Aboriginal America Part 12

Old Red Head

In ancient times there was a famous chieftain named Old Red Head, who was so violent and lawless in his life and character, and was so great a robber and murderer, that he was feared by the whole country around. he lived on an island in a like, and he had a boat with which he used to communicate with the sh.o.r.e.

He was so much dreaded by the people of the country on account of his great strength and ferocity, that even his name became a bugbear, and a great many designs were formed and plans laid for killing him. But thus far none had succeeded.

Not far from the lake where Old Red Head lived there was a family that consisted of a man and his wife, and a boy about fifteen years old.

One evening, when the man had been out all day hunting, he came home to the lodge, bringing a deer. He was very tired and very hungry. His wife began to prepare the deer for supper, and while she was doing it she asked the boy to go down by a path through the woods to the river and bring some water.

But it was dark and the boy said that he did not like to go. The father, when he heard this, accused his son of cowardice, and said, in a sneering and contemptuous manner: "I don't think you will ever kill Old Red Head."

This taunt stung the boy to his inmost soul. He said nothing, but he felt very deeply wounded. All that night he lay revolving in his mind what he would do.

The next morning he asked his mother to make him a pair of moccasins from the skin of the deer which his father had killed. While she was doing this he went into the woods and made himself a bow and four arrows.

The next morning after this he rose before sunrise, and putting on his moccasins and taking his bow and arrows in his hands, he went out and shot one of his arrows into the air. It went up very high. He observed which way it inclined as it ascended, and then walked off through the woods in that direction, intending to go to the spot where it would come down.

He traveled on all day long, and at night he came to the arrow. He found that it had fallen upon a deer and killed him. The boy cut off as much of the flesh of the deer as he required, ate his supper from it, and then lay down and went to sleep.

The next morning he rose early and shot another arrow into the air. He followed this arrow, as he had the other, and found this one, too, at night in a deer which it had killed. He made his supper from the flesh of this second deer, and then, being fatigued with his long march, he lay down and went to sleep again.

He did the same the third day and the fourth day. His arrows were then all expended. On the fifth day he wandered about without any food, and not knowing what to do. At last he became exhausted with hunger and fatigue. He sank down upon the ground, and thought that he should die.

While he was thus lying upon the ground in despair, he heard a strange sound approaching him, and raising his eyes he saw a well beaten path leading from the margin of some water to a cabin which was very near him, and which he had not observed before, and up this path a strange looking old woman was coming, thumping her stick upon the ground as she came. She wore a sort of cloak, which was made of the scalps of women, and to the top of her staff a number of birds were fastened by means of strings tied to their feet. These birds fluttered over the old woman's head as she walked along, and continued singing all the time.

The woman went into her cabin and took off her cloak. As she took it off she shook it, and as she did so sounds of loud and continued laughter came from the scalps of which it was made. These sounds continued until she had put the cloak away.

The old woman then came out of the cabin and advanced to the place where the boy was lying. She accosted him kindly, and raising him up, led him into her cabin and gave him some food.

Encouraged by her kindness the boy told her his story. He gave her an account of what had taken place in his father's lodge, of his father's cutting sarcasm, and of his having left home on account of it.

She listened attentively, and when he had finished she told him that he must not take what his father had said to him too much to heart.

"Be of good cheer,' said she. "You shall kill old Red Head, and I will show you how to do it."

So she made the dress of a girl for him, and fashioned him a great many beautiful ornaments. She put the dress upon him and also the ornaments. There were feathers for his hair and bracelets for his arms, and a necklace of beads and a girdle. In the girdle she place a blade of gra.s.s of a certain kind, which was pretty broad and stiff, and sharp at the edges.

"Now," said the old woman when the boy was ready, "you look like a beautiful girl.'

So she directed him which way to go, and told him that he must journey on by that way until he came to the sh.o.r.e of Red Head's lake, opposite the island.

"There," said she, "you will find a great many young men, who will fall in love with you , and want to marry you. But you must tell them that you are determined not to marry anybody but Red Head himself, and that if he will not come for you in his canoe, and take you to his island, you will go back again to your home.

