ing couch, are made out of the common lacustris or bullrush, or the flag, cut at the proper season, and woven in a warp of fine hemp net thread, such as is furnished by traders in the present state of the Indian trade. A portion of this soft vegetable woof, is dyed, and woven in various colours. Lodges thus constructed are to be still abundantly seen, by the summer visitor, in the upper lakes, at all the principal points, to which the Indians resort, during the height of summer. Such are the posts of Michilimackinac, Sault Ste. Marie, and Green Bay. At Michilimackinac, where it is now difficult to get fresh lodge poles, without going some distance, or trespassing on private rights, the natives who resort thither, of late years, have adopted an ingenious change, by which two objects are accomplished at the same time, and the labour of the females dispensed with in getting new poles. It is known, that the bark canoe, being itself but an enlarged species of wicker work, has not sufficient strength to be freighted, without previously having a number of poles laid longitudinally, in the bottom, as a kind of vertebral support. These poles on landing upon the gravelly shores of that island, are set up, or stacked to use a military phrase, that is tying the tops together and then drawing out the other ends so as to describe a circle, and thus making a perfect cone. The bark tapestry is hung around these poles very much as it would be around the globular close lodges; and by this arrangement, an Indian lodge is raised, and ready for occupation, in as many minutes, after landing, as the most expert soldiers could pitch a tent in.

Before we can affirm that the labour of preparing these barks and mats and setting up, and taking down, the lodge, is disproportionately great, or heavy on the females, it will be necessary to inquire into other particulars, both on the side of the male and female. Much of the time of an Indian female, is passed in idleness. This is true not only of a part of every day, but is emphatically so, of certain seasons of the year. She has not like the farmer's wife, her cows to milk, her butter and cheese to make, and her flax to spin. She has not to wash and comb and prepare her children every morning, to go to school. She has no extensive or fine wardrobe to take care of. She has no books to read. She sets little value on time, which is characteristic of all the race. What she does, is either very plain sewing, or some very pains taking ornamental thing. When the sheathing and flooring of the lodges are once made, they are permanent pieces of property, and do not require frequent renewal. When a skin has been dressed, and a garment made of it, it is worn, till it is worn out. Frequent ablution and change of dress, are eminently the traits of high civilization, and not of the hunter's lodge. The articles which enter into the mysteries of the laundry, add but little to the cares of a forest housekeeper. With every industrial effort, and such is, somtimes the case, there is much unoccupied time, while her husband is compelled by their necessities, to traverse large tracts, and endure

great fatigues, in all weathers in quest of food. He must defend his hunting grounds, in peace and war, and has his life daily in his hands. Long absences are often necessary, on these accounts. It is at such times, during the open season, that the Indian female exerts her industry. In the fall season, she takes her children in a canoe, or if she have none, invites a female companion to go with her, along the streams, to cut the rush, to be manufactured into mats, at her leisure, in the winter. It is also a part of her duty, at all seasons, to provide fuel for the lodge fire, which she is careful to do, that she may suitably receive her husband, on his return from the chase, and have the means of drying his wet moccasins, and a cheerful spot, where he may light his pipe, and regain his mental equilibrium, while she prepares his meals. The very idea of a female's chopping wood, is to some horriffic. But it is quite true that the Indian female does chop wood, or at least, exert an undue labour, in procuring this necessary article of the household. In speaking of the female, we, at once, rush to the poetic idea of the refinement of lady like gentleness, and delicacy. Not only does the nature of savage life and the hardiness of muscle created by centuries of forest vicissitude, give the hunter's wife, but a slender claim on this particular shade of character, but the kind of labour implied, is very different from the notion civilized men have of "wood chopping." The emigrant swings a heavy axe of six pounds weight, incessantly, day in, and day out, against immense trees, in the heaviest forest, until he has opened the land to the rays of the sun, and prepared an amount of cyclopean labours for the power of fire, and the The hunter clears no forests, the limits of which on the contrary, he carefully cherishes for his deer to range in. He seats himself down, with his lodge, in the borders of natural glades, or meadows, to plant his few hills of maize. He had no metallic axe, capable of cutting down a tree, before 1492, and he has never learned to wield a heavy axe up to 1844. His wife, always made her lodge fires by gathering sticks, and she does so still. She takes a hatchet of one or two pounds weight, and after collecting dry limbs in the forest, she breaks them into lengths of about 18 inches, and ties them in bundles, or faggots, and carries them, at her leisure, to her lodge. Small as these sticks are, in their length and diameter, but few are required to boil her pot. The lodge, being of small cir cumference, but little heat is required to warm the air, and by suspending the pot by a string from above, over a small blaze, the object is attained, without that extraordinary expenditure of wood, which, to the perfect amazement of the Indian, characterizes the emigrant's roaring fire of logs. The few fields which the Indians have cleared and prepared for corn fields, in northern latitudes, are generally to be traced to some adventitious opening, and have been enlarged very slowly. Hence, I have observed, that when they have come to be appraised, to fix their value as improvements upon the land, under treaty provisions, that the amount thereof may be paid the

