*****
The Jesuit had long been anxious to take advantage of the first opportunity that offered to return to Canada. Here, his time was wasted and his health impaired to no purpose. He had succeeded in learning the language of the savages, so as to converse with them tolerably; but his mission was as useless here as it would have been among the wild beasts of Africa.
Constantly exposed to danger, without the means of living, except what he received from We-har-ka, and occasionally from others, his time unoccupied, his life was a burden. His health was not strong enough to enable him to join in the hardy exercises and sports of the red men. How anxiously, then, did he await the means of deliverance.
There was an occasional intercourse with the tribes that lived in the region of the great lakes: in this way he had come among the Sioux, and he hoped thus to return to Acadie. He passed hour after hour watching the approach of canoes, hoping to recognise the tall, gaunt forms of the Hurons, or some of those with whom the Sioux were on friendly terms. Over but one human being, We-har-ka, had he acquired the slightest influence. We have before alluded to the rivalry of the two young men, Chashé and the Beaver, for the disputed honour of being the war-chief of the band. They belonged to opposite clans, which were almost equally divided. It appeared evident that it could only be decided by some act of bravery performed by one of the parties.
The aspirants had equal claims. They were each daring in the greatest degree. Young, athletic, inured to fatigue and hardships, thirsting like the war-horse for the battle. Chashé owed his reputation in some degree to the reputation of his grandfather, while on the other hand the Beaver's courage made him feared by his own and the opposite clan.
The long-continued feud between the two clans had been more violent than ever since the death of the younger brother of Chashé. His sickness was attributed to a spell having been cast upon him by some one of the other clan. Eagle Eye attributed his death to the family of the Beaver; and so great was the hatred of the two clans14that murder after murder occurred, and every sickness and disaster was charged upon some individual, and thus revenge was constantly sought.
Especially was Eagle Eye dreaded; his powers as a medicine-man were rated so high, that in passing by him many avoided his observation—they dreaded lest he should, by an undefined power, bring upon them the wrath of an evil spirit. And each warrior wore beneath his richly embroidered hunting-dress a charm, to protect him from a machination that he feared.
Yet did the Beaver love the sister of his rival, and he had induced her to defy her brother's hot temper, and promise him all her young affection. Love had made him eloquent, and he persuaded her out of all the opinions she hadimbibed from the time she was capable of forming one; while he, blind to the attractions of all others, could only see grace in her person.
It was not likely his life would be safe should he marry her, and remain among his own people; and could he yield the chances of his high position among the braves with whom he had grown up to the love of woman? He knew that We-har-ka would leave all for him. The only question was, could he make the sacrifice?
They had closely kept their secret. We-har-ka had been promised to a young man of her grandfather's clan. She had from time to time delayed the marriage, by her influence over the old man. The husband they had chosen for her was the tried friend of her brother, styled among the Indians, a comrade. Well did We-har-ka know how determined was her brother's temper, and that he would force her into the marriage after her grandfather's death, and that, unless by some great effort, there was no hope.
On the night of the return of the party, and the burning of the prisoner, she had, indeed, gone to the prairies to weep; but it was as much over the difficulties of her position as the death of her relative. It was not without an object that she had come forward to meet the war-party, and told them her intention. When the excitement of the burning of the Chippeway was at its height, her lover had left the group of young men, and a short time brought him to We-har-ka's side. After a few moments passed in the joy of reunion, We-har-ka told him that her fate must soon be decided, and implored him to take her away from their home, as their only chance of happiness. They could go, she said, amongthe Sioux who lived on the Missouri, and there live free from care.
The young man did not answer her at first, and We-har-ka, startled with the boldness of her own proposal, awaited his answer, standing. Her arms were clasped over her breast, and her eyes bent to the ground: the moonlight glittered on the wampum which lay on her bosom, and flashed from the silver cross suspended from her neck.
At length the Indian broke out into angry abuse of her brother and all connected with her. The colour varied in her cheek, and her lips were more firmly compressed when he charged them with cowardice, but still she spoke not. She had counted the cost of his love, and knew, that to retain it, she must resign even the natural impulses of her heart.
