THE BENDED ROCKS.
A STORY OF NIAGARA.

ENDING WILLOW was the most beautiful girl in a tribe noted for its handsome women. She had many suitors, but she refused them all; for her love was given to a young warrior of a distant nation, who, she felt sure, would some day return to throw a red deer at her feet in token that he wished to marry her.

Among her suitors was a hideous old Indian, a chief who was very rich. He was scarred and wrinkled and his hair was as gray as the badger that burrows in the forest. He was cruel also, for when the young men were put to the torture to prove themselves worthy to be warriors, he devised tests more dreadful than any that the tribe had ever known. But the chief, who was rightly named No Heart, declared that he would marry Bending Willow, and, as he was powerful, her parents did not dare to refuse him. Bending Willow begged and pleaded in vain.

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On the night before the day set for the marriage, she went into the woods, and throwing herself on the ground, sobbed as if her heart would break. All night she lay there, listening to the thunder of the great cataract of Niagara, which was but a woman's journey from the village. At last it suggested to her a sure means of escape.

Early in the morning before any one was stirring, she went back to her father's wigwam, took his canoe and dragged it to the edge of the river. Then stepping into it she set it adrift and it headed quickly towards the Falls. It soon reached the rapids and was tossed like a withered branch on the white-crested billows, but went on, on, swiftly and surely to the edge of the great fall.

For a moment only, she saw the bright, green water, and then she felt herself lifted and was borne on great, white wings which held her above the rocks. The water divided and she passed into a dark cave behind the rainbow.

The spirit of Cloud and Rain had gone to her rescue and had taken her into his lodge. He was a little, old man, with a white face and hair and beard of soft, white mist, like that which rises day and

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night from the base of the Falls. The door of his lodge was the green wave of Niagara, and the walls were of gray rock studded with white stone flowers.

Cloud and Rain gave her a warm wrapper and seated her on a heap of ermine skins in a far corner of the lodge where the dampness was shut out by a magic fire. This is the fire that runs beneath the Falls, and throws its yellow-and-green flames across the water, forming the rainbow.

He brought her dainty fish to eat and delicate jelly made from mosses which only the water spirits can find or prepare.

When she was rested he told her that he knew her story, and if she would stay with him he would keep her until her ugly old suitor was dead. "A great serpent," added he, "lies beneath the village, and is even now poisoning the spring from which No Heart draws all the water that he uses, and he will soon die."

Bending Willow was grateful, and said that she would gladly remain all her life in such a beautiful home and with such a kind spirit.

Cloud and Rain smiled; but he knew the heart of a young girl would turn towards her own home when it was safe

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for her to return. He needed no better proof of this than the questions she asked about the serpent which caused so much sickness among her people.

He told her that this serpent had lain there many years. When he once tasted human blood he could never be satisfied. He crept beneath a village and cast a black poison into the springs from which people drew water. When any one died the serpent stole out at night and drank his blood. That made him ravenous for more. So when one death occurred more followed until the serpent was gorged and went to sleep for a time.

"When you return," said Cloud and Rain, "persuade your people to move their camp. Let them come near me, and should the serpent dare to follow I will defend them."

Bending Willow stayed four months with Cloud and Rain, and he taught her much magic, and showed her the herbs which would cure sickness.

One day when he came in from fishing he said to her: "No Heart is dead. This night I will throw a bridge from the foot of the waters across the Falls to the high hills. You must climb it without fear, for I will hold it firmly until you are on the land."

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When the moon rose and lighted all the river, Cloud and Rain caused a gentle wind to raise the spray until it formed a great, white arch reaching from his cave to the distant hills. He led Bending Willow to the foot of this bridge of mist and helped her to climb until she was assured of her safety and could step steadily.

All the tribe welcomed her, and none were sorry that she had not married No Heart. She told them of the good spirit, Cloud and Rain, of his wonderful lodge, of his kindness, and of the many things he had taught her.

At first they would not entertain the idea of moving their village, for there were pleasant fishing-grounds where they lived, and by the Falls none but spirits could catch the fish. But when strong men sickened and some of the children of the Chief died, they took down their lodge poles and sought the protection of the good spirit.

For a long time they lived in peace and health; but after many moons the serpent discovered their new camp and made his way thither.

Cloud and Rain was soon aware of his arrival, and was very angry because the serpent dared to come so near his lodge.

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[paragraph continues] He took a handful of the magic fire and molded it into thunderbolts which he hurled at the monster. The first stunned him, the second wounded him severely, and the third killed him.

Cloud and Rain told them to drag the body to the rapids and hurl it into the water. It took all the women of the tribe to move it, for it was longer than the flight of twenty arrows. As it tossed upon the water, it looked as though a mountain had fallen upon the waves, and it drifted but slowly to the edge of the Great Fall. There it was drawn between the rocks and became wedged so firmly that it could not be dislodged, but coiled itself as if it had lain down to sleep. Its weight was so great that it bent the rocks, and they remain curved like a drawn bow to this day. The serpent itself was gradually washed to pieces and disappeared.

In the Moon of Flowers the young warrior whom Bending Willow loved came and cast a red deer at her feet, and they were happy ever after.

WHITE HAWK, THE LAZY.

HITE HAWK was known as the laziest boy in the tribe. When his father set his nets, even on the coldest days in winter, he had to do it alone; for White Hawk would never help him either to carry the net or to cut the ice. He neither hunted nor fished, he took no part in the games of the young men, and he refused to wait upon his parents, until his name became a reproach.

His father and mother were deeply grieved by his conduct, for they themselves were industrious and frugal. They did not, like many of their tribe, return from the wintering grounds to feast and be idle; but built themselves a lodge in the forest, where they laid store for the future. At last they determined to try to shame White Hawk out of his laziness. So one night when he had refused to go to fetch water for them, the father said: "Ah, my son, one who is afraid to

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go to the river after dark will never kill the Red Head."

Now, it was the ambition of every Indian boy to kill the Red Head. Though his parents did not know it, White Hawk had always believed that he would accomplish it, and he often sat and thought of different ways in which it might be done, for he was strong, despite his laziness.

He made no answer, but went at once to bed. The next morning he asked his mother to make him some new moccasins of deer skin while he cut some arrows. He made only four, which he put into a shabby quiver and laid beside his moccasins ready to take with him in the morning.

He rose before daylight, and without waking either his father or his mother put on his moccasins, took his bow and quiver and set out, determined to kill the Red Head before he returned. He did not know which way to go, so as soon as it was light he shot an arrow into the air and followed the direction of its flight.

He traveled all day. Towards night he was tired and hungry, for he had brought no food with him and had found but a few acorns in the forest. To his surprise he saw a fat deer with an arrow in its side lying across his path.

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It was the arrow he had shot that morning. He did not pull it out, but cut off as much meat as he wanted to eat and left the rest for the coyotes.

He slept in a hollow tree all night. Early the next morning he shot another arrow into the air to find out in what direction to go that day, and at night he found another deer that had been pierced by this arrow.

Thus it happened every day for four days; but as he had not withdrawn any of the arrows, on the fifth day he had none to use and so was without food. He was very hungry, for he had long since left the woods and there were no nuts or berries on the prairie.

He lay down, thinking he might as well die there as elsewhere, for he was suffering great pain from hunger. It was not long before he heard a hollow, rumbling sound that seemed to be under ground.

He stood up and looking around, saw a broad, beaten path leading across the prairie. An old woman was walking along this path, thumping the ground with a stick at every step.

He went nearer and was terribly frightened, for he discovered that she was a

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witch, known throughout the country as "the little old woman who makes war."

She wore a mantle made entirely of women's scalps. Her staff, which was a stout, hickory stick, was ornamented with a string of toes and bills of birds of all kinds. At every stroke of the staff they fluttered and sang, each in its own fashion, and the discord was horrible.

White Hawk followed her, creeping along in the high grass so as to hide himself, until he saw her lodge, which was on the shore of the lake. She entered, took off her mantle and shook it several times. At every shake the scalps uttered loud shrieks of laughter, in which the old witch joined.

Presently she came out, and without seeming to look, walked directly up to White Hawk. She told him that she knew all about his determination to kill the Red Head, and that she would help him. "Many young men have thought about killing him," she said, "but you are the only one who has set out to do it."

She insisted upon his going to her lodge to spend the night, and he went, although he knew that he would not be able to sleep in such a place.

She told him to lie down, and taking

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out a comb, began to comb his hair, which in a few moments became long and glossy, like a woman's. She tied its with a magic hairstring, and gave him a woman's dress of fine, soft skin, a necklace, and brooches of silver, and many strings of wampum. Then she painted his face red and yellow, not forgetting to put on some love-powder. Last of all she brought a silver bowl for him and slipped a blade of scented sword-grass into his girdle.

She told him that the Red Head lived on an island in the center of the lake on the shore of which her lodge was built.

On the morrow White Hawk should go down to the water and begin dipping they silver bowl into the lake and drinking from it. The Indians who were with the Red Head would see him, and, supposing him to be a woman, would come over in their canoes, and each would wish to make her his wife.

He was to say, "No, I will only marry the Red Head, and he must bring his own canoe for me, for I have traveled a long way in order to be his wife."

When the Red Head should receive the news he would cross in his canoe and take White Hawk to the island. The witch

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loaded him with presents to give in the event of a marriage, in which case he was to be on the watch for an opportunity to kill the Red Head by cutting off his head with the spear of scented sword-grass.

White Hawk rose next morning, put on the woman's garments that had been given him, went down to the lake and began dipping water with the silver bowl.

Presently many canoes were put out from the island. They were driven swiftly to the spot where he stood, and the men strove with one another in offers of marriage.

White Hawk acted as the witch told him a woman would under the circumstances. To all their entreaties he replied: "I have come a great way to see the Red Head, whom I am resolved to marry. If he wants me let him come in his own canoe to take me to his wigwam."

The message was taken to the Red Head, who immediately crossed the lake in his canoe. As it neared the shore White Hawk saw that its framework was of live rattlesnakes, who thrust out their heads and hissed and rattled as he stepped into the boat. The Red Head spoke to them and they quieted down, as dogs at the word of their master.

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When they landed the Red Head went straight to his wigwam and the marriage was performed. Then a feast was spread, the presents were given and White Hawk waited his opportunity.

By and by Red Head's mother, who had been watching the bride closely, said to her husband, "That is no woman our son has married; no woman ever looked out of her eyes like that."

Her husband was very angry; and White Hawk, who had overheard the conversation, jumped up and said: "I have been insulted, and by my husband's people. I cannot live here. I will return at once to my nation," and he ran out of the wigwam, followed by the guests and by the Red Head, who motioned to them to leave him.

White Hawk went down to the shore and made pretense of getting into a canoe, when the Red Head laid a hand upon him and sorrowfully begged him to wait at least a little time. He turned back and sat down, when the Red Head threw himself at his wife's feet and put his head into her lap.

White Hawk lost not a moment in drawing out the blade of sword-grass and cutting off his head at a single stroke. He

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then plunged into the water and swam across the lake with the head in his hand.

He had scarcely reached the shore when he saw the Red Head's followers come down with torches in search of him and his wife. He heard their shrieks when they found the headless body, and so lost no time in making his way to the witch's lodge, whither they would not be likely to follow him.

The witch received him with great joy. She told him that he must give her a little piece of the scalp for herself, but he might take the rest home.

He was anxious to return, so she gave him a partridge to offer the spirit of the earth, in case he should meet him on the way.

As White Hawk crossed the prairie, he heard a great rumbling and crackling sound, and the earth split and opened in front of him. He threw the partridge into the crack and it was closed immediately, so that he passed over it in safety.

On reaching home he found that his parents had fasted and mourned for him as dead, for he had been gone a year. Many young men had come to them and had said, "See, I am your son," until

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when White Hawk did return they would not even look at him.

He threw himself at their feet and told them that he had killed the Red Head. They paid no attention to him, and the young men of the tribe to whom he repeated the story laughed in his face.

He went outside the camp and brought back the head. Then indeed his parents rejoiced, for they knew that he would be admitted at once to the company of warriors for having rid them of so great an enemy. While they all wondered how one who was so lazy could have become so great a brave, he told them why he had acted as he did before he left the village. He was so strong that he had been afraid of breaking things, and so did not dare to touch them. He took hold of some fishing-nets, and as he turned them over in his fingers, they snapped in many places. But now that he was a man his strength would be useful to him and to the tribe. He could clear the forest of fallen trees, and carry some to the streams, where he could throw them so that his people might go from one side to the other in safety. Thereafter he was not known as White Hawk the Lazy, but as "The Strong Man."

THE MAGIC FEATHER.

N the depths of the forest in the land of the Dacotahs stood a wigwam many leagues distant from any other. The old man who had been known to live in it was supposed to have died; but he kept himself in hiding for the sake of his little grandson, whose mother had brought him there to escape the giants.

The Dacotahs had once been a brave and mighty people. They were swift runners and proud of their fleetness. It had been told among the nations for many generations that a great chief should spring from this tribe, and that he should conquer all his enemies, even the giants who had made themselves strong by eating the flesh of those they took in battle and drinking their blood. This great chief should wear a white feather and should be known by its name.

The giants believed the story and

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sought to prevent it coming true. So they said to the Dacotahs: "Let us run a race. If you win you shall have our sons and our daughters to do with them as you please, and if we win we will take yours."

Some of the wise Indians shook their heads and said: "Suppose the giants win; they will kill our children and will serve them as dainty food upon their tables." But the young men answered: "Kaw: who can outrun the Dacotahs? We shall return from the race with the young giants bound hand and foot, to fetch and carry for us all our days." So they agreed to the wager and ran with the giants.

Now, it was not to be supposed that the giants would act fairly. They dug pitfalls on the prairie, covering them with leaves and grass, which caused the runners to stumble, and lose the race.

The Dacotahs, therefore, had to bring out their children and give them to the giants. When they were counted one child was missing. The giants roared with anger and made the whole tribe search for him, but he could not be found. Then the giants killed the father instead and ate his flesh, grumbling and

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muttering vengeance with every mouthful.

This was the child whose home was in the forest. When he was still a very little fellow his grandfather made him a tiny bow and some smooth, light arrows, and taught him how to use them.

The first time he ventured from the lodge he brought home a rabbit, the second time a squirrel, and he shot a fine, large deer long before he was strong enough to drag it home.

One day when he was about fourteen years old, he heard a voice calling to him as he went through the thick woods:

Come hither, you wearer of the white feather. You do not yet wear it, but you are worthy of it."

He looked about, but at first saw no one. At last he caught sight of the head of a little old man among the trees. On going up to it he discovered that the body from the heart downwards was wood and fast in the earth. He thought some hunter must have leaped upon a rotten stump and, it giving way, had caught and held him fast; but he soon recognized the roots of an old oak that he well knew. Its top had been blighted by a stroke of lightning, and the lower branches

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were so dark that no birds built their nests on them, and few even lighted upon them.

The boy knew nothing of the world except what his grandfather had taught him. He had once found some lodge poles on the edge of the forest and a heap of ashes like those about their own wigwam, by which he guessed that there were other people living. He had never been told why he was living with an old man so far away from others, or of his father, but the time had come for him to know these things.

The head which had called him, said as he came near: "Go home, White Feather, and lie down to sleep. You will dream, and on waking will find a pipe, a pouch of smoking mixture, and a long white feather beside you. Put the feather on your head, and as you smoke you will see the cloud which rises from your pipe pass out of the doorway as a flock of pigeons." The voice then told him who he was, and also that the giants had never given up looking for him. He was to wait for them no longer, but to go boldly to their lodge and offer to race with them. "Here," said the voice, "is an enchanted vine which you are to

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throw over the head of every one who runs with you."

White Feather, as he was thenceforth called, picked up the vine, went quickly home and did as he had been told. He heard the voice, awoke and found the pouch of tobacco, the pipe, and the white feather. Placing the feather on his head, he filled the pipe and sat down to smoke.

His grandfather, who was at work not far from the wigwam, was astonished to see flocks of pigeons flying over his head, and still more surprised to find that they came from his own doorway. When he went in and saw the boy wearing the white feather, he knew what it all meant and became very sad, for he loved the boy so much that he could not bear the thought of losing him.

The next morning White Feather went in search of the giants. He passed through the forest, out upon the prairie and through other woods across another prairie, until at last he saw a tall lodge pole in the middle of the forest. He went boldly up to it, thinking to surprise the giants, but his coming was not unexpected, for the little spirits which carry the news had heard the voice speaking to

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him and had hastened to tell those whom it most concerned.

The giants were six brothers who lived in a lodge that was ill-kept and dirty. When they saw the boy coming they made fun of him among themselves; but when he entered the lodge they pretended that they were glad to see him and flattered him, telling him that his fame as a brave had already reached them.

White Feather knew well what they wanted. He proposed the race; and though this was just what they had intended doing, they laughed at his offer. At last they said that if he would have it so, he should try first with the smallest and weakest of their number.

They were to run towards the east until they came to a certain tree which had been stripped of its bark, and then back to the starting point, where a war-club made of iron was driven into the ground. Whoever reached this first was to beat the other's brains out with it.

White Feather and the youngest giant ran nimbly on, and the giants, who were watching, were rejoiced to see their brother gain slowly but surely, and at last shoot ahead of White Feather. When his enemy was almost at the goal,

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the boy, who was only a few feet behind, threw the enchanted vine over the giant's head, which caused him to fall back helpless. No one suspected anything more than an accident, for the vine could not be seen except by him who carried it.

After White Feather had cut off the giant's head, the brothers thought to get the better of him, and begged him to leave the head with them, for they thought that by magic they might bring it back to life, but he claimed his right to take it home to his grandfather.

The next morning he returned to run with the second giant, whom he defeated in the same manner; the third morning the third, and so on until all but one were killed.

As he went towards the giant's lodge on the sixth morning he heard the voice of the old man of the oak tree who had first appeared to him. It came to warn him. It told him that the sixth giant was afraid to race with him, and would therefore try to deceive him and work enchantment on him. As he went through the wood he would meet a beautiful woman, the most beautiful in the world. To avoid danger he must wish himself an elk and he would be changed into that

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animal. Even then he must keep out of her way, for she meant to do him harm.

White Feather had not gone far from the tree when he met her. He had never seen a woman before, and this one was so beautiful that he wished himself an elk at once for he was sure she would bewitch him. He could not tear himself away from the spot, however, but kept browsing near her, raising his eyes now and then to look at her.

She went to him, laid her hand upon his neck and stroked his sides. Looking from him she sighed, and as he turned his head towards her, she reproached him for changing himself from a tall and handsome man to such an ugly creature. "For," said she, "I heard of you in a distant land, and, though many sought me, I came hither to be your wife."

As White Feather looked at her he saw tears shining in her eyes, and almost before he knew it he wished himself a man again. In a moment he was restored to his natural shape, and the woman flung her arms about his neck and kissed him.

By and by she coaxed him to lie down on the ground and put his head on her lap. Now, this beautiful woman was

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really the giant in disguise; and as White Feather lay with his head on her knee, she stroked his hair and forehead, and by her magic put him to sleep. Then she took an ax and broke his back. This done, she changed herself into the giant, turned White Feather into a dog, and bade him follow to the lodge.

The giant took the white feather and placed it on his own head, for he knew there was magic in it; and he wished to make the tribes honor him as the great warrior they had long expected.

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II.

N a little village but a woman's journey from the home of the giants lived a chief named Red Wing. He had two daughters, White Weasel and Crystal Stone, each noted for her beauty and haughtiness, though Crystal Stone was kind to every one but her lovers, who came from far and near, and were a constant source of jealousy to White Weasel, the elder. The eldest of the giants was White Weasel's suitor, but she was afraid of him, so both the sisters remained unmarried.

When the news of White Feather's race with the giants came to the village, each of the maidens determined that she would win the young brave for a husband. White Weasel wanted some one who would be a great chief and make all the tribes afraid of him. Crystal Stone loved him beforehand, for she knew he must be good as well as brave, else the white feather would not have been given to him. Each kept the wish to herself and went into the woods to fast, that it might come true.

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When they heard that White Feather was on his way through the forest, White Weasel set her lodge in order and dressed herself gaily, hoping thereby to attract his attention. Her sister made no such preparation, for she thought so brave and wise a chief would have too good sense to take notice of a woman's finery.

When the giant passed through the forest, White Weasel went out and invited him into her lodge. He entered and she did not guess that it was the giant of whom she had been in such fear.

Crystal Stone invited the dog into her lodge—her sister had shut him out—and was kind to it, as she had always been to dumb creatures. Now, although the dog was enchanted and could not change his condition, he still had more than human sense and knew all the thoughts of his mistress. He grew to love her more and more every day and looked about for some way to show it.

One day when the giant was hunting on the prairie, the dog went out to hunt also; but he ran down to the bank of the river. He stepped cautiously into the water and drew out a large stone, which was turned into a beaver as soon as it touched the ground. He took it home

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to his mistress, who showed it to her sister and offered to share it with her. White Weasel refused it, but told her husband he had better follow the dog and discover where such fine beavers could be had.

The giant went, and hiding behind a tree, saw the dog draw out a stone, which turned into a beaver. After the animal had gone home he went down to the water and drew out a stone, which likewise turned into a beaver. He tied it to his belt and took it home, throwing it down at the door of the lodge.

When he had been at home a little while, he told his wife to go and bring in his belt. She did so, but there was no beaver tied to it, only a large, smooth stone such as he had drawn out of the water.

The dog, knowing that he had been watched, would not go for more beavers; but the next day went through the woods until he came to a charred tree. He broke off a small branch, which turned into a bear as soon as he took hold of it to carry it home. The giant, who had been watching him, also broke off a branch, and he, too, secured a bear; but when he took it home and told his wife to fetch it in, she found only a black stick.

Then White Weasel became very angry

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and scoffed at her husband, asking him if this was the way he had done the wonderful things that had made his fame. "Ugh!" she said, "you are a coward, though you are so big and great."

The next day, after the giant had gone out, she went to the village to tell her father, Red Wing, how badly her husband treated her in not bringing home food. She also told him that her sister, who had taken the dog into her wigwam, always had plenty to eat, and that Crystal Stone pitied the wife of the wearer of the white feather, who often had to go hungry.

Red Wing listened to her story and knew at once that there must be magic at work somewhere. He sent a company of young men and women to the lodge of Crystal Stone to see if White Weasel's story were true, and if so to bring his younger daughter and the dog to his wigwam.

Meanwhile the dog had asked his mistress to give him a bath such as the Indians take. They went down to the river, where he pointed out a spot on which she was to build him a lodge. She made it of grass and sticks, and after heating some large stones laid them on

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the floor, leaving only just enough room for the dog to crawl in and lie down. Then she poured water on the stones, which caused a thick steam that almost choked him. He lay in it for a long time, after which, raising himself, he rushed out and jumped into a pool of water formed by the river. He came out a tall, handsome man, but without the power of speech.

The messengers from Red Wing were greatly astonished at finding a man instead of the dog that they had expected to see, but had no trouble in persuading him and Crystal Stone to go with them.

Red Wing was as much astonished as his messengers had been, and called all the wise men of the tribe to witness what should take place, and to give counsel concerning his daughters.

The whole tribe and many strangers soon assembled. The giant came also and brought with him the magic pipe that had been given to White Feather in his dream. He smoked it and passed it to the Indians to smoke, but nothing came of it. Then White Feather motioned to them that he wished to take it. He also asked for the white feather, which he placed on his head; when, at

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Click to enlarge
“Lo! Clouds of blue and white pigeons rushed from the smoke.”



the first whiff from the pipe, lo! clouds of blue and white pigeons rushed from the smoke.

The men sprang to their feet, astonished to see such magic. White Feather's speech returned, and in answer to the questions put to him, he told his story to the chief.

Red Wing and the council listened and smoked for a time in silence. Then the oldest and wisest brave ordered the giant to appear before White Feather, who should transform him into a dog. White Feather accomplished this by knocking upon him the ashes from the magic pipe. It was next decreed that the boys of the tribe should take the war-clubs of their fathers and, driving the animal into the forest, beat him to death.

White Feather wished to reward his friends, so he invited them to a buffalo hunt, to take place in four days’ time, and he bade them prepare many arrows. To make ready for them, he cut a buffalo robe into strips, which he sowed upon the prairie.

On the day appointed the warriors found that these shreds of skin had grown into a large herd of buffaloes. They killed as many as they pleased, for White Feather

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tipped each arrow with magic, so that none missed their aim.

A grand feast followed in honor of White Feather's triumph over the giants and of his marriage with Crystal Stone.

THE STAR MAIDEN.

HE Ojibways were a great nation whom the fairies loved. Their land was the home of many spirits, and as long as they lived on the shores of the great lakes the woods in that country were full of fairies. Some of them dwelt in the moss at the roots or on the trunks of trees. Others hid beneath the mushrooms and toadstools. Some changed themselves into bright-winged butterflies or tinier insects with shining wings. This they did that they might be near the children they loved and play with them where they could see and be seen.

But there were also evil spirits in the land. These burrowed in the ground, gnawed at the roots of the loveliest flowers and destroyed them. They breathed upon the corn and blighted it. They listened whenever they heard men talking, and carried the news to those with whom it would make most mischief.

It is because of these wicked fairies that the Indian must be silent in the

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woods and must not whisper confidences in the camp unless he is sure the spirits are fast asleep under the white blanket of the snow.

The Ojibways looked well after the interests of the good spirits. They shielded the flowers and stepped carefully aside when moss or flower was in their path. They brushed no moss from the trees, and they never snared the sunbeams, for on them thousands of fairies came down from the sky. When the chase was over they sat in the doorways of their wigwams smoking, and as they watched the blue circles drift and fade into the darkness of the evening, they listened to the voices of the fairies and the insects' hum and the thousand tiny noises that night always brings.

One night as they were listening they saw a bright light shining in the top of the tallest trees. It was a star brighter than all the others, and it seemed very near the earth. When they went close to the tree they found that it was really caught in the topmost branches.

The wise men of the tribe were summoned and for three nights they sat about the council fire, but they came to no conclusion about the beautiful star. At last

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one of the young warriors went to them and told them that the truth had come to him in a dream.

While asleep the west wind had lifted the curtains of his wigwam and the light of the star fell full upon him. Suddenly a beautiful maiden stood at his side. She smiled upon him, and as he gazed speechless she told him that her home was in the star and that in wandering over all the earth she had seen no land so fair as the land of the Ojibways. Its flowers, its sweet-voiced birds, its rivers, its beautiful lakes, the mountains clothed in green, these had charmed her, and she wished to be no more a wanderer. If they would welcome her she would make her home among them, and she asked them to choose a place in which she might dwell.

The council were greatly pleased; but they could not agree upon what was best to offer the Star Maiden, so they decided to ask her to choose for herself.

She searched first among the flowers of the prairie. There she found the fairies’ ring, where the little spirits danced on moonlight nights. "Here," thought she, "I will rest." But as she swung herself backwards and forwards on the stem of a lovely blossom, she heard a terrible noise

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and fled in great fear. A vast herd of buffaloes came and took possession of the fairies' ring, where they rolled over one another, and bellowed so they could be heard far on the trail. No gentle star maiden could choose such a resting-place.

She next sought the mountain rose. It was cool and pleasant, the moss was soft to her dainty feet, and she could talk to the spirits she loved, whose homes were in the stars. But the mountain was steep, and huge rocks hid from her view the nation that she loved.

She was almost in despair, when one day as she looked down from the edge of the wild rose leaf she saw a white flower with a heart of gold shining on the waters of the lake below her. As she looked a canoe steered by the young warrior who had told her wishes to his people, shot past, and his strong, brown hand brushed the edge of the flower.

"That is the home for me," she cried, and half-skipping, half-flying down the side of the mountain, she quickly made her way to the flower and hid herself in its bosom. There she could watch the stars as well as when she looked upward from the cup of the mountain rose; there she could talk to the star spirits, for they

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bathed in the clear lake; and best of all, there she could watch the people whom she loved, for their canoes were always upon the water.

THE FIGHTING HARE.

HE Prince of the Hares was playing with his children in front of his burrow, one day, when, growing tired, he threw back his ears, drew in his feet, and lay down to sleep.

Meanwhile the sun came up and passed so close to the earth that it burnt his back full of holes. The Hare felt very sore; and as he rubbed himself, his fur came off in great patches, so that his beauty was spoiled. He was furiously angry, and starting up, cried out that he would fight the sun; and in spite of all that his friends could say, went at once in pursuit of him.

The land where the Hare lived was a vast plain. When he had come to the end of it, he climbed a high hill in order to look over the country. He saw below him on the other side a field of green plumes nodding to the west wind. He had never seen corn growing before, and did not know what these plumes were.

He ran eagerly to the place, broke off

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as many as he could carry, and hid them behind the rocks. Then he rubbed two dead branches together and made a fire, in which he roasted the corn.

Presently the owner came along, and seeing the damage done, called his warriors to fight the thief.

The Hare had burrowed a hole at the side of the rock, and when the arrows were hurled at him, he blew them back with his magic breath. The warriors ran to catch him, but so great was their haste that one rushed upon another, and each caught only the other's fists. Then they thought of digging him out. They worked until the Sun Prince was half way home, but before they had caught sight of the Hare, he had escaped through a secret passage.

He ran to a rock a little way off and higher than the one beneath which they were digging, and hurled his magic ball at the burrow, breaking away the floor and the sides, so that it fell in, burying the Chief and all his followers.

The next morning the Hare saw two men making arrowheads of hot rocks. He watched them heating the rocks, and when they were red hot, he cried out: "Oho! hot rocks will not burn me!"

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The men looked up, and one of them said: "Are you a wizard?"

"No," said the Hare, "but I am a better man than you are, or the man who is working with you. I will lie on the hot rocks, if you will let me hold you on them in the same manner."

They agreed. So, when the rocks were glowing, the Hare laid himself on top of them, and the men pressed him down against them with their hands. But he breathed heavily, and his magic breath so cooled the part on which he was lying that not a particle of his fur was singed.

The men having no such protection, soon begged for mercy, but the Hare held them to their promise and they both perished. "So much for making one's self equal to a wizard," said the Hare to himself as he continued his journey.

The following day he passed by a high cliff round which the winds blew so hard that it was known by the men of that country as Hurricane Cliff. It overhung a deep ravine in which were sunflowers as tall as trees and the heads were heavy with seeds.

The Hare took a handful of seeds and amused himself by throwing them into the air and catching them in his mouth.

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[paragraph continues] While doing this he heard voices, and looking up, saw a group of women who were plotting to kill him.

"Oho!" they said, "let us call the hurricane to hurl a rock down on him."

The Hare said nothing, but went in full sight of them and began eating the seeds with great relish. The women looked at them longingly, and finally asked him to share his dainties with them, not knowing what he really had.

He tossed a handful of seeds into the air, and they tried hard to catch them, but failed again and again, each time going nearer to the edge of the cliff till, in her eagerness, the one nearest the edge reached out too far and fell into the ravine. The others were so close that they fell over her; so all but two were dashed to pieces, and these vowed vengeance on the Hare.

He met them soon afterwards gathering berries, and called out that he would give them the revenge they wished. "Come," said he, "you may blow these blackberry thorns and leaves into my eyes. I will let you try first and if you do not blind me you must let me do the same to you."

They took him at his word and threw

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a handful of little else than thorns. But by breathing as he had done when on the hot rocks, he blew them all from him.

The women trusted to their hands to protect them, but the Hare aimed well and the thorns passed between their fingers and put their eyes quite out.

He had one more adventure with women. While passing through a lonely place he saw several women weaving jugs of willow which they made water-tight by smearing them inside with pitch. They, too, were planning to destroy him.

He went boldly up to them and proposed that they should put him inside one of the jugs. As he could not get into those already made they put him into one that was not finished and wove the neck of the jug about him, making it very small, so that he should not escape.

While they were laughing at the ease with which he had been caught he burst the jug open and stepped out unhurt.

He then compelled them to get inside of the jugs and to let him weave the necks about them. He worked slowly at first to make them think that he did not know how to weave, but he made the necks strong and fastened them well.

Then he rolled the jugs about till the

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women were shaken and badly bruised. They threatened to be revenged, but when he knocked them harder and their blood ran out over the ground, they begged him to let them out.

He would not, but, after a time, thinking that they had suffered enough, he struck each jug with his magic ball and put them out of their misery.

A tarantula who had watched the Hare resolved to punish him by his own methods. The spider had a magic club which poisoned everything it struck, but never injured him. He called to the Hare and asked to be struck with the club.

The Hare raised it and beat him on the head and back, but the spider remained unhurt. He began to suspect something wrong, and just before it was his turn to be struck he changed the spider's club for his magic ball and killed the insect with one blow.

Thus he traveled on, conquering all who opposed him or plotted against him, till he came to the edge of the world. There he saw a high cliff covered with trees of all sizes and kinds. He went up to the maple and said: "What are you good for, pray?"

The maple shook its leaves in great disdain

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and said: "I am the food of the Great Head. The blood of my children is sweet and nourishing, and they give it freely to the nations."

The Hare next went to the larch and asked: "What are you good for?"

"I," said the larch, "bind together the canoes of the people. If it were not for me they could not sail upon the lakes and rivers."

The cedar answered the question by saying: "I make the canoes strong, so that they will bear the weight of the great warriors. If it were not for me, none but women and children could sail on the waters."

The birch stood next in his way and said: "If it were not for me you could make no canoes at all. My bark is for the picture-writing of the people. How, but for me, could one Chief talk to his brother who lives by the distant river?"

The fir-tree boasted of its balsam without which the canoe could not glide upon the water.

"Ugh!" said the Hare. "You all say that no canoe could be made without you. You, Linden, you have no part in these canoes; what are you good for?"

"I," said the Linden, "am for the

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cradles of the children. Without me where could they be rocked and put to sleep when the beautiful red has gone from the sky and the night comes? From me you take the basswood for your bowls and your drinking-cups."

The Oak stood in his path, and before the question was put to it, touched his head with its lower branches and said in a deep voice: "I shelter the great warriors. I mark the spot for their councils. From my boughs are made the swift arrows that bring food to the feet of the hunter and carry death to his enemies."

The Ash sighed and whispered: "From me is taken the bow that speeds the arrow in its flight."

The Red Willow drooped its head as it said: "My bark is for the pipe of the Indian, my wands are to bid him to the feast. My osiers are for his baskets, his mats and his water-jugs."

Thus every tree claimed to be of so much use that men could not do without it. At last the Hare came to a little tree hardly more than a shrub, many of whose leaves were blighted. "Of what use are you?" asked he.

"None," said the tree, "unless you can use me."

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Click to enlarge
“He went to the top of the cliff and saw the sun just rising.”



"We shall see, we shall see," said the Hare.

He went to the top of the cliff and saw the sun just rising. It caught sight of him at the same moment, and knowing that he had come for vengeance, it retreated quickly into its cave.

It stayed there three days and all the world suffered from cold and darkness. At last the noise of the people in their discontent reached the sun and he was obliged to come out.

The Hare had his arrows ready and aimed many at him, but they fell short of their mark. When the sun was directly overhead he drew forth a magic arrow, which he dipped into a magic tear that escaped from his eye. With this he took good aim. It struck the sun and broke it into thousands of fragments.

The flying pieces set the whole world on fire. It burned the forest, the prairie, the villages, the corn and the wild rice, the pumpkin vines and the gourds, the grapes and the nuts.

The children of the Hare Prince ran into their burrow and the Great Elk led many of the other animals into a vast field in the Rocky Mountains, around which was drawn a sacred line that no fire could cross.

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The fire burnt the cliff at the edge of the world. The Hare sought refuge first in one tree and then in another; but they were all destroyed except the little one that had said it was of no use. It was so small that it could not wholly protect him. His tail, his back, his feet and the tips of his ears were burnt, every part of him except his head.

He rolled over and over trying to get relief, but his pain was so great that his eyes burst, and the water gushing from them put out the fire.

The sun had been conquered and was summoned to appear before the council. They found him guilty of cruelty and indifference to the welfare of men; so he was compelled to travel the same trail day after day for all time and at a fixed distance from the earth. Thus he can no longer burn trees or animals, nor can he leave them in cold and darkness.

THE GREAT HEAD.

ONE WOLF was an Indian, who with his wife and ten sons moved some distance from their tribe and built themselves a lodge in the forest. The man and his wife were both old, and when sickness came they had no strength to fight it, but died within a few moons of each other. The sons were too young to live by themselves, and therefore went to the wigwam of their uncle, Deep Lake, their mother's brother. He gave them food and shelter until the elder ones were able to hunt and so provide for their brothers.

One morning several of them started out, each going in a different direction. The eldest went towards the north, because he was better able to travel far and to fight the fierce animals which lived in that region.

The night came, bright with many stars, but he did not return.

The next morning the second brother

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set out in the same direction, thinking he might find the trail of the other. He did not return. Then the third brother went in search of those who had disappeared, and he, too, was seen no more.

Thus they all followed one another, until only the youngest, Little Elk, was left with his uncle. He was too small and feeble to hope to succeed where his brothers had failed; and Deep Lake forbade him going out alone, for fear the witch or giant who had destroyed his brothers should do him harm.

One day while Deep Lake and Little Elk were in the woods together they heard a deep groan which seemed to come from the ground. They searched and found a man covered with mold and lying under a great log.

"Quick," said Deep Lake to his nephew, "run to the lodge and get the bear's oil."

Little Elk hurried to the wigwam and returned with a jar of bear's oil, with which he rubbed the man until he became conscious and was able to speak. His words were very strange, considering that he had never seen either of them before.

"You," said he, looking at the boy, "are Little Elk. You had nine brothers

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who set out towards the barren place to hunt, and not one of them ever returned."

The old man began to suspect magic, and asked, tremblingly, "Who are you?"

"I," said the stranger, "am Rotten Foot, the brother of the Great Head."

