He had mittens, Minjekahwun, Magic mittens made of deer-skin; When upon his hands he wore them, He could smite the rocks asunder, He could grind them into powder. He had moccasons enchanted, Magic moccasons of deer-skin; When he bound them round his ankles, When upon his feet he tied them, At each stride a mile he measured ! Much he questioned old Nokomis Of his father Mudjekeewis; Learned from her the fatal secret Of the beauty of his mother, Of the falsehood of his father; And his heart was hot within him, Like a living coal his heart was. Then he said to old Nokomis, "I will go to Mudjekeewis, See how fares it with my father, At the doorways of the West-Wind, At the portals of the Sunset!" From his lodge went Hiawatha, Dressed for travel, armed for hunting; Dressed in deer-skin shirt and leggings, Richly wrought with quills and wampum ; On his head his eagle-feathers, With his mittens, Minjekahwun, " Warning said the old Nokomis, Left the fleetest deer behind him, Crossed the mighty Mississippi, Passed the Mountains of the Prairie, Filled with awe was Hiawatha Gleamed like drifting snow his tresses, Filled with joy was Mudjekeewis "Welcome!" said he, "Hiawatha, Many days they talked together, Questioned, listened, waited, swered; Much the mighty Mudjekeewis an Patiently sat Hiawatha, Listening to his father's boasting; With a smile he sat and listened, Uttered neither threat nor menace, Neither word nor look betrayed him, But his heart was hot within him, Like a living coal his heart was. Then he said, "O Mudjekeewis, Is there nothing that can harm you? Nothing that you are afraid of?" And the mighty Mudjekeewis, Grand and gracious in his boasting, Answered, saying, "There is nothing, Nothing but the black rock yonder, Nothing but the fatal Wawbeek." And he looked at Hiawatha With a wise look and benignant, With a countenance paternal, Looked with pride upon the beauty Of his tall and graceful figure, Nothing but the bulrush yonder, Hiawatha cried in terror, Cried in well-dissembled terror, Of her birth, upon the meadow, And he cried "O Mudjekeewis, Bowed his hoary head in anguish, Then up started Hiawatha, But the ruler of the West-Wind Blew the fragments backward from him, With the breathing of his nostrils, Dragged it with its roots and fibres Then began the deadly conflict, Hand to hand among the mountains : From his eyrie screamed the eagle; The Keneu, the great War-Eagle; Sat upon the crags around them, Wheeling flapped his wings above them. Like a tall tree in the tempest Bent and lashed the giant bulrush And in masses huge and heavy Crashing fell the fatal Wawbeek; Till the earth shook with the tumult And confusion of the battle, And the air was full of shoutings, Three whole days retreated fighting To the door-ways of the West-Wind, "Go back to your home and people, Live among them, toil among them, Cleanse the earth from all that harms it, Clear the fishing-grounds and rivers, near you, Thus was fought that famous battle In the dreadful days of Shah-shah, In the days long since departed, In the kingdom of the West-Wind. Still the hunter sees its traces Scattered far o'er hill and valley; Sees the giant bulrush growing By the ponds and water-courses, Sees the masses of the Wawbeek Lying still in every valley. Homeward now went Hiawatha ; Pleasant was the landscape round him, Pleasant was the air above him, For the bitterness of anger Had departed wholly from him, From his brain the thought of vengeance, From his heart the burning fever. Only once his pace he slackened, Only once he paused or halted, Paused to purchase heads of arrows Of the ancient Arrow-maker, In the land of the Dacotahs, Where the falls of Minnehaha* Flash and gleam among the oak-trees, Laugh and leap into the valley. There the ancient Arrow-maker Made his arrow-heads of sandstone, Arrow-heads of chalcedony, Arrow-heads of flint and jasper, Smoothed and sharpened at the edges, Hard and polished, keen and costly. With him dwelt his dark-eyed daughter, Wayward as the Minnehaha, With her moods of shade and sunshine, Eyes that smiled and frowned alter nate, Feet as rapid as the river, Was it then for heads of arrows, "The scenery about Fort Snelling is rich in beauty. The Falls of St. Anthony are familiar to travellers, and to readers of Indian sketches. Between the fort and these falls are the Little Falls,' forty feet in height, on a stream that empties into the Missisippi. The Indians call them Mine-hah-hah, or laughing waters."-Mrs. Eastman's Dacotah, or Legends of the Sioux, Introd., p. ii. Was it not to see the maiden, See the face of Laughing Water Peeping from behind the curtain, Hear the rustling of her garments From behind the waving curtain, As one sees the Minnehaha Gleaming, glancing through the branches, As one hears the Laughing Water From behind its screen of branches? Who shall say what thoughts and visions Fill the fiery brains of young men ? V. HIAWATHA'S FASTING. First he built a lodge for fasting, In the Moon of Leaves he built it. And with dreams and visions many, Seven whole days and nights he fasted. On the first day of his fasting Through the leafy woods he wandered; Saw the deer start from the thicket, Saw the rabbit in his burrow, Heard the pheasant, Bena, drumming, Heard the squirrel, Adjidaumo, Rattling in his horde of acorns Saw the pigeon, the Omeme, Building nests among the pine-trees, And in flocks the wild goose, Wawa, Flying to the fenlands northward, Whirring, wailing far above him. "Master of Life!" he cried, desponding, [things? "Must our lives depend on these On the next day of his fasting By the river's brink he wandered, Through the Muskoday, the meadow, Saw the wild-rice, Mahnomonee, Saw the blueberry, Meenahga, And the strawberry, Odahmin, And the gooseberry, Shahbomin, And the grape-vine, the Bemahgut, Trailing o'er the elder-branches, Filling all the air with fragrance ! Master of Life!" he cried, desponding, "Must our lives depend on these things?" On the third day of his fasting By the lake he sat and pondered, By the still, transparent water, Saw the sturgeon, Nahma, leaping, Scattering drops like beads of wampum, Saw the yellow perch, the Sahwa, Like a sunbeam in the water, Saw the pike, the Maskenozha, And the herring, Okahahwis, And the Shawgashee, the craw-fish! "Master of Life!" he cried, desponding, Must our lives depend on these things? On the fourth day of his fasting In his lodge he lay exhausted; From his couch of leaves and branches Gazing with half-open eyelids, Full of shadowy dreams and visions, On the dizzy, swimming landscape, On the gleaming of the water, On the splendour of the sunset. And he saw a youth approaching, Dressed in garments green and yellow, Coming through the purple twilight, Through the splendour of the sunset; Plumes of green bent o'er his forehead, And his hair was soft and golden. Standing at the open doorway, Long he looked at Hiawatha, Looked with pity and compassion On his wasted form and features, And, in accents like the sighing Of the South-Wind in the tree-tops, Said he, "O my Hiawatha! All your prayers are heard in heaven, For you pray not like the others, Not for greater skill in hunting, Not for greater craft in fishing, Not for triumph in the battle, Nor renown among the warriors, But for profit of the people, For advantage of the nations. "From the Master of Life descending, I, the friend of man, Mondamin, Rise up from your bed of branches, Stronger still grew Hiawatha ; Gave a scream of pain and famine. 'Tis enough!" then said Mondamin, Smiling upon Hiawatha, "But to-morrow, when the sun sets, On the morrow and the next day, When the sun through heaven descending, Like a red and burning cinder In its coming and its going. Thrice they wrestled there together, In the glory of the sunset, Till the darkness fell around them, |