Appendix

53 min

APPENDIX A

(FROM THE NEW ORLEANS TIMES DEMOCRAT OF MARCH 29, 1882.)

(From the New Orleans Times Democrat, March 29, 1882.)

VOYAGE OF THE TIMES-DEMOCRAT'S RELIEF BOAT THROUGH THE INUNDATED REGIONS

THE TIMES-DEMOCRAT'S RELIEF BOAT JOURNEY THROUGH THE FLOODED REGIONS

IT was nine o'clock Thursday morning when the 'Susie' left the Mississippi and entered Old River, or what is now called the mouth of the Red. Ascending on the left, a flood was pouring in through and over the levees on the Chandler plantation, the most northern point in Pointe Coupee parish. The water completely covered the place, although the levees had given way but a short time before. The stock had been gathered in a large flat-boat, where, without food, as we passed, the animals were huddled together, waiting for a boat to tow them off. On the right-hand side of the river is Turnbull's Island, and on it is a large plantation which formerly was pronounced one of the most fertile in the State. The water has hitherto allowed it to go scot-free in usual floods, but now broad sheets of water told only where fields were. The top of the protecting levee could be seen here and there, but nearly all of it was submerged.

At nine o'clock Thursday morning, the 'Susie' left the Mississippi and entered Old River, now called the mouth of the Red. As we traveled upstream, floodwater was pouring through and over the levees on the Chandler plantation to our left. The plantation was the northernmost point in Pointe Coupee parish. The water completely covered the place, although the levees had given way only a short time before. The livestock had been gathered on a large flatboat. As we passed, the animals were huddled there without food, waiting for a boat to tow them away. On the right side of the river is Turnbull's Island. It has a large plantation once considered one of the most fertile in the State. The water had spared the plantation during previous floods. But now broad sheets of water showed where its fields had been. The top of the protective levee could be seen here and there, but nearly all of it was underwater.

The trees have put on a greener foliage since the water has poured in, and the woods look bright and fresh, but this pleasant aspect to the eye is neutralized by the interminable waste of water. We pass mile after mile, and it is nothing but trees standing up to their branches in water. A water-turkey now and again rises and flies ahead into the long avenue of silence. A pirogue sometimes flits from the bushes and crosses the Red River on its way out to the Mississippi, but the sad-faced paddlers never turn their heads to look at our boat. The puffing of the boat is music in this gloom, which affects one most curiously. It is not the gloom of deep forests or dark caverns, but a peculiar kind of solemn silence and impressive awe that holds one perforce to its recognition. We passed two negro families on a raft tied up in the willows this morning. They were evidently of the well-to-do class, as they had a supply of meal and three or four hogs with them. Their rafts were about twenty feet square, and in front of an improvised shelter earth had been placed, on which they built their fire.

The trees have grown greener leaves since the water poured in, and the woods look bright and fresh. But the endless expanse of water cancels out this pleasant sight. We travel mile after mile past nothing but trees standing in water up to their branches. Now and then a water-turkey rises and flies ahead into the long passage of silence. Sometimes a pirogue slips out of the bushes and crosses the Red River on its way to the Mississippi. But the sad-faced paddlers never turn their heads to look at our boat. The boat’s puffing sounds like music in this gloom, which has a curious effect on a person. It is not the gloom of deep forests or dark caverns. Instead, a peculiar, solemn silence and a powerful sense of awe force themselves on your attention. This morning we passed two Black families on a raft tied up among the willows. They were evidently well off, since they had a supply of meal and three or four hogs with them. Their rafts were about twenty feet square. In front of a makeshift shelter, they had placed earth on which they built their fire.

The current running down the Atchafalaya was very swift, the Mississippi showing a predilection in that direction, which needs only to be seen to enforce the opinion of that river's desperate endeavors to find a short way to the Gulf. Small boats, skiffs, pirogues, etc., are in great demand, and many have been stolen by piratical negroes, who take them where they will bring the greatest price. From what was told me by Mr. C. P. Ferguson, a planter near Red River Landing, whose place has just gone under, there is much suffering in the rear of that place. The negroes had given up all thoughts of a crevasse there, as the upper levee had stood so long, and when it did come they were at its mercy. On Thursday a number were taken out of trees and off of cabin roofs and brought in, many yet remaining.

The current flowing down the Atchafalaya was very swift. The Mississippi favored that route, and anyone who saw it would believe the river was desperately seeking a shortcut to the Gulf. Small boats, skiffs, pirogues, and the like are in great demand. Many have been stolen by piratical Black people, who take them wherever they can get the highest price. Mr. C. P. Ferguson told me there is much suffering in the area behind his plantation near Red River Landing. His plantation has just been flooded. The Black people there had stopped expecting a levee breach because the upper levee had held for so long. When the breach finally came, they were at its mercy. On Thursday, a number of them were rescued from trees and cabin roofs and brought in. Many still remained.

One does not appreciate the sight of earth until he has traveled through a flood. At sea one does not expect or look for it, but here, with fluttering leaves, shadowy forest aisles, house-tops barely visible, it is expected. In fact a grave-yard, if the mounds were above water, would be appreciated. The river here is known only because there is an opening in the trees, and that is all. It is in width, from Fort Adams on the left bank of the Mississippi to the bank of Rapides Parish, a distance of about sixty miles. A large portion of this was under cultivation, particularly along the Mississippi and back of the Red. When Red River proper was entered, a strong current was running directly across it, pursuing the same direction as that of the Mississippi.

You do not appreciate the sight of land until you have traveled through a flood. At sea, you do not expect or look for land. But here, with fluttering leaves, shadowy paths through the forest, and rooftops barely visible, you expect to see it. In fact, even a graveyard would be welcome, if its mounds were above water. Here, you can tell where the river is only by an opening in the trees. That is all. The flooded area stretches about sixty miles, from Fort Adams on the left bank of the Mississippi to the bank of Rapides Parish. Much of this land was cultivated, particularly along the Mississippi and behind the Red. When we entered the Red River itself, a strong current was running straight across it, in the same direction as the Mississippi.

After a run of some hours, Black River was reached. Hardly was it entered before signs of suffering became visible. All the willows along the banks were stripped of their leaves. One man, whom your correspondent spoke to, said that he had had one hundred and fifty head of cattle and one hundred head of hogs. At the first appearance of water he had started to drive them to the high lands of Avoyelles, thirty-five miles off, but he lost fifty head of the beef cattle and sixty hogs. Black River is quite picturesque, even if its shores are under water. A dense growth of ash, oak, gum, and hickory make the shores almost impenetrable, and where one can get a view down some avenue in the trees, only the dim outlines of distant trunks can be barely distinguished in the gloom.

After several hours of travel, we reached Black River. Almost as soon as we entered it, signs of suffering appeared. All the willows along the banks had been stripped of their leaves. One man I spoke to said he had owned 150 cattle and 100 hogs. When the water first appeared, he had begun driving them to the high lands of Avoyelles, 35 miles away. But he lost 50 head of beef cattle and 60 hogs. Black River is quite picturesque, even though its shores are underwater. Dense growths of ash, oak, gum, and hickory make the shores almost impenetrable. Where there is an opening through the trees, the faint outlines of distant trunks can barely be seen in the gloom.

A few miles up this river, the depth of water on the banks was fully eight feet, and on all sides could be seen, still holding against the strong current, the tops of cabins. Here and there one overturned was surrounded by drift-wood, forming the nucleus of possibly some future island.

A few miles up the river, the water over the banks was a full eight feet deep. Cabin tops could be seen on all sides, still holding firm against the strong current. Here and there, an overturned cabin was surrounded by driftwood, possibly forming the beginning of a future island.

In order to save coal, as it was impossible to get that fuel at any point to be touched during the expedition, a look-out was kept for a wood-pile. On rounding a point a pirogue, skilfully paddled by a youth, shot out, and in its bow was a girl of fifteen, of fair face, beautiful black eyes, and demure manners. The boy asked for a paper, which was thrown to him, and the couple pushed their tiny craft out into the swell of the boat.

To save coal, they kept watch for a woodpile. They could not get coal at any stop on the expedition. As the boat rounded a point, a pirogue shot out, skillfully paddled by a boy. In the bow sat a girl of fifteen, with a fair face, beautiful black eyes, and a demure manner. The boy asked for a paper, and someone threw one to him. The couple pushed their tiny craft out into the boat's wake.

Presently a little girl, not certainly over twelve years, paddled out in the smallest little canoe and handled it with all the deftness of an old voyageur. The little one looked more like an Indian than a white child, and laughed when asked if she were afraid. She had been raised in a pirogue and could go anywhere. She was bound out to pick willow leaves for the stock, and she pointed to a house near by with water three inches deep on the floors. At its back door was moored a raft about thirty feet square, with a sort of fence built upon it, and inside of this some sixteen cows and twenty hogs were standing. The family did not complain, except on account of losing their stock, and promptly brought a supply of wood in a flat.

Soon, a little girl, certainly no older than twelve, paddled out in a tiny canoe. She handled it as skillfully as an experienced voyageur. The little girl looked more like a Native American than a white child. She laughed when asked if she was afraid. She had grown up in a pirogue and could go anywhere. She was on her way to pick willow leaves for the livestock. She pointed to a nearby house with three inches of water on its floors. A raft about thirty feet square was tied to the back door. A kind of fence had been built on it, and inside stood about sixteen cows and twenty hogs. The family did not complain, except about losing their livestock. They promptly brought a load of wood in a flatboat.

From this point to the Mississippi River, fifteen miles, there is not a spot of earth above water, and to the westward for thirty-five miles there is nothing but the river's flood. Black River had risen during Thursday, the 23rd, 1{three-quarters} inches, and was going up at night still. As we progress up the river habitations become more frequent, but are yet still miles apart. Nearly all of them are deserted, and the out-houses floated off. To add to the gloom, almost every living thing seems to have departed, and not a whistle of a bird nor the bark of the squirrel can be heard in this solitude. Sometimes a morose gar will throw his tail aloft and disappear in the river, but beyond this everything is quiet—the quiet of dissolution. Down the river floats now a neatly whitewashed hen-house, then a cluster of neatly split fence-rails, or a door and a bloated carcass, solemnly guarded by a pair of buzzards, the only bird to be seen, which feast on the carcass as it bears them along. A picture-frame in which there was a cheap lithograph of a soldier on horseback, as it floated on told of some hearth invaded by the water and despoiled of this ornament.

From here to the Mississippi River, fifteen miles away, there is no land above water. To the west, there is nothing but the river’s flood for thirty-five miles. Black River rose 1¾ inches during Thursday, the 23rd, and was still rising that night. As we travel upriver, houses become more frequent, but they are still miles apart. Nearly all are deserted, and their outbuildings have floated away. Adding to the gloom, almost every living thing seems to have left. In this solitude, not a bird’s whistle or a squirrel’s bark can be heard. Sometimes a gloomy gar lifts its tail above the water and disappears into the river. Otherwise, everything is quiet, the quiet of decay. A neatly whitewashed henhouse floats downriver, followed by a cluster of neatly split fence rails. Then a door and a bloated carcass float past. A pair of buzzards solemnly guard the carcass. They are the only birds in sight, and they feast on the carcass as it carries them along. A picture frame also floats past, holding a cheap lithograph of a soldier on horseback. It tells of a home invaded by water and stripped of this ornament.

At dark, as it was not prudent to run, a place alongside the woods was hunted and to a tall gum-tree the boat was made fast for the night.

At dark, it was not safe to keep the boat moving. So they looked for a spot alongside the woods and tied the boat to a tall gum tree for the night.

A pretty quarter of the moon threw a pleasant light over forest and river, making a picture that would be a delightful piece of landscape study, could an artist only hold it down to his canvas. The motion of the engines had ceased, the puffing of the escaping steam was stilled, and the enveloping silence closed upon us, and such silence it was! Usually in a forest at night one can hear the piping of frogs, the hum of insects, or the dropping of limbs; but here nature was dumb. The dark recesses, those aisles into this cathedral, gave forth no sound, and even the ripplings of the current die away.

A lovely quarter moon cast a pleasant light over the forest and river. The scene would make a delightful landscape painting, if only an artist could capture it on canvas. The engines had stopped, and the puffing of escaping steam had fallen silent. Silence closed in around us, and what silence it was! Usually, in a forest at night, you can hear frogs piping, insects humming, or branches falling. But here nature was silent. No sound came from the dark recesses, those aisles leading into this cathedral. Even the ripples of the current faded away.

