treasures than the poetry of brilliant Greece. He filled and crowded every object in nature with spiritual existence. The great points of the compass, east, west, north, south, had each its peculiar god. The sun, the moon, the sea, and the fire, were all the abodes of supernatural beings. Even the involuntary motions of the body were attributed to the power of resident spirits. It was a god who made the heart to beat; yet another god who filled the lungs with vital air. It was a god (Somnus by a different name,) who sat upon the eye-lids and pressed them down in slumber; still another god who lifted those lids, and let in the light of the morn ing. So also whenever any thing took place, the cause or manner of which they did not at once perceive, they were always accustomed to say, Manitou, it is a god. "At the apprehension of any excellency in man, woman, birds, beasts, fish, &c." they still cried out, with a kind of reverential admiration, it is a god. When the English first came among them, and they beheld the ships which brought them over; the buildings which they erected; their manner of cultivating the fields; their arms and clothing; and above all, their books and let ters, they exclaimed one to another, Manitouwock, they are gods. In all this we discover, carried out to its full extent, the universal tendency of the untaught mind to refer all appearances, unusual or difficult of explanation, to the immediate agency of supernatural beings. The grand idea of something above and beyond nature, pervades the whole region of humanity, whether developed in the pantheism of the philosopher, the polytheism of the savage, or the heaven-inspired faith of the Christian.

With a belief so constantly active in the existence and power of spiritual beings, the Indians were ever seeking to propitiate their fa

vor, by prayers and sacrifices and solemn feasts; the customary methods to which nature seems to direct the unenlightened soul. Kiehtan, the good god, they approached chiefly with thanksgiving, for benefits received. When victory crowned their warfare, or plenty smiled upon their fields, or success attended their efforts in any direction, it was piously attributed to the friendly aid of this benevolent spirit, and they expressed their thanks to him. in song and dance, and every utterance of grateful joy.

But their principal worship was paid to Hobbamock, whose disposition to do them injury they strove by every means to change. They were accustomed to ascribe all their sufferings to the mischievous agency of this spirit of evil. Disease, death, defeat in battle, famine, and pestilence; these and other calamities proceeded forth from him, and fear of his power compelled them to supplicate his mercy with all the earnestness of prayer. The Indian who had lost a child, called up his family at break of day, to join him in his lamentation, and with abundance of tears, exclaimed, "Oh! God! thou hast taken away my child! thou art angry with me. Oh! turn thine anger away from me, and spare the rest of my children."* A fearful dream they conceived to be a threatening of evil from Hobbamock, and whenever their rest was so disturbed, they would rise at all times of the night and fall at once to supplication.

But not with prayers alone did the Indian seek the favor, and deprecate the wrath of his gods. Sacrifices were also common among them, and it has even been asserted that human life was occasionally taken for this purpose. The truth of this statement, however, is doubtful, and so long as entire certainty is wanting, we should hesitate to ad

*Key, chap. xxi.

mit that the Indian was ever guilty of so horrible a crime. But whether or not they gave the fruit of the body for the sin of the soul, there is no question of their liberality in separating to religious purposes the most valued of their worldly possessions. Kettles, skins, hatchets, beads, and knives, all were cast by the priests into the sacred fire, and consumed to ashes; and while the conflagration was going on, they gathered around it, sometimes by hundreds, dancing and shouting, and making all kinds of discordant noises. In these religious exercises, they were led on by the priests, or as they named them, powows, who, to sustain their official character, made their devotion so excessively earnest, that it often left them utterly exhausted with fatigue.

The Indian powow was a physician as well as a priest. In every case of sickness, he was sent for to the cabin of the sufferer, where his mere presence, or if that failed, his magical incantations, were thought sufficient to restore the invalid. The credulous historian of the Narragansets, who was frequently a witness of these superstitious rites, acknowledges that "by the help of the devil, they do most certainly work great cures," although "they administer nothing, but howl and roar and hollow over them."

The heaven of the Indian was in the house of Kiehtan, far away in the southwest, where the spirits of the good who had left the earth, were gathered in a most happy society, enjoying in constant fullness, those pleasures which, to the simple mind of the Indian, were enough to constitute a paradise. There they engaged in the occupations which delighted them most in the world they had left behind. War, followed always by victory-the chase, with a never-failing abundance of game-feasting and dancing-these brightened the hours as they rolled along, and filled up the measure of

their heavenly happiness. But this heaven is open only to the good. The souls of thieves, liars, and murderers, go also to the house of Kiehtan, and ask for admission, but he replies that there is no place for them; he bids them depart, and so "they wander forever in restless want and penury."

