Many hundred moons ago there dwelt among the Senecas a maiden named Tonadahwa, whom every young chief coveted to grace his wigwam. One of the young braves of her tribe had won her heart by imperiling his life to save her from impending danger, and to none other would she listen. Her smiles were all for her hero, and her eyes lighted like the sunbeams when he was near.
One day the maiden was urging her canoe swiftly along the river, little thinking that great danger awaited her and threatened her life and happiness. Darting along the bank of the stream, unseen by Tonadahwa, was a young Seneca warrior, who had been a suitor for her hand, but whom she had spurned and avoided. Her light canoe had borne her far from the village of the Senecas, when she suddenly heard what she supposed was the call of her lover on the shore. Resting on her paddle, Tonadahwa listened and again heard the welcome call that deepened the rich color in her rounded cheeks. Answering with a cry of joy, she headed the canoe toward the bank, and with a few strokes sent it gliding underneath the overhanging branches.
But it was not the form of Tonadahwa's lover that sprang suddenly into the canoe. It was that of the dark and angry rival, and she saw in his face a look of evil triumph.
The maiden uttered no shriek, gave expression to no surprise, though her eyes darkened and her cheeks assumed a duskier hue. With an exclamation that almost drove hope from Tonadahwa's heart, the hated lover caught the paddle from her hands and sent the light craft rapidly towards the middle of the stream.
Suddenly a bright object cleft the air and an arrow sped from the bank of the river and buried itself between the shoulders of the cowardly abductor as he bent forward to clasp the shrinking maiden in his arms. With a cry, the defeated rival leaped into the river, hurling the paddle from him as he sprang, and with his last remaining effort pushed the canoe and its occupant far out into the rapid current. The whirling, seething rapids caught the helpless craft and bore it onward with terrific speed. Tonadahwa waved a farewell to her lover, and, chanting her death-song, which the pines along the shore caught and whispered, the canoe went flying amid the mist and spray of that roaring tide.
Green as the emerald, save where whipped into white foam or enshrouded in mist, the river rushed on, and the frail canoe, tossed as a plaything at the sport of the current, was whirled onward until lost in the roar and tumult of the impetuous flood.
Like the wind the despairing lover flew along the shore to the high banks overlooking the falls. There he paused a moment until the canoe and its precious freight were lost to view. Then, raising his arms a moment toward the Happy Hunting-Grounds, he leaped into the fearful abyss.
But amid the pelting spray and beating flood appeared myriads of shadowy forms—spirits of the mighty braves who long before had found the land of pleasant forests. Swiftly, yet gently, they lowered the form of the hero until he stood unharmed beneath the fall of roaring water, and received in his arms the unconscious form of Tonadahwa, which was held by the braves to await his coming.
Clinging to the broken rocks, buffeted and blinded by the awful flood, the daring and triumphant Seneca bore his loved burden to a place of safety and watched with thankfulness her return to consciousness and life.
The pine trees ever after gently murmured Tonadahwa's song, and, mingled with the roar of waters, listening lovers through all succeeding time can often hear the strange, weird cry of Tonadahwa's lover as he plunged headlong after the beloved maiden.
Trouble came to a village of the Oneidas. From the north a band of red men who had listened to the bad spirits came upon the peaceful village, and, with murder and plunder in their hearts, spread destruction around them like the wild chase of the forest fires. The homes of the Oneidas were deserted and made desolate, and the women and children were hurried away to the rocks and hills for refuge and were guarded by the warriors. For many days and nights the attacking party vainly tried to find the trail of the people they had driven from their homes. The Great Spirit had passed his hands over the forest and the trail of the Oneidas was not discovered by the savage Mingoes.
But the Oneidas were almost without food, and over the tops of the trees and along the face of the almost inaccessible cliff came hunger and death to their hiding place. The warriors and sachems sat long at the council, but their eyes were heavy and they could find no path that would lead them from their trouble. To try to escape from their refuge would expose them to capture and slavery at the hands of their foes. To remain where they were meant starvation and death.