Deep Lake knew well about the Great Head. It was an enormous head without any body. It had large eyes that rolled about fearfully, and long, coarse hair like that of the grizzly bear, and it streamed over the huge cleft rock that was his home. Seen or unseen, if it caught sight of any living thing it would shriek in a shrill voice, "I see thee, I see thee; thou shalt die!"

Deep Lake had been a brave chief, and he thought perhaps he could conquer the Great Head, or that at least he could find out about his nephews, whom he felt sure the Head had destroyed, and the plan which occurred to him was to be kind to the Head's brother, so that he might learn more about him.

He therefore invited Rotten Foot to his wigwam, gave him the most comfortable seat by the fire, rubbed his stiff limbs with bear's oil, and set dainty food before him.

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When he was warm and well fed, Deep Lake began to question him about the Head. "Could you bring him here?" he said at last.

"He would not come merely for the asking, but I might lure him hither," was the reply.

The next day Rotten Foot set out in search of his brother. He promised to use all his skill and magic, if necessary, to bring him to the lodge. "Have ready some blocks of the maple tree for the Head's food, in case he should return with me," said he, as he set out on his journey.

He pulled up a hickory tree and made arrows of its roots; then he crept cautiously along until he saw the cleft rock in the distance. Fearing that he might be seen, he used his magic and crawled inside a mole and told the animal to burrow in the ground, so as to hide him.

It was not long before he heard the Head growl, "I see thee, I see thee; thou shalt die!"

He looked out and saw that his brother was watching an owl, which immediately dropped from the tree, its flesh crumbled and its bones immediately lay bare.

Rotten Foot drew out an arrow and aimed it at his brother. It was but a

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small arrow when it started, but it grew larger and larger as it neared the Head. It did not strike him, but flew back, growing smaller and smaller until it was its original size, and slipped itself into the quiver at Rotten Foot's side.

Feeling sure that the Head would follow him, he turned and ran towards Deep Lake's wigwam. The ridge that the mole made as it passed along completely hid him from the view of the Head, who soon followed in a roaring tempest.

Deep Lake heard him tearing through the forest, and provided himself and Little Elk with war-clubs in case he should attack the wigwam.

Just as Rotten Foot reached the wigwam and was about to jump out of the mole's skin, the Head recognized his brother. He was delighted to see him, for he had long since supposed him dead. He laughed so loudly that the clouds were broken and a rainbow appeared above the trees.

On hearing the change in his voice, from fierce anger to laughter, Deep Lake and Little Elk dropped their clubs and brought out the blocks of the maple tree.

The Head devoured them greedily, and when he had finished he told them that

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he had made up his mind to kill a witch who lived towards the north, and who destroyed twice as many animals and men as he did. "I never kill the brave or the innocent," said he; "but she has no mercy, and draws men to their death by her sweet songs. They lull the unwary hunter as the snow lulls him when he staggers and falls in the forest."

Deep Lake then said, "Let me go with you, for the witch has slain my nephews, nine men, all brothers of this lad."

"No," said the Head, "I will take the boy, and he shall help to avenge their death."

They traveled in the night, and early in the morning came in sight of the witch's lodge. It was a cave filled with dead men's bones. Their fingers hung from the roof, their scalps were heaped together for her couch, their skulls were her bowls and kettles.

She sat rocking herself to and fro, singing a low, sweet song, the notes of which made all who heard it turn cold and shiver till all their flesh was shaken off them and they became nothing but dry bones.

The Head had told Little Elk to put two clover blossoms into his ears so that he could not hear her. When they were

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near her lodge he said to the lad: "I will ask her the question, 'How long have you been here?' This will break the charm of her song upon me, but you will see the hair fall from my head. You must put it back as fast as it comes out and it will grow at once and very long; then I will jump upon her and bite her. You must take the pieces of flesh from my mouth and throw them from you, saying, 'Be a fox, a bird,' or anything you choose, so they will run off and never return."

As they crept up to the cave, the Head shouted, "How long have you been here?"

His hair began to fall out in long, thick locks, which Little Elk at once replaced. The Head then jumped upon the witch, and she screamed and begged for mercy; but he answered, "You had no mercy on others; you must die!"

He bit her and killed her, and all the plain was covered with animals and the river was filled with fish from the pieces of her body. To make sure of her never coming to life again, they burned her bones and scattered them on the river.

Then the Head told Little Elk to search for the year-old bones, which would be whiter than the others, and lay them

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together. "Now," said he, "I am going home, and as I go I will raise a tempest that will strike into the mouth of this cave. As it touches the bones, you must say, 'All arise.'"

Little Elk had just laid down the last bone when he heard the wind rising in the forest. As it blew into the cave he called loudly, "All arise!"

The bones stood up and were immediately covered with flesh. The brothers recognized one another, and one and all praised Little Elk for his courage and his patience. Then they vanished down the trail in the forest.

THE GREAT HEAD.

ONE WOLF was an Indian, who with his wife and ten sons moved some distance from their tribe and built themselves a lodge in the forest. The man and his wife were both old, and when sickness came they had no strength to fight it, but died within a few moons of each other. The sons were too young to live by themselves, and therefore went to the wigwam of their uncle, Deep Lake, their mother's brother. He gave them food and shelter until the elder ones were able to hunt and so provide for their brothers.

One morning several of them started out, each going in a different direction. The eldest went towards the north, because he was better able to travel far and to fight the fierce animals which lived in that region.

The night came, bright with many stars, but he did not return.

The next morning the second brother

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set out in the same direction, thinking he might find the trail of the other. He did not return. Then the third brother went in search of those who had disappeared, and he, too, was seen no more.

Thus they all followed one another, until only the youngest, Little Elk, was left with his uncle. He was too small and feeble to hope to succeed where his brothers had failed; and Deep Lake forbade him going out alone, for fear the witch or giant who had destroyed his brothers should do him harm.

One day while Deep Lake and Little Elk were in the woods together they heard a deep groan which seemed to come from the ground. They searched and found a man covered with mold and lying under a great log.

"Quick," said Deep Lake to his nephew, "run to the lodge and get the bear's oil."

Little Elk hurried to the wigwam and returned with a jar of bear's oil, with which he rubbed the man until he became conscious and was able to speak. His words were very strange, considering that he had never seen either of them before.

"You," said he, looking at the boy, "are Little Elk. You had nine brothers

p. 117

who set out towards the barren place to hunt, and not one of them ever returned."

The old man began to suspect magic, and asked, tremblingly, "Who are you?"

"I," said the stranger, "am Rotten Foot, the brother of the Great Head."

Deep Lake knew well about the Great Head. It was an enormous head without any body. It had large eyes that rolled about fearfully, and long, coarse hair like that of the grizzly bear, and it streamed over the huge cleft rock that was his home. Seen or unseen, if it caught sight of any living thing it would shriek in a shrill voice, "I see thee, I see thee; thou shalt die!"

Deep Lake had been a brave chief, and he thought perhaps he could conquer the Great Head, or that at least he could find out about his nephews, whom he felt sure the Head had destroyed, and the plan which occurred to him was to be kind to the Head's brother, so that he might learn more about him.

He therefore invited Rotten Foot to his wigwam, gave him the most comfortable seat by the fire, rubbed his stiff limbs with bear's oil, and set dainty food before him.

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When he was warm and well fed, Deep Lake began to question him about the Head. "Could you bring him here?" he said at last.

"He would not come merely for the asking, but I might lure him hither," was the reply.

The next day Rotten Foot set out in search of his brother. He promised to use all his skill and magic, if necessary, to bring him to the lodge. "Have ready some blocks of the maple tree for the Head's food, in case he should return with me," said he, as he set out on his journey.

He pulled up a hickory tree and made arrows of its roots; then he crept cautiously along until he saw the cleft rock in the distance. Fearing that he might be seen, he used his magic and crawled inside a mole and told the animal to burrow in the ground, so as to hide him.

It was not long before he heard the Head growl, "I see thee, I see thee; thou shalt die!"

He looked out and saw that his brother was watching an owl, which immediately dropped from the tree, its flesh crumbled and its bones immediately lay bare.

Rotten Foot drew out an arrow and aimed it at his brother. It was but a

p. 119

small arrow when it started, but it grew larger and larger as it neared the Head. It did not strike him, but flew back, growing smaller and smaller until it was its original size, and slipped itself into the quiver at Rotten Foot's side.

Feeling sure that the Head would follow him, he turned and ran towards Deep Lake's wigwam. The ridge that the mole made as it passed along completely hid him from the view of the Head, who soon followed in a roaring tempest.

Deep Lake heard him tearing through the forest, and provided himself and Little Elk with war-clubs in case he should attack the wigwam.

Just as Rotten Foot reached the wigwam and was about to jump out of the mole's skin, the Head recognized his brother. He was delighted to see him, for he had long since supposed him dead. He laughed so loudly that the clouds were broken and a rainbow appeared above the trees.

On hearing the change in his voice, from fierce anger to laughter, Deep Lake and Little Elk dropped their clubs and brought out the blocks of the maple tree.

The Head devoured them greedily, and when he had finished he told them that

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he had made up his mind to kill a witch who lived towards the north, and who destroyed twice as many animals and men as he did. "I never kill the brave or the innocent," said he; "but she has no mercy, and draws men to their death by her sweet songs. They lull the unwary hunter as the snow lulls him when he staggers and falls in the forest."

Deep Lake then said, "Let me go with you, for the witch has slain my nephews, nine men, all brothers of this lad."

"No," said the Head, "I will take the boy, and he shall help to avenge their death."

They traveled in the night, and early in the morning came in sight of the witch's lodge. It was a cave filled with dead men's bones. Their fingers hung from the roof, their scalps were heaped together for her couch, their skulls were her bowls and kettles.

She sat rocking herself to and fro, singing a low, sweet song, the notes of which made all who heard it turn cold and shiver till all their flesh was shaken off them and they became nothing but dry bones.

The Head had told Little Elk to put two clover blossoms into his ears so that he could not hear her. When they were

p. 121

near her lodge he said to the lad: "I will ask her the question, 'How long have you been here?' This will break the charm of her song upon me, but you will see the hair fall from my head. You must put it back as fast as it comes out and it will grow at once and very long; then I will jump upon her and bite her. You must take the pieces of flesh from my mouth and throw them from you, saying, 'Be a fox, a bird,' or anything you choose, so they will run off and never return."

As they crept up to the cave, the Head shouted, "How long have you been here?"

His hair began to fall out in long, thick locks, which Little Elk at once replaced. The Head then jumped upon the witch, and she screamed and begged for mercy; but he answered, "You had no mercy on others; you must die!"

He bit her and killed her, and all the plain was covered with animals and the river was filled with fish from the pieces of her body. To make sure of her never coming to life again, they burned her bones and scattered them on the river.

Then the Head told Little Elk to search for the year-old bones, which would be whiter than the others, and lay them

p. 122

together. "Now," said he, "I am going home, and as I go I will raise a tempest that will strike into the mouth of this cave. As it touches the bones, you must say, 'All arise.'"

Little Elk had just laid down the last bone when he heard the wind rising in the forest. As it blew into the cave he called loudly, "All arise!"

The bones stood up and were immediately covered with flesh. The brothers recognized one another, and one and all praised Little Elk for his courage and his patience. Then they vanished down the trail in the forest.

TURTLE-DOVE, SAGE-****, AND THE WITCH.

URTLE-DOVE was a widow with two children—Yellow-bird, a girl eleven years of age, and Sage-****, a baby boy. The girl was big, awkward and stupid; but the boy, though only a baby, gave signs of being a remarkably bright child.

Turtle-dove was always anxious about him, for an old witch who lived in that part of the country stole every little boy that she could find.

One day Turtle-dove went down to the valley to gather seeds and herbs. She carried her baby on her back, but he was heavy, and after a time she grew tired from the weight and constant stooping. So she took the baby and laid him under a sage-brush, telling his sister to watch him.

Presently the old witch came that way, and going up to the bundle, felt it all over, and asked Yellow-bird what it contained.

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"It is my sister," said she, for she thought the witch would not want to steal a girl.

Then the old witch scolded her, growing more and more loud and angry in her speech and manner until her eyes stood out, glaring at the girl, and her grizzled locks rattled like the naked branches of the trees. Yellow-bird grew cold as ice and could not even scream, she was so frightened.

The old witch, seeing that she was not likely to be attacked, seized the little pappoose and flew away with him on her bat-like wings to the distant mountain, which no man can climb by reason of the rattlesnake forest at its base.

When she reached her den, which was a hollow place black with cinders and hidden from sight by a clump of hemlock trees, she laid the boy on the ground, broke the strips of deer skin that held his fur blanket over him and stretched his legs till he became a man.

"Now," said she, "I shall have a husband."

Although Sage-**** had suddenly grown to a man's size, he had only a baby's heart and knew no better than to marry an ugly old witch.

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When Turtle-dove returned and heard Yellow-bird's story she was very angry and would not forgive the girl for not calling her. She spent day after day searching among the rocks and wherever a wild beast or a witch might have a hiding-place. She left no clump of bushes, however small, unexplored, but all to no purpose. At last she went to her brother, the Eagle, and told him her story.

Eagle was keen of sight and a swift hunter. He put on his war feathers and his war paint and set out in search of the boy.

One day he heard a baby crying, but he did not recognize its voice. He told his sister, and she begged him to take her to the place, for she felt sure that she would know the child's voice and he would know hers.

They went towards the witch's mountain. Before they reached it they heard the child cry; but did not know how to get to him because of the rattlesnake forest.

Eagle thought he would try his magic, for he was one of the wizards of the tribe. He took two feathers from his head dress and spread them out into

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wings, which he fastened upon his shoulders. He then placed Turtle Dove on his back and flew with her over the forest of rattlesnakes.

He hid in some bushes while the mother called, "Sage-****, Sage-****."

The child cried and strove to get out of the den. He did struggle through the bushes, but the witch caught him. Then with one blow of her stick she killed a mountain sheep near by, and taking the boy in her arms, jumped into its stomach. She pulled the wool about them and lay very still.

Meanwhile Eagle killed a rabbit and put it on the top of a tall pine tree, then peeled the bark so that it would be hard to climb. They watched for days but with no success.

At last the old woman grew hungry, and Sage-**** cried for food. So she crept out, and seeing the rabbit, tried to get it.

When Eagle saw her he knew that the baby could not be far off. He stretched himself full length on the ground and listened, with his ear to the earth.

First he heard a faint cry which seemed to come from the sheep, then, as he went nearer, he heard the boy's heart thumping

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and knew just whereto go. He found the baby, caught him up in his arms and ran quickly with him down to the edge of the rattlesnake forest.

Knowing the old witch would follow him, he raised a great snow-storm, that covered all his tracks, so that she should not know in what direction he had gone.

But in his haste he dropped two eagle's feathers, and the witch knew at once who had stolen her husband. She went to her brother, one of the chiefs of the rattlesnakes, and asked him to take her part. He hated her, for she was always getting him into trouble; but she was his sister, and he could not refuse.

Just then, Eagle's war-whoop was heard; and, having no place in which to hide her, he opened his mouth, and let her jump down his throat. She would not be still and bothered him so much that after Eagle had passed he tried to throw her off. But he could not rid himself of her, and at last he wrenched himself so hard that he jumped out of his own skin.

The witch still lives in it and rolls about among the rocks to this day, mocking all who pass, though no one can ever lay hold of her. The Pale-faces call her Echo.

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Sage-**** became a little boy again and grew to be a mighty chief, succeeding his uncle, the Eagle, as a warrior and magician.

THE ISLAND OF SKELETONS.

IG Wave and his little nephew, Red Shell, lived together in a deep forest. The boy was the only relative that the old man had, and he was very fond of him. He had brought Red Shell and his sister, Wild Sage, to his home some years before, just after the great plague had killed most of his tribe, among them the father and mother of the children. But they had not been many months in the forest before Wild Sage was stolen by a giant who lived on the Island of Skeletons.

Big Wave warned the boy never to go towards the east; for, if by any chance, he should cross a certain magic line of sacred meal that Big Wave had drawn, he would be at the mercy of the giant.

The boy obeyed for a time; but by and by he grew tired of playing in one place, so he went towards the east, not noticing when he crossed the magic line, till he came to the shore of a great lake.

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He amused himself for a while, throwing pebbles into the water, and shooting arrows. A man came up to him, and said, "Well, boy, where is your lodge?"

Red Shell told him. Then the man proposed shooting arrows to see who could shoot the higher. Red Shell had had much practice, and though he was only a boy, his arm was strong, and he drew the bow far back and sent the arrow much higher than the man did.

The man laughed and said, "You are a brave boy; now let us see whether you can swim as well as you can shoot."

They jumped into the water and tried holding their breath while swimming. Again the boy proved himself the victor.

When they were again on land, the man said to him, "Will you go with me in my canoe? I am on my way to an island where there are pretty birds, and you can shoot as many as you please."

Red Shell said he would go, and looked about for a canoe. The man began singing, and presently there appeared a canoe drawn by six white swans, three on either side. The boy and his companion stepped in and the man guided the swans by singing.

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The island was so long that he could not see the end of it, but it was not very wide. It was thickly wooded and there was so much undergrowth that the ground could hardly be seen, but Red Shell noticed heaps of bones under the bushes, and asked what they were. He was told that the island had once been a famous hunting-ground and these were the bones of the animals that had been killed.

After wandering about for some time, the man proposed another swim. They had been in the water but a few minutes when the boy heard singing, and looking around he saw the man going off in the canoe and taking his own and Red Shell's clothes with him. He shouted, but neither the man nor the birds paid any attention to him.

Thus he was left alone and naked, and it was fast growing dark. Then he remembered his uncle's warnings, and was so miserable from cold, hunger and fear, that at last he sat down and cried.

By-and-by he heard a voice calling to him, "Hist! keep still."

He looked round and saw a skeleton lying on the ground not far from him. It beckoned to him and said, "Poor boy, it was the same with me, but I will help

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you if you will do me a service. Go to that tree" (pointing to one close by) "dig on the west side of it, and you will find a pouch of smoking mixture and a pipe. Bring them to me. You can get a flint on the shore. Bring that also."

The boy was terribly frightened, but the skeleton spoke kindly, and not as though he meant to do harm. Red Shell therefore went to the tree, and brought the pipe and smoking mixture. Then he found a flint and on being asked to do so struck fire, lit the pipe and handed the same to the skeleton.

It smoked quickly, drawing the smoke into the mouth and letting it escape between the ribs. Red Shell watched and saw mice run out from between the bones. When the skeleton was rid of them it said: "Now I feel better, and can tell you what to do to escape my fate. A giant is coming to-night with three dogs, to hunt you and kill you for his supper. You must lose the trail for them by jumping into the water many times on your way to a hollow tree, which you will find on the other side of the island. In the morning after they have gone, come to me."

Red Shell thanked the skeleton and

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started at once to find the tree. It was quite dark, so he could see nothing, but he ran from tree to tree, climbing hallway up each one, and running into the water many times before he found the place where he had been told to sleep.

Towards morning he heard the splash of a canoe in the water, and soon a giant followed by three large dogs, strode into the forest.

"You must hunt this animal," the giant said to the dogs.

They scented the trail and dashed through the bushes. They rushed up one tree and then another, and at last came back to the giant with their tails between their legs, for they had found nothing.

He was so angry that he struck the foremost animal with his war-club and killed it on the spot. He skinned it and ate it raw. Then he drove the two others down to the canoe, jumped in and went away.

When they were out of sight of the island, Red Shell crept from his hiding place and went back to the skeleton.

"You are still alive?" it asked in surprise. "You are a brave boy. To-night the man who brought you here will come to drink your blood. You must go

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down to the shore before the darkness comes and dig a pit in the sand. Lie down in it and cover yourself with sand. When he leaves his canoe, get into it and say 'Come swans, let us go home.' If the man calls you, you must not turn round or look at him. When you are free, do not forget the skeleton."

Red Shell promised to come back to the island and to do all that he could for the poor bones. He went down to the shore and dug the pit deep enough so that when he stood in it his head was on a level with the water. When he heard the song in the distance he knew the swans were coming; so he covered his head with sand and waited till he heard a footstep on the dry leaves.

Then he crept out stealthily, stepped into the canoe and whispered to the swans, "Come, let us go home." He began the song that he had heard their master sing to them, and the canoe glided from the shore.

The swans carried him down the lake to a large cleft rock in the center. They drew the canoe through the opening and through the cave till they came to a stone door. Red Shell tried to open it, but could not. Then he turned the canoe



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“Whispered to the Swans, ‘Come, let us go home.’”



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around and struck the door with the stern.

The door flew open and Red Shell found himself in a fine lodge. He saw his own clothes and many others heaped in a corner near the fire which was burning brightly. A kettle of soup was steaming over it and there were some potatoes in the ashes on the hearth.

Seeing no one, the boy ate supper and then lay down to sleep on a couch of wild-cat skins.

In the morning he went out and stepping into the canoe, said, "Come, swans, let us go to the island."

He saw the two dogs lying asleep in the sun and, on landing, found that then had killed their master.

The skeleton was delighted to see him and praised him for his courage and for being true to his word. But he said to him, "You must not go home yet. Travel toward the east three days and you will come to some huge rocks. There you will see a young girl drawing water from a spring. She is your sister, Wild Sage, whom the giant stole many moons since, and whom you believed dead. You will be able to get her away. When you have done so, come back to me."

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Red Shell at once set out for the east and in three days he found the rocks of which he had been told. As he came near them he saw a lovely girl drawing water. "Sister," he said, going up to her, "you must come home with me."

She was frightened and tried to run away. Looking back, she saw that it was really her brother, when she was even more afraid, though she turned and spoke to him. "Hist," said she, "a giant keeps me here. Go before he sees you or he will kill you."

Red Shell did not move.

"Go," said Wild Sage.

"No," he answered, "not till you go with me. Take me to your lodge."

The giant had gone to a cranberry swamp, and Wild Sage knew that he would not return until the evening; so she ventured to take her brother home with her. She dug a pit in one corner of the lodge, told him to get into it, and then covered it with her bed of buffalo skins.

Just before the darkness came the giant's dogs rushed in, barking furiously. "Who?" said the giant, "is hidden here?"

"No one," said Wild Sage.

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"There is, there is," said the giant, "or the dogs would not bark like that."

They did not discover Red Shell, however, so the giant sat down to his supper.

"This boy is not tender, he is not cooked enough, get up and cook him more," said the giant.

"Cook it yourself, if it doesn't suit you," she answered.

The giant took no notice of her answer, but called to her to come and take off his moccasins.

"Take them off yourself," she said.

"Kaw," thought the giant, "now I know she has some one hidden. I will kill him in the morning."

Early the next day the giant said he was going to the cranberry swamp to get some children for his dinner. He did not go far from the lodge, but hid himself in some bushes close to the shore.

He saw Wild Sage and her brother get into a canoe, and threw a hook after them, which caught the boat and drew it towards the shore. But Red Shell took up a stone and broke the hook, and they floated off once more.

The giant was in a terrible rage. He lay down flat on the ground, and, putting his mouth to the water, drank so fast

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that the canoe was drawn close to the shore He began to swell from drinking such a quantity, and could not move. Red Shell took another stone and threw it at him. It struck him and he snapped in two, and the water he had swallowed flowed back into the lake.

Red Shell and his sister then sailed to the island, where the two dogs who had eaten their master rushed down to meet them. The boy raised his hand threateningly, and said: "Off to the woods as wolves. You no longer deserve to be dogs."

The animals slunk away growling, and as they disappeared were seen to change into lean and hungry wolves.

Red Shell went to the skeleton, who commanded him to gather all the bones that he could find on the island and to lay them side by side in one place. Then he was to say to them, "Dead folk, arise!"

It took him and his sister many days, for there were bones everywhere. When all had been arranged in one place, Red Shell stood off at a little distance and called loudly, "Dead folk, arise!" The bones raised themselves and took human form. All the men had bows and arrows,

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but some had only one arm, and others only one leg. The skeleton whom Red Shell had first met became a tall, handsome warrior, perfect in every limb. He saluted Red Shell as Chief, and the others did the same.

Then the boy and his sister crossed the lake and traveled westward till they came to their uncles' lodge. He was very old, his fire was out and he was still mourning for his nephew. But as he listened to the story of the lad's adventures, and realized that he had come back unhurt, some of his years left him.

They built a long lodge with many fireplaces; then Red Shell returned to the island and brought back those who had been skeletons. The handsome brave, who was known as White Eagle, married Wild Sage, and they all dwelt together in peace to the end of their lives.

STONE-SHIRT AND THE ONE-TWO.

TONE-SHIRT was a terrible giant who wore a shirt of shells so fastened that no arrow could pierce it. He lived with his three daughters on the shore of the Big Sea Water.

His daughters were not bad or hardhearted, but they were forced to do all sorts of evil to protect their father. They had magic arrows which went wherever they wished and found their way straight to the hearts of their enemies, though shot' without aim.

Stone-shirt, while out hunting one day, saw a beautiful woman gathering flags. "Who are you?" said he to her.

She was afraid of him, and said "I am Spear-mint."

"You are not," roared the giant, "you are Mouse, the wife of the Crane. I will kill him and you shall live with me. Kill your child before I return or I will dash him to pieces before your eyes."

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Mouse picked up the boy, and as soon as the giant was out of sight she ran quickly with it to its grandmother's. Then she went back and smeared the stones with the blood of some fresh bear's meat which she threw into the lake.

She could not warn her husband, for he had gone hunting soon after sunrise, and she did not know which way he went or when he would be likely to return. Search as she might there was no escape.

The giant was not long gone, and when he returned he carried the scalp of the Crane, whom he had met on the way back to his wigwam. Seizing Mouse by the hair, he shook the scalp in her face, and then dragged her through the forest.

The deer had shed his horns many times when the baby boy, now grown to be a fine lad, went with his grandmother to dig flag-roots. They took a sharp flint knife with which to cut the ground, for the roots are hard to pull.

When they had been some time in the swamp, they found that the roots came up easily and then more easily till at last they had only to take hold of a flag to have it at once loosened from the earth. The old woman said, "Surely something strange is going to happen. Let us go

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home, I do not care to dig any more to-day."

The boy took an armful of flags to the place where he had put the others, but the pile was gone. He called to his grandmother and asked her if she had moved the roots.

"No, my child," said she, "perhaps some giant has stolen them, let us go home."

The boy looked around and soon spied a man sitting under a tree not far off. He felt sure it was he who had stolen the flags, and taking up some small stones, threw them at him, calling him, ''Thief, coward."

The man did not move. At last a stone larger than the others struck his leg and broke it. He lifted up the leg, bound it tightly with a strip torn from his coat and again sat down under the tree. Then he beckoned to the boy, and pointing to some bones in front of him, asked: "What bones are these?"

The boy answered promptly, "Elk or deer."

"No," said the man," these are the bones of your father. Has not the old woman told you how he was killed by Stone-shirt and his bones left to rot like those of the wolf?"

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"No," said the boy.

"Has she not told you of your mother whom Stone-shirt carried off?"

"No," said the lad again; but the man saw he would fight the giant, so he said no more, but disappeared as suddenly as he had come.

The boy went back to his grandmother and told her what he had heard. She knew at once that he must have seen a spirit. When the boy blamed her for keeping the story of his father's death a secret, she cried and said, "You are my only hope. If you go to fight Stone-shirt, he will kill you and I shall be alone."

The boy made no answer, but went and lay down on his couch of skins, for he felt a heavy sleep coming over him. He slept three days and three nights. When he awoke he refused food and said: "I am going to all nations to enlist warriors in my cause," and passed out of the wigwam.

The boy was tall and well-formed, and while he slept he had taken on the face of a young man. He traveled many moons, and wherever he went the chiefs listened to him, and the young men of the different tribes took up their bows and arrows and declared themselves ready

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“Instead of one handsome young warrior, there were two.”



to follow him. Among them were two magicians, the Wolf and the Rattlesnake.

These two went with him some distance, and the three entered his grandmother's wigwam. After they had eaten a meal which the old woman gladly prepared for them, the young man took a stone axe and handing it to her asked her to cut him in two.

She refused, but he persisted, and at last commanded her to do as he said, and in such a tone that she dared not disobey.

She struck the blow tremblingly, hitting the red deer's tail that he wore, when lo! each half of his body took form, and instead of one handsome young warrior, there were two who were so much alike that one could not be distinguished from the other.

The One-Two, as they called themselves, went out to meet the people who were now advancing through the forest. The number of them was so great that it was a day's march from the foremost men to those at the end of the trail.

Their way lay through a barren place, and they traveled all day without seeing trees or water. The next morning they

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began to grumble, for they suffered from thirst. As the day wore on they grumbled more and more and began to threaten the One-Two, though no one had been compelled to follow.

The Rattlesnake, who had much wisdom, said, "One-Two, now is the time to bring out your magic cup."

This cup was a large bowl of polished bass-wood. It could be held in the hand, and yet when one looked inside it one could not see the bottom. One-Two had received it from a magician when he first set out on his journey. He had sealed it as he had been told, with a water-lily leaf and the balsam of the fir, and kept it to use when in great distress.

The brothers consulted together and decided to take the Rattlesnake's advice. They handed the cup from one to another. As soon as one had taken all that he wanted, even to what might have been half that it held, the cup was full again. But before it could be passed to the Wolf he was dead.

Then the people grumbled again, for the Wolf was brave and gave them courage. The brothers paid no attention to the complaints; but one held the cup while the other took some

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water from it and with it he sprinkled the Wolf.

Wolf arose and cried: "Why did you disturb me? I was having such pleasant dreams."

They gave him the cup and he drank all that there was in it; but when he handed it to the brothers it did not refill.

They had brought but little food with them, and no animals crossed their path in the barren place; so they were hungry, and on the third day began again to grumble and to accuse the brothers.

The One-Two said nothing, but towards evening they said to the Wolf, who was keen of sight and of scent, "Is not that an antelope in the distance?"

"Yes," said the Wolf, "but it is the goat with many eyes, the watchman of Stone-shirt. Nevertheless I will go and kill it."

Then the Rattlesnake said, "Let me go, for the antelope will see you and will run away."

But the One-Two sent the Wolf, for they knew him to be the braver. He started at once, going in and out so as to hide in the bushes,

After he had gone, the Rattlesnake said to the brothers, "Do you see me?"

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"No," was the answer, and they began to search for him. They looked in vain till the Rattlesnake chose to show himself, although they were standing in an open space where there was no place for him to hide.

The Rattlesnake again asked to be allowed to hunt the antelope. The brothers told him he might go, and in a few hours he returned with the game on his shoulders.

The Wolf saw him as he passed, and at first was very angry, but afterwards he said to himself, "What does it matter, so long as the people get food?"

Again they were without water; so the One-Two changed themselves into doves, took the magic cup and flew with it towards the lodge of Stone-shirt, which they knew was on the edge of a lake.

The daughters of Stone-shirt bathed in the lake every morning; and having been annoyed by birds peeping at them from the bushes, they set a snare for them.

The One-Two, knowing nothing of this, were caught, and the maidens carried them to a lodge. Stone-shirt looked at them with suspicion, for he knew no such birds lived thereabouts, and he feared they were spies. His daughters,

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however, persuaded him not to kill them. They stroked them and fed them and in the morning let them fly away.

The brothers went back to the bushes where they had dropped the cup, filled it and flew with it to their camp.

The next day they ventured near Stone-shirt's lodge in their natural form. This time they saw their mother. She did not believe their story at first, for she had left only one child. But when they explained how everything had happened, she begged them not to fight Stone-shirt, and told them about his armor and his daughters’ arrows.

But they could not be persuaded. They told her they would surely fight the giant the next day, and warned her not to go down to the lake for fear she might be hit by a stray arrow.

That night the One-Two disguised themselves as mice and crept into the wigwam of Stone-shirt, where they nibbled the strings of all his bows. The Rattlesnake went with them and hid himself behind a rock on which Stone-shirt sat every morning.

When the giant appeared as usual, the Rattlesnake bit him. He leaped high in the air and exclaimed, "We are betrayed!"

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His daughters seized their bows and arrows, but found them useless, as the strings had been gnawed.

The cry of Stone-shirt had roused the warriors who, having advanced in the night, were lying in ambush near his lodge. They let fly a shower of arrows and then rushed from their hiding-place.

Both the maidens were struck; and waving their hands to their enemies to fall back, they sang a death-song and fell dead across the path that led to the lodge.

One-Two were very sorry, for the maidens had been kind to them. They buried them with great mourning; but the bones of Stone-shirt were left to rot as he had left those of their father, the Crane.

THE GREAT WIZARD.

ANGLED-HAIR, son of the West-wind, was a giant in size and his face was as black as the feathers of the crow. His hair was of twisted snakes, gray, black and spotted, with an adder raising its copper-colored head for his crown, while a rattlesnake spread itself across his shoulders. He was the greatest of all wizards, and could change himself into any bird or beast at will, could disguise his voice, and did both good and evil as he felt inclined.

He lived with his grandmother, who had been thrown from the moon by a jealous rival. Their lodge was on the edge of the prairie not far from the Big Sea Water.

He himself did not know his power until one day while playing with a beautiful snake, whose colors were brighter than any of those upon his head, he found that by means of it he could do magic. He had caught the snake and

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kept it in a bowl of water, feeding it every day on birds and insects. By chance he let fall some seeds, which were turned into birds as they touched the water, and the snake greedily devoured them. Then he discovered that everything he put into the water became alive.

He went to the swamp where he had caught the snake, for others, which he put into the bowl. Happening to rub his eyes while his fingers were still wet he was surprised to find how much clearer things at a distance appeared.

He gathered some roots, powdered them, and put them into the water. Then he took a little of the water into his mouth and blew it out in spray which made a bright light. When he put the water on his eyes he could see in the dark. By bathing his body with it he could pass through narrow or slippery places. A feather dipped into it would shoot any bird at which it was aimed, and would enter its body like an arrow.

He was able to heal wounds and sicknesses and to conquer all his enemies, but for all this he was a bad spirit nearly all his life.

His father, the West-wind, had intrusted Tangled Hair's brothers with the

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care of three-fourths of the earth, the north, the south, and the east; but gave nothing to him, the youngest. When he was old enough to know how he had been slighted, he was very angry and sought to fight his father.

He took his bearskin mittens and dipped them into the snake-water, thereby making them strong with magic, so that he could break off great boulders by merely striking them. He chased his father across the mountains, hurling boulder after boulder at him until he drove him to the very edge of the earth. He would have killed the West-wind if he had dared, but he was afraid of his brothers, who were friendly to one another, and he knew that he could not stand against the three. So he compelled his father to give him power over serpents, beasts and monsters of all kinds, and to promise him a place in his own kingdom after he should have rid the earth of them.

Having thus secured his share, he returned to his lodge, where he was sick for a long time from the wounds that he had received.

One of his first adventures after he had recovered was capturing a great fish, from which he took so much oil, that when he

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poured it into a hollow in the woods, it formed a small lake, to which he invited all the animals for a feast.

As fast as they arrived he told them to jump in and drink. The bear went in first, followed by the deer and the oppossum. The moose and the buffalo were late and did not get as much as the others. The partridge looked on until nearly all the oil was gone, while the hare and the marten were so long in coming, that they did not get any. That is why animals differ so much in fatness.

When they had done feasting, Tangled Hair took up his drum, beat upon it, and invited his guests to dance. He told them to pass round him in a circle, keeping their eyes shut all the time.

When he saw a fat fowl pass by him he wrung its neck, beating loudly on his drum to drown its cries, and the noise of its fluttering. After killing each one, he would call out, "That's the way, my brothers, that's the way!"

At last a small duck, being suspicious of him, opened one eye, and seeing what he was doing, called as loudly as she could, "Tangled Hair is killing us," and jumped and flew towards the water.

Tangled Hair followed her, and just as



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“It formed a small lake.”



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she was getting into the water, gave her a kick which flattened her back, and straightened her legs out backward, so that she can no longer walk on land, and her tail-feathers are few to this day.

The other birds took advantage of the confusion to fly away, and the animals ran off in all directions.

After this Tangled Hair set out to travel, to see if there were any wizards greater than himself. He saw all the nations of red men, and was returning quite satisfied, when he met a great magician in the form of an old wolf, who was journeying with six young ones.

As soon as the wolf saw him, he told the whelps to keep out of the way, for Tangled Hair's fame for cruelty and wickedness had been carried everywhere by the animals and birds he had tried to kill.

As the young wolves were running off, Tangled Hair said to them, "My grandchildren, where are you going? Stop and I will go with you."

The old wolf was watching him and came up in time to answer, "We are going to a place where we can find most game, where we may pass the winter."

Tangled Hair said he would like to go

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with them and asked the old wolf to change him into a wolf. Now this was very foolish, for he thereby lost his power, whereas if he had changed himself into one he might still have kept it, but even the greatest wizard did not know everything.

The old wolf was only too glad to grant his wish, and changed him into a wolf like himself. Tangled Hair was not satisfied and asked to be made a little larger. The wolf made him larger; and as he was still dissatisfied, he made him twice as large as the others.

Tangled Hair was better pleased, but he still thought he might be improved, so he said to the old wolf, "Do, please make my tail a little larger and more bushy."

The wolf did this, and Tangled Hair found a large tail very heavy to drag about with him.

Presently they came to the bottom of a ravine up which they rushed into the thick woods where they discovered the track of a moose. The young wolves followed it, while the old wolf and Tangled Hair walked on after them, taking their time.

"Which do you think is the swiftest

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runner among my whelps?" said the wolf.

"Why the foremost one, that takes such long leaps," said Tangled Hair.

The old wolf laughed sneeringly.

"You are mistaken," he said, "he will soon tire out. The one who seems to be slowest will capture the game."

Shortly afterward they reached a place where one of the young wolves had dropped a small bundle.

"Pick it up," said the wolf to Tangled Hair.

"No," replied he, "what do I want with a dirty dog-skin?"

The wolf took it up and it was turned into a beautiful robe.