It is worthy of remark, that the southwest was so generally distinguished by the aborigines as the peculiar quarter of their God and their heaven. This sentiment prevailed not only in Connecticut and New England, but throughout the United States. The reason of this common belief must occur to every one familiar with the climate of the country. The east wind is damp and chilly, bringing clouds and rain from the ocean; the north wind is piercingly cold; but the wind from "the sweet southwest," which unites the freshness of the west with the mildness of the south, was to the Indian, as well as to the Greek of old, the Zephyr, the bringer of life. Whenever his cheek was touched by the summer softness of the breez es which came from that quarter of the sky, it was not difficult for him to believe, with a literal confidence, that they were "airs from heaven."

When the Indian died, all his relatives and friends went into mourning, to testify their sorrow for his loss. In the beginning of sickness, indeed, it was customary for the females of the family to blacken their faces with soot and charcoal, and to keep them in this condition day after day; but only when disease terminated in death, did the men disfigure themselves in the same singular manner. This visible token of grief was accompanied by cries and wailings of the most mournful character. Tears plentiful as rain coursed down the cheeks of the mourners, and mingling with the soot and charcoal which covered them, presented a spectacle of woe

calculated to move far other feelings than those of sympathetic sorrow. When the body was brought to the place of burial, it was not immediately committed to the earth, but left at the side of the grave, until the friends of the dead had united once more in vociferous and long-continued lamentation. At such times, not only the women and children suffered their tears to flow freely, but even the "stoutest captains" wept in company. This duty done, the corpse was laid in the ground, wrapped in skins and mats, and covered by the same ornaments which had graced it when a living body. Whatever treasures belonged to the deceased, were also laid by his side, together with all the utensils and implements which he had been accustomed to use-as if his soul would need them in the world to which it had gone. Sometimes the body was covered with a fine red powder, of a strong scent, but not offensive, which was evidently used as a kind of embalment. The wigwam in which he had died, was considered thenceforth uninhabitable, and always burned down or otherwise destroyed. The mat upon which the dead had lain, was spread over his grave, and his coat of skins hung up on a neighboring tree, where it was suffered to remain until it dropped to pieces. The continuance of mourning depended very much upon the dignity of the deceased; in some cases it lasted but a short time; in others a year was not thought too long to bear about the emblems of sorrow. After the funeral ceremonies had been performed, the relatives of the dead were visited by all their acquaintances, who came to express sympathy, and offer consolation. The Indian was never guilty of neglecting this important office of friendship.

66

A singular custom prevailed among them in regard to pronoun

cing the names of the dead. Whoever did so was subjected to a fine, and if the offense was repeated, death was not regarded as a punishishment too severe. In 1655, the Sachem Philip crossed from the main land to the island of Nantucket, for the single purpose of taking the life of John Gibbs; an Indian whose only crime was that he had spoken the name of a deceased relative of Philip. Gibbs had notice of his coming and concealed himself; the English interfered, but all arguments, together with all the money which they could collect for the ransom of the of fender, were scarcely able to calm the anger of Philip, and lead him to lay aside his murderous designs.*

The inquiry in which we have thus engaged is not without a mournful interest, when we remember how like a dream when one awaketh, the old lords of the land have passed away. The pestilence which destroyed thousands of the eastern tribes just before the landing of the pilgrims of the Plymouth colony, was more rapid in its work of death, but not more sure than the surge of emigration which, but a few years later, began to roll in upon the valley of the Connecticut. Whether by sickness, by sword, or by the mere neighborhood of a stronger and wiser race, the destiny of the Indian drove him into one path, and that path led only to destruction.

But while it is impossible to regard the disappearance of whole tribes and nations without a feeling near akin to sadness, yet when we estimate aright, in all its bearings and results, the wonderful change in which their ruin was involved, who shall say that there is any room for sorrow? It is a questionable philanthropy that weeps at such a a revolution. Behold the contrast. Barbarism has given place to civili

*

zation. Heathenism has yielded to Christianity. The depths of the forest, which for ages had been sacred to darkness, are now laid open to the light of the sun. The resources of the soil, which the Indian wanted industry and skill to develop, are no longer hidden beneath the surface, but on every side we behold, in all abundance and variety, the harvest of his indefatigable successor. Physical comfort, knowledge, peace, liberty, and religion-all that

is accounted excellent and desirable in the world-have become the common inheritance of the people, even upon the same soil where, two centuries ago, they were totally unknown. The whimsical Rousseau might profess to regard the savage state as the most perfect condition of humanity, yet surely, no sound mind, or benevolent heart, can remember with any thing but joy the change which two hundred years have wrought in New England.

