PRESENTED 
 
 THE 
 
 ti 
 
 Perry N. Y,, December 25, 1880. 
 
LEGENDS, CUSTOMS 
 
 AND 
 
 SOCIAL 
 
 OF THE 
 
 SENECA INDIANS, 
 
 OF 
 
 WESTERN NEW YORK, 
 
 JOHN WENTWORTH SANBORN, 
 
 (" 0-yo-ga-weh") 
 (CLEAR SKY.) 
 
 1878. 
 
 HOKTON & DEMING, "ENTERPRISE" PRINT, 
 
 GOWANBA NEW YORK. 
 
LOAN STACK 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, by 
 
 JOHN WENTWORTH SANBORN, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C 
 
35, 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 TO 
 
 JUDGE WILLIAM WOODBURY, 
 
 OF THE CATTARAUGUS BAH, 
 
 a companion in various fishing and bunting tramps, among 
 the Allegheny Mountains and over the Cattaraugus hills, 
 for trout and partridge, as a token of high regard 
 for his literary taste "and attainments, and appre 
 ciation of bis distinguished friendship, this 
 little book of Indian Life and Legends 
 is affectionately dedicated, by the 
 author. 
 
 "O-YO-GA-WEH." 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 That picturesque region watered by the swiftly flowing Cattaraugus, 
 and broken by precipitous hills; for hundreds of years the favorite hunting 
 and reclining ground of the Red man; where, long, long ago, the deadly ar 
 row pursued its last flight; where instruments of rude warfare, the tomahawk 
 and the poisoned barb, are now supplanted by implements of peace and civil 
 ization, the plow, the drag, the flail; where the scalping knife is for tjiese years 
 unknown, and the snow-snake and the target, the game ot cricket and of ball 
 occupy the thought of these Indians now civilized furnishes a charming theme 
 for leisure hour contemplation. Though the rudeness of by-gone days is no 
 where discernible among these civilized and somewhat Christianized Indians, 
 they have a nationality peculiarly their own, and customs, legends and social 
 life, wholly different from those of every other people. 
 
 Their legends, if written, would fill a hundred tomes; transmitted as they 
 are, by word of mouth, crooned out at social councils by the aged to the 
 youth, these legends lose nothing, but gain much; for Indian minds, like 
 ponderous ships, though hard to start, sweep on, when moved, along the riv 
 er of deep thoughts. They tell creation s story to the youth, aad all these 
 weird tales, just as Mother Goose is retailed to admiring infancy; so that the 
 Indian, who never learned these tales, no matter what his prowess in the field 
 of letters, or in fields of wheat, is only half-developed, just as the child of 
 ours, that has never passed a course in Mother Goose, has not a finished edu 
 cation. 
 
 J. W. 8, 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 CREATION. 
 
 The Indian, like every sensible mythologist, begins with 
 Creation. One tribe relates how the first inhabitants and all 
 the first inhabitants were Indians sprang from the heart of 
 the earth. Another tribe has a different notion, depending, as 
 each does, upon the whim of its own story tellers; but with the 
 royal line of tribes the Senecas creation s story runs like 
 this: 
 
 In the great past, deep waters covered all ; indeed, every 
 thing was water. Thousands of ducks, large and small, of 
 every varied plumage, sailed upon these waters. What they 
 subsisted on it matters not. One morning when the sun was 
 shining and not a cloud was visible, high above the waters ap 
 peared a beautiful woman. Her complexion was very dark. 
 She was falling from the unexplored and boundless ether. The 
 ducks gathered in council, and resolved to meet the fair crea 
 ture in the air, and break the force of her dangerous fall, by 
 the substantial prop of their strong wings. So they rose, and, 
 pinion overlapping pinion, gave her rest upon their backs, and 
 sailed with their precious freight to the bosom of the placid 
 sea below. But she must be fed, and how? 
 
 The bottom was a great way down, and if you in your skep 
 ticism ask, how could one reach the bottom of the sea if every 
 thing were water, O-yo-ga-weh will reply, -This is the legend, 
 hear it through, let no analysis destroy its sentiment." 
 
 The bottom must be reached,and only one family of ducks 
 great brawny fellows, have the endurance to go down to bring 
 up food; for they, just as the camel takes a long supply of wa 
 ter, breathe enough of air to bear them through an hour s jour- 
 
8 
 
 neying. So, down they go, and for long days and many moons 
 care for their protege. 
 
 This toil becomes a burden, and they hold a council, and 
 resolve to call a turtle from his home below, and start the nu 
 cleus of an earth. The turtle obeyed the summons of the 
 ducks; his rounding shell peeps just above the surface and on 
 this they spread a muddy something which the scientists call 
 protoplasm and it grows! 
 
 For several days the new-made earth expands until it is 
 nearly fifty feet around. Twin boys are given at length to 
 the world s great mother, and, as time flies by, they learn to 
 walk, and soon they find the outer rim of their earth-home, 
 and every day they make the circuit of the earth. And lo! 
 each day they find the circle grown much larger than the day 
 before. At last they cannot go around it in a day, and they 
 wander on and on, and thus the Indian gets his roving dispo 
 sition. Now the earth, unaided, larger and larger grows un 
 til not even the fleet-footed runner nor the speedy horse, can, 
 from sun to sun, traverse its long diameter. 
 
 The white man talks of earthquakes, and "foolishly sur 
 mises," so the legend says, "that hot and cold have had a fall 
 ing out." O-yo-ga-weh hears the true solution from the In 
 dian oracle. The earth never quakes, but, when the turtle 
 shifts his position, weary of standing on one foot, he jostles the 
 earth upon his back, that is all. It is true there is fire but 
 the cause is this, the fires that the Indian Vulcan blows, fall 
 off the forge, and the waters of the seas get intermixed and 
 flow upon the forge, and Nature, having interdicted their 
 communion, shows her displeasure and spits forth steamy hiss 
 es. This is the legend of the Senecas. 
 
 These twin boys, so the legend further states, were not 
 harmonious, for one was good, the other very bad; one was 
 the Lord, the other the Devil; one was the maker of all good, 
 the other, of all evil; one gave those herbs and fruits which 
 make life sweet, the other, all that s poisonous; one made the 
 maize to grow, the other sent the noxious weed and thistle; 
 the one tilled the soil, the other scoured the woods for game; 
 
the one brought for the family supplies, the best his land 
 would yield, the other dragged in, now and then, an old tough 
 meated deer. 
 
 Time was when long pine cones, hanging like ear-drops 
 from the boughs, were fit for food, and yielded a delicious, aro 
 matic honey when roasted in the flames; but one day the bad 
 boy had a fit of jealousy and threw ashes in the good boy s 
 face, and 011 his cones, and that is why cones are jio longer fit 
 to eat The maize itself was sweeter, better far than now, un 
 til the bad boy in that fit of jealousy, dashing ashes on the 
 cones, threw some on the maize. He did not spoil the maize 
 for the good boy blew the ashes off, so the maize still lias some 
 goodness left, . 
 
 These boys grew up, and with their growth the breach of 
 harmony kept widening, until the Devil sought the very life of 
 the good boy, whom the legend calls the Lord. The Great 
 Spirit knew all this, and one day he met the good boy in the 
 field and said, "That evil-minded brother is plotting against 
 thy life, and, when you meet again, lie will inquire what is 
 the surest instrument to take thy life; he will ask this on pre 
 tense of being in sport, and you must tell him that if he stab 
 you with bulrushes you will die. When he is through you 
 ask him what would kill him, and ./he will tell you honestly 
 that if you strike him with the deer s horns, which go floating 
 in the air, he will die. After this he will change his manner 
 towards you and rush after you with bulrushes in his hand, 
 and when he stabs of course the bulrushes will be crushed, 
 though he will think they pierce you take berries from the 
 elder bush and crush them, they will bleed, and he will follow 
 you to see you fall and die. 
 
 " While you are running I will send the floating deer s 
 horns from the sky, and you must turn on him." Thus it tran 
 spired., and the Devil, seeking to kill the Lord, was himself de 
 stroyed, and then, for ages, man had peace. No Indian slew 
 his brother; all the tribes traded together and were kind; the 
 crops were more abundant than ever before; the Cattaraugus 
 teemed with trout: the winters were mild as Spring; the deer 
 
 2 
 
10 
 
 came into camp, and brushed the wigwams as they browsed; 
 the partridges lighted on sleeping Indians and drummed. 
 The woods were full of game. 
 
 The death of Ha-ne-go-ate-geh, the evil-minded, removed 
 all evil from the world, and every tribe was happy. A great 
 jubilee was held, to thank Ha-wen-ne-yu, (Great Spirit) for giv 
 ing peace and plenty. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE DISPERSION OF THK TRIBES AND THE FIRST DOCTOR. 
 
 Hundreds of years ago, the Indian tribes were one great 
 family, speaking a common language, occupying that part of 
 New York State where now are New York City and Brooklyn. 
 There was no such thing as sickness or death among them. 
 
 They were ruled by a great chief. His equal was never 
 known. He could see into all the future; he could foretell all 
 that was in store for the Indians. The Hudson was their 
 great fishing ground. One day the chief gave orders that 
 every family should build a large canoe; that they were about 
 to move up the river They obeyed, and soon the river was 
 covered with canoes from bank to bank, for seventy miles. 
 The chief "paddled his own canoe" among the rest. 
 
 When they had gone a few miles, they struck another 
 stream at their right, towards the east, and several families fol 
 lowed it. The main body murmured at this, but the chief 
 said, " Let them go, they will become a race by themselves, we 
 will give them a name. Let them be called Mohicans. They 
 shall soon have a language of their own." 
 
 The great body moved up the river, and when, they 
 reached the site of Albany, they held a council. Some con 
 cluded to go right on, and so they did, reaching what is now 
 St. Regis, and to this clay they are known as the St. Regis In 
 dians. The chief said, " Let them go; they also will become a 
 great nation. It is the will of the Great Spirit." 
 
 All the rest struck the Mohawk river in their journeyings 
 arid soon they swarmed like bees again, a large number of 
 them choosing to dwell along the fertile valley of the Mohawk. 
 The chief said, " Let them go, we will hereafter know them by 
 
12 
 
 the name of Mohawks." Next,the great army reached the site 
 of Rome and the chief gave orders, " Take up your canoes; 
 carry them over these hills until we find streams and lakes." 
 What is now Oneida Lake burst upon their view; along its 
 shores hundreds chose to dwell, and the chief addressed the 
 nations in council. " Let them remain, they will not roam 
 far away from us. Let them he called Oneidas." 
 
 Oswego lake was reached at length; another company re 
 mained and the chief called them the Onondagas. The next 
 that left, he called Cayugas. 
 
 For long weeks they traveled without reaching a spot that 
 lured them to remain. They came in time to a high ridge, 
 where were springs and singing brooks and abundance of deer 
 and trout. From the top of the ridge, away to the westward, 
 they saw* what appeared to be the silvery moon reclining on 
 the bosom of the earth. It proved to be what is now called 
 lake Erie, and they said, "Ha-wen-ne-yu has stretched out 
 mighty waters. We thank Ha-wen-ne-yu. Here we will 
 dwell" and they were called the Senecas, a people of noblest 
 sentiments and highest honor. The Senecas were very nu 
 merous, there being more of them than had gone from the 
 main body at any three previous departures. " My children," 
 said the great chief, "go down the rushing stream and make 
 your home along its banks." The Senecas, at length, split in 
 to three great families, one family remaining along the shores 
 and banks of what are now lake Erie and Niagara; another 
 branch going on until steep banks like precipices stop their 
 march. They meet in council and resolve to build canoes and 
 cross the boiling Niagara. They finally succeed, and, aban 
 doning their canoes, strike into the dense woods. They are 
 known as the Tuscaroras. Another family went to the south 
 and settled, near neighbors to the Senecas, known as the Alle- 
 ghanies. To-day, in one strong bond of brotherhood, are 
 classed Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagas, Cayugas and Senecas, 
 comprising the "Five Nations," famed in historv 
 
 The great mass moved on again until they reached a 
 broad stream, the present Mississippi over which some gen- 
 
13 
 
 erous being had stretched a bridge of two giant logs. Half of 
 the Indians had crossed, and while the bridge was yet loaded 
 heavily, one end gave way, and, swinging back by the force of 
 the current to the hither bank, the great company was split in 
 two. They thought this was the will of the Great Spirit. The 
 chief cried out to them from the other bank, " Make that your 
 home, we go not very far, and we will trade with you. We 
 seek a resting place." 
 
 They on the hither bank were Shawnees and Cherokees, 
 and they with whom the chief continued were Dakotas. 
 
 All this account purports to be a trustworthy record of the 
 origin and dispersion of the Indian tribes. At all events it 
 is in actual accord with the position of the tribes, and was re 
 lated by an aged man. who illustrated, for three hours, the 
 course of the tribes by means of his broom-handle cane. But 
 to our narrative: 
 
 It seems that for many days and weeks the old chief had 
 determined to turn medicine-man that the Indians might die. 
 They were increasing so fast that he feared the brooks and riv 
 ers and lakes would not furnish fish to keep alive so many, so 
 out of pity for the tribes the chief became a medicine-man. 
 Pushing on a few miles farther, the great chief said, "Now 
 we will rest. This is our home. Here we will make our resi 
 dence." They saw that something hung upon his mind; they 
 feared that something very bad had come to him, and they 
 often asked him what it was. They little thought he meant 
 to be a doctor! to give them nauseous medicines, and bleed 
 them, but so it was. At last he called his people to him; they 
 sat around the great camp-fire. He spoke: "I ll tell you 
 what it is, you will be sick! You will begin to die! Do not 
 forget the words of your great chief. When a man dies, put 
 his body deep down in the ground; put his head to the setting 
 sun, his feet towards the gates of the morning. You will be 
 sick, all of you, and I must tell you what to do. I know all 
 kinds of herbs for medicines." He took a hundred, more or less, 
 of thorns,and stuck them in the ground, each thorn standing for 
 a certain medicine; and he showed them what itwould cure. 
 
 4 
 
14 
 
 He said, " I am a doctor now, and you ll be sick. Take 
 close pains with this medicine, for you will see persons sick, 
 and death will come upon them. Give this medicine and 
 sometimes, if you give it right, when death has bitten one of 
 you, this medicine will make death sick, and he will let go 
 and leave you to get well. In future moons you will be visit 
 ed by a people whose faces are faded and pale. They will fall 
 to scalping you. Death will employ them to kill you off. 
 
 " There is not one of them in all our hunting grounds, but 
 they will come on white clouds. You will not understand 
 their language." 
 
 Years passed; the old chief was taken sick, and died. His 
 last words were, " After I am dead, and you have buried me, 
 there is something you must do; something I have not told 
 you yet. It is this, I want you all to cry, and make a mourn 
 ful sound, and make it loud. That shall be called grief, and 
 you must then go to our brothers on the other bank of the 
 stream, and cry aloud, Go-weh! Go-weh! Go-weh! (Death has 
 come! Death has come! Death has come! ) 
 
 This shall be your mournful signal, and it shall rout out 
 all the people. Cry with them. Let the tears pour to the 
 ground, and I will ask Ha-wen-ne-yu to send you deer, and 
 bears, and porcupines." 
 
 Just so, it happened. Thus you see that doctors were, be 
 fore man knew of death or sickness! 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 SNOW SNAKES AND CONSTELLATIONS. 
 