At daylight Friday morning all hands were up, and up the Black we started. The morning was a beautiful one, and the river, which is remarkably straight, put on its loveliest garb. The blossoms of the haw perfumed the air deliciously, and a few birds whistled blithely along the banks. The trees were larger, and the forest seemed of older growth than below. More fields were passed than nearer the mouth, but the same scene presented itself—smoke-houses drifting out in the pastures, negro quarters anchored in confusion against some oak, and the modest residence just showing its eaves above water. The sun came up in a glory of carmine, and the trees were brilliant in their varied shades of green. Not a foot of soil is to be seen anywhere, and the water is apparently growing deeper and deeper, for it reaches up to the branches of the largest trees. All along, the bordering willows have been denuded of leaves, showing how long the people have been at work gathering this fodder for their animals. An old man in a pirogue was asked how the willow leaves agreed with his cattle. He stopped in his work, and with an ominous shake of his head replied: 'Well, sir, it 's enough to keep warmth in their bodies and that's all we expect, but it's hard on the hogs, particularly the small ones. They is dropping off powerful fast. But what can you do? It 's all we've got.'

At daybreak on Friday, everyone was up, and we started up the Black. The morning was beautiful, and the remarkably straight river looked its loveliest. Haw blossoms filled the air with a delicious scent, and a few birds whistled cheerfully along the banks. The trees were larger, and the forest seemed older than it had downstream. We passed more fields than we had nearer the mouth, but the scene was the same. Smokehouses drifted in the pastures, and quarters for Black workers were lodged in confusion against an oak. Only the eaves of the modest residence showed above the water. The sun rose in a blaze of crimson, and the trees glowed in varied shades of green. Not a foot of soil could be seen anywhere. The water seemed to be growing deeper and deeper, for it reached the branches of the largest trees. All along the river, the willows had been stripped of leaves. This showed how long people had been gathering the leaves to feed their animals. We asked an old man in a pirogue how his cattle were doing on willow leaves. He stopped working and shook his head ominously. "Well, sir, it's enough to keep warmth in their bodies, and that's all we expect. But it's hard on the hogs, especially the small ones. They're dying off mighty fast. But what can you do? It's all we've got."

At thirty miles above the mouth of Black River the water extends from Natchez on the Mississippi across to the pine hills of Louisiana, a distance of seventy-three miles, and there is hardly a spot that is not ten feet under it. The tendency of the current up the Black is toward the west. In fact, so much is this the case, the waters of Red River have been driven down from toward the Calcasieu country, and the waters of the Black enter the Red some fifteen miles above the mouth of the former, a thing never before seen by even the oldest steamboatmen. The water now in sight of us is entirely from the Mississippi.

Thirty miles above the mouth of Black River, water stretches from Natchez on the Mississippi to the pine hills of Louisiana. That is a distance of seventy-three miles, and hardly a spot is less than ten feet underwater. The current up the Black tends to flow west. In fact, it flows so strongly westward that Red River's waters have been driven down from the direction of the Calcasieu country. The waters of the Black enter the Red some fifteen miles above the mouth of the Black. Even the oldest steamboatmen have never seen this happen before. All the water now in sight comes from the Mississippi.

Up to Trinity, or rather Troy, which is but a short distance below, the people have nearly all moved out, those remaining having enough for their present personal needs. Their cattle, though, are suffering and dying off quite fast, as the confinement on rafts and the food they get breeds disease.

Nearly everyone has moved out as far up as Trinity, or rather Troy, a short distance below Trinity. Those who remain have enough to meet their immediate personal needs. Their cattle, though, are suffering and dying quite fast. Being confined on rafts and the food they are given cause disease.

After a short stop we started, and soon came to a section where there were many open fields and cabins thickly scattered about. Here were seen more pictures of distress. On the inside of the houses the inmates had built on boxes a scaffold on which they placed the furniture. The bed-posts were sawed off on top, as the ceiling was not more than four feet from the improvised floor. The buildings looked very insecure, and threatened every moment to float off. Near the houses were cattle standing breast high in the water, perfectly impassive. They did not move in their places, but stood patiently waiting for help to come. The sight was a distressing one, and the poor creatures will be sure to die unless speedily rescued. Cattle differ from horses in this peculiar quality. A horse, after finding no relief comes, will swim off in search of food, whereas a beef will stand in its tracks until with exhaustion it drops in the water and drowns.

After a short stop, we set off again. Soon we came to an area with many open fields and cabins scattered close together. Here we saw more scenes of distress. Inside the houses, the residents had built platforms on boxes and placed their furniture on them. They had sawed off the tops of the bedposts because the ceiling was no more than four feet above the makeshift floor. The buildings looked very unstable and seemed ready to float away at any moment. Near the houses, cattle stood in water up to their chests, completely still. They did not move from their places, but waited patiently for help. It was a distressing sight, and the poor creatures would surely die unless rescued quickly. Cattle differ from horses in this peculiar way. If no relief comes, a horse will swim away in search of food. A cow, however, will stand in place until it collapses from exhaustion and drowns.

At half-past twelve o'clock a hail was given from a flat-boat inside the line of the bank. Rounding to we ran alongside, and General York stepped aboard. He was just then engaged in getting off stock, and welcomed the 'Times-Democrat' boat heartily, as he said there was much need for her. He said that the distress was not exaggerated in the least. People were in a condition it was difficult even for one to imagine. The water was so high there was great danger of their houses being swept away. It had already risen so high that it was approaching the eaves, and when it reaches this point there is always imminent risk of their being swept away. If this occurs, there will be great loss of life. The General spoke of the gallant work of many of the people in their attempts to save their stock, but thought that fully twenty-five per cent. had perished. Already twenty-five hundred people had received rations from Troy, on Black River, and he had towed out a great many cattle, but a very great quantity remained and were in dire need. The water was now eighteen inches higher than in 1874, and there was no land between Vidalia and the hills of Catahoula.

At half past twelve, someone called out from a flatboat inside the bank. We turned and pulled alongside, and General York stepped aboard. He was then helping move livestock to safety. He warmly welcomed the 'Times-Democrat' boat, saying it was badly needed. He said the accounts of the suffering were not exaggerated at all. The people's condition was difficult even to imagine. The water was so high that their houses were in great danger of being swept away. It had already risen nearly to the eaves. Once it reaches that height, there is always an immediate risk that the houses will be swept away. If that happened, many people would die. The General spoke of the brave efforts many people had made to save their livestock. But he thought that fully twenty-five percent had died. Already, twenty-five hundred people had received rations from Troy, on Black River. He had towed a great many cattle to safety, but a very large number remained and were in desperate need. The water was now eighteen inches higher than in 1874. No land was visible between Vidalia and the hills of Catahoula.

At two o'clock the 'Susie' reached Troy, sixty-five miles above the mouth of Black River. Here on the left comes in Little River; just beyond that the Ouachita, and on the right the Tensas. These three rivers form the Black River. Troy, or a portion of it, is situated on and around three large Indian mounds, circular in shape, which rise above the present water about twelve feet. They are about one hundred and fifty feet in diameter, and are about two hundred yards apart. The houses are all built between these mounds, and hence are all flooded to a depth of eighteen inches on their floors.

At two o'clock, the 'Susie' reached Troy, sixty-five miles above the mouth of the Black River. Here, Little River flows in from the left, followed just beyond by the Ouachita. The Tensas flows in from the right. These three rivers form the Black River. Troy, or part of it, sits on and around three large circular Indian mounds. The mounds rise about twelve feet above the water's current level. They are about 150 feet across and about 200 yards apart. All the houses are built between the mounds, so their floors are all covered by eighteen inches of water.

These elevations, built by the aborigines, hundreds of years ago, are the only points of refuge for miles. When we arrived we found them crowded with stock, all of which was thin and hardly able to stand up. They were mixed together, sheep, hogs, horses, mules, and cattle. One of these mounds has been used for many years as the grave-yard, and to-day we saw attenuated cows lying against the marble tomb-stones, chewing their cud in contentment, after a meal of corn furnished by General York. Here, as below, the remarkable skill of the women and girls in the management of the smaller pirogues was noticed. Children were paddling about in these most ticklish crafts with all the nonchalance of adepts.

These mounds were built by Indigenous people hundreds of years ago. They are the only places of refuge for miles. When we arrived, we found them crowded with livestock. All the animals were thin and barely able to stand. Sheep, hogs, horses, mules, and cattle were mixed together. One mound has been used as a graveyard for many years. Today we saw thin cows lying against the marble tombstones, contentedly chewing their cud after eating corn supplied by General York. Here, as farther downstream, we noticed how skillfully the women and girls handled the smaller pirogues. Children paddled about in these very unstable boats as casually as experts.

General York has put into operation a perfect system in regard to furnishing relief. He makes a personal inspection of the place where it is asked, sees what is necessary to be done, and then, having two boats chartered, with flats, sends them promptly to the place, when the cattle are loaded and towed to the pine hills and uplands of Catahoula. He has made Troy his headquarters, and to this point boats come for their supply of feed for cattle. On the opposite side of Little River, which branches to the left out of Black, and between it and the Ouachita, is situated the town of Trinity, which is hourly threatened with destruction. It is much lower than Troy, and the water is eight and nine feet deep in the houses. A strong current sweeps through it, and it is remarkable that all of its houses have not gone before. The residents of both Troy and Trinity have been cared for, yet some of their stock have to be furnished with food.

General York has put an excellent relief system in place. He personally inspects each place where relief is requested and determines what needs to be done. He has chartered two boats with flatboats, which he promptly sends to the area. The cattle are then loaded onto the flatboats and towed to the pine hills and uplands of Catahoula. He has made Troy his headquarters, and boats come there for cattle feed. Across Little River, which branches left from Black, lies the town of Trinity. It is situated between Little River and the Ouachita, and is threatened with destruction at any hour. Trinity is much lower than Troy, and the water in its houses is eight or nine feet deep. A strong current sweeps through the town, and it is remarkable that all its houses have not been swept away. The residents of both Troy and Trinity have been cared for, but some of their livestock still need food.

As soon as the 'Susie' reached Troy, she was turned over to General York, and placed at his disposition to carry out the work of relief more rapidly. Nearly all her supplies were landed on one of the mounds to lighten her, and she was headed down stream to relieve those below. At Tom Hooper's place, a few miles from Troy, a large flat, with about fifty head of stock on board, was taken in tow. The animals were fed, and soon regained some strength. To-day we go on Little River, where the suffering is greatest.

As soon as the 'Susie' reached Troy, she was put under General York's command to speed up the relief work. Nearly all her supplies were unloaded onto one of the mounds to lighten her. She then headed downstream to help those farther down the river. At Tom Hooper's place, a few miles from Troy, she took a large flatboat carrying about fifty livestock in tow. The animals were fed and soon regained some strength. Today we go to Little River, where the suffering is greatest.

DOWN BLACK RIVER

Saturday Evening, March 25.

Saturday evening, March 25.

We started down Black River quite early, under the direction of General York, to bring out what stock could be reached. Going down river a flat in tow was left in a central locality, and from there men poled her back in the rear of plantations, picking up the animals wherever found. In the loft of a gin-house there were seventeen head found, and after a gangway was built they were led down into the flat without difficulty. Taking a skiff with the General, your reporter was pulled up to a little house of two rooms, in which the water was standing two feet on the floors. In one of the large rooms were huddled the horses and cows of the place, while in the other the Widow Taylor and her son were seated on a scaffold raised on the floor. One or two dug-outs were drifting about in the roam ready to be put in service at any time. When the flat was brought up, the side of the house was cut away as the only means of getting the animals out, and the cattle were driven on board the boat. General York, in this as in every case, inquired if the family desired to leave, informing them that Major Burke, of 'The Times-Democrat,' has sent the 'Susie' up for that purpose. Mrs. Taylor said she thanked Major Burke, but she would try and hold out. The remarkable tenacity of the people here to their homes is beyond all comprehension. Just below, at a point sixteen miles from Troy, information was received that the house of Mr. Tom Ellis was in danger, and his family were all in it. We steamed there immediately, and a sad picture was presented. Looking out of the half of the window left above water, was Mrs. Ellis, who is in feeble health, whilst at the door were her seven children, the oldest not fourteen years. One side of the house was given up to the work animals, some twelve head, besides hogs. In the next room the family lived, the water coming within two inches of the bed-rail. The stove was below water, and the cooking was done on a fire on top of it. The house threatened to give way at any moment: one end of it was sinking, and, in fact, the building looked a mere shell. As the boat rounded to, Mr. Ellis came out in a dug-out, and General York told him that he had come to his relief; that 'The Times-Democrat' boat was at his service, and would remove his family at once to the hills, and on Monday a flat would take out his stock, as, until that time, they would be busy. Notwithstanding the deplorable situation himself and family were in, Mr. Ellis did not want to leave. He said he thought he would wait until Monday, and take the risk of his house falling. The children around the door looked perfectly contented, seeming to care little for the danger they were in. These are but two instances of the many. After weeks of privation and suffering, people still cling to their houses and leave only when there is not room between the water and the ceiling to build a scaffold on which to stand. It seemed to be incomprehensible, yet the love for the old place was stronger than that for safety.

