Читать книгу Traditions of the North American Indians - James Athearn Jones - Страница 12

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After a pause of the usual length, Miacomet, an aged Narragansett, rose and said:

"Brother, I am a Narragansett, and my father and mother were Narragansetts. I live a journey of more than two moons towards the rising sun. But you will say the name of the Narragansetts is unknown to you, and will ask what deeds have they done. Are they warlike? can they fast long, travel far, and bear the tortures of the flame, without betraying tears and groans? The tribes of the north, and the south, and the west, of the Great River, and the Broad Lake, and the Spirit's Backbone, will say this, for they know us not. Our hunting-fields lie far apart, and our war-paths are over different forests. But it is only to those who live a far way off, who have never heard the roaring of the Great Lake in the time of storms, or killed the fish, whose body is a mountain, that the Narragansetts are unknown. Our neighbours know us well, brother; they have both seen and felt us. Come to our cabins, brothers, and come in what guise you like. If you come in peace, you shall be welcome, and we will make a feast for you. We will hunt the nimble deer with you, and show you where the mighty eagle roosts, and where the fish with shining scales abides. If you come painted, your war-pipe filled, your bow bent, your arrow sharp and barbed, your heart strong, and your cry loud, we too will paint ourselves; we will smoke our pipe of war, we will bend our bow, make sharp our arrows, and stout our hearts, and will cry our war-cry, till the startled heron shall wing his way from the swamps to his hiding-place among the hills, and the deer shall escape from the open space to the tangled covert. Our shouts shall be as loud as the roar of the Lake of Whales in the time of the Herring-Moon.

"Brother, we have with us a chief, whose face is of the colour of the plucked pigeon; he listens. He has crossed the great waters in the season of storms, he has forded the shallow streams and swum the deeper, and threaded the dreary woods, and faced unaccustomed dangers, that he may learn our traditions, our customs, our laws, and our opinions of the Great Spirit. He has come, if he does not lie, from a far country, a land very beautiful to the eye, a land of many villages and much people, but who are not so wise and warlike as we are. He has left his father and mother, and wife and children, and the bones and burial-place of his ancestors, to listen to the wisdom of the Indians, and to be instructed by them in the history of their tribes. Shall we enlighten him? Shall we teach him the things which we know, that be may go back to his countrymen prepared to repeat to them the words of wisdom which fell from our lips; that, when he returns to his own fire-place, he may make the young doves coo, and the eyes of then mother glisten, with the tales he has heard in the camp of the Red Man.

"Brother, the Narragansetts have a tradition which I will repeat before you. It has come down to us from old days, and we believe it, for it was told us by our fathers, who were men of truth. I know not how long since the thing was done; I cannot number the rings upon the oak since the day of its date, nor the moons that have been born and have died. But I know it was done, and done in the lands which my tribe now occupy. Listen.

"The Narragansetts are the oldest people in the world; older than the Pequods; older than the Iroquois. When they were created, no one knows, save the Great Spirit—how, ask not me, for I do not know. We were when we first knew we were; we lived when we first found we had breath, further than that I cannot tell you. How should I know more? If a man, while he was wrapped in a deep sleep, should be carried to a far land which he had never seen before, would he know where he was when he waked? or could he tell how he came thither? no, nor can I tell you the manner of the creation of man, or name, with certainty, his creator.

"But this we do know—when we are born, we are helpless children. The Narragansetts once were such. Even when they had grown to the stature of men, their warriors were nothing but big boys; their chiefs and councillors no wiser than old women. There was a time when they had no bow and arrow, no hatchet, no canoe, no cabin, no corn. They were ignorant and foolish as white men. They would have mistaken the track of the moose for that of a wild cat; they would have thought the tread of a land-tortoise the trail of the grey snake; they would have killed an owl and feasted upon it, for a heath-hen. They had nothing but feet to walk with, hands to catch fish with, and tongues which loved best to utter wicked lies and speak foolish words. They were only fit to serve bad spirits, the men of the Spirit of Evil, whom they called Hobbamock(l). And they did serve him, night and day, but he would give them very little for their worship, treating them worse than he treated any tribe upon the borders of the Great Lake. The Pequods killed more whales; the people of Nope raised more poke. When a Narragansett caught a deer, it was always a sick one, and had no fat upon it, and when he speared a fish, it had only a backbone. He was, in truth, a very ungrateful master."