 A game peculiar to the Indian and full of excitement is 
 that of Snow-snake. The degree of perfection to which the 
 Indian arrives in the construction of Snow-snakes is wonder 
 ful, and the dexterity displayed in shooting them is marvel 
 ous. A sapling of hickory, black walnut, or, more often, ma 
 ple, straight as an arrow, is selected of the proper length, say 
 from six to nine feet, at one end fashioned like the head of a 
 snake, at the other end thin and narrow. The head is made 
 round and with a blunt point, which is usually loaded with 
 sheet-lead. These Snow-snakes are shot sometimes on the 
 snow crust but more often in a channel made through the 
 snow by dragging along a small log. 
 
 The Indian places his fore finger against the end of 
 the snake; starts back a rod or two, makes a quick, 
 short run, and sends the Snow-snake shooting along its pre 
 pared track with almost the velocity of a bullet. The Indians 
 choose sides and the side that gains the larger number of 
 points is victorious. 
 
 It is not uncommon for an Indian to send one of these 
 Snow-snakes a fourth of a mile. Each snake bears the owner s 
 private mark by which the judges are enabled to decide who 
 are victorious. There is a tradition that twelve Indians, six 
 on a side, were playing the game one winter, and in their ex 
 citement they did not notice that the snake of one of them 
 kept on without stopping. Every tribe has its great runner, 
 reputed to be the \swiftest of all runners by the tribe to which 
 he belongs. So every tribe has one who excels all others with 
 
the bow and arrows, in the game of Snow-snake, ball or jave 
 lin throwing. 
 
 He, whose Snow-snake had gone on, was the giant of the 
 tribe. He called attention to the flying Snow-snake; all 
 looked. It had risen from the track and from the earth. It 
 seemed to have taken on wings of lire. It soared higher and 
 higher, and increased in size as it rose. At length it took its 
 place among the stars and has since been known as the Drag 
 on constellation. 
 
 The war dance commenced with young Indian boys. A 
 company often met every night at dusk; and at the end of 
 every week they had what was called the regular dance and a 
 feast. Their feast was rather frugal, consisting, as. it did, of 
 boiled corn and beans. At length their festivities developed 
 into a science. One of their number who was a sweet singer 
 seated himself on the top of a heap of earth and made vocal 
 melody for the nine boys who beat the earth down to a rim- 
 like belt around the mound. They must have a better feast; 
 so the singer made out the bill of fare, and, as impromptu sup 
 pers are secured sometimes by jolly college mates, so to eacli 
 Indian boy was allotted the task of furnishing something spe 
 cial for the feast. One was to get a kettle; another for they 
 seemed bent on a savory soup was to beg a bone; another 
 was to bring the bowls; another wooden ladles; another was 
 appointed to furnish for dessert, a dog; another, a porcupine; 
 another was to pound the corn for thickening the soup; an 
 other no feast could be complete without some beans 
 was to bring long black beans, a favorite dish among the In 
 dians. A day of meeting was appointed when all were to re 
 port and bring their contributions to the feast. 
 
 They met, but brought nothing. The old folks thought 
 them crazy and would not grant their wish. 
 
 The singer sang; the boys began a feastless dance. Their 
 heads and hearts grew lighter and lighter as they flew about 
 the mound, until the whole company whirled off into the air. 
 The mother of each several boy seemed then for the first time 
 to take in the situation. One ran with a kettle; another, with 
 
17 
 
 a bone; another, with bowls; another, with wooden ladles; an 
 other caught up the white dog; another dragged along a por 
 cupine; another took pounded corn, and another, beans. They 
 all cried aloud to the boys in the air hoping to call them back, 
 but it was forever too late. The boys went out of sight, whirl 
 ing round the singer, and they are whirling to this day. The 
 singer became the planet Saturn, and the eight boys his 
 moons. 
 
 Before the boys were changed to moons they were admon 
 ished by the singer riot to cast a glance below. One disobeyed 
 and lost his place and fell with lightning speed to the earth. 
 Just as he neared the ground the Great Spirit changed him to 
 a pine tree and by the force of his fall, he plunged deep into 
 the soil; sent out great roots and flourished. 
 
 The older Indians mourned for the boys and danced 
 every year where they had beaten down the earth around the 
 mound. 
 
 At length they came to commemorate all remarkable 
 events, and especially success in war, by the dance. Dancing 
 forms the principal feature of the religious ceremonies of all 
 the tribes and consists in beating the earth with the foot as 
 the long line of worshipers moves in perfect .time around a 
 pole or other central object. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE MISFORTUNE OF HAVING A MOTHER-IN-LAW, OR INGRATI 
 TUDE PUNISHED. 
 
 The tribes went hunting one mild winter, wandering long 
 miles from the old wigwams. A bright young Indian boy, a 
 favorite in the tribe, the idol of his father s heart, came into 
 camp one morning and found his mother dying. It was the 
 first grief of his life, and though she went to dwell in happier 
 hunting grounds, he, whom she had cared for all his life, was 
 left to mourn. At length his father led another mother to 
 their wigwam; but she did not love the Indian boy, and 
 wished she might destroy him, for she thought his father cared 
 more for him than he did for herself. 
 
 One day the men were hunting deer, and the new mother 
 asked the boy to help her gather sticks to cook the evening 
 meal. She said, " If we can catch a porcupine and cook him 
 for your father s supper, he will praise us both. I know where 
 we can find them. We will go." 
 
 The heartless mother was plotting against the boy. In 
 her prowling through the forest she had found a cave, and she 
 planned to entice the boy to enter it, and she would shut him 
 in. " But how could the cave s mouth be stopped? " She 
 found a flat, heavy stone, and, laboring hard for hours, rolled 
 it to where she could, with little labor, tip it up and close the 
 cave. So she deceived the boy who in his artlessness went in 
 to the cave, and, he once in, she tugged at the great stone and 
 tipped it up, and closed the cave, and went away. He saw at 
 last what she had done, and he sat down on the cold floor of 
 the dingy cave, and cried. A porcupine, whose home was in 
 
19 
 
 the cave, came to him in an old woman s form, and said, "My 
 grandson, I am sorry for yon, I will help yon if I can. I think 
 I can tip back the stone. I wish to do it for this is iny home 
 and that the entrance." 
 
 She tried the stone, but both of them had not the strength 
 to roll it down. She said, " You sit here just a little while; 
 once there was another outlet, but I have not used it now for 
 years and perhaps I cannot get out that way, but I will try." 
 
 But she succeeded, and, calling loudly to the animals, they 
 all assembled to inquire her wish. She told them of her 
 grandson in the cave, and how his cruel mother treated him. 
 The great black bear was seen to weep, and the porcupine 
 asked him to pull away the stone. He put his heavy paws up 
 on the stone, and tugged it down. The porcupine asked, 
 Who will take the boy and bring him up, and make him a 
 pleasant home? " The wolf said, " I will," but the grand-moth 
 er replied, " No, I cannot consent to this; if you get hungry 
 you will, I fear, eat this helpless boy." 
 
 The stately deer spoke next, and said, " T will be glad to 
 train and bring him up." 
 
 The grandmother made answer to the deer, " Yours is a 
 noble race, but the boy must have a home; you lay up nothing 
 for the winter, I cannot let you have him." Then the bear, 
 weeping for his misfortunes, said, " I have two cubs, but I can 
 care for him. I will lay by honey, and all good things, and 
 keep him well." The porcupine replied, " I m willing that you 
 have him." So the bear took from a pack she carried, what 
 appeared to be a cape, and this she put upon the shoulders of 
 the Indian boy, and he became a cub. He trotted off with 
 his new-made mother, carrying his pack with the rest. 
 
 Now it seems that the old bear determined to make good 
 use of the boy. One day they came to a large settlement of 
 bears of another family, and, while it was criminal to steal 
 from bears of their own kith and kin, it was a virtue to take 
 from bears of other families. This settlement of bears was 
 very large. It was the time of berries, and the bears % had put up 
 sheds of peeled hemlock bark, and scattered their berries on 
 
the top to dry. The old bear said to the boy, " I will now take 
 off your cape and you will become like a man again, and you 
 must take your bows and arrows and sound the war-whoop and 
 run among these bears, and they will flee away, and we can 
 take their dried berries, and be provided for all winter," So 
 the boy struck up the war-whoop, and the bears, unused to 
 such melody, seeing the strange figure fled in consternation, 
 leaving everything behind. The old bear and her cubs 
 filled up their packs, and hurried on. Sometimes they were 
 pursued by hunters, but the bear had great experience and 
 knew how to evade them. She had three ways of doing it, as 
 follows: On the approach of the hunters, she hid with her 
 cubs in a hollow tree, and when the dogs came up she threw 
 out a partridge feather at the opening, and just then a part 
 ridge would fly up, (birds and beasts were in league with each 
 other), and the dogs would be drawn away from the tree. 
 Again, when the hunter himself pressed close upon them she 
 would push out from their hiding place a long pole. With 
 one end of the pole she would touch the hunter s head, the 
 other end resting against the tree. As he approached, the pole, 
 which he did not perceive to touch him, would swing him 
 away from their hiding place. One day she had a very nar 
 row escape and was compelled to resort to the third and last 
 means of protection. She had concealed herself and cubs in a 
 hollow and the dogs came to the tree and persisted in barking. 
 The hunter hastened to the tree; just as he came near, the 
 bear put both her paws up at the opening, and the soft pads of 
 her feet looked like rotten wood, and the hunter called the 
 dogs away, even cuffing them for wafting precious time bark 
 ing at rotten wood. 
 
 When they were out of sight, the bear took her paws down 
 and ran away with her cubs at the top of her speed. 
 
 They lived on berries and fared well. Sometimes they 
 found a tree filled with honey and they always managed with 
 the help of the boy to get it all. If the bees took refuge in a 
 hollow they could not reach, the Indian boy would cut the tree 
 down with his tomahawk. This old bear became a terror to 
 
21 
 
 ail other bears because she had an Indian to help her. Her 
 power and ferocity were known to all the hunters and they 
 sought her out. One day she told the boy that they must 
 part. She tied a band of red leaves about his neck and said, 
 " Wear this always, arid any that have injured you, when they 
 see this, will be taken sick and die." 
 
 They heard the baying of the hounds in the distance, 
 and the bear took her cubs to a hollow tree and said, 
 " When the hunter comes, I will go out first and he will shoot 
 at me, but I will deceive him. He will not kill me nor my 
 two cubs, for they will do the same that I have done. The 
 dogs will not leave the tree, but will bark until the hunter 
 finds you." She said moreover to the boy, " Remember when 
 you go among your people how I have cared for you when you 
 had no friend. Now promise me that you will never kill one 
 of our kind, and that you will never lead other hunters to our 
 homes." " How shall I know your homes from those of other 
 bears? " asked the boy. 
 
 She said, " The smoke from our fires will curl in a straight 
 column into the air, but the smoke of the fires of other bears 
 will spread out when it rises. You may kill all other kinds 
 but promise not to kill any of ours." 
 
 He promised. The hunter and dogs came up and every 
 thing turned out as the bear had said. 
 
 When the hunter looked down the hollow tree and saw 
 the boy, he knew him, for he was his own nephew. He lifted 
 the boy from the cave and asked him why he deserted 
 the bear to her fate. "Had you shown yourself first 
 I would not have shot the bear and her two cubs." The boy 
 said, " It is all right uncle, you have not killed the bear or her 
 cubs." 
 
 The boy was taken home. When he reached his father s 
 wigwam, there was one person very sorry to see him, and that 
 was his step-mother, who put him in the cave and shut him in. 
 When she saw the band of red about his neck she was taken 
 very sick and in a few hours died. 
 
 The Indian boy became a man, and married a beautiful 
 
 G 
 
Indian maiden. She loved him because he was the swiftest 
 runner in the tribe, and because the largest bears were his 
 strong friends. His mother-in-law seemed to think he mar 
 ried her too when he took the daughter, for she moved to the 
 wigwam of her son-in-law and soon became offensive. She 
 was always teasing him for bear s meat, and he kept her well 
 supplied. She told him that she wanted a particular kind, 
 and he knew it was the very kind he had promised never to 
 kill. For many moons he refused her the kind she wanted. 
 He would go into the woods and watch the smoke curling in 
 straight columns, and would say, " I will not take the life of 
 my best friends, no, not even to please my mother-in-law." 
 She troubled him so much that, at last, in desperation he shot 
 a bear that belonged to the family of his benefactors. 
 
 That very night a message came that he must meet the 
 bears forty miles away at daylight four days hence. He pre 
 pared to go. The messenger told him that he would run a 
 race, and that perhaps he would perish for his ingratitude. 
 He felt hard towards his mother-in-law who had betrayed him 
 into trouble. He bade his people farewell and set out for the 
 place appointed. He reached there an hour before dawn; the 
 bears were there before him. The running course was marked 
 out. At the farther end a hemlock bristling with knots, lay 
 across the course. This, the runners must jump. It was 
 told the Indian that he must run with four bears, four sepa 
 rate races. So he prepared. He tied on his tomahawk. The 
 race with the first bear began; when they had gone halfway, 
 the Indian raised his tomahawk, and buried its edge in the 
 skull of the competing runner, then easily jumped the tree, 
 running to the end of the course. The second bear was speed 
 ier than the first. They ran together. When two-thirds to 
 the end, the Indian struck the second down. The third ap 
 proaches one of the swiftest runners of the whole family of 
 bears. When they had traversed three-fourths of the course, 
 the Indian struck him down, and won an easy victory. 
 
 The fourth bear was the swiftest runner of all bears. The 
 Indian felt his heart beat quicker. He had a dread of run- 
 
ning with this one. If he succeeded in winning the race, he 
 would become the Great Chief; but if he failed he knew the 
 bears would tear him in pieces, for, Judas-like he had betrayed 
 his dearest friend. 
 
 The race began. The trees were full of birds, and all the 
 leaning trees were loaded down with bears. The whole animal 
 creation had assembled to witness the momentous contest. The 
 crows sat in the most honored place, and gave the start. The 
 Indian fixed his anxious eye upon the goal, and ran with 
 strange phrenzy; but the bear kept even with him, step in step. 
 He tried all ways to get ahead, but close beside him ran the 
 bear.* A few rods only of the course remain, and 
 the bear is just ahead! The birds, in their excitement, darted 
 from the limbs, and sailed in wild confusion over the runners. 
 The bears growled out encouragement to their runner, and 
 urged him on, but no one cheered the Indian; he saw that he 
 was being distanced. Visions of his horrible fate awaiting 
 him, if he failed, drove him almost mad. He clinched his 
 tomahawk and leveled a blow at bruin s head but missed, 
 and when they reached the knotty hemlock, the bear cleared 
 it at a bound, but the Indian, now discouraged and. bewildered, 
 stumbled where he should have jumped, and, falling heavily 
 upon a knot, was pierced to the heart; and thus the Great 
 Spirit punished him for his ingratitude. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 DAXCES AND FESTIVALS. 
 
 The Indian New Year begins when the first new moon in 
 February is five days old. It is .believed by the Pagan In 
 dians that the dance is a divine institution. The Indians are 
 a religious people. The dance forms one of their chief reli 
 gious ceremonies. The observance of their six regular festi 
 vals is scrupulously kept up. The Protestant Indians have 110 
 part in these dances and festivals, regarding them as Pagan 
 rites. Christianity is teaching a more simple and satisfactory 
 worship, and it finds favor among them because of the im 
 provements everywhere following in its wake. But. hardly 
 an Indian can be found that does not venerate the Great Spir 
 it. The New -Year s festival, though often classed as the last, 
 we shall describe at the head of the list. It continues seven 
 days. On the fifth day the white dog is burned. Great stress 
 is laid 011 the confessing of their sins. The dog is burned as 
 a sacrifice, and in the smoke of the burning dog their sins are 
 borne away. 
 
 The confessing of their sins is done by the job and is 
 thought by them to avail for a whole twelve-month. 
 