She waited until the torrent of his passion had ceased, then pointing to the dark clouds that were gathering in the west, reminded him that they would be missed. The shout that came from the village warned them too of the necessity of separation. He then marked the agitation of her manner, bade her return home, telling her that, after her father was buried, he would come to the lodge of the Jesuit: at what time he could not say, but not until some amusements should engage the Sioux: then he would tell her his determination. We-har-ka, overpowered with fatigue on her return to her lodge, slept soundly, even with the Chippeway girl by her side.
*****
We-har-ka sat in the wigwam of the Jesuit, listening to the accounts of the grandeur of the churches and the magnificence of the altars in the country where Father Blanchad passed his youth. He pointed to the small figure of Christ, on the altar of cedar wood, which he had constructed, then told her of the large one of gold which he had often knelt before in assisting in the ceremonies of the church. We-har-ka, whose thoughts had been wandering in quest of her lover, asked him again of the ever interesting story of the death and sufferings of the Saviour. Like those who witnessed the crucifixion, she wondered that that Great Being should submit to such indignities. Her religion would have justified resenting them. Yet she did not believe it was true, loving still to hear it told over and over again; especially was it agreeable to her now to while away the hour until her lover, under pretence of speaking to the priest, should find a chance of acquainting her with the plans he had formed. She looked again at the familiar objects on the altar. Again, as ever, she told the priest he was good and kind, but that she knew the Great Spirit was the father of all. Father Blanc's insinuating eloquence touched her feelings, but her heart was unaffected: yet the father, glad of a listener, even in the untutored Indian girl, dwelt on scenes long past, and it might be forgotten by all but him.
When the moon rose they sat outside the lodge on a mat. They were now both silent. The thoughts of the Jesuit wandered far and wide: memory transported him to the forests of Languedoc.
There he pursued his studies, full of high hope and youthful happiness. He wandered through the most beautiful scenes of nature, and there was one by his side; her smile was bent upon him, as she parted the long ringlets from herbrow. He gazed again as he was wont when he bade her good night, and wondered if angels smiled so sweetly when they bore the dead to the regions of Paradise. Memory changes the scene. Death and desolation are met; darkness and beauty are blended strangely. Those angel eyes are closed, but the sweet smile is there.
Hushed lips bend over the bier where roses are lavishly strewed. Echoes of grief are heard along the halls, as they pass on with their beautiful burden to the house of death. Then come the long nights of sorrow, the vigils of despair, the renouncing of the hopes and pleasures of life: then the morbid restlessness, the wish for death and forgetfulness. Afterwards, the solitary life of the student, then the seclusion of the cloister, and the longing to wear out life under a different sky. He traced again his course, until he sat here, a wanderer, by the side of the Indian girl.
Her eyes were wandering over the brilliant scenes. The stars seemed almost to rest on the body of her relative, as she looked towards the burial-ground where she had passed the day.
The branches of the large trees were in perfect repose: there was no wind to disturb them; and the gorgeous reflection of the moon on the river seemed almost to illuminate the village.
Richly endowed with the poetry of nature, the anxious girl felt calmed by the beauty and tranquillity of the scene. The evening was passing away, and he had not come. Confident of his affection, she determined to be patient. Sometimes her friends would pass along and converse with her; but they knew her heart was sad, deprived of the affectionatecaresses of her relative. Her brother she had not seen since they had returned together from the burial-ground, but she supposed he was in one of the groups which were enjoying the lovely quiet of the evening.
Suddenly a wild and piercing cry arrests her attention. Starting to her feet, almost frantic for a moment, she recognised her brother's voice. Again it fell in one long, rich, full cry on her ear.
There was something unusual in that sound. There was no defiance, no fear, no excitement in the voice. It was as if the bald eagle, long watching and hovering over its prey, had at length planted her talons in its side, and was fleeing away far from human hope or protection. So clear was the sound, so long its echo, that some doubted if it were indeed a human voice.