THE Scandinavian peninsula, including the countries of Sweden and Norway, is for several reasons one of the most deeply interesting portions of the world. To the geologist it presents a specimen, on the largest scale, of what the hidden inner forces of the earth can gradually accomplish. Once, it would appear, the sea covered a large part of Sweden, Finland, and northern Russia, and the mountains which divide Sweden from Norway formed a lofty island. But however this may be, it seems from indications on both sides of the peninsula, that the land is rising, being slowly upheaved by a subterranean force that grows less as you go north; shells of the same kinds with those now found in the sea, occur in beds sixty feet above the water in Norway; and the depth of the gulf of Bothnia has long been known to be decreasing, owing probably to the rise of the bottom.

Nor is this region less interesting, especially on the western coast, in its external configuration. As you

approach the coast of Norway, innumerable islets entangle a vessel in many places in a maze difficult to be threaded. When you have found your way to the coast, you discover it to be of solid primitive rock, but every where penetrated by fiords or friths, some of which run many miles up into the country. These fiords are said to be deeper towards the interior than where they touch the ocean, and could have been formed by no stream at their heads, for in most cases there is not back country enough to furnish the water which would be required to form the various branches and coves of the fiords that pierce at different angles into the rock. The fiord of Drontheim is above one hundred miles long, and from three to twelve broad, while one of its branches runs sixty miles up the country to the foot of the high land which divides the peninsula. Of the smaller coves Mr. Laing thus speaks.

"The hills of primary rock in some places run out into promontories, which dip into the fiord. To scramble up and down these is not work for an alderman; when one does, however, get over the keel of such a ridge, he sees a quiet beautiful scene below. The little land

locked bay is so shut in with rocks and woods, that it resembles a small mountain lake. The entrance is hid by trees; and the mark of high water on the white beach at the head of the cove is the only indication that it belongs to the ocean. There is generally room at its head for one fishing farmer, with his house at the foot of the rocks, a green spot for his cows and goats, and his little skiff at anchor before his door; where the lucky fellow, without ever knowing what a seastorm is, or going out of sight of his own chimney smoke, catches in his sheltered creek the finest sea-fish, beneath the shadow of the rocky forest that surrounds him."

Having passed one of these fiords, or traced its branches up to their heads, you reach a stream running usually through a deep and often very romantic valley, and dependent for its water on the snows and lakes of the Fielde. This word, of the same origin and meaning with our fell, denotes a high rocky tableland, which under various names pursues a course nearly parallel with the western coast, and from which mountains arise even to the height of over seven thousand feet. On the east of the Fielde is to be found the longest and most popu lous of the valleys of Norway, called Guldebrandsdal, lying upon the Myosen Lake, and its principal tributary, as well as upon the stream by which it is united with the river Glommen. On the west side of the Fielde, the streams and valleys are generally short, owing to the nearness of the ridge to the ocean. Along these valleys, and in the towns upon the coast, dwell most of the inhabitants of Norway, engaged in trade and fishery, or earning their subsistence from a rocky soil, under a climate less severe indeed than that of the same parallel in Sweden, but still one which tempers the long and tedious winter with only three or four months of

warmer weather. The soil is favorable for grass, bear (a kind of grain like barley,) and potatoes; but grain is not raised in sufficient quantities to supply the wants of the inhabitants.

But the history and present condition of the people of Norway, are the strongest claim which this country has upon our interest. In some respects, it is true, they are eclipsed by the other nations of the same stock. They can show in modern times no Gustavus Vasa, the deliverer of his country from foreign oppression and the pal yoke; no Gustavus Adolphus, who was raised up to preserve the Protestant powers of central Europe from extinction; they have no naturalists to tell of like those of Sweden; no poets, sculptors, archeologists, like those who have adorned Denmark; even Iceland, the distant colony of Norway, in a frozen sea, has a far richer literature than the mother country, and has preserved the language and the heathen traditions of the olden time, which were changed or obliterated on the continent. But few histories are more remarkable than that of Nor

way, during its heroic age, in the

tenth and eleventh centuries. That this wintry land should have sent forth the boldest of adventurers in every direction, some to people Iceland, and plant in it institutions of an admirable kind; others to possess half England, the islands of Scotland, and even parts of Ireland; others still to conquer the northwest of France, to penetrate into the Mediterranean, and obtain the ascendency in the two Sicilies, while others formed the guard of the em perors of Constantinople; that these long known historical facts should have occurred, is certainly far more surprising than that captains from Norway and Iceland reached the shores of this western world, and possibly left their record upon Dighton Rock.