When this was made known to Red Head he determined to come to the sh.o.r.e for the girl. So he caused his boat to be brought out. The frame of this boat was made of living rattlesnakes, and they, by some sort of magic, were endowed with the power of knowing when anybody came into the boat with any evil or treacherous designs against their master, and of signifying it by hisses and contortions.

Accordingly, when the pretended girl embarked on board the boat, they began all to hiss, and to write and twist about in the most horrible manner. But Red Head was so captivated with the beauty of his prize that he would not heed their warnings. He went on with the boy to his island.

There, after meeting with various adventures and several narrow escapes from detection which cannot here be detailed, the boy succeeded in dissipating all Red Head's suspicions, if he ever had any, and the marriage ceremony was performed. A great concourse of people came to attend the wedding. Immediately afterward, or as soon as the new married pair were alone, the boy took Old Red Head's head in his lap, as he reclined on the ground by his side, and drawing out the sharp-edged blade of gra.s.s from his girdle, he cut it off by a single stroke.

He then made his escape, taking the head with him. He carried it first to the old woman's cabin to show it to her, and then went with it home to his father's--his heart filled with pride and exultation.

He was received with every mark of consideration and honor by his family and tribe, and continued to enjoy great renown as long as he lived as the slayer of Old Red Head.

How Algon Gained His Wife

Algon was a very brave and handsome young hunter. One day when he was roaming over the plains in search of game he suddenly came to a well-worn circular track in the gra.s.s, with no path leading to it from any quarter.

This seemed to him a strange sight. How could such a track be made without people to make it? And how could people come to make it without leaving any signs of a path, or even of footsteps, in the gra.s.s where they came?

While he was pondering on this mystery he heard a rushing sound in the air, as of a great bird flying, and looking up he saw a large wicker basket descending, with twelve beautiful maidens in it. He stepped back into the thicket, where he could conceal himself from sight, and remained there watching.

The basket or car containing the twelve girls came gently descending toward the ground, being let down by cords from above. As soon as it reached the ground the girls leaped out, and all immediately went to the ring and began dancing about it in a charming manner.

Algon watched them as they danced, and finally fixed his eyes and his heart upon the youngest of them, who seemed to him to be the most beautiful of them all. He came forth from his thicket intending to seize her, but as soon as the maidens saw him they seemed exceedingly terrified. They all with one accord sprang for the basket, and, climbing into it as nimbly as possible, they were drawn up again into the sky and disappeared.

The next day Algon went again to the place where he had seen the ring, in order to watch for the coming of the girls--expecting to see them descend, as on the preceding day, from the sky.

This time, however, instead of going in his own proper form, he changed himself into an opossum, a very curious and artful animal which hides cunningly among the branches of a tree. In this guise he took his place in a tree near the ring. Before long he saw the basket coming down out of the sky. When it reached the earth the girls descended from it and began to dance again, but before Algon had time to come down from his tree and go toward them the youngest of the girls spied him and gave the alarm, and the whole bevy immediately sprang to their basket, climbed into it as nimbly as they had done before, and went drawn up into the sky again.

The next day Algon determined to go once more, but now he concluded to change into a smaller animal than the opossum, in order the more easily to escape observation. This time he resolved to be a mouse.

So when he reached the place where the ring was formed, he looked about in the thickets near, and presently found a piece of the hollow root of a tree lying upon the ground, with a nest of mice in it. He took up the piece of root, nest, mice and all, and carried it out of the thicket to the ring, and there laid it down upon the gra.s.s near the outside of the ring. Then he changed himself into a mouse, and took his place with the others in the nest.

He had not been there long before he saw the basket coming down out of the sky as before. The girls stepped out of it and came toward the ring. One of them saw the fragment of the root upon the ground.

"Ah!" said she, "what is this? This was not here before."

So they all stopped and looked at the root, and then began to pull it to pieces. At this the mice all came out of the nest, and ran about upon the ground, The girls immediately began to kill them. At last they killed all but Algon. He, in order to save himself, turned back into a man.

The girls, when they saw one of the mice expanding and a.s.suming the form of a man, screamed and fled. In the meantime Algon's transformation was complete, and he sprang after them. He succeeded in seizing the youngest, his beloved, and in holding her, notwithstanding her struggles, until the others had reached the basket, and had gone off again into the sky.

Being thus made captive the girl soon concluded to resist Algon's love no longer, but became his wife, and the wedded pair lived for a long time together in peace and happiness.

