Cherokee Indian's Gods and Religion

ABOUT THE CHEROKEE GODS AND THEIR ABIDING PLACES.

                                                                      Native American Beliefs

Cherokee Indian Symbols on a Rock In North Carolina

     After what has been said in elucidation of the theories involved in the medical formulas, the most important and numerous of the series, but little remains to be added in regard to the others, beyond what is contained in the explanation accompanying each one. A few points, however, may be briefly noted.

The religion of and Native American beliefs of the Cherokees, like that of most of our North American tribes, is zootheism or animal worship, with the survival of that earlier stage designated by Powell as hecastotheism, or the worship of all things tangible, and the beginnings of a higher system in which the elements and the great powers of nature are deified. Their pantheon includes gods in the heaven above, on the earth beneath, and in the waters under the earth, but of these the animal gods constitute by far the most numerous class, although the elemental gods are more important. Among the animal gods insects and fishes occupy a subordinate place, while quadrupeds, birds, and reptiles are invoked almost constantly. The uktena (a mythic great horned serpent), the rattlesnake, and the terrapin, the various species of hawk, and the rabbit, the squirrel, and the dog are the principal animal gods. The importance of the god bears no relation to the size of the animal, and in fact the larger animals are but seldom invoked. The spider also occupies a prominent place in the love and life-destroying formulas, his duty being to entangle the soul of his victim in the meshes of his web or to pluck it from the body of the doomed man and drag it way to the black coffin in the Darkening Land.

Among what may be classed as elemental gods the principal are fire, water, and the sun, all of which are addressed under figurative names. The sun is called Une´‘lanû´hĭ, “the apportioner,” just as our word moon means originally “the measurer.” Indians and Aryans alike, having noticed how these great luminaries divide and measure day and night, summer and winter, with never-varying regularity, have given to each a name which should indicate these characteristics, thus showing how the human mind constantly moves on along the same channels. Missionaries have naturally, but incorrectly, assumed this apportioner of all things to be the suppositional “Great Spirit” of the Cherokees, and hence the word is used in the Bible translation as synonymous with God. In ordinary conversation and in the lesser myths the sun is called ]Nû´ⁿtâ. The sun is invoked chiefly by the ball-player, while the hunter prays to the fire; but every important ceremony—whether connected with medicine, love, hunting, or the ball play—contains a prayer to the “Long Person,” the formulistic name for water, or, more strictly speaking, for the river. The wind, the storm, the cloud, and the frost are also invoked in different formulas.

But few inanimate gods are included in the category, the principal being the Stone, to which the shaman prays while endeavoring to find a lost article by means of a swinging pebble suspended by a string; the Flint, invoked when the shaman is about to scarify the patient with a flint arrow-head before rubbing on the medicine; and the Mountain, which is addressed in one or two of the formulas thus far translated. Plant gods do not appear prominently, the chief one seeming to be the ginseng, addressed in the formulas as the “Great Man” or “Little Man,” although its proper Cherokee name signifies the “Mountain Climber.”

A number of personal deities are also invoked, the principal being the Red Man. He is one of the greatest of the gods, being repeatedly called upon in formulas of all kinds, and is hardly subordinate to the Fire, the Water, or the Sun. His identity is as yet uncertain, but he seems to be intimately connected with the Thunder family. In a curious marginal note in one of the Gahuni formulas, it is stated that when the patient is a woman the doctor must pray to the Red Man, but when treating a man he must pray to the Red Woman, so that this personage seems to have dual sex characteristics. Another god invoked in the hunting songs is Tsu´l’kalû´, or “Slanting Eyes” (see Cherokee Myths), a giant hunter who lives in one of the great mountains of the Blue Ridge and owns all the game. Others are the Little Men, probably the two Thunder boys; the Little People, the fairies who live in the rock cliffs; and even the De´tsata, a diminutive sprite who holds the place of our Puck. One unwritten formula, which could not be obtained correctly by dictation, was addressed to the “Red-Headed Woman, whose hair hangs down to the ground.”

The personage invoked is always selected in accordance with the theory of the formula and the duty to be performed. Thus, when a sickness is caused by a fish, the Fish-hawk, the Heron, or some other fish-eating bird is implored to come and seize the intruder and destroy it, so that the patient may find relief. When the trouble is caused by a worm or an insect, some insectivorous bird is called in for the same purpose. When a flock of redbirds is pecking at the vitals of the sick man the Sparrow-hawk is brought down to scatter them, and when the rabbit, the great mischief-maker, is the evil genius, he is driven out by the Rabbit-hawk. Sometimes after the intruder has been thus expelled “a small portion still remains,” in the words of the formula, and accordingly the Whirlwind is called ]down from the treetops to carry the remnant to the uplands and there scatter it so that it shall never reappear. The hunter prays to the fire, from which he draws his omens; to the reed, from which he makes his arrows; to Tsu´l’kalû, the great lord of the game, and finally addresses in songs the very animals which he intends to kill. The lover prays to the Spider to hold fast the affections of his beloved one in the meshes of his web, or to the Moon, which looks down upon him in the dance. The warrior prays to the Red War-club, and the man about to set out on a dangerous expedition prays to the Cloud to envelop him and conceal him from his enemies.