We started down Black River quite early, under General York’s direction, to rescue whatever livestock we could reach. On the way downriver, a flatboat in tow was left at a central location. From there, men poled it behind the plantations, picking up animals wherever they found them. They found seventeen animals in the loft of a gin-house. After a gangway was built, the animals were led down into the flatboat without difficulty. The General and your reporter took a skiff and were rowed up to a small two-room house. Water stood two feet deep on the floors. The horses and cows of the place were huddled in one of the large rooms. In the other, the Widow Taylor and her son sat on a platform raised above the floor. One or two dugout canoes drifted about in the room, ready to be used at any time. When the flatboat arrived, the side of the house was cut away. That was the only way to get the animals out, and the cattle were driven aboard. As he did in every case, General York asked whether the family wanted to leave. He told them that Major Burke of 'The Times-Democrat' had sent the 'Susie' up for that purpose. Mrs. Taylor said she thanked Major Burke, but she would try to hold out. The remarkable determination of the people here to stay in their homes is beyond all comprehension. Just below, at a point sixteen miles from Troy, we heard that Mr. Tom Ellis’s house was in danger. His whole family was inside. We steamed there immediately and found a sad sight. Mrs. Ellis, who was in poor health, looked out through the half of a window still above water. Her seven children stood at the door. The oldest was not yet fourteen. One side of the house was given over to the work animals, about twelve in all, as well as hogs. The family lived in the next room, where the water came within two inches of the bed rail. The stove was underwater, and cooking was done on a fire built on top of it. The house threatened to give way at any moment. One end was sinking, and the building looked like a mere shell. As the boat turned toward the house, Mr. Ellis came out in a dugout canoe. General York told him he had come to help. 'The Times-Democrat' boat was at his service and would take his family to the hills at once. A flatboat would take out his livestock on Monday, since the crews would be busy until then. Despite the terrible situation he and his family were in, Mr. Ellis did not want to leave. He said he thought he would wait until Monday and risk the house falling. The children around the door looked perfectly content, seeming to care little about the danger they faced. These are just two of many such cases. After weeks of hardship and suffering, people still cling to their houses. They leave only when there is not enough room between the water and the ceiling to build a platform to stand on. It seemed impossible to understand, yet their love for the old place was stronger than their desire for safety.

After leaving the Ellis place, the next spot touched at was the Oswald place. Here the flat was towed alongside the gin-house where there were fifteen head standing in water; and yet, as they stood on scaffolds, their heads were above the top of the entrance. It was found impossible to get them out without cutting away a portion of the front; and so axes were brought into requisition and a gap made. After much labor the horses and mules were securely placed on the flat.

After leaving the Ellis place, they stopped next at the Oswald place. There, the flatboat was towed alongside the gin-house, where fifteen horses and mules stood in water. Yet they stood on scaffolds, with their heads above the top of the entrance. They could not be taken out without cutting away part of the front. So axes were brought in, and a gap was made. After much work, the horses and mules were safely placed on the flatboat.

At each place we stop there are always three, four, or more dug-outs arriving, bringing information of stock in other places in need. Notwithstanding the fact that a great many had driven a part of their stock to the hills some time ago, there yet remains a large quantity, which General York, who is working with indomitable energy, will get landed in the pine hills by Tuesday.

At every place we stop, three, four, or more dugout canoes arrive. They bring news of livestock in need elsewhere. Many people had already driven some of their livestock to the hills, but a large number remain. General York is working with tireless energy and will get them to the pine hills by Tuesday.

All along Black River the 'Susie' has been visited by scores of planters, whose tales are the repetition of those already heard of suffering and loss. An old planter, who has lived on the river since 1844, said there never was such a rise, and he was satisfied more than one quarter of the stock has been lost. Luckily the people cared first for their work stock, and when they could find it horses and mules were housed in a place of safety. The rise which still continues, and was two inches last night, compels them to get them out to the hills; hence it is that the work of General York is of such a great value. From daylight to late at night he is going this way and that, cheering by his kindly words and directing with calm judgment what is to be done. One unpleasant story, of a certain merchant in New Orleans, is told all along the river. It appears for some years past the planters have been dealing with this individual, and many of them had balances in his hands. When the overflow came they wrote for coffee, for meal, and, in fact, for such little necessities as were required. No response to these letters came, and others were written, and yet these old customers, with plantations under water, were refused even what was necessary to sustain life. It is needless to say he is not popular now on Back River.

All along Black River, scores of planters have visited the 'Susie'. Their stories repeat the same tales of suffering and loss already heard. One old planter has lived on the river since 1844. He said there had never been such a rise, and he was certain that more than a quarter of the livestock had been lost. Luckily, the people cared first for their work animals. When they could find their horses and mules, they sheltered them somewhere safe. The river is still rising and rose two inches last night. This forces the people to move the animals to the hills. That is why General York’s work is so valuable. From daylight until late at night, he goes from place to place. He encourages people with kind words and calmly decides what needs to be done. An unpleasant story about a certain New Orleans merchant is told all along the river. It seems the planters had dealt with this man for some years, and many had money in his hands. When the flood came, they wrote to ask for coffee, meal, and other small necessities. Their letters brought no response, so they wrote again. Even then, these longtime customers, whose plantations were underwater, were refused even what they needed to stay alive. Needless to say, the merchant is not popular on Back River now.

The hills spoken of as the place of refuge for the people and stock on Black River are in Catahoula parish, twenty-four miles from Black River.

The hills mentioned as a refuge for people and livestock on Black River are in Catahoula parish, 24 miles from Black River.

After filling the flat with cattle we took on board the family of T. S. Hooper, seven in number, who could not longer remain in their dwelling, and we are now taking them up Little River to the hills.

After filling the flatboat with cattle, we took aboard T. S. Hooper’s family of seven. They could no longer stay in their home, and we are now taking them up Little River to the hills.

THE FLOOD STILL RISING

THE FLOOD IS STILL RISING

Troy: March 27, 1882, noon.

The flood here is rising about three and a half inches every twenty-four hours, and rains have set in which will increase this. General York feels now that our efforts ought to be directed towards saving life, as the increase of the water has jeopardized many houses. We intend to go up the Tensas in a few minutes, and then we will return and go down Black River to take off families. There is a lack of steam transportation here to meet the emergency. The General has three boats chartered, with flats in tow, but the demand for these to tow out stock is greater than they can meet with promptness. All are working night and day, and the 'Susie' hardly stops for more than an hour anywhere. The rise has placed Trinity in a dangerous plight, and momentarily it is expected that some of the houses will float off. Troy is a little higher, yet all are in the water. Reports have come in that a woman and child have been washed away below here, and two cabins floated off. Their occupants are the same who refused to come off day before yesterday. One would not believe the utter passiveness of the people.

The floodwaters here are rising about three and a half inches every twenty-four hours. Rains have begun that will make the water rise faster. General York now feels that we should focus on saving lives, because the rising water has put many houses in danger. We plan to go up the Tensas in a few minutes. Then we will return and go down Black River to take families to safety. There are not enough steamboats here to meet the emergency. The General has chartered three boats, each towing flatboats. But the demand for these boats to tow livestock to safety is greater than they can meet promptly. Everyone is working night and day, and the 'Susie' hardly stops anywhere for more than an hour. The rising water has put Trinity in danger, and some houses are expected to float away at any moment. Troy is a little higher, but all the houses are in the water there too. Reports have come in that a woman and child were washed away downstream from here, and two cabins floated away. The people in the cabins are the same ones who refused to leave the day before yesterday. You would not believe how completely passive the people are.

As yet no news has been received of the steamer 'Delia,' which is supposed to be the one sunk in yesterday's storm on Lake Catahoula. She is due here now, but has not arrived. Even the mail here is most uncertain, and this I send by skiff to Natchez to get it to you. It is impossible to get accurate data as to past crops, etc., as those who know much about the matter have gone, and those who remain are not well versed in the production of this section.

There is still no news of the steamer 'Delia,' which is believed to have sunk in yesterday's storm on Lake Catahoula. The steamer is due here now, but has not arrived. Even the mail here is very unreliable, so I am sending this by skiff to Natchez to get it to you. It is impossible to get accurate information about past crops and similar matters. Those who know much about them have gone, and those who remain know little about what this area produces.

General York desires me to say that the amount of rations formerly sent should be duplicated and sent at once. It is impossible to make any estimate, for the people are fleeing to the hills, so rapid is the rise. The residents here are in a state of commotion that can only be appreciated when seen, and complete demoralization has set in.

General York asks that the amount of rations sent before be doubled and sent immediately. It is impossible to make any estimate because people are fleeing to the hills as the water rises so rapidly. The residents here are in such a state of confusion that you have to see it to understand it. Complete demoralization has set in.

If rations are drawn for any particular section hereabouts, they would not be certain to be distributed, so everything should be sent to Troy as a center, and the General will have it properly disposed of. He has sent for one hundred tents, and, if all go to the hills who are in motion now, two hundred will be required.

If rations are obtained for any particular area around here, there is no guarantee they will be distributed. So everything should be sent to Troy as a central point, and the General will see that it is properly distributed. He has requested one hundred tents. If everyone now on the move goes to the hills, two hundred tents will be needed.

APPENDIX B

THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER COMMISSION

THE condition of this rich valley of the Lower Mississippi, immediately after and since the war, constituted one of the disastrous effects of war most to be deplored. Fictitious property in slaves was not only righteously destroyed, but very much of the work which had depended upon the slave labor was also destroyed or greatly impaired, especially the levee system.

The condition of the rich Lower Mississippi valley, immediately after the war and since then, was one of the war’s most regrettable effects. The false idea that enslaved people were property was rightly destroyed. But much of the work that had depended on enslaved labor was also destroyed or badly damaged, especially the levee system.

It might have been expected by those who have not investigated the subject, that such important improvements as the construction and maintenance of the levees would have been assumed at once by the several States. But what can the State do where the people are under subjection to rates of interest ranging from 18 to 30 per cent., and are also under the necessity of pledging their crops in advance even of planting, at these rates, for the privilege of purchasing all of their supplies at 100 per cent. profit?

People who have not looked into the subject might expect the individual states to take immediate responsibility for building and maintaining levees. But what can a state do when its people face interest rates of 18 to 30 percent? They must pledge their crops at those rates before they even plant them, just to buy all their supplies at a 100 percent markup.

It has needed but little attention to make it perfectly obvious that the control of the Mississippi River, if undertaken at all, must be undertaken by the national government, and cannot be compassed by States. The river must be treated as a unit; its control cannot be compassed under a divided or separate system of administration.

It takes little attention to see that, if the Mississippi River is to be controlled at all, the national government must do it. The states cannot. The river must be treated as a single unit. It cannot be controlled by separate administrations working independently.

Neither are the States especially interested competent to combine among themselves for the necessary operations. The work must begin far up the river; at least as far as Cairo, if not beyond; and must be conducted upon a consistent general plan throughout the course of the river.

Nor are the states most directly concerned able to work together on the necessary operations. The work must begin far upriver, at least as far as Cairo, if not beyond. It must follow a consistent overall plan along the entire course of the river.

It does not need technical or scientific knowledge to comprehend the elements of the case if one will give a little time and attention to the subject, and when a Mississippi River commission has been constituted, as the existing commission is, of thoroughly able men of different walks in life, may it not be suggested that their verdict in the case should be accepted as conclusive, so far as any a priori theory of construction or control can be considered conclusive?

You do not need technical or scientific knowledge to understand the basics of the case, if you give the subject a little time and attention. The current Mississippi River commission is made up of highly capable men from different walks of life. When a commission is formed this way, might we suggest accepting its verdict as conclusive? That is, as conclusive as any theory of construction or control formed before the facts are known can be.

It should be remembered that upon this board are General Gilmore, General Comstock, and General Suter, of the United States Engineers; Professor Henry Mitchell (the most competent authority on the question of hydrography), of the United States Coast Survey; B. B. Harrod, the State Engineer of Louisiana; Jas. B. Eads, whose success with the jetties at New Orleans is a warrant of his competency, and Judge Taylor, of Indiana.

Remember that this board includes General Gilmore, General Comstock, and General Suter of the United States Engineers. It also includes Professor Henry Mitchell of the United States Coast Survey, the most competent authority on hydrography. Other members are B. B. Harrod, the State Engineer of Louisiana, and Jas. B. Eads. Eads’s success with the jetties at New Orleans proves his competence. The board also includes Judge Taylor of Indiana.

It would be presumption on the part of any single man, however skilled, to contest the judgment of such a board as this.

No single man, however skilled, should presume to challenge the judgment of a board like this one.

The method of improvement proposed by the commission is at once in accord with the results of engineering experience and with observations of nature where meeting our wants. As in nature the growth of trees and their proneness where undermined to fall across the slope and support the bank secures at some points a fair depth of channel and some degree of permanence, so in the project of the engineer the use of timber and brush and the encouragement of forest growth are the main features. It is proposed to reduce the width where excessive by brushwood dykes, at first low, but raised higher and higher as the mud of the river settles under their shelter, and finally slope them back at the angle upon which willows will grow freely. In this work there are many details connected with the forms of these shelter dykes, their arrangements so as to present a series of settling basins, etc., a description of which would only complicate the conception. Through the larger part of the river works of contraction will not be required, but nearly all the banks on the concave side of the beds must be held against the wear of the stream, and much of the opposite banks defended at critical points. The works having in view this conservative object may be generally designated works of revetment; and these also will be largely of brushwood, woven in continuous carpets, or twined into wire-netting. This veneering process has been successfully employed on the Missouri River; and in some cases they have so covered themselves with sediments, and have become so overgrown with willows, that they may be regarded as permanent. In securing these mats rubble-stone is to be used in small quantities, and in some instances the dressed slope between high and low river will have to be more or less paved with stone.