There was among the Narragansetts a very wise conjuror(2) or priest, whose name was Sasasquit. He was the priest of the Good Spirit; he was a good man; much better than the rest of the tribe, for he never served the Evil Spirit. He said to the Narragansetts, "If you were better men, if you served my master, the Good Spirit, as you do the Evil Spirit, he would give you abundance of good things. You would not, as you do now, catch fish with heads as big as mine, and bodies no bigger than my arm, but would take fat fish, and would take them with little trouble. You would snare birds more easily, and, perhaps, have other gifts which now you do not dream of."

The Sachem said to the people, "Sasasquit talks well, but talking well is the business of a priest. Let us say to him, that we will take for our God the Spirit which gives us the best gifts, and bid him tell his master so."

The Narragansetts liked well what the Sachem had said, and went in a body to Sasasquit. "We have come," said they, "to offer our services and worship to the Great Spirit, if he will pay us better for our worship than Hobbamock has done."

Sasasquit replied, "It is not for the worth of your worship, that the Great Spirit will grant your wish, but because he loves to vex the Evil Spirit. Come to-morrow to the Great Hill, when the sun first comes out of the water, and you shall see whose God is the most generous—yours, or mine."

Early the next day the tribe all gathered to the place where Sasasquit had agreed to meet them. With them came Pocasset, the priest of the Evil Spirit, wearing his robes of magic, a bear's-skin, curiously painted with figures of beasts, and birds, and fishes, and the skin of a dog's head drawn over his own, with the teeth standing out. When all the tribe had assembled, Sasasquit asked the Sachem, Miantinomo, to repeat what he had before said, that the Narragansetts would serve the Spirit that should make them the greatest and best gifts. Then Miantinomo repeated what he had before said, and all the Indians promised as he had promised. Pocasset also made them a very long speech. I have forgotten what he said, only I know he said, that "his master would have the best of the bargain yet."

Then Sasasquit climbed up a great tree, till he came to the topmost bough, when he commenced calling upon the Great Spirit. And this was the song he sung:

I call upon thee, Master of Breath!

Master of Life! on thee I call.

I, Sasasquit, priest of the Narragansetts,

Call from the top of the tree,

Cry from the depths of the valleys,

Sing from the deep waters of the Great Lake:

Come to me, hearken to my song.

Shall the priest of the Evil Spirit triumph?

Shall the priest of the Evil Spirit boast over me?

Over thee shall he triumph?

Thou, who art mightiest?

Thou, who art greatest?

Shall the people say of me—Loud he boasted,

And fair he promised;

But weak were his boasts,

And false his promises.

Hearken thou, then, for now I call,

Hearken thou, then, for I demand a gift.

Look, then, upon this wretched people!

Poor are they in soul,

Weak are they in heart,

Hungry, fearful, timid, naked, men.

I ask of thee a gift for them;

A gift which shall gladden their hearts;

A gift which shall make bright their eyes,

And pleasant and good their lives.

When Sasasquit had finished his song, the Narragansetts saw coming towards them, from the far regions of the North, a very big man, taller than the tallest pine of the forest, and as large around as the shade cast by a great tree full of leaves. Yet, monster as he was, he came through the air ten times as swift as the swiftest eagle could fly, using his hands and feet as a frog uses his legs in swimming. It was but a breath, while he came from the farthest hill in view to the place where the nation were assembled together. Down he flapped, but spoke not a word, while he laid, at the feet of Sasasquit, a beautiful canoe, made of a great tree hollowed out by fire. "There," said he gruffly, "the Great Spirit sends this to the Devil's children, the Narragansetts."

"What is it? what is it?" they all asked, crowding around, for none of them knew what it was good for, or guessed the use it was to be put to. The big man told them, in their own language, that it was a thing wherein to float upon the water, to go to catch fish, and to cross streams. When he had explained to them what it was good for, he said he would show them how to use it. He carried the canoe to the water, and having made a paddle, placed Sasasquit in it, and taught him how to move the canoe by its aid. Our people were mightily pleased with the gift, and spent the remainder of the day in learning how to manage it. "The Great Spirit is very good," said they, "and has shown a great deal more love for us than Hobbamock has done, for he never gave us any thing for our worship and sacrifices, except promises and lies." They decided, however, that they would wait and see what he would do for them before they bestowed their worship upon his rival.