A great many other narratives of this kind might be given, but these will be sufficient. They are pretty fair specimens of the tales and traditions which are related by parents to children around the wigwam fires, and so handed down from generation to generation.

Const.i.tution and Character of the Indian Mind.

Adaptations Observed in the Forms of Animal Life In stocking the earth with its living inhabitants the Creator has adapted the form and the physical const.i.tution of the animals of each several species to the character of the locality which they are intended to inhabit, and to the mode of life they are to lead. In other words, every being is endowed with powers and qualities suited to the functions which he is designed to fulfill.

Thus the giraffe, being appointed to feed on the leaves of trees, is provided with long legs and a long neck, in order to enable him to reach his food, and the chamois, having to obtain his sustenance from gra.s.s growing in the clefts of the rocks and on steep declivities, has hoofs fitted expressly to facilitate climbing, and muscles to enable him to lift himself up to any shelf among the rocks that he can reach, or to let himself drop down a descent where any animal would be killed. Birds that are to search for their food along the margins of lakes and ponds are furnished with long wading legs and near-seeing eyes; while those appointed to find and devour the bodies of dead animals, wherever they may lie, over a wide extent of country, have eyes endowed with a most astonishing extent of vision, and wings of prodigious strength to sustain them in the longest flights, and to carry them up to the loftiest pinnacles of the mountains.

Mental Adaptations

This adaptation of the powers and faculties of animals to the duties, so to speak, which they are destined to perform in life, applies to their mental qualities, as well as to those which are more purely corporeal. A lamb, being intended to feed on gra.s.s and flowers, is gentle in spirit, and is furnished with an instinct which leads him to save himself from danger by running away from his foe. The tiger, on the other hand, is endowed with a degree of courage and of combative ardor so great that we call it ferocity; and this simply because he is to live by seizing and conquering a living and resisting prey. The fox, who is to feed upon timid animals that have wings to fly away from him, is made cunning, that he may be enabled to catch them off their guard. For him simple strength would not be sufficient. So the dog, who is intended to gain his livelihood by the services which he renders to man, is provided with a mental const.i.tution which leads him to attach himself to a human master, and to remain faithful to him in every extremity; while other animals, taken from their native haunts and brought artificially into this relation, are with difficulty retained, and on the first favorable opportunity fly away into their native woods again.

Designs of Divine Providence in Respect to Man

Upon a principle somewhat similar to this the different races of men seem to be endowed with different qualities, each being adapted, both in physical and intellectual const.i.tution, to the place it has to occupy in the history of the species.

For some reason or other which we cannot fully understand, Divine Providence has not seen fit to bring the family of man at once into the full possession of all the attainments and enjoyments of which the species is capable, or to the high social state for which their nature fits them. On the contrary, the system which has been adopted for the human race, unlike that seen in operation in respect to any race of animals not connected with man, is that of an exceedingly slow and gradual development. The different regions of the earth have been stocked with different branches of the human family, strikingly dissimilar to each other in their persons, in their physical powers, and in their mental const.i.tutions--each, however, being exactly adapted to the part which they are respectively called upon to perform in the great drama.

The Great Divisions in the Human Family

Thus the races of Central and Southern Asia are endowed with very peculiar physical and mental powers, differing essentially from those of the prevailing race in Europe, which is called the Caucasian race, and both differing essentially also from those of the African races. The differences which exist would seem to be innate and permanent, so far as we can judge from the results-- each particular branch being able apparently to attain only to a certain degree of refinement and civilization, and these remaining unchanged, or almost unchanged, for many centuries. The Chinese, the Malays, and the negroes of Africa appear to have subsisted in substantially their present condition from a very early age, while the Caucasian race has been constantly progressive, having built up in succession a great number of independent empires. The a.s.syrians, the Persians, the Greeks, the Romans, and, following them, the great European nations of modern times, have entirely outstript in arts, in science, and in civilization all the other races of the globe; although many of these other races have possessed, each in its own region of the earth, equal facilities for advancement, and have held them for the same length of time.