The commission’s proposed method of improvement agrees with engineering experience and with natural processes that serve the same purpose. In some places, trees grow along the banks and, when the ground beneath them washes away, fall across the slope. The fallen trees support the bank, keeping the channel fairly deep and the bank somewhat stable. Similarly, the engineer’s plan relies chiefly on timber and brush and encourages forest growth. Where the river is too wide, the plan calls for brushwood dykes to narrow it. These dykes will be low at first. They will be raised gradually as river mud settles in their shelter. Finally, the dykes will be sloped back at an angle where willows can grow freely. The work involves many details, including the shapes of the shelter dykes and their arrangement into a series of settling basins. Describing these details would only make the plan harder to understand. Along most of the river, works to narrow the channel will not be needed. But nearly all the banks on the concave side of the riverbed must be protected from the current’s wear. Much of the opposite banks must also be protected at critical points. These protective works may generally be called revetments. They too will be made largely of brushwood, woven into continuous mats or twined into wire netting. This covering method has been used successfully on the Missouri River. In some cases, sediment has covered the mats and willows have grown so thickly over them that they may be considered permanent. Small amounts of rubble stone will be used to secure the mats. In some places, the shaped slope between the high and low water levels will also have to be paved with stone to some extent.

Any one who has been on the Rhine will have observed operations not unlike those to which we have just referred; and, indeed, most of the rivers of Europe flowing among their own alluvia have required similar treatment in the interest of navigation and agriculture.

Anyone who has been on the Rhine will have seen work much like what we have just described. Indeed, most European rivers flowing through their own sediment have needed similar work to support navigation and agriculture.

The levee is the crowning work of bank revetment, although not necessarily in immediate connection. It may be set back a short distance from the revetted bank; but it is, in effect, the requisite parapet. The flood river and the low river cannot be brought into register, and compelled to unite in the excavation of a single permanent channel, without a complete control of all the stages; and even the abnormal rise must be provided against, because this would endanger the levee, and once in force behind the works of revetment would tear them also away.

The levee is the crowning part of the bank protection, though it need not be directly connected to it. It may stand a short distance back from the protected bank, but it serves as the necessary barrier. The river at flood and at low water cannot be made to excavate a single permanent channel without controlling all water levels. Even an abnormal rise must be guarded against, because it would endanger the levee. And if the floodwaters reached behind the bank protections in force, they would tear them away too.

Under the general principle that the local slope of a river is the result and measure of the resistance of its bed, it is evident that a narrow and deep stream should have less slope, because it has less frictional surface in proportion to capacity; i.e., less perimeter in proportion to area of cross section. The ultimate effect of levees and revetments confining the floods and bringing all the stages of the river into register is to deepen the channel and let down the slope. The first effect of the levees is to raise the surface; but this, by inducing greater velocity of flow, inevitably causes an enlargement of section, and if this enlargement is prevented from being made at the expense of the banks, the bottom must give way and the form of the waterway be so improved as to admit this flow with less rise. The actual experience with levees upon the Mississippi River, with no attempt to hold the banks, has been favorable, and no one can doubt, upon the evidence furnished in the reports of the commission, that if the earliest levees had been accompanied by revetment of banks, and made complete, we should have to-day a river navigable at low water, and an adjacent country safe from inundation.

A river’s slope at any point results from, and reflects, the resistance of its bed. Under this general principle, a narrow, deep stream should clearly have less slope. That is because it has less surface creating friction in proportion to its capacity. In other words, its perimeter is smaller in proportion to its cross-sectional area. Levees and revetments ultimately deepen the channel and reduce the slope. They do this by confining floods and bringing all river levels into alignment. At first, levees raise the water’s surface. But the higher water flows faster, inevitably enlarging the channel’s cross section. If the banks are protected from erosion, the bottom must give way. The waterway’s shape will then improve enough to carry the flow with less rise in the water level. Actual experience with levees on the Mississippi River has been favorable, even without any attempt to hold the banks in place. The evidence in the commission’s reports leaves no room for doubt. If the earliest levees had been completed and the banks protected with revetments, we would have a river navigable at low water today. The neighboring land would also be safe from flooding.

Of course it would be illogical to conclude that the constrained river can ever lower its flood slope so as to make levees unnecessary, but it is believed that, by this lateral constraint, the river as a conduit may be so improved in form that even those rare floods which result from the coincident rising of many tributaries will find vent without destroying levees of ordinary height. That the actual capacity of a channel through alluvium depends upon its service during floods has been often shown, but this capacity does not include anomalous, but recurrent, floods.

Of course, it would be illogical to conclude that confining the river could ever reduce its flood slope enough to make levees unnecessary. But some believe that confining the river along its sides may improve the shape of its channel. The channel could then carry even rare floods without destroying levees of ordinary height. These rare floods occur when many tributaries rise at the same time. It has often been shown that the actual capacity of a channel through alluvium depends on how it carries floodwaters. But that capacity does not include unusual floods that recur.

It is hardly worth while to consider the projects for relieving the Mississippi River floods by creating new outlets, since these sensational propositions have commended themselves only to unthinking minds, and have no support among engineers. Were the river bed cast-iron, a resort to openings for surplus waters might be a necessity; but as the bottom is yielding, and the best form of outlet is a single deep channel, as realizing the least ratio of perimeter to area of cross section, there could not well be a more unphilosophical method of treatment than the multiplication of avenues of escape.

It is hardly worth considering plans to relieve Mississippi River floods by creating new outlets. These sensational proposals appeal only to unthinking minds and have no support among engineers. If the riverbed were made of cast iron, openings for excess water might be necessary. But the riverbed gives way, and the best outlet is a single deep channel. Such a channel has the lowest ratio of perimeter to cross-sectional area. Given these facts, creating more escape routes could hardly be a less sound approach.

In the foregoing statement the attempt has been made to condense in as limited a space as the importance of the subject would permit, the general elements of the problem, and the general features of the proposed method of improvement which has been adopted by the Mississippi River Commission.

The preceding statement attempts to summarize the main elements of the problem as briefly as its importance allows. It also outlines the proposed method of improvement adopted by the Mississippi River Commission.

The writer cannot help feeling that it is somewhat presumptuous on his part to attempt to present the facts relating to an enterprise which calls for the highest scientific skill; but it is a matter which interests every citizen of the United States, and is one of the methods of reconstruction which ought to be approved. It is a war claim which implies no private gain, and no compensation except for one of the cases of destruction incident to war, which may well be repaired by the people of the whole country.

I cannot help feeling that I am being somewhat presumptuous in presenting the facts about a project requiring the highest scientific skill. But the project concerns every citizen of the United States. It is also a method of reconstruction that deserves approval. It is a war claim that involves no private gain. It seeks compensation only for damage caused by the war, which the people of the whole country may well repair.

EDWARD ATKINSON.

Boston: April 14, 1882.

APPENDIX C

RECEPTION OF CAPTAIN BASIL HALL'S BOOK IN THE UNITED STATES

HOW CAPTAIN BASIL HALL'S BOOK WAS RECEIVED IN THE UNITED STATES

HAVING now arrived nearly at the end of our travels, I am induced, ere I conclude, again to mention what I consider as one of the most remarkable traits in the national character of the Americans; namely, their exquisite sensitiveness and soreness respecting everything said or written concerning them. Of this, perhaps, the most remarkable example I can give is the effect produced on nearly every class of readers by the appearance of Captain Basil Hall's 'Travels in North America.' In fact, it was a sort of moral earthquake, and the vibration it occasioned through the nerves of the republic, from one corner of the Union to the other, was by no means over when I left the country in July 1831, a couple of years after the shock.

Now that we are nearing the end of our travels, I want to mention one thing again before I conclude. I consider it one of the most remarkable traits of the American national character. Americans are exquisitely sensitive and touchy about everything said or written about them. Perhaps the most remarkable example is the effect Captain Basil Hall's 'Travels in North America' had on nearly every class of readers. In fact, the book caused a kind of moral earthquake. Its shock traveled through the nerves of the republic, from one corner of the Union to the other. The vibrations were still far from over when I left the country in July 1831, two years after the shock.

I was in Cincinnati when these volumes came out, but it was not till July 1830, that I procured a copy of them. One bookseller to whom I applied told me that he had had a few copies before he understood the nature of the work, but that, after becoming acquainted with it, nothing should induce him to sell another. Other persons of his profession must, however, have been less scrupulous; for the book was read in city, town, village, and hamlet, steamboat, and stage-coach, and a sort of war-whoop was sent forth perfectly unprecedented in my recollection upon any occasion whatever.

I was in Cincinnati when these volumes came out, but I did not get a copy until July 1830. One bookseller I asked said he had stocked a few copies before he understood what the work was about. But once he learned its nature, nothing could persuade him to sell another copy. Other booksellers must have been less scrupulous, however. The book was read in cities, towns, villages, and hamlets, and on steamboats and stagecoaches. It provoked a kind of war whoop unlike anything I could remember on any occasion.

An ardent desire for approbation, and a delicate sensitiveness under censure, have always, I believe, been considered as amiable traits of character; but the condition into which the appearance of Captain Hall's work threw the republic shows plainly that these feelings, if carried to excess, produce a weakness which amounts to imbecility.

I believe a strong desire for approval and a keen sensitivity to criticism have always been considered likable traits. But the uproar in the republic over Captain Hall's work shows what happens when these feelings go too far. They produce a weakness that amounts to imbecility.

It was perfectly astonishing to hear men who, on other subjects, were of some judgment, utter their opinions upon this. I never heard of any instance in which the commonsense generally found in national criticism was so overthrown by passion. I do not speak of the want of justice, and of fair and liberal interpretation: these, perhaps, were hardly to be expected. Other nations have been called thin-skinned, but the citizens of the Union have, apparently, no skins at all; they wince if a breeze blows over them, unless it be tempered with adulation. It was not, therefore, very surprising that the acute and forcible observations of a traveler they knew would be listened to should be received testily. The extraordinary features of the business were, first, the excess of the rage into which they lashed themselves; and, secondly, the puerility of the inventions by which they attempted to account for the severity with which they fancied they had been treated.

It was astonishing to hear men who showed some judgment on other subjects give their opinions on this one. I never heard of another case where passion so completely overturned the common sense usually found in national criticism. I do not mean the lack of justice or of fair and generous interpretation. Perhaps those were hardly to be expected. Other nations have been called thin-skinned, but the citizens of the Union apparently have no skin at all. They wince if a breeze blows over them, unless it is softened by flattery. So it was not very surprising that they reacted irritably to the sharp and forceful observations of a traveler they knew people would listen to. What was extraordinary was, first, the extreme rage they worked themselves into. Second, it was the childish stories they invented to explain why they thought they had been treated so harshly.

Not content with declaring that the volumes contained no word of truth, from beginning to end (which is an assertion I heard made very nearly as often as they were mentioned), the whole country set to work to discover the causes why Captain Hall had visited the United States, and why he had published his book.

People declared that the volumes contained no truth from beginning to end. I heard this claim almost every time the volumes were mentioned. But the whole country was not content with that. It set out to discover why Captain Hall had visited the United States and published his book.

I have heard it said with as much precision and gravity as if the statement had been conveyed by an official report, that Captain Hall had been sent out by the British Government expressly for the purpose of checking the growing admiration of England for the Government of the United States,—that it was by a commission from the treasury he had come, and that it was only in obedience to orders that he had found anything to object to.

I have heard this said with the precision and seriousness of an official report. Captain Hall was sent by the British Government expressly to check England’s growing admiration for the United States government. He came on a commission from the treasury, and he found things to object to only because he was following orders.

I do not give this as the gossip of a coterie; I am persuaded that it is the belief of a very considerable portion of the country. So deep is the conviction of this singular people that they cannot be seen without being admired, that they will not admit the possibility that any one should honestly and sincerely find aught to disapprove in them or their country.

I do not offer this as the gossip of a small group. I am convinced that a very large part of the country believes it. These peculiar people are so sure that everyone who sees them must admire them that they cannot believe anyone could honestly find fault with them or their country.

The American Reviews are, many of them, I believe, well known in England; I need not, therefore, quote them here, but I sometimes wondered that they, none of them, ever thought of translating Obadiah's curse into classic American; if they had done so, on placing (he, Basil Hall) between brackets, instead of (he, Obadiah) it would have saved them a world of trouble.

I believe many American Reviews are well known in England, so I need not quote them here. But I sometimes wondered why none of them thought to translate Obadiah's curse into classic American. If they had, they could have put (he, Basil Hall) in brackets instead of (he, Obadiah). That would have saved them a world of trouble.