"I will carry it now," said Tangled Hair.

"Oh, no," said the wolf, "I cannot trust you with a robe of pearls," and immediately the robe shone, for nothing could be seen but pearls.

They had gone about six arrow-flights farther when they saw a broken tooth that one of the young wolves had dropped in biting at the moose as it passed.

"Tangled Hair," said the wolf, "one of the children has shot at the game, pick up his arrow."

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"No," he replied, "what do I want with a dirty dog's tooth?"

The old wolf took it up, and it became a beautiful silver arrow.

They found that the young wolves had killed a very fat moose. Tangled Hair was hungry, but the wolf charmed him so that he saw nothing but the bones picked bare. After a time the wolf gave him a heap of fresh ruddy meat cut, so it seemed to Tangled Hair, from the skeleton.

"How firm it is!" he exclaimed.

"Yes," answered the wolf, "our game always is. It is not a long tail that makes the best hunter."

Tangled Hair was a good hunter when he was not too lazy to undertake the chase. One day he went out and killed a large fat moose, but having lived well in the wolf's lodge he was not very hungry, and so turned the carcass from side to side, uncertain where to begin. He had learned to dread the ridicule of the wolves, who were always showing him how little he knew as a wolf, yet he could not change himself into a man again.

"If I begin at the head," he said, "they will say I ate it backwards. If I cut the side first, they will say I ate it sideways." He turned it round so that

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the hindquarter was in front of him. "If I begin here, they will say I ate it forwards." But he began to be hungry, so he said, "I will begin here, let them say what they will."

He cut a piece off the flank and was just about to put it into his mouth when he heard the branches of a large tree creaking. "Stop, stop," he said to the tree, for the sound annoyed him. The tree paid no attention to him, so he threw down his meat, exclaiming, "I cannot eat with such a noise about!"

He climbed the tree and was pulling at the branch which by rubbing against another had caused the creaking, when it was suddenly blown towards him and his paw was caught so that he could not get it out. Pretty soon a pack of wolves came along and he called out to them,

"Go away, go away!"

The chief of the wolves knew Tangled Hair's voice and said to the others, "Let us go on, for I am sure he has something there he does not want us to see."

They found the moose and began eating it. Tangled Hair could not get to them, so they finished the animal, leaving nothing but the bones. After they had gone a storm arose which blew the branches of

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the trees apart, and Tangled Hair was able to get out, but he had to go home hungry.

The next day the old wolf said to him, "My brother, I am going to leave you, for we cannot live together always."

"Let me have one of your children for my grandson," said Tangled Hair.

The old wolf left the one who was the best hunter, and also the lodge.

Tangled Hair was disenchanted after the wolves had gone, and when he assumed his natural shape, his power as a wizard came back. He was very fond of his grandson and took good care of him, giving much thought night and day to his welfare. One day he said to him, "My grandson, I dreamed of you last night, and I feel that trouble will come to you unless you will heed what I say. You must not cross the lake that lies in the thick woods. No matter what may the need or how tired you may be, go around it, even though the ice looks strong and safe."

In the early spring when the ice was breaking up on the lakes and rivers, the little wolf came to the edge of the water late in the evening. He was tired and it was such a long way round. He stood

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and thought to himself, "My grandfather is too cautious about this lake," and he tried the ice with his foot, pressing his weight upon it. It seemed strong to him, so he ventured to cross. He had not gone half way, however, when it broke and he fell in, and was seized by the serpents whose lodge was under the water.

Tangled Hair guessed what had happened to him when night came and again the day and he did not return. He mourned many days first in his lodge, and then by a small brook that ran into the lake.

A bird that had been watching him said, "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing," said Tangled Hair, "but can you tell me who lives in this lake?"

"Yes," said the bird, "the Prince of Serpents lives here, and I am set by him to watch for the body of Tangled Hair's grandson, whom they killed three moons since. You are Tangled Hair, are you not?"

"No," was the answer, "Why do you think he would wish to come here? Tell me about these serpents."

The bird pointed to a beautiful beach of white sand where he said the serpents

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came just after mid-day to bask in the sun. "You may know when they are coming," said he, "because all the ripples will disappear and the water will be smooth and still before they rise.

"Thank you," said Tangled Hair, "I am the wizard Tangled Hair. Do not fear me. Come and I will give you a reward."

The bird went to him and Tangled Hair placed a white medal round his neck, which the Kingfisher wears to this day. While putting it on he tried to wring the bird's neck. He did this for fear it might go to the serpents and tell them he was watching for them. It escaped him, however, with only the crown feathers ruffled.

He went to the beach of white sand and changing himself into an oak stump waited for the serpents. Before long the water became smooth as the lake of oil he himself had once made. Soon hundreds of serpents came crawling up on the beach. The Prince was beautifully white, the others were red and yellow.

The Prince spoke to the others and said, "I never saw that black stump there before; it may be the wizard, Tangled Hair."

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Then one of the largest serpents went to the stump and coiled itself round the top, pressing it very hard. The greatest pressure was on Tangled Hair's throat, and he was just ready to cry out when the serpent let go. Eight of the others did the same to him, but each let go just in time. They then coiled themselves up on the beach near their Prince, and after a long time fell asleep.

Tangled Hair was watching them closely, and when he saw the last one breathing heavily in sleep, he took his bow and arrows and stepped cautiously about until he was near the Prince, whom he shot and wounded.

The serpents were roused by his cry, and plunging into the water, they lashed the waves so that a great flood was raised and Tangled Hair was nearly drowned. He climbed into a tall tree, and when the water was up to his chin he looked about for some means of escape. He saw a loon and said to him, "Dive down, my brother, and bring up some earth so that I can make a new world."

The bird obeyed him, but came up lifeless. He next asked the muskrat to do him the service, and promised him if he succeeded, a chain of beautiful little lakes

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surrounded by rushes for his lodge in future. The muskrat dived down, but floated up senseless. Tangled Hair took the body and breathed into the nostrils, which restored the animal to life. It tried again and came up the second time senseless, but it had some earth in its paws.

Tangled Hair charmed the earth till it spread out into an island, and then into a new world. As he was walking upon it, he met an old woman, the mother of the Prince of Serpents, looking for herbs to cure her son. She had a pack of cedar cords on her back. In answer to his questions she said she intended it for a snare for Tangled Hair.

Having found out all he wished, Tangled Hair killed her, took off her skin, wrapped it about him, and placing the cedar cord on his back, went to her lodge.

There he saw the skin of his beloved grandson hanging in the doorway. This made him so angry that he could hardly keep up the disguise. He sat down outside the door and began weaving a snare of the cedar cord, rocking himself to and fro and sobbing like an old woman. Some one called to him to make less noise and to come and attend to the Prince.

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He put down the snare, and wiping his eyes, went in, singing the songs the old woman had told him would cure her son.

No one suspected him, and he pretended to make ready to pull out the arrow which he found was not deeply embedded in the Prince's side. Instead of pulling it out he gave it a sudden thrust and killed the Prince; but he had used so much force that he burst the old woman's skin. The serpents hissed and he fled quickly from the place.

He took refuge with the badger, and with its help he threw a wall of earth against the opening of their lodge so that no one could get at him. They had another opening behind the rock, through which they could bring in food so that they could not be starved out by the serpents.

Tangled Hair soon grew tired of living under ground, so he started to go out, and, as the badger stood in his way, and did not move quickly enough to please him, he kicked the poor animal and killed him.

He then ran back towards the serpent's lodge, and finding the dead body of the Prince, which the serpents in their haste to follow him had left unburied, he put

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the skin around him and went boldly up to the serpent tribe. They were so frightened that they fell into the lake and never again ventured forth.

After many years of wickedness, Tangled Hair repented, and traveled to the end of the earth, where he built himself a lodge, and tried, by good deeds, to rid himself of remembrances. But even there he was a terror to men and beasts.

Having shown, however, that he was really sorry for his misdeeds, his father, the West-wind gave him a part of his kingdom. He went to live beyond the Rocky mountains, and took the name of the North-west wind.

WHITE CLOUD'S VISIT TO THE SUN-PRINCE.

NCE upon a time, when there were no large cities in the western world, all the land being forest or prairie, five young men set out to hunt. They took with them a boy named White Cloud. He was only ten years old, but he was a swift runner and his sight was keen, so there were many ways in which he was useful to them.

They started before daylight, and had traveled a long way when, on reaching the top of a high hill, the sun suddenly burst forth. The air was free from mist, and there being but few trees or tall bushes near, the brightness dazzled then as it had never done before, and they exclaimed, "How near it is!"

Then one of them said, "Let us go to it," and they all agreed. They did not wish to take White Cloud with them, but he insisted upon going. When they continued to refuse he threatened to tell

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their parents and the Chief, who would surely prevent them from undertaking such a journey. Finally they consented, and each went home to make preparations. They shot some birds and a red deer on the way so as not to arouse the suspicions of their friends.

Before they parted they agreed to get all the moccasins they could and a new suit of leather apiece, in case they should be gone a long time and might not be able to procure clothes.

White Cloud had most difficulty in getting these things, but after coaxing to no purpose, he burst out crying and said, "Don't you see I am not dressed like my s companions, they all have new leggings?" This plea was successful, and he was provided with a new outfit.

As the party went forth the next day they whispered mysteriously to one another, taking care that such phrases should be overheard as "a grand hunt," and "we'll see who brings home most game." They did this to deceive their friends.

Upon reaching the spot from which they had seen the sun so near on the previous day, they were surprised to find that it looked as far away as it did from their

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own village. They traveled day after day, but seemed to come no nearer. At last they encamped for a season and consulted with one another as to the direction in which they should go. White Cloud settled it by saying, "There is the place of light (pointing towards the east), if we keep on we must reach it some time."

So they journeyed toward the east. They crossed the prairie and entered a deep forest, where it was dark in the middle of the day. There the Prince of the rattlesnakes had his warriors gathered round him, but the eldest of the party wore a "medicine" of snake-skin, so he and his companions were allowed to go through the woods unharmed.

They went on day after day and night after night through forests that seemed to have no end. When the Morning Star painted her face, and when the beautiful red glowed in the west, when the Storm-fool gathered his harvest, when the south wind blew silver from the dandelion, they kept on, but cane no nearer to their object.

Once they rested a long time to make snowshoes and more arrows. They built a lodge and hunted daily until they had a good store of dried meat, as much as

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they could carry, and again they went on their way.

After many moons they reached a river that was running swiftly towards the east. They kept close to it until it flowed between high hills. One of these they climbed and caught sight of something white between the trees. They hurried on and rested but little that night, for they thought surely the white line must be the path that leads to the splendid lodge of the sun.

Next morning they came suddenly in view of a large lake. No land was on any side of it except where they stood. Some of them being thirsty, stooped to drink. As soon as they had tasted, they spat out the liquid, exclaiming, "Salt water!"

When the sun arose he seemed to lead forth out of the farthest waves. They looked with wonder, then they grew sad, for they were as far away as ever.

After smoking together in council, they resolved not to go back, but to walk around the great lake. They started towards the north, but had only gone a short distance when they came to a broad river flowing between mountains. Here they stayed the night. While seated

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round their fire, some one thought to ask whether any of them had dreamed of water.

After a long silence the eldest said, "I dreamt last night that we had come wrong, that we should have gone towards the south. But a little way beyond the place where we encamped yesterday is a river. There we shall see an island not far out in the lake. It will come to us and we are to go upon it, for it will carry us to the lodge of the sun."

The travelers were well pleased with the dream and went back towards the south. A few hours’ journey from their old camp brought them to a river. At first they saw no island, but as they walked they came to a rise of ground and the island appeared to them in the distance. As they looked, it seemed to approach.

Some were frightened and wanted to go away, but the courage of White Cloud shamed them, and they waited to see what would happen. They saw three bare trees on the island, such as pine trees that have been robbed of their leaves by fire. As they looked, lo! a canoe with wings that flapped like those of a loon when it flies low down to the lake, left the island.

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It came swiftly over the water, and when it touched the land, a man with a white face and a hat on, stepped upon the shore and spoke to them, but they could not understand what he said. He motioned to them to mount the bird canoe, which they did, and were carried to the island.

There was a horrible noise and rattle like that made by the magician when he conjures the evil spirit from a sick man, then white wings sprang from the bare tree trunks, and they felt themselves moving over the water, as the deer bounds across the trail in the forest.

The night came and they saw the familiar stars above them, so they lay down to sleep, fearing nothing.

When the day dawned, they could see no shore anywhere, only the water of the lake. The Pale-faces were kind, and gave them food and drink, and taught them words, such as they said to one another.

One moon had passed and another had come and nearly gone, when the Pale-face Chief said they would soon find the shore, and he would take them to his Prince, who would direct them to their journey's end.

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The Prince lived in a beautiful lodge of white stone. The walls were of silver, hung with silver shields and arrows. His throne was of white horn carved with many figures. His robe was ermine, and he had many sparkling stones in his headdress.

He talked to White Cloud and listened to the story of their wanderings, their dreams and their disappointments, and spoke gently, trying to persuade them to' give up their purpose. "See," said he, "here are hunting-grounds, and fat deer, and game and fish enough for you, and none shall make war or trouble you, why go farther?"

But they would not stay. Whereupon, the Prince proved himself a magician, for he told them in what direction they should go, and what would befall them. At the last they would come to the wigwam of the great wizard, Tangled Hair. They would hear his dreadful rattle three days before they reached his lodge, and the wizard would do his best to destroy them.

The Prince tried again to keep them, but as they would not stay, he gave them presents of food and clothing, and his warriors led them to the end of his country.

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They went through many forests, but the trees were strange to them. They saw flowers springing in their path and vines upon the rocks and about the trees, but none were those they knew. Even the birds were strange, and talked in voices which they could not understand. But all this made them believe they wire getting nearer to the Sun-Prince.

After many moons the clothing which the Prince of the Pale-faces had given was worn out, so they put on their leather dresses again. Hardly had they done this, when they heard a fierce rattle and knew that they were near the wigwam of the wizard. The noise was dreadful and seemed to come from the centre of the earth.

They had traveled far that day. The ground had been rough and stony and in many places covered with water through which they had been obliged to wade. They lighted a fire and sat down to dry their clothes and to rest. The noise of the rattle continued and increased so much that they broke up their camp and went toward the place which they knew must be Tangled Hair's lodge.

It was not a wigwam, but a lodge with many fireplaces, and it had eyes which

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glared like their camp fire. Two of the travelers wished to go back or to try to get around the lodge, but White Cloud said, "Let the wizard see we are no cowards." So they went up to the door.

There they were met by Tangled Hair himself, who said, "Welcome, my grandsons!"

When they were seated in his lodge, he gave each some smoking mixture, and as they sat and smoked he said that he knew their history, and had seen them when they left their village. He took the trouble to do this so that they might believe what he was about to say.

"I do not know that all of you will reach your journey's end, though you have gone three-fourth's of the way and are very near the edge of the earth. When you reach that place you will see a chasm below you and will be deafened by the noise of the sky descending upon the world. It keeps moving up and down. You must watch, and when it lifts you will see a little space. You must leap through this, fearing nothing, and you will find yourselves on a beautiful plain."

The wizard then told them who he was and that they had no need to fear him if

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they were brave men. He was not permitted to help weak men and cowards.

When the first arrow of daylight came into the lodge, the young men started up and refused to rest longer, so Tangled Hair showed them the direction they were to take in going to the edge of the world. Before they left he pointed out a lodge in the shape of an egg standing upon its larger end and said, "Ask for what you want and he who lives in that lodge will give it to you."

The first two asked that they might live forever and never be in want. The third and fourth asked to live longer than many others and always to be successful in war. White Cloud spoke for his favorite companion and for himself. Their wish was to live as long as other braves and to have success in hunting that they might provide for their parents and relatives.

The wizard smiled upon them and a voice from the pointed lodge said, "Your wishes shall be granted."

They were anxious to be gone, more especially when they found that they had been in Tangled Hair's lodge not a day, as they had supposed, but a year.

"Stop," cried Tangled Hair, as they

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Click to enlarge
“White Cloud and his friend at last gave a great leap.”



prepared to depart, "you who wished to live forever shall have that wish granted now." Thereupon he turned one of them into a cedar tree and the other into a gray rock.

"Now," said he to the others, "you may go."

They went on their way trembling, and said to one another, "We were fortunate to get away at all, for the Prince told us he was an evil spirit."

They had not gone far when they heard the beating of the sky. As they went nearer and nearer to the edge it grew deafening, and strong gusts of wind blew them off their feet. When they reached the very edge everything was dark, for the sky had settled down, but it soon lifted and the sun passed but a short distance above their heads.

It was some time before they could get courage enough to jump through the space. White Cloud and his friend at last gave a great leap and landed on the plain of which they had been told.

"Leap, leap quickly," called White Cloud to the others, "the sky is on its way down."

They reached out timidly with their hands, but just then the sky came down

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with terrific force and hurled them into the chasm. There they found themselves changed into monstrous serpents which no man could kill, so their wish was granted.

Meanwhile, White Cloud and his companion found themselves in a beautiful country lighted by the moon. As they walked on all weariness left them and they felt as if they had wings. They saw a hill not far off and started to climb it, that they might look abroad over the country.

When they reached it, a little old woman met them. She had a white face and white hair, but her eyes were soft and dark and bright in spite of her great age.

She spoke kindly and told them that she was the Princess of the Moon, that they were now half way to the lodge of her brother, the Sun-prince. She led them up a steep hill which sloped on the other side directly to the lodge of the Sun.

The Moon-princess introduced them to her brother, who wore a robe of a rich, golden color, and shining as if it had points of silver all over it. He took down from the wall a splendid pipe and a pouch

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of smoking mixture, which he handed to them.

He put many questions to them about their country and their people, and asked them why they had undertaken this journey. They told him all he wished to know, and in return asked him to favor their nation, to shine upon their corn and make it grow and to light their way in the forest.

The Prince promised to do all these things, and was much pleased because they had asked for favors for their friends rather than for themselves.

"Come with me," he said, "and I will show you much that you could not see elsewhere."

Before starting he took down from his walls arrows tipped with silver and with gold, and placed them in a golden quiver. Then they set out on their journey through the sky.

Their path lay across a broad plain covered with many brilliant flowers. These were half hidden many times by the long grass, the scent of which was as fragrant as the flowers it hid. They passed tall trees with wide spreading branches and thick foliage. The most luxuriant were on the banks of a river as

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clear as crystal stone, or on the edge of little lakes which in their stony trails looked like bowls of water set there for the use of a mighty giant. Tribes of water-fowl flew about, and birds of bright plumage darted through the forest like a shower of arrows. They saw some long, low lodges with cages filled with singing birds hanging on the walls, but the people were away.

When they had traveled half across the sky, they came to a place where there were fine, soft mats, which the young men discovered were white clouds. There they sat down, and the Sun-prince began making preparations for dinner.

At this place there was a hole in the sky, and they could look down upon the earth. They could see all its hills, plains, rivers, lakes and trees, and the big salt lake they had crossed.

While they were looking at a tribe of Indians dancing, something bright flew past them, downwards through the hole in the sky and struck the merriest dancer of them all, a young boy, son of a great chief.

The warriors of his tribe ran to him and raised him with great cries and sounds of sorrow. A wizard spoke and

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told them to offer a white dog to the Sun-prince.

The animal was brought, and the master of the feast held the choicest portion above his head, saying: "We send this to thee, Great Spirit," and immediately the roasted animal was drawn upwards and passed through the sky. Then the boy recovered and went on dancing.

After White Cloud and his companion had feasted with the Sun-prince, they walked on till they saw before them a long slope that was like a river of gold, flowing across silver sands.

"Keep close to me," said the Sun-prince, "and have no fear. You will reach your home in safety."

So they took hold of his belt, one on either side of him, and felt themselves lowered as if by ropes. Then they fell asleep.

When they awoke they found themselves in their own country, and their friends and relatives were standing near them, rejoicing over their return. They related all their adventures, and lived many years in honor and in plenty, the Sun-prince smiling upon them in all their undertakings.

The Sacred Formulas of the Cherokees.
By JAMES MOONEY.
[1891]

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This is an ethnographic description of Cherokee shamanistic practice. Based on several manuscripts written by Cherokee shamans of the 19th Century, this includes the actual text of the rituals to treat various diseases, information on herbs used, love spells, hunting rituals, weather spells, as well as a spell for victory in the Ball game.

SACRED FORMULAS OF THE CHEROKEES.
By JAMES MOONEY.
INTRODUCTION.
The sacred formulas here given are selected from a collection of about six hundred, obtained on the Cherokee reservation in North Carolina in 1887 and 1888, and covering every subject pertaining to the daily life and thought of the Indian, including medicine, love, hunting, fishing, war, self-protection, destruction of enemies, witchcraft, the crops, the council, the ball play, etc., and, in fact, embodying almost the whole of the ancient religion of the Cherokees. The original manuscripts, now in the possession of. the Bureau of Ethnology, were written by the shamans of the tribe, for their own use, in the Cherokee characters invented by Sikwâ'ya (Sequoyah) in 1821, and were obtained, with the explanations, either from the writers themselves or from their surviving relatives.

Some of these manuscripts are known to be at least thirty years old, and many are probably older. The medical formulas of all kinds constitute perhaps one-half of the whole number, while the love charms come next in number, closely followed by the songs and prayers used in hunting and fishing. The great number of love charms will doubtless be a surprise to those who have been educated in the old theory that, the Indian is insensible to the attractions of woman. The comparatively small number of war formulas is explained by the fact that the last war in which the Cherokees, as a tribe, were engaged on their own account, closed with the Revolutionary period, so that these things were well nigh forgotten before the invention of the alphabet, a generation later. The Cherokees who engaged in the Creek war and the late American civil war fought in the interests of the whites, and their leaders were subordinated to white officers, hence there was not the same opportunity for the exercise of shamanistic rites that there would have been had Indians alone been concerned. The prayers for hunting, fishing, and the ball play being in more constant demand, have been better preserved,

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These, formulas had been handed down orally from a remote antiquity until the early part of the present century, when the invention of the Cherokee syllabary enabled the priests of the tribe to put them into writing. The same invention made it possible for their rivals, the missionaries, to give to the Indians the Bible in their own language, so that the opposing forces of Christianity and shamanism alike profited by the genius of Sikwâya. The pressure of the new civilization was too strong to be withstood, however, and though the prophets of the old religion still have much influence with the people, they are daily losing ground and will soon be without honor in their own country.

Such an exposition of the aboriginal religion could be obtained from no other tribe in North America, for the simple reason that no other tribe has an alphabet of its own in which to record its sacred lore. It is true that the Crees and Micmacs of Canada and the Tukuth of Alaska have so-called alphabets or ideographic systems invented for their use by the missionaries, while, before the Spanish conquest, the Mayas of Central America were accustomed to note down their hero legends and priestly ceremonials in hieroglyphs graven upon the walls of their temples or painted upon tablets made of the leaves of the maguey. But it seems never to have occurred to the northern tribes that an alphabet coming from a missionary source could be used for any other purpose than the transcription of bibles and catechisms, while the sacred books of the Mayas, with a few exceptions, have long since met destruction at the hands of fanaticism, and the modern copies which have come down to the present day are written out from imperfect memory by Indians who had been educated under Spanish influences in the language, alphabet and ideas of the conquerors, and who, as is proved by an examination of the contents of the books themselves, drew from European sources a great part of their material. Moreover, the Maya tablets were so far hieratic as to be understood, only by the priests and those who had received a special training in this direction, and they seem therefore to have been entirely unintelligible to the common people.

The Cherokee alphabet, on the contrary, is the invention or adaptation of one of the tribe, who, although he borrowed most of the Roman letters, in addition to the forty or more characters of his own devising, knew nothing of their proper use or value, but reversed them or altered their forms to suit his purpose, and gave them a name and value determined by himself. This alphabet was at once adopted by the tribe for all purposes for which writing can be used, including the recording of their shamanistic prayers and ritualistic ceremonies. The formulas here given, as well as those of the entire collection, were written out by the shamans themselves--men who adhere to the ancient religion and speak only their native language in order that their sacred knowledge might be preserved in a systematic

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manner for their mutual benefit. The language, the conception, and the execution are all genuinely Indian, and hardly a dozen lines of the hundreds of formulas show a trace of the influence of the white man or his religion. The formulas contained in these manuscripts are not disjointed fragments of a system long since extinct, but are the revelation of a living faith which still has its priests and devoted adherents, and it is only necessary to witness a ceremonial ball play, with its fasting, its going to water, and its mystic bead manipulation, to understand how strong is the hold which the old faith yet has upon the minds even of the younger generation. The numerous archaic and figurative expressions used require the interpretation of the priests, but, as before stated, the alphabet in which they are written is that in daily use among the common people.

In all tribes that still retain something of their ancient organization we find this sacred knowledge committed to the keeping of various secret societies, each of which has its peculiar ritual with regular initiation and degrees of advancement. From this analogy we may reasonably conclude that such was formerly the case with the Cherokees also, but by the breaking down of old customs consequent upon their long contact with the whites and the voluntary adoption of a civilized form of government in 1827, all traces of such society organization have long since disappeared, and at present each priest or shaman is isolated and independent, sometimes confining himself to a particular specialty, such as love or medicine, or even the treatment of two or three diseases, in other cases broadening his field of operations to include the whole range of mystic knowledge.

It frequently happens, however, that priests form personal friendships and thus are led to divulge their secrets to each other for their mutual advantage. Thus when one shaman meets another who he thinks can probably give him some valuable information, he says to him, "Let us sit down together." This is understood by the other to mean, "Let us tell each other our secrets." Should it seem probable that the seeker after knowledge can give as much as he receives, an agreement is generally arrived at, the two retire to some convenient spot secure from observation, and the first party begins by reciting one of his formulas with the explanations. The other then reciprocates with one of his own, unless it appears that the bargain is apt to prove a losing one, in which case the conference comes to an abrupt ending.

It is sometimes possible to obtain a formula by the payment of a coat, a quantity of cloth, or a sum of money. Like the Celtic Druids of old, the candidate for the priesthood in former times found it necessary to cultivate a long memory, as no formula was repeated more than once for his benefit. It was considered that one who failed to remember after the first hearing was not worthy to be accounted a shaman. This task, however, was not so difficult as might appear on

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first thought, when once the learner understood the theory involved, as the formulas are all constructed on regular principles, with constant repetition of the same set of words. The obvious effect of such a regulation was to increase the respect in which this sacred knowledge was held by restricting it to the possession of a chosen few.

Although the written formulas can be read without difficulty by any Cherokee educated in his own language, the shamans take good care that their sacred writings shall not fall into the hands of the laity or of their rivals in occult practices, and in performing the ceremonies the words used are uttered in such a low tone of voice as to be unintelligible even to the one for whose benefit the formula is repeated. Such being the case, it is in order to explain how the formulas collected were obtained.

HOW THE FORMULAS WERE OBTAINED.
On first visiting the reservation in the summer of 1887, I devoted considerable time to collecting plants used by the Cherokees for food or medicinal purposes, learning at the same time their Indian names and the particular uses to which each was applied and the mode of preparation. It soon became evident that the application of the medicine was not the whole, and in fact was rather the subordinate, part of the treatment, which was always accompanied by certain ceremonies and "words." From the workers employed at the time no definite idea could be obtained as to the character of these words. One young woman, indeed, who had some knowledge of the subject, volunteered to write the words which she used in her prescriptions, but failed to do so, owing chiefly to the opposition of the half-breed shamans, from whom she had obtained her information.

THE SWIMMER MANUSCRIPT.
Some time afterward an acquaintance was formed with a man named A`yûn'inï or "Swimmer," who proved to be so intelligent that I spent several days with him, procuring information in regard to myths and old customs. He told a number of stories in very good style, and finally related the Origin of the Bear[1]. The bears were formerly a part of the Cherokee tribe who decided to leave their kindred and go into the forest. Their friends followed them and endeavored to induce them to return, but the Ani-Tsâ'kahï, as they were called, were determined to go. Just before parting from their relatives at the edge of the forest, they turned to them and said, "It is better for you that we should go; but we will teach you songs, and some day when you are in want of food come out to the woods and sing these songs and we shall appear and give you meat." Their

[1. To appear later with the collection of Cherokee myths.]

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friends, after warning several songs from them, started back to their homes, and after proceeding a short distance, turned around to take one last look, but saw only a number of bears disappearing in the depths of the forest. The songs which they learned are still sung by the hunter to attract the bears.

When Swimmer had finished the story he was asked if he knew these songs. He replied that he did, but on being requested to sing one he made some excuse and was silent. After some further efforts the interpreter said it would be useless to press the matter then as there were several other Indians present, but that to-morrow we should have him alone with us and could then make another attempt.

The next day Swimmer was told that if he persisted in his refusal it would be necessary to employ some one else, as it was unfair in him to furnish incomplete information when he was paid to tell all he knew. He replied that he was willing to tell anything in regard to stories and customs, but that these songs were a part of his secret knowledge and commanded a high price from the hunters, who sometimes paid as much as $5 for a single song, "because you can't kill any bears or deer unless you sing them."

He was told that the only object in asking about the songs was to put them on record and preserve them, so that when he and the half dozen old men of the tribe were dead the world might be aware how much the Cherokees had known. This appeal to his professional pride proved effectual, and when he was told that a great many similar songs had been sent to Washington by medicine men of other tribes, he promptly declared that he knew as much as any of them, and that he would give all the information in his possession, so that others might be able to judge for themselves who knew most. The only conditions he made were that these secret matters should be heard by no one else but the interpreter, and should not be discussed when other Indians were present.

As soon as the other shamans learned what was going on they endeavored by various means to persuade him to stop talking, or failing in this, to damage his reputation by throwing out hints as to his honesty or accuracy of statement. Among other objections which they advanced was one which, however incomprehensible to a white man, was perfectly intelligible to an Indian, viz.: That when he had told everything this information would be taken to Washington and locked up there, and thus they would be deprived of the knowledge. This objection was one of the most difficult to overcome, as there was no line of argument with which to oppose it.

These reports worried Swimmer, who was extremely, sensitive in regard to his reputation, and he became restive under the insinuations of his rivals. Finally on coming to work one day he produced a book from under his ragged coat as he entered the house, and said proudly: "Look at that and now see if I don't know something." It

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was a small day-book of about 240 pages, procured originally from a white man, and was about half filled with writing in the Cherokee characters. A brief examination disclosed the fact that it contained just those matters that had proved so difficult to procure. Here were prayers, songs, and prescriptions for the cure of all kinds of diseases--for chills, rheumatism, frostbites, wounds, bad dreams, and witchery; love charms, to gain the affections of a woman or to cause her to hate a detested rival; fishing charms, hunting charms--including the songs without which none could ever hope to kill, any game; prayers to make the corn grow, to frighten away storms, and to drive off witches; prayers for long life, for safety among strangers, for acquiring influence in council and success in the ball play. There were prayers to the Long Man, the Ancient White, the Great Whirlwind, the Yellow Rattlesnake, and to a hundred other gods of the Cherokee pantheon. It was in fact an Indian ritual and pharmacopoeia.

After recovering in a measure from the astonishment produced by this discovery I inquired whether other shamans had such books. "Yes," said Swimmer, "we all have them." Here then was a clew to follow up. A bargain was made by which be was to have another blank book into which to copy the formulas, after which the original was bought. It is now deposited in the library of the Bureau of Ethnology. The remainder of the time until the return was occupied in getting an understanding of the contents of the book.

THE GATIGWANASTI MANUSCRIPT.
Further inquiry elicited the names of several others who might be supposed to have such papers. Before leaving a visit was paid to one of these, a young man named Wilnoti, whose father, Gatigwanasti, had been during his lifetime a prominent shaman, regarded as a man of superior intelligence. Wilnoti, who is a professing Christian, said that his father had had such papers, and after some explanation from the chief he consented to show them. He produced a box containing a lot of miscellaneous papers, testaments, and hymn-books, all in the Cherokee alphabet. Among them was his father's chief treasure, a manuscript book containing 122 pages of foolscap size, completely filled with formulas of the same kind as those contained in Swimmer's book. There were also a large number of loose sheets, making in all nearly 200 foolscap pages of sacred formulas.

On offering to buy the papers, he replied that he wanted to keep them in order to learn and practice these things himself--thus showing how thin was the veneer of Christianity, in his case at least. On representing to him that in a few years the new conditions would render such knowledge valueless with the younger generation, and that even if he retained the papers he would need some one else to explain them to him, he again refused, saying that they might

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fall into the hands of Swimmer, who, he was determined, should never see his father's papers. Thus the negotiations came to an end for the time.

On returning to the reservation in July, 1888, another effort was made to get possession of the Gatigwanasti manuscripts and any others of the same kind which could be procured. By this time the Indians had had several months to talk over the matter, and the idea had gradually dawned upon them that instead of taking their knowledge away from them and looking it up in a box, the intention was to preserve it to the world and pay them for it at the same time. In addition the writer took every opportunity to impress upon them the fact that he was acquainted with the secret knowledge of other tribes and perhaps could give them as much as they gave. It was now much easier to approach them, and on again visiting Wilnoti, in company with the interpreter, who explained the matter fully to him, he finally consented to lend the papers for a time, with the same condition that neither Swimmer nor anyone else but the chief and interpreter should see them, but he still refused to sell them. However, this allowed the use of the papers, and after repeated efforts during a period of several weeks, the matter ended in the purchase of the papers outright, with unreserved permission to show them for copying or explanation to anybody who might be selected. Wilnoti was not of a mercenary disposition, and after the first negotiations the chief difficulty was to overcome his objection to parting with his father's handwriting, but it was an essential point to get the originals, and he was allowed to copy some of the more important formulas, as he found it utterly out of the question to copy the whole.

These papers of Gatigwanasti are the most valuable of the whole, and amount to fully one-half the entire collection, about fifty pages consisting of love charms. The formulas are beautifully written in bold Cherokee characters, and the directions and headings are generally explicit, bearing out the universal testimony that he was a man of unusual intelligence and ability, characteristics inherited by his son, who, although a young man and speaking no English, is one of the most progressive and thoroughly reliable men of the band.

THE GAHUNI MANUSCRIPT.
The next book procured was obtained from a woman named Ayâsta, "The Spoiler," and had been written by her husband, Gahuni, who died about 30 years ago. The matter was not difficult to arrange, as she had already been employed on several occasions, so that she understood the purpose of the work, besides which her son had been regularly engaged to copy and classify the manuscripts already procured. The book was claimed as common property by

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Ayâsta and her three sons, and negotiations had to be carried on with each one, although in this instance the cash amount involved was only half a dollar, in addition to another book into which to copy some family records and personal memoranda. The book contains only eight formulas, but these are of a character altogether unique, the directions especially throwing a curious light on Indian beliefs. There had been several other formulas of the class called Y'û'nnwëhï, to cause hatred between man and wife, but these had been torn out and destroyed by Ayâsta on the advice of an old shaman, in order that her sons might never learn them. In referring to the matter she spoke in a whisper, and it was evident enough that she had full faith in the deadly power of these spells.

In addition to the formulas the book contains about twenty pages of Scripture extracts in the same handwriting, for Gahuni, like several others of their shamans, combined the professions of Indian conjurer and Methodist preacher. After his death the book fell into the hands of the younger members of the family, who filled it with miscellaneous writings and scribblings. Among other things there are about seventy pages of what was intended to be a Cherokee-English pronouncing dictionary, probably written by the youngest son, already mentioned, who has attended school, and who served for some time as copyist on the formulas. This curious Indian production, of which only a few columns are filled out, consists of a list of simple English words and phrases, written in ordinary English script, followed by Cherokee characters intended to give the approximate pronunciation, together with the corresponding word in the Cherokee language and characters. As the language lacks a number of sounds which are of frequent occurrence in English, the attempts to indicate the pronunciation sometimes give amusing results. Thus we find: Fox (English script); kwâgisï' (Cherokee characters); tsú`lû' (Cherokee characters). As the Cherokee language lacks the labial f and has no compound sound equivalent to our x, kwâgisï' is as near as the Cherokee speaker can come to pronouncing our word fox. In the same way "bet" becomes wëtï, and "sheep" is síkwï, while "if he has no dog" appears in the disguise of ikwï hâsï nâ dâ'ga.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE INÂLI MANUSCRIPT.
In the course of further inquiries in regard to the whereabouts of other manuscripts of this kind we heard a great deal about Inâ'lï, or "Black Fox," who had died a few years before at an advanced age, and who was universally admitted to have been one of their most able men and the most prominent literary character among them, for from what has been said it must be sufficiently evident that the Cherokees have their native literature and literary men. Like those already mentioned, he was a full-blood Cherokee, speaking no English, and in the course of a long lifetime he had filled almost every

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position of honor among his people, including those of councilor, keeper of the townhouse records, Sunday-school leader, conjurer, officer in the Confederate service, and Methodist preacher, at last dying, as he was born, in the ancient faith of his forefathers.

On inquiring of his daughter she stated that her father had left a great many papers, most of which were still in her possession, and on receiving from the interpreter an explanation of our purpose she readily gave permission to examine and make selections from them on condition that the matter should be kept secret from outsiders. A day was appointed for visiting her, and on arriving we found her living in a comfortable log house, built by Inâ'lï himself, with her children and an ancient female relative, a decrepit old woman, with snow-white hair and vacant countenance. This was the oldest woman of the tribe, and though now so feeble and childish, she had been a veritable savage in her young days, having carried a scalp in the scalp dance in the Creek war 75 years before.

Having placed chairs for us in the shade Inâ'lï's daughter brought out a small box filled with papers of various kinds, both Cherokee and English. The work of examining these was a tedious business, as each paper had to be opened out and enough of it read to get the general drift of the contents, after which the several classes were arranged in separate piles. While in the midst of this work she brought out another box nearly as large as a small trunk, and on setting it down there was revealed to the astonished gaze such a mass of material as it had not seemed possible could exist in the entire tribe.