Each spirit of good or evil has its distinct and appropriate place of residence. The Rabbit is declared to live in the broomsage on the hillside, the Fish dwells in a bend of the river under the pendant hemlock branches, the Terrapin lives in the great pond in the West, and the Whirlwind abides in the leafy treetops. Each disease animal, when driven away from his prey by some more powerful animal, endeavors to find shelter in his accustomed haunt. It must be stated here that the animals of the formulas are not the ordinary, everyday animals, but their great progenitors, who live in the upper world (galû´ⁿlati) above the arch of the firmament.

About American Indian Medicine Men and Shamans

About American Indian Medicine Men and Shamans

All Indians believe in spirits. Some are good and help men who please them; others are bad and always anxious to do harm. The spirits are all about us. They are in plants, and trees, and rustling leaves; they are in the wind and cloud and rain; they are in the mountain and in the brook. It is spirits that cause trouble, suffering, and death. When a man is ill, some bad spirit has taken away his soul or has entered into him.

It is not strange, then, that the Indians should wish to gain power over these spirits. If a man knows some words, the saying of which will protect him against them, he is fortunate; fortunate is he, too, if he knows some object which, carried, will disarm them, or if he can perform some trick which will put them to flight. Such knowledge is what the Indians mean by “medicine” or “mystery.” Men who spend their lives in trying to gain such knowledge are called medicine men, mystery men, or Shamans.

Rattles and Masks: Alaska. (From Originals in Peabody Museum.)

The Shaman among the tribes of the Northwest Coast is an important person. He decided, when a boy, that he would become a Shaman. He selected some old Shaman for his teacher and learned from him his secrets. By experiments, by dreaming, and by trading with other Shamans he got other secrets. To help him in his dealings with spirits the Shaman makes use of many devices. He sleeps upon a wooden pillow, which is carved with otter heads; these are believed to whisper wisdom to him while he sleeps. Upon his dancing-dress little carved figures, in ivory, are hung, which give him spirit influence, partly by the forms into which they are cut, and partly by the jingling noise they make when he dances. He wears a mask, the animal carvings on which control spirits. He uses a rattle and a tambourine to summon spirits. He has a spirit pole or wand quaintly carved, with which he fences, fighting and warding off spirits which he alone can see. The people sitting by see his brave fighting and hear his shrieks and cries; in this way only they can judge how many and how powerful are the spirits against whom he is fighting, for their good.

Sometimes when dancing the Shaman becomes so excited that he falls in a fit—quivering, gasping, struggling. It is believed, at such times, either that some mighty spirit has taken possession of him, or that his own soul has gone to the land of spirits. Sometimes when he comes to himself he tells of his wonderful journeys and battles.

Among the Haida of the Queen Charlotte Islands, when a sick man is to be cured, three or four Shamans come together at his side. All sing and rattle until they find out where the soul of the sick man is. It may be in the possession of the salmon or the oolachen fish, or it may be held a prisoner by some dead Shaman. They go to the place where it is supposed to be, and by singing and charms succeed in getting it into a carved hollow bone used only for this purpose. Various precious things are then burned and the soul bone held in the smoke. The bone is then laid by the side of the patient's head that his soul may return.

Many astonishing stories are told of the powers of medicine men. A missionary among the Crees, Edgerton R. Young, told me of a white man who was once out hunting. He came upon an old medicine man, who begged him for game, as he was hungry. The white man made sport of him, saying, “You are a great medicine man; why not get game for yourself?”The old man was enraged. He cried out, “White man, see yonder goose,” and pointed his finger into the air. The goose fell fluttering at their feet, and the old man picked it up and walked away. The white man really thought this thing happened. Perhaps the old medicine man had hypnotized him; if so, the only goose anywhere around was probably the white man.

The eastern Algonkins were fond of medicine or mystery. Two great medicine men would have a contest to see which was more powerful. Many of their stories tell of such contests. Two powers, which they did seem to have, attracted much attention and caused much terror. These were screaming and sinking into the ground. Leland quotes an Indian regarding these: “Two or three weeks after, I was in another place, we spoke of m'teoulin [mystery men]. The white folks ridiculed them. I said there was one in Fredericton, and I said I would bet ten dollars that he would get the better of them. And they bet that no Indian could do more than they could. So the m'teoulin came, and first he screamed so that no one could move. It was dreadful. Then he took seven steps through the ground up to his ankles, just as if it had been light snow. When I asked for the ten dollars, the white men paid.”