I can hardly describe the curiosity with which I sat down at length to peruse these tremendous volumes; still less can I do justice to my surprise at their contents. To say that I found not one exaggerated statement throughout the work is by no means saying enough. It is impossible for any one who knows the country not to see that Captain Hall earnestly sought out things to admire and commend. When he praises, it is with evident pleasure; and when he finds fault, it is with evident reluctance and restraint, excepting where motives purely patriotic urge him to state roundly what it is for the benefit of his country should be known.

I can hardly describe how curious I was when I finally sat down to read these enormous volumes. I can do even less justice to how surprised I was by their contents. Saying that I did not find a single exaggerated statement in the whole work is not nearly enough. Anyone who knows the country cannot help seeing that Captain Hall earnestly sought out things to admire and praise. When he praises something, he does so with obvious pleasure. When he finds fault, he does so with obvious reluctance and restraint. The exception is when purely patriotic motives urge him to state plainly what his country would benefit from knowing.

In fact, Captain Hall saw the country to the greatest possible advantage. Furnished, of course, with letters of introduction to the most distinguished individuals, and with the still more influential recommendation of his own reputation, he was received in full drawing-room style and state from one end of the Union to the other. He saw the country in full dress, and had little or no opportunity of judging of it unhouselled, unanointed, unannealed, with all its imperfections on its head, as I and my family too often had.

In fact, Captain Hall saw the country at its very best. Of course, he had letters of introduction to the most distinguished people. His own reputation was an even stronger recommendation. So he was welcomed with all the ceremony of a formal reception throughout the Union. He saw the country dressed in its finest. He had little or no chance to see it unprepared, without its last rites, and with all its flaws exposed, as my family and I too often had.

Captain Hall had certainly excellent opportunities of making himself acquainted with the form of the government and the laws; and of receiving, moreover, the best oral commentary upon them, in conversation with the most distinguished citizens. Of these opportunities he made excellent use; nothing important met his eye which did not receive that sort of analytical attention which an experienced and philosophical traveler alone can give. This has made his volumes highly interesting and valuable; but I am deeply persuaded, that were a man of equal penetration to visit the United States with no other means of becoming acquainted with the national character than the ordinary working-day intercourse of life, he would conceive an infinitely lower idea of the moral atmosphere of the country than Captain Hall appears to have done; and the internal conviction on my mind is strong, that if Captain Hall had not placed a firm restraint on himself, he must have given expression to far deeper indignation than any he has uttered against many points in the American character, with which he shows from other circumstances that he was well acquainted. His rule appears to have been to state just so much of the truth as would leave on the mind of his readers a correct impression, at the least cost of pain to the sensitive folks he was writing about. He states his own opinions and feelings, and leaves it to be inferred that he has good grounds for adopting them; but he spares the Americans the bitterness which a detail of the circumstances would have produced.

Captain Hall certainly had excellent opportunities to learn about the government and its laws. He could also discuss them with the most distinguished citizens and hear their expert explanations. He made excellent use of these opportunities. Nothing important caught his eye without receiving the kind of careful analysis that only an experienced and thoughtful traveler can give. This has made his volumes highly interesting and valuable. But I am deeply convinced that an equally perceptive man would form a much lower opinion of the country’s moral atmosphere. He would do so if he visited the United States and learned about the national character only through ordinary daily interactions. His opinion would be much lower than Captain Hall’s appears to have been. I am also strongly convinced that Captain Hall held himself firmly in check. Otherwise, he must have expressed far deeper indignation than he did about many aspects of the American character. Other things he says show that he knew those aspects well. His rule seems to have been to tell just enough truth to give readers an accurate impression. He did this while causing as little pain as possible to the sensitive people he was writing about. He states his own opinions and feelings and leaves readers to infer that he has good reasons for them. But he spares Americans the bitterness that a detailed account of the circumstances would have caused.

If any one chooses to say that some wicked antipathy to twelve millions of strangers is the origin of my opinion, I must bear it; and were the question one of mere idle speculation, I certainly would not court the abuse I must meet for stating it. But it is not so.

If anyone chooses to say that my opinion comes from some wicked hatred of twelve million strangers, I must accept that. If the question were merely a matter of idle speculation, I certainly would not invite abuse by stating my opinion. But it is not.

. . . . . . .

The candor which he expresses, and evidently feels, they mistake for irony, or totally distrust; his unwillingness to give pain to persons from whom he has received kindness, they scornfully reject as affectation, and although they must know right well, in their own secret hearts, how infinitely more they lay at his mercy than he has chosen to betray; they pretend, even to themselves, that he has exaggerated the bad points of their character and institutions; whereas, the truth is, that he has let them off with a degree of tenderness which may be quite suitable for him to exercise, however little merited; while, at the same time, he has most industriously magnified their merits, whenever he could possibly find anything favorable.

They mistake his candor, which he clearly feels, for irony, or distrust it entirely. They scornfully dismiss his unwillingness to hurt people who have shown him kindness as a pose. Yet, deep down, they must know very well how much more he could have exposed about them than he chose to reveal. They pretend, even to themselves, that he has exaggerated the faults of their character and institutions. The truth is that he has treated them with tenderness they have done little to deserve, however appropriate that tenderness may be for him. At the same time, he has worked hard to magnify their merits whenever he could find anything favorable to say.

APPENDIX D

THE UNDYING HEAD

IN a remote part of the North lived a man and his sister, who had never seen a human being. Seldom, if ever, had the man any cause to go from home; for, as his wants demanded food, he had only to go a little distance from the lodge, and there, in some particular spot, place his arrows, with their barbs in the ground. Telling his sister where they had been placed, every morning she would go in search, and never fail of finding each stuck through the heart of a deer. She had then only to drag them into the lodge and prepare their food. Thus she lived till she attained womanhood, when one day her brother, whose name was Iamo, said to her: 'Sister, the time is at hand when you will be ill. Listen to my advice. If you do not, it will probably be the cause of my death. Take the implements with which we kindle our fires. Go some distance from our lodge and build a separate fire. When you are in want of food, I will tell you where to find it. You must cook for yourself, and I will for myself. When you are ill, do not attempt to come near the lodge, or bring any of the utensils you use. Be sure always to fasten to your belt the implements you need, for you do not know when the time will come. As for myself, I must do the best I can.' His sister promised to obey him in all he had said.

In a remote part of the North lived a man and his sister, who had never seen another human being. The man seldom, if ever, had reason to leave home. When he needed food, he had only to go a short distance from the lodge and place his arrows in a certain spot, with their barbs in the ground. He told his sister where he had placed them. Every morning, she would go looking for them and always find each arrow stuck through a deer’s heart. She then had only to drag the deer into the lodge and prepare their food. She lived this way until she became a woman. One day her brother, whose name was Iamo, said to her: 'Sister, the time is near when you will be ill. Listen to my advice. If you do not, it will probably cause my death. Take the tools we use to light our fires. Go some distance from our lodge and build a separate fire. When you need food, I will tell you where to find it. You must cook for yourself, and I will cook for myself. When you are ill, do not try to come near the lodge or bring any of the utensils you use. Always be sure to fasten the tools you need to your belt, because you do not know when the time will come. As for me, I must do the best I can.' His sister promised to obey everything he had said.

Shortly after, her brother had cause to go from home. She was alone in her lodge, combing her hair. She had just untied the belt to which the implements were fastened, when suddenly the event, to which her brother had alluded, occurred. She ran out of the lodge, but in her haste forgot the belt. Afraid to return, she stood for some time thinking. Finally, she decided to enter the lodge and get it. For, thought she, my brother is not at home, and I will stay but a moment to catch hold of it. She went back. Running in suddenly, she caught hold of it, and was coming out when her brother came in sight. He knew what was the matter. 'Oh,' he said, 'did I not tell you to take care. But now you have killed me.' She was going on her way, but her brother said to her, 'What can you do there now. The accident has happened. Go in, and stay where you have always stayed. And what will become of you? You have killed me.'

Soon afterward, her brother had to leave home. She was alone in her lodge, combing her hair. She had just untied the belt that held the implements when the event her brother had mentioned suddenly occurred. She ran out of the lodge, but in her haste she forgot the belt. Afraid to return, she stood thinking for a while. Finally, she decided to go back into the lodge and get the belt. Her brother was not home, she thought, and she would only stay long enough to grab it. She went back. She rushed in and grabbed the belt, but as she was coming out, her brother appeared. He knew what had happened. 'Oh,' he said, 'didn't I tell you to be careful? But now you have killed me.' She continued on her way, but her brother said to her, 'What can you do there now? The accident has happened. Go in and stay where you have always stayed. And what will become of you? You have killed me.'

He then laid aside his hunting-dress and accoutrements, and soon after both his feet began to turn black, so that he could not move. Still he directed his sister where to place the arrows, that she might always have food. The inflammation continued to increase, and had now reached his first rib; and he said: 'Sister, my end is near. You must do as I tell you. You see my medicine-sack, and my war-club tied to it. It contains all my medicines, and my war-plumes, and my paints of all colors. As soon as the inflammation reaches my breast, you will take my war-club. It has a sharp point, and you will cut off my head. When it is free from my body, take it, place its neck in the sack, which you must open at one end. Then hang it up in its former place. Do not forget my bow and arrows. One of the last you will take to procure food. The remainder, tie in my sack, and then hang it up, so that I can look towards the door. Now and then I will speak to you, but not often.' His sister again promised to obey.

He then took off his hunting clothes and gear. Soon afterward, both his feet began to turn black, and he could not move. Still, he told his sister where to place the arrows so that she would always have food. The inflammation continued to spread and had now reached his first rib. He said: 'Sister, my end is near. You must do as I tell you. You see my medicine-sack, with my war-club tied to it. The sack contains all my medicines, my war-plumes, and my paints of all colors. As soon as the inflammation reaches my chest, take my war-club. It has a sharp point, and you must use it to cut off my head. When my head is free from my body, open one end of the sack and place my neck inside it. Then hang it up in its former place. Do not forget my bow and arrows. Take one of the arrows to get food. Tie the rest in my sack, and then hang it up so that I can look toward the door. Now and then I will speak to you, but not often.' His sister again promised to obey.

In a little time his breast was affected. 'Now,' said he, 'take the club and strike off my head.' She was afraid, but he told her to muster courage. 'Strike,' said he, and a smile was on his face. Mustering all her courage, she gave the blow and cut off the head. 'Now,' said the head, 'place me where I told you.' And fearfully she obeyed it in all its commands. Retaining its animation, it looked around the lodge as usual, and it would command its sister to go in such places as it thought would procure for her the flesh of different animals she needed. One day the head said: 'The time is not distant when I shall be freed from this situation, and I shall have to undergo many sore evils. So the superior manito decrees, and I must bear all patiently.' In this situation we must leave the head.

Before long, his chest was affected. 'Now,' he said, 'take the club and cut off my head.' She was afraid, but he told her to be brave. 'Strike,' he said, smiling. Gathering all her courage, she struck and cut off his head. 'Now,' said the head, 'put me where I told you.' And she fearfully obeyed all its commands. Still alive, the head looked around the lodge as usual. It would tell its sister where to go to find the meat of different animals she needed. One day the head said: 'Soon I shall be freed from this situation, and I shall have to suffer many terrible things. The superior manito has decreed it, and I must bear all patiently.' We must leave the head in this situation.

In a certain part of the country was a village inhabited by a numerous and warlike band of Indians. In this village was a family of ten young men—brothers. It was in the spring of the year that the youngest of these blackened his face and fasted. His dreams were propitious. Having ended his fast, he went secretly for his brothers at night, so that none in the village could overhear or find out the direction they intended to go. Though their drum was heard, yet that was a common occurrence. Having ended the usual formalities, he told how favorable his dreams were, and that he had called them together to know if they would accompany him in a war excursion. They all answered they would. The third brother from the eldest, noted for his oddities, coming up with his war-club when his brother had ceased speaking, jumped up. 'Yes,' said he, 'I will go, and this will be the way I will treat those I am going to fight;' and he struck the post in the center of the lodge, and gave a yell. The others spoke to him, saying: 'Slow, slow, Mudjikewis, when you are in other people's lodges.' So he sat down. Then, in turn, they took the drum, and sang their songs, and closed with a feast. The youngest told them not to whisper their intention to their wives, but secretly to prepare for their journey. They all promised obedience, and Mudjikewis was the first to say so.

In one part of the country, a large, warlike band of Indians lived in a village. One family in the village had ten sons. In the spring, the youngest son blackened his face and fasted. His dreams were favorable. After his fast, he secretly sent for his brothers at night. He did this so no one in the village could overhear them or discover which direction they planned to go. Their drum could be heard, but that was common. After the usual formalities, he told his brothers how favorable his dreams had been. He had called them together to ask if they would join him on a war expedition. They all said they would. The third brother from the eldest was known for his odd behavior. When his youngest brother finished speaking, he came forward with his war-club and jumped up. 'Yes,' he said, 'I will go, and this is how I will treat those I fight.' He struck the post in the center of the lodge and gave a yell. The others said to him: 'Easy, easy, Mudjikewis, when you are in other people's lodges.' So he sat down. Then each brother took the drum and sang his songs, and they ended with a feast. The youngest told them not to whisper their plans to their wives, but to prepare for the journey in secret. They all promised to obey, and Mudjikewis was the first to do so.