Then the little maiden, Aliquipiso, came to the warriors and sachems and told how the good spirits had come to her sleeping under the trees, and had shown her where from the side of the high bluff on which her people were hiding huge rocks could be rolled into the valley below in such a manner as to strike down the very trees there. The good spirits also told her to lead the foes of the Oneidas to the spot and bade her go upon the mission that she might deliver her people from their danger. The warriors and sachems listened to the unfolding of the plan with wonder, and when Aliquipiso had finished, the chief brought forth rich strings of white wampum and put them about her neck, saying that she was the princess of all the nation and beloved of the Great Spirit. When the night came the little maiden left her people quietly and without faltering, and disappeared in the darkness.
In the morning watchful scouts of the Mingoes found a little girl wandering as if lost in the forest. They hurried away with her to the dismantled village where she had been so happy with her fellows and at once commenced to torture her, hoping to extort the secret of the hiding place of her people. With a fortitude that won the admiration of her captors, Aliquipiso resisted the torture for a long time, but finally told the cruel tormentors that when the darkness came she would lead them to the hiding place of the Oneidas.
Night came again, and the exultant Mingoes started on the trail they believed would lead them to the camp of the Oneidas. Aliquipiso led the way, but she was in the grasp of strong warriors who were ready with poised weapons to take her life at the first evidence of a betrayal. Through many paths and windings, slowly and craftily, crept the Mingoes until they were near the overhanging precipice of granite. Then Aliquipiso signaled to the warriors to come close around her, as though she were about to roll back the huge mountain wall and disclose to them those whom they pursued. When they had crowded to her side she suddenly lifted her voice in a piercing cry of warning—a signal of death. She knew that above them the sleepless sentries of the starving Oneidas were holding great bowlders poised upon the brink of the precipice.
Her captors had scarcely time to strike her lifeless to the ground before the rocks rushed with terrible force down the side of the mountain, catching and crushing the entrapped warriors like worms under the foot of a mighty giant.
Aliquipiso, brave maiden of the Oneidas, was mourned by her people many suns. The Great Spirit changed her hair into woodbine, which the red men called "running hairs," and sent it over the earth as a protector to old trees. From her body sprang the honeysuckle, which was known to the Indians as "the blood of brave women."
Listen, my children, while the fire burns red and the shadows come and go like mighty giants, and I will tell you the story of Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon, the holder of the heavens, who afterwards became a mortal and was called Hiawatha, the wise man.
There came to his ears one day a great cry of distress, and when he looked from the entrance of the Happy Hunting-Grounds he saw a few men and women in the forest moaning with terror, for all their friends had been slain by mighty giants and fierce monsters. So he went quickly to their aid, and taking a little maiden by the hand, bade all follow whither she led. By paths known only to Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon, he conducted them to a cave near the mouth of a river,1 and there he brought them food and bade them sleep.
When they had remained there many days Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon again took the maiden by the hand and led her toward the rising sun, and the few people who had been saved by his mercy followed gladly in the trail he pointed out. At last they came where the great river2 they had followed poured over some mighty rocks to the level of another river,3 and here he told them to build a house in which they might dwell in peace. Many moons they remained there in happiness, and the little children who came to them grew to be strong men and handsome women. Then came Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon and said to them:
"You, my children, must now go forth and become mighty nations; and I will teach you the mysteries of the forests and make your numbers like the leaves that cover the trees when the warm days have come."
Then they followed him toward the setting-sun, and when they had gone some distance he told off certain numbers and families that should make their homes and build a village in that place. These he gave corn, beans, squash, potatoes and tobacco, and also dogs with which to hunt game, and named them Te-ha-wro-gah.4 From that time they could not understand their brothers, and they dwelt henceforward on the banks of the beautiful river.
Then went he with the others towards the sun-setting till at last they halted in a broad valley where were beautiful streams. And he bade some of his followers remain there, and gave the same good gifts he had given their brothers and told them that they should be called Ne-ha-wre-ta-go,5 for the trees of the forest were of great size where he bade them dwell, and in a short time these had also learned to speak a new tongue.
Then Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon led the rest of his people onward toward the sun-setting till they came to a mountain which he called O-nun-da-ga-o-no-ga.6 There he again commanded some of his people to remain, and he gave into their possession the same gifts he had confided to the care of his other children, and called them Se-uh-no-wah-ah-tah.7 To these he gave his own language.
