big Thunder to his son Ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta, who
+became chief on the death of Wakínyan Tânka. These several "Little
+Crows" were successively Chiefs of the Light-foot, or Kapóza band of
+Dakotas. Kapóza, the principal village of this band, was originally
+located on the east bank of the Mississippi near the site of the city
+of St. Paul. Col. Minn. Hist. Soc., 1864, p. 29. It was in later years
+moved to the west bank. The grandfather, whom I, for short, call Wakâwa,
+died the death of a brave in battle against the Ojibways (commonly
+called Chippewas)--the hereditary enemies of the Dakotas. Wakínyan
+Tânka.--Big Thunder, was killed by the accidental discharge of his own
+gun. They were both buried with their kindred near the "Wakan Teepee,"
+the sacred Cave--(Carver's Cave). Ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta, the last of the
+Little Crows, was killed July 3, 1863, near Hutchinson, Minnesota, by
+one Lamson, and his bones were duly "done up" for the Historical Society
+of Minnesota. For a part of the foregoing information I am indebted
+to Gen. H. H. Sibley. See Heard's Hist. Sioux War, and Neill's Hist.
+Minnesota, Third Edition.]
+
+[Footnote 7: Hârps-te-nâh. The first-born _daughter_ of a Dakota is
+called Winona; the second, Hârpen; the third, Hârpstinâ; the fourth.
+Wâska; the fifth, Wehârka. The first born _son_ is called Chaskè; the
+second, Hârpam; the third, Hapéda; the fourth, Châtun; the fifth, Hârka.
+They retain these names till others are given them on account of some
+action, peculiarity, etc. The females often retain their child-names
+through life.]
+
+[Footnote 8: Wah-pah-sâh was the hereditary name of a long and
+illustrious lineof Dakota Chiefs. Wabashaw is a corrupt pronounciation.
+The name is a contraction of "Wâ-pa-hâ-sa," which is from "Wâ-ha-pa,"
+the standard or pole used in the Dakota dances, and upon which feathers
+of various colors are tied, and not from "Wâ-pa"--leaf or leaves, as has
+been generally supposed. Therefore Wâpasa means the Standard--and not
+the "Leaf-Shaker," as many writers have it. The principal village of
+these hereditary Chiefs was Ke-úk-sa, or Ke-ó-sa,--where now stands the
+fair city of Winona. Ke-úk-sa signifies--The village of law-breakers;
+so-called because this band broke the law or custom of the Dakotas
+against marrying blood relatives of any degree. I get this information
+from Rev. Stephen R. Riggs, author of the Dakota Grammar and Dictionary,
+"_Takoo Wakan_," etc. Wapasa, grandfather of the last Chief of that
+name, and a contemporary of Cetan-Wa-kâ-wa-mâni, was a noted Chief,
+and a friend of the British in the war of the Revolution. Neill's Hist.
+Minn., pp. 225-9.]
+
+[Footnote 9: E-hó, E-tó--Exclamations of surprise and delight.]
+
+[Footnote 10: Mah-gâh--The wild-goose.]
+
+[Footnote 11: Teé-peé--A lodge or wigwam, often contracted to "tee."]
+
+[Footnote 12: Pronounced Mahr-peé-yah-doó-tah--literally, Cloud Red.]
+
+[Footnote 13: Pronounced Wahnmdeé--The War-Eagle. Each feather worn by a
+warrior represents an enemy slain or captured--man, woman or child; but
+the Dakotas, before they became desperate under the cruel warfare of
+their enemies, generally spared the lives of their captives, and never
+killed women or infants, except in rare instances, under the _lex
+talionis_. Neill's Hist. Minn., p. 112.]
+
+[Footnote 14: Mah-tó--The polar bear--_ursus maritimus_. The Dakotas say
+that, in olden times, white bears were often found about Rainy Lake
+and the Lake of the Woods, in winter, and sometimes as far south as the
+mouth of the Minnesota. They say one was once killed at White Bear Lake
+(but a few miles from St. Paul and Minneapolis), and they therefore
+named the lake Medé Mató--White Bear Lake.]
+
+[Footnote 15: The Hó-hé (Hó-hây) are the Assiniboins or
+"Stone-roasters." Their home is the region of the Assiniboin river in
+British America. They speak the Dakota tongue, and originally were a
+band of that nation. Tradition says a Dakota "Helen" was the cause of
+the separation and a bloody feud that lasted for many years. The Hohés
+are called "Stone roasters," because, until recently at least, they used
+"Wa-ta-pe" kettles and vessels made of birch bark in which they cooked
+their food. They boiled water in these vessels by heating stones and
+putting them in the water. The "wa-ta-pe" kettle is made of the fibrous
+roots of the white cedar, interlaced and tightly woven. When the vessel
+is soaked it becomes watertight. (Footnote Snelling's) Tales of the
+North west, p 21. Mackenzie's Travels.]
+
+[Footnote 16: Hey-ó-ka is one of the principal Dakota deities. He is a
+Giant, but can change himself into a buffalo, a bear, a fish or a bird.
+He is called the Anti-natural God or Spirit. In summer he shivers with
+cold, in winter he suffers from heat; he cries when he laughs and he
+laughs when he cries, &c. He is the reverse of nature in all things.
+Heyóka is universally feared and reverenced by the Dakotas, but so
+severe is the ordeal that the Heyóka Wacípee (the dance to Heyóka) is
+now rarely celebrated. It is said that the "Medicine-men" use a secret
+preparation which enables them to handle fire and dip their hands in
+boiling water without injury, and thereby gain great _eclat_ from the
+uninitiated. The chiefs and the leading warriors usually belong to the
+secret order of "Medicine-men," or "Sons of Unktéhee"--the Spirit of the
+Waters.]
+
+[Footnote 17: The Dakota name for the moon is Han-yé-tu-wee--literally,
+Night-Sun. He is the twin brother of An-pé-tu-wee--the Day Sun. See note
+70.]
+
+[Footnote 18: The Dakotas believe that the stars are the spirits of
+their departed friends.]
+
+[Footnote 19: Tee--Contracted from teepee, lodge or wigwam, and means
+the same.]
+
+[Footnote 20: For all their sacred feasts the Dakotas kindle a new
+fire called "The Virgin Fire." This is done with flint and steel, or by
+rubbing together pieces of wood till friction produces fire. It must be
+done by a virgin, nor must any woman, except a virgin, ever touch the
+"sacred armor" of a Dakota warrior. White cedar is "Wakân"--sacred. See
+note 50. Riggs' "Tahkoo Wakân," p. 84.]
+
+[Footnote 21: All Northern Indians consider the East a mysterious
+and sacred land whence comes the sun. The Dakota name for the East is
+Wee-yo-heé-yan-pa--the sunrise. The Ojibways call it Waub-ó-nong--the
+white land or land of light, and they have many myths, legends and
+traditions relating thereto. Barbarous peoples of all times have
+regarded the East with superstitious reverence, simply because the sun
+rises in that quarter.]
+
+[Footnote 22: See Mrs. Eastman's Dacotah, pp. 225-8, describing the
+feast to Heyóka.]
+
+[Footnote 23: This stone from which the Dakotas have made their pipes
+for ages, is esteemed "wakân"--sacred. They call it I-yân-ska, probably
+from "íya," to speak, and "ska," white, truthful, peaceful,--hence,
+peace-pipe, herald of peace, pledge of truth, etc. In the cabinet at
+Albany, N.Y., there is a very ancient pipe of this material which the
+Iroquois obtained from the Dakotas. Charlevoix speaks of this pipe-stone
+in his History of New France. LeSueur refers to the Yanktons as the
+village of the Dakotas at the Red-Stone Quarry, See Neill's Hist. Minn.,
+p. 514.]
+
+[Footnote 24: "Ho" is an exclamation of approval—-yea, yes, bravo.]
+
+[Footnote 25: Buying is the honorable way of taking a wife among the
+Dakotas. The proposed husband usually gives a horse or its, value
+in other articles to the father or natural guardian of the woman
+selected--sometimes against her will. See note 75.]
+
+[Footnote 26: The Dakotas believe that the _Aurora Borealis_ is an
+evil omen and the threatening of an evil spirit, (perhaps Wazíya, the
+Winter-god--some say a witch, or a very ugly old woman). When the lights
+appear, danger threatens, and the warriors shoot at, and often slay, the
+evil spirit, but it rises from the dead again.]
+
+[Footnote 27: Se-só-kah--The Robin.]
+
+[Footnote 28: The spirit of Anpétu-sâpa that haunts the Falls of St.
+Anthony with her dead babe in her arms. See the Legend in Neill's Hist.
+Minn., or my "Legend of the Falls."]
+
+[Footnote 29: Mee-coónk-shee--My daughter.]
+
+[Footnote 30: The Dakotas call the meteor, "Wakân-denda" (sacred fire)
+and Wakân-wohlpa (sacred gift.) Meteors are messengers from the Land
+of Spirits, warning of impending danger. It is a curious fact that the
+"sacred stone" of the Mohammedans, in the Kaaba at Mecca, is a meteoric
+stone, and obtains its sacred character from the fact that it fell from
+heaven. 31: Kah-nó-te-dahn--The little, mysterious dweller in the woods.
+This spirit lives in the forest in hollow trees. Mrs. Eastman's Dacotah,
+Pre. Rem. xxxi. "The Dakota god of the woods--an unknown animal said to
+resemble a man, which the Dakotas worship; perhaps, the monkey." Riggs'
+Dakota Dic. Tit--_Canotidan_.]
+
+[Footnote 32: The Dakotas believe that thunder is produced by the
+flapping of the wings of an immense bird which they call Wakínyan--the
+Thunder-bird. Near the source of the Minnesota River is a place called
+"Thunder-Tracks" where the foot-prints of a "Thunder-bird" are seen on
+the rocks twenty-five miles apart. Mrs. Eastman's Dacotah, p. 71. There
+are many Thunder-birds. The father of all the Thunder-birds--"Wakínyan
+Tanka"--or "Big Thunder," has his teepee on a lofty mountain in the far
+West. His teepee has four openings, at each of which is a sentinel; at
+the east, a butterfly; at the west, a bear; at the south, a red deer;
+at the north, a caribou. He has a bitter enmity against Unktéhee (god
+of waters) and often shoots his fiery arrows at him, and hits the earth,
+trees, rocks, and sometimes men. Wakínyan created wild-rice, the bow and
+arrow, the tomahawk and the spear. He is a great war-spirit, and Wanmdée
+(the war-eagle) is his messenger. A Thunder-bird (say the Dakotas) was
+once killed near Kapóza by the son of Cetan-Wakawa-mâni, and he there
+upon took the name of "Wakínyan Tanka"--"Big Thunder."]
+
+[Footnote 33: Pronounced Tah-tâhn-kah--Bison or Buffalo.]
+
+[Footnote 34: Enâh--An exclamation of wonder. Ehó--Behold! see there!]
+
+[Footnote 35: The Crees are the Knisteneaux of Alexander Mackenzie.
+See his account of them, Mackenzie's Travels, (London 1801) p. xci. to
+cvii.]
+
+[Footnote 36: Lake Superior. The only names the Dakotas have for
+Lake Superior are Medé Tânka or Tânka Medé--Great Lake, and
+Me-ne-yâ-ta--literally, _At-the-Water_.]
+
+[Footnote 37: April--Literally, the moon when the geese lay eggs. See
+note 71.]
+
+[Footnote 38: Carver's Cave at St. Paul was called by the Dakotas "Wakân
+Teepee"--sacred lodge. In the days that are no more, they lighted their
+Council-fires in this cave, and buried their dead near it. See Neill's
+Hist. Minn., p. 207. Capt. Carver in his _Travels_, London, 1778, p. 63,
+et seq., describes this cave as follows: "It is a remarkable cave of an
+amazing depth. The Indians term it Wakon-teebe, that is, the Dwelling
+of the Great Spirit. The entrance into it is about ten feet wide, the
+height of it five feet, the arch within is near fifteen feet high and
+about thirty feet broad. The bottom of it consists of fine clear sand.
+About twenty feet from the entrance begins a lake, the water of which is
+transparent, and extends to an unsearchable distance; for the darkness
+of the cave prevents all attempts to acquire a knowledge of it. I threw
+a small pebble towards the interior parts of it with my utmost strength.
+I could hear that it fell into the water, and notwithstanding it was
+of so small a size, it caused an astonishing and horrible noise that
+reverberated through all those gloomy regions. I found in this cave many
+Indian hieroglyphics, which appeared very ancient, for time had nearly
+covered them with moss, so that it was with difficulty I could trace
+them. They were cut in a rude manner upon the inside of the walls,
+which were composed of a stone so extremely soft that it might be
+easily penetrated with a knife: a stone everywhere to be found near the
+Mississippi. This cave is only accessible by ascending a narrow, steep
+passage that lies near the brink of the river. At a little distance
+from this dreary cavern is the burying-place of several bands of the
+Naudowessie (Dakota) Indians." Many years ago the roof fell in, but the
+cave has been partially restored and is now used as a beer cellar.]
+
+[Footnote 39: Wah-kahn-dee--The lightning.]
+
+[Footnote 40: The Bloody River--the Red River was so-called on account
+of the numerous Indian battles that have been fought on its banks. The
+Chippewas say that its waters were colored red by the blood of many
+warriors slain on its banks in the fierce wars between themselves and
+the Dakotas.]
+
+[Footnote 41: Tah--The Moose. This is the root-word for all ruminating
+animals; Ta-tânka, buffalo—-Ta-tóka mountain antelope--Ta-hinca, the
+red-deer--Ta-mdóka, the buck deer—-Ta-hinca-ska, white deer (sheep).]
+
+[Footnote 42: Hogâhn--Fish. Red Hogan, the trout.]
+
+[Footnote 43: Tipsânna (often called _tipsinna_) is a wild prairie
+turnip used for food by the Dakotas. It grows on high, dry land, and
+increases from year to year. It is eaten both cooked and raw.]
+
+[Footnote 44: Rio Tajo, (or Tagus), a river of Spain and Portugal.]
+
+[Footnote 45:
+
+  "* * * * Bees of Trebizond--
+   Which from the sunniest flowers that glad
+   With their pure smile the gardens round,
+   Draw venom forth that drives men mad."
+
+    --_Thomas Moore_]
+
+[Footnote 46: Skeé-skah--The Wood duck.]
+
+[Footnote 47: The Crocus. I have seen the prairies in Minnesota spangled
+with these beautiful flowers in various colors before the ground was
+entirely free from frost. The Datotas call them frost-flowers.]
+
+[Footnote 48: The "Sacred Ring" around the feast of the Virgins is
+formed by armed warriors sitting, and none but a virgin must enter this
+ring. The warrior who knows is bound on honor, and by old and sacred
+custom, to expose and publicly denounce any tarnished maiden who dares
+to enter this ring, and his word cannot be questioned--even by the
+chief. See Mrs Eastman's Dacotah, p. 64.]
+
+[Footnote 49: Prairie's Pride.--This annual shrub, which abounds on many
+of the sandy prairies in Minnesota, is sometimes called "tea-plant,"
+"sage-plant," and "red-root willow." I doubt if it has any botanic
+name. Its long plumes of purple and gold are truly the "pride of the
+prairies."]
+
+[Footnote 50: The Dakotas consider white cedar "Wakân," (sacred). They
+use sprigs of it at their feasts, and often burn it to destroy the power
+of evil spirits. Mrs Eastman's Dacotah, p. 210.]
+
+[Footnote 51: Tâhkoo-skahng-skang.--This deity is supposed to be
+invisible, yet everywhere present; he is an avenger and a searcher of
+hearts. (Neill's Hist. Minn., p. 57.) I suspect he was the chief spirit
+of the Dakotas before the missionaries imported "Wakan Tânka"--(Great
+Spirit).]
+
+[Footnote 52: The Dakotas believe in "were-wolves" as firmly as did our
+Saxon ancestors, and for similar reasons--the howl of the wolf being
+often imitated as a decoy or signal by their enemies, the Ojibways.]
+
+[Footnote 53: Shee-shó-kah--The Robin.]
+
+[Footnote 54: The Dakotas cail the Evening Star the "_Virgin Star_," and
+believe it to be the spirit of the virgin wronged at the feast.]
+
+[Footnote 55: Mille Lacs. This lake was discovered by DuLuth, and by
+him named Lac Buade, in honor of Governor Frontenac of Canada, whose
+familyname was Buade. The Dakota name for it is Mdé Waksân--Spirit
+Lake.]
+
+[Footnote 56: The Ojibways imitate the hoot of the owl and the howl of
+the wolf to perfection, and often use these cries as signals to each
+other in war and the chase.]
+
+[Footnote 57: The Dakotas called the Ojibways the "Snakes of the
+Forest," on account of their lying in ambush for their enemies.]
+
+[Footnote 58: Strawberries.]
+
+[Footnote 59: Seé-yo--The Prairie-hen.]
+
+[Footnote 60: Mahgâh--The Wild-goose. _Fox-pups_. I could never see the
+propriety of calling the young of foxes _kits_ or _kittens_, which mean
+_little cats_. The fox belongs to the _canis_, or dog family and not the
+_felis_, or cat family. If it is proper to call the young of dogs and
+wolves _pups_, it is equally proper to so call the young of foxes.]
+
+[Footnote 61: When a Dakota is sick, he thinks the spirit of an enemy or
+some animal has entered into his body, and the principal business of the
+"medicine man"--_Wicasta Wakan_--is to cast out the "unclean spirit,"
+with incantations and charms. See Neill's Hist. Minn., pp. 66--8. The
+Jews entertained a similar belief in the days of Jesus of Nazareth.]
+
+[Footnote 62: Wah-zeé-yah's star--The North-star. See note 3.]
+
+[Footnote 63: The Dakotas, like our forefathers and all other
+barbarians, believe in witches and witchcraft.]
+
+[Footnote 64: The Medó is a wild potato, it resembles the sweet potato
+in top and taste. It grows in bottom-lands, and is much prized by the
+Dakotas for food. The "Dakota Friend," for December, 1850.]
+
+[Footnote 65: The meteor--Wakân denda--Sacred fire.]
+
+[Footnote 66: Meetâhwin--My bride.]
+
+[Footnote 67: Stoke--The body of a tree. This is an old English word of
+Saxon origin, now changed to _stock_.]
+
+[Footnote 68: The _Via Lactea_ or Milky Way. The Dakotas call it
+_Wanagee-Tach-anku_--The path-way of the spirits and believe that over
+this path the spirits of the dead pass to the Spirit-land. See Riggs'
+Tah-koo Wah-kan, p. 101.]
+
+[Footnote 69: Oonk-táy-hee--There are many Unktéhees, children of the
+Great Unktéhee, who created the earth and man and who formerly dwelt
+in a vast cavern under the Falls of St. Anthony. The Unktéhee sometimes
+reveals himself in the form of a huge buffalo-bull. From him proceed
+invisible influences. The Great Unktéhee created the earth. "Assembling
+in grand conclave all the aquatic tribes he ordered them to bring up
+dirt from beneath the waters, and proclaimed death to the disobedient.
+The beaver and otter forfeited their lives. At last the muskrat went
+beneath the waters, and, after a long time appeared at the surface,
+nearly exhausted, with some dirt. From this, Unktéhee fashioned the
+earth into a large circular plain. The earth being finished, he took a
+deity, one of his own offspring, and grinding him to powder, sprinkled
+it upon the earth, and this produced many worms. The worms were then
+collected and scattered again. They matured into infants and these were
+then collected and scattered and became full-grown Dakotas. The bones
+of the mastodon, the Dakotas think, are the bones of Unktéhees, and they
+preserve the with the greatest care in the medicine bag." Neill's Hist.
+Minn., p. 55. The Unktéhees and the Thunder-birds are perpetually it
+war. There are various accounts of the creation of man. Some say that
+at the bidding of the Great Unktéhee, men sprang full grown from the
+caverns of the earth. See Riggs' "Tah-koo Wah-kân," and Mrs Eastman's
+Dacotah. The Great Unktéhee and the Great Thunder-bird had a terrible
+battle in the bowels of the earth to determine which should be the ruler
+of the world. See description in Legend of Winona.]
+
+[Footnote 70: Prononced Ahng-pay-too-wee--The Sun; literally the Day
+Sun, thus distinguishing him from Han-yé-tuwee (Hahng-yay-too-wee) the
+night sun, (the moon). They are twin brothers but Anpétuwee is the more
+powerful Han-yé-tuwee receives his power from his brother and obeys him.
+He watches over the earth while the Sun sleeps. The Dakotas believe the
+sun is the father of life. Unlike the most of their other gods, he is
+beneficent and kind; yet they worship him (in the sun-dance) in the most
+dreadful manner. See Riggs' "Tah-koo Wah-kân," pp. 81-2, and Catlin's
+Riggs' "Okee-pa." The moon is worshipped as the representative of the
+sun; and in the great Sun-dance, which is usually held in the full of
+the moon, when the moon rises the dancers turn their eyes on her (or
+him). Anpétuwee issues every morning from the lodge of Han-nan-na (the
+Morning) and begins his journey over the sky to his lodge in the land
+of shadows. Sometimes he walks over on the Bridge (or path) of the
+Spirits--Wanâgee Ta-chan-ku,--and sometimes he sails over the sea of
+the skies in his shining canoe; but _somehow_, and the Dakotas do not
+explain how, he gets back again to the lodge of Hannanna in time to take
+a nap and eat his breakfast before starting anew on his journey. The
+Dakotas swear by the sun. "_As Anpé-tu-wee hears me, this is true_!"
+They call him Father and pray to him --"_Wakan! Ate, on-she-ma-da._"
+"Sacred Spirit,--Father, have mercy on me." As the Sun is the father,
+so they believe the Earth is the mother, of life. Truly there is
+much philosophy in the Dakota mythology. The Algonkins call the earth
+"_Me-suk-kum-mik-o-kwa_"--the great-grandmother of all. Narrative of
+John Tanner, p. 193.]
+
+[Footnote 71: The Dakotas reckon their months by _moon_. They name their
+moons from natural circumstances. They correspond very nearly with our
+months, as follows:
+
+January--Wee-té-rhee--The Hard Moon, i.e.--the cold moon.
+
+February--Wee-câ-ta-wee--The Coon Moon.
+
+March--Istâ-wee-ca-ya-zang-wee--the sore eyes moon (from snow
+blindness.)
+
+April--Magâ-okâ-da-wee--the moon when the geese lay eggs; also called
+Wokâda-wee--egg-moon, and sometimes Wató-papee-wee, the canoe moon, or
+moon when the streams become free from ice.
+
+May--Wó-zu-pee-wee--the planting moon.
+
+June--Wazú-ste-ca-sa-wee--the strawberry moon.
+
+July--Wa-sun-pa-wee--moon when the geese shed their feathers,
+also called Chang-pâ-sapa-wee--Choke-Cherry moon, and
+sometimes--Mna-rchâ-rhca-wee--"The moon of the red blooming lilies",
+literally, the red-lily moon.
+
+August--Wasú-ton-wee--the ripe moon, i.e. Harvest Moon.
+
+September--Psin-na-ké-tu-wee--the ripe rice moon.
+
+October--Wà-zu-pee-wee or Wee-wa-zú-pee--the moon when wild rice is
+gathered and laid up for winter.
+
+November--Ta-kee-yu-hrâ-wee--the deer-rutting moon.
+
+December--Ta-hé-cha-psung-wee--the moon when deer shed their horns.]
+
+[Footnote 72: Oonk-tó-mee--is a "bad spirit" in the form of a monstrous
+black spider. He inhabits fens and marshes and lies in wait for his
+prey. At night he often lights a torch (evidently the _ignis fatuus_ or
+Jack-a-lantern) and swings it on the marshes to decoy the unwary into
+his toils.]
+
+[Footnote 73: The Dakotas have their stone idol, or god, called
+Toon-kan--or In-yan. This god dwells in stone or rocks and is they
+say, the _oldest god of all_--he is grandfather of all living things. I
+think, however that the stone is merely the symbol of the everlasting,
+all pervading, invisible _Ta-ku Wa-kan_--the essence of all
+life,--pervading all nature, animate and inanimate. The Rev. S. R.
+Riggs who, for forty years, has been a student of Dakota customs,
+superstitions etc., says, "Tâhkoo Wahkan," p. 55: et seq. "The religious
+faith of the Dakota is not in his gods as such. It is in an intangible,
+mysterious something of which they are only the embodiment, and that in
+such measure and degree as may accord with the individual fancy of the
+worshipper. Each one will worship some of these divinities, and neglect
+or despise others, but the great object of all their worship, whatever
+its chosen medium, is the _Ta-koo Wa-kan_, which is the _supernatural_
+and _mysterious_. No one term can express the full meaning of the
+Dakotas _Wakan_. It comprehends all mystery, secret power and divinity.
+Awe and reverence are its due, and it is as unlimited in manifestation
+as it is in idea. All life is _Wakan_; so also is everything which
+exhibits power, whether in action as the winds and drifting clouds;
+or in passive endurance, as the boulder by the wayside. For even the
+commonest sticks and stones have a spiritual essence which must be
+reverenced as a manifestation of the all-pervading mysterious power that
+fills the the universe."]
+
+[Footnote 74: Wazi-kuté--Wah-ze-koo-tay; literally--Pine-shooter--he
+that shoots among the pines. When Father Hennepin was at Mille Lacs in
+1679-80, Wazi-kuté was the head Chief (Itâncan) of the band of Isantees.
+Hennepin writes his name— Ouasicoudé and translates it--the "Pierced
+Pine." See Shea's Hennepin p. 234, Minn. Hist. Coll. vol. I. p. 316.]
+
+[Footnote 75: When a Dakota brave wishes to "propose" to a "dusky maid",
+he visits her teepee at night after she has retired, or rather, laid
+down in her robe to sleep. He lights a splinter of wood and holds it to
+her face. If she blows out the light, he is accepted; if she covers her
+head and leaves it burning, he is rejected. The rejection however is not
+considered final till it has been thrice repeated. Even then the maiden
+is often bought of her parents or guardian, and forced to become the
+wife of the rejected suitor. If she accepts the proposal, still the
+suitor must buy her of her parents with suitable gifts.]
+
+[Footnote 76: The Dakotas called the Falls of St. Anthony the Ha-Ha--the
+_loud laughing_, or _roaring_. The Mississippi River they called
+Ha-Ha Wá-kpa--River of the Falls. The Ojibway name for the Falls
+is Ka-ká-bih-kúng. Minnehaha is a combination of two Dakota
+words--Mini--water and Ha-Ha--Falls; but it is not the name by which the
+Dakotas designated that cataract. Some authorities say they called it
+I-ha-ha pronounced E-rhah-rhah--lightly laughing. Rev. S. W. Pond,
+whose long residence as a missionary among the Dakotas in this immediate
+vicinity makes him an authority that can hardly be questioned, says
+"they called the Falls of Minnehaha "Mini-i-hrpâ-ya dan," and it had no
+other name in Dakota. It means Little Falls and nothing else." Letter to
+the author.]
+
+[Footnote 77: The game of the Plum-stones is one of the favorite games
+of the Dakotas. Hennepin was the first to describe this game in his
+"Description de la Louisiane," Paris, 1683, and he describes it very
+accurately. See Shea's translation p. 301. The Dakotas call this game
+_Kan-soo Koo tay-pe_--shooting plum-stones. Each stone is painted black
+on one side and red on the other; on one side they grave certain figures
+which make the stones "Wakan." They are placed in a dish and thrown up
+like dice; indeed the game is virtually a game of dice. Hennepin says:
+"There are some so given to this game that they will gamble away even
+their great coat. Those who conduct the game cry at the top of their
+voices when they rattle the platter and they strike their shoulders so
+hard as to leave them all black with the blows."]
+
+[Footnote 78: Wa'tanka--contraction of Wa-kan Tanka--Great Spirit. The
+Dakotas had no Wakan Tanka--or Wakan-péta--fire spirit--till whitemen
+imported them. There being no name for the Supreme Being in the Dakota
+tongue (except Tá-ku Wakan--See note 73)--and all their gods and
+spirits being Wakan--the missionaries named God in Dakota--"_Wakan
+Tanka_"--which means _Big Spirit_, or _The Big Mysterious_.]
+
+[Footnote 79: The Dakotas called Lake Calhoun--Mdé-mdó-za--Loon Lake.
+They also called it--_Re-ya-ta-mde_--the lake back from the river.
+They called Lake Harriet--Mdé-únma--the other lake--or (perhaps) Mdé
+úma—Hazel-nut Lake. The lake nearest Calhoun on the north--Lake of the
+Isles--they called Wí-ta Mdé--Island-Lake. Lake Minnetonka they called
+Me-me-a-tán-ka--_Broad Water_.]
+
+[Footnote 80: The animal called by the French _voyageurs_ the _cabri_
+(the kid) is found only on the prairies. It is of the goat kind, smaller
+than a deer, and so swift that neither horse nor dog can overtake
+it. (Snelling's) "Tales of the Northwest," p. 286. note 15. It is the
+gazelle, or prairie antelope, called by the Dakotas Tato-ka-dan--little
+antelope. It is the _Pish-tah-te-koosh_ of the Algonkin tribes,
+"reckoned the fleetest animal in the prairie country about the
+Assinneboin." Captivity and Adventures of John Tanner, p. 301.]
+
+[Footnote 81: The Wicâstâpi Wakânpi (literally, _men supernatural_) are
+the "Medicine-men" or Magicians of the Dakotas. They call themselves the
+sons, or disciples of Unktéhee. In their rites, ceremonies, tricks and
+pretensions they closely resemble the Dactyli, Idæ and Curetes of the
+ancient Greeks and Romans, the Magi of the Persians, and the Druids of
+Britain. Their pretended intercourse with spirits, their powers of magic
+and divination, and their rites are substantially the same, and point
+unmistakably to a common origin. The Dakota "Medicine-Man" can do the
+"rope-trick" of the Hindoo magician to perfection. The teepee used for
+the _Wakan Wacipee_--or Sacred Dance--is called the _Wakan Teepee_--the
+Sacred Teepee. Carver's Cave at St. Paul was also called Wakan Teepee,
+because the Medicine-men or magicians often held their dances and
+feasts in it. For a full account of the rites, etc., see Riggs' "Tâhkoo
+Wahkan", Chapter VI. The _Ta-sha-ke_--literally, "Deer-hoofs"--is a
+rattle made by hanging the hard segments of deer-hoofs to a wooden rod a
+foot long--about an inch in diameter at the handle end, and tapering to
+a point at the other. The clashing of these horny bits makes a sharp,
+shrill sound something like distant sleigh-bells. In their incantations
+over the sick they sometimes use the gourd-shell rattle.]
+
+The Chân-che-ga--is a drum or "Wooden Kettle." The hoop of the drum is
+from a foot to eighteen inches in diameter, and from three to ten inches
+deep. The skin covering is stretched over one end making a drum with one
+end only. The magical drum sticks are ornamented with down, and heads of
+birds or animals are carved on them. This makes them Wakan.]
+
+The flute called _Cho-tanka_ (big pith) is of two varieties--one made of
+sumac, the pith of which is punched out, etc. The second variety is made
+of the long bone of the wing or thigh of the swan or crane. They call
+the first the _bubbling chotanka_ from the tremulous note it gives when
+blown with all the holes stopped. Riggs' Tahkoo Wahkan, p. 476, et seq.]
+
+E-né-pee--vapor bath is used as a purification preparatory to the sacred
+feasts. The vapor bath is taken in this way: "A number of poles the size
+of hoop-poles or less are taken, and their larger ends being set in
+the ground in a circle, the flexible tops are bent over and tied in the
+centre. This frame work is then covered with robes and blankets, a small
+hole being left on one side for an entrance. Before the door a fire is
+built, and round stones about the size of a man's head are heated in it.
+When hot, they are rolled within, and the door being closed, steam is
+made by pouring water on them. The devotee, stripped to the skin, sits
+within this steam-tight dome, sweating profusely at every pore, until he
+is nearly suffocated. Sometimes a number engage in it together and unite
+their prayers and songs." "Tâhkoo Wakan," p. 83. Father Hennepin was
+subjected to the vapour-bath at Mille Lacs by Chief Aqui-pa-que-tin, two
+hundred years ago. After describing the method Hennepin says: "When he
+had made me sweat thus three times in a week, I felt as strong as ever."
+Shea's Hennepin, p. 228. For a very full and accurate account of the
+Medicine men of the Dakotas, and their rites etc., see Chap. II, Neill's
+Hist. Minnesota.]
+
+[Footnote 82: The sacred _O-zu-ha_--or Medicine-sack must be made of
+the skin of the otter, the coon, the weasel, the squirrel, the loon,
+a certain kind of fish or the skins of serpents. It must contain four
+kinds of medicine (or magic) representing birds, beasts, herbs and
+trees, viz: The down of the female swan colored red, the roots of
+certain grasses, bark from the roots of cedar trees, and hair of the
+buffalo. "From this combination proceeds a Wakân influence so powerful
+that no human being unassisted can resist it." Wonderful indeed must be
+the magic power of these Dakota Druids to lead such a man aa the Rev.
+S. R. Riggs to say of them: "By great shrewdness, untiring industry,
+and more or less of _actual demoniacal possession_, they convince great
+numbers of their fellows, and in the process are convinced _themselves_,
+of their sacred character and office." Tahkoo Wakân, pp. 88-9: ]
+
+[Footnote 83: Gâh-ma-na-tek-wâhk--_the river of many falls_--is the
+Ojibway name of the river commonly called Kaministiguia, near the mouth
+of which is situate Fort William, on the site of DuLuth's old fort. The
+view on Thunder-Bay is one of the grandest in America. Thunder-Cap,
+with its sleeping stone-giant, looms up into the heavens. Here
+_Ka-be-bon-ikka_--the Ojibway's god of storms, flaps his huge wings and
+makes the Thunder. From this mountain he sends forth the rain, the snow,
+the hail, the lightning and the tempest. A vast giant, turned to stone
+by his magic, lies asleep at his feet. The island called by the Ojibways
+the _Mak-i-nak_ (the turtle) from its tortoise-like shape, lifts
+its huge form in the distance. Some "down-east" Yankee, called it
+"Pie-Island," from its (to his hungry imagination) fancied resemblance
+to a pumpkin pie, and the name, like all bad names, _sticks_. McKay's
+Mountain on the main-land, a perpendicular rock more than a thousand
+feet high, up-heaved by the throes of some vast volcano, and numerous
+other bold and precipitous head lands, and rock-built islands, around
+which roll the sapphire-blue waters of the fathomless bay, present some
+of the most magnificent views to be found on either continent.]
+
+[Footnote 84: The Mission of the Holy Ghost--at La Pointe on the isle
+Waug-a-bá-me--(winding view) in the beautiful bay of Cha-quam-egon—was
+founded by the Jesuits about the year 1660, and Father Renè Menard was
+the first priest at this point. After he was lost in the wilderness,
+Father Glaude Allouëz permanently established ihe mission in 1665.
+The famous Father Marquette, who took Allouëz's place, Sept. 13. 1669,
+writing to his Superior, thus describes the Dakotas: "The Nadouessi are
+the Iroquois of this country, beyond La Pointe, _but less faithless, and
+never attack till attacked._ Their language is entirely different
+from the Huron and Algonquin. They have many villages, but are widely
+scattered. They have very extraordinary customs. They principally use
+the calumet. They do not speak at great feasts, and when a stranger
+arrives give him to eat of a wooden fork, as we would a child. All the
+lake tribes make war on them, but with small success. They have false
+oats, (wild rice) use little canoes, _and keep their word strictly_."
+Neill's Hist. Minn., p. 111.]
+
+[Footnote 85: Michâbo--the Good, Great Spirit of the Algonkins. In
+Autumn, in the moon of the falling leaf, ere he composes himself to his
+winter's sleep, he fills his great pipe and takes a god-like smoke. The
+balmy clouds from his pipe float over the hills and woodland, filling
+the air with the haze of "Indian Summer." Brinton's Myths of the New
+World, p. 163.]
+
+[Footnote 86: Pronounced _Kah-thah-gah_--literally, _the place of waves
+and foam_. This was the principal village of the Isantee band of Dakotas
+two hundred years ago, and was located at the Falls of St. Anthony,
+which the Dakotas called the _Ha-ha_--pronounced _Rhah-rhah_--the _loud,
+laughing waters_. The Dakotas believed that the Falls were in the centre
+of the earth. Here dwelt the Great Unktéhee, the creator of the earth
+and man; and from this place a path led to the Spirit-land. DuLuth
+undoubtedly visited Kathága in the year 1679. In his "Memoir" (Archives
+of the Ministry of the Marine) addressed to Seignelay, 1685, he says:
+"On the 2nd of July, 1679, I had the honor to plant his Majesty's arms
+in the great village of the Nadouecioux called Izatys, where never had
+a Frenchman been, etc." _Izatys_ is here used not as the name of the
+village, but as the name of the band--the Isantees. _Nadouecioux_ was
+a name given the Dakotas generally by the early French traders and the
+Ojibways. See Shea's Hennepin's Description of Louisiana pp. 203: and
+375. The villages of the Dakotas were not permanent towns. They were
+hardly more than camping grounds, occupied at intervals and for longer
+or shorter periods, as suited the convenience of the hunters: yet there
+were certain places, like Mille Lacs, the Falls of St. Anthony, Kapóza
+(near St. Paul), Remnica, (where the city of Red Wing now stands),
+and Keúxa (or Keóza) on the site of the city of Winona, so frequently
+occupied by several of the bands as to be considered their chief
+villages respectively.]
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES TO THE SEA-GULL:
+
+
+[Footnote 101: Kay-óshk is the Ojibway name of Sea-Gull.]
+
+[Footnote 102: Gitchee--great,--Gumee--sea or lake,--Lake Superior;
+also often called Ochipwè Gítchee Gúmee, Great Lake (or sea) of the
+Ojibways.]
+
+[Footnote 103: Né-mè-Shómis--my grandfather. "In the days of my
+Grandfather" is the Ojibway's preface to all his traditions and
+legends.]
+
+[Footnote 104: Waub--white---O-jeeg,--fisher, (a furred animal.) White
+Fisher was the name of a noted Chippewa Chief who lived on the south
+shore of Lake Superior many years ago. Schoolcraft married one of his
+descendants.]
+
+[Footnote 105: Ma-kwâ or mush-kwa--the bear.]
+
+[Footnote 106: The Te-ke-nâh-gun is a board upon one side of which a
+sort of basket is fastened or woven with thongs of skin or strips of
+cloth. In this the babe is placed, and the mother carries it on her
+back. In the wigwam the tekenagun is often suspended by a cord to the
+lodge-poles and the mother swings her babe in it.]
+
+[Footnote 107: Wabóse--the rabbit. Penay, the pheasant. At certain
+seasons the pheasant drums with his wings.]
+
+[Footnote 108: Kaug, the porcupine. Kenéw. the war-eagle.]
+
+[Footnote 109: Ka-be-bón-ik-ka is the god of storms, thunder, lightning,
+etc. His home is on Thunder-Cap at Thunder-Bay, Lake Superior. By his
+magic, the giant that lies on the mountain was turned to stone. He
+always sends warnings before he finally sends the severe cold of winter,
+in order to give all creatures time to prepare for it.]
+
+[Footnote 1010: Kewaydin or Kewaytin, is the North-wind or North-west
+wind.]
+
+[Footnote 1011: Algónkin is the general name applied to all tribes that
+speak the Ojibway language or dialects of it.]
+
+[Footnote 1012: This is the favorite "love-broth" of the Ojibway squaws.
+The warrior who drinks it immediately falls desperately in love with
+the woman who gives it to him. Various tricks are devised to conceal the
+nature of the "medicine" and to induce the warrior to drink it; but when
+it is mixed with a liberal quantity of "fire-water" it is considered
+irresistable.]
+
+[Footnote 1013: Translation:
+
+  Woe-is-me! Woe-is-me!
+  Great Spirit, behold me!
+  Look, Father; have pity upon me!
+  Woe-is-me! Woe-is-me!]
+
+[Footnote 1014: Snow-storms from the North-west.]
+
+[Footnote 1015: The Ojibways, like the Dakotas, call the _Via Lactea_
+(Milky Way) the Pathway of the Spirits.]
+
+[Footnote 1016: Shingebis, the diver, is the only water-fowl that
+remains about Lake Superior all winter. See Schoolcraft's Hiawatha
+Legends, p. 113.]
+
+[Footnote 1017: Waub-ésè--the white swan.]
+
+[Footnote 1018: Pé-boân, Winter, is represented as an old man with long
+white hair and beard.]
+
+[Footnote 1019: Se-gún is Spring or Summer. This beautiful allegory has
+been "done into verse" by Longfellow in _Hiawatha_. I took my version
+from the lips of an old Chippewa Chief. I have compared it with
+Schoolcraft's version, from which Mr. Longfellow evidently took his.]
+
+[Footnote 1020: Nah--look, see. Nashké--behold.]
+
+[Footnote 1021: Kee-zis--the sun,--the father of life. Waubúnong--or
+Waub-ó-nong--is the White Land or Land of Light,--the Sun-rise, the
+East.]
+
+[Footnote 1022: The Bridge of Stars spans the vast sea of the skies, and
+the sun and moon walk over on it.]
+
+[Footnote 1023: The Miscodeed is a small white flower with a pink
+border. It is the earliestblooming wild-flower on the shores of Lake
+Superior, and belongs to the crocus family.]
+
+[Footnote 1024: The Ne-be-naw-baigs, are Water-spirits; they dwell in
+caverns in the depths of the lake, and in some respects resemble the
+Unktéhees of the Dakotas.]
+
+[Footnote 1025: Ogema, Chief,--Ogema-kwa--female Chief. Among the
+Algonkin tribes women are sometimes made chiefs. Net-nó-kwa, who
+adopted Tanner as her son, was Oge-mâ-kwa of a band of Ottawas. See John
+Tanner's Narrative, p. 36.]
+
+[Footnote 1026: The "Bridge of Souls" leads from the earth over dark and
+stormy waters to the Spirit-land. The "Dark River" seems to have been a
+part of the superstition of all nations.]
+
+[Footnote 1027: The Jossakeeds of the Ojibways are sooth-sayers who are
+able, by the aid of spirits, to read the past as well as the future.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Legends of the Northwest, by Hanford Lennox Gordon
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEGENDS OF THE NORTHWEST ***
+
+***** This file should be named 8122-8.txt or 8122-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/2/8122/
+
+Produced by Susan Skinner, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
+  www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at 809
+North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887.  Email
+contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the
+Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:  www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For forty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
diff --git a/8122-8.zip b/8122-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..82c689d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/8122-8.zip
diff --git a/8122-h.zip b/8122-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cd88ee2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/8122-h.zip
diff --git a/8122-h/8122-h.htm b/8122-h/8122-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0719645
--- /dev/null
+++ b/8122-h/8122-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,6978 @@
+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?>
+
+<!DOCTYPE html
+   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      Legends of the Northwest., by H. L. Gordon
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        {font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 100%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's Legends of the Northwest, by Hanford Lennox Gordon
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Legends of the Northwest
+
+Author: Hanford Lennox Gordon
+
+
+Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8122]
+This file was first posted on June 16, 2003
+Last Updated: May 8, 2013
+
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEGENDS OF THE NORTHWEST ***
+
+
+
+
+Text file produced by Susan Skinner, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+HTML file produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+    <div style="height: 8em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h1>
+      LEGENDS OF THE NORTHWEST.
+    </h1>
+    <h2>
+      By H. L. Gordon
+    </h2>
+    <h4>
+      <i>Author of Pauline</i>.
+    </h4>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <b>CONTENTS</b>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> PRELUDE. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THE MISSISSIPPI. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE FEAST OF THE VIRGINS. [1] </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> THE GAME OF BALL. [2] </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> HEYÓKA WACÍPEE [16]&mdash;THE GIANT'S DANCE.
+      </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> WINONA. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> THE LEGEND OF THE FALLS. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> THE LEGEND. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> THE SEAGULL. [101] </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> MINNETONKA </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_FOOT"> FOOTNOTES: </a>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <b>List of Illustrations (not available in this file)</b>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      View of the Mississippi at Fort Snelling Falls of St. Anthony. Facsimile
+      Of the Cut in Carver's Travels, Published at London, in 1778, from a
+      Survey and Sketch Made By Capt. J. Carver, Nov. 17, 1766. Perpendicular
+      Fall, 30 Feet; Breadth Near 600 Feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PREFACE.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      I have for several years devoted many of my leisure hours to the study of
+      the language, history, traditions, customs and superstitions of the
+      Dakotas. These Indians are now commonly called the "Sioux"&mdash;a name
+      given them by the early French traders and <i>voyageurs</i>. "Dakota"
+      signifies <i>alliance</i> or <i>confederation</i>. Many separate bands,
+      all having a common origin and speaking a common tongue, were united under
+      this name. See "<i>Tah-Koo Wah-Kan</i>," or "<i>The Gospel Among the
+      Dakotas</i>," by Stephen R. Riggs, pp. 1 to 6 inc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were, but yesterday, the occupants and owners of the fair forests and
+      fertile prairies of Minnesota&mdash;a brave, hospitable and generous
+      people,&mdash;barbarians, indeed, but noble in their barbarism. They may
+      be fitly called the Iroquois of the West. In form and features, in
+      language and traditions, they are distinct from all other Indian tribes.
+      When first visited by white men, and for many years afterwards, the Falls
+      of St. Anthony (by them called the Ha-Ha) was the center of their country.
+      They cultivated tobacco, and hunted the elk, the beaver and the bison.
+      They were open-hearted, truthful and brave. In their wars with other
+      tribes they seldom slew women or children, and rarely sacrificed the lives
+      of their prisoners.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For many years their chiefs and head men successfully resisted the
+      attempts to introduce spirituous liquors among them. More than a century
+      ago an English trader was killed at Mendota, because he persisted, after
+      repeated warnings by the chiefs, in dealing out <i>mini-wakan</i>
+      (Devil-water) to the Dakota braves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With open arms and generous hospitality they welcomed the first white men
+      to their land; and were ever faithful in their friendship, till years of
+      wrong and robbery, and want and insult, drove them to desperation and to
+      war. They were barbarians, and their warfare was barbarous, but not more
+      barbarous than the warfare of our Saxon and Celtic ancestors. They were
+      ignorant and superstitious, but their condition closely resembled the
+      condition of our British forefathers at the beginning of the Christian
+      era. Macaulay says of Britain, "Her inhabitants, when first they became
+      known to the Tyrian mariners, were little superior to the natives of the
+      Sandwich Islands." And again, "While the German princes who reigned at
+      Paris, Toledo, Arles and Ravenna listened with reverence to the
+      instructions of Bishops, adored the relics of martyrs, and took part
+      eagerly in disputes touching the Nicene theology, the rulers of Wessex and
+      Mercia were still performing savage rites in the temples of Thor and
+      Woden."
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The day of the Dakotas is done. The degenerate remnants of that once
+      powerful and warlike people still linger around the forts and agencies of
+      the Northwest, or chase the caribou and the bison on the banks of the
+      Sascatchewan, but the Dakotas of old are no more. The brilliant defeat of
+      Custer, by Sitting Bull and his braves, was their last grand rally against
+      the resistless march of the sons of the Saxons and the Celts. The
+      plow-shares of a superior race are fast leveling the sacred mounds of
+      their dead. But yesterday, the shores of our lakes, and our rivers, were
+      dotted with their tepees. Their light canoes glided over our waters, and
+      their hunters chased the deer and the buffalo on the sites of our cities.
+      To-day, they are not. Let us do justice to their memory, for there was
+      much that was noble in their natures. In the following Dakota Legends I
+      have endeavored to faithfully represent many of the customs and
+      superstitions, and some of the traditions, of that people. I have taken
+      very little "poetic license" with their traditions; none, whatever, with
+      their customs and superstitions. In my studies for these Legends I have
+      been greatly aided by Rev. S. R. Riggs, author of the Grammar and
+      Dictionary of the Dakota language, "Tah-Koo Wah-Kan," &amp;c., and for
+      many years a missionary among the Dakotas. He has patiently answered my
+      numerous inquiries and given me valuable information. I am also indebted
+      to Gen. H. H. Sibley, one of the earliest American traders among them, and
+      to Rev. S. W. Pond, of Shakopee, one of the first Protestant missionaries
+      to these people, and himself the author of poetical versions of some of
+      their principal legends; to Mrs. Eastman's "Dacotah." and last, but not
+      least, to the Rev. E. D. Neill, whose admirable "History of Minnesota" so
+      fully and faithfully presents almost all that is known of the history,
+      traditions, customs, manners and superstitions of the Dakotas. In <i>Winona</i>
+      I have "tried my hand" on Hexameter verse. With what success, I leave to
+      those who are better able to judge than I. If I have failed, I have but
+      added another failure to the numerous vain attempts to naturalize
+      Hexameter verse in the English language.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Earl of Derby, in the preface to his translation of the Iliad, calls
+      it "That pestilent heresy of the so-called English Hexameter; a metre
+      wholly repugnant to the genius of our language; which can only be pressed
+      into the service by a violation of every rule of prosody." Lord Kames, in
+      his "Elements of Criticism." says, "Many attempts have been made to
+      introduce Hexameter verse into the living languages, but without success.
+      The English language, I am inclined to think, is not susceptible of this
+      melody, and my reasons are these: First, the polysyllables in Latin and
+      Greek are finely diversified by long and short syllables, a circumstance
+      that qualifies them for the melody of Hexameter verse: ours are extremely
+      ill qualified for that service, because they super-abound in short
+      syllables. Secondly, the bulk of our monosyllables are arbitrary with
+      regard to length, which is an unlucky circumstance in Hexameter. * * * In
+      Latin and Greek Hexameter invariable sounds direct and ascertain the
+      melody. English Hexameter would be destitute of melody, unless by artful
+      pronunciation; because of necessity the bulk of its sounds must be
+      arbitrary. The pronunciation is easy in a simple movement of alternate
+      long and short syllables; but would be perplexing and unpleasant in the
+      diversified movement of Hexameter verse."
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Beautiful as is the <i>Evangeline</i> of Longfellow, his Hexameter lines
+      are sometimes hard to scan, and often grate harshly on the ear. He is
+      frequently forced to divide a word by the central or pivotal pause of the
+      line, and sometimes to make a pause in the sense where the rhythm forbids
+      it. Take for example some of the opening lines of <i>Evangeline</i>:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  "This is the forest prime|val. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
+    Bearded with moss, and in gar|ments green, indistinct in the twilight.
+  Loud from its rocky cav|erns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
+    Speaks, and in accents discon|solate answers the wail of the forest.
+  Lay in the fruitful val|ley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward."
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Again, in order to comply with the Greek and Latin rule of beginning each
+      line with a <i>long</i> syllable, he is compelled to emphasize words
+      contrary to the sense. Examples:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  <i>In</i> the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of  Minas
+  <i>Some</i>what apart from the village, and nearer the Basin of Minas.
+  <i>But</i> a celestial bright|ness&mdash;a more etherial beauty.
+  <i>And</i> the retreating sun the sign of the scorpion enters.
+  <i>In</i>-doors, warmed by the wide-|mouthed fireplace idly the farmer,
+  <i>Four</i> times the sun had ris|en and set; and now on the fifth day,
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      "Greek and Latin Hexameter lines, as to time, are all of the same length,
+      being equivalent to the time taken in pronouncing twelve long syllables,
+      or twenty-four short ones. An Hexameter line may consist of seventeen
+      syllables, and when regular and not Spondiac, it never has fewer than
+      thirteen: whence it follows that where the syllables are many, the
+      plurality must be short; where few, the plurality must be long. This line
+      is susceptible of much variety as to the succession of long and short
+      syllables. It is however subject to laws that confine its variety within
+      certain limits. * * *
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      1st. The line must always commence with a <i>long</i> syllable, and close
+      with two long preceded by two short.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      2d. More than two short syllables can never be found together, nor <i>fewer</i>
+      than two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      3d. Two long syllables which have been preceded by two short can not also
+      be followed by two short.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These few rules fulfill all the conditions of an Hexameter line with
+      relation to order of arrangement."&mdash;<i>Lord Kames, "Elements of
+      Criticism."</i> One who attempts to write English Hexameter, under the
+      Greek and Latin rules, will speedily be made aware that the English
+      language "super-abounds in short syllables." Why then should we rigidly
+      adhere to rules repugnant to the genius of our language, if they can be
+      modified so as to adapt the sonorous Hexameter to the structure of our
+      mother-tongue? Can they be so modified? I have attempted it. I venture to
+      change them as follows:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      1st. By beginning each line with a <i>short</i> syllable instead of a long
+      one. And it will be seen that I often begin a line with two short
+      syllables.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      2d. By often using one short syllable unaccompanied by another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      3d. I have increased the average number of syllables in the line to better
+      adapt it to our super-abundance of short syllables.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      4th. In <i>Winona</i> I have introduced a rhyme at the pivotal pause of
+      the line, not because my Hexameter requires it, but because I think it
+      increases the melody, and more emphatically marks the central pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I am not quite sure that, in a long poem, the rhyme is not detrimental.
+      That depends greatly, however, upon the skill with which it is handled.
+      Surely the same Hexameter can be written as smoothly and more vigorously
+      without rhyme. Rhyme adds greatly to the labor of composition; it rarely
+      assists, but often hinders, the expression of the sense which the author
+      would convey. At times I have been on the point of abandoning it in
+      despair, but after having been under the hammer and the file, at intervals
+      for the last four years, <i>Winona</i> is at last <i>done</i>, if not
+      finished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It will be observed that I have slightly changed the length and the rhythm
+      of the old Hexameter line, but it is still Hexameter, and, I think,
+      improved. I am not afraid of intelligent criticism. I invoke it, and will
+      endeavor to profit by it in the future as in the past.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The reception of my <i>Pauline</i> at home and abroad has been so
+      flattering that I have been encouraged to attempt something better. That
+      was my first real effort and full of crudities but if the Legends are
+      received by our best critics as well as <i>Pauline</i> was received I
+      shall be well pleased with my efforts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After much thought I have decided to publish the first edition of my <i>Legends</i>
+      here at home:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      1st Because they pertain particularly to the lakes and rivers to the fair
+      forests and fertile fields of our own Minnesota and ought to be
+      appreciated here if anywhere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      2d Because many of our people are competent to judge whether my
+      representations of Dakota customs, life, traditions, and superstitions are
+      correct or not and at the same time the reading public of the North west
+      is as intelligent and discriminating as that of any other portion of our
+      country. If these <i>Legends</i> be appreciated and approved by our own
+      people who are familiar with the scenery described and more or less, with
+      the customs, traditions and superstitions of the Dakotas, and if beyond
+      that these poems shall stand the test of candid criticism I may give them
+      a wider publication.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      H. L. GORDON.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MINNEAPOLIS. June 1, 1881.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PRELUDE.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      THE MISSISSIPPI.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Onward rolls the Royal River, proudly sweeping to the sea,
+  Dark and deep and grand, forever wrapt in myth and mystery.
+  Lo he laughs along the highlands, leaping o'er the granite walls:
+  Lo he sleeps among the islands, where the loon her lover calls.
+  Still like some huge monster winding downward through the prairie plains,
+  Seeking rest but never finding, till the tropic gulf he gains.
+  In his mighty arms he claspeth now an empire broad and grand;
+  In his left hand lo he graspeth leagues of fen and forest land;
+  In his right the mighty mountains, hoary with eternal snow.
+  Where a thousand foaming fountains singing seek the plains below.
+  Fields of corn and feet of cities lo the mighty river laves,
+  Where the Saxon sings his ditties o'er the swarthy warriors' graves.
+  Aye, before the birth, of Moses&mdash;ere the Pyramids were piled&mdash;
+  All his banks were red with roses from the sea to nor'lands wild,
+  And from forest, fen and meadows, in the deserts of the north,
+  Elk and bison stalked like shadows, and the tawny tribes came forth;
+  Deeds of death and deeds of daring on his leafy banks were done&mdash;
+  Women loved and men went warring&mdash;ere the siege of Troy begun.
+  Where his wayward waters thundered, roaring o'er the rocky walls,
+  Dusky hunters sat and wondered, listening to the spirits' calls.
+  "Ha-ha!" <a href="#linknote-76" name="linknoteref-76" id="linknoteref-76">76</a> cried the warrior greeting from afar the cataract's roar;
+  "Ha-ha!" rolled the answer, beating down the rock-ribbed leagues of shore.
+  Now, alas, the bow and quiver and the dusky braves have fled,
+  And the sullen, shackled river drives the droning mills instead.
+
+  Where the war whoop rose, and, after, women wailed their warriors slain,
+  List the Saxon's silvery laughter, and his humming hives of gain.
+  Swiftly sped the tawny runner o'er the pathless prairies then,
+  Now the iron-reindeer sooner carries weal or woe to men.
+  On thy bosom, Royal River, silent sped the birch canoe,
+  Bearing brave with bow and quiver, on his way to war or woo;
+  Now with flaunting flags and streamers&mdash;mighty monsters of the deep&mdash;
+  Lo the puffing, panting steamers, through thy foaming waters sweep;
+  And behold the grain-fields golden, where the bison grazed of eld;
+  See the fanes of forests olden by the ruthless Saxon felled,&mdash;
+  Pluméd pines that spread their shadows ere Columbus spread his sails.
+  Firs that fringed the mossy meadows ere the Mayflower braved the gales,
+  Iron oaks that nourished bruin while the Vikings roamed the main,
+  Crashing fall in broken ruin for the greedy marts of gain.
+
+  Still forever and forever rolls the restless river on,
+  Slumbering oft but ceasing never, while the circling centuries run.
+  In his palm the lakelet lingers, in his hair the brooklets hide,
+  Grasped within his thousand fingers lies a continent fair and wide,&mdash;
+  Yea, a mighty empire swarming with its millions like the bees,
+  Delving, drudging, striving, storming, all their lives, for golden ease.
+
+  Still, methinks, the dusky shadows of the days that are no more
+  Stalk around the lakes and meadows, haunting oft the wonted shore,&mdash;
+  Hunters from the land of spirits seek the bison and the deer,
+  Where the Saxon now inherits golden field and silver mere;
+  And beside the mound where burried lies the dark-eyed maid he loves,
+  Some tall warrior, wan and wearied, in the misty moonlight moves.
+  See&mdash;he stands erect and lingers&mdash;stoic still, but loth to go&mdash;
+  Clutching in his tawny fingers feathered shaft and polished bow.
+  Never wail or moan he utters and no tear is on his face,
+  But a warrior's curse he mutters on the crafty Saxon race.
+
+  O thou dark, mysterious River, speak and tell thy tales to me;
+  Seal not up thy lips forever&mdash;veiled in mist and mystery.
+  I will sit and lowly listen at the phantom-haunted falls,
+  Where thy waters foam and glisten o'er the rugged, rocky walls.
+  Till some spirit of the olden, mystic, weird, romantic days
+  Shall emerge and pour her golden tales and legends through my lays.
+  Then again the elk and bison on thy grassy banks shall feed,
+  And along the low horizon shall the pluméd hunter speed;
+  Then again on lake and river shall the silent birch canoe
+  Bear the brave with bow and quiver on his way to war or woo:
+  Then the beaver on the meadow shall rebuild his broken wall,
+  And the wolf shall chase his shadow and his mate the panther call.
+  From the prairies and the regions where the pine-plumed forest grows
+  Shall arise the tawny legions with their lances and their bows;
+  And again the shouts of battle shall resound along the plain,
+  Bows shall twang and quivers rattle, women wail their warriors slain.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      THE FEAST OF THE VIRGINS. <a href="#linknote-1" name="linknoteref-1"
+      id="linknoteref-1"><small>1</small></a>
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      A LEGEND OF THE DAKOTAS.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      (In pronouncing Dakota words give "a" the sound of "ah"&mdash;"e" the
+      sound of "a"&mdash;"i" the sound of "e" and "u" the sound of "oo," sound
+      "ee" as in English. The numerals, 1, 2, etc. refer to explanatory notes in
+      the appendix.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      THE GAME OF BALL. <a href="#linknote-2" name="linknoteref-2"
+      id="linknoteref-2"><small>2</small></a>
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Clear was the sky as a silver shield;
+  The bright sun blazed on the frozen field.
+  On icebound river and white robed prairie
+  The diamonds gleamed in the flame of noon;
+  But cold and keen were the breezes airy
+  Wa-zi-ya <a href="#linknote-3" name="linknoteref-3" id="linknoteref-3">3</a> blew from his icy throne.
+
+  On the solid ice of the silent river
+  The bounds are marked, and a splendid prize,
+  A robe of black fox lined with beaver&mdash;
+  Is hung in view of the eager eyes;
+  And fifty merry Dakota maidens,
+  The fairest moulded of woman kind,
+  Are gathered in groups on the level ice.
+  They look on the robe and its beauty gladdens,
+  And maddens their hearts for the splendid prize.
+  Lo the rounded ankles and raven hair
+  That floats at will on the wanton wind,
+  And the round brown arms to the breezes bare,
+  And breasts like the mounds where the waters meet, <a href="#linknote-4"
+      name="linknoteref-4" id="linknoteref-4">4</a>
+  And feet as fleet as the red deer's feet,
+  And faces that glow like the full, round moon
+  When she laughs in the luminous skies of June.
+
+  The leaders are chosen and swiftly divide
+  The opposing parties on either side.
+  Wiwâstè <a href="#linknote-5" name="linknoteref-5" id="linknoteref-5">5</a> is chief of a nimble band.
+  The star-eyed daughter of Little Crow; <a href="#linknote-6"
+      name="linknoteref-6" id="linknoteref-6">6</a>
+  And the leader chosen to hold command
+  Of the band adverse is a haughty foe&mdash;
+  The dusky, impetuous Hârpstinà, <a href="#linknote-7" name="linknoteref-7"
+      id="linknoteref-7">7</a>
+  The queenly cousin of Wapasa. <a href="#linknote-8" name="linknoteref-8"
+      id="linknoteref-8">8</a>
+  Kapóza's chief and his tawny hunters
+  Are gathered to witness the queenly game.
+  The ball is thrown and a bat encounters,
+  And away it flies with a loud acclaim.
+  Swift are the maidens that follow after,
+  And swiftly it flies for the farther bound:
+  And long and loud are the peals of laughter,
+  As some fair runner is flung to ground;
+  While backward and forward, and to and fro,
+  The maidens contend on the trampled snow.
+  With loud "Ihó!&mdash;Itó!&mdash;Ihó!" <a href="#linknote-9"
+      name="linknoteref-9" id="linknoteref-9">9</a>
+  And waving the beautiful prize anon,
+  The dusky warriors cheer them on.
+  And often the limits are almost passed,
+  As the swift ball flies and returns. At last
+  It leaps the line at a single bound
+  From the fair Wiwâstè's sturdy stroke,
+  Like a fawn that flies from the baying hound.
+  Wild were the shouts, and they rolled and broke
+  On the beetling bluffs and the hills profound,
+  An echoing, jubilant sea of sound.
+  Wakâwa, the chief, and the loud acclaim
+  Announced the end of the well-fought game,
+  And the fair Wiwâstè was victor crowned.
+
+  Dark was the visage of Hârpstinà
+  When the robe was laid at her rival's feet,
+  And merry maidens and warriors saw
+  Her flashing eyes and her look of hate,
+  As she turned to Wakâwa, the chief, and said:&mdash;
+  "The game was mine were it fairly played.
+  I was stunned by a blow on my bended head,
+  As I snatched the ball from slippery ground
+  Not half a fling from Wiwâstè's bound.
+  And the cheat&mdash;behold her! for there she stands
+  With the prize that is mine in her treacherous hands.
+  The fawn may fly, but the wolf is fleet;
+  The fox creeps sly on Magâ's <a href="#linknote-10" name="linknoteref-10"
+      id="linknoteref-10">10</a> retreat;
+  And a woman's revenge&mdash;it is swift and sweet."
+  She turned to her lodge, but a roar of laughter
+  And merry mockery followed after.
+  Little they heeded the words she said,
+  Little they cared for her haughty tread,
+  For maidens and warriors and chieftain knew
+  That her lips were false and her charge untrue.
+
+  Wiwâstè, the fairest Dakota maiden,
+  The sweet-faced daughter of Little Crow,
+  To her teepee <a href="#linknote-11" name="linknoteref-11" id="linknoteref-11">11</a> turned with her trophy laden&mdash;
+  The black robe trailing the virgin snow.
+  Beloved was she by her princely father,
+  Beloved was she by the young and old,
+  By merry maidens and many a mother,
+  And many a warrior bronzed and bold.
+  For her face was as fair as a beautiful dream,
+  And her voice like the song of the mountain stream;
+  And her eyes like the stars when they glow and gleam.
+  Through the somber pines of the nor'land wold,
+  When the winds of winter are keen and cold.
+
+  Mah-pí-ya Dú-ta <a href="#linknote-12" name="linknoteref-12"
+      id="linknoteref-12">12</a> the tall Red Cloud,
+  A hunter swift and a warrior proud,
+  With many a scar and many a feather,
+  Was a suitor bold and a lover fond.
+  Long had he courted Wiwâstè's father,
+  Long had he sued for the maiden's hand.
+  Aye, brave and proud was the tall Red Cloud,
+  A peerless son of a giant race,
+  And the eyes of the panther were set in his face.
+  He strode like a stag, and he stood like a pine:
+  Ten feathers he wore of the great Wanmdeè; <a href="#linknote-13"
+      name="linknoteref-13" id="linknoteref-13">13</a>
+  With crimsoned quills of the porcupine
+  His leggins were worked to his brawny knee.
+  The bow he bent was a giant's bow;
+  The swift red elk could he overtake,
+  And the necklace that girdled his brawny neck
+  Was the polished claws of the great Mató <a href="#linknote-14"
+      name="linknoteref-14" id="linknoteref-14">14</a>
+  He grappled and slew in the northern snow.
+
+  Wiwâstè looked on the warrior tall;
+  She saw he was brawny and brave and great,
+  But the eyes of the panther she could but hate,
+  And a brave Hóhé <a href="#linknote-15" name="linknoteref-15"
+      id="linknoteref-15">15</a> loved she better than all.
+  Loved was Mahpíya by Hârpstinà,
+  But the warrior she never could charm or draw;
+  And bitter indeed was her secret hate
+  For the maiden she reckoned so fortunate.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      HEYÓKA WACÍPEE <a href="#linknote-16" name="linknoteref-16"
+      id="linknoteref-16"><small>16</small></a>&mdash;THE GIANT'S DANCE.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  The night-sun <a href="#linknote-17" name="linknoteref-17" id="linknoteref-17">17</a> sails in his gold canoe,
+  The spirits <a href="#linknote-18" name="linknoteref-18" id="linknoteref-18">18</a> walk in the realms of air
+  With their glowing faces and flaming hair,
+  And the shrill, chill winds o'er the prairies blow.
+  In the Tee <a href="#linknote-19" name="linknoteref-19" id="linknoteref-19">19</a> of the Council the Virgins light
+  The Virgin-fire <a href="#linknote-20" name="linknoteref-20"
+      id="linknoteref-20">20</a> for the feast to-night;
+  For the Sons of Heyóka will celebrate
+  The sacred dance to the giant great.
+  The kettle boils on the blazing fire,
+  And the flesh is done to the chief's desire.
+  With his stoic face to sacred East, <a href="#linknote-21"
+      name="linknoteref-21" id="linknoteref-21">21</a>
+  He takes his seat at the Giant's Feast.
+
+  For the feast of Heyóka <a href="#linknote-22" name="linknoteref-22"
+      id="linknoteref-22">22</a> the braves are dressed
+  With crowns from the bark of the white-birch trees,
+  And new skin leggins that reach the knees;
+  With robes of the bison and swarthy bear,
+  And eagle-plumes in their coal-black hair,
+  And marvelous rings in their tawny ears,
+  Which were pierced with the points of their shining spears.
+  To honor Heyóka, Wakâwa lifts
+  His fuming pipe from the Red-stone Quarry. <a href="#linknote-23"
+      name="linknoteref-23" id="linknoteref-23">23</a>
+  The warriors follow. The white cloud drifts
+  From the Council-lodge to the welkin starry,
+  Like a fog at morn on the fir-clad hill,
+  When the meadows are damp and the winds are still.
+
+  They dance to the tune of their wild "Ha-ha!"
+  A warrior's shout and a raven's caw&mdash;
+  Circling the pot and the blaming fire
+  To the tom-tom's bray and the rude bassoon;
+  Round and round to their heart's desire,
+  And ever the same wild chant and tune&mdash;
+  A warrior's shout and a raven's caw&mdash;
+  "Ha-ha,&mdash;ha-ha,&mdash;ha-ha,&mdash;ha!"
+  They crouch, they leap, and their burning eyes
+  Flash fierce in the light of the flaming fire,
+  As fiercer and fiercer and higher and higher
+  The rude, wild notes of their chant arise.
+  They cease, they sit, and the curling smoke
+  Ascends again from their polished pipes,
+  And upward curls from their swarthy lips
+  To the God whose favor their hearts invoke.
+
+  Then tall Wakâwa arose and said:
+  "Brave warriors, listen, and give due heed.
+  Great is Heyóka, the magical god;
+  He can walk on the air; he can float on the flood.
+  He's a worker of magic and wonderful wise;
+  He cries when he laughs and he laughs when he cries;
+  He sweats when he's cold, and he shivers when hot,
+  And the water is cold in his boiling pot.
+  He hides in the earth and he walks in disguise,
+  But he loves the brave and their sacrifice.
+  We are sons of Heyóka. The Giant commands
+  In the boiling water to thrust our hands;
+  And the warrior that scorneth the foe and fire
+  Heyóka will crown with his hearts desire."
+
+  They thrust their hands in the boiling pot;
+  They swallow the bison meat steaming hot,
+  Not a wince on their stoical faces bold.
+  For the meat and the water, they say, are cold,
+  And great is Heyóka and wonderful wise;
+  He floats on the flood and he walks in the skies,
+  And ever appears in a strange disguise;
+  But he loves the brave and their sacrifice;
+  And the warrior that scorneth the foe and fire
+  Heyóka will crown with his heart's desire.