 The commencement of the New Year s jubilee is duly an 
 nounced by two Indians, said to be " keepers of the faith," who 
 formerly dressed in bears skins or buffalo robes; these gar 
 ments being fastened about their heads with wreaths of corn 
 husks. 
 
 They usually started in the morning, and on entering a 
 house, one of them made the following address: " Listen, list 
 en, listen: The ceremonies which Ha-wen-ne-yu, (Great Spir 
 it,) has commanded us to perform, are now to commence. 
 
25 
 
 Prepare your houses. Clear away the rubbish. Drive out all 
 wild animals. We wish nothing to hinder us in the ceremo 
 nies soon to commence. We exhort you every one to obey 
 what we ask. Should any of your friends be taken sick and 
 die, we command you not to mourn for them, nor allow any of 
 your friends to do so. But lay the body aside, and enjoy the 
 ceremonies with us. When they are over we will mourn with 
 you." This was for the morning visit. In the afternoon they 
 returned and made the following speech: My Nephews, my 
 Nephews, my Nephews; we now announce to you that the 
 New Year s ceremonies have commenced, according to our an 
 cient custom. You are each required to go forth and partici 
 pate in their observance. This is the will of Ha-wen-ne-yu. 
 Your first duty will be to stir up the ashes on your neighbors 
 hearths. Then thank Ha-wen-ne-yu, each of you, for the re 
 turn of this season, and for the privilege of enjoying their fes 
 tivities." Then they sang. Repeating this form at every house 
 concluded the ceremonies of the first day. Preparation was 
 made also on this day for coming days. The white dog was 
 strangled. It was contrary to their religion to offer a sacrifice, 
 a single bone of which had been broken, or a drop of blood, 
 shed. After being strangled the dog is spotted with red paint 
 or decked all over with many-colored ribbons. In this plight 
 he is suspended from a pole until the fifth day, when he is 
 taken down and burned. 
 
 According to injunction the people stir the ashes on their 
 neighbors hearths on the second day of the festival with 
 wooden shovels, and sprinkling a portion over the hearths, 
 they thank Ha-wen-ne-yu that the lives of the dwellers there 
 are spared, and that they themselves are alive to perform 
 their duties. 
 
 On the third and fourth days the dances are inaugurated. 
 Some dance the Feather dance; some dance the War-dance, 
 continuing until late in the evening. Just after dawn on the 
 fifth day the white dog is laid upon an altar near the council- 
 house and burned. The ceremony of burning the white dog 
 was formerly quite imposing; at the present day it is very 
 
 7 
 
26 
 
 much simplified. The customs of the whites are fast obliter 
 ating the ancient landmarks of the Indian nations. 
 
 The address, or speech as the Senecas call it, is eloquent 
 and impressive. It is always spoken by one of the "keepers of 
 the faith," now called the Pagan high priest. The address is 
 very ancient. For more than fifty years it has been substantial 
 ly as given below. The writer is indebted for the speech to 
 Rev. Joseph Turkey, who took it down at a late New Year s 
 festival. The u keeper of the faith" first invokes Ha-wen-ne-yu 
 asking his attention, and having secured it as he thinks, thus 
 speaks: 
 
 "Hail! Hail! Hail! Open your ear to hear what thy 
 people have to say. The smoke of our offering now bears our 
 words to thee. Behold thy people gathered here. See! they 
 have come here to celebrate religious customs thou hast given 
 us. Kind Father look down upon us. Let us have wisdom to 
 perform faithfully what thou hast commanded. Continue to 
 listen: The voice of all thy people is ascending to thee. By 
 thy wisdom help thy people to avoid everything which would 
 tempt thy people to change their ancient faith. Give us pow 
 er to celebrate with our strength, and faithfully, the religious 
 ceremonies given to us by thyself. 
 
 " Continue to listen: May the keepers of the faith get wis 
 dom from thee to perform thy commands aright. Give to ail 
 of us strength to perform the sacred things which came from 
 thee. We give thanks to thee for these ceremonies. We give 
 thanks that thou has preserved the ceremonies as they have 
 always been. Continue to listen: We give thanks to thee 
 that the lives of so many of us, thy children, are spared to 
 share in the duties of this festival. \Ve give thanks to our 
 mother, the earth, which sustains us. We give thanks to thee 
 that thou hast caused her to yield her fruits in such abun 
 dance. Help her to hold back nothing in the year to come, 
 that all may have abundance. We give thanks to the rivers 
 and streams, running in their courses on the bosom of our 
 mother, the earth. We give thanks to all the herbs arid plants. 
 We thank thee that thou has been so good to us in giving to 
 
27 
 
 the plants the power to make us strong and healthy, and to 
 cure our sickness which evil spirits have cast upon us. We 
 thank thee for the great harvest we have had in the past year. 
 We give thanks to the bushes and trees, which keep us sup 
 plied with berries and fruit. We are glad and thankful that 
 thou hast blessed them. We ask that they may not refuse 
 their fruit in the future. 
 
 We give thanks to the winds which drive away disease 
 and pestilence. Thou hast ordered it so, and we thank thee. 
 May the winds always give this blessing. We give 
 thanks to our grandfather Heno, (the Thunderer, a god of 
 storms,) for sending us rains to give us water arid to cheer our 
 plants. May Hvno not forget us. We give thanks to the moon 
 and stars for sending us light when the sun has lain down to 
 rest. We thank thee that thou hast so wisely provided for us, 
 that we have no lack of light. Let this good gift continue. 
 We give thanks to the sun that he has looked with kindly eye 
 upon us; we give thanks to thee that thy wisdom which has no 
 bounds has made the sari to dispose the seasons, to give heat 
 and cold and to make thy people comfortable. May we have 
 that wisdom which shall direct us to truth. Keep us from all 
 bad ways that the sun may never be ashamed of us and hide 
 his face and surround us with darkness. 
 
 " We give thanks to the Ilo-no-che-no-keh, (ministering 
 spirits.) We thank thee that thou hast given so many spirits 
 to help us be good and happy. 
 
 " Last of all, we give thanks to thee our Creator and Lord. 
 In thee dwell all things; we know thou canst do no evil; ev 
 erything thou doest is for our good and enjoyment. Pity thy 
 people if they disobey thee. Be kind to us as to our fathers in 
 the great past. Hear our words as the\^ ascend to thee; may 
 they be pleasing to thee, our Creator, the Preserver and Lord 
 of all things seen and unseen. Na-lio" (f have done, used at 
 the end of speeches. ) 
 
 This address or prayer is followed by dancing and other 
 amusements, and by the feast. On the following day the 
 sixth comes the Thanksgiving dance. The seventh and last 
 
28 
 
 day of the ceremonies is occupied with games and the perform 
 ance of religous rites similar to the foregoing, and thus close 
 their worship and festivities. 
 
 These shadows of true religion are not without their in 
 fluence on the Indians, and groping in the dark as they have 
 been doing, it is quite surprising that such fruits as peace, hos 
 pitality, friendship, brotherly love, reverence of the Great 
 Spirit, are characteristic of them, but this is the fact. These civ 
 ilized Indians are hospitable; they will sit for hours convers 
 ing with their guests, and studying their pleasure. The In 
 dian is strong in his likes and dislikes, but true to his clan 
 and tribe. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HOW HE AVENGED AN INJURY. 
 
 Away back in the dim past, when Buffalo with the sur 
 rounding country was a wilderness, there was planted on the 
 shores of Lake Erie a broad settlement of Indians. Among 
 their most formidable enemies were the Illinois. One winter 
 a band of Illinois warriors set out for this settlement of the 
 Seiiecas. They traveled days and weeks and, at length one 
 day before the dawn burst upon the villagers. The Senecas 
 made stout resistance. A score of their number were slain. 
 A youth of fifteen and a woman of middle age were taken cap 
 tives. The warriors set out for their own hunting grounds 
 and wigwams, taking the well-known trail. The first night 
 on the journey was a night of restlessness to the youth and 
 woman. Their feet were sore with the hard day s tramp. The 
 warriors built a roaring fire, and sat in solemn council around 
 it. They called out the boy and said to him in their own lan 
 guage, which he understood, " You are our captive; we ask you 
 to join us in the war-song, and enjoy yourself all you can. We 
 shall not harm you." The warriors reviewed the scenes of the 
 day, then sang their war-song, but the boy pretended not to 
 know their language, and he knew they were wholly ignorant 
 of his. He did not sing their war-song, but made motions 
 asking if he might sing in his own language. They gave con 
 sent, and this was what he sang: " I shall never forget what 
 you have done to my people. I shall repay your tribe for 
 this. You have stolen a helpless wonan and a little boy from 
 their people and their home. I shall never forget it. If I am 
 spared you will all lose your scalps." He sang so earnestly 
 8 
 
that ttey were pleased, thinking that he would soon become 
 one of mem, and never think of his own people. The third 
 day of their journey was too hard for the poor woman; she be 
 gan to faint. The warriors halted, and while they held a 
 council on her case, she told the Indian boy that they would 
 kill her. So she said to him, " Avenge my blood, and when 
 you go back to our people tell them how the cruel Illinois 
 have beaten me, and taken my life; and, promise me that you 
 will never cease to be a Seneca." He promised all she asked, 
 and when the council ended, she, poor creature, was slain with 
 a battle-axe and left behind. 
 
 They hastened on, arriving at length at the immediate 
 suburb of their own village early in the evening. They held 
 a council and resolved not to enter until the next morning. 
 So, early the next day, two runners were sent ahead to an 
 nounce the coining of the warriors. The people gathered to 
 greet them. With their wildest yell the warriors rushed into 
 the village, and, gathering all the people around the great 
 council-fire, rehearsed with inflammable eloquence the exploits 
 of the march. 
 
 So excited were the people at the recital, that they seized 
 clubs and beat the earth with wild phrenzy as if slaying the 
 hated Senecas.. When the excitement subsided they bethought 
 them of the captive boy, and it was with great difficulty that 
 the warriors restrained them from killing him outright, 
 
 All assembled in council again and the warriors har 
 angued them, and said, " Now let us plan what torture this boy 
 shall suffer; as our dogs, before they take the life of the young 
 bear which they have caught, make sport with him, so let us 
 do with this captive, and if he lives through all the tortures he 
 shall become an Illinois. Our tribe is full of braves and if this 
 boy can bear our punishment let him become an Illinois." A 
 general grunt gave sanction to this opinion. 
 
 The night before, the boy had had a dream, in which, it 
 seems, was revealed to him all that the Illinois would inflict 
 upon him. 
 
31 
 
 The council-fire was now a mass of glowing coals. The 
 Indians took the captive boy and placed him, bare-footed on the 
 coals. The soles of his feet became one mass of blister. Then 
 an aged warrior, with a needle made of slender fish-bone, 
 pierced the sufferer s heels, and filled the blisters with sharp 
 gravel stones. " You must now run a race of twenty rods," 
 they said. 
 
 It was revealed to him in the dream how he might know 
 whether they would spare his life, and this was the revelation: 
 " Running the race he would enter the Long House, and, if he 
 could get a seat on a wild cat s skin, he would be spared." 
 
 The Indians stationed themselves in two rows from the be 
 ginning to the end of the running course, the captive to run 
 between the rows. Each Indian was armed with a club, a 
 branch of thorn-tree, or a bunch of briers, and it was allowed 
 them all to strike him, as he ran, upon the back. No one 
 should beat him from the front. The captive awaited in aw 
 ful agony, the signal for the start, and when it was given, he 
 asked if he might sing his war-song. They consented, and 
 this is what he sang, "I shall never forget this cruelty; if I 
 am spared, you will lose your scalps." While singing this he 
 forgot his tortured feet; the pain had left him, and his courage 
 came again. Turning slowly about, he gazed for an instant 
 on the rows of savage warriors, then, bounding like a deer pur 
 sued by the hounds, he sprang into the course and shot with 
 an arrow s speed, so swift of foot, that he reached the end of 
 the course and not an Indian had hit him. He rushed into 
 the Long House and found it crowded, but at length he espied 
 a place on which to sit; it was a log covered with a wild cat s 
 skin, but an Indian sat upon the skin, and, glad of a slender 
 chance of life, he sat upon the wild cat s tail, and when the In 
 dian moved he crowded up and gained a larger piece. It 
 happened that in old Indian and his wife had had a captive 
 boy whom they adopted as their son, but he had died. 
 
 The chief said, " If this boy is trained he will make a brave 
 Illinios, and," he continued, " the old man who trained the 
 other bov would take this one if he were back among us; but 
 
32 
 
 he has gone on a long trail, and it seems to me that we should 
 kill this boy." 
 
 Long hours of solemn council followed. All thought the 
 boy had borne the tortures well and that he was of good stuff 
 and would make a brave warrior. Many, therefore, said, "We 
 should spare his life, he will join us and forget the Senecas." 
 The most said, " No, he has not seen tests enough and we think 
 he can bear no more and are in favor of taking his life." It 
 was decreed that in three days he should be burned at the 
 stake. 
 
 The day arrived; the circle of pine knots was fired, and the 
 boy was tied with thongs to a post planted in the center of the 
 circle. The warriors applied the gleaming pitch knots to the an 
 kles of the boy. Just then the old man who had trained the 
 other Indian captive came near, returning from his march in 
 the forest. When the boy saw him draw his seal ping-knife he 
 thought, " The old man pities me, and will now end my mis 
 ery," but it was done in a way the boy did not expect, for the 
 Indian cut the thongs which bound him and set him free. He 
 then addressed the warriors and gained his point, for he had 
 great authority among them, saying, "I will take the captive. 
 His eye is bright. He will make a mighty warrior. I will try 
 him with our last tortures and then will take him to my wig 
 wam." He led the sufferer to a spring, and, as if the boy had 
 shown too little proof of stuff fit for an Illinois, he told the boy 
 to get down and drink. When he did this the old man 
 pushed him under and nearly strangled him. This was re 
 peated thrice, until the boy was too exhausted to stand, but he 
 was alive. Thus he had stood the tests and the Indian took 
 him home, dressed his blistered feet and he was called-an Ill 
 inois. They little thought how deep the tortures burned ha 
 tred into his heart. 
 
 He grew to be a man. A chief gave him his daughter for 
 his wife. They thought he had forgotten their tortures. But 
 there rankled in his heart the fresh remembrance of his 
 wrongs, arid wrongs no Indian forgets. He fell in with all 
 the customs of his tribe and seemed a loval man. The warriors 
 
33 
 
 went on predatory exploits every year, but Sa-geh-jo-wa kept 
 at home, and on their return led the triumphal marches of 
 the warriors through the village. 
 
 He gained the esteem and admiration of the tribe, for he 
 was never equaled as a hunter, and the feats of strength which 
 he performed were something marvelous. 
 
 At length, when he had been among them nearly fifteen 
 years, he asked to go with them, especially, as he heard the 
 leaders talk of going against the Senecas. They were delight 
 ed, as he described in passionate language how he would fight 
 and gain more scalps than all the rest. The warriors not on 
 ly consented to his going, but applauded him for loyalty and 
 for his willingness to fight the Senecas. They little thought 
 his boast of getting scalps would be fulfilled on them. But 
 we shall see. 
 
 All the warriors of the tribe, both old and young, sprang 
 to their feet rejoicing at his words. They put him at their 
 head and he led the way for many days until at daybreak one 
 fair morning they saw the smoke rising from the wigwams of 
 the Senecas. Here was the boyhood home of Sa-geh-jo-wa at 
 the time of his capture by the Illinois. A halt was ordered. 
 The wily leader said, "Send out two warriors to a sugar camp 
 four miles ahead and let them scout around the sugar-bush, 
 and bring back a report of what they ve seen, and we will burn 
 the wigwams and scalp the settlers." The warriors were se 
 lected; they went, but came back with the news that the su 
 gar-bush was deserted. So he described to them another set 
 tlement. They went again but brought the same intelligence. 
 They had seen no sign of life, only it appeared that the Sene- 
 cas had been there not very long before. There were heaps of 
 ashes, but every camp fire had gone out. 
 