The next day the Narragansetts came together in the same place, as soon as they could see the sun, very curious to know what the Evil Spirit would give them to equal or surpass the Good Spirit's gift. They waited until Pocasset had finished his invocation, and, with lessening patience, a still longer time, but in vain. No sound was heard, no sign was visible. Nothing was seen to announce the coming of the Bad Man, or any of his friends. Our people grew very angry, and talked, not only of bestowing all their worship upon the Good Spirit, and giving him all their choice tribute of oysters and lobsters, but also of roasting Pocasset. They said, "The priest of the Evil Spirit is good for nothing. When Sasasquit called upon his master, he heard him, and at his request sent us a good gift; but Pocasset's master hears him not, though he has sung him a song which makes our ears cry for deafness." They had just caught hold of Pocasset, and were going to pull him to pieces, when there was a great noise of thunder, though they saw no lightning, and a little creature started up out of the ground, and stood in the midst of them. Never was a more ugly, misshapen monster seen upon the earth. He was no bigger than a child that has seen the flowers bloom and the corn ripen twice. Yet he appeared to be very old, for his hair was of the colour of the moss upon the sunny side of the oak; his teeth were rotten and decayed; his knees were bent out like warped bows; and his voice was not the voice of a young man, but sounded like the voice of the muck-a-wiss singing in the hollow woods in the summer moons. His face was covered with hair of the colour of the feathers of the blue heron, and stood out like the feathers of a duck that plumes itself in the warm sun, on the shores of the lake. His skin was blacker than charred wood, or the black raven. The Narragansetts were dreadfully frightened, and were going to run away, when Pocasset stopped them, saying, "Don't be afraid, it is my master. Don't you know him whom you have served so many years? Why he won't hurt you."

"More than you know, Poke," grunted the ugly little creature, putting his moss-coloured hair behind his great yellow ears. "But do not be afraid, Narragansetts, the Little Man loves you, and is come to make you a gift. What do you think these are?"—showing them a bow and a sheaf of arrows. The Narragansetts all declared they could not tell, and begged the Little Man to tell them the names, and shew them the uses of the strange instruments.

"I will," said he. "Now tell me what bird that is which sits upon the dry branch of the aged hemlock by the little stream?"

One answered, and told him it was the bird which sang in the morning to wake lazy sleepers, and to tell the bashful lover who loitered around the couch of his maiden that the eyes of the sun would soon be upon them.

"The bird that has sung in the morning shall never sing in the evening," said the monster grinning. With that, drawing the bow to his ear upon the side farthest from his heart, he put an arrow before it, and, letting it fly, the bird fell dead upon the earth beneath the tree. The Indians, upon seeing this exploit, shouted and hurraed, and made such a noise, that the roaring of the sea could scarcely be heard for it. They begged Hobbamock to shew them how he killed the bird at the distance of a stone's throw, which he did at their request again and again, and each time they repeated their hurrahing and shouting. "And now," said he, "whose gift do you like best—the Great Spirit's, or mine?"

They all answered that "they liked his gift best, because it would enable them to kill their enemies, the Mohegans."

"Will you continue to worship me?"

They were upon the point of answering "Yes," when Sasasquit asked them to wait till another sun, before they gave themselves to the Evil One. "To-morrow," said he, "I will kindle a fire, and burn a sacrifice to my master, and see if he wills that the Wicked Spirit shall have the Narragansetts for ever."

On hearing this, they agreed to wait till another day, and so they told the Evil Spirit, who grew dreadfully angry thereupon, and, shaking his hair and breathing flames, sank into the earth, to the great joy of the Indians.

Up with the sun was Sasasquit; and about his business he went. He built the fire of sacrifice, piling it high with the driest trees of the forest, and he laid thereon the best offering he could procure—a fat fish from the river beside his cabin. He sung as before a song or invocation, in which he mentioned the wants of the wretched Indians, and the cunning endeavours of the Evil Spirit to keep them in his service, and ended by begging his master to shew his own superiority, and enable his priest to foil the tricks of his adversary. The tribe assembled, just as they had done on the previous days. But they were more anxious now than they had been before, because the more there is in the cabin of a man, the greater is his thirst to increase his store, and the stronger his inclination for that he hath not. Nor did they before even dream that the Great Spirit could do such things as be had done for them. Being taught that he could bestow valuable gifts where he liked, they expected something which should far surpass all they had before received.