Ojibwa medicine men have often been tested by white men who doubted their powers. Thus one old medicine man had two little houses built at some distance apart. He was shut up in one, and the whites built a ring of fire around it. Then, no one could tell how, he appeared unharmed walking out of the other house. These things are no doubt tricks or delusions, but the medicine man's apparent ability to do them greatly increased his influence among the people.

Much use is made of words as charms and of sacred numbers. Four and seven are sacred numbers among the Cherokees. Once, wishing to see his method of curing disease, I asked the old medicine man to treat my lame arm. He sent out for four kinds of leaves, which were to be fresh and young, and one other sort which was to be dry and dead. The latter had little thorns along its edges. The old man pounded up the four kinds in warm water. He then scratched the arm with the other, nearly drawing blood. The arm was rubbed with the bruised leaves. The medicine man then blew upon my arm seven times. He went through this operation of rubbing and blowing four times, thus combining the numbers four and seven. He repeated charms all the time as he rubbed.

The Shaman does business as an individual. He expects pay from those who employ him. His knowledge and power over spirits is individual and for individuals. Among some tribes we find not single medicine men, but great secret societies which have learned spirit wisdom to use for the benefit of the society, or for the good of the whole tribe. Such secret societies are notable in the Southwest—and elsewhere. They may work to cure disease in individuals; they also work for the whole tribe. Among the Moki Pueblos, the societies of the Snake and of the Antelope carry on the snake dance, that the whole people may have rain for their fields.

About The Native American Camp-Fire.

About The Native American Camp-Fire.

One of the first things after reaching camp was to build the camp-fire. Among Indians the camp-fire not only served for heat and cooking, but for light, and to scare away animal foes and bad spirits. You and I would probably have a hard time making a fire without matches. The Indian had no matches until he got them from the whites. There are two ways in which the Indians made fire. One was by striking two hard pieces of stone—such as chert or pyrites—together, which gave a spark, which was caught on tinder and blown to a flame. Of course white men used to make fire in much the same way—only they had a flint and steel. When whites first came into contact with Indians, they used the flint and steel, and it was not long before the Indians had secured them from the white traders. Many Indians still use the old-fashioned flint and steel. Some old Sac and Fox men always carry them in their tobacco pouch, and use them for lighting their pipes.

Another Indian method of making fire was by rubbing two pieces of wood together. It is said that this is not difficult, but one needs to know just how, in order to succeed. In the cliff ruins of the southwest two little sticks are often found together. One may be a foot or two long, and the lower end is bluntly pointed, worn smooth, and blackened as if it had been slightly burned. The other stick is of the same thickness, but may be only a few inches long; in it are several conical hollows, which are charred, smooth, and usually broken away at the edge. These two sticks were used by the “cliff-dwellers” for making fire. The second one was laid down flat on the ground; the pointed end of the other was placed in one of the holes in the lower piece, and the stick was whirled between the hands by rubbing these back and forth. While the upright stick was being whirled, it was also pressed down with some little force. By the whirling and pressure fine wood dust was ground out which gathered at the broken edge of the conical cavity. Soon, in the midst of this fine wood dust, there appeared a spark. Some dry, light stuff was at once applied to it, and it was blown into a flame.

Certainly this mode of making fire was hard on the hands—it must soon have raised blisters. Some tribes had learned how to grind out a spark without this disadvantage. The lower stick was as before. A little bow was taken, and its cord was wrapped about the upright stick and tightened. The two sticks were then put into position, the top of the upright being steadied with a small block held in the left hand; the bow being moved back and forth with the right hand, the upright was caused to whirl easily and rapidly. This was used among many of our tribes.

Although making it themselves, many Indians think the fire made with the bow-drill is sacred, and that it comes from heaven. Among the Aztecs of Mexico there was a curious belief and ceremony. The Aztecs counted their years in groups of fifty-two, just as we count ours by hundreds or centuries. They thought the world would come to an end at the close of one of these fifty-two year periods. Therefore, they were much disturbed when such a time approached. When the end of the cycle really came, all the fires and lights in the houses had been put out; not a spark remained anywhere. When it was night, the people went out along the great causeway to Itztapalapa, at the foot of the Hill of the Star. On the summit of this hill was a small temple. At the proper hour, determined by observing the stars, the priests cast a victim on the altar, tore out his heart as usual, and placed the lower stick of the fire-sticks upon the wound. The upright stick was adjusted and whirled. For a moment all were in great anxiety. The will of the gods was to be made known. If no spark appeared, the world would at once be destroyed; if there came a spark, the gods had decreed at least one cycle more of existence to the world. And when the spark appeared, how great was the joy of the people! All had carried unlighted torches in their hands, and now these were lighted with the new fire, and with songs of rejoicing the crowd hurried back to the city.