 The warriors sat in council. Their leader spoke, " To 
 morrow send me and another, and we will bring report of 
 something better." A grunt of assent was his commission to 
 do what he thought good. Next morning the two set out; 
 when they had gone five miles or more, Sa-geh-jo-wa, the lead- 
 
 9 
 
34 
 
 er, said to his companion, " We will take different ways, and 
 I arn sure we will strike an Indian trail. You go over that 
 ridge of hills and down the long valley and meet me on the 
 brow of that high mountain, three miles towards the setting 
 sun, and I will make a circuit through the valley on the other 
 side." His companion set out as directed, while Sa-geh-jo-wa 
 turned in an opposite direction towards a clearing where he 
 thought were Senecas. He ran along the valley, entered the 
 clearing, found one family of Indians whom he knew, and they 
 knew him. He gave his message in few words, hurriedly 
 whispered, " A. band of hated Illinois is in the little valley. I ll 
 lead the warriors in to-morrow noon. Go to the wigwams of 
 the Senecas. fire the warriors of the tribe and let them come 
 out in full force. Tell them to come early, and hide along 
 the ridge above the valley. I will be known to them by a 
 white heron s feather on my crest, and I will stumble in the 
 bush and fall; let this be the signal for the Senecas. Be quick! 
 Tell the Senecas Sa-geh-jo-wa is true! " 
 
 He hastened to the spot agreed upon as the meeting place 
 with his companion, arriving there a few moments before the 
 other warrior, Both reported nothing seen and hastened back 
 to the warriors. " Now," said Sa-geh-jo-wa, "let us descend up 
 on the village. I know a valley where no Indian hides. I 
 know these hills; I have chased the deer among these valleys. 
 We will follow the narrow way through the hidden valley 
 and enter the village. See! there rises the smoke from the 
 great camp fire of the Senecas. Warriors, to-morrow I shall 
 .take three hundred scalps. First appoint a guide, your brav 
 est warrior, to go with me, and we will go ahead. Appoint 
 two others also, to come behind, to follow at a distance. Let 
 us be guarded." So it was ordered, for all admired his skill at 
 planning. They settled down for the night. The warriors 
 started in their sleep, as in their dreams they saw long strings 
 of scalps. 
 
 Day dawned, and every Indian made ready, proud of the 
 opportunity of making good the boast of Sa-geh-jo-wa that 
 three hundred scalps should be the trophy of that day. All, 
 
35 
 
 but their leader, little thought that five hundred Senecas, the 
 bravest of the brave, were in the valley just after dawn, but so 
 it was. 
 
 They began the march. At noon they entered the valley 
 and the leader cast his eye about to know if all were ready; if 
 his orders to the Senecas were obeyed. With much delight 
 he espied a face among the bushes just above him on the ridge, 
 and he knew the Senecas were ready. He led his followers 
 far down into the valley, and, making a misstep, he fell. At 
 that instant the war-whoop echoed and re-echoed among the 
 hills. Springing to his feet he slew the warrior at his side and 
 turned to help the Senecas. 
 
 The Illinois were slain, all but the two who guarded the 
 rear; they fled. 
 
 Three hundred warriors fell! Wild with delight at seeing 
 again their brother and crippling the haughty Illinois, they 
 hastened to the village. The shout of victory called out* the 
 people. Three hundred scalps were glory enough for Sa-geh- 
 jo-wa. A great jubilee was held; it lasted far into the night, 
 and the victor told of his life among their cruel enemies. 
 Pointing to the pole whence dangled the scalps, ghastly in the 
 murky and fitful glare of the dying camp fire, Sa-geh-jo-wa 
 rehearsed the black deeds of the Illinois. He had avenged the 
 tortures he had suffered, and the blood of the poor woman 
 who fainted by the way. 
 
 Sa-geh-jo-wa lived and died among the Senecas, and, 
 when they bore him to his narrow grave they placed beside 
 him a four-fold supply of bows and arrows, tomahawks and 
 spears, for use in the happy hunting grounds. To this day his 
 name is honored. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MARRIAGES AND BURIALS. 
 
 It has been asserted by more than one historian that love 
 is unknown among the Seneca Indians. So gross a misrepre 
 sentation should never have been published. Whatever ap 
 parent lack of the tender passion may have been detected is 
 due to match-making. It is true that in years gone by the In 
 dian lads and lasses haven t had a ghost of a chance to fall ef 
 fectually in love, for, supposing them to have exchanged glanc 
 es arid two hearts to have begun sweetly to beat as one, their 
 mammas, as the youth learn to their sorrow, have planned 
 differently, and, since this business of match-making, peculiar 
 to (Indian) women, is wholly monopolized by the squaws 
 whose sons and daughters are marriageable, what encourage 
 ment, we ask, have the young Indians, to fall in love? Many 
 a time have these mothers entered into negotiations for their 
 children without their knowledge, they having 110 intimation 
 of what is going on, until, like a thunder-clap from a cloudless 
 sky, the announcement is solemnly made to them that they 
 are married! 
 
 A celebrated writer has said, "When an old man marries 
 a young woman, it is man s work; when a young man marries 
 a young woman, it is the Lord s work; but when a young man 
 marries an old woman, it is the devil s work." It appears that 
 anciently the officious squaws, having an eye to the correct 
 and thorough discipline of young warriors, married the latter 
 with painful uniformity to women several years their seniors, 
 all which undoubtedly affords a solution of the mystery as to 
 where the warriors acquired such skill and bravery in fighting. 
 It was no mean discipline they learned! 
 
37 
 
 The passion of love was not unknown, but smothered. 
 What would be the use of falling in love when custom, rigid, 
 exacting custom, coupled with the certainty of disownment if 
 not obedient, held the youth in check with iron grasp. 
 
 The influence of modern society has reached the Senecas, 
 though the custom of match-making, so rare among the pale 
 faces! has by no means died out among them. The principle 
 that actuates the Indian mother is a good one. She soliloqui 
 zes: "My son is of the proper age to marry; I will cast about 
 for a companion." Every marriage lessens crime, and the In 
 dian has some honor. 
 
 In these days great improvement has been effected in 
 match-making. Although the young Indian s partner is se 
 lected for him, he is allowed to fall in love with her before the 
 final ceremony is performed. This, it will be noticed, is a 
 long step forward. One feature of Indian match-making res 
 cued the system from all reproach, and if, by legislation or 
 otherwise, it could become an unavoidable accompaniment of 1 
 match-making everywhere, it would be well. The redeeming 
 feature is this: The parties who made the match were held 
 responsible for all discord or quarreling between the pair! but 
 if harmony could not be restored they separated. 
 
 Modern divorce laws have done nothing towards perpetu 
 ating sacred regard for marriage vows among the Indians and 
 often on merest pretense the Indian breaks the marriage tie. 
 The writer was appealed to on one occasion by the most sor 
 rowful looking Indian he ever saw, and the following conver- 
 srtion ensued: " Had bad luck with my squaw; she bad 
 squaw, I get you to help me. 1 get a divorce. You give me 
 one." "No," was the reply,"! cannot do that." "Church 
 folks give divorce then; bad squaw." "No, church cannot do 
 it." He went away deeply sighing. 
 
 Investigation disclosed that he had been drunk on fire 
 water and, attempting to abuse his companion, she had sound 
 ly thrashed him. 
 
 Polygamy is not practised by the Indians. Notwithstand 
 ing the level of moral tone among the tribes is far below what 
 
 10 
 
38 
 
 it is among the whites, an Indian who attempts to take two 
 wives is stigmatised by the tribe, and his influence goes for 
 nought thereafter. " Too much squaw" has wrought the 
 downfall of more than one influential Indian. 
 
 Separation by mutual consent is allowed and regarded 
 sometimes as just. The abuses of this license, however, are 
 numerous as are the whims and pretenses of a disaffected 
 Indian. There is need, in order to the permanent improve 
 ment of the Senecas, that certain disabilities be removed. 
 Treated, as they now are by the law, as children, not held re 
 sponsible for their word nor bound by any legal obligation to 
 pay their debts, it is little wonder that marriage among 
 them has sunk below its divine level, for, standing in the rela 
 tion of minors, with all the legal disabilities of children, every 
 sacred obligation suffers. 
 
 There are those who live happily together with many com 
 forts of home about them. 
 
 A wedding among them is a very romantic affair. The 
 writer performed the marriage ceremony for two Indian coup 
 les; the first was repeatedly postponed, once, because a neigh 
 bor happened in just at the appointed hour. This neighbor 
 had not been invited and the ceremonies were brought to a 
 stand-still; again the wedding was postponed because the 
 young lady was suffering from a cold. After about three 
 months, everything was propitious; the sign of the Zodiac was 
 in the heart. Nothing could be more favorable. If it were in 
 the head the woman would be sure to talk too much, if in her 
 feet, to run too much, but being in the heart she would take 
 good care of her house and love her husband. The company 
 assembled at the house of a neighbor. They sang a hymn. 
 Inquiring for the parties to be joined, to the surprise of the of 
 ficiating clergyman, a young man was pointed out who sat 
 with chair tipped back against the wall and feet aloft resting 
 on the top of the high stove a most indifferent looking object. 
 The bride, a bright young girl of seventeen, came tripping in 
 from another room where she had been engaged up to the 
 last moment, in preparation for the meal to follow. A signi- 
 
39 
 
 ficant grunt stirred up the young man and he took his place. 
 The ceremony was performed through an Indian interpreter. 
 Congratulations followed. The older Indians present took oc 
 casion to give the groom the benefit of their experience, ad 
 monishing him to profit by it. 
 
 The other ceremony was performed in January, 1878, and 
 was a fine affair. The groom was the son of one of the lead 
 ing chiefs of the tribe,and the bride was of no mean family. Ex 
 tensive preparations had been made by the groom s father, at 
 whose house was the gathering. A hymn was sung in Seneca. 
 We give one stanza: 
 
 Jat gat huh he ni sho gwa wih, 
 
 Neh no nen nyah si yu 
 Sha dih ni go ant, sho, na eh, 
 Neh no nah gao yah geh. 
 
 A large company had gathered. The bride and groom 
 were neatly dressed. During the ceremony there were many 
 tears shed, for the Indians seemed fully to appreciate the scene. 
 There was much sympathetic joy. After the congratulations 
 half a score of the men and women took the young Indian by 
 the hand, and, in turn, gave such advice as they thought fit. 
 Not one word of advice was offered the bride! but upon the 
 groom it fell in great profusion. 
 
 One old man, a Pagan, made this speech: " You have tak 
 en this woman for your wife. She leaves her mother, her 
 father, her sisters, her brothers and her friends to be your wife. 
 Do not forget to love her. As she has left everything for you, 
 be kind to her. Do not forget these words. The Great Spirit 
 looks down and hears what you have promised. Remember 
 that the Great Spirit can see everything and if you are not 
 true, He will know it. Love her who is now made your wife. 
 Always remember these my words." 
 
 The feast followed. A long table was tastily spread; the 
 food placed upon it was well-cooked and clean. It was a 
 chicken-supper, with sauce, and bread, and pie, and corn-bread. 
 What did it matter that no butter graced the board? Is it not 
 the latest freak of etiquette among pale-faces even, to eat one 
 meal without it? 
 
40 
 
 BURIALS. 
 
 It has ever been a part of the religious faith of the Sene- 
 cas to venerate the dead. Before the light of civilization broke 
 in upon the sombre solitude of the forest, the tribes performed 
 services for the dead in their own peculiar and elaborate way. 
 
 In these days their burial customs are quite like those of 
 the whites, but an Indian is an Indian always and many little 
 details of burial, suited to their tastes, will never be given up. 
 No bodies are olaced on bark platforms as formerly; no skele- 
 swing among the branches. No family skeletons are preserved 
 to be mourned over for long years as was their wont not many 
 years ago. Tomahawks, bows, arrows, spears and javelins are 
 no longer laid beside the dead, but the old custom of wailing, 
 speech-making and singing of mournful hymns is common to 
 this day. 
 
 A. funeral ceremony as conducted by the Senecas is touch 
 ing and beautiful. A youug man, sixteen years old, was bur 
 ied from the Mission House. He had been a great sufferer for 
 months, and his suffering seemed the more to have endeared 
 him to his mother s heart. The Senecas had gathered slowly 
 in; deep solemnity characterized the service. There were 
 bowed heads and wet cheeks in that assembly. After the usu 
 al form of Scripture reading and prayer, a native preacher 
 arose and addressed the people a half-hour. The Senecas do 
 not move past the coffin in procession, but, here and there one 
 rises in the audience and goes forward to view the remains, 
 then passes out. Much time is consumed in this way. When 
 all who wish have looked upon the dead, the family go for 
 ward. The grief of the mother on this occasion was deep and 
 terrible. Her frame quivered, and anon a heart-piercing wail 
 of anguish broke forth. Amid her tears and sobbing she ad 
 dressed a few words of eulogy to her son to the effect that he 
 had been a kind, a loving son, who, unexpectedly had gone on 
 a long journey a little before her; that they would meet again 
 never to part. She passed out hiding her tears and grief with 
 the blanket which she wore tightly drawn over her head. 
 Then the bearers performed their service, and, as the sorrow- 
 
41 
 
 ing procession moved down the aisle, a mournful chant was 
 sung by a score or more of Senecas, and the remains were borne 
 away to the grave. 
 
 On the Sunday following an Indian arose in the congre 
 gation and said, " Our mourning neighbors have great grief. 
 They wish to pay their funeral expenses. Let us share the 
 load they are carrying. It seems to me that we ought to help 
 them; we can help them and lift this burden from their shoul 
 ders; their grief is burden enough." The collection was taken 
 and the full amount raised. Only the Great Spirit knows how 
 much of heaven s blessing shall be portioned out to these sym 
 pathetic souls. 
 
 On another funeral occasion the tender regard of a sorrow- 
 stricken father for the memory of liis wife brought tears to 
 many an eye. The funeral was at a school house on the reser 
 vation. It seems that the Indian s wife had died a few months 
 before leaving a little girl. The mother had bequeathed her 
 all consisting of a ring and a few dresses and some unimpor 
 tant articles to the little daughter. Now the father is called 
 to lay away the only one of all his family, and he is in the 
 world alone. 
 
 The services concluded, an Indian, whose duty it was to 
 make announcements, arose and said: " This father now lays 
 away his child. His wife he buried a number of months ago. 
 When she died she left a few things for her child; but the 
 child too is dead. The father is poor and often sick. It 
 would be right, according to our custom for the father to sell 
 the ring and dresses and get money to pay the funeral expens 
 es, and he is poor and sick, but lie asks me to announce that 
 he will try and bear the funeral expenses; he does not like to 
 sell the things that belonged to his wife. He asks me to say 
 these things!" 
 
 The father was the only mourner. He gazed long and 
 eagerly upon his child, and when the bearers, singing the 
 mournful chant, lifted the little coffin and bore their charge to 
 the grave, the flood-gates opened and the father bowed him 
 self and wept long and bitterly. 
 
 11 
 
Let it not be said that affection is wanting in the Indian 
 character. The Indian has been treated as a brute, a dog. 
 We have known him on the war-path, not at his fireside. He 
 may be defrauded, crushed, but he has the instincts of a man. 
 To educate and Christianize him is more politic than to at 
 tempt annihilation. 
 