+
+  Proud was the chief of his warriors proud,
+  The sinewy sons of the Giant's race;
+  But the bravest of all was the tall Red Cloud;
+  The eyes of the panther were set in his face;
+  He strode like a stag and he stood like a pine;
+  Ten feathers he wore at the great Wanmdeé; <a href="#linknote-13"
+      name="linknoteref-13" id="linknoteref-13_">13</a>
+  With crimsoned quills of the porcupine
+  His leggins were worked to his brawny knee.
+  Blood-red were the stripes on his swarthy cheek,
+  And the necklace that girdled his brawny neck
+  Was the polished claws of the great Mató <a href="#linknote-14"
+      name="linknoteref-14" id="linknoteref-14_">14</a>
+  He grappled and slew in the northern snow.
+
+  Proud Red Cloud turned to the braves and said,
+  As he shook the plumes on his haughty head:
+
+  "Ho! the warrior that scorneth the foe and fire
+  Heyóka will crown with his heart's desire!"
+  He snatched from the embers a red-hot brand,
+  And held it aloft in his naked hand.
+  He stood like a statue in bronze or stone,&mdash;
+  Not a muscle moved, and the braves looked on.
+  He turned to the chieftain,&mdash;"I scorn the fire,&mdash;
+  Ten feathers I wear of the great Wanmdeé;
+  Then grant me, Wakâwa, my heart's desire;
+  Let the sunlight shine in my lonely tee. <a href="#linknote-19"
+      name="linknoteref-19" id="linknoteref-19_">19</a>
+  I laugh at red death and I laugh at red fire;
+  Brave Red Cloud is only afraid of fear;
+  But Wiwâstè is fair to his heart and dear;
+  Then grant him, Wakâwa, his heart's desire."
+
+  The warriors applauded with loud "Ho! Ho!" <a href="#linknote-24"
+      name="linknoteref-24" id="linknoteref-24">24</a>
+  And he flung the brand to the drifting snow.
+  Three times Wakâwa puffed forth the smoke
+  From his silent lips; then he slowly spoke:
+  "Mâhpíya is strong as the stout-armed oak
+  That stands on the bluff by the windy plain,
+  And laughs at the roar of the hurricane.
+  He has slain the foe and the great Mató
+  With his hissing arrow and deadly stroke.
+  My heart is swift but my tongue is slow.
+  Let the warrior come to my lodge and smoke;
+  He may bring the gifts; <a href="#linknote-25" name="linknoteref-25"
+      id="linknoteref-25">25</a> but the timid doe
+  May fly from the hunter and say him no."
+
+  Wiwâstè sat late in the lodge alone,
+  Her dark eyes bent on the glowing fire.
+  She heard not the wild winds shrill and moan;
+  She heard not the tall elms toss and groan;
+  Her face was lit like the harvest moon;
+  For her thoughts flew far to her heart's desire.
+  Far away in the land of the Hóhé <a href="#linknote-15" name="linknoteref-15"
+      id="linknoteref-15_">15</a> dwelt
+  The warrior she held in her secret heart;
+  But little he dreamed of the pain she felt,
+  For she hid her love with a maiden's art.
+  Not a tear she shed, not a word she said,
+  When the fair young chief from the lodge departed;
+  But she sat on the mound when the day was dead,
+  And gazed at the full moon mellow hearted.
+  Fair was the chief as the morning-star;
+  His eyes were mild and his words were low,
+  But his heart was stouter than lance or bow;
+  And her young heart flew to her love afar
+  O'er his trail long covered with drifted snow.
+  But she heard a warrior's stealthy tread,
+  And the tall Wakâwa appeared, and said&mdash;
+  "Is Wiwâstè afraid of the spirit dread
+  That fires the sky in the fatal north? <a href="#linknote-26"
+      name="linknoteref-26" id="linknoteref-26">26</a>
+  Behold the mysterious lights. Come forth
+  Some evil threatens,&mdash;some danger nears,
+  For the skies are pierced with the burning spears."
+
+  The warriors rally beneath the moon;
+  They shoot their shafts at the evil spirit.
+  The spirit is slain and the flame is gone,
+  And his blood lies red on the snow fields near it.
+  But again from the dead will the spirit rise,
+  And flash his spears in the northern skies.
+
+  Then the chief and the queenly Wiwâstè stood
+  Alone in the moon-lit solitude,
+  And she was silent and he was grave.
+  "And fears not my daughter the evil spirit?
+  The strongest warriors and bravest fear it
+  The burning spears are an evil omen;
+  They threaten the wrath of a wicked woman,
+  Or a treacherous foe; but my warriors brave,
+  When danger nears, or the foe appears,
+  Are a cloud of arrows,&mdash;a grove of spears."
+
+  "My Father," she said, and her words were low,
+  "Why should I fear? for I soon will go
+  To the broad, blue lodge in the Spirit land,
+  Where my dark eyed mother went long ago,
+  And my dear twin sisters walk hand in hand.
+  My Father, listen,&mdash;my words are true,"
+  And sad was her voice as the whippowil
+  When she mourns her mate by the moon-lit rill,
+  "Wiwâstè lingers alone with you,
+  The rest are sleeping on yonder hill,&mdash;
+  Save one&mdash;and he an undutiful son,&mdash;
+  And you, my Father, will sit alone
+  When Sisóka <a href="#linknote-27" name="linknoteref-27" id="linknoteref-27">27</a> sings and the snow is gone.
+  I sat, when the maple leaves were red,
+  By the foaming falls of the haunted river;
+  The night sun was walking above my head,
+  And the arrows shone in his burnished quiver;
+  And the winds were hushed and the hour was dread
+  With the walking ghosts of the silent dead.
+  I heard the voice of the Water-Fairy; <a href="#linknote-28"
+      name="linknoteref-28" id="linknoteref-28">28</a>
+  I saw her form in the moon-lit mist,
+  As she sat on a stone with her burden weary,
+  By the foaming eddies of amethyst.
+  And robed in her mantle of mist the sprite
+  Her low wail poured on the silent night.
+  Then the spirit spake, and the floods were still&mdash;
+  They hushed and listened to what she said,
+  And hushed was the plaint of the whippowil
+  In the silver-birches above her head:
+  'Wiwâstè,&mdash;the prairies are green and fair,
+  When the robin sings and the whippowil;
+  But the land of the Spirits is fairer still,
+  For the winds of winter blow never there;
+  And forever the songs of the whippowils
+  And the robins are heard on the leafy hills.
+  Thy mother looks from her lodge above,&mdash;
+  Her fair face shines in the sky afar,
+  And the eyes of thy sisters are bright with love,
+  As they peep from the tee of the mother-star.
+  To her happy lodge in the spirit-land
+  She beckons Wiwâstè with shining hand.'
+
+  "My Father,&mdash;my Father, her words were true;
+  And the death of Wiwâstè will rest on you.
+  You have pledged me as wife to the tall Red Cloud;
+  You will take the gifts of the warrior proud;
+  But I, Wakâwa,&mdash;I answer&mdash;never!
+  I will stain your knife in my heart's red blood,
+  I will plunge and sink in the sullen river,
+  Ere I will be wife to the fierce Red Cloud!"
+
+  "Wiwâstè," he said, and his voice was low,
+  "Let it be as you will, for Wakâwa's tongue
+  Has spoken no promise;&mdash;his lips are slow,
+  And the love of a father is deep and strong.
+  Be happy, Micúnksee <a href="#linknote-29" name="linknoteref-29"
+      id="linknoteref-29">29</a>, the flames are gone,&mdash;
+  They flash no more in the Northern sky.
+  See the smile on the face of the watching moon;
+  No more will the fatal red arrows fly;
+  For the singing shafts of my warriors sped
+  To the bad spirit's bosom and laid him dead,
+  And his blood on the snow of the North lies red.
+  Go,&mdash;sleep in the robe that you won to-day,
+  And dream of your hunter&mdash;the brave Chaskè."
+
+  Light was her heart as she turned away;
+  It sang like the lark in the skies of May.
+  The round moon laughed, but a lone red star, <a href="#linknote-30"
+      name="linknoteref-30" id="linknoteref-30">30</a>
+  As she turned to the teepee and entered in,
+  Fell flashing and swift in the sky afar,
+  Like the polished point of a javelin.
+  Nor chief nor daughter the shadow saw
+  Of the crouching listener&mdash;Hârpstinà.
+
+  Wiwâstè, wrapped in her robe and sleep
+  Heard not the storm-sprites wail and weep,
+  As they rode on the winds in the frosty air;
+  But she heard the voice of her hunter fair;
+  For a shadowy spirit with fairy fingers
+  The curtains drew from the land of dreams;
+  And lo in her teepee her lover lingers;
+  The light of love in his dark eye beams,
+  And his voice is the music of mountain streams.
+
+  And then with her round, brown arms she pressed
+  His phantom form to her throbbing breast,
+  And whispered the name, in her happy sleep,
+  Of her Hóhé hunter so fair and far.
+  And then she saw in her dreams the deep
+  Where the spirit wailed, and a falling star;
+  Then stealthily crouching under the trees,
+  By the light of the moon, the Kan-ó-ti-dan, <a href="#linknote-31"
+      name="linknoteref-31" id="linknoteref-31">31</a>
+  The little, wizened, mysterious man,
+  With his long locks tossed by the moaning breeze.
+  Then a flap of wings, like a thunder-bird, <a href="#linknote-32"
+      name="linknoteref-32" id="linknoteref-32">32</a>
+  And a wailing spirit the sleeper heard;
+  And lo, through the mists of the moon, she saw
+  The hateful visage of Hârpstinà.
+
+  But waking she murmured&mdash;"And what are these&mdash;
+  The flap of wings and the falling star,
+  The wailing spirit that's never at ease,
+  The little man crouching under the trees,
+  And the hateful visage of Hârpstinà?
+  My dreams are like feathers that float on the breeze,
+  And none can tell what the omens are&mdash;
+  Save the beautiful dream of my love afar
+  In the happy land of the tall Hóhé <a href="#linknote-15" name="linknoteref-15"
+      id="linknoteref-15__">15</a>&mdash;
+  My beautiful hunter&mdash;my brave Chaskè."
+
+  "Ta-tânka! Ta-tânka!" <a href="#linknote-33" name="linknoteref-33"
+      id="linknoteref-33">33</a> the hunters cried,
+  With a joyous shout at the break of dawn;
+  And darkly lined on the white hill-side,
+  A herd of bison went marching on
+  Through the drifted snow like a caravan.
+  Swift to their ponies the hunters sped,
+  And dashed away on the hurried chase.
+  The wild steeds scented the game ahead,
+  And sprang like hounds to the eager race.
+  But the brawny bulls in the swarthy van
+  Turned their polished horns to the charging foes,
+  And reckless rider and fleet foot-man
+  Were held at bay in the drifted snows,
+  While the bellowing herd o'er the hill-tops ran,
+  Like the frightened beasts of a caravan
+  On the Sahara's sands when the simoon blows.
+  Sharp were the twangs of the hunters' bows,
+  And swift and humming the arrows sped,
+  Till ten huge bulls on the bloody snows
+  Lay pierced with arrows and dumb and dead.
+  But the chief with the flankers had gained the rear,
+  And flew on the trail of the flying herd.
+  The shouts of the riders rang loud and clear,
+  As their frothing steeds to the chase they spurred.
+  And now like the roar of an avalanche
+  Rolls the sullen wrath of the maddened bulls.
+  They charge on the riders and runners stanch,
+  And a dying steed in the snow-drift rolls,
+  While the rider, flung to the frozen ground
+  Escapes the horns by a panther's bound.
+  But the raging monsters are held at bay,
+  While the flankers dash on the swarthy rout.
+  With lance and arrow they slay and slay;
+  And the welkin rings to the gladsome shout&mdash;
+  To the loud Inâs and the wild Ihós, <a href="#linknote-34"
+      name="linknoteref-34" id="linknoteref-34">34</a>&mdash;
+  And dark and dead, on the bloody snows,
+  Lie the swarthy heaps of the buffaloes.
+
+  All snug in the teepee Wiwâstè lay,
+  All wrapped in her robe, at the dawn of day,&mdash;
+  All snug and warm from the wind and snow,
+  While the hunters followed the buffalo.
+  Her dreams and her slumber their wild shouts broke;
+  The chase was afoot when the maid awoke;
+  She heard the twangs of the hunter's bows,
+  And the bellowing bulls and the loud Ihós,
+  And she murmured&mdash;"My hunter is far away
+  In the happy land of the tall Hóhé&mdash;
+  My beautiful hunter, my brave Chaskè;
+  But the robins will come and my warrior too,
+  And Wiwâstè will find her a way to woo."
+
+  And long she lay in a reverie,
+  And dreamed, wide-awake, of her brave Chaskè,
+  Till a trampling of feet on the crispy snow
+  She heard, and the murmur of voices low;&mdash;
+  Then the hunters' greeting&mdash;Ihó! Ihó!
+  And behold, in the blaze of the risen day,
+  With the hunters that followed the buffalo,&mdash;
+  Came her beautiful hunter&mdash;her brave Chaskè.
+  Far south has he followed the bison-trail
+  With his band of warriors so brave and true.
+  Right glad is Wakâwa his friend to hail,
+  And Wiwâstè will find her a way to woo.
+
+  Tall and straight as the larch tree stood
+  The manly form of the brave young chief,
+  And fair as the larch in its vernal leaf,
+  When the red fawn bleats in the feathering wood.
+  Mild was his face as the morning skies,
+  And friendship shone in his laughing eyes;
+  But swift were his feet o'er the drifted snow
+  On the trail of the elk or the buffalo;
+  And his heart was stouter than lance or bow,
+  When he heard the whoop of his enemies.
+  Five feathers he wore of the great Wanmdeè,
+  And each for the scalp of a warrior slain,
+  When down on his camp from the northern plain,
+  With their murder cries rode the bloody Cree. <a href="#linknote-35"
+      name="linknoteref-35" id="linknoteref-35">35</a>
+  But never the stain of an infant slain,
+  Or the blood of a mother that plead in vain,
+  Soiled the honored plumes of the brave Hóhé.
+  A mountain bear to his enemies,
+  To his friends like the red fawn's dappled form;
+  In peace, like the breeze from the summer seas;
+  In war, like the roar of the mountain storm.
+  His fame in the voice of the winds went forth
+  From his hunting grounds in the happy north,
+  And far as the shores of the Great Medè <a href="#linknote-36"
+      name="linknoteref-36" id="linknoteref-36">36</a>
+  The nations spoke of the brave Chaskè.
+
+  Dark was the visage of grim Red Cloud,
+  Fierce were the eyes of the warrior proud,
+  When the chief to his lodge led the brave Chaskè,
+  And Wiwâstè smiled on the tall Hóhé.
+  Away he strode with a sullen frown,
+  And alone in his teepee he sat him down.
+  From the gladsome greeting of braves he stole,
+  And wrapped himself in his gloomy soul.
+  But the eagle eyes of the Hârpstinà
+  The clouded face of the warrior saw.
+  Softly she spoke to the sullen brave:
+  "Mah-pí-ya Dúta,&mdash;his face is sad.
+  And why is the warrior so glum and grave?
+  For the fair Wiwâstè is gay and glad.
+  She will sit in the teepee the live-long day,
+  And laugh with her lover&mdash;the brave Hóhé.
+  Does the tall Red Cloud for the false one sigh?
+  There are fairer maidens than she, and proud
+  Were their hearts to be loved by the brave Red Cloud.
+  And trust not the chief with the smiling eyes;
+  His tongue is swift, but his words are lies;
+  And the proud Mah-pí-ya will surely find
+  That Wakâwa's promise is hollow wind.
+  Last night I stood by his lodge, and lo
+  I heard the voice of the Little Crow;
+  But the fox is sly and his words were low.
+  But I heard her answer her father&mdash;"Never!
+  I will stain your knife in my heart's red blood,
+  I will plunge and sink in the sullen river,
+  Ere I will be wife to the fierce Red Cloud!"
+  Then he spake again, and his voice was low,
+  But I heard the answer of Little Crow:
+  "Let it be as you will, for Wakâwa's tongue
+  Has spoken no promise,&mdash;his lips are slow,
+  And the love of a father is deep and strong."
+
+  Mâh-pí-ya Dúta, they scorn your love,
+  But the false chief covets the warrior's gifts.
+  False to his promise the fox will prove,
+  And fickle as snow in Wo-kâ-da-weè, <a href="#linknote-37"
+      name="linknoteref-37" id="linknoteref-37">37</a>
+  That slips into brooks when the gray cloud lifts,
+  Or the red sun looks through the ragged rifts.
+  Mah-pí-ya Dúta will listen to me
+  There are fairer birds in the bush than she,
+  And the fairest would gladly be Red Cloud's wife.
+  Will the warrior sit like a girl bereft,
+  When fairer and truer than she are left
+  That love Red Cloud as they love their life?
+  Mah-pí-ya Dúta will listen to me
+  I love him well,&mdash;I have loved him long:
+  A woman is weak, but a warrior is strong,
+  And a lovelorn brave is a scorn to see.
+
+  Mah-pí-ya Dúta, O listen to me!
+  Revenge is swift and revenge is strong,
+  And sweet as the hive in the hollow tree.
+  The proud Red Cloud will revenge his wrong
+  Let the brave be patient, it is not long
+  Till the leaves be green on the maple tree,
+  And the Feast of the Virgins is then to be;&mdash;
+  The Feast of the Virgins is then to be!"
+
+  Proudly she turned from the silent brave,
+  And went her way; but the warrior's eyes&mdash;
+  They flashed with the flame of a sudden fire,
+  Like the lights that gleam in the Sacred Cave, <a href="#linknote-38"
+      name="linknoteref-38" id="linknoteref-38">38</a>
+  When the black night covers the autumn skies,
+  And the stars from their welkin watch retire.
+
+  Three nights he tarried&mdash;the brave Chaskè;
+  Winged were the hours and they flitted away;
+  On the wings of Wakândee <a href="#linknote-39" name="linknoteref-39"
+      id="linknoteref-39">39</a> they silently flew,
+  For Wiwâstè had found her a way to woo.
+  Ah, little he cared for the bison-chase;
+  For the red lilies bloomed on the fair maid's face;
+  Ah, little he cared for the winds that blew,
+  For Wiwâstè had found her a way to woo.
+  Brown-bosomed she sat on her fox-robe dark,
+  Her ear to the tales of the brave inclined,
+  Or tripped from the tee like the song of a lark,
+  And gathered her hair from the wanton wind.
+  Ah, little he thought of the leagues of snow
+  He trode on the trail of the buffalo;
+  And little he recked of the hurricanes
+  That swept the snow from the frozen plains
+  And piled the banks of the Bloody River. <a href="#linknote-40"
+      name="linknoteref-40" id="linknoteref-40">40</a>
+  His bow unstrung and forgotten hung
+  With his beaver hood and his otter quiver;
+  He sat spell-bound by the artless grace
+  Of her star-lit eyes and her moon-lit face.
+  Ah, little he cared for the storms that blew,
+  For Wiwâstè had found her a way to woo.
+  When he spoke with Wakâwa her sidelong eyes
+  Sought the handsome chief in his hunter-guise.
+  Wakâwa marked, and the lilies fair
+  On her round cheeks spread to her raven hair.
+  They feasted on rib of the bison fat,
+  On the tongue of the Ta <a href="#linknote-41" name="linknoteref-41"
+      id="linknoteref-41">41</a> that the hunters prize,
+  On the savory flesh of the red Hogân, <a href="#linknote-42"
+      name="linknoteref-42" id="linknoteref-42">42</a>
+  On sweet tipsânna <a href="#linknote-43" name="linknoteref-43"
+      id="linknoteref-43">43</a> and pemmican,
+  And the dun-brown cakes of the golden maize;
+  And hour after hour the young chief sat,
+  And feasted his soul on the maiden's eyes.
+
+  The sweeter the moments the swifter they fly;
+  Love takes no account of the fleeting hours;
+  He walks in a dream mid the blooming of flowers,
+  And never awakes till the blossoms die.
+  Ah, lovers are lovers the wide world over&mdash;
+  In the hunter's lodge and the royal palace.
+  Sweet are the lips of his love to the lover,&mdash;
+  Sweet as new wine in a golden chalice,
+  From the Tajo's <a href="#linknote-44" name="linknoteref-44"
+      id="linknoteref-44">44</a> slopes or the hills beyond;
+  And blindly he sips from his loved one's lips,
+  In lodge or palace the wide world over,
+  The maddening honey of Trebizond. <a href="#linknote-45" name="linknoteref-45"
+      id="linknoteref-45">45</a>
+
+  O, what are leagues to the loving hunter,
+  Or the blinding drift of the hurricane,
+  When it raves and roars o'er the frozen plain!
+  He would face the storm,&mdash;he would death encounter
+  The darling prize of his heart to gain.
+  But his hunters chafed at the long delay,
+  For the swarthy bison were far away,
+  And the brave young chief from the lodge departed.
+  He promised to come with the robin in May,
+  With the bridal gifts for the bridal day;
+  And the fair Wiwâstè was happy-hearted,
+  For Wakâwa promised the brave Chaskè.
+
+  Birds of a feather will flock together.
+  The robin sings to his ruddy mate,
+  And the chattering jays, in the winter weather,
+  To prate and gossip will congregate;
+  And the cawing crows on the autumn heather,
+  Like evil omens, will flock together,
+  In extra-session, for high debate;
+  And the lass will slip from a doting mother
+  To hang with her lad on the garden gate.
+  Birds of a feather will flock together,&mdash;
+  'Tis an adage old,&mdash;it is nature's law,
+  And sure as the pole will the needle draw,
+  The fierce Red Cloud with the flaunting feather,
+  Will follow the finger of Hârpstinà.
+
+  The winter wanes and the south-wind blows
+  From the Summer Islands legendary.
+  The skéskas <a href="#linknote-46" name="linknoteref-46" id="linknoteref-46">46</a> fly and the melted snows
+  In lakelets lie on the dimpled prairie.
+  The frost-flowers <a href="#linknote-47" name="linknoteref-47"
+      id="linknoteref-47">47</a> peep from their winter sleep
+  Under the snow-drifts cold and deep.
+
+  To the April sun and the April showers,
+  In field and forest, the baby flowers
+  Lift their golden faces and azure eyes;
+  And wet with the tears of the winter-fairies,
+  Soon bloom and blossom the emerald prairies,
+  Like the fabled Garden of Paradise.
+
+  The plum-trees, white with their bloom in May,
+  Their sweet perfume on the vernal breeze
+  Wide strew like the isles of the tropic seas,
+  Where the paroquet chatters the livelong day.
+  But the May-days pass and the brave Chaskè&mdash;
+  O, why does the lover so long delay?
+  Wiwâstè waits in the lonely tee,
+  Has her fair face fled from his memory?
+  For the robin cherups his mate to please,
+  The blue bird pipes in the poplar trees,
+  The meadow lark warbles his jubilees,
+  Shrilling his song in the azure seas,
+  Till the welkin throbs to his melodies;
+  And low is the hum of the humble bees,
+  And the Feast of the Virgins is now to be.
+</pre>
+    <h3>
+      THE FEAST OF THE VIRGINS.
+    </h3>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  The sun sails high in his azure realms;
+  Beneath the arch of the breezy elms
+  The feast is spread by the murmuring river.
+  With his battle spear and his bow and quiver,
+  And eagle plumes in his ebon hair,
+  The chief Wakâwa himself is there;
+  And round the feast in the Sacred Ring, <a href="#linknote-48"
+      name="linknoteref-48" id="linknoteref-48">48</a>
+  Sit his weaponed warriors witnessing.
+  Not a morsel of food have the Virgins tasted
+  For three long days ere the holy feast;
+  They sat in their teepee alone and fasted,
+  Their faces turned to the Sacred East. <a href="#linknote-21"
+      name="linknoteref-21" id="linknoteref-21_">21</a>
+  In the polished bowls lies the golden maize
+  And the flesh of fawn on the polished trays.
+  For the Virgins the bloom of the prairies wide&mdash;
+  The blushing pink and the meek blue-bell,
+  The purple plumes of the prairie's pride, <a href="#linknote-49"
+      name="linknoteref-49" id="linknoteref-49">49</a>
+  The wild, uncultured asphodel,
+  And the beautiful, blue-eyed violet
+  That the Virgins call "Let-me-not-forget,"
+  In gay festoons and garlands twine
+  With the cedar sprigs <a href="#linknote-50" name="linknoteref-50"
+      id="linknoteref-50">50</a> and the wildwood vine.
+  So gaily the Virgins are decked and dressed,
+  And none but a virgin may enter there;
+  And clad is each in a scarlet vest,
+  And a fawn skin frock to the brown calves bare.
+  Wild rosebuds peep from their flowing hair,
+  And a rose half-blown on the budding breast;
+  And bright with the quills of the porcupine
+  The moccasined feet of the maidens shine.
+
+  Hand in hand round the feast they dance,
+  And sing to the notes of a rude bassoon,
+  And never a pause or a dissonance
+  In the merry dance or the merry tune.
+  Brown-bosomed and fair as the rising moon,
+  When she peeps o'er the hills of the dewy east,
+  Wiwâstè sings at the Virgins Feast;
+  And bright is the light in her luminous eyes;
+  They glow like the stars in the winter skies;
+  And the lilies that bloom in her virgin heart
+  Their golden blush to her cheeks impart&mdash;
+  Her cheeks half hid in her midnight hair.
+  Fair is her form&mdash;as the red fawn's fair,
+  And long is the flow of her raven hair;
+  It falls to her knees, and it streams on the breeze
+  Like the path of a storm on the swelling seas.
+
+  Proud of their rites are the Virgins fair,
+  For none but a Virgin may enter there.
+  'Tis a custom of old and a sacred thing;
+  Nor rank nor beauty the warriors spare,
+  If a tarnished maiden should enter there.
+  And her that enters the Sacred Ring
+  With a blot that is known or a secret stain
+  The warrior who knows is bound to expose,
+  And lead her forth from the ring again.
+  And the word of the warrior is a sacred by law;
+  For the Virgins' Feast is a sacred thing.
+  Aside with the mothers sat Hârpstinà:
+  She durst not enter the virgins' ring.
+
+  Round and round to the merry song
+  The maidens dance in their gay attire.
+  While the loud "Ho-Ho's" of the tawny throng
+  Their flying feet and their song inspire.
+  They have finished the song and the sacred dance,
+  And hand in hand to the feast advance&mdash;
+  To the polished bowls of the golden maize,
+  And the sweet fawn meat in the polished trays.
+
+  Then up from his seat in the silent crowd
+  Rose the frowning, fierce-eyed, tall Red Cloud;
+  Swift was his stride as the panther's spring,
+  When he leaps on the fawn from his cavern lair;
+  Wiwâstè he caught by her flowing hair,
+  And dragged her forth from the Sacred Ring.
+  She turned on the warrior. Her eyes flashed fire;
+  Her proud lips quivered with queenly ire;
+  Her hand to the Spirits she raised and said,
+  And her sun browned cheeks were aflame with red:
+  "I am pure!&mdash;I am pure as falling snow!
+  Great Tâku-Skan-Skan <a href="#linknote-51" name="linknoteref-51"
+      id="linknoteref-51">51</a> will testify!
+  And dares the tall coward to say me no?"
+  But the sullen warrior made no reply.
+  She turned to the chief with her frantic cries:
+  "Wakâwa&mdash;my Father; he lies!&mdash;he lies!
+  Wiwâstè is pure as the faun unborn;
+  Lead me back to the feast, or Wiwâstè dies!"
+  But the warriors uttered a cry of scorn,
+  And he turned his face from her pleading eyes.
+
+  Then the sullen warrior, the tall Red Cloud,
+  Looked up and spoke and his voice was loud;
+  But he held his wrath and spoke with care:
+  "Wiwâstè is young, she is proud and fair,
+  But she may not boast of the virgin snows.
+  The Virgins Feast is a Sacred thing:
+  How durst she enter the Virgins ring?
+  The warrior would fain, but he dares not spare;
+  She is tarnished and only the Red Cloud knows."
+
+  She clutched her hair in her clenched hand:
+  She stood like statue bronzed and grand:
+  Wakân-deè <a href="#linknote-39" name="linknoteref-39" id="linknoteref-39_">39</a> flashed in her fiery eyes;
+  Then, swift as the meteor cleaves the skies&mdash;
+  Nay, swift as the fiery Wakinyan's dart, <a href="#linknote-32"
+      name="linknoteref-32" id="linknoteref-32_">32</a>
+  She snatch the knife from the warriors belt,
+  And plunged it clean to the polished hilt&mdash;
+  With deadly cry&mdash;in the villain's heart.
+  Staggering he clutched the air and fell;
+  His life-blood smoked on the trampled sand,
+  And dripped from the knife in the virgin's hand.
+  Then rose his kinsmen's savage yell.
+  Swift as the doe's Wiwâstè's feet
+  Fled away to the forest. The hunters fleet
+  In vain pursue, and in vain they prowl,
+  And lurk in the forest till dawn of day.
+  They hear the hoot of the mottled owl;
+  They hear the were-wolf's <a href="#linknote-52" name="linknoteref-52"
+      id="linknoteref-52">52</a> winding howl;
+  But the swift Wiwâstè is far away.
+  They found no trace in the forest land,
+  They found no trail in the dew-damp grass,
+  They found no track in the river sand,
+  Where they thought Wiwâstè would surely pass.
+
+  The braves returned to the troubled chief;
+  In his lodge he sat in his silent grief.
+  "Surely," they said, "she has turned a spirit.
+  No trail she left with her flying feet;
+  No pathway leads to her far retreat.
+  She flew in the air, and her wail&mdash;we could hear it,
+  As she upward rose to the shining stars;
+  And we heard on the river, as we stood near it,
+  The falling drops of Wiwâstè's tears."
+
+  Wakâwa thought of his daughter's words
+  Ere the south-wind came and the piping birds&mdash;
+  "My Father, listen,&mdash;my words are true,"
+  And sad was her voice as the whippowil
+  When she mourns her mate by the moon-lit rill,
+  "Wiwâstè lingers alone with you;
+  The rest are sleeping on yonder hill&mdash;
+  Save one&mdash;and he an undutiful son,&mdash;
+  And you, my Father, will sit alone
+  When Sisóka <a href="#linknote-53" name="linknoteref-53" id="linknoteref-53">53</a> sings and the snow is gone."
+  His broad breast heaved on his troubled soul,
+  The shadow of grief o'er his visage stole
+  Like a cloud on the face of the setting sun.
+
+  "She has followed the years that are gone," he said;
+  "The spirits the words of the witch fulfill;
+  For I saw the ghost of my father dead,
+  By the moon's dim light on the misty hill.
+  He shook the plumes on his withered head,
+  And the wind through his pale form whistled shrill.
+  And a low, sad voice on the hill I heard.
+  Like the mournful wail of a widowed bird."
+  Then lo, as he looked from his lodge afar,
+  He saw the glow of the Evening-star;
+  "And yonder," he said, "is Wiwâstè's face;
+  She looks from her lodge on our fading race.
+  Devoured by famine, and fraud, and war,
+  And chased and hounded from woe to woe,
+  As the white wolves follow the buffalo."
+  And he named the planet the <i>Virgin Star</i>. <a href="#linknote-54"
+      name="linknoteref-54" id="linknoteref-54">54</a>
+
+  "Wakâwa," he muttered, "the guilt is thine!
+  She was pure,&mdash;she was pure as the fawn unborn.
+  O, why did I hark to the cry of scorn,
+  Or the words of the lying libertine?
+  Wakâwa, Wakâwa, the guilt is thine!
+  The springs will return with the voice of birds,
+  But the voice of my daughter will come no more.
+
+  She wakened the woods with her musical words,
+  And the sky-lark, ashamed of his voice, forbore.
+  She called back the years that had passed, and long
+  I heard their voice in her happy song.
+  Her heart was the home of the sunbeam. Bright
+  Poured the stream of her song on the starry night.
+  O, why did the chief of the tall Hóhé
+  His feet from Kapóza <a href="#linknote-6" name="linknoteref-6"
+      id="linknoteref-6_">6</a> so long delay?
+  For his father sat at my father's feast,
+  And he at Wakâwa's&mdash;an honored guest.
+  He is dead!&mdash;he is slain on the Bloody Plain,
+  By the hand of the treacherous Chippeway;
+  And the face shall I never behold again
+  Of my brave young brother&mdash;the chief Chaskè.
+  Death walks like a shadow among my kin;
+  And swift are the feet of the flying years
+  That cover Wakâwa with frost and tears,
+  And leave their tracks on his wrinkled skin.
+  Wakâwa, the voice of the years that are gone
+  Will follow thy feet like the shadow of death,
+  Till the paths of the forest and desert lone
+  Shall forget thy footsteps. O living breath,
+  Whence art thou, and whither so soon to fly?
+  And whence are the years? Shall I overtake
+  Their flying feet in the star-lit sky?
+  From his last long sleep will the warrior wake?
+  Will the morning break in Wakâwa's tomb,
+  As it breaks and glows in the eastern skies?
+  Is it true?&mdash;will the spirits of kinsmen come
+  And bid the bones of the brave arise?"
+
+  "Wakâwa, Wakâwa, for thee the years
+  Are red with blood and bitter with tears.
+  Gone,&mdash;brothers, and daughters, and wife,&mdash;all gone
+  That are kin to Wakâwa,&mdash;but one&mdash;but one&mdash;
+  Wakínyan Tanka&mdash;undutiful son!
+  And he estranged from his fathers tee,
+  Will never return till the chief shall die.
+  And what cares he for his father's grief?
+  He will smile at my death,&mdash;it will make him chief.
+  Woe burns in my bosom. Ho, Warriors,&mdash;Ho!
+  Raise the song of red war; for your chief must go
+  To drown his grief in the blood of the foe!
+  I shall fall.  Raise my mound on the sacred hill.
+  Let my warriors the wish of their chief fulfill;
+  For my fathers sleep in the sacred ground.
+  The Autumn blasts o'er Wakâwa's mound
+  Shall chase the hair of the thistle's head,
+  And the bare armed oak o'er the silent dead.
+  When the whirling snows from the north descend,
+  Shall wail and moan in the midnight wind.
+  In the famine of winter the wolf shall prowl,
+  And scratch the snow from the heap of stones,
+  And sit in the gathering storm and howl,
+  On the frozen mound, for Wakâwa's bones.
+  But the years that are gone shall return again.
+  As the robin returns and the whippowil
+  When my warriors stand on the sacred hill
+  And remember the deeds of their brave chief slain."
+
+  Beneath the glow of the Virgin Star
+  They raised the song of the red war dance.
+  At the break of dawn with the bow and lance
+  They followed the chief on the path of war.
+  To the north&mdash;to the forests of fir and pine&mdash;
+  Led their stealthy steps on the winding trail,
+  Till they saw the Lake of the Spirit <a href="#linknote-55"
+      name="linknoteref-55" id="linknoteref-55">55</a> shine
+  Through somber pines of the dusky dale.
+
+  Then they heard the hoot of the mottled owl; <a href="#linknote-56"
+      name="linknoteref-56" id="linknoteref-56">56</a>
+  They heard the gray wolf's dismal howl;
+  Then shrill and sudden the war whoop rose
+  From an hundred throats of their swarthy foes,
+  In ambush crouched in the tangled wood.
+  Death shrieked in the twang of their deadly bows,
+  And their hissing arrows drank brave men's blood.
+  From rock, and thicket, and brush, and brakes,
+  Gleamed the burning eyes of the forest snakes. <a href="#linknote-57"
+      name="linknoteref-57" id="linknoteref-57">57</a>
+  From brake, and thicket, and brush, and stone,
+  The bow string hummed and the arrow hissed,
+  And the lance of a crouching Ojibway shone,
+  Or the scalp-knife gleamed in a swarthy fist.
+  Undaunted the braves of Wakâwa's band
+  Jumped into the thicket with lance and knife,
+  And grappled the Chippewas hand to hand;
+  And foe with foe, in the deadly strife,
+  Lay clutching the scalp of his foe and dead,
+  With a tomahawk sunk in his ghastly head,
+  Or his still heart sheathing a bloody blade.
+  Like a bear in the battle Wakâwa raves,
+  And cheers the hearts of his falling braves.
+  But a panther crouches along his track,&mdash;
+  He springs with a yell on Wakâwa's back!
+
+  The tall Chief, stabbed to the heart, lies low;
+  But his left hand clutches his deadly foe,
+  And his red right clenches the bloody hilt
+  Of his knife in the heart of the slayer dyed.
+  And thus was the life of Wakâwa spilt,
+  And slain and slayer lay side by side.
+  The unscalped corpse of their honored chief
+  His warriors snatched from the yelling pack,
+  And homeward fled on their forest track
+  With their bloody burden and load of grief.
+
+  The spirits the words of the brave fulfill,&mdash;
+  Wakâwa sleeps on the sacred hill,
+  And Wakínyan Tânka, his son, is chief.
+  Ah, soon shall the lips of men forget
+  Wakâwa's name, and the mound of stone
+  Will speak of the dead to the winds alone,
+  And the winds will whistle their mock-regret.
+
+  The speckled cones of the scarlet berries <a href="#linknote-58"
+      name="linknoteref-58" id="linknoteref-58">58</a>
+  Lie red and ripe in the prairie grass.
+  The Sí-yo <a href="#linknote-59" name="linknoteref-59" id="linknoteref-59">59</a> clucks on the emerald prairies
+  To her infant brood. From the wild morass,
+  On the sapphire lakelet set within it,
+  Magâ <a href="#linknote-60" name="linknoteref-60" id="linknoteref-60">60</a> sails forth with her wee ones daily.
+  They ride on the dimpling waters gaily,
+  Like a fleet of yachts and a man of war.
+  The piping plover, the laughing linnet,
+  And the swallow sail in the sunset skies.
+  The whippowil from her cover hies,
+  And trills her song on the amber air.
+
+  Anon, to her loitering mate she cries
+  "Flip, O Will!&mdash;trip, O Will!&mdash;skip, O Will!"
+  And her merry mate from afar replies:
+  "Flip I will,&mdash;skip I will,&mdash;trip I will;"
+  And away on the wings of the wind he flies.
+  And bright from her lodge in the skies afar
+  Peeps the glowing face of the Virgin Star.
+  The fox pups <a href="#linknote-60" name="linknoteref-60" id="linknoteref-60_">60</a> creep from the mother's lair
+  And leap in the light of the rising moon;
+  And loud on the luminous moonlit lake
+  Shrill the bugle notes of the lover loon;
+  And woods and waters and welkin break
+  Into jubilant song,&mdash;it is joyful June.
+
+  But where is Wiwâstè? O where is she&mdash;
+  The  Virgin avenged&mdash;the queenly queen&mdash;
+  The womanly woman&mdash;the heroine?
+  Has she gone to the spirits and can it be
+  That her beautiful face is the Virgin Star
+  Peeping out from the door of her lodge afar,
+  Or upward sailing the silver sea.
+  Star-beaconed and lit like an avenue,
+  In the shining stern of her gold canoe?
+  No tidings came&mdash;nor the brave Chaskè:
+  O, why did the lover so long delay?
+  He promised to come with the robins in May,
+  With the bridal gifts for the bridal day;
+  But the fair May mornings have slipped away,
+  And where is the lover&mdash;the brave Chaskè?
+
+  But what of the venomous Hârpstinà&mdash;
+  The serpent that tempted the proud Red Cloud,
+  And kindled revenge in his savage soul?
+  He paid for his crime with his false heart's blood,
+  But his angry spirit has brought her dole; <a href="#linknote-61"
+      name="linknoteref-61" id="linknoteref-61">61</a>
+  It has entered her breast and her burning head,
+  And she raves and burns on her fevered bed.
+  "He is dead! He is dead!" is her wailing cry.
+  "And the blame is mine,&mdash;it was I,&mdash;it was I!
+  I hated Wiwâstè, for she was fair,
+  And my brave was caught in her net of hair.
+  I turned his love to a bitter hate;
+  I nourished revenge, and I pricked his pride;
+  Till the Feast of the Virgins I bade him wait.
+  He had his revenge, but he died,&mdash;he died!
+  And the blame is mine,&mdash;it was I,&mdash;it was I!
+  And his spirit burns me, I die,&mdash;I die!"
+  Thus, alone in her lodge and her agonies,
+  She wails to the winds of the night, and dies.
+
+  But where is Wiwâstè? Her swift feet flew
+  To the somber shades of the tangled thicket.
+  She hid in the copse like a wary cricket,
+  And the fleetest hunters in vain pursue.
+  Seeing unseen from her hiding place,
+  She sees them fly on the hurried chase;
+  She sees their fierce eyes glance and dart,
+  As they pass and peer for a track or trace,
+  And she trembles with fear in the copse apart.
+  Lest her nest be betrayed by her throbbing heart.
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+  Weary the hours; but the sun at last
+  Went down to his lodge in the west, and fast
+  The wings of the spirits of night were spread
+  O'er the darkling woods and Wiwâstè's head.
+  Then, slyly she slipped from her snug retreat,
+  And guiding her course by Wazíya's star, <a href="#linknote-62"
+      name="linknoteref-62" id="linknoteref-62">62</a>
+  That shone through the shadowy forms afar,
+  She northward hurried with silent feet;
+  And long ere the sky was aflame in the east,
+  She was leagues from the place of the fatal feast.
+  'Twas the hoot of the owl that the hunters heard,
+  And the scattering drops of the threat'ning shower,
+  And the far wolf's cry to the moon preferred.
+  Their ears were their fancies,&mdash;the scene was weird,
+  And the witches <a href="#linknote-63" name="linknoteref-63"
+      id="linknoteref-63">63</a> dance at the midnight hour.
+  She leaped the brook and she swam the river;
+  Her course through the forest Wiwâstè wist
+  By the star that gleamed through the glimmering mist
+  That fell from the dim moon's downy quiver.
+  In her heart she spoke to her spirit-mother:
+  "Look down from your teepee, O starry spirit.
+  The cry of Wiwâstè, O mother, hear it;
+  And touch the heart of my cruel father.
+  He hearkened not to a virgin's words;
+  He listened not to a daughter's wail.
+  O give me the wings of the thunder-birds,
+  For his were-wolves <a href="#linknote-52" name="linknoteref-52"
+      id="linknoteref-52_">52</a> follow Wiwâstè's trail;
+  O, guide my flight to the far Hóhé&mdash;
+  The sheltering lodge of my brave Chaskè."
+
+  The shadows paled in the hazy east,
+  And the light of the kindling morn increased.
+  The pale-faced stars fled one by one,
+  And hid in the vast from the rising sun.
+  From woods and waters and welkin soon
+  Fled the hovering mists of the vanished moon.
+  The young robins chirped in their feathery beds,
+  The loon's song shrilled like a winding horn,
+  And the green hills lifted their dewy heads
+  To greet the god of the rising morn.
+
+  She reached the rim of the rolling prairie&mdash;
+  The boundless ocean of solitude;
+  She hid in the feathery hazel wood,
+  For her heart was sick and her feet were weary;
+  She fain would rest, and she needed food.
+  Alone by the billowy, boundless prairies,
+  She plucked the cones of the scarlet berries;
+  In feathering copse and the grassy field
+  She found the bulbs of the young Tipsânna, <a href="#linknote-43"
+      name="linknoteref-43" id="linknoteref-43_">43</a>
+  And the sweet medó <a href="#linknote-64" name="linknoteref-64"
+      id="linknoteref-64">64</a> that the meadows yield.
+  With the precious gift of his priceless manna
+  God fed his fainting and famished child.
+
+  At night again to the northward far
+  She followed the torch of Wazíya's star.
+  For leagues away o'er the prairies green,
+  On the billowy vast, may a man be seen,
+  When the sun is high and the stars are low;
+  And the sable breast of the strutting crow
+  Looms up like the form of the buffalo.
+  The Bloody River <a href="#linknote-40" name="linknoteref-40"
+      id="linknoteref-40_">40</a> she reached at last,
+  And boldly walked in the light of day,
+  On the level plain of the valley vast;
+  Nor thought of the terrible Chippeway.
+  She was safe from the wolves of her father's band,
+  But she trode on the treacherous "Bloody Land."
+  And lo&mdash;from afar o'er the level plain&mdash;
+  As far as the sails of a ship at sea
+  May be seen as they lift from the rolling main&mdash;
+  A band of warriors rode rapidly.
+  She shadowed her eyes with her sun browned hand;
+  All backward streamed on the wind her hair,
+  And terror spread o'er her visage fair,
+  As she bent her brow to the far off band.
+  For she thought of the terrible Chippeway&mdash;
+  The fiends that the babe and the mother slay;
+  And yonder they came in their war-array!
+  She hid like a grouse in the meadow-grass,
+  And moaned&mdash;"I am lost!&mdash;I am lost! alas;
+  And why did I fly my native land
+  To die by the cruel Ojibway's hand?"
+  And on rode the braves. She could hear the steeds
+  Come galloping on o'er the level meads;
+  And lowly she crouched in the waving grass,
+  And hoped against hope that the braves would pass.
+
+  They have passed, she is safe,&mdash;she is safe! Ah, no,
+  They have struck her trail and the hunters halt.
+  Like wolves on the track of the bleeding doe,
+  That grappled breaks from the dread assault,
+  Dash the warriors wild on Wiwâstè's trail.
+  She flies,&mdash;but what can her flight avail?
+  Her feet are fleet, but the flying feet
+  Of the steeds of the prairie are fleeter still;
+  And where can she fly for a safe retreat?
+
+  But hark to the shouting:&mdash;"Ihó!&mdash;Ihó!" <a href="#linknote-9"
+      name="linknoteref-9" id="linknoteref-9_">9</a>
+  Rings over the wide plain sharp and shrill.
+  She halts, and the hunters come riding on;
+  But the horrible fear from her heart is gone,
+  For it is not the shout of the dreaded foe;
+  'Tis the welcome shout of her native land!
+
+  Up galloped the chief of the band, and lo&mdash;
+  The clutched knife dropped from her trembling hand;
+  She uttered a cry and she swooned away;
+  For there; on his steed in the blaze of day,
+  On the boundless prairie, so far away,
+  With his burnished lance and his feathers gay,
+  Sat the manly form of her own Chaskè!
+
+  There's a mote in my eye or a blot on the page,
+  And I cannot tell of the joyful greeting;
+  You may take it for granted and I will engage,
+  There were kisses and tears at the strange, glad meeting;
+  For aye since the birth of the swift-winged years,
+  In the desert drear, in the field of clover,
+  In the cot, and the palace, and all the world over,&mdash;
+  Yea, away on the stars to the ultimate spheres,
+  The language of love to the long sought lover,&mdash;
+  Is tears and kisses and kisses and tears.
+
+  But why did the lover so long delay?
+  And whitherward rideth the chief to-day?
+  As he followed the trail of the buffalo,
+  From the tees of Kapóza a maiden, lo,
+  Came running in haste o'er the drifted snow.
+  She spoke to the chief of the tall Hóhé:
+  "Wiwâstè requests that the brave Chaskè
+  Will abide with his band and his coming delay
+  'Till the moon when the strawberries are ripe and red,
+  And then will the chief and Wiwâstè wed&mdash;
+  When the Feast of the Virgins is past," she said.
+  Wiwâstè's wish was her lover's law;
+  And so his coming the chief delayed
+  Till the mid-May blossoms should bloom and fade,&mdash;
+  But the lying runner was Hârpstinà.
+  And now with the gifts for the bridal day
+  And his chosen warriors he took his way,
+  And followed his heart to his moon-faced maid,
+  And thus was the lover so long delayed;
+  And so as he rode with his warriors gay,
+  On that bright and beautiful summer day,
+  His bride he met on the trail mid-way,
+  By the haunts of the treacherous Chippeway.
+
+  God arms the innocent. He is there&mdash;
+  In the desert vast, in the wilderness,
+  On the bellowing sea, in the lion's lair,
+  In the midst of battle, and everywhere.
+  In his hand he holds with a father's care
+  The tender hearts of the motherless;
+  The maid and the mother in sore distress
+  He shields with his love and his tenderness;
+  He comforts the widowed&mdash;the comfortless,
+  And sweetens her chalice of bitterness;
+  He clothes the naked&mdash;the numberless,&mdash;
+  His charity covers their nakedness,&mdash;
+  And he feeds the famished and fatherless
+  With the hand that feedeth the birds of air.
+  Let the myriad tongues of the earth confess
+  His infinite love and his holiness;
+  For his pity pities the pitiless,
+  His wayward children his bounties bless,
+  And his mercy flows to the merciless;
+  And the countless worlds in the realms above,
+  Revolve in the light of his boundless love.
+
+  And what of the lovers? you ask, I trow.
+  She told him all ere the sun was low,&mdash;
+  Why she fled from the Feast to a safe retreat.
+  She laid her heart at her lover's feet,
+  And her words were tears and her lips were slow.
+  As she sadly related the bitter tale
+  His face was aflame and anon grew pale,
+  And his dark eyes flashed with a brave desire,
+  Like the midnight gleam of the sacred fire. <a href="#linknote-65"
+      name="linknoteref-65" id="linknoteref-65">65</a>
+  "Mitâwin," <a href="#linknote-66" name="linknoteref-66" id="linknoteref-66">66</a> he said, and his voice was low,
+  "Thy father no more is the false Little Crow;
+  But the fairest plume shall Wiwâstè wear
+  Of the great Wanmdeè <a href="#linknote-13" name="linknoteref-13"
+      id="linknoteref-13__">13</a> in her midnight hair.
+  In my lodge, in the land of the tall Hóhé,
+  The robins will sing all the long summer day
+  To the beautiful bride of the brave Chaskè."
+
+  Aye, love is tested by stress and trial
+  Since the finger of time on the endless dial
+  Began its rounds, and the orbs to move
+  In the boundless vast, and the sunbeams clove
+  The chaos; but only by fate's denial
+  Are fathomed the fathomless depths of love.
+  Man is the rugged and wrinkled oak,
+  And woman the trusting and tender vine&mdash;
+  That clasps and climbs till its arms entwine
+  The brawny arms of the sturdy stoke. <a href="#linknote-67"
+      name="linknoteref-67" id="linknoteref-67">67</a>
+  The dimpled babes are the flowers divine
+  That the blessing of God on the vine and oak
+  With their cooing and blossoming lips invoke.
+
+  To the pleasant land of the brave Hóhé
+  Wiwâstè rode with her proud Chaskè.
+  She ruled like a queen in his bountiful tee,
+  And the life of the twain was a jubilee.
+  Their wee ones climbed on the father's knee,
+  And played with his plumes of the great Wanmdeè.
+  The silken threads of the happy years
+  They wove into beautiful robes of love
+  That the spirits wear in the lodge above;
+  And time from the reel of the rolling spheres
+  His silver threads with the raven wove;
+  But never the stain of a mother's tears
+  Soiled the shining web of their happy years.
+
+  When the wrinkled mask of the years they wore,
+  And the raven hair of their youth was gray,
+  Their love grew deeper, and more and more;
+  For he was a lover for aye and aye,
+  And ever her beautiful, brave Chaskè.
+  Through the wrinkled mask of the hoary years
+  To the loving eyes of the lover aye
+  The blossom of beautiful youth appears.
+
+  At last, when their locks were as white as snow,
+  Beloved and honored by all the band,
+  They silently slipped from their lodge below,
+  And walked together, and hand in hand,
+  O'er the Shining Path <a href="#linknote-68" name="linknoteref-68"
+      id="linknoteref-68">68</a> to the Spirit-land;
+  Where the hills and the meadows for aye and aye
+  Are clad with the verdure and flowers of May,
+  And the unsown prairies of Paradise
+  Yield the golden maize and the sweet wild rice.
+  There ever ripe in the groves and prairies
+  Hang the purple plums and the luscious berries.
+  And the swarthy herds of bison feed
+  On the sun-lit slope and the waving mead;
+  The dappled fawns from their coverts peep,
+  And countless flocks on the waters sleep;
+  And the silent years with their fingers trace
+  No furrows for aye on the hunter's face.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      WINONA.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  <i>When the meadow-lark trilled o'er the leas
+                  and the oriole piped in the maples,
+  From my hammock, all under the trees,
+                  by the sweet scented field of red-clover,
+  I harked to the hum of the bees,
+                  as they gathered the mead of the blossoms,
+  And caught from their low melodies
+                  the rhythm of the song of Winona</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      (In pronouncing Dakota words give "a" the sound of "ah,"&mdash;"e" the
+      sound of "a,"&mdash;"i" the sound of "e" and "u" the sound of "oo." Sound
+      "ee" the same as in English. The numerals 1-2 etc. refer to notes in the
+      appendix).
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Two hundred white Winters and more
+          have fled from the face of the Summer,
+  Since here on the oak shaded shore
+          of the dark winding swift Mississippi,
+  Where his foaming floods tumble and roar,
+          on the falls and white rolling rapids,
+  In the fair, fabled center of Earth,
+          sat the Indian town of Ka-thá-ga. <a href="#linknote-86"
+      name="linknoteref-86" id="linknoteref-86">86</a>
+  Far rolling away to the north, and the south,
+          lay the emerald prairies,
+  Alternate with woodlands and lakes,
+          and above them the blue vast of ether.
+  And here where the dark river breaks into spray
+          and the roar of the Ha-Ha, <a href="#linknote-76" name="linknoteref-76"
+      id="linknoteref-76_">76</a>
+  Were gathered the bison-skin tees
+          of the chief tawny tribe of Dakotas;
+  For here, in the blast and the breeze,
+          flew the flag of the chief of Isantees, <a href="#linknote-86"
+      name="linknoteref-86" id="linknoteref-86_">86</a>
+  Up-raised on the stem of a lance
+          &mdash;the feathery flag of the eagle.
+  And here to the feast and the dance,
+          from the prairies remote and the forests,
+  Oft gathered the out-lying bands,
+          and honored the gods of the nation.
+  On the islands and murmuring strands
+          they danced to the god of the waters,
+  Unktéhee, <a href="#linknote-69" name="linknoteref-69" id="linknoteref-69">69</a> who dwelt in the caves
+          deep under the flood of the Ha-Ha; <a href="#linknote-76"
+      name="linknoteref-76" id="linknoteref-76__">76</a>
+  And high o'er the eddies and waves
+          hung their offerings of fur and tobacco. [a]
+  And here to the Master of life
+          &mdash;Anpé-tu-wee, <a href="#linknote-70" name="linknoteref-70"
+      id="linknoteref-70">70</a> god of the heavens,
+  Chief, warrior, and maiden, and wife,
+          burned the sacred green sprigs of the cedar.
+  And here to the Searcher-of-hearts
+          &mdash;fierce Tá-ku Skan-skán, <a href="#linknote-51"
+      name="linknoteref-51" id="linknoteref-51_">51</a> the avenger,
+  Who dwells in the uttermost parts
+          &mdash;in the earth and the blue, starry ether,
+  Ever watching, with all-seeing eyes,
+          the deeds of the wives and the warriors,
+  As an osprey afar in the skies,
+          sees the fish as they swim in the waters,
+  Oft spread they the bison-tongue feast,
+          and singing preferred their petitions,
+  Till the Day-Spirit <a href="#linknote-70" name="linknoteref-70"
+      id="linknoteref-70_">70</a> rose in the East
+          &mdash;in the red, rosy robes of the morning,
+  To sail o'er the sea of the skies,
+          to his lodge in the land of the shadows,
+  Where the black winged tornadoes [b] arise
+          &mdash;rushing loud from the mouths of their caverns.
+  And here with a shudder they heard,
+          flying far from his tee in the mountains,
+  Wa-kin-yan, <a href="#linknote-32" name="linknoteref-32" id="linknoteref-32__">32</a> the huge Thunder-Bird,
+          &mdash;with the arrows of fire in his talons.
+
+  [a] See Hennepin's Description of Louisiana by Shea pp 243 and
+  256. Parkman's Discovery p. 246&mdash;and Carver's Travels, p. 67
+
+  [b] The Dakotas like the ancient Romans and Greeks think the home
+  of the winds is in the caverns of the mountains, and their great Thunder
+  bird resembles in many respects the Jupiter of the Romans and the Zeus
+  of the Greeks. The resemblance of the Dakota mythology to that of the
+  older Greeks and Romans is striking.
+
+  Two hundred white Winters and more
+          have fled from the face of the Summer,
+  Since here by the cataract's roar,
+          in the moon of the red blooming lilies, <a href="#linknote-71"
+      name="linknoteref-71" id="linknoteref-71">71</a>
+  In the tee of Ta-té-psin [a] was born Winona
+          &mdash;wild-rose of the prairies.
+  Like the summer sun peeping, at morn,
+          o'er the hills was the face of Winona;
+  And here she grew up like a queen
+          &mdash;a romping and lily-lipped laughter,
+  And danced on the undulant green,
+          and played in the frolicsome waters,
+  Where the foaming tide tumbles and twirls
+          o'er the murmuring rocks in the rapids;
+  And whiter than foam were the pearls
+          that gleamed in the midst of her laughter.
+  Long and dark was her flowing hair flung,
+          like the robe of the night to the breezes;
+  And gay as the robin she sung,
+          or the gold-breasted lark of the meadows.
+  Like the wings of the wind were her feet,
+          and as sure as the feet of Ta-tó-ka; [b]
+  And oft like an antelope fleet
+          o'er the hills and the prairies she bounded,
+  Lightly laughing in sport as she ran,
+          and looking back over her shoulder,
+  At the fleet footed maiden or man,
+          that vainly her flying steps followed.
+  The belle of the village was she,
+          and the pride of the aged Ta-té-psin,
+  Like a sunbeam she lighted his tee,
+          and gladdened the heart of her father.
+
+  [a] Ta te&mdash;Wind, Psin&mdash;Wild Rice,&mdash;wild rice wind.
+
+  [b] The Mountain Antelope.
+
+  In the golden hued Wázu-pe-weé
+          &mdash;the moon when the wild rice is gathered;
+  When the leaves on the tall sugar-tree
+          are as red as the breast of the robin,
+  And the red-oaks that border the lea
+          are aflame with the fire of the sunset,
+  From the wide waving fields of wild-rice
+          &mdash;from the meadows of Psin-ta-wak-pá-dan, [a]
+  Where the geese and the mallards rejoice,
+          and grow fat on the bountiful harvest,
+  Came the hunters with saddles of moose
+          and the flesh of the bear and the bison,
+  And the women in birchen canoes
+          well laden with rice from the meadows,
+  With the tall, dusky hunters, behold,
+          came a marvelous man or a spirit,
+  White-faced and so wrinkled and old,
+          and clad in the robe of the raven.
+  Unsteady his steps were and slow,
+          and he walked with a staff in his right hand,
+  And white as the first-falling snow
+          were the thin locks that lay on his shoulders.
+  Like rime-covered moss hung his beard,
+          flowing down from his face to his girdle;
+  And wan was his aspect and weird;
+          and often he chanted and mumbled
+  In a strange and mysterious tongue,
+          as he bent o'er his book in devotion.
+  Or lifted his dim eyes and sung,
+          in a low voice, the solemn "<i>Te Deum</i>."
+  Or Latin, or Hebrew, or Greek
+          &mdash;all the same were his words to the warriors,&mdash;
+  All the same to the maids
+          and the meek, wide-wondering-eyed, hazel-brown children.
+
+  [a] Little Rice River. It bears the name of Rice Creek to-day
+  and empties into the Mississippi from the east, a few miles above
+  Minneapolis.
+
+  Father Renè Menard [a]&mdash;it was he,
+          long lost to his Jesuit brothers,
+  Sent forth by an holy decree
+          to carry the Cross to the heathen.
+  In his old age abandoned to die,
+          in the swamps, by his timid companions,
+  He prayed to the Virgin on high,
+          and she led him forth from the forest;
+  For angels she sent him as men
+          &mdash;in the forms of the tawny Dakotas,
+  And they led his feet from the fen,
+          &mdash;from the slough of despond and the desert.
+  Half-dead in a dismal morass,
+          as they followed the red-deer they found him,
+  In the midst of the mire and the grass,
+          and mumbling "<i>Te Deum laudamus</i>."
+  "Unktómee <a href="#linknote-72" name="linknoteref-72" id="linknoteref-72">72</a>&mdash;Ho!" muttered the braves,
+          for they deemed him the black Spider-Spirit
+  That dwells in the drearisome caves,
+          and walks on the marshes at midnight,
+  With a flickering torch in his hand,
+          to decoy to his den the unwary.
+  His tongue could they not understand,
+          but his torn hands all shriveled with famine,
+  He stretched to the hunters and said:
+          "He feedeth his chosen with manna;
+  And ye are the angels of God,
+          sent to save me from death in the desert."
+  His famished and woe-begone face,
+          and his tones touched the hearts of the hunters;
+  They fed the poor father apace,
+          and they led him away to Ka-thá-ga.
+
+  [a] See the account of Father Menard, his mission and disappearance in the
+  wilderness, etc. Neill's Hist. Minnesota, pp 104 to 107 inc.
+
+  There little by little he learned
+          the tongue of the tawny Dakotas;
+  And the heart of the good father yearned
+          to lead them away from their idols&mdash;
+  Their giants <a href="#linknote-16" name="linknoteref-16" id="linknoteref-16_">16</a> and dread Thunder-birds
+          &mdash;their worship of stones <a href="#linknote-73"
+      name="linknoteref-73" id="linknoteref-73">73</a> and the devil.
+  "Wakán-de!" [a] they answered his words,
+          for he read from his book in the Latin,
+  Lest the Nazarene's holy commands
+          by his tongue should be marred in translation;
+  And oft with his beads in his hands,
+          or the cross and the crucified Jesus,
+  He knelt by himself on the sands,
+          and his dim eyes uplifted to heaven.
+  But the braves bade him look to the East
+          &mdash;to the silvery lodge of Han-nán-na; [b]
+  And to dance with the chiefs at the feast
+          &mdash;at the feast of the Giant Heyó-ka. <a href="#linknote-16"
+      name="linknoteref-16" id="linknoteref-16__">16</a>
+  They frowned when the good father
+          spurned the flesh of the dog in the kettle,
+  And laughed when his fingers were burned
+          in the hot, boiling pot of the giant.
+  "The Blackrobe" they called the poor priest,
+          from the hue of his robe and his girdle;
+  And never a game or a feast
+          but the father must grace with his presence.
+  His prayer book the hunters revered,
+          &mdash;they deemed it a marvelous spirit;
+  It spoke and the white father heard,
+          &mdash;it interpreted visions and omens.
+  And often they bade him
+          to pray this marvelous spirit to answer,
+  And tell where the sly Chippeway might be ambushed
+          and slain in his forests.
+  For Menard was the first in the land,
+          proclaiming, like John in the desert&mdash;
+  "The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand;
+          repent ye, and turn from your idols."&mdash;
+  The first of the brave brotherhood that,
+          threading the fens and the forest,
+  Stood afar by the turbulent flood
+          at the falls of the Father of Waters.
+
+  [a] It is wonderful.
+
+  [b] The morning.
+
+  In the lodge of the Stranger [a]
+          he sat awaiting the crown of a martyr;
+  His sad face compassion begat
+          in the heart of the dark eyed Winona.
+  Oft she came to the teepee and spoke;
+          she brought him the tongue of the bison,
+  Sweet nuts from the hazel and oak,
+          and flesh of the fawn and the mallard.
+  Soft hánpa [b] she made for his feet
+          and leggins of velvety fawn-skin,&mdash;
+  A blanket of beaver complete,
+          and a hood of the hide of the otter.
+  And oft at his feet on the mat,
+          deftly braiding the flags and the rushes,
+  Till the sun sought his teepee she sat,
+          enchanted with what he related
+  Of the white winged ships on the sea
+          and the teepees far over the ocean,
+  Of the love and the sweet charity of the Christ
+          and the beautiful Virgin.
+
+  [a] A lodge set apart for guests of the village.
+
+  [b] Moccasins.
+
+  She listened like one in a trance
+          when he spoke of the brave, bearded Frenchmen,
+  From the green sun-lit valleys of France
+          to the wild Hochelága [a] transplanted,
+  Oft trailing the deserts of snow
+          in the heart of the dense Huron forests,
+  Or steering the dauntless canoe
+          through the waves of the fresh water ocean.
+  "Yea, stronger and braver are they,"
+          said the aged Menard to Winona,
+  "Than the head-chief, tall Wazi-kuté, <a href="#linknote-74"
+      name="linknoteref-74" id="linknoteref-74">74</a>
+          but their words are as soft as a maiden's;
+  Their eyes are the eyes of the swan,
+          but their hearts are the hearts of the eagles;
+  And the terrible Máza Wakán [b] ever walks,
+          by their side like a spirit.
+  Like a Thunder-bird, roaring in wrath,
+          flinging fire from his terrible talons,
+  It sends to their enemies death,
+          in the flash of the fatal Wakándee." [c]
+
+  [a] The Ottawa name for the region of the St. Lawrence River.
+
+  [b] "Mysterious metal"&mdash;or metal having a spirit in it. This is the
+  common name applied by the Dakotas to all fire arms.
+
+  [c] Lightning.
+
+  The Autumn was past and the snow
+          lay drifted and deep on the prairies;
+  From his teepee of ice came the foe
+          &mdash;came the storm-breathing god of the winter.
+  Then roared in the groves,&mdash;on the plains,
+          &mdash;on the ice-covered lakes and the river&mdash;
+  The blasts of the fierce hurricanes
+          blown abroad from the breast of Wazíya. <a href="#linknote-3"
+      name="linknoteref-3" id="linknoteref-3_">3</a>
+  The bear cuddled down in his den,
+          and the elk fled away to the forest;
+  The pheasant and gray prairie-hen
+          made their beds in the heart of the snow-drift;
+  The bison-herds huddled and stood
+          in the hollows and under the hill-sides;
+  Or rooted the snow for their food
+          in the lee of the bluffs and the timber;
+  And the mad winds that howled from the north,
+          from the ice-covered seas of Wazíya,
+  Chased the gray wolf and red fox and swarth
+          to their dens in the hills of the forest.
+
+  Poor Father Menard,&mdash;he was ill;
+          in his breast burned the fire of the fever;
+  All in vain was the magical skill
+          of Wicásta Wakán <a href="#linknote-61" name="linknoteref-61"
+      id="linknoteref-61_">61</a> with his rattle;
+  Into soft child-like slumber he fell,
+          and awoke in the land of the blessèd&mdash;
+  To the holy applause of "Well done!"
+          and the harps in the hands of the angels.
+  Long he carried the cross,
+          and he won the coveted crown of a martyr.
+
+  In the land of the heathen he died,
+          meekly following the voice of his Master,
+  One mourner alone by his side
+          &mdash;Ta-té-psin's compassionate daughter.
+  She wailed the dead father with tears,
+          and his bones by her kindred she buried.
+  Then winter followed winter.
+          The years sprinkled frost on the head of her father;
+  And three weary winters she dreamed
+          of the fearless and fair-bearded Frenchmen;
+  In her sweet sleep their swift paddles gleamed
+          on the breast of the broad Mississippi,
+  And the eyes of the brave strangers beamed
+          on the maid in the midst of her slumber.
+
+  She lacked not admirers;
+          the light of the lover oft burned in her teepee&mdash;
+  At her couch in the midst of the night,
+          &mdash;but she never extinguished the flambeau.
+  The son of Chief Wazi-kuté
+          &mdash;a fearless and eagle plumed warrior&mdash;
+  Long sighed for Winona, and he
+          &mdash;was the pride of the band of Isántees.
+  Three times, in the night, at her bed,
+           had the brave held the torch of the lover, <a href="#linknote-75"
+      name="linknoteref-75" id="linknoteref-75">75</a>And thrice had she
+  covered her head
+          and rejected the handsome Tamdóka. [a]
+
+  [a] Tah-mdo-kah&mdash;literally the buck deer.
+
+  'Twas Summer. The merry voiced birds
+          trilled and warbled in woodland and meadow;
+  And abroad on the prairies the herds
+          cropped the grass in the land of the lilies,&mdash;
+  And sweet was the odor of rose
+          wide-wafted from hillside and heather;
+  In the leaf-shaded lap of repose
+          lay the bright, blue eyed babes of the summer;
+  And low was the murmur of brooks
+          and low was the laugh of the Ha-Ha; <a href="#linknote-76"
+      name="linknoteref-76" id="linknoteref-76___">76</a>
+  And asleep in the eddies and nooks
+          lay the broods of magá <a href="#linknote-60" name="linknoteref-60"
+      id="linknoteref-60__">60</a> and the mallard.
+  'Twas the moon of Wasúnpa. <a href="#linknote-71" name="linknoteref-71"
+      id="linknoteref-71_">71</a>
+          The band lay at rest in the tees at Ka-thá-ga,
+  And abroad o'er the beautiful land
+          walked the spirits of Peace and of Plenty&mdash;
+  Twin sisters, with bountiful hand,
+          wide scatt'ring wild rice and the lilies.
+  An-pé-tu-wee <a href="#linknote-70" name="linknoteref-70" id="linknoteref-70__">70</a> walked in the west
+          &mdash;to his lodge in the midst of the mountains,
+  And the war eagle flew to her nest
+          in the oak on the Isle of the Spirit. [a]
+  And now at the end of the day,
+          by the shore of the Beautiful Island, [b]
+  A score of fair maidens and gay
+          made joy in the midst of the waters.
+  Half-robed in their dark, flowing hair,
+          and limbed like the fair Aphroditè,
+  They played in the waters,
+          and there they dived and they swam like the beavers,&mdash;
+  Loud-laughing like loons on the lake
+          when the moon is a round shield of silver,
+  And the songs of the whippowils
+          wake on the shore in the midst of the maples.
+
+  [a] The Dakotas say that for many years in olden times a war-eagle
+  made her nest in an oak tree on Spirit island&mdash;Wanagi-wita just below the
+  Falls till frightened away by the advent of white men.
+
+  [b] The Dakotas called Nicollet Island "Wi-ta Waste"&mdash;the Beautiful Island.