Boys know pretty well how Indians cooked their food. Most of us have roasted potatoes in the hot ashes, and broiled meat or frogs' legs over the open fire. The Indians did much the same. Pieces of meat would be spitted on sharp sticks, and set so as to hang over the fire. Clams, mussels, and other things, were baked among the hot coals or ashes. One time“Old Elsie,” a Lipan woman, took a land turtle, which I brought her alive, and thrust it head first into the fire. This not only killed the turtle, but cooked it, and split open the hard shell box so that she could get at the meat inside.

Over the fireplace the Indians usually have a pot or kettle suspended in which various articles may be boiling together. The Indians invented succotash, which is a stew of corn and beans; we have borrowed the thing and the name. At the first meal I ate among the Sacs and Foxes, we all squatted on the ground, outside the house and near the fire, and took a tin of boiled fish off the coals. We picked up bits of the fish with our fingers, and passed the pan around for every one to have a drink of the soup.

All this is easy cooking; but how would you go to work to boil buffalo meat if you had no kettle, pot, nor pan of any kind? A great many Indian tribes knew how. When a buffalo was killed, the hide was carefully removed. A bowl-like hole was scraped out in the ground and lined with the buffalo skin, the clean side up. This made a nice basin. Water was put into this and the pieces of meat laid in. A hot fire was kindled near by, and stones were heated in it, and then dropped into the basin of water and meat. So the food was boiled. A number of tribes cooked meat in this way, but one was called by a name that means “stone-boilers”—Assinaboines.

Meat was often dried. In some districts where the air is clear and dry and the sun hot, the meat is cut into strips or sheets, and dried by hanging it on lines near the house. At other places it was dried and smoked over a fire. Where there was buffalo meat, the Indian women made pemmican, which was good. The buffalo meat was first dried as usual. The dried meat was heated through over a low fire, and then beaten with sticks or mauls to shreds. Buffalo tallow was melted and the shredded meat stirred up in it. All was then put into a bag made of buffalo skin and packed as tightly as possible; the bag was then fastened up and sewed tight. Sometimes the marrow-fat was also put into this pemmican, and dried berries or choke-cherries. Pemmican kept well a long time, and was such condensed food that a little of it lasted a long time. It was eaten dry or stewed up in water into a sort of soup.

Smoke Signaling. (After Mallery.)

A curious use for fire among some Indians was in giving signals. A place visible from a great distance was selected. Upon it a little fire was built with fuel which gave a dense smoke. Sometimes the signal depended upon the number of fires kindled side by side. Thus when Pima Indians returned from a war-party against Apaches, they gave smoke signals if they had been successful. A single fire was built first; its one smoke column meant success. Then a number of little fires, kindled in a line side by side, indicated the number of scalps taken. Sometimes messages were given by puffs of smoke. When the fire had been kindled, a blanket was so held as to prevent the smoke rising. When a lot of smoke had been imprisoned beneath it, the blanket was suddenly raised so as to let it escape. It was then lowered, held, and raised so as to cause a new puff. These puffs of smoke rose regularly in long, egg-shaped masses, and according to their number the message to be sent varied. Such signaling by smoke puffs was common among Plains tribes.

About Native American Burials And Graves

About Native American Burials And Graves

Almost all savage and barbarous peoples look upon death as due to bad spirits, to witchcraft, or to violence. They cannot realize that men should die of old age. Disease is generally thought to be due to bad spirits or to the influence of some medicine man.

After a man dies there are many ways of treating the body. Usually the face is painted almost as if the person were preparing for a feast or a dance. The Otoes and many other tribes dress out the body in its choicest clothing and finest ornaments.

Probably burial in the ground is the commonest way of disposing of the dead body. The exact method varies. The grave may be deep, or it may be so shallow as hardly to be a grave at all. The body may be laid in extended to its full length, or it may be bent and folded together into the smallest possible space, and tied securely in this way. Great attention is frequently given to the direction toward which the face or the body is turned. Among some tribes it makes no difference whether the earth touches the body; in others the greatest care is taken to prevent this.

The Sacs and Foxes in Iowa have their graveyards on the side of a hill, high above the surrounding country. The graves are shallow; the body, wrapped in blankets, is laid out at full length; little, if any, earth is thrown directly upon the body, but a little arched covering made of poles laid side by side, lengthwise of the body, is built over it, and a little earth may be thrown upon it. A pole is set at the head of the grave to the top of which is hung a bit of rag or a little cloth, the flapping of which, perhaps, keeps off bad spirits. Various objects are laid upon the grave: for men, bottles, and perhaps knives; for women, buckets and pans, such as are used in their daily work; for little children, the baby-boards on which they used to lie, and the little toys of which they were fond.