 Custom was years ago -to leave a slight opening to the 
 grave that the spirit might revisit the body and find easy ac 
 cess to its former place. The custom of feasting after a stated 
 period of mourning, undoubtedly arose from the commonly 
 prevailing idea that the journey to heaven required many 
 days, and until the spirit reached the happier realms there 
 should be mourning on earth; but on the completion of the 
 journey it was thought not only proper but a matter of duty 
 to feast and rejoice. 
 
 The Indians believe that there is a path to heaven from 
 every man s door, but that he may turn away from it and fall 
 among bad spirits. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 DOMESTIC LIFE AND HOSPITALITY. 
 
 What can sound more strange to the general public than 
 an invitation to gather at the fireside of the Senecas? to inspect 
 their home life? As usually understood the Senecas are 
 thought to be wanting in those social elements indispensable 
 to happy homes. They are thought to be always roving and 
 never stable. The indolence, and natural aversion of the In 
 dian to work, his nomadic habits have been rehearsed to the 
 world and exaggerated. As there is a redeeming side to the 
 picture let it be held to public gaze, and public censure may be 
 restrained if commendation be not elicited for this peculiar 
 people. The true inwardness of Seneca social life can be un 
 derstood by no mere observation of a day. One has need to 
 dwell among the people, to sit at their tables, to mingle in 
 their neighborhood councils, to study their modes of thought, 
 to watch the little details of every-day life, ere competent to 
 give a fair representation of their higher characteristics. 
 
 The romance of the wigwam is a thing of the past, the In 
 dians now living, many of them, in respectable style in good 
 houses. The larger number of their dwellings, however, are a 
 cross between a wigwam and a house, evolving a log hut with 
 two or three rooms, unplastered, unpapered and unadorned, 
 excepting now and then a flaming circus poster peeled from 
 some fence. The Seneca has a weakness for bright colors, but 
 displays remarkable taste in the intermingling of them. 
 
44 
 
 Contact with the pale-faces has worn off the angularities 
 of savage life, so that now many a modern custom is ingrafted 
 on this hardy stock. Not all the polished ways of civilization 
 find genial soil in Indian traits. The humanity of father Ad 
 am is somewhat chronic among the Indians and, like every 
 other follower of fashion, the Seneca has little difficulty in fall 
 ing into the pernicious ways of the white race, and, to the 
 shame of the latter, let it be whispered, there are greater at 
 tempts to corrupt and ruin the Senecas than to elevate and 
 save them. Where is the decency, not to mention the justice, 
 of trading whiskey, beer and cider, as many do, for the Indian s 
 corn, oats and wheat, driving him to desperation, inflaming 
 his savage nature, letting loose the wolves of want and wretch 
 edness to invade and destroy his home! Who shall measure 
 the accumulations of " wrath against the day of wrath" for 
 those who, in total disregard of the enforced inferiority inci 
 dent to the minority and dependence of the Indian race, give 
 the fire-water and take the substantial profits of the Indian s 
 land? 
 
 Noble social traits are displayed by the Senecas. Ap 
 proach the door of the hut or more refined dwelling and a 
 voice within says "come." You are greeted with smiles. You 
 are struck with the entire absence of airs and feel at 
 home at once. If the head of the household can speak the 
 English, you are treated to long, minute, accurate accounts of 
 the exploits of the tribe in the olden time. Having no written 
 language only as the sounds of the language are represented 
 by English letters with marks of accentuation, memory is king, 
 and, having abundant leisure, the Indian rehearses over and 
 over again all that ever he knew. His peculiar idiom is nov 
 el and charming, and you unconsciously fall into a sort of 
 dream-land reverie as the narrator pours forth a stream of 
 discourse fresh and sparkling as the spring-fed brooklet that 
 babbles past his door. In the progress of the narrative neigh 
 bors drop in and they listen with strict attention, at times, 
 suggesting little details and variations passed over by the sto 
 ry-teller. The afternoon flies by and you rouse to the realities 
 
45 
 
 of hunger. It may be that a large kettle of hulled corn sim 
 mers over the fire and its savory incense gives edge to your 
 appetite for the rich light biscuit which the Indian matron 
 takes piping hot from the oven. You are a welcome guest at 
 the table of the Indian, but you eat alone. You must bear in 
 mind that the bounty spread is for all the family and you 
 must not clear the board. Tis true there is no lack but eti 
 quette demands consideration on your part. You wonder at 
 this strange custom, and the matron says, " You visitor; we 
 have you eat first; you help yourself; we glad you come; we 
 give you best we have." 
 
 Not unfrequently a considerable number gather in before 
 you finish and you can hardly tell whether your supper, or the 
 earnest, pleasant chatting absorbs you most. You may not 
 understand their words but the beaming smiles and the hearty 
 laughter and animated conversation warm your heart and 
 draw you nearer to these dusky children of the forest. If you 
 pass the night under the Indian s roof you may be sure of pro 
 tection. No bolts or bars are on the doors, for they are open 
 to the people of their tribe and to the stranger, day and night. 
 
 The Indian eats when he is hungry. It is only now and 
 then that the family eat at regular intervals or together. 
 
 Food is set before, no matter how many, strangers and it 
 is always expected of them that the usual "Hi-ne-a-weh," I 
 thank you, will be said. 
 
 A favorite cake among the Senecas is made as follows: 
 A quantity of coarse meal is boiled in water until thoroughly 
 cooked. Just before taken off, long black beans previously 
 boiled until soft, are stirred in. The whole mass is poured 
 while hot into a large tin pan and left to cool. When cool 
 this cake is cut with a knife in slices and eaten with butter 
 freely spread on. The beans present the appearance of fruit 
 and detract not at all from the wholesomeness of the cake. This 
 cake is given freely to the children, and it has this recommen 
 dation that it never yet distressed any one. It is by no means 
 unpalatable as the writer well knows. The long beans at the 
 bottom of the cake you take to be raisins, but a surprise awaits 
 
 12 
 
46 
 
 you. You bite the cake and the surprise is that no taste of 
 raisins is realized, and the Senecas laugh at your puzzled looks 
 and tell you it is bean-corn-cake. 
 
 One writer, many years ago, speaking of the generosity of 
 the Indian, said, " He would surrender his dinner to feed the 
 hungry, vacate his bed to refresh the wear) 7 , and give up his 
 apparel to cloth the naked. No test of friendship is too severe, 
 no sacrifice to repay a favor, too great, no fidelity to an agree 
 ment, too inflexible for the Indian character." It is an esti 
 mate of Indian traits as just to-day as when uttered, and what 
 return has the Indian had? A cutting criticism but fairly 
 made, was that of the old chief on the treatment of the Indian 
 at the hands of the whites, when he said to a guest, " You 
 know our practice. If a white man, in traveling through our 
 country, enters one of our cabins, we all treat him as I do you. 
 We dry him if he is wet, we warm him if he is cold, and give 
 him meat and drink that he may allay his hunger and thirst, 
 and we spread soft furs for him to rest and sleep on. We ask 
 nothing in return. But if I go into a white man s house, and 
 ask for victuals and drink, they say Where is your money? 
 And if I have none, they say, Get out you Indian dog. 
 
 There is much truth in reports of the indolence of the In 
 dian men; they are not over-fond of labor, but many of them 
 are diligent workers and have accumulated some property. 
 Efforts one may put forth to help the Indian to the practice of 
 diligence are not always appreciated as the following will show: 
 One day in May the writer was making calls upon the Indians 
 and observed three young men of about twenty-five years, 
 plowing, or, to be more exact, the Indians lay in the shade of 
 an apple-tree and the plow slept in the furrow, and the horses 
 stood nodding. Returning an hour after there was no change 
 of base. The thought occurred, " Here is a chance to give 
 those lazy fellows a lesson they will not forget." So hitching 
 the horse, he jumped the rail fence, took the reins, started the 
 team and finished plowing the piece, then turning to the ag- 
 gravatingly indifferent three as they lay, like Tityrus of whom 
 Virgil has sung, "reclining beneath the branches of a wide- 
 
47 
 
 spread tree," the following advice was volunteered: "Boys, 
 if you want to get on in this world you must not spend much 
 time in the shade," and the Indians delighted that the job 
 was finished, cried out to know " if the missionary would not 
 be kind enough to unhitch the team." He did unhitch his 
 own and drive off at a high rate of speed, reflecting deeply 011 
 the doctrine of total depravity. 
 
 In all his dealings with his own people, or others, the In 
 dian is not guilty of theft. He has too high a sense of honor 
 and too great self-respect to steal. Theft is a crime almost un 
 heard of among the Senecas. Let an Indian get drunk on 
 the white man s fire-water and even then steal, and public in 
 dignation known no bounds. 
 
 Nor is the Indian a liar. Notwithstanding somewhat of 
 degeneration from primitive truthfulness, the Senecas compare 
 favorably in this respect, with most in their vicinit} T . Lying 
 and dissimulation are riot Indian traits. In fact/if an Indian 
 attempts one or the other he uses the English language. He 
 cannot use double speaking in his own language, it will not 
 admit of it. It is a remarkably direct and simple language as 
 will be shown in the chapter on the Seneca language. 
 
 The neighboring whites have some trouble in trading 
 with the Indians, and complain bitterly that they do not keep 
 their word and pay as they agree, when trusted for goods. The 
 reason is obvious; the disability of minority is upon the trib.es 
 and they need not pay unless they choose, because the white 
 man has no right to trust the Indian and cannot forcibly col 
 lect his debt. 
 
 A Christian Indian had owed a debt for a long time; after 
 being dunned until he lost his patience he paid the debt, re 
 minding the trader that he was "mean man" and " Indian 
 needn t pay if he don t want to, but I pay you, I Christian, I 
 pay. You mean man." 
 
 In the matter of holding property, the women are as inde 
 pendent of their own husbands as two men could be of each 
 other among us. If they separated the woman took all her 
 property with her. On the death of the wife all her effects go 
 
48 
 
 to her children. As formerly the children were none of them 
 members of the same tribe with the father, so at the present 
 time no Indian and his wife belong to the same clan, and the 
 children by birth are of the mother s clan. 
 
 In olden time the Indian might give his property to his 
 wife and children, but failing to do this the next of kin in his 
 own tribe were rightful heirs. The handling of property is 
 left with the Indian Nation and the disposition of it is reg 
 ulated by the councils. 
 
 The Indians have fashions in dress peculiarly their own. 
 They are always in style for they frave but one style. The 
 majority of the woman wear bright shawls or blankets thrown 
 over the head and drawn about the face. This is their custom 
 summer and winter. They wear leggins of navy blue broad 
 cloth embroidered with beads, and a skirt of the same mate 
 rial, the list being left on as an ornamental stripe, and over 
 all a polonaise of bright calico. Another article of apparel, 
 worn by most of the women, is the over-dress. It is made with 
 the straight yoke and is gathered on to the yoke full, hanging 
 loosely. It has a broad collar which is fastened at the throat 
 with a silver clasp. This over-dress is made of calico. 
 
 Not unfrequently the squaws wear a long strip of broad 
 cloth over their heads as a shawl. Only a few wear hats and 
 dress in modern, American style. 
 
 Making maple sugar and sugaring-off are useful and fa 
 vorite pastimes among the Senecas, and contribute much to 
 social joy. 
 
 From earliest recollection corn has been the staple arti 
 cle of food. When properly prepared it affords hearty and nu 
 tritious diet. Red corn, white, and flint corn are the varities. 
 The white corn is the favorite kind, supplying the place of 
 wheat. It is very white. The Indian women put it into mor 
 tars which are two feet high and with a pounder four feet long- 
 reduce the corn to meal as fine as they wish. 
 
 The moccason as made by the Senecas is ingeniously con 
 trived and easy to the foot. Soft buckskin is the material 
 mostly used. Some are high like a boot; others, low like a 
 
49 
 
 slipper with a narrow lapel turned down from the top em 
 broidered with beads. 
 
 Trays and sap tubs made of bark are in common use. 
 The Indian still raises tobacco, but smokes sumac leaves with 
 it to reduce its strength. Chewing is a habit copied from the 
 white man. 
 
 An Indian saddle is of curious contrivance but an 
 swers well its purpose. It consists of a frame of wood 
 covered with raw-hide. The side pieces are long. The pom 
 mel rises five or six inches above these on the front of the 
 saddle. An opening of about three inches is left for the back 
 bone of the horse at the top of the saddle between the side- 
 pieces. The stirrups are also of wood bent into the form of a 
 triangle. 
 
 The snow-shoe is much used in winter. A strip of 
 hickory is bent, the front rounding, and the two ends fastened 
 together at the heel. Coarse network of thongs of green-hide 
 completes the shoe. 
 
 A contrivance sometimes used by the Senecas for igniting 
 tinder is worthy of description. A rod four feet long is passed 
 through a small, heavy wheel which is keyed to the rod or 
 shaft. A notch like that at the end of an arrow is made at the 
 top of the shaft. A bow is hung by its string upon this shaft. 
 The string being loose you swing the bow around a few turns 
 and then press down upon it; the shaft will begin to turn as 
 the string uncoils and the wheel will give momentum. The 
 harder you press on the bow the faster will the shaft revolve 
 until the friction at the base will produce fire. 
 
 The Indian women excel in basket making. The mate 
 rial used is ash, rushes and corn husks. 
 
 Wooden sap ladles and bowls are often handsomely carved 
 and are really beautiful. Wooden butter dishes, butter stamps 
 of their own make and carving, and other home-made house 
 hold utensels are common among the Senecas. 
 
 War-clubs and tomahawks are no longer used by these do 
 mesticated Indians, therefore a description of them would 
 hardly be in place here. Now and then one of the fathers of 
 
 13 
 
50 
 
 the tribe will take down an old tomahawk and tell its history; 
 in what skirmishes with the whites it was used when the bad 
 spirits of the Indian nature were aroused; how it was carried 
 on the long trails by some distinguished warrior. But the 
 spirit of war has left the Seneca and the dove of peace now 
 hovers over the tribe. This little nation of seventeen hundred 
 Senecas, at peace with other tribes, and in harmony at home, 
 is a delightful study, whether contemplated from the stand 
 point of its legends, customs, or social life. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 LEGENDS. 
 
 In legendary lore the Seneca goes back to first causes, ex 
 plaining, with a minuteness quite remarkable, all striking 
 phenomena in nature. Is there a valley or mountain at all 
 peculiar? Is the undulation of the surface anywhere peculiar 
 ly striking? The Seneca tells the reason of such peculiarity, 
 suffering no marked feature of land or sky to pass unexplained. 
 The scientist says that the long cut from Niagara s cataract to 
 lake Ontario was eaten out by frost and falling waters, but the 
 Indian who roamed the forest years before the scientist was 
 born, and oughtn t he to know? tells us a very different story. 
 The scientist declares it his opinion that the soft rock under 
 neath the bend at Horse-shoe Fall crumbling away, affords too 
 weak a prop for the mighty waters; but the Seneca gives all 
 the particulars, and his word, therefore, should have prece 
 dence. 
 
 The legend is, that a beautiful Indian maiden was bound 
 by some law to marry an ugly, wrinkled uncouth Indian. The 
 contract had been ratified, and there was no possible escape 
 for her, So just before the day that they, by the custom of the 
 tribe, were to be bound as one, she sprang into a bark canoe 
 and pushed it far out on the shooting waters of Niagara. 
 Down, down the angry rapids, and over the surging sea of 
 falling waters sped the canoe with its fair freight. The patron 
 deity of the harvest, the "cloud-compelling," and "rain-giving" 
 Heno, dwelt in the cave behind the falls. He saw the maiden 
 falling and flew out for he had massive wings and caught 
 her ere she struck the rocks below. She dwelt for months in 
 the home of Heno. While there she learned of Heno many 
 
52 
 
 things strange and entirely new to her. He told her what she 
 and her tribe had longed for years to know, why it was that 
 her people suffered every spring from the inroads of a fearful 
 pestilence. He said that a serpent was the cause; that this ser 
 pent had his slimy haunts under the village and that he poi 
 soned the waters of the streams that the Indians might be de 
 stroyed in great numbers for he fed on the bodies of the dead, 
 and such was his appetite that death by natural causes did not 
 supply his need. 
 
