🧚 Opening, part 16

It came in all its horrors, Its eyes were like deep red fire, Its horns rose sharp and high.1 It asked him, what he would have?2 He answered that his brother Had lost himself in madness, And he fain would cure the youth.3

“I will give you what you want,” Answered the Wîwilmekw, “If you are not afraid.”4

“I have no fear at all,” The Indian replied, “Of anything that lives.”5

“Hast thou no fear of me?”6 The Demon Worm inquired.7

“No more of thee than I Have of the Michihant, Who is the Devil of all.”8

“If you dare take me by My horns,” the fiend replied, “And scrape them with your knife, And lay the scrapings by, Then you may have your wish.”9

In truth this Indian was As savage, wild and brave, As was the Devil himself; He had great need indeed To be all that he was; For the Wîwilmekw, Most terrible to see, Grew fiercer than before, Yet the man drew out his knife And boldly scraped away, Until the Demon said: “Now hold!10 You have enough.”11

“And now go seek your camp, Put half the scrapings then Into a cup half full Of water from the spring, And bid your brother drink!”12 “And with the other half?”13 The Indian inquired.14 “Keep that till you return, Then give it to the girl Who made the trouble--she Needs medicine as well.”15

So the man returned to camp And made his brother well.16 And when the hunt was o’er They turned them to their home.17

There they arrived at night; A great festivity Was stirring all the town, Torches were everywhere, And everywhere the scent Of _mskîkwul wʾli-mhaskil_, Which is the perfumed grass Burning intensely sweet.18

The dance was going on, So, many were athirst.19 And this the hunter knew, The younger of the pair; So he had made a drink Cool, and with honey sweet, Fragrant with pleasant herbs-- A dainty drink indeed-- But, mingled with it all, There lurked a subtle life, The powder from the horn Of the Wîwilmekw.20 So thirsty was the witch As she from dancing came, So warm that, when the youth Held out to her the cup, She seized and drank it dry All without giving heed As to what hand had held The cool, refreshing draught; Then turning to the one Who was her partner, she Went on into the dance, And then a wondrous thing Was seen by all therein: For lo! at every turn The maiden older grew, One year for every round; Beginning as a girl In all her freshest youth She at the lodge’s end, Seemed fifty years of age, And still, as she danced on, Added unto her age, Till just as she returned Unto the very place Whence she had come, she fell All dead upon the floor, A little dried-up thing, A wrinkled, wizened squaw, A thing of the last old age Or of a hundred years.21

She seized and drank it dry All without giving heed As to what hand had held The cool, refreshing draught.]22

There is another Passamaquoddy version of this poem which is hardly less striking in its ending.23 The brother, having obtained the scrapings of the horn, merely touches with them a large green beech tree which becomes dead in an instant and then falls to the ground, actually rotten as if it were a century old.24 And, when the same powder is given to the witch,25

She grew older in an instant, She became very old indeed: A pale color rippled All over her face.26 She fell, Looking a hundred years, Dead upon the floor.27 Shrivelled and dried as she fell, Then dropped to powder--“She Will trouble you no more.”28 Then said the conjurer; “Her dance is over now.”29 L.30

FOOTNOTES:31

[59] Long ago in an Indian village.32

XIII33

A TALE OF THE RIVER-ELVES34

[_Abenaki_]35

_Noñwat Manoñuamasak Udainoñ kwaʿliwi kd-odana-na.36 _[60]37

Long ago some River-elves were living near our town.38 These Elves would always work at night along the river shore, And fashion little wheels of clay and leave them on the bank.39 When these small cakes of clay were fresh some Indians there were Who learned to eat them and to take great pleasure in their taste.40 In ancient times--this is the tale which oft was told to me-- An Indian and squaw were out afar in bark canoe When in the current’s swirling waves they right before them saw A wee canoe in which there sat two children, as they thought.41 Now these were hideous River-elves, and when they had beheld The Indians, they called to them: “O ye of fairer face And better looks go back,” and then tipped over their canoe, Which, as it rolled, the Indians perceived to be of stone, And nevermore thereafter did they see the River-elves, Who when the loud-voiced Whites had settled all the country-side, Withdrew far up the rushing stream where no canoe may pass Save only stone ones.42 Nor again did ever Indian find Those wheels of clay which he of old so dearly loved to eat.43 [61] P.44

FOOTNOTES:45

[60] Long ago the River-elves were around our town.46

[61] This song clearly indicates “earth-eating” among the Indians.47 It still exists among negroes in the United States.48

PART THIRD49

=Lyrics and Miscellany=50

LYRICS AND MISCELLANY51

I52

THE SONG OF LAPPILATWAN, THE SINGER IN THE DUSK53

_Piʿche Lappilatwan mechimiu-olamto Wʾtagwsiu-ut msiu sipsis.54 _[62]55

Lappilatwan, fair tree-fungus, From days of old, The ever good-natured, Of all the birds cousin.56 Dwelt on the birch-tree; All the birds of the forest, Even the little insects, Even the little worms, Crawled up the great birch To see their good friend.57

Thus always at sunset They heard him singing: _Lappilatwan Wappilatwan Wechkutonébit_, “Fair tree-fungus, Fair tree-fungus, Sits with mouth open,” The signal song Unto all wood birds, Worms and insects, To go to sleep; So that all the birds, Little worms, little insects, When they heard _Lappilatwan Wappilatwan_ Knew he was silent For all the night There where he hung In the cold birch tree, Cold, rough and damp, All night, all day!58 All through the year.59 But when the day dawns His song rings again; _Lappilatwan Wechkutonébit_, “Fair tree-fungus Fair tree-fungus Sits with mouth open.”60 Then every bird Every small insect, All creeping things Who heard his song, Knew there was coming A beautiful day: “Let us arise!61 The daylight is breaking!”62 They rose at his call.63

One bright fresh morning, Lively Sexkâtû The flying squirrel Climbed the great birch-tree, And there he found Lappilatwan From a branch hanging, And he thus spoke; “Tell me how long Have you dwelt here?”64 “I have lived in this tree Since your great grandfather _Kʾchî Kʾmûsums_ Was born on that cedar From which you came Early this morning.”65

“But tell me truly, Lappilatwan, How long will you Dwell in this birch-tree?”66

“While the birch-tree Sends forth its leaves, While its trunk stands, I will dwell in its branches.”67 Sexkâtû the squirrel Wanted that birch-tree For his own home: He would be nesting In that same place.68 Thus he then answered: “You have been here Long--and far _too_ long.69 It is time for you To yield to another: Let me come here!”70

Lappilatwan Answered him quietly: “_Noses_, ‘my grandchild:’ I cannot go hence.71 If I should do so Birds and the insects Could not hear me call.72 Could not hear my songs From another tree; You, who are so clever, Far quicker than I am.73 You can make your home All over the forest.”74

“You must go!” said Sexkâtû, Then he gnawed at the branch; There was the nest Of the Hamw[´ĕ]sŭk, Of the stinging wasps, Who came swarming out From their little wigwam; More than a hundred, Flew at Sexkâtû Clung to his back Madly they stung him, Till stunned with their stinging Saucy Sexkâtû Fell to the ground.75 Well nigh a-dyin, With stings and with bruises.76