+
+  But hark!&mdash;on the river a song,
+          &mdash;strange voices commingled in chorus;
+  On the current a boat swept along
+          with DuLuth and his hardy companions;
+  To the stroke of their paddles they sung,
+          and this the refrain that they chanted:
+
+   "Dans mon chemin j'ai recontré
+    Deux cavaliers bien monteés.
+          Lon, lon, laridon daine,
+          Lon, lon, laridon dai."
+
+   "Deux cavaliers bien monteés;
+    L'un a cheval, et l'autre a pied.
+          Lon, lon, laridon daine,
+          Lon, lon, laridon dai." [a]
+
+  Like the red, dappled deer in the glade,
+          alarmed by the footsteps of hunters,
+  Discovered, disordered, dismayed,
+          the nude nymphs fled forth from the waters,
+  And scampered away to the shade,
+          and peered from the screen of the lindens.
+
+  [a] A part of one of the favorite songs of the French <i>voyageurs</i>.
+
+  A bold and and adventuresome man was DuLuth,
+          and a dauntless in danger,
+  And straight to Kathága he ran,
+          and boldly advanced to the warriors,
+  Now gathering, a cloud, on the strand,
+          and gazing amazed on the strangers;
+  And straightway he offered his hand
+          unto Wázi-kuté, the Itáncan.
+  To the Lodge of the Stranger were led
+          DuLuth and his hardy companions;
+  Robes of beaver and bison were spread,
+          and the Peace pipe <a href="#linknote-23" name="linknoteref-23"
+      id="linknoteref-23_">23</a> was smoked with the Frenchman.
+
+  There was dancing and feasting at night,
+          and joy at the presents he lavished.
+  All the maidens were wild with delight
+          with the flaming red robes and the ribbons,
+  With the beads and the trinkets untold,
+          and the fair, bearded face of the giver;
+  And glad were they all to behold the friends
+          from the Land of the Sunrise.
+  But one stood apart from the rest
+          &mdash;the queenly and peerless Winona,
+  Intently regarding the guest
+          &mdash;hardly heeding the robes and the ribbons,
+  Whom the White Chief beholding admired,
+          and straightway he spread on her shoulders
+  A lily-red robe and attired,
+          with necklet and ribbons, the maiden.
+  The red lilies bloomed in her face,
+          and her glad eyes gave thanks to the giver,
+  And forth from her teepee apace
+          she brought him the robe and the missal
+  Of the father&mdash;poor Renè Menard;
+          and related the tale of the "Black Robe."
+  She spoke of the sacred regard
+          he inspired in the hearts of Dakotas;
+  That she buried his bones with her kin,
+          in the mound by the Cave of the Council;
+  That she treasured and wrapt
+          in the skin of the red-deer his robe and his prayer-book&mdash;
+  "Till his brothers should come from the East
+          &mdash;from the land of the far Hochelága,
+  To smoke with the braves at the feast,
+          on the shores of the Loud-laughing Waters. <a href="#linknote-76"
+      name="linknoteref-76" id="linknoteref-76____">76</a>
+  For the "Black Robe" spake much of his youth
+          and his friends in the Land of the Sunrise;
+  It was then as a dream, now in truth,
+          I behold them, and not in a vision."
+  But more spake her blushes, I ween,
+          and her eyes full of language unspoken,
+  As she turned with the grace of a queen,
+          and carried her gifts to the teepee.
+
+  Far away from his beautiful France
+          &mdash;from his home in the city of Lyons,
+  A noble youth full of romance,
+          with a Norman heart big with adventure,
+  In the new world a wanderer, by chance,
+          DuLuth sought the wild Huron forests.
+  But afar by the vale of the Rhone,
+          the winding and musical river,
+  And the vine-covered hills of the Saône,
+          the heart of the wanderer lingered,&mdash;
+  'Mid the vineyards and mulberry trees,
+          and the fair fields of corn and of clover
+  That rippled and waved in the breeze,
+          while the honey-bees hummed in the blossoms
+  For there, where the impetuous Rhone,
+          leaping down from the Switzerland mountains,
+  And the silver-lipped soft flowing Saône,
+          meeting, kiss and commingle together,
+  Down-winding by vineyards and leas,
+          by the orchards of fig trees and olives,
+  To the island-gemmed, sapphire-blue seas
+          of the glorious Greeks and the Romans;
+  Aye, there, on the vine covered shore,
+          'mid the mulberry trees and the olives,
+  Dwelt his blue-eyed and beautiful Flore,
+          with her hair like a wheat field at harvest,
+  All rippled and tossed by the breeze,
+          and her cheeks like the glow of the morning,
+  Far away o'er the emerald seas,
+          ere the sun lifts his brow from the billows,
+  Or the red-clover fields when the bees,
+          singing sip the sweet cups of the blossoms.
+  Wherever he wandered
+          &mdash;alone in the heart of the wild Huron forests,
+  Or cruising the rivers unknown
+          to the land of the Crees or Dakotas&mdash;
+  His heart lingered still on the Rhone,
+          'mid the mulberry-trees and the vineyards,
+  Fast-fettered and bound by the zone
+          that girdled the robes of his darling.
+
+  Till the red Harvest Moon <a href="#linknote-71" name="linknoteref-71"
+      id="linknoteref-71__">71</a>
+          he remained in the vale of the swift Mississippi.
+  The esteem of the warriors he gained,
+          and the love of the dark eyed Winona.
+  He joined in the sports and the chase;
+          with the hunters he followed the bison,
+  And swift were his feet in the race
+          when the red elk they ran on the prairies.
+  At the Game of the Plum-stones <a href="#linknote-77" name="linknoteref-77"
+      id="linknoteref-77">77</a> he played
+          and he won from the skillfulest players;
+  A feast to Wa'tánka <a href="#linknote-78" name="linknoteref-78"
+      id="linknoteref-78">78</a> he made,
+          and he danced at the feast of Heyóka. <a href="#linknote-16"
+      name="linknoteref-16" id="linknoteref-16___">16</a>
+  With the flash and the roar of his gun
+          he astonished the fearless Dakotas;
+  They called it the "Máza Wakán"
+          &mdash;the mighty, mysterious metal.
+  "'Tis a brother," they said,
+          "of the fire in the talons of dreadful Wakínyan, <a href="#linknote-32"
+      name="linknoteref-32" id="linknoteref-32___">32</a>
+  When he flaps his huge wings in his ire,
+          and shoots his red shafts at Unktéhee." <a href="#linknote-69"
+      name="linknoteref-69" id="linknoteref-69_">69</a>
+
+  The Itancan, <a href="#linknote-74" name="linknoteref-74" id="linknoteref-74_">74</a> tall Wazí-kuté,
+          appointed a day for the races.
+  From the red stake that stood by his tee,
+          on the southerly side of the Ha-ha
+  To a stake at the Lake of the Loons <a href="#linknote-79"
+      name="linknoteref-79" id="linknoteref-79">79</a>
+          &mdash;a league and return&mdash;was the distance.
+  On the crest of the hills red batons
+          marked the course for the feet of the runners.
+  They gathered from near and afar,
+          to the races and dancing and feasting.
+  Five hundred tall warriors were there
+          from Kapóza <a href="#linknote-6" name="linknoteref-6"
+      id="linknoteref-6__">6</a> and far off Keóza; <a href="#linknote-8"
+      name="linknoteref-8" id="linknoteref-8_">8</a>
+  Remnica, [a] too, furnished a share
+          of the legions that thronged to the races,
+  And a bountiful feast was prepared
+          by the diligent hands of the women,
+  And gaily the multitudes fared
+          in the generous tees of Kathága.
+  The chief of the mystical clan
+          appointed a feast to Unktéhee&mdash;
+  The mystic "Wacípee Wakán" [b]&mdash;
+          at the end of the day and the races.
+  A band of sworn brothers are they,
+          and the secrets of each one are sacred.
+  And death to the lips that betray
+          is the doom of the swarthy avengers,
+  And the son of tall Wazí-kuté
+          was the chief of the mystical order.
+
+  [a] Pronounced Ray mne chah&mdash;the village of the Mountains situate where
+  Red Wing now stands.
+
+  [b] Sacred Dance&mdash;The Medicine dance&mdash;See description infra.
+
+  On an arm of an oak hangs the prize
+          for the swiftest and strongest of runners&mdash;
+  A blanket as red as the skies,
+          when the flames sweep the plains in October.
+  And beside it a strong, polished bow,
+          and a quiver of iron tipped arrows,
+  Which Kapóza's tall chief will bestow
+          on the fleet-footed second that follows.
+  A score of swift-runners are there
+          from the several bands of the nation;
+  And now for the race they prepare,
+          and among them fleet-footed Tamdóka.
+  With the oil of the buck and the bear
+          their sinewy limbs are anointed,
+  For fleet are the feet of the deer
+          and strong are the limbs of the bruin,
+  And long is the course and severe
+          for the swiftest and strongest of runners.
+
+  Hark!&mdash;the shouts and the braying of drums,
+          and the Babel of tongues and confusion!
+  From his teepee the tall chieftain comes,
+          and Duluth brings a prize for the runners&mdash;
+  A keen hunting-knife from the Seine,
+          horn-handled and mounted with silver.
+  The runners are ranged on the plain,
+          and the Chief waves a flag as a signal,
+  And away like the gray wolves they fly
+          &mdash;like the wolves on the trail of the red deer;
+  O'er the hills and the prairie they vie,
+          and strain their strong limbs to the utmost,
+  While high on the hills hangs a cloud
+          of warriors and maidens and mothers,
+  To behold the swift runners,
+          and loud are the cheers and the shouts of the warriors.
+
+  Now swift from the lake they return,
+          o'er the emerald hills and the heather;
+  Like grey-hounds they pant and they yearn,
+          and the leader of all is Tamdóka.
+  At his heels flies Hu-pá-hu, [a] the fleet
+          &mdash;the pride of the band of Kaóza,
+  A warrior with eagle-winged feet,
+          but his prize is the bow and the quiver.
+  Tamdóka first reaches the post,
+          and his are the knife and the blanket,
+  By the mighty acclaim of the host
+          and award of the chief and the judges.
+  Then proud was the tall warrior's stride,
+          and haughty his look and demeanor;
+  He boasted aloud in his pride,
+          and he scoffed at the rest of the runners.
+  "Behold me, for I am a man! [b]
+          my feet are as swift as the West wind.
+  With the coons and the beavers I ran;
+          but where is the elk or the cabri? <a href="#linknote-80"
+      name="linknoteref-80" id="linknoteref-80">80</a>
+  Come!&mdash;where is the hunter will dare
+          match his feet with the feet of Tamdóka?
+  Let him think of Taté [c] and beware,
+          ere he stake his last robe on the trial."
+  "Ohó! Ho! Hó-héca!" [d] they jeered,
+          for they liked not the boast of the boaster;
+  But to match him no warrior appeared,
+          for his feet wore the wings of the west-wind.
+
+  [a] The wings.
+
+  [b] A favorite boast of the Dakota braves.
+
+  [c] The wind.
+
+  [d] About equivalent to Oho&mdash;Aha&mdash;fudge.
+
+  Then forth from the side of the chief
+          stepped DuLuth and he looked on the boaster;
+  "The words of a warrior are brief,
+          &mdash;I will run with the brave," said the Frenchman;
+  "But the feet of Tamdóka are tired;
+          abide till the cool of the sunset."
+  All the hunters and maidens admired,
+          for strong were the limbs of the stranger.
+  "Hiwó! Ho!" [a] they shouted
+          and loud rose the cheers of the multitude mingled;
+  And there in the midst of the crowd
+          stood the glad-eyed and blushing Winona.
+
+  [a] Hurra there!
+
+  Now afar o'er the plains of the west
+          walked the sun at the end of his journey,
+  And forth came the brave and the guest,
+          at the tap of the drum, for the trial.
+  Like a forest of larches the hordes
+          were gathered to witness the contest;
+  As loud is the drums were their words
+          and they roared like the roar of the Ha-ha.
+  For some for Tamdóka contend,
+          and some for the fair, bearded stranger,
+  And the betting runs high to the end,
+          with the skins of the bison and beaver.
+  A wife of tall Wazi-kuté
+          &mdash;the mother of boastful Tamdóka&mdash;
+  Brought her handsomest robe from the tee,
+          with a vaunting and loud proclamation:
+  She would stake her last robe on her son who,
+          she boasted, was fleet as the Cábri <a href="#linknote-80"
+      name="linknoteref-80" id="linknoteref-80_">80</a>
+  And the tall, tawny chieftain looked on,
+          approving the boast of the mother.
+  Then fleet as the feet of a fawn to her lodge
+          ran the dark eyed Winona,
+  She brought and she staked on the lawn,
+          by the side of the robe of the boaster,
+  The lily-red mantle Duluth, with his own hands,
+          had laid on her shoulders.
+  "Tamdóka is swift, but forsooth,
+          the tongue of his mother is swifter,"
+  She said, and her face was aflame
+          with the red of the rose and the lily,
+  And loud was the roar of acclaim;
+          but dark was the face of Tamdóka.
+
+  They strip for the race and prepare,
+          &mdash;DuLuth in his breeches and leggins;
+  And the brown, curling locks of his hair
+          downward droop to his bare, brawny shoulders,
+  And his face wears a smile debonair,
+          as he tightens his red sash around him;
+  But stripped to the moccasins bare,
+          save the belt and the breech-clout of buckskin,
+  Stands the haughty Tamdóka aware
+          that the eyes of the warriors admire him;
+  For his arms are the arms of a bear
+          and his legs are the legs of a panther.
+
+  The drum beats,&mdash;the chief waves the flag,
+          and away on the course speed the runners,
+  And away leads the brave like a stag,
+          &mdash;like a hound on his track flies the Frenchman;
+  And away haste the hunters, once more,
+          to the hills for a view to the lake-side,
+  And the dark-swarming hill-tops,
+          they roar with the storm of loud voices commingled.
+  Far away o'er the prairie they fly,
+          and still in the lead is Tamdóka,
+  But the feet of his rival are nigh,
+          and slowly he gains on the hunter.
+  Now they turn on the post at the lake,
+          &mdash;now they run full abreast on the home-stretch;
+  Side by side they contend for the stake,
+          for a long mile or more on the prairie.
+  They strain like a stag and a hound,
+          when the swift river gleams through the thicket,
+  And the horns of the rulers resound,
+          winding shrill through the depths of the forest.
+  But behold!&mdash;at full length on the ground
+          falls the fleet-footed Frenchman abruptly.
+  And away with a whoop and a bound,
+          springs the eager, exulting Tamdóka.
+  Long and loud on the hills
+          is the shout of his swarthy admirers and backers;
+  "But the race is not won till it's out,"
+          said DuLuth, to himself as he gathered,
+  With a frown on his face,
+          for the foot of the wily Tamdóka had tripped him.
+  Far ahead ran the brave on the route,
+          and turning he boasted exultant.
+  Like spurs to the steed to DuLuth
+          were the jeers and the taunts of the boaster;
+  Indignant was he and red wroth,
+          at the trick of the runner dishonest;
+  And away like a whirlwind he speeds
+          &mdash;like a hurricane mad from the mountains;
+  He gains on Tamdóka,&mdash;he leads!
+          &mdash;and behold, with the spring of a panther,
+  He leaps to the goal and succeeds,
+          'mid the roar of the mad acclamation.
+
+  Then glad as the robin in May
+          was the voice of Winona exulting;
+  And the crest-fallen brave turned away,
+          and lonely he walked by the river;
+  He glowered as he went
+          and the fire of revenge in his bosom was kindled,
+  But he strove to dissemble his ire,
+          and he whistled alone by the Ha-ha.
+</pre>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  THE "WAKAN WACEPEE," OR SACRED DANCE. <a href="#linknote-81"
+      name="linknoteref-81" id="linknoteref-81">81</a>
+</pre>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Lo the lights in the "Teepee Wakán!"
+          'tis the night of the Wakán-Wacépee.
+  Round and round walks the chief of the clan,
+          as he rattles the sacred Ta-shá-kay; <a href="#linknote-81"
+      name="linknoteref-81" id="linknoteref-81_">81</a>
+  Long and loud on the Chân-che-ga <a href="#linknote-81" name="linknoteref-81"
+      id="linknoteref-81__">81</a>
+          beat the drummers with magical drumsticks,
+  And the notes of the Chô-tánka <a href="#linknote-81" name="linknoteref-81"
+      id="linknoteref-81___">81</a> greet,
+          like the murmur of winds on the waters.
+  By the friction of white-cedar wood
+          for the feast was a Virgin-fire <a href="#linknote-20"
+      name="linknoteref-20" id="linknoteref-20_">20</a> kindled.
+  They that enter the firm brotherhood
+          first must fast and be cleansed by E-neé-pee; <a href="#linknote-81"
+      name="linknoteref-81" id="linknoteref-81____">81</a>
+  And from foot-sole to crown of the head
+          must they paint with the favorite colors;
+  For Unktéhee likes bands of blood-red,
+          with the stripings of blue intermingled.
+  In the hollow earth, dark and profound,
+          Unktéhee and fiery Wakín-yan
+  Long fought and the terrible sound
+          of the battle was louder than thunder;
+  The mountains were heaved and around
+          were scattered the hills and the boulders,
+  And the vast solid plains of the ground
+          rose and fell like the waves of the ocean.
+  But the god of the waters prevailed.
+          Wakín-yan escaped from the cavern,
+  And long on the mountains he wailed,
+          and his hatred endureth forever.
+
+  When Unktéhee had finished the earth,
+          and the beasts and the birds and the fishes,
+  And men at his bidding came forth
+          from the heart of the huge hollow mountains <a href="#linknote-69"
+      name="linknoteref-69" id="linknoteref-69__">69</a>
+  A band chose the god from the hordes,
+          and he said "Ye are sons of Unktéhee;
+  Ye are lords of the beasts and the birds,
+          and the fishes that swim in the waters.
+  But hearken ye now to my words,
+          &mdash;let them sound in your bosoms forever.
+  Ye shall honor Unktéhee and hate Wakínyan,
+          the Spirit of Thunder,
+  For the power of Unktéhee is great,
+          and he laughs at the darts of Wakínyan.
+  Ye shall honor the Earth and the Sun,
+          &mdash;for they are your father and mother. <a href="#linknote-70"
+      name="linknoteref-70" id="linknoteref-70___">70</a>
+  Let your prayer to the Sun be
+          &mdash;<i>Wakán, Até: on-si-má-da oheé-neé</i> [a]
+  And remember the Táku Wakán, <a href="#linknote-73" name="linknoteref-73"
+      id="linknoteref-73_">73</a>
+          all pervading in earth and in ether&mdash;
+  Invisible ever to man,
+          but he dwells in the midst of all matter;
+  Yea, he dwells in the heart of the stone
+          &mdash;in the hard granite heart of the boulder;
+  Ye shall call him forever Tunkán
+          &mdash;grandfather of all the Dakotas.
+  Ye are men that I choose for my own;
+          ye shall be as a strong band of brothers,
+  Now I give you the magical bone
+          and the magical pouch of the spirits. [b]
+  And these are the laws ye shall heed:
+          Ye shall honor the pouch and the giver.
+  Ye shall walk as twin-brothers;
+          in need, one shall forfeit his life for another.
+  Listen not to the voice of the crow. [c]
+          Hold as sacred the wife of a brother.
+  Strike, and fear not the shaft of the foe,
+          for the soul of the brave is immortal.
+  Slay the warrior in battle,
+          but spare the innocent babe and the mother.
+  Remember a promise;&mdash;beware,
+          &mdash;let the word of a warrior be sacred.
+  When a stranger arrives at the tee
+          &mdash;be he friend of the band or a foeman,
+  Give him food; let your bounty be free;
+          lay a robe for the guest by the lodge-fire;
+  Let him go to his kindred in peace,
+          if the peace-pipe he smoke in the teepee;
+  And so shall your children increase,
+          and your lodges shall laugh with abundance.
+  And long shall ye live in the land,
+          and the spirits of earth and the waters
+  Shall come to your aid, at command,
+          with the power of invisible magic.
+  And at last, when you journey afar
+          &mdash;o'er the shining "<i>Wanágee Ta-chán-ku</i>," <a
+      href="#linknote-70" name="linknoteref-70" id="linknoteref-70____">70</a>
+  You shall walk as a red, shining star, <a href="#linknote-18"
+      name="linknoteref-18" id="linknoteref-18_">18</a>
+          in the land of perpetual summer."
+
+  [a] "Sacred Spirit, Father have pity on me always"
+
+  [b] Riggs' Tahkoo Wakan, p. 90.
+
+  [c] Slander.
+
+  All the night in the teepee they sang,
+          and they danced to the mighty Unktéhee,
+  While the loud-braying Chán-che-ga rang
+          and the shrill-piping flute and the rattle,
+  Till Anpétuwee <a href="#linknote-70" name="linknoteref-70"
+      id="linknoteref-70_____">70</a> rose in the east
+          &mdash;from the couch of the blushing Han-nân-na.
+  And then at the dance and the feast
+          sang the song of Unktéhee in chorus:
+
+    "Wa-dú-ta o-hna mi-ká-ge!
+    Wa-dú-ta o-hná mi-ká-ge!
+    Mini-yâta ité wakândè makù,
+    Atè wakán&mdash;Tunkánsidán,
+
+    Tunkânsidán pejihúta wakán
+    Micâgè&mdash;he Wicâgè!
+    Miniyáta ité wakándé makú.
+    Taukánsidán ite, nápè dú-win-ta woo,
+    Wahutôpa wan yúha, nápè dú-win-ta too."
+
+       TRANSLATION
+
+    In red swan-down he made it for me;
+    In red swan-down he made it for me;
+    He of the water&mdash;he of the mysterious face&mdash;
+             Gave it to me;
+    Sacred Father&mdash;Grandfather!
+
+    Grandfather made me magical medicine
+             That is true!
+    Being of mystery,&mdash;grown in the water&mdash;
+             He gave it to me!
+    To the face of our Grandfather stretch out your hand;
+    Holding a quadruped, stretch out your hand!
+
+  Till high o'er the hills of the east
+          Anpétuwee walked on his journey,
+  In secret they danced at the feast,
+          and communed with the mighty Unktéhee.
+  Then opened the door of the tee
+          to the eyes of the day and the people,
+  And the sons of Unktéhee, to be,
+          were endowed with the sacred Ozúha <a href="#linknote-82"
+      name="linknoteref-82" id="linknoteref-82">82</a>
+  By the son of tall Wazí-kuté, Tamdóka,
+          the chief of the Magi.
+  And thus since the birth-day of man
+          &mdash;since he sprang from the heart of the mountains, <a
+      href="#linknote-69" name="linknoteref-69" id="linknoteref-69___">69</a>
+  Has the sacred "Wacépee Wakán"
+          by the warlike Dakotas been honored,
+  And the god-favored sons of the clan
+          work their will with the help of the spirits.
+
+  'Twas sunrise; the spirits of mist
+          trailed their white robes on dewy  savannas,
+  And the flowers raised their heads to be kissed
+          by the first golden beams of the morning.
+  The breeze was abroad with the breath
+          of the rose of the Isles of the Summer,
+  And the humming-bird hummed on the heath
+          from his home in the land of the rain-bow. [a]
+  'Twas the morn of departure.
+          Duluth stood alone by the roar of the Ha-ha;
+  Tall and fair in the strength of his youth
+          stood the blue-eyed and fair-bearded Frenchman.
+  A rustle of robes on the grass broke his dream
+          as he mused by the waters,
+  And, turning, he looked on the face of Winona,
+          wild rose of the prairies,
+  Half hid in her forest of hair,
+          like the round, golden moon in the pine tops.
+  Admiring he gazed&mdash;she was fair
+          as his own blooming Flore in her orchards,
+  With her golden locks loose on the air,
+          like the gleam of the sun through the olives,
+  Far away on the vine-covered shore,
+          in the sun-favored land of his fathers.
+  "Lists the chief to the cataract's roar
+          for the mournful lament of the Spirit?" [b]
+  Said Winona,&mdash;"The wail of the sprite
+          for her babe and its father unfaithful,
+  Is heard in the midst of the night,
+          when the moon wanders dim in the heavens."
+
+  [a] The Dakotas say the humming-bird comes from the "land of the
+  rain-bow."
+
+  [b] See Legend of the Falls or Note 28&mdash;Appendix.
+
+  "Wild-Rose of the Prairies," he said,
+          "DuLuth listens not to the Ha-ha,
+  For the wail of the ghost of the dead,
+          for her babe and its father unfaithful;
+  But he lists to a voice in his heart
+          that is heard by the ear of no other,
+  And to-day will the White Chief depart
+          &mdash;he returns to the land of the sunrise."
+  "Let Winona depart with the chief,
+          &mdash;she will kindle the fire in his teepee;
+  For long are the days of her grief,
+          if she stay in the tee of Ta-té-psin,"
+  She replied and her cheeks were aflame
+          with the bloom of the wild prairie lilies.
+  "Tanké, [a] is the White Chief to blame?"
+          said DuLuth to the blushing Winona.
+  "The White Chief is blameless," she said,
+          "but the heart of Winona will follow
+  Wherever thy footsteps may lead,
+          O blue-eyed brave Chief of the white men.
+  For her mother sleeps long in the mound,
+          and a step-mother rules in the teepee.
+  And her father, once strong and renowned,
+          is bent with the weight of his winters.
+  No longer he handles the spear,
+          &mdash;no longer his swift, humming arrows
+  Overtake the fleet feet of the deer,
+          or the bear of the woods, or the bison;
+  But he bends as he walks, and the wind
+          shakes his white hair and hinders his footsteps;
+  And soon will he leave me behind,
+          without brother or sister or kindred.
+  The doe scents the wolf in the wind,
+          and a wolf walks the path of Winona.
+  Three times have the gifts for the bride <a href="#linknote-25"
+      name="linknoteref-25" id="linknoteref-25_">25</a>
+          to the lodge of Ta-té-psin been carried.
+  But the voice of Winona replied
+          that she liked not the haughty Tamdóka.
+  And thrice were the gifts sent away,
+          but the tongue of the mother protested,
+  And the were wolf <a href="#linknote-52" name="linknoteref-52"
+      id="linknoteref-52__">52</a> still follows his prey,
+          abides but the death of my father."
+
+  [a] My Sister.
+
+  "I pity Winona," he said,
+          "but my path is a pathway of danger,
+  And long is the trail for the maid
+          to the far-away land of the sunrise;
+  And few are the braves of my band,
+          and the braves of Tamdóka are many;
+  But soon I return to the land,
+          and a cloud of my hunters will follow.
+  When the cold winds of winter return,
+          and toss the white robes of the prairies,
+  The fire of the White Chief will burn
+          in his lodge at the Meeting-of-Waters; [a]
+  And when from the Sunrise again
+          comes the chief of the suns of the Morning,
+  Many moons will his hunters remain
+          in the land of the friendly Dakotas.
+  The son of Chief Wazí-kuté
+          guides the White Chief afar on his journey;
+  Nor long on the Tonka Medé [b]
+          &mdash;on the breast of the blue, bounding billows&mdash;
+  Shall the bark of the Frenchman delay,
+          but his pathway shall kindle behind him."
+
+  [a] Mendota, properly <i>Mdó-tè</i>&mdash;meaning the outlet of lake or river into
+  another,
+  commonly applied to the region about Fort Snelling.
+
+  [b] Tonka Mede&mdash;Great Lake, i.e. Lake Superior. The Dakotas seem to have
+  had no other name for it. They generally referred to it as
+  <i>Mini-ya-ta&mdash;There at the water.</i>
+
+  She was pale, and her hurried voice swelled
+          with alarm as she questioned replying
+  "Tamdóka thy guide?
+          &mdash;I beheld thy death in his face at the races!
+  He covers his heart with a smile,
+          but revenge never sleeps in his bosom;
+  His tongue&mdash;it is soft to beguile;
+          but beware of the pur of the panther!
+  For death, like a shadow,
+          will walk by thy side in the midst of the forest,
+  Or follow thy path like a hawk
+          on the trail of a wounded Mastinca. [a]
+  A son of Unktéhee is he,
+          &mdash;the Chief of the crafty magicians;
+  They have plotted thy death; I foresee,
+          and thy trail, it is red in the forest;
+  Beware of Tamdóka,&mdash;beware.
+          Slumber not like the grouse of the woodlands,
+  With head under wing,
+          for the glare of the eyes that sleep not are upon thee."
+
+  [a] The rabbit. The Dakotas called the Crees "Mastincapi"&mdash;Rabbits.
+
+  "Winona, fear not," said Duluth,
+          "for I carry the fire of Wakínyan, [a]
+  And strong is the arm of my youth,
+          and stout are the hearts of my warriors;
+  But Winona has spoken the truth,
+          and the heart of the White Chief is thankful.
+  Hide this in thy bosom, dear maid,
+          &mdash;'tis the crucified Christ of the white men. [b]
+  Lift thy voice to his spirit in need,
+          and his spirit will hear thee and answer;
+  For often he comes to my aid;
+          he is stronger than all the Dakotas;
+  And the Spirits of evil, afraid,
+          hide away when he looks from the heavens."
+  In her swelling brown bosom
+          she hid the crucified Jesus in silver;
+  "Niwástè," [c] she sadly replied;
+          in her low voice the rising tears trembled;
+  Her dewy eyes turned she aside,
+          and she slowly returned to the teepees.
+  But still on the swift river's strand,
+          admiring the graceful Winona,
+  As she gathered, with brown, dimpled hand,
+          her hair from the wind, stood the Frenchman.
+
+  [a] i.e. a fire arm which the Dakotas compare to the roar of the wings of
+  the Thunder-bird and the fiery arrows he shoots.
+
+  [b] Duluth was a devout Catholic.
+
+  [c] Nee-wahshtay&mdash;Thou art good.
+
+  To bid the brave White Chief adieu,
+          on the shady shore gathered the warriors;
+  His glad boatmen manned the canoe,
+          and the oars in their hands were impatient.
+  Spake the Chief of Isántees,
+          &mdash;"A feast will await the return of my brother
+  In peace rose the sun in the East,
+          in peace in the West he descended.
+  May the feet of my brother be swift,
+          till they bring him again to our teepees;
+  The red pipe he takes as a gift,
+          may he smoke that red pipe many winters.
+  At my lodge-fire his pipe shall be lit,
+          when the White Chief returns to Kathága;
+  On the robes of my tee shall he sit,
+          he shall smoke with the chiefs of my people.
+  The brave love the brave;
+          and his son sends the Chief as a guide for his brother,
+  By the way of the Wákpa Wakán [a]
+          to the Chief at the Lake of the Spirits.
+
+  [a] Spirit River, now called <i>Rum</i> River.
+
+  As light as the foot-steps of dawn
+          are the feet of the stealthy Tamdóka,
+  And he fears not the Máza Wakán; [a]
+          he is sly as the fox of the forest.
+  When he dances the dance of red war
+          all the hungry wolves howl by the Big Sea, [b]
+  For they scent on the south-wind
+          afar their feast on the bones of Ojibways."
+  Thrice the Chief puffed the red pipe of peace,
+          ere it passed to the lips of the Frenchman.
+  Spake DuLuth,&mdash;"May the Great Spirit
+          bless with abundance the Chief and his people;
+  May their sons and their daughters increase,
+          and the fire ever burn in their teepees."
+  Then he waved with a flag his adieu
+          to the Chief and the warriors assembled;
+  And away shot Tamdóka's canoe
+          to the strokes of ten sinewy hunters;
+  And a white path he clove up the blue,
+          bubbling stream of the swift Mississippi;
+  And away on his foaming trail flew,
+          like a Sea-Gull the bark of the Frenchman.
+  Then merrily rose the blithe song
+          of the <i>voyageurs</i> homeward returning,
+  And thus, as they glided along,
+          sang the bugle-voiced boatmen in chorus:
+</pre>
+    <h3>
+      SONG
+    </h3>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Home again! home again! bend to the oar!
+  Merry is the life of the gay <i>voyageur</i>
+  He rides on the river with his paddle in his hand,
+  And his boat is his shelter on the water and the land.
+  The clam in his shell and the water turtle too,
+  And the brave boatman's shell is his birch bark canoe.
+  So pull away, boatmen, bend to the oar;
+  Merry is the life of the gay <i>voyageur</i>.
+
+  Home again! home again! bend to the oar!
+  Merry is the life of the gay <i>voyageur</i>.
+  His couch is as downy as a couch can be,
+  For he sleeps on the feathers of the green fir-tree.
+  He dines on the fat of the pemmican-sack,
+  And his <i>eau de vie</i> is the <i>eau de lac</i>.
+  So pull away, boatmen; bend to the oar;
+  Merry is the life of the gay <i>voyageur</i>.
+
+  Home again! home again! bend to the oar!
+  Merry is the life of the gay <i>voyageur</i>.
+  The brave, jolly boatman,&mdash;he never is afraid
+  When he meets at the portage a red, forest maid,
+  A Huron, or a Cree, or a blooming Chippeway;
+  And he marks his trail with the <i>bois brulès</i>.
+  So pull away, boatmen; bend to the oar;
+  Merry is the life of the gay <i>voyageur</i>.
+  Home again! home again! bend to the oar!
+  Merry is the life of the gay <i>voyageur</i>.
+
+  [a] Fire arm&mdash;spirit metal.
+</pre>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  [b] Lake Superior&mdash;at that time the home of the Ojibways. (Chippewas)
+
+  In the reeds of the meadow the stag
+          lifts his branchy head stately and listens,
+  And the bobolink, perched on the flag,
+          her ear sidelong bends to the chorus.
+  From the brow of the Beautiful Isle, [a]
+          half hid in the midst of the maples,
+  The sad-faced Winona, the while,
+          watched the boat growing less in the distance.
+  Till away in the bend of the stream,
+          where it turned and was lost in the lindens,
+  She saw the last dip and the gleam
+          of the oars ere they vanished forever.
+  Still afar on the waters the song,
+          like bridal bells distantly chiming,
+  The stout, jolly boatmen prolong,
+          beating time with the stroke of their paddles;
+  And Winona's ear, turned to the breeze,
+          lists the air falling fainter and fainter
+  Till it dies like the murmur of bees
+          when the sun is aslant on the meadows.
+  Blow, breezes,&mdash;blow softly
+          and sing in the dark, flowing hair of the maiden;
+  But never again shall you bring
+          the voice that she loves to Winona.
+
+  [a] Wista Waste&mdash;Nicollet Island.
+
+  Now a light, rustling wind from the South
+          shakes his wings o'er the wide, wimpling waters;
+  Up the dark winding river
+          DuLuth follows fast in the wake of Tamdóka.
+  On the slopes of the emerald shores
+          leafy woodlands and prairies alternate;
+  On the vine-tangled islands
+          the flowers peep timidly out at the white men;
+  In the dark-winding eddy the loon sits warily,
+          watching and voiceless,
+  And the wild goose, in reedy lagoon,
+          stills the prattle and play of her children.
+  The does and their sleek, dappled fawns
+          prick their ears and peer out from the thickets,
+  And the bison-calves play on the lawns,
+          and gambol like colts in the clover.
+  Up the still flowing Wákpa Wakán's winding path
+          through the groves and the meadows.
+  Now DuLuth's brawny boatmen
+          pursue the swift gliding bark of Tamdóka;
+  And hardly the red braves out-do
+          the stout, steady oars of the white men.
+
+  Now they bend to their oars in the race
+          &mdash;the ten tawny braves of Tamdóka;
+  And hard on their heels in the chase
+          ply the six stalwart oars of the Frenchmen.
+  In the stern of his boat sits DuLuth,
+          in the stern of his boat stands Tamdóka;
+  And warily, cheerily,
+          both urge the oars of their men to the utmost.
+  Far-stretching away to the eyes,
+          winding blue in the midst of the meadows,
+  As a necklet of sapphires
+          that lies unclaspt in the lap of a virgin,
+  Here asleep in the lap of the plain
+          lies the reed-bordered, beautiful river.
+  Like two flying coursers that strain,
+          on the track, neck and neck, on the home-stretch,
+  With nostrils distended, and mane froth-flecked,
+          and the neck and the shoulders,
+  Each urged to his best by the cry
+          and the whip and the rein of his rider,
+  Now they skim o'er the waters and fly,
+          side by side, neck and neck, through the meadows.
+  The blue heron flaps from the reeds,
+          and away wings her course up the river;
+  Straight and swift is her flight o'er the meads,
+          but she hardly outstrips the canoemen.
+  See! the <i>voyageurs</i> bend to their oars
+          till the blue veins swell out on their foreheads;
+  And the sweat from their brawny breasts pours;
+          but in vain their Herculean labor;
+  For the oars of Tamdôka are ten,
+          and but six are the oars of the Frenchmen,
+  And the red warriors' burden of men
+          is matched by the <i>voyageur's</i> luggage.
+  Side by side, neck and neck, for a mile,
+          still they strain their strong arms to the utmost,
+  Till rounding a willowy isle, now ahead creeps the boat of Tamdóka,
+  And the neighboring forests profound,
+          and the far-stretching plain of the meadows
+  To the whoop of the victors resound,
+          while the panting French rest on their paddles.
+
+  With sable wings wide o'er the land,
+          night sprinkles the dew of the heavens;
+  And hard by the dark river's strand,
+          in the midst of a tall, somber forest,
+  Two camp-fires are lighted, and beam
+          on the trunks and the arms of the pine-trees.
+  In the fitful light darkle and gleam
+          the swarthy-hued faces around them.
+  And one is the camp of DuLuth,
+          and the other the camp of Tamdóka,
+  But few are the jests and uncouth
+          of the <i>voyageurs</i> over their supper,
+  While moody and silent the braves
+          round their fire in a circle sit crouching;
+  And low is the whisper of leaves
+          and the sough of the wind in the branches;
+  And low is the long-winding howl
+          of the lone wolf afar in the forest;
+  But shrill is the hoot of the owl,
+          like a bugle blast blown in the pine-tops,
+  And the half-startled <i>voyageurs</i>
+          scowl at the sudden and saucy intruder.
+  Like the eyes of the wolves are the eyes
+          of the watchful and silent Dakotas;
+  Like the face of the moon in the skies,
+          when the clouds chase each other across it.
+  Is Tamdóka's dark face in the light
+          of the flickering flames of the camp fire.
+  They have plotted red murder by night,
+          and securely contemplate their victims.
+  But wary and armed to the teeth
+          are the resolute Frenchmen and ready,
+  If need be, to grapple with death,
+          and to die hand to hand in the desert.
+  Yet skilled in the arts and the wiles
+          of the cunning and crafty Algonkins,
+  They cover their hearts with their smiles,
+          and hide their suspicions of evil.
+  Round their low, smouldering fire,
+          feigning sleep, lie the watchful and wily Dakotas;
+  But DuLuth and his <i>voyageurs</i> heap their fire
+          that shall blaze till the morning,
+  Ere they lay themselves snugly to rest,
+          with their guns by their side on the blankets,
+  As if there were none to molest
+          but the ravening beasts of the forest.
+
+  'Tis midnight. The rising moon gleams,
+          weird and still o'er the dusky horizon;
+  Through the hushed, somber forest she beams,
+          and fitfully gloams on the meadows;
+  And a dim, glimmering pathway she paves,
+          at times, on the dark stretch of river.
+  The winds are asleep in the caves
+          &mdash;in the heart of the far-away mountains;
+  And here on the meadows and there,
+          the lazy mists gather and hover;
+  And the lights of the Fen-Spirits <a href="#linknote-72" name="linknoteref-72"
+      id="linknoteref-72_">72</a> flare
+          and dance on the low-lying marshes,
+  As still as the footsteps of death
+          by the bed of the babe and its mother;
+  And hushed are the pines, and beneath
+          lie the weary limbed boatmen in slumber.
+  Walk softly,&mdash;walk softly, O Moon,
+          through the gray, broken clouds in thy pathway,
+  For the earth lies asleep, and the boon
+          of repose is bestowed on the weary.
+  Toiling hands have forgotten their care;
+          e'en the brooks have forgotten to murmur;
+  But hark!&mdash;there's a sound on the air!
+          &mdash;'tis the light-rustling robes of the Spirits.
+  Like the breath of the night in the leaves,
+          or the murmur of reeds on the river,
+  In the cool of the mid-summer eves,
+          when the blaze of the day has descended.
+  Low-crouching and shadowy forms,
+          as still as the gray morning's footsteps,
+  Creep sly as the serpent that charms,
+          on her nest in the meadow, the plover;
+  In the shadows of pine-trunks they creep,
+          but their panther-eyes gleam in the fire-light,
+  As they peer on the white men asleep,
+          in the glow of the fire, on their blankets.
+  Lo, in each swarthy right hand a knife,
+          in the left hand, the bow and the arrows!
+  Brave Frenchmen! awake to the strife!
+          &mdash;or you sleep in the forest forever.
+  Nay, nearer and nearer they glide,
+          like ghosts on the fields of their battles,
+  Till close on the sleepers, they bide
+          but the signal of death from Tamdóka.
+  Still the sleepers sleep on.
+          Not a breath stirs the leaves of the awe-stricken forest;
+  The hushed air is heavy with death;
+          like the footsteps of death are the moments.
+  "<i>Arise</i>!"&mdash;At the word, with a bound,
+          to their feet spring the vigilant Frenchmen;
+  And the dark, dismal forests resound
+          to the crack and the roar of their rifles;
+  And seven writhing forms on the ground
+          clutch the earth. From the pine-tops the screech owl
+  Screams and flaps his wide wings in affright,
+          and plunges away through the shadows;
+  And swift on the wings of the night
+          flee the dim, phantom forms of the spirit.
+  Like cabris <a href="#linknote-80" name="linknoteref-80" id="linknoteref-80__">80</a> when white wolves pursue,
+          fled the four yet remaining Dakotas;
+  Through forest and fen-land they flew,
+          and wild terror howled on their footsteps.
+  And one was Tamdóka. DuLuth through the night
+          sent his voice like a trumpet;
+  "Ye are Sons of Unktéhee, forsooth!
+          Return to your mothers, ye cowards!"
+  His shrill voice they heard as they fled,
+          but only the echoes made answer.
+  At the feet of the brave Frenchmen, dead,
+          lay seven swarthy Sons of Unktéhee;
+  And there, in the midst of the slain,
+          they found, as it gleamed in the fire light,
+  The horn-handled knife from the Seine,
+          where it fell from the hand of Tamdóka.
+
+  [Illustration: THE RIVER WAKPA WAKAN OR SPIRIT RIVER]
+
+  In the gray of the morn,
+          ere the sun peeped over the dewy horizon,
+  Their journey again was begun,
+          and they toiled up the swift, winding river;
+  And many a shallow they passed
+          on their way to the Lake of the Spirits;
+  But dauntless they reached it at last,
+          and found Akee-pá-kee-tin's village, [a]
+  On an isle in the midst of the lake;
+          and a day in his teepee they tarried.
+
+  [a] see Hennepin's account of Aqui-pa-que-tin and his village.
+  Shea's Hennepin 227.
+
+  Of the deed in the wilderness spake,
+          to the brave Chief, the frank-hearted Frenchman.
+  A generous man was the Chief
+          and a friend of the fearless explorer;
+  And dark was his visage with grief
+          at the treacherous act of the warriors.
+  "Brave Wazi-Kuté is a man,
+          and his heart is as clear as the sun-light;
+  But the head of a treacherous clan,
+          and a snake in the bush is Tamdóka,"
+  Said the chief; and he promised Duluth,
+          on the word of a friend and a warrior,
+  To carry the pipe and the truth
+          to his cousin, the chief at Kathága;
+  For thrice at the Tânka Medé
+          had he smoked in the lodge of the Frenchman;
+  And thrice had he carried away
+          the bountiful gifts of the trader.
+
+  When the chief could no longer prevail
+          on the white men to rest in his teepee,
+  He guided their feet on the trail
+          to the lakes of the winding Rice-River. [a]
+  Now on speeds the light bark canoe,
+          through the lakes to the broad Gitchee Seebee; [b]
+  And up the great river they row,
+          &mdash;up the Big Sandy Lake and Savanna;
+  And down through the meadows they go
+          to the river of broad Gitchee Gumee. [c]
+
+  [a] Now called "Mud River"&mdash;it empties into the Mississippi at Aitkin.
+
+  [b] <i>Gitchee seebee</i>&mdash;Big River&mdash;the Ojibway name for the Mississippi,
+  which is a corruption of Gitchee Seebee&mdash;as Michigan is a corruption of
+  <i>Gitchee Gumee</i>&mdash;Great Lake, the Ojibway name of Lake Superior.
+
+  [c] The Ojibways call the St. Louis River
+  <i>Gitchee-Gumee See-bee&mdash;Great-lake River</i>, i.e. the river of the Great Lake
+  (Lake Superior).
+
+  [Illustration: DALLES OF THE ST. LOUIS]
+
+  Still onward they speed to the Dalles
+          &mdash;to the roar of the white-rolling rapids,
+  Where the dark river tumbles and falls
+          down the ragged ravine of the mountains,
+  And singing his wild jubilee
+          to the low-moaning pines and the cedars,
+  Rushes on to the unsalted sea
+          o'er the ledges upheaved by volcanoes.
+  Their luggage the <i>voyageurs</i> bore
+          down the long, winding path of the portage, [a]
+  While they mingled their song
+          with the roar of the turbid and turbulent waters.
+  Down-wimpling and murmuring there,
+          twixt two dewy hills winds a streamlet,
+  Like a long, flaxen ringlet of hair
+          on the breast of a maid in her slumber.
+
+  [a] The route of Duluth above described&mdash;from the mouth of the Wild Rice
+  Mud River to Lake Superior&mdash;was for centuries and still is, the Indians'
+  canoe route. I have walked over the old portage from the foot of the
+  Dalles to the St. Louis above&mdash;trod by the feet of half-breeds and
+  <i>voyageurs</i> for more than two centuries, and by the Indians for,
+  perhaps, a thousand years.
+
+  All safe at the foot of the trail,
+          where they left it, they found their felucca,
+  And soon to the wind spread the sail,
+          and glided at ease through the waters,
+  Through the meadows and lakelets and forth,
+          round the point stretching south like a finger,
+  From the mist-wreathen hill on the north,
+          sloping down to the bay and the lake-side
+  And behold, at the foot of the hill,
+          a cluster of Chippewa wigwams,
+  And the busy wives plying with skill
+          their nets in the emerald waters.
+  Two hundred white winters and more
+          have fled from the face of the Summer
+  Since DuLuth, on that wild, somber shore,
+          in the unbroken forest primeval,
+  From the midst of the spruce and the pines,
+          saw the smoke of the wigwams up-curling,
+  Like the fumes from the temples and shrines
+          of the Druids of old in their forests.
+  Ah, little he dreamed then, forsooth,
+          that a city would stand on that hill-side,
+  And bear the proud name of Duluth,
+          the untiring and dauntless explorer.
+  A refuge for ships from the storms,
+          and for men from the bee-hives of Europe.
+  Out-stretching her long, iron arms
+          o'er an empire of Saxons and Normans.
+
+  The swift west-wind sang in the sails,
+          and on flew the boat like a Sea-Gull,
+  By the green, templed hills and the dales,
+          and the dark rugged rocks of the North Shore;
+  For the course of the brave Frenchman
+          lay to his fort at the Gáh-mah-na-ték-wáhk, <a href="#linknote-83"
+      name="linknoteref-83" id="linknoteref-83">83</a>
+  By the shore of the grand Thunder Bay,
+          where the gray rocks loom up into mountains;
+  Where the Stone Giant sleeps on the Cape,
+          and the god of the storms makes the thunder, <a href="#linknote-83"
+      name="linknoteref-83" id="linknoteref-83_">83</a>
+  And the Makinak <a href="#linknote-83" name="linknoteref-83"
+      id="linknoteref-83__">83</a> lifts his huge shape
+          from the breast of the blue-rolling waters,
+  And thence to the south-westward led his course
+          to the Holy Ghost Mission. <a href="#linknote-84" name="linknoteref-84"
+      id="linknoteref-84">84</a>
+  Where the Black Robes, the brave shepherds,
+          fed their wild sheep on the isle Wau-ga-bá-mé. <a href="#linknote-84"
+      name="linknoteref-84" id="linknoteref-84_">84</a>
+
+  [Illustration: SUNSET BAY, LAKE SUPERIOR.]
+
+  In the enchanting Cha-quam-e-gon Bay,
+          defended by all the Apostles; [a]
+  And thence by the Ké-we-naw,
+          lay his course to the Mission Sainte Marie. [b]
+  Now the waves drop their myriad hands,
+          and streams the white hair of the surges;
+  DuLuth at the steady helm stands,
+          and he hums as he bounds o'er the billows:
+
+    O sweet is the carol of bird,
+    And sweet is the murmur of streams,
+    But sweeter the voice that I heard&mdash;
+    In the night&mdash;in the midst of my dreams.
+
+  [a] The Apostle Islands.
+
+  [b] At the Saut St. Marie.
+
+  'Tis the moon of the sere, falling leaves.
+          From the heads of the maples the west-wind
+  Plucks the red-and-gold plumage
+          and grieves on the meads for the rose and the lily;
+  Their brown leaves the moaning oaks strew,
+          and the breezes that roam on the prairies,
+  Low-whistling and wanton pursue
+          the down of the silk weed and thistle.
+  All sere are the prairies and brown,
+          in the glimmer and haze of the Autumn;
+  From the far northern marshes flock down,
+          by thousands, the geese and the mallards.
+  From the meadows and wide-prairied plains,
+          for their long southward journey preparing,
+  In croaking flocks gather the cranes,
+          and choose with loud clamor their leaders.
+  The breath of the evening is cold,
+          and lurid along the horizon
+  The flames of the prairies are rolled,
+          on the somber skies flashing their torches.
+  At noontide a shimmer of gold,
+          through the haze, pours the sun from his pathway.
+  The wild-rice is gathered and ripe,
+          on the moors, lie the scarlet po-pán-ka; [a]
+  Michabo <a href="#linknote-85" name="linknoteref-85" id="linknoteref-85">85</a> is smoking his pipe,
+          &mdash;'tis the soft, dreamy Indian Summer,
+  When the god of the South as he flies
+          from Wazíya, the god of the Winter,
+  For a time turns his beautiful eyes,
+          and backward looks over his shoulder.
+
+  [a] Cranberries.
+
+  It is noon. From his path in the skies
+          the red sun looks down on Kathága,
+  Asleep in the valley it lies,
+          for the swift hunters follow the bison.
+  Ta-té-psin, the aged brave, bends
+          as he walks by the side of Winona;
+  Her arm to his left hand she lends,
+          and he feels with his staff for the pathway;
+  On his slow, feeble footsteps attends
+          his gray dog, the watchful Wicháka; [a]
+  For blind in his years is the chief
+          of a fever that followed the Summer,
+  And the days of Ta-té-psin are brief.
+          Once more by the dark-rolling river
+  Sits the Chief in the warm, dreamy haze
+          of the beautiful Summer in Autumn;
+  And the faithful dog lovingly lays his head
+          at the feet of his master.
+  On a dead, withered branch sits a crow,
+          down-peering askance at the old man;
+  On the marge of the river below
+          romp the nut-brown and merry-voiced children,
+  And the dark waters silently flow,
+          broad and deep, to the plunge of the Ha-ha.
+
+  [a] Wee-chah kah&mdash;literally "Faithful".
+
+  By his side sat Winona.
+          He laid his thin, shriveled hand on her tresses,
+  "Winona my daughter," he said,
+          "no longer thy father beholds thee;
+  But he feels the long locks of thy hair,
+          and the days that are gone are remembered,
+  When Sisóka [a] sat faithful and fair
+          in the lodge of swift footed Ta-té-psin.
+  The white years have broken my spear;
+          from my bow they have taken the bow-string;
+  But once on the trail of the deer,
+          like a gray wolf from sunrise till sunset,
+  By woodland and meadow and mere,
+          ran the feet of Ta-té-psin untiring.
+  But dim are the days that are gone,
+          and darkly around me they wander,
+  Like the pale, misty face of the moon
+          when she walks through the storm of the winter;
+  And sadly they speak in my ear.
+          I have looked on the graves of my kindred.
+  The Land of the Spirits is near.
+          Death walks by my side like a shadow.
+  Now open thine ear to my voice,
+          and thy heart to the wish of thy father,
+  And long will Winona rejoice
+          that she heeded the words of Ta-té-psin.
+  The cold, cruel winter is near,
+          and famine will sit in the teepee.
+  What hunter will bring me the deer,
+          or the flesh of the bear or the bison?
+  For my kinsmen before me have gone;
+          they hunt in the land of the shadows.
+  In my old age forsaken, alone,
+          must I die in my teepee of hunger?
+  Winona, Tamdóka can make my empty lodge
+          laugh with abundance;
+  For thine aged and blind father's sake,
+          to the son of the Chief speak the promise.
+  For gladly again to my tee
+          will the bridal gifts come for my daughter.
+  A fleet-footed hunter is he,
+          and the good spirits feather his arrows;
+  And the cold, cruel winter
+          will be a feast-time instead of a famine."
+
+  [a] The Robin&mdash;the name of Winona's Mother.
+
+  "My father," she said, and her voice
+          was filial and full of compassion,
+  "Would the heart of Ta-té-psin rejoice
+          at the death of Winona, his daughter?
+  The crafty Tamdóka I hate.
+          Must I die in his teepee of sorrow?
+  For I love the White Chief,
+          and I wait his return to the land of Dakotas.
+  When the cold winds of winter return,
+          and toss the white robes of the prairies,
+  The fire of the White Chief will burn,
+          in his lodge, at the Meeting-of-Waters.
+  Winona's heart followed his feet
+          far away to the land of the morning,
+  And she hears in her slumber
+          his sweet, kindly voice call the name of thy daughter.
+  My father, abide, I entreat,
+          the return of the brave to Kathága.
+  The wild-rice is gathered,
+          the meat of the bison is stored in the teepee;
+  Till the Coon-Moon <a href="#linknote-71" name="linknoteref-71"
+      id="linknoteref-71___">71</a> enough and to spare;
+          and if then the white warrior return not,
+  Winona will follow the bear, and the coon,
+          to their dens in the forest.
+  She is strong; she can handle the spear;
+          she can bend the stout bow of the hunter;
+  And swift on the trail of the deer
+          will she run o'er the snow on her snow-shoes.
+  Let the step-mother sit in the tee,
+          and kindle the fire for my father;
+  And the cold, cruel winter shall be
+          a feast-time instead of a famine."
+  "The White Chief will never return,"
+          half angrily muttered Ta-té-psin;
+
+  "His camp-fire will nevermore burn
+          in the land of the warriors he slaughtered.
+  I grieve, for my daughter has said
+          that she loves the false friend of her kindred;
+  For the hands of the White Chief are red
+          with the blood of the trustful Dakotas."
+  Then warmly Winona replied,
+          "Tamdóka himself is the traitor,
+  And the white-hearted stranger had died
+          by his treacherous hand in the forest,
+  But thy daughter's voice bade him beware
+          of the sly death that followed his footsteps.
+  The words of Tamdóka are fair,
+          but his heart is the den of the serpents.
+  When the braves told their tale,
+          like a bird sang the heart of Winona rejoicing,
+  But gladlier still had she heard
+          of the death of the crafty Tamdóka.
+  The Chief will return, he is bold,
+          and he carries the fire of Wakínyan;
+  To our people the truth will be told,
+          and Tamdóka will hide like a coward."
+  His thin locks the aged brave shook;
+          to himself half inaudibly muttered;
+  To Winona no answer he spoke
+          &mdash;only moaned he "Micunksee! Micunksee! [a]
+  In my old age forsaken and blind!
+          Yun! He he! Micúnksee! Micúnksee!" [b]
+  And Wicháka, the pitying dog, whined,
+          as he looked on the face of his master.
+
+  [a] My Daughter! My Daughter!
+
+  [b] Alas! O My Daughter,&mdash;My Daughter!
+
+  Wazíya came down from the North
+          &mdash;from his land of perpetual winter.
+  From his frost-covered beard issued forth
+          the sharp-biting, shrill-whistling North-wind;
+  At the touch of his breath the wide earth turned to stone,
+          and the lakes and the rivers;
+  From his nostrils the white vapors rose,
+          and they covered the sky like a blanket.
+  Like the down of Magá [a] fell the snows,
+          tossed and whirled into heaps by the North-wind.
+  Then the blinding storms roared on the plains,
+          like the simoons on sandy Sahara;
+  From the fangs of the fierce hurricanes
+          fled the elk and the deer and the bison.
+  Ever colder and colder it grew,
+          till the frozen earth cracked and split open;
+  And harder and harder it blew,
+          till the prairies were bare as the boulders.
+  To the southward the buffaloes fled,
+          and the white rabbits hid in their burrows;
+  On the bare sacred mounds of the dead
+          howled the gaunt, hungry wolves in the night-time.
+  The strong hunters crouched in their tees;
+          by the lodge-fires the little ones shivered;
+  And the Magic Men [b] danced to appease,
+          in their teepee, the wrath of Wazíya;
+  But famine and fatal disease,
+          like phantoms, crept into the village.
+  The Hard Moon [c] was past, but the moon
+          when the coons make their trails in the forest [d]
+  Grew colder and colder. The coon or the bear,
+          ventured not from his cover;
+  For the cold, cruel Arctic Simoon swept the earth
+          like the breath of a furnace.
+  In the tee of Ta-té-psin the store of wild-rice
+          and dried meat was exhausted;
+  And Famine crept in at the door,
+          and sat crouching and gaunt by the lodge-fire.
+  But now with the saddle of deer,
+          and the gifts, came the crafty Tamdóka;
+  And he said, "Lo I bring you good cheer,
+          for I love the blind Chief and his daughter.
+  Take the gifts of Tamdóka,
+          for dear to his heart is the dark-eyed Winona."
+  The aged chief opened his ears;
+          in his heart he already consented;
+  But the moans of his child and her tears
+          touched the age-softened heart of the father,
+  And he said, "I am burdened with years,
+          &mdash;I am bent by the snows of my winters;
+  Ta-té-psin will die in his tee;
+          let him pass to the Land of the Spirits;
+  But Winona is young; she is free,
+          and her own heart shall choose her a husband."
+  The dark warrior strode from the tee;
+          low-muttering and grim he departed.
+  "Let him die in his lodge," muttered he,
+          "but Winona shall kindle my lodge-fire."
+
+  [a] Wild goose.
+
+  [b] Medicine men.
+
+  [c] January.
+
+  [d] February.
+
+  Then forth went Winona. The bow of Ta-té-psin
+          she took and his arrows,
+  And afar o'er the deep, drifted snow,
+          through the forest, she sped on her snow-shoes.
+  Over meadow and ice-covered mere,
+          through the thickets of red oak and hazel,
+  She followed the tracks of the deer,
+          but like phantoms they fled from her vision.
+  From sunrise till sunset she sped;
+          half-famished she camped in the thicket;
+  In the cold snow she made her lone bed;
+          on the buds of the birch [a] made her supper.
+  To the dim moon the gray owl preferred,
+          from the tree top, his shrill lamentation,
+  And around her at midnight she heard
+          the dread famine-cries of the gray wolves.
+  In the gloam of the morning again
+          on the trail of the red-deer she followed&mdash;
+  All day long through the thickets in vain,
+          for the gray wolves were chasing the roebucks;
+  And the cold, hungry winds from the plain
+          chased the wolves and the deer and Winona.
+
+  [a] The pheasant feeds on birch-buds in winter. Indians eat them when very
+  hungry.
+
+  In the twilight of sundown she sat,
+          in the forest, all weak and despairing;
+  Ta-té-psin's bow lay at her feet,
+          and his otter skin quiver of arrows.
+  "He promised,&mdash;he promised," she said
+          &mdash;half-dreamily uttered and mournful,&mdash;
+  "And why comes he not? Is he dead?
+          Was he slain by the crafty Tamdóka?
+  Must Winona, alas, make her choice
+          &mdash;make her choice between death and Tamdóka?
+  She will die but her soul will rejoice
+          in the far Summer-land of the spirits.
+  Hark! I hear his low, musical voice!
+          He is coming! My White Chief is coming!
+  Ah, no; I am half in a dream!
+          &mdash;'twas the mem'ry of days long departed;
+  But the birds of the green Summer
+          seem to be singing above in the branches."
+  Then forth from her bosom she drew
+          the crucified Jesus in silver.
+  In her dark hair the cold north wind blew,
+          as meekly she bent o'er the image.
+  "O Christ of the White man," she prayed,
+          "lead the feet of my brave to Kathága;
+  Send a good spirit down to my aid,
+          or the friend of the White Chief will perish."
+  Then a smile on her wan features played,
+          and she lifted her pale face and chanted:
+
+  "E-ye-he-ktá! E-ye-he-ktá!
+   Hé-kta-cè; é-ye-ce-quón.
+   Mí-Wamdee-ská, he-he-ktá;
+   He-kta-cè; é-ye-ce-quón,
+   Mí-Wamdee-ská."
+
+  [TRANSLATION.]
+
+   He will come; he will come;
+   He will come, for he promised.
+   My White Eagle, he will come;
+   He will come, for he promised,&mdash;
+   My White Eagle.
+
+  Thus sadly she chanted, and lo
+          &mdash;allured by her sorrowful accents&mdash;
+  From the dark covert crept a red doe
+          and wondrously gazed on Winona.
+  Then swift caught the huntress her bow;
+          from her trembling hand hummed the keen arrow.
+  Up-leaped the red gazer and fled,
+          but the white snow was sprinkled with scarlet,
+  And she fell in the oak thicket dead.
+          On the trail ran the eager Winona.
+  Half-famished the raw flesh she ate.
+          To the hungry maid sweet was her supper.
+  Then swift through the night ran her feet,
+          and she trailed the sleek red-deer behind her.
+  And the guide of her steps was a star
+          &mdash;the cold-glinting star of Wazíya&mdash;[a]
+  Over meadow and hilltop afar,
+          on the way to the lodge of her father.
+  But hark! on the keen frosty air
+          wind the shrill hunger-howls of the gray wolves!
+  And nearer,&mdash;still nearer!
+          &mdash;the blood of the doe have they scented and follow;
+  Through the thicket, the meadow,
+          the wood, dash the pack on the trail of Winona.
+  Swift she speeds with her burden,
+          but swift on her track fly the minions of famine;
+  Now they yell on the view from the drift,
+          in the reeds at the marge of the meadow;
+  Red gleam their wild, ravenous eyes;
+          for they see on the hill-side their supper;
+  The dark forest echoes their cries;
+          but her heart is the heart of a warrior.
+  From its sheath snatched Winona her knife,
+          and a leg from the red doe she severed;
+  With the carcass she ran for her life,
+          &mdash;to a low-branching oak ran the maiden;
+  Round the deer's neck her head-strap [b] was tied;
+          swiftly she sprang to the arms of the oak-tree;
+  Quick her burden she drew to her side,
+          and higher she clomb on the branches,
+  While the maddened wolves battled and bled,
+          dealing death o'er the leg to each other;
+  Their keen fangs devouring the dead,
+          &mdash;yea, devouring the flesh of the living,
+  They raved and they gnashed and they growled,
+          like the fiends in the regions infernal;
+  The wide night re-echoing howled,
+          and the hoarse North wind laughed o'er the slaughter.
+  But their ravenous maws unappeased
+          by the blood and the flesh of their fellows,
+  To the cold wind their muzzles they raised,
+          and the trail to the oak-tree they followed.
+  Round and round it they howled for the prey,
+          madly leaping and snarling and snapping;
+  But the brave maiden's keen arrows slay,
+          till the dead number more than the living.
+  All the long, dreary night-time, at bay,
+          in the oak sat the shivering Winona;
+  But the sun gleamed at last, and away
+          skulked the gray cowards [c] down through the forest.
+  Then down dropped the doe and the maid.
+          Ere the sun reached the midst of his journey,
+  Her red, welcome burden she laid
+          at the feet of her famishing father.
+
+  [a] Wazíya's Star is the North Star.
+
+  [b] A strap used in carrying burdens.
+
+  [c] Wolves sometimes attack people at night but rarely if ever in the day
+  time. If they have followed a hunter all night, or "treed" him they will
+  skulk away as soon as the sun rises.
+
+  Wazíya's wild wrath was appeased,
+          and homeward he turned to his teepee, <a href="#linknote-3"
+      name="linknoteref-3" id="linknoteref-3__">3</a>
+  O'er the plains and the forest-land breezed,
+          from the Islands of Summer, the South wind.
+  From their dens came the coon and the bear;
+          o'er the snow through the woodlands they wandered;
+  On her snow shoes with stout bow and spear
+          on their trails ran the huntress Winona.
+  The coon to his den in the tree,
+          and the bear to his burrow she followed;
+  A brave, skillful hunter was she,
+          and Ta-té-psin's lodge laughed with abundance.
+
+  The long winter wanes. On the wings
+          of the spring come the geese and the mallards;
+  On the bare oak the red-robin sings,
+          and the crocuses peep on the prairies,
+  And the bobolink pipes, but he brings,
+          of the blue-eyed, brave White Chief, no tidings.
+  With the waning of winter, alas,
+          waned the life of the aged Tatépsin;
+  Ere the blue pansies peeped from the grass,
+          to the Land of the Spirits he journeyed;
+  Like a babe in its slumber he passed,
+          or the snow from the hill tops in April;
+  And the dark-eyed Winona, at last,
+          stood alone by the graves of her kindred.
+  When their myriad mouths opened the trees
+          to the sweet dew of heaven and the rain drops,
+  And the April showers fell on the leas,
+          on his mound fell the tears of Winona.
+  Round her drooping form gathered the years
+          and the spirits unseen of her kindred,
+  As low, in the midst of her tears,
+          at the grave of her father she chanted:
+
+      E-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah ké-yày!
+      E-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah ké-yày!
+      E-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah ké-yày!
+    Ma-káh kin háy-chay-dan táy-han wan-kày.
+    Tú-way ne ktáy snee e-yáy-chen e-wáh chày.
+      E-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah ké-yày!
+      E-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah ké-yày!
+    Ma-káh kin háy-chay-dan táy-han wan-kày.
+
+    [TRANSLATION]
+
+      Sore is my sorrow!
+      Sore is my sorrow!
+      Sore is my sorrow!
+    The earth alone lasts.
+    I speak as one dying;
+      Sore is my sorrow!
+      Sore is my sorrow!
+    The earth alone lasts.
+
+  Still hope, like a star in the night
+          gleaming oft through the broken clouds somber,
+  Cheered the heart of Winona, and bright,
+          on her dreams, beamed the face of the Frenchman.
+  As the thought of a loved one and lost,
+          sad and sweet were her thoughts of the White Chief;
+  In the moon's mellow light, like a ghost,
+          walked Winona alone by the Ha-ha,
+  Ever wrapped in a dream. Far away
+          &mdash;to the land of the sunrise&mdash;she wandered;
+  On the blue rolling Tánka Medé, [a]
+          in the midst of her dreams, she beheld him&mdash;
+  In his white-winged canoe, like a bird,
+          to the land of Dakotas returning;
+  And often in fancy she heard
+          the dip of his oars on the river.
+  On the dark waters glimmered the moon,
+          but she saw not the boat of the Frenchman;
+  On the somber night bugled the loon,
+          but she heard not the song of the boatmen.
+  The moon waxed and waned, but the star
+          of her hope never waned to the setting;
+  Through her tears she beheld it afar,
+          like a torch on the eastern horizon.
+  "He will come,&mdash;he is coming," she said;
+          "he will come, for my White Eagle promised,"
+  And low to the bare earth the maid
+          bent her ear for the sound of his footsteps.
+  "He is gone, but his voice in my ear
+          still remains like the voice of the robin;
+  He is far, but his footsteps I hear;
+          he is coming; my White Chief is coming!"
+
+  [a] Lake Superior,&mdash;The <i>Gitchee Gumee</i> of the Chippewas.
+
+  But the moon waxed and waned. Nevermore
+          will the eyes of Winona behold him.
+  Far away on the dark, rugged shore
+          of the blue Gitchee Gúmee he lingers.
+  No tidings the rising sun brings;
+          no tidings the star of the evening;
+  But morning and evening she sings,
+          like a turtle-doe widowed and waiting;
+
+    Aké u, aké u, aké u;
+    Ma cântè maséca.
+    Aké u, aké u, aké u;
+    Ma cântè maséca.
+
+    Come again, come again, come again;
+    For my heart is sad.
+    Come again, come again, come again;
+    For my heart is sad.
+
+  Down the broad Gitchee Seebee [a]
+          the band took their way to the Games at Keóza.
+  While the swift-footed hunters by land
+          ran the shores for the elk and the bison.
+  Like magás [b] ride the birchen canoes
+          on the breast of the dark Gitchee Seebee;
+  By the willow-fringed islands they cruise
+          by the grassy hills green to their summits;
+  By the lofty bluffs hooded with oaks
+          that darken the deep with their shadows;
+  And bright in the sun gleam the strokes
+          of the oars in the hands of the women.
+  With the band went Winona.
+          The oar plied the maid with the skill of a hunter.
+  They loitered and camped on the shore of Remníca
+          &mdash;the Lake of the Mountains. [c]
+  There the fleet hunters followed the deer,
+          and the thorny <i>pahin</i> [d] for the women.
+
+  [a] Chippewa name of the Mississippi
+
+  [b] Wild Geese
+
+  [c] Lake Pepin; by Hennepin called Lake of Tears&mdash;Called by the Dakotas
+  Remnee-chah-Mday&mdash;Lake of the Mountains.
+
+  [d] Pah hin&mdash;the porcupine&mdash;the quill of which are greatly prized for
+  ornamental work.
+
+  From the tees rose the smoke of good cheer,
+          curling blue through the tops of the maples,
+  Near the foot of a cliff that arose,
+          like the battle-scarred walls of a castle.
+  Up-towering, in rugged repose,
+          to a dizzy height over the waters.
+
+  But the man-wolf still followed his prey,
+          and the step-mother ruled in the tepee;
+  Her will must Winona obey,
+          by the custom and law of Dakotas.