The time for their departure drew near. Word was given to assemble on a certain night, when they would depart immediately. Mudjikewis was loud in his demands for his moccasins. Several times his wife asked him the reason. 'Besides,' said she, 'you have a good pair on.' 'Quick, quick,' said he, 'since you must know, we are going on a war excursion; so be quick.' He thus revealed the secret. That night they met and started. The snow was on the ground, and they traveled all night, lest others should follow them. When it was daylight, the leader took snow and made a ball of it, then tossing it into the air, he said: 'It was in this way I saw snow fall in a dream, so that I could not be tracked.' And he told them to keep close to each other for fear of losing themselves, as the snow began to fall in very large flakes. Near as they walked, it was with difficulty they could see each other. The snow continued falling all that day and the following night, so it was impossible to track them.

The time for their departure was near. They were told to gather on a certain night and leave immediately. Mudjikewis loudly demanded his moccasins. His wife asked him several times why he wanted them. 'Besides,' she said, 'you have a good pair on.' 'Quick, quick,' he said. 'Since you must know, we are going on a war expedition, so be quick.' In this way, he revealed the secret. That night they met and set out. Snow covered the ground, and they traveled all night so that others would not follow them. At daybreak, the leader made a snowball and tossed it into the air. He said, 'I saw snow fall like this in a dream, so that I could not be tracked.' As large flakes began to fall, he told them to stay close together so they would not get lost. Even though they walked close together, they could hardly see one another. The snow kept falling all that day and the following night, making it impossible to track them.

They had now walked for several days, and Mudjikewis was always in the rear. One day, running suddenly forward, he gave the saw-saw-quan,{footnote [War-whoop.]} and struck a tree with his war-club, and it broke into pieces as if struck with lightning. 'Brothers,' said he, 'this will be the way I will serve those we are going to fight.' The leader answered, 'Slow, slow, Mudjikewis, the one I lead you to is not to be thought of so lightly.' Again he fell back and thought to himself: 'What! what! who can this be he is leading us to?' He felt fearful and was silent. Day after day they traveled on, till they came to an extensive plain, on the borders of which human bones were bleaching in the sun. The leader spoke: 'They are the bones of those who have gone before us. None has ever yet returned to tell the sad tale of their fate.' Again Mudjikewis became restless, and, running forward, gave the accustomed yell. Advancing to a large rock which stood above the ground, he struck it, and it fell to pieces. 'See, brothers,' said he, 'thus will I treat those whom we are going to fight.' 'Still, still,' once more said the leader; 'he to whom I am leading you is not to be compared to the rock.'

They had now walked for several days, and Mudjikewis always stayed at the rear. One day, he suddenly ran forward and gave the saw-saw-quan,{footnote [War-whoop.]} He struck a tree with his war club, and it broke into pieces as if struck by lightning. 'Brothers,' he said, 'this is how I will deal with those we are going to fight.' The leader answered, 'Slow down, Mudjikewis. The one I am leading you to is not to be taken so lightly.' Mudjikewis fell back again and thought to himself, 'What! What! Who can this be that he is leading us to?' He felt afraid and said nothing. They traveled on day after day until they came to a vast plain. At its edge, human bones were bleaching in the sun. The leader said, 'These are the bones of those who went before us. None has ever returned to tell the sad story of what happened to them.' Again, Mudjikewis grew restless. He ran forward and gave the usual yell. He approached a large rock rising above the ground and struck it, and it broke into pieces. 'See, brothers,' he said, 'this is how I will treat those we are going to fight.' 'Be still, be still,' the leader said again. 'The one I am leading you to cannot be compared to the rock.'

Mudjikewis fell back thoughtful, saying to himself: 'I wonder who this can be that he is going to attack;' and he was afraid. Still they continued to see the remains of former warriors, who had been to the place where they were now going, some of whom had retreated as far back as the place where they first saw the bones, beyond which no one had ever escaped. At last they came to a piece of rising ground, from which they plainly distinguished, sleeping on a distant mountain, a mammoth bear.

Mudjikewis fell back, lost in thought. 'I wonder who this can be that he is going to attack,' he said to himself. He was afraid. Still, they kept seeing the remains of warriors who had gone to the place they were now approaching. Some had retreated as far as the place where they first saw the bones. No one had ever escaped beyond that point. At last, they came to a rise. From there, they could clearly see a mammoth bear sleeping on a distant mountain.

The distance between them was very great, but the size of the animal caused him to be plainly seen. 'There,' said the leader, 'it is he to whom I am leading you; here our troubles will commence, for he is a mishemokwa and a manito. It is he who has that we prize so dearly (i.e. wampum), to obtain which, the warriors whose bones we saw, sacrificed their lives. You must not be fearful: be manly. We shall find him asleep.' Then the leader went forward and touched the belt around the animal's neck. 'This,' said he, 'is what we must get. It contains the wampum.' Then they requested the eldest to try and slip the belt over the bear's head, who appeared to be fast asleep, as he was not in the least disturbed by the attempt to obtain the belt. All their efforts were in vain, till it came to the one next the youngest. He tried, and the belt moved nearly over the monster's head, but he could get it no farther. Then the youngest one, and the leader, made his attempt, and succeeded. Placing it on the back of the oldest, he said, 'Now we must run,' and off they started. When one became fatigued with its weight, another would relieve him. Thus they ran till they had passed the bones of all former warriors, and were some distance beyond, when looking back, they saw the monster slowly rising. He stood some time before he missed his wampum. Soon they heard his tremendous howl, like distant thunder, slowly filling all the sky; and then they heard him speak and say, 'Who can it be that has dared to steal my wampum? earth is not so large but that I can find them;' and he descended from the hill in pursuit. As if convulsed, the earth shook with every jump he made. Very soon he approached the party. They, however, kept the belt, exchanging it from one to another, and encouraging each other; but he gained on them fast. 'Brothers,' said the leader, 'has never any one of you, when fasting, dreamed of some friendly spirit who would aid you as a guardian?' A dead silence followed. 'Well,' said he, 'fasting, I dreamed of being in danger of instant death, when I saw a small lodge, with smoke curling from its top. An old man lived in it, and I dreamed he helped me; and may it be verified soon,' he said, running forward and giving the peculiar yell, and a howl as if the sounds came from the depths of his stomach, and what is called checaudum. Getting upon a piece of rising ground, behold! a lodge, with smoke curling from its top, appeared. This gave them all new strength, and they ran forward and entered it. The leader spoke to the old man who sat in the lodge, saying, 'Nemesho, help us; we claim your protection, for the great bear will kill us.' 'Sit down and eat, my grandchildren,' said the old man. 'Who is a great manito?' said he. 'There is none but me; but let me look,' and he opened the door of the lodge, when, lo! at a little distance he saw the enraged animal coming on, with slow but powerful leaps. He closed the door. 'Yes,' said he, 'he is indeed a great manito: my grandchildren, you will be the cause of my losing my life; you asked my protection, and I granted it; so now, come what may, I will protect you. When the bear arrives at the door, you must run out of the other door of the lodge.' Then putting his hand to the side of the lodge where he sat, he brought out a bag which he opened. Taking out two small black dogs, he placed them before him. 'These are the ones I use when I fight,' said he; and he commenced patting with both hands the sides of one of them, and he began to swell out, so that he soon filled the lodge by his bulk; and he had great strong teeth. When he attained his full size he growled, and from that moment, as from instinct, he jumped out at the door and met the bear, who in another leap would have reached the lodge. A terrible combat ensued. The skies rang with the howls of the fierce monsters. The remaining dog soon took the field. The brothers, at the onset, took the advice of the old man, and escaped through the opposite side of the lodge. They had not proceeded far before they heard the dying cry of one of the dogs, and soon after of the other. 'Well,' said the leader, 'the old man will share their fate: so run; he will soon be after us.' They started with fresh vigor, for they had received food from the old man: but very soon the bear came in sight, and again was fast gaining upon them. Again the leader asked the brothers if they could do nothing for their safety. All were silent. The leader, running forward, did as before. 'I dreamed,' he cried, 'that, being in great trouble, an old man helped me who was a manito; we shall soon see his lodge.' Taking courage, they still went on. After going a short distance they saw the lodge of the old manito. They entered immediately and claimed his protection, telling him a manito was after them. The old man, setting meat before them, said: 'Eat! who is a manito? there is no manito but me; there is none whom I fear;' and the earth trembled as the monster advanced. The old man opened the door and saw him coming. He shut it slowly, and said: 'Yes, my grandchildren, you have brought trouble upon me.' Procuring his medicine-sack, he took out his small war-clubs of black stone, and told the young men to run through the other side of the lodge. As he handled the clubs, they became very large, and the old man stepped out just as the bear reached the door. Then striking him with one of the clubs, it broke in pieces; the bear stumbled. Renewing the attempt with the other war-club, that also was broken, but the bear fell senseless. Each blow the old man gave him sounded like a clap of thunder, and the howls of the bear ran along till they filled the heavens.

They were a great distance from the animal, but he was so large that they could see him plainly. 'There,' said the leader, 'is the one I am leading you to. Our troubles will begin here, for he is a mishemokwa and a manito. He has what we prize so dearly, the wampum. The warriors whose bones we saw sacrificed their lives trying to obtain it. You must not be afraid. Be brave. We shall find him asleep.' The leader went forward and touched the belt around the animal's neck. 'This is what we must get,' he said. 'It contains the wampum.' Then they asked the eldest to try to slip the belt over the bear's head. The bear seemed fast asleep, for the attempt did not disturb him at all. All their efforts failed until it was the turn of the second youngest. He tried, and the belt moved nearly over the monster's head, but he could get it no farther. Then the youngest, who was also the leader, tried and succeeded. He placed the belt on the oldest brother's back and said, 'Now we must run.' They set off. Whenever one grew tired from carrying the belt, another took his place. They ran past the bones of all the earlier warriors and some distance beyond them. Then they looked back and saw the monster slowly rising. He stood for a while before he noticed that his wampum was missing. Soon they heard his tremendous howl. Like distant thunder, it slowly filled the whole sky. Then they heard him say, 'Who could have dared to steal my wampum? The earth is not so large that I cannot find them.' He came down the hill in pursuit. The earth shook with every leap he made, as if it were convulsing. He soon came close to the party. They kept the belt, however, passing it from one to another and encouraging each other. But he was gaining on them fast. 'Brothers,' said the leader, 'has any one of you ever dreamed, while fasting, of a friendly spirit who would help you as a guardian?' A dead silence followed. 'Well,' he said, 'while fasting, I dreamed I was in danger of instant death. Then I saw a small lodge with smoke curling from its top. An old man lived there, and I dreamed he helped me. May the dream soon come true.' He ran forward, giving the peculiar yell and a howl that seemed to come from deep in his stomach. This was what is called checaudum. When he reached a rise in the ground, there appeared a lodge with smoke curling from its top. The sight gave them all new strength, and they ran forward and entered. The leader spoke to the old man sitting in the lodge. 'Nemesho, help us. We ask for your protection, because the great bear will kill us.' 'Sit down and eat, my grandchildren,' said the old man. 'Who is a great manito? There is none but me. But let me look.' He opened the lodge door and saw the enraged animal coming toward them. He was a short distance away, moving in slow but powerful leaps. The old man closed the door. 'Yes,' he said, 'he is indeed a great manito. My grandchildren, you will be the cause of my death. You asked for my protection, and I gave it. So now, whatever happens, I will protect you. When the bear reaches the door, you must run out through the other door of the lodge.' Then he reached to the side of the lodge where he sat and brought out a bag. He opened it, took out two small black dogs, and placed them before him. 'These are the ones I use when I fight,' he said. He began patting the sides of one dog with both hands. The dog began to swell and soon grew so large that he filled the lodge. He also had great, strong teeth. When he reached his full size, he growled. Then, as if by instinct, he jumped out the door and met the bear. The bear would have reached the lodge in another leap. A terrible fight followed. The skies rang with the howls of the fierce monsters. The other dog soon joined the fight. When it began, the brothers followed the old man's advice and escaped through the opposite side of the lodge. They had not gone far before they heard the dying cry of one dog, and soon after, the other. 'Well,' said the leader, 'the old man will meet the same fate. So run. The bear will soon be after us.' They set off with fresh strength, for the old man had given them food. But very soon the bear came into sight and was again gaining on them fast. Once more the leader asked the brothers if they could do anything to save them. All were silent. The leader ran forward and did as he had before. 'I dreamed,' he cried, 'that when I was in great trouble, an old man helped me. He was a manito. We shall soon see his lodge.' Taking courage, they continued on. After a short distance, they saw the lodge of the old manito. They went in at once and asked for his protection, telling him that a manito was after them. The old man set meat before them. 'Eat!' he said. 'Who is a manito? There is no manito but me. There is no one I fear.' The earth trembled as the monster advanced. The old man opened the door and saw him coming. He shut it slowly and said, 'Yes, my grandchildren, you have brought trouble upon me.' He got his medicine-sack and took out his small war-clubs of black stone. Then he told the young men to run out through the other side of the lodge. As he handled the clubs, they became very large. The old man stepped outside just as the bear reached the door. He struck the bear with one club, and it broke into pieces. The bear stumbled. The old man struck him again with the other war-club. It also broke, but the bear fell unconscious. Each blow the old man struck sounded like a clap of thunder. The bear's howls rolled on until they filled the heavens.

