Little Folks of North America / Stories about children living in the different parts of North America

by Mary Hazelton Blanchard Wade

In these far northern regions the little Eskimos are often treated to a most beautiful sight. It is the northern lights, which flash over the heavens during the long cold winter nights, and are far brighter than are ever seen in Greenland or Iceland. Think of the most glorious rainbow you can imagine,—the brilliant green, yellow, blue, and violet spreading out in great waves of light over the sky. For a few moments it is as light as day. Then the colors fade away and all is darkness once more. It is not strange that the little Eskimos who stand watching are filled anew with wonder and think of it as the work of great and powerful spirits.

Among the Indians.

Along the southern shores of Alaska and on the banks of the rivers of the inland country are many Indian villages. They belong to several different tribes, but their way of living is much the same. Their huts are generally built of logs and bark, and they like best to dress in the bright-colored blankets, with red and yellow handkerchiefs on their heads, which they get in barter from the white traders. The red children have broad faces, black eyes, and black hair. Long ago, before the white men lived among them, these little Indians believed that they could make themselves more beautiful by tattooing their bodies. As these poor children grew up, they suffered many an hour of pain while the red or blue lines were marked on their chins by threads drawn along under the skin. Now, however, as the red men learn more and more of the ways of the white people, this cruel fashion is passing away. Many of the little Indians of Alaska go to school, where they take delight in learning to read and write. They are rather slow, but they are very patient, and proud indeed are they when they have mastered a hard lesson.

Most of them, however, are still in Mother Nature’s school alone, but their bright eyes are continually learning new things about the trees and the flowers, and the wild animals that roam through the forests and over the snowfields. These children of the red men delight in the water. The rivers of Alaska are the roadways, and here as well as on the coast, the boys paddle in their canoes for many a mile, hunting, fishing, and racing. Many an Indian has a morning bath in the ice-cold river, or in the ocean. “It will make my child strong,” his mother thinks, and so, whether it be a bright summer day, or a dark and freezing winter morning, in he goes for his daily plunge.

In front of many homes of the red children are tall, straight posts. Horrible-looking faces are carved upon these posts, as well as the figures of birds, fishes and wild animals.

“It is the totem-pole,” the Indian child will tell you with pride. The totem is the mark of his family. It is even more to him than is the coat-of-arms to many an Englishman. Suppose a wolf is the principal carving upon the pole. The child’s parents tell him it is their guardian, and the child learns to look upon it with reverence. Perhaps his grandfather or his great-grandfather dreamed of the wolf while he was fasting alone in the forest. He thought it was a vision from heaven, and he chose it henceforth to be the totem of his tribe or of his family.

Candle Fish.

Since Alaska lies so far north, the winter must be long and dark. No lamps are needed to light the huts, however, if the children and their parents have provided themselves with enough candle-fish. These fish are about ten inches long, but quite thin. Strange to say, they are full of oil, and after being carefully dried, they will burn like torches. One of them will give as much light as two or three candles. At certain times of the year, schools of candle-fish enter the mouths of the rivers which empty into the ocean. The Indian children watch for their coming, and as soon as they appear, they and their parents go down to the shore and rake them out of the water by the bushel.

The Indian mothers not only dry the candle-fish for lighting their winter homes, but they also boil great numbers of them, for in this way they get a supply of hardened oil that takes the place of butter. The older and the more rancid this oil is, the better they like it.

In the short Alaskan summer the fruits and flowers grow very fast. It seems as though they must make the best possible use of the sunshine. In the southern part of the country the children can pick the most beautiful bouquets of white clover, maiden-hair ferns, and bright-colored wild flowers. They go berrying to their hearts’ content, too. There are fields and fields filled with tall blueberry bushes; there are the juicy yellow salmon berries; there are cranberries, blackberries, red and white currants, and bilberries, but the best of all are the sweet, wild strawberries that almost melt in the mouth. Certainly the children of the greater part of Alaska can feast on good things in summer. Why, the berries are so plentiful that not only the boys and girls, but the birds of the country get fat with the rich living. Many of the wild geese, indeed, can hardly fly after the summer’s feast, and are then easily caught by the boys and their fathers.