Their idea of these sacrifices was, that the sins of the people were, in some mysterious manner, transferred yearly to the two priests in white, who, in turn, conveyed them to the dogs. Thus the burnt offering expiated the sins of the people for a year.
These ideas and customs are so singularly similar to the ancient Jewish religious rites as to suggest a possible origin from the same source. The mystical council fire of the Six Nations, which was kept always burning by the Onondagas, who had charge of it, and which, if extinguished, was supposed to prophesy the destruction of the nation, may have a deeper meaning than that attached to it by the chiefs themselves. It may possibly point to a common parentage with the ever-burning flame in the Vestal Temple at Rome, whose eclipse endangered the safety of the city. Another point of resemblance may be noted. Time, which is reckoned among the Red men by moons, also suggests the Jewish year, which began with the new moon, and was reckoned by lunar months.
The Six Nations had a firm belief in witches and wizards, and executed them, on the discovery of their supposed witchcraft, with a zeal and spirit worthy of our early Christian fathers. One old Indian used to relate a story something on the Jules Verne order. He said that, as he stepped out of his cabin one evening, he sank down deep into an immense and brilliantly-lighted cavern, full of flaming torches. Hundreds of witches and wizards were there congregated, who immediately ejected him. Early next morning he laid the matter before the assembled chiefs at the Council House, who asked him whether he could recognize any whom he saw? The sagacious Red man thought he could, and singled out many through the village, male and female, who were doomed to an untimely execution, on the evidence of this person's word.
The Senacas, another numerous and powerful nation of the Confederacy, were always noted for the talent and eloquence of their orators and statesmen. Corn Planter, Red Jacket, and other celebrities, came of this tribe.
Syracuse is celebrated for its salt, the country over; and the most singular thing about it is that the salt wells surround a body of fresh water. This sheet of water bears the name of Onondaga Lake, and is six miles long by one mile wide. It is about a mile and a half from the heart of the city. A stratum of marl, from three to twelve feet thick, underlaid by marly clay, separates the salt springs from the fresh waters of the lake. The wells vary in depth, from two hundred to three hundred feet, and the brine is forced from them, by pumps, into large reservoirs, which supply the evaporating works. The salt is separated from the water partly by solar evaporation and partly by boiling. The reservoirs for the solar salt evaporation cover about seven hundred acres of land. The brine is boiled in large iron kettles, holding about a hundred gallons, which are placed in blocks of brick work, in one or two long rows, the whole length of the block. It takes about thirty-three and a fourth gallons of brine to make a bushel of salt, which will average from fifty to fifty-six pounds in weight.
These salt wells were known to the Indians at a very early period—Onondaga salt being in common use among the Delawares in 1770, by whom it was brought to Quebec for sale.
Le Moyne, a Jesuit missionary, who had lived among the Hurons, and who first came to Onondaga in 1653, with a party of Huron and Onondaga chiefs, is supposed to be the first white man who personally knew about the springs, though Father Lallemant had previously written of them. In a letter which Colonel Comfort Tyler wrote to Dr. Jeremiah Van Rensselaer, in 1822, the first manufacture of salt at this place by the whites, in 1788, is described. He says: "In the month of May, 1788, the family, wanting salt, obtained about a pound from the Indians, which they had made from the waters of the springs upon the shore of the lake. The Indians offered to discover the water to us. Accordingly, I went with an Indian guide to the lake, taking along an iron kettle of fifteen gallons capacity. This he placed in his canoe and steered out of the mouth of Onondaga Creek, easterly, into a pass since called Mud Creek. After passing over the marsh, then covered with about three feet of water, and steering toward the bluff of hard land (now that part of Syracuse known as Salina), he fastened his canoe, pointed to a hole, apparently artificial, and said: "There is the salt!"
Salina, or the first ward, as it is frequently spoken of, lies partly upon the shores of this lovely lake of Onondaga, and enjoys the advantages of a close proximity to the saline atmosphere of the wells. The drives in the vicinity of the lake and about the neighboring localities afford an ever-shifting panorama of beautiful views, with glimpses of the blue Onondaga at all points. On a breezy day, in the early part of May, 1875, when the air was soft with hints of coming summer, and the violets along the river banks were just putting on their hoods of blue, I took one of those long and delightful drives which so exhilarates the blood and gives a kind of champagne sparkle to the mind. If there are any known remedial agents which can possibly be an improvement on pure air and sunshine, will you tell us what they are, Dr. Dio Lewis? My companion was keen-witted and full of jollity; we had a spirited animal, and miles upon miles of space quickly vanished behind us, as we sped onward over the smooth roadway. The hills seemed to open wide their portals and close again as we passed; the valleys allured us with their romantic, winding roads, and Lake Onondaga, viewed from all points of the compass, tossed itself into a multitude of little waves which sparkled in the sunshine like a thousand diamonds. The sky, changeful as April, alternated between floating fields of atmospheric blue and pillars of gray cloud. As we rounded the last curve of the lake, the tall chimneys and long, low buildings of the salt works at Salina came into view, forming a more conspicuous than elegant feature of the landscape.
The principal street for retail business in Syracuse is named Salina, and it always wears an air of brisk trade and enterprise. The large dry goods houses of McCarthy and of Milton Price are located on this street. Some of the public edifices are built of Onondaga limestone, quarried a few miles out of the city. It makes very handsome building material, as the Court House and other structures will testify. The ranking hotels of Syracuse are the Vanderbilt and Globe, though the Remington, Syracuse and Empire Hotels are well-kept and well-conducted houses.
The Erie Canal runs through the heart of the city, and the bridges over it are arranged with draws. The first steam canal boat I ever saw lay moored at this place, at the corner of Water and Clinton streets. It was gay with new paint and floating pennons, and created quite a sensation on its first trip out. It belonged to Greenway, the great ale man, and was named after his daughter.