They had not waited long when they saw a large black eagle flying swiftly from the east, directly towards their village. When they first saw him, he was high in the air, higher than the summit of Haup—high as the mighty hills which Indians call the Alleghany, or hills of the Allegewi. Gradually he descended, and, when he came near, they saw that he bore a man upon his back. Nearer and nearer came the eagle and his rider, and soon alighted on a little hill, a few steps from the Indians. The man then got down from his strange horse. "Oh! ho!" said he, "I wish I had taken my buffalo-cloak with me, it will be cold flying back."

"What have you brought us now?" asked the people, crowding around him.

"Oh, a thing or two," answered he that rode the eagle.

With that he pulled out of the pouch at his side a long black, dirty-looking leaf, which smelt very strong, and also a little bowl about the size of a man's thumb, with a long, slender handle fixed to it. Said he to a boy standing near him, "Run, my pretty fellow, and bring me some fire." Whilst the boy was bringing the fire, he fell to rubbing the black leaf to pieces between the palms of his hands. The boy brought him the fire. Then he put the powdered dust into the little bowl, placed the fire upon the top of the dust, and fell to making a great smoke, like that which the wind of spring brings from off the face of the Great Waters. The Indians asked him what he called the black leaf.

"Bacca, bacco, tobacco," answered he.

"What is it good for?" demanded they.

"Good for—good for—why—why," exclaimed he, seemingly puzzled, "why, good for many things. Good for the tooth-ache—good to drive away the blue devils."

The Indians, though they were well enough acquainted with devils, did not know what he meant by "blue ones," nor do they know to this day. They asked him to let them smoke in the pipe, which was the name by which he called the instrument with the little bowl. They liked it very well upon trying it, but they could not be persuaded to think it of as much value as the bow and arrows which the Bad Spirit had given them. The man who rode the eagle perceived their minds, and said "I have another present."

He bade them bring him a small stick, which they did, and then he began to beat the eagle. It screamed terribly beneath the lash, and turned round upon him with its mouth open, as if it would fight him, but he only beat it the harder. At last it did the thing he wanted it should do, and dropped a little heap of seeds, white, flat, and not so large over as the nail upon the little finger of a full-grown man. The man did not beat the eagle any more after this, but stroked down its feathers gently, and told it he was very sorry for what he had done. "Now," said he to the Indians, "take the seeds to the water and wash them." They washed the seeds as he directed, and brought them back to him. "Build a fire," said he. They built a fire. Then he took some of the seeds and raked them up in the ashes of the fire, stirring them continually, until they were of the colour of a Narragansett's skin. When he had roasted them as much as he would, he called the tribe around him, and bade them taste the parched seeds. They all cried out that the seeds were good, very good, and begged him to beat the eagle, till they had procured enough to satisfy them all, but he would not. They asked him what the seeds were called. He told them "corn-maize," and said he would shew them another way to cook it. He bade them bring him a big, flat stone, and a little round one, and to fill their great stone-kettle with water, and to make it hot, while he pounded the corn. The man that rode the eagle pounded the corn, and the Narragansetts boiled the water. When the water was hot, he shook the pounded corn into the water, until it became quite thick, stirring it quickly all the while. When it had cooled, so that it could be eaten, he tasted it, bidding the Narragansetts do the like. "Charming hominy," said he. The Indians ate very heartily of it, and declared nothing was ever so good before, and again, one and all thanked the Great Spirit, and said he was very kind—much kinder than the Evil Spirit. They were, as once before, just about to declare themselves servants to the master of the man that rode the eagle and sent them the corn, when a very spiteful old woman—one who was always full of mischief—got up, and advised them to wait a little longer, and give the Little Man one more chance. "The longer the trial between the two spirits lasted, the more the Indians got, the better," she said, and our people said the same. Upon this the man got up on his winged horse, very sorrowful but not very angry, and flew away, leaving them the remainder of the seeds, which, he told them, must be planted in the earth when the winter had departed, and the trees were putting out their leaves, and the little blue and yellow flowers began to peep through their frost-nipped coverings.