The young men had now run some distance, when they looked back. They could see that the bear was recovering from the blows. First he moved his paws, and soon they saw him rise on his feet. The old man shared the fate of the first, for they now heard his cries as he was torn in pieces. Again the monster was in pursuit, and fast overtaking them. Not yet discouraged, the young men kept on their way; but the bear was now so close, that the leader once more applied to his brothers, but they could do nothing. 'Well,' said he, 'my dreams will soon be exhausted; after this I have but one more.' He advanced, invoking his guardian spirit to aid him. 'Once,' said he, 'I dreamed that, being sorely pressed, I came to a large lake, on the shore of which was a canoe, partly out of water, having ten paddles all in readiness. Do not fear,' he cried, 'we shall soon get it.' And so it was, even as he had said. Coming to the lake, they saw the canoe with ten paddles, and immediately they embarked. Scarcely had they reached the center of the lake, when they saw the bear arrive at its borders. Lifting himself on his hind legs, he looked all around. Then he waded into the water; then losing his footing he turned back, and commenced making the circuit of the lake. Meantime the party remained stationary in the center to watch his movements. He traveled all around, till at last he came to the place from whence he started. Then he commenced drinking up the water, and they saw the current fast setting in towards his open mouth. The leader encouraged them to paddle hard for the opposite shore. When only a short distance from land, the current had increased so much, that they were drawn back by it, and all their efforts to reach it were in vain.

The young men had run some distance when they looked back. They could see that the bear was recovering from the blows. First he moved his paws, and soon they saw him rise to his feet. The old man met the same fate as the first man. The young men heard his cries as the bear tore him to pieces. Again the monster pursued them, quickly gaining on them. Still undaunted, the young men kept going. But the bear was so close that their leader again asked his brothers for help. They could do nothing. 'Well,' he said, 'my dreams will soon run out. After this one, I have only one more.' He went forward, calling on his guardian spirit for help. 'Once,' he said, 'I dreamed that I was hard pressed and came to a large lake. On the shore was a canoe, partly out of the water, with ten paddles ready to use. Do not be afraid,' he cried, 'we will soon reach it.' And it happened just as he had said. When they came to the lake, they saw the canoe with its ten paddles and immediately got in. They had barely reached the center of the lake when they saw the bear arrive at its edge. He rose on his hind legs and looked all around. Then he waded into the water, but lost his footing and turned back. He began to circle the lake. Meanwhile, the party stayed in the center and watched his movements. He went all the way around until he came back to where he had started. Then he began drinking the water, and they saw the current flowing swiftly toward his open mouth. The leader urged them to paddle hard for the opposite shore. They were only a short distance from land when the current grew much stronger. It pulled them back, and all their efforts to reach shore were in vain.

Then the leader again spoke, telling them to meet their fates manfully. 'Now is the time, Mudjikewis,' said he, 'to show your prowess. Take courage and sit at the bow of the canoe; and when it approaches his mouth, try what effect your club will have on his head.' He obeyed, and stood ready to give the blow; while the leader, who steered, directed the canoe for the open mouth of the monster.

Then the leader spoke again, telling them to face their fates bravely. 'Now is the time, Mudjikewis,' he said, 'to show your skill. Take courage and sit at the bow of the canoe. When the canoe approaches the monster's mouth, see what your club can do to his head.' Mudjikewis obeyed and stood ready to strike. Meanwhile, the leader steered the canoe toward the monster's open mouth.

Rapidly advancing, they were just about to enter his mouth, when Mudjikewis struck him a tremendous blow on the head, and gave the saw-saw-quan. The bear's limbs doubled under him, and he fell, stunned by the blow. But before Mudjikewis could renew it, the monster disgorged all the water he had drank, with a force which sent the canoe with great velocity to the opposite shore. Instantly leaving the canoe, again they fled, and on they went till they were completely exhausted. The earth again shook, and soon they saw the monster hard after them. Their spirits drooped, and they felt discouraged. The leader exerted himself, by actions and words, to cheer them up; and once more he asked them if they thought of nothing, or could do nothing for their rescue; and, as before, all were silent. 'Then,' he said, 'this is the last time I can apply to my guardian spirit. Now, if we do not succeed, our fates are decided.' He ran forward, invoking his spirit with great earnestness, and gave the yell. 'We shall soon arrive,' said he to his brothers, 'at the place where my last guardian spirit dwells. In him I place great confidence. Do not, do not be afraid, or your limbs will be fear-bound. We shall soon reach his lodge. Run, run,' he cried.

They were moving quickly and were just about to enter his mouth. Then Mudjikewis struck him a tremendous blow on the head and gave the saw-saw-quan. The bear's limbs buckled beneath him, and he fell, stunned by the blow. But before Mudjikewis could strike again, the monster spewed out all the water he had drunk. The force sent the canoe speeding to the opposite shore. They immediately left the canoe and fled again, running until they were completely exhausted. The earth shook again, and soon they saw the monster close behind them. Their spirits sank, and they felt discouraged. The leader tried to cheer them up with words and actions. Once more, he asked if they could think of or do anything to save themselves. As before, they all remained silent. 'Then,' he said, 'this is the last time I can call on my guardian spirit. Now, if we do not succeed, our fates are sealed.' He ran forward, calling on his spirit with great urgency, and gave the yell. 'We will soon reach the place where my last guardian spirit lives,' he said to his brothers. 'I have great confidence in him. Do not, do not be afraid, or your limbs will be bound by fear. We will soon reach his lodge. Run, run,' he cried.

Returning now to Iamo, he had passed all the time in the same condition we had left him, the head directing his sister, in order to procure food, where to place the magic arrows, and speaking at long intervals. One day the sister saw the eyes of the head brighten, as if with pleasure. At last it spoke. 'Oh, sister,' it said, 'in what a pitiful situation you have been the cause of placing me! Soon, very soon, a party of young men will arrive and apply to me for aid; but alas! How can I give what I would have done with so much pleasure? Nevertheless, take two arrows, and place them where you have been in the habit of placing the others, and have meat prepared and cooked before they arrive. When you hear them coming and calling on my name, go out and say, “Alas! it is long ago that an accident befell him. I was the cause of it.” If they still come near, ask them in, and set meat before them. And now you must follow my directions strictly. When the bear is near, go out and meet him. You will take my medicine-sack, bows and arrows, and my head. You must then untie the sack, and spread out before you my paints of all colors, my war-eagle feathers, my tufts of dried hair, and whatever else it contains. As the bear approaches, you will take all these articles, one by one, and say to him, “This is my deceased brother's paint,” and so on with all the other articles, throwing each of them as far as you can. The virtues contained in them will cause him to totter; and, to complete his destruction, you will take my head, and that too you will cast as far off as you can, crying aloud, “See, this is my deceased brother's head.” He will then fall senseless. By this time the young men will have eaten, and you will call them to your assistance. You must then cut the carcass into pieces, yes, into small pieces, and scatter them to the four winds; for, unless you do this, he will again revive.' She promised that all should be done as he said. She had only time to prepare the meat, when the voice of the leader was heard calling upon Iamo for aid. The woman went out and said as her brother had directed. But the war party being closely pursued, came up to the lodge. She invited them in, and placed the meat before them. While they were eating, they heard the bear approaching. Untying the medicine-sack and taking the head, she had all in readiness for his approach. When he came up she did as she had been told; and, before she had expended the paints and feathers, the bear began to totter, but, still advancing, came close to the woman. Saying as she was commanded, she then took the head, and cast it as far from her as she could. As it rolled along the ground, the blood, excited by the feelings of the head in this terrible scene, gushed from the nose and mouth. The bear, tottering, soon fell with a tremendous noise. Then she cried for help, and the young men came rushing out, having partially regained their strength and spirits.

Returning now to Iamo, he had remained in the same condition in which we left him. The head spoke at long intervals, telling his sister where to place the magic arrows to obtain food. One day, his sister saw the head’s eyes brighten, as if with pleasure. At last it spoke. ‘Oh, sister,’ it said, ‘what a pitiful situation you have put me in! Very soon, a party of young men will arrive and ask me for help. But alas! How can I give them the help I would have given so gladly? Still, take two arrows and place them where you usually put the others. Have meat prepared and cooked before the young men arrive. When you hear them coming and calling my name, go out and say, “Alas! An accident happened to him long ago. I caused it.” If they still come closer, invite them in and set meat before them. ‘Now you must follow my directions exactly. When the bear is near, go out to meet him. Take my medicine-sack, bows and arrows, and my head. Then untie the sack and spread out my paints of all colors, my war-eagle feathers, my tufts of dried hair, and everything else it contains. As the bear approaches, take these things one by one. Say to him, “This is my deceased brother’s paint,” and do the same with all the other things. Throw each one as far as you can. The powers in them will make him stagger. To finish him off, take my head and throw it as far as you can, crying aloud, “See, this is my deceased brother’s head.” He will then fall unconscious. By then the young men will have eaten, and you must call them to help you. Then cut the carcass into pieces, yes, into small pieces, and scatter them to the four winds. Unless you do this, he will come back to life.’ She promised to do everything he said. She had only just prepared the meat when she heard the leader’s voice calling on Iamo for help. The woman went out and spoke as her brother had instructed her. But the war party was being closely pursued, so they came up to the lodge. She invited them in and set the meat before them. While they were eating, they heard the bear approaching. She untied the medicine-sack and took the head, getting everything ready for the bear’s arrival. When he came up, she did as she had been told. Before she had thrown all the paints and feathers, the bear began to stagger. But he kept advancing and came close to her. She spoke as she had been told, then took the head and threw it as far as she could. As it rolled along the ground, blood gushed from its nose and mouth, stirred by the head’s feelings during this terrible scene. The bear staggered, then fell with a tremendous noise. She cried for help, and the young men came rushing out. They had partly regained their strength and spirits.

Mudjikewis, stepping up, gave a yell and struck him a blow upon the head. This he repeated, till it seemed like a mass of brains, while the others, as quick as possible, cut him into very small pieces, which they then scattered in every direction. While thus employed, happening to look around where they had thrown the meat, wonderful to behold, they saw starting up and turning off in every direction small black bears, such as are seen at the present day. The country was soon overspread with these black animals. And it was from this monster that the present race of bears derived their origin.

Mudjikewis stepped forward, gave a yell, and struck him on the head. He struck him again and again until his head looked like a mass of brains. Meanwhile, the others quickly cut him into very small pieces and scattered them in every direction. As they worked, they happened to look around where they had thrown the meat. To their wonder, they saw small black bears springing up and running off in every direction. They were like the black bears seen today. Soon the country was covered with these black animals. And it was from this monster that the bears of today descended.

Having thus overcome their pursuer, they returned to the lodge. In the meantime, the woman, gathering the implements she had used, and the head, placed them again in the sack. But the head did not speak again, probably from its great exertion to overcome the monster.

After defeating their pursuer, they returned to the lodge. Meanwhile, the woman gathered the tools she had used and put them and the head back in the sack. But the head did not speak again, probably because it had exerted itself so greatly to defeat the monster.

Having spent so much time and traversed so vast a country in their flight, the young men gave up the idea of ever returning to their own country, and game being plenty, they determined to remain where they now were. One day they moved off some distance from the lodge for the purpose of hunting, having left the wampum with the woman. They were very successful, and amused themselves, as all young men do when alone, by talking and jesting with each other. One of them spoke and said, 'We have all this sport to ourselves; let us go and ask our sister if she will not let us bring the head to this place, as it is still alive. It may be pleased to hear us talk, and be in our company. In the meantime take food to our sister.' They went and requested the head. She told them to take it, and they took it to their hunting-grounds, and tried to amuse it, but only at times did they see its eyes beam with pleasure. One day, while busy in their encampment, they were unexpectedly attacked by unknown Indians. The skirmish was long contested and bloody; many of their foes were slain, but still they were thirty to one. The young men fought desperately till they were all killed. The attacking party then retreated to a height of ground, to muster their men, and to count the number of missing and slain. One of their young men had stayed away, and, in endeavoring to overtake them, came to the place where the head was hung up. Seeing that alone retain animation, he eyed it for some time with fear and surprise. However, he took it down and opened the sack, and was much pleased to see the beautiful feathers, one of which he placed on his head.