 Heno plumed his wings and bore the Indi an maiden to 
 her home. By his advice she told her people the cause of their 
 suffering and death; that they must leave their present hunt 
 ing-grounds and villages and travel farther towards the lake. 
 
 The serpent, disappointed of his feast, coiled up in sullen 
 mood, but at last he made up his mind what to do. He would 
 go in search of the food. So he ventured forth to learn the 
 cause of the lack of bodies. He found that the Indians had 
 sought another home, and, pressed with hunger, he dragged 
 forth his slimy coils, and glided noiselessly after the departing 
 people. While crawling up a narrow creek, Heno, who had 
 been watching him, believing this to be the favored opportu 
 nity took a small thunderbolt from his pouch in which he car 
 ried large numbers of them, and hurled it at the serpent. The 
 shores and hills along the great lake reverberated with the ter 
 rific explosion. A terrible conflict ensued. Heno had hurled 
 a small bolt first because he did not wish to deafen the deer in 
 the wood and the fish in the lake, and he thought it would 
 slay the serpent. He saw his mistake and hurled a heavier 
 bolt,, but this did not kill the serpent. Heno became alarmed. 
 It seemed almost as if all the thunderbolts he had would not 
 be sufficient. But finally the serpent was slain. 
 
 The monster s body stretched more than a mile, and, when 
 he brought his tail around in the agonies of death, he swept 
 up great hills of sand. \Vhen the serpent floated down Niag 
 ara it appeared that a huge mountain were afloat. The mon 
 ster lodged at the very brink of the falls and being obstructed 
 by a rock, piled the waters mountain-high. Then the ledge 
 
53 
 
 gave way behind the serpent s body which stretched from 
 bank to bank, and thus was formed the horse-shoe winding 
 of the falls. This is the legend of the Senecas. 
 
 THE HUNGRY PAIR. 
 
 One winter a hunting party met with sore misfortune. 
 They could find no game save now and then a squirrel or a 
 porcupine. Hunger stared them in the face, and what to do 
 they knew not. In solemn council it was agreed that whenev 
 er any game was taken it should be given up for the good of 
 all. One Indian killed a squirrel, and of this a soup was made, 
 nine hundred ninety-nine parts water, one, of meat. The 
 starving people were very glad of even this. One young In 
 dian, who had just married, killed a porcupine, and, as his 
 wife was very hungry, he cooked the meat and gave the most 
 of it to her. Some quills of the porcupine attracted the atten 
 tion of the other Indians, and they searched the matter out. 
 A council was held and they decreed that, while they admired 
 his devotion to his wife, they thought it best that he who had 
 broken the covenant be punished, arid they also thought that 
 his wife should suffer for taking the food when she knew that 
 so many of the party were starving. So the Indians poured 
 water on the fires and extinguished every spark. 
 
 The voung Indian and his wife were now deserted by the 
 rest and left to die. It was very cold weather and they had 
 nothing to eat and very little to wear, their cruel people hav 
 ing carried everything away. 
 
 Thus they were left alone with nothing but a rusty knife 
 which Ska-no-wun-de, (over the creek,) had concealed in a hole 
 when the heartless Indians put the fires out. What should 
 they do to drive away the cold? Ska-no-wun-de was equal to 
 the emergency. He could not, would not, see her suffer from 
 either cold or hunger whom he had taken for his wife. He 
 rubbed two pieces of dry wood together, and struck a spark, 
 and fanned it to a flame. Both piled on wood, and soon they 
 had comfortable quarters. With the rusty knife they managed 
 to complete a strong bow and several arrows. Ska-no-wun-de 
 
 14 
 
54 
 
 found deer in plenty and they prospered. Meanwhile the par 
 ty that had left them cruelly to die encountered every hard 
 ship. None of them could find game. 
 
 Ha-wen-ne-yu punished them for their wickedness. Many 
 starved to death. The father and mother of Ska-no- wun-de 
 were among those who thought the young Indian and his wife 
 should be left to die. They were very old people and great 
 eaters. They fell to devouring the other Indians, eating them 
 one by one until they had disposed of the whole company of 
 thirty, and even then they were not satisfied. They said, "We 
 will go back to where our children are, and we will feed on 
 them, they must be frozen hard." 
 
 Before the old people started on their search for the bodies 
 of their son and daughter, the young Indians had a revelation 
 of everything the old folks meant to do, and some voice kept 
 saying to them, "Do not for one moment trust the word of the 
 Indians, they mean no good to you." 
 
 The young Indians traveled on farther into the forest un 
 til they came upon a charming lake. The sun was shining, 
 and, though the ice had grown thick on the bosom of the lake, 
 the sun in sympathy for them said, " Build a canoe. The old 
 folks are coming. They will be here in two days. I will melt 
 the ice when they come, and bring the water back, and you 
 sailing on the lake shall have security from your pursuers." 
 
 When the old folks reached the spot where they had 
 helped put out the camp fires they found venison in plenty 
 hanging from the tree. Having eaten this, they searched and 
 found their children s tracks. 
 
 Meanwhile the canoe was building, and just as the old 
 folks came in sight, Ska-no-wun-de pushed out the canoe con 
 taining his wife, bear s meat, deer and porcupines. When the 
 old folks, lean and hungry still, saw them they hurried to the 
 water s edge and cried, "O let us in ! we are tired out. Your 
 old father and mother are very weak. They are weary of their 
 sorrowful life. Let us go in the canoe with you." 
 
 The sun whispered to the young Indians, saying, "Do not 
 heed them. I know they are your father and mother, but 
 
00 
 
 they will destroy you both for they are great eaters and very 
 hungry." The canoe was paddled farther away, and the old 
 Indians waded out neck-deep, arid, suddenly, a huge turtle 
 snapped at the old man s heel and pulled him under and 
 dragged him to his gloomy home in the mud; then hastening 
 back he caught the old woman too, and dragged her down, 
 and all creation said it was just retribution. 
 
 The young Indians now paddled back to the shore arid 
 after long days and many moons they reached the valley 
 whence they had gone with the hunting party, and, sitting by 
 the council fire of the tribe they told the story of the unfortu 
 nate hunting expedition. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 ADORATION OP THE MAPLE, AND OTHER FESTIVALS. 
 
 The Seneca shows his gratitude for kindnesses bestowed 
 upon him whether they come from friends or flow from trees. 
 Whatever adds to his pleasure or contributes to his happiness 
 calls out expressions of thankfulness. An Indian never for 
 gets an injury, and he never forgets a benefit. 
 
 As the maple is the first substantial blessing after the long 
 winter, so the maple thanksgiving precedes all others in the 
 year if we except the general thanksgiving of February. 
 
 Prior to every festival the people hold a meeting and con 
 fess their sins. The sweet sap from the maple is regarded as a 
 special blessing and when it begins to flow, a day is appoint 
 ed for the maple festival. Everybody used to confess during 
 this festival. In the forenoon the Indians partake of a feast 
 and play the games common to the tribe. They next as 
 semble in council and speeches are made by the moral teach 
 ers. We give one of the speeches: 
 
 " Friends and relatives: The sun, the ruler of the day, is 
 high in his path, and we must hasten to do our duty. We are 
 gathered here to observe an ancient custom. It is an institu 
 tion handed down to us by our forefathers. It was given to 
 them by the Great Spirit. He has ever required his people 
 to give thanks to him for all blessings received. Our people 
 have always tried to be faithful in doing this. The season 
 when the maple tree yields its sweet waters has again returned. 
 We give thanks that it is so. We expect you. all to join 111 
 thanksgiving to the maple. We expect you to join also in 
 thanksgiving to the Great Spirit who made this tree for the 
 good of all. 
 
57 
 
 " Friends and relatives, continue to listen: AVe are glad 
 to see so many here and we give you thanks that you 
 think well of this matter. We give thanks to the Great Spir 
 it for being so kind to us. He spares our lives to participate 
 in these festivities. Naho." (I have done.) 
 
 This is the regular speech year after year. Other speech 
 es of a general character follow, and full of sound advice. It 
 is a marvel that so high a standard of right is planted in the 
 conscience of the Indian. 
 
 One other speaker addresses the people somewhat as fol 
 lows: 
 
 "My nephews, listen: The Great Spirit has given us the 
 maple tree; he has made the sweet sap to flow and he expects 
 that we shall live in harmony. He gives us all things. We 
 should always live in peace. If we hurt our neighbor with 
 evil speaking he will know it. When the hungry come to our 
 door we are not to turn them away. The Great Spirit feeds 
 us; he gives us everything and he will be displeased if we turn 
 the hungry away. If we do this he will punish us; he will 
 take away our crops and we shall go hungry. 
 
 " Continue to listen: If one does wrong do not treat him 
 harshly, be kind to him and the Great Spirit will reward you. 
 Do not let your brother become your enemy. Do not stir up 
 revenge for it will never sleep again. The Great Spirit gives 
 you a path to walk in; continue in it and you will not have 
 trouble." 
 
 This part of the ceremony finished, the dance follows. It 
 is not a promiscuous round dance, nor is it a waltz, but a 
 rythmic stepping to vocal music. 
 
 The religious speeches are concluded at noon. It has ev 
 er been held by the Indians that the forenoon belongs to the 
 Great Spirit, and that the afternoon is dedicated to the spirits 
 of the dead, hence no speeches are made in the after part of 
 the day. Meetings are held several times a year by the Pagan 
 Indians and the high priest makes a speech twelve hours long! 
 dovoting three hours each of the forenoons of four days to the 
 accomplishment of his task. He repeats, but only that what 
 
 15 
 
he says may be indelibly stamped on the memory of his 
 hearers. 
 
 The next festival of the season is the Planting festival. Its 
 object is to give thanks to the Great Spirit for the return of 
 the planting season and to seek his blessing upon the seed 
 and the soil that there may be an abundant harvest. 
 
 It is quite remarkable that so pure a religious vein runs 
 through the Indian character; but the Indian, as we know him 
 in Western New York, is religious, and in his indeavors to fol 
 low the light of natural religion which has, until a compara 
 tively recent day, been his only light, he has done as well, we 
 believe, as any race could have done walking in the obscure 
 twilight of morality among pitfalls innumerable. The Quak 
 er first bore to this people the blazing light of revealed reli 
 gion, and the tribe has reason to revere the memory of those 
 sainted Friends from the City of Brotherly Love who trans 
 planted to this uncultivated soil the hardy yet subduing 
 plants of Christian graces, whose fragrance is a balm of joy to 
 scores of these dusky people and a blessing to the entire tribe. 
 
 At the planting festival tobacco is sprinkled upon the fire 
 and through the medium of the smoke communication is 
 thought to be had with the realms above. 
 
 As the tobacco burns the following prayer is said: "Great 
 Spirit, listen now to the words of thy people. The smoke of 
 our offering arises. Kindly listen to our prayers as they arise 
 to thee in the smoke. We give thanks to thee for the return 
 of the planting season. Give to us a favorable season that GUI* 
 crops may be abundant. Continue to listen, for the smoke 
 still arises. Preserve us from diseases. May no pestilence 
 breathe upon us. Give us strength. Take care of our old 
 men and of our little ones. Help us to feel what we say and 
 faithfully to perform these ceremonies. Guide the minds of 
 thy people that they may remember thee in all they do. 
 Naho." 
 
 If there should come a drouth, a fire would be kindled 
 and tobacco be sprinkled on it, and in the incense of the burn 
 ing leaves a prayer be borne up to Heno the custodian of 
 
thunderbolts. He is importuned to send rain and prevent 
 famine. The keeper of the faith continues to sprinkle tobac 
 co leaves on the fire and a prayer is made to the Great Spirit. 
 It is the idea of the Indian that if the crop is threatened Ha- 
 wen-ne-yu is displeased and so they confess and beseech that 
 Heiio may receive orders to send rain. A dance follows this 
 invocation. 
 
 The Strawberry festival is the next in order. The berry 
 growing wild in vast abundance furnishes the first and by no 
 means the least valuable delicacy to the Indian. This festival 
 closes with the usual ceremonies and a strawberry feast. 
 
 The Blueberry or Wortleberry festival is held in grateful 
 acknowledgement of the first gift of the trees or bushes. 
 
 The next is the Green Corn festival. It lasts three days 
 and is made a thanksgiving of considerable importance. It is 
 a time of great rejoicing because corn is the Indian s staff of 
 life and when his crop is assured his joy is full. There is a 
 beautiful legend that the corn plant sprang from the bosom of 
 the mother of the Great Spirit after she was buried; that she 
 called the Indians her children, and, cherishing in her heart 
 good-will to her children, when she died her good-will sprang 
 forth in the form of a plant and from this the Indians were 
 fed. 
 
 The Green Corn festival is introduced with congratula 
 tory speeches. The feather dance follows, then the regular 
 thanksgiving address, during which tobacco is freely sprinkled 
 on the fire. There are numerous inferior dances subsequent 
 to the other religious ceremonies. 
 
 Games and feasting close the festivities of the first day. 
 The second day is given to speech-making and dancing the 
 thanksgiving dance. The feather dance and thanksgiving 
 dance do not differ materially; the latter is interrupted at fre 
 quent intervals by thanksgiving speeches. 
 
 Vocal music with the accompaniment of a rattle is the on 
 ly kind furnished the dancers on these occasions, and it is not 
 too much to say that the Senecas are the most wonderful sing 
 ers any where to be found. Their voices are clear and sweet- 
 
60 
 
 they take special delight in minor strains, and render with 
 great skill most difficult music. The degree of perfection to 
 which the Indians arrive in cultivation of the voice in singing 
 is remarkable. One of the most practiced musicians in West 
 ern New York is Mr. A. Sim Logan. With a voice of great 
 compass and a perfectly cultivated taste, his rendering of diffi 
 cult music is the delight of all. As a cornetist he is unsur 
 passed; a progressive, wide-awake, educated Seneca. 
 
 A company in costume begin the Green Corn dance and 
 in about two or three minutes the music ceases and a speaker 
 says, "We give thanks to the maple." The dance is resumed 
 and in a moment ceases, while another speaker returns thanks 
 to the bushes and trees. Thus they review at intervals all 
 the benefits of the season spicing well the speeches with the 
 dance. On the third day all the people join in chorus of 
 praise, and thanks are returned for all material benefits, for 
 kindnesses shown them by others, for all advantages, both pub 
 lic and private, enjoyed by the tribe. The whole of the third 
 day is given to singing the gratitude of the people. Individ 
 uals also give thanks personally to all by whom they have 
 been aided. 
 
 The succotash feast which follows would gratify the veri 
 est epicure. The Indians, of all people, know best how to se 
 cure a " divine blending of flavors" in the preparation of succo 
 tash. The Indians have ever been accustomed to ask a bless 
 ing on their feast. One of the " keepers of the faith," pitching 
 his voice on a high shrill key, sends forth an indescribable 
 sound and at its close all the people join in chorus. Thus do 
 they say grace. 
 
 The last in our list of festivals is the Harvest gathering. 
 The Senecas regard corn, squashes and beans as nature s great 
 beneficent trinity. Three good spirits are associated with 
 these products, and in expressing thanks to these they return 
 gratitude to Ha-wen-ne-yu. 
 