+  The gifts to the teepee were brought
+          &mdash;the blankets, and beads of the White men,
+  And Winona, the orphaned, was bought
+          by the crafty relentless Tamdóka.
+  In the Spring-time of life,
+          in the flush of the gladsome mid-May days of Summer,
+  When the bobolink sang and the thrush,
+          and the red robin chirped in the branches,
+  To the tent of the brave must she go;
+          she must kindle the fire in his tepee;
+  She must sit in the lodge of her foe,
+          as a slave at the feet of her master.
+  Alas for her waiting!
+          the wings of the East-wind have brought her no tidings;
+  On the meadow the meadow-lark sings
+          but sad is her song to Winona,
+  For the glad warblers melody brings
+          but the memory of voices departed.
+
+  The Day-Spirit walked in the west
+          to his lodge in the land of the shadows;
+  His shining face gleamed on the crest
+          of the oak-hooded hills and the mountains,
+  And the meadow-lark hied to her nest,
+          and the mottled owl peeped from her cover.
+  But hark! from the teepees a cry!
+          Hear the shouts of the hurrying warriors!
+  Are the steps of the enemy nigh,
+          &mdash;of the crafty and creeping Ojibways?
+  Nay; look on the dizzy cliff high!
+          &mdash;on the brink of the cliff stands Winona!
+  Her sad face up-turned to the sky. Hark!
+          I hear the wild chant of her death-song:
+
+    My Father's Spirit, look down, look down&mdash;
+    From your hunting-grounds in the shining skies;
+    Behold, for the light of my soul is gone,&mdash;
+    The light is gone and Winona dies.
+
+    I looked to the East, but I saw no star;
+    The face of my White Chief was turned away.
+    I harked for his footsteps in vain; afar
+    His bark sailed over the Sunrise-sea.
+
+    Long have I watched till my heart is cold;
+    In my breast it is heavy and cold as stone.
+    No more shall Winona his face behold,
+    And the robin that sang in her heart is gone.
+
+    Shall I sit at the feet of the treacherous brave?
+    On his hateful couch shall Winona lie?
+    Shall she kindle his fire like a coward slave?
+    No!&mdash;a warrior's daughter can bravely die.
+
+    My Father's Spirit, look down, look down&mdash;
+    From your hunting-grounds in the shining skies;
+    Behold, for the light of my soul is gone,&mdash;
+      The light is gone and Winona dies.
+
+  Swift the strong hunters clomb as she sang,
+          and the foremost of all was Tamdóka;
+  From crag to crag upward he sprang;
+          like a panther he leaped to the summit.
+  Too late! on the brave as he crept
+          turned the maid in her scorn and defiance;
+  Then swift from the dizzy height leaped.
+          Like a brant arrow-pierced in mid-heaven.
+  Down-whirling and fluttering she fell,
+          and headlong plunged into the waters.
+  Forever she sank mid the wail,
+          and the wild lamentation of women.
+  Her lone spirit evermore dwells
+          in the depths of the Lake of the Mountains,
+  And the lofty cliff evermore tells
+          to the years as they pass her sad story. [a]
+  In the silence of sorrow the night
+          o'er the earth spread her wide, sable pinions;
+  And the stars <a href="#linknote-18" name="linknoteref-18"
+      id="linknoteref-18__">18</a> hid their faces,
+          and light on the lake fell the tears of the spirits.
+  As her sad sisters watched on the shore
+          for her spirit to rise from the waters,
+  They heard the swift dip of an oar,
+          and a boat they beheld like a shadow,
+  Gliding down through the night
+          in the gray, gloaming mists on the face of the waters.
+  'Twas the bark of DuLuth on his way
+          from the Falls to the Games at Keóza.
+
+  [a] The Dakotas say that the spirit of Winona forever haunts the lake.
+  They say that it was many, many winters ago when Winona leaped from the
+  rock&mdash;that the rock was then perpendicular to the water's edge and she
+  leaped into the lake, but now the rock has worn away, or the water has
+  receded, so that it does not reach the foot of the rock.
+
+  [Illustration: "DOWN THE RAGGED RAVINE OF THE MOUNTAINS." DALLES OF THE
+  ST LOUIS.]
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      THE LEGEND OF THE FALLS.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Note: An-pe-tu Sa-pa&mdash;Clouded Day&mdash;was the name of the Dakota
+      mother who committed suicide, as related in this legend, by plunging over
+      the Falls of St. Anthony. Schoolcraft calls her "<i>Ampata</i> Sapa." <i>Ampata</i>
+      is not Dakota. There are several versions of this legend, all agreeing in
+      the main points.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      [Read at the celebration of the Old Settlers of Hennepin County, at the
+      Academy of Music, Minneapolis, July 4, 1879.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      (The numerals refer to notes in the Appendix.)
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  On the Spirit-Island [a] sitting under midnight's misty moon,
+  Lo I see the spirits flitting o'er the waters one by one!
+  Slumber wraps the silent city, and the droning mills are dumb;
+  One lone whippowil's shrill ditty calls her mate that ne'er will come.
+  Sadly moans the mighty river, foaming down the fettered falls,
+  Where of old he thundered ever o'er abrupt and lofty walls.
+  Great Unktèhee <a href="#linknote-69" name="linknoteref-69"
+      id="linknoteref-69____">69</a>&mdash;god of waters&mdash;lifts no more his mighty head;&mdash;
+    Fled he with the timid otters?&mdash;lies he in the cavern dead?
+
+  [a] The small island of rock a few rods below the Falls, was called by the
+  Dakotas Wanagee We-ta—-Spirit-Island. They say the spirit of Anpetu Sapa
+  sits upon that island at night and pours forth her sorrow in song. They
+  also say that from time out of mind, war-eagles nested on that island,
+  until the advent of white men frightened them away. This seems to be true.
+  Carver's Travels. London. 1778, p. 71.
+
+  Hark!&mdash;the waters hush their sighing, and the whippowil her call,
+  Through the moon-lit mists are flying dusky shadows silent all.
+  Lo from out the waters foaming&mdash;from the cavern deep and dread&mdash;
+    Through the glamour and the gloaming, comes a spirit of the dead.
+  Sad she seems, her tresses raven on her tawny shoulders rest;
+
+  Sorrow on her brow is graven, in her arms a babe is pressed.
+  Hark!&mdash;she chants the solemn story,&mdash;sings the legend sad and old,
+  And the river wrapt in glory listens while the tale is told.
+  Would you hear the legend olden, hearken while I tell the tale&mdash;
+    Shorn, alas, of many a golden, weird Dakota chant and wail.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      THE LEGEND.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Tall was young Wanâta, stronger than Heyóka's <a href="#linknote-16"
+      name="linknoteref-16" id="linknoteref-16____">16</a> giant form.
+  Laughed at flood and fire and hunger, faced the fiercest winter storm.
+  When Wakínyan <a href="#linknote-32" name="linknoteref-32"
+      id="linknoteref-32____">32</a> flashed and thundered, when Unktéhee raved and roared,
+  All but brave Wanâta wondered, and the gods with fear implored.
+  When the war-whoop wild resounded, calling friends to meet the foe,
+  From the teepee swift he bounded, armed with polished lance and bow.
+
+  In the battle's din and clangor fast his fatal arrows flew,
+  Flashed his fiery eyes with anger,&mdash;many a haughty foe he slew.
+  Hunter, swift was he and cunning, caught the beaver, slew the bear,
+  Overtook the roebuck running, dragged the panther from his lair.
+  Loved was he by many a maiden; many a dark eye glanced in vain;
+  Many a heart with sighs was laden for the love it might not gain.
+  So they called the brave "Ska Câpa"; [a] but the fairest of the band&mdash;
+    Moon-faced, meek Anpétu-Sâpa&mdash;won the hunter's heart and hand.
+
+  [a] Or Capa Ska&mdash;White beaver. White beavers are very rare, very cunning
+  and hard to catch.
+
+  From the wars with triumph burning, from the chase of bison fleet,
+  To his lodge the brave returning, spread his trophies at her feet.
+  Love and joy sat in the tepee; him a black-eyed boy she bore;
+  But alas, she lived to weep a love she lost forevermore.
+  For the warriors chose Wanâta first Itâncan [a] of the band.
+  At the council-fire he sat a leader loved a chieftain grand.
+  Proud was fair Anpétu-Sâpa, and her eyes were glad with joy;
+  Proud was she and very happy, with her chieftain and her boy.
+  But alas, the fatal honor that her brave Wanâta won,
+  Brought a bitter woe upon her,&mdash;hid with clouds the summer sun
+  For among the brave Dakotas, wives bring honor to the chief.
+  On the vine-clad Minnesota's banks he met the Scarlet Leaf.
+  Young and fair was Apè-dúta [b]&mdash;full of craft and very fair;
+  Proud she walked a queen of beauty with her wondrous flowing hair.
+  In her net of hair she caught him&mdash;caught Wanâta with her wiles;
+  All in vain his wife besought him&mdash;begged in vain his wonted smiles.
+  Apè-dúta ruled the teepee&mdash;all Wanâta's smiles were hers;
+  When the lodge was wrapped in sleep a star [c] beheld the mother's tears.
+  Long she strove to do her duty for the black-eyed babe she bore;
+  But the proud, imperious beauty made her sad forevermore.
+  Still she dressed the skins of beaver, bore the burdens, spread the fare;
+  Patient ever, murmuring never, while her cheeks were creased with care.
+
+  [a] E-tan-can&mdash;Chief.
+</pre>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  [b] A-pe&mdash;leaf,&mdash;duta&mdash;Scarlet,&mdash;Scarlet leaf.
+</pre>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  [c] Stars, the Dakotas say, are the faces of departed friends and
+  relatives on earth.
+
+  In the moon Magâ-o-Kâda, <a href="#linknote-71" name="linknoteref-71"
+      id="linknoteref-71____">71</a> twice an hundred years ago&mdash;
+  Ere the "Black Robe's" [a] sacred shadow
+          stalked the prairies' pathless snow
+  Down the swollen, rushing river, in the sunset's golden hues,
+  From the hunt of bear and beaver came the band in swift canoes.
+  On the queen of fairy islands, on the Wita-Wâstè's [b] shore,
+  Camped Wanâta, on the highlands, just above the cataract's roar.
+  Many braves were with Wanâta; Apè-dúta, too, was there,
+  And the sad Anpétu-sâpa spread the lodge with wonted care.
+  Then above the leafless prairie leaped the fat faced, laughing moon,
+  And the stars&mdash;the spirits fairy&mdash;walked the welkin one by one.
+  Swift and silent in the gloaming on the waste of waters blue,
+  Speeding downward to the foaming, shot Wanâta's birch canoe,
+  In it stood Anpétu-sâpa&mdash;in her arms her sleeping child;
+  Like a wailing Norse-land <i>drapa</i> [c] rose her death-song weird and wild:
+
+    Mihihna, [d] Mihihna, my heart is stone;
+    The light is gone from my longing eyes;
+    The wounded loon in the lake alone
+    Her death-song sings to the moon and dies.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, the path is long.
+    The burden is heavy and hard to bear;
+    I sink,&mdash;I die, and my dying song
+    Is a song of joy to the false one's ear.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, my young heart flew
+    Far away with my brave to the bison-chase;
+    To the battle it went with my warrior true,
+    And never returned till I saw his face.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, my brave was glad
+    When he came from the chase of the roebuck fleet;
+    Sweet were the words that my hunter said,
+    As his trophies he laid at Anpétu's feet.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, the boy I bore&mdash;
+    When the robin sang and my brave was true,
+    I can bear to look on his face no more.
+    For he looks, Mihihna, so much like you.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, the Scarlet Leaf
+    Has robbed my boy of his father's love;
+    He sleeps in my arms&mdash;he will find no grief
+    In the star-lit lodge in the land above.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, my heart is stone,
+    The light is gone from my longing eyes;
+    The wounded loon in the lake alone,
+    Her death-song sings to the moon and dies.
+
+  [a] The Dakotas called the Jesuit priests "Black Robes" from the color of
+  their vestments.
+
+  [b] Wee tah Wah-stay&mdash;Beautiful Island,&mdash;the Dakota name for Nicollet
+  Island just above the Falls.
+
+  [c] <i>Drapa</i>, a Norse funeral wail in which the virtues of the
+  deceased are recounted.
+
+  [d] Mee heen-yah&mdash;My husband.
+
+  Swiftly down the turbid torrent, as she sung her song she flew;
+  Like a swan upon the current, dancing rode the light canoe.
+  Hunters hurry in the gloaming, all in vain Wanâta calls;
+  Singing through the surges foaming, lo she plunges o'er the Falls.
+
+  Long they search the sullen river&mdash;searched for leagues along the shore,
+  Bark or babe or mother never saw the sad Dakotas more;
+  But at night or misty morning oft the hunters heard her song,
+  Oft the maidens heard her warning in their mellow mother-tongue.
+
+  On the bluffs they sat enchanted till the blush of beamy dawn;
+  Spirit Isle they say, is haunted, and they call the spot "Wakân." [a]
+  Many summers on the highland, in the full-moon's golden glow&mdash;
+  In the woods on Fairy Island, [b] walked a snow white fawn and doe
+  Spirits of the babe and mother sadly seeking evermore,
+  For a father's love another turned with evil charm and power.
+
+  [a] Pronounced Walk on&mdash;Sacred, inhabited by a Spirit.
+
+  [b] Fairy Island&mdash;Wita Waste&mdash;Nicollet Island.
+
+  Sometimes still when moonbeams shimmer through the maples on the lawn,
+  In the gloaming and the glimmer walk the silent doe and fawn;
+  And on Spirit-Isle or near it, under midnight's misty moon,
+  Oft is seen the mother's spirit, oft is heard her mournful tune.
+
+  [Illustration: SCENE ON THUNDER BAY, LAKE SUPERIOR.]
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      THE SEAGULL. <a href="#linknote-101" name="linknoteref-101"
+      id="linknoteref-101"><small>101</small></a>
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE LEGEND OF THE PICTURED ROCKS OF LAKE SUPERIOR. OJIBWAY.
+    </h3>
+    <h3>
+      IN THE MEASURE OF HIAWATHA
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      (The numerals 1 2 etc., refer to Notes to Sea-Gull in Appendix.)
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  On the shore of Gitchee Gumee&mdash;<a href="#linknote-102"
+      name="linknoteref-102" id="linknoteref-102">102</a>
+  Deep, mysterious, mighty waters&mdash;Where the mânitoes&mdash;the spirits&mdash;
+  Ride the storms and speak in thunder,
+  In the days of Neme-Shómis, <a href="#linknote-103" name="linknoteref-103"
+      id="linknoteref-103">103</a>
+  In the days that are forgotten,
+  Dwelt a tall and tawny hunter&mdash;
+  Gitchee Péz-ze-ú&mdash;the panther,
+  Son of Waub-Ojeeg, <a href="#linknote-104" name="linknoteref-104"
+      id="linknoteref-104">104</a> the warrior,
+  Famous Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior.
+  Strong was he and fleet as roebuck,
+  Brave was he and very stealthy;
+  On the deer crept like a panther;
+  Grappled with Makwá, <a href="#linknote-105" name="linknoteref-105"
+      id="linknoteref-105">105</a> the monster,
+  Grappled with the bear and conquered;
+  Took his black claws for a necklet,
+  Took his black hide for a blanket.
+
+  When the Panther wed the Sea-Gull,
+  Young was he and very gladsome;
+  Fair was she and full of laughter;
+  Like the robin in the spring time,
+  Sang from sunrise till the sunset;
+  For she loved the handsome hunter.
+  Deep as Gitchee Gumee's waters
+  Was her love&mdash;as broad and boundless;
+  And the wedded twain were happy&mdash;
+  Happy as the mated robins.
+  When their first born saw the sunlight
+  Joyful was the heart of Panther,
+  Proud and joyful was the mother.
+  All the days were full of sunshine;
+  All the nights were full of star light.
+  Nightly from the land of spirits
+  On them smiled the starry faces,&mdash;
+  Faces of their friends departed.
+  Little moccasins she made him,
+  Feathered cap and belt of wampum;
+  From the hide of fawn a blanket,
+  Fringed with feathers soft as sable;
+  Singing at her pleasant labor,
+  By her side the tekenâgun <a href="#linknote-106" name="linknoteref-106"
+      id="linknoteref-106">106</a>
+  And the little hunter in it.
+  Oft the Panther smiled and fondled,
+  Smiled upon the babe and mother,
+  Frolicked with the boy and fondled.
+  Tall he grew and like his father,
+  And they called the boy the Raven&mdash;
+  Called him Kâk-kâh-gè&mdash;the Raven.
+  Happy hunter was the Panther.
+  From the woods he brought the pheasant,
+  Brought the red deer and the rabbit,
+  Brought the trout from Gitchee Gumee&mdash;
+
+  Brought the mallard from the marshes,&mdash;
+  Royal feast for boy and mother:
+  Brought the hides of fox and beaver,
+  Brought the skins of mink and otter,
+  Lured the loon and took his blanket,
+  Took his blanket for the Raven.
+
+  Winter swiftly followed winter,
+
+  And again the tekenâgun
+  Held a babe&mdash;a tawny daughter,
+  Held a dark-eyed, dimpled daughter;
+  And they called her Waub-omeé-meé,&mdash;
+  Thus they named her&mdash;the White-Pigeon.
+  But as winter followed winter
+  Cold and sullen grew the Panther;
+  Sat and smoked his pipe in silence;
+  When he spoke he spoke in anger;
+  In the forest often tarried
+  Many days, and homeward turning,
+  Brought no game unto his wigwam:
+  Only brought his empty quiver,
+  Brought his dark and sullen visage.
+
+  Sad at heart and very lonely
+  Sat the Sea-Gull in the wigwam;
+  Sat and swung the tekenâgun,
+  Sat and sang to Waub-omeé-meé;
+  Thus she sang to Waub-omeé-meé,
+  Thus the lullaby she chanted:
+
+    Wâ-wa, wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà;
+    Kah-wéen, nee-zhéka kè-diaus-âi,
+    Ke-gâh nau-wâi, ne-mé-go s'wéen,
+    Ne-bâun, ne-bâun, ne-dâun-is-âis,
+    Wâ-wa, wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà;
+
+    Ne-bâun, ne-bâun, ne-dâun-is-âis,
+
+    E-we wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà,
+    E-we wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà,
+
+    [TRANSLATION]
+
+    Swing, swing little one, lullaby;
+    Thou'rt not left alone to weep;
+    Mother cares for you,&mdash;she is nigh;
+    Sleep, my little one, sweetly sleep;
+    Swing, swing, little one, lullaby;
+    Mother watches you&mdash;she is nigh;
+    Gently, gently, wee one swing;
+    Gently, gently, while I sing
+
+      E-we wâ-wa&mdash;lullaby,
+      E-we wâ-wa—-lullaby.
+</pre>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Homeward to his lodge returning
+  Kindly greeting found the hunter,
+  Fire to warm and food to nourish,
+  Golden trout from Gitchee Gumee,
+  Caught by Kâk-kâh-gè&mdash;the Raven.
+  With a snare he caught the rabbit&mdash;
+  Caught Wabóse, the furry footed, <a href="#linknote-107" name="linknoteref-107"
+      id="linknoteref-107">107</a>
+  Caught Penây, the forest drummer; <a href="#linknote-107"
+      name="linknoteref-107" id="linknoteref-107_">107</a>
+  Sometimes with his bow and arrows,
+  Shot the red deer in the forest.
+  Shot the squirrel in the pine top,
+  Shot Ne-kâ, the wild goose, flying.
+  Proud as Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior,
+  To the lodge he bore his trophies
+  So when homeward turned the Panther
+  Ever found he food provided,
+  Found the lodge-fire brightly burning,
+  Found the faithful Sea-Gull waiting.
+  "You are cold," she said, "and famished;
+  Here are fire and food, my husband."
+  Not by word or look he answered;
+  Only ate the food provided,
+  Filled, his pipe and pensive puffed it,
+  Smoked and sat in sullen silence.
+
+  Once&mdash;her dark eyes full of hunger&mdash;
+  Thus she spoke and thus besought him:
+  "Tell me, O my silent Panther,
+  Tell me, O beloved husband,
+  What has made you sad and sullen?
+  Have you met some evil spirit&mdash;
+  Met some goblin in the forest?
+  Has he put a spell upon you&mdash;
+  Filled your heart with bitter waters,
+  That you sit so sad and sullen,
+  Sit and smoke, but never answer,
+  Only when the storm is on you?"
+
+  Gruffly then the Panther answered:
+  "Brave among the brave is Panther,
+  Son of Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior,
+  And the brave are ever silent;
+  But a whining dog is woman,
+  Whining ever like a coward."
+
+  Forth into the tangled forest,
+  Threading through the thorny thickets,
+  Treading, trails on marsh and meadow,
+  Sullen strode the moody hunter.
+  Saw he not the bear or beaver,
+  Saw he not the elk or roebuck;
+  From his path the red fawn scampered,
+  But no arrow followed after;
+  From his den the sly wolf listened,
+  But no twang of bow-string heard he.
+  Like one walking in his slumber,
+  Listless, dreaming walked the Panther;
+  Surely had some witch bewitched him,
+  Some bad spirit of the forest.
+
+  When the Sea-Gull wed the Panther,
+  Fair was she and full of laughter;
+  Like the robin in the spring-time,
+  Sang from sunrise till the sunset;
+  But the storms of many winters
+  Sifted frost upon her tresses,
+  Seamed her tawny face with wrinkles.
+
+  Not alone the storms of winters
+  Seamed her tawny face with wrinkles.
+  Twenty winters for the Panther
+  Had she ruled the humble wigwam;
+  For her haughty lord and master
+  Borne the burdens on the journey,
+  Gathered fagots for the lodge-fire,
+  Tanned the skins of bear and beaver,
+  Tanned the hides of moose and red deer;
+  Made him moccasins and leggings,
+  Decked his hood with quills and feathers&mdash;
+  Colored quills of Kaug, the thorny, <a href="#linknote-108"
+      name="linknoteref-108" id="linknoteref-108">108</a>
+  Feathers from Kenéw&mdash;the eagle. <a href="#linknote-108"
+      name="linknoteref-108" id="linknoteref-108_">108</a>
+  For a warrior brave was Panther;
+  Often had he met the foemen,
+  Met the bold and fierce Dakotas;
+  Westward on the war-path met them;
+  And the scalps he won were numbered,
+  Numbered seven by Kenéw-feathers.
+  Sad at heart was Sea-Gull waiting,
+  Watching, waiting in the wigwam;
+  Not alone the storms of winters
+  Sifted frost upon her tresses.
+
+  Ka-be-bón-ík-ka, the mighty, <a href="#linknote-109" name="linknoteref-109"
+      id="linknoteref-109">109</a>
+  He that sends the cruel winter,
+  He that turned to stone the Giant,
+  From the distant Thunder-mountain,
+  Far across broad Gitchee Gumee,
+  Sent his warning of the winter,
+  Sent the white frost and Kewâydin, <a href="#linknote-1010"
+      name="linknoteref-1010" id="linknoteref-1010">1010</a>
+  Sent the swift and hungry North-wind.
+  Homeward to the South the Summer
+  Turned and fled the naked forests.
+  With the Summer flew the robin,
+  Flew the bobolink and blue-bird.
+  Flock wise following chosen leaders,
+  Like the shaftless heads of arrows
+  Southward cleaving through the ether,
+  Soon the wild geese followed after.
+
+  One long moon the Sea-Gull waited,
+  Watched and waited for her husband,
+  Till at last she heard his footsteps,
+  Heard him coming through the thicket.
+  Forth she went to meet her husband,
+  Joyful went to greet her husband.
+  Lo behind the haughty hunter,
+  Closely following in his footsteps,
+  Walked a young and handsome woman,
+  Walked the Red Fox from the island&mdash;
+  Gitchee Ménis&mdash;the Grand Island,&mdash;
+  Followed him into the wigwam,
+  Proudly took her seat beside him.
+  On the Red Fox smiled the hunter,
+  On the hunter smiled the woman.
+
+  Old and wrinkled was the Sea-Gull,
+  Good and true, but old and wrinkled.
+  Twenty winters for the Panther
+  Had she ruled the humble wigwam,
+  Borne the burdens on the journey,
+  Gathered fagots for the lodge-fire,
+  Tanned the skins of bear and beaver,
+  Tanned the hides of moose and red deer,
+  Made him moccasins and leggings,
+  Decked his hood with quills and feathers,
+  Colored quills of Kaug, the thorny,
+  Feathers from the great war-eagle;
+  Ever diligent and faithful,
+  Ever patient, ne'er complaining.
+  but like all brave men the Panther
+  Loved a young and handsome woman;
+  So he dallied with the danger,
+  Dallied with the fair Algónkin, <a href="#linknote-1011"
+      name="linknoteref-1011" id="linknoteref-1011">1011</a>
+  Till a magic mead she gave him,
+  Brewed of buds of birch and cedar. <a href="#linknote-1012"
+      name="linknoteref-1012" id="linknoteref-1012">1012</a>Madly then he loved the woman;
+  Then she ruled him, then she held him
+  Tangled in her raven tresses,
+  Tied and tangled in her tresses.
+
+  Ah, the tail and tawny Panther!
+  Ah, the brave and brawny Panther!
+  Son of Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior!
+  With a slender hair she led him,
+  With a slender hair he drew him,
+  Drew him often to her wigwam;
+  There she bound him, there she held him
+  Tangled in her raven tresses,
+  Tied and tangled in her tresses.
+  Ah, the best of men are tangled&mdash;
+  Sometime tangled in the tresses
+  Of a fair and crafty woman.
+
+  So the Panther wed the Red Fox,
+  And she followed to his wigwam.
+  Young again he seemed and gladsome,
+  Glad as Raven when the father
+  Made his first bow from the elm-tree,
+  From the ash tree made his arrows,
+  Taught him how to aim his arrows,
+  How to shoot Wabóse&mdash;the rabbit.
+
+  Then again the brawny hunter
+  Brought the black bear and the beaver,
+  Brought the haunch of elk and red-deer,
+  Brought the rabbit and the pheasant&mdash;
+  Choicest bits of all for Red Fox.
+  For her robes he brought the sable,
+  Brought the otter and the ermine,
+  Brought the black-fox tipped with silver.
+
+  But the Sea-Gull murmured never,
+  Not a word she spoke in anger,
+  Went about her work as ever,
+  Tanned the skins of bear and beaver,
+  Tanned the hides of moose and red deer,
+  Gathered fagots for the lodge-fire,
+  Gathered rushes from the marches;
+  Deftly into mats she wove them;
+  Kept the lodge as bright as ever.
+  Only to herself she murmured,
+  All alone with Waub-omeé-meé,
+  On the tall and toppling highland,
+  O'er the wilderness of waters;
+  Murmured to the murmuring waters,
+  Murmured to the Nébe-nâw-baigs&mdash;
+  To the spirits of the waters;
+  On the wild waves poured her sorrow,
+  Save the infant on her bosom
+  With her dark eyes wide with wonder,
+  None to hear her but the spirits,
+  And the murmuring pines above her.
+  Thus she cast away her burdens,
+  Cast her burdens on the waters;
+  Thus unto the Mighty Spirit,
+  Made her lowly lamentation:
+  "Wahonówin!&mdash;Wahonówin!" <a href="#linknote-1013" name="linknoteref-1013"
+      id="linknoteref-1013">1013</a>
+  Gitchee Mânito, benâ nin!
+  Nah, Ba-bâ, showâin neméshin!
+  "Wahonówin!&mdash;Wahonówin!"
+
+  Ka-be-bón-ík-ka, the mighty, <a href="#linknote-109" name="linknoteref-109"
+      id="linknoteref-109_">109</a>
+  He that sends the cruel winter,
+  From the distant Thunder-mountain,
+  On the shore of Gitchee Gumee&mdash;
+  On the rugged northern limit,
+  Sent his solemn, final warning,
+  Sent the white wolves of the Nor'land <a href="#linknote-1014"
+      name="linknoteref-1014" id="linknoteref-1014">1014</a>
+  Like the dust of stars in ether&mdash;
+  In the Pathway of the Spirits. <a href="#linknote-1015" name="linknoteref-1015"
+      id="linknoteref-1015">1015</a>
+  Like the sparkling dust of diamonds,
+  Fell the frost upon the forest,
+  On the mountains and the meadows,
+  On the wilderness of woodland.
+  On the wilderness of waters.
+  All the lingering fowls departed&mdash;
+  All that seek the South in winter,
+  All but Shingebís, the diver. <a href="#linknote-1016" name="linknoteref-1016"
+      id="linknoteref-1016">1016</a>
+  He defies the Winter-maker,
+  Sits and laughs at Winter-maker.
+
+  Ka-be-bón-ík-ka, the mighty,
+  From his wigwam called Kewáydin,&mdash;
+  From his home among the ice-bergs,
+  From the sea of frozen waters,
+  Called the swift and hungry North-wind.
+  Then he spread his mighty pinions
+  Over all the land and shook them,
+  Like the white down of Wâubésè <a href="#linknote-1017" name="linknoteref-1017"
+      id="linknoteref-1017">1017</a>
+  Fell the feathery snow and covered,
+  All the marshes and the meadows,
+  All the hill-tops and the highlands.
+  Then old Péboân&mdash;the winter&mdash;<a href="#linknote-1018"
+      name="linknoteref-1018" id="linknoteref-1018">1018</a>
+  Laughed along the stormy waters,
+  Danced upon the windy headlands,
+  On the storm his white hair streaming,&mdash;
+  And his steaming breath, ascending,
+  On the pine-tops and the cedars
+  Fell in frosty mists refulgent,
+  Sprinkling somber shades with silver,
+  Sprinkling all the woods with silver.
+
+  By the lodge-fire all the winter
+  Sat the Sea-Gull and the Red Fox,
+  Sat and kindly spoke and chatted,
+  Till the twain seemed friends together.
+  Friends they seemed in word and action,
+  But within the breast of either
+  Smouldered still the baneful embers&mdash;
+  Fires of jealousy and hatred,&mdash;
+
+  Like a camp-fire in the forest
+  Left by hunters and deserted;
+  Only seems a bed of ashes,
+  But the East-wind, Wâbun noódin,
+  Scatters through the woods the ashes,
+  Fans to flame the sleeping embers,
+  And the wild-fire roars and rages,
+  Roars and rages through the forest.
+  So the baneful embers smouldered,
+  Smouldered in the breast of either.
+
+  From the far-off Sunny Islands,
+  From the pleasant land of Summer,
+  Where the spirits of the blessèd
+  Feel no more the fangs of hunger,
+  Or the cold breath of Kewâydin,
+  Came a stately youth and handsome,
+  Came Según the foe of Winter. <a href="#linknote-1019" name="linknoteref-1019"
+      id="linknoteref-1019">1019</a>
+  Like the rising sun his face was,
+  Like the shining stars his eyes were,
+  Light his footsteps as the Morning's.
+  In his hand were buds and blossoms,
+  On his brow a blooming garland.
+  Straightway to the icy wigwam
+  Of old Péboân, the Winter,
+  Strode Según and quickly entered.
+  There old Péboân sat and shivered,
+  Shivered o'er his dying lodge-fire.
+
+  "Ah, my son, I bid you welcome;
+  Sit and tell me your adventures;
+  I will tell you of my power;
+  We will pass the night together."
+  Thus spake Péboân&mdash;the Winter;
+  Then he filled his pipe and lighted;
+  Then by sacred custom raised it
+  To the spirits in the ether;
+  To the spirits in the caverns
+  Of the hollow earth he lowered it.
+  Thus he passed it to the spirits,
+  And the unseen spirits puffed it.
+  Next himself old Péboân honored;
+  Thrice he puffed his pipe and passed it,
+  Passed it to the handsome stranger.
+
+  "Lo I blow my breath," said Winter,
+  "And the laughing brooks are silent;
+  Hard as flint become the waters,
+  And the rabbit runs upon them."
+
+  Then Según, the fair youth, answered:
+  "Lo I breathe upon the hill-sides,
+  On the valleys and the meadows,
+  And behold, as if by magic&mdash;
+  By the magic of the Spirits,
+  Spring the flowers and tender grasses."
+
+  Then old Péboân replying:
+  "Nah! <a href="#linknote-1020" name="linknoteref-1020" id="linknoteref-1020">1020</a> I breathe upon the forests,
+  And the leaves fall sere and yellow;
+  Then I shake my locks and snow falls,
+  Covering all the naked landscape."
+
+  Then Según arose and answered:
+  "Nashké! <a href="#linknote-1020" name="linknoteref-1020"
+      id="linknoteref-1020_">1020</a>&mdash;see!&mdash;I shake my ringlets;
+  On the earth the warm rain falleth,
+  And the flowers look up like children
+  Glad-eyed from their mother's bosom.
+  Lo my voice recalls the robin,
+  Brings the bobolink and blue-bird,
+  And the woods are full of music.
+  With my breath I melt their fetters,
+  And the brooks leap laughing onward."
+
+  Then old Péboân looked upon him,
+  Looked and knew Según, the Summer,
+  From his eyes the big tears started
+  And his boastful tongue was silent.
+
+  Now Keezís <a href="#linknote-1021" name="linknoteref-1021"
+      id="linknoteref-1021">1021</a>&mdash;the great life-giver,
+  From his wigwam in Waubú-nong <a href="#linknote-1021" name="linknoteref-1021"
+      id="linknoteref-1021_">1021</a>
+  Rose and wrapped his shining blanket
+  Round his giant form and started;
+  Westward started on his journey,
+  Striding on from hill to hill-top.
+  Upward then he climbed the ether&mdash;
+  On the Bridge of Stars <a href="#linknote-1022" name="linknoteref-1022"
+      id="linknoteref-1022">1022</a> he traveled,
+  Westward traveled on his journey
+  To the far-off Sunset Mountains&mdash;
+  To the gloomy land of shadows.
+</pre>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  On the lodge-poles sang the robin,&mdash;
+  And the brooks began to murmur.
+  On the South wind floated fragrance
+  Of the early buds and blossoms.
+  From old Péboân's eyes the teardrops
+  Down his pale face ran in streamlets;
+  Less and less he grew in stature
+  Till he melted doun to nothing;
+  And behold, from out the ashes,
+  From the ashes of his lodge-fire,
+  Sprang the Miscodeed <a href="#linknote-1023" name="linknoteref-1023"
+      id="linknoteref-1023">1023</a> and, blushing,
+  Welcomed Según to the North-land.
+
+  So from Sunny Isles returning,
+  From the Summer-Land of spirits,
+  On the poles of Panther's wigwam
+  Sang Opeé-chee&mdash;sang the robin.
+  In the maples cooed the pigeons&mdash;
+  Cooed and wooed like silly lovers.
+  "Hah!&mdash;hah!" laughed the crow derisive,
+  In the pine-top, at their folly,&mdash;
+  Laughed and jeered the silly lovers.
+  Blind with love were they, and saw not;
+  Deaf to all but love, and heard not;
+  So they cooed and wooed unheeding,
+  Till the gray hawk pounced upon them,
+  And the old crow shook with laughter.
+
+  On the tall cliff by the sea-shore
+  Red Fox made a swing. She fastened
+  Thongs of moose-hide to the pine-tree,
+  To the strong arm of the pine-tree.
+  like a hawk, above the waters,
+  There she swung herself and fluttered,
+
+  Laughing at the thought of danger,
+  Swung and fluttered o'er the waters.
+  Then she bantered Sea-Gull, saying,
+  "See!&mdash;I swing above the billows!
+  Dare you swing above the billows,&mdash;
+  Swing like me above the billows?"
+
+  To herself said Sea-Gull&mdash;"Surely
+  I will dare whatever danger
+  Dares the Red Fox&mdash;dares my rival;
+  She shall never call me coward."
+  So she swung above the waters&mdash;
+  Dizzy height above the waters,
+  Pushed and aided by her rival,
+  To and fro with reckless daring,
+  Till the strong tree rocked and trembled,
+  Rocked and trembled with its burden.
+  As above the yawning billows
+  Flew the Sea-Gull like a whirlwind,
+  Red Fox, swifter than red lightning,
+  Cut the cords, and headlong downward,
+  Like an osprey from the ether,
+  Like a wild-goose pierced with arrows,
+  Fluttering fell the frantic woman,
+  Fluttering fell into the waters&mdash;
+  Plunged and sank beneath the waters!
+  Hark!&mdash;the wailing of the West-wind!
+  Hark!&mdash;the wailing of the waters,
+  And the beating of the billows!
+  But no more the voice of Sea-Gull.
+
+  In the wigwam sat the Red Fox,
+  Hushed the wail of Waub-omeé-meé,
+  Weeping for her absent mother.
+  With the twinkling stars the hunter
+  From the forest came and Raven.
+  "Sea-Gull wanders late" said Red Fox,
+  "Late she wanders by the sea-shore,
+  And some evil may befall her."
+
+  In the misty morning twilight
+  Forth went Panther and the Raven,
+  Searched the forest and the marshes,
+  Searched for leagues along the lake-shore,
+  Searched the islands and the highlands;
+  But they found no trace or tidings,
+  Found no track in marsh or meadow,
+  Found no trail in fen or forest,
+  On the shore sand found no foot-prints.
+  Many days they sought and found not.
+  Then to Panther spoke the Raven:
+  "She is in the Land of Spirits&mdash;
+  Surely in the Land of Spirits.
+  High at midnight I beheld her&mdash;
+  Like a flying star beheld her&mdash;
+  To the waves of Gitchee Gumee,
+  Downward flashing through the ether.
+  Thus she flashed that I might see her,
+  See and know my mother's spirit;
+  Thus she pointed to the waters,
+  And beneath them lies her body,
+  In the wigwam of the spirits&mdash;
+  In the lodge of Nébe-nâw-baigs." <a href="#linknote-1024"
+      name="linknoteref-1024" id="linknoteref-1024">1024</a>
+
+  Then spoke Panther to the Raven:
+  "On the tall cliff by the waters
+  Wait and watch with Waub-omeé-meé.
+  If the Sea-Gull hear the wailing
+  Of her infant she will answer."
+
+  On the tall cliff by the waters
+  So the Raven watched and waited;
+  All the day he watched and waited,
+  But the hungry infant slumbered,
+  Slumbered by the side of Raven,
+  Till the pines' gigantic shadows
+  Stretched and pointed to Waubú-Nong&mdash;<a href="#linknote-1021"
+      name="linknoteref-1021" id="linknoteref-1021__">1021</a>
+  To the far off land of Sunrise;
+  Then the wee one woke and famished,
+  Made a long and piteous wailing.
+
+  From afar where sky and waters
+  Meet in misty haze and mingle,
+  Straight toward the rocky highland,
+  Straight as flies die feathered arrow,
+  Straight to Raven and the infant
+  Swiftly flew a snow white sea-gull.&mdash;
+  Flew and touched the earth a woman.
+  And behold, the long-lost mother
+  Caught her wailing child and nursed her,
+  Sang a lullaby and nursed her.
+
+  Thrice was wound a chain of silver
+  Round her waist and strongly fastened.
+  Far away into the waters&mdash;
+  To the wigwam of the spirits,&mdash;
+  To the lodge of Nébe-nâw-baigs,&mdash;
+  Stretched the magic chain of silver.
+
+  Spoke the mother to the Raven:
+  "O my son&mdash;my brave young hunter,
+  Feed my tender little orphan;
+  Be a father to my orphan;
+  Be a mother to my orphan,&mdash;
+  For the Crafty Red Fox robbed us,&mdash;
+  Robbed the Sea-Gull of her husband,
+  Robbed the infant of her mother.
+  From this cliff the treacherous woman
+  Headlong into Gitchee Gumee
+  Plunged the mother of my orphan.
+  Then a Nébe-nâw-baig caught me,&mdash;
+  Chief of all the Nébe-nâw-baigs&mdash;
+  Took me to his shining wigwam,
+  In the cavern of the waters,
+  Deep beneath the might waters.
+  All below is burnished copper,
+  All above is burnished silver
+  Gemmed with amethyst and agates.
+  As his wife the Spirit holds me;
+  By this silver chain he holds me.
+
+  When my little one is famished,
+  When with long and piteous wailing
+  Cries the orphan for her mother,
+  Hither bring her, O my Raven;
+  I will hear her,&mdash;I will answer.
+  Now the Nébe-nâw-baig calls me,&mdash;
+  Pulls the chain,&mdash;I must obey him."
+
+  Thus she spoke and in the twinkling
+  Of a star the spirit-woman
+  Changed into a snow-white sea-gull,
+  Spread her wings and o'er the waters
+  Swiftly flew and swiftly vanished.
+
+  Then in secret to the Panther
+  Raven told his tale of wonder.
+  Sad and sullen was the hunter;
+  Sorrow gnawed his heart like hunger;
+  All the old love came upon him,
+  And the new love was a hatred.
+  Hateful to his heart was Red Fox,
+  But he kept from her the secret&mdash;
+  Kept his knowledge of the murder.
+  Vain was she and very haughty&mdash;-
+
+  Oge-mâ-kwa <a href="#linknote-1025" name="linknoteref-1025"
+      id="linknoteref-1025">1025</a> of the wigwam.
+  All in vain her fond caresses
+  On the Panther now she lavished;
+  When she smiled his face was sullen,
+  When she laughed he frowned upon her;
+  In her net of raven tresses
+  Now no more she held him tangled.
+  Now through all her fair disguises
+  Panther saw an evil spirit,
+  Saw the false heart of the woman.
+
+  On the tall cliff o'er the waters
+  Raven sat with Waub-omeé-meé,
+  Sat and watched again and waited,
+  Till the wee one faint and famished,
+  Made a long and piteous wailing.
+  Then again the snow-white Sea-Gull
+  From afar where sky and waters
+  Meet in misty haze and mingle,
+  Straight toward the rocky highland,
+  Straight as flies the feathered arrow,
+  Straight to Raven and the infant,
+  With the silver chain around her,
+  Flew and touched the earth a woman.
+  In her arms she caught her infant&mdash;
+  Caught the wailing Waub-omeé-meé,
+  Sang a lullaby and nursed her.
+
+  Sprang the Panther from the thicket&mdash;
+  Sprang and broke the chain of silver!
+  With his tomahawk he broke it.
+  Thus he freed the willing Sea-Gull&mdash;
+  From the Water-Spirit freed her,
+  From the Chief of Nébe-nâw-baigs.
+
+  Very angry was the Spirit;
+  When he drew the chain of silver,
+  Drew and found that it was broken,
+  Found that he had lost the woman,
+  Very angry was the Spirit.
+  Then he raged beneath the waters,
+  Raged and smote the mighty waters,
+  Till the big sea boiled and bubbled,
+  Till the white-haired, bounding billows
+  Roared around the rocky head-lands,
+  Roared and plashed upon the shingle.
+
+  To the wigwam happy Panther,
+  As when first he wooed and won her,
+  Led his wife&mdash;as young and handsome.
+  For the waves of Gitchee Gumee
+  Washed away the frost and wrinkles,
+  And the Spirits by their magic
+  Made her young and fair forever.
+
+  In the wigwam sat the Red Fox,
+  Sat and sang a song of triumph,
+  For she little dreamed of danger,
+  Till the haughty hunter entered,
+  Followed by the happy mother,
+  Holding in her arms her infant.
+  Then the Red Fox saw the Sea-Gull&mdash;
+  Saw the dead a living woman,
+  One wild cry she gave despairing,
+  One wild cry as of a demon.
+  Up she sprang and from the wigwam
+  To the tall cliff flew in terror;
+  Frantic sprang upon the margin,
+  Frantic plunged into the water,
+  Headlong plunged into the waters.
+
+  Dead she tossed upon the billows;
+  For the Nébe-nâw-baigs knew her,
+  Knew the crafty, wicked woman,
+  And they cast her from the waters,
+  Spurned her from their shining wigwams;
+  Far away upon the shingle
+  With the roaring waves they cast her.
+  There upon her bloated body
+  Fed the cawing crows and ravens,
+  Fed the hungry wolves and foxes.
+
+  On the shore of Gitchee Gumee,
+  Ever young and ever handsome,
+  Long and happy lived the Sea-Gull,
+  Long and happy with the Panther.
+  Evermore the happy hunter
+  Loved the mother of his children.
+  Like a red star many winters
+  Blazed their lodge-fire on the sea-shore.
+  O'er the Bridge of Souls together <a href="#linknote-1026"
+      name="linknoteref-1026" id="linknoteref-1026">1026</a>
+  Walked the Sea-Gull and the Panther.
+  To the far-off Sunny Islands&mdash;
+  To the Summer-Land of Spirits,
+  Where no more the happy hunter
+  Feels the fangs of frost or famine,
+  Or the keen blasts of Kewâydin.
+  Where no pain or sorrow enters,
+  And no crafty, wicked woman,
+  Sea-Gull journeyed with her husband.
+  There she rules his lodge forever,
+  And the twain are very happy,
+  On the far-off Sunny Islands,
+  In the Summer-Land of Spirits.
+
+  On the rocks of Gitchee Gumee&mdash;
+  On the Pictured Rocks&mdash;the Legend
+  Long ago was traced and written,
+  Pictured by the Water Spirits;
+  But the storms of many winters
+  Have bedimmed the pictured story,
+  So that none can read the legend
+  But the Jossakeeds, the prophets. <a href="#linknote-1027"
+      name="linknoteref-1027" id="linknoteref-1027">1027</a>
+
+  [Illustration: CRYSTAL BAY, LAKE MINNETONKA.]
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      MINNETONKA
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Note: The Dakota name for this beautiful lake is <i>Me-ne-a-tan-ka</i>&mdash;Broad
+      Water. By dropping the a before tánka, we have changed the name to <i>Big
+      Water</i>.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  I sit once more on breezy shore, at sunset in this glorious June.
+  I hear the dip of gleaming oar. I list the singer's merry tune.
+  Beneath my feet the waters beat and ripple on the polished stones.
+  The squirrel chatters from his seat: the bag-pipe beetle hums and drones.
+  The pink and gold in blooming wold,&mdash;the green hills mirrored in the lake!
+  The deep, blue waters, zephyr-rolled, along the murmuring pebbles break.
+  The maples screen the ferns, and lean the leafy lindens o'er the deep;
+  The sapphire, set in emerald green, lies like an Orient gem asleep.
+  The crimsoned west glows like the breast of <i>Rhuddin</i> [a]
+          when he pipes in May,
+  As downward droops the sun to rest, and shadows gather on the bay.
+
+  [a] The Welsh name for the robin.
+
+  In amber sky the swallows fly, and sail and circle o'er the deep;
+  The light-winged night-hawks whir and cry; the silver pike and salmon leap.
+  The rising moon, the woods aboon, looks laughing down on lake and lea;
+  Weird o'er the waters shrills the loon; the high stars twinkle in the sea.
+  From bank and hill the whippowil sends piping forth his flute-like notes,
+  And clear and shrill the answers trill from leafy isles and silver throats.
+  The twinkling light on cape and height; the hum of voices on the shores;
+  The merry laughter on the night; the dip and plash of frolic oars,&mdash;
+  These tell the tale. On hill and dale the cities pour their gay and fair;
+  Along the sapphire lake they sail, and quaff like wine the balmy air.
+
+  'Tis well. Of yore from isle and shore
+          the smoke of Indian teepees [a] rose;
+  The hunter plied the silent oar; the forest lay in still repose.
+  The moon-faced maid, in leafy glade, her warrior waited from the chase;
+  The nut-brown, naked children played, and chased the gopher on the grass.
+  The dappled fawn, on wooded lawn, peeped out upon the birch canoe,
+  Swift-gliding in the gray of dawn along the silent waters blue.
+  In yonder tree the great <i>Wanm-dee</i> [b] securely built her spacious nest;
+  The blast that swept the land-locked sea [c]
+          but rocked her clamorous babes to rest.
+  By grassy mere the elk and deer gazed on the hunter as he came;
+  Nor fled with fear from bow or spear;&mdash;"so wild were they that they were
+  tame."
+
+  [a] Lodges.
+
+  [b] Wanm-dee&mdash;the war-eagle of the Dakotas.
+
+  [c] Lake Superior.
+
+  Ah, birch canoe, and hunter, too, have long forsaken lake and shore:
+  He bade his father's bones adieu and turned away forevermore.
+  But still, methinks, on dusky brinks the spirit of the warrior moves;
+  At crystal springs the hunter drinks, and nightly haunts the spot he loves.
+  For oft at night I see the light of lodge-fires on the shadowy shores,
+  And hear the wail some maiden's sprite above her slaughtered warrior pours.
+  I hear the sob on Spirit Knob [a] of Indian mother o'er her child;
+  And on the midnight waters throb her low <i>yun-he-he's</i> [b] weird and wild.
+  And sometimes, too, the light canoe glides like a shadow o'er the deep
+  At midnight, when the moon is low, and all the shores are hushed in sleep.
+
+  [a] Spirit Knob is a small hill up on a point in the lake in full view
+  from Wayzata. The spirit of a Dakota mother whose only child was drowned
+  in the lake during a storm, many, many years ago often wails at midnight
+  (so the Dakotas say), on this hill.  So they called it <i>Wa-na-gee
+  Pa-ze-dan</i>&mdash;Spirit Knob. (Literally&mdash;little hill of the spirit.)
+
+  [b] Pronounced <i>Yoon-hay-hay</i>&mdash;the exclamation used by Dakota women
+  in their lament for the dead, and equivalent to "woe is me."
+
+  Alas&mdash;Alas!&mdash;for all things pass; and we shall vanish, too, as they;
+  We build our monuments of brass, and granite, but they waste away.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_FOOT" id="link2H_FOOT"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      FOOTNOTES:
+    </h2>
+    <div class="middle">
+      <p>
+        <b>PG Editor's Note:</b>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        There were two types of footnotes in this file, one with letters and the
+        other numbers. Only the numbered footnotes have been linked and listed
+        in this footnote section. A further problem was the unusual system of
+        not using a unique footnote number for each tag--many of the tags recur
+        over an over. To entirely renumber all footnote tags with a unique
+        number was a task beyond the time constraints of this editor.
+        Consequently in the cases of multiple tags of the same number the user
+        will be taken to the reference in the footnote section but the return
+        link takes one back to the first usage of this footnote number.
+      </p>
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1" id="linknote-1"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1 (<a href="#linknoteref-1">return</a>)<br /> [ Called in the Dakota tongue
+      "Hok-sée-win-nâ-pee Wo-hàn-pee"&mdash;Virgins Dance (or Feast).]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-2" id="linknote-2"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      2 (<a href="#linknoteref-2">return</a>)<br /> [ One of the favorite and
+      most exciting games of the Dakotas is ball-playing. A smooth place on the
+      prairie, or in winter, on a frozen lake or river, is chosen. Each player
+      has a sort of bat, called "Tâ-kée-cha-psé-cha," about thirty two inches
+      long with a hoop at the lower end four or five inches in diameter,
+      interlaced with thongs of deer-skin, forming a sort of pocket. With these
+      bats they catch and throw the ball. Stakes are set as bounds at a
+      considerable distance from the centre on either side. Two parties are then
+      formed, and each chooses a leader or chief. The ball (Tâ-pa) is then
+      thrown up half way between the bounds, and the game begins, the
+      contestants contending with their bats for the ball as it falls. When one
+      succeeds in getting it fairly in the pocket of his bat he swings it aloft
+      and throws it as far as he can towards the bound to which his party is
+      working, taking care to send it, if possible, where some of his own side
+      will take it up. Thus the ball is thrown and contended for till one party
+      succeeds in casting it beyond the bound of the opposite party. A hundred
+      players on a side are sometimes engaged in this exciting game. Betting on
+      the result often runs high. Moccasins, pipes, knives, hatchets, blankets,
+      robes and guns are hung on the prize-pole. Not unfrequently horses are
+      staked on the issue, and sometimes even women. Old men and mothers are
+      among the spectators praising their swift-footed sons, and young wives and
+      maidens are there to stimulate their husbands and lovers. This game is not
+      confined to the warriors, but is also a favorite amusement of the Dakota
+      maidens who generally play for prizes offered by the chief or warriors.
+      See Neill's Hist. Minn. pp 74-5; Riggs' "Tâkoo Wakân," pp 44-5, and Mrs
+      Eastman's Dacotah, p 55.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-3" id="linknote-3"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      3 (<a href="#linknoteref-3">return</a>)<br /> [ Pronounced Wah-zeé-yah. The
+      god of the North, or Winter. A fabled spirit who dwells in the frozen
+      North, in a great teepee of ice and snow. From his mouth and nostrils he
+      blows the cold blasts of winter. He and "I-tó-ka-ga Wi-câs-ta"&mdash;the
+      spirit or god of the South (literally the "South Man"), are inveterate
+      enemies, and always on the war-path against each other. In winter Wa-zí-ya
+      advances southward and drives "I-tó-ka-ga Wi-câs-ta" before him to the
+      Summer-Islands. But in Spring the god of the South, having renewed his
+      youth and strength, in the "Happy Hunting Grounds," is able to drive
+      Wa-zí-ya back again to his icy wigwam in the North. Some Dakotas say that
+      the numerous granite boulders, scattered over the prairies of Minnesota
+      and Dakota, were hurled in battle by Wa-zí-ya from his home in the North
+      at "I-tó-ka-ga Wi-câs-ta." The Wa-zí-ya of the Dakotas is substantially
+      the name as "<i>Ka-be-bón-ik-ka</i>"&mdash;the "Winter-maker" of the
+      Ojibways.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-4" id="linknote-4"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      4 (<a href="#linknoteref-4">return</a>)<br /> [ Mendota&mdash;(meeting of
+      the waters) at the confluence of the Mississippi and Minnesota rivers. See
+      view of the valley—front cut. The true Dakota word is Mdó tè&mdash;applied
+      to the mouth of a river flowing into another,&mdash;also to the outlet of
+      a lake.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-5" id="linknote-5"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      5 (<a href="#linknoteref-5">return</a>)<br /> [ Pronounced Wee-wâh-stay;
+      literally&mdash;a beautiful virgin, or woman.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-6" id="linknote-6"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      6 (<a href="#linknoteref-6">return</a>)<br /> [ Cetân-wa-ká-wa-mâni&mdash;"He
+      who shoots pigeon-hawks walking"&mdash;was the full Dakota name of the
+      grandfather of the celebrated "Little Crow" (Ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta.&mdash;His
+      Red People) who led his warriors in the terrible outbreak in Minnesota in
+      1862-3. The Chippewas called the grandfather "Kâ-kâ-keé"&mdash;crow or
+      raven&mdash;from his war-badge, a crow-skin; and hence the French traders
+      and <i>courriers du bois</i> called him "<i>Petit Corbeau</i>"&mdash;Little
+      Crow. This sobriquet, of which he was proud, descended to his son,
+      Wakínyan Tânka&mdash;Big Thunder, who succeeded him as chief; and from Big
+      Thunder to his son Ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta, who became chief on the death of
+      Wakínyan Tânka. These several "Little Crows" were successively Chiefs of
+      the Light-foot, or Kapóza band of Dakotas. Kapóza, the principal village
+      of this band, was originally located on the east bank of the Mississippi
+      near the site of the city of St. Paul. Col. Minn. Hist. Soc., 1864, p. 29.
+      It was in later years moved to the west bank. The grandfather, whom I, for
+      short, call Wakâwa, died the death of a brave in battle against the
+      Ojibways (commonly called Chippewas)&mdash;the hereditary enemies of the
+      Dakotas. Wakínyan Tânka.&mdash;Big Thunder, was killed by the accidental
+      discharge of his own gun. They were both buried with their kindred near
+      the "Wakan Teepee," the sacred Cave&mdash;(Carver's Cave).
+      Ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta, the last of the Little Crows, was killed July 3, 1863,
+      near Hutchinson, Minnesota, by one Lamson, and his bones were duly "done
+      up" for the Historical Society of Minnesota. For a part of the foregoing
+      information I am indebted to Gen. H. H. Sibley. See Heard's Hist. Sioux
+      War, and Neill's Hist. Minnesota, Third Edition.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-7" id="linknote-7"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      7 (<a href="#linknoteref-7">return</a>)<br /> [ Hârps-te-nâh. The
+      first-born <i>daughter</i> of a Dakota is called Winona; the second,
+      Hârpen; the third, Hârpstinâ; the fourth. Wâska; the fifth, Wehârka. The
+      first born <i>son</i> is called Chaskè; the second, Hârpam; the third,
+      Hapéda; the fourth, Châtun; the fifth, Hârka. They retain these names till
+      others are given them on account of some action, peculiarity, etc. The
+      females often retain their child-names through life.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-8" id="linknote-8"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      8 (<a href="#linknoteref-8">return</a>)<br /> [ Wah-pah-sâh was the
+      hereditary name of a long and illustrious lineof Dakota Chiefs. Wabashaw
+      is a corrupt pronounciation. The name is a contraction of "Wâ-pa-hâ-sa,"
+      which is from "Wâ-ha-pa," the standard or pole used in the Dakota dances,
+      and upon which feathers of various colors are tied, and not from "Wâ-pa"&mdash;leaf
+      or leaves, as has been generally supposed. Therefore Wâpasa means the
+      Standard&mdash;and not the "Leaf-Shaker," as many writers have it. The
+      principal village of these hereditary Chiefs was Ke-úk-sa, or Ke-ó-sa,&mdash;where
+      now stands the fair city of Winona. Ke-úk-sa signifies&mdash;The village
+      of law-breakers; so-called because this band broke the law or custom of
+      the Dakotas against marrying blood relatives of any degree. I get this
+      information from Rev. Stephen R. Riggs, author of the Dakota Grammar and
+      Dictionary, "<i>Takoo Wakan</i>," etc. Wapasa, grandfather of the last
+      Chief of that name, and a contemporary of Cetan-Wa-kâ-wa-mâni, was a noted
+      Chief, and a friend of the British in the war of the Revolution. Neill's
+      Hist. Minn., pp. 225-9.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-9" id="linknote-9"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      9 (<a href="#linknoteref-9">return</a>)<br /> [ E-hó, E-tó&mdash;Exclamations
+      of surprise and delight.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-10" id="linknote-10"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      10 (<a href="#linknoteref-10">return</a>)<br /> [ Mah-gâh&mdash;The
+      wild-goose.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-11" id="linknote-11"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      11 (<a href="#linknoteref-11">return</a>)<br /> [ Teé-peé&mdash;A lodge or
+      wigwam, often contracted to "tee."]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-12" id="linknote-12"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      12 (<a href="#linknoteref-12">return</a>)<br /> [ Pronounced
+      Mahr-peé-yah-doó-tah&mdash;literally, Cloud Red.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-13" id="linknote-13"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      13 (<a href="#linknoteref-13">return</a>)<br /> [ Pronounced Wahnmdeé&mdash;The
+      War-Eagle. Each feather worn by a warrior represents an enemy slain or
+      captured&mdash;man, woman or child; but the Dakotas, before they became
+      desperate under the cruel warfare of their enemies, generally spared the
+      lives of their captives, and never killed women or infants, except in rare
+      instances, under the <i>lex talionis</i>. Neill's Hist. Minn., p. 112.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-14" id="linknote-14"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      14 (<a href="#linknoteref-14">return</a>)<br /> [ Mah-tó&mdash;The polar
+      bear&mdash;<i>ursus maritimus</i>. The Dakotas say that, in olden times,
+      white bears were often found about Rainy Lake and the Lake of the Woods,
+      in winter, and sometimes as far south as the mouth of the Minnesota. They
+      say one was once killed at White Bear Lake (but a few miles from St. Paul
+      and Minneapolis), and they therefore named the lake Medé Mató&mdash;White
+      Bear Lake.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-15" id="linknote-15"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      15 (<a href="#linknoteref-15">return</a>)<br /> [ The Hó-hé (Hó-hây) are
+      the Assiniboins or "Stone-roasters." Their home is the region of the
+      Assiniboin river in British America. They speak the Dakota tongue, and
+      originally were a band of that nation. Tradition says a Dakota "Helen" was
+      the cause of the separation and a bloody feud that lasted for many years.
+      The Hohés are called "Stone roasters," because, until recently at least,
+      they used "Wa-ta-pe" kettles and vessels made of birch bark in which they
+      cooked their food. They boiled water in these vessels by heating stones
+      and putting them in the water. The "wa-ta-pe" kettle is made of the
+      fibrous roots of the white cedar, interlaced and tightly woven. When the
+      vessel is soaked it becomes watertight. (Footnote Snelling's) Tales of the
+      North west, p 21. Mackenzie's Travels.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-16" id="linknote-16"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      16 (<a href="#linknoteref-16">return</a>)<br /> [ Hey-ó-ka is one of the
+      principal Dakota deities. He is a Giant, but can change himself into a
+      buffalo, a bear, a fish or a bird. He is called the Anti-natural God or
+      Spirit. In summer he shivers with cold, in winter he suffers from heat; he
+      cries when he laughs and he laughs when he cries, &amp;c. He is the
+      reverse of nature in all things. Heyóka is universally feared and
+      reverenced by the Dakotas, but so severe is the ordeal that the Heyóka
+      Wacípee (the dance to Heyóka) is now rarely celebrated. It is said that
+      the "Medicine-men" use a secret preparation which enables them to handle
+      fire and dip their hands in boiling water without injury, and thereby gain
+      great <i>eclat</i> from the uninitiated. The chiefs and the leading
+      warriors usually belong to the secret order of "Medicine-men," or "Sons of
+      Unktéhee"&mdash;the Spirit of the Waters.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-17" id="linknote-17"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      17 (<a href="#linknoteref-17">return</a>)<br /> [ The Dakota name for the
+      moon is Han-yé-tu-wee&mdash;literally, Night-Sun. He is the twin brother
+      of An-pé-tu-wee&mdash;the Day Sun. See note 70.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-18" id="linknote-18"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      18 (<a href="#linknoteref-18">return</a>)<br /> [ The Dakotas believe that
+      the stars are the spirits of their departed friends.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-19" id="linknote-19"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      19 (<a href="#linknoteref-19">return</a>)<br /> [ Tee&mdash;Contracted from
+      teepee, lodge or wigwam, and means the same.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-20" id="linknote-20"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      20 (<a href="#linknoteref-20">return</a>)<br /> [ For all their sacred
+      feasts the Dakotas kindle a new fire called "The Virgin Fire." This is
+      done with flint and steel, or by rubbing together pieces of wood till
+      friction produces fire. It must be done by a virgin, nor must any woman,
+      except a virgin, ever touch the "sacred armor" of a Dakota warrior. White
+      cedar is "Wakân"&mdash;sacred. See note 50. Riggs' "Tahkoo Wakân," p. 84.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-21" id="linknote-21"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      21 (<a href="#linknoteref-21">return</a>)<br /> [ All Northern Indians
+      consider the East a mysterious and sacred land whence comes the sun. The
+      Dakota name for the East is Wee-yo-heé-yan-pa&mdash;the sunrise. The
+      Ojibways call it Waub-ó-nong&mdash;the white land or land of light, and
+      they have many myths, legends and traditions relating thereto. Barbarous
+      peoples of all times have regarded the East with superstitious reverence,
+      simply because the sun rises in that quarter.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-22" id="linknote-22"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      22 (<a href="#linknoteref-22">return</a>)<br /> [ See Mrs. Eastman's
+      Dacotah, pp. 225-8, describing the feast to Heyóka.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-23" id="linknote-23"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      23 (<a href="#linknoteref-23">return</a>)<br /> [ This stone from which the
+      Dakotas have made their pipes for ages, is esteemed "wakân"&mdash;sacred.
+      They call it I-yân-ska, probably from "íya," to speak, and "ska," white,
+      truthful, peaceful,&mdash;hence, peace-pipe, herald of peace, pledge of
+      truth, etc. In the cabinet at Albany, N.Y., there is a very ancient pipe
+      of this material which the Iroquois obtained from the Dakotas. Charlevoix
+      speaks of this pipe-stone in his History of New France. LeSueur refers to
+      the Yanktons as the village of the Dakotas at the Red-Stone Quarry, See
+      Neill's Hist. Minn., p. 514.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-24" id="linknote-24"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      24 (<a href="#linknoteref-24">return</a>)<br /> [ "Ho" is an exclamation of
+      approval—-yea, yes, bravo.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-25" id="linknote-25"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      25 (<a href="#linknoteref-25">return</a>)<br /> [ Buying is the honorable
+      way of taking a wife among the Dakotas. The proposed husband usually gives
+      a horse or its, value in other articles to the father or natural guardian
+      of the woman selected&mdash;sometimes against her will. See note 75.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-26" id="linknote-26"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      26 (<a href="#linknoteref-26">return</a>)<br /> [ The Dakotas believe that
+      the <i>Aurora Borealis</i> is an evil omen and the threatening of an evil
+      spirit, (perhaps Wazíya, the Winter-god&mdash;some say a witch, or a very
+      ugly old woman). When the lights appear, danger threatens, and the
+      warriors shoot at, and often slay, the evil spirit, but it rises from the
+      dead again.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-27" id="linknote-27"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      27 (<a href="#linknoteref-27">return</a>)<br /> [ Se-só-kah&mdash;The
+      Robin.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-28" id="linknote-28"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      28 (<a href="#linknoteref-28">return</a>)<br /> [ The spirit of Anpétu-sâpa
+      that haunts the Falls of St. Anthony with her dead babe in her arms. See
+      the Legend in Neill's Hist. Minn., or my "Legend of the Falls."]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-29" id="linknote-29"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      29 (<a href="#linknoteref-29">return</a>)<br /> [ Mee-coónk-shee&mdash;My
+      daughter.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-30" id="linknote-30"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      30 (<a href="#linknoteref-30">return</a>)<br /> [ The Dakotas call the
+      meteor, "Wakân-denda" (sacred fire) and Wakân-wohlpa (sacred gift.)
+      Meteors are messengers from the Land of Spirits, warning of impending
+      danger. It is a curious fact that the "sacred stone" of the Mohammedans,
+      in the Kaaba at Mecca, is a meteoric stone, and obtains its sacred
+      character from the fact that it fell from heaven.]
+    </p>
+<p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-31" id="linknote-31"> </a>
+    </p>
+<p class="foot">
+      31 (<a href="#linknoteref-31">return</a>)<br /> [ Kah-nó-te-dahn&mdash;The
+      little, mysterious dweller in the woods. This spirit lives in the forest
+      in hollow trees. Mrs. Eastman's Dacotah, Pre. Rem. xxxi. "The Dakota god
+      of the woods&mdash;an unknown animal said to resemble a man, which the
+      Dakotas worship; perhaps, the monkey." Riggs' Dakota. Dic. Tit&mdash;<i>Canotidan</i>.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-32" id="linknote-32"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      32 (<a href="#linknoteref-32">return</a>)<br /> [ The Dakotas believe that
+      thunder is produced by the flapping of the wings of an immense bird which
+      they call Wakínyan&mdash;the Thunder-bird. Near the source of the
+      Minnesota River is a place called "Thunder-Tracks" where the foot-prints
+      of a "Thunder-bird" are seen on the rocks twenty-five miles apart. Mrs.
+      Eastman's Dacotah, p. 71. There are many Thunder-birds. The father of all
+      the Thunder-birds&mdash;"Wakínyan Tanka"&mdash;or "Big Thunder," has his
+      teepee on a lofty mountain in the far West. His teepee has four openings,
+      at each of which is a sentinel; at the east, a butterfly; at the west, a
+      bear; at the south, a red deer; at the north, a caribou. He has a bitter
+      enmity against Unktéhee (god of waters) and often shoots his fiery arrows
+      at him, and hits the earth, trees, rocks, and sometimes men. Wakínyan
+      created wild-rice, the bow and arrow, the tomahawk and the spear. He is a
+      great war-spirit, and Wanmdée (the war-eagle) is his messenger. A
+      Thunder-bird (say the Dakotas) was once killed near Kapóza by the son of
+      Cetan-Wakawa-mâni, and he there upon took the name of "Wakínyan Tanka"&mdash;"Big
+      Thunder."]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-33" id="linknote-33"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      33 (<a href="#linknoteref-33">return</a>)<br /> [ Pronounced Tah-tâhn-kah&mdash;Bison
+      or Buffalo.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-34" id="linknote-34"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      34 (<a href="#linknoteref-34">return</a>)<br /> [ Enâh&mdash;An exclamation
+      of wonder. Ehó&mdash;Behold! see there!]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-35" id="linknote-35"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      35 (<a href="#linknoteref-35">return</a>)<br /> [ The Crees are the
+      Knisteneaux of Alexander Mackenzie. See his account of them, Mackenzie's
+      Travels, (London 1801) p. xci. to cvii.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-36" id="linknote-36"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      36 (<a href="#linknoteref-36">return</a>)<br /> [ Lake Superior. The only
+      names the Dakotas have for Lake Superior are Medé Tânka or Tânka Medé&mdash;Great
+      Lake, and Me-ne-yâ-ta&mdash;literally, <i>At-the-Water</i>.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-37" id="linknote-37"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      37 (<a href="#linknoteref-37">return</a>)<br /> [ April&mdash;Literally,
+      the moon when the geese lay eggs. See note 71.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-38" id="linknote-38"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      38 (<a href="#linknoteref-38">return</a>)<br /> [ Carver's Cave at St. Paul
+      was called by the Dakotas "Wakân Teepee"&mdash;sacred lodge. In the days
+      that are no more, they lighted their Council-fires in this cave, and
+      buried their dead near it. See Neill's Hist. Minn., p. 207. Capt. Carver
+      in his <i>Travels</i>, London, 1778, p. 63, et seq., describes this cave
+      as follows: "It is a remarkable cave of an amazing depth. The Indians term
+      it Wakon-teebe, that is, the Dwelling of the Great Spirit. The entrance
+      into it is about ten feet wide, the height of it five feet, the arch
+      within is near fifteen feet high and about thirty feet broad. The bottom
+      of it consists of fine clear sand. About twenty feet from the entrance
+      begins a lake, the water of which is transparent, and extends to an
+      unsearchable distance; for the darkness of the cave prevents all attempts
+      to acquire a knowledge of it. I threw a small pebble towards the interior
+      parts of it with my utmost strength. I could hear that it fell into the
+      water, and notwithstanding it was of so small a size, it caused an
+      astonishing and horrible noise that reverberated through all those gloomy
+      regions. I found in this cave many Indian hieroglyphics, which appeared
+      very ancient, for time had nearly covered them with moss, so that it was
+      with difficulty I could trace them. They were cut in a rude manner upon
+      the inside of the walls, which were composed of a stone so extremely soft
+      that it might be easily penetrated with a knife: a stone everywhere to be
+      found near the Mississippi. This cave is only accessible by ascending a
+      narrow, steep passage that lies near the brink of the river. At a little
+      distance from this dreary cavern is the burying-place of several bands of
+      the Naudowessie (Dakota) Indians." Many years ago the roof fell in, but
+      the cave has been partially restored and is now used as a beer cellar.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-39" id="linknote-39"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      39 (<a href="#linknoteref-39">return</a>)<br /> [ Wah-kahn-dee&mdash;The
+      lightning.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-40" id="linknote-40"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      40 (<a href="#linknoteref-40">return</a>)<br /> [ The Bloody River&mdash;the
+      Red River was so-called on account of the numerous Indian battles that
+      have been fought on its banks. The Chippewas say that its waters were
+      colored red by the blood of many warriors slain on its banks in the fierce
+      wars between themselves and the Dakotas.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-41" id="linknote-41"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      41 (<a href="#linknoteref-41">return</a>)<br /> [ Tah&mdash;The Moose. This
+      is the root-word for all ruminating animals; Ta-tânka, buffalo—-Ta-tóka
+      mountain antelope&mdash;Ta-hinca, the red-deer&mdash;Ta-mdóka, the buck
+      deer—-Ta-hinca-ska, white deer (sheep).]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-42" id="linknote-42"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      42 (<a href="#linknoteref-42">return</a>)<br /> [ Hogâhn&mdash;Fish. Red
+      Hogan, the trout.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-43" id="linknote-43"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      43 (<a href="#linknoteref-43">return</a>)<br /> [ Tipsânna (often called <i>tipsinna</i>)
+      is a wild prairie turnip used for food by the Dakotas. It grows on high,
+      dry land, and increases from year to year. It is eaten both cooked and
+      raw.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-44" id="linknote-44"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      44 (<a href="#linknoteref-44">return</a>)<br /> [ Rio Tajo, (or Tagus), a
+      river of Spain and Portugal.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-45" id="linknote-45"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      45 (<a href="#linknoteref-45">return</a>)<br /> [
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  "* * * * Bees of Trebizond&mdash;
+   Which from the sunniest flowers that glad
+   With their pure smile the gardens round,
+   Draw venom forth that drives men mad."