Const.i.tutional Diversities

We must suppose, then, that there is a great and permanent difference in the physical and intellectual const.i.tution of the different races--permanent at least in this respect, that it cannot be changed by an human means in the course of any moderate number of generations. Whether these differences have been produced by external causes, such as climate and modes of life, or by some hidden innate causes more or less connected with these, or whether they have originated in some other way to us wholly inscrutable, is at present entirely unknown. We must, at any rate, accept the difference actually existing as a fact, and conform our reasonings and our actions to it--always acknowledging, however, that the inferiority of any race to ours, if we claim that such inferiority exists, imposes upon us a special obligation to be just toward them, and to protect them in the enjoyment of all their rights, instead of giving us any authority to tyrannize over them or oppress them in any way. We may rightfully recognize and act upon our superiority to them in the social arrangements which we make, but we are bound in doing so to consider them as under our protection, and to guard their rights and provide for their welfare and happiness faithfully, honestly, and with feelings of sincere good will.

Mental and Physical Const.i.tution of the American Aborigines

The American Aborigines have been generally considered by mankind as a stern, taciturn, immovable, unfeeling, and yet shrewd and cunning people. Some travelers, like the celebrated Catlin, among others, who spent a great deal of time among the western tribes, maintain that the degree in which they possess these qualities has been exaggerated. Catlin found the Indians at their own homes, in the villages which they had built on the banks of the Missouri and upon the western prairies, as jovial, as talkative, and as full of life and animation as other men. But the prevailing testimony, especially in respect to those tribes that dwelt on the Atlantic coast at the time of the first settlement of the country, represents them as exceedingly grave and stolid in all their deportment, and possessing very little sensibility of any kind. Their power to endure hunger, cold, and fatigue was surprising. This powers was doubtless, in a great degree, acquired by habit, and must of their apparent insensibility was due to a feeling prevalent among them that it was weak and unmanly to complain. Still there seemed to be something in their physical const.i.tution which gave them a greater power of endurance than belongs to the Caucasian race. They felt cold and hunger, and the pain of wounds, much less, and could consequently endure much more, with the same exercise of fort.i.tude, than other men.

Indeed, we might have been almost certain that this would be so. The same kind and watchful Providence which gives the eagle his astonishing extent of vision, in order that he may have power to survey the vast field over which he is to seek his food, and enables the polar bear to sleep in comfort on a floor of ice where mercury would freeze, would surely not impart a delicate sensibility to the organization of a man who was to live by seeking his food in the winter in a howling forest, with a certainty of often pa.s.sing days without sustenance, and nights without any covering but bushes and snow.

The Taciturnity of the Indians

The extreme taciturnity of the Indians was one of their most striking characteristics. We shall explain it in different ways according as we suppose, that the Indian was made to fit the circ.u.mstances in which he was to be placed, or that he was made like other men, and that the circ.u.mstances changed him. On the latter supposition he has learned to be silent, from the fact that silence is so necessary for him while prowling through the woods in search of game, or watching against an ambuscade on the part of an enemy.

But talkativeness is the result of a peculiar mental organization, leading to a lively and rapid flow of ideas, ardent sensibilities, and a quick and ready action of the nerves and muscles are connected with the organs of speech. All this nice mechanism would be out of place, in a great measure, with these children of the forest;; and, indeed, it would be worse than out of place, for it might be, necessarily for aught we know, connected with a greater sensibility to pain, which to the Indian would be a very serious evil.

We might suppose, it is true, that the inward mechanism was with him, at birth, the same in respect to these faculties as in the Caucasian race, but that, on account of the mode of life which the Indian leads, it remained undeveloped. This is, doubtless, to some extent true. But it would seen that the Indian children manifest from their earliest infancy the same low degree of sensibility, giving them the power of bearing without inconvenience, or at least without pain, what would be intolerable to the children of another race, which characterizes their fathers and mothers. The children seldom cry. They remain patient, strapped upon their board, looking quietly about, and content apparently with existence alone; while a white child of the same age is endowed with powers of observation and with mental instincts and propensities so sensitive and active that it craves the incessant occupation of its faculties, and scarcely ever intermits his restless activity.

Where we find peculiarities of temperament thus showing themselves at the earliest age, and continuing to mark the character and conduct under all circ.u.mstances to the end of life, it would seem that we are ent.i.tled to conclude that they are innate, and, in the individual at least, are not the result of climate or of education, or of any other outward causes.

Cruelty