La Hontan enters into many speculations as to the origin of this instrument and practice, and very properly scoots the idea that it was derived from the ancient caduceus of Mercury. He supposes that it arose from their habit of using the pipe while deliberating in council.
(2) Assume the part and situation of the woman.—p. 94.
This signifies the disarming of a man, who thenceforth may become a mediator or peace-maker, and is never allowed to resume the weapons or practices of warfare. In addition to this, the "metaphorical woman" is liable to be called to take part with the real woman in the labours of the field and the cabin.
[THE MARRIAGE OF THE SNAIL AND THE BEAVER.]
If my brother knows anything of the Osages, as they are called by the people of his nation, but by themselves, and all the neighbouring tribes, the Wasbashas, he knows that they live on the banks of the large and beautiful river, the Osage, which empties itself into the Missouri, at the distance of a hunter's journey of three suns from its mouth. Once the people of my nation were all united like a family of children which have but one mother, but subdivisions of the original stock have taken place, and they are now divided into three tribes, the Great Osages and the Little Osages, who have raised their cabins on the south bank of the river, and the sister's sons who broil their meat on the banks of the stream which our white brother calls the Vermilion. Are we brave and valiant? Ask the nations around us. Behold the Dahcotah scalps drying in the smoke of our cabins! Are we strong? Here is the bow of an Osage boy—bend it. Are our women beautiful? Look at them, and be convinced.
The story which our fathers told us of our origin is this, and they believed it, for their lips never dealt in falsehood, nor were their tongues forked. The father of our nation was a SNAIL. It was when the earth was young and little: it was before the rivers had become wide and long, or the mountains lifted their peaks among the clouds, that this snail found himself passing a quiet existence on the banks of our own beloved river. His wants and his wishes were but few and well supplied, and as quiet and rest, and the freedom to move neither often nor much, were to him the height of happiness, he was happy. He seldom hunted, and, when he did, it was in the immediate neighbourhood of his lodge, never moving unless at the call of hunger, and then according to his nature he satisfied his appetite upon whatever was nearest at hand, rather than take the chance of faring better by going further. And thus lived our great forefather, the snail.
At length the region of the Missouri was visited by one of those great storms which so often scatter desolation over it, and the river, overflowed by the melted currents of snow and ice from the regions of the mountains, swept away every thing from its banks, and among other things the drowsy snail. Seated upon a log, and enjoying greatly a circumstance which gave him all the pleasure of travel without its fatigue, our lazy ancestor drifted down many a day's journey, till the torrent, subsiding, left him and his log upon the bank of the River of Fish. He mow found himself in a strange country, but there was plenty of slime, both on ground and leaf, and there was no occasion for rapid motion; then what cared he? It was in the middle of the season of hot suns, which beamed fiercely upon him, till he became baked in the slime to the earth, and found himself as incapable of moving as the clod upon which he dwelt. Gradually he grew in size and stature, and his form experienced a change, till at length what was once a snail, creeping upon all-fours on the earth, ripened into man, erect, tall, and stately, strong of limb, rugged of purpose, and formed to overcome by either strength or cunning, every thing which dwelt on the earth, or in the air, or in the water. For a long time after his change from a beast to a human being, he remained stupified, not knowing what he was, where he was, or by what means to sustain life. At length recollection returned to him: he remembered that he was once a snail, and dwelt upon another river—he remembered where that river lay. He now became animated with a wish to return to his old haunts, and accordingly directed his steps towards that part of the great island[30] from which he had been removed. Hunger now began to prey upon him, and bade fair to close his eyes before he should again behold his beloved haunts on the banks of the Osage. The beasts of the forest were many, but their speed outstripped his; he could not catch them: the birds of the air fluttered upon sprays beyond his reach; the fish, gliding through the waves at his feet, were nimbler than he, and eluded his grasp. Each moment be grew weaker, the films gathered before his eyes, and in his ears there rang sounds like the whistling of winds through the woods in the month before the snows. At length, wearied and exhausted, he had laid himself down upon a grassy bank to die.
As he lay, thinking of nothing but food and the means of obtaining it, some one at his side said, with a voice soft as the bleat of a young kid, "Wasbasha?"
Our father, who had heard birds sing and wail, and beasts cry and growl, but never till now had heard one utter intelligible sounds, answered "Eh!" Raising himself with difficulty, upon his side he beheld that which spoke to him. He saw, mounted upon a noble beast, white as the snow of winter, a being, like to nothing which is seen among the sons of the earth. He was tall of stature, his eyes glittered like the stars of morning, or the tears of a young maiden who weeps for joy, and his hair shone like the blush of sunset upon the folds of a cloud. His was indeed a glorious form; and power as well as beauty sate enthroned upon it: while the Wasbasha gazed, he trembled like a fawn caught in the toils of the hunter, or the wolf penned in the crevice of a rock. Again the glorious being spoke to our terrified but admiring father.