In addition to papers of the sort already mentioned there were a number of letters in English from various officials and religious organizations, and addressed to "Enola," to "Rev. Black Fox," and to "Black Fox, Esq," with a large number of war letters written to him by Cherokees who had enlisted in the Confederate service. These latter are all written in the Cherokee characters, in the usual gossipy style common among friends, and several of them contain important historic material in regard to the movements of the two armies in East Tennessee. Among other things was found his certificate as a Methodist preacher, dated in 1848. "Know all men by these presents that Black Fox (Cherokee) is hereby authorized to exercise his Gifts and Graces as a local preacher in M. E. Church South. "

There was found a manuscript book in Inâ'lï's handwriting containing the records of the old council of Wolftown, of which he had been secretary for several years down to the beginning of the war. This also contains some valuable materials.

There were also a number of miscellaneous books, papers, and pictures, together with various trinkets and a number of conjuring stones.

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In fact the box was a regular curiosity shop, and it was with a feeling akin to despair that we viewed the piles of manuscript which had to be waded through and classified. There was a day's hard work ahead, and it was already past noon; but the woman was not done yet, and after rummaging about inside the house for a while longer she appeared with another armful of papers, which she emptied on top of the others. This was the last straw; and finding it impossible to examine in detail such a mass of material we contented ourselves with picking out the sacred formulas and the two manuscript books containing the town-house records and scriptural quotations and departed.

The daughter of Black Fox agreed to fetch down the other papers in a few days for further examination at our leisure; and she kept her promise, bringing with her at the same time a number of additional formulas which she had not been able to obtain before. A large number of letters and other papers were selected from the miscellaneous lot, and these, with the others obtained from her, are now deposited also with the Bureau of Ethnology. Among other things found at this house were several beads of the old shell wampum, of whose use the Cherokees have now lost even the recollection. She knew only that they were very old and different from the common beads, but she prized them as talismans, and firmly refused to part with them.

OTHER MANUSCRIPTS.
Subsequently a few formulas were obtained from an old shaman named Tsiskwa or "Bird," but they were so carelessly written as to be almost worthless, and the old mail who wrote them, being then on his dying bed, was unable to give much help in the matter. However, as he was anxious to tell what he knew all attempt was made to take down some formulas from his dictation. A few more were obtained in this way but the results were not satisfactory and the experiment was abandoned. About the same time A`wani'ta or "Young Deer," one of their best herb doctors, was engaged to collect the various plants used in medicine and describe their uses. While thus employed he wrote in a book furnished him for the purpose a number of formulas used by him in his practice, giving at the same time a verbal explanation of the theory and ceremonies. Among these was one for protection in battle, which had been used by himself and a number of other Cherokees in the late war. Another doctor named Takwati'hï or "Catawba Killer," was afterward employed on the same work and furnished some additional formulas which he had had his son write down from his dictation, he himself being unable to write. His knowledge was limited to the practice of a few specialties, but in regard to these his information

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was detailed and accurate. There was one for bleeding with the cupping horn. All these formulas obtained from Tsiskwa, A`wanita, and Takwtihi are now in possession of the Bureau.

THE KANÂHETA ANI-TSALAGI ETI.
Among the papers thus obtained was a large number which for various reasons it was found difficult to handle or file for preservation. Many of them had been written so long ago that the ink had almost faded from the paper; others were written with lead pencil, so that in handling them the characters soon became blurred and almost illegible; a great many were written on scraps of paper of all shapes and sizes; and others again were full of omissions and doublets, due to the carelessness of the writer, while many consisted simply of the prayer, with nothing in the nature of a heading or prescription to show its purpose.

Under the circumstances it was deemed expedient to have a number of these formulas copied in more enduring form. For this purpose it was decided to engage the services of Ayâsta's youngest son, an intelligent young man about nineteen years of age, who had attended school long enough to obtain a fair acquaintance with English in addition to his intimate knowledge of Cherokee. He was also gifted with a ready comprehension, and from his mother and uncle Tsiskwa had acquired some familiarity with many of the archaic expressions used in the sacred formulas. He was commonly known as "Will West," but signed himself W. W. Long, Long being the translation of his father's name, Gûnahi'ta. After being instructed as to how the work should be done with reference to paragraphing, heading, etc., he was furnished a blank book of two hundred pages into which to copy such formulas as it seemed desirable to duplicate. He readily grasped the idea and in the course of about a month, working always under the writer's personal supervision, succeeded in completely filling the book according to the plan outlined. In addition to the duplicate formulas he wrote down a number of dance and drinking songs, obtained originally from A`yûn'inï, with about thirty miscellaneous formulas obtained from various sources. The book thus prepared is modeled on the plan of an ordinary book, with headings, table of contents, and even with an illuminated title page devised by the aid of the interpreter according to the regular Cherokee idiomatic form, and is altogether a unique specimen of Indian literary art. It contains in all two hundred and fifty-eight formulas and songs, which of course are native aboriginal productions, although the mechanical arrangement was performed under the direction of a white man. This book also, under its Cherokee title, Kanâhe'ta Ani-Tsa'lagï E'tï or "Ancient Cherokee Formulas," is now in the library of the Bureau.

There is still a considerable quantity of such manuscript in the

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hands of one or two shamans with whom there was no chance for negotiating, but an effort will be made to obtain possession of these on some future visit, should opportunity present. Those now in the Bureau library comprised by far the greater portion of the whole quantity held by the Indians, and as only a small portion of this was copied by the owners it can not be duplicated by any future collector.

CHARACTER OF THE FORMULAS--THE CHEROKEE RELIGION.
It is impossible to overestimate the ethnologic importance of the materials thus obtained. They are invaluable as the genuine production of the Indian mind, setting forth in the clearest light the state of the aboriginal religion before its contamination by contact with the whites. To the psychologist and the student of myths they are equally precious. In regard to their linguistic value we may quote the language of Brinton, speaking of the sacred books of the Mayas, already referred to:

Another value they have, * * * and it is one which will be properly appreciated by any student of languages. They are, by common consent of all competent authorities, the genuine productions of native minds, cast in the idiomatic forms of the native tongue by those born to its use. No matter how fluent a foreigner becomes in a language not his own, he can never use it as does one who has been familiar with it from childhood. This general maxim is tenfold true when we apply it to a European learning an American language. The flow of thought, as exhibited in these two linguistic families, is in such different directions that no amount of practice can render one equally accurate in both. Hence the importance of studying a tongue as it is employed by natives; and hence the very high estimate I place on these "Books of Chilan Balam" as linguistic material--an estimate much increased by the great rarity of independent compositions in their own tongues by members of the native races of this continent.[1]

The same author, in speaking of the internal evidences of authenticity contained in the Popol Vuh, the sacred book of the Kichés, uses the following words, which apply equally well to these Cherokee formulas:

To one familiar with native American myths, this one bears undeniable marks of its aboriginal origin. Its frequent puerilities and inanities, its generally low and coarse range of thought and expression, its occasional loftiness of both, its strange metaphors and the prominence of strictly heathen names and potencies, bring it into unmistakable relationship to the true native myth.[2]

These formulas furnish a complete refutation of the assertion so frequently made by ignorant and prejudiced writers that the Indian had no religion excepting what they are pleased to call the meaning less mummeries of the medicine man. This is the very reverse of the truth. The Indian is essentially religious and contemplative,

[1. Brinton, D. G.: The books of Chilan Balam 10, Philadelphia, n. d., (1882).

2. Brinton, D. G: Names of the Gods in the Kiche Myths, in Proc. Am. Philos. Soc., Philadelphia, 1881, vol. 19, p. 613.]

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and it might almost be said that every act of his life is regulated and determined by his religious belief. It matters not that some may call this superstition. The difference is only relative. The religion of to-day has developed from the cruder superstitions of yesterday, and Christianity itself is but an outgrowth and enlargement of the beliefs and ceremonies which have been preserved by the Indian in their more ancient form. When we are willing to admit that the Indian has a religion which he holds sacred, even though it be different from our own, we can then admire the consistency of the theory, the particularity of the ceremonial and the beauty of the expression. So far from being a jumble of crudities, there is a wonderful completeness about the whole system which is not surpassed even by the ceremonial religions of the East. It is evident from a study of these formulas that the Cherokee Indian was a polytheist and that the spirit world was to him only a shadowy counterpart of this. All his prayers were for temporal and tangible blessings--for health, for long life, for success in the chase, in fishing, in war and in love, for good crops, for protection and for revenge. He had no Great Spirit, no happy hunting ground, no heaven, no hell, and consequently death had for him no terrors and he awaited the inevitable end with no anxiety as to the future. He was careful not to violate the rights of his tribesman or to do injury to his feelings, but there is nothing to show that he had any idea whatever of what is called morality in the abstract.

CHARACTER OF THE FORMULAS--THE CHEROKEE RELIGION.
It is impossible to overestimate the ethnologic importance of the materials thus obtained. They are invaluable as the genuine production of the Indian mind, setting forth in the clearest light the state of the aboriginal religion before its contamination by contact with the whites. To the psychologist and the student of myths they are equally precious. In regard to their linguistic value we may quote the language of Brinton, speaking of the sacred books of the Mayas, already referred to:

Another value they have, * * * and it is one which will be properly appreciated by any student of languages. They are, by common consent of all competent authorities, the genuine productions of native minds, cast in the idiomatic forms of the native tongue by those born to its use. No matter how fluent a foreigner becomes in a language not his own, he can never use it as does one who has been familiar with it from childhood. This general maxim is tenfold true when we apply it to a European learning an American language. The flow of thought, as exhibited in these two linguistic families, is in such different directions that no amount of practice can render one equally accurate in both. Hence the importance of studying a tongue as it is employed by natives; and hence the very high estimate I place on these "Books of Chilan Balam" as linguistic material--an estimate much increased by the great rarity of independent compositions in their own tongues by members of the native races of this continent.[1]

The same author, in speaking of the internal evidences of authenticity contained in the Popol Vuh, the sacred book of the Kichés, uses the following words, which apply equally well to these Cherokee formulas:

To one familiar with native American myths, this one bears undeniable marks of its aboriginal origin. Its frequent puerilities and inanities, its generally low and coarse range of thought and expression, its occasional loftiness of both, its strange metaphors and the prominence of strictly heathen names and potencies, bring it into unmistakable relationship to the true native myth.[2]

These formulas furnish a complete refutation of the assertion so frequently made by ignorant and prejudiced writers that the Indian had no religion excepting what they are pleased to call the meaning less mummeries of the medicine man. This is the very reverse of the truth. The Indian is essentially religious and contemplative,

[1. Brinton, D. G.: The books of Chilan Balam 10, Philadelphia, n. d., (1882).

2. Brinton, D. G: Names of the Gods in the Kiche Myths, in Proc. Am. Philos. Soc., Philadelphia, 1881, vol. 19, p. 613.]

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and it might almost be said that every act of his life is regulated and determined by his religious belief. It matters not that some may call this superstition. The difference is only relative. The religion of to-day has developed from the cruder superstitions of yesterday, and Christianity itself is but an outgrowth and enlargement of the beliefs and ceremonies which have been preserved by the Indian in their more ancient form. When we are willing to admit that the Indian has a religion which he holds sacred, even though it be different from our own, we can then admire the consistency of the theory, the particularity of the ceremonial and the beauty of the expression. So far from being a jumble of crudities, there is a wonderful completeness about the whole system which is not surpassed even by the ceremonial religions of the East. It is evident from a study of these formulas that the Cherokee Indian was a polytheist and that the spirit world was to him only a shadowy counterpart of this. All his prayers were for temporal and tangible blessings--for health, for long life, for success in the chase, in fishing, in war and in love, for good crops, for protection and for revenge. He had no Great Spirit, no happy hunting ground, no heaven, no hell, and consequently death had for him no terrors and he awaited the inevitable end with no anxiety as to the future. He was careful not to violate the rights of his tribesman or to do injury to his feelings, but there is nothing to show that he had any idea whatever of what is called morality in the abstract.

CHARACTER OF THE FORMULAS--THE CHEROKEE RELIGION.
It is impossible to overestimate the ethnologic importance of the materials thus obtained. They are invaluable as the genuine production of the Indian mind, setting forth in the clearest light the state of the aboriginal religion before its contamination by contact with the whites. To the psychologist and the student of myths they are equally precious. In regard to their linguistic value we may quote the language of Brinton, speaking of the sacred books of the Mayas, already referred to:

Another value they have, * * * and it is one which will be properly appreciated by any student of languages. They are, by common consent of all competent authorities, the genuine productions of native minds, cast in the idiomatic forms of the native tongue by those born to its use. No matter how fluent a foreigner becomes in a language not his own, he can never use it as does one who has been familiar with it from childhood. This general maxim is tenfold true when we apply it to a European learning an American language. The flow of thought, as exhibited in these two linguistic families, is in such different directions that no amount of practice can render one equally accurate in both. Hence the importance of studying a tongue as it is employed by natives; and hence the very high estimate I place on these "Books of Chilan Balam" as linguistic material--an estimate much increased by the great rarity of independent compositions in their own tongues by members of the native races of this continent.[1]

The same author, in speaking of the internal evidences of authenticity contained in the Popol Vuh, the sacred book of the Kichés, uses the following words, which apply equally well to these Cherokee formulas:

To one familiar with native American myths, this one bears undeniable marks of its aboriginal origin. Its frequent puerilities and inanities, its generally low and coarse range of thought and expression, its occasional loftiness of both, its strange metaphors and the prominence of strictly heathen names and potencies, bring it into unmistakable relationship to the true native myth.[2]

These formulas furnish a complete refutation of the assertion so frequently made by ignorant and prejudiced writers that the Indian had no religion excepting what they are pleased to call the meaning less mummeries of the medicine man. This is the very reverse of the truth. The Indian is essentially religious and contemplative,

[1. Brinton, D. G.: The books of Chilan Balam 10, Philadelphia, n. d., (1882).

2. Brinton, D. G: Names of the Gods in the Kiche Myths, in Proc. Am. Philos. Soc., Philadelphia, 1881, vol. 19, p. 613.]

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and it might almost be said that every act of his life is regulated and determined by his religious belief. It matters not that some may call this superstition. The difference is only relative. The religion of to-day has developed from the cruder superstitions of yesterday, and Christianity itself is but an outgrowth and enlargement of the beliefs and ceremonies which have been preserved by the Indian in their more ancient form. When we are willing to admit that the Indian has a religion which he holds sacred, even though it be different from our own, we can then admire the consistency of the theory, the particularity of the ceremonial and the beauty of the expression. So far from being a jumble of crudities, there is a wonderful completeness about the whole system which is not surpassed even by the ceremonial religions of the East. It is evident from a study of these formulas that the Cherokee Indian was a polytheist and that the spirit world was to him only a shadowy counterpart of this. All his prayers were for temporal and tangible blessings--for health, for long life, for success in the chase, in fishing, in war and in love, for good crops, for protection and for revenge. He had no Great Spirit, no happy hunting ground, no heaven, no hell, and consequently death had for him no terrors and he awaited the inevitable end with no anxiety as to the future. He was careful not to violate the rights of his tribesman or to do injury to his feelings, but there is nothing to show that he had any idea whatever of what is called morality in the abstract.

As the medical formulas are first in number and importance it may be well, for the better understanding of the theory involved, to give the Cherokee account of

THE ORIGIN OF DISEASE AND MEDICINE.
In the old days quadrupeds, birds, fishes, and insects could all talk, and they and the human race lived together in peace and friendship. But as time went on the people increased so rapidly that their settlements spread over the whole earth and the poor animals found themselves beginning to be cramped for room. This was bad enough, but to add to their misfortunes man invented bows, knives, blowguns, spears, and hooks, and began to slaughter the larger animals, birds and fishes for the sake of their flesh or their skins, while the smaller creatures, such as the frogs and worms, were crushed and trodden upon without mercy, out of pure carelessness or contempt. In. this state of affairs the animals resolved to consult upon measures for their common safety.

The bears were the first to meet in council in their townhouse in Kuwa'hï, the "Mulberry Place,"[1] and the old White Bear chief presided.

[1. One of the high peaks of the Smoky Mountains, on the Tennessee line, near Clingman's Dome.]

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After each in turn had made complaint against the way in which man killed their friends, devoured their flesh and used their skins for his own adornment, it was unanimously decided to begin war at once against the human race. Some one asked what weapons man used to accomplish their destruction. "Bows and arrows, of course," cried all the bears in chorus. "And what are they made of?" was the next question. "The bow of wood and the string of our own entrails," replied one of the bears. It was then proposed that they make a bow and some arrows and see if they could not turn man's weapons against himself. So one bear got a nice piece of locust wood and another sacrificed himself for the good of the rest in order to furnish a piece of his entrails for the string. But when everything was ready and the first bear stepped up to make the trial it was found that in letting the arrow fly after drawing back the bow, his long claws caught the string and spoiled the shot. This was annoying, but another suggested that he could overcome the difficulty by cutting his claws, which was accordingly done, and on a second trial it was found that the arrow went straight to the mark. But here the chief, the old White Bear, interposed and said that it was necessary that they should have long claws in order to be able to climb trees. "One of us has already died to furnish the bowstring, and if we now cut off our claws we shall all have to starve together. It is better to trust to the teeth and claws which nature has given us, for it is evident that man's weapons were not intended for us."

No one could suggest any better plan, so the old chief dismissed the council and the bears dispersed to their forest haunts without having concerted any means for preventing the increase of the human race. Had the result of the council been otherwise, we should now be at war with the bears, but as it is the hunter does not even ask the bear's pardon when he kills one.

The deer next held a council under their chief, the Little Deer, and after some deliberation resolved to inflict rheumatism upon every hunter who should kill one of their number, unless he took care to ask their pardon for the offense. They sent notice of their decision to the nearest settlement of Indians and told them at the same time how to make propitiation when necessity forced them to kill one of the deer tribe. Now, whenever the hunter brings down a deer, the Little Deer, who is swift as the wind and can not be wounded, runs quickly up to the spot and bending over the blood stains asks the spirit of the deer if it has heard the prayer of the hunter for pardon. If the reply be "Yes" all is well and the Little Deer goes on his way, but if the reply be in the negative he follows on the trail of the hunter, guided by the drops of blood on the ground, until he arrives at the cabin in the settlement, when the Little Deer enters invisibly and strikes the neglectful hunter with rheumatism, so that

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he, is rendered on the instant a helpless cripple. No hunter who has regard for his health ever fails to ask pardon of the deer for killing it, although some who have not learned the proper formula may attempt to turn aside the Little Deer from his pursuit by building a fire behind them in the trail.

Next came the fishes and reptiles, who had their own grievances against humanity. They held a joint council and determined to make their victims dream of snakes twining about them in slimy folds and blowing their fetid breath in their faces, or to make them dream of eating raw or decaying fish, so that they would lose appetite, sicken, and die. Thus it is that snake and fish dreams are accounted for.

Finally the birds, insects, and smaller animals came together for a like purpose, and the Grubworm presided over the deliberations. It was decided that each in turn should express an opinion and then vote on the question as to whether or not man should be deemed guilty. Seven votes were to be sufficient to condemn him. One after another denounced man's cruelty and injustice toward the other animals and voted in favor of his death. The Frog (walâ'sï) spoke first and said: "We must do something to check the increase of the race or people will become so numerous that we shall be crowded from off the earth. See how man has kicked me about because I'm ugly, as he says, until my back is covered with sores;" and here he showed the spots on his skin. Next came the Bird (tsi'skwa; no particular species is indicated), who condemned man because "he burns my feet off," alluding to the way in which the hunter barbecues birds by impaling them on a stick set over the fire, so that their feathers and tender feet are singed and burned. Others followed in the same strain. The Ground Squirrel alone ventured to say a word in behalf of man, who seldom hurt him because he was so small; but this so enraged the others that they fell upon the Ground Squirrel and tore him with their teeth and claws, and the stripes remain on his back to this day.

The assembly then began to devise and name various diseases, one after another, and had not their invention finally failed them not one of the human race would have been able to survive. The Grubworm in his place of honor hailed each new malady with delight, until at last they had reached the end of the list, when some one suggested that it be arranged so that menstruation should sometimes prove fatal to woman. On this he rose up in his place and cried: "Wata'n! Thanks! I'm glad some of them will die, for they are getting so thick that they tread on me." He fairly shook with joy at the thought, so that he fell over backward and could not get on his feet again, but had to wriggle off on his back, as the Grubworm has done ever since.

When the plants, who were friendly to man, heard what had been

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done by the animals, they determined to defeat their evil designs. Each tree, shrub, and herb, down even to the grasses and mosses, agreed to furnish a remedy for some one of the diseases named, and each said: "I shall appear to help man when he calls upon me in his need." Thus did medicine originate, and the plants, every one of which has its use if we only knew it, furnish the antidote to counteract the evil wrought by the revengeful animals. When the doctor is in doubt what treatment to apply for the relief of a patient, the spirit of the plant suggests to him the proper remedy.

THEORY OF DISEASE--ANIMALS, GHOSTS, WITCHES.
Such is the belief upon which their medical practice is based, and whatever we may think of the theory it must be admitted that the practice is consistent in all its details with the views set forth in the myth. Like most primitive people the Cherokees believe that disease and death are not natural, but are due to the evil influence of animal spirits, ghosts, or witches. Haywood, writing in 1823, states on the authority of two intelligent residents of the Cherokee nation:

In ancient times the Cherokees had no conception of anyone dying a natural death. They universally ascribed the death of those who perished by disease to the intervention or agency of evil spirits and witches and conjurers who had connection with the Shina (Anisgi'na) or evil spirits. * * * A person dying by disease and charging his death to have been procured by means of witchcraft or spirits, by any other person, consigns that person to inevitable death. They profess to believe that their conjurations have no effect upon white men.[1]

On the authority of one of the same informants, he also mentions the veneration which "their physicians have for the numbers four and seven, who say that after man was placed upon the earth four and seven nights were instituted for the cure of diseases in the human body and the seventh night as the limit for female impurity."[2]

Viewed from a scientific standpoint, their theory and diagnosis are entirely wrong, and consequently we can hardly expect their therapeutic system to be correct. As the learned Doctor Berendt states, after an exhaustive study of the medical books of the Mayas, the scientific value of their remedies is "next to nothing." It must be admitted that many of the plants used in their medical practice possess real curative properties, but it is equally true that many others held in as high estimation are inert. It seems probable that in the beginning the various herbs and other plants were regarded as so many fetiches and were selected from some fancied connection with the disease animal, according to the idea known to modern folklorists as the doctrine of signatures. Thus at the present day the doctor puts into the decoction intended as a vermifuge some of the

[1. Haywood, John: Natural and Aboriginal History of East Tennessee, 267-8, Nashville, 1823.

2. Ibid., p. 281.]

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red fleshy stalks of the common purslane or chickweed (Portulaca oleracea), because these stalks somewhat resemble worms and consequently must have some occult influence over worms. Here the chickweed is a fetich precisely as is the flint arrow bead which is put into the same decoction, in order that in the same mysterious manner its sharp cutting qualities may be communicated to the liquid and enable it to cut the worms into pieces. In like manner, biliousness is called by the Cherokees dalâ'nï or "yellow," because the most apparent symptom of the disease is the vomiting by the patient of the yellow bile, and hence the doctor selects for the decoction four different herbs, each of which is also called dalânï, because of the color of the root, stalk, or flower. The same idea is carried out in the tabu which generally accompanies the treatment. Thus a scrofulous patient must abstain from eating the meat of a turkey, because the fleshy dewlap which depends from its throat somewhat resembles an inflamed scrofulous eruption. On killing a deer the hunter always makes an incision in the hind quarter and removes the hamstring, because this tendon, when severed, draws up into the flesh; ergo, any one who should unfortunately partake of the hamstring would find his limbs draw up in the same manner.

There can be no doubt that in course of time a haphazard use of plants would naturally lead to the discovery that certain herbs are efficacious in certain combinations of symptoms. These plants would thus come into more frequent use and finally would obtain general recognition in the Indian materia medica. By such a process of evolution an empiric system of medicine has grown up among the Cherokees, by which they are able to, treat some classes of ailments with some degree of success, although without any intelligent idea of the process involved. It must be remembered that our own medical system has its remote origin in the same mythic conception of disease, and that within two hundred years judicial courts have condemned women to be burned to death for producing sickness by spells and incantations, while even at the present day our faith-cure professors reap their richest harvest among people commonly supposed to belong to the intelligent classes. In the treatment of wounds the Cherokee doctors exhibit a considerable degree of skill, but as far as any internal ailment is concerned the average farmer's wife is worth all the doctors in the whole tribe.

The faith of the patient has much to do with his recovery, for the Indian has the same implicit confidence in the shaman that a child has in a more intelligent physician. The ceremonies and prayers are well calculated to inspire this feeling, and the effect thus produced upon the mind of the sick man undoubtedly reacts favorably upon his physical organization.

The following list of twenty plants used in Cherokee practice will give a better idea of the extent of their medical knowledge than

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could be conveyed by a lengthy dissertation. The names are given in the order in which they occur in the botanic notebook filled on the reservation, excluding names of food plants and species not identified, so that no attempt has been made to select in accordance with a preconceived theory. Following the name of each plant are given its uses as described by the Indian doctors, together with its properties as set forth in the United States Dispensatory, one of the leading pharmacopœias in use in this country.[1] For the benefit of those not versed in medical phraseology it may be stated that aperient, cathartic, and deobstruent are terms applied to medicines intended to open or purge the bowels, a diuretic has the property of exciting the flow of urine, a diaphoretic excites perspiration, and a demulcent protects or soothes irritated tissues, while hæmoptysis denotes a peculiar variety of blood-splitting and aphthous is an adjective applied to ulcerations in the mouth.

SELECTED LIST OF PLANTS USED.
1. UNASTE'TSTYÛ = "very small root "--Aristolochia serpentaria--Virginia or black snakeroot: Decoction of root blown upon patient for fever and feverish head ache, and drunk for coughs; root chewed and spit upon wound to cure snake bites; bruised root placed in hollow tooth for toothache, and held against nose made sore by constant blowing in colds. Dispensatory: "A stimulant tonic, acting also as a diaphoretic or diuretic, according to the mode of its application; * * * also been highly recommended in intermittent fevers, and though itself generally inadequate to the cure often proves serviceable as an adjunct to Peruvian bark or sulphate of quinia." Also used for typhous diseases, in dyspepsia, as a gargle for sore throat, as a mild stimulant in typhoid fevers, and to promote eruptions. The genus derives its scientific name from its supposed efficacy in promoting menstrual discharge, and some species have acquired the "reputation of antidotes for the bites of serpents."

2. UNISTIL'ÛnISTÎ [2]= "they stick on"--Cynoglossum Morrisoni--Beggar lice: Decoction of root or top drunk for kidney troubles; bruised root used with bear oil as an ointment for cancer; forgetful persons drink a decoction of this plant, and probably also of other similar bur plants, from an idea that the sticking qualities of the burs will thus be imparted to the memory. From a similar connection of ideas the root is also used in the preparation of love charms. Dispensatory: Not named. C. officinale "has been used as a demulcent and sedative in coughs, catarrh, spitting of blood, dysentery, and diarrhea, and has been also applied externally in bums, ulcers, scrofulous tumors and goiter."

[1. Wood, T. B., and Bache, F.: Dispensatory of the United States of America, 14th ed., Philadelphia, 1877.

2. The Cherokee plant names here given are generic names, which are the names commonly used. In many cases the same name is applied to several species and it is only when it is necessary to distinguish between them that the Indians use what might be called specific names. Even then the descriptive term used serves to distinguish only the particular plants under discussion and the introduction of another variety bearing the same generic name would necessitate a new classification of species on a different basis, while hardly any two individuals would classify the species by the same characteristics.]

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3. ÛnNAGÉI = "olack"--Cassia Marilandica--Wild senna: Root bruised and moistened with water for poulticing sores; decoction drunk for fever and for a disease also called ûnnage'i, or "black" (same name as plant), in which the hands and eye sockets are said to turn black; also for a disease described as similar to ûnnage'i, but more dangerous, in which the eye sockets become black, while black spots appear on the arms, legs, and over the ribs on one side of the body, accompanied by partial paralysis, and resulting in death should the black spots appear also on the other side. Dispensatory: Described as "an efficient and safe cathartic, most conveniently given in the form of infusion."

4. KÂSD'ÚTA = "simulating ashes," so called on account of the appearance of the leaves--Gnaphalium decurrens--Life everlasting: Decoction drunk for colds; also used in the sweat bath for various diseases and considered one of their most valuable medical plants. Dispensatory: Not named. Decoctions of two other species of this genus are mentioned as used by country people for chest and bowel diseases, and for hemorrhages, bruises, ulcers, etc., although "probably possessing little medicinal virtue."

5. ALTSA'STI = "a wreath for the head"--Vicia Caroliniana--Vetch: Decoction drunk for dyspepsia and pains in the back, and rubbed on stomach for cramp; also rubbed on ball-players after scratching, to render their muscles tough, and used in the same way after scratching in the disease referred to under ûnnage'i, in which one side becomes black in spots, with partial paralysis; also used in same manner in decoction with Kâsduta for rheumatism; considered one of their most valuable medicinal herbs. Dispensatory: Not named.

6. DISTAI'YÏ = "they (the roots) are tough"--Tephrosia Virginiana--Catgut, Turkey Pea, Goat's Rue, or Devil's Shoestrings: Decoction drunk for lassitude. Women wash their hair in decoction of its roots to prevent its breaking or falling out, because these roots are very tough and hard to break; from the same idea ball-players rub the decoction on their limbs after scratching, to toughen them. Dispensatory: Described as a cathartic with roots tonic and aperient.

7. U'GA-ATASGI'SKÏ = "the pus oozes out"--Euphorbia hypericifolia--Milkweed: Juice rubbed on for skin eruptions, especially on children's heads; also used as a purgative; decoction drunk for gonorrhœa and similar diseases in both sexes, and held in high estimation for this purpose; juice used as an ointment for sores and for sore nipples, and in connection with other herbs for cancer. Dispensatory: The juice of all of the genus has the property of "powerfully irritating the skin when applied to it," while nearly all are powerful emetics, and cathartics. This species "has been highly commended as a remedy in dysentery after due depletion, diarrhea, menorrhagia, and leucorrhea."

8. GÛ'NÏGWALÏ'SKÏ = "It becomes discolored when bruised"--Scutellaria lateriflora--Skullcap. "The name refers to the red juice which comes out of the stalk when bruised or chewed. A decoction of the four varieties of Gûnigwalï'skï--lateriflora, S. pilosa, Hypericum corymbosum, and Stylosanthes elatior--is drunk to promote menstruation, and the same decoction is also drunk and used as a wash to counteract the ill effects of eating food prepared by a woman in the menstrual condition, or when such a woman by chance comes into a sick room or a house under the tabu; also drunk for diarrhea and used with other herbs in decoction for breast pains. Dispensatory: This plant "produces no very obvious effects," but some doctors regard it as possessed of nervine, antispasmodic and tonic properties. None of the other three species are named.

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9. KÂ'GA SKÛ'nTAGÏ = "crow shin"--Adiantum pedatum--Maidenhair Fern: Used either in decoction or poultice for rheumatism and chills, generally in connection with some other fern. The doctors explain that the fronds of the different varieties of fern are curled up in the young plant, but unroll and straighten out as it grows, and consequently a decoction of ferns causes the contracted muscles of the rheumatic patient to unbend and straighten out in like manner. It is also used in decoction for fever. Dispensatory: The leaves "have been supposed to be useful in chronic catarrh and other pectoral affections."

10. ANDA'NKALAGI'SKI = "it removes things from the gums"--Geranium maculatum--Wild Alum, Cranesbill: Used in decoction with Yânû Unihye stï (Vitis cordifolia) to wash the mouths of children in thrush; also used alone for the same purpose by blowing the chewed fiber into the mouth. Dispensatory: "One of our best indigenous astringents. * * * Diarrhea, chronic dysentery, cholora infantum in the latter stages, and the various hemorrhages are the forms of disease in which it is most commonly used." Also valuable as "an application to indolent ulcers, an injection in gleet and leucorrhea, a gargle in relaxation of the uvula and aphthous ulcerations of the throat." The other plant sometimes used with it is not mentioned.

11. Û'nLË, UKÏ'LTÏ = "the locust frequents it"--Gillenia trifoliata--Indian Physic. Two doctors state that it is good as a tea for bowel complaints, with fever and yellow vomit; but another says that it is poisonous and that no decoction is ever drunk, but that the beaten root is a good poultice for swellings. Dispensatory: "Gillenia is a mild and efficient emetic, and like most substances belonging to the same class occasionally acts upon the bowels. In very small doses it has been thought to be tonic."

12. SKWA'LÏ = Hepatica acutiloba--Liverwort, Heartleaf: Used for coughs either in tea or by chewing root. Those who dream of snakes drink a decoction of this herb and I'natû Ga'n`ka = "snake tongue"--(Camptosorus rhizophyllus or Walking Fern) to produce vomiting, after which the dreams do not return. The traders buy large quantities of liverwort from the Cherokees, who may thus have learned to esteem it more highly than they otherwise would. The appearance of the other plant, Camptosorus rhizophyllus, has evidently determined its Cherokee name and the use to which it is applied. Dispensatory: "Liverwort is a very mild demulcent tonic and astringent, supposed by some to possess diuretic and deobstruent virtues. It was formerly used in Europe in various complaints, especially chronic hepatic affections, but has fallen into entire neglect. In this country, some years since, it acquired considerable reputation, which, however, it has not maintained as a remedy in hæmoptysis and chronic coughs." The other plant is not named.

13. DA'YEWÛ = "it sews itself up," because the leaves are said to grow together again when torn--Cacalia atriplicifolia--Tassel Flower: Held in great repute as a poultice for cuts, bruises, and cancer, to draw out the blood or poisonous matter. The bruised leaf is bound over the spot and frequently removed. The dry powdered leaf was formerly used to sprinkle over food like salt. Dispensatory--Not named.

14. Â'TALÏ KÛLÏ' = "it climbs the mountain."--Aralia quinquefolia--Ginseng or "Sang:" Decoction of root drunk for headache, cramps, etc., and for female troubles; chewed root blown on spot for pains in the side. The Cherokees sell large quantities of sang to the traders for 50 cents per pound, nearly equivalent there to two days' wages, a fact which has doubtless increased their idea of its importance. Dispensatory: "The extraordinary medical virtues formerly ascribed to ginseng had no other existence than in the imagination of the Chinese. It is little more than a demulcent, and in this

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country is not employed as a medicine." The Chinese name, ginseng, is said to refer to the fancied resemblance of the root to a human figure, while in the Cherokee formulas it is addressed as the "great man" or "little man," and this resemblance no doubt has much to do with the estimation in which it is held by both peoples.

15. Û'TSATÏ UWADSÏSKA = "fish scales," from shape of leaves--Thalictrum anemonoides--Meadow Rue: Decoction of root drunk for diarrhea with vomiting. Dispensatory: Not named.

16. K'KWË ULASU'LA = "partridge moccasin"--Cypripedium parviflorum--Ladyslipper: Decoction of root used for worms in children. In the liquid are placed some stalks of the common chickweed or purslane (Cerastium vulgatum) which, from the appearance of its red fleshy stalks, is supposed to have some connection with worms. Dispensatory: Described as "a gentle nervous stimulant" useful in diseases in which the nerves are especially affected. The other herb is not named.

17. A'HAWÏ' AKÄ'TÄ'--"deer eye," from the appearance of the flower-Rudbeckia fulgida--Cone Flower: Decoction of root drunk for flux and for some private diseases; also used as a wash for snakebites and swellings caused by (mythic) tsgâya or worms; also dropped into weak or inflamed eyes. This last is probably from the supposed connection between the eye and the flower resembling the eye. Dispensatory: Not named.

18. UTÏSTUGÏ'--Polygonatum multiflorum latifolium--Solomon's Seal: Root heated and bruised and applied as a poultice to remove an ulcerating swelling called tu'stï', resembling a boil or carbuncle. Dispensatory: This species acts like P. uniflorum, which is said to be emetic, In former times it was used externally in bruises, especially those about the eyes, in tumors, wounds, and cutaneous eruptions and was highly esteemed as a cosmetic. At present it is not employed, though recommended by Hermann as a good remedy in gout and rheumatism." This species in decoction has been found to produce nausea, a cathartic effect and either diaphoresis or diuresis, "and is useful as an internal remedy in piles, and externally in the form of decoction, in the affection of the skin resulting from the poisonous exhalations of certain plants."

19. ÄMÄDITA`TÏ--"water dipper," because water can be sucked up through its hollow stalk--Eupatorium purpureum--Queen of the Meadow, Gravel Root: Root used in decoction with a somewhat similar plant called Ämäditá`tï ü'tanu, or "large water dipper" (not identified) for difficult urination. Dispensatory: "Said to operate as a diuretic. Its vulgar name of gravel root indicates the popular estimation of its virtues." The genus is described as tonic, diaphoretic, and in large doses emetic and aperient.

20. YÂNA UTSËSTA = "the bear lies on it"--Aspidium acrostichoides--Shield Fern: Root decoction drunk to produce vomiting, and also used to rub on the skin, after scratching, for rheumatism--in both cases some other plant is added to the decoction; the warm decoction is also held in the mouth to relieve toothache. Dispensatory: Not named.