The next sun, when the Narragansetts went out of their lodges, there sat the ugly little creature, with the moss-coloured beard and yellow ears, perched upon the top of a high tree. They spoke to him, but he made no answer—asked him what he had brought them—still no answer. All the while his eyes were intently fixed upon the waters of the Great Lake, which began to be tossed about with a high wind. At last, when they were tired of watching his motions, and some of the boldest, now grown familiar with him and no longer chilled with fear, talked of stoning him from his roost, he cried out, pointing with his finger, "Look yonder!" They now beheld, in the direction he bade them look, far away on the foaming bosom of the Great Lake, something resembling a great, white fowl. It was moving very swiftly towards the land of the Narragansetts. The nearer it approached, the more our people were puzzled to tell what it was; some said it was a duck, some thought it a cloud, and others that it was the Good Spirit who had taken a new form, and was coming to offer more proofs of his love for the Narragansetts. They asked the ugly little man upon the tree what it was, but he only showed his teeth like a dog that guards a bone, and would not make answer.

The strange creature was now very near, and seemed a more wondrous object than ever. It had a body shaped very much like the canoe which the Great Spirit had given the Indians; but it was as much larger as an old bear is larger than a cub, the minute it is born, or an eagle is larger than a humming-bird. It had wings, white as the wings of the sea-gull, and as large over as a small lake. When it had come near the shore, its many wings were drawn up and hidden, and in their stead three tall poles were displayed, with many short ones crossing them, to one of which the Little Man jumped from his perch on the tree.

The Indians were more astonished at this object than they had been at any of the others. It did not appear to possess life, yet how came it thither. Unable to tell what it meant, our people fled, startled and frightened, into the deep thicket, and there held a council, and debated what was best to be done. At length, encouraged by the thought that, of all the strange creatures which had visited them, none had ever attempted to harm them, they called up courage, and returned to the shore. They now beheld a canoe, moved by long paddles and filled with men, approaching the shore where they stood. It struck on the beach, and out of it came many savages, the colour of whose faces was like that of the stranger who is with us. They commenced talking to the Narragansetts in a language which none of them understood, any more than they understood the cry of the catamount. The Narragansetts were preparing to use upon the strangers the bows and arrows which the Little Man had given them, when one of them, laughing very loudly and sillily, held up a strange-shaped thing, which had a long neck to it like the ugly bird which cries in the brakes in the beginning of darkness. This he often raised to his mouth, turning the top of the neck into it, and drinking something from it, which he seemed to love very much. At last, down he tumbled on the ground, singing very badly, and making very hideous mouths, though the Indians could not tell what he laughed and mouthed about. There he lay on his back, kicking as a frog swims, till the Little Man went up to him, and took away the thing which held the maddening draught. The Narragansetts demanded of the Little Man what he had there.

"A bottle," he replied.

"What is there in it?" they asked.

"Good stuff! good rum(3)—very good rum," said he, shaking the bottle, and winking with both eyes. "Here, taste and see," and he held out the the bottle.

"T-a-s-t-e and s-e-e," cried the man who had fallen down, hiccuping.

The Narragansetts tasted of the rum, and liked it so well, that in a little time they had drunk all there was in the bottle, and ask the Little Man if he had any more. "Oh, great plenty," answered he, "the White Men, like those who came in the canoe, let me have it dog-cheap. I get almost all my worshippers by it; oh, I buy a great many worshippers by it. Yes, plenty of good rum—Indians may have it almost for nothing. The white men will bring me plenty of good rum."

"If you will let us have plenty of drink, like that in the bottle, plenty of rum, you shall be our master," said the Indians. "It is a great deal better than the Good Spirit's corn."

The bargain was soon made between the Evil Spirit and the Narragansetts. The Evil Spirit agreed that his white men should let the Indians have as much rum as the Narragansetts wanted, and they in return were to be his servants. So, from that day to this, the Narragansetts have served the Evil Spirit. They get from the Good Spirit the canoes which enable them to cross rivers and catch fish, and the corn which fills their bellies, but the bows and arrows which lead them to engage in bloody wars, and the rum which makes dogs, and bears, and hogs, and wild cats of them, they get from the Devil and the pale faces. Yet it must be told that neither spirit has exactly kept his word. The Great Spirit sometimes withers the corn by withholding rain from it, or sweeps it away by sending too much; and the Evil Spirit often lets the pale faces drink up all the rum before it reaches the Indians.

NOTES.

(1) Hobbamock—p. 120.