Not so with We-har-ka: pressing her clasped hands tightly over her heart, turning her marble face to the heavens, she knew it all. That was not the cry indicating the presence of enemies; her heart would not have quailed before it as it did now: it was the announcement of the gratification of a long-cherished revenge. Her lover's absence was explained. Only a moment, however, was given to conflicting thoughts. The young girl moved forward, and, as it were, pioneered the others to the quarter from whence the sound proceeded. There was no shrinking in her slight form: she might have been taken for some spirit returned to earth to accomplish some high purpose, unconscious of aught save its own mission.
Passing on to a rock, whence you could see the beautiful valley that spread out before them, the whole story was told in a moment.
Chashé stood as if expecting witnesses; in his bearing there was a frightful exultation that ill accorded with the other circumstances of his position. In his hand he held the knife, from which drops of blood were slowly falling on his dress. He watched them with a savage laugh of delight. His figure seemed taller, by half, in the moonlight, its long shadow fell so darkly over the grass. He was not alone, for easily could all recognise the manly and noble form of the man he hated, at his feet. Well they know that it was death alone that could keep him there. The blood was oozing from his heart: and they could, even at the distance from whence they first saw him, distinguish the marble paleness of his features.
A loud shout now arose from the Indians as they pressed forward. They were divided as to the interest in this scene. The friends of Chashé exulted with him, and those of the other clan called for revenge. It seemed uncertain how the excitement of the crowd would show itself, when it was diverted for a moment by the appearance of We-har-ka. She rapidly slid down the rocks, which it was necessary to pass, in order to reach the two young men. None of them could keep up with her, so quick and shadowy were her movements.
Throwing herself on the ground beside her lover, she made the most frantic efforts to staunch the flowing of the wound. She tore up the grass, and pressing it together, placed it against the wound; but the blood continued to flow in spite of all her efforts. Her bearing, calm and collected at first, now changed with the evident hopelessness of the case; her wild and frantic screams pierced the air as she threw herselfupon his body. Her brother seized her roughly by the arm, indignant at this show of affection; but she shrank from his touch, and again springing to his side, before he could divine her purpose, she had wrested the knife from his grasp and pierced it deep in her own breast. Chashé caught it from her ere she could a second time bury it in her bosom; but she glided from him and ascended the bluff over which she had passed to reach the dreadful spot. A stream of blood follows in her path. Now she has reached the edge of the precipice: she springs, and the noise of the dashing waves mingles with the cry of horror that arises from the witnesses of her self-destruction.
The Indians were obliged to return to their village in order to arrive at the place where were their canoes. Every effort was made, but in vain, to recover the body of the unfortunate girl. She was never seen again.
Father Blanc soon after returned to Acadie with a party who were going that route. He was thankful to leave the scene of such accumulated horrors. He had become warmly attached to the young Sioux maiden, whose early sorrows had been impressed on his memory. The horrors of that night were written in characters of blood: nor did he ever relate the incident without trembling at the recollection. He found in the Canada Indians more tractable scholars,—at least, when they feared the cannon of the French.
There is reason to conclude that the efforts of the Jesuits among the aborigines of our country left no abiding impression of good: but, like the waters which the tall ships have passed over, they were agitated for a while from their usual course, then returned to their restless surging as before.