Sometimes grave-boxes were made of slabs of stone. Such are known in various parts of the United States, but are most common in Tennessee, where ancient cemeteries, with hundreds of such graves, are known. (See Mounds and their Builders.) Sometimes the bodies of those lately dead were buried in these, but sometimes there were placed in them the dry bones of people ]long dead, who had been buried elsewhere, or whose bodies had been exposed for a time on scaffolds or in dead-houses. Among several northeastern tribes it was the custom to place the bodies for some time in dead-houses, or temporary graves, and at certain times to collect together all the bones, and bury them at once in some great trench or hole.

Most tribes buried objects with the dead. With a man were buried his bow and arrows, war-club, and choicest treasures. The woman was accompanied by her ornaments, tools, and utensils. Even the child had with it its little toys and cradle, as we have seen in connection with the Sacs and Foxes. The Indians believed that people have souls which live somewhere after the men die. These souls hereafter delight to do the same things the men did here. There they hunt, and fish, and war, work and play, eat and drink. So weapons and tools, food and drink, were placed with the body in the grave.

They knew perfectly well that the things do not go away; they believed, however, that things have souls, as men do, and that it is the soul of the things that goes with the soul of the man into the land of spirits. Among tribes that are great horsemen, like the Comanches, a man's ponies are killed at his death. His favorite horse, decked out in all his trappings, is killed at the grave, so that the master may go properly mounted. When a little child among the Sacs and Foxes dies, a little dog is killed at the grave to accompany the child soul, and help the poor little one to find its way to the spirit world. Such destruction or burial of property may be very nice for the dead man's soul, but it is not nice for the man's survivors, who are sometimes quite beggared by it.

Sometimes the objects put into or upon a grave are broken, pierced, or bent. The purpose in thus making the objects “dead” has sometimes been said to be to set free the soul of the object; far more frequently, it is likely that it is to prevent bad persons robbing the grave for its treasures.

Cremation or burning the dead body was found among a number of Indian tribes, particularly upon the Pacific Coast. The Senel in California and some Oregon tribes are among these. So are the Tlingit of Alaska and their near neighbors and kin, the Haida of Queen Charlotte Islands. Among the last two tribes all but the Shamans were usually burned. The Shamans were buried in boxes raised on tall posts. After a Tlingit or Haida body was burned the ashes were usually gathered and placed in a little box-like cavity excavated in an upright post near its base; at the top of this post was a cross-board on which was carved or painted the totem or crest of the dead man.

Where there were great caves (as in Kentucky), and where the people dwelt in caverns (as at one time in the Southwest), the dead were often laid away in some corner of the cave. In almost all such cases the body was folded into the smallest space, with the knees drawn up against the chin; it was then wrapped up in blankets and robes and corded. Such bodies were generally not buried, but simply stowed away. These dried bodies are sometimes called “mummies,” but that name should only be used when something has been done to the body with the definite purpose of preserving it.

Scaffold Burial. (After Yarrow.)

Mention has already been made of box burial in connection with the Tlingit and Haida Shamans. Many Eskimos bury their dead in boxes supported on posts. The weapons, tools, and utensils of the dead are usually stuck upon the posts or hung over the boxes. The Ponkas also bury in raised boxes, and at their present reservation in Oklahoma there are two extensive cemeteries of this kind.

Among some tribes in the extreme northwestern part of the United States canoes are used instead of boxes. They are supported above ground by posts. Usually two canoes are used; the body is placed in the lower, larger one; the smaller one is turned upside down over the corpse and fits within the larger. In the Mississippi and Missouri valley region many Siouan tribes placed their dead upon scaffolds, supported by poles at a height of six or eight feet in the air. Extensive cemeteries of this kind used to occupy high points overlooking the rivers; they could be seen—dreary sights—a long way across the country. Some tribes in wooded districts placed the dead in trees. Often scaffold and tree burial were only temporary, the body being later taken elsewhere for permanent burial. One time, visiting a winter camp of the Sacs and Foxes, far from their permanent village, we saw a strange bundle in a tree. It was the blanketed corpse of an old woman who had died a few days before; the party took it with them when they returned home in the spring.

We should find some of the mourning customs interesting. The friends of the dead wail and scream fearfully; they cut off their hair; they gash their bodies; they sometimes even chop off their finger tips or whole joints. They watch by the grave—this is particularly true of women. Food and drink are often carried to the grave for some time after the burial. Fires are kindled to supply light or heat to the soul on its long journey.

Ojibwa Gravepost. (From Schoolcraft.)