OX.

owner, they have uniformly set a high estimate upon these ancient clearings, and sometimes regarded their value, one would think, in the inverse proportion of these limits. As if, indeed, there were some merit, in having but half an acre of cleared ground, where, it might be supposed, the owner would have cultivated ten acres. And this half acre, is to be regarded as the industrial sum of the agricultural labours of all ages and sexes, during perhaps, ten generations. Could the whole of this physical effort, therefore, be traced to female hands, which is doubtful, for the old men and boys, will often do something, it would not be a very severe imposition. There is at least, a good deal, it is believed, in this view of the domestic condition of the women to mitigate the severity of judgment, with which the proud and labour-hating hunter, has sometimes been visited. He has. in our view, the most important part of the relative duties of Indian life, to sustain. In the lodge he is a mild, considerate man, of the non-interfering and non-scolding species. He may indeed, be looked upon, rather as the guest of his wife, than what he is often represented to be, her tyrant, and he is often only known as the lord of the lodge, by the attention and respect which she shows to him. He is a man of few words. If her temper is ruffled, he smiles. If he is displeased, he walks away. It is a province in which his actions acknowledge her right to rule; and it is one, in which his pride and manliness have exalted him above the folly of al

tercation.

THE MANITO TREE.

There is a prominent hill in the vicinity of Sault Ste. Marie, at the outlet of lake Superior, called by the French La Butte des Terres. An Indian footpath formerly connected this hill with the old French settlement at those falls, from which it is distant about a mile. In the intermediate space, near the path, there formerly stood a tree, a large mountain ash, from which, Indian tradition says, there issued a sound, resembling that produced by their own war-drums, during one of the most calm and cloudless days. This occurred long before the French appeared in the country. It was consequently regarded as the local residence of a spirit, and deemed sacred.

From that time they began to deposit at its foot, an offering of small green twigs and boughs, whenever they passed the path, so that, in process of time, a high pile of these offerings of the forest was accumulated. It seemed as if, by this procedure, the other trees had each made an offering to this tree. At length the tree blew down, during a violent storm, and has since entirely decayed, but the spot was recollected and the offerings kept up, and they would have been continued to the present hour, had not an accidental circumstance put a stop to it.

In the month of July 1822, the government sent a military force to take post, at that ancient point of French settlement, at the foot of the falls, and one of the first acts of the commanding officer was to order out a fatigue party to cut a wagon road from the selected site of the post to the hill. This road was directed to be cut sixty feet wide, and it passed over the site of the tree. The pile of offerings was thus removed, without the men's knowing that it ever had had a superstitious origin; and thus the practice itself came to an end. I had landed with the troops, and been at the place but nine days, in the exercise of my appropriate duties as an Agent on the part of the government to the tribe, when this trait of character was mentioned to me, and I was thus made personally acquainted with the locality, the cutting of the road, and the final extinction of the rite.

Our Indians are rather prone to regard the coming of the white man, a fulfilling certain obscure prophecies of their own priests; and that they are, at best, harbingers of evil to them; and with their usual belief in fatality, they tacitly drop such rites as the foregoing. They can excuse themselves to their consciences in such cases, in relinquishing the worship of a local manito, by saying: it is the tread of the white man that has desecrated the ground.

78

TALES OF A WIGWAM.

THE WHITE STONE CANOE.

From the

He went

THERE was once a very beautiful young girl, who died suddenly on the day she was to have been married to a handsome young man. He was also brave, but his heart was not proof against this loss. hour she was buried, there was no more joy or peace for him. often to visit the spot where the women had buried her, and sat musing. there, when, it was thought, by some of his friends, he would have done better to try to amuse himself in the chase, or by diverting his thoughts in the war-path. But war and hunting had both lost their charms for him. His heart was already dead within him. He pushed aside both his war-club and his bow and arrows.

He had heard the old people say, that there was a path, that led to the land of souls, and he determined to follow it. He accordingly set out, one morning, after having completed his preparations for the journey. At first he hardly knew which way to go. He was only guided by the tradition that he must go south. For a while, he could see no change in the face of the country. Forests, and hills, and vallies, and streams had the same looks, which they wore in his native place. There was snow on the ground, when he set out, and it was sometimes seen to be piled and matted on the thick trees and bushes. At length, it began to diminish, and finally disappeared. The forest assumed a more cheerful appearance, the leaves put forth their buds, and before he was aware of the completeness of the change, he found himself surrounded by spring. He had left behind him the land of snow and ice. The air became mild, the dark clouds of winter had rolled away from the sky; a pure field of blue was above him, and as he went he saw flowers beside his path, and heard the songs of birds. By these signs he knew that he was going the right way, for they agreed with the traditions of his tribe. length he spied a path. It led him through a grove, then up a long and elevated ridge, on the very top of which he came to a lodge. At the door stood an old man, with white hair, whose eyes, though deeply sunk, had a fiery brilliancy. He had a long robe of skins thrown loosely around his shoulders, and a staff in his hands.

At