+
+    &mdash;<i>Thomas Moore</i>]
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-46" id="linknote-46"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      46 (<a href="#linknoteref-46">return</a>)<br /> [ Skeé-skah&mdash;The Wood
+      duck.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-47" id="linknote-47"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      47 (<a href="#linknoteref-47">return</a>)<br /> [ The Crocus. I have seen
+      the prairies in Minnesota spangled with these beautiful flowers in various
+      colors before the ground was entirely free from frost. The Datotas call
+      them frost-flowers.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-48" id="linknote-48"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      48 (<a href="#linknoteref-48">return</a>)<br /> [ The "Sacred Ring" around
+      the feast of the Virgins is formed by armed warriors sitting, and none but
+      a virgin must enter this ring. The warrior who knows is bound on honor,
+      and by old and sacred custom, to expose and publicly denounce any
+      tarnished maiden who dares to enter this ring, and his word cannot be
+      questioned&mdash;even by the chief. See Mrs Eastman's Dacotah, p. 64.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-49" id="linknote-49"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      49 (<a href="#linknoteref-49">return</a>)<br /> [ Prairie's Pride.&mdash;This
+      annual shrub, which abounds on many of the sandy prairies in Minnesota, is
+      sometimes called "tea-plant," "sage-plant," and "red-root willow." I doubt
+      if it has any botanic name. Its long plumes of purple and gold are truly
+      the "pride of the prairies."]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-50" id="linknote-50"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      50 (<a href="#linknoteref-50">return</a>)<br /> [ The Dakotas consider
+      white cedar "Wakân," (sacred). They use sprigs of it at their feasts, and
+      often burn it to destroy the power of evil spirits. Mrs Eastman's Dacotah,
+      p. 210.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-51" id="linknote-51"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      51 (<a href="#linknoteref-51">return</a>)<br /> [ Tâhkoo-skahng-skang.&mdash;This
+      deity is supposed to be invisible, yet everywhere present; he is an
+      avenger and a searcher of hearts. (Neill's Hist. Minn., p. 57.) I suspect
+      he was the chief spirit of the Dakotas before the missionaries imported
+      "Wakan Tânka"&mdash;(Great Spirit).]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-52" id="linknote-52"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      52 (<a href="#linknoteref-52">return</a>)<br /> [ The Dakotas believe in
+      "were-wolves" as firmly as did our Saxon ancestors, and for similar
+      reasons&mdash;the howl of the wolf being often imitated as a decoy or
+      signal by their enemies, the Ojibways.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-53" id="linknote-53"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      53 (<a href="#linknoteref-53">return</a>)<br /> [ Shee-shó-kah&mdash;The
+      Robin.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-54" id="linknote-54"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      54 (<a href="#linknoteref-54">return</a>)<br /> [ The Dakotas cail the
+      Evening Star the "<i>Virgin Star</i>," and believe it to be the spirit of
+      the virgin wronged at the feast.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-55" id="linknote-55"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      55 (<a href="#linknoteref-55">return</a>)<br /> [ Mille Lacs. This lake was
+      discovered by DuLuth, and by him named Lac Buade, in honor of Governor
+      Frontenac of Canada, whose familyname was Buade. The Dakota name for it is
+      Mdé Waksân&mdash;Spirit Lake.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-56" id="linknote-56"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      56 (<a href="#linknoteref-56">return</a>)<br /> [ The Ojibways imitate the
+      hoot of the owl and the howl of the wolf to perfection, and often use
+      these cries as signals to each other in war and the chase.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-57" id="linknote-57"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      57 (<a href="#linknoteref-57">return</a>)<br /> [ The Dakotas called the
+      Ojibways the "Snakes of the Forest," on account of their lying in ambush
+      for their enemies.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-58" id="linknote-58"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      58 (<a href="#linknoteref-58">return</a>)<br /> [ Strawberries.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-59" id="linknote-59"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      59 (<a href="#linknoteref-59">return</a>)<br /> [ Seé-yo&mdash;The
+      Prairie-hen.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-60" id="linknote-60"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      60 (<a href="#linknoteref-60">return</a>)<br /> [ Mahgâh&mdash;The
+      Wild-goose. <i>Fox-pups</i>. I could never see the propriety of calling
+      the young of foxes <i>kits</i> or <i>kittens</i>, which mean <i>little
+      cats</i>. The fox belongs to the <i>canis</i>, or dog family and not the
+      <i>felis</i>, or cat family. If it is proper to call the young of dogs and
+      wolves <i>pups</i>, it is equally proper to so call the young of foxes.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-61" id="linknote-61"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      61 (<a href="#linknoteref-61">return</a>)<br /> [ When a Dakota is sick, he
+      thinks the spirit of an enemy or some animal has entered into his body,
+      and the principal business of the "medicine man"&mdash;<i>Wicasta Wakan</i>&mdash;is
+      to cast out the "unclean spirit," with incantations and charms. See
+      Neill's Hist. Minn., pp. 66&mdash;8. The Jews entertained a similar belief
+      in the days of Jesus of Nazareth.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-62" id="linknote-62"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      62 (<a href="#linknoteref-62">return</a>)<br /> [ Wah-zeé-yah's star&mdash;The
+      North-star. See note 3.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-63" id="linknote-63"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      63 (<a href="#linknoteref-63">return</a>)<br /> [ The Dakotas, like our
+      forefathers and all other barbarians, believe in witches and witchcraft.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-64" id="linknote-64"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      64 (<a href="#linknoteref-64">return</a>)<br /> [ The Medó is a wild
+      potato, it resembles the sweet potato in top and taste. It grows in
+      bottom-lands, and is much prized by the Dakotas for food. The "Dakota
+      Friend," for December, 1850.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-65" id="linknote-65"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      65 (<a href="#linknoteref-65">return</a>)<br /> [ The meteor&mdash;Wakân
+      denda&mdash;Sacred fire.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-66" id="linknote-66"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      66 (<a href="#linknoteref-66">return</a>)<br /> [ Meetâhwin&mdash;My
+      bride.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-67" id="linknote-67"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      67 (<a href="#linknoteref-67">return</a>)<br /> [ Stoke&mdash;The body of a
+      tree. This is an old English word of Saxon origin, now changed to <i>stock</i>.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-68" id="linknote-68"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      68 (<a href="#linknoteref-68">return</a>)<br /> [ The <i>Via Lactea</i> or
+      Milky Way. The Dakotas call it <i>Wanagee-Tach-anku</i>&mdash;The path-way
+      of the spirits and believe that over this path the spirits of the dead
+      pass to the Spirit-land. See Riggs' Tah-koo Wah-kan, p. 101.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-69" id="linknote-69"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      69 (<a href="#linknoteref-69">return</a>)<br /> [ Oonk-táy-hee&mdash;There
+      are many Unktéhees, children of the Great Unktéhee, who created the earth
+      and man and who formerly dwelt in a vast cavern under the Falls of St.
+      Anthony. The Unktéhee sometimes reveals himself in the form of a huge
+      buffalo-bull. From him proceed invisible influences. The Great Unktéhee
+      created the earth. "Assembling in grand conclave all the aquatic tribes he
+      ordered them to bring up dirt from beneath the waters, and proclaimed
+      death to the disobedient. The beaver and otter forfeited their lives. At
+      last the muskrat went beneath the waters, and, after a long time appeared
+      at the surface, nearly exhausted, with some dirt. From this, Unktéhee
+      fashioned the earth into a large circular plain. The earth being finished,
+      he took a deity, one of his own offspring, and grinding him to powder,
+      sprinkled it upon the earth, and this produced many worms. The worms were
+      then collected and scattered again. They matured into infants and these
+      were then collected and scattered and became full-grown Dakotas. The bones
+      of the mastodon, the Dakotas think, are the bones of Unktéhees, and they
+      preserve the with the greatest care in the medicine bag." Neill's Hist.
+      Minn., p. 55. The Unktéhees and the Thunder-birds are perpetually it war.
+      There are various accounts of the creation of man. Some say that at the
+      bidding of the Great Unktéhee, men sprang full grown from the caverns of
+      the earth. See Riggs' "Tah-koo Wah-kân," and Mrs Eastman's Dacotah. The
+      Great Unktéhee and the Great Thunder-bird had a terrible battle in the
+      bowels of the earth to determine which should be the ruler of the world.
+      See description in Legend of Winona.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-70" id="linknote-70"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      70 (<a href="#linknoteref-70">return</a>)<br /> [ Prononced
+      Ahng-pay-too-wee&mdash;The Sun; literally the Day Sun, thus distinguishing
+      him from Han-yé-tuwee (Hahng-yay-too-wee) the night sun, (the moon). They
+      are twin brothers but Anpétuwee is the more powerful Han-yé-tuwee receives
+      his power from his brother and obeys him. He watches over the earth while
+      the Sun sleeps. The Dakotas believe the sun is the father of life. Unlike
+      the most of their other gods, he is beneficent and kind; yet they worship
+      him (in the sun-dance) in the most dreadful manner. See Riggs' "Tah-koo
+      Wah-kân," pp. 81-2, and Catlin's Riggs' "Okee-pa." The moon is worshipped
+      as the representative of the sun; and in the great Sun-dance, which is
+      usually held in the full of the moon, when the moon rises the dancers turn
+      their eyes on her (or him). Anpétuwee issues every morning from the lodge
+      of Han-nan-na (the Morning) and begins his journey over the sky to his
+      lodge in the land of shadows. Sometimes he walks over on the Bridge (or
+      path) of the Spirits&mdash;Wanâgee Ta-chan-ku,&mdash;and sometimes he
+      sails over the sea of the skies in his shining canoe; but <i>somehow</i>,
+      and the Dakotas do not explain how, he gets back again to the lodge of
+      Hannanna in time to take a nap and eat his breakfast before starting anew
+      on his journey. The Dakotas swear by the sun. "<i>As Anpé-tu-wee hears me,
+      this is true</i>!" They call him Father and pray to him &mdash;"<i>Wakan!
+      Ate, on-she-ma-da.</i>" "Sacred Spirit,&mdash;Father, have mercy on me."
+      As the Sun is the father, so they believe the Earth is the mother, of
+      life. Truly there is much philosophy in the Dakota mythology. The
+      Algonkins call the earth "<i>Me-suk-kum-mik-o-kwa</i>"&mdash;the
+      great-grandmother of all. Narrative of John Tanner, p. 193.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-71" id="linknote-71"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      71 (<a href="#linknoteref-71">return</a>)<br /> [ The Dakotas reckon their
+      months by <i>moon</i>. They name their moons from natural circumstances.
+      They correspond very nearly with our months, as follows:
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      January&mdash;Wee-té-rhee&mdash;The Hard Moon, i.e.&mdash;the cold moon.
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      February&mdash;Wee-câ-ta-wee&mdash;The Coon Moon.
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      March&mdash;Istâ-wee-ca-ya-zang-wee&mdash;the sore eyes moon (from snow
+      blindness.)
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      April&mdash;Magâ-okâ-da-wee&mdash;the moon when the geese lay eggs; also
+      called Wokâda-wee&mdash;egg-moon, and sometimes Wató-papee-wee, the canoe
+      moon, or moon when the streams become free from ice.
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      May&mdash;Wó-zu-pee-wee&mdash;the planting moon.
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      June&mdash;Wazú-ste-ca-sa-wee&mdash;the strawberry moon.
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      July&mdash;Wa-sun-pa-wee&mdash;moon when the geese shed their feathers,
+      also called Chang-pâ-sapa-wee&mdash;Choke-Cherry moon, and sometimes&mdash;Mna-rchâ-rhca-wee&mdash;"The
+      moon of the red blooming lilies", literally, the red-lily moon.
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      August&mdash;Wasú-ton-wee&mdash;the ripe moon, i.e. Harvest Moon.
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      September&mdash;Psin-na-ké-tu-wee&mdash;the ripe rice moon.
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      October&mdash;Wà-zu-pee-wee or Wee-wa-zú-pee&mdash;the moon when wild rice
+      is gathered and laid up for winter.
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      November&mdash;Ta-kee-yu-hrâ-wee&mdash;the deer-rutting moon.
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      December&mdash;Ta-hé-cha-psung-wee&mdash;the moon when deer shed their
+      horns.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-72" id="linknote-72"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      72 (<a href="#linknoteref-72">return</a>)<br /> [ Oonk-tó-mee&mdash;is a
+      "bad spirit" in the form of a monstrous black spider. He inhabits fens and
+      marshes and lies in wait for his prey. At night he often lights a torch
+      (evidently the <i>ignis fatuus</i> or Jack-a-lantern) and swings it on the
+      marshes to decoy the unwary into his toils.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-73" id="linknote-73"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      73 (<a href="#linknoteref-73">return</a>)<br /> [ The Dakotas have their
+      stone idol, or god, called Toon-kan&mdash;or In-yan. This god dwells in
+      stone or rocks and is they say, the <i>oldest god of all</i>&mdash;he is
+      grandfather of all living things. I think, however that the stone is
+      merely the symbol of the everlasting, all pervading, invisible <i>Ta-ku
+      Wa-kan</i>&mdash;the essence of all life,&mdash;pervading all nature,
+      animate and inanimate. The Rev. S. R. Riggs who, for forty years, has been
+      a student of Dakota customs, superstitions etc., says, "Tâhkoo Wahkan," p.
+      55: et seq. "The religious faith of the Dakota is not in his gods as such.
+      It is in an intangible, mysterious something of which they are only the
+      embodiment, and that in such measure and degree as may accord with the
+      individual fancy of the worshipper. Each one will worship some of these
+      divinities, and neglect or despise others, but the great object of all
+      their worship, whatever its chosen medium, is the <i>Ta-koo Wa-kan</i>,
+      which is the <i>supernatural</i> and <i>mysterious</i>. No one term can
+      express the full meaning of the Dakotas <i>Wakan</i>. It comprehends all
+      mystery, secret power and divinity. Awe and reverence are its due, and it
+      is as unlimited in manifestation as it is in idea. All life is <i>Wakan</i>;
+      so also is everything which exhibits power, whether in action as the winds
+      and drifting clouds; or in passive endurance, as the boulder by the
+      wayside. For even the commonest sticks and stones have a spiritual essence
+      which must be reverenced as a manifestation of the all-pervading
+      mysterious power that fills the the universe."]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-74" id="linknote-74"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      74 (<a href="#linknoteref-74">return</a>)<br /> [ Wazi-kuté&mdash;Wah-ze-koo-tay;
+      literally&mdash;Pine-shooter&mdash;he that shoots among the pines. When
+      Father Hennepin was at Mille Lacs in 1679-80, Wazi-kuté was the head Chief
+      (Itâncan) of the band of Isantees. Hennepin writes his name— Ouasicoudé
+      and translates it&mdash;the "Pierced Pine." See Shea's Hennepin p. 234,
+      Minn. Hist. Coll. vol. I. p. 316.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-75" id="linknote-75"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      75 (<a href="#linknoteref-75">return</a>)<br /> [ When a Dakota brave
+      wishes to "propose" to a "dusky maid", he visits her teepee at night after
+      she has retired, or rather, laid down in her robe to sleep. He lights a
+      splinter of wood and holds it to her face. If she blows out the light, he
+      is accepted; if she covers her head and leaves it burning, he is rejected.
+      The rejection however is not considered final till it has been thrice
+      repeated. Even then the maiden is often bought of her parents or guardian,
+      and forced to become the wife of the rejected suitor. If she accepts the
+      proposal, still the suitor must buy her of her parents with suitable
+      gifts.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-76" id="linknote-76"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      76 (<a href="#linknoteref-76">return</a>)<br /> [ The Dakotas called the
+      Falls of St. Anthony the Ha-Ha&mdash;the <i>loud laughing</i>, or <i>roaring</i>.
+      The Mississippi River they called Ha-Ha Wá-kpa&mdash;River of the Falls.
+      The Ojibway name for the Falls is Ka-ká-bih-kúng. Minnehaha is a
+      combination of two Dakota words&mdash;Mini&mdash;water and Ha-Ha&mdash;Falls;
+      but it is not the name by which the Dakotas designated that cataract. Some
+      authorities say they called it I-ha-ha pronounced E-rhah-rhah&mdash;lightly
+      laughing. Rev. S. W. Pond, whose long residence as a missionary among the
+      Dakotas in this immediate vicinity makes him an authority that can hardly
+      be questioned, says "they called the Falls of Minnehaha "Mini-i-hrpâ-ya
+      dan," and it had no other name in Dakota. It means Little Falls and
+      nothing else." Letter to the author.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-77" id="linknote-77"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      77 (<a href="#linknoteref-77">return</a>)<br /> [ The game of the
+      Plum-stones is one of the favorite games of the Dakotas. Hennepin was the
+      first to describe this game in his "Description de la Louisiane," Paris,
+      1683, and he describes it very accurately. See Shea's translation p. 301.
+      The Dakotas call this game <i>Kan-soo Koo tay-pe</i>&mdash;shooting
+      plum-stones. Each stone is painted black on one side and red on the other;
+      on one side they grave certain figures which make the stones "Wakan." They
+      are placed in a dish and thrown up like dice; indeed the game is virtually
+      a game of dice. Hennepin says: "There are some so given to this game that
+      they will gamble away even their great coat. Those who conduct the game
+      cry at the top of their voices when they rattle the platter and they
+      strike their shoulders so hard as to leave them all black with the
+      blows."]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-78" id="linknote-78"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      78 (<a href="#linknoteref-78">return</a>)<br /> [ Wa'tanka&mdash;contraction
+      of Wa-kan Tanka&mdash;Great Spirit. The Dakotas had no Wakan Tanka&mdash;or
+      Wakan-péta&mdash;fire spirit&mdash;till whitemen imported them. There
+      being no name for the Supreme Being in the Dakota tongue (except Tá-ku
+      Wakan&mdash;See note 73)&mdash;and all their gods and spirits being Wakan&mdash;the
+      missionaries named God in Dakota&mdash;"<i>Wakan Tanka</i>"&mdash;which
+      means <i>Big Spirit</i>, or <i>The Big Mysterious</i>.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-79" id="linknote-79"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      79 (<a href="#linknoteref-79">return</a>)<br /> [ The Dakotas called Lake
+      Calhoun&mdash;Mdé-mdó-za&mdash;Loon Lake. They also called it&mdash;<i>Re-ya-ta-mde</i>&mdash;the
+      lake back from the river. They called Lake Harriet&mdash;Mdé-únma&mdash;the
+      other lake&mdash;or (perhaps) Mdé úma—Hazel-nut Lake. The lake nearest
+      Calhoun on the north&mdash;Lake of the Isles&mdash;they called Wí-ta Mdé&mdash;Island-Lake.
+      Lake Minnetonka they called Me-me-a-tán-ka&mdash;<i>Broad Water</i>.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-80" id="linknote-80"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      80 (<a href="#linknoteref-80">return</a>)<br /> [ The animal called by the
+      French <i>voyageurs</i> the <i>cabri</i> (the kid) is found only on the
+      prairies. It is of the goat kind, smaller than a deer, and so swift that
+      neither horse nor dog can overtake it. (Snelling's) "Tales of the
+      Northwest," p. 286. note 15. It is the gazelle, or prairie antelope,
+      called by the Dakotas Tato-ka-dan&mdash;little antelope. It is the <i>Pish-tah-te-koosh</i>
+      of the Algonkin tribes, "reckoned the fleetest animal in the prairie
+      country about the Assinneboin." Captivity and Adventures of John Tanner,
+      p. 301.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-81" id="linknote-81"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      81 (<a href="#linknoteref-81">return</a>)<br /> [ The Wicâstâpi Wakânpi
+      (literally, <i>men supernatural</i>) are the "Medicine-men" or Magicians
+      of the Dakotas. They call themselves the sons, or disciples of Unktéhee.
+      In their rites, ceremonies, tricks and pretensions they closely resemble
+      the Dactyli, Idæ and Curetes of the ancient Greeks and Romans, the Magi of
+      the Persians, and the Druids of Britain. Their pretended intercourse with
+      spirits, their powers of magic and divination, and their rites are
+      substantially the same, and point unmistakably to a common origin. The
+      Dakota "Medicine-Man" can do the "rope-trick" of the Hindoo magician to
+      perfection. The teepee used for the <i>Wakan Wacipee</i>&mdash;or Sacred
+      Dance&mdash;is called the <i>Wakan Teepee</i>&mdash;the Sacred Teepee.
+      Carver's Cave at St. Paul was also called Wakan Teepee, because the
+      Medicine-men or magicians often held their dances and feasts in it. For a
+      full account of the rites, etc., see Riggs' "Tâhkoo Wahkan", Chapter VI.
+      The <i>Ta-sha-ke</i>&mdash;literally, "Deer-hoofs"&mdash;is a rattle made
+      by hanging the hard segments of deer-hoofs to a wooden rod a foot long&mdash;about
+      an inch in diameter at the handle end, and tapering to a point at the
+      other. The clashing of these horny bits makes a sharp, shrill sound
+      something like distant sleigh-bells. In their incantations over the sick
+      they sometimes use the gourd-shell rattle.]
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      The Chân-che-ga&mdash;is a drum or "Wooden Kettle." The hoop of the drum
+      is from a foot to eighteen inches in diameter, and from three to ten
+      inches deep. The skin covering is stretched over one end making a drum
+      with one end only. The magical drum sticks are ornamented with down, and
+      heads of birds or animals are carved on them. This makes them Wakan.]
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      The flute called <i>Cho-tanka</i> (big pith) is of two varieties&mdash;one
+      made of sumac, the pith of which is punched out, etc. The second variety
+      is made of the long bone of the wing or thigh of the swan or crane. They
+      call the first the <i>bubbling chotanka</i> from the tremulous note it
+      gives when blown with all the holes stopped. Riggs' Tahkoo Wahkan, p. 476,
+      et seq.]
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      E-né-pee&mdash;vapor bath is used as a purification preparatory to the
+      sacred feasts. The vapor bath is taken in this way: "A number of poles the
+      size of hoop-poles or less are taken, and their larger ends being set in
+      the ground in a circle, the flexible tops are bent over and tied in the
+      centre. This frame work is then covered with robes and blankets, a small
+      hole being left on one side for an entrance. Before the door a fire is
+      built, and round stones about the size of a man's head are heated in it.
+      When hot, they are rolled within, and the door being closed, steam is made
+      by pouring water on them. The devotee, stripped to the skin, sits within
+      this steam-tight dome, sweating profusely at every pore, until he is
+      nearly suffocated. Sometimes a number engage in it together and unite
+      their prayers and songs." "Tâhkoo Wakan," p. 83. Father Hennepin was
+      subjected to the vapour-bath at Mille Lacs by Chief Aqui-pa-que-tin, two
+      hundred years ago. After describing the method Hennepin says: "When he had
+      made me sweat thus three times in a week, I felt as strong as ever."
+      Shea's Hennepin, p. 228. For a very full and accurate account of the
+      Medicine men of the Dakotas, and their rites etc., see Chap. II, Neill's
+      Hist. Minnesota.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-82" id="linknote-82"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      82 (<a href="#linknoteref-82">return</a>)<br /> [ The sacred <i>O-zu-ha</i>&mdash;or
+      Medicine-sack must be made of the skin of the otter, the coon, the weasel,
+      the squirrel, the loon, a certain kind of fish or the skins of serpents.
+      It must contain four kinds of medicine (or magic) representing birds,
+      beasts, herbs and trees, viz: The down of the female swan colored red, the
+      roots of certain grasses, bark from the roots of cedar trees, and hair of
+      the buffalo. "From this combination proceeds a Wakân influence so powerful
+      that no human being unassisted can resist it." Wonderful indeed must be
+      the magic power of these Dakota Druids to lead such a man aa the Rev. S.
+      R. Riggs to say of them: "By great shrewdness, untiring industry, and more
+      or less of <i>actual demoniacal possession</i>, they convince great
+      numbers of their fellows, and in the process are convinced <i>themselves</i>,
+      of their sacred character and office." Tahkoo Wakân, pp. 88-9: ]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-83" id="linknote-83"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      83 (<a href="#linknoteref-83">return</a>)<br /> [ Gâh-ma-na-tek-wâhk&mdash;<i>the
+      river of many falls</i>&mdash;is the Ojibway name of the river commonly
+      called Kaministiguia, near the mouth of which is situate Fort William, on
+      the site of DuLuth's old fort. The view on Thunder-Bay is one of the
+      grandest in America. Thunder-Cap, with its sleeping stone-giant, looms up
+      into the heavens. Here <i>Ka-be-bon-ikka</i>&mdash;the Ojibway's god of
+      storms, flaps his huge wings and makes the Thunder. From this mountain he
+      sends forth the rain, the snow, the hail, the lightning and the tempest. A
+      vast giant, turned to stone by his magic, lies asleep at his feet. The
+      island called by the Ojibways the <i>Mak-i-nak</i> (the turtle) from its
+      tortoise-like shape, lifts its huge form in the distance. Some "down-east"
+      Yankee, called it "Pie-Island," from its (to his hungry imagination)
+      fancied resemblance to a pumpkin pie, and the name, like all bad names, <i>sticks</i>.
+      McKay's Mountain on the main-land, a perpendicular rock more than a
+      thousand feet high, up-heaved by the throes of some vast volcano, and
+      numerous other bold and precipitous head lands, and rock-built islands,
+      around which roll the sapphire-blue waters of the fathomless bay, present
+      some of the most magnificent views to be found on either continent.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-84" id="linknote-84"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      84 (<a href="#linknoteref-84">return</a>)<br /> [ The Mission of the Holy
+      Ghost&mdash;at La Pointe on the isle Waug-a-bá-me&mdash;(winding view) in
+      the beautiful bay of Cha-quam-egon—was founded by the Jesuits about the
+      year 1660, and Father Renè Menard was the first priest at this point.
+      After he was lost in the wilderness, Father Glaude Allouëz permanently
+      established ihe mission in 1665. The famous Father Marquette, who took
+      Allouëz's place, Sept. 13. 1669, writing to his Superior, thus describes
+      the Dakotas: "The Nadouessi are the Iroquois of this country, beyond La
+      Pointe, <i>but less faithless, and never attack till attacked.</i> Their
+      language is entirely different from the Huron and Algonquin. They have
+      many villages, but are widely scattered. They have very extraordinary
+      customs. They principally use the calumet. They do not speak at great
+      feasts, and when a stranger arrives give him to eat of a wooden fork, as
+      we would a child. All the lake tribes make war on them, but with small
+      success. They have false oats, (wild rice) use little canoes, <i>and keep
+      their word strictly</i>." Neill's Hist. Minn., p. 111.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-85" id="linknote-85"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      85 (<a href="#linknoteref-85">return</a>)<br /> [ Michâbo&mdash;the Good,
+      Great Spirit of the Algonkins. In Autumn, in the moon of the falling leaf,
+      ere he composes himself to his winter's sleep, he fills his great pipe and
+      takes a god-like smoke. The balmy clouds from his pipe float over the
+      hills and woodland, filling the air with the haze of "Indian Summer."
+      Brinton's Myths of the New World, p. 163.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-86" id="linknote-86"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      86 (<a href="#linknoteref-86">return</a>)<br /> [ Pronounced <i>Kah-thah-gah</i>&mdash;literally,
+      <i>the place of waves and foam</i>. This was the principal village of the
+      Isantee band of Dakotas two hundred years ago, and was located at the
+      Falls of St. Anthony, which the Dakotas called the <i>Ha-ha</i>&mdash;pronounced
+      <i>Rhah-rhah</i>&mdash;the <i>loud, laughing waters</i>. The Dakotas
+      believed that the Falls were in the centre of the earth. Here dwelt the
+      Great Unktéhee, the creator of the earth and man; and from this place a
+      path led to the Spirit-land. DuLuth undoubtedly visited Kathága in the
+      year 1679. In his "Memoir" (Archives of the Ministry of the Marine)
+      addressed to Seignelay, 1685, he says: "On the 2nd of July, 1679, I had
+      the honor to plant his Majesty's arms in the great village of the
+      Nadouecioux called Izatys, where never had a Frenchman been, etc." <i>Izatys</i>
+      is here used not as the name of the village, but as the name of the band&mdash;the
+      Isantees. <i>Nadouecioux</i> was a name given the Dakotas generally by the
+      early French traders and the Ojibways. See Shea's Hennepin's Description
+      of Louisiana pp. 203: and 375. The villages of the Dakotas were not
+      permanent towns. They were hardly more than camping grounds, occupied at
+      intervals and for longer or shorter periods, as suited the convenience of
+      the hunters: yet there were certain places, like Mille Lacs, the Falls of
+      St. Anthony, Kapóza (near St. Paul), Remnica, (where the city of Red Wing
+      now stands), and Keúxa (or Keóza) on the site of the city of Winona, so
+      frequently occupied by several of the bands as to be considered their
+      chief villages respectively.]
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      FOOTNOTES TO THE SEA-GULL:
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-101" id="linknote-101"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      101 (<a href="#linknoteref-101">return</a>)<br /> [ Kay-óshk is the Ojibway
+      name of Sea-Gull.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-102" id="linknote-102"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      102 (<a href="#linknoteref-102">return</a>)<br /> [ Gitchee&mdash;great,&mdash;Gumee&mdash;sea
+      or lake,&mdash;Lake Superior; also often called Ochipwè Gítchee Gúmee,
+      Great Lake (or sea) of the Ojibways.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-103" id="linknote-103"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      103 (<a href="#linknoteref-103">return</a>)<br /> [ Né-mè-Shómis&mdash;my
+      grandfather. "In the days of my Grandfather" is the Ojibway's preface to
+      all his traditions and legends.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-104" id="linknote-104"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      104 (<a href="#linknoteref-104">return</a>)<br /> [ Waub&mdash;white&mdash;-O-jeeg,&mdash;fisher,
+      (a furred animal.) White Fisher was the name of a noted Chippewa Chief who
+      lived on the south shore of Lake Superior many years ago. Schoolcraft
+      married one of his descendants.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-105" id="linknote-105"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      105 (<a href="#linknoteref-105">return</a>)<br /> [ Ma-kwâ or mush-kwa&mdash;the
+      bear.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-106" id="linknote-106"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      106 (<a href="#linknoteref-106">return</a>)<br /> [ The Te-ke-nâh-gun is a
+      board upon one side of which a sort of basket is fastened or woven with
+      thongs of skin or strips of cloth. In this the babe is placed, and the
+      mother carries it on her back. In the wigwam the tekenagun is often
+      suspended by a cord to the lodge-poles and the mother swings her babe in
+      it.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-107" id="linknote-107"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      107 (<a href="#linknoteref-107">return</a>)<br /> [ Wabóse&mdash;the
+      rabbit. Penay, the pheasant. At certain seasons the pheasant drums with
+      his wings.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-108" id="linknote-108"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      108 (<a href="#linknoteref-108">return</a>)<br /> [ Kaug, the porcupine.
+      Kenéw. the war-eagle.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-109" id="linknote-109"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      109 (<a href="#linknoteref-109">return</a>)<br /> [ Ka-be-bón-ik-ka is the
+      god of storms, thunder, lightning, etc. His home is on Thunder-Cap at
+      Thunder-Bay, Lake Superior. By his magic, the giant that lies on the
+      mountain was turned to stone. He always sends warnings before he finally
+      sends the severe cold of winter, in order to give all creatures time to
+      prepare for it.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1010" id="linknote-1010"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1010 (<a href="#linknoteref-1010">return</a>)<br /> [ Kewaydin or Kewaytin,
+      is the North-wind or North-west wind.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1011" id="linknote-1011"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1011 (<a href="#linknoteref-1011">return</a>)<br /> [ Algónkin is the
+      general name applied to all tribes that speak the Ojibway language or
+      dialects of it.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1012" id="linknote-1012"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1012 (<a href="#linknoteref-1012">return</a>)<br /> [ This is the favorite
+      "love-broth" of the Ojibway squaws. The warrior who drinks it immediately
+      falls desperately in love with the woman who gives it to him. Various
+      tricks are devised to conceal the nature of the "medicine" and to induce
+      the warrior to drink it; but when it is mixed with a liberal quantity of
+      "fire-water" it is considered irresistable.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1013" id="linknote-1013"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1013 (<a href="#linknoteref-1013">return</a>)<br /> [ Translation:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Woe-is-me! Woe-is-me!
+  Great Spirit, behold me!
+  Look, Father; have pity upon me!
+  Woe-is-me! Woe-is-me!]
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1014" id="linknote-1014"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1014 (<a href="#linknoteref-1014">return</a>)<br /> [ Snow-storms from the
+      North-west.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1015" id="linknote-1015"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1015 (<a href="#linknoteref-1015">return</a>)<br /> [ The Ojibways, like
+      the Dakotas, call the <i>Via Lactea</i> (Milky Way) the Pathway of the
+      Spirits.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1016" id="linknote-1016"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1016 (<a href="#linknoteref-1016">return</a>)<br /> [ Shingebis, the diver,
+      is the only water-fowl that remains about Lake Superior all winter. See
+      Schoolcraft's Hiawatha Legends, p. 113.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1017" id="linknote-1017"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1017 (<a href="#linknoteref-1017">return</a>)<br /> [ Waub-ésè&mdash;the
+      white swan.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1018" id="linknote-1018"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1018 (<a href="#linknoteref-1018">return</a>)<br /> [ Pé-boân, Winter, is
+      represented as an old man with long white hair and beard.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1019" id="linknote-1019"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1019 (<a href="#linknoteref-1019">return</a>)<br /> [ Se-gún is Spring or
+      Summer. This beautiful allegory has been "done into verse" by Longfellow
+      in <i>Hiawatha</i>. I took my version from the lips of an old Chippewa
+      Chief. I have compared it with Schoolcraft's version, from which Mr.
+      Longfellow evidently took his.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1020" id="linknote-1020"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1020 (<a href="#linknoteref-1020">return</a>)<br /> [ Nah&mdash;look, see.
+      Nashké&mdash;behold.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1021" id="linknote-1021"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1021 (<a href="#linknoteref-1021">return</a>)<br /> [ Kee-zis&mdash;the
+      sun,&mdash;the father of life. Waubúnong&mdash;or Waub-ó-nong&mdash;is the
+      White Land or Land of Light,&mdash;the Sun-rise, the East.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1022" id="linknote-1022"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1022 (<a href="#linknoteref-1022">return</a>)<br /> [ The Bridge of Stars
+      spans the vast sea of the skies, and the sun and moon walk over on it.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1023" id="linknote-1023"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1023 (<a href="#linknoteref-1023">return</a>)<br /> [ The Miscodeed is a
+      small white flower with a pink border. It is the earliestblooming
+      wild-flower on the shores of Lake Superior, and belongs to the crocus
+      family.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1024" id="linknote-1024"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1024 (<a href="#linknoteref-1024">return</a>)<br /> [ The Ne-be-naw-baigs,
+      are Water-spirits; they dwell in caverns in the depths of the lake, and in
+      some respects resemble the Unktéhees of the Dakotas.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1025" id="linknote-1025"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1025 (<a href="#linknoteref-1025">return</a>)<br /> [ Ogema, Chief,&mdash;Ogema-kwa&mdash;female
+      Chief. Among the Algonkin tribes women are sometimes made chiefs.
+      Net-nó-kwa, who adopted Tanner as her son, was Oge-mâ-kwa of a band of
+      Ottawas. See John Tanner's Narrative, p. 36.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1026" id="linknote-1026"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1026 (<a href="#linknoteref-1026">return</a>)<br /> [ The "Bridge of Souls"
+      leads from the earth over dark and stormy waters to the Spirit-land. The
+      "Dark River" seems to have been a part of the superstition of all
+      nations.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><a name="linknote-1027" id="linknote-1027"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="foot">
+      1027 (<a href="#linknoteref-1027">return</a>)<br /> [ The Jossakeeds of the
+      Ojibways are sooth-sayers who are able, by the aid of spirits, to read the
+      past as well as the future.]
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 6em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Legends of the Northwest, by Hanford Lennox Gordon
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEGENDS OF THE NORTHWEST ***
+
+***** This file should be named 8122-h.htm or 8122-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/2/8122/
+
+
+Text file produced by Susan Skinner, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+HTML file produced by David Widger
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
+  www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at 809
+North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887.  Email
+contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the
+Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:  www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For forty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+  </body>
+</html>
diff --git a/8122.txt b/8122.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..228dd62
--- /dev/null
+++ b/8122.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,6051 @@
+Project Gutenberg's Legends of the Northwest, by Hanford Lennox Gordon
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Legends of the Northwest
+
+Author: Hanford Lennox Gordon
+
+
+Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8122]
+This file was first posted on June 16, 2003
+Last Updated: May 8, 2013
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEGENDS OF THE NORTHWEST ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Susan Skinner, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+LEGENDS OF THE NORTHWEST.
+
+By H. L. Gordon
+
+_Author of Pauline_.
+
+
+
+
+CONTAINING
+
+PRELUDE--THE MISSISSIPPI.
+
+THE FEAST OF THE VIRGINS, A LEGEND OF THE DAKOTAS.
+
+WINONA, A LEGEND OF THE DAKOTAS.
+
+THE LEGEND OF THE FALLS, A LEGEND OF THE DAKOTAS.
+
+THE SEA-GULL, THE OJIBWA LEGEND OF THE PICTURED ROCKS OF LAKE SUPERIOR.
+
+MINNETONKA.
+
+      *       *       *       *       *
+
+PREFACE.
+
+I have for several years devoted many of my leisure hours to the study
+of the language, history, traditions, customs and superstitions of the
+Dakotas. These Indians are now commonly called the "Sioux"--a name given
+them by the early French traders and _voyageurs_. "Dakota" signifies
+_alliance_ or _confederation_. Many separate bands, all having a common
+origin and speaking a common tongue, were united under this name. See
+"_Tah-Koo Wah-Kan_," or "_The Gospel Among the Dakotas_," by Stephen R.
+Riggs, pp. 1 to 6 inc.
+
+They were, but yesterday, the occupants and owners of the fair forests
+and fertile prairies of Minnesota--a brave, hospitable and generous
+people,--barbarians, indeed, but noble in their barbarism. They may be
+fitly called the Iroquois of the West. In form and features, in language
+and traditions, they are distinct from all other Indian tribes. When
+first visited by white men, and for many years afterwards, the Falls of
+St. Anthony (by them called the Ha-Ha) was the center of their country.
+They cultivated tobacco, and hunted the elk, the beaver and the bison.
+They were open-hearted, truthful and brave. In their wars with other
+tribes they seldom slew women or children, and rarely sacrificed the
+lives of their prisoners.
+
+For many years their chiefs and head men successfully resisted the
+attempts to introduce spirituous liquors among them. More than a century
+ago an English trader was killed at Mendota, because he persisted,
+after repeated warnings by the chiefs, in dealing out _mini-wakan_
+(Devil-water) to the Dakota braves.
+
+With open arms and generous hospitality they welcomed the first white
+men to their land; and were ever faithful in their friendship,
+till years of wrong and robbery, and want and insult, drove them to
+desperation and to war. They were barbarians, and their warfare was
+barbarous, but not more barbarous than the warfare of our Saxon and
+Celtic ancestors. They were ignorant and superstitious, but their
+condition closely resembled the condition of our British forefathers
+at the beginning of the Christian era. Macaulay says of Britain, "Her
+inhabitants, when first they became known to the Tyrian mariners, were
+little superior to the natives of the Sandwich Islands." And again,
+"While the German princes who reigned at Paris, Toledo, Arles and
+Ravenna listened with reverence to the instructions of Bishops, adored
+the relics of martyrs, and took part eagerly in disputes touching the
+Nicene theology, the rulers of Wessex and Mercia were still performing
+savage rites in the temples of Thor and Woden."
+
+The day of the Dakotas is done. The degenerate remnants of that once
+powerful and warlike people still linger around the forts and agencies
+of the Northwest, or chase the caribou and the bison on the banks of the
+Sascatchewan, but the Dakotas of old are no more. The brilliant defeat
+of Custer, by Sitting Bull and his braves, was their last grand rally
+against the resistless march of the sons of the Saxons and the Celts.
+The plow-shares of a superior race are fast leveling the sacred mounds
+of their dead. But yesterday, the shores of our lakes, and our rivers,
+were dotted with their tepees. Their light canoes glided over our
+waters, and their hunters chased the deer and the buffalo on the sites
+of our cities. To-day, they are not. Let us do justice to their memory,
+for there was much that was noble in their natures. In the following
+Dakota Legends I have endeavored to faithfully represent many of the
+customs and superstitions, and some of the traditions, of that people.
+I have taken very little "poetic license" with their traditions; none,
+whatever, with their customs and superstitions. In my studies for these
+Legends I have been greatly aided by Rev. S. R. Riggs, author of the
+Grammar and Dictionary of the Dakota language, "Tah-Koo Wah-Kan," &c.,
+and for many years a missionary among the Dakotas. He has patiently
+answered my numerous inquiries and given me valuable information. I am
+also indebted to Gen. H. H. Sibley, one of the earliest American traders
+among them, and to Rev. S. W. Pond, of Shakopee, one of the first
+Protestant missionaries to these people, and himself the author of
+poetical versions of some of their principal legends; to Mrs. Eastman's
+"Dacotah." and last, but not least, to the Rev. E. D. Neill, whose
+admirable "History of Minnesota" so fully and faithfully presents almost
+all that is known of the history, traditions, customs, manners and
+superstitions of the Dakotas. In _Winona_ I have "tried my hand" on
+Hexameter verse. With what success, I leave to those who are better able
+to judge than I. If I have failed, I have but added another failure to
+the numerous vain attempts to naturalize Hexameter verse in the English
+language.
+
+The Earl of Derby, in the preface to his translation of the Iliad, calls
+it "That pestilent heresy of the so-called English Hexameter; a metre
+wholly repugnant to the genius of our language; which can only be
+pressed into the service by a violation of every rule of prosody." Lord
+Kames, in his "Elements of Criticism." says, "Many attempts have been
+made to introduce Hexameter verse into the living languages, but
+without success. The English language, I am inclined to think, is
+not susceptible of this melody, and my reasons are these: First, the
+polysyllables in Latin and Greek are finely diversified by long and
+short syllables, a circumstance that qualifies them for the melody of
+Hexameter verse: ours are extremely ill qualified for that service,
+because they super-abound in short syllables. Secondly, the bulk of our
+monosyllables are arbitrary with regard to length, which is an unlucky
+circumstance in Hexameter. * * * In Latin and Greek Hexameter invariable
+sounds direct and ascertain the melody. English Hexameter would
+be destitute of melody, unless by artful pronunciation; because of
+necessity the bulk of its sounds must be arbitrary. The pronunciation
+is easy in a simple movement of alternate long and short syllables;
+but would be perplexing and unpleasant in the diversified movement of
+Hexameter verse."
+
+Beautiful as is the _Evangeline_ of Longfellow, his Hexameter lines
+are sometimes hard to scan, and often grate harshly on the ear. He is
+frequently forced to divide a word by the central or pivotal pause of
+the line, and sometimes to make a pause in the sense where the rhythm
+forbids it. Take for example some of the opening lines of _Evangeline_:
+
+  "This is the forest prime|val. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
+    Bearded with moss, and in gar|ments green, indistinct in the twilight.
+  Loud from its rocky cav|erns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
+    Speaks, and in accents discon|solate answers the wail of the forest.
+  Lay in the fruitful val|ley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward."
+
+Again, in order to comply with the Greek and Latin rule of beginning
+each line with a _long_ syllable, he is compelled to emphasize words
+contrary to the sense. Examples:
+
+  _In_ the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of  Minas
+  _Some_what apart from the village, and nearer the Basin of Minas.
+  _But_ a celestial bright|ness--a more etherial beauty.
+  _And_ the retreating sun the sign of the scorpion enters.
+  _In_-doors, warmed by the wide-|mouthed fireplace idly the farmer,
+  _Four_ times the sun had ris|en and set; and now on the fifth day,
+
+"Greek and Latin Hexameter lines, as to time, are all of the same
+length, being equivalent to the time taken in pronouncing twelve long
+syllables, or twenty-four short ones. An Hexameter line may consist of
+seventeen syllables, and when regular and not Spondiac, it never has
+fewer than thirteen: whence it follows that where the syllables are
+many, the plurality must be short; where few, the plurality must be
+long. This line is susceptible of much variety as to the succession of
+long and short syllables. It is however subject to laws that confine its
+variety within certain limits. * * *
+
+1st. The line must always commence with a _long_ syllable, and close
+with two long preceded by two short.
+
+2d. More than two short syllables can never be found together, nor
+_fewer_ than two.
+
+3d. Two long syllables which have been preceded by two short can not
+also be followed by two short.
+
+These few rules fulfill all the conditions of an Hexameter line
+with relation to order of arrangement."--_Lord Kames, "Elements of
+Criticism."_ One who attempts to write English Hexameter, under the
+Greek and Latin rules, will speedily be made aware that the English
+language "super-abounds in short syllables." Why then should we rigidly
+adhere to rules repugnant to the genius of our language, if they can be
+modified so as to adapt the sonorous Hexameter to the structure of our
+mother-tongue? Can they be so modified? I have attempted it. I venture
+to change them as follows:
+
+1st. By beginning each line with a _short_ syllable instead of a long
+one. And it will be seen that I often begin a line with two short
+syllables.
+
+2d. By often using one short syllable unaccompanied by another.
+
+3d. I have increased the average number of syllables in the line to
+better adapt it to our super-abundance of short syllables.
+
+4th. In _Winona_ I have introduced a rhyme at the pivotal pause of
+the line, not because my Hexameter requires it, but because I think it
+increases the melody, and more emphatically marks the central pause.
+
+I am not quite sure that, in a long poem, the rhyme is not detrimental.
+That depends greatly, however, upon the skill with which it is handled.
+Surely the same Hexameter can be written as smoothly and more vigorously
+without rhyme. Rhyme adds greatly to the labor of composition; it rarely
+assists, but often hinders, the expression of the sense which the author
+would convey. At times I have been on the point of abandoning it
+in despair, but after having been under the hammer and the file, at
+intervals for the last four years, _Winona_ is at last _done_, if not
+finished.
+
+It will be observed that I have slightly changed the length and the
+rhythm of the old Hexameter line, but it is still Hexameter, and, I
+think, improved. I am not afraid of intelligent criticism. I invoke it,
+and will endeavor to profit by it in the future as in the past.
+
+The reception of my _Pauline_ at home and abroad has been so flattering
+that I have been encouraged to attempt something better. That was my
+first real effort and full of crudities but if the Legends are received
+by our best critics as well as _Pauline_ was received I shall be well
+pleased with my efforts.
+
+After much thought I have decided to publish the first edition of my
+_Legends_ here at home:
+
+1st Because they pertain particularly to the lakes and rivers to the
+fair forests and fertile fields of our own Minnesota and ought to be
+appreciated here if anywhere.
+
+2d Because many of our people are competent to judge whether my
+representations of Dakota customs, life, traditions, and superstitions
+are correct or not and at the same time the reading public of the North
+west is as intelligent and discriminating as that of any other portion
+of our country. If these _Legends_ be appreciated and approved by our
+own people who are familiar with the scenery described and more or less,
+with the customs, traditions and superstitions of the Dakotas, and if
+beyond that these poems shall stand the test of candid criticism I may
+give them a wider publication.
+
+H. L. GORDON.
+
+MINNEAPOLIS. June 1, 1881.
+
+
+[Illustration: VIEW OF THE MISSISSIPPI AT FORT SNELLING]
+
+
+
+
+PRELUDE.
+
+
+
+
+THE MISSISSIPPI.
+
+
+  Onward rolls the Royal River, proudly sweeping to the sea,
+  Dark and deep and grand, forever wrapt in myth and mystery.
+  Lo he laughs along the highlands, leaping o'er the granite walls:
+  Lo he sleeps among the islands, where the loon her lover calls.
+  Still like some huge monster winding downward through the prairie plains,
+  Seeking rest but never finding, till the tropic gulf he gains.
+  In his mighty arms he claspeth now an empire broad and grand;
+  In his left hand lo he graspeth leagues of fen and forest land;
+  In his right the mighty mountains, hoary with eternal snow.
+  Where a thousand foaming fountains singing seek the plains below.
+  Fields of corn and feet of cities lo the mighty river laves,
+  Where the Saxon sings his ditties o'er the swarthy warriors' graves.
+  Aye, before the birth, of Moses--ere the Pyramids were piled--
+  All his banks were red with roses from the sea to nor'lands wild,
+  And from forest, fen and meadows, in the deserts of the north,
+  Elk and bison stalked like shadows, and the tawny tribes came forth;
+  Deeds of death and deeds of daring on his leafy banks were done--
+  Women loved and men went warring--ere the siege of Troy begun.
+  Where his wayward waters thundered, roaring o'er the rocky walls,
+  Dusky hunters sat and wondered, listening to the spirits' calls.
+  "Ha-ha!" [76] cried the warrior greeting from afar the cataract's roar;
+  "Ha-ha!" rolled the answer, beating down the rock-ribbed leagues of shore.
+  Now, alas, the bow and quiver and the dusky braves have fled,
+  And the sullen, shackled river drives the droning mills instead.
+
+  Where the war whoop rose, and, after, women wailed their warriors slain,
+  List the Saxon's silvery laughter, and his humming hives of gain.
+  Swiftly sped the tawny runner o'er the pathless prairies then,
+  Now the iron-reindeer sooner carries weal or woe to men.
+  On thy bosom, Royal River, silent sped the birch canoe,
+  Bearing brave with bow and quiver, on his way to war or woo;
+  Now with flaunting flags and streamers--mighty monsters of the deep--
+  Lo the puffing, panting steamers, through thy foaming waters sweep;
+  And behold the grain-fields golden, where the bison grazed of eld;
+  See the fanes of forests olden by the ruthless Saxon felled,--
+  Plumed pines that spread their shadows ere Columbus spread his sails.
+  Firs that fringed the mossy meadows ere the Mayflower braved the gales,
+  Iron oaks that nourished bruin while the Vikings roamed the main,
+  Crashing fall in broken ruin for the greedy marts of gain.
+
+  Still forever and forever rolls the restless river on,
+  Slumbering oft but ceasing never, while the circling centuries run.
+  In his palm the lakelet lingers, in his hair the brooklets hide,
+  Grasped within his thousand fingers lies a continent fair and wide,--
+  Yea, a mighty empire swarming with its millions like the bees,
+  Delving, drudging, striving, storming, all their lives, for golden ease.
+
+  Still, methinks, the dusky shadows of the days that are no more
+  Stalk around the lakes and meadows, haunting oft the wonted shore,--
+  Hunters from the land of spirits seek the bison and the deer,
+  Where the Saxon now inherits golden field and silver mere;
+  And beside the mound where burried lies the dark-eyed maid he loves,
+  Some tall warrior, wan and wearied, in the misty moonlight moves.
+  See--he stands erect and lingers--stoic still, but loth to go--
+  Clutching in his tawny fingers feathered shaft and polished bow.
+  Never wail or moan he utters and no tear is on his face,
+  But a warrior's curse he mutters on the crafty Saxon race.
+
+  O thou dark, mysterious River, speak and tell thy tales to me;
+  Seal not up thy lips forever--veiled in mist and mystery.
+  I will sit and lowly listen at the phantom-haunted falls,
+  Where thy waters foam and glisten o'er the rugged, rocky walls.
+  Till some spirit of the olden, mystic, weird, romantic days
+  Shall emerge and pour her golden tales and legends through my lays.
+  Then again the elk and bison on thy grassy banks shall feed,
+  And along the low horizon shall the plumed hunter speed;
+  Then again on lake and river shall the silent birch canoe
+  Bear the brave with bow and quiver on his way to war or woo:
+  Then the beaver on the meadow shall rebuild his broken wall,
+  And the wolf shall chase his shadow and his mate the panther call.
+  From the prairies and the regions where the pine-plumed forest grows
+  Shall arise the tawny legions with their lances and their bows;
+  And again the shouts of battle shall resound along the plain,
+  Bows shall twang and quivers rattle, women wail their warriors slain.
+
+
+
+
+THE FEAST OF THE VIRGINS. [1]
+
+A LEGEND OF THE DAKOTAS.
+
+
+(In pronouncing Dakota words give "a" the sound of "ah"--"e" the sound
+of "a"--"i" the sound of "e" and "u" the sound of "oo," sound "ee" as
+in English. The numerals, 1, 2, etc. refer to explanatory notes in the
+appendix.)
+
+
+
+
+THE GAME OF BALL. [2]
+
+
+  Clear was the sky as a silver shield;
+  The bright sun blazed on the frozen field.
+  On icebound river and white robed prairie
+  The diamonds gleamed in the flame of noon;
+  But cold and keen were the breezes airy
+  Wa-zi-ya [3] blew from his icy throne.
+
+  On the solid ice of the silent river
+  The bounds are marked, and a splendid prize,
+  A robe of black fox lined with beaver--
+  Is hung in view of the eager eyes;
+  And fifty merry Dakota maidens,
+  The fairest moulded of woman kind,
+  Are gathered in groups on the level ice.
+  They look on the robe and its beauty gladdens,
+  And maddens their hearts for the splendid prize.
+  Lo the rounded ankles and raven hair
+  That floats at will on the wanton wind,
+  And the round brown arms to the breezes bare,
+  And breasts like the mounds where the waters meet, [4]
+  And feet as fleet as the red deer's feet,
+  And faces that glow like the full, round moon
+  When she laughs in the luminous skies of June.
+
+  The leaders are chosen and swiftly divide
+  The opposing parties on either side.
+  Wiwaste [5] is chief of a nimble band.
+  The star-eyed daughter of Little Crow; [6]
+  And the leader chosen to hold command
+  Of the band adverse is a haughty foe--
+  The dusky, impetuous Harpstina, [7]
+  The queenly cousin of Wapasa. [8]
+  Kapoza's chief and his tawny hunters
+  Are gathered to witness the queenly game.
+  The ball is thrown and a bat encounters,
+  And away it flies with a loud acclaim.
+  Swift are the maidens that follow after,
+  And swiftly it flies for the farther bound:
+  And long and loud are the peals of laughter,
+  As some fair runner is flung to ground;
+  While backward and forward, and to and fro,
+  The maidens contend on the trampled snow.
+  With loud "Iho!--Ito!--Iho!" [9]
+  And waving the beautiful prize anon,
+  The dusky warriors cheer them on.
+  And often the limits are almost passed,
+  As the swift ball flies and returns. At last
+  It leaps the line at a single bound
+  From the fair Wiwaste's sturdy stroke,
+  Like a fawn that flies from the baying hound.
+  Wild were the shouts, and they rolled and broke
+  On the beetling bluffs and the hills profound,
+  An echoing, jubilant sea of sound.
+  Wakawa, the chief, and the loud acclaim
+  Announced the end of the well-fought game,
+  And the fair Wiwaste was victor crowned.
+
+  Dark was the visage of Harpstina
+  When the robe was laid at her rival's feet,
+  And merry maidens and warriors saw
+  Her flashing eyes and her look of hate,
+  As she turned to Wakawa, the chief, and said:--
+  "The game was mine were it fairly played.
+  I was stunned by a blow on my bended head,
+  As I snatched the ball from slippery ground
+  Not half a fling from Wiwaste's bound.
+  And the cheat--behold her! for there she stands
+  With the prize that is mine in her treacherous hands.
+  The fawn may fly, but the wolf is fleet;
+  The fox creeps sly on Maga's [10] retreat;
+  And a woman's revenge--it is swift and sweet."
+  She turned to her lodge, but a roar of laughter
+  And merry mockery followed after.
+  Little they heeded the words she said,
+  Little they cared for her haughty tread,
+  For maidens and warriors and chieftain knew
+  That her lips were false and her charge untrue.
+
+  Wiwaste, the fairest Dakota maiden,
+  The sweet-faced daughter of Little Crow,
+  To her teepee [11] turned with her trophy laden--
+  The black robe trailing the virgin snow.
+  Beloved was she by her princely father,
+  Beloved was she by the young and old,
+  By merry maidens and many a mother,
+  And many a warrior bronzed and bold.
+  For her face was as fair as a beautiful dream,
+  And her voice like the song of the mountain stream;
+  And her eyes like the stars when they glow and gleam.
+  Through the somber pines of the nor'land wold,
+  When the winds of winter are keen and cold.
+
+  Mah-pi-ya Du-ta [12] the tall Red Cloud,
+  A hunter swift and a warrior proud,
+  With many a scar and many a feather,
+  Was a suitor bold and a lover fond.
+  Long had he courted Wiwaste's father,
+  Long had he sued for the maiden's hand.
+  Aye, brave and proud was the tall Red Cloud,
+  A peerless son of a giant race,
+  And the eyes of the panther were set in his face.
+  He strode like a stag, and he stood like a pine:
+  Ten feathers he wore of the great Wanmdee; [13]
+  With crimsoned quills of the porcupine
+  His leggins were worked to his brawny knee.
+  The bow he bent was a giant's bow;
+  The swift red elk could he overtake,
+  And the necklace that girdled his brawny neck
+  Was the polished claws of the great Mato [14]
+  He grappled and slew in the northern snow.
+
+  Wiwaste looked on the warrior tall;
+  She saw he was brawny and brave and great,
+  But the eyes of the panther she could but hate,
+  And a brave Hohe [15] loved she better than all.
+  Loved was Mahpiya by Harpstina,
+  But the warrior she never could charm or draw;
+  And bitter indeed was her secret hate
+  For the maiden she reckoned so fortunate.
+
+
+
+
+HEYOKA WACIPEE [16]--THE GIANT'S DANCE.
+
+
+  The night-sun [17] sails in his gold canoe,
+  The spirits [18] walk in the realms of air
+  With their glowing faces and flaming hair,
+  And the shrill, chill winds o'er the prairies blow.
+  In the Tee [19] of the Council the Virgins light
+  The Virgin-fire [20] for the feast to-night;
+  For the Sons of Heyoka will celebrate
+  The sacred dance to the giant great.
+  The kettle boils on the blazing fire,
+  And the flesh is done to the chief's desire.
+  With his stoic face to sacred East, [21]
+  He takes his seat at the Giant's Feast.
+
+  For the feast of Heyoka [22] the braves are dressed
+  With crowns from the bark of the white-birch trees,
+  And new skin leggins that reach the knees;
+  With robes of the bison and swarthy bear,
+  And eagle-plumes in their coal-black hair,
+  And marvelous rings in their tawny ears,
+  Which were pierced with the points of their shining spears.
+  To honor Heyoka, Wakawa lifts
+  His fuming pipe from the Red-stone Quarry. [23]
+  The warriors follow. The white cloud drifts
+  From the Council-lodge to the welkin starry,
+  Like a fog at morn on the fir-clad hill,
+  When the meadows are damp and the winds are still.
+
+  They dance to the tune of their wild "Ha-ha!"
+  A warrior's shout and a raven's caw--
+  Circling the pot and the blaming fire
+  To the tom-tom's bray and the rude bassoon;
+  Round and round to their heart's desire,
+  And ever the same wild chant and tune--
+  A warrior's shout and a raven's caw--
+  "Ha-ha,--ha-ha,--ha-ha,--ha!"
+  They crouch, they leap, and their burning eyes
+  Flash fierce in the light of the flaming fire,
+  As fiercer and fiercer and higher and higher
+  The rude, wild notes of their chant arise.
+  They cease, they sit, and the curling smoke
+  Ascends again from their polished pipes,
+  And upward curls from their swarthy lips
+  To the God whose favor their hearts invoke.
+
+  Then tall Wakawa arose and said:
+  "Brave warriors, listen, and give due heed.
+  Great is Heyoka, the magical god;
+  He can walk on the air; he can float on the flood.
+  He's a worker of magic and wonderful wise;
+  He cries when he laughs and he laughs when he cries;
+  He sweats when he's cold, and he shivers when hot,
+  And the water is cold in his boiling pot.
+  He hides in the earth and he walks in disguise,
+  But he loves the brave and their sacrifice.
+  We are sons of Heyoka. The Giant commands
+  In the boiling water to thrust our hands;
+  And the warrior that scorneth the foe and fire
+  Heyoka will crown with his hearts desire."
+
+  They thrust their hands in the boiling pot;
+  They swallow the bison meat steaming hot,
+  Not a wince on their stoical faces bold.
+  For the meat and the water, they say, are cold,
+  And great is Heyoka and wonderful wise;
+  He floats on the flood and he walks in the skies,
+  And ever appears in a strange disguise;
+  But he loves the brave and their sacrifice;
+  And the warrior that scorneth the foe and fire
+  Heyoka will crown with his heart's desire.
+
+  Proud was the chief of his warriors proud,
+  The sinewy sons of the Giant's race;
+  But the bravest of all was the tall Red Cloud;
+  The eyes of the panther were set in his face;
+  He strode like a stag and he stood like a pine;
+  Ten feathers he wore at the great Wanmdee; [13]
+  With crimsoned quills of the porcupine
+  His leggins were worked to his brawny knee.
+  Blood-red were the stripes on his swarthy cheek,
+  And the necklace that girdled his brawny neck
+  Was the polished claws of the great Mato [14]
+  He grappled and slew in the northern snow.
+
+  Proud Red Cloud turned to the braves and said,
+  As he shook the plumes on his haughty head:
+
+  "Ho! the warrior that scorneth the foe and fire
+  Heyoka will crown with his heart's desire!"
+  He snatched from the embers a red-hot brand,
+  And held it aloft in his naked hand.
+  He stood like a statue in bronze or stone,--
+  Not a muscle moved, and the braves looked on.
+  He turned to the chieftain,--"I scorn the fire,--
+  Ten feathers I wear of the great Wanmdee;
+  Then grant me, Wakawa, my heart's desire;
+  Let the sunlight shine in my lonely tee. [19]
+  I laugh at red death and I laugh at red fire;
+  Brave Red Cloud is only afraid of fear;
+  But Wiwaste is fair to his heart and dear;
+  Then grant him, Wakawa, his heart's desire."
+
+  The warriors applauded with loud "Ho! Ho!" [24]
+  And he flung the brand to the drifting snow.
+  Three times Wakawa puffed forth the smoke
+  From his silent lips; then he slowly spoke:
+  "Mahpiya is strong as the stout-armed oak
+  That stands on the bluff by the windy plain,
+  And laughs at the roar of the hurricane.
+  He has slain the foe and the great Mato
+  With his hissing arrow and deadly stroke.
+  My heart is swift but my tongue is slow.
+  Let the warrior come to my lodge and smoke;
+  He may bring the gifts; [25] but the timid doe
+  May fly from the hunter and say him no."
+
+  Wiwaste sat late in the lodge alone,
+  Her dark eyes bent on the glowing fire.
+  She heard not the wild winds shrill and moan;
+  She heard not the tall elms toss and groan;
+  Her face was lit like the harvest moon;
+  For her thoughts flew far to her heart's desire.
+  Far away in the land of the Hohe [15] dwelt
+  The warrior she held in her secret heart;
+  But little he dreamed of the pain she felt,
+  For she hid her love with a maiden's art.
+  Not a tear she shed, not a word she said,
+  When the fair young chief from the lodge departed;
+  But she sat on the mound when the day was dead,
+  And gazed at the full moon mellow hearted.
+  Fair was the chief as the morning-star;
+  His eyes were mild and his words were low,
+  But his heart was stouter than lance or bow;
+  And her young heart flew to her love afar
+  O'er his trail long covered with drifted snow.
+  But she heard a warrior's stealthy tread,
+  And the tall Wakawa appeared, and said--
+  "Is Wiwaste afraid of the spirit dread
+  That fires the sky in the fatal north? [26]
+  Behold the mysterious lights. Come forth
+  Some evil threatens,--some danger nears,
+  For the skies are pierced with the burning spears."
+
+  The warriors rally beneath the moon;
+  They shoot their shafts at the evil spirit.
+  The spirit is slain and the flame is gone,
+  And his blood lies red on the snow fields near it.
+  But again from the dead will the spirit rise,
+  And flash his spears in the northern skies.
+
+  Then the chief and the queenly Wiwaste stood
+  Alone in the moon-lit solitude,
+  And she was silent and he was grave.
+  "And fears not my daughter the evil spirit?
+  The strongest warriors and bravest fear it
+  The burning spears are an evil omen;
+  They threaten the wrath of a wicked woman,
+  Or a treacherous foe; but my warriors brave,
+  When danger nears, or the foe appears,
+  Are a cloud of arrows,--a grove of spears."
+
+  "My Father," she said, and her words were low,
+  "Why should I fear? for I soon will go
+  To the broad, blue lodge in the Spirit land,
+  Where my dark eyed mother went long ago,
+  And my dear twin sisters walk hand in hand.
+  My Father, listen,--my words are true,"
+  And sad was her voice as the whippowil
+  When she mourns her mate by the moon-lit rill,
+  "Wiwaste lingers alone with you,
+  The rest are sleeping on yonder hill,--
+  Save one--and he an undutiful son,--
+  And you, my Father, will sit alone
+  When Sisoka [27] sings and the snow is gone.
+  I sat, when the maple leaves were red,
+  By the foaming falls of the haunted river;
+  The night sun was walking above my head,
+  And the arrows shone in his burnished quiver;
+  And the winds were hushed and the hour was dread
+  With the walking ghosts of the silent dead.
+  I heard the voice of the Water-Fairy; [28]
+  I saw her form in the moon-lit mist,
+  As she sat on a stone with her burden weary,
+  By the foaming eddies of amethyst.
+  And robed in her mantle of mist the sprite
+  Her low wail poured on the silent night.
+  Then the spirit spake, and the floods were still--
+  They hushed and listened to what she said,
+  And hushed was the plaint of the whippowil
+  In the silver-birches above her head:
+  'Wiwaste,--the prairies are green and fair,
+  When the robin sings and the whippowil;
+  But the land of the Spirits is fairer still,
+  For the winds of winter blow never there;
+  And forever the songs of the whippowils
+  And the robins are heard on the leafy hills.
+  Thy mother looks from her lodge above,--
+  Her fair face shines in the sky afar,
+  And the eyes of thy sisters are bright with love,
+  As they peep from the tee of the mother-star.
+  To her happy lodge in the spirit-land
+  She beckons Wiwaste with shining hand.'
+
+  "My Father,--my Father, her words were true;
+  And the death of Wiwaste will rest on you.
+  You have pledged me as wife to the tall Red Cloud;
+  You will take the gifts of the warrior proud;
+  But I, Wakawa,--I answer--never!
+  I will stain your knife in my heart's red blood,
+  I will plunge and sink in the sullen river,
+  Ere I will be wife to the fierce Red Cloud!"
+
+  "Wiwaste," he said, and his voice was low,
+  "Let it be as you will, for Wakawa's tongue
+  Has spoken no promise;--his lips are slow,
+  And the love of a father is deep and strong.
+  Be happy, Micunksee [29], the flames are gone,--
+  They flash no more in the Northern sky.
+  See the smile on the face of the watching moon;
+  No more will the fatal red arrows fly;
+  For the singing shafts of my warriors sped
+  To the bad spirit's bosom and laid him dead,
+  And his blood on the snow of the North lies red.
+  Go,--sleep in the robe that you won to-day,
+  And dream of your hunter--the brave Chaske."
+
+  Light was her heart as she turned away;
+  It sang like the lark in the skies of May.
+  The round moon laughed, but a lone red star, [30]
+  As she turned to the teepee and entered in,
+  Fell flashing and swift in the sky afar,
+  Like the polished point of a javelin.