Many days journey toward the sunset, near the shores of a lake named Go-yo-gah,8 he selected a dwelling-place for others of his children and bade them build a village and left them provided with all good things. These he called Sho-nea-na-we-to-wah;9 and their language was also changed.
Then with those who remained Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon continued toward the sunset until they came to a mountain near the lake called Ga-nun-da-gwa, 10 and here he told them they should dwell. And he gave to them the name Te-ho-ne-noy-hent,11 and changed their language as he had done that of their brothers and bestowed upon them the same gifts for their food.
But there were some who were not content to stay where the holder of the heavens had bidden them to live and who ran away toward the setting-sun many days until they came to a great river which they crossed on a wild grape vine. But when the last ones were crossing, the vine broke and none could ever return.12
Then the holder of the heavens gave his time to the instruction of his children, and to each family he imparted some distinctive skill. To the Senecas he gave the power of swift feet, and they could soon outrun any animal in the forest. The Cayugas became skilled in the use of the canoe, and glided over the waters more rapidly than the skimming birds or darting fish. The Onondagas were instructed in all the laws and wishes of the Great Spirit and had power to speak his mind. The Oneidas became skilful in ways of making weapons, of the building of houses and the weaving of baskets. The Mohawks were taught to shoot their arrows with surer aim than all the others, and could snare the fish from the streams with wondrous skill.
You, my children, must know that Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon, the holder of the heavens, had power to assume any shape, and that he could fly from one place to another, far distant, more rapidly than the great eagle. He taught his people the knowledge of hunting and gardening; he fashioned arrow-heads from the flint and guided the hands of his children until they, too, could make them; he gave instruction in the arts of war, that they might defend themselves; he cleared their streams from obstructions and pointed out the water path13 from the sun-rising to the sun-setting. He taught them the form of poisonous fruits and plants, giving them to eat of those that were wholesome; he taught them how to kill and dress their game; made the forest free for the tribes to hunt in, and gave them laws and precepts to guide them in the treatment of both the young and the old.
Then Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon determined to reside with his children, and he assumed the form of a man and chose as a wife a maiden from the Onondagas. When he had done this he was named Hiawatha. His home was on the shores of a beautiful lake,14 and to it came many of the red men and their wives and children, that they might learn from the wise Hiawatha how their lives should be guided. To his wigwam came also a daughter, whose beauty was as the flowers, glistening with the dews of night and kissed by the light of the Great Spirit's smiling face. The name of the daughter was Minnehaha.
Many seasons passed. Under the teachings of Hiawatha the Onondagas became the greatest of all nations. The wise man came in his magic canoe of dazzling whiteness and sat at all their councils, and by his wisdom and moderation the tribe was preserved from strife and became foremost in the arts and knowledge of the forest.
But at last there came an alarm from the north beyond the great lakes, and the story was told with fear at the lodge-fires of a relentless enemy who came to kill and burn. In terror the chiefs told their fears to Hiawatha and he advised them to call a council of all the tribes at a place on the borders of a lake where he had once told them to light a great council-fire, that they might make preparations to meet their foes. Swift runners went to the villages of all the tribes and the chiefs, and warriors assembled at the appointed place. Three days they awaited the coming of Hiawatha, and on the morning of the fourth a mighty shout arose as they saw his mystic canoe gliding over the waters of the lake. In its prow sat the beautiful Minnehaha, while the wise man, her father, occupied a seat at the stern of the boat and with a light paddle directed the course of the mysterious craft. He was met at the edge of the water by the foremost men of the tribes, and greeting them as brothers, each in their own language, he stepped from the canoe and walked a short distance along the shore. Suddenly a rushing noise was heard, as of the coming of an awful storm, and as all eyes turned upwards a great bird was observed coming out of the heavens with the speed of an arrow. Hiawatha and his daughter alone stood unmoved and tranquil. The others fled in terror. The celestial visitor alighted at the feet of Hiawatha. Impelled by some unseen power, Minnehaha knelt at her father's feet. He placed his hands on her head for a moment and then she slowly rose, cast one look into his face, murmured gently, "Farewell, my father!" and took her place between the wings of the Great Spirit's messenger. Instantly the giant bird stretched its wings for flight over the glistening waters of the lake, and circling over the heads of the appalled multitude, swiftly bore its burden of loveliness to the home of the Manito.
