Traditions of the North American Indians, Vol. 2

by James Athearn Jones

Before the sun descended behind the mountains of the West, he shone upon man also. Six Indians, the first men that were ever on earth, and the ancestors of the tribe of Nanticokes, all at once, they knew not how, nor by what means, found themselves sitting upon the same shore, upon the verge of the ocean. Whether they were created on the spot, or came from some other place beyond the seas; whether they had swum up from the waters, or crawled out of the mud, or bounded from the depths of the forest, or alighted from the regions of the air, and were changed into men, receiving a gift to forget their former state, they knew not, or if they dropped from the skies, and forgot whence they came through dizziness and the violence of the fall. But this they knew, that they found themselves sitting on the shores of the Great Lake, in the country now inhabited by the Nanticokes, on the latter part of a warm and pleasant day, in the moon in which the shad leave the waters which are salt, and make their journey to those which are fresh. And they knew that there were six of them, and this was all they knew.

These six Indians were all men; there was not amongst them, nor on the earth, a single woman. The song-sparrow, and the mocking-bird, and the dove, and the crested wren, and the spotted lynx, and the gorgeous woodpecker, and the fish with shining scales, and all the other beautiful creatures that have since lived, and now live, were then upon the earth, even in greater numbers, and possessed of greater beauty than now; but woman, more beautiful than any, the most glorious thing that walks the earth, lived not then. It was soon that these Indians found out their wants, and began to provide themselves with food and clothing by means of hunting. They built themselves canoes, and made them bows and arrows, wherewith they took the spoils of land and water; and they set springes for birds, and traps for those creatures which live alike on the land and water. And they cultivated the various plants which they found growing spontaneously—corn, and tobacco, and roots; and gathered ripe grapes, and abundance of delicious berries. They lived well enough, and had they been wise would have sought no further; but they took it into their heads, that they could not live without women. So, led by the gloomy and solitary feeling of a vacant heart, they left the cabins which they had built, and wandered forth in search of the coveted objects. That their chance of success might be greater, they agreed to separate, and each to travel on different paths, and so they parted. One went towards the clime of the snows, another towards the land of the summer winds, the third sought the distant east, the fourth bent his steps towards the mountains of the setting sun, the fifth descended into the bowels of the earth, and the sixth climbed a sunbeam. Before they separated, they agreed that those who were living when the Moon of Grapes again came round, should repair to the same great tree in the shade of which they were then sitting, and there, while the pipe of friendship was passing around, recount their adventures.

The Moon of Grapes again came round, and found, upon one of its pleasantest days, these six Nanticokes sitting beneath the great tree, on the bank of the river which gives its name to the tribe. With them sate six beautiful women, and laughing, and sporting, and rolling about on the green and grassy sod at their feet, lay six beautiful children. The six Indians and their wives appeared very happy, and while they passed the pipe about, laughed and talked very loud and joyfully, and were very, very merry, as though they had been drinking something much stronger than water. At last, one of them, whose name was Sinipuxent, rose and said:

Brothers! it was in the Moon of Grapes of the last year, that we found ourselves sitting on the shore of the Great Lake, endued with the faculties that we now exercise. It was in the Moon of Grapes, that we departed in quest of the beloved beings who are now the light of our eyes. And we agreed, that those who were living when the next Grape-Moon came round should repair to the same great tree, beneath whose shade we then sate, and there, while the pipe of friendship was passing round, we should relate what had befallen us. The Great Spirit has permitted our return to that spot, and the beautiful beings, whom we have brought with us from countries so far apart, are proofs that adventures have befallen us, which are worth recounting. Brothers, you shall hear of what befel Sinipuxent, who left you to climb the sunbeam.

When he parted from his five brothers, he climbed a sunbeam for many days, until he came to the land where the glorious luminary of the earth, the Sun, takes his refreshment of sleep and rest during the dark hours. It was in the morning of the day, and the great light of the world had risen from his couch, and set out upon his journey, but his wife and his children were all, save one, stretched out in profound sleep. That one, the most beautiful of all creatures—look at her, and say if she is not!—sat bathing her lovely cheeks and stately neck in the morning dew, and brushing off the stray drops with the white lily of the lake. Her little feet were carelessly thrust into the clear stream gliding by her, beneath which they glittered like the sparkling sands washed from the mountains into the river of the Nanticokes. Her long bright hair, coloured by the beams of her father, the Sun, lay floating over her naked shoulders and bosom, more beautiful—but ye behold her. Beautiful creature! she saw not the Nanticoke till he stood at her side. When she raised her head, and found a stranger standing near her, she would have fled, but he detained her gently with these words:

"Beautiful creature! what is it thou fearest? I am not he that would harm thee. On the contrary, I would encounter any risk, brave any peril, rather than harm one of the glossy hairs that is straying over thy beautiful brow. My heart tells me, gentle creature, that thou art the object for which my soul hath panted, ever since I first knew that I was. I love thee, deeply and fervently, and wish thee to be mine. I ask thee to leave the clime of thy father, and go with me to the pleasant land and beautiful river of the Nanticokes. Though its skies be not so bright as those in which thou wert born, yet are they mellower. And the waters of the land are clear, cool, and sweet, and the shades are refreshing. The vines are bending to the earth with rich ripe grapes, berries are loading every bush, and the earth is covered with flowers. Thou shalt become my companion in the cabin I have built me beside the Nanticoke; and even as that river, when unvexed by the swell of rains, glides along in the months of summer, so shall our lives pass away. Thou shalt be the wife of my bosom, and together will we live, till we are called to the land revealed to us by our dreams as the land of souls."

The lovely maiden heard the words of the Nanticoke, and answered that she knew not well what she should say. She knew not where the land of the Nanticokes lay, nor did she know who was he that spoke to her. But she timidly confessed that she loved him, and would become the wife of his bosom, if the consent of her father and mother could be obtained. So he asked the mother, who gave her consent at once, if that of her husband could be procured.

When the Sun came home at night, his wife said to him, "One of the six Indians that dropped from the North Star, on the shores of the Great Lake in the Frog-Moon, has come hither, and demanded our daughter Atahensic in marriage. He appears to be a bold and handsome youth, and our daughter loves him."

"But he shall not have her," answered the fiery father; "the blood of the Sun shall not mingle with the blood of the beings of the earth."

Then he called the Nanticoke to him, and spoke to him thus: "Thou canst not have my daughter—thy blood cannot mingle with mine.—Depart."