+  Nor chief nor daughter the shadow saw
+  Of the crouching listener--Harpstina.
+
+  Wiwaste, wrapped in her robe and sleep
+  Heard not the storm-sprites wail and weep,
+  As they rode on the winds in the frosty air;
+  But she heard the voice of her hunter fair;
+  For a shadowy spirit with fairy fingers
+  The curtains drew from the land of dreams;
+  And lo in her teepee her lover lingers;
+  The light of love in his dark eye beams,
+  And his voice is the music of mountain streams.
+
+  And then with her round, brown arms she pressed
+  His phantom form to her throbbing breast,
+  And whispered the name, in her happy sleep,
+  Of her Hohe hunter so fair and far.
+  And then she saw in her dreams the deep
+  Where the spirit wailed, and a falling star;
+  Then stealthily crouching under the trees,
+  By the light of the moon, the Kan-o-ti-dan, [31]
+  The little, wizened, mysterious man,
+  With his long locks tossed by the moaning breeze.
+  Then a flap of wings, like a thunder-bird, [32]
+  And a wailing spirit the sleeper heard;
+  And lo, through the mists of the moon, she saw
+  The hateful visage of Harpstina.
+
+  But waking she murmured--"And what are these--
+  The flap of wings and the falling star,
+  The wailing spirit that's never at ease,
+  The little man crouching under the trees,
+  And the hateful visage of Harpstina?
+  My dreams are like feathers that float on the breeze,
+  And none can tell what the omens are--
+  Save the beautiful dream of my love afar
+  In the happy land of the tall Hohe [15]--
+  My beautiful hunter--my brave Chaske."
+
+  "Ta-tanka! Ta-tanka!" [33] the hunters cried,
+  With a joyous shout at the break of dawn;
+  And darkly lined on the white hill-side,
+  A herd of bison went marching on
+  Through the drifted snow like a caravan.
+  Swift to their ponies the hunters sped,
+  And dashed away on the hurried chase.
+  The wild steeds scented the game ahead,
+  And sprang like hounds to the eager race.
+  But the brawny bulls in the swarthy van
+  Turned their polished horns to the charging foes,
+  And reckless rider and fleet foot-man
+  Were held at bay in the drifted snows,
+  While the bellowing herd o'er the hill-tops ran,
+  Like the frightened beasts of a caravan
+  On the Sahara's sands when the simoon blows.
+  Sharp were the twangs of the hunters' bows,
+  And swift and humming the arrows sped,
+  Till ten huge bulls on the bloody snows
+  Lay pierced with arrows and dumb and dead.
+  But the chief with the flankers had gained the rear,
+  And flew on the trail of the flying herd.
+  The shouts of the riders rang loud and clear,
+  As their frothing steeds to the chase they spurred.
+  And now like the roar of an avalanche
+  Rolls the sullen wrath of the maddened bulls.
+  They charge on the riders and runners stanch,
+  And a dying steed in the snow-drift rolls,
+  While the rider, flung to the frozen ground
+  Escapes the horns by a panther's bound.
+  But the raging monsters are held at bay,
+  While the flankers dash on the swarthy rout.
+  With lance and arrow they slay and slay;
+  And the welkin rings to the gladsome shout--
+  To the loud Inas and the wild Ihos, [34]--
+  And dark and dead, on the bloody snows,
+  Lie the swarthy heaps of the buffaloes.
+
+  All snug in the teepee Wiwaste lay,
+  All wrapped in her robe, at the dawn of day,--
+  All snug and warm from the wind and snow,
+  While the hunters followed the buffalo.
+  Her dreams and her slumber their wild shouts broke;
+  The chase was afoot when the maid awoke;
+  She heard the twangs of the hunter's bows,
+  And the bellowing bulls and the loud Ihos,
+  And she murmured--"My hunter is far away
+  In the happy land of the tall Hohe--
+  My beautiful hunter, my brave Chaske;
+  But the robins will come and my warrior too,
+  And Wiwaste will find her a way to woo."
+
+  And long she lay in a reverie,
+  And dreamed, wide-awake, of her brave Chaske,
+  Till a trampling of feet on the crispy snow
+  She heard, and the murmur of voices low;--
+  Then the hunters' greeting--Iho! Iho!
+  And behold, in the blaze of the risen day,
+  With the hunters that followed the buffalo,--
+  Came her beautiful hunter--her brave Chaske.
+  Far south has he followed the bison-trail
+  With his band of warriors so brave and true.
+  Right glad is Wakawa his friend to hail,
+  And Wiwaste will find her a way to woo.
+
+  Tall and straight as the larch tree stood
+  The manly form of the brave young chief,
+  And fair as the larch in its vernal leaf,
+  When the red fawn bleats in the feathering wood.
+  Mild was his face as the morning skies,
+  And friendship shone in his laughing eyes;
+  But swift were his feet o'er the drifted snow
+  On the trail of the elk or the buffalo;
+  And his heart was stouter than lance or bow,
+  When he heard the whoop of his enemies.
+  Five feathers he wore of the great Wanmdee,
+  And each for the scalp of a warrior slain,
+  When down on his camp from the northern plain,
+  With their murder cries rode the bloody Cree. [35]
+  But never the stain of an infant slain,
+  Or the blood of a mother that plead in vain,
+  Soiled the honored plumes of the brave Hohe.
+  A mountain bear to his enemies,
+  To his friends like the red fawn's dappled form;
+  In peace, like the breeze from the summer seas;
+  In war, like the roar of the mountain storm.
+  His fame in the voice of the winds went forth
+  From his hunting grounds in the happy north,
+  And far as the shores of the Great Mede [36]
+  The nations spoke of the brave Chaske.
+
+  Dark was the visage of grim Red Cloud,
+  Fierce were the eyes of the warrior proud,
+  When the chief to his lodge led the brave Chaske,
+  And Wiwaste smiled on the tall Hohe.
+  Away he strode with a sullen frown,
+  And alone in his teepee he sat him down.
+  From the gladsome greeting of braves he stole,
+  And wrapped himself in his gloomy soul.
+  But the eagle eyes of the Harpstina
+  The clouded face of the warrior saw.
+  Softly she spoke to the sullen brave:
+  "Mah-pi-ya Duta,--his face is sad.
+  And why is the warrior so glum and grave?
+  For the fair Wiwaste is gay and glad.
+  She will sit in the teepee the live-long day,
+  And laugh with her lover--the brave Hohe.
+  Does the tall Red Cloud for the false one sigh?
+  There are fairer maidens than she, and proud
+  Were their hearts to be loved by the brave Red Cloud.
+  And trust not the chief with the smiling eyes;
+  His tongue is swift, but his words are lies;
+  And the proud Mah-pi-ya will surely find
+  That Wakawa's promise is hollow wind.
+  Last night I stood by his lodge, and lo
+  I heard the voice of the Little Crow;
+  But the fox is sly and his words were low.
+  But I heard her answer her father--"Never!
+  I will stain your knife in my heart's red blood,
+  I will plunge and sink in the sullen river,
+  Ere I will be wife to the fierce Red Cloud!"
+  Then he spake again, and his voice was low,
+  But I heard the answer of Little Crow:
+  "Let it be as you will, for Wakawa's tongue
+  Has spoken no promise,--his lips are slow,
+  And the love of a father is deep and strong."
+
+  Mah-pi-ya Duta, they scorn your love,
+  But the false chief covets the warrior's gifts.
+  False to his promise the fox will prove,
+  And fickle as snow in Wo-ka-da-wee, [37]
+  That slips into brooks when the gray cloud lifts,
+  Or the red sun looks through the ragged rifts.
+  Mah-pi-ya Duta will listen to me
+  There are fairer birds in the bush than she,
+  And the fairest would gladly be Red Cloud's wife.
+  Will the warrior sit like a girl bereft,
+  When fairer and truer than she are left
+  That love Red Cloud as they love their life?
+  Mah-pi-ya Duta will listen to me
+  I love him well,--I have loved him long:
+  A woman is weak, but a warrior is strong,
+  And a lovelorn brave is a scorn to see.
+
+  Mah-pi-ya Duta, O listen to me!
+  Revenge is swift and revenge is strong,
+  And sweet as the hive in the hollow tree.
+  The proud Red Cloud will revenge his wrong
+  Let the brave be patient, it is not long
+  Till the leaves be green on the maple tree,
+  And the Feast of the Virgins is then to be;--
+  The Feast of the Virgins is then to be!"
+
+  Proudly she turned from the silent brave,
+  And went her way; but the warrior's eyes--
+  They flashed with the flame of a sudden fire,
+  Like the lights that gleam in the Sacred Cave, [38]
+  When the black night covers the autumn skies,
+  And the stars from their welkin watch retire.
+
+  Three nights he tarried--the brave Chaske;
+  Winged were the hours and they flitted away;
+  On the wings of Wakandee [39] they silently flew,
+  For Wiwaste had found her a way to woo.
+  Ah, little he cared for the bison-chase;
+  For the red lilies bloomed on the fair maid's face;
+  Ah, little he cared for the winds that blew,
+  For Wiwaste had found her a way to woo.
+  Brown-bosomed she sat on her fox-robe dark,
+  Her ear to the tales of the brave inclined,
+  Or tripped from the tee like the song of a lark,
+  And gathered her hair from the wanton wind.
+  Ah, little he thought of the leagues of snow
+  He trode on the trail of the buffalo;
+  And little he recked of the hurricanes
+  That swept the snow from the frozen plains
+  And piled the banks of the Bloody River. [40]
+  His bow unstrung and forgotten hung
+  With his beaver hood and his otter quiver;
+  He sat spell-bound by the artless grace
+  Of her star-lit eyes and her moon-lit face.
+  Ah, little he cared for the storms that blew,
+  For Wiwaste had found her a way to woo.
+  When he spoke with Wakawa her sidelong eyes
+  Sought the handsome chief in his hunter-guise.
+  Wakawa marked, and the lilies fair
+  On her round cheeks spread to her raven hair.
+  They feasted on rib of the bison fat,
+  On the tongue of the Ta [41] that the hunters prize,
+  On the savory flesh of the red Hogan, [42]
+  On sweet tipsanna [43] and pemmican,
+  And the dun-brown cakes of the golden maize;
+  And hour after hour the young chief sat,
+  And feasted his soul on the maiden's eyes.
+
+  The sweeter the moments the swifter they fly;
+  Love takes no account of the fleeting hours;
+  He walks in a dream mid the blooming of flowers,
+  And never awakes till the blossoms die.
+  Ah, lovers are lovers the wide world over--
+  In the hunter's lodge and the royal palace.
+  Sweet are the lips of his love to the lover,--
+  Sweet as new wine in a golden chalice,
+  From the Tajo's [44] slopes or the hills beyond;
+  And blindly he sips from his loved one's lips,
+  In lodge or palace the wide world over,
+  The maddening honey of Trebizond. [45]
+
+  O, what are leagues to the loving hunter,
+  Or the blinding drift of the hurricane,
+  When it raves and roars o'er the frozen plain!
+  He would face the storm,--he would death encounter
+  The darling prize of his heart to gain.
+  But his hunters chafed at the long delay,
+  For the swarthy bison were far away,
+  And the brave young chief from the lodge departed.
+  He promised to come with the robin in May,
+  With the bridal gifts for the bridal day;
+  And the fair Wiwaste was happy-hearted,
+  For Wakawa promised the brave Chaske.
+
+  Birds of a feather will flock together.
+  The robin sings to his ruddy mate,
+  And the chattering jays, in the winter weather,
+  To prate and gossip will congregate;
+  And the cawing crows on the autumn heather,
+  Like evil omens, will flock together,
+  In extra-session, for high debate;
+  And the lass will slip from a doting mother
+  To hang with her lad on the garden gate.
+  Birds of a feather will flock together,--
+  'Tis an adage old,--it is nature's law,
+  And sure as the pole will the needle draw,
+  The fierce Red Cloud with the flaunting feather,
+  Will follow the finger of Harpstina.
+
+  The winter wanes and the south-wind blows
+  From the Summer Islands legendary.
+  The skeskas [46] fly and the melted snows
+  In lakelets lie on the dimpled prairie.
+  The frost-flowers [47] peep from their winter sleep
+  Under the snow-drifts cold and deep.
+
+  To the April sun and the April showers,
+  In field and forest, the baby flowers
+  Lift their golden faces and azure eyes;
+  And wet with the tears of the winter-fairies,
+  Soon bloom and blossom the emerald prairies,
+  Like the fabled Garden of Paradise.
+
+  The plum-trees, white with their bloom in May,
+  Their sweet perfume on the vernal breeze
+  Wide strew like the isles of the tropic seas,
+  Where the paroquet chatters the livelong day.
+  But the May-days pass and the brave Chaske--
+  O, why does the lover so long delay?
+  Wiwaste waits in the lonely tee,
+  Has her fair face fled from his memory?
+  For the robin cherups his mate to please,
+  The blue bird pipes in the poplar trees,
+  The meadow lark warbles his jubilees,
+  Shrilling his song in the azure seas,
+  Till the welkin throbs to his melodies;
+  And low is the hum of the humble bees,
+  And the Feast of the Virgins is now to be.
+
+
+
+THE FEAST OF THE VIRGINS.
+
+
+  The sun sails high in his azure realms;
+  Beneath the arch of the breezy elms
+  The feast is spread by the murmuring river.
+  With his battle spear and his bow and quiver,
+  And eagle plumes in his ebon hair,
+  The chief Wakawa himself is there;
+  And round the feast in the Sacred Ring, [48]
+  Sit his weaponed warriors witnessing.
+  Not a morsel of food have the Virgins tasted
+  For three long days ere the holy feast;
+  They sat in their teepee alone and fasted,
+  Their faces turned to the Sacred East. [21]
+  In the polished bowls lies the golden maize
+  And the flesh of fawn on the polished trays.
+  For the Virgins the bloom of the prairies wide--
+  The blushing pink and the meek blue-bell,
+  The purple plumes of the prairie's pride, [49]
+  The wild, uncultured asphodel,
+  And the beautiful, blue-eyed violet
+  That the Virgins call "Let-me-not-forget,"
+  In gay festoons and garlands twine
+  With the cedar sprigs [50] and the wildwood vine.
+  So gaily the Virgins are decked and dressed,
+  And none but a virgin may enter there;
+  And clad is each in a scarlet vest,
+  And a fawn skin frock to the brown calves bare.
+  Wild rosebuds peep from their flowing hair,
+  And a rose half-blown on the budding breast;
+  And bright with the quills of the porcupine
+  The moccasined feet of the maidens shine.
+
+  Hand in hand round the feast they dance,
+  And sing to the notes of a rude bassoon,
+  And never a pause or a dissonance
+  In the merry dance or the merry tune.
+  Brown-bosomed and fair as the rising moon,
+  When she peeps o'er the hills of the dewy east,
+  Wiwaste sings at the Virgins Feast;
+  And bright is the light in her luminous eyes;
+  They glow like the stars in the winter skies;
+  And the lilies that bloom in her virgin heart
+  Their golden blush to her cheeks impart--
+  Her cheeks half hid in her midnight hair.
+  Fair is her form--as the red fawn's fair,
+  And long is the flow of her raven hair;
+  It falls to her knees, and it streams on the breeze
+  Like the path of a storm on the swelling seas.
+
+  Proud of their rites are the Virgins fair,
+  For none but a Virgin may enter there.
+  'Tis a custom of old and a sacred thing;
+  Nor rank nor beauty the warriors spare,
+  If a tarnished maiden should enter there.
+  And her that enters the Sacred Ring
+  With a blot that is known or a secret stain
+  The warrior who knows is bound to expose,
+  And lead her forth from the ring again.
+  And the word of the warrior is a sacred by law;
+  For the Virgins' Feast is a sacred thing.
+  Aside with the mothers sat Harpstina:
+  She durst not enter the virgins' ring.
+
+  Round and round to the merry song
+  The maidens dance in their gay attire.
+  While the loud "Ho-Ho's" of the tawny throng
+  Their flying feet and their song inspire.
+  They have finished the song and the sacred dance,
+  And hand in hand to the feast advance--
+  To the polished bowls of the golden maize,
+  And the sweet fawn meat in the polished trays.
+
+  Then up from his seat in the silent crowd
+  Rose the frowning, fierce-eyed, tall Red Cloud;
+  Swift was his stride as the panther's spring,
+  When he leaps on the fawn from his cavern lair;
+  Wiwaste he caught by her flowing hair,
+  And dragged her forth from the Sacred Ring.
+  She turned on the warrior. Her eyes flashed fire;
+  Her proud lips quivered with queenly ire;
+  Her hand to the Spirits she raised and said,
+  And her sun browned cheeks were aflame with red:
+  "I am pure!--I am pure as falling snow!
+  Great Taku-Skan-Skan [51] will testify!
+  And dares the tall coward to say me no?"
+  But the sullen warrior made no reply.
+  She turned to the chief with her frantic cries:
+  "Wakawa--my Father; he lies!--he lies!
+  Wiwaste is pure as the faun unborn;
+  Lead me back to the feast, or Wiwaste dies!"
+  But the warriors uttered a cry of scorn,
+  And he turned his face from her pleading eyes.
+
+  Then the sullen warrior, the tall Red Cloud,
+  Looked up and spoke and his voice was loud;
+  But he held his wrath and spoke with care:
+  "Wiwaste is young, she is proud and fair,
+  But she may not boast of the virgin snows.
+  The Virgins Feast is a Sacred thing:
+  How durst she enter the Virgins ring?
+  The warrior would fain, but he dares not spare;
+  She is tarnished and only the Red Cloud knows."
+
+  She clutched her hair in her clenched hand:
+  She stood like statue bronzed and grand:
+  Wakan-dee [39] flashed in her fiery eyes;
+  Then, swift as the meteor cleaves the skies--
+  Nay, swift as the fiery Wakinyan's dart, [32]
+  She snatch the knife from the warriors belt,
+  And plunged it clean to the polished hilt--
+  With deadly cry--in the villain's heart.
+  Staggering he clutched the air and fell;
+  His life-blood smoked on the trampled sand,
+  And dripped from the knife in the virgin's hand.
+  Then rose his kinsmen's savage yell.
+  Swift as the doe's Wiwaste's feet
+  Fled away to the forest. The hunters fleet
+  In vain pursue, and in vain they prowl,
+  And lurk in the forest till dawn of day.
+  They hear the hoot of the mottled owl;
+  They hear the were-wolf's [52] winding howl;
+  But the swift Wiwaste is far away.
+  They found no trace in the forest land,
+  They found no trail in the dew-damp grass,
+  They found no track in the river sand,
+  Where they thought Wiwaste would surely pass.
+
+  The braves returned to the troubled chief;
+  In his lodge he sat in his silent grief.
+  "Surely," they said, "she has turned a spirit.
+  No trail she left with her flying feet;
+  No pathway leads to her far retreat.
+  She flew in the air, and her wail--we could hear it,
+  As she upward rose to the shining stars;
+  And we heard on the river, as we stood near it,
+  The falling drops of Wiwaste's tears."
+
+  Wakawa thought of his daughter's words
+  Ere the south-wind came and the piping birds--
+  "My Father, listen,--my words are true,"
+  And sad was her voice as the whippowil
+  When she mourns her mate by the moon-lit rill,
+  "Wiwaste lingers alone with you;
+  The rest are sleeping on yonder hill--
+  Save one--and he an undutiful son,--
+  And you, my Father, will sit alone
+  When Sisoka [53] sings and the snow is gone."
+  His broad breast heaved on his troubled soul,
+  The shadow of grief o'er his visage stole
+  Like a cloud on the face of the setting sun.
+
+  "She has followed the years that are gone," he said;
+  "The spirits the words of the witch fulfill;
+  For I saw the ghost of my father dead,
+  By the moon's dim light on the misty hill.
+  He shook the plumes on his withered head,
+  And the wind through his pale form whistled shrill.
+  And a low, sad voice on the hill I heard.
+  Like the mournful wail of a widowed bird."
+  Then lo, as he looked from his lodge afar,
+  He saw the glow of the Evening-star;
+  "And yonder," he said, "is Wiwaste's face;
+  She looks from her lodge on our fading race.
+  Devoured by famine, and fraud, and war,
+  And chased and hounded from woe to woe,
+  As the white wolves follow the buffalo."
+  And he named the planet the _Virgin Star_. [54]
+
+  "Wakawa," he muttered, "the guilt is thine!
+  She was pure,--she was pure as the fawn unborn.
+  O, why did I hark to the cry of scorn,
+  Or the words of the lying libertine?
+  Wakawa, Wakawa, the guilt is thine!
+  The springs will return with the voice of birds,
+  But the voice of my daughter will come no more.
+
+  She wakened the woods with her musical words,
+  And the sky-lark, ashamed of his voice, forbore.
+  She called back the years that had passed, and long
+  I heard their voice in her happy song.
+  Her heart was the home of the sunbeam. Bright
+  Poured the stream of her song on the starry night.
+  O, why did the chief of the tall Hohe
+  His feet from Kapoza [6] so long delay?
+  For his father sat at my father's feast,
+  And he at Wakawa's--an honored guest.
+  He is dead!--he is slain on the Bloody Plain,
+  By the hand of the treacherous Chippeway;
+  And the face shall I never behold again
+  Of my brave young brother--the chief Chaske.
+  Death walks like a shadow among my kin;
+  And swift are the feet of the flying years
+  That cover Wakawa with frost and tears,
+  And leave their tracks on his wrinkled skin.
+  Wakawa, the voice of the years that are gone
+  Will follow thy feet like the shadow of death,
+  Till the paths of the forest and desert lone
+  Shall forget thy footsteps. O living breath,
+  Whence art thou, and whither so soon to fly?
+  And whence are the years? Shall I overtake
+  Their flying feet in the star-lit sky?
+  From his last long sleep will the warrior wake?
+  Will the morning break in Wakawa's tomb,
+  As it breaks and glows in the eastern skies?
+  Is it true?--will the spirits of kinsmen come
+  And bid the bones of the brave arise?"
+
+  "Wakawa, Wakawa, for thee the years
+  Are red with blood and bitter with tears.
+  Gone,--brothers, and daughters, and wife,--all gone
+  That are kin to Wakawa,--but one--but one--
+  Wakinyan Tanka--undutiful son!
+  And he estranged from his fathers tee,
+  Will never return till the chief shall die.
+  And what cares he for his father's grief?
+  He will smile at my death,--it will make him chief.
+  Woe burns in my bosom. Ho, Warriors,--Ho!
+  Raise the song of red war; for your chief must go
+  To drown his grief in the blood of the foe!
+  I shall fall.  Raise my mound on the sacred hill.
+  Let my warriors the wish of their chief fulfill;
+  For my fathers sleep in the sacred ground.
+  The Autumn blasts o'er Wakawa's mound
+  Shall chase the hair of the thistle's head,
+  And the bare armed oak o'er the silent dead.
+  When the whirling snows from the north descend,
+  Shall wail and moan in the midnight wind.
+  In the famine of winter the wolf shall prowl,
+  And scratch the snow from the heap of stones,
+  And sit in the gathering storm and howl,
+  On the frozen mound, for Wakawa's bones.
+  But the years that are gone shall return again.
+  As the robin returns and the whippowil
+  When my warriors stand on the sacred hill
+  And remember the deeds of their brave chief slain."
+
+  Beneath the glow of the Virgin Star
+  They raised the song of the red war dance.
+  At the break of dawn with the bow and lance
+  They followed the chief on the path of war.
+  To the north--to the forests of fir and pine--
+  Led their stealthy steps on the winding trail,
+  Till they saw the Lake of the Spirit [55] shine
+  Through somber pines of the dusky dale.
+
+  Then they heard the hoot of the mottled owl; [56]
+  They heard the gray wolf's dismal howl;
+  Then shrill and sudden the war whoop rose
+  From an hundred throats of their swarthy foes,
+  In ambush crouched in the tangled wood.
+  Death shrieked in the twang of their deadly bows,
+  And their hissing arrows drank brave men's blood.
+  From rock, and thicket, and brush, and brakes,
+  Gleamed the burning eyes of the forest snakes. [57]
+  From brake, and thicket, and brush, and stone,
+  The bow string hummed and the arrow hissed,
+  And the lance of a crouching Ojibway shone,
+  Or the scalp-knife gleamed in a swarthy fist.
+  Undaunted the braves of Wakawa's band
+  Jumped into the thicket with lance and knife,
+  And grappled the Chippewas hand to hand;
+  And foe with foe, in the deadly strife,
+  Lay clutching the scalp of his foe and dead,
+  With a tomahawk sunk in his ghastly head,
+  Or his still heart sheathing a bloody blade.
+  Like a bear in the battle Wakawa raves,
+  And cheers the hearts of his falling braves.
+  But a panther crouches along his track,--
+  He springs with a yell on Wakawa's back!
+
+  The tall Chief, stabbed to the heart, lies low;
+  But his left hand clutches his deadly foe,
+  And his red right clenches the bloody hilt
+  Of his knife in the heart of the slayer dyed.
+  And thus was the life of Wakawa spilt,
+  And slain and slayer lay side by side.
+  The unscalped corpse of their honored chief
+  His warriors snatched from the yelling pack,
+  And homeward fled on their forest track
+  With their bloody burden and load of grief.
+
+  The spirits the words of the brave fulfill,--
+  Wakawa sleeps on the sacred hill,
+  And Wakinyan Tanka, his son, is chief.
+  Ah, soon shall the lips of men forget
+  Wakawa's name, and the mound of stone
+  Will speak of the dead to the winds alone,
+  And the winds will whistle their mock-regret.
+
+  The speckled cones of the scarlet berries [58]
+  Lie red and ripe in the prairie grass.
+  The Si-yo [59] clucks on the emerald prairies
+  To her infant brood. From the wild morass,
+  On the sapphire lakelet set within it,
+  Maga [60] sails forth with her wee ones daily.
+  They ride on the dimpling waters gaily,
+  Like a fleet of yachts and a man of war.
+  The piping plover, the laughing linnet,
+  And the swallow sail in the sunset skies.
+  The whippowil from her cover hies,
+  And trills her song on the amber air.
+
+  Anon, to her loitering mate she cries
+  "Flip, O Will!--trip, O Will!--skip, O Will!"
+  And her merry mate from afar replies:
+  "Flip I will,--skip I will,--trip I will;"
+  And away on the wings of the wind he flies.
+  And bright from her lodge in the skies afar
+  Peeps the glowing face of the Virgin Star.
+  The fox pups [60] creep from the mother's lair
+  And leap in the light of the rising moon;
+  And loud on the luminous moonlit lake
+  Shrill the bugle notes of the lover loon;
+  And woods and waters and welkin break
+  Into jubilant song,--it is joyful June.
+
+  But where is Wiwaste? O where is she--
+  The  Virgin avenged--the queenly queen--
+  The womanly woman--the heroine?
+  Has she gone to the spirits and can it be
+  That her beautiful face is the Virgin Star
+  Peeping out from the door of her lodge afar,
+  Or upward sailing the silver sea.
+  Star-beaconed and lit like an avenue,
+  In the shining stern of her gold canoe?
+  No tidings came--nor the brave Chaske:
+  O, why did the lover so long delay?
+  He promised to come with the robins in May,
+  With the bridal gifts for the bridal day;
+  But the fair May mornings have slipped away,
+  And where is the lover--the brave Chaske?
+
+  But what of the venomous Harpstina--
+  The serpent that tempted the proud Red Cloud,
+  And kindled revenge in his savage soul?
+  He paid for his crime with his false heart's blood,
+  But his angry spirit has brought her dole; [61]
+  It has entered her breast and her burning head,
+  And she raves and burns on her fevered bed.
+  "He is dead! He is dead!" is her wailing cry.
+  "And the blame is mine,--it was I,--it was I!
+  I hated Wiwaste, for she was fair,
+  And my brave was caught in her net of hair.
+  I turned his love to a bitter hate;
+  I nourished revenge, and I pricked his pride;
+  Till the Feast of the Virgins I bade him wait.
+  He had his revenge, but he died,--he died!
+  And the blame is mine,--it was I,--it was I!
+  And his spirit burns me, I die,--I die!"
+  Thus, alone in her lodge and her agonies,
+  She wails to the winds of the night, and dies.
+
+  But where is Wiwaste? Her swift feet flew
+  To the somber shades of the tangled thicket.
+  She hid in the copse like a wary cricket,
+  And the fleetest hunters in vain pursue.
+  Seeing unseen from her hiding place,
+  She sees them fly on the hurried chase;
+  She sees their fierce eyes glance and dart,
+  As they pass and peer for a track or trace,
+  And she trembles with fear in the copse apart.
+  Lest her nest be betrayed by her throbbing heart.
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+  Weary the hours; but the sun at last
+  Went down to his lodge in the west, and fast
+  The wings of the spirits of night were spread
+  O'er the darkling woods and Wiwaste's head.
+  Then, slyly she slipped from her snug retreat,
+  And guiding her course by Waziya's star, [62]
+  That shone through the shadowy forms afar,
+  She northward hurried with silent feet;
+  And long ere the sky was aflame in the east,
+  She was leagues from the place of the fatal feast.
+  'Twas the hoot of the owl that the hunters heard,
+  And the scattering drops of the threat'ning shower,
+  And the far wolf's cry to the moon preferred.
+  Their ears were their fancies,--the scene was weird,
+  And the witches [63] dance at the midnight hour.
+  She leaped the brook and she swam the river;
+  Her course through the forest Wiwaste wist
+  By the star that gleamed through the glimmering mist
+  That fell from the dim moon's downy quiver.
+  In her heart she spoke to her spirit-mother:
+  "Look down from your teepee, O starry spirit.
+  The cry of Wiwaste, O mother, hear it;
+  And touch the heart of my cruel father.
+  He hearkened not to a virgin's words;
+  He listened not to a daughter's wail.
+  O give me the wings of the thunder-birds,
+  For his were-wolves [52] follow Wiwaste's trail;
+  O, guide my flight to the far Hohe--
+  The sheltering lodge of my brave Chaske."
+
+  The shadows paled in the hazy east,
+  And the light of the kindling morn increased.
+  The pale-faced stars fled one by one,
+  And hid in the vast from the rising sun.
+  From woods and waters and welkin soon
+  Fled the hovering mists of the vanished moon.
+  The young robins chirped in their feathery beds,
+  The loon's song shrilled like a winding horn,
+  And the green hills lifted their dewy heads
+  To greet the god of the rising morn.
+
+  She reached the rim of the rolling prairie--
+  The boundless ocean of solitude;
+  She hid in the feathery hazel wood,
+  For her heart was sick and her feet were weary;
+  She fain would rest, and she needed food.
+  Alone by the billowy, boundless prairies,
+  She plucked the cones of the scarlet berries;
+  In feathering copse and the grassy field
+  She found the bulbs of the young Tipsanna, [43]
+  And the sweet medo [64] that the meadows yield.
+  With the precious gift of his priceless manna
+  God fed his fainting and famished child.
+
+  At night again to the northward far
+  She followed the torch of Waziya's star.
+  For leagues away o'er the prairies green,
+  On the billowy vast, may a man be seen,
+  When the sun is high and the stars are low;
+  And the sable breast of the strutting crow
+  Looms up like the form of the buffalo.
+  The Bloody River [40] she reached at last,
+  And boldly walked in the light of day,
+  On the level plain of the valley vast;
+  Nor thought of the terrible Chippeway.
+  She was safe from the wolves of her father's band,
+  But she trode on the treacherous "Bloody Land."
+  And lo--from afar o'er the level plain--
+  As far as the sails of a ship at sea
+  May be seen as they lift from the rolling main--
+  A band of warriors rode rapidly.
+  She shadowed her eyes with her sun browned hand;
+  All backward streamed on the wind her hair,
+  And terror spread o'er her visage fair,
+  As she bent her brow to the far off band.
+  For she thought of the terrible Chippeway--
+  The fiends that the babe and the mother slay;
+  And yonder they came in their war-array!
+  She hid like a grouse in the meadow-grass,
+  And moaned--"I am lost!--I am lost! alas;
+  And why did I fly my native land
+  To die by the cruel Ojibway's hand?"
+  And on rode the braves. She could hear the steeds
+  Come galloping on o'er the level meads;
+  And lowly she crouched in the waving grass,
+  And hoped against hope that the braves would pass.
+
+  They have passed, she is safe,--she is safe! Ah, no,
+  They have struck her trail and the hunters halt.
+  Like wolves on the track of the bleeding doe,
+  That grappled breaks from the dread assault,
+  Dash the warriors wild on Wiwaste's trail.
+  She flies,--but what can her flight avail?
+  Her feet are fleet, but the flying feet
+  Of the steeds of the prairie are fleeter still;
+  And where can she fly for a safe retreat?
+
+  But hark to the shouting:--"Iho!--Iho!" [9]
+  Rings over the wide plain sharp and shrill.
+  She halts, and the hunters come riding on;
+  But the horrible fear from her heart is gone,
+  For it is not the shout of the dreaded foe;
+  'Tis the welcome shout of her native land!
+
+  Up galloped the chief of the band, and lo--
+  The clutched knife dropped from her trembling hand;
+  She uttered a cry and she swooned away;
+  For there; on his steed in the blaze of day,
+  On the boundless prairie, so far away,
+  With his burnished lance and his feathers gay,
+  Sat the manly form of her own Chaske!
+
+  There's a mote in my eye or a blot on the page,
+  And I cannot tell of the joyful greeting;
+  You may take it for granted and I will engage,
+  There were kisses and tears at the strange, glad meeting;
+  For aye since the birth of the swift-winged years,
+  In the desert drear, in the field of clover,
+  In the cot, and the palace, and all the world over,--
+  Yea, away on the stars to the ultimate spheres,
+  The language of love to the long sought lover,--
+  Is tears and kisses and kisses and tears.
+
+  But why did the lover so long delay?
+  And whitherward rideth the chief to-day?
+  As he followed the trail of the buffalo,
+  From the tees of Kapoza a maiden, lo,
+  Came running in haste o'er the drifted snow.
+  She spoke to the chief of the tall Hohe:
+  "Wiwaste requests that the brave Chaske
+  Will abide with his band and his coming delay
+  'Till the moon when the strawberries are ripe and red,
+  And then will the chief and Wiwaste wed--
+  When the Feast of the Virgins is past," she said.
+  Wiwaste's wish was her lover's law;
+  And so his coming the chief delayed
+  Till the mid-May blossoms should bloom and fade,--
+  But the lying runner was Harpstina.
+  And now with the gifts for the bridal day
+  And his chosen warriors he took his way,
+  And followed his heart to his moon-faced maid,
+  And thus was the lover so long delayed;
+  And so as he rode with his warriors gay,
+  On that bright and beautiful summer day,
+  His bride he met on the trail mid-way,
+  By the haunts of the treacherous Chippeway.
+
+  God arms the innocent. He is there--
+  In the desert vast, in the wilderness,
+  On the bellowing sea, in the lion's lair,
+  In the midst of battle, and everywhere.
+  In his hand he holds with a father's care
+  The tender hearts of the motherless;
+  The maid and the mother in sore distress
+  He shields with his love and his tenderness;
+  He comforts the widowed--the comfortless,
+  And sweetens her chalice of bitterness;
+  He clothes the naked--the numberless,--
+  His charity covers their nakedness,--
+  And he feeds the famished and fatherless
+  With the hand that feedeth the birds of air.
+  Let the myriad tongues of the earth confess
+  His infinite love and his holiness;
+  For his pity pities the pitiless,
+  His wayward children his bounties bless,
+  And his mercy flows to the merciless;
+  And the countless worlds in the realms above,
+  Revolve in the light of his boundless love.
+
+  And what of the lovers? you ask, I trow.
+  She told him all ere the sun was low,--
+  Why she fled from the Feast to a safe retreat.
+  She laid her heart at her lover's feet,
+  And her words were tears and her lips were slow.
+  As she sadly related the bitter tale
+  His face was aflame and anon grew pale,
+  And his dark eyes flashed with a brave desire,
+  Like the midnight gleam of the sacred fire. [65]
+  "Mitawin," [66] he said, and his voice was low,
+  "Thy father no more is the false Little Crow;
+  But the fairest plume shall Wiwaste wear
+  Of the great Wanmdee [13] in her midnight hair.
+  In my lodge, in the land of the tall Hohe,
+  The robins will sing all the long summer day
+  To the beautiful bride of the brave Chaske."
+
+  Aye, love is tested by stress and trial
+  Since the finger of time on the endless dial
+  Began its rounds, and the orbs to move
+  In the boundless vast, and the sunbeams clove
+  The chaos; but only by fate's denial
+  Are fathomed the fathomless depths of love.
+  Man is the rugged and wrinkled oak,
+  And woman the trusting and tender vine--
+  That clasps and climbs till its arms entwine
+  The brawny arms of the sturdy stoke. [67]
+  The dimpled babes are the flowers divine
+  That the blessing of God on the vine and oak
+  With their cooing and blossoming lips invoke.
+
+  To the pleasant land of the brave Hohe
+  Wiwaste rode with her proud Chaske.
+  She ruled like a queen in his bountiful tee,
+  And the life of the twain was a jubilee.
+  Their wee ones climbed on the father's knee,
+  And played with his plumes of the great Wanmdee.
+  The silken threads of the happy years
+  They wove into beautiful robes of love
+  That the spirits wear in the lodge above;
+  And time from the reel of the rolling spheres
+  His silver threads with the raven wove;
+  But never the stain of a mother's tears
+  Soiled the shining web of their happy years.
+
+  When the wrinkled mask of the years they wore,
+  And the raven hair of their youth was gray,
+  Their love grew deeper, and more and more;
+  For he was a lover for aye and aye,
+  And ever her beautiful, brave Chaske.
+  Through the wrinkled mask of the hoary years
+  To the loving eyes of the lover aye
+  The blossom of beautiful youth appears.
+
+  At last, when their locks were as white as snow,
+  Beloved and honored by all the band,
+  They silently slipped from their lodge below,
+  And walked together, and hand in hand,
+  O'er the Shining Path [68] to the Spirit-land;
+  Where the hills and the meadows for aye and aye
+  Are clad with the verdure and flowers of May,
+  And the unsown prairies of Paradise
+  Yield the golden maize and the sweet wild rice.
+  There ever ripe in the groves and prairies
+  Hang the purple plums and the luscious berries.
+  And the swarthy herds of bison feed
+  On the sun-lit slope and the waving mead;
+  The dappled fawns from their coverts peep,
+  And countless flocks on the waters sleep;
+  And the silent years with their fingers trace
+  No furrows for aye on the hunter's face.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+WINONA.
+
+
+[Illustration: FALLS OF ST. ANTHONY. FACSIMILE OF THE CUT IN CARVER'S
+TRAVELS, PUBLISHED AT LONDON, IN 1778, FROM A SURVEY AND SKETCH MADE
+BY CAPT. J. CARVER, NOV. 17, 1766. PERPENDICULAR FALL, 30 FEET; BREADTH
+NEAR 600 FEET.]
+
+
+  _When the meadow-lark trilled o'er the leas
+                  and the oriole piped in the maples,
+  From my hammock, all under the trees,
+                  by the sweet scented field of red-clover,
+  I harked to the hum of the bees,
+                  as they gathered the mead of the blossoms,
+  And caught from their low melodies
+                  the rhythm of the song of Winona_.
+
+(In pronouncing Dakota words give "a" the sound of "ah,"--"e" the sound
+of "a,"--"i" the sound of "e" and "u" the sound of "oo." Sound "ee"
+the same as in English. The numerals 1-2 etc. refer to notes in the
+appendix).
+
+
+  Two hundred white Winters and more
+          have fled from the face of the Summer,
+  Since here on the oak shaded shore
+          of the dark winding swift Mississippi,
+  Where his foaming floods tumble and roar,
+          on the falls and white rolling rapids,
+  In the fair, fabled center of Earth,
+          sat the Indian town of Ka-tha-ga. [86]
+  Far rolling away to the north, and the south,
+          lay the emerald prairies,
+  Alternate with woodlands and lakes,
+          and above them the blue vast of ether.
+  And here where the dark river breaks into spray
+          and the roar of the Ha-Ha, [76]
+  Were gathered the bison-skin tees
+          of the chief tawny tribe of Dakotas;
+  For here, in the blast and the breeze,
+          flew the flag of the chief of Isantees, [86]
+  Up-raised on the stem of a lance
+          --the feathery flag of the eagle.
+  And here to the feast and the dance,
+          from the prairies remote and the forests,
+  Oft gathered the out-lying bands,
+          and honored the gods of the nation.
+  On the islands and murmuring strands
+          they danced to the god of the waters,
+  Unktehee, [69] who dwelt in the caves
+          deep under the flood of the Ha-Ha; [76]
+  And high o'er the eddies and waves
+          hung their offerings of fur and tobacco. [a]
+  And here to the Master of life
+          --Anpe-tu-wee, [70] god of the heavens,
+  Chief, warrior, and maiden, and wife,
+          burned the sacred green sprigs of the cedar.
+  And here to the Searcher-of-hearts
+          --fierce Ta-ku Skan-skan, [51] the avenger,
+  Who dwells in the uttermost parts
+          --in the earth and the blue, starry ether,
+  Ever watching, with all-seeing eyes,
+          the deeds of the wives and the warriors,
+  As an osprey afar in the skies,
+          sees the fish as they swim in the waters,
+  Oft spread they the bison-tongue feast,
+          and singing preferred their petitions,
+  Till the Day-Spirit [70] rose in the East
+          --in the red, rosy robes of the morning,
+  To sail o'er the sea of the skies,
+          to his lodge in the land of the shadows,
+  Where the black winged tornadoes [b] arise
+          --rushing loud from the mouths of their caverns.
+  And here with a shudder they heard,
+          flying far from his tee in the mountains,
+  Wa-kin-yan, [32] the huge Thunder-Bird,
+          --with the arrows of fire in his talons.
+
+  [a] See Hennepin's Description of Louisiana by Shea pp 243 and
+  256. Parkman's Discovery p. 246--and Carver's Travels, p. 67
+
+  [b] The Dakotas like the ancient Romans and Greeks think the home
+  of the winds is in the caverns of the mountains, and their great Thunder
+  bird resembles in many respects the Jupiter of the Romans and the Zeus
+  of the Greeks. The resemblance of the Dakota mythology to that of the
+  older Greeks and Romans is striking.
+
+  Two hundred white Winters and more
+          have fled from the face of the Summer,
+  Since here by the cataract's roar,
+          in the moon of the red blooming lilies, [71]
+  In the tee of Ta-te-psin [a] was born Winona
+          --wild-rose of the prairies.
+  Like the summer sun peeping, at morn,
+          o'er the hills was the face of Winona;
+  And here she grew up like a queen
+          --a romping and lily-lipped laughter,
+  And danced on the undulant green,
+          and played in the frolicsome waters,
+  Where the foaming tide tumbles and twirls
+          o'er the murmuring rocks in the rapids;
+  And whiter than foam were the pearls
+          that gleamed in the midst of her laughter.
+  Long and dark was her flowing hair flung,
+          like the robe of the night to the breezes;
+  And gay as the robin she sung,
+          or the gold-breasted lark of the meadows.
+  Like the wings of the wind were her feet,
+          and as sure as the feet of Ta-to-ka; [b]
+  And oft like an antelope fleet
+          o'er the hills and the prairies she bounded,
+  Lightly laughing in sport as she ran,
+          and looking back over her shoulder,
+  At the fleet footed maiden or man,
+          that vainly her flying steps followed.
+  The belle of the village was she,
+          and the pride of the aged Ta-te-psin,
+  Like a sunbeam she lighted his tee,
+          and gladdened the heart of her father.
+
+  [a] Ta te--Wind, Psin--Wild Rice,--wild rice wind.
+
+  [b] The Mountain Antelope.
+
+  In the golden hued Wazu-pe-wee
+          --the moon when the wild rice is gathered;
+  When the leaves on the tall sugar-tree
+          are as red as the breast of the robin,
+  And the red-oaks that border the lea
+          are aflame with the fire of the sunset,
+  From the wide waving fields of wild-rice
+          --from the meadows of Psin-ta-wak-pa-dan, [a]
+  Where the geese and the mallards rejoice,
+          and grow fat on the bountiful harvest,
+  Came the hunters with saddles of moose
+          and the flesh of the bear and the bison,
+  And the women in birchen canoes
+          well laden with rice from the meadows,
+  With the tall, dusky hunters, behold,
+          came a marvelous man or a spirit,
+  White-faced and so wrinkled and old,
+          and clad in the robe of the raven.
+  Unsteady his steps were and slow,
+          and he walked with a staff in his right hand,
+  And white as the first-falling snow
+          were the thin locks that lay on his shoulders.
+  Like rime-covered moss hung his beard,
+          flowing down from his face to his girdle;
+  And wan was his aspect and weird;
+          and often he chanted and mumbled
+  In a strange and mysterious tongue,
+          as he bent o'er his book in devotion.
+  Or lifted his dim eyes and sung,
+          in a low voice, the solemn "_Te Deum_."
+  Or Latin, or Hebrew, or Greek
+          --all the same were his words to the warriors,--
+  All the same to the maids
+          and the meek, wide-wondering-eyed, hazel-brown children.
+
+  [a] Little Rice River. It bears the name of Rice Creek to-day
+  and empties into the Mississippi from the east, a few miles above
+  Minneapolis.
+
+  Father Rene Menard [a]--it was he,
+          long lost to his Jesuit brothers,
+  Sent forth by an holy decree
+          to carry the Cross to the heathen.
+  In his old age abandoned to die,
+          in the swamps, by his timid companions,
+  He prayed to the Virgin on high,
+          and she led him forth from the forest;
+  For angels she sent him as men
+          --in the forms of the tawny Dakotas,
+  And they led his feet from the fen,
+          --from the slough of despond and the desert.
+  Half-dead in a dismal morass,
+          as they followed the red-deer they found him,
+  In the midst of the mire and the grass,
+          and mumbling "_Te Deum laudamus_."
+  "Unktomee [72]--Ho!" muttered the braves,
+          for they deemed him the black Spider-Spirit
+  That dwells in the drearisome caves,
+          and walks on the marshes at midnight,
+  With a flickering torch in his hand,
+          to decoy to his den the unwary.
+  His tongue could they not understand,
+          but his torn hands all shriveled with famine,
+  He stretched to the hunters and said:
+          "He feedeth his chosen with manna;
+  And ye are the angels of God,
+          sent to save me from death in the desert."
+  His famished and woe-begone face,
+          and his tones touched the hearts of the hunters;
+  They fed the poor father apace,
+          and they led him away to Ka-tha-ga.
+
+  [a] See the account of Father Menard, his mission and disappearance in the
+  wilderness, etc. Neill's Hist. Minnesota, pp 104 to 107 inc.
+
+  There little by little he learned
+          the tongue of the tawny Dakotas;
+  And the heart of the good father yearned
+          to lead them away from their idols--
+  Their giants [16] and dread Thunder-birds
+          --their worship of stones [73] and the devil.
+  "Wakan-de!" [a] they answered his words,
+          for he read from his book in the Latin,
+  Lest the Nazarene's holy commands
+          by his tongue should be marred in translation;
+  And oft with his beads in his hands,
+          or the cross and the crucified Jesus,
+  He knelt by himself on the sands,
+          and his dim eyes uplifted to heaven.
+  But the braves bade him look to the East
+          --to the silvery lodge of Han-nan-na; [b]
+  And to dance with the chiefs at the feast
+          --at the feast of the Giant Heyo-ka. [16]
+  They frowned when the good father
+          spurned the flesh of the dog in the kettle,
+  And laughed when his fingers were burned
+          in the hot, boiling pot of the giant.
+  "The Blackrobe" they called the poor priest,
+          from the hue of his robe and his girdle;
+  And never a game or a feast
+          but the father must grace with his presence.
+  His prayer book the hunters revered,
+          --they deemed it a marvelous spirit;
+  It spoke and the white father heard,
+          --it interpreted visions and omens.
+  And often they bade him
+          to pray this marvelous spirit to answer,
+  And tell where the sly Chippeway might be ambushed
+          and slain in his forests.
+  For Menard was the first in the land,
+          proclaiming, like John in the desert--
+  "The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand;
+          repent ye, and turn from your idols."--
+  The first of the brave brotherhood that,
+          threading the fens and the forest,
+  Stood afar by the turbulent flood
+          at the falls of the Father of Waters.
+
+  [a] It is wonderful.
+
+  [b] The morning.
+
+  In the lodge of the Stranger [a]
+          he sat awaiting the crown of a martyr;
+  His sad face compassion begat
+          in the heart of the dark eyed Winona.
+  Oft she came to the teepee and spoke;
+          she brought him the tongue of the bison,
+  Sweet nuts from the hazel and oak,
+          and flesh of the fawn and the mallard.
+  Soft hanpa [b] she made for his feet
+          and leggins of velvety fawn-skin,--
+  A blanket of beaver complete,
+          and a hood of the hide of the otter.
+  And oft at his feet on the mat,
+          deftly braiding the flags and the rushes,
+  Till the sun sought his teepee she sat,
+          enchanted with what he related
+  Of the white winged ships on the sea
+          and the teepees far over the ocean,
+  Of the love and the sweet charity of the Christ
+          and the beautiful Virgin.
+
+  [a] A lodge set apart for guests of the village.
+
+  [b] Moccasins.
+
+  She listened like one in a trance
+          when he spoke of the brave, bearded Frenchmen,
+  From the green sun-lit valleys of France
+          to the wild Hochelaga [a] transplanted,
+  Oft trailing the deserts of snow
+          in the heart of the dense Huron forests,
+  Or steering the dauntless canoe
+          through the waves of the fresh water ocean.
+  "Yea, stronger and braver are they,"
+          said the aged Menard to Winona,
+  "Than the head-chief, tall Wazi-kute, [74]
+          but their words are as soft as a maiden's;
+  Their eyes are the eyes of the swan,
+          but their hearts are the hearts of the eagles;
+  And the terrible Maza Wakan [b] ever walks,
+          by their side like a spirit.
+  Like a Thunder-bird, roaring in wrath,
+          flinging fire from his terrible talons,
+  It sends to their enemies death,
+          in the flash of the fatal Wakandee." [c]
+
+  [a] The Ottawa name for the region of the St. Lawrence River.
+
+  [b] "Mysterious metal"--or metal having a spirit in it. This is the
+  common name applied by the Dakotas to all fire arms.
+
+  [c] Lightning.
+
+  The Autumn was past and the snow
+          lay drifted and deep on the prairies;
+  From his teepee of ice came the foe
+          --came the storm-breathing god of the winter.
+  Then roared in the groves,--on the plains,
+          --on the ice-covered lakes and the river--
+  The blasts of the fierce hurricanes
+          blown abroad from the breast of Waziya. [3]
+  The bear cuddled down in his den,
+          and the elk fled away to the forest;
+  The pheasant and gray prairie-hen
+          made their beds in the heart of the snow-drift;
+  The bison-herds huddled and stood
+          in the hollows and under the hill-sides;
+  Or rooted the snow for their food
+          in the lee of the bluffs and the timber;
+  And the mad winds that howled from the north,
+          from the ice-covered seas of Waziya,
+  Chased the gray wolf and red fox and swarth
+          to their dens in the hills of the forest.
+
+  Poor Father Menard,--he was ill;
+          in his breast burned the fire of the fever;
+  All in vain was the magical skill
+          of Wicasta Wakan [61] with his rattle;
+  Into soft child-like slumber he fell,
+          and awoke in the land of the blessed--
+  To the holy applause of "Well done!"
+          and the harps in the hands of the angels.
+  Long he carried the cross,
+          and he won the coveted crown of a martyr.
+
+  In the land of the heathen he died,
+          meekly following the voice of his Master,
+  One mourner alone by his side
+          --Ta-te-psin's compassionate daughter.
+  She wailed the dead father with tears,
+          and his bones by her kindred she buried.
+  Then winter followed winter.
+          The years sprinkled frost on the head of her father;
+  And three weary winters she dreamed
+          of the fearless and fair-bearded Frenchmen;
+  In her sweet sleep their swift paddles gleamed
+          on the breast of the broad Mississippi,
+  And the eyes of the brave strangers beamed
+          on the maid in the midst of her slumber.
+
+  She lacked not admirers;
+          the light of the lover oft burned in her teepee--
+  At her couch in the midst of the night,
+          --but she never extinguished the flambeau.
+  The son of Chief Wazi-kute
+          --a fearless and eagle plumed warrior--
+  Long sighed for Winona, and he
+          --was the pride of the band of Isantees.
+  Three times, in the night, at her bed,
+           had the brave held the torch of the lover, [75]And thrice had she
+  covered her head
+          and rejected the handsome Tamdoka. [a]
+
+  [a] Tah-mdo-kah--literally the buck deer.
+
+  'Twas Summer. The merry voiced birds
+          trilled and warbled in woodland and meadow;
+  And abroad on the prairies the herds
+          cropped the grass in the land of the lilies,--
+  And sweet was the odor of rose
+          wide-wafted from hillside and heather;
+  In the leaf-shaded lap of repose
+          lay the bright, blue eyed babes of the summer;
+  And low was the murmur of brooks
+          and low was the laugh of the Ha-Ha; [76]
+  And asleep in the eddies and nooks
+          lay the broods of maga [60] and the mallard.
+  'Twas the moon of Wasunpa. [71]
+          The band lay at rest in the tees at Ka-tha-ga,
+  And abroad o'er the beautiful land
+          walked the spirits of Peace and of Plenty--
+  Twin sisters, with bountiful hand,
+          wide scatt'ring wild rice and the lilies.
+  An-pe-tu-wee [70] walked in the west
+          --to his lodge in the midst of the mountains,
+  And the war eagle flew to her nest
+          in the oak on the Isle of the Spirit. [a]
+  And now at the end of the day,
+          by the shore of the Beautiful Island, [b]
+  A score of fair maidens and gay
+          made joy in the midst of the waters.
+  Half-robed in their dark, flowing hair,
+          and limbed like the fair Aphrodite,
+  They played in the waters,
+          and there they dived and they swam like the beavers,--
+  Loud-laughing like loons on the lake
+          when the moon is a round shield of silver,
+  And the songs of the whippowils
+          wake on the shore in the midst of the maples.
+
+  [a] The Dakotas say that for many years in olden times a war-eagle
+  made her nest in an oak tree on Spirit island--Wanagi-wita just below the
+  Falls till frightened away by the advent of white men.
+
+  [b] The Dakotas called Nicollet Island "Wi-ta Waste"--the Beautiful Island.
+
+  But hark!--on the river a song,
+          --strange voices commingled in chorus;
+  On the current a boat swept along
+          with DuLuth and his hardy companions;
+  To the stroke of their paddles they sung,
+          and this the refrain that they chanted:
+
+   "Dans mon chemin j'ai recontre
+    Deux cavaliers bien montees.
+          Lon, lon, laridon daine,
+          Lon, lon, laridon dai."
+
+   "Deux cavaliers bien montees;
+    L'un a cheval, et l'autre a pied.
+          Lon, lon, laridon daine,
+          Lon, lon, laridon dai." [a]
+
+  Like the red, dappled deer in the glade,
+          alarmed by the footsteps of hunters,
+  Discovered, disordered, dismayed,
+          the nude nymphs fled forth from the waters,
+  And scampered away to the shade,
+          and peered from the screen of the lindens.
+
+  [a] A part of one of the favorite songs of the French _voyageurs_.
+
+  A bold and and adventuresome man was DuLuth,
+          and a dauntless in danger,
+  And straight to Kathaga he ran,
+          and boldly advanced to the warriors,
+  Now gathering, a cloud, on the strand,
+          and gazing amazed on the strangers;
+  And straightway he offered his hand
+          unto Wazi-kute, the Itancan.
+  To the Lodge of the Stranger were led
+          DuLuth and his hardy companions;
+  Robes of beaver and bison were spread,
+          and the Peace pipe [23] was smoked with the Frenchman.
+
+  There was dancing and feasting at night,
+          and joy at the presents he lavished.
+  All the maidens were wild with delight
+          with the flaming red robes and the ribbons,
+  With the beads and the trinkets untold,
+          and the fair, bearded face of the giver;
+  And glad were they all to behold the friends
+          from the Land of the Sunrise.
+  But one stood apart from the rest
+          --the queenly and peerless Winona,
+  Intently regarding the guest
+          --hardly heeding the robes and the ribbons,
+  Whom the White Chief beholding admired,
+          and straightway he spread on her shoulders
+  A lily-red robe and attired,
+          with necklet and ribbons, the maiden.
+  The red lilies bloomed in her face,
+          and her glad eyes gave thanks to the giver,
+  And forth from her teepee apace
+          she brought him the robe and the missal
+  Of the father--poor Rene Menard;
+          and related the tale of the "Black Robe."
+  She spoke of the sacred regard
+          he inspired in the hearts of Dakotas;
+  That she buried his bones with her kin,
+          in the mound by the Cave of the Council;
+  That she treasured and wrapt
+          in the skin of the red-deer his robe and his prayer-book--
+  "Till his brothers should come from the East
+          --from the land of the far Hochelaga,
+  To smoke with the braves at the feast,
+          on the shores of the Loud-laughing Waters. [76]
+  For the "Black Robe" spake much of his youth
+          and his friends in the Land of the Sunrise;
+  It was then as a dream, now in truth,
+          I behold them, and not in a vision."
+  But more spake her blushes, I ween,
+          and her eyes full of language unspoken,
+  As she turned with the grace of a queen,
+          and carried her gifts to the teepee.
+
+  Far away from his beautiful France
+          --from his home in the city of Lyons,
+  A noble youth full of romance,
+          with a Norman heart big with adventure,
+  In the new world a wanderer, by chance,
+          DuLuth sought the wild Huron forests.
+  But afar by the vale of the Rhone,
+          the winding and musical river,
+  And the vine-covered hills of the Saone,
+          the heart of the wanderer lingered,--
+  'Mid the vineyards and mulberry trees,
+          and the fair fields of corn and of clover
+  That rippled and waved in the breeze,
+          while the honey-bees hummed in the blossoms
+  For there, where the impetuous Rhone,
+          leaping down from the Switzerland mountains,
+  And the silver-lipped soft flowing Saone,
+          meeting, kiss and commingle together,
+  Down-winding by vineyards and leas,
+          by the orchards of fig trees and olives,
+  To the island-gemmed, sapphire-blue seas
+          of the glorious Greeks and the Romans;
+  Aye, there, on the vine covered shore,
+          'mid the mulberry trees and the olives,
+  Dwelt his blue-eyed and beautiful Flore,
+          with her hair like a wheat field at harvest,
+  All rippled and tossed by the breeze,
+          and her cheeks like the glow of the morning,
+  Far away o'er the emerald seas,
+          ere the sun lifts his brow from the billows,
+  Or the red-clover fields when the bees,
+          singing sip the sweet cups of the blossoms.
+  Wherever he wandered
+          --alone in the heart of the wild Huron forests,
+  Or cruising the rivers unknown
+          to the land of the Crees or Dakotas--
+  His heart lingered still on the Rhone,
+          'mid the mulberry-trees and the vineyards,
+  Fast-fettered and bound by the zone
+          that girdled the robes of his darling.
+
+  Till the red Harvest Moon [71]
+          he remained in the vale of the swift Mississippi.
+  The esteem of the warriors he gained,
+          and the love of the dark eyed Winona.
+  He joined in the sports and the chase;
+          with the hunters he followed the bison,
+  And swift were his feet in the race
+          when the red elk they ran on the prairies.
+  At the Game of the Plum-stones [77] he played
+          and he won from the skillfulest players;
+  A feast to Wa'tanka [78] he made,
+          and he danced at the feast of Heyoka. [16]
+  With the flash and the roar of his gun
+          he astonished the fearless Dakotas;
+  They called it the "Maza Wakan"
+          --the mighty, mysterious metal.
+  "'Tis a brother," they said,
+          "of the fire in the talons of dreadful Wakinyan, [32]
+  When he flaps his huge wings in his ire,
+          and shoots his red shafts at Unktehee." [69]
+
+  The Itancan, [74] tall Wazi-kute,
+          appointed a day for the races.
+  From the red stake that stood by his tee,
+          on the southerly side of the Ha-ha
+  To a stake at the Lake of the Loons [79]
+          --a league and return--was the distance.
+  On the crest of the hills red batons
+          marked the course for the feet of the runners.
+  They gathered from near and afar,
+          to the races and dancing and feasting.
+  Five hundred tall warriors were there
+          from Kapoza [6] and far off Keoza; [8]
+  Remnica, [a] too, furnished a share
+          of the legions that thronged to the races,
+  And a bountiful feast was prepared
+          by the diligent hands of the women,
+  And gaily the multitudes fared
+          in the generous tees of Kathaga.
+  The chief of the mystical clan
+          appointed a feast to Unktehee--
+  The mystic "Wacipee Wakan" [b]--
+          at the end of the day and the races.
+  A band of sworn brothers are they,
+          and the secrets of each one are sacred.
+  And death to the lips that betray
+          is the doom of the swarthy avengers,
+  And the son of tall Wazi-kute
+          was the chief of the mystical order.
+
+  [a] Pronounced Ray mne chah--the village of the Mountains situate where
+  Red Wing now stands.
+
+  [b] Sacred Dance--The Medicine dance--See description infra.
+
+  On an arm of an oak hangs the prize
+          for the swiftest and strongest of runners--
+  A blanket as red as the skies,
+          when the flames sweep the plains in October.
+  And beside it a strong, polished bow,
+          and a quiver of iron tipped arrows,
+  Which Kapoza's tall chief will bestow
+          on the fleet-footed second that follows.
+  A score of swift-runners are there
+          from the several bands of the nation;
+  And now for the race they prepare,
+          and among them fleet-footed Tamdoka.
+  With the oil of the buck and the bear
+          their sinewy limbs are anointed,
+  For fleet are the feet of the deer
+          and strong are the limbs of the bruin,
+  And long is the course and severe
+          for the swiftest and strongest of runners.
+
+  Hark!--the shouts and the braying of drums,
+          and the Babel of tongues and confusion!
+  From his teepee the tall chieftain comes,
+          and Duluth brings a prize for the runners--
+  A keen hunting-knife from the Seine,
+          horn-handled and mounted with silver.
+  The runners are ranged on the plain,
+          and the Chief waves a flag as a signal,
+  And away like the gray wolves they fly
+          --like the wolves on the trail of the red deer;
+  O'er the hills and the prairie they vie,
+          and strain their strong limbs to the utmost,
+  While high on the hills hangs a cloud
+          of warriors and maidens and mothers,
+  To behold the swift runners,
+          and loud are the cheers and the shouts of the warriors.
+
+  Now swift from the lake they return,
+          o'er the emerald hills and the heather;
+  Like grey-hounds they pant and they yearn,
+          and the leader of all is Tamdoka.
+  At his heels flies Hu-pa-hu, [a] the fleet
+          --the pride of the band of Kaoza,
+  A warrior with eagle-winged feet,
+          but his prize is the bow and the quiver.
+  Tamdoka first reaches the post,
+          and his are the knife and the blanket,
+  By the mighty acclaim of the host
+          and award of the chief and the judges.
+  Then proud was the tall warrior's stride,
+          and haughty his look and demeanor;
+  He boasted aloud in his pride,
+          and he scoffed at the rest of the runners.
+  "Behold me, for I am a man! [b]
+          my feet are as swift as the West wind.
+  With the coons and the beavers I ran;
+          but where is the elk or the cabri? [80]
+  Come!--where is the hunter will dare
+          match his feet with the feet of Tamdoka?
+  Let him think of Tate [c] and beware,
+          ere he stake his last robe on the trial."
+  "Oho! Ho! Ho-heca!" [d] they jeered,
+          for they liked not the boast of the boaster;
+  But to match him no warrior appeared,
+          for his feet wore the wings of the west-wind.
+
+  [a] The wings.
+
+  [b] A favorite boast of the Dakota braves.
+
+  [c] The wind.
+
+  [d] About equivalent to Oho--Aha--fudge.
+
+  Then forth from the side of the chief
+          stepped DuLuth and he looked on the boaster;
+  "The words of a warrior are brief,
+          --I will run with the brave," said the Frenchman;
+  "But the feet of Tamdoka are tired;
+          abide till the cool of the sunset."
+  All the hunters and maidens admired,
+          for strong were the limbs of the stranger.
+  "Hiwo! Ho!" [a] they shouted
+          and loud rose the cheers of the multitude mingled;
+  And there in the midst of the crowd
+          stood the glad-eyed and blushing Winona.
+
+  [a] Hurra there!
+
+  Now afar o'er the plains of the west
+          walked the sun at the end of his journey,
+  And forth came the brave and the guest,
+          at the tap of the drum, for the trial.
+  Like a forest of larches the hordes
+          were gathered to witness the contest;
+  As loud is the drums were their words
+          and they roared like the roar of the Ha-ha.
+  For some for Tamdoka contend,
+          and some for the fair, bearded stranger,
+  And the betting runs high to the end,
+          with the skins of the bison and beaver.
+  A wife of tall Wazi-kute
+          --the mother of boastful Tamdoka--
+  Brought her handsomest robe from the tee,
+          with a vaunting and loud proclamation:
+  She would stake her last robe on her son who,
+          she boasted, was fleet as the Cabri [80]
+  And the tall, tawny chieftain looked on,
+          approving the boast of the mother.
+  Then fleet as the feet of a fawn to her lodge
+          ran the dark eyed Winona,
+  She brought and she staked on the lawn,
+          by the side of the robe of the boaster,
+  The lily-red mantle Duluth, with his own hands,
+          had laid on her shoulders.
+  "Tamdoka is swift, but forsooth,
+          the tongue of his mother is swifter,"
+  She said, and her face was aflame
+          with the red of the rose and the lily,
+  And loud was the roar of acclaim;
+          but dark was the face of Tamdoka.
+
+  They strip for the race and prepare,
+          --DuLuth in his breeches and leggins;
+  And the brown, curling locks of his hair
+          downward droop to his bare, brawny shoulders,
+  And his face wears a smile debonair,
+          as he tightens his red sash around him;
+  But stripped to the moccasins bare,
+          save the belt and the breech-clout of buckskin,
+  Stands the haughty Tamdoka aware
+          that the eyes of the warriors admire him;
+  For his arms are the arms of a bear
+          and his legs are the legs of a panther.
+
+  The drum beats,--the chief waves the flag,
+          and away on the course speed the runners,
+  And away leads the brave like a stag,
+          --like a hound on his track flies the Frenchman;
+  And away haste the hunters, once more,
+          to the hills for a view to the lake-side,
+  And the dark-swarming hill-tops,
+          they roar with the storm of loud voices commingled.
+  Far away o'er the prairie they fly,
+          and still in the lead is Tamdoka,
+  But the feet of his rival are nigh,
+          and slowly he gains on the hunter.
+  Now they turn on the post at the lake,
+          --now they run full abreast on the home-stretch;
+  Side by side they contend for the stake,
+          for a long mile or more on the prairie.
+  They strain like a stag and a hound,
+          when the swift river gleams through the thicket,
+  And the horns of the rulers resound,
+          winding shrill through the depths of the forest.
+  But behold!--at full length on the ground
+          falls the fleet-footed Frenchman abruptly.
+  And away with a whoop and a bound,
+          springs the eager, exulting Tamdoka.
+  Long and loud on the hills
+          is the shout of his swarthy admirers and backers;
+  "But the race is not won till it's out,"
+          said DuLuth, to himself as he gathered,
+  With a frown on his face,
+          for the foot of the wily Tamdoka had tripped him.
+  Far ahead ran the brave on the route,
+          and turning he boasted exultant.
+  Like spurs to the steed to DuLuth
+          were the jeers and the taunts of the boaster;
+  Indignant was he and red wroth,
+          at the trick of the runner dishonest;
+  And away like a whirlwind he speeds
+          --like a hurricane mad from the mountains;
+  He gains on Tamdoka,--he leads!
+          --and behold, with the spring of a panther,
+  He leaps to the goal and succeeds,
+          'mid the roar of the mad acclamation.
+
+  Then glad as the robin in May
+          was the voice of Winona exulting;
+  And the crest-fallen brave turned away,
+          and lonely he walked by the river;
+  He glowered as he went
+          and the fire of revenge in his bosom was kindled,
+  But he strove to dissemble his ire,
+          and he whistled alone by the Ha-ha.
+
+
+
+  THE "WAKAN WACEPEE," OR SACRED DANCE. [81]
+
+
+  Lo the lights in the "Teepee Wakan!"
+          'tis the night of the Wakan-Wacepee.
+  Round and round walks the chief of the clan,
+          as he rattles the sacred Ta-sha-kay; [81]
+  Long and loud on the Chan-che-ga [81]
+          beat the drummers with magical drumsticks,
+  And the notes of the Cho-tanka [81] greet,
+          like the murmur of winds on the waters.
+  By the friction of white-cedar wood
+          for the feast was a Virgin-fire [20] kindled.
+  They that enter the firm brotherhood
+          first must fast and be cleansed by E-nee-pee; [81]
+  And from foot-sole to crown of the head
+          must they paint with the favorite colors;
+  For Unktehee likes bands of blood-red,
+          with the stripings of blue intermingled.
+  In the hollow earth, dark and profound,
+          Unktehee and fiery Wakin-yan
+  Long fought and the terrible sound
+          of the battle was louder than thunder;
+  The mountains were heaved and around
+          were scattered the hills and the boulders,
+  And the vast solid plains of the ground
+          rose and fell like the waves of the ocean.
+  But the god of the waters prevailed.
+          Wakin-yan escaped from the cavern,
+  And long on the mountains he wailed,
+          and his hatred endureth forever.
+
+  When Unktehee had finished the earth,
+          and the beasts and the birds and the fishes,
+  And men at his bidding came forth
+          from the heart of the huge hollow mountains [69]
+  A band chose the god from the hordes,
+          and he said "Ye are sons of Unktehee;
+  Ye are lords of the beasts and the birds,
+          and the fishes that swim in the waters.
+  But hearken ye now to my words,
+          --let them sound in your bosoms forever.
