doing all that the red-skins themselves do, only
incalculably smaller and more refined. But Mr.
Kohl heard more of the windigos and ogres than
of the fairies; and found it easier to meet with
well-authenticated anecdotes of the first than of
the last. A man shot another standing quietly
among the reeds of the lake, "because he was
a windigo;" and an old woman, gathering herbs,
was shudderingly pronounced to be also a
windigo, though no outward sign whatever
would have betrayed her cannibalism, to any but
an Indian. These poor wretches seem to hold
somewhat the place of our witches of the olden
times, and doubtless meet with as much injustice
and as much superstitious cruelty as did they.

The medicine-bags are among the strangest
things connected with Indian life. Made of the
skins of animals, with claws and tails left hanging,
they produce the most striking pictorial
effect when a number of men are dancing
together, and whirling their medicine-bags in
the air. Otter, fox, skunk, bear, snake, beaver,
or any other beast of the woods and wilds, it matters
not to the brave what he chooses, so long as
he chooses somewhat in conformity with his name
and nature. Everything of interest goes into these
bags, even to the "medicine" which the Spirit
gives them in the initiatory dream. Pieces of
copper, certain small shells, mystery books,
magic powders, amulets, charms, tokens of good
luck and the kindly overlooking of the nigonime
—anything at all out of the common way, or
in any manner connected with a man's private
and individual superstition—is thrust into this
bag, which is further adorned with small tinkling
bells and strings of beads that make a
pleasant tiny clatter, and thus answer to another
need of the Indian nature—the need of noise.
Mr. Kohl witnessed the baptism of an infant, as
we should say, or, as they call it, the presentation
to the order of the Midés of the child of
The Grey Cloud. The father was a fine, grave,
fiery-faced, shaggy old brave, who had made
himself a mass of skins and tails from head to
heel. The rough skin of a skunk went turban-
wise round his head, the long parti-coloured tail
hanging like a queue far down his back; and at
his heels trailed fox-tails, like long spurs; while
wherever he could add claws or tails, he had stuck
them on as coquettes would stick on an extra
end of ribbon, or a yard more of lace. But it
was not of the shaggy old brave that we had to
speak; it was of the medicine-bags, which played
a most important part in that baptism, or reception
into the Midé order of Indian humanity.
These bags were, in the first place, filled with a
secret spiritual power, a power of life or death,
blessing or banning according to the will of the
priests. It was part of the ceremony to make
stabs or thrusts at the guests and assistants with
these bags. One old fellow was specially vigorous,
and leaped on his victims like a wild cat,
puffing out his cheeks and shouting at the top of
his voice, to help the medicine in his bag.
Whosoever was thus dealt with, incontinently fell on
the ground in a shapeless, motionless, heap of
copper-coloured flesh and savage finery; not daring
to move hand or foot until released by
another stab or thrust with the same bag;
which was then charged with the vivifying
spirit. And then instantly up jumped the
prostrate braves and squaws, nimbly as so many
squirrels, and the religious fun recommenced.
One brown girl had been overlooked by her
Midé, and was left on the ground in a huddled
mass of tittering immobility. She would not
have dared to have got up of her own accord,
had the Midé left her lying for half a day; but
a young companion took compassion on her
helplessness, and timidly plucked the old priest
back to his duty. A revivifying stab or thrust,
was made with the medicine-bag, and away
sprang the brown girl, laughing as merrily as
the rest.

At this baptism Mr. Kohl witnessed another
curious ceremony, namely, the expulsion from
the mouth of each person present of
certain small yellow shells, which were meant to
typify the sins and sicknesses incidental to red
human nature. These shells are highly prized
by the Indians, are always carried in their medicine-
bags, and large prices are given for them—
almost as large as for the birch-bark mystery
books. For they think that all spiritual matters
should be well paid for, else the Great Spirit will
be angry with his children for parting with his
gifts and treasures too easily. They expel their
vices in another manner at certain times of the
year; thus, during the first moon in February,
the young men say, "I reject my bad manner
of living;" "I cast off my vices with the
moon;" and instances are not wanting of
conversions as sudden, as sincere, and as mysterious,
as any got from the howlings of an Irish
revival, or by alighting on a chance text, or by
any other of the many modes affected by the
Evangelical party in Christendom.

The "doll of sorrow," is another quaint idea
or institution among them. When a young
child dies, its mother takes a lock of its hair,
which she wraps up and places in the centre of
a bundle composed of the little creature's
playthings, clothes, and amulets, and this "doll"
she carries about with her everywhere and at all
times for a year. It is nursed, caressed, talked
to, played with, like the living child; and when
the year of mourning is out, the bundle is
unfastened, the hair is buried, and the amulets,
&c., are distributed among friends. The idea
consecrated in this strange custom is, that the
soul of the little one is unable to support itself
in its arduous journey to Paradise, and that the
mother, by nursing and tending this emblem,
does also nurse and tend the little soul, which
receives the benefit of all the love and care
showered on the "doll of sorrow." Mothers who
lose their infant children are inconsolable,
unless, indeed, a capable member of the family die
too, an uncle, a big brother, or even the father;
when the bereaved squaw will be satisfied, as
now her babe has a protector who will carry it
safely past the Great Red Strawberry and its
fatal enticements, over the Serpent-bridge, and
across the hideous chasm, and who will feed it