Chap. I.] OJIBWAS. 35 



in its most imperfect state. The original clans 

 have become broken into fragments, and indefi- 

 nitely multiplied ; and many of the ancient customs 

 of the institution are but loosely regarded. Agri- 

 culture is little known, and, through summer and 

 winter, they range the wilderness with restless wan- 

 dering, now gorged to repletion, and now perishing 

 wdth want. In the calm days of summer, the 

 Ojibwa fisherman pushes out his birch canoe upon 

 the great inland ocean of the north ; and, as he 

 gazes down into the pellucid depths, he seems like 

 one balanced between earth and sky. The watch- 

 ful fish-hawk circles above his head ; and below, 

 farther than his line will reach, he sees the trout 

 glide shadowy and silent over the glimmering peb- 

 bles. The little islands on the verge of the horizon 

 seem now starting into spires, now melting from 

 the sight, now shaping themselves into a thousand 

 fantastic forms, with the strange mirage of the 

 waters ; and he fancies that the evil spirits of the 

 lake lie basking their serpent forms on those unhal- 

 lowed shores. Again, he explores the watery laby- 

 rinths where the stream sweeps among pine-tufted 

 islands, or runs, black and deep, beneath the shad- 

 ows of moss-bearded firs ; or he drags his canoe 

 upon the sandy beach, and, while his camp-fire 

 crackles on the grass-plat, reclines beneath the 

 trees, and smokes and laughs away the sultry hours, 

 in a lazy luxury of enjoyment. 



But when winter descends upon the north, seal- 

 ing up the fountains, fettering the streams, and 

 turning the green-robed forests to shivering naked- 