 We have said that the Indians of Western New York are 
 a religious people. A review of these ceremonies will confirm 
 the truth of the statement. The Indian enters heartily into 
 
61 
 
 his forms of worship and clings tenaciously to his belief. It 
 would be resented by average white folks if they were told 
 that in some respects the Indians are their equals, but you 
 could no sooner succeed in attempts at proselyting an Indian 
 of one Protestant denomination over to another than you 
 could speak a tree up by its roots. 
 
 The Senecas account their festivals as the oases in the des 
 ert; they are the green spots in their life and in no half-heart 
 ed way do they engage in them. The recurrence of the festi 
 val seasons is a delight to the Indian and he enters with all 
 the ardor of his fyeing into the performance of the old-time sa 
 cred rights. 
 
 Approach the Indian with a religious subject and you are 
 at once aware that you converse with one that takes naturally 
 and kindly to your theme, for he is a religious being. He 
 makes a religion of almost everything; less hurtful and dan 
 gerous this, than to make religion of nothing. 
 
 As at certain periods of the world s history, great reform 
 ers have sprung up revolutionizing the world, so the Senecas 
 have had reformers, men, not one whit less sincere and influ 
 ential among the tribes than our great reformers have been 
 among us. Eighty years ago a reformer arose among the Sen 
 ecas who, while assuming much that smacked of imposture, 
 displayed marvelous wisdom. His name was Handsome Lake. 
 He claimed to have received his words from the Great Spirit. 
 We subjoin a portion of his speech as written out thirty years 
 ago by Sose-ha-wa: 
 
 "The four messengers (i. e., the angels) said further to 
 Handsome Lake: Tell your people, and in particular, the 
 keepers of the faith, to be strong-minded, and adhere to the 
 true faith. We fear the Evil-minded will go among them with 
 temptations. He may introduce the fiddle. He may bring 
 cards, and leave them among you. The use of these is a great 
 sin. Let the people be on their guard and the keepers of the 
 faith be watchful and vigilant, that none of these evils may 
 find their way among the people. Let the keepers of the faith 
 preserve the law of moral conduct in all its purity. When 
 
 16 
 
62 
 
 meetings are to be held for instruction, and the people are 
 preparing to go, the Evil-minded is then busy. He goes from 
 one to another, whispering many temptations by which to 
 keep them away. He will even follow persons into the doojr 
 of the council, and induce some, at that time, to bend their 
 steps away. Many resist until they have entered, and then 
 leave it. This habit, once indulged, obtains a fast hold, and 
 the evil propensity increases with age. This is a great sin 
 and should be at once abandoned. Thus they said. Speak 
 evil of none. If you can say no good of a person, then be si 
 lent. Let not your tongues betray you into evil. Let all be 
 mindful of this; for these are the words of our Creator. Let 
 all strive to cultivate friendship with those who surround them. 
 This is pleasing to the Great Spirit." 
 
 On the following clay the speech was continued as follows: 
 " Friends and Relatives, uncover now your heads; continue 
 to listen to my rehearsal of the sayings communicated to 
 Handsome Lake by the four messengers of the Great Spirit. 
 We have met again around the council fire. We have fol 
 lowed the ancient custom of greeting each other. This is 
 right and pleasing to our Maker. He now looks down upon 
 this assembly. He sees us all. He is informed of the cause of 
 our gathering and it is pleasing to him. Life is uncertain. 
 While we live let us love each other. Let us sympathize al 
 ways with the suffering and need}^ Let us also always rejoice 
 with those who are glad. This is now the third day, and my 
 time for speaking to you is drawing to a close. Many moons 
 and seasons will pass ere the sacred council-brand shall be 
 again uncovered. Be watchful, therefore, and remember faith 
 fully what you may now hear. Many of you may be ignorant 
 of the Spirit of Medicine. It watches over all constantly, and 
 assists the needy whenever it is required to do so. The Groat 
 Spirit designed that some men should possess the gift of skill 
 in medicine. But he is pained to see a medicine man making 
 exorbitant charges for attending the sick. When a sick per 
 son recovers his health, he must return his thanks to the 
 Great Spirit by means of tobacco; for it is by his goodness that 
 
he is made well. He blesses the medicine, and the medicine 
 man must receive as his reward whatever the gratitude of the 
 restored may tender. This is right and proper. Many are 
 unfortunate and cannot pay for attendance. It is sufficient 
 for such to return thanks to the medicine man upon recovery. 
 The remembrance that he has saved the life of a relative will 
 be a sufficient reward. Listen further to what the Great Spir 
 it has told us. He has made us a race, separate and distinct 
 from the pale-face. It is a great sin to intermarry, and inter 
 mingle the blood of the two races. Let none be guiltv of this 
 transgression. At one time the four messengers said to Hand 
 some Lake, lest the people should disbelieve you, and not re 
 pent and forsake their evil ways, we will now disclose to you 
 the House of Torment, the dwelling of the Evil-minded. 
 Handsome Lake was particular in describing to us all that he 
 witnessed; and the course which departed spirits were accus 
 tomed to take on leaving the earth. There was a road which 
 led upward. At a certain point it branched; one branch led 
 straight forward to the home of the Great Spirit, and the other 
 turned aside to the House of Torment, At the place where the 
 roads separated were stationed two keepers, one representing 
 the Good and the other the Evil Spirit. When a person 
 reached the fork, if wicked, by a motion from the evil keeper, 
 he turned upon the road which led to the abode of the Evil- 
 minded. But if virtuous and good, the other keeper directed 
 him upon the straight road. The latter was not much traveled; 
 while the former was so frequently trodden, that no grass 
 could grow in the pathway. It sometimes happened that the 
 keepers had great difficulty in deciding which path the per 
 son ought to take, when the good and bad actions of the indi 
 vidual were nearly balanced. But it was decided that if they 
 had committed any sin they should go to the House of Tor 
 ment to remain one day, (which is there one of our years,) 
 some for a month. After they have atoned for their sins, thev 
 pass to heaven. When they have committed one of the great 
 sins witchcraft, murder and infanticide they never pass to 
 heaven but are tormented forever. 
 
 
 
04 
 
 "Having conducted Handsome Lake to this place, he saw 
 large and dark colored mansion covered with soot. One of 
 the four then held out his rod, and the top of the house moved 
 up, until they could look down upon all that was within. He 
 saw many rooms. The first object that met his eye was a hag 
 gard-looking man; his sunken eyes cast upon the ground, and 
 his form half consumed by the torments he had suffered. This 
 man was a drunkard. The Evil-minded then appeared and 
 called him by name. As the man obeyed the call he dipped 
 from a caldron a quantity of red-hot liquid, and commanded 
 him to drink it, as it was a drink he loved. The man did as 
 he was told, and immediately a stream of fire issued from his 
 mouth. He cried for help, but there was no help for. him. The 
 Tormentor then told him to sing and make merry as he was 
 accustomed to do while on earth when he had drank the fire 
 water. Let all drunkards be warned by this. 
 
 "Others were summoned. There came before him two per 
 sons, who appeared to be husband and wife. He told them to 
 do what they had always done on earth. They commenced to 
 quarrel. They raged so at each other, that their tongues and 
 eyes ran out so far that they could neither see nor speak. 
 " This," said they, " is the punishment of quarrelsome and dis 
 puting husbands and wives." Let such also be warned, and 
 live in peace. 
 
 " Next he called up a woman who had been a witch. First 
 he plunged her into a caldron of boiling liquid. In her cries 
 of distress, she begged the Evil-minded to give her a cooler 
 place. He then plunged her into a freezing-cold liquid. Then 
 she cried because she was too cold. " This woman," said the 
 four Messengers, "shall always be tormented in this manner." 
 
 "The Evil-minded next called up a man who had been in 
 the habit of beating his wife. Having led him up to a red-hot 
 statue of a woman he told him to do what he had always done 
 while on earth. He obeyed, and began to strike the statue. 
 The sparks fell in showers, and the arm that struck her was 
 totally consumed. Such is the punishment awaiting all those 
 who beat their wives. 
 
65 
 
 " He looked again and saw a woman, whose arms and 
 hands were nothing but bones. She had sold fire-water to 
 the Indians, and the flesh was eaten from her hands and arms. 
 This would be the fate of all rumsellers. 
 
 " Again he looked, and in one apartment he saw one who 
 had been a friend to him on earth. He was removing a heap 
 of sand a grain at a time, and, although he had labored for 
 years at it, the heap was no smaller. This is the punishment 
 of those Indians who sell their land. Near by was a field of 
 corn filled with weeds. He saw women trying to cut them 
 down, but as fast as they did this the weeds grew up again. 
 This is the punishment of lazy women. [There seems to have 
 been no provision for lazy men.] 
 
 The speaker continues, " Many of our people live to a very 
 old age. Your Creator says that you must treat them with 
 reverence and affection. They have seen and felt much of the 
 pain and misery of earth. Be kind to them when old and 
 helpless. Wash their hands and face, and nurse them with 
 care. This is the will of Ha-wen-ne-yu. 
 
 " At another time the four Messengers said to Handsome 
 Lake, they would now show to him Washington, (the Destroy 
 er of Villages, as his Indian name signifies.) Upon the road 
 leading to heaven he could see a light, far away in the dis 
 tance, moving to and fro. Its brightness far exceeded the 
 brilliancy of the noonday sun. They said the journey was as 
 follows: First, they came to a cold spring. Here was a rest 
 ing place. From here they proceeded into pleasant, fairy 
 grounds, which spread out in every direction. Soon they 
 reached heaven. The light was dazzling. Berries of every 
 description grew in plenty, a single one of them satisfied hun 
 ger. Sweet fragrance was in the air. Fruits were hanging 
 everywhere. The inhabitants of this celestial land spent their 
 time in most pleasing occupation and repose. No evil could 
 enter there. None there could ever commit sin. Families 
 were united and harmonious. The people had bodily form, 
 the senses, and the remembrance of the earthly life. No white 
 man ever entered heaven. He looked and saw an inclosure 
 
 17 
 
66 
 
 upon a plain, just without the entrance of heaven. Within it 
 was a fort. Here he saw Washington walking to and fro with 
 in the inclosure. His countenance indicated a great and good 
 man. This was the only pale-face who ever left the earth. 
 He was kind to you, when on the settlement of the great diffi 
 culty between the Americans and the Great Crown, you were 
 abandoned to the mercy of your enemies. The Crown told 
 the great American, that as for his allies, the Indians, he might 
 kill them if he liked. The great American judged that this 
 would be cruel arid unjust. He believed that they were made 
 by the Great Spirit, and were entitled to the enjoyments of life. 
 He was kind to you and extended over you his protection. 
 For this reason he has been allowed to leave the earth. But 
 he is never permitted to go into the presence of the Great 
 Spirit. Although alone, he is perfectly happy. All faithful 
 Indians pass by him as they go to heaven. They see him and 
 recognize him, but pass on in silence. No word ever passes 
 his lips. 
 
 Friends and relatives, it was by the influence of this great 
 man, that we were spared as a people, and yet live. Had he 
 not granted us his protection, where would we have been? 
 Perished, all perished. 
 
 " The four Messengers further said to Handsome Lake, 
 they were fearful that, unless the people repented and obeyed 
 his commands, the patience and forbearance of their Creator 
 would be exhausted; that he would be angry with them, and 
 caus e their increase to fail. 
 
 "Our Creator made light and darkness. He made the 
 sun to heat and shine over the world. He made the moon, al 
 so, to shine by night, and to cool the world, if the sun made it 
 too hot by day. Heno, by direction of the Great Spirit, will 
 then cease to act. The keeper of the springs and running 
 brooks will cease to rule them for the good of man. The sun 
 will cease to fulfil its office. Total darkness will then cover 
 the earth. A great smoke will rise, and spread over the face 
 of the earth. Then will come out of it all monsters, and poi 
 sonous animals created by the Evil-minded, and they, with the 
 wicked upon the earth, will perish together. 
 
But before this dreadful time shall come, the Great Spirit 
 will take home to himself all the good and faithful. They will 
 lay themselves down to sleep and from this sleep of death, 
 they will rise and go home to their Creator. Thus they said. 
 
 " Remember and understand the fate which awaits the 
 earth, and the unfaithful and unbelieving. Our Creator looks 
 down upon us. The four Angels from above see us. They 
 are pleased to witness this gathering. I have done. May the 
 Great Spirit, who rules all things, watch over and protect you 
 from every harm and danger, while you travel the journey of 
 life. May the blessing of the Great Spirit rest upon you all, 
 and bestow upon you life, health, peace and prosperity, and 
 may you all make return to him for his great goodness. Naho." 
 
 The foregoing speech is repeated every year even at the 
 present time substantially as given. Extended fragments 
 have been taken down for the use of the writer, by Indian in 
 terpreters, but we have given the speech as translated by an 
 eminent Indian several years ago. The speech bears evidence 
 of a master mind and represents that peculiar eloquence for 
 which the Senecas are distinguished. It reveals, also, the 
 charming simplicity of Indian life, their trust and faith in the 
 Great Spirit, and jealous regard for old customs. Christian 
 missionaries throw no obstacles in the way of such teaching, 
 but seek to lead the Indians to that true and only source of 
 abiding integrity, the religion of the Bible; happy if such 
 teaching as the great reformer inculcated become the standard 
 of Indian morals. This speech is to be commended to the at 
 tention of the white race everywhere. No little toil will be re 
 quired of the "stronger race" even, to scale the heights of vir 
 tue thus portrayed by an untutored Seneca. 
 
CHAPTER XT. 
 
 THE SENECA LANGUAGPJ. 
 
 The Seneca language is one of some regularity although 
 not a written language. 
 
 Attempts have been made, and with very considerable 
 success, to represent the sounds by English letters. It is neces 
 sary, however, to employ certain unusual markings, the mean 
 ing of which has to be explained to the Indians. 
 
 The letter a ending a syllable often has a strong nasal tone 
 accompanying it; this nasal sound is represented by a hyphen 
 immediately under the a. A standing alone or without mark 
 ing has the sound of ar; with the nasal marking, it has the 
 sound of arng. A with the circumflex accent over it and the 
 hyphen under it makes a high grunt, the a being sounded as 
 a in hat. The letter e is pronounced ay; the letter i is pro 
 nounced ee. with the hyphen under it is a deep nasal. 
 Every letter is sounded. The Senecas have no such primary 
 sounds as we would represent by the letters B, F, L, M, P, 
 Q,R, V, X, Z. The alphabet, therefore, of the Seneca language 
 is as follows: A, C, D, E, G, H, I, J, K, N, O, S, T, U, W, Y. 
 In the translation of a proper name into, the Indian, the 
 word is incorporated without change. The Indian makes 
 no use of the lips in pronunciation, and the labials are want 
 ing in his dialect. About twenty-eight elementary sounds are 
 distinguishable in the language. 
 
 Every language suffers loss from the wear and tear of use] 
 Time changes language and wears out some forms just as it 
 wears out shingles 011 the roof of a house. In thirty years the 
 Seneca language has felt the abrasion of time. Many old forms 
 have died; some new ones have sprung to life as the language 
 
69 
 
 has felt the refining touch of civilization. Formerly the word 
 for Day was spelled An -da now it is spelled An-dah. The 
 word for Dog was spelled Je-yah, now spelled Ga-yeh. The 
 word for wind was spelled Ga-o, now Ga-oh. The great ma 
 jority of Seneca words have three and four syllables as will be 
 noticed in specimens which we will give. 
 
 The language has three numbers; the Singular, the Du 
 al and the Plural. They distinguish the Dual and Plural in 
 this way: You can say, All three birds sat on a tree, but not 
 all two birds sat on a tree. This difficulty seems to have given 
 rise to the Dual. 
 