The results obtained from a careful study of this list maybe summarized as follows: Of the twenty plants described as used by the Cherokees, seven (Nos. 2, 4, 5, 13, 15, 17, and 20) are not noticed in the Dispensatory even in the list of plants sometimes used although regarded as not officinal. It is possible that one or two of these seven plants have medical properties, but this can hardly be true of a larger number unless we are disposed to believe that the Indians

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are better informed in this regard than the best educated white physicians in the country. Two of these seven plants, however (Nos. 2 and 4), belong to genera which seem to have some of the properties ascribed by the Indians to the species. Five others of the list (Nos. 8, 9, 11, 14, and 16) are used for entirely wrong purposes, taking the Dispensatory as authority, and three of these are evidently used on account of some fancied connection between the plant and the disease, according to the doctrine of signatures. Three of the remainder (Nos. 1, 3, and 6) may be classed as uncertain in their properties, that is, while the plants themselves seem to possess some medical value, the Indian mode of application is so far at variance with recognized methods, or their own statements are so vague and conflicting, that it is doubtful whether any good can result from the use of the herbs. Thus the Unaste'tstiyû, or Virginia Snakeroot, is stated by the Dispensatory to have several uses, and among other things is said to have been highly recommended in intermittent fevers, although alone it is "generally inadequate to the cure." Though not expressly stated, the natural inference is that it must be applied internally, but the Cherokee doctor, while he also uses it for fever, takes the decoction in his mouth and blows it over the head and shoulders of the patient. Another of these, the Distai'yï, or Turkey Pea, is described in the Dispensatory as having roots tonic and aperient. The Cherokees drink a decoction of the roots for a feeling of weakness and languor, from which it might be supposed that they understood the tonic properties of the plant had not the same decoction been used by the women as a hair wash, and by the ball players to bathe their limbs, under the impression that the toughness of the roots would thus be communicated to the hair or muscles. From this fact and from the name of the plant, which means at once hard, tough, or strong, it is quite probable that its roots are believed to give strength to the patient solely because they themselves are so strong and not because they have been proved to be really efficacious. The remaining five plants have generally pronounced medicinal qualities, and are used by the Cherokees for the very purposes for which, according to the Dispensatory, they are best adapted; so that we must admit that so much of their practice is correct, however false the reasoning by which they have arrived at this result.

MEDICAL PRACTICE.
Taking the Dispensatory as the standard, and assuming that this list is a fair epitome of what the Cherokees know concerning the medical properties of plants, we find that five plants, or 25 per cent of the whole number, are correctly used; twelve, or 60 per cent, are presumably either worthless or incorrectly used, and three plants, or 15 per cent, are so used that it is difficult to say whether they are

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of any benefit or not. Granting that two of these three produce good results as used by the Indians, we should have 35 per cent, or about one-third of the whole, as the proportion actually possessing medical virtues, while the remaining two-thirds are inert, if not positively injurious. It is not probable that a larger number of examples would change the proportion to any appreciable extent. A number of herbs used in connection with these principal plants may probably be set down as worthless, inasmuch as they are not named in the Dispensatory.

The results here arrived at will doubtless be a surprise to those persons who hold that an Indian must necessarily be a good doctor, and that the medicine man or conjurer, with his theories of ghosts, witches, and revengeful animals, knows more about the properties of plants and the cure of disease than does the trained botanist or physician who has devoted a lifetime of study to the patient investigation of his specialty, with all the accumulated information contained in the works of his predecessors to build upon, and with all the light thrown upon his pathway by the discoveries of modern science. It is absurd to suppose that the savage, a child in intellect, has reached a higher development in any branch of science than has been attained by the civilized man, the product of long ages of intellectual growth. It would be as unreasonable to suppose that the Indian could be entirely ignorant of the medicinal properties of plants, living as he did in the open air in close communion with nature; but neither in accuracy nor extent can his knowledge be compared for a moment with that of the trained student working upon scientific principles.

Cherokee medicine is an empiric development of the fetich idea. For a disease caused by the rabbit the antidote must be a plant called "rabbit's food," "rabbit's ear," or "rabbit's tail;" for snake dreams the plant used is "snake's tooth;" for worms a plant resembling a worm in appearance, and for inflamed eyes a flower having the appearance and name of "deer's eye." A yellow root must be good when the patient vomits yellow bile, and a black one when dark circles come about his eyes, and in each case the disease and the plant alike are named from the color. A decoction of burs must be a cure for forgetfulness, for there is nothing else that will stick like a bur; and a decoction of the wiry roots of the "devil's shoestrings" must be an efficacious wash to toughen the ballplayer's muscles, for they are almost strong enough to stop the plowshare in the furrow. It must be evident that under such a system the failures must far outnumber the cures, yet it is not so long since half our own medical practice was based upon the same idea of correspondences, for the mediaeval physicians taught that similia similibus curantur, and have we not all heard that "the hair of the dog will cure the bite?"

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Their ignorance of the true medical principles involved is shown by the regulations prescribed for the patient. With the exception of the fasting, no sanitary precautions are taken to aid in the recovery of the sick man or to contribute to his comfort. Even the fasting is as much religious as sanative, for in most cases where it is prescribed the doctor also must abstain from food until sunset, just as in the Catholic church both priest and communicants remain fasting from midnight until after the celebration of the divine mysteries. As the Indian cuisine is extremely limited, no delicate or appetizing dishes are prepared for the patient, who partakes of the same heavy, sodden cornmeal dumplings and bean bread which form his principal food in health. In most cases certain kinds of food are prohibited, such as squirrel meat, fish, turkey, etc.; but the reason is not that such food is considered deleterious to health, as we understand it, but because of some fanciful connection with the disease spirit. Thus if squirrels have caused the illness the patient must not eat squirrel meat. If the disease be rheumatism, he must not eat the leg of any animal, because the limbs are generally the seat of this malady. Lye, salt, and hot food are always forbidden when there is any prohibition at all; but here again, in nine cases out of ten, the regulation, instead of being beneficial, serves only to add to his discomfort. Lye enters into almost all the food preparations of the Cherokees, the alkaline potash taking the place of salt, which is seldom used among them, having been introduced by the whites. Their bean and chestnut bread, cornmeal dumplings' hominy, and gruel are all boiled in a pot, all contain lye, and are all, excepting the last, served up hot from the fire. When cold their bread is about as hard and tasteless as a lump of yesterday's dough, and to condemn a sick man to a diet of such dyspeptic food, eaten cold without even a pinch of salt to give it a relish, would seem to be sufficient to kill him with, out any further aid from the doctor. The salt or lye so strictly prohibited is really a tonic and appetizer, and in many diseases acts with curative effect. So much for the health regimen.

In serious cases the patient is secluded and no strangers are allowed to enter the house. On first thought this would appear to be a genuine sanitary precaution for the purpose of securing rest and quiet to the sick man. Such, however, is not the case. The necessity for quiet has probably never occurred to the Cherokee doctor, and this regulation is intended simply to prevent any direct or indirect contact with a woman in a pregnant or menstrual condition. Among all primitive nations, including the ancient Hebrews, we find an elaborate code of rules in regard to the conduct and treatment of women on arriving at the age of puberty, during pregnancy and the menstrual periods, and at childbirth. Among the Cherokees the presence of a woman under any of these conditions, or even the presence of any one who has come from a house where such a woman

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resides, is considered to neutralize all the effects of the doctor's treatment. For this reason all women, excepting those of the household, are excluded. A man is forbidden to enter, because he may have had intercourse with a tabued woman, or may have come in contact with her in some other way; and children also are shut out, because they may have come from a cabin where dwells a woman subject to exclusion. What is supposed to be the effect of the presence of a menstrual woman in the family of the patient is not clear; but judging from analogous customs in other tribes and from rules still enforced among the Cherokees, notwithstanding their long contact with the whites, it seems probable that in former times the patient was removed to a smaller house or temporary bark lodge built for his accommodation whenever the tabu as to women was prescribed by the doctor. Some of the old men assert that in former times sick persons were removed to the public townhouse, where they remained under the care of the doctors until they either recovered or died. A curious instance of this prohibition is given in the second Didûnlë'skï (rheumatism) formula from the Gahuni manuscript (see page 350), where the patient is required to abstain from touching a squirrel, a dog, a cat, a mountain trout, or a woman, and must also have a chair appropriated to his use alone during the four days that he is under treatment.

In cases of the children's disease known as Gûnwani'gista'ï (see formulas) it is forbidden to carry the child outdoors, but this is not to procure rest for the little one, or to guard against exposure to cold air, but because the birds send this disease, and should a bird chance to be flying by overhead at the moment the flapping of its wings would fan the disease back into the body of the patient.

ILLUSTRATION OF THE TABU.
On a second visit to the reservation the writer once had a practical illustration of the gaktû'nata or tabu, which may be of interest as showing how little sanitary ideas have to do with these precautions. Having received several urgent invitations from Tsiskwa (Bird), an old shaman of considerable repute, who was anxious to talk, but confined to his bed by sickness, it was determined to visit him at his house, several miles distant. On arriving we found another doctor named Sû'nkï (The Mink) in charge of the patient and were told that he had just that morning begun a four days' gaktûnta, which, among other provisions, excluded all visitors. It was of no use to argue that we had come by the express request of Tsiskwa. The laws of the gaktûnta were as immutable as those of the Medes and Persians, and neither doctor nor patient could hope for favorable results from the treatment unless the regulations were enforced to the letter. But although we might not enter the house; there was no reason why we should not talk to the old man, so seats were placed for us outside the door, while Tsiskwa lay stretched out on

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the bed just inside and The Mink perched himself on the fence a few yards distant to keep an eye on the proceedings. As there was a possibility that a white man might unconsciously affect the operation of the Indian medicine, the writer deemed it advisable to keep out of sight altogether, and accordingly took up a position just around the corner of the house, but within easy hearing distance, while the interpreter sat facing the doorway within a few feet of the sick man inside. Then began an animated conversation, Tsiskwa inquiring, through the interpreter, as to the purpose of the Government in gathering such information, wanting to know how we had succeeded with other shamans and asking various questions in regard to other tribes and their customs. The replies were given in the same manner, an attempt being also made to draw him out as to the extent of his own knowledge. Thus we talked until the old man grew weary, but throughout the whole of this singular interview neither party saw the other, nor was the gaktûnta violated by entering the house. From this example it must be sufficiently evident that the tabu as to visitors is not a hygienic precaution for securing greater quiet to the patient, or to prevent the spread of contagion, but that it is simply a religious observance of the tribe, exactly parallel to many of the regulations among the ancient Jews, as laid down in the book of Leviticus.

NEGLECT OF SANITARY REGULATIONS.
No rules are ever formulated as to fresh air or exercise, for the sufficient reason that the door of the Cherokee log cabin is always open, excepting at night and on the coldest days in winter, while the Indian is seldom in the house during his waking hours unless when necessity compels him. As most of their cabins are still built in the old Indian style, without windows, the open door furnishes the only means by which light is admitted to the interior, although when closed the fire on the hearth helps to make amends for the deficiency. On the other hand, no precautions are taken to guard against cold, dampness, or sudden drafts. During the greater part of the year whole families sleep outside upon the ground, rolled up in an old blanket. The Cherokee is careless of exposure and utterly indifferent to the simplest rules of hygiene. He will walk all day in a pouring rain clad only in a thin shirt and a pair of pants. He goes barefoot and frequently bareheaded nearly the entire year, and even on a frosty morning in late November, when the streams are of almost icy coldness, men and women will deliberately ford the river where the water is waist deep in preference to going a few hundred yards to a foot-log. At their dances in the open air men, women, and children, with bare feet and thinly clad, dance upon the damp ground from darkness until daylight, sometimes enveloped in a thick mountain fog which makes even the neighboring treetops invisible,

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while the mothers have their infants laid away under the bushes with only a shawl between them and the cold ground. In their ball plays also each young man, before going into the game, is subjected to an ordeal of dancing, bleeding, and cold plunge baths, without food or sleep, which must unquestionably waste his physical energy.

In the old days when the Cherokee was the lord of the whole country from the Savannah to the Ohio, well fed and warmly clad and leading an active life in the open air, he was able to maintain a condition of robust health notwithstanding the incorrectness of his medical ideas and his general disregard of sanitary regulations. But with the advent of the white man and the destruction of the game all this was changed. The East Cherokee of to-day is a dejected being; poorly fed, and worse clothed, rarely tasting meat, cut off from the old free life, and with no incentive to a better, and constantly bowed down by a sense of helpless degradation in the presence of his conqueror. Considering all the circumstances, it may seem a matter of surprise that any of them are still in existence. As a matter of fact, the best information that could be obtained in the absence of any official statistics indicated a slow but steady decrease during the last five years. Only the constitutional vigor, inherited from their warrior ancestors, has enabled them to sustain the shock of the changed conditions of the last half century. The uniform good health of the children in the training school shows that the case is not hopeless, however, and that under favorable conditions, with a proper food supply and a regular mode of living, the Cherokee can hold his own with the white man.

THE SWEAT BATH-BLEEDING--RUBBING--BATHING.
In addition to their herb treatment the Cherokees frequently resort to sweat baths, bleeding, rubbing, and cold baths in the running stream, to say nothing of the beads and other conjuring paraphernalia generally used in connection with the ceremony. The sweat bath was in common use among almost all the tribes north of Mexico excepting the central and eastern Eskimo, and was considered the great cure-all in sickness and invigorant in health. Among many tribes it appears to have been regarded as a ceremonial observance, but the Cherokees seem to have looked upon it simply as a medical application, while the ceremonial part was confined to the use of the plunge bath. The person wishing to make trial of the virtues of the sweat bath entered the â'sï, a small earth-covered log house only high enough to allow of sitting down. After divesting himself of his clothing, some large bowlders, previously heated in a fire, were placed near him, and over them was poured a decoction of the beaten roots of the wild parsnip. The door was closed so that no air could enter from the outside, and the patient sat in the sweltering steam

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until he was in a profuse perspiration and nearly choked by the pungent fumes of the decoction. In accordance with general Indian practice it may be that he plunged into the river before resuming his clothing; but in modern times this part of the operation is omitted and the patient is drenched with cold water instead. Since the âsï has gone out of general use the sweating takes place in the ordinary dwelling, the steam being confined under a blanket wrapped around the patient. During the prevalence of the smallpox epidemic among the Cherokees at the close of the late war the sweat bath was universally called into requisition to stay the progress of the disease, and as the result about three hundred of the band died, while many of the survivors will carry the marks of the visitation to the grave. The sweat bath, with the accompanying cold water application, being regarded as the great panacea, seems to have been resorted to by the Indians in all parts of the country whenever visited by smallpox--originally introduced by the whites--and in consequence of this mistaken treatment they have died, in the language of an old writer, "like rotten sheep" and at times whole tribes have been almost swept away. Many of the Cherokees tried to ward off the disease by eating the flesh of the buzzard, which they believe to enjoy entire immunity from sickness, owing to its foul smell, which keeps the disease spirits at a distance.

Bleeding is resorted to in a number of cases, especially in rheumatism and in preparing for the ball play. There are two methods of performing the operation, bleeding proper and scratching, the latter being preparatory to rubbing on the medicine, which is thus brought into more direct contact with the blood. The bleeding is performed with a small cupping horn, to which suction is applied in the ordinary manner, after scarification with a flint or piece of broken glass. In the blood thus drawn out the shaman claims sometimes to find a minute pebble, a sharpened stick or something of the kind, which he asserts to be the cause of the trouble and to have been conveyed into the body of the patient through the evil spells of an enemy. He frequently pretends to suck out such an object by the application of the lips alone, without any scarification whatever. Scratching is a painful process and is performed with a brier, a flint arrowhead, a rattlesnake's tooth, or even with a piece of glass, according to the nature of the ailment, while in preparing the young men for the ball play the shaman uses an instrument somewhat resembling a comb, having seven teeth made from the sharpened splinters of the leg bone of a turkey. The scratching is usually done according to a particular pattern, the regular method for the ball play being to draw the scratcher four times down the upper part of each arm, thus making twenty-eight scratches each about 6 inches in length, repeating the operation on each arm below the elbow and on each leg above and below the knee. Finally, the

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instrument is drawn across the breast from the two shoulders so as to form a cross; another curving stroke is made to connect the two upper ends of the cross, and the same pattern is repeated on the back, so that the body is thus gashed in nearly three hundred places. Although very painful for a while, as may well be supposed, the scratches do not penetrate deep enough to result seriously, excepting in some cases where erysipelas sets in. While the blood is still flowing freely the medicine, which in this case is intended to toughen the muscles of the player, is rubbed into the wounds after which the sufferer plunges into the stream and washes off the blood. In order that the blood may flow the longer without clotting it is frequently scraped off with a small switch as it flows. In rheumatism and other local diseases the scratching is confined to the part affected. The instrument used is selected in accordance with the mythologic theory, excepting in the case of the piece of glass, which is merely a modern makeshift for the flint arrowhead.

Rubbing, used commonly for pains and swellings of the abdomen, is a very simple operation performed with the tip of the finger or the palm of the hand, and can not be dignified with the name of massage. In one of the Gahuni formulas for treating snake bites (page 351) the operator is told to rub in a direction contrary to that in which the snake coils itself, because "this is just the same as uncoiling it." Blowing upon the part affected, as well as upon the head, hands, and other parts of the body, is also an important feature of the ceremonial performance. In one of the formulas it is specified that the doctor must blow first upon the right hand of the patient, then upon the left foot, then upon the left hand, and finally upon the right foot, thus making an imaginary cross.

Bathing in the running stream, or "going to water," as it is called, is one of their most frequent medico-religious ceremonies, and is performed on a great variety of occasions, such as at each new moon, before eating the new food at the green corn dance, before the medicine dance and other ceremonial dances before and after the ball play, in connection with the prayers for long life, to counteract the effects of bad dreams or the evil spells of an enemy, and as a part of the regular treatment in various diseases. The details of the ceremony are very elaborate and vary according to the purpose for which it is performed, but in all cases both shaman and client are fasting from the previous evening, the ceremony being generally performed just at daybreak. The bather usually dips completely under the water four or seven times, but in some cases it is sufficient to pour the water from the hand upon the head and breast. In the ball play the ball sticks are dipped into the water at the same time. While the bather is in the water the shaman is going through with his part of the performance on the bank and draws omens from the motion of the beads between his thumb and

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finger, or of the fishes in the water. Although the old customs are fast dying out this ceremony is never neglected at the ball play, and is also strictly observed by many families on occasion of eating the new corn, at each new moon, and on other special occasions, even when it is necessary to break the ice in the stream for the purpose, and to the neglect of this rite the older people attribute many of the evils which have come upon the tribe in later days. The latter part of autumn is deemed the most suitable season of the year for this ceremony, as the leaves which then cover the surface of the stream are supposed to impart their medicinal virtues to the water.

SHAMANS AND WHITE PHYSICIANS.
Of late years, especially since the establishment of schools among them, the Cherokees are gradually beginning to lose confidence in the abilities of their own doctors and are becoming more disposed to accept treatment from white physicians. The shamans are naturally jealous of this infringement upon their authority and endeavor to prevent the spread of the heresy by asserting the convenient doctrine that the white man's medicine is inevitably fatal to an Indian unless eradicated from the system by a continuous course of treatment for four years under the hands of a skillful shaman. The officers of the training school established by the Government a few years ago met with considerable difficulty on this account for some time, as the parents insisted on removing the children at the first appearance of illness in order that they might be treated by the shamans, until convinced by experience that the children received better attention at the school than could possibly be had in their own homes. In one instance, where a woman was attacked by a pulmonary complaint akin to consumption, her husband, a man of rather more than the usual amount of intelligence, was persuaded to call in the services of a competent white physician, who diagnosed the case and left a prescription. On a second visit, a few days later, he found that the family, dreading the consequences of this departure from old customs, had employed a shaman, who asserted that the trouble was caused by a sharpened stick which some enemy bad caused to be imbedded in the woman's side. He accordingly began a series of conjurations for the removal of the stick, while the white physician and his medicine were disregarded, and in due time the woman died. Two children soon followed her to the grave, from the contagion or the inherited seeds of the same disease, but here also the sharpened sticks were held responsible, and, notwithstanding the three deaths under such treatment, the husband and father, who was at one time a preacher still has faith in the assertions of the shaman. The appointment of a competent physician to look after the health of the Indians would go far to eradicate these false ideas and prevent

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much sickness and suffering; but, as the Government has made no such provision, the Indians, both on and off the reservation, excepting the children in the home school, are entirely without medical care.

MEDICINE DANCES.
The Cherokees have a dance known as the Medicine Dance, which is generally performed in connection with other dances when a number of people assemble for a night of enjoyment. It possesses no features of special interest and differs in no essential respect from a dozen other of the lesser dances. Besides this, however, there was another, known as the Medicine Boiling Dance, which, for importance and solemn ceremonial, was second only to the great Green Corn Dance. It has now been discontinued on the reservation for about twenty years. It took place in the fall, probably preceding the Green Corn Dance, and continued four days. The principal ceremony in connection with it was the drinking of a strong decoction of various herbs, which acted as a violent emetic and purgative. The usual fasting and going to water accompanied the dancing and medicine-drinking.

DESCRIPTION OF SYMPTOMS.
It is exceedingly difficult to obtain from the doctors any accurate statement of the nature of a malady, owing to the fact that their description of the symptoms is always of the vaguest character, while in general the name given to the disease by the shaman expresses only his opinion as to the occult cause of the trouble. Thus they have definite names for rheumatism, toothache, boils, and a few other ailments of like positive character, but beyond this their description of symptoms generally resolves itself into a statement that the patient has bad dreams, looks black around the eyes, or feels tired, while the disease is. assigned such names as "when they dream of snakes," "when they dream of fish," "when ghosts trouble them," "when something is making something else eat them," or "when the food is changed," i.e., when a witch causes it to sprout and grow in the body of the patient or transforms it into a lizard, frog, or sharpened stick.

THE PAY OF THE SHAMAN.
The consideration which the doctor receives for his services is called ugista'`tï, a word of doubtful etymology, but probably derived from the verb tsï'giû, "I take" or "I eat." In former times this was generally a deer-skin or a pair of moccasins, but is now a certain quantity of cloth, a garment, or a handkerchief. The shamans disclaim the idea that the ugista'`tï is pay, in our sense of the word, but assert that it is one of the agencies in the removal and banishment of the disease spirit. Their explanation is somewhat obscure, but

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the cloth seems to be intended either as an offering to the disease spirit, as a ransom to procure the release of his intended victim, or as a covering to protect the hand of a shaman while engaged in pulling the disease from the body of the patient. The first theory, which includes also the idea of vicarious atonement, is common to many primitive peoples. Whichever maybe the true explanation, the evil influence of the disease is believed to enter into the cloth, which must therefore be sold or given away by the doctor, as otherwise it will cause his death when the pile thus accumulating reaches the height of his head. No evil results seem to follow its transfer from the shaman to a third party. The doctor can not bestow anything thus received upon a member of his own family unless that individual gives him something in return. If the consideration thus received, however, be anything eatable, the doctor may partake along with the rest of the family. As a general rule the doctor makes no charge for his services, and the consideration is regarded as a free-will offering. This remark applies only to the medical practice, as the shaman always demands and receives a fixed remuneration for performing love charms, hunting ceremonials, and other conjurations of a miscellaneous character. Moreover, whenever the beads are used the patient must furnish a certain quantity of new cloth upon which to place them, and at the close of the ceremony the doctor rolls up the cloth, beads and all, and takes them away with him. The cloth thus received by the doctor for working with the beads must not be used by him, but must be sold. In one instance a doctor kept a handkerchief which he received for his services, but instead sold a better one of his own. Additional cloth is thus given each time the ceremony is repeated, each time a second four days' course of treatment is begun, and as often as the doctor sees fit to change his method of procedure. Thus, when he begins to treat a sick man for a disease caused by rabbits, he expects to receive a certain ugista'`tï; but, should he decide after a time that the terrapin or the red bird is responsible for the, trouble, he adopts a different course of treatment, for which another ugista'`tï is necessary. Should the sickness not yield readily to his efforts, it is because the disease animal requires a greater ugista'`tï, and the quantity of cloth must be doubled, so that on the whole the doctrine is a very convenient one for the shaman. In many of the formulas explicit directions are given as to the pay which the shaman is to receive for performing the ceremony. In one of the Gatigwanasti formulas, after specifying the amount of cloth to be paid, the writer of it makes the additional proviso that it must be "pretty good cloth, too," asserting as a clincher that "this is what the old folks said a long time ago."

The ugista'`tï can not be paid by either one of a married couple to the other, and, as it is considered a necessary accompaniment of the application, it follows that a shaman can not treat his own wife in

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sickness, and vice versa. Neither can the husband or wife of the sick person send for the doctor, but the call must come from some one of the blood relatives of the patient. In one instance within the writer's knowledge a woman complained that her husband was very sick and needed a doctor's attention, but his relatives were taking no steps in the matter and it was not permissible for her to do so.

CEREMONIES FOR GATHERING PLANTS AND PREPARING MEDICINE.
There are a number of ceremonies and regulations observed in connection with the gathering of the herbs, roots, and barks, which can not be given in detail within the limits of this paper. In searching for his medicinal plants the shaman goes provided with a number of white and red beads, and approaches the plant from a certain direction, going round it from right to left one or four times, reciting certain prayers the while. He then pulls up the plant by the roots and drops one of the beads into the hole and covers it up with the loose earth. In one of the formulas for hunting ginseng the hunter addresses the mountain as the "Great Man" and assures it that he comes only to take a small piece of flesh (the ginseng) from its side, so that it seems probable that the bead is intended as a compensation to the earth for the plant thus torn from her bosom. In some cases the doctor must pass by the first three plants met until he comes to the fourth, which he takes and may then return for the others. The bark is always taken from the east side of the tree, and when the root or branch is used it must also be one which runs out toward the east, the reason given being that these have imbibed more medical potency from the rays of the sun.

When the roots, herbs, and barks which enter into the prescription have been thus gathered the doctor ties them up into a convenient package, which he takes to a running stream and casts into the water with appropriate prayers. Should the package float, as it generally does, he accepts the fact as an omen that his treatment will be successful. On the other band, should it sink, he concludes that some part of the preceding ceremony has been improperly carried out and at once sets about procuring a new package, going over the whole performance from the beginning. Herb-gathering by moonlight, so important a feature in European folk medicine, seems to be no part of Cherokee ceremonial. There are fixed regulations in regard to the preparing of the decoction, the care of the medicine during the continuance of the treatment, and the disposal of what remains after the treatment is at an end. In the arrangement of details the shaman frequently employs the services of a lay assistant. Id these degenerate days a number of upstart pretenders to the healing art have arisen in the tribe and endeavor to impose upon the ignorance of their fellows by posing as doctors, although knowing

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next to nothing of the prayers and ceremonies, without which there can be no virtue in the application. These impostors are sternly frowned down and regarded with the utmost contempt by the real professors, both men and women, who have been initiated into the sacred mysteries and proudly look upon themselves as conservators of the ancient ritual of the past.

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

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

Among what may be classed as elemental gods the principal are fire, water, and the sun, all of which are addressed under figurative names. The sun is called Une'`lanû'hï, "the apportioner," just as our word moon means originally "the measurer." Indians and Aryans alike, having noticed how these great luminaries divide and measure day and night, summer and winter, with never varying regularity, have given to each a name which should indicate these characteristics, thus showing how the human mind constantly moves on along the same channels. Missionaries have naturally, but incorrectly, assumed this apportioner of all things to be the suppositional "Great Spirit" of the Cherokees and hence the word is used in the Bible translation as synonymous with God. In ordinary conversation and in the lesser myths the sun is called

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Nû'ntâ. The sun is invoked chiefly by the ball-player, while the hunter prays to the fire; but every important ceremony--whether connected with medicine, love, hunting, or the ball play--contains a prayer to the "Long Person," the formulistic name for water, or, more strictly speaking, for the river. The wind, the storm, the cloud, and the frost are also invoked in different formulas.

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

A number of personal deities are also invoked, the principal being the Red Man. He is one of the greatest of the gods, being repeatedly called upon in formulas of all kinds, and is hardly subordinate to the Fire, the Water, or the Sun. His identity is as yet uncertain, but he seems to be intimately connected with the Thunder family. In a curious marginal note in one of the Gahuni formulas (page 350), it is stated that when the patient is a woman the doctor must pray to the Red Man, but when treating a man he must pray to the Red Woman, so that this personage seems to have dual sex characteristics. Another god invoked in the hunting songs is Tsu'l`kalû', or "Slanting Eyes" (see Cherokee Myths), a giant hunter who lives in one of the great mountains of the Blue Ridge and owns all the game. Others are the Little Men, probably the two Thunder boys; the Little People, the fairies who live in the rock cliffs; and even the De'tsata, a diminutive sprite who holds the place of our Puck. One unwritten formula, which could not be obtained correctly by dictation, was addressed to the "Red-Headed Woman, whose hair hangs down to the ground."

The personage invoked is always selected in accordance with the theory of the formula and the duty to be performed. Thus, when a sickness is caused by a fish, the Fish-hawk, the Heron, or some other fish-eating bird is implored to come and seize the intruder and destroy it, so that the patient may find relief. When the trouble is caused by a worm or an insect, some insectivorous bird is called in for the same purpose. When a flock of redbirds is pecking at the vitals of the sick man the Sparrow-hawk is brought down to scatter them, and when the rabbit, the great mischief-maker, is the evil genius, he is driven out by the Rabbit-hawk. Sometimes after the intruder has been thus expelled "a small portion still remains," in the words of the formula, and accordingly the Whirlwind is called

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down from the treetops to carry the remnant to the uplands and there scatter it so that it shall never reappear. The hunter prays to the fire, from which he draws his omens; to the reed, from which he makes his arrows; to Tsu'l`kalû, the great lord of the game, and finally addresses in songs the very animals which he intends to kill. The lover prays to the Spider to hold fast the affections of his beloved one in the meshes of his web, or to the Moon, which looks down upon him in the dance. The warrior prays to the Red War-club, and the man about to set out on a dangerous expedition prays to the Cloud to envelop him and conceal him from his enemies.

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

COLOR SYMBOLISM.
Color symbolism plays an important part in the shamanistic system of the Cherokees, no less than in that of other tribes. Each one of the cardinal points has its corresponding color and each color its symbolic meaning, so that each spirit invoked corresponds in color and local habitation with the characteristics imputed to him, and is connected with other spirits of the same name, but of other colors, living in other parts of the upper world and differing widely in their characteristics. Thus the Red Man, living in the east, is the spirit of power, triumph, and success, but the Black Man, in the West, is the spirit of death. The shaman therefore invokes the Red Man to the assistance of his client and consigns his enemy to the fatal influences of the Black Man.

The symbolic color system of the Cherokees, which will be explained more fully in connection with the formulas, is as follows:


East
red
success; triumph.

North
blue
defeat; trouble.

West
black
death.

South
white
peace; happiness.

Above?
brown
unascertained, but propitious.

---------
yellow
about the same as blue.





There is a great diversity in the color systems of the various tribes, both as to the location and significance of the colors, but for obvious reasons black was generally taken as the symbol of death, while white and red signified, respectively, peace and war. It is somewhat

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remarkable that red was the emblem of power and triumph among the ancient Oriental nations no less than among the modern Cherokees.[1]

IMPORTANCE ATTACHED TO NAMES.
In many of the formulas, especially those relating to love and to life-destroying, the shaman mentions the name and clan of his client, of the intended victim, or of the girl whose affections it is desired to win. The Indian regards his name, not as a mere label, but as a distinct part of his personality, just as much as are his eyes or his teeth, and believes that injury will result as surely from the malicious handling of his name as from a wound inflicted on any part of his physical organism. This belief was found among the various tribes from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and has occasioned a number of curious regulations in regard to the concealment and change of names. It may be on this account that both Powhatan and Pocahontas are known in history under assumed appellations, their true names having been concealed from the whites until the pseudonyms were too firmly established to be supplanted. Should his prayers have no apparent effect when treating a patient for some serious illness, the shaman sometimes concludes that the name is affected, and accordingly goes to water, with appropriate ceremonies, and christens the patient with a new name, by which he is henceforth to be known. He then begins afresh, repeating the formulas with the new name selected for the patient, in the confident hope that his efforts will be crowned with success.

LANGUAGE OF THE FORMULAS.
A few words remain to be said in regard to the language of the formulas. They are full of archaic and figurative expressions, many of which are unintelligible to the common people, and some of which even the shamans themselves are now unable to. explain. These archaic forms, like the old words used by our poets, lend a peculiar beauty which can hardly be rendered in a translation. They frequently throw light on the dialectic evolution of the language, as many words found now only in the nearly extinct Lower Cherokee dialect occur in formulas which in other respects are written in the Middle or Upper dialect. The R sound, the chief distinguishing characteristic of the old Lower dialect, of course does not occur, as there are no means of indicating it in the Cherokee syllabary. Those who are accustomed to look to the Bible for all beauty in sacred

[1. For more in regard to color symbolism, see Mallery's Pictographs of the North American Indians in Fourth Report of the Bureau of Ethnology, pp. 53-57, Washington, 1886; Gatschet's Creek Migration Legend, vol. 2, pp. 31-41, St. Louis, 1888; Brinton's Kiche Myths in Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, vol. 19, pp. 646-647, Philadelphia, 1882.]

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expression will be surprised to find that these formulas abound in the loftiest flights of poetic imagery. This is especially true of the prayers used to win the love of a woman or to destroy the life of an enemy, in which we find such expressions as--"Now your soul fades away--your spirit shall grow less and dwindle away, never to reappear;" "Let her be completely veiled in loneliness--O Black Spider, may you hold her soul in your web, so that it may never get through the meshes;" and the final declaration of the lover, "Your soul has come into the very center of my soul, never to turn away."

In the translation it has been found advisable to retain as technical terms a few words which could not well be rendered literally, such as ada'wëhï and ugistâ'`tï. These words will be found explained in the proper place. Transliterations of the Cherokee text of the formulas are given, but it must be distinctly understood that the translations are intended only as free renderings of the spirit of the originals, exact translations with grammatic and glossarial notes being deferred until a more extended study of the language has been made, when it is hoped to present with more exactness of detail the whole body of the formulas, of which the specimens here given are but a small portion.

The facsimile formulas are copies from the manuscripts now in possession of the Bureau of Ethnology, and the portraits are from photographs taken by the author in the field.

SPECIMEN FORMULAS.
NOTE ON THE ORTHOGRAPHY AND TRANSLATION.
In the Cherokee text both d and g have a medial sound, approximating the sounds of t and k respectively. The other letters are pronounced in regular accordance with the alphabet of the Bureau of Ethnology. The language abounds in nasal and aspirate sounds, the most difficult of the latter being the aspirate `l, which to one familiar only with English sounds like tl.


A few words whose meaning could not be satisfactorily ascertained have been distinctively indicated in the Cherokee text by means of italics. In the translation the corresponding expression has been queried, or the space left entirely blank. On examining the text the student can not fail to be struck by the great number of verbs ending in iga. This is a peculiar form hardly ever used excepting in these formulas, where almost every paragraph contains one or more such verbs. It implies that the subject has just come and is now performing the action, and that he came for that purpose. In addition to this, many of these verbs may be either assertive or imperative (expressing entreaty), according to the accent. Thus hatû'n-gani'ga means "you have just come and are listening and it is for that purpose you came." By slightly accenting the final syllable it becomes "come at once to listen." It will thus be seen that the great majority of the formulas are declarative rather than petitional in form-laudatory rhapsodies instead of prayers, in the ordinary sense of the word.

MEDICINE.
DIDÛnLË'SKÏ ADANÛn'WÂTÏ KANÂHË'SKÏ.
Sgë! Ha-Nûndûgiû'nyï tsûl`dâ'histï, Gi`lï Gigage'ï, hanâ'gwa hatû'ngani'ga usïnuli'yu. Hida'wëhi-gâgû', gahu'stï tsan'ultï nige'sûnna. Ha-diskwûlti'yû tï'nanugagï', ase'gwû nige'sûnna tsagista'`tï adûnni'ga. Ulsg'eta hûnhihyû'nstani'ga. Ha-usdig'iyu-gwû ha-e'la-wastû'n iyû'nta dûhilâ'hïstani'ga.

Sgë! Ha-Uhûntsâ'yï tsûl`dâ'histï Gi`lï Sa`ka'nï, hanâ'gwa ha-tû'ngani'ga usïnuli'yu. Hida'wëhi-gâgû', gahu'stï tsanu'ltï nige'sûnna. Diskwûlti'yû ti'nanugai', ase'gwû nige'sûnna tsagista'`tï adûnni'ga. Ulsge'ta hûnhihyûnstani'ga, Ha-usdigi'yu-gwû ha-e'la-wastû'n iyû'ta dûhitâ'hïstani'ga.

Sgë! (Ha)-Usûhi'(-yï) tsûl`dâ'histï, Gi`l'ï Gûnnage'ï, hanâ'gwa hatû'ngani'ga usïnuli'yû. Hida'wëhi-gâgû', gahu'sti tsanu'ltï nige'sû'nna. Diskwûlti'yû tinanugagï', ase'gwû nige'sûnna tsagista'`tï adûnni'ga. Ulsg'eta hûnhihyûnstani'ga. Ha-usdigi'yu-gwû ha-e'la-wastû'n iyû'nta dûhitâ'hïstani'ga.

Sgë! Wa'halä' tsûl`dâ'histï, Gi'`lï Tsûne'ga, hanâ'gwa hatû'ngani'ga usïliuli'yu. Hida'wëhi-gâgû', gahu'stï tsanû'ltï nige'sûnna. Diskwûlti'yû ti'nanugagï', ase'gwû nige'sûnna tsagista'`tï adûnni'ga. Ha-ulsge'ta hûnhihyû'nstani'ga. Ha-usdigi'yu-gwû e'lawastû'n iyû'nta dûhità'hïstani'ga.

Sgë! Wa'halä tsûl`dâ'histï Tû'ksï Tsûne'ga, hanâ'gwa hatû'ngani'ga usïnuli'yu. Hida'wëhi-gâgû', gahu'stï tsanu'ltï nige'sûnna. Ha-kâ'lû gayûske'la tsatûn'neli'ga. Utsïna'wa nulatänûnta.