Not many tribes have special posts or marks at the grave. A few do. The Ojibwa made such with much care. Usually they bore pictures or marks telling about the dead man. His totem animal was often represented, usually upside down to indicate that the bearer of the emblem was dead.

H. C. Yarrow.—Army physician, ethnologist. Wrote, among other papers, A Further Contribution to the Study of the Mortuary Customs of the North American Indians.

Native American Inclusion of 'Grave Goods' with Burials

Native American Inclusion of 'Grave Goods' with Burials

Stone Box Grave

The following account is by Dr. S. G. Wright, acting physician to the Leech Lake Agency, Minnesota:—

     Pagan Indians or those who have not become Christians still adhere to the ancient practice of feasting at the grave of departed friends; the object is to feast with the departed; that is, they believe that while they partake of the visible material the departed spirit partakes at the same time of the spirit that dwells in the food. From ancient time it was customary to bury with the dead various articles, such especially as were most valued in lifetime. The idea was that there was a spirit dwelling in the article represented by the material article; thus the war-club contained a spiritual war-club, the pipe a spiritual pipe, which could be used by the departed in another world. These several spiritual implements were supposed, of course, to accompany the soul, to be used also on the way to its final abode. This habit has now ceased.

Medicine-Men as Healers

Medicine-Men as Healers

It was, however, as healers that the medicine-men were pre-eminent. The Indian assigns all illness or bodily discomfort to supernatural agency. He cannot comprehend that indisposition may arise within his own system, but believes that it must necessarily proceed from some external source. Some supernatural being whom he has offended, the soul of an animal which he has slain, or perhaps a malevolent sorcerer, torments him. If the bodies of mankind were not afflicted in this mysterious manner their owners would endure for ever. When the Indian falls sick he betakes himself to a medicine-man, to whom he relates his symptoms, at the same time acquainting him with any circumstances which he may suspect of having brought about his condition. If he has slain a deer and omitted the usual formula of placation afterward he suspects that the spirit of the beast is actively harming him. Should he have shot a bird and have subsequently observed any of the same species near his dwelling, he will almost invariably conclude that they were bent on a mission of vengeance and have by some means injured him. The medicine-man, in the first instance, may give his patient some simple native remedy. If this treatment does not avail he will arrange to go to the sufferer's lodge for the purpose of making a more thorough examination. Having located the seat of the pain, he will blow upon it several times, and then proceed to massage it vigorously, invoking the while the aid of the natural enemy of the spirit which he suspects is tormenting the sick man. Thus if a deer's spirit be suspected he will call upon the mountain lion or the Great Dog to drive it away, but if a bird of any of the smaller varieties he will invoke the Great Eagle who dwells in the zenith to slay or devour it. Upon the supposed approach of these potent beings he will become more excited, and, vigorously slapping the patient, will chant incantations in a loud and sonorous voice, which are supposed to hasten the advent of the friendly beings whom he has summoned. At last, producing by sleight of hand an image of the disturbing spirit worked in bone, he calls for a vessel of boiling water, into which he promptly plunges the supposed cause of his patient's illness. The bone figure is withdrawn from the boiling water after a space, and on being examined may be found to have one or more scores on its surface. Each of these shows that it has already slain its man, and the patient is assured that had the native Æsculapius not adopted severe measures the malign spirit would have added him to the number of its victims.

Should these methods not result in a cure, others are resorted to. The patient is regaled with the choicest food and drink, while incantations are chanted and music performed to frighten away the malign influences.

Native American Myths and Legends of The Evil Spirits

Native American Myths and Legends of

THE EVIL SPIRIT;

FROM THE LEGENDS OF IAGOU.

"The Pagan world not only believes in a myriad of gods, but worships them also. It is the peculiarity of the North American Indian, that while he believes in as many, he worships but one, the Great Spirit."—(Schoolcraft.)

Chemanitou, being the master of life, at one time became the origin of a spirit, that has ever since caused himself and all others of his creation a great deal of disquiet. His birth was owing to an accident. It was in this wise.

Metówac, or as the white people now call it, Long Island, was originally a vast plain, so level and free from any kind of growth, that it looked like a portion of the great sea that had suddenly been made to move back and let the sand below appear, which was the case in fact.

Here it was that Chemanitou used to come and sit, when he wished to bring any new creation to the life. The place being spacious and solitary, the water upon every side, he had not only room enough, but was free from interruption.

It is well known that some of these early creations were of very great size, so that very few could live in the same place, and their strength made it difficult for Chemanitou, even to controul them; for when he has given them certain elements, they have the use of the laws that govern these elements, till it is his will to take them back to himself. Accordingly, it was the custom of Chemanitou, when he wished to try the effect of these creatures, to set them in motion upon the island of Metówac, and if they did not please him, he took the life out before they were suffered to escape. He would set up a mammoth or other large animal, in the centre of the island, and build him up with great care, somewhat in the manner that a cabin or a canoe is made.

