A Guide to Mythology

by Helen A. Clarke

So he tottered along, though he could hardly walk; nor could he, indeed, go very far that day. And when almost broken down with pain and weariness, he came about noon to two good wigwams. Looking into one, he saw a gray-haired old man, and in the other a young girl, apparently his daughter. And they received him kindly, and listened to his story, saying it was very sad, the old man declaring that he must really remain there, and that he would get him a doctor, since, unless he were well cared for at once, he would die. Then he went forth as if in great concern, leaving his daughter to nurse the weary, wounded stranger.

Now, when the doctor came, he, too, was an old gray man, with a scalp-lock strangely divided like two horns. But the Wild-Cat had become a little suspicious, having been so often deceived, for much abuse will cease to amuse even the most innocent; and truly he was none of these. And, looking grimly at the Doctor, he said: “I was asking if any Rabbits are here, and truly you look very much like one yourself. How did you get that split nose?” “Oh, that is very simple,” replied the old man. “Once I was hammering wampum beads, and the stone on which I beat them broke in halves, and one piece flew up, and, as you see, split my nose.” “But,” persisted the Wild-Cat, “why are the soles of your feet so yellow, even like a Rabbit’s?” “Ah, that is because I have been preparing some tobacco, and I had to hold it down with my feet, for, truly, I needed both my hands to work with. So the tobacco stained them yellow.” Then the Wild-Cat suspected no more, and the Doctor put salve on his wound, so that he felt much better.

But oh, the wretchedness of the awaking in the morning! For then Wild-Cat found himself indeed in the extreme of misery. His head was swollen and aching to an incredible degree, and the horrible wound, which was gaping wide, had been stuffed with hemlock needles and pine splinters, and this was the cool salve which the Doctor had applied. And then he swore by all his body and soul that he would slay the next being he met, Rabbit or Indian. Verily this time he would be utterly revenged.

Now Mahtigwess, the Rabbit, had almost come to an end of his m’téoulin, or wizard power, for that time, yet he had still enough left for one more great effort. And, coming to a lake, he picked up a very large chip, and, having seamed it with sorcery and magnified it by magic, threw it into the water, where it at once seemed to be a great ship, such as white men build. And when the Wild-Cat came up he saw it, with sails spread and flags flying, and the captain stood so stately on the deck, with folded arms, and he was a fine, gray-haired, dignified man, with a cocked hat, the two points of which were like grand and stately horns. But the Wild-Cat had sworn, and he was mindful of his great oath; so he cried, “You cannot escape me this time, Rabbit! I have you now!” Saying this he plunged in, and tried to swim to the ship. And the captain, seeing a Wild-Cat in the water, being engaged in musket drill, ordered his men to fire at it, which they did with a bang! Now this was caused by a party of night-hawks overhead, who swooped down with a sudden cry like a shot; at least it seemed so to Wild-Cat, who, deceived and appalled by this volley, deeming that he had verily made a mistake this time, turned tail and swam ashore into the dark old forest, where, if he is not dead, he is running still.

In the following two stories, the two most celebrated heroes of American Indian Mythology figure. The first is known as Manabozho among the Algonquin Indians and as Hiawatha among the Iroquois. Although he appears most often in the form of a man in Indian legends, he seems at times to be endowed with divine attributes. According to the ordinary account of him[1] he is regarded as the messenger of the Great Spirit, sent down to mankind, in the character of a wise man or prophet. But he has all the attributes of humanity as well as the power of performing miraculous deeds. He adapts himself perfectly to their manners and customs and ideas. He marries, builds a lodge, hunts and fishes, goes to war, has his triumphs and his failures like other Indians. Whatever man could do in strength or wisdom he could do, but when he encounters situations requiring more than human strength, his miraculous powers come into play. He is provided with a magic canoe which goes where it is bid. He could leap over extensive regions of country like an ignis fatuus. He appears suddenly like a god, or wanders over weary wastes of country a poor and starving hunter. His voice is at one moment deep and sonorous as a thunder-clap, and at another clothed with the softness of feminine supplication. He could transform himself into any animal he pleased. He often conversed with animals, fowls, reptiles, and fishes. He deemed himself related to them, and always in speaking to them called them “my brother,” and one of his greatest resources when finding himself hard pressed was to change himself into their shapes.

He could conquer Manitoes, no matter what their evil power might be. Manitoes in Indian stories are not unlike fairies in their characteristics. They were of all imaginary kinds, grades, powers, sometimes benign, sometimes malicious, but Manabozho was a personage strong enough in his necromantic powers to baffle the most malicious, beat the stoutest, and overreach the most cunning. He was not, however, the wholly benevolent being we might expect he would be with all these great gifts; he was unfortunately ambitious, vainglorious, and deceitful, and at times not much better himself than a wicked Manito. But what could be expected of a son of the West Wind, for his father was Ningabiun, the West Wind, and you will find that mythical beings which personify the wind are always of a tricksy disposition just as the wind itself is. As a god he was often spoken of as the great white Hare.

The Algonquin hero, Glooskap,[2] is equally interesting, and of a more truly heroic disposition than Manabozho. The name of this divinity, Glooskap, means a liar, because it is said that when he left the earth for the land of spirits he promised to return and he has never done so. Many and wonderful are the tales told of Glooskap, but he is never silly, or cruel, or fantastic like Manabozho. Any one who goes to Nova Scotia, to-day, may see the grand Cape Blomidon, where Glooskap lived. It juts out between the Bay of Fundy and the Basin of Minas. Its foundations are of red sandstone and far up toward the sky it is crowned with granite battlements. Sometimes the waters of the Basin of Minas gently wash against the base of this gigantic cape and sometimes one could walk a mile or two from the cape to reach the water. Twice a day this happens as the tide comes up and recedes. Truly, it is a magical land, and Blomidon is a noble home, well befitting the great Indian divinity whose head rises to the stars, and who could slay a giant enemy with a mere tap of his bow. We shall meet with both of these heroes again later.

THE STORY OF MANABOZHO

(Iroquois)

To begin at the beginning, Manabozho, while yet a youngster, was living with his grandmother, near the edge of a wide prairie. It was on this prairie that he first saw animals and birds of every kind; he also there made first acquaintance with thunder and lightning; he would sit by the hour watching the clouds as they rolled, and musing on the shades of light and darkness as the day rose and fell.