This was the Indian Devil. "Another power they worship, whom they call Hobbamock, and to the northward of us, Hobbamoqui; this, as farre as wee can conceive, is the Devill; him they call upon to cure their wounds and diseases. When they are curable, hee perswades them hee sends the same for some conceiled anger, but, upon their calling upon him, can and doth help them; but, when they are mortall, and not curable in nature, then he perswades them Kiehtan is angry, and sends them diseases whom none can cure; insomuch, as in that respect onely they somewhat doubt whether hee bee simply good, and therefore in sicknesse never call upon him. This Hobbamock appears in sundry formes unto them, as in the shape of a man, a deare, a fawne, an eagle, &c., but most ordinarily at a snake."—Purchas' Pilgrims.

Dr. Jarvis, a shrewd and learned American theologian and writer, observes, "This Hobbamock, or Hobbamoqui, who "appears in sundry forms," is evidently the Oke or Tutelary Deity, which each Indian worships; and Mr. Winslow's narrative affords a solution of the pretended worship of the devil, which the first settlers imagined they had discovered, and which has since been so frequently mentioned on their authority, without examination. The natives, it was found, worshipped another being besides the Great Spirit, which every one called his Hobbamock, or Guardian Oke. This the English thought could be no other than the Devil, and accordingly they asserted, without farther ceremony, what they believed to be a fact."

(2) Conjurors.—p. 121.

Both Charlevoix and Heckewelder have treated of Indian priests, and conjurors, and jugglers, as though they were separate professions, and several late writers have fallen into the same error. Hear Carver:

"The priests of the Indians are at the same time their physicians, and their conjurors; whilst they heal their wounds, or cure their diseases, they interpret their dreams, give them protective charms, and satisfy that desire which is so prevalent among them, of searching into futurity. ***** When any of the people are ill, the person who is invested with this triple character of doctor, priest, and magician, sits by the patient, &c."—Carver, 251, 252.

My opinion is decidedly with Carver, that the two professions are conjoined. The physician never uses his simples, without invoking, in his quality of priest, the aid of the Supreme Being.

The appearance which they make, and the dress in which their incantations are performed, deserve mention for their singularity. The following passage from Mr. Heckewelder describes their appearance, and is the original of those in Mr. Cooper's Novels of The Prairie and Last of the Mohicans: "The dress this juggler had on consisted of an entire garment, or outside covering, made of one or more bear-skins, as black as jet, so well fitted and sewed together that the man was not in any place to be perceived. The whole head of the bear, including the mouth, nose, teeth, ears, &c., appeared the same as when the animal was living, so did the legs with long claws; to this were added a huge pair of horns on the head, and behind a large bushy tail, moving as be walked, as though it were on springs; but for these accompaniments, the man walking on all-fours might have been taken for a bear of an extraordinary size. Underneath there his hands were, holes had been cut, though not risible to the eye, being covered with the long hair, through which he held and managed his implements, and he saw through two holes set with glass."—Hist. Account, p. 288, 289.

He then describes the practice of these medical gentlemen of the forest: "He approaches his patient with a variety of contortions and gestures, and performs by his side, and over him, all the antic tricks that his imagination can suggest. He breathes on him, blows in his mouth, and often makes an external application of the medicines which he has prepared, by throwing them over in his face, mouth, and nose; he rattles his gourd filled with dry beans or pebbles; pulls out, and handles about a variety of sticks and bundles, in which be appears to be seeking for the proper remedy; all which is accompanied with the most horrid gesticulations, by which he endeavours, as he says, to frighten the Spirit or the disorder away," &c.—Hist. Acc.. 225.

An Indian physician never applies his medicines without accompanying them with mysterious ceremonies, to make their effect supernatural. He therefore prepares his roots and herbs with the most singular ceremonies, and, in mixing them up, invokes the aid of the Great Spirit. He also accompanies his directions with various gesticulations and enigmatical expressions. The ceremonies he uses are various. Sometimes he creeps into the oven where he sweats, howls, and roars, and now and then grins horribly at his patient. Altogether I cannot conceive of a more irrational manner of performing Esculapian duties, than that adopted by the "faculty" of the Western Wilderness.

(3) Rum.

That the Indians were made drunk by Hendrick Hudson, at his first interview with them, seems well settled. A tradition also prevails among the Iroquois, that a scene of intoxication occurred with a party of the natives on the arrival of the first ship in their waters.

The same tradition prevailed among the tribe named in the tale. See also the tradition of The Coming of Miquon in the second volume.