 The nouns are inflected to convey the idea of plurality. 
 There is some regularity in the inflection. The word Ge-da-o 
 means, a bird; the plural form is Ge-da-o-suh-uh, birds. Ga-ne- 
 o-wa-o means a brook i the plural isGa-ne-o-wa-o-ne-o, very like 
 the flowing of waters, as the frequent repetition of the word 
 will prove. The word Ga-hun-da means a creek. Ga-huii-da- 
 ne-o means creeks. 
 
 The numerals above twenty are formed very similarly to 
 those of the Latin. 
 
 The Seneca, to express difference of gender makes use of 
 different words; he cannot designate gender by terminations 
 as*is done in the Latin and Greek. There are three genders 
 in Seneca. Masculine, Feminine and Neuter.- The Neuter in 
 cludes all inanimate objects, and is almost the most important 
 gender of the three. In their declension of nouns there is a 
 curious state of things. Although not reducable to a regular 
 paradigm, the declensions in Seneca are vastly more numer 
 ous than in the Latin. One great difficulty in learning the 
 language is, the almost infinite diversity of cases. We give a 
 few phrases showing how this may be. Take the word man. 
 Every relation in which you place the word demands a sepa 
 rate case. Of a man, to a man, with a man, after a man, above a 
 man, belonging to a man, at a man s house, man at my house, and 
 so on; an of-case, a to-case, a with-case, an after-case, an above- 
 case, a belonging-to-case, an at-case, &c. 
 
 Adjectives are numerous. The Indians have three de- 
 
 18 
 
70 
 
 grees of comparison. In comparison, adjectives are not 
 changed; words are added. Good is compared as follows: 
 
 Good, Better good. Best Good. 
 
 We-yoh Ah-gwas-we-yoh. Ha-yo-go-sote-we-yoh. 
 
 Take the adjective white, Ga-geh-ant. 
 
 White. Better white or whiter Best white or whitest. 
 
 Ga-geh-ant. Ah-gwus-ga-geh-ant. Ha-yo-go-sote-ga-geh-ant. 
 
 The article a or an does not appear in the language, but 
 the is frequent. Adverbs are numerous. Since the Seneca 
 dialect is one of ejaculations, interjections abound. Preposi 
 tions are wanting; and the attempts of an Indian to handle in 
 his own language many -expressions occurring in our own are 
 ludicrous in the extreme. 
 
 The Seneca language has remarkable harmony with con 
 stitutional weariness; there are times when the Indian shows 
 excitement and by the free use of ejaculations gives vent to his 
 feelings. In order to swear, the Indian learns a few set phras 
 es from the white man and when angry blazes away with ter 
 rific fury. But to our subject: 
 
 We have made no mention of the verbs. According to 
 the Indian a noun is a lifeless thing, like a tomahawk, but a 
 verb is like the tomahawk impelled by the vigor of the arm. 
 The noun is the instrument; the verb, the instrument with 
 force applied. The noun does nothing; the verb executes, 
 therefore is a living thing. 
 
 Expression of thought is direct. The language is not 
 adapted to insinuation or double speaking. It is a matter-of- 
 fact language. The Indian is serious minded. His is not a 
 language for punning. If he wishes to perpetrate a joke, he 
 does it directly. He cannot do it in any way but point-blank. 
 Most other languages admit of a play of words. Take a case 
 in point; the words valid and volui in the Latin. We remem 
 ber to have heard the venerable Dr. Soule who was principal 
 of Phillips Exeter Academy for upwards of forty years, say, 
 speaking to the class on this very subject, that in the palmy 
 days of Dr. Abbott, his predecessor, it was customary for the 
 boys to speak the Latin language when conversing with the 
 
71 
 
 Principal. If absent from church on Sunday the monitors re 
 ported the fact, and an excuse in Latin was demanded of the 
 absentees. If sick, the delinquent would say " Non valid." I 
 was not well. Now it occurred to some that this word might 
 be confounded with volui so as to let off those who were absent 
 for other causes. Non volui, I was not witting, with & slight 
 modification of the sound of o might pass for non valid. 
 
 It did pass for some months, the Dr. and no man would 
 deliberately tell him a lie such was the respect for him not 
 detecting the turn given. Unfortunately, one, less adroit than 
 his companions, confused, in. the Doctor s presence, blundered 
 and said "non volui," exposing the trick. 
 
 The Seneca language admits of no such play of words, and 
 if one lie in the Seneca he does so without any qualifications 
 whatever. No such thing as a white lie is known. With this 
 people all lies are black. 
 
 It would not be an insurmountable task to prepare a complete 
 grammar of the Seneca language. 
 
 The conjugation of verbs maybe matter of interest and 
 we subjoin the forms of the verb, Ga-ta-i-neh, "I go." 
 
 INDICATIVE MOOD. 
 
 PRESENT TENSE. I (JO. 
 
 Singular Plural Dual 
 
 1 Ga ta i neh 1 A gwah da dyo eeh ] Agyat ta i neh 
 
 2 lis sataineh 2 lis kuh swah da dyo eeh 2 Jathaiiieh 
 
 3 Ha ta i neh 3 Ga gvva goh ha noh da dyo eeh 3 Yat ha i neh 
 
 IMPERFECT TENSE, Iwasgoing. 
 
 1 Yah da dyo eeh 1 Ga gwe goh a gwa ta i neh 1 Agyah da dyo eeh 
 
 2 Sahdadyoeeh 2 Gagwegoh swat ha i neh 2 lis kuh a jahdadyoeeh 
 
 3 Ha da dyo eeh 3 Gagwegoh haa noh ta inch 3 Yah da dyo eeh 
 
 FUTURE TENSE, I shall, or ivill (/<>. 
 
 1 Agahdadih 1 Gagwegoh adwahdadih 1 Adyahdadih 
 
 2 lis ah sah da dih 2 Gagwegoh aswahdadih 2 lis kuh ajahdadih 
 
 3 Xeh aoh da dih 3 Ga gwe goh aa noh da dih 3 Neh kuh a yah d a d i 1 1 
 
1 fei-5 ?P? K| ^r* 2S |cr; 
 
 522 PsS ^^ aj < *r " - P "S 
 
 H S^ .^ --.2 -5^^ --_ P. P -r^- F 5 ^^ 
 
 ^ r ~" = ? = ? ? ? fl s s ^^^ Su ^ 
 ? ? ^ P?^P beSobe ^^1 
 
 be -/. "B - Z " 
 
 OGI^ OO 
 
 rH ^ CO -, ^ CO 
 
 m ii:- ^- s ISi l| 
 
 ^ 3 3 S c c c ^Jr ^ i? f ? 
 
 HHH OOO <1^<1 QQQ OOO flfiQ ^1^^ -IK 
 
 r^<MCO r-l?1SO I-H (M SO rHfflTO SC -(MIC i I iff! ft IMIC 
 
73 
 
 There is no Infinitive Mood. If the Senecas wish to say 
 "[intend to go away" they really say "That I may go away is 
 lodged in my mind" 
 
 Their distinctions in gender are as follows: Ha-fireh-eih 
 
 c^> O O 
 
 is old man, Ya-geh-gih, old woman; Ga-geh-gih, old animal. 
 Geh-gih is the word for old, and Ha for he, Ya for site, and Ga 
 for it. Thus literally, the translation would be, old he, old she, 
 old it. Hoh-ni-gont means wise; Hoo-gweh means man (as an 
 intellectual being) and ivise man is Hoh-ni-gont hoo-gweh. 
 Now notice the feminine prefix of both the adjective and noun 
 required to change this to wise ivoman. We have given one 
 prefix above, viz: Ya. Wise woman would be (ro-ni-gont ya- 
 goo-gweh. 
 
 In closing this chapter, which, if it were expedient, we 
 would gladly extend, we give the Lord s Prayer in Seneca with 
 a literal translation: 
 
 Gwah-nih, ga-o-yah-geh chih dyoh. Da-ye-sa-ah-sao-nyook 
 
 Our Father, in heaven thou dwellest. Prayed to be thy 
 
 he-ni-sah-sa-nan-do-gah-dih. Ee-dweh niis ne-sai-wah-geh 
 
 holy name. Let come thine OAvn 
 
 ne-dwa-noh-do-ohs-ah-gwen-ni-yuh; (one word) neh, kuh niis 
 
 kingdom ; and thy 
 
 he-ni-di-sah-ni-go-oh-daah neh-huh ni-ya-wah ne-yo-an-jah-geh 
 
 will be done on earth 
 
 naeh he-ni-dyuh-daah ne-ga-o-yah-geh. Da-gyoh na-ga wa- 
 
 just as it is in heaven. give us this 
 
 nis-ha-deh nah-de-wa-nis-ha-ge no-gwa-ah-gwah, neh kuh neh 
 
 day daily our bread and also 
 
 do-da-gwai-wah-sa-gwus no-gwai-wa-neh-ak-shah naeh niih 
 
 forgive ns our sins as we 
 
 he-de-jak-hi-wah-sa-gwah-seh nok hi-wa-neh-a-gih. Sa-noh 
 
 forgive those that sin against us. Do 
 
 kuh ne-huh-ha-swah-ah ha-dyo-gwah-ni-go-da-goh; neh gwa 
 
 n t lead ns to where we shall be tempted; but 
 
 sho da-gwa-yah-doh-nook ha-yah-da-deh Haah-ni-go-ate-gah. 
 
 keep us away from the Evil-minded. 
 
 lis-sah-ahsa-wah ne-dwa-noh-do-ohs-ah-gwen-ni-yuh, neh kuh 
 
 Thou art the owner (of the) Kingdom and also 
 
 ne gah-has-des-hah, neh kuh ne de-ga-ah-sa-oh ha-yu-i-wa-da- 
 
 (of the) power, and also (of the) glory (to all) eternity. 
 
 dyieh. Do-gas neh-huh na-ya-wah. 
 
 Truly it will *be done, (or, Amen. So be it.) 
 
 It) 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WHY IXDIANS AND TOADS ARE FRIENDLY. 
 
 One time a tribe of Indians started out from the site of 
 Geneseo to fight their enemies, and gather scalps and glory. 
 On the way they crossed an animal s track, and, horrified, they 
 asked their chief about it. He knew everything. He said, 
 " This is the track of the biggest of bears. They have no hair 
 upon them. They know as much as Indians, and, no matter 
 if one is twenty miles away, if an Indian sees his track, he will 
 know it, and turn back as fast as he can run. He can eat up 
 a whole tribe and then he will growl for more. It is his track 
 we have just crossed, and he knows it and is now on his way 
 back. Something great is going to happen to us. You all 
 camp here, and I will take the swiftest runner, and we will go 
 to meet the bear." Having hung his crest of feathers on a 
 stub, he said, " If that falls off you may know that we are dead." 
 The two started, and, at length arriving at the running-to 
 gether-place of two streams, they halted. Soon they heard a 
 mighty thundering, as when Heno has cast a thunder-bolt. 
 The bear was coming; it was his growling that echoed and re 
 echoed up and down the streams. The sound was terrible. It 
 filled all the space between the mountains. The two Indians 
 concealed themselves behind great trees. The bear rushed 
 upon them. The Indians shot arrows at the bear, but he paid 
 no heed, for nothing could penetrate his hide. The bear 
 knew somebody was about, and this enraged him. He tore 
 up the ground; he pawed the rocks that he might 
 sharpen his claws. He bit an oak to put his teeth in order, 
 and the splinters flew in every direction. The bear spied one 
 of the Indians, and chased him round the tree. For hours they 
 ran so close to each other, that the bear did not know whether 
 he was chasing the Indian or the Indian, him; but the Indian 
 knew. The Indian dared not shoot, for, a moment s hesitation 
 
would have dropped him into the foaming, wide-open mouth 
 of the panting giant-of-a-bear. Being a great jumper, the In 
 dian sprang suddenly to one side, clearing one of the streams, 
 and then the other. The bear pursued so close that the In 
 dian could not shoot. The second Indian now ran up, and 
 the bear fled after him, but the bear, being very large, began 
 to get tired, and, attempting to jump the stream, he stumbled 
 and fell upon his great knees, folding his paws under him. 
 The first Indian shot an arrow, and it happened to stick in the 
 soft pad of the bear s foot. This was a mortal wound, because 
 the bear carried his heart in his paw. The bear found that he 
 must die, and he roared louder than ever; so loud that the 
 mountains shook and trembled. Then all was still. 
 
 When the Indians saw that the bear was dead, they hast 
 ened back to tell the people. The tribe was very glad of the 
 news, and went on to see the monster. They covered the 
 body with dry sticks, and fired the pile. The bear was re 
 duced to ashes. Then the chief said, " His ashes are very poi 
 sonous. Take up a little of them and whatever you ask will 
 be granted. If one should say, I wish to be a great hunter/ 
 he would be; or a great runner, or jumper, it would come to 
 him." So all the Indians wished. It happened that the chief 
 had wished to be the fleetest of all runners. Soon they neared 
 the village of the tribe they had come to fight and the 
 chief saw that the villagers were dancing. The wigwams were 
 empty. A great festival was being given. So earnest were they 
 in their festivities that they did not notice the chief of their 
 foes as he glided noiselessly among the revelers and fell to 
 dancing with them. As he mingled in the dance, he stabbed 
 one and another with his seal ping-knife, throwing into the 
 wound some of the ashes of the bear, and, the tribe noticed at 
 length, that scores were dropping to the earth, and the people 
 then, for the first time, observed their enemy, and gave him 
 chase. They fought his own tribe, killing all but him. It 
 was not rulable to kill a chief, and so they spared him. They 
 held a council, and decided that they ought to punish him a 
 little. They heated two round stones and compelled the chief 
 to stand upon them, a foot on each. His feet were blistered. 
 
7fi 
 
 They cut his blistered soles and filled the bagging skin with 
 hot coals. " Now," said they, "woman, let us see you run. We 
 bring our swiftest runner. We will also put a pole where you 
 can see it, and this shall mark the end of the running-course." 
 When both runners were near the pole, the burnt-footed man 
 ran right on. They cried out to him, but he kept going. 
 All the runners, goaded by the disgraceful defeat of their 
 champion, started in pursuit, but the runner distanced 
 them. When last they saw him he was running. 
 
 When the chief was beyond the reach of his enemies, he 
 took a foot-path in the wood, and followed it till night, then he 
 crawled into a hollow log and lay down in pain. Towards 
 day-break he heard a voice at the foot of the log, saying, 
 "You feel very bad?" He answered, " Yes, I do," " I know it," 
 said the strange voice, "and I have come to see if I can help 
 you." " All right," said the Indian, " I am glad of that, for I 
 am very bad." The creature that had spoken left him medi 
 cine; but before he departed, he put some 011 the Indian s feet 
 and cured them and drove away all pain, and then he said, 
 " Always remember me. I came to help you because you often 
 help my people." " Who are you?" asked the Indian. The 
 voice replied, " I a^m he whom your people call the toad. You 
 have often heard me crying in distress when the hungry 
 snake has tried to swallow me, and you have beaten him off 
 and now for this reason I have come and cured you. Great 
 chief, remember me and my family when you get home. Do 
 not forget ue. Help us and we will help you. Tell your peo 
 ple to be our friends, and promise that you will be kind to all 
 the family of toads." He faithfully made promise, and thus 
 you learn why the toads and Indians are warmest friends. 
 
 These vagaries of the Senecas we have learned from their 
 own lips, and have presented them to you in this book of " In 
 dian Life and Legends," as for as possible, in their own words. 
 O-yo-ga-weh makes no apologies but hopes the reader may lay 
 down this little book with greater charity for the Indian, and 
 better knowledge of his ways. - 
 
 Na-ho. 
 
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