The young men had spent so much time fleeing and traveled through such a vast country that they gave up hope of ever returning home. Game was plentiful, so they decided to stay where they were. One day they left the wampum with the woman and went some distance from the lodge to hunt. They had great success and amused themselves by talking and joking, as all young men do when alone. One of them said, 'We are enjoying all this sport by ourselves. Let us ask our sister if she will let us bring the head here, since it is still alive. It may enjoy hearing us talk and being in our company. In the meantime, take food to our sister.' They went and asked for the head. She told them to take it, so they carried it to their hunting grounds and tried to amuse it. But only now and then did they see its eyes light up with pleasure. One day, while they were busy in their camp, unknown Indians attacked them without warning. The fight was long and bloody. Many of their enemies were killed, but the enemies still outnumbered them thirty to one. The young men fought desperately until they were all killed. The attackers then retreated to higher ground to gather their men and count the missing and dead. One of their young men had stayed behind. While trying to catch up with the others, he came to the place where the head was hanging. Seeing that the head alone was still alive, he watched it for some time with fear and surprise. Nevertheless, he took the head down and opened the sack. He was delighted to see the beautiful feathers and placed one on his head.

Starting off, it waved gracefully over him till he reached his party, when he threw down the head and sack, and told them how he had found it, and that the sack was full of paints and feathers. They all looked at the head and made sport of it. Numbers of the young men took the paint and painted themselves, and one of the party took the head by the hair and said—

As he set off, it waved gracefully over him until he reached his party. He threw down the head and sack, then told them how he had found them. He also said the sack was full of paints and feathers. They all looked at the head and made fun of it. Many of the young men used the paint to paint themselves. One of the party took the head by the hair and said:

'Look, you ugly thing, and see your paints on the faces of warriors.'

'Look, you ugly thing, and see your paints on the warriors’ faces.'

But the feathers were so beautiful, that numbers of them also placed them on their heads. Then again they used all kinds of indignity to the head, for which they were in turn repaid by the death of those who had used the feathers. Then the chief commanded them to throw away all except the head. 'We will see,' said he, 'when we get home, what we can do with it. We will try to make it shut its eyes.'

But the feathers were so beautiful that many of them also put the feathers on their heads. They also treated the head with all kinds of disrespect. In return, those who had worn the feathers died. Then the chief ordered them to throw away everything except the head. 'We will see what we can do with it when we get home,' he said. 'We will try to make it shut its eyes.'

When they reached their homes they took it to the council-lodge, and hung it up before the fire, fastening it with raw hide soaked, which would shrink and become tightened by the action of the fire. 'We will then see,' they said, 'if we cannot make it shut its eyes.'

When they reached their homes, they took it to the council lodge and hung it in front of the fire. They fastened it with soaked rawhide, which would shrink and tighten in the heat. 'Then we will see,' they said, 'if we can make it shut its eyes.'

Meantime, for several days, the sister had been waiting for the young men to bring back the head; till, at last, getting impatient, she went in search of it. The young men she found lying within short distances of each other, dead, and covered with wounds. Various other bodies lay scattered in different directions around them. She searched for the head and sack, but they were nowhere to be found. She raised her voice and wept, and blackened her face. Then she walked in different directions, till she came to the place from whence the head had been taken. Then she found the magic bow and arrows, where the young men, ignorant of their qualities, had left them. She thought to herself that she would find her brother's head, and came to a piece of rising ground, and there saw some of his paints and feathers. These she carefully put up, and hung upon the branch of a tree till her return.

Meanwhile, the sister had waited several days for the young men to bring back the head. At last, she grew impatient and went looking for it. She found the young men lying dead, a short distance from one another. Their bodies were covered with wounds. Other bodies lay scattered in different directions around them. She searched for the head and the sack, but they were nowhere to be found. She cried aloud, wept, and blackened her face. Then she walked in different directions until she came to the place where the head had been taken. There she found the magic bow and arrows. The young men had left them there, not knowing about their magic. She resolved to find her brother's head. She came to a hill, where she saw some of his paints and feathers. She carefully gathered them and hung them on a tree branch until her return.

At dusk she arrived at the first lodge of a very extensive village. Here she used a charm, common among Indians when they wish to meet with a kind reception. On applying to the old man and woman of the lodge, she was kindly received. She made known her errand. The old man promised to aid her, and told her the head was hung up before the council-fire, and that the chiefs of the village, with their young men, kept watch over it continually. The former are considered as manitoes. She said she only wished to see it, and would be satisfied if she could only get to the door of the lodge. She knew she had not sufficient power to take it by force. 'Come with me,' said the Indian, 'I will take you there.' They went, and they took their seats near the door. The council-lodge was filled with warriors, amusing themselves with games, and constantly keeping up a fire to smoke the head, as they said, to make dry meat. They saw the head move, and not knowing what to make of it, one spoke and said: 'Ha! ha! It is beginning to feel the effects of the smoke.' The sister looked up from the door, and her eyes met those of her brother, and tears rolled down the cheeks of the head. 'Well,' said the chief, 'I thought we would make you do something at last. Look! look at it—shedding tears,' said he to those around him; and they all laughed and passed their jokes upon it. The chief, looking around, and observing the woman, after some time said to the man who came with her: 'Who have you got there? I have never seen that woman before in our village.' 'Yes,' replied the man, 'you have seen her; she is a relation of mine, and seldom goes out. She stays at my lodge, and asked me to allow her to come with me to this place.' In the center of the lodge sat one of those young men who are always forward, and fond of boasting and displaying themselves before others. 'Why,' said he, 'I have seen her often, and it is to this lodge I go almost every night to court her.' All the others laughed and continued their games. The young man did not know he was telling a lie to the woman's advantage, who by that means escaped.

At dusk she reached the first lodge in a very large village. There she used a charm commonly used by Indians who wanted a kind welcome. She approached the old man and woman of the lodge, and they received her kindly. She told them why she had come. The old man promised to help her. He told her that the head was hanging before the council fire. The village chiefs and their young men kept watch over it constantly. The chiefs were considered manitoes. She said she only wanted to see the head. She would be satisfied if she could just reach the door of the lodge. She knew she did not have enough power to take the head by force. 'Come with me,' said the Indian. 'I will take you there.' They went to the council lodge and sat near the door. The lodge was full of warriors playing games. They kept a fire burning constantly to smoke the head, saying they were making dried meat. They saw the head move, but did not know what to make of it. One of them said: 'Ha! ha! It's beginning to feel the effects of the smoke.' The sister looked up from the door, and her eyes met her brother's. Tears rolled down the cheeks of the head. 'Well,' said the chief, 'I thought we would make you do something at last. Look! Look at it, shedding tears,' he said to those around him. They all laughed and made jokes about the head. After a while, the chief looked around and noticed the woman. He said to the man who had come with her: 'Who have you got there? I've never seen that woman in our village before.' 'Yes,' the man replied, 'you have seen her. She's a relative of mine and seldom goes out. She stays at my lodge and asked me to let her come here with me.' In the center of the lodge sat one of those young men who are always eager to speak up and love to boast and show off. 'Why,' he said, 'I've seen her often. I go to this lodge almost every night to court her.' All the others laughed and continued their games. The young man did not know that his lie helped the woman escape.

She returned to the man's lodge, and immediately set out for her own country. Coming to the spot where the bodies of her adopted brothers lay, she placed them together, their feet toward the east. Then taking an ax which she had, she cast it up into the air, crying out, 'Brothers, get up from under it, or it will fall on you.' This she repeated three times, and the third time the brothers all arose and stood on their feet.

She returned to the man's lodge and immediately set out for her own country. When she reached the place where her adopted brothers' bodies lay, she placed them together, with their feet toward the east. Then she took an ax she had and threw it into the air, crying, 'Brothers, get up from under it, or it will fall on you.' She did this three times. The third time, all the brothers got up and stood on their feet.

Mudjikewis commenced rubbing his eyes and stretching himself. 'Why,' said he, 'I have overslept myself.' 'No, indeed,' said one of the others, 'do you not know we were all killed, and that it is our sister who has brought us to life?' The young men took the bodies of their enemies and burned them. Soon after, the woman went to procure wives for them, in a distant country, they knew not where; but she returned with ten young women, which she gave to the ten young men, beginning with the eldest. Mudjikewis stepped to and fro, uneasy lest he should not get the one he liked. But he was not disappointed, for she fell to his lot. And they were well matched, for she was a female magician. They then all moved into a very large lodge, and their sister told them that the women must now take turns in going to her brother's head every night, trying to untie it. They all said they would do so with pleasure. The eldest made the first attempt, and with a rushing noise she fled through the air.

Mudjikewis began rubbing his eyes and stretching. 'Why,' he said, 'I have overslept.' 'No, indeed,' said one of the others. 'Don't you know we were all killed, and our sister brought us back to life?' The young men took their enemies' bodies and burned them. Soon after, the woman went to find wives for them in a distant country. The young men did not know where it was. But she returned with ten young women and gave one to each young man, beginning with the eldest. Mudjikewis paced back and forth, worried that he would not get the woman he liked. But he was not disappointed, for she was given to him. They were well matched, for she was a magician. Then they all moved into a very large lodge. Their sister told them that the women must now take turns going to her brother's head each night, trying to untie it. They all said they would be glad to do so. The eldest made the first attempt, and with a rushing noise she fled through the air.

Toward daylight she returned. She had been unsuccessful, as she succeeded in untying only one of the knots. All took their turns regularly, and each one succeeded in untying only one knot each time. But when the youngest went, she commenced the work as soon as she reached the lodge; although it had always been occupied, still the Indians never could see any one. For ten nights now, the smoke had not ascended, but filled the lodge and drove them out. This last night they were all driven out, and the young woman carried off the head.

Toward daybreak, she returned. She had failed, managing to untie only one of the knots. All took their turns regularly, and each managed to untie only one knot each time. But when the youngest went, she began work as soon as she reached the lodge. Although the lodge had always been occupied, the Indians could never see anyone. For ten nights now, the smoke had not risen. Instead, it filled the lodge and drove them out. On this last night, they were all driven out, and the young woman carried off the head.

The young people and the sister heard the young woman coming high through the air, and they heard her saying: 'Prepare the body of our brother.' And as soon as they heard it, they went to a small lodge where the black body of Iamo lay. His sister commenced cutting the neck part, from which the neck had been severed. She cut so deep as to cause it to bleed; and the others who were present, by rubbing the body and applying medicines, expelled the blackness. In the meantime, the one who brought it, by cutting the neck of the head, caused that also to bleed.

The young people and the sister heard the young woman approaching high in the air. They heard her say: 'Prepare the body of our brother.' As soon as they heard her, they went to a small lodge where Iamo's black body lay. His sister began cutting the neck where it had been severed. She cut deep enough to make it bleed. The others present rubbed the body and applied medicines, driving away the blackness. Meanwhile, the one who had brought the head cut its neck and made it bleed too.

As soon as she arrived, they placed that close to the body, and, by aid of medicines and various other means, succeeded in restoring Iamo to all his former beauty and manliness. All rejoiced in the happy termination of their troubles, and they had spent some time joyfully together, when Iamo said: 'Now I will divide the wampum,' and getting the belt which contained it, he commenced with the eldest, giving it in equal portions. But the youngest got the most splendid and beautiful, as the bottom of the belt held the richest and rarest.

As soon as she arrived, they placed that close to the body. With medicines and various other means, they restored Iamo to all his former beauty and manliness. Everyone rejoiced that their troubles had ended happily. After they had spent some time together in joy, Iamo said: 'Now I will divide the wampum.' He got the belt containing it and began with the eldest, giving each an equal portion. But the youngest received the most splendid and beautiful wampum, because the richest and rarest was at the bottom of the belt.

They were told that, since they had all once died, and were restored to life, they were no longer mortal, but spirits, and they were assigned different stations in the invisible world. Only Mudjikewis's place was, however, named. He was to direct the west wind, hence generally called Kebeyun, there to remain for ever. They were commanded, as they had it in their power, to do good to the inhabitants of the earth, and, forgetting their sufferings in procuring the wampum, to give all things with a liberal hand. And they were also commanded that it should also be held by them sacred; those grains or shells of the pale hue to be emblematic of peace, while those of the darker hue would lead to evil and war.

They were told that, because they had all died once and been brought back to life, they were no longer mortal. They were spirits now, and each was assigned a different place in the invisible world. Only Mudjikewis's place was named, however. He was to direct the west wind, hence generally called Kebeyun, and remain there forever. They were commanded to use their power to do good to the inhabitants of the earth. They were to forget the suffering they had endured to obtain the wampum and give all things generously. They were also commanded to hold the wampum sacred. Its pale grains or shells were to symbolize peace, while the darker ones would lead to evil and war.

The spirits then, amid songs and shouts, took their flight to their respective abodes on high; while Iamo, with his sister Iamoqua, descended into the depths below.

Then, amid songs and shouts, the spirits flew to their separate homes on high. Meanwhile, Iamo and his sister Iamoqua went down into the depths below.

The end