(Degâsisisgû'nï.)--Tûksï uhya'ska gûnsta`tï' na'skï igahi'ta gûnstâ'ï hï'skï iyuntale'gï tsûntûngi'ya. Ûnskwû'ta kïlû' atsâ'tastï sâ'gwa iyûtsâ'tastï, nû'`kï igû'nkta`tï, naski-gwû' diûnlë'nïskâhï' igûnyi'yï tsale'nihû. Nû'`kine ûnskwû'ta kïlû' nû'`kï iyatsâ'tastï. Uhyaska'hi-`nû ade'la degû`laï tä'lï unine'ga-gwû' nû'nwâti-`nû' higûnehâ'ï uhyaskâ'hï usdi'a-gwû. Une'lagi-`nû sâï' agadâ'ï agadi'dï û'nti-gwû' yïkï' âsi'yu-gwû na'ski-`nû aganûnli'eskâ'ï da'gûnstanehû'nï ü`taâ'ta. Hiä`-nu:' nû'nwâtï: Yâ'na-Unatsësdâ'gï tsana'sehâ'ï sâ'i-`nû Kâ'ga-Asgû'ntagë tsana'sehâ'ï, sâi-`nû' Egû'nli-gwû, sâi-nû' (U)wa'sgilï tsïgï' Egû'nlï Usdi'a tsïgï', nûnyâ'hi-`nû tsuyë`dâ'ï Yâ'na-Utsësdâgï naskiyû' tsïgï', usdi'-gwû tsïgï'. Egû'nlï (u)wa'sgilï tsïgï'; sâ'ï Wâ'tige Unas(te')tsa tsïgï', sâ'i-`nû Û'nage Tsunaste'tsa, Niga'ta unaste'tsa gesâ'ï.

Sunale'-gwû ale'ndï adanû'nwâtï; tä'line e'ladï tsitkala'ï; tsâ'ine u'lsaladï'`satû'; nû'`kine igû' ts'kalâ'ï. Yeli'gwû' igesâ'ï. Nû'lstâiyanû'na gesâ'ï akanûnwi'skï, nasgwû' nulstaiyanû'na.

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Translation.
FORMULA FOR TREATING THE CRIPPLER (RHEUMATISM).
Listen! Ha! In the Sun Land you repose, O Red Dog, O now you have swiftly drawn near to hearken. O great ada'wëhï[1], you never fail in anything. O, appear and draw near running, for your prey never escapes. You are now come to remove the intruder. Ha! You have settled a very small part of it far off there at the end of the earth.

Listen! Ha! In the Frigid Land you repose, O Blue Dog. O now you have swiftly drawn near to hearken. O great ad'âw hï, you never fail in anything. O, appear and draw near running, for your prey never escapes. You are now come to remove the intruder. Ha! You have settled a very small part of it far off there at the end of the earth.

Listen! Ha! In the darkening land you repose, O Black Dog. O, now you have swiftly drawn near to hearken. O great ada'wëhi, you never fail in anything. O, appear and draw near running, for your prey never escapes. You are now come to remove the intruder. Ha! You have settled a very small part of it far off there at the end of the earth.

Listen! On Wa'halä you repose, O White Dog. Oh, now you have swiftly drawn near to hearken. O great ada'wëhï, you never fail in anything. Oh, appear and draw near running, for your prey never escapes. You are now come to remove the intruder. Ha! You have settled a very small part of it far off there at the end of the earth.

Listen! On Wa'halä, you repose, O White Terrapin. O, now you have swiftly drawn near to hearken. O great ada'wëhï, you never fail in anything. Ha! It is for you to loosen its hold on the bone. Relief is accomplished.

(Prescription.)--Lay a terrapin shell upon (the spot) and keep it there while the five kinds (of spirits) listen. On finishing, then blow once. Repeat four times, beginning each time from the start. On finishing the fourth time, then blow four times. Have two white beads lying in the shell, together with a little of the medicine. Don't interfere with it, but have a good deal boiling in another vessel--a bowl will do very well--and rub it on warm while treating by applying the hands. And this is the medicine: What is called Yâ'na-Utsë'sta ("bear's bed," the Aspidium acrostichoides or Christmas fern); and the other is called Kâ'ga-Asgû'ntagï ("crow's shin," the Adianthum pedatum or Maidenhair fern); and the other is the common Egû'nlï (another fern); and the other is the Little Soft (-leaved) Egû'nlï (Osmunda Cinnamonea or cinnamon fern), which grows in the rocks and resembles Yâna-Utsë'sta and is a small and soft (-leaved) Egû'nlï. Another has brown roots and another has black roots. The roots of all should be (used).

Begin doctoring early in the morning; let the second (application) be while the sun is still near the horizon; the third when it has risen to a considerable height (10 a. m.); the fourth when it is above at noon. This is sufficient. (The doctor) must not eat, and the patient also must be fasting.

[1. Ada'wëhï is a word used to designate one supposed to have supernatural powers, and is applied alike to human beings and to the spirits invoked in the formulas. Some of the mythic heroes famous for their magic deeds are spoken of as ada'wëhï (plural anida'wëhï or anida'we), but in its application to mortals the term is used only of the very greatest shamans. None of those now belonging to the band are considered worthy of being thus called, although the term was sometimes applied to one, Usawï, who died some years ago. In speaking of himself as an ada'wëhï, as occurs in some of the formulas, the shaman arrogates to himself the same powers that belong to the gods. Our nearest equivalent is the word magician, but this falls far short of the idea conveyed by the Cherokee word. In the bible translation the word is used as the equivalent of angel or spirit.]

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Explanation.
As this formula is taken from the manuscript of Gahuni, who died nearly thirty years ago, no definite statement of the theory of the disease, or its treatment, can be given, beyond what is contained in the formula itself, which, fortunately, is particularly explicit; most doctors contenting themselves with giving only the words of the prayer, without noting the ceremonies or even the medicine used. There are various theories as to the cause of each disease, the most common idea in regard to rheumatism being that it is caused by the spirits of. the slain animals, generally the deer, thirsting for vengeance on the hunter, as has been already explained in the myth of the origin of disease and medicine.

The measuring-worm (Catharis) is also held to cause rheumatism, from the resemblance of its motions to those of a rheumatic patient, and the name of the worm wahïlï' is frequently applied also to the disease.

There are formulas to propitiate the slain animals, but these are a part of the hunting code and can only be noticed here, although it may be mentioned in passing that the hunter, when about to return to the settlement, builds a fire in the path behind him, in order that the deer chief may not be able to follow him to his home. The disease, figuratively called the intruder (ulsgéta), is regarded as a living being, and the verbs used in speaking of it show that it is considered to be long, like a snake or fish. It is brought by the deer chief and put into the body, generally the limbs, of the hunter, who at once begins to suffer intense pain. It can be driven out only by some more powerful animal spirit which is the natural enemy of the deer, usually the dog or the wolf. These animal gods live up above beyond the seventh heaven and are the great prototypes of which the earthly animals are only diminutive copies. They are commonly located at the four cardinal points, each of which has a peculiar formulistic name and a special color which applies to everything in the same connection. Thus the east, north, west, and south are respectively the Sun Land, the Frigid Land, the Darkening Land, and Wä'halä', while their respective mythologic colors are Red, Blue, Black, and White. Wä'halä' is said to be a mountain far to the south. The white or red spirits are generally invoked for peace, health, and other blessings, the red alone for the success of an under taking, the blue spirits to defeat the schemes of an enemy or bring down troubles upon him, and the black to compass his death. The white and red spirits are regarded as the most powerful, and one of these two is generally called upon to accomplish the final result.

In this case the doctor first invokes the Red Dog in the Sun Land, calling him a great adáwehi, to whom nothing is impossible and who never fails to accomplish his purpose. He is addressed as if

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out of sight in the distance and is implored to appear running swiftly to the help of the sick man. Then the supplication changes to an assertion and the doctor declares that the Red Dog has already arrived to take the disease and has borne away a small portion of it to the uttermost ends of the earth. In the second, third, and fourth paragraphs the Blue Dog of the Frigid Land, the Black Dog of the Darkening Land, and the White Dog of Wä'halä' are successively invoked in the same terms and each bears away a portion of the disease and disposes of it in the same way. Finally, in the fifth paragraph, the White Terrapin of Wä'halä' is invoked. He bears off the remainder of the disease and the doctor declares that relief is accomplished. The connection of the terrapin in this formula is not evident, beyond the fact that he is regarded as having great influence in disease, and in this case the beads and a portion of the medicine are kept in a terrapin shell placed upon the diseased part while the prayer is being recited.

The formulas generally consist of four paragraphs, corresponding to four steps in the medical ceremony. In this case there are five, the last being addressed to the terrapin instead of to a dog. The prayers are recited in an undertone hardly audible at the distance of a few feet, with the exception of the frequent ha, which seems to be used as an interjection to attract attention and is always uttered in a louder tone. The beads--which are here white, symbolic of relief--are of common use in connection with these formulas, and are held between the thumb and finger, placed upon a cloth on the ground, or, as in this case, put into a terrapin shell along with a small portion of the medicine. According to directions, the shell has no other part in the ceremony.

The blowing is also a regular part of the treatment, the doctor either holding the medicine in his mouth and blowing it upon the patient, or, as it seems to be the case here, applying the medicine by rubbing, and blowing his breath upon the spot afterwards. In some formulas the simple blowing of the breath constitutes the whole application. In this instance the doctor probably rubs the medicine upon the affected part while reciting the first paragraph in a whisper, after which he blows once upon the spot. The other paragraphs are recited in the same manner, blowing once after each. In this way the whole formula is repeated four times, with four blows at the end of the final repetition. The directions imply that the doctor blows only at the end of the whole formula, but this is not in accord with the regular mode of procedure and seems to be a mistake.

The medicine consists of a warm decoction of the roots of four varieties of fern, rubbed on with the hand. The awkward description of the species shows how limited is the Indian's power of botanic classification. The application is repeated four times during the same morning, beginning just at daybreak and ending at noon. Four is the sacred

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number running through every detail of these formulas, there being commonly four spirits invoked in four paragraphs, four blowings with four final blows, four herbs in the decoction, four applications, and frequently four days' gaktun'ta or tabu. In this case no tabu is specified beyond the fact that both doctor and patient must be fasting. The tabu generally extends to salt or lye, hot food and women, while in rheumatism some doctors forbid the patient to eat the foot or leg of any animal, the reason given being that the limbs are generally the seat of the disease. For a similar reason the patient is also forbidden to eat or even to touch a squirrel, a buffalo, a eat, or any animal which "humps" itself. In the same way a scrofulous patient must not eat turkey, as that bird seems to have a scrofulous eruption on its head, while ball players must abstain from eating frogs, because the bones of that animal are brittle and easily broken.

HIÄ-NÛ' NASGWÛ' DIDÛnLË'SKÏ ADÂNÛ'nWÂTÏ.

Asga'ya yûkanû'nwï
Agë`ya Giagage'ï atätï';
agë'`ya-nû yûkanû'nwï
Asga'ya Gigage'ï atätï'.
Yû! Higë'`ya Gigage'ï tsûdante'lûhï gese'ï. Ulsge'ta hi'tsanu'y`tani'leï'. Ha-Nûndâgû'nyï nûnta'tsûdälenû'hï gese'ï. Gasgilâ' gigage'ï tsusdi'ga tetsadï'ilë' detsala'siditë-gë'ï. Hanâ'gwa usïnuli'yu detsaldisi'yûï.



Utsï(nä')wa nu'tatanû'nta. Usû'hita nutanû'na. Utsïnä'wa-gwû nigûntisge'stï.

(Degâ'sisisgû'nï)--Hiä-gwû' nigaû' kanâhe'ta. Nû'`kiha nagû'n-kw?tisgâ' dagû'nstiskû'ï. Sâ'gwa nûnskwiû'ta gûnstû'nï agûnstagi's-kâï hûntsatasgâ'ï nû'`kine-`nû ûnskwû'ta nû'`kï nûntsâtasgâ'ï. Hiâ`nû' nûnwâtï: Egû'nlï, Yâ'na-`nû Utsësdâ'gï, (U)wa'sgilï tsïgï' Egû'nlï, tä'lï tsinu'dalë'ha, Kâ'ga-`nû Asgû'ntagë tsiûnnâ'sehâ'ï, Da'yï-`nû Uwâ'yï tsiûnnâ'sehâ'ï. Su'talï iyutale'gï unaste'tsa agâ'tï, uga'nawû-`nû' dagûnsta'`tisgâ'ï nû'nwâtî asûnga`la'ï. Usû'hï adanû'nwâtï. nu'`kï tsusû'hita dulsi'nisû'n adanû'nwâtï. Ä`nawa'gi-`nû dilasula'gï gesû'nï ûlë' tsïkani'kaga'ï gûw`sdi'-gwû utsawa'ta ä`nawa'-gwû-nû'.

Hiä-nû' gaktû'nta gûlkwâ'gï tsusû'hita. Gû'nwädana'datlahistï' nige'sûnna--Salâ'lï, gi`li-`nû, wë'sa-'nû, ä'tatsû-nû', a'mä-'nû', ani-gë'`ya-nû. Uda`lï' ya'kanûnwi'ya nû'`kiha tsusû'hita unädanä'lâtsi-tustï nige'sûnna. Gasgilâ'gi-`nû uwä'sun-gwû' u'skïladi'stï uwä'sû nû'`kï tsusû'hitä'. Disâ'i-`nû dega'sgilâ û'ntsa nû`nä' uwa'`tï yigesûï nû'`kï tsusû'hita.

Translation.
AND THIS ALSO IS FOR TREATING THE CRIPPLER.
Yû! O Red Woman, you have caused it. You have put the intruder under him. Ha! now you have come from the Sun Land. You have brought the small red seats, with your feet resting upon them. Ha! now they have swiftly moved away from you. Relief is accomplished. Let it not be for one night alone. Let the relief come at once.

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(Prescription)--(corner note at top.) If treating a man one must say Red Woman, and if treating a woman one must say Red Man.

This is just all of the prayer. Repeat it four times while laying on the hands. After saying it over once, with the hands on (the body of the patient), take off the hands and blow once, and at the fourth repetition blow four times. And this is the medicine. Egû'nlï (a species of fern). Yâ'-na-Utsë'sta ("bear's bed," the Aspidium acrostichoides or Christmas fern), two varieties of the soft-(leaved) Egû'nlï (one, the small variety, is the Cinnamon fern, Osmunda cinnamonea), and what is called Kâ'ga Asgû'ntagë ("crow's shin," the Adiantum pedatum or Maidenhair fern) and what is called Da'yï-Uwâ'yï ("beaver's paw"--not identified). Boil the roots of the six varieties together and apply the hands warm with the medicine upon them. Doctor in the evening. Doctor four consecutive nights. (The pay) is cloth and moccasins; or, if one does not have them, just a little dressed deerskin and some cloth.

And this is the tabu for seven nights. One must not touch a squirrel, a dog, a cat, the mountain trout, or women. If one is treating a married man they (sic) must not touch his wife for four nights. And he must sit on a seat by himself for four nights, and must not sit on the other seats for four nights.

Explanation.
The treatment and medicine in this formula are nearly the same as in that just given, which is also for rheumatism, both being written by Gahuni. The prayer differs in several respects from any other obtained, but as the doctor has been dead for years it is impossible to give a full explanation of all the points. This is probably the only formula in the collection in which the spirit invoked is the "Red Woman," but, as explained in the corner note at the top, this is only the form used instead of "Red Man," when the patient is a man. The Red Man, who is considered perhaps the most powerful god in the Cherokee pantheon, is in some way connected with the thunder, and is invoked in a large number of formulas. The change in the formula, according to the sex of the patient, brings to mind a belief in Irish folk medicine, that in applying certain remedies the doctor and patient must be of opposite sexes. The Red Man lives in the east, in accordance with the regular mythologic color theory, as already explained. The seats also are red, and the form of the verb indicates that the Red Woman is either standing upon them (plural) or sitting with her feet resting upon the rounds. These seats or chairs are frequently mentioned in the formulas, and always correspond in color with the spirit invoked. It is not clear why the Red Woman is held responsible for the disease, which is generally attributed to the revengeful efforts of the game, as already explained. In agreement with the regular form, the disease is said to be put under (not into) the patient. The assertion that the chairs "have swiftly moved away" would seem from analogy to mean that the disease has been placed upon the seats and thus borne away. The verb implies that the seats move by their own volition. Immediately

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afterward it is declared that relief is accomplished. The expression "usû'hita nutanû'na" occurs frequently in these formulas, and may mean either "let it not be for one night alone," or "let it not stay a single night," according to the context.

The directions specify not only the medicine and the treatment, but also the doctor's fee. From the form of the verb the tabu, except as regards the seat to be used by the sick person, seems to apply to both doctor and patient. It is not evident why the mountain trout is prohibited, but the dog, squirrel, and cat are tabued, as already explained, from the fact that these animals frequently assume positions resembling the cramped attitude common to persons afflicted by rheumatism. The cat is considered especially uncanny, as coming from the whites. Seven, as well as four, is a sacred number with the tribe, being also the number of their gentes. It will be noted that time is counted by nights instead of by days.

HIÂ' I'NATÛ YUNISKÛ'LTSA ADANÛ'NWÂTÎ.
1. Dûnu'wa, dûnu'wa, dûnu'wa, dûnu'wa, dûnu'wa, dûnu'wa (song).
Sgë! Ha-Walâ'sï-gwû tsûnlû'ntani'ga.
2. Dayuha, dayuha, dayuha, dayuha dayuha (song).
Sgë! Ha-Usugï-gwû tsûn-lûn'-tani'ga.

(Degâ'sisisgû'nï).--Kanâgi'ta nâyâ'ga hiä' dilentisg'ûnï. Ta'lï igû'n-kw?ta`tï, ûlë' talinë' tsutanû'nna nasgwû' tâ'lï igû'nkw?ta`tï'. Tsâ'la aganû'nlieskâï' tsâ'la yikani'gûngû'âï' watsi'la-gwû ganûnli'yëtï uniskûl`tsû'nï. Nû'`kï nagade'stisgâï' aganûnli'esgûnï. Akskû'nï gades-t'a`tï, nûû`kï nagade' sta hûntsatasgâ'ï. Hiä-`nû' i'natû akti'sï udestâ'ï yigû'n`ka, naski-`nû' tsagadû'lägisgâ'ï iyu'stï gatgû'ni.

Translation.
THIS IS TO TREAT THEM IF THEY ARE BITTEN BY A SNAKE.
1. Dûnu'wa, dûnu'wa, dûnu'wa, dûnu'wa, dûnu'wa, dûnu'wa.
Listen! Ha! It is only a common frog which has passed by and put it (the intruder) into you.
2. Dayuha', dayuha, dayuha, dayuha, dayuha.
Listen! Ha! It is only an Us'`gï which has passed by and put it into you.

(Prescription.)--Now this at the beginning is a song. One should say it twice and also say the second line twice. Rub tobacco (juice) on the bite for some time, or if there be no tobacco just rub on saliva once. In rubbing it on, one must go around four times. Go around toward the left and blow four times in a circle. This is because in lying down the snake always coils to the right and this is just the same (lit. "means like") as uncoiling it.

Explanation.
This is also from the manuscript book of Gahuni, deceased, so that no explanation could be obtained from the writer. The formula consists of a song of two verses, each followed by a short recitation.

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The whole is repeated, according to the directions, so as to make four verses or songs; four, as already stated, being the sacred number running through most of these formulas. Four blowings and four circuits in the rubbing are also specified. The words used in the songs are sometimes composed of unmeaning syllables, but in this case dûnuwa and dayuha seem to have a meaning, although neither the interpreter nor the shaman consulted could explain them, which may be because the words have become altered in the song, as frequently happens. Dûnu'wa appears to be an old verb, meaning "it has penetrated," probably referring to the tooth of the reptile. These medicine songs are always sung in a low plaintive tone, somewhat resembling a lullaby. Usu'`gï also is without explanation, but is probably the name of some small reptile or batrachian.

As in this case the cause of the trouble is evident, the Indians have no theory to account for it. It may be remarked, however, that when one dreams of being bitten, the same treatment and ceremonies must be used as for the actual bite; otherwise, although perhaps years afterward, a similar inflammation will appear on the spot indicated in the dream, and will be followed by the same fatal consequences, The rattlesnake is regarded as a supernatural being or ada'wehi, whose favor must be propitiated, and great pains are taken not to offend him. In consonance with this idea it is never said among the people that a person has been bitten by a snake, but that he has been "scratched by a brier." In the same way, when an eagle has been shot for a ceremonial dance, it is announced that "a snowbird has been killed," the purpose being to deceive the rattlesnake or eagle spirits which might be listening.

The assertion that it is "only a common frog" or" only an Usu'?gï brings out another characteristic idea of these formulas. Whenever the ailment is of a serious character, or, according to the Indian theory, whenever it is due to the influence of some powerful disease spirit the doctor always endeavors to throw contempt upon the intruder, and convince it of his own superior power by asserting the sickness to be the work of some inferior being, just as a white physician might encourage a patient far gone with consumption by telling him that the, illness was only a slight cold. Sometimes there is a regular scale of depreciation, the doctor first ascribing the disease to a rabbit or groundhog or some other weak animal, then in succeeding paragraphs mentioning other still less important animals and finally declaring it to be the work of a mouse, a small fish, or some other insignificant creature. In this instance an ailment caused by the rattlesnake, the most dreaded of the animal spirits, is ascribed to a frog, one of the least importance.

In applying the remedy the song is probably sung while rubbing the tobacco juice around the wound. Then the short recitation is repeated and the doctor blows four times in a circle about the spot.

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The whole ceremony is repeated four times. The curious directions for uncoiling the snake have parallels in European folk medicine.

GÛnWÂNI'GISTÂ'Ï ADANU'nWÂTÏ.
Sgë! Ha-tsida'wëiyu, gahus'tï aginúl`tï nige'sûnna. Gûngwäda-g'anad?diyû' tsida'wëi'yu. Ha-Wähuhu'-gwû hitagu'sgastanë`hëï. Ha-nâ'gwa hü`kikahûnnû' ha-dustü'`gahï digesû'nï, iyû'nta wûn`kidâ'-hïstani'ga.

Sgë! Ha-tsida'wëi'yu, gahu'stï aginu'l`tï nige'sûnna. Gûngwä-daga'nad?diyû' tsida'wëi'yu. Ha-Uguku'-gwû hitagu'sgastanë'heï' udâhi'yu tag'u'sgastanë'hëï'. Ha-na'gwadi'na hûnkikahûnnû'. Hanânâ'hï digesû'nï, iyû'nta wûn`kidâ'hïstani'ga.

Sgë! Ha-tsida'wëi'yu, gahu'stï aginu'l`tï nige'sûnna. Gûngwäda-ga'nad?diyû tsida'wëi'yu. Ha-Tsistu-gwû hitagu'sgastanë'hë'ï udâhi'yu tagu'sgastanë'hëï'. Ha-nâ'gwadi'na hû'nkikahû'nnû. Ha-sunûnda'sï iyû'nta kane'skawâ'dihï digesû'nï, wûn`kidâ'hïstani'ga.

Sgë! Ha-tsida'wëi'yu, gahu'stï aginu'l`tï nige'sûnna. Gûngwädaga'nad?di'yû tsida'wëi'yu. Ha-De'tsata'-gwû (hi)tagu'sgastanë'hëï udâhi'yu tagu'sgastanë'hëï'. Ha-nâ'gwadi'na hûnkikahû'nna. Ha-udâ'tale'ta digesû'nï, iyû'nta wûn`kidâ'hïstani'ga.

(Degâ'sisisgû'nï)-Hiä'-skïnï' unsdi'ya dïkanû'nwâtï tsa`natsa'yihâ'ï tsaniska'iha'ï; gûnwani'gista'ï hi'anûdï'sgaï'. Ämä' dûtsati'stïsgâ'ï nû'`kï tsusû'hita dïkanû'nwâtï Ulsinide'na dakanû'nwisgâ'ï. Û'ntsa iyû'nta witunini'dastï yigesâ'ï.

Translation.
TO TREAT THEM WHEN SOMETHING IS CAUSING SOMETHING TO EAT THEM.
Listen! Ha! I am a great ada'wehi, I never fail in anything. I surpass all others-I am a great ada'wehi. Ha! It is a mere screech owl that has frightened him. Ha! now I have put it away in the laurel thickets. There I compel it to remain,

Listen! Ha! I am a great ada'wehi, I never fail in anything. I surpass all others--I am a great ada'wehi. Ha! It is a mere hooting owl that has frightened him. Undoubtedly that has frightened him. Ha! At once I have put it away in the spruce thickets. Ha! There I compel it to remain.

Listen! Ha! I am a great ada'wehi, I never fail in anything. I surpass all others--I am a great ada'wehi. Ha! It is only a rabbit that has frightened him. Undoubtedly that has frightened him. Ha! Instantly I have put it away on the mountain ridge. Ha! There in the broom sage I compel it to remain.

Listen! Ha! I am a great ada'wehi, I never fail in anything. I surpass all others--I am a great ada'wehi. Ha! It is only a mountain sprite that has frightened him. Undoubtedly that has frightened him. Ha! Instantly I have put it away on the bluff. Ha! There I compel it to remain.

(Prescription)--Now this is to treat infants if they are affected by crying and nervous fright. (Then) it is said that something is causing something to eat them. To treat them one may blow water on them for four nights. Doctor them just before dark. Be sure not to carry them about outside the house.

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Explanation.
The Cherokee name for this disease is Gunwani'gistâï', which signifies that "something is causing something to eat," or gnaw the vitals of the patient. The disease attacks only infants of tender age and the symptoms are nervousness and troubled sleep, from which the child wakes suddenly crying as if frightened. The civilized doctor would regard these as symptoms of the presence of worms, but although the Cherokee name might seem to indicate the same belief, the real theory is very different.

Cherokee mothers sometimes hush crying children by telling them that the screech owl is listening out in the woods or that the De'tsata--a malicious little dwarf who lives in caves in the river bluffs--will come and get them. This quiets the child for the time and is so far successful, but the animals, or the De'tsata, take offense at being spoken of in this way, and visit their displeasure upon the children born to the mother afterward. This they do by sending an animal into the body of the child to gnaw its vitals. The disease is very common and there are several specialists who devote their attention to it, using various formulas and prescriptions. It is also called ätawi'nëhï, signifying that it is caused by the "dwellers in the forest," i. e., the wild game and birds, and some doctors declare that it is caused by the revengeful comrades of the animals, especially birds, killed by the father of the child, the animals tracking the slayer to his home by the blood drops on the leaves. The next formula will throw more light upon this theory.

In this formula the doctor, who is certainly not overburdened with modesty, starts out by asserting that he is a great ada'wehi, who never fails and who surpasses all others. He then declares that, the disease is caused by a more screech owl, which he at once banishes to the laurel thicket. In the succeeding paragraphs he reiterates his former boasting, but asserts in turn that the trouble is caused by a mere hooting owl, a rabbit, or even by the De'tsata, whose greatest exploit is hiding the arrows of the boys, for which the youthful hunters do not hesitate to rate him soundly. These various mischief-makers the doctor banishes to their proper haunts, the hooting owl to the spruce thicket, the rabbit to the broom sage. on the mountain side, and the, De'tsata to the bluffs along the river bank.

Some doctors use herb decoctions, which are blown upon the body of the child, but in this formula the only remedy prescribed is water, which must be blown upon the body of the little sufferer just before dark for four nights. The regular method is to blow once each at the end of the first, second, and third paragraphs and four times at the end of the fourth or last. In diseases of this kind, which are not supposed to be of a local character, the doctor blows

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first upon the back of the head, then upon the left shoulder, next upon the right shoulder, and finally upon the breast, the patient being generally sitting, or propped up in bed, facing the east. The child must not be taken out of doors during the four days, because should a bird chance to fly overhead so that its shadow would fall upon the infant, it would fan the disease back into the body of the little one.

GÛnWANI'GISTÛ'nÏ DITANÛnWÂTI'YÏ.
Yû! Sgë! Usïnu'lï hatû'ngani'ga, Giya'giya' Sa`ka'nï, ew?satâ'gï tsûl`dâ'histï. Usïnu'lï hatlasi'ga. Tsis'kwa-gwû' ulsge'ta uwu'tlani`lëï'. Usïnuli'yu atsahilu'gïsi'ga. Utsïnä'wa nu'tatanû'nta. Yü!

Yû! Sgë! Usïnu'lï hatûngani'ga, Diga'tiskï Wâtige'ï, galû'nlatï iyû'nta ditsûl`dâ'histï. Ha-nâ'gwa usïnu'lï hatlasi'ga. Tsi'skwa-gwû dïtu'nila'-w?itsû'hï higese'ï. Usïnûlï kë'`tati'gû`lahi'ga. Utsïnä'wa adûnni'ga. Yû!

Translation.
TO TREAT GÛnWANI'GISTÛ'nÏ--(SECOND).
Yû! Listen! Quickly you have drawn near to hearken, O Blue Sparrow-Hawk; in the spreading tree tops you are at rest. Quickly you have come down. The intruder is only a bird which has, overshadowed him. Swiftly you have swooped down upon it. Relief is accomplished. Yû!

Yû! Listen! Quickly you have drawn near to hearken, O Brown Rabbit-Hawk; you are at rest there above. Ha! Swiftly now you have come down. It is only the birds which have come together for a council. Quickly you have come and scattered them. Relief is accomplished. Yû!

Explanation.
This formula, also for Gûnwani'gistû'nï or Atawinë'hï, was obtained from A`wan'ita (Young Deer), who wrote down only the prayer and explained the treatment orally. He coincides in the opinion that this disease in children is caused by the birds, but says that it originates from the shadow of a bird. flying overhead having fallen upon the pregnant mother. He says further that the disease is easily recognized in children, but that it sometimes does not develop until the child has attained maturity, when it is more difficult to discern the cause of the trouble, although in the latter case dark circles around the eyes are unfailing symptoms.

The prayer--like several others from the same source--seems incomplete, and judging from analogy is evidently incorrect in some respects, but yet exemplifies the disease theory in a striking manner. The disease is declared to have been caused by the birds, it being asserted in the first paragraph that a bird has cast its shadow upon the sufferer, while in the second it is declared that they have gathered in council (in his body). This latter is a favorite expression in these formulas to indicate the great number of the disease animals.

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Another expression of frequent occurrence is to the effect that the disease animals have formed a settlement or established a townhouse in the patient's body. The disease animal, being a bird or birds, must be dislodged by something which preys upon birds, and accordingly the Blue Sparrow-Hawk from the tree tops and the Brown Rabbit-Hawk (Diga'tiskï--"One who snatches up"), from above are invoked to drive out the intruders. The former is then said to have swooped down upon them as a hawk darts upon its prey, while the latter is declared to have scattered the birds which were holding a council. This being done, relief is accomplished. Yû! is a meaningless interjection frequently used to introduce or close paragraphs or songs.

The medicine used is a warm decoction of the bark of Kûnstû'tsï (Sassafras--Sassafras officinale), Kanûnsi'ta (Flowering Dogwood--Cornus florida), Udâ'lana (Service tree--Amelanchier Canadensis), and Uni'kwa (Black Gum--Nyssa multiflora), with the roots of two species (large and small) of Da'yakalï'skï (Wild Rose--Rosa lucida). The bark in every case is taken from the east side of the tree, and the roots selected are also generally, if not always, those growing toward the east. In this case the roots and barks are not bruised, but are simply steeped in warm water for four days. The child is then stripped and bathed all over with the decoction morning and night for four days, no formula being used during the bathing. It is then made to hold up its hands in front of its face with the palms turned out toward the doctor, who takes some of the medicine in his mouth and repeats the prayer mentally, blowing the medicine upon the head and hands of the patient at the, final Yû! of each paragraph. It is probable that the prayer originally consisted of four paragraphs, or else that these two paragraphs were repeated. The child drinks a little of the medicine at the end of each treatment.

The use of salt is prohibited during the four days of the treatment, the word (amä') being understood to include lye, which enters largely into Cherokee food preparations. No chicken or other feathered animal is allowed to enter the house during the same period, for obvious reasons, and strangers are excluded for reasons already explained.

HIA' DU'NIYUKWATISGÛnÎ KANA'HÈHÛ.
Sgë! Nûndâgû'nyï tsûl`dâ'histï, Kanani'ski Gigage. Usïnu'lï nû'nnâ gi'gage hïnûnni'ga. Hida'wëhi-gâgû', astï' digi'gage usïnû'lï dehïkssa'ûntani'ga. Ulsge'ta kane'ge kayu'`ga gesû'n, tsgâ'ya-gwû higese'ï. Ehïstï' hituwa'saniy?teï'. Usïnu'lï astï' digi'gage dehada'ûntani'ga, adi'na tsûlstai-yû'`ti-gwû higese'ï. Nâ'gwa gânagi'ta da'tsatane'lï. Utsïnä'wa nu'tatanû'nta nûntûneli'ga. Yû!

Hïgayû'nlï Tsûne'ga hatû'ngani'ga. "A'ya-gâgû' gatû'ngisge'stï tsûngili'sï deagwûlstawï'stitege'stï," tsadûnû'hï. Na'ski-gâgû' itsa'-

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wesû'hï nâ'gwa usïnu'lï hatû'ngani'ga. Utsïnä'wa nútatanû'ta nûntû'neli'ga. Yû!

Sgë! Uhyûntlâ'yï tsûl`dâ'histi Kanani'skï Sa`ka'nï. Usïnu'lï nû'nnâ sa`ka'nï hïnûnni'ga. Hida'wëhi-gâgû', astï' (di)sa'ka'nï usïnu'lï dehïksa'ûntani'ga. Ulsge'ta kane'ge kayu'`ga gesû'n, tsgâ'ya-gwû higese'ï. Ehïstï' hituwa'saniy?te(ï'). Usïnu'lï astï' disa`ka'nige dehada'ûntaniga, adi'na tsûlstai-yû'`ti-gwû higese'ï. Nâ'gwa tsgâ'ya gûnagi'ta tsûtûneli'ga. Utsïnä'wa nu'tatanû'nta nûntûneli'ga. Yû!

Hïgayû'nlï Tsûne'ga hatûngani'ga. "A'ya-gâgû' gatû'ngisge'stï tsûngili'sï deagwûlstawï'stitege'stï," tsadûnû'hï. Nas'kigâgû' itsawesû'hï nâ'gwa usïnu'lï hatû'ngani'ga. Utsïnä'wa nutatanû'nta nûntûneli'ga. Yû!

Sgë! Usûhi'yï tsûl`dâ'histï Kanani'skï Û'nnage. Usïnu'lï nû'nnâ û'nnage hïnûnni'ga. Hida'wëhi-gâgû', astï' digû'nnage usïnu'lï dehïksa'ûntani'ga. Ulsge'ta kane'ge kayu'`ga gesû'n, tsâgâ'ya-gwû higese'ï. Ehïstï' hituwa'saniy`teï'. Usïnu'lï astï' digû'nnage dehada'ûntani'ga, adi'na tsûlstai-yû'`ti-gwû higese'ï. Nâ'gwa tsgâ'ya gûnagi'ta tsûtûneli'ga. Utsïnä'wa nutatanû'nta nûntûneli'ga. Yû!

Hïgayû'nlï Tsûne'ga hatûngani'ga. "A'ya-gâgû' gatû'ngisge'stï tsûngili'sï deagwûlstawï'stitege'stï," tsadûnû'hï. Na'skigâgû' itsawesû'hï nâ'gwa usïnu'li hatû'ngani'ga. Utsïnä'wa nutatanû'nta nûntûneli'ga. Yû!

Sgë! Galû'nlatï tsûl`dâ'histï, Kanani'skï Tsûne'ga. Usïnu'lï nû'nnâ une'ga hïnûnni'ga. Hida'wëhi-gâgû', astï' tsune'ga usïnu'lï dehïksa'ûn tani'ga. Ulsge'ta kane'ge kayu'`ga gesû'n, tsgâ'ya-gwû higese'ï. Ehïstï' hituwa'säniy`teï'. Usïnu'lï astï' tsune'ga dehada'ûntani'ga, adi'na tsûlstai-yû'`ti-gwû higese'ï. Nâ'gwa tsgâ'ya gûnagi'ta tsûtûneli'ga. Utsïnä'wa nu'tatanû'nta, nûntûneli'ga. Yû!

Hïgayû'nlï Tsûne'ga hatû'ngani'ga. "A'ya-gâgû' gatû'ngisge'stï tsûngili'sï deagwûlstawï'stitege'stï," tsadûnû'hï. Naski-gâgû' itsawesû'hï nâ'gwa usïnu'lï hatûngani'ga. U'tsïnä'wa nutatanû'nta nûntûneli'ga. Yû!

(Degasi'sisgû'nï)--Hiä' duniyukwa'tisgû'nï dïkanû'nwâtï ätanû'nsida'hï yï'gï. Na'skï digû'nstanë'`ti-gwû ûlë' tsïtsâtû' yie'lisû. Nigûn'-gwû usû'na [for usûnda'na?] gû'ntatï nayâ'ga nû'nwatï unanû'nskä`la'ï. Kane'ska dalâ'nige unaste'tla tsï'gï. Se'lu dïgahû`nû'hï tsuni'yahïstï' nû'`kï tsusû'hita, kanâhe'na-`nû naskï' iga'ï udanû'stï hi'gï nayâ'ga.

Translation.
THIS TELLS ABOUT MOVING PAINS IN THE TEETH (NEURALGIA?).
Listen! In the Sunland you repose, O Red Spider. Quickly you have brought and laid down the red path. O great ada'wehi, quickly you have brought down the red threads from above. The intruder in the tooth has spoken and it is only a worm. The tormentor has wrapped itself around the root of the tooth. Quickly you have dropped down the red threads, for it is just what you eat. Now it is for you to pick it up. The relief has been caused to come. Yû!