4The names Sioux and Dacota are applied to the same nation; the Indians themselves recognising and preferring the latter name. The little that is known of them is given in the introduction to Dacota, or Legends of the Sioux. They have, for many years, been considered a powerful, warlike, and interesting people. They formerly possessed the knowledge of many things of which they are now totally ignorant. They retain the greatest attachment to their country and their religion.5For every scalp taken by a Sioux in battle he is entitled to wear a feather of the War Eagle. This is an ornament greatly esteemed among them.6The Dacotas believe thunder to be a bird. It would be impossible to enumerate their gods, they are so numerous; but the thunder is much feared as being one of the most powerful. In living among them you constantly see representations of these gods, drawn and carved on the various articles that are used among them.7Wampum is a long bead made of the inside of a shell, white and of dark purple colour; it is very much valued by the Indians, used as necklaces; the women esteem nothing more highly than a string or two of wampum. It has frequently been used as currency among the different tribes; but in making treaties it is strung and made into a belt, and at the close of a speech is presented to the other party as a pledge of good faith.8Among the Sioux it is customary to inflict wounds, sometimes deep and severe ones, upon themselves on the occasion of the death of a friend. The arms of aged people are frequently seamed with scars.9Acadia, or Acadie, was the ancient name for what is now called Nova Scotia. Before the latter name was used in the act of incorporation by the British Parliament, Acadie was within the jurisdiction of Lower Canada.10The Sioux and Chippeways seem to be natural enemies. Peace has been declared between the two nations time and again, but never has it been sustained, although the United States Government has made every effort to and even compel them to forego their ancient enmity.11Wakeen-stone. The Sioux choose stones as objects of worship. We find them frequently on their thoroughfares; they never pass these without stopping to smoke, or to make some slight offering, such as tobacco, a feather, an arrow, or a trinket.12Young persons taken prisoners in battle are often adopted, in the place of some lost relative. They are then treated with the kindness usually shown towards a dear and valued friend.13The Sioux believe in the duality of the soul,—one going to the land of spirits, while one hovers round the grave, requiring nourishment. Some few of their wise people believe that each body claims more than two souls, assigning an occupation for each; but this is not the prevailing opinion.14In a Sioux village there are different clans, known by the peculiar medicine that each uses, each clan claiming superior power, resting in a spell, which the medicine man or woman can throw upon those of the opposite party.
4The names Sioux and Dacota are applied to the same nation; the Indians themselves recognising and preferring the latter name. The little that is known of them is given in the introduction to Dacota, or Legends of the Sioux. They have, for many years, been considered a powerful, warlike, and interesting people. They formerly possessed the knowledge of many things of which they are now totally ignorant. They retain the greatest attachment to their country and their religion.
5For every scalp taken by a Sioux in battle he is entitled to wear a feather of the War Eagle. This is an ornament greatly esteemed among them.
6The Dacotas believe thunder to be a bird. It would be impossible to enumerate their gods, they are so numerous; but the thunder is much feared as being one of the most powerful. In living among them you constantly see representations of these gods, drawn and carved on the various articles that are used among them.
7Wampum is a long bead made of the inside of a shell, white and of dark purple colour; it is very much valued by the Indians, used as necklaces; the women esteem nothing more highly than a string or two of wampum. It has frequently been used as currency among the different tribes; but in making treaties it is strung and made into a belt, and at the close of a speech is presented to the other party as a pledge of good faith.
8Among the Sioux it is customary to inflict wounds, sometimes deep and severe ones, upon themselves on the occasion of the death of a friend. The arms of aged people are frequently seamed with scars.
9Acadia, or Acadie, was the ancient name for what is now called Nova Scotia. Before the latter name was used in the act of incorporation by the British Parliament, Acadie was within the jurisdiction of Lower Canada.
10The Sioux and Chippeways seem to be natural enemies. Peace has been declared between the two nations time and again, but never has it been sustained, although the United States Government has made every effort to and even compel them to forego their ancient enmity.
11Wakeen-stone. The Sioux choose stones as objects of worship. We find them frequently on their thoroughfares; they never pass these without stopping to smoke, or to make some slight offering, such as tobacco, a feather, an arrow, or a trinket.
12Young persons taken prisoners in battle are often adopted, in the place of some lost relative. They are then treated with the kindness usually shown towards a dear and valued friend.
13The Sioux believe in the duality of the soul,—one going to the land of spirits, while one hovers round the grave, requiring nourishment. Some few of their wise people believe that each body claims more than two souls, assigning an occupation for each; but this is not the prevailing opinion.
14In a Sioux village there are different clans, known by the peculiar medicine that each uses, each clan claiming superior power, resting in a spell, which the medicine man or woman can throw upon those of the opposite party.
St. Anthony FallsC. Schuessele del. Drawn by Capt.S. Eastman. Chromolith of P. S. Duval Ph.THE LAUGHING WATERS,Three miles below The Falls of St.Anthony.
C. Schuessele del. Drawn by Capt.S. Eastman. Chromolith of P. S. Duval Ph.THE LAUGHING WATERS,Three miles below The Falls of St.Anthony.