Even to this day may be found traces of what had been done here in former years; and the manner in which the earth sometimes sinks down [even wells fall out at the bottom here,] shows that this island is nothing more than a great cake of earth, a sort of platter laid upon the sea, for the convenience of Chemanitou, who used it as a table upon which he might work, never having designed it for anything else; the margin of the Chatiemac, (the stately swan,) or Hudson river, being better adapted to the purposes of habitation.

When the master of life wished to build up an elephant or mammoth he placed four cakes of clay upon the ground, at proper distances, which were moulded into shape, and became the feet of the animal.

Now sometimes these were left unfinished; and to this day the green tussocks, to be seen like little islands about the marshes, show where these cakes of clay had been placed.

As Chemanitou went on with his work, the Neebanawbaigs (or water spirits,) the Puck-wud-jinnies, (Fairies[9]) and indeed all the lesser manittoes, used to come and look on, and wonder what it would be, and how it would act.

[9]Literally, little men, who vanish.

When the animal was quite done, and had dried a long time in the sun, Chemanitou opened a place in the side, and entering in, remained there many days.

When he came forth, the creature began to shiver and sway from side to side, in such a manner as shook the whole island for many leagues. If his appearance pleased the master of life he was suffered to depart, and it was generally found that these animals plunged into the sea upon the north side of the island, and disappeared in the great forests beyond.

Now at one time Chemanitou was a very long while building an animal, of such great bulk, that it looked like a mountain upon the centre of the island; and all the manittoes, from all parts, came to see what it was. The Puck-wud-jinnies especially made themselves very merry, capering behind his great ears, sitting within his mouth, each perched upon a tooth, and running in and out of the sockets of the eyes, thinking Chemanitou, who was finishing off other parts of the animal, could not see them.

But he can see right through every thing he has made. He was glad to see them so lively, and bethought himself of many new creations while he watched their motions.

When the Master of Life had completed this large animal, he was fearful to give it life, and so it was left upon the island, or work-table of Chemanitou, till its great weight caused it to break through, and sinking partly down it stuck fast, the head and tail holding it in such a manner as to prevent it from going down.

Chemanitou then lifted up a piece of the back, and found it made a very good cavity, into which the old creations, which failed to please him, might be thrown.

He sometimes amused himself by making creatures very small and active, with which he disported awhile, and finding them of very little use in the world, and not so attractive as the little Vanishers, he would take out the life, holding it in himself, and then cast them into the cave made by the body of the unfinished animal. In this way great quantities of very odd shapes were heaped together in this Roncomcomon, or "Place of Fragments."

He was always careful to first take out the life.

One day the Master of Life took two pieces of clay and moulded them into two large feet, like those of a panther. He did not make four—there were two only.

He stepped his own feet into them, and found the tread very light and springy, so that he might go with great speed, and yet make no noise.

Next he built up a pair of very tall legs, in the shape of his own, and made them walk about awhile—he was pleased with the motion. Then followed a round body, covered with large scales, like the alligator.

He now found the figure doubling forward, and he fastened a long black snake, that was gliding by, to the back part of the body, and let it wind itself about a sapling near, which held the body upright, and made a very good tail.

The shoulders were broad and strong, like those of the buffaloe, and covered with hair—the neck thick and short, and full at the back.

Thus far Chemanitou had worked with little thought, but when he came to the head he thought a long while.

He took a round ball of clay into his lap, and worked it over with great care. While he thought, he patted the ball upon the top, which made it very broad and low; for Chemanitou was thinking of the panther feet, and the buffaloe neck. He remembered the Puck-wud-jinnies playing in the eye sockets of the great unfinished animal, and he bethought him to set the eyes out, like those of a lobster, so that the animal might see upon every side.

He made the forehead broad and full, but low; for here was to be the wisdom of the forked tongue, like that of the serpent, which should be in his mouth. He should see all things, and know all things. Here Chemanitou stopped, for he saw that he had never thought of such a creation before, one with but two feet, a creature who should stand upright, and see upon every side.

The jaws were very strong, with ivory teeth, and gills upon either side, which arose and fell whenever breath passed through them. The nose was like the beak of the vulture. A tuft of porcupine quills made the scalp-lock.

Chemanitou held the head out the length of his arm, and turned it first upon one side and then upon the other. He passed it rapidly through the air, and saw the gills rise and fall, the lobster eyes whirl round, and the vulture nose look keen.

Chemanitou became very sad; yet he put the head upon the shoulders. It was the first time he had made an upright figure.

It seemed to be the first idea of a man.