Hiawatha sank to the earth and covered his head with the robe of a panther. Three times did the smiling face of the Great Spirit pass across the heavens before the wise man moved or uttered a sound, and his red brothers feared he had gone on the long journey and could not again give them counsel. Finally he rose from his mourning, bathed himself in the lake and asked that the council be called. When all were seated in the place appointed, Hiawatha came before them and said:
"My children, listen to the words of Hiawatha, for they are the last he will speak to you. My heart beats with yours, my children, but I cannot longer remain to make known to you the will of the Great Spirit.
"My children, the voice of strife has brought you from the homes where you have so long dwelt in peace. You tremble for the safety of your wives and little ones; you fear that your happy life will be disturbed. You, the members of many tribes and villages, have one common fear, and you should therefore have one common interest. Singly, no tribe can oppose the hordes of the north that threaten to come like the storms of winter, blasting and killing all in their path. Divided you can make no progress. You must unite as one common band of brothers. You must have one voice, for many tongues make confusion. You must have one fire, one pipe, one war club. If your warriors unite they can defeat any enemy and protect the safety of their homes.
"My children, listen, and Hiawatha will tell the wampum of the Great Spirit."
He made a signal and the fire-keepers advanced to the center of the council-place and united the council-fires in one.15 Then Hiawatha threw tobacco upon this and said:
"Onondaga, you are the people of the hills and are warlike and mighty. Your strength is like that of the great tree whose branches withstand the storm because its roots sink deep into the ground. You shall be the first nation.
"Oneida, you are the people who recline your bodies against the everlasting stone that cannot be moved.16 You shall be the second nation because you give wise counsel.
"Seneca, you are the people who have habitation at the foot of the great mountain and dwell within the shadows of its crags. You shall be the third nation because you are fleet of foot and are greatly gifted in speech.
"Cayuga, you whose dwelling is in the dark forest and whose home is everywhere because of the swiftness of your canoes, you shall be the fourth nation because of your superior cunning in hunting.
"Mohawk, you are the people who live in the open country and possess much wisdom. You shall be the fifth nation because you understand best the cultivation of corn and beans and the building of cabins.
"Like the fingers on the hand of the warrior, each must lend aid to the other and work in unison. Then foes shall not disturb or subdue you.
"My children, these are the words of the Great Spirit spoken to you by Hiawatha. Let them sink deep into your hearts and be remembered. When the sun comes again I will listen to your decision. I have done."
On the following day the council again assembled and the wise men agreed that Hiawatha had spoken well and that they would follow his teachings. They asked him to be their chief sachem, but he told them he could not as he was going away. Then Hiawatha approached the spot where the celestial bird had rested and gathered a quantity of white plumes that had fallen from its wings. These he gave to the warriors as emblems that they should wear and by which they should be known as members of the Ako-no-shu-ne, who were called the Iroquois.17 Then Hiawatha said to them:
"To you, Oh! my children, remember well the words of Hiawatha. To you, Oh! my friends and brothers, be faithful in aiding each other when danger may come. Recall the words of the Great Spirit which have been given to you for many moons. Do not admit to your councils the people of other tribes, for they will plant among you the seeds of jealousy and trouble and you will become feeble and enslaved.
"Friends and brothers, these are the last words you will hear from the lips of Hiawatha. Choose the wisest maiden18 in your tribes, who shall be your peacemaker, and to your sachems shall come wisdom to arrange for the reference to her of dissensions that may arise among you. I have spoken, and will now follow the call of the Great Spirit."
At that moment sweet strains of music burst upon the ears of the listening multitude like the gentle voice of summer in the branches of the pine trees; they heard it, but knew not whence it came. The wise man stepped forward, and as he was seated in the mystic canoe the music burst upon the air in tones more beautiful than the red men had ever before heard. But the snow-white canoe did not skim the waters of the lake. Slowly it rose as the choral chant pealed forth, and, following the direction taken by the celestial bird, disappeared among the summer clouds as the melody ceased.
1. Oswego River.
2. Mohawk River.
3.