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O Ancient White, you have drawn near to hearken, for you have said, "When I shall hear my grandchildren, I shall hold up their heads." Because you have said it, now therefore you have drawn near to listen. The relief has been caused to come. Yû!

Listen! In the Frigid Land you repose, O Blue Spider. Quickly you have brought and laid down the blue path. O great ada'wehi, quickly you have brought down the blue threads from above. The intruder in the tooth has spoken and it is only a worm. The tormentor has wrapped itself around the root of the tooth. Quickly you have dropped down the blue threads, for it is just what you eat. Now it is for you to pick it up. The relief has been caused to come. Yû!

O Ancient White, you have drawn near to hearken, for you have said, "When I shall hear my grandchildren, I shall hold up their heads." Because you have said it, now therefore you have drawn near to listen. The relief has been caused to come. Yû!

Listen! In the Darkening Land you repose, O Black Spider. Quickly you have brought and laid down the black path. O great ada'wehi, quickly you have brought down the black threads from above. The intruder in the tooth has spoken and it is only a worm. The tormentor has wrapped itself around the root of the tooth. Quickly you have dropped down the black threads, for it is just what you eat. Now it is for you to pick it up. The relief has been caused to come. Yû!

O Ancient White, you have drawn near to hearken, for you have said, "When I shall hear my grandchildren, I shall hold up their heads." Because you have said it, now therefore you have drawn near to listen. The relief has been caused to come. Yû!

Listen! You repose on high, O White Spider. Quickly you have brought and laid down the white path. O great ada'wehi, quickly you have brought down the white threads from above. The intruder in the tooth has spoken and it is only a worm. The tormentor has wrapped itself around the root of the tooth. Quickly you have dropped down the white threads, for it is just what you eat. Now it is for you to pick it up. The relief has been caused to come. Yû!

O Ancient White, you have drawn near to hearken, for you have said, "When I shall hear my grandchildren, I shall hold up their heads." Because you have said it, now therefore you have drawn near to listen. The relief has been caused to come. Yû!

(Prescription)--This is to treat them if there are pains moving about in the teeth. It is only (necessary) to lay on the hands, or to blow, if one should prefer. One may use any kind of a tube, but usually they have the medicine in the mouth. It is the Yellow-rooted Grass (kane'ska dalâ'nige unaste'tla; not identified.) One must abstain four nights from cooked corn (hominy), and kanâhe'na (fermented corn gruel) is especially forbidden during the same period.

Explanation.
This formula is taken from the manuscript book of Gatigwanasti, now dead, and must therefore be explained from general analogy. The ailment is described as "pains moving about in the teeth"--that is, affecting several teeth simultaneously--and appears to be neuralgia. The disease spirit is called "the intruder" and "the tormentor" and is declared to be a mere worm (tsgâ'ya), which has wrapped itself around the base of the tooth. This is the regular toothache theory. The doctor then calls upon the Red Spider of the Sunland to let down the red threads from above, along the red path, and to take up the intruder, which is just what the spider

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eats. The same prayer is addressed in turn to the Blue Spider in the north, the Black Spider in the west and the White Spider above (galûn'lati). It may be stated here that all these spirits are supposed to dwell above, but when no point of the compass is assigned, galûn'lati is understood to mean directly overhead, but far above everything of earth. The dweller in this overhead galûn'lati may be red, white, or brown in color. In this formula it is white, the ordinary color assigned spirits dwelling in the south. In another toothache formula the Squirrel is implored to take the worm and put it between the forking limbs of a tree on the north side of the mountain.

Following each supplication to the spider is another addressed to the Ancient White, the formulistic name for fire. The name refers to its antiquity and light-giving properties and perhaps also to the fact that when dead it is covered with a coat of white ashes. In those formulas in which the hunter draws omens from the live coals it is frequently addressed as the Ancient Red.

The directions are not explicit and must be interpreted from analogy. "Laying on the hands" refers to pressing the thumb against the jaw over the aching tooth, the hand having been previously warmed over the fire, this being a common method of treating toothache. The other method suggested is to blow upon the spot (tooth or outside of jaw?) a decoction of an herb described rather vaguely as "yellow-rooted grass" either through a tube or from the mouth of the operator. Igawï', a toothache specialist, treats this ailment either by pressure with the warm thumb, or by blowing tobacco smoke from a pipe placed directly against the tooth. Hominy and fermented corn gruel (kanâhe'na) are prohibited for the regular term of four nights, or, as we are accustomed to say, four days, and special emphasis is laid upon the gruel tabu.

The prayer to the Spider is probably repeated while the doctor is warming his hands over the fire, and the following paragraph to the Ancient White (the Fire) while holding the warm thumb upon the aching spot. This reverses the usual order, which is to address the fire while warming the hands. In this connection it must be noted that the fire used by the doctor is never the ordinary fire on the hearth, but comes from four burning chips taken from the hearth fire and generally placed in an earthen vessel by the side of the patient. In some cases the decoction is heated by putting into it seven live coals taken from the fire on the hearth.

UNAWA STÎ EGWA (ADANÛnWATÏ).
Sgë! Galûnlatï' hinehi'(2) hinehi'yû(3) hinida'we(4), utsinâ'wa(5) adûnniga(6)

1 2 1 2 2 2 3 4 3 3 5 6 6--Hayï'!

Sgë! Unwadâ'hi(1) hinehi'(2), hinehi'yû(3) hinida'we(4) utsinâ'wa(5) adûnni'ga(6)

1 2 1 2 2 2 3 4 3 3 5 6 6--Hayï'!

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Sgë! Nâtsihi'(1) hinehi'(2) hinehi'yû(3) hinida'we(4) utsinâ'wa(5) adûnni'ga(6)

1 2 1 2 2 2 3 4 3 3 5 6 6--Hayï'!

Sgë! Amâyi'(1) hinehi'(2), hinehi'yû(3) hinida'we(4) utsinâ'wa(5) adûnni'ga(6)

1 2 1 2 2 2 3 3 3 3 5 6 6--Hayï'!

Sgë! Ha-nâ'gwa hatû'ngani'ga, Agalu'ga Tsûsdi'ga, hida'wëhï, â'tali tsusdiga'hï duda'w?satû'n ditsûldâ'histï. (Hida'wëhï, gahu'stï tsanu'lûnhûnsgï' nige'sûnna.) Ha-nâ'gwa da'tûlehûngû'. Usdi'gi(yu) utiya'stanûn'(hï) (higese'i). (Hûn)hiyala'gistani'ga igä'tï usdigâ'hï usa'hïlagï' Igâtu'ltï nûnnâ'hï wïte'tsatänûn'ûnsï'. A`ne'tsâge'ta getsatûnëhï nûngûlstani'ga igûn'wûlstanita'sti-gwû. Ati'gale'yata tsûtû'neli'ga. Utsïnâ'wa ([1]) nigûntisge'stï.

Sgë! Ha-nâ'gwa hûnhatû'ngani'ga, Agalu'ga Hegwahigwû'. Â'talï tsegwâ'hï duda'w?satûn iyûnta ditsûldâ'histï. Agalu'ga He'gwa, hausïnu'lï da'tûlehûngû. Usdi'giyu utiya'stanû'nhï. Hiyala'gistani'ga ulsge'ta igâ't-egwâ'hï) usa'hïlagï'. (Igat-(egwâ'hï iyûn'ta nûn-nâ'hï wïtetsatanû'nûnsï'. A`ne'tsâge'ta getsatûne'litise'sti igûn'wûlstanita'sti-gwû. Utsïnâ'wa-gwû nutatanûnta. Nigagï' Yû!

(Degâsi'sisgû'nï)--Unawa'stï e'gwa u'nitlûngâ'ï. Ta'ya gû'ntatï, ditsa'tista'`ti. Tsâ'l-agayû'nlï yä'hä ulû'nkwati-gwû nasgwû'.

Translation.
TO TREAT THE GREAT CHILL.
Listen! On high you dwell, On high you dwell--you dwell, you dwell. Forever you dwell, you anida'we, forever you dwell, forever you dwell. Relief has come--has come. Hayï!

Listen! On Ûnwadâ'hï you dwell, On Ûnwadâ'hï you dwell--you dwell, you dwell. Forever you dwell, you anida'we, forever you dwell, forever you dwell. Relief has come--has come. Hayï!

Listen! In the pines you dwell, In the pines you dwell--you dwell, you dwell. Forever you dwell, you anida'we, forever you dwell, forever you dwell. Relief has come--has come. Hayï!

Listen! In the water you dwell, In the water you dwell, you dwell, you dwell. Forever you dwell, you anida'we, forever you dwell, forever you dwell. Relief has come--has come. Hayï!

Listen! O now you have drawn near to hearken, O Little Whirlwind, O ada'wehi, in the leafy shelter of the lower mountain, there you repose. O ada'wehi, you can never fail in anything. Ha! Now rise up. A very small portion [of the disease] remains. You have come to sweep it away into the small swamp on. the upland. You have laid down your paths near the swamp. It is ordained that you shall scatter it as in play, so that it shall utterly disappear. By you it must be scattered. So shall there be relief.

Listen! O now again you have drawn near to hearken, O Whirlwind, surpassingly great. In the leafy shelter of the great mountain there you repose. O Great Whirlwind, arise quickly. A very small part [of the disease] remains. You have come to sweep the intruder into the great swamp on the upland. You have laid down your paths toward the great swamp. You shall scatter it as in play so that it shall utterly disappear. And now relief has come. All is done. Yû!

[1. So written and pronounced by A`yûnini instead of utsïnä'wa.]

p. 361

(Prescription.)--(This is to use) when they are sick with the great chill. Take a decoction of wild cherry to blow upon them. If you have Tsâ'l-agayû'nlï ("old tobacco"--Nicotiana rustica) it also is very effective.

EXPLANATION.
Unawa'stï, "that which chills one," is a generic name for intermittent fever, otherwise known as fever and ague. It is much dreaded by the Indian doctors, who recognize several varieties of the disease, and have various theories to account for them. The above formula was obtained from A`yûnni (Swimmer), who described the symptoms of this variety, the "Great Chill," as blackness in the face, with alternate high fever and shaking chills. The disease generally appeared in spring or summer, and might return year after year. In the first stages the chill usually came on early in the morning, but came on later in the day as the disease progressed. There might be more than one chill during the day. There was no rule as to appetite, but the fever always produced an excessive thirst. In one instance the patient fainted from the heat and would even lie down in a stream to cool himself. The doctor believed the disease was caused by malicious tsgâ'ya, a general name for all small insects and worms, excepting intestinal worms. These tsgâ'ya--that is, the disease tsgâ'ya, not the real insects and worms--are held responsible for a large number of diseases, and in fact the tsgâ'ya doctrine is to the Cherokee practitioner what the microbe theory is to some modern scientists. The tsgâ'ya live in the earth, in the water, in the air, in the foliage of trees, in decaying wood, or wherever else insects lodge, and as they are constantly being crushed, burned or otherwise destroyed through the unthinking carelessness of the human race, they are continually actuated by a spirit of revenge. To accomplish their vengeance, according to the doctors, they "establish towns" under the skin of their victims, thus producing an irritation which results in fevers, boils, scrofula and other diseases.

The formula begins with a song of four verses, in which the doctor invokes in succession the spirits of the air, of the mountain, of the forest, and of the water. Galûnlatï, the word used in the first verse, signifies, as has been already explained, "on high" or "above everything," and has been used by translators to mean heaven. Ûnwadâ'hï in the second verse is the name of a bald mountain east of Webster, North Carolina, and is used figuratively to denote any mountains of bold outline. The Cherokees have a tradition to account for the name, which is derived from Ûnwadâ'lï, "provision house." Nâ'tsihï' in the third verse signifies "pinery," from nâ'`tsï, "pine," but is figuratively used to denote a forest of any kind.

In the recitation which follows the song, but is used only in serious cases, the doctor prays to the whirlwind, which is considered to dwell, among the trees on the mountain side, where the trembling of

p. 362

the leaves always gives the first intimation of its presence. He declares that a small portion of the disease still remains, the spirits invoked in the song having already taken the rest, and calls upon the whirlwind to lay down a path for it and sweep it away into the swamp on the upland, referring to grassy marshes common in the small coves of the higher mountains, which, being remote from the settlements, are convenient places to which to banish the disease. Not satisfied with this he goes on to direct the whirlwind to scatter the disease as it scatters the leaves of the forest, so that it shall utterly disappear. In the Cherokee formula the verb a`ne'tsâge'ta, means literally "to play," and is generally understood to refer to the ball play, a`ne'tsâ, so that to a Cherokee the expression conveys the idea of catching up the disease and driving it onward as a player seizes the ball and sends it spinning through the air from between his ball sticks. Niga'gï is a solemn expression about equivalent to the Latin consummatum est.

The doctor beats up some bark from the trunk of the wild cherry and puts it into water together with seven coals of fire, the latter being intended to warm the decoction The leaves of Tsâl-agayû'nli (Indian tobacco--Nicotiana rustica) are sometimes used in place of the wild cherry bark. The patient is placed facing the sunrise, and the doctor, taking the medicine in his mouth, blows it over the body of the sick man. First, standing between the patient and the sunrise and holding the medicine cup in his hand, he sings the first verse in a low tone. Then, taking some of the liquid in his mouth, he advances and blows it successively upon the top of the head, the right shoulder, left shoulder, and breast or back of the patient, making four blowings in all. He repeats the same ceremony with the second, third, and fourth verse, returning each time to his original position. The ceremony takes place in the morning, and if necessary is repeated in the evening. It is sometimes necessary also to repeat the treatment for several--generally four--consecutive days.

The recitation is not used excepting in the most serious cases, when, according to the formula, "a very small portion" of the disease still lingers. It is accompanied by blowing of the breath alone, without medicine, probably in this case typical of the action of the whirlwind. After repeating the whole ceremony accompanying the song, as above described, the doctor returns to his position in front of the patient and recites in a whisper the first paragraph to the Little Whirlwind, after which he advances and blows his breath upon the patient four times as he has already blown the medicine upon him. Then going around to the north he recites the second paragraph to the Great Whirlwind, and at its conclusion blows in the same manner. Then moving around to the west--behind the patient--he again prays to the Little Whirlwind with the same ceremonies, and finally moving around to the south side he closes with the prayer to the

p. 363

Great Whirlwind, blowing four times at its conclusion. The medicine must be prepared anew by the doctor at the house of the patient at each application morning or evening. Only as much as will be needed is made at a time, and the patient always drinks what remains after the blowing. Connected with the preparation and care of the medicine are a number of ceremonies which need not be detailed here. The wild cherry bark must always be procured fresh; but the Tsâl-agayû'nlï ("Old Tobacco") leaves may be dry. When the latter plant is used four leaves are taken and steeped in warm water with the fire coals, as above described.

UNAWA STÎ EGWA (ADANÛnWATÏ).
Sgë! Galûnlatï' hinehi'(2) hinehi'yû(3) hinida'we(4), utsinâ'wa(5) adûnniga(6)

1 2 1 2 2 2 3 4 3 3 5 6 6--Hayï'!

Sgë! Unwadâ'hi(1) hinehi'(2), hinehi'yû(3) hinida'we(4) utsinâ'wa(5) adûnni'ga(6)

1 2 1 2 2 2 3 4 3 3 5 6 6--Hayï'!

p. 360

Sgë! Nâtsihi'(1) hinehi'(2) hinehi'yû(3) hinida'we(4) utsinâ'wa(5) adûnni'ga(6)

1 2 1 2 2 2 3 4 3 3 5 6 6--Hayï'!

Sgë! Amâyi'(1) hinehi'(2), hinehi'yû(3) hinida'we(4) utsinâ'wa(5) adûnni'ga(6)

1 2 1 2 2 2 3 3 3 3 5 6 6--Hayï'!

Sgë! Ha-nâ'gwa hatû'ngani'ga, Agalu'ga Tsûsdi'ga, hida'wëhï, â'tali tsusdiga'hï duda'w?satû'n ditsûldâ'histï. (Hida'wëhï, gahu'stï tsanu'lûnhûnsgï' nige'sûnna.) Ha-nâ'gwa da'tûlehûngû'. Usdi'gi(yu) utiya'stanûn'(hï) (higese'i). (Hûn)hiyala'gistani'ga igä'tï usdigâ'hï usa'hïlagï' Igâtu'ltï nûnnâ'hï wïte'tsatänûn'ûnsï'. A`ne'tsâge'ta getsatûnëhï nûngûlstani'ga igûn'wûlstanita'sti-gwû. Ati'gale'yata tsûtû'neli'ga. Utsïnâ'wa ([1]) nigûntisge'stï.

Sgë! Ha-nâ'gwa hûnhatû'ngani'ga, Agalu'ga Hegwahigwû'. Â'talï tsegwâ'hï duda'w?satûn iyûnta ditsûldâ'histï. Agalu'ga He'gwa, hausïnu'lï da'tûlehûngû. Usdi'giyu utiya'stanû'nhï. Hiyala'gistani'ga ulsge'ta igâ't-egwâ'hï) usa'hïlagï'. (Igat-(egwâ'hï iyûn'ta nûn-nâ'hï wïtetsatanû'nûnsï'. A`ne'tsâge'ta getsatûne'litise'sti igûn'wûlstanita'sti-gwû. Utsïnâ'wa-gwû nutatanûnta. Nigagï' Yû!

(Degâsi'sisgû'nï)--Unawa'stï e'gwa u'nitlûngâ'ï. Ta'ya gû'ntatï, ditsa'tista'`ti. Tsâ'l-agayû'nlï yä'hä ulû'nkwati-gwû nasgwû'.

Translation.
TO TREAT THE GREAT CHILL.
Listen! On high you dwell, On high you dwell--you dwell, you dwell. Forever you dwell, you anida'we, forever you dwell, forever you dwell. Relief has come--has come. Hayï!

Listen! On Ûnwadâ'hï you dwell, On Ûnwadâ'hï you dwell--you dwell, you dwell. Forever you dwell, you anida'we, forever you dwell, forever you dwell. Relief has come--has come. Hayï!

Listen! In the pines you dwell, In the pines you dwell--you dwell, you dwell. Forever you dwell, you anida'we, forever you dwell, forever you dwell. Relief has come--has come. Hayï!

Listen! In the water you dwell, In the water you dwell, you dwell, you dwell. Forever you dwell, you anida'we, forever you dwell, forever you dwell. Relief has come--has come. Hayï!

Listen! O now you have drawn near to hearken, O Little Whirlwind, O ada'wehi, in the leafy shelter of the lower mountain, there you repose. O ada'wehi, you can never fail in anything. Ha! Now rise up. A very small portion [of the disease] remains. You have come to sweep it away into the small swamp on. the upland. You have laid down your paths near the swamp. It is ordained that you shall scatter it as in play, so that it shall utterly disappear. By you it must be scattered. So shall there be relief.

Listen! O now again you have drawn near to hearken, O Whirlwind, surpassingly great. In the leafy shelter of the great mountain there you repose. O Great Whirlwind, arise quickly. A very small part [of the disease] remains. You have come to sweep the intruder into the great swamp on the upland. You have laid down your paths toward the great swamp. You shall scatter it as in play so that it shall utterly disappear. And now relief has come. All is done. Yû!

[1. So written and pronounced by A`yûnini instead of utsïnä'wa.]

p. 361

(Prescription.)--(This is to use) when they are sick with the great chill. Take a decoction of wild cherry to blow upon them. If you have Tsâ'l-agayû'nlï ("old tobacco"--Nicotiana rustica) it also is very effective.

EXPLANATION.
Unawa'stï, "that which chills one," is a generic name for intermittent fever, otherwise known as fever and ague. It is much dreaded by the Indian doctors, who recognize several varieties of the disease, and have various theories to account for them. The above formula was obtained from A`yûnni (Swimmer), who described the symptoms of this variety, the "Great Chill," as blackness in the face, with alternate high fever and shaking chills. The disease generally appeared in spring or summer, and might return year after year. In the first stages the chill usually came on early in the morning, but came on later in the day as the disease progressed. There might be more than one chill during the day. There was no rule as to appetite, but the fever always produced an excessive thirst. In one instance the patient fainted from the heat and would even lie down in a stream to cool himself. The doctor believed the disease was caused by malicious tsgâ'ya, a general name for all small insects and worms, excepting intestinal worms. These tsgâ'ya--that is, the disease tsgâ'ya, not the real insects and worms--are held responsible for a large number of diseases, and in fact the tsgâ'ya doctrine is to the Cherokee practitioner what the microbe theory is to some modern scientists. The tsgâ'ya live in the earth, in the water, in the air, in the foliage of trees, in decaying wood, or wherever else insects lodge, and as they are constantly being crushed, burned or otherwise destroyed through the unthinking carelessness of the human race, they are continually actuated by a spirit of revenge. To accomplish their vengeance, according to the doctors, they "establish towns" under the skin of their victims, thus producing an irritation which results in fevers, boils, scrofula and other diseases.

The formula begins with a song of four verses, in which the doctor invokes in succession the spirits of the air, of the mountain, of the forest, and of the water. Galûnlatï, the word used in the first verse, signifies, as has been already explained, "on high" or "above everything," and has been used by translators to mean heaven. Ûnwadâ'hï in the second verse is the name of a bald mountain east of Webster, North Carolina, and is used figuratively to denote any mountains of bold outline. The Cherokees have a tradition to account for the name, which is derived from Ûnwadâ'lï, "provision house." Nâ'tsihï' in the third verse signifies "pinery," from nâ'`tsï, "pine," but is figuratively used to denote a forest of any kind.

In the recitation which follows the song, but is used only in serious cases, the doctor prays to the whirlwind, which is considered to dwell, among the trees on the mountain side, where the trembling of

p. 362

the leaves always gives the first intimation of its presence. He declares that a small portion of the disease still remains, the spirits invoked in the song having already taken the rest, and calls upon the whirlwind to lay down a path for it and sweep it away into the swamp on the upland, referring to grassy marshes common in the small coves of the higher mountains, which, being remote from the settlements, are convenient places to which to banish the disease. Not satisfied with this he goes on to direct the whirlwind to scatter the disease as it scatters the leaves of the forest, so that it shall utterly disappear. In the Cherokee formula the verb a`ne'tsâge'ta, means literally "to play," and is generally understood to refer to the ball play, a`ne'tsâ, so that to a Cherokee the expression conveys the idea of catching up the disease and driving it onward as a player seizes the ball and sends it spinning through the air from between his ball sticks. Niga'gï is a solemn expression about equivalent to the Latin consummatum est.

The doctor beats up some bark from the trunk of the wild cherry and puts it into water together with seven coals of fire, the latter being intended to warm the decoction The leaves of Tsâl-agayû'nli (Indian tobacco--Nicotiana rustica) are sometimes used in place of the wild cherry bark. The patient is placed facing the sunrise, and the doctor, taking the medicine in his mouth, blows it over the body of the sick man. First, standing between the patient and the sunrise and holding the medicine cup in his hand, he sings the first verse in a low tone. Then, taking some of the liquid in his mouth, he advances and blows it successively upon the top of the head, the right shoulder, left shoulder, and breast or back of the patient, making four blowings in all. He repeats the same ceremony with the second, third, and fourth verse, returning each time to his original position. The ceremony takes place in the morning, and if necessary is repeated in the evening. It is sometimes necessary also to repeat the treatment for several--generally four--consecutive days.

The recitation is not used excepting in the most serious cases, when, according to the formula, "a very small portion" of the disease still lingers. It is accompanied by blowing of the breath alone, without medicine, probably in this case typical of the action of the whirlwind. After repeating the whole ceremony accompanying the song, as above described, the doctor returns to his position in front of the patient and recites in a whisper the first paragraph to the Little Whirlwind, after which he advances and blows his breath upon the patient four times as he has already blown the medicine upon him. Then going around to the north he recites the second paragraph to the Great Whirlwind, and at its conclusion blows in the same manner. Then moving around to the west--behind the patient--he again prays to the Little Whirlwind with the same ceremonies, and finally moving around to the south side he closes with the prayer to the

p. 363

Great Whirlwind, blowing four times at its conclusion. The medicine must be prepared anew by the doctor at the house of the patient at each application morning or evening. Only as much as will be needed is made at a time, and the patient always drinks what remains after the blowing. Connected with the preparation and care of the medicine are a number of ceremonies which need not be detailed here. The wild cherry bark must always be procured fresh; but the Tsâl-agayû'nlï ("Old Tobacco") leaves may be dry. When the latter plant is used four leaves are taken and steeped in warm water with the fire coals, as above described.

UNAWA STÎ EGWA (ADANÛnWATÏ).
Sgë! Galûnlatï' hinehi'(2) hinehi'yû(3) hinida'we(4), utsinâ'wa(5) adûnniga(6)

1 2 1 2 2 2 3 4 3 3 5 6 6--Hayï'!

Sgë! Unwadâ'hi(1) hinehi'(2), hinehi'yû(3) hinida'we(4) utsinâ'wa(5) adûnni'ga(6)

1 2 1 2 2 2 3 4 3 3 5 6 6--Hayï'!

p. 360

Sgë! Nâtsihi'(1) hinehi'(2) hinehi'yû(3) hinida'we(4) utsinâ'wa(5) adûnni'ga(6)

1 2 1 2 2 2 3 4 3 3 5 6 6--Hayï'!

Sgë! Amâyi'(1) hinehi'(2), hinehi'yû(3) hinida'we(4) utsinâ'wa(5) adûnni'ga(6)

1 2 1 2 2 2 3 3 3 3 5 6 6--Hayï'!

Sgë! Ha-nâ'gwa hatû'ngani'ga, Agalu'ga Tsûsdi'ga, hida'wëhï, â'tali tsusdiga'hï duda'w?satû'n ditsûldâ'histï. (Hida'wëhï, gahu'stï tsanu'lûnhûnsgï' nige'sûnna.) Ha-nâ'gwa da'tûlehûngû'. Usdi'gi(yu) utiya'stanûn'(hï) (higese'i). (Hûn)hiyala'gistani'ga igä'tï usdigâ'hï usa'hïlagï' Igâtu'ltï nûnnâ'hï wïte'tsatänûn'ûnsï'. A`ne'tsâge'ta getsatûnëhï nûngûlstani'ga igûn'wûlstanita'sti-gwû. Ati'gale'yata tsûtû'neli'ga. Utsïnâ'wa ([1]) nigûntisge'stï.

Sgë! Ha-nâ'gwa hûnhatû'ngani'ga, Agalu'ga Hegwahigwû'. Â'talï tsegwâ'hï duda'w?satûn iyûnta ditsûldâ'histï. Agalu'ga He'gwa, hausïnu'lï da'tûlehûngû. Usdi'giyu utiya'stanû'nhï. Hiyala'gistani'ga ulsge'ta igâ't-egwâ'hï) usa'hïlagï'. (Igat-(egwâ'hï iyûn'ta nûn-nâ'hï wïtetsatanû'nûnsï'. A`ne'tsâge'ta getsatûne'litise'sti igûn'wûlstanita'sti-gwû. Utsïnâ'wa-gwû nutatanûnta. Nigagï' Yû!

(Degâsi'sisgû'nï)--Unawa'stï e'gwa u'nitlûngâ'ï. Ta'ya gû'ntatï, ditsa'tista'`ti. Tsâ'l-agayû'nlï yä'hä ulû'nkwati-gwû nasgwû'.

Translation.
TO TREAT THE GREAT CHILL.
Listen! On high you dwell, On high you dwell--you dwell, you dwell. Forever you dwell, you anida'we, forever you dwell, forever you dwell. Relief has come--has come. Hayï!

Listen! On Ûnwadâ'hï you dwell, On Ûnwadâ'hï you dwell--you dwell, you dwell. Forever you dwell, you anida'we, forever you dwell, forever you dwell. Relief has come--has come. Hayï!

Listen! In the pines you dwell, In the pines you dwell--you dwell, you dwell. Forever you dwell, you anida'we, forever you dwell, forever you dwell. Relief has come--has come. Hayï!

Listen! In the water you dwell, In the water you dwell, you dwell, you dwell. Forever you dwell, you anida'we, forever you dwell, forever you dwell. Relief has come--has come. Hayï!

Listen! O now you have drawn near to hearken, O Little Whirlwind, O ada'wehi, in the leafy shelter of the lower mountain, there you repose. O ada'wehi, you can never fail in anything. Ha! Now rise up. A very small portion [of the disease] remains. You have come to sweep it away into the small swamp on. the upland. You have laid down your paths near the swamp. It is ordained that you shall scatter it as in play, so that it shall utterly disappear. By you it must be scattered. So shall there be relief.

Listen! O now again you have drawn near to hearken, O Whirlwind, surpassingly great. In the leafy shelter of the great mountain there you repose. O Great Whirlwind, arise quickly. A very small part [of the disease] remains. You have come to sweep the intruder into the great swamp on the upland. You have laid down your paths toward the great swamp. You shall scatter it as in play so that it shall utterly disappear. And now relief has come. All is done. Yû!

[1. So written and pronounced by A`yûnini instead of utsïnä'wa.]

p. 361

(Prescription.)--(This is to use) when they are sick with the great chill. Take a decoction of wild cherry to blow upon them. If you have Tsâ'l-agayû'nlï ("old tobacco"--Nicotiana rustica) it also is very effective.

EXPLANATION.
Unawa'stï, "that which chills one," is a generic name for intermittent fever, otherwise known as fever and ague. It is much dreaded by the Indian doctors, who recognize several varieties of the disease, and have various theories to account for them. The above formula was obtained from A`yûnni (Swimmer), who described the symptoms of this variety, the "Great Chill," as blackness in the face, with alternate high fever and shaking chills. The disease generally appeared in spring or summer, and might return year after year. In the first stages the chill usually came on early in the morning, but came on later in the day as the disease progressed. There might be more than one chill during the day. There was no rule as to appetite, but the fever always produced an excessive thirst. In one instance the patient fainted from the heat and would even lie down in a stream to cool himself. The doctor believed the disease was caused by malicious tsgâ'ya, a general name for all small insects and worms, excepting intestinal worms. These tsgâ'ya--that is, the disease tsgâ'ya, not the real insects and worms--are held responsible for a large number of diseases, and in fact the tsgâ'ya doctrine is to the Cherokee practitioner what the microbe theory is to some modern scientists. The tsgâ'ya live in the earth, in the water, in the air, in the foliage of trees, in decaying wood, or wherever else insects lodge, and as they are constantly being crushed, burned or otherwise destroyed through the unthinking carelessness of the human race, they are continually actuated by a spirit of revenge. To accomplish their vengeance, according to the doctors, they "establish towns" under the skin of their victims, thus producing an irritation which results in fevers, boils, scrofula and other diseases.

The formula begins with a song of four verses, in which the doctor invokes in succession the spirits of the air, of the mountain, of the forest, and of the water. Galûnlatï, the word used in the first verse, signifies, as has been already explained, "on high" or "above everything," and has been used by translators to mean heaven. Ûnwadâ'hï in the second verse is the name of a bald mountain east of Webster, North Carolina, and is used figuratively to denote any mountains of bold outline. The Cherokees have a tradition to account for the name, which is derived from Ûnwadâ'lï, "provision house." Nâ'tsihï' in the third verse signifies "pinery," from nâ'`tsï, "pine," but is figuratively used to denote a forest of any kind.

In the recitation which follows the song, but is used only in serious cases, the doctor prays to the whirlwind, which is considered to dwell, among the trees on the mountain side, where the trembling of

p. 362

the leaves always gives the first intimation of its presence. He declares that a small portion of the disease still remains, the spirits invoked in the song having already taken the rest, and calls upon the whirlwind to lay down a path for it and sweep it away into the swamp on the upland, referring to grassy marshes common in the small coves of the higher mountains, which, being remote from the settlements, are convenient places to which to banish the disease. Not satisfied with this he goes on to direct the whirlwind to scatter the disease as it scatters the leaves of the forest, so that it shall utterly disappear. In the Cherokee formula the verb a`ne'tsâge'ta, means literally "to play," and is generally understood to refer to the ball play, a`ne'tsâ, so that to a Cherokee the expression conveys the idea of catching up the disease and driving it onward as a player seizes the ball and sends it spinning through the air from between his ball sticks. Niga'gï is a solemn expression about equivalent to the Latin consummatum est.

The doctor beats up some bark from the trunk of the wild cherry and puts it into water together with seven coals of fire, the latter being intended to warm the decoction The leaves of Tsâl-agayû'nli (Indian tobacco--Nicotiana rustica) are sometimes used in place of the wild cherry bark. The patient is placed facing the sunrise, and the doctor, taking the medicine in his mouth, blows it over the body of the sick man. First, standing between the patient and the sunrise and holding the medicine cup in his hand, he sings the first verse in a low tone. Then, taking some of the liquid in his mouth, he advances and blows it successively upon the top of the head, the right shoulder, left shoulder, and breast or back of the patient, making four blowings in all. He repeats the same ceremony with the second, third, and fourth verse, returning each time to his original position. The ceremony takes place in the morning, and if necessary is repeated in the evening. It is sometimes necessary also to repeat the treatment for several--generally four--consecutive days.

The recitation is not used excepting in the most serious cases, when, according to the formula, "a very small portion" of the disease still lingers. It is accompanied by blowing of the breath alone, without medicine, probably in this case typical of the action of the whirlwind. After repeating the whole ceremony accompanying the song, as above described, the doctor returns to his position in front of the patient and recites in a whisper the first paragraph to the Little Whirlwind, after which he advances and blows his breath upon the patient four times as he has already blown the medicine upon him. Then going around to the north he recites the second paragraph to the Great Whirlwind, and at its conclusion blows in the same manner. Then moving around to the west--behind the patient--he again prays to the Little Whirlwind with the same ceremonies, and finally moving around to the south side he closes with the prayer to the

p. 363

Great Whirlwind, blowing four times at its conclusion. The medicine must be prepared anew by the doctor at the house of the patient at each application morning or evening. Only as much as will be needed is made at a time, and the patient always drinks what remains after the blowing. Connected with the preparation and care of the medicine are a number of ceremonies which need not be detailed here. The wild cherry bark must always be procured fresh; but the Tsâl-agayû'nlï ("Old Tobacco") leaves may be dry. When the latter plant is used four leaves are taken and steeped in warm water with the fire coals, as above described.

DALÂ'NI ÛnNÄGE'Ï ADANÛ'nWÂTÏ.
Yuha'ahi', (yuha'ahi', yuha'ahi', yuha'ahi',)
Yuha'ahi', (yuha'ahi', yuha'ahi'), Yû!

Sgë! Ûntal-e'gwâhï' didultâ'hïstï ulsge'ta. Usïnu'lï dâtitu'lene'ï. Usïnu'lï dunu'y?tani'leï'.

Sgë! Ha-nâ'gwa statû'ngani'ga, nûndâ'yï distûl`tâ'histï, Stisga'ya Dïst`sdi'ga, stida'wehi-gâgû. Ûntal-e'gwa dâtitulene'(ï) ulsge'ta. Usïnu'lï detïstû'l`tani'ga ulsge'ta. Ditu'talenû'nitsa nûnnâ'hï wi'de'tutanû'ntatasï',

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nûntadu'ktahû'nstï nige'sûnna. Nû'`gï iyayû'nlatägï' ayâwe'sâlû'nta de'dudûneli'sestï', Gû'ntsatâtagi'yû tistadi'gûlahi'sestï. Tiduda'le`nû(ï) û'ntale'gwâ witï'stûl'tati'nûntani'ga. Na'`nä witûl`tâ'hïstani'ga, tadu'ktahû'nstï nige'sûnna. Ha-na'`nä wid'ultâhiste'stï. (Yû!)

(Degasisisgû'nï)--Hiä' anine'tsï ga'`tiskï adanûnwâtï. Ü'ntla atsi'la tï'`tï yï'gï.

Translation.
TO TREAT THE BLACK YELLOWNESS.
Yuha'ahi', yuha'ahi', yuha'ahi', yuha'ahi',
Yuha'ahi', yuha'ahi', yuha'ahi' Yû!

Listen! In the great lake the intruder reposes. Quickly he has risen up there. Swiftly he has come and stealthily put himself (under the sick man).

Listen! Ha! Now you two have drawn near to hearken, there in the Sun Land you repose, O Little Men, O great anida'wehi! The intruder has risen up there in the great lake. Quickly you two have lifted up the intruder. His paths have laid themselves down toward the direction whence he came. Let him never look back (toward us). When he stops to rest at the four gaps you will drive him roughly along. Now he has plunged into the great lake from which he came. There he is compelled to remain, never to look back. Ha! there let him rest. (Yû!)

(Directions.)--This is to treat them when their breast swells. Fire (coals) is not put down.

Explanation.
This formula, from A`yûninï's manuscript, is used in treating a disease known as Dalâni, literally, "yellow." From the vague description of symptoms given by the doctors, it appears to be an aggravated form of biliousness, probably induced by late suppers and bad food. According to the Indian theory it is caused by revengeful animals, especially by the terrapin and its cousin, the turtle.

The doctors recognize several forms of the disease, this variety being distinguished as the "black dalâni (Dalâni Ûnnage'ï) and considered the most dangerous. In this form of dalânï, according to their account, the navel and abdomen of the patient swell, the ends of his fingers become black, dark circles appear about his eyes, and the throat contracts spasmodically and causes him to fall down suddenly insensible. A`yûninï's method of treatment is to rub the breast and abdomen of the patient with the hands, which have been previously rubbed together in the warm infusion of wild cherry (ta'ya) bark. The song is sung while rubbing the hands together in the liquid, and the prayer is repeated while rubbing the swollen abdomen of the patient. The operation may be repeated several times on successive days.

The song at the beginning has no meaning and is sung in a low plaintive lullaby tone, ending with a sharp Yu! The prayer possesses a special interest, as it brings out several new points in the Cherokee mythologic theory of medicine. The "intruder," which

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is held to be some amphibious animal--as a terrapin, turtle, or snake--is declared to have risen up from his dwelling place in the great lake, situated toward the sunset, and to have come by stealth under the sick man. The verb implies that the disease spirit creeps under as a snake might crawl under the coverlet of a bed.