+  Ye shall honor Unktehee and hate Wakinyan,
+          the Spirit of Thunder,
+  For the power of Unktehee is great,
+          and he laughs at the darts of Wakinyan.
+  Ye shall honor the Earth and the Sun,
+          --for they are your father and mother. [70]
+  Let your prayer to the Sun be
+          --_Wakan, Ate: on-si-ma-da ohee-nee_ [a]
+  And remember the Taku Wakan, [73]
+          all pervading in earth and in ether--
+  Invisible ever to man,
+          but he dwells in the midst of all matter;
+  Yea, he dwells in the heart of the stone
+          --in the hard granite heart of the boulder;
+  Ye shall call him forever Tunkan
+          --grandfather of all the Dakotas.
+  Ye are men that I choose for my own;
+          ye shall be as a strong band of brothers,
+  Now I give you the magical bone
+          and the magical pouch of the spirits. [b]
+  And these are the laws ye shall heed:
+          Ye shall honor the pouch and the giver.
+  Ye shall walk as twin-brothers;
+          in need, one shall forfeit his life for another.
+  Listen not to the voice of the crow. [c]
+          Hold as sacred the wife of a brother.
+  Strike, and fear not the shaft of the foe,
+          for the soul of the brave is immortal.
+  Slay the warrior in battle,
+          but spare the innocent babe and the mother.
+  Remember a promise;--beware,
+          --let the word of a warrior be sacred.
+  When a stranger arrives at the tee
+          --be he friend of the band or a foeman,
+  Give him food; let your bounty be free;
+          lay a robe for the guest by the lodge-fire;
+  Let him go to his kindred in peace,
+          if the peace-pipe he smoke in the teepee;
+  And so shall your children increase,
+          and your lodges shall laugh with abundance.
+  And long shall ye live in the land,
+          and the spirits of earth and the waters
+  Shall come to your aid, at command,
+          with the power of invisible magic.
+  And at last, when you journey afar
+          --o'er the shining "_Wanagee Ta-chan-ku_," [70]
+  You shall walk as a red, shining star, [18]
+          in the land of perpetual summer."
+
+  [a] "Sacred Spirit, Father have pity on me always"
+
+  [b] Riggs' Tahkoo Wakan, p. 90.
+
+  [c] Slander.
+
+  All the night in the teepee they sang,
+          and they danced to the mighty Unktehee,
+  While the loud-braying Chan-che-ga rang
+          and the shrill-piping flute and the rattle,
+  Till Anpetuwee [70] rose in the east
+          --from the couch of the blushing Han-nan-na.
+  And then at the dance and the feast
+          sang the song of Unktehee in chorus:
+
+    "Wa-du-ta o-hna mi-ka-ge!
+    Wa-du-ta o-hna mi-ka-ge!
+    Mini-yata ite wakande maku,
+    Ate wakan--Tunkansidan,
+
+    Tunkansidan pejihuta wakan
+    Micage--he Wicage!
+    Miniyata ite wakande maku.
+    Taukansidan ite, nape du-win-ta woo,
+    Wahutopa wan yuha, nape du-win-ta too."
+
+       TRANSLATION
+
+    In red swan-down he made it for me;
+    In red swan-down he made it for me;
+    He of the water--he of the mysterious face--
+             Gave it to me;
+    Sacred Father--Grandfather!
+
+    Grandfather made me magical medicine
+             That is true!
+    Being of mystery,--grown in the water--
+             He gave it to me!
+    To the face of our Grandfather stretch out your hand;
+    Holding a quadruped, stretch out your hand!
+
+  Till high o'er the hills of the east
+          Anpetuwee walked on his journey,
+  In secret they danced at the feast,
+          and communed with the mighty Unktehee.
+  Then opened the door of the tee
+          to the eyes of the day and the people,
+  And the sons of Unktehee, to be,
+          were endowed with the sacred Ozuha [82]
+  By the son of tall Wazi-kute, Tamdoka,
+          the chief of the Magi.
+  And thus since the birth-day of man
+          --since he sprang from the heart of the mountains, [69]
+  Has the sacred "Wacepee Wakan"
+          by the warlike Dakotas been honored,
+  And the god-favored sons of the clan
+          work their will with the help of the spirits.
+
+  'Twas sunrise; the spirits of mist
+          trailed their white robes on dewy  savannas,
+  And the flowers raised their heads to be kissed
+          by the first golden beams of the morning.
+  The breeze was abroad with the breath
+          of the rose of the Isles of the Summer,
+  And the humming-bird hummed on the heath
+          from his home in the land of the rain-bow. [a]
+  'Twas the morn of departure.
+          Duluth stood alone by the roar of the Ha-ha;
+  Tall and fair in the strength of his youth
+          stood the blue-eyed and fair-bearded Frenchman.
+  A rustle of robes on the grass broke his dream
+          as he mused by the waters,
+  And, turning, he looked on the face of Winona,
+          wild rose of the prairies,
+  Half hid in her forest of hair,
+          like the round, golden moon in the pine tops.
+  Admiring he gazed--she was fair
+          as his own blooming Flore in her orchards,
+  With her golden locks loose on the air,
+          like the gleam of the sun through the olives,
+  Far away on the vine-covered shore,
+          in the sun-favored land of his fathers.
+  "Lists the chief to the cataract's roar
+          for the mournful lament of the Spirit?" [b]
+  Said Winona,--"The wail of the sprite
+          for her babe and its father unfaithful,
+  Is heard in the midst of the night,
+          when the moon wanders dim in the heavens."
+
+  [a] The Dakotas say the humming-bird comes from the "land of the
+  rain-bow."
+
+  [b] See Legend of the Falls or Note 28--Appendix.
+
+  "Wild-Rose of the Prairies," he said,
+          "DuLuth listens not to the Ha-ha,
+  For the wail of the ghost of the dead,
+          for her babe and its father unfaithful;
+  But he lists to a voice in his heart
+          that is heard by the ear of no other,
+  And to-day will the White Chief depart
+          --he returns to the land of the sunrise."
+  "Let Winona depart with the chief,
+          --she will kindle the fire in his teepee;
+  For long are the days of her grief,
+          if she stay in the tee of Ta-te-psin,"
+  She replied and her cheeks were aflame
+          with the bloom of the wild prairie lilies.
+  "Tanke, [a] is the White Chief to blame?"
+          said DuLuth to the blushing Winona.
+  "The White Chief is blameless," she said,
+          "but the heart of Winona will follow
+  Wherever thy footsteps may lead,
+          O blue-eyed brave Chief of the white men.
+  For her mother sleeps long in the mound,
+          and a step-mother rules in the teepee.
+  And her father, once strong and renowned,
+          is bent with the weight of his winters.
+  No longer he handles the spear,
+          --no longer his swift, humming arrows
+  Overtake the fleet feet of the deer,
+          or the bear of the woods, or the bison;
+  But he bends as he walks, and the wind
+          shakes his white hair and hinders his footsteps;
+  And soon will he leave me behind,
+          without brother or sister or kindred.
+  The doe scents the wolf in the wind,
+          and a wolf walks the path of Winona.
+  Three times have the gifts for the bride [25]
+          to the lodge of Ta-te-psin been carried.
+  But the voice of Winona replied
+          that she liked not the haughty Tamdoka.
+  And thrice were the gifts sent away,
+          but the tongue of the mother protested,
+  And the were wolf [52] still follows his prey,
+          abides but the death of my father."
+
+  [a] My Sister.
+
+  "I pity Winona," he said,
+          "but my path is a pathway of danger,
+  And long is the trail for the maid
+          to the far-away land of the sunrise;
+  And few are the braves of my band,
+          and the braves of Tamdoka are many;
+  But soon I return to the land,
+          and a cloud of my hunters will follow.
+  When the cold winds of winter return,
+          and toss the white robes of the prairies,
+  The fire of the White Chief will burn
+          in his lodge at the Meeting-of-Waters; [a]
+  And when from the Sunrise again
+          comes the chief of the suns of the Morning,
+  Many moons will his hunters remain
+          in the land of the friendly Dakotas.
+  The son of Chief Wazi-kute
+          guides the White Chief afar on his journey;
+  Nor long on the Tonka Mede [b]
+          --on the breast of the blue, bounding billows--
+  Shall the bark of the Frenchman delay,
+          but his pathway shall kindle behind him."
+
+  [a] Mendota, properly _Mdo-te_--meaning the outlet of lake or river into
+  another,
+  commonly applied to the region about Fort Snelling.
+
+  [b] Tonka Mede--Great Lake, i.e. Lake Superior. The Dakotas seem to have
+  had no other name for it. They generally referred to it as
+  _Mini-ya-ta--There at the water._
+
+  She was pale, and her hurried voice swelled
+          with alarm as she questioned replying
+  "Tamdoka thy guide?
+          --I beheld thy death in his face at the races!
+  He covers his heart with a smile,
+          but revenge never sleeps in his bosom;
+  His tongue--it is soft to beguile;
+          but beware of the pur of the panther!
+  For death, like a shadow,
+          will walk by thy side in the midst of the forest,
+  Or follow thy path like a hawk
+          on the trail of a wounded Mastinca. [a]
+  A son of Unktehee is he,
+          --the Chief of the crafty magicians;
+  They have plotted thy death; I foresee,
+          and thy trail, it is red in the forest;
+  Beware of Tamdoka,--beware.
+          Slumber not like the grouse of the woodlands,
+  With head under wing,
+          for the glare of the eyes that sleep not are upon thee."
+
+  [a] The rabbit. The Dakotas called the Crees "Mastincapi"--Rabbits.
+
+  "Winona, fear not," said Duluth,
+          "for I carry the fire of Wakinyan, [a]
+  And strong is the arm of my youth,
+          and stout are the hearts of my warriors;
+  But Winona has spoken the truth,
+          and the heart of the White Chief is thankful.
+  Hide this in thy bosom, dear maid,
+          --'tis the crucified Christ of the white men. [b]
+  Lift thy voice to his spirit in need,
+          and his spirit will hear thee and answer;
+  For often he comes to my aid;
+          he is stronger than all the Dakotas;
+  And the Spirits of evil, afraid,
+          hide away when he looks from the heavens."
+  In her swelling brown bosom
+          she hid the crucified Jesus in silver;
+  "Niwaste," [c] she sadly replied;
+          in her low voice the rising tears trembled;
+  Her dewy eyes turned she aside,
+          and she slowly returned to the teepees.
+  But still on the swift river's strand,
+          admiring the graceful Winona,
+  As she gathered, with brown, dimpled hand,
+          her hair from the wind, stood the Frenchman.
+
+  [a] i.e. a fire arm which the Dakotas compare to the roar of the wings of
+  the Thunder-bird and the fiery arrows he shoots.
+
+  [b] Duluth was a devout Catholic.
+
+  [c] Nee-wahshtay--Thou art good.
+
+  To bid the brave White Chief adieu,
+          on the shady shore gathered the warriors;
+  His glad boatmen manned the canoe,
+          and the oars in their hands were impatient.
+  Spake the Chief of Isantees,
+          --"A feast will await the return of my brother
+  In peace rose the sun in the East,
+          in peace in the West he descended.
+  May the feet of my brother be swift,
+          till they bring him again to our teepees;
+  The red pipe he takes as a gift,
+          may he smoke that red pipe many winters.
+  At my lodge-fire his pipe shall be lit,
+          when the White Chief returns to Kathaga;
+  On the robes of my tee shall he sit,
+          he shall smoke with the chiefs of my people.
+  The brave love the brave;
+          and his son sends the Chief as a guide for his brother,
+  By the way of the Wakpa Wakan [a]
+          to the Chief at the Lake of the Spirits.
+
+  [a] Spirit River, now called _Rum_ River.
+
+  As light as the foot-steps of dawn
+          are the feet of the stealthy Tamdoka,
+  And he fears not the Maza Wakan; [a]
+          he is sly as the fox of the forest.
+  When he dances the dance of red war
+          all the hungry wolves howl by the Big Sea, [b]
+  For they scent on the south-wind
+          afar their feast on the bones of Ojibways."
+  Thrice the Chief puffed the red pipe of peace,
+          ere it passed to the lips of the Frenchman.
+  Spake DuLuth,--"May the Great Spirit
+          bless with abundance the Chief and his people;
+  May their sons and their daughters increase,
+          and the fire ever burn in their teepees."
+  Then he waved with a flag his adieu
+          to the Chief and the warriors assembled;
+  And away shot Tamdoka's canoe
+          to the strokes of ten sinewy hunters;
+  And a white path he clove up the blue,
+          bubbling stream of the swift Mississippi;
+  And away on his foaming trail flew,
+          like a Sea-Gull the bark of the Frenchman.
+  Then merrily rose the blithe song
+          of the _voyageurs_ homeward returning,
+  And thus, as they glided along,
+          sang the bugle-voiced boatmen in chorus:
+
+SONG
+
+  Home again! home again! bend to the oar!
+  Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_
+  He rides on the river with his paddle in his hand,
+  And his boat is his shelter on the water and the land.
+  The clam in his shell and the water turtle too,
+  And the brave boatman's shell is his birch bark canoe.
+  So pull away, boatmen, bend to the oar;
+  Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
+
+  Home again! home again! bend to the oar!
+  Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
+  His couch is as downy as a couch can be,
+  For he sleeps on the feathers of the green fir-tree.
+  He dines on the fat of the pemmican-sack,
+  And his _eau de vie_ is the _eau de lac_.
+  So pull away, boatmen; bend to the oar;
+  Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
+
+  Home again! home again! bend to the oar!
+  Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
+  The brave, jolly boatman,--he never is afraid
+  When he meets at the portage a red, forest maid,
+  A Huron, or a Cree, or a blooming Chippeway;
+  And he marks his trail with the _bois brules_.
+  So pull away, boatmen; bend to the oar;
+  Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
+  Home again! home again! bend to the oar!
+  Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
+
+  [a] Fire arm--spirit metal.
+
+
+  [b] Lake Superior--at that time the home of the Ojibways. (Chippewas)
+
+  In the reeds of the meadow the stag
+          lifts his branchy head stately and listens,
+  And the bobolink, perched on the flag,
+          her ear sidelong bends to the chorus.
+  From the brow of the Beautiful Isle, [a]
+          half hid in the midst of the maples,
+  The sad-faced Winona, the while,
+          watched the boat growing less in the distance.
+  Till away in the bend of the stream,
+          where it turned and was lost in the lindens,
+  She saw the last dip and the gleam
+          of the oars ere they vanished forever.
+  Still afar on the waters the song,
+          like bridal bells distantly chiming,
+  The stout, jolly boatmen prolong,
+          beating time with the stroke of their paddles;
+  And Winona's ear, turned to the breeze,
+          lists the air falling fainter and fainter
+  Till it dies like the murmur of bees
+          when the sun is aslant on the meadows.
+  Blow, breezes,--blow softly
+          and sing in the dark, flowing hair of the maiden;
+  But never again shall you bring
+          the voice that she loves to Winona.
+
+  [a] Wista Waste--Nicollet Island.
+
+  Now a light, rustling wind from the South
+          shakes his wings o'er the wide, wimpling waters;
+  Up the dark winding river
+          DuLuth follows fast in the wake of Tamdoka.
+  On the slopes of the emerald shores
+          leafy woodlands and prairies alternate;
+  On the vine-tangled islands
+          the flowers peep timidly out at the white men;
+  In the dark-winding eddy the loon sits warily,
+          watching and voiceless,
+  And the wild goose, in reedy lagoon,
+          stills the prattle and play of her children.
+  The does and their sleek, dappled fawns
+          prick their ears and peer out from the thickets,
+  And the bison-calves play on the lawns,
+          and gambol like colts in the clover.
+  Up the still flowing Wakpa Wakan's winding path
+          through the groves and the meadows.
+  Now DuLuth's brawny boatmen
+          pursue the swift gliding bark of Tamdoka;
+  And hardly the red braves out-do
+          the stout, steady oars of the white men.
+
+  Now they bend to their oars in the race
+          --the ten tawny braves of Tamdoka;
+  And hard on their heels in the chase
+          ply the six stalwart oars of the Frenchmen.
+  In the stern of his boat sits DuLuth,
+          in the stern of his boat stands Tamdoka;
+  And warily, cheerily,
+          both urge the oars of their men to the utmost.
+  Far-stretching away to the eyes,
+          winding blue in the midst of the meadows,
+  As a necklet of sapphires
+          that lies unclaspt in the lap of a virgin,
+  Here asleep in the lap of the plain
+          lies the reed-bordered, beautiful river.
+  Like two flying coursers that strain,
+          on the track, neck and neck, on the home-stretch,
+  With nostrils distended, and mane froth-flecked,
+          and the neck and the shoulders,
+  Each urged to his best by the cry
+          and the whip and the rein of his rider,
+  Now they skim o'er the waters and fly,
+          side by side, neck and neck, through the meadows.
+  The blue heron flaps from the reeds,
+          and away wings her course up the river;
+  Straight and swift is her flight o'er the meads,
+          but she hardly outstrips the canoemen.
+  See! the _voyageurs_ bend to their oars
+          till the blue veins swell out on their foreheads;
+  And the sweat from their brawny breasts pours;
+          but in vain their Herculean labor;
+  For the oars of Tamdoka are ten,
+          and but six are the oars of the Frenchmen,
+  And the red warriors' burden of men
+          is matched by the _voyageur's_ luggage.
+  Side by side, neck and neck, for a mile,
+          still they strain their strong arms to the utmost,
+  Till rounding a willowy isle, now ahead creeps the boat of Tamdoka,
+  And the neighboring forests profound,
+          and the far-stretching plain of the meadows
+  To the whoop of the victors resound,
+          while the panting French rest on their paddles.
+
+  With sable wings wide o'er the land,
+          night sprinkles the dew of the heavens;
+  And hard by the dark river's strand,
+          in the midst of a tall, somber forest,
+  Two camp-fires are lighted, and beam
+          on the trunks and the arms of the pine-trees.
+  In the fitful light darkle and gleam
+          the swarthy-hued faces around them.
+  And one is the camp of DuLuth,
+          and the other the camp of Tamdoka,
+  But few are the jests and uncouth
+          of the _voyageurs_ over their supper,
+  While moody and silent the braves
+          round their fire in a circle sit crouching;
+  And low is the whisper of leaves
+          and the sough of the wind in the branches;
+  And low is the long-winding howl
+          of the lone wolf afar in the forest;
+  But shrill is the hoot of the owl,
+          like a bugle blast blown in the pine-tops,
+  And the half-startled _voyageurs_
+          scowl at the sudden and saucy intruder.
+  Like the eyes of the wolves are the eyes
+          of the watchful and silent Dakotas;
+  Like the face of the moon in the skies,
+          when the clouds chase each other across it.
+  Is Tamdoka's dark face in the light
+          of the flickering flames of the camp fire.
+  They have plotted red murder by night,
+          and securely contemplate their victims.
+  But wary and armed to the teeth
+          are the resolute Frenchmen and ready,
+  If need be, to grapple with death,
+          and to die hand to hand in the desert.
+  Yet skilled in the arts and the wiles
+          of the cunning and crafty Algonkins,
+  They cover their hearts with their smiles,
+          and hide their suspicions of evil.
+  Round their low, smouldering fire,
+          feigning sleep, lie the watchful and wily Dakotas;
+  But DuLuth and his _voyageurs_ heap their fire
+          that shall blaze till the morning,
+  Ere they lay themselves snugly to rest,
+          with their guns by their side on the blankets,
+  As if there were none to molest
+          but the ravening beasts of the forest.
+
+  'Tis midnight. The rising moon gleams,
+          weird and still o'er the dusky horizon;
+  Through the hushed, somber forest she beams,
+          and fitfully gloams on the meadows;
+  And a dim, glimmering pathway she paves,
+          at times, on the dark stretch of river.
+  The winds are asleep in the caves
+          --in the heart of the far-away mountains;
+  And here on the meadows and there,
+          the lazy mists gather and hover;
+  And the lights of the Fen-Spirits [72] flare
+          and dance on the low-lying marshes,
+  As still as the footsteps of death
+          by the bed of the babe and its mother;
+  And hushed are the pines, and beneath
+          lie the weary limbed boatmen in slumber.
+  Walk softly,--walk softly, O Moon,
+          through the gray, broken clouds in thy pathway,
+  For the earth lies asleep, and the boon
+          of repose is bestowed on the weary.
+  Toiling hands have forgotten their care;
+          e'en the brooks have forgotten to murmur;
+  But hark!--there's a sound on the air!
+          --'tis the light-rustling robes of the Spirits.
+  Like the breath of the night in the leaves,
+          or the murmur of reeds on the river,
+  In the cool of the mid-summer eves,
+          when the blaze of the day has descended.
+  Low-crouching and shadowy forms,
+          as still as the gray morning's footsteps,
+  Creep sly as the serpent that charms,
+          on her nest in the meadow, the plover;
+  In the shadows of pine-trunks they creep,
+          but their panther-eyes gleam in the fire-light,
+  As they peer on the white men asleep,
+          in the glow of the fire, on their blankets.
+  Lo, in each swarthy right hand a knife,
+          in the left hand, the bow and the arrows!
+  Brave Frenchmen! awake to the strife!
+          --or you sleep in the forest forever.
+  Nay, nearer and nearer they glide,
+          like ghosts on the fields of their battles,
+  Till close on the sleepers, they bide
+          but the signal of death from Tamdoka.
+  Still the sleepers sleep on.
+          Not a breath stirs the leaves of the awe-stricken forest;
+  The hushed air is heavy with death;
+          like the footsteps of death are the moments.
+  "_Arise_!"--At the word, with a bound,
+          to their feet spring the vigilant Frenchmen;
+  And the dark, dismal forests resound
+          to the crack and the roar of their rifles;
+  And seven writhing forms on the ground
+          clutch the earth. From the pine-tops the screech owl
+  Screams and flaps his wide wings in affright,
+          and plunges away through the shadows;
+  And swift on the wings of the night
+          flee the dim, phantom forms of the spirit.
+  Like cabris [80] when white wolves pursue,
+          fled the four yet remaining Dakotas;
+  Through forest and fen-land they flew,
+          and wild terror howled on their footsteps.
+  And one was Tamdoka. DuLuth through the night
+          sent his voice like a trumpet;
+  "Ye are Sons of Unktehee, forsooth!
+          Return to your mothers, ye cowards!"
+  His shrill voice they heard as they fled,
+          but only the echoes made answer.
+  At the feet of the brave Frenchmen, dead,
+          lay seven swarthy Sons of Unktehee;
+  And there, in the midst of the slain,
+          they found, as it gleamed in the fire light,
+  The horn-handled knife from the Seine,
+          where it fell from the hand of Tamdoka.
+
+  [Illustration: THE RIVER WAKPA WAKAN OR SPIRIT RIVER]
+
+  In the gray of the morn,
+          ere the sun peeped over the dewy horizon,
+  Their journey again was begun,
+          and they toiled up the swift, winding river;
+  And many a shallow they passed
+          on their way to the Lake of the Spirits;
+  But dauntless they reached it at last,
+          and found Akee-pa-kee-tin's village, [a]
+  On an isle in the midst of the lake;
+          and a day in his teepee they tarried.
+
+  [a] see Hennepin's account of Aqui-pa-que-tin and his village.
+  Shea's Hennepin 227.
+
+  Of the deed in the wilderness spake,
+          to the brave Chief, the frank-hearted Frenchman.
+  A generous man was the Chief
+          and a friend of the fearless explorer;
+  And dark was his visage with grief
+          at the treacherous act of the warriors.
+  "Brave Wazi-Kute is a man,
+          and his heart is as clear as the sun-light;
+  But the head of a treacherous clan,
+          and a snake in the bush is Tamdoka,"
+  Said the chief; and he promised Duluth,
+          on the word of a friend and a warrior,
+  To carry the pipe and the truth
+          to his cousin, the chief at Kathaga;
+  For thrice at the Tanka Mede
+          had he smoked in the lodge of the Frenchman;
+  And thrice had he carried away
+          the bountiful gifts of the trader.
+
+  When the chief could no longer prevail
+          on the white men to rest in his teepee,
+  He guided their feet on the trail
+          to the lakes of the winding Rice-River. [a]
+  Now on speeds the light bark canoe,
+          through the lakes to the broad Gitchee Seebee; [b]
+  And up the great river they row,
+          --up the Big Sandy Lake and Savanna;
+  And down through the meadows they go
+          to the river of broad Gitchee Gumee. [c]
+
+  [a] Now called "Mud River"--it empties into the Mississippi at Aitkin.
+
+  [b] _Gitchee seebee_--Big River--the Ojibway name for the Mississippi,
+  which is a corruption of Gitchee Seebee--as Michigan is a corruption of
+  _Gitchee Gumee_--Great Lake, the Ojibway name of Lake Superior.
+
+  [c] The Ojibways call the St. Louis River
+  _Gitchee-Gumee See-bee--Great-lake River_, i.e. the river of the Great Lake
+  (Lake Superior).
+
+  [Illustration: DALLES OF THE ST. LOUIS]
+
+  Still onward they speed to the Dalles
+          --to the roar of the white-rolling rapids,
+  Where the dark river tumbles and falls
+          down the ragged ravine of the mountains,
+  And singing his wild jubilee
+          to the low-moaning pines and the cedars,
+  Rushes on to the unsalted sea
+          o'er the ledges upheaved by volcanoes.
+  Their luggage the _voyageurs_ bore
+          down the long, winding path of the portage, [a]
+  While they mingled their song
+          with the roar of the turbid and turbulent waters.
+  Down-wimpling and murmuring there,
+          twixt two dewy hills winds a streamlet,
+  Like a long, flaxen ringlet of hair
+          on the breast of a maid in her slumber.
+
+  [a] The route of Duluth above described--from the mouth of the Wild Rice
+  Mud River to Lake Superior--was for centuries and still is, the Indians'
+  canoe route. I have walked over the old portage from the foot of the
+  Dalles to the St. Louis above--trod by the feet of half-breeds and
+  _voyageurs_ for more than two centuries, and by the Indians for,
+  perhaps, a thousand years.
+
+  All safe at the foot of the trail,
+          where they left it, they found their felucca,
+  And soon to the wind spread the sail,
+          and glided at ease through the waters,
+  Through the meadows and lakelets and forth,
+          round the point stretching south like a finger,
+  From the mist-wreathen hill on the north,
+          sloping down to the bay and the lake-side
+  And behold, at the foot of the hill,
+          a cluster of Chippewa wigwams,
+  And the busy wives plying with skill
+          their nets in the emerald waters.
+  Two hundred white winters and more
+          have fled from the face of the Summer
+  Since DuLuth, on that wild, somber shore,
+          in the unbroken forest primeval,
+  From the midst of the spruce and the pines,
+          saw the smoke of the wigwams up-curling,
+  Like the fumes from the temples and shrines
+          of the Druids of old in their forests.
+  Ah, little he dreamed then, forsooth,
+          that a city would stand on that hill-side,
+  And bear the proud name of Duluth,
+          the untiring and dauntless explorer.
+  A refuge for ships from the storms,
+          and for men from the bee-hives of Europe.
+  Out-stretching her long, iron arms
+          o'er an empire of Saxons and Normans.
+
+  The swift west-wind sang in the sails,
+          and on flew the boat like a Sea-Gull,
+  By the green, templed hills and the dales,
+          and the dark rugged rocks of the North Shore;
+  For the course of the brave Frenchman
+          lay to his fort at the Gah-mah-na-tek-wahk, [83]
+  By the shore of the grand Thunder Bay,
+          where the gray rocks loom up into mountains;
+  Where the Stone Giant sleeps on the Cape,
+          and the god of the storms makes the thunder, [83]
+  And the Makinak [83] lifts his huge shape
+          from the breast of the blue-rolling waters,
+  And thence to the south-westward led his course
+          to the Holy Ghost Mission. [84]
+  Where the Black Robes, the brave shepherds,
+          fed their wild sheep on the isle Wau-ga-ba-me. [84]
+
+  [Illustration: SUNSET BAY, LAKE SUPERIOR.]
+
+  In the enchanting Cha-quam-e-gon Bay,
+          defended by all the Apostles; [a]
+  And thence by the Ke-we-naw,
+          lay his course to the Mission Sainte Marie. [b]
+  Now the waves drop their myriad hands,
+          and streams the white hair of the surges;
+  DuLuth at the steady helm stands,
+          and he hums as he bounds o'er the billows:
+
+    O sweet is the carol of bird,
+    And sweet is the murmur of streams,
+    But sweeter the voice that I heard--
+    In the night--in the midst of my dreams.
+
+  [a] The Apostle Islands.
+
+  [b] At the Saut St. Marie.
+
+  'Tis the moon of the sere, falling leaves.
+          From the heads of the maples the west-wind
+  Plucks the red-and-gold plumage
+          and grieves on the meads for the rose and the lily;
+  Their brown leaves the moaning oaks strew,
+          and the breezes that roam on the prairies,
+  Low-whistling and wanton pursue
+          the down of the silk weed and thistle.
+  All sere are the prairies and brown,
+          in the glimmer and haze of the Autumn;
+  From the far northern marshes flock down,
+          by thousands, the geese and the mallards.
+  From the meadows and wide-prairied plains,
+          for their long southward journey preparing,
+  In croaking flocks gather the cranes,
+          and choose with loud clamor their leaders.
+  The breath of the evening is cold,
+          and lurid along the horizon
+  The flames of the prairies are rolled,
+          on the somber skies flashing their torches.
+  At noontide a shimmer of gold,
+          through the haze, pours the sun from his pathway.
+  The wild-rice is gathered and ripe,
+          on the moors, lie the scarlet po-pan-ka; [a]
+  Michabo [85] is smoking his pipe,
+          --'tis the soft, dreamy Indian Summer,
+  When the god of the South as he flies
+          from Waziya, the god of the Winter,
+  For a time turns his beautiful eyes,
+          and backward looks over his shoulder.
+
+  [a] Cranberries.
+
+  It is noon. From his path in the skies
+          the red sun looks down on Kathaga,
+  Asleep in the valley it lies,
+          for the swift hunters follow the bison.
+  Ta-te-psin, the aged brave, bends
+          as he walks by the side of Winona;
+  Her arm to his left hand she lends,
+          and he feels with his staff for the pathway;
+  On his slow, feeble footsteps attends
+          his gray dog, the watchful Wichaka; [a]
+  For blind in his years is the chief
+          of a fever that followed the Summer,
+  And the days of Ta-te-psin are brief.
+          Once more by the dark-rolling river
+  Sits the Chief in the warm, dreamy haze
+          of the beautiful Summer in Autumn;
+  And the faithful dog lovingly lays his head
+          at the feet of his master.
+  On a dead, withered branch sits a crow,
+          down-peering askance at the old man;
+  On the marge of the river below
+          romp the nut-brown and merry-voiced children,
+  And the dark waters silently flow,
+          broad and deep, to the plunge of the Ha-ha.
+
+  [a] Wee-chah kah--literally "Faithful".
+
+  By his side sat Winona.
+          He laid his thin, shriveled hand on her tresses,
+  "Winona my daughter," he said,
+          "no longer thy father beholds thee;
+  But he feels the long locks of thy hair,
+          and the days that are gone are remembered,
+  When Sisoka [a] sat faithful and fair
+          in the lodge of swift footed Ta-te-psin.
+  The white years have broken my spear;
+          from my bow they have taken the bow-string;
+  But once on the trail of the deer,
+          like a gray wolf from sunrise till sunset,
+  By woodland and meadow and mere,
+          ran the feet of Ta-te-psin untiring.
+  But dim are the days that are gone,
+          and darkly around me they wander,
+  Like the pale, misty face of the moon
+          when she walks through the storm of the winter;
+  And sadly they speak in my ear.
+          I have looked on the graves of my kindred.
+  The Land of the Spirits is near.
+          Death walks by my side like a shadow.
+  Now open thine ear to my voice,
+          and thy heart to the wish of thy father,
+  And long will Winona rejoice
+          that she heeded the words of Ta-te-psin.
+  The cold, cruel winter is near,
+          and famine will sit in the teepee.
+  What hunter will bring me the deer,
+          or the flesh of the bear or the bison?
+  For my kinsmen before me have gone;
+          they hunt in the land of the shadows.
+  In my old age forsaken, alone,
+          must I die in my teepee of hunger?
+  Winona, Tamdoka can make my empty lodge
+          laugh with abundance;
+  For thine aged and blind father's sake,
+          to the son of the Chief speak the promise.
+  For gladly again to my tee
+          will the bridal gifts come for my daughter.
+  A fleet-footed hunter is he,
+          and the good spirits feather his arrows;
+  And the cold, cruel winter
+          will be a feast-time instead of a famine."
+
+  [a] The Robin--the name of Winona's Mother.
+
+  "My father," she said, and her voice
+          was filial and full of compassion,
+  "Would the heart of Ta-te-psin rejoice
+          at the death of Winona, his daughter?
+  The crafty Tamdoka I hate.
+          Must I die in his teepee of sorrow?
+  For I love the White Chief,
+          and I wait his return to the land of Dakotas.
+  When the cold winds of winter return,
+          and toss the white robes of the prairies,
+  The fire of the White Chief will burn,
+          in his lodge, at the Meeting-of-Waters.
+  Winona's heart followed his feet
+          far away to the land of the morning,
+  And she hears in her slumber
+          his sweet, kindly voice call the name of thy daughter.
+  My father, abide, I entreat,
+          the return of the brave to Kathaga.
+  The wild-rice is gathered,
+          the meat of the bison is stored in the teepee;
+  Till the Coon-Moon [71] enough and to spare;
+          and if then the white warrior return not,
+  Winona will follow the bear, and the coon,
+          to their dens in the forest.
+  She is strong; she can handle the spear;
+          she can bend the stout bow of the hunter;
+  And swift on the trail of the deer
+          will she run o'er the snow on her snow-shoes.
+  Let the step-mother sit in the tee,
+          and kindle the fire for my father;
+  And the cold, cruel winter shall be
+          a feast-time instead of a famine."
+  "The White Chief will never return,"
+          half angrily muttered Ta-te-psin;
+
+  "His camp-fire will nevermore burn
+          in the land of the warriors he slaughtered.
+  I grieve, for my daughter has said
+          that she loves the false friend of her kindred;
+  For the hands of the White Chief are red
+          with the blood of the trustful Dakotas."
+  Then warmly Winona replied,
+          "Tamdoka himself is the traitor,
+  And the white-hearted stranger had died
+          by his treacherous hand in the forest,
+  But thy daughter's voice bade him beware
+          of the sly death that followed his footsteps.
+  The words of Tamdoka are fair,
+          but his heart is the den of the serpents.
+  When the braves told their tale,
+          like a bird sang the heart of Winona rejoicing,
+  But gladlier still had she heard
+          of the death of the crafty Tamdoka.
+  The Chief will return, he is bold,
+          and he carries the fire of Wakinyan;
+  To our people the truth will be told,
+          and Tamdoka will hide like a coward."
+  His thin locks the aged brave shook;
+          to himself half inaudibly muttered;
+  To Winona no answer he spoke
+          --only moaned he "Micunksee! Micunksee! [a]
+  In my old age forsaken and blind!
+          Yun! He he! Micunksee! Micunksee!" [b]
+  And Wichaka, the pitying dog, whined,
+          as he looked on the face of his master.
+
+  [a] My Daughter! My Daughter!
+
+  [b] Alas! O My Daughter,--My Daughter!
+
+  Waziya came down from the North
+          --from his land of perpetual winter.
+  From his frost-covered beard issued forth
+          the sharp-biting, shrill-whistling North-wind;
+  At the touch of his breath the wide earth turned to stone,
+          and the lakes and the rivers;
+  From his nostrils the white vapors rose,
+          and they covered the sky like a blanket.
+  Like the down of Maga [a] fell the snows,
+          tossed and whirled into heaps by the North-wind.
+  Then the blinding storms roared on the plains,
+          like the simoons on sandy Sahara;
+  From the fangs of the fierce hurricanes
+          fled the elk and the deer and the bison.
+  Ever colder and colder it grew,
+          till the frozen earth cracked and split open;
+  And harder and harder it blew,
+          till the prairies were bare as the boulders.
+  To the southward the buffaloes fled,
+          and the white rabbits hid in their burrows;
+  On the bare sacred mounds of the dead
+          howled the gaunt, hungry wolves in the night-time.
+  The strong hunters crouched in their tees;
+          by the lodge-fires the little ones shivered;
+  And the Magic Men [b] danced to appease,
+          in their teepee, the wrath of Waziya;
+  But famine and fatal disease,
+          like phantoms, crept into the village.
+  The Hard Moon [c] was past, but the moon
+          when the coons make their trails in the forest [d]
+  Grew colder and colder. The coon or the bear,
+          ventured not from his cover;
+  For the cold, cruel Arctic Simoon swept the earth
+          like the breath of a furnace.
+  In the tee of Ta-te-psin the store of wild-rice
+          and dried meat was exhausted;
+  And Famine crept in at the door,
+          and sat crouching and gaunt by the lodge-fire.
+  But now with the saddle of deer,
+          and the gifts, came the crafty Tamdoka;
+  And he said, "Lo I bring you good cheer,
+          for I love the blind Chief and his daughter.
+  Take the gifts of Tamdoka,
+          for dear to his heart is the dark-eyed Winona."
+  The aged chief opened his ears;
+          in his heart he already consented;
+  But the moans of his child and her tears
+          touched the age-softened heart of the father,
+  And he said, "I am burdened with years,
+          --I am bent by the snows of my winters;
+  Ta-te-psin will die in his tee;
+          let him pass to the Land of the Spirits;
+  But Winona is young; she is free,
+          and her own heart shall choose her a husband."
+  The dark warrior strode from the tee;
+          low-muttering and grim he departed.
+  "Let him die in his lodge," muttered he,
+          "but Winona shall kindle my lodge-fire."
+
+  [a] Wild goose.
+
+  [b] Medicine men.
+
+  [c] January.
+
+  [d] February.
+
+  Then forth went Winona. The bow of Ta-te-psin
+          she took and his arrows,
+  And afar o'er the deep, drifted snow,
+          through the forest, she sped on her snow-shoes.
+  Over meadow and ice-covered mere,
+          through the thickets of red oak and hazel,
+  She followed the tracks of the deer,
+          but like phantoms they fled from her vision.
+  From sunrise till sunset she sped;
+          half-famished she camped in the thicket;
+  In the cold snow she made her lone bed;
+          on the buds of the birch [a] made her supper.
+  To the dim moon the gray owl preferred,
+          from the tree top, his shrill lamentation,
+  And around her at midnight she heard
+          the dread famine-cries of the gray wolves.
+  In the gloam of the morning again
+          on the trail of the red-deer she followed--
+  All day long through the thickets in vain,
+          for the gray wolves were chasing the roebucks;
+  And the cold, hungry winds from the plain
+          chased the wolves and the deer and Winona.
+
+  [a] The pheasant feeds on birch-buds in winter. Indians eat them when very
+  hungry.
+
+  In the twilight of sundown she sat,
+          in the forest, all weak and despairing;
+  Ta-te-psin's bow lay at her feet,
+          and his otter skin quiver of arrows.
+  "He promised,--he promised," she said
+          --half-dreamily uttered and mournful,--
+  "And why comes he not? Is he dead?
+          Was he slain by the crafty Tamdoka?
+  Must Winona, alas, make her choice
+          --make her choice between death and Tamdoka?
+  She will die but her soul will rejoice
+          in the far Summer-land of the spirits.
+  Hark! I hear his low, musical voice!
+          He is coming! My White Chief is coming!
+  Ah, no; I am half in a dream!
+          --'twas the mem'ry of days long departed;
+  But the birds of the green Summer
+          seem to be singing above in the branches."
+  Then forth from her bosom she drew
+          the crucified Jesus in silver.
+  In her dark hair the cold north wind blew,
+          as meekly she bent o'er the image.
+  "O Christ of the White man," she prayed,
+          "lead the feet of my brave to Kathaga;
+  Send a good spirit down to my aid,
+          or the friend of the White Chief will perish."
+  Then a smile on her wan features played,
+          and she lifted her pale face and chanted:
+
+  "E-ye-he-kta! E-ye-he-kta!
+   He-kta-ce; e-ye-ce-quon.
+   Mi-Wamdee-ska, he-he-kta;
+   He-kta-ce; e-ye-ce-quon,
+   Mi-Wamdee-ska."
+
+  [TRANSLATION.]
+
+   He will come; he will come;
+   He will come, for he promised.
+   My White Eagle, he will come;
+   He will come, for he promised,--
+   My White Eagle.
+
+  Thus sadly she chanted, and lo
+          --allured by her sorrowful accents--
+  From the dark covert crept a red doe
+          and wondrously gazed on Winona.
+  Then swift caught the huntress her bow;
+          from her trembling hand hummed the keen arrow.
+  Up-leaped the red gazer and fled,
+          but the white snow was sprinkled with scarlet,
+  And she fell in the oak thicket dead.
+          On the trail ran the eager Winona.
+  Half-famished the raw flesh she ate.
+          To the hungry maid sweet was her supper.
+  Then swift through the night ran her feet,
+          and she trailed the sleek red-deer behind her.
+  And the guide of her steps was a star
+          --the cold-glinting star of Waziya--[a]
+  Over meadow and hilltop afar,
+          on the way to the lodge of her father.
+  But hark! on the keen frosty air
+          wind the shrill hunger-howls of the gray wolves!
+  And nearer,--still nearer!
+          --the blood of the doe have they scented and follow;
+  Through the thicket, the meadow,
+          the wood, dash the pack on the trail of Winona.
+  Swift she speeds with her burden,
+          but swift on her track fly the minions of famine;
+  Now they yell on the view from the drift,
+          in the reeds at the marge of the meadow;
+  Red gleam their wild, ravenous eyes;
+          for they see on the hill-side their supper;
+  The dark forest echoes their cries;
+          but her heart is the heart of a warrior.
+  From its sheath snatched Winona her knife,
+          and a leg from the red doe she severed;
+  With the carcass she ran for her life,
+          --to a low-branching oak ran the maiden;
+  Round the deer's neck her head-strap [b] was tied;
+          swiftly she sprang to the arms of the oak-tree;
+  Quick her burden she drew to her side,
+          and higher she clomb on the branches,
+  While the maddened wolves battled and bled,
+          dealing death o'er the leg to each other;
+  Their keen fangs devouring the dead,
+          --yea, devouring the flesh of the living,
+  They raved and they gnashed and they growled,
+          like the fiends in the regions infernal;
+  The wide night re-echoing howled,
+          and the hoarse North wind laughed o'er the slaughter.
+  But their ravenous maws unappeased
+          by the blood and the flesh of their fellows,
+  To the cold wind their muzzles they raised,
+          and the trail to the oak-tree they followed.
+  Round and round it they howled for the prey,
+          madly leaping and snarling and snapping;
+  But the brave maiden's keen arrows slay,
+          till the dead number more than the living.
+  All the long, dreary night-time, at bay,
+          in the oak sat the shivering Winona;
+  But the sun gleamed at last, and away
+          skulked the gray cowards [c] down through the forest.
+  Then down dropped the doe and the maid.
+          Ere the sun reached the midst of his journey,
+  Her red, welcome burden she laid
+          at the feet of her famishing father.
+
+  [a] Waziya's Star is the North Star.
+
+  [b] A strap used in carrying burdens.
+
+  [c] Wolves sometimes attack people at night but rarely if ever in the day
+  time. If they have followed a hunter all night, or "treed" him they will
+  skulk away as soon as the sun rises.
+
+  Waziya's wild wrath was appeased,
+          and homeward he turned to his teepee, [3]
+  O'er the plains and the forest-land breezed,
+          from the Islands of Summer, the South wind.
+  From their dens came the coon and the bear;
+          o'er the snow through the woodlands they wandered;
+  On her snow shoes with stout bow and spear
+          on their trails ran the huntress Winona.
+  The coon to his den in the tree,
+          and the bear to his burrow she followed;
+  A brave, skillful hunter was she,
+          and Ta-te-psin's lodge laughed with abundance.
+
+  The long winter wanes. On the wings
+          of the spring come the geese and the mallards;
+  On the bare oak the red-robin sings,
+          and the crocuses peep on the prairies,
+  And the bobolink pipes, but he brings,
+          of the blue-eyed, brave White Chief, no tidings.
+  With the waning of winter, alas,
+          waned the life of the aged Tatepsin;
+  Ere the blue pansies peeped from the grass,
+          to the Land of the Spirits he journeyed;
+  Like a babe in its slumber he passed,
+          or the snow from the hill tops in April;
+  And the dark-eyed Winona, at last,
+          stood alone by the graves of her kindred.
+  When their myriad mouths opened the trees
+          to the sweet dew of heaven and the rain drops,
+  And the April showers fell on the leas,
+          on his mound fell the tears of Winona.
+  Round her drooping form gathered the years
+          and the spirits unseen of her kindred,
+  As low, in the midst of her tears,
+          at the grave of her father she chanted:
+
+      E-yo-tan-han e-yay-wah ke-yay!
+      E-yo-tan-han e-yay-wah ke-yay!
+      E-yo-tan-han e-yay-wah ke-yay!
+    Ma-kah kin hay-chay-dan tay-han wan-kay.
+    Tu-way ne ktay snee e-yay-chen e-wah chay.
+      E-yo-tan-han e-yay-wah ke-yay!
+      E-yo-tan-han e-yay-wah ke-yay!
+    Ma-kah kin hay-chay-dan tay-han wan-kay.
+
+    [TRANSLATION]
+
+      Sore is my sorrow!
+      Sore is my sorrow!
+      Sore is my sorrow!
+    The earth alone lasts.
+    I speak as one dying;
+      Sore is my sorrow!
+      Sore is my sorrow!
+    The earth alone lasts.
+
+  Still hope, like a star in the night
+          gleaming oft through the broken clouds somber,
+  Cheered the heart of Winona, and bright,
+          on her dreams, beamed the face of the Frenchman.
+  As the thought of a loved one and lost,
+          sad and sweet were her thoughts of the White Chief;
+  In the moon's mellow light, like a ghost,
+          walked Winona alone by the Ha-ha,
+  Ever wrapped in a dream. Far away
+          --to the land of the sunrise--she wandered;
+  On the blue rolling Tanka Mede, [a]
+          in the midst of her dreams, she beheld him--
+  In his white-winged canoe, like a bird,
+          to the land of Dakotas returning;
+  And often in fancy she heard
+          the dip of his oars on the river.
+  On the dark waters glimmered the moon,
+          but she saw not the boat of the Frenchman;
+  On the somber night bugled the loon,
+          but she heard not the song of the boatmen.
+  The moon waxed and waned, but the star
+          of her hope never waned to the setting;
+  Through her tears she beheld it afar,
+          like a torch on the eastern horizon.
+  "He will come,--he is coming," she said;
+          "he will come, for my White Eagle promised,"
+  And low to the bare earth the maid
+          bent her ear for the sound of his footsteps.
+  "He is gone, but his voice in my ear
+          still remains like the voice of the robin;
+  He is far, but his footsteps I hear;
+          he is coming; my White Chief is coming!"
+
+  [a] Lake Superior,--The _Gitchee Gumee_ of the Chippewas.
+
+  But the moon waxed and waned. Nevermore
+          will the eyes of Winona behold him.
+  Far away on the dark, rugged shore
+          of the blue Gitchee Gumee he lingers.
+  No tidings the rising sun brings;
+          no tidings the star of the evening;
+  But morning and evening she sings,
+          like a turtle-doe widowed and waiting;
+
+    Ake u, ake u, ake u;
+    Ma cante maseca.
+    Ake u, ake u, ake u;
+    Ma cante maseca.
+
+    Come again, come again, come again;
+    For my heart is sad.
+    Come again, come again, come again;
+    For my heart is sad.
+
+  Down the broad Gitchee Seebee [a]
+          the band took their way to the Games at Keoza.
+  While the swift-footed hunters by land
+          ran the shores for the elk and the bison.
+  Like magas [b] ride the birchen canoes
+          on the breast of the dark Gitchee Seebee;
+  By the willow-fringed islands they cruise
+          by the grassy hills green to their summits;
+  By the lofty bluffs hooded with oaks
+          that darken the deep with their shadows;
+  And bright in the sun gleam the strokes
+          of the oars in the hands of the women.
+  With the band went Winona.
+          The oar plied the maid with the skill of a hunter.
+  They loitered and camped on the shore of Remnica
+          --the Lake of the Mountains. [c]
+  There the fleet hunters followed the deer,
+          and the thorny _pahin_ [d] for the women.
+
+  [a] Chippewa name of the Mississippi
+
+  [b] Wild Geese
+
+  [c] Lake Pepin; by Hennepin called Lake of Tears--Called by the Dakotas
+  Remnee-chah-Mday--Lake of the Mountains.
+
+  [d] Pah hin--the porcupine--the quill of which are greatly prized for
+  ornamental work.
+
+  From the tees rose the smoke of good cheer,
+          curling blue through the tops of the maples,
+  Near the foot of a cliff that arose,
+          like the battle-scarred walls of a castle.
+  Up-towering, in rugged repose,
+          to a dizzy height over the waters.
+
+  But the man-wolf still followed his prey,
+          and the step-mother ruled in the tepee;
+  Her will must Winona obey,
+          by the custom and law of Dakotas.
+  The gifts to the teepee were brought
+          --the blankets, and beads of the White men,
+  And Winona, the orphaned, was bought
+          by the crafty relentless Tamdoka.
+  In the Spring-time of life,
+          in the flush of the gladsome mid-May days of Summer,
+  When the bobolink sang and the thrush,
+          and the red robin chirped in the branches,
+  To the tent of the brave must she go;
+          she must kindle the fire in his tepee;
+  She must sit in the lodge of her foe,
+          as a slave at the feet of her master.
+  Alas for her waiting!
+          the wings of the East-wind have brought her no tidings;
+  On the meadow the meadow-lark sings
+          but sad is her song to Winona,
+  For the glad warblers melody brings
+          but the memory of voices departed.
+
+  The Day-Spirit walked in the west
+          to his lodge in the land of the shadows;
+  His shining face gleamed on the crest
+          of the oak-hooded hills and the mountains,
+  And the meadow-lark hied to her nest,
+          and the mottled owl peeped from her cover.
+  But hark! from the teepees a cry!
+          Hear the shouts of the hurrying warriors!
+  Are the steps of the enemy nigh,
+          --of the crafty and creeping Ojibways?
+  Nay; look on the dizzy cliff high!
+          --on the brink of the cliff stands Winona!
+  Her sad face up-turned to the sky. Hark!
+          I hear the wild chant of her death-song:
+
+    My Father's Spirit, look down, look down--
+    From your hunting-grounds in the shining skies;
+    Behold, for the light of my soul is gone,--
+    The light is gone and Winona dies.
+
+    I looked to the East, but I saw no star;
+    The face of my White Chief was turned away.
+    I harked for his footsteps in vain; afar
+    His bark sailed over the Sunrise-sea.
+
+    Long have I watched till my heart is cold;
+    In my breast it is heavy and cold as stone.
+    No more shall Winona his face behold,
+    And the robin that sang in her heart is gone.
+
+    Shall I sit at the feet of the treacherous brave?
+    On his hateful couch shall Winona lie?
+    Shall she kindle his fire like a coward slave?
+    No!--a warrior's daughter can bravely die.
+
+    My Father's Spirit, look down, look down--
+    From your hunting-grounds in the shining skies;
+    Behold, for the light of my soul is gone,--
+      The light is gone and Winona dies.
+
+  Swift the strong hunters clomb as she sang,
+          and the foremost of all was Tamdoka;
+  From crag to crag upward he sprang;
+          like a panther he leaped to the summit.
+  Too late! on the brave as he crept
+          turned the maid in her scorn and defiance;
+  Then swift from the dizzy height leaped.
+          Like a brant arrow-pierced in mid-heaven.
+  Down-whirling and fluttering she fell,
+          and headlong plunged into the waters.
+  Forever she sank mid the wail,
+          and the wild lamentation of women.
+  Her lone spirit evermore dwells
+          in the depths of the Lake of the Mountains,
+  And the lofty cliff evermore tells
+          to the years as they pass her sad story. [a]
+  In the silence of sorrow the night
+          o'er the earth spread her wide, sable pinions;
+  And the stars [18] hid their faces,
+          and light on the lake fell the tears of the spirits.
+  As her sad sisters watched on the shore
+          for her spirit to rise from the waters,
+  They heard the swift dip of an oar,
+          and a boat they beheld like a shadow,
+  Gliding down through the night
+          in the gray, gloaming mists on the face of the waters.
+  'Twas the bark of DuLuth on his way
+          from the Falls to the Games at Keoza.
+
+  [a] The Dakotas say that the spirit of Winona forever haunts the lake.
+  They say that it was many, many winters ago when Winona leaped from the
+  rock--that the rock was then perpendicular to the water's edge and she
+  leaped into the lake, but now the rock has worn away, or the water has
+  receded, so that it does not reach the foot of the rock.
+
+  [Illustration: "DOWN THE RAGGED RAVINE OF THE MOUNTAINS." DALLES OF THE
+  ST LOUIS.]
+
+
+
+
+THE LEGEND OF THE FALLS.
+
+Note: An-pe-tu Sa-pa--Clouded Day--was the name of the Dakota mother who
+committed suicide, as related in this legend, by plunging over the Falls
+of St. Anthony. Schoolcraft calls her "_Ampata_ Sapa." _Ampata_ is not
+Dakota. There are several versions of this legend, all agreeing in the
+main points.
+
+[Read at the celebration of the Old Settlers of Hennepin County, at the
+Academy of Music, Minneapolis, July 4, 1879.]
+
+(The numerals refer to notes in the Appendix.)
+
+
+  On the Spirit-Island [a] sitting under midnight's misty moon,
+  Lo I see the spirits flitting o'er the waters one by one!
+  Slumber wraps the silent city, and the droning mills are dumb;
+  One lone whippowil's shrill ditty calls her mate that ne'er will come.
+  Sadly moans the mighty river, foaming down the fettered falls,
+  Where of old he thundered ever o'er abrupt and lofty walls.
+  Great Unktehee [69]--god of waters--lifts no more his mighty head;--
+    Fled he with the timid otters?--lies he in the cavern dead?
+
+  [a] The small island of rock a few rods below the Falls, was called by the
+  Dakotas Wanagee We-ta---Spirit-Island. They say the spirit of Anpetu Sapa
+  sits upon that island at night and pours forth her sorrow in song. They
+  also say that from time out of mind, war-eagles nested on that island,
+  until the advent of white men frightened them away. This seems to be true.
+  Carver's Travels. London. 1778, p. 71.
+
+  Hark!--the waters hush their sighing, and the whippowil her call,
+  Through the moon-lit mists are flying dusky shadows silent all.
+  Lo from out the waters foaming--from the cavern deep and dread--
+    Through the glamour and the gloaming, comes a spirit of the dead.
+  Sad she seems, her tresses raven on her tawny shoulders rest;
+
+  Sorrow on her brow is graven, in her arms a babe is pressed.
+  Hark!--she chants the solemn story,--sings the legend sad and old,
+  And the river wrapt in glory listens while the tale is told.
+  Would you hear the legend olden, hearken while I tell the tale--
+    Shorn, alas, of many a golden, weird Dakota chant and wail.
+
+
+
+
+THE LEGEND.
+
+
+  Tall was young Wanata, stronger than Heyoka's [16] giant form.
+  Laughed at flood and fire and hunger, faced the fiercest winter storm.
+  When Wakinyan [32] flashed and thundered, when Unktehee raved and roared,
+  All but brave Wanata wondered, and the gods with fear implored.
+  When the war-whoop wild resounded, calling friends to meet the foe,
+  From the teepee swift he bounded, armed with polished lance and bow.
+
+  In the battle's din and clangor fast his fatal arrows flew,
+  Flashed his fiery eyes with anger,--many a haughty foe he slew.
+  Hunter, swift was he and cunning, caught the beaver, slew the bear,
+  Overtook the roebuck running, dragged the panther from his lair.
+  Loved was he by many a maiden; many a dark eye glanced in vain;
+  Many a heart with sighs was laden for the love it might not gain.
+  So they called the brave "Ska Capa"; [a] but the fairest of the band--
+    Moon-faced, meek Anpetu-Sapa--won the hunter's heart and hand.
+
+  [a] Or Capa Ska--White beaver. White beavers are very rare, very cunning
+  and hard to catch.
+
+  From the wars with triumph burning, from the chase of bison fleet,
+  To his lodge the brave returning, spread his trophies at her feet.
+  Love and joy sat in the tepee; him a black-eyed boy she bore;
+  But alas, she lived to weep a love she lost forevermore.
+  For the warriors chose Wanata first Itancan [a] of the band.
+  At the council-fire he sat a leader loved a chieftain grand.
+  Proud was fair Anpetu-Sapa, and her eyes were glad with joy;
+  Proud was she and very happy, with her chieftain and her boy.
+  But alas, the fatal honor that her brave Wanata won,
+  Brought a bitter woe upon her,--hid with clouds the summer sun
+  For among the brave Dakotas, wives bring honor to the chief.
+  On the vine-clad Minnesota's banks he met the Scarlet Leaf.
+  Young and fair was Ape-duta [b]--full of craft and very fair;
+  Proud she walked a queen of beauty with her wondrous flowing hair.
+  In her net of hair she caught him--caught Wanata with her wiles;
+  All in vain his wife besought him--begged in vain his wonted smiles.
+  Ape-duta ruled the teepee--all Wanata's smiles were hers;
+  When the lodge was wrapped in sleep a star [c] beheld the mother's tears.
+  Long she strove to do her duty for the black-eyed babe she bore;
+  But the proud, imperious beauty made her sad forevermore.
+  Still she dressed the skins of beaver, bore the burdens, spread the fare;
+  Patient ever, murmuring never, while her cheeks were creased with care.
+
+  [a] E-tan-can--Chief.
+
+
+  [b] A-pe--leaf,--duta--Scarlet,--Scarlet leaf.
+
+
+  [c] Stars, the Dakotas say, are the faces of departed friends and
+  relatives on earth.
+
+  In the moon Maga-o-Kada, [71] twice an hundred years ago--
+  Ere the "Black Robe's" [a] sacred shadow
+          stalked the prairies' pathless snow
+  Down the swollen, rushing river, in the sunset's golden hues,
+  From the hunt of bear and beaver came the band in swift canoes.
+  On the queen of fairy islands, on the Wita-Waste's [b] shore,
+  Camped Wanata, on the highlands, just above the cataract's roar.
+  Many braves were with Wanata; Ape-duta, too, was there,
+  And the sad Anpetu-sapa spread the lodge with wonted care.
+  Then above the leafless prairie leaped the fat faced, laughing moon,
+  And the stars--the spirits fairy--walked the welkin one by one.
+  Swift and silent in the gloaming on the waste of waters blue,
+  Speeding downward to the foaming, shot Wanata's birch canoe,
+  In it stood Anpetu-sapa--in her arms her sleeping child;
+  Like a wailing Norse-land _drapa_ [c] rose her death-song weird and wild:
+
+    Mihihna, [d] Mihihna, my heart is stone;
+    The light is gone from my longing eyes;
+    The wounded loon in the lake alone
+    Her death-song sings to the moon and dies.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, the path is long.
+    The burden is heavy and hard to bear;
+    I sink,--I die, and my dying song
+    Is a song of joy to the false one's ear.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, my young heart flew
+    Far away with my brave to the bison-chase;
+    To the battle it went with my warrior true,
+    And never returned till I saw his face.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, my brave was glad
+    When he came from the chase of the roebuck fleet;
+    Sweet were the words that my hunter said,
+    As his trophies he laid at Anpetu's feet.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, the boy I bore--
+    When the robin sang and my brave was true,
+    I can bear to look on his face no more.
+    For he looks, Mihihna, so much like you.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, the Scarlet Leaf
+    Has robbed my boy of his father's love;
+    He sleeps in my arms--he will find no grief
+    In the star-lit lodge in the land above.
+
+    Mihihna, Mihihna, my heart is stone,
+    The light is gone from my longing eyes;
+    The wounded loon in the lake alone,
+    Her death-song sings to the moon and dies.
+
+  [a] The Dakotas called the Jesuit priests "Black Robes" from the color of
+  their vestments.
+
+  [b] Wee tah Wah-stay--Beautiful Island,--the Dakota name for Nicollet
+  Island just above the Falls.
+
+  [c] _Drapa_, a Norse funeral wail in which the virtues of the
+  deceased are recounted.
+
+  [d] Mee heen-yah--My husband.
+
+  Swiftly down the turbid torrent, as she sung her song she flew;
+  Like a swan upon the current, dancing rode the light canoe.
+  Hunters hurry in the gloaming, all in vain Wanata calls;
+  Singing through the surges foaming, lo she plunges o'er the Falls.
+
+  Long they search the sullen river--searched for leagues along the shore,
+  Bark or babe or mother never saw the sad Dakotas more;
+  But at night or misty morning oft the hunters heard her song,
+  Oft the maidens heard her warning in their mellow mother-tongue.
+
+  On the bluffs they sat enchanted till the blush of beamy dawn;
+  Spirit Isle they say, is haunted, and they call the spot "Wakan." [a]
+  Many summers on the highland, in the full-moon's golden glow--
+  In the woods on Fairy Island, [b] walked a snow white fawn and doe
+  Spirits of the babe and mother sadly seeking evermore,
+  For a father's love another turned with evil charm and power.
+
+  [a] Pronounced Walk on--Sacred, inhabited by a Spirit.
+
+  [b] Fairy Island--Wita Waste--Nicollet Island.
+
+  Sometimes still when moonbeams shimmer through the maples on the lawn,
+  In the gloaming and the glimmer walk the silent doe and fawn;
+  And on Spirit-Isle or near it, under midnight's misty moon,
+  Oft is seen the mother's spirit, oft is heard her mournful tune.
+
+  [Illustration: SCENE ON THUNDER BAY, LAKE SUPERIOR.]
+
+
+
+
+THE SEAGULL. [101]
+
+THE LEGEND OF THE PICTURED ROCKS OF LAKE SUPERIOR. OJIBWAY.
+
+IN THE MEASURE OF HIAWATHA
+
+(The numerals 1 2 etc., refer to Notes to Sea-Gull in Appendix.)
+
+
+  On the shore of Gitchee Gumee--[102]
+  Deep, mysterious, mighty waters--Where the manitoes--the spirits--
+  Ride the storms and speak in thunder,
+  In the days of Neme-Shomis, [103]
+  In the days that are forgotten,
+  Dwelt a tall and tawny hunter--
+  Gitchee Pez-ze-u--the panther,
+  Son of Waub-Ojeeg, [104] the warrior,
+  Famous Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior.
+  Strong was he and fleet as roebuck,
+  Brave was he and very stealthy;
+  On the deer crept like a panther;
+  Grappled with Makwa, [105] the monster,
+  Grappled with the bear and conquered;
+  Took his black claws for a necklet,
+  Took his black hide for a blanket.
+
+  When the Panther wed the Sea-Gull,
+  Young was he and very gladsome;
+  Fair was she and full of laughter;
+  Like the robin in the spring time,
+  Sang from sunrise till the sunset;
+  For she loved the handsome hunter.
+  Deep as Gitchee Gumee's waters
+  Was her love--as broad and boundless;
+  And the wedded twain were happy--
+  Happy as the mated robins.
+  When their first born saw the sunlight
+  Joyful was the heart of Panther,
+  Proud and joyful was the mother.
+  All the days were full of sunshine;
+  All the nights were full of star light.
+  Nightly from the land of spirits
+  On them smiled the starry faces,--
+  Faces of their friends departed.
+  Little moccasins she made him,
+  Feathered cap and belt of wampum;
+  From the hide of fawn a blanket,
+  Fringed with feathers soft as sable;
+  Singing at her pleasant labor,
+  By her side the tekenagun [106]
+  And the little hunter in it.
+  Oft the Panther smiled and fondled,
+  Smiled upon the babe and mother,
+  Frolicked with the boy and fondled.
+  Tall he grew and like his father,
+  And they called the boy the Raven--
+  Called him Kak-kah-ge--the Raven.
+  Happy hunter was the Panther.
+  From the woods he brought the pheasant,
+  Brought the red deer and the rabbit,
+  Brought the trout from Gitchee Gumee--
+
+  Brought the mallard from the marshes,--
+  Royal feast for boy and mother:
+  Brought the hides of fox and beaver,
+  Brought the skins of mink and otter,
+  Lured the loon and took his blanket,
+  Took his blanket for the Raven.
+
+  Winter swiftly followed winter,
+
+  And again the tekenagun
+  Held a babe--a tawny daughter,
+  Held a dark-eyed, dimpled daughter;
+  And they called her Waub-omee-mee,--
+  Thus they named her--the White-Pigeon.
+  But as winter followed winter
+  Cold and sullen grew the Panther;
+  Sat and smoked his pipe in silence;
+  When he spoke he spoke in anger;
+  In the forest often tarried
+  Many days, and homeward turning,
+  Brought no game unto his wigwam:
+  Only brought his empty quiver,
+  Brought his dark and sullen visage.
+
+  Sad at heart and very lonely
+  Sat the Sea-Gull in the wigwam;
+  Sat and swung the tekenagun,
+  Sat and sang to Waub-omee-mee;
+  Thus she sang to Waub-omee-mee,
+  Thus the lullaby she chanted:
+
+    Wa-wa, wa-wa, wa-we-yea;
+    Kah-ween, nee-zheka ke-diaus-ai,
+    Ke-gah nau-wai, ne-me-go s'ween,
+    Ne-baun, ne-baun, ne-daun-is-ais,
+    Wa-wa, wa-wa, wa-we-yea;
+
+    Ne-baun, ne-baun, ne-daun-is-ais,
+
+    E-we wa-wa, wa-we-yea,
+    E-we wa-wa, wa-we-yea,
+
+    [TRANSLATION]
+
+    Swing, swing little one, lullaby;
+    Thou'rt not left alone to weep;
+    Mother cares for you,--she is nigh;
+    Sleep, my little one, sweetly sleep;
+    Swing, swing, little one, lullaby;
+    Mother watches you--she is nigh;
+    Gently, gently, wee one swing;
+    Gently, gently, while I sing
+
+      E-we wa-wa--lullaby,
+      E-we wa-wa---lullaby.
+
+
+  Homeward to his lodge returning
+  Kindly greeting found the hunter,
+  Fire to warm and food to nourish,
+  Golden trout from Gitchee Gumee,
+  Caught by Kak-kah-ge--the Raven.
+  With a snare he caught the rabbit--
+  Caught Wabose, the furry footed, [107]
+  Caught Penay, the forest drummer; [107]
+  Sometimes with his bow and arrows,
+  Shot the red deer in the forest.
+  Shot the squirrel in the pine top,
+  Shot Ne-ka, the wild goose, flying.
+  Proud as Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior,
+  To the lodge he bore his trophies
+  So when homeward turned the Panther
+  Ever found he food provided,
+  Found the lodge-fire brightly burning,
+  Found the faithful Sea-Gull waiting.
+  "You are cold," she said, "and famished;
+  Here are fire and food, my husband."
+  Not by word or look he answered;
+  Only ate the food provided,
+  Filled, his pipe and pensive puffed it,
+  Smoked and sat in sullen silence.
+
+  Once--her dark eyes full of hunger--
+  Thus she spoke and thus besought him:
+  "Tell me, O my silent Panther,
+  Tell me, O beloved husband,
+  What has made you sad and sullen?
+  Have you met some evil spirit--
+  Met some goblin in the forest?
+  Has he put a spell upon you--
+  Filled your heart with bitter waters,
+  That you sit so sad and sullen,
+  Sit and smoke, but never answer,
+  Only when the storm is on you?"
+
+  Gruffly then the Panther answered:
+  "Brave among the brave is Panther,
+  Son of Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior,
+  And the brave are ever silent;
+  But a whining dog is woman,
+  Whining ever like a coward."
+
+  Forth into the tangled forest,
+  Threading through the thorny thickets,
+  Treading, trails on marsh and meadow,
+  Sullen strode the moody hunter.
+  Saw he not the bear or beaver,
+  Saw he not the elk or roebuck;
+  From his path the red fawn scampered,
+  But no arrow followed after;
+  From his den the sly wolf listened,
+  But no twang of bow-string heard he.
+  Like one walking in his slumber,
+  Listless, dreaming walked the Panther;
+  Surely had some witch bewitched him,
+  Some bad spirit of the forest.
+
+  When the Sea-Gull wed the Panther,
+  Fair was she and full of laughter;
+  Like the robin in the spring-time,
+  Sang from sunrise till the sunset;
+  But the storms of many winters
+  Sifted frost upon her tresses,
+  Seamed her tawny face with wrinkles.
+
+  Not alone the storms of winters
+  Seamed her tawny face with wrinkles.
+  Twenty winters for the Panther
+  Had she ruled the humble wigwam;
+  For her haughty lord and master
+  Borne the burdens on the journey,
+  Gathered fagots for the lodge-fire,
+  Tanned the skins of bear and beaver,
+  Tanned the hides of moose and red deer;
+  Made him moccasins and leggings,
+  Decked his hood with quills and feathers--
+  Colored quills of Kaug, the thorny, [108]
+  Feathers from Kenew--the eagle. [108]
+  For a warrior brave was Panther;
+  Often had he met the foemen,
+  Met the bold and fierce Dakotas;
+  Westward on the war-path met them;
+  And the scalps he won were numbered,
+  Numbered seven by Kenew-feathers.
+  Sad at heart was Sea-Gull waiting,
+  Watching, waiting in the wigwam;
+  Not alone the storms of winters
+  Sifted frost upon her tresses.
+
+  Ka-be-bon-ik-ka, the mighty, [109]
+  He that sends the cruel winter,
+  He that turned to stone the Giant,
+  From the distant Thunder-mountain,
+  Far across broad Gitchee Gumee,
+  Sent his warning of the winter,
+  Sent the white frost and Kewaydin, [1010]
+  Sent the swift and hungry North-wind.
+  Homeward to the South the Summer
+  Turned and fled the naked forests.
+  With the Summer flew the robin,
+  Flew the bobolink and blue-bird.