It was now nearly night; the bats were flying through the air, and the roar of wild beasts began to be heard. A gusty wind swept in from the ocean, and passed over the island of Metówac, casting the light sand to and fro. A heavy scud was skimming along the horizon, while higher up in the sky was a dark thick cloud, upon the verge of which the moon hung for a moment, and then was shut in.

A panther came by and stayed a moment, with one foot raised and bent inward, while he looked up at the image, and smelt the feet, that were like his own.

A vulture swooped down with a great noise of its wings, and made a dash at the beak, but Chemanitou held him back.

Then came the porcupine, and the lizard, and the snake, each drawn by its kind in the image.

Chemanitou veiled his face for many hours, and the gusty wind swept by, but he did not stir.

He saw that every beast of the earth seeketh its kind; and that which is like draweth its likeness unto himself.

The Master of Life thought and thought. The idea grew into his mind that at some time he would create a creature who should be made not after the things of the earth, but after himself.

He should link this world to the spirit world,—being made in the likeness of the Great Spirit, he should be drawn unto his likeness.

Many days and nights, whole seasons, passed while Chemanitou thought upon these things. He saw all things.

Then the Master of Life lifted up his head; the stars were looking down upon the image, and a bat had alighted upon the forehead, spreading its great wings upon each side. Chemanitou took the bat and held out its whole leathery wings, (and ever since the bat, when he rests, lets his body hang down,) so that he could try them over the head of the image. He then took the life of the bat away, and twisted off the body, by which means the whole thin part fell down over the head, and upon each side, making the ears, and a covering for the forehead like that of the hooded serpent.

Chemanitou did not cut off the face of the image below, he went on and made a chin, and lips that were firm and round, that they might shut in the forked tongue, and the ivory teeth; and he knew that with the lips and the chin it would smile, when life should be given to it.

The image was now all done but the arms, and Chemanitou saw that with a chin it must have hands. He grew more grave.

He had never given hands to any creature.

He made the arms and the hands very beautiful, after the manner of his own.

Chemanitou now took no pleasure in his work that was done—it was not good in his sight.

He wished he had not given it hands; might it not, when trusted with life, might it not begin to create? might it not thwart the plans of the master of life himself!

He looked long at the image. He saw what it would do when life should be given it. He knew all things.

He now put fire in the image: but fire is not life.

He put fire within, and a red glow passed through and through it. The fire dried the clay of which it was made, and gave the image an exceedingly fierce aspect. It shone through the scales upon the breast, and the gills, and the bat-winged ears. The lobster eyes were like a living coal.

Chemanitou opened the side of the image, but he did not enter. He had given it hands and a chin.

It could smile like the manittoes themselves.

He made it walk all about the island of Metówac, that he might see how it would act. This he did by means of his will.

He now put a little life into it, but he did not take out the fire. Chemanitou saw the aspect of the creature would be very terrible, and yet that he could smile in such a manner that he ceased to be ugly. He thought much upon these things. He felt it would not be best to let such a creature live; a creature made up mostly from the beasts of the field, but with hands of power, a chin lifting the head upward, and lips holding all things within themselves.

While he thought upon these things, he took the image in his hands and cast it into the cave.

But Chemanitou forgot to take out the life!

The creature lay a long time in the cave and did not stir, for his fall was very great. He lay amongst the old creations that had been thrown in there without life.

Now when a long time had passed Chemanitou heard a great noise in the cave. He looked in and saw the image sitting there, and he was trying to put together the old broken things that had been cast in as of no value.

Chemanitou gathered together a vast heap of stones and sand, for large rocks are not to be had upon the island, and stopped the mouth of the cave. Many days passed and the noise grew louder within the cave. The earth shook, and hot smoke came from the ground. The Manittoes crowded to Metówac to see what was the matter.

Chemanitou came also, for he remembered the image he had cast in there, and forgotten to take away the life.

Suddenly there was a great rising of the stones and sand—the sky grew black with wind and dust. Fire played about the ground, and water gushed high into the air.

All the Manittoes fled with fear; and the image came forth with a great noise and most terrible to behold. His life had grown strong within him, for the fire had made it very fierce.

Everything fled before him and cried—Machinito—Machinito—which means a god, but an evil god!

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The above legend is gathered from the traditions of Iagou, the great Indian narrator, who seems to have dipped deeper into philosophy than most of his compeers. The aboriginal language abounds with stories related by this remarkable personage, which we hope to bring before the public at some future time. Whether subsequent events justify the Indian in making Long Island the arena of the production of Machinito or the Evil Spirit, will seem more than apocryphal to a white resident. However we have nothing to do except to relate the fact as it was related.

As to these primitive metaphysics, they are at least curious; and the coolness with which the fact is assumed that the origin of evil was accidental in the process of developing a perfect humanity, would, at an earlier day, have been quite appalling to the schoolmen.