The two Little Men in the Sun Land are now invoked to drive out the disease. Who these Little Men are is not clear, although they are regarded as most powerful spirits and are frequently invoked in the formulas. They are probably the two Thunder Boys, sons of Kanati.

The Little Men come instantly when summoned by the shaman, pull out the intruder from the body of the patient, turn his face toward the sunset, and begin to drive him on by threats and blows (expressed in the word gû'ntsatatagi'yû) to the great lake from which he came. On the road there are four gaps in the mountains, at each of which the disease spirit halts to rest, but is continually forced onward by his two pursuers, who finally drive him into the lake, where he is compelled to remain, without being permitted even to look back again. The four gaps are mentioned also in other formulas for medicine and the ball play and sometimes correspond with the four stages of the treatment. The direction "No fire (coals) is put down" indicates that no live coals are put into the decoction, the doctor probably using water warmed in the ordinary manner.

Takwati'hï uses for this disease a decoction of four herbs applied in the same manner. He agrees with A`yû'ninï in regard to the general theory and says also that the disease may be contracted by neglecting to wash the hands after handling terrapin shells, as, for instance, the shell rattles used by women in the dance. The turtle or water tortoise (seligu'gï) is considered as an inferior being, with but little capacity for mischief, and is feared chiefly on account of its relationship to the dreaded terrapin or land tortoise (tûksï'). In Takwatihï's formula he prays to the Ancient White (the fire), of which these cold-blooded animals are supposed to be afraid, to put the fish into the water, the turtle into the mud, and to send the terrapin and snake to the hillside.

TSUNDAYE'LIGAKTANÛ'HÏ ADANÛ'nWÂTÏ
Sgë! Hanâ'gwa hatû'nganiga, galû'nlatï hetsadâ'histï, Kâ'lanû Û'nnage, gahu'stï tsanu'lahû'nsgï nige'sûnna. Ha-nâ'gwa (hetsatsa'ûntani'ga. Hanigû'nwatûnnigwälâe'stigwû tsalâsû'nï. Asgin-u'danû higes'eï. Sanigala'gï gesû'nï hastigtû'`lani'ga, duwâlu'wa'tû'tï nige'sûnna, nitûneli'ga. Ha-Usûhi'yï wititâ'hïstani'ga. Dadu'satahû'nstï nige'sûnna nitû'neli'ga. Utsïnä'wa nu'tatanû'nta.

Sgë! Ha-nâ'gwa hatû'ngani'ga, Kâ'lanû Gïgage'ï, hidawëhi'yu. Ha-gahu'stï tsanu'lahû'nsgï nige'sûnna, etsanetse'lûhï. Ha-galûnlati'tsa hetsatâ'histï. Nâ'gwa hetsatsâ'ûntani'ga. Nigû'nwatû'nnigwalâe'sti-gwû

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tsalâsû'nï. Asgin-udanû'hi-gwû higese'ï. Ha-Sanigalâgï gesû'n hâstigû'`lani'ga ulsge'ta, ha-utsïnä'wa-gwû' nigû'ntisge'stï. Usûhi'yï wïntûnë'dû. Usûhi'yï wïtitâ'hïstani'ga. Utsïnä'wa adû'nni'ga.

Sgë! Ha-nâ'gwa hatû'ngani'ga, Kâ'lanû Sa'ka'ni; galû'latï hetsadâ'histï, hida'wëhï. Gahu'stï tsanu'lahûnsgï nige'sûnna, etsanetse'lûhï. Ha-nâ'gwa hetsatsâ'ûntani'ga. Nigû'nwatû'nnigwalâe'sti-gwû tsalâsû'nï. Sanigalâ'gï gesû'n hastigû'`lani'ga ulsge'ta. Duwâlu'watû'tï nige'sûnna, nitû'neli'ga. Usûhi'yï wïtitâ'hïstani'ga, dadu'satahû'nstï nige'sûnna nitû'neli'ga. Utsïnä'wa adûnni'ga.

Sgë! Ha-nâ'gwa hatû'ngani'ga, Wa'hïlï galûnlti'tsa hetsadâ'histï, Kâ'lanû Tsûne'ga, hida'wëhï. Gahu'stï tsanul`tï nige'sûnna. Hanâ'gwa hetsatsâ'ûntani'ga. Nigû'nwatû'nnigwalâe'sti-gwû tsalâsû'nï. Ha-nâ'gwa detal`tani'ga. Sanigalâ'gï gesû'n, hastig'û`lani'ga ulsge'ta, duwâlu'watu'`tï nige'sûnna nitû'neli'ga. Usûhi'yï wïtitâ'hïstani'ga. Dadu'satahû'nstï nige'sûnna nitû'neli'ga. Utsïnä'wa adûnni'ga.

(Dega'sisisgû'nï)--Hiä' agi`li'ya unitlûngû'nï adanû'wâtï. Askwanu'tsastï'. Tsâ'l(a) Agayû'nlï unitsi'lûnnû'hï gû'ntatï, anû'nsga`lâ'-gwû; Kanasâ'la-`nû unali'gâhû, ade'la'-`nû nû'`gi-gwû ani'gage'ï dahâ'ï, Tsâliyu'stï-`nû Usdi'ga. Gahu'sti-'`nu yuta'suyû'nna sâwatu'hi-gwû atï' dawâ'hila-gwû iyû'nta.

Translation.
TO TREAT FOR ORDEAL DISEASES.
Listen! Ha! Now you have drawn near to hearken and are resting directly overhead. O Black Raven, you never fail in anything. Ha! Now you are brought down. Ha! There shall be left no more than a trace upon the ground where you have been. It is an evolute ghost. You have now put it into a crevice in Sanigalagi, that it may never find the way back. You have put it to rest in the Darkening Land, so that it may never return. Let relief come.

Listen! Ha! Now you have drawn near to hearken, O Red Raven, most powerful ada'wehi. Ha! You never fail in anything, for so it was ordained of you. Ha! You are resting directly overhead. Ha! Now you are brought down. There shall remain but a trace upon the ground where you have been. It is an evolute ghost. Ha! You have put the Intruder into a crevice of Sanigalagi and now the relief shall come. It (the Intruder) is sent to the Darkening Land. You have put it to rest in the Darkening Land. Let the relief come.

Listen! Ha! Now you have drawn near to hearken, O Blue Raven; you are resting directly overhead, ada'wehi. You never fail in anything, for so it was ordained of you. Ha! Now you are brought down. There shall be left but a trace upon the ground where you have been. You have put the Intruder into a crevice in Sanigalagi, that it may never find the way back. You have put it to rest in the Darkening Land, so that it may never return. Let the relief come.

Listen! Ha! Now you have drawn near to hearken; you repose on high on Wa'hïlï, O White Raven, ada'wehi. You never fail in anything. Ha! Now you are brought down. There shall be left but a trace upon the ground where you have been. Ha! Now you have taken it up. You have put the Intruder into a crevice in Sanigalagi, that it may never find the way back. You have put it to rest in the Darkening Land, never to return. Let the relief come.

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(Directions)--This is to treat them for a painful sickness. One must suck. Use Tsâ'lagayûn'-li ("Old Tobacco"--Nicotiana rustica), blossoms, and just have them in the mouth, and Kanasâ'la (Wild Parsnip), goes with it, and four red beads also must lie there, and Tsâliyu'sti Usdi'ga ("Little (plant) Like Tobacco"--Indian Tobacco--Lobelia inflata.) And if there should be anything mixed with it (i. e., after sucking the place), just put it about a hand's-length into the mud.

Explanation.
The Cherokee name for this disease gives no idea whatever of its serious nature. The technical term, Tsundaye'liga'ktanû'hï, really refers to the enthusiastic outburst of sociability that ensues when two old friends meet. In this instance it might be rendered "an ordeal." The application of such a name to what is considered a serious illness is in accordance with the regular formulistic practice of making light of a dangerous malady in order to convey to the disease spirit the impression that the shaman is not afraid of him. A`yûninï, from whom the formula was obtained, states also that the disease is sometimes sent to a man by a friend or even by his parents, in order to test his endurance and knowledge of counter spells.

As with most diseases, the name simply indicates the shaman's theory of the occult cause of the trouble, and is no clue to the symptoms, which may be those usually attendant upon fevers, indigestion, or almost any other ailment.

In some cases the disease is caused by the conjurations of an enemy, through which the patient becomes subject to an inordinate appetite, causing him to eat until his abdomen is unnaturally distended. By the same magic spells tobacco may be conveyed into the man's body, causing him to be affected by faintness and languor. The enemy, if bitterly revengeful, may even put into the body of his victim a worm or insect (tsgâya), or a sharpened stick of black locust or "fat" pine, which will result in death if not removed by a good doctor. Sometimes a weed stalk is in some occult manner conveyed into the patient's stomach, where it is transformed into a worm. As this disease is very common, owing to constant quarrels and rival jealousies, there are a number of specialists who devote their attention to it.

The prayer is addressed to the Black, Red, Blue, and White Ravens, their location at the four cardinal points not being specified, excepting in the case of the white raven of Wa'hilï, which, as already stated, is said to be a mountain in the south, and hence is used figuratively to mean the south. The ravens are each in turn declared to have put the disease into a crevice in Sanigala'gi--the Cherokee name of Whiteside Mountain, at the head of Tuckasegee River, in North Carolina, and used figuratively for. any high precipitous mountain--and to have left no more than a trace upon the ground where it has been. The adjective translated "evolute" (udanûhï) is of frequent occurrence in the formulas. but has no

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exact equivalent in English. It signifies springing into being or life from an embryonic condition. In this instance it would imply that whatever object the enemy has put into the body of the sick man has there developed into a ghost to trouble him.

The directions are expressed in a rather vague manner, as is the case with most of A`yûnini's attempts at original composition. The disease is here called by another name, agi`li'ya unitlûngû'nï, signifying "when they are painfully sick." The treatment consists in sucking the part most affected, the doctor having in his mouth during the operation the blossoms of Tsâ'l-agayû'nlï (Nicotiana rustica), Kanasâ'la (wild parsnip,) and Tsâliyusti Usdiga (Lobelia inflata.) The first and last of these names signify "tobacco" and "tobacco-like," while the other seems to contain the same word, tsâ'la, and the original idea may have been to counteract the witchcraft by the use of the various species of "tobacco," the herb commonly used to drive away a witch or wizard. During the sticking process four red beads lie near upon a piece of (white) cloth, which afterward becomes the perquisite of the doctor. Though not explicitly stated, it is probable that the doctor holds in his mouth a decoction of the blossoms named, rather than the blossoms themselves. On withdrawing his mouth from the spot and ejecting the liquid into a bowl, it is expected that there will be found "mixed" with it a small stick, a pebble, an insect, or something of the kind, and this the shaman then holds up to view as the cause of the disease. It is afterward buried a "hand's length" (awâ'hilû)[1] deep in the mud. No directions were given as to diet or tabu.

HUNTING.
GÛNÂ'HILÛ'nTA UGÛ'nWA`LÏ.
Una'lelü' eskiska'l`tasï'. Iskwa'lelü eskiska'l`tasï'. Yû! Ela-Kana'tï tsûldâ'hïstû'n, tsûwatsi'la astû'n detsatasi'ga. Ts?skwâ'lï uda'nisä'`testï, ugwala'ga udu'yaheti'dege'stï. Sunûsi'ya-gwû udanisä'`testï, ts`su'lti-gwû nige'sûnna.

Hïkayû'nlï Gi'gage-gâgû', tsine'tsï gesû'n aw`stitege'stï. Tsästû' utatiyi, nâ'gwa tsäs`tû gasû'hisä`ti atisge'sti. Ha-nâ'gwa nûnnâ tsusdi' tutana'wa-tegû' digana'watû'nta atisge'stï. Utalï' udaniû'hï ugwala'ga gûnwatuy'ahïti'tege'stï, hïlahiyû'nta-gwû wustû'`stï nige'sûnna. D?stiskwâ'lï deudû'nisä`te'stï. Yû!

Translation.
CONCERNING HUNTING.
Give me the wind. Give me the breeze. Yû! O Great Terrestrial Hunter, I come to the edge of your spittle where you repose. Let your stomach cover itself; let it be covered with leaves. Let it cover itself at a single bend, and may you never be satisfied.

[1. This word, like the expression "seven days," frequently has a figurative meaning. Thus the sun is said to be seven awâ'hilû above the earth.

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And you, O Ancient Red, may you hover above my breast while I sleep. Now let good (dreams?) develop; let my experiences be propitious. Ha! Now let my little trails be directed, as they lie down in various directions(?). Let the leaves be covered with the clotted blood, and may it never cease to be so. You two (the Water and the Fire) shall bury it in your stomachs. Yû!

Explanation.
This is a hunting formula, addressed to the two great gods of the hunter, Fire and Water. The evening before starting the hunter "goes to water," as already explained, and recites the appropriate formula. In the morning he sets out, while still fasting, and travels without eating or drinking until nightfall. At sunset he again goes to water, reciting this formula during the ceremony, after which he builds his camp fire, eats his supper and lies down for the night, first rubbing his breast with ashes from the fire. In the morning he starts out to look for game.

"Give me the wind," is a prayer that the wind may be in his favor, so that the game may not scent him. The word rendered here "Great Terrestrial Hunter," is in the original "Ela-Kana'tï." In this e'la is the earth and kana'tï is a term applied to a successful hunter. The great Kanatï, who, according to the myth, formerly kept all the game shut up in his underground caverns, now dwells above the sky, and is frequently invoked by hunters. The raven also is often addressed as Kanatï in these hunting formulas. Ela-Kana'tï, the Great Terrestrial Hunter--as distinguished from the other two--signifies the river, the name referring to the way in which the tiny streams and rivulets search out and bring down to the great river the leaves and débris of the mountain forests. In formulas for medicine, love, the ball play, etc., the river is always addressed as the Long Person (Yû'nwï Gûnahi'ta). The "spittle" referred to is the foam at the edge of the water. "Let your stomach be covered with leaves" means, let the blood-stained leaves where the stricken game shall fall be so numerous as to cover the surface of the water. The hunter prays also that sufficient game may be found in a single bend of the river to accomplish this result without the necessity of searching through the whole forest, and to that end he further prays that the river may never be satisfied, but continually longing for more. The same idea is repeated in the second paragraph, The hunter is supposed to feed the river with blood washed from the game. In like manner he feeds the fire, addressed in the second paragraph as the "Ancient Red," with a piece of meat cut from the tongue of the deer. The prayer that the fire may hover above his breast while he sleeps and brings him favorable dreams, refers to his rubbing his breast with ashes from his camp fire before lying down to sleep, in order that the fire may bring him dream omens of success for the morrow. The Fire is addressed either as the Ancient White or the

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Ancient Red, the allusion in the first case being to the light or the ashes of the fire; in the other case, to the color of the burning coals. "You two shall bury it in your stomachs" refers to the bloodstained leaves and the piece of meat which are cast respectively into the river and the fire. The formula was obtained from A`yûninï, who explained it in detail.

HIÄ' TSI'SKWA GANÂHILIDASTI'YÏ.
Tsïgë'! Hïkayû'nl-Une'ga, tsûltâ'histû'n gûlitâ'hïstani'ga. Nâ'gwa tsûda'ntâ talehï'sani'ga. Sâ'gwa igûnsi'ya ts?skwâlï' udû'nisate'stï, ts?su'ltï nige'sûnna. Wane'(ï) tigi'gage(ï) tali'kanëli'ga. U'ntalï udanû'hï tsägista'`tï.

Hïkayû'nl-Une'ga, anu'ya uwâtatâ'gï agi'stï tätsiskâ'ltane'lûhï. U'ntalï u'danû' te'tûlskew?si'ga.

Hïkayû'nl-Une'ga, nûnnâ'(hï) kana'tï skwatetâ'stani'ga. Unigwalû'ngï te'gatûntsi'ga. Nûnnâ'(hï) kana'tï tati'kiyû'ngwita'watise'stï. Unigwalû'ngï tigû'nwatû'tsanû'hï.

Hïkayû'nl-Une'ga, Kana'tï, sk?salatâ'titege'stï, sa`ka'ni ginu't?tï nige'sûnna. Sgë!

Translation.
THIS IS FOR HUNTING BIRDS.
Listen! O Ancient White, where you dwell in peace I have come to rest. Now let your spirit arise. Let it (the game brought down) be buried in your stomach, and may your appetite never be satisfied. The red hickories have tied themselves together. The clotted blood is your recompense.

O Ancient White, * * * Accept the clotted blood (?).

O Ancient White. put me in the successful hunting trail. Hang the mangled things upon me. Let me come along the successful trail with them doubled up (under my belt). It (the road) is clothed with the mangled things.

O Ancient White, O Kanati, support me continually, that I may never become blue. Listen!

Explanation.
This formula, from A`yûninï's manuscript, is recited by the bird-hunter in the morning while standing over the fire at his hunting camp before starting out for the day's hunt. A`yû'nini stated that seven blowgun arrows are first prepared, including a small one only a "hand-length" (awâ'hilû) long. On rising in the morning the hunter, standing over the fire, addresses it as the "Ancient White," rubbing his hands together while repeating the prayer. He then sets out for the hunting ground, where he expects to spend the day, and on reaching it he shoots away the short arrow at random, without attempting to trace its flight. There is of course some significance attached to this action and perhaps an accompanying prayer, but no further information upon this point was obtainable. Having shot away the magic arrow, the hunter utters a peculiar hissing

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sound, intended to call up the birds, and then goes to work with his remaining arrows. On all hunting expeditions it is the regular practice, religiously enforced, to abstain from food until sunset.

A favorite method with the bird-hunter during the summer season is to climb a gum tree, which is much frequented by the smaller birds on account of its berries, where, taking up a convenient position amid the branches with his noiseless blowgun and arrows, he deliberately shoots down one bird after another until his shafts are exhausted, when he climbs down, draws out the arrows from the bodies of the birds killed, and climbs up again to repeat the operation. As the light darts used make no sound, the birds seldom take the alarm, and are too busily engaged with the berries to notice their comrades dropping to the ground from time to time, and pay but slight attention even to the movements of the hunter.

The prayer is addressed to the Ancient White (the Fire), the spirit most frequently invoked by the hunter, who, as before stated, rubs his hands together over the fire while repeating the words. The expressions used are obscure when taken alone, but are full of meaning when explained in the light of the hunting customs. The "clotted blood" refers to the bloodstained leaves upon which the fallen game has lain. The expression occurs constantly in the hunting formulas. The hunter gathers up these bloody leaves and casts them upon the fire, in order to draw omens for the morrow from the manner in which they burn. A part of the tongue, or some other portion of the animal, is usually cast upon the coals also for the same purpose. This subject will be treated at length in a future account of the hunting ceremonies.

"Let it be buried in your stomach" refers also to the offering made the fire. By the red hickories are meant the strings of hickory bark which the bird hunter twists about his waist for a belt. The dead birds are carried by inserting their heads under this belt. Red is, of course, symbolic of his success. "The mangled things" (unigwalû'ngï) are the wounded birds. Kana'tï is here used to designate the fire, on account of its connection with the hunting ceremonies.

INAGË'HÏ AYÂSTInYÏ.
Usïnuli'yu Selagwû'tsï Gigage'ï getsû'nneliga tsûdandâgi'hï aye`li'yu, usïnuli'yu. Yû!

Translation.
TO SHOOT DWELLERS IN THE WILDERNESS.
Instantly the Red Selagwû'tsï strike you in the very center of your soul--instantly. Yû!

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Explanation.
This short formula, obtained from A`wani'ta, is recited by the hunter while taking aim. The bowstring is let go--or, rather, the trigger is pulled--at the final Yû! He was unable to explain the meaning of the word selagwû'tsï further than that it referred to the bullet. Later investigation, however, revealed the fact that this is the Cherokee name of a reed of the genus Erianthus, and the inference follows that the stalk of the plant was formerly used for arrow shafts. Red implies that the arrow is always successful in reaching the mark aimed at, and in this instance may refer also to its being bloody when withdrawn from the body of the animal. Inagë'hï, "dwellers in the wilderness," is the generic term for game, including birds, but A`wani'ta has another formula intended especially for deer.

(YÂ'NA TÏ'KANÂGI'TA.)
He +! Hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä'.
Tsistuyi' nehandu'yanû, Tsistuyi' nehandu'yanû--Yoho' +!
He +! Hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä'.
Kuwâhi' nehandu'yanû', Kuwâhi nehandu'yanû--Yoho' +!
He +! Hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä, hayuya'haniwä'.
Uyâ`ye' nehandu'yanû', Uyâ`ye' nehandu'yanû'--Yoho' +!
He +! Hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä, hayuya'haniwä'.
Gâtekwâ'(hï) nehandu'yanû', Gâtekwâ'(hï) nehandu'yanû'--Yoho' +!
Ûlë-`nû' asëhï' tadeya'statakûnï' gûnnage astû'tsïkï'.

Translation.
BEAR SONG.
He! Hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä'.
In Rabbit Place you were conceived (repeat)--Yoho' +!
He! Hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä'.
In Mulberry Place you were conceived (repeat)--Yoho' +!
He! Hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä'.
In Uyâ'`yë you were conceived (repeat)--Yoho' +!
He! Hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä', hayuya'haniwä'.
In the Great Swamp (?) you were conceived (repeat)--Yoho' +!
And now surely we and the good black things, the best of all, shall see each other.

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Explanation.
This song, obtained from A`yû'ninï in connection with the story of the Origin of the Bear, as already mentioned, is sung by the bear hunter, in order to attract the bears, while on his way from the camp to the place where he expects to hunt during the day. It is one of those taught the Cherokees by the Ani-Tsâ'kahï before they lost their human shape and were transformed into bears. The melody is simple and plaintive.

The song consists of four verses followed by a short recitation. Each verse begins with a loud prolonged He +! and ends with Yoho' +! uttered in the same manner. Hayuya'haniwä' has no meaning. Tsistu'yï, Kuwâ'hï, Uyâ'`yë, and Gâte'kwâhï are four mountains, in each of which the bears have a townhouse and hold a dance before going into their dens for the winter. The first three named are high peaks in the Smoky Mountains, on the Tennessee line, in the neighborhood of Clingman's Dome and Mount Guyot. The fourth is southeast of Franklin, North Carolina, toward the South Carolina line, and may be identical with Fodderstack Mountain. In Kuwahi dwells the great bear chief and doctor, in whose magic bath the wounded bears are restored to health. They are said to originate or be conceived in the mountains named, because these are their headquarters. The "good black things" referred to in the recitation are the bears.

HIÄ' ATSÛ`TI'YÏ TSUN'TANÛ.
Sgë! Nâ'gwa hitsatû'ngani'ga hitsiga'tugï'. Titsila'wisû'nhï uwâgi'`lï tege'tsûts`gû'`lawïstï'. Tsuli'stana'lû ûlë' waktûï, agi'stï une'ka itsû'nyatanilû'ïstani'ga. Gûnwatu'hwïtû' nûnna'hï degûndâltsi'dâhe'stï. uWâ'hisâ'nahï tigiwatsi'la. Tutsegû'`lawistï'tege'stï. Ûntalï' degû'nwatanûhï, uhisa'`tï nige'sûnna. Tsuwatsi'la dadâl`tsi'ga. A`yû A`yû'ninï tigwadâ'ita. Yû!

Translation.
THIS IS FOR CATCHING LARGE FISH.
Listen! Now you settlements have drawn near to hearken. Where you have gathered in the foam you are moving about as one. You Blue Cat and the others, I have come to offer you freely the white food. Let the paths from every direction recognize each other. Our spittle shall be in agreement. Let them (your and my spittle) be together as we go about. They (the fish) have become a prey and there shall be no loneliness. Your spittle has become agreeable. I am called Swimmer. Yû!

Explanation.
This formula, from A`yûnini's' book, is for the purpose of catching large fish. According to his instructions, the fisherman must first chew a small piece of Yugwilû' (Venus' Flytrap--Dionæa muscipula) and spit it upon the bait and also upon the hook. Then, standing

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facing the stream, he recites the formula and puts the bait upon the hook. He will be able to pull out a fish at once, or if the fish are not about at the moment they will come in a very short time.

The Yugwilû' is put upon the bait from the idea that it will enable the hook to attract and hold the fish as the plant itself seizes and holds insects in its cup. The root is much prized by the Cherokees for this purpose, and those in the West, where the plant is not found, frequently send requests for it to their friends in Carolina.

The prayer is addressed directly to the fish, who are represented as living in settlements. The same expression as has already been mentioned is sometimes used by the doctors in speaking of the tsgâ'ya or worms which are supposed to cause sickness by getting under the skin of the patient. The Blue Cat (Amiurus, genus) is addressed as the principal fish and the bait is spoken of as the "white food," an expression used also of the viands prepared at the feast of the green corn dance, to indicate their wholesome character. "Let the paths from every direction recognize each other," means let the fishes, which are supposed to have regular trails through the water, assemble together at the place where the speaker takes his station, as friends recognizing each other at a distance approach to greet each other, uWâhisâ'nahï tigiwatsi'la, rendered "our spittle shall be in agreement," is a peculiar archaic expression that can not be literally translated. It implies that there shall be such close sympathy between the fisher and the fish that their spittle shall be as the spittle of one individual. As before stated, the spittle is believed to exert an important influence upon the whole physical and mental being. The expression "your spittle has become agreeable" is explained by A`yûninï as an assertion or wish that the fish may prove palatable, while the words rendered "there shall be no loneliness" imply that there shall be an abundant catch.

(YÛnWË'HÏ UGÛ'nWA`LÏ I.)
Ku! Sgë! Alahi'yï tsûl`dâ'histï, Higë`'ya tsûl`di'yï, hatû'ngani'ga. Elahi'yï iyû'nta ditsûl`dâ'histï, Higë'`ya Tsûne'ga. Tsisa'`tï nige'sûnna. Tsâduhi'yï. Nâ'gwa-skïn'ï usïnuli'yu hûnskwane'`lûngû' tsisga'ya agine'ga. Agisa'`tï nige'sûnna. Nâ'gwa nû'nnâ une'ga hûnskwanûnneli'ga. Uhisa'`tï nige'sûnna. Nâ'gwa skwade'tastani'ga. Sa`ka'ni u'tatï nige'sûnna. Nûnnâ une'ga skiksa'`ûntaneli'ga. Elaye'`lï iyû'nta skwalewistä'`tani'ga E'latï gesû'n tsïtage'stï. Agisa'`tï nige'sûnna. Agwâ'duhi'yu. Kûltsâ'te une'ga skiga'`tani'ga. Uhisa'`tï nige'sûnna, gûnkwatsâti'tege'sti. Tsi-sa`ka'ni agwä'tï nige'sûnna. Usïnuli'yu hûnskwane'`lûngû'.

Ha-nâ'gwûlë Elahi'yï iyû'ntä dûhiyane'`lûngû' a'gë'`ya sa`ka'ni. Nâ'gwa nûnnâ'hï sa`ka'ni hûntane'`laneli'ga. Uhisa'`tï-gwû u'danû dudusa'gï tanela'sï. Nûnnâ'hï sa`ka'nï tade'tâstani'ga. Nâgwûlë'

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hûnhiyatsâ'ûntaniga. E'latï gesû'n tû'l`taniga. Dedu'laskû'n-gwû igû'nwa`lawï'stï uhi'sa`ti'yï widaye'la`ni'ga. Dedulaskû'n-gwû igû'nwa`lawï'stï uhi'sa`ti'yï nitû'nneli'ga.

Ha-sâgwahi'yu itsilasta'agï + + uwä'sahi'yu, etsane'`laneli'ga. Agisa'`tï nige'sûnna. Agwâ'duhï. A'yû agwadantâ'gï aye`li'yu d?ka'`lani'lï duda'ntâ, uktahû'nstï nige'sûnna. Yû'nwï tsu'tsatûn widudante'`tï nige'sûnna, nitû'nneli'ga. Sâ'gwahï itsilasta'lagï, etsane'`laneli'ga kûlkwâ'gi-nasï' igûlstû'`lï gegane'`lanû'n.

Anisga'ya anewadi'stûn unihisa`ti'yï. Tsu'nada'neilti'yï. Dï'la-gwû degû'nwänatsegû'`lawi'sdidegû'. Ayâ'ise'ta-gwû u'danû. Tsunada'neilti'yï. Utse'tsti-gwû degû'nwänatsegû'`lawis'didegû'. Tsunada'neilti'yï. Ka'ga-gwû degû'nwänatsegû'`awisdidegû'. Tsunada'neilti'yï. Da'l`ka-gwû degû'nwänatsegû'`lawisdidegû'.

Kûlkwâ'gï igûlsta'lagï unihisa`ti'yu. Ige'ski-gwû nige'sû'nna. Ayâ'ise'ta-gwû u'danû degû'nwänatsûn`ti-degû'. K?si-gwû degû'nwänatsûn`ti-degû'. A'yagâgû' tsisga'ya agine'ga ûngwane'`lanû'hï + + Nûndâgû'nyï iti'tsa ditsidâ'ga. Agisa'`tï nige'sûnna. Agwâduhi'yu. Tsi-sa`ka'nï agwä'tatï nige'sûnna. Kûltsâ'te une'ga ûnni'tagâgû' gûkwatsâ'nti-degû'. Agisä'`tï nige'sûnna. A'yû agwadantâ'gï aye`li'yu gûlasi'ga tsûda'ntâ, uktahû'nstï nige'sûnna. A'yû tsï'gï tsûda'nta O O. Sgë!

Translation.
CONCERNING LIVING HUMANITY (LOVE).
Kû! Listen! In Alahi'yï you repose, O Terrible Woman, O you have drawn near to hearken. There in Elahiyï you are at rest, O White Woman. No one is ever lonely when with you. You are most beautiful. Instantly and at once you have rendered me a white man. No one is ever lonely when with me. Now you have made the path white for me. It shall never be dreary. Now you have put me into it. It shall never become blue. You have brought down to me from above the white road. There in mid-earth (mid-surface) you have placed me. I shall stand erect upon the earth. No one is ever lonely when with me. I am very handsome. You have put me into the white house. I shall be in it as it moves about and no one with me shall ever be lonely. Verily, I shall never become blue. Instantly you have caused it to be so with me.

And now there in Elahiyï you have rendered the woman blue. Now you have made the path blue for her. Let her be completely veiled in loneliness. Put her into the blue road. And now bring her down. Place her standing upon the earth. Where her feet are now and wherever she may go, let loneliness leave its mark upon her. Let her be marked out for loneliness where she stands.

Ha! I belong to the (Wolf) ( + + ) clan, that one alone which was allotted into for you. No one is ever lonely with me. I am handsome. Let her put her soul the very center of my soul, never to turn away. Grant that in the midst of men she shall never think of them. I belong to the one clan alone which was allotted for you when the seven clans were established.

Where (other) men live it is lonely. They are very loathsome. The common polecat has made them so like himself that they are fit only for his company. They have became mere refuse. They are very loathsome. The common opossum has made them so like himself that they are fit only to be with him. They are very

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loathsome. Even the crow has made them so like himself that they are fit only for his company. They are very loathsome. The miserable rain-crow has made them so like himself that they are fit only to be with him.

The seven clans all alike make one feel very lonely in their company. They are not even good looking. They go about clothed with mere refuse. They even go about covered with dung. But I--I was ordained to be a white man. I stand with my face toward the Sun Land. No one is ever lonely with me. I am very handsome. I shall certainly never become blue. I am covered by the everlasting white house wherever I go. No one is ever lonely with me. Your soul has come into the very center of my soul, never to turn away. I--(Gatigwanasti,) (O O)--I take your soul. Sgë!

Explanation.
This unique formula is from one of the loose manuscript sheets of Gatigwanasti, now dead, and belongs to the class known as Yûnwë'hï or love charms (literally, concerning "living humanity") including all those referring in any way to the marital or sexual relation. No explanation accompanies the formula, which must therefore be interpreted from analogy. It appears to be recited by the lover himself--not by a hired shaman--perhaps while painting and adorning himself for the dance. (See next two formulas.)

The formula contains several obscure expressions which require further investigation. Elahiyï or Alahiyï, for it is written both ways in the manuscript, does not occur in any other formula met with thus far, and could not be explained by any of the shamans to whom it was submitted. The nominative form may be Elahï, perhaps from ela, "the earth," and it may be connected with Wa'hïlï, the formulistic name for the south. The spirit invoked is the White Woman, white being the color denoting the south.

Uhisa'`tï, rendered here "lonely," is a very expressive word to a Cherokee and is of constant recurrence in the love formulas. It refers to that intangible something characteristic of certain persons which inevitably chills and depresses the spirits of all who may be so unfortunate as to come within its influence. Agisa'`tï nige'sûnna, "I never render any one lonely," is an intensified equivalent for, "I am the best company in the world," and to tell a girl that a rival lover is uhisa'`tï is to hold out to her the sum of all dreary prospects should she cast in her lot with him.

The speaker, who evidently has an exalted opinion of himself, invokes the aid of the White Woman, who is most beautiful and is never uhisa'`tï. She at once responds by making him a white--that is, a happy--man, and placing him in the white road of happiness, which shall never become blue with grief or despondency. She then places him standing in the middle of the earth, that he may be seen and admired by the whole world, especially by the female portion. She finally puts him into the white house, where happiness abides forever. The verb implies that the house shelters him like a cloak and goes about with him wherever he may go.

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There is something comical in the extreme self-complacency with which he asserts that he is very handsome and will never become blue and no one with him is ever lonely. As before stated, white signifies peace and happiness, while blue is the emblem of sorrow and disappointment.

Having thus rendered himself attractive to womankind, he turns his attention to the girl whom he particularly desires to win. He begins by filling her soul with a sense of desolation and loneliness. In the beautiful language of the formula, her path becomes blue and she is veiled in loneliness. He then asserts, and reiterates, that he is of the one only clan which was allotted for her when the seven clans were established.

He next pays his respects to his rivals and advances some very forcible arguments to show that she could never be happy with any of them. He says that they are all "lonesome" and utterly loathsome--the word implies that they are mutually loathsome--and that they are the veriest trash and refuse. He compares them to so many polecats, oppossums, and crows, and finally likens them to the raincrow (cuckoo; Coccygus), which is regarded with disfavor on account of its disagreeable note. He grows more bitter in his denunciations as he proceeds and finally disposes of the matter by saying that all the seven clans alike are uhisa'`tï and are covered with filth. Then follows another glowing panegyric of himself, closing with the beautiful expression, "your soul has come into the very center of mine, never to turn away," which reminds one forcibly of the sentiment in the German love song, "Du liegst mir im Herzen." The final expression, "I take your soul," implies that the formula has now accomplished its purpose in fixing her thoughts upon himself.

When successful, a ceremony of this kind has the effect of rendering the victim so "blue" or lovesick that her life is in danger until another formula is repeated to make, her soul "white" or happy again. Where the name of the individual or clan is mentioned in these formulas the blank is indicated in the manuscript by crosses + + or ciphers O O or by the word iyu'stï, "like."

HI'Ä ÄMA'YÏ Ä'TAWAST'YÏ KANÂ'HEHÛ.
Sgë! Ha-nâ'gwa usïnuli'yu hatû'ngani'ga Higë'`yagu'ga, tsûwatsi'la gi'gage tsiye'la skïna'dû`'lani'ga. O O digwadâ'ita. Sa`ka'nï tûgwadûne'lûhï. Atsanû'ngï gi'gage skwâsû'hisa`tani'ga. + + kûlstä'lagï + sa'ka'nï nu'tatanû'nta. Ditu'nûnnâ'gï dagwû'laskû'n-gwû deganu'y`tasi'ga. Galâ'nûntse'ta-gwû dagwadûne'lidise'stï. Sgë!

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Translation.
THIS TELLS ABOUT GOING INTO THE WATER.
Listen! O, now instantly, you have drawn near to hearken, O Agë'`yagu'ga. You have come to put your red spittle upon my body. My name is (Gatigwanasti.) The blue had affected me. You have come and clothed me with a red dress. She is of the (Deer) clan. She has become blue. You have directed her paths straight to where I have my feet, and I shall feel exultant. Listen!

Explanation.
This formula, from Gatigwanasti's book, is also of the Yûnwë'hï class, and is repeated by the lover when about to bathe in the stream preparatory to painting himself for the dance. The services of a shaman are not required, neither is any special ceremony observed. The technical word used in the heading, ä'tawasti'yï, signifies plunging or going entirely into a liquid. The expression used for the ordinary "going to water," where the water is simply dipped up with the hand, is ämâ'yï dita`ti'yï, "taking them to water."

The prayer is addressed to Agë'`yaguga, a formulistic name for the moon, which is supposed to exert a great influence in love affairs, because the dances, which give such opportunities for love making, always take place at night. The shamans can not explain the meaning of the term, which plainly contains the word agë'`ya, "woman," and may refer to the moon's supposed influence over women. In Cherokee mythology the moon is a man. The ordinary name is nû'ndâ, or more fully, nû'ndâ sûnnâyë'hï, "the sun living in the night," while the sun itself is designated as nû'nndâ igë'hï, "the sun living in the day."

By the red spittle of Agë'`yagu'ga and the red dress with which the lover is clothed are meant the red paint which he puts upon himself. This in former days was procured from a deep red clay known as ela-wâ'tï, or "reddish brown clay." The word red as used in the formula is emblematic of success in attaining his object, besides being the actual color of the paint. Red, in connection with dress or ornamentation, has always been a favorite color with Indians throughout America, and there is some evidence that among the Cherokees it was regarded also as having a mysterious protective power. In all these formulas the lover renders the woman blue or disconsolate and uneasy in mind as a preliminary to fixing her thoughts upon himself. (See next formula.)