+  Flock wise following chosen leaders,
+  Like the shaftless heads of arrows
+  Southward cleaving through the ether,
+  Soon the wild geese followed after.
+
+  One long moon the Sea-Gull waited,
+  Watched and waited for her husband,
+  Till at last she heard his footsteps,
+  Heard him coming through the thicket.
+  Forth she went to meet her husband,
+  Joyful went to greet her husband.
+  Lo behind the haughty hunter,
+  Closely following in his footsteps,
+  Walked a young and handsome woman,
+  Walked the Red Fox from the island--
+  Gitchee Menis--the Grand Island,--
+  Followed him into the wigwam,
+  Proudly took her seat beside him.
+  On the Red Fox smiled the hunter,
+  On the hunter smiled the woman.
+
+  Old and wrinkled was the Sea-Gull,
+  Good and true, but old and wrinkled.
+  Twenty winters for the Panther
+  Had she ruled the humble wigwam,
+  Borne the burdens on the journey,
+  Gathered fagots for the lodge-fire,
+  Tanned the skins of bear and beaver,
+  Tanned the hides of moose and red deer,
+  Made him moccasins and leggings,
+  Decked his hood with quills and feathers,
+  Colored quills of Kaug, the thorny,
+  Feathers from the great war-eagle;
+  Ever diligent and faithful,
+  Ever patient, ne'er complaining.
+  but like all brave men the Panther
+  Loved a young and handsome woman;
+  So he dallied with the danger,
+  Dallied with the fair Algonkin, [1011]
+  Till a magic mead she gave him,
+  Brewed of buds of birch and cedar. [1012]Madly then he loved the woman;
+  Then she ruled him, then she held him
+  Tangled in her raven tresses,
+  Tied and tangled in her tresses.
+
+  Ah, the tail and tawny Panther!
+  Ah, the brave and brawny Panther!
+  Son of Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior!
+  With a slender hair she led him,
+  With a slender hair he drew him,
+  Drew him often to her wigwam;
+  There she bound him, there she held him
+  Tangled in her raven tresses,
+  Tied and tangled in her tresses.
+  Ah, the best of men are tangled--
+  Sometime tangled in the tresses
+  Of a fair and crafty woman.
+
+  So the Panther wed the Red Fox,
+  And she followed to his wigwam.
+  Young again he seemed and gladsome,
+  Glad as Raven when the father
+  Made his first bow from the elm-tree,
+  From the ash tree made his arrows,
+  Taught him how to aim his arrows,
+  How to shoot Wabose--the rabbit.
+
+  Then again the brawny hunter
+  Brought the black bear and the beaver,
+  Brought the haunch of elk and red-deer,
+  Brought the rabbit and the pheasant--
+  Choicest bits of all for Red Fox.
+  For her robes he brought the sable,
+  Brought the otter and the ermine,
+  Brought the black-fox tipped with silver.
+
+  But the Sea-Gull murmured never,
+  Not a word she spoke in anger,
+  Went about her work as ever,
+  Tanned the skins of bear and beaver,
+  Tanned the hides of moose and red deer,
+  Gathered fagots for the lodge-fire,
+  Gathered rushes from the marches;
+  Deftly into mats she wove them;
+  Kept the lodge as bright as ever.
+  Only to herself she murmured,
+  All alone with Waub-omee-mee,
+  On the tall and toppling highland,
+  O'er the wilderness of waters;
+  Murmured to the murmuring waters,
+  Murmured to the Nebe-naw-baigs--
+  To the spirits of the waters;
+  On the wild waves poured her sorrow,
+  Save the infant on her bosom
+  With her dark eyes wide with wonder,
+  None to hear her but the spirits,
+  And the murmuring pines above her.
+  Thus she cast away her burdens,
+  Cast her burdens on the waters;
+  Thus unto the Mighty Spirit,
+  Made her lowly lamentation:
+  "Wahonowin!--Wahonowin!" [1013]
+  Gitchee Manito, bena nin!
+  Nah, Ba-ba, showain nemeshin!
+  "Wahonowin!--Wahonowin!"
+
+  Ka-be-bon-ik-ka, the mighty, [109]
+  He that sends the cruel winter,
+  From the distant Thunder-mountain,
+  On the shore of Gitchee Gumee--
+  On the rugged northern limit,
+  Sent his solemn, final warning,
+  Sent the white wolves of the Nor'land [1014]
+  Like the dust of stars in ether--
+  In the Pathway of the Spirits. [1015]
+  Like the sparkling dust of diamonds,
+  Fell the frost upon the forest,
+  On the mountains and the meadows,
+  On the wilderness of woodland.
+  On the wilderness of waters.
+  All the lingering fowls departed--
+  All that seek the South in winter,
+  All but Shingebis, the diver. [1016]
+  He defies the Winter-maker,
+  Sits and laughs at Winter-maker.
+
+  Ka-be-bon-ik-ka, the mighty,
+  From his wigwam called Kewaydin,--
+  From his home among the ice-bergs,
+  From the sea of frozen waters,
+  Called the swift and hungry North-wind.
+  Then he spread his mighty pinions
+  Over all the land and shook them,
+  Like the white down of Waubese [1017]
+  Fell the feathery snow and covered,
+  All the marshes and the meadows,
+  All the hill-tops and the highlands.
+  Then old Peboan--the winter--[1018]
+  Laughed along the stormy waters,
+  Danced upon the windy headlands,
+  On the storm his white hair streaming,--
+  And his steaming breath, ascending,
+  On the pine-tops and the cedars
+  Fell in frosty mists refulgent,
+  Sprinkling somber shades with silver,
+  Sprinkling all the woods with silver.
+
+  By the lodge-fire all the winter
+  Sat the Sea-Gull and the Red Fox,
+  Sat and kindly spoke and chatted,
+  Till the twain seemed friends together.
+  Friends they seemed in word and action,
+  But within the breast of either
+  Smouldered still the baneful embers--
+  Fires of jealousy and hatred,--
+
+  Like a camp-fire in the forest
+  Left by hunters and deserted;
+  Only seems a bed of ashes,
+  But the East-wind, Wabun noodin,
+  Scatters through the woods the ashes,
+  Fans to flame the sleeping embers,
+  And the wild-fire roars and rages,
+  Roars and rages through the forest.
+  So the baneful embers smouldered,
+  Smouldered in the breast of either.
+
+  From the far-off Sunny Islands,
+  From the pleasant land of Summer,
+  Where the spirits of the blessed
+  Feel no more the fangs of hunger,
+  Or the cold breath of Kewaydin,
+  Came a stately youth and handsome,
+  Came Segun the foe of Winter. [1019]
+  Like the rising sun his face was,
+  Like the shining stars his eyes were,
+  Light his footsteps as the Morning's.
+  In his hand were buds and blossoms,
+  On his brow a blooming garland.
+  Straightway to the icy wigwam
+  Of old Peboan, the Winter,
+  Strode Segun and quickly entered.
+  There old Peboan sat and shivered,
+  Shivered o'er his dying lodge-fire.
+
+  "Ah, my son, I bid you welcome;
+  Sit and tell me your adventures;
+  I will tell you of my power;
+  We will pass the night together."
+  Thus spake Peboan--the Winter;
+  Then he filled his pipe and lighted;
+  Then by sacred custom raised it
+  To the spirits in the ether;
+  To the spirits in the caverns
+  Of the hollow earth he lowered it.
+  Thus he passed it to the spirits,
+  And the unseen spirits puffed it.
+  Next himself old Peboan honored;
+  Thrice he puffed his pipe and passed it,
+  Passed it to the handsome stranger.
+
+  "Lo I blow my breath," said Winter,
+  "And the laughing brooks are silent;
+  Hard as flint become the waters,
+  And the rabbit runs upon them."
+
+  Then Segun, the fair youth, answered:
+  "Lo I breathe upon the hill-sides,
+  On the valleys and the meadows,
+  And behold, as if by magic--
+  By the magic of the Spirits,
+  Spring the flowers and tender grasses."
+
+  Then old Peboan replying:
+  "Nah! [1020] I breathe upon the forests,
+  And the leaves fall sere and yellow;
+  Then I shake my locks and snow falls,
+  Covering all the naked landscape."
+
+  Then Segun arose and answered:
+  "Nashke! [1020]--see!--I shake my ringlets;
+  On the earth the warm rain falleth,
+  And the flowers look up like children
+  Glad-eyed from their mother's bosom.
+  Lo my voice recalls the robin,
+  Brings the bobolink and blue-bird,
+  And the woods are full of music.
+  With my breath I melt their fetters,
+  And the brooks leap laughing onward."
+
+  Then old Peboan looked upon him,
+  Looked and knew Segun, the Summer,
+  From his eyes the big tears started
+  And his boastful tongue was silent.
+
+  Now Keezis [1021]--the great life-giver,
+  From his wigwam in Waubu-nong [1021]
+  Rose and wrapped his shining blanket
+  Round his giant form and started;
+  Westward started on his journey,
+  Striding on from hill to hill-top.
+  Upward then he climbed the ether--
+  On the Bridge of Stars [1022] he traveled,
+  Westward traveled on his journey
+  To the far-off Sunset Mountains--
+  To the gloomy land of shadows.
+
+
+  On the lodge-poles sang the robin,--
+  And the brooks began to murmur.
+  On the South wind floated fragrance
+  Of the early buds and blossoms.
+  From old Peboan's eyes the teardrops
+  Down his pale face ran in streamlets;
+  Less and less he grew in stature
+  Till he melted doun to nothing;
+  And behold, from out the ashes,
+  From the ashes of his lodge-fire,
+  Sprang the Miscodeed [1023] and, blushing,
+  Welcomed Segun to the North-land.
+
+  So from Sunny Isles returning,
+  From the Summer-Land of spirits,
+  On the poles of Panther's wigwam
+  Sang Opee-chee--sang the robin.
+  In the maples cooed the pigeons--
+  Cooed and wooed like silly lovers.
+  "Hah!--hah!" laughed the crow derisive,
+  In the pine-top, at their folly,--
+  Laughed and jeered the silly lovers.
+  Blind with love were they, and saw not;
+  Deaf to all but love, and heard not;
+  So they cooed and wooed unheeding,
+  Till the gray hawk pounced upon them,
+  And the old crow shook with laughter.
+
+  On the tall cliff by the sea-shore
+  Red Fox made a swing. She fastened
+  Thongs of moose-hide to the pine-tree,
+  To the strong arm of the pine-tree.
+  like a hawk, above the waters,
+  There she swung herself and fluttered,
+
+  Laughing at the thought of danger,
+  Swung and fluttered o'er the waters.
+  Then she bantered Sea-Gull, saying,
+  "See!--I swing above the billows!
+  Dare you swing above the billows,--
+  Swing like me above the billows?"
+
+  To herself said Sea-Gull--"Surely
+  I will dare whatever danger
+  Dares the Red Fox--dares my rival;
+  She shall never call me coward."
+  So she swung above the waters--
+  Dizzy height above the waters,
+  Pushed and aided by her rival,
+  To and fro with reckless daring,
+  Till the strong tree rocked and trembled,
+  Rocked and trembled with its burden.
+  As above the yawning billows
+  Flew the Sea-Gull like a whirlwind,
+  Red Fox, swifter than red lightning,
+  Cut the cords, and headlong downward,
+  Like an osprey from the ether,
+  Like a wild-goose pierced with arrows,
+  Fluttering fell the frantic woman,
+  Fluttering fell into the waters--
+  Plunged and sank beneath the waters!
+  Hark!--the wailing of the West-wind!
+  Hark!--the wailing of the waters,
+  And the beating of the billows!
+  But no more the voice of Sea-Gull.
+
+  In the wigwam sat the Red Fox,
+  Hushed the wail of Waub-omee-mee,
+  Weeping for her absent mother.
+  With the twinkling stars the hunter
+  From the forest came and Raven.
+  "Sea-Gull wanders late" said Red Fox,
+  "Late she wanders by the sea-shore,
+  And some evil may befall her."
+
+  In the misty morning twilight
+  Forth went Panther and the Raven,
+  Searched the forest and the marshes,
+  Searched for leagues along the lake-shore,
+  Searched the islands and the highlands;
+  But they found no trace or tidings,
+  Found no track in marsh or meadow,
+  Found no trail in fen or forest,
+  On the shore sand found no foot-prints.
+  Many days they sought and found not.
+  Then to Panther spoke the Raven:
+  "She is in the Land of Spirits--
+  Surely in the Land of Spirits.
+  High at midnight I beheld her--
+  Like a flying star beheld her--
+  To the waves of Gitchee Gumee,
+  Downward flashing through the ether.
+  Thus she flashed that I might see her,
+  See and know my mother's spirit;
+  Thus she pointed to the waters,
+  And beneath them lies her body,
+  In the wigwam of the spirits--
+  In the lodge of Nebe-naw-baigs." [1024]
+
+  Then spoke Panther to the Raven:
+  "On the tall cliff by the waters
+  Wait and watch with Waub-omee-mee.
+  If the Sea-Gull hear the wailing
+  Of her infant she will answer."
+
+  On the tall cliff by the waters
+  So the Raven watched and waited;
+  All the day he watched and waited,
+  But the hungry infant slumbered,
+  Slumbered by the side of Raven,
+  Till the pines' gigantic shadows
+  Stretched and pointed to Waubu-Nong--[1021]
+  To the far off land of Sunrise;
+  Then the wee one woke and famished,
+  Made a long and piteous wailing.
+
+  From afar where sky and waters
+  Meet in misty haze and mingle,
+  Straight toward the rocky highland,
+  Straight as flies die feathered arrow,
+  Straight to Raven and the infant
+  Swiftly flew a snow white sea-gull.--
+  Flew and touched the earth a woman.
+  And behold, the long-lost mother
+  Caught her wailing child and nursed her,
+  Sang a lullaby and nursed her.
+
+  Thrice was wound a chain of silver
+  Round her waist and strongly fastened.
+  Far away into the waters--
+  To the wigwam of the spirits,--
+  To the lodge of Nebe-naw-baigs,--
+  Stretched the magic chain of silver.
+
+  Spoke the mother to the Raven:
+  "O my son--my brave young hunter,
+  Feed my tender little orphan;
+  Be a father to my orphan;
+  Be a mother to my orphan,--
+  For the Crafty Red Fox robbed us,--
+  Robbed the Sea-Gull of her husband,
+  Robbed the infant of her mother.
+  From this cliff the treacherous woman
+  Headlong into Gitchee Gumee
+  Plunged the mother of my orphan.
+  Then a Nebe-naw-baig caught me,--
+  Chief of all the Nebe-naw-baigs--
+  Took me to his shining wigwam,
+  In the cavern of the waters,
+  Deep beneath the might waters.
+  All below is burnished copper,
+  All above is burnished silver
+  Gemmed with amethyst and agates.
+  As his wife the Spirit holds me;
+  By this silver chain he holds me.
+
+  When my little one is famished,
+  When with long and piteous wailing
+  Cries the orphan for her mother,
+  Hither bring her, O my Raven;
+  I will hear her,--I will answer.
+  Now the Nebe-naw-baig calls me,--
+  Pulls the chain,--I must obey him."
+
+  Thus she spoke and in the twinkling
+  Of a star the spirit-woman
+  Changed into a snow-white sea-gull,
+  Spread her wings and o'er the waters
+  Swiftly flew and swiftly vanished.
+
+  Then in secret to the Panther
+  Raven told his tale of wonder.
+  Sad and sullen was the hunter;
+  Sorrow gnawed his heart like hunger;
+  All the old love came upon him,
+  And the new love was a hatred.
+  Hateful to his heart was Red Fox,
+  But he kept from her the secret--
+  Kept his knowledge of the murder.
+  Vain was she and very haughty---
+
+  Oge-ma-kwa [1025] of the wigwam.
+  All in vain her fond caresses
+  On the Panther now she lavished;
+  When she smiled his face was sullen,
+  When she laughed he frowned upon her;
+  In her net of raven tresses
+  Now no more she held him tangled.
+  Now through all her fair disguises
+  Panther saw an evil spirit,
+  Saw the false heart of the woman.
+
+  On the tall cliff o'er the waters
+  Raven sat with Waub-omee-mee,
+  Sat and watched again and waited,
+  Till the wee one faint and famished,
+  Made a long and piteous wailing.
+  Then again the snow-white Sea-Gull
+  From afar where sky and waters
+  Meet in misty haze and mingle,
+  Straight toward the rocky highland,
+  Straight as flies the feathered arrow,
+  Straight to Raven and the infant,
+  With the silver chain around her,
+  Flew and touched the earth a woman.
+  In her arms she caught her infant--
+  Caught the wailing Waub-omee-mee,
+  Sang a lullaby and nursed her.
+
+  Sprang the Panther from the thicket--
+  Sprang and broke the chain of silver!
+  With his tomahawk he broke it.
+  Thus he freed the willing Sea-Gull--
+  From the Water-Spirit freed her,
+  From the Chief of Nebe-naw-baigs.
+
+  Very angry was the Spirit;
+  When he drew the chain of silver,
+  Drew and found that it was broken,
+  Found that he had lost the woman,
+  Very angry was the Spirit.
+  Then he raged beneath the waters,
+  Raged and smote the mighty waters,
+  Till the big sea boiled and bubbled,
+  Till the white-haired, bounding billows
+  Roared around the rocky head-lands,
+  Roared and plashed upon the shingle.
+
+  To the wigwam happy Panther,
+  As when first he wooed and won her,
+  Led his wife--as young and handsome.
+  For the waves of Gitchee Gumee
+  Washed away the frost and wrinkles,
+  And the Spirits by their magic
+  Made her young and fair forever.
+
+  In the wigwam sat the Red Fox,
+  Sat and sang a song of triumph,
+  For she little dreamed of danger,
+  Till the haughty hunter entered,
+  Followed by the happy mother,
+  Holding in her arms her infant.
+  Then the Red Fox saw the Sea-Gull--
+  Saw the dead a living woman,
+  One wild cry she gave despairing,
+  One wild cry as of a demon.
+  Up she sprang and from the wigwam
+  To the tall cliff flew in terror;
+  Frantic sprang upon the margin,
+  Frantic plunged into the water,
+  Headlong plunged into the waters.
+
+  Dead she tossed upon the billows;
+  For the Nebe-naw-baigs knew her,
+  Knew the crafty, wicked woman,
+  And they cast her from the waters,
+  Spurned her from their shining wigwams;
+  Far away upon the shingle
+  With the roaring waves they cast her.
+  There upon her bloated body
+  Fed the cawing crows and ravens,
+  Fed the hungry wolves and foxes.
+
+  On the shore of Gitchee Gumee,
+  Ever young and ever handsome,
+  Long and happy lived the Sea-Gull,
+  Long and happy with the Panther.
+  Evermore the happy hunter
+  Loved the mother of his children.
+  Like a red star many winters
+  Blazed their lodge-fire on the sea-shore.
+  O'er the Bridge of Souls together [1026]
+  Walked the Sea-Gull and the Panther.
+  To the far-off Sunny Islands--
+  To the Summer-Land of Spirits,
+  Where no more the happy hunter
+  Feels the fangs of frost or famine,
+  Or the keen blasts of Kewaydin.
+  Where no pain or sorrow enters,
+  And no crafty, wicked woman,
+  Sea-Gull journeyed with her husband.
+  There she rules his lodge forever,
+  And the twain are very happy,
+  On the far-off Sunny Islands,
+  In the Summer-Land of Spirits.
+
+  On the rocks of Gitchee Gumee--
+  On the Pictured Rocks--the Legend
+  Long ago was traced and written,
+  Pictured by the Water Spirits;
+  But the storms of many winters
+  Have bedimmed the pictured story,
+  So that none can read the legend
+  But the Jossakeeds, the prophets. [1027]
+
+  [Illustration: CRYSTAL BAY, LAKE MINNETONKA.]
+
+
+
+
+MINNETONKA
+
+Note: The Dakota name for this beautiful lake is _Me-ne-a-tan-ka_--Broad
+Water. By dropping the a before tanka, we have changed the name to _Big
+Water_.
+
+
+  I sit once more on breezy shore, at sunset in this glorious June.
+  I hear the dip of gleaming oar. I list the singer's merry tune.
+  Beneath my feet the waters beat and ripple on the polished stones.
+  The squirrel chatters from his seat: the bag-pipe beetle hums and drones.
+  The pink and gold in blooming wold,--the green hills mirrored in the lake!
+  The deep, blue waters, zephyr-rolled, along the murmuring pebbles break.
+  The maples screen the ferns, and lean the leafy lindens o'er the deep;
+  The sapphire, set in emerald green, lies like an Orient gem asleep.
+  The crimsoned west glows like the breast of _Rhuddin_ [a]
+          when he pipes in May,
+  As downward droops the sun to rest, and shadows gather on the bay.
+
+  [a] The Welsh name for the robin.
+
+  In amber sky the swallows fly, and sail and circle o'er the deep;
+  The light-winged night-hawks whir and cry; the silver pike and salmon leap.
+  The rising moon, the woods aboon, looks laughing down on lake and lea;
+  Weird o'er the waters shrills the loon; the high stars twinkle in the sea.
+  From bank and hill the whippowil sends piping forth his flute-like notes,
+  And clear and shrill the answers trill from leafy isles and silver throats.
+  The twinkling light on cape and height; the hum of voices on the shores;
+  The merry laughter on the night; the dip and plash of frolic oars,--
+  These tell the tale. On hill and dale the cities pour their gay and fair;
+  Along the sapphire lake they sail, and quaff like wine the balmy air.
+
+  'Tis well. Of yore from isle and shore
+          the smoke of Indian teepees [a] rose;
+  The hunter plied the silent oar; the forest lay in still repose.
+  The moon-faced maid, in leafy glade, her warrior waited from the chase;
+  The nut-brown, naked children played, and chased the gopher on the grass.
+  The dappled fawn, on wooded lawn, peeped out upon the birch canoe,
+  Swift-gliding in the gray of dawn along the silent waters blue.
+  In yonder tree the great _Wanm-dee_ [b] securely built her spacious nest;
+  The blast that swept the land-locked sea [c]
+          but rocked her clamorous babes to rest.
+  By grassy mere the elk and deer gazed on the hunter as he came;
+  Nor fled with fear from bow or spear;--"so wild were they that they were
+  tame."
+
+  [a] Lodges.
+
+  [b] Wanm-dee--the war-eagle of the Dakotas.
+
+  [c] Lake Superior.
+
+  Ah, birch canoe, and hunter, too, have long forsaken lake and shore:
+  He bade his father's bones adieu and turned away forevermore.
+  But still, methinks, on dusky brinks the spirit of the warrior moves;
+  At crystal springs the hunter drinks, and nightly haunts the spot he loves.
+  For oft at night I see the light of lodge-fires on the shadowy shores,
+  And hear the wail some maiden's sprite above her slaughtered warrior pours.
+  I hear the sob on Spirit Knob [a] of Indian mother o'er her child;
+  And on the midnight waters throb her low _yun-he-he's_ [b] weird and wild.
+  And sometimes, too, the light canoe glides like a shadow o'er the deep
+  At midnight, when the moon is low, and all the shores are hushed in sleep.
+
+  [a] Spirit Knob is a small hill up on a point in the lake in full view
+  from Wayzata. The spirit of a Dakota mother whose only child was drowned
+  in the lake during a storm, many, many years ago often wails at midnight
+  (so the Dakotas say), on this hill.  So they called it _Wa-na-gee
+  Pa-ze-dan_--Spirit Knob. (Literally--little hill of the spirit.)
+
+  [b] Pronounced _Yoon-hay-hay_--the exclamation used by Dakota women
+  in their lament for the dead, and equivalent to "woe is me."
+
+  Alas--Alas!--for all things pass; and we shall vanish, too, as they;
+  We build our monuments of brass, and granite, but they waste away.
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+
+[Footnote 1: Called in the Dakota tongue "Hok-see-win-na-pee
+Wo-han-pee"--Virgins Dance (or Feast).]
+
+[Footnote 2: One of the favorite and most exciting games of the Dakotas
+is ball-playing. A smooth place on the prairie, or in winter, on a
+frozen lake or river, is chosen. Each player has a sort of bat, called
+"Ta-kee-cha-pse-cha," about thirty two inches long with a hoop at the
+lower end four or five inches in diameter, interlaced with thongs of
+deer-skin, forming a sort of pocket. With these bats they catch and
+throw the ball. Stakes are set as bounds at a considerable distance from
+the centre on either side. Two parties are then formed, and each chooses
+a leader or chief. The ball (Ta-pa) is then thrown up half way between
+the bounds, and the game begins, the contestants contending with their
+bats for the ball as it falls. When one succeeds in getting it fairly in
+the pocket of his bat he swings it aloft and throws it as far as he can
+towards the bound to which his party is working, taking care to send it,
+if possible, where some of his own side will take it up. Thus the ball
+is thrown and contended for till one party succeeds in casting it
+beyond the bound of the opposite party. A hundred players on a side are
+sometimes engaged in this exciting game. Betting on the result often
+runs high. Moccasins, pipes, knives, hatchets, blankets, robes and guns
+are hung on the prize-pole. Not unfrequently horses are staked on the
+issue, and sometimes even women. Old men and mothers are among the
+spectators praising their swift-footed sons, and young wives and maidens
+are there to stimulate their husbands and lovers. This game is not
+confined to the warriors, but is also a favorite amusement of the Dakota
+maidens who generally play for prizes offered by the chief or warriors.
+See Neill's Hist. Minn. pp 74-5; Riggs' "Takoo Wakan," pp 44-5, and Mrs
+Eastman's Dacotah, p 55.]
+
+[Footnote 3: Pronounced Wah-zee-yah. The god of the North, or Winter. A
+fabled spirit who dwells in the frozen North, in a great teepee of
+ice and snow. From his mouth and nostrils he blows the cold blasts of
+winter. He and "I-to-ka-ga Wi-cas-ta"--the spirit or god of the South
+(literally the "South Man"), are inveterate enemies, and always on the
+war-path against each other. In winter Wa-zi-ya advances southward and
+drives "I-to-ka-ga Wi-cas-ta" before him to the Summer-Islands. But in
+Spring the god of the South, having renewed his youth and strength, in
+the "Happy Hunting Grounds," is able to drive Wa-zi-ya back again to
+his icy wigwam in the North. Some Dakotas say that the numerous granite
+boulders, scattered over the prairies of Minnesota and Dakota, were
+hurled in battle by Wa-zi-ya from his home in the North at "I-to-ka-ga
+Wi-cas-ta." The Wa-zi-ya of the Dakotas is substantially the name as
+"_Ka-be-bon-ik-ka_"--the "Winter-maker" of the Ojibways.]
+
+[Footnote 4: Mendota--(meeting of the waters) at the confluence of the
+Mississippi and Minnesota rivers. See view of the valley--front cut. The
+true Dakota word is Mdo te--applied to the mouth of a river flowing into
+another,--also to the outlet of a lake.]
+
+[Footnote 5: Pronounced Wee-wah-stay; literally--a beautiful virgin, or
+woman.]
+
+[Footnote 6: Cetan-wa-ka-wa-mani--"He who shoots pigeon-hawks
+walking"--was the full Dakota name of the grandfather of the celebrated
+"Little Crow" (Ta-o-ya-te-du-ta.--His Red People) who led his warriors
+in the terrible outbreak in Minnesota in 1862-3. The Chippewas called
+the grandfather "Ka-ka-kee"--crow or raven--from his war-badge, a
+crow-skin; and hence the French traders and _courriers du bois_ called
+him "_Petit Corbeau_"--Little Crow. This sobriquet, of which he was
+proud, descended to his son, Wakinyan Tanka--Big Thunder, who succeeded
+him as chief; and from Big Thunder to his son Ta-o-ya-te-du-ta, who
+became chief on the death of Wakinyan Tanka. These several "Little
+Crows" were successively Chiefs of the Light-foot, or Kapoza band of
+Dakotas. Kapoza, the principal village of this band, was originally
+located on the east bank of the Mississippi near the site of the city
+of St. Paul. Col. Minn. Hist. Soc., 1864, p. 29. It was in later years
+moved to the west bank. The grandfather, whom I, for short, call Wakawa,
+died the death of a brave in battle against the Ojibways (commonly
+called Chippewas)--the hereditary enemies of the Dakotas. Wakinyan
+Tanka.--Big Thunder, was killed by the accidental discharge of his own
+gun. They were both buried with their kindred near the "Wakan Teepee,"
+the sacred Cave--(Carver's Cave). Ta-o-ya-te-du-ta, the last of the
+Little Crows, was killed July 3, 1863, near Hutchinson, Minnesota, by
+one Lamson, and his bones were duly "done up" for the Historical Society
+of Minnesota. For a part of the foregoing information I am indebted
+to Gen. H. H. Sibley. See Heard's Hist. Sioux War, and Neill's Hist.
+Minnesota, Third Edition.]
+
+[Footnote 7: Harps-te-nah. The first-born _daughter_ of a Dakota is
+called Winona; the second, Harpen; the third, Harpstina; the fourth.
+Waska; the fifth, Weharka. The first born _son_ is called Chaske; the
+second, Harpam; the third, Hapeda; the fourth, Chatun; the fifth, Harka.
+They retain these names till others are given them on account of some
+action, peculiarity, etc. The females often retain their child-names
+through life.]
+
+[Footnote 8: Wah-pah-sah was the hereditary name of a long and
+illustrious lineof Dakota Chiefs. Wabashaw is a corrupt pronounciation.
+The name is a contraction of "Wa-pa-ha-sa," which is from "Wa-ha-pa,"
+the standard or pole used in the Dakota dances, and upon which feathers
+of various colors are tied, and not from "Wa-pa"--leaf or leaves, as has
+been generally supposed. Therefore Wapasa means the Standard--and not
+the "Leaf-Shaker," as many writers have it. The principal village of
+these hereditary Chiefs was Ke-uk-sa, or Ke-o-sa,--where now stands the
+fair city of Winona. Ke-uk-sa signifies--The village of law-breakers;
+so-called because this band broke the law or custom of the Dakotas
+against marrying blood relatives of any degree. I get this information
+from Rev. Stephen R. Riggs, author of the Dakota Grammar and Dictionary,
+"_Takoo Wakan_," etc. Wapasa, grandfather of the last Chief of that
+name, and a contemporary of Cetan-Wa-ka-wa-mani, was a noted Chief,
+and a friend of the British in the war of the Revolution. Neill's Hist.
+Minn., pp. 225-9.]
+
+[Footnote 9: E-ho, E-to--Exclamations of surprise and delight.]
+
+[Footnote 10: Mah-gah--The wild-goose.]
+
+[Footnote 11: Tee-pee--A lodge or wigwam, often contracted to "tee."]
+
+[Footnote 12: Pronounced Mahr-pee-yah-doo-tah--literally, Cloud Red.]
+
+[Footnote 13: Pronounced Wahnmdee--The War-Eagle. Each feather worn by a
+warrior represents an enemy slain or captured--man, woman or child; but
+the Dakotas, before they became desperate under the cruel warfare of
+their enemies, generally spared the lives of their captives, and never
+killed women or infants, except in rare instances, under the _lex
+talionis_. Neill's Hist. Minn., p. 112.]
+
+[Footnote 14: Mah-to--The polar bear--_ursus maritimus_. The Dakotas say
+that, in olden times, white bears were often found about Rainy Lake
+and the Lake of the Woods, in winter, and sometimes as far south as the
+mouth of the Minnesota. They say one was once killed at White Bear Lake
+(but a few miles from St. Paul and Minneapolis), and they therefore
+named the lake Mede Mato--White Bear Lake.]
+
+[Footnote 15: The Ho-he (Ho-hay) are the Assiniboins or
+"Stone-roasters." Their home is the region of the Assiniboin river in
+British America. They speak the Dakota tongue, and originally were a
+band of that nation. Tradition says a Dakota "Helen" was the cause of
+the separation and a bloody feud that lasted for many years. The Hohes
+are called "Stone roasters," because, until recently at least, they used
+"Wa-ta-pe" kettles and vessels made of birch bark in which they cooked
+their food. They boiled water in these vessels by heating stones and
+putting them in the water. The "wa-ta-pe" kettle is made of the fibrous
+roots of the white cedar, interlaced and tightly woven. When the vessel
+is soaked it becomes watertight. (Footnote Snelling's) Tales of the
+North west, p 21. Mackenzie's Travels.]
+
+[Footnote 16: Hey-o-ka is one of the principal Dakota deities. He is a
+Giant, but can change himself into a buffalo, a bear, a fish or a bird.
+He is called the Anti-natural God or Spirit. In summer he shivers with
+cold, in winter he suffers from heat; he cries when he laughs and he
+laughs when he cries, &c. He is the reverse of nature in all things.
+Heyoka is universally feared and reverenced by the Dakotas, but so
+severe is the ordeal that the Heyoka Wacipee (the dance to Heyoka) is
+now rarely celebrated. It is said that the "Medicine-men" use a secret
+preparation which enables them to handle fire and dip their hands in
+boiling water without injury, and thereby gain great _eclat_ from the
+uninitiated. The chiefs and the leading warriors usually belong to the
+secret order of "Medicine-men," or "Sons of Unktehee"--the Spirit of the
+Waters.]
+
+[Footnote 17: The Dakota name for the moon is Han-ye-tu-wee--literally,
+Night-Sun. He is the twin brother of An-pe-tu-wee--the Day Sun. See note
+70.]
+
+[Footnote 18: The Dakotas believe that the stars are the spirits of
+their departed friends.]
+
+[Footnote 19: Tee--Contracted from teepee, lodge or wigwam, and means
+the same.]
+
+[Footnote 20: For all their sacred feasts the Dakotas kindle a new
+fire called "The Virgin Fire." This is done with flint and steel, or by
+rubbing together pieces of wood till friction produces fire. It must be
+done by a virgin, nor must any woman, except a virgin, ever touch the
+"sacred armor" of a Dakota warrior. White cedar is "Wakan"--sacred. See
+note 50. Riggs' "Tahkoo Wakan," p. 84.]
+
+[Footnote 21: All Northern Indians consider the East a mysterious
+and sacred land whence comes the sun. The Dakota name for the East is
+Wee-yo-hee-yan-pa--the sunrise. The Ojibways call it Waub-o-nong--the
+white land or land of light, and they have many myths, legends and
+traditions relating thereto. Barbarous peoples of all times have
+regarded the East with superstitious reverence, simply because the sun
+rises in that quarter.]
+
+[Footnote 22: See Mrs. Eastman's Dacotah, pp. 225-8, describing the
+feast to Heyoka.]
+
+[Footnote 23: This stone from which the Dakotas have made their pipes
+for ages, is esteemed "wakan"--sacred. They call it I-yan-ska, probably
+from "iya," to speak, and "ska," white, truthful, peaceful,--hence,
+peace-pipe, herald of peace, pledge of truth, etc. In the cabinet at
+Albany, N.Y., there is a very ancient pipe of this material which the
+Iroquois obtained from the Dakotas. Charlevoix speaks of this pipe-stone
+in his History of New France. LeSueur refers to the Yanktons as the
+village of the Dakotas at the Red-Stone Quarry, See Neill's Hist. Minn.,
+p. 514.]
+
+[Footnote 24: "Ho" is an exclamation of approval---yea, yes, bravo.]
+
+[Footnote 25: Buying is the honorable way of taking a wife among the
+Dakotas. The proposed husband usually gives a horse or its, value
+in other articles to the father or natural guardian of the woman
+selected--sometimes against her will. See note 75.]
+
+[Footnote 26: The Dakotas believe that the _Aurora Borealis_ is an
+evil omen and the threatening of an evil spirit, (perhaps Waziya, the
+Winter-god--some say a witch, or a very ugly old woman). When the lights
+appear, danger threatens, and the warriors shoot at, and often slay, the
+evil spirit, but it rises from the dead again.]
+
+[Footnote 27: Se-so-kah--The Robin.]
+
+[Footnote 28: The spirit of Anpetu-sapa that haunts the Falls of St.
+Anthony with her dead babe in her arms. See the Legend in Neill's Hist.
+Minn., or my "Legend of the Falls."]
+
+[Footnote 29: Mee-coonk-shee--My daughter.]
+
+[Footnote 30: The Dakotas call the meteor, "Wakan-denda" (sacred fire)
+and Wakan-wohlpa (sacred gift.) Meteors are messengers from the Land
+of Spirits, warning of impending danger. It is a curious fact that the
+"sacred stone" of the Mohammedans, in the Kaaba at Mecca, is a meteoric
+stone, and obtains its sacred character from the fact that it fell from
+heaven. 31: Kah-no-te-dahn--The little, mysterious dweller in the woods.
+This spirit lives in the forest in hollow trees. Mrs. Eastman's Dacotah,
+Pre. Rem. xxxi. "The Dakota god of the woods--an unknown animal said to
+resemble a man, which the Dakotas worship; perhaps, the monkey." Riggs'
+Dakota Dic. Tit--_Canotidan_.]
+
+[Footnote 32: The Dakotas believe that thunder is produced by the
+flapping of the wings of an immense bird which they call Wakinyan--the
+Thunder-bird. Near the source of the Minnesota River is a place called
+"Thunder-Tracks" where the foot-prints of a "Thunder-bird" are seen on
+the rocks twenty-five miles apart. Mrs. Eastman's Dacotah, p. 71. There
+are many Thunder-birds. The father of all the Thunder-birds--"Wakinyan
+Tanka"--or "Big Thunder," has his teepee on a lofty mountain in the far
+West. His teepee has four openings, at each of which is a sentinel; at
+the east, a butterfly; at the west, a bear; at the south, a red deer;
+at the north, a caribou. He has a bitter enmity against Unktehee (god
+of waters) and often shoots his fiery arrows at him, and hits the earth,
+trees, rocks, and sometimes men. Wakinyan created wild-rice, the bow and
+arrow, the tomahawk and the spear. He is a great war-spirit, and Wanmdee
+(the war-eagle) is his messenger. A Thunder-bird (say the Dakotas) was
+once killed near Kapoza by the son of Cetan-Wakawa-mani, and he there
+upon took the name of "Wakinyan Tanka"--"Big Thunder."]
+
+[Footnote 33: Pronounced Tah-tahn-kah--Bison or Buffalo.]
+
+[Footnote 34: Enah--An exclamation of wonder. Eho--Behold! see there!]
+
+[Footnote 35: The Crees are the Knisteneaux of Alexander Mackenzie.
+See his account of them, Mackenzie's Travels, (London 1801) p. xci. to
+cvii.]
+
+[Footnote 36: Lake Superior. The only names the Dakotas have for
+Lake Superior are Mede Tanka or Tanka Mede--Great Lake, and
+Me-ne-ya-ta--literally, _At-the-Water_.]
+
+[Footnote 37: April--Literally, the moon when the geese lay eggs. See
+note 71.]
+
+[Footnote 38: Carver's Cave at St. Paul was called by the Dakotas "Wakan
+Teepee"--sacred lodge. In the days that are no more, they lighted their
+Council-fires in this cave, and buried their dead near it. See Neill's
+Hist. Minn., p. 207. Capt. Carver in his _Travels_, London, 1778, p. 63,
+et seq., describes this cave as follows: "It is a remarkable cave of an
+amazing depth. The Indians term it Wakon-teebe, that is, the Dwelling
+of the Great Spirit. The entrance into it is about ten feet wide, the
+height of it five feet, the arch within is near fifteen feet high and
+about thirty feet broad. The bottom of it consists of fine clear sand.
+About twenty feet from the entrance begins a lake, the water of which is
+transparent, and extends to an unsearchable distance; for the darkness
+of the cave prevents all attempts to acquire a knowledge of it. I threw
+a small pebble towards the interior parts of it with my utmost strength.
+I could hear that it fell into the water, and notwithstanding it was
+of so small a size, it caused an astonishing and horrible noise that
+reverberated through all those gloomy regions. I found in this cave many
+Indian hieroglyphics, which appeared very ancient, for time had nearly
+covered them with moss, so that it was with difficulty I could trace
+them. They were cut in a rude manner upon the inside of the walls,
+which were composed of a stone so extremely soft that it might be
+easily penetrated with a knife: a stone everywhere to be found near the
+Mississippi. This cave is only accessible by ascending a narrow, steep
+passage that lies near the brink of the river. At a little distance
+from this dreary cavern is the burying-place of several bands of the
+Naudowessie (Dakota) Indians." Many years ago the roof fell in, but the
+cave has been partially restored and is now used as a beer cellar.]
+
+[Footnote 39: Wah-kahn-dee--The lightning.]
+
+[Footnote 40: The Bloody River--the Red River was so-called on account
+of the numerous Indian battles that have been fought on its banks. The
+Chippewas say that its waters were colored red by the blood of many
+warriors slain on its banks in the fierce wars between themselves and
+the Dakotas.]
+
+[Footnote 41: Tah--The Moose. This is the root-word for all ruminating
+animals; Ta-tanka, buffalo---Ta-toka mountain antelope--Ta-hinca, the
+red-deer--Ta-mdoka, the buck deer---Ta-hinca-ska, white deer (sheep).]
+
+[Footnote 42: Hogahn--Fish. Red Hogan, the trout.]
+
+[Footnote 43: Tipsanna (often called _tipsinna_) is a wild prairie
+turnip used for food by the Dakotas. It grows on high, dry land, and
+increases from year to year. It is eaten both cooked and raw.]
+
+[Footnote 44: Rio Tajo, (or Tagus), a river of Spain and Portugal.]
+
+[Footnote 45:
+
+  "* * * * Bees of Trebizond--
+   Which from the sunniest flowers that glad
+   With their pure smile the gardens round,
+   Draw venom forth that drives men mad."
+
+    --_Thomas Moore_]
+
+[Footnote 46: Skee-skah--The Wood duck.]
+
+[Footnote 47: The Crocus. I have seen the prairies in Minnesota spangled
+with these beautiful flowers in various colors before the ground was
+entirely free from frost. The Datotas call them frost-flowers.]
+
+[Footnote 48: The "Sacred Ring" around the feast of the Virgins is
+formed by armed warriors sitting, and none but a virgin must enter this
+ring. The warrior who knows is bound on honor, and by old and sacred
+custom, to expose and publicly denounce any tarnished maiden who dares
+to enter this ring, and his word cannot be questioned--even by the
+chief. See Mrs Eastman's Dacotah, p. 64.]
+
+[Footnote 49: Prairie's Pride.--This annual shrub, which abounds on many
+of the sandy prairies in Minnesota, is sometimes called "tea-plant,"
+"sage-plant," and "red-root willow." I doubt if it has any botanic
+name. Its long plumes of purple and gold are truly the "pride of the
+prairies."]
+
+[Footnote 50: The Dakotas consider white cedar "Wakan," (sacred). They
+use sprigs of it at their feasts, and often burn it to destroy the power
+of evil spirits. Mrs Eastman's Dacotah, p. 210.]
+
+[Footnote 51: Tahkoo-skahng-skang.--This deity is supposed to be
+invisible, yet everywhere present; he is an avenger and a searcher of
+hearts. (Neill's Hist. Minn., p. 57.) I suspect he was the chief spirit
+of the Dakotas before the missionaries imported "Wakan Tanka"--(Great
+Spirit).]
+
+[Footnote 52: The Dakotas believe in "were-wolves" as firmly as did our
+Saxon ancestors, and for similar reasons--the howl of the wolf being
+often imitated as a decoy or signal by their enemies, the Ojibways.]
+
+[Footnote 53: Shee-sho-kah--The Robin.]
+
+[Footnote 54: The Dakotas cail the Evening Star the "_Virgin Star_," and
+believe it to be the spirit of the virgin wronged at the feast.]
+
+[Footnote 55: Mille Lacs. This lake was discovered by DuLuth, and by
+him named Lac Buade, in honor of Governor Frontenac of Canada, whose
+familyname was Buade. The Dakota name for it is Mde Waksan--Spirit
+Lake.]
+
+[Footnote 56: The Ojibways imitate the hoot of the owl and the howl of
+the wolf to perfection, and often use these cries as signals to each
+other in war and the chase.]
+
+[Footnote 57: The Dakotas called the Ojibways the "Snakes of the
+Forest," on account of their lying in ambush for their enemies.]
+
+[Footnote 58: Strawberries.]
+
+[Footnote 59: See-yo--The Prairie-hen.]
+
+[Footnote 60: Mahgah--The Wild-goose. _Fox-pups_. I could never see the
+propriety of calling the young of foxes _kits_ or _kittens_, which mean
+_little cats_. The fox belongs to the _canis_, or dog family and not the
+_felis_, or cat family. If it is proper to call the young of dogs and
+wolves _pups_, it is equally proper to so call the young of foxes.]
+
+[Footnote 61: When a Dakota is sick, he thinks the spirit of an enemy or
+some animal has entered into his body, and the principal business of the
+"medicine man"--_Wicasta Wakan_--is to cast out the "unclean spirit,"
+with incantations and charms. See Neill's Hist. Minn., pp. 66--8. The
+Jews entertained a similar belief in the days of Jesus of Nazareth.]
+
+[Footnote 62: Wah-zee-yah's star--The North-star. See note 3.]
+
+[Footnote 63: The Dakotas, like our forefathers and all other
+barbarians, believe in witches and witchcraft.]
+
+[Footnote 64: The Medo is a wild potato, it resembles the sweet potato
+in top and taste. It grows in bottom-lands, and is much prized by the
+Dakotas for food. The "Dakota Friend," for December, 1850.]
+
+[Footnote 65: The meteor--Wakan denda--Sacred fire.]
+
+[Footnote 66: Meetahwin--My bride.]
+
+[Footnote 67: Stoke--The body of a tree. This is an old English word of
+Saxon origin, now changed to _stock_.]
+
+[Footnote 68: The _Via Lactea_ or Milky Way. The Dakotas call it
+_Wanagee-Tach-anku_--The path-way of the spirits and believe that over
+this path the spirits of the dead pass to the Spirit-land. See Riggs'
+Tah-koo Wah-kan, p. 101.]
+
+[Footnote 69: Oonk-tay-hee--There are many Unktehees, children of the
+Great Unktehee, who created the earth and man and who formerly dwelt
+in a vast cavern under the Falls of St. Anthony. The Unktehee sometimes
+reveals himself in the form of a huge buffalo-bull. From him proceed
+invisible influences. The Great Unktehee created the earth. "Assembling
+in grand conclave all the aquatic tribes he ordered them to bring up
+dirt from beneath the waters, and proclaimed death to the disobedient.
+The beaver and otter forfeited their lives. At last the muskrat went
+beneath the waters, and, after a long time appeared at the surface,
+nearly exhausted, with some dirt. From this, Unktehee fashioned the
+earth into a large circular plain. The earth being finished, he took a
+deity, one of his own offspring, and grinding him to powder, sprinkled
+it upon the earth, and this produced many worms. The worms were then
+collected and scattered again. They matured into infants and these were
+then collected and scattered and became full-grown Dakotas. The bones
+of the mastodon, the Dakotas think, are the bones of Unktehees, and they
+preserve the with the greatest care in the medicine bag." Neill's Hist.
+Minn., p. 55. The Unktehees and the Thunder-birds are perpetually it
+war. There are various accounts of the creation of man. Some say that
+at the bidding of the Great Unktehee, men sprang full grown from the
+caverns of the earth. See Riggs' "Tah-koo Wah-kan," and Mrs Eastman's
+Dacotah. The Great Unktehee and the Great Thunder-bird had a terrible
+battle in the bowels of the earth to determine which should be the ruler
+of the world. See description in Legend of Winona.]
+
+[Footnote 70: Prononced Ahng-pay-too-wee--The Sun; literally the Day
+Sun, thus distinguishing him from Han-ye-tuwee (Hahng-yay-too-wee) the
+night sun, (the moon). They are twin brothers but Anpetuwee is the more
+powerful Han-ye-tuwee receives his power from his brother and obeys him.
+He watches over the earth while the Sun sleeps. The Dakotas believe the
+sun is the father of life. Unlike the most of their other gods, he is
+beneficent and kind; yet they worship him (in the sun-dance) in the most
+dreadful manner. See Riggs' "Tah-koo Wah-kan," pp. 81-2, and Catlin's
+Riggs' "Okee-pa." The moon is worshipped as the representative of the
+sun; and in the great Sun-dance, which is usually held in the full of
+the moon, when the moon rises the dancers turn their eyes on her (or
+him). Anpetuwee issues every morning from the lodge of Han-nan-na (the
+Morning) and begins his journey over the sky to his lodge in the land
+of shadows. Sometimes he walks over on the Bridge (or path) of the
+Spirits--Wanagee Ta-chan-ku,--and sometimes he sails over the sea of
+the skies in his shining canoe; but _somehow_, and the Dakotas do not
+explain how, he gets back again to the lodge of Hannanna in time to take
+a nap and eat his breakfast before starting anew on his journey. The
+Dakotas swear by the sun. "_As Anpe-tu-wee hears me, this is true_!"
+They call him Father and pray to him --"_Wakan! Ate, on-she-ma-da._"
+"Sacred Spirit,--Father, have mercy on me." As the Sun is the father,
+so they believe the Earth is the mother, of life. Truly there is
+much philosophy in the Dakota mythology. The Algonkins call the earth
+"_Me-suk-kum-mik-o-kwa_"--the great-grandmother of all. Narrative of
+John Tanner, p. 193.]
+
+[Footnote 71: The Dakotas reckon their months by _moon_. They name their
+moons from natural circumstances. They correspond very nearly with our
+months, as follows:
+
+January--Wee-te-rhee--The Hard Moon, i.e.--the cold moon.
+
+February--Wee-ca-ta-wee--The Coon Moon.
+
+March--Ista-wee-ca-ya-zang-wee--the sore eyes moon (from snow
+blindness.)
+
+April--Maga-oka-da-wee--the moon when the geese lay eggs; also called
+Wokada-wee--egg-moon, and sometimes Wato-papee-wee, the canoe moon, or
+moon when the streams become free from ice.
+
+May--Wo-zu-pee-wee--the planting moon.
+
+June--Wazu-ste-ca-sa-wee--the strawberry moon.
+
+July--Wa-sun-pa-wee--moon when the geese shed their feathers,
+also called Chang-pa-sapa-wee--Choke-Cherry moon, and
+sometimes--Mna-rcha-rhca-wee--"The moon of the red blooming lilies",
+literally, the red-lily moon.
+
+August--Wasu-ton-wee--the ripe moon, i.e. Harvest Moon.
+
+September--Psin-na-ke-tu-wee--the ripe rice moon.
+
+October--Wa-zu-pee-wee or Wee-wa-zu-pee--the moon when wild rice is
+gathered and laid up for winter.
+
+November--Ta-kee-yu-hra-wee--the deer-rutting moon.
+
+December--Ta-he-cha-psung-wee--the moon when deer shed their horns.]
+
+[Footnote 72: Oonk-to-mee--is a "bad spirit" in the form of a monstrous
+black spider. He inhabits fens and marshes and lies in wait for his
+prey. At night he often lights a torch (evidently the _ignis fatuus_ or
+Jack-a-lantern) and swings it on the marshes to decoy the unwary into
+his toils.]
+
+[Footnote 73: The Dakotas have their stone idol, or god, called
+Toon-kan--or In-yan. This god dwells in stone or rocks and is they
+say, the _oldest god of all_--he is grandfather of all living things. I
+think, however that the stone is merely the symbol of the everlasting,
+all pervading, invisible _Ta-ku Wa-kan_--the essence of all
+life,--pervading all nature, animate and inanimate. The Rev. S. R.
+Riggs who, for forty years, has been a student of Dakota customs,
+superstitions etc., says, "Tahkoo Wahkan," p. 55: et seq. "The religious
+faith of the Dakota is not in his gods as such. It is in an intangible,
+mysterious something of which they are only the embodiment, and that in
+such measure and degree as may accord with the individual fancy of the
+worshipper. Each one will worship some of these divinities, and neglect
+or despise others, but the great object of all their worship, whatever
+its chosen medium, is the _Ta-koo Wa-kan_, which is the _supernatural_
+and _mysterious_. No one term can express the full meaning of the
+Dakotas _Wakan_. It comprehends all mystery, secret power and divinity.
+Awe and reverence are its due, and it is as unlimited in manifestation
+as it is in idea. All life is _Wakan_; so also is everything which
+exhibits power, whether in action as the winds and drifting clouds;
+or in passive endurance, as the boulder by the wayside. For even the
+commonest sticks and stones have a spiritual essence which must be
+reverenced as a manifestation of the all-pervading mysterious power that
+fills the the universe."]
+
+[Footnote 74: Wazi-kute--Wah-ze-koo-tay; literally--Pine-shooter--he
+that shoots among the pines. When Father Hennepin was at Mille Lacs in
+1679-80, Wazi-kute was the head Chief (Itancan) of the band of Isantees.
+Hennepin writes his name-- Ouasicoude and translates it--the "Pierced
+Pine." See Shea's Hennepin p. 234, Minn. Hist. Coll. vol. I. p. 316.]
+
+[Footnote 75: When a Dakota brave wishes to "propose" to a "dusky maid",
+he visits her teepee at night after she has retired, or rather, laid
+down in her robe to sleep. He lights a splinter of wood and holds it to
+her face. If she blows out the light, he is accepted; if she covers her
+head and leaves it burning, he is rejected. The rejection however is not
+considered final till it has been thrice repeated. Even then the maiden
+is often bought of her parents or guardian, and forced to become the
+wife of the rejected suitor. If she accepts the proposal, still the
+suitor must buy her of her parents with suitable gifts.]
+
+[Footnote 76: The Dakotas called the Falls of St. Anthony the Ha-Ha--the
+_loud laughing_, or _roaring_. The Mississippi River they called
+Ha-Ha Wa-kpa--River of the Falls. The Ojibway name for the Falls
+is Ka-ka-bih-kung. Minnehaha is a combination of two Dakota
+words--Mini--water and Ha-Ha--Falls; but it is not the name by which the
+Dakotas designated that cataract. Some authorities say they called it
+I-ha-ha pronounced E-rhah-rhah--lightly laughing. Rev. S. W. Pond,
+whose long residence as a missionary among the Dakotas in this immediate
+vicinity makes him an authority that can hardly be questioned, says
+"they called the Falls of Minnehaha "Mini-i-hrpa-ya dan," and it had no
+other name in Dakota. It means Little Falls and nothing else." Letter to
+the author.]
+
+[Footnote 77: The game of the Plum-stones is one of the favorite games
+of the Dakotas. Hennepin was the first to describe this game in his
+"Description de la Louisiane," Paris, 1683, and he describes it very
+accurately. See Shea's translation p. 301. The Dakotas call this game
+_Kan-soo Koo tay-pe_--shooting plum-stones. Each stone is painted black
+on one side and red on the other; on one side they grave certain figures
+which make the stones "Wakan." They are placed in a dish and thrown up
+like dice; indeed the game is virtually a game of dice. Hennepin says:
+"There are some so given to this game that they will gamble away even
+their great coat. Those who conduct the game cry at the top of their
+voices when they rattle the platter and they strike their shoulders so
+hard as to leave them all black with the blows."]
+
+[Footnote 78: Wa'tanka--contraction of Wa-kan Tanka--Great Spirit. The
+Dakotas had no Wakan Tanka--or Wakan-peta--fire spirit--till whitemen
+imported them. There being no name for the Supreme Being in the Dakota
+tongue (except Ta-ku Wakan--See note 73)--and all their gods and
+spirits being Wakan--the missionaries named God in Dakota--"_Wakan
+Tanka_"--which means _Big Spirit_, or _The Big Mysterious_.]
+
+[Footnote 79: The Dakotas called Lake Calhoun--Mde-mdo-za--Loon Lake.
+They also called it--_Re-ya-ta-mde_--the lake back from the river.
+They called Lake Harriet--Mde-unma--the other lake--or (perhaps) Mde
+uma--Hazel-nut Lake. The lake nearest Calhoun on the north--Lake of the
+Isles--they called Wi-ta Mde--Island-Lake. Lake Minnetonka they called
+Me-me-a-tan-ka--_Broad Water_.]
+
+[Footnote 80: The animal called by the French _voyageurs_ the _cabri_
+(the kid) is found only on the prairies. It is of the goat kind, smaller
+than a deer, and so swift that neither horse nor dog can overtake
+it. (Snelling's) "Tales of the Northwest," p. 286. note 15. It is the
+gazelle, or prairie antelope, called by the Dakotas Tato-ka-dan--little
+antelope. It is the _Pish-tah-te-koosh_ of the Algonkin tribes,
+"reckoned the fleetest animal in the prairie country about the
+Assinneboin." Captivity and Adventures of John Tanner, p. 301.]
+
+[Footnote 81: The Wicastapi Wakanpi (literally, _men supernatural_) are
+the "Medicine-men" or Magicians of the Dakotas. They call themselves the
+sons, or disciples of Unktehee. In their rites, ceremonies, tricks and
+pretensions they closely resemble the Dactyli, Idae and Curetes of the
+ancient Greeks and Romans, the Magi of the Persians, and the Druids of
+Britain. Their pretended intercourse with spirits, their powers of magic
+and divination, and their rites are substantially the same, and point
+unmistakably to a common origin. The Dakota "Medicine-Man" can do the
+"rope-trick" of the Hindoo magician to perfection. The teepee used for
+the _Wakan Wacipee_--or Sacred Dance--is called the _Wakan Teepee_--the
+Sacred Teepee. Carver's Cave at St. Paul was also called Wakan Teepee,
+because the Medicine-men or magicians often held their dances and
+feasts in it. For a full account of the rites, etc., see Riggs' "Tahkoo
+Wahkan", Chapter VI. The _Ta-sha-ke_--literally, "Deer-hoofs"--is a
+rattle made by hanging the hard segments of deer-hoofs to a wooden rod a
+foot long--about an inch in diameter at the handle end, and tapering to
+a point at the other. The clashing of these horny bits makes a sharp,
+shrill sound something like distant sleigh-bells. In their incantations
+over the sick they sometimes use the gourd-shell rattle.]
+
+The Chan-che-ga--is a drum or "Wooden Kettle." The hoop of the drum is
+from a foot to eighteen inches in diameter, and from three to ten inches
+deep. The skin covering is stretched over one end making a drum with one
+end only. The magical drum sticks are ornamented with down, and heads of
+birds or animals are carved on them. This makes them Wakan.]
+
+The flute called _Cho-tanka_ (big pith) is of two varieties--one made of
+sumac, the pith of which is punched out, etc. The second variety is made
+of the long bone of the wing or thigh of the swan or crane. They call
+the first the _bubbling chotanka_ from the tremulous note it gives when
+blown with all the holes stopped. Riggs' Tahkoo Wahkan, p. 476, et seq.]
+
+E-ne-pee--vapor bath is used as a purification preparatory to the sacred
+feasts. The vapor bath is taken in this way: "A number of poles the size
+of hoop-poles or less are taken, and their larger ends being set in
+the ground in a circle, the flexible tops are bent over and tied in the
+centre. This frame work is then covered with robes and blankets, a small
+hole being left on one side for an entrance. Before the door a fire is
+built, and round stones about the size of a man's head are heated in it.
+When hot, they are rolled within, and the door being closed, steam is
+made by pouring water on them. The devotee, stripped to the skin, sits
+within this steam-tight dome, sweating profusely at every pore, until he
+is nearly suffocated. Sometimes a number engage in it together and unite
+their prayers and songs." "Tahkoo Wakan," p. 83. Father Hennepin was
+subjected to the vapour-bath at Mille Lacs by Chief Aqui-pa-que-tin, two
+hundred years ago. After describing the method Hennepin says: "When he
+had made me sweat thus three times in a week, I felt as strong as ever."
+Shea's Hennepin, p. 228. For a very full and accurate account of the
+Medicine men of the Dakotas, and their rites etc., see Chap. II, Neill's
+Hist. Minnesota.]
+
+[Footnote 82: The sacred _O-zu-ha_--or Medicine-sack must be made of
+the skin of the otter, the coon, the weasel, the squirrel, the loon,
+a certain kind of fish or the skins of serpents. It must contain four
+kinds of medicine (or magic) representing birds, beasts, herbs and
+trees, viz: The down of the female swan colored red, the roots of
+certain grasses, bark from the roots of cedar trees, and hair of the
+buffalo. "From this combination proceeds a Wakan influence so powerful
+that no human being unassisted can resist it." Wonderful indeed must be
+the magic power of these Dakota Druids to lead such a man aa the Rev.
+S. R. Riggs to say of them: "By great shrewdness, untiring industry,
+and more or less of _actual demoniacal possession_, they convince great
+numbers of their fellows, and in the process are convinced _themselves_,
+of their sacred character and office." Tahkoo Wakan, pp. 88-9: ]
+
+[Footnote 83: Gah-ma-na-tek-wahk--_the river of many falls_--is the
+Ojibway name of the river commonly called Kaministiguia, near the mouth
+of which is situate Fort William, on the site of DuLuth's old fort. The
+view on Thunder-Bay is one of the grandest in America. Thunder-Cap,
+with its sleeping stone-giant, looms up into the heavens. Here
+_Ka-be-bon-ikka_--the Ojibway's god of storms, flaps his huge wings and
+makes the Thunder. From this mountain he sends forth the rain, the snow,
+the hail, the lightning and the tempest. A vast giant, turned to stone
+by his magic, lies asleep at his feet. The island called by the Ojibways
+the _Mak-i-nak_ (the turtle) from its tortoise-like shape, lifts
+its huge form in the distance. Some "down-east" Yankee, called it
+"Pie-Island," from its (to his hungry imagination) fancied resemblance
+to a pumpkin pie, and the name, like all bad names, _sticks_. McKay's
+Mountain on the main-land, a perpendicular rock more than a thousand
+feet high, up-heaved by the throes of some vast volcano, and numerous
+other bold and precipitous head lands, and rock-built islands, around
+which roll the sapphire-blue waters of the fathomless bay, present some
+of the most magnificent views to be found on either continent.]
+
+[Footnote 84: The Mission of the Holy Ghost--at La Pointe on the isle
+Waug-a-ba-me--(winding view) in the beautiful bay of Cha-quam-egon--was
+founded by the Jesuits about the year 1660, and Father Rene Menard was
+the first priest at this point. After he was lost in the wilderness,
+Father Glaude Allouez permanently established ihe mission in 1665.
+The famous Father Marquette, who took Allouez's place, Sept. 13. 1669,
+writing to his Superior, thus describes the Dakotas: "The Nadouessi are
+the Iroquois of this country, beyond La Pointe, _but less faithless, and
+never attack till attacked._ Their language is entirely different
+from the Huron and Algonquin. They have many villages, but are widely
+scattered. They have very extraordinary customs. They principally use
+the calumet. They do not speak at great feasts, and when a stranger
+arrives give him to eat of a wooden fork, as we would a child. All the
+lake tribes make war on them, but with small success. They have false
+oats, (wild rice) use little canoes, _and keep their word strictly_."
+Neill's Hist. Minn., p. 111.]
+
+[Footnote 85: Michabo--the Good, Great Spirit of the Algonkins. In
+Autumn, in the moon of the falling leaf, ere he composes himself to his
+winter's sleep, he fills his great pipe and takes a god-like smoke. The
+balmy clouds from his pipe float over the hills and woodland, filling
+the air with the haze of "Indian Summer." Brinton's Myths of the New
+World, p. 163.]
+
+[Footnote 86: Pronounced _Kah-thah-gah_--literally, _the place of waves
+and foam_. This was the principal village of the Isantee band of Dakotas
+two hundred years ago, and was located at the Falls of St. Anthony,
+which the Dakotas called the _Ha-ha_--pronounced _Rhah-rhah_--the _loud,
+laughing waters_. The Dakotas believed that the Falls were in the centre
+of the earth. Here dwelt the Great Unktehee, the creator of the earth
+and man; and from this place a path led to the Spirit-land. DuLuth
+undoubtedly visited Kathaga in the year 1679. In his "Memoir" (Archives
+of the Ministry of the Marine) addressed to Seignelay, 1685, he says:
+"On the 2nd of July, 1679, I had the honor to plant his Majesty's arms
+in the great village of the Nadouecioux called Izatys, where never had
+a Frenchman been, etc." _Izatys_ is here used not as the name of the
+village, but as the name of the band--the Isantees. _Nadouecioux_ was
+a name given the Dakotas generally by the early French traders and the
+Ojibways. See Shea's Hennepin's Description of Louisiana pp. 203: and
+375. The villages of the Dakotas were not permanent towns. They were
+hardly more than camping grounds, occupied at intervals and for longer
+or shorter periods, as suited the convenience of the hunters: yet there
+were certain places, like Mille Lacs, the Falls of St. Anthony, Kapoza
+(near St. Paul), Remnica, (where the city of Red Wing now stands),
+and Keuxa (or Keoza) on the site of the city of Winona, so frequently
+occupied by several of the bands as to be considered their chief
+villages respectively.]
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES TO THE SEA-GULL:
+
+
+[Footnote 101: Kay-oshk is the Ojibway name of Sea-Gull.]
+
+[Footnote 102: Gitchee--great,--Gumee--sea or lake,--Lake Superior;
+also often called Ochipwe Gitchee Gumee, Great Lake (or sea) of the
+Ojibways.]
+
+[Footnote 103: Ne-me-Shomis--my grandfather. "In the days of my
+Grandfather" is the Ojibway's preface to all his traditions and
+legends.]
+
+[Footnote 104: Waub--white---O-jeeg,--fisher, (a furred animal.) White
+Fisher was the name of a noted Chippewa Chief who lived on the south
+shore of Lake Superior many years ago. Schoolcraft married one of his
+descendants.]
+
+[Footnote 105: Ma-kwa or mush-kwa--the bear.]
+
+[Footnote 106: The Te-ke-nah-gun is a board upon one side of which a
+sort of basket is fastened or woven with thongs of skin or strips of
+cloth. In this the babe is placed, and the mother carries it on her
+back. In the wigwam the tekenagun is often suspended by a cord to the
+lodge-poles and the mother swings her babe in it.]
+
+[Footnote 107: Wabose--the rabbit. Penay, the pheasant. At certain
+seasons the pheasant drums with his wings.]
+
+[Footnote 108: Kaug, the porcupine. Kenew. the war-eagle.]
+
+[Footnote 109: Ka-be-bon-ik-ka is the god of storms, thunder, lightning,
+etc. His home is on Thunder-Cap at Thunder-Bay, Lake Superior. By his
+magic, the giant that lies on the mountain was turned to stone. He
+always sends warnings before he finally sends the severe cold of winter,
+in order to give all creatures time to prepare for it.]
+
+[Footnote 1010: Kewaydin or Kewaytin, is the North-wind or North-west
+wind.]
+
+[Footnote 1011: Algonkin is the general name applied to all tribes that
+speak the Ojibway language or dialects of it.]
+
+[Footnote 1012: This is the favorite "love-broth" of the Ojibway squaws.
+The warrior who drinks it immediately falls desperately in love with
+the woman who gives it to him. Various tricks are devised to conceal the
+nature of the "medicine" and to induce the warrior to drink it; but when
+it is mixed with a liberal quantity of "fire-water" it is considered
+irresistable.]
+
+[Footnote 1013: Translation:
+
+  Woe-is-me! Woe-is-me!
+  Great Spirit, behold me!
+  Look, Father; have pity upon me!
+  Woe-is-me! Woe-is-me!]
+
+[Footnote 1014: Snow-storms from the North-west.]
+
+[Footnote 1015: The Ojibways, like the Dakotas, call the _Via Lactea_
+(Milky Way) the Pathway of the Spirits.]
+
+[Footnote 1016: Shingebis, the diver, is the only water-fowl that
+remains about Lake Superior all winter. See Schoolcraft's Hiawatha
+Legends, p. 113.]
+
+[Footnote 1017: Waub-ese--the white swan.]
+
+[Footnote 1018: Pe-boan, Winter, is represented as an old man with long
+white hair and beard.]
+
+[Footnote 1019: Se-gun is Spring or Summer. This beautiful allegory has
+been "done into verse" by Longfellow in _Hiawatha_. I took my version
+from the lips of an old Chippewa Chief. I have compared it with
+Schoolcraft's version, from which Mr. Longfellow evidently took his.]
+
+[Footnote 1020: Nah--look, see. Nashke--behold.]
+
+[Footnote 1021: Kee-zis--the sun,--the father of life. Waubunong--or
+Waub-o-nong--is the White Land or Land of Light,--the Sun-rise, the
+East.]
+
+[Footnote 1022: The Bridge of Stars spans the vast sea of the skies, and
+the sun and moon walk over on it.]
+
+[Footnote 1023: The Miscodeed is a small white flower with a pink
+border. It is the earliestblooming wild-flower on the shores of Lake
+Superior, and belongs to the crocus family.]
+
+[Footnote 1024: The Ne-be-naw-baigs, are Water-spirits; they dwell in
+caverns in the depths of the lake, and in some respects resemble the
+Unktehees of the Dakotas.]
+
+[Footnote 1025: Ogema, Chief,--Ogema-kwa--female Chief. Among the
+Algonkin tribes women are sometimes made chiefs. Net-no-kwa, who
+adopted Tanner as her son, was Oge-ma-kwa of a band of Ottawas. See John
+Tanner's Narrative, p. 36.]
+
+[Footnote 1026: The "Bridge of Souls" leads from the earth over dark and
+stormy waters to the Spirit-land. The "Dark River" seems to have been a
+part of the superstition of all nations.]
+
+[Footnote 1027: The Jossakeeds of the Ojibways are sooth-sayers who are
+able, by the aid of spirits, to read the past as well as the future.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Legends of the Northwest, by Hanford Lennox Gordon
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEGENDS OF THE NORTHWEST ***
+
+***** This file should be named 8122.txt or 8122.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/2/8122/
+
+Produced by Susan Skinner, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
+  www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at 809
+North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887.  Email
+contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the
+Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:  www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For forty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
diff --git a/8122.zip b/8122.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9f88288
--- /dev/null
+++ b/8122.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1a5de76
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #8122 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8122)
diff --git a/old/8lgnd10.zip b/old/8lgnd10.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ca68dad
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/8lgnd10.zip