JOURNAL AND PROCEEDINGS, 59 
dagas, the senate of the Nations, which was, that the Erie Confeder- 
acy should be wiped out of remembrance, and their name obliterated 
from the number of the tribes of the Huron-Iroquois race. The 
memory of such a dynasty as that of Yagowanea, *‘Mother of Nations” 
'was to be buried fathoms deep in the waters bearing their name, the 
Sacred Lodge of Gegosasa demolished and the Order of Vestal Vir- 
gins dispersed, the towns of Refuge covered up or reduced to ashes. 
The confederacy of Neutrality, instituted in the days of ‘‘Antiquity” 
by the ceremonial of the Pipe of Peace, was left with no monument 
to carry their name save the name of the waters of Erie. The em- 
barrassments of the wounded and so many captives had detained the 
Iroquois nearly two months in the country of the Neutrals. The 
Niagara Peninsula hereafter was annexed as ‘‘ Hunting Grounds ” to 
the territory of the Iroquoise. The rapids of Niagara which for ages 
have rushed through forest walls and rocky flats, haunted by the 
rattle-snake, are still hurrying with impetuous speed over rough and 
stony bed to yield their quota of ‘‘smoke” to the ever rising heaven- 
ward incense of Niagara ‘‘in memoriam ” of the broken covenant of 
the ‘* peace and good will towards men,” which once ruled over the 
Council fires of Central Canaiderada. 
The legend is told among the Chippawa tribe, that before Nature 
sleeps, she clothes herself in royal robes of purple, scarlet and gold 
in all the glorious mystery of the Indian summer. At that season 
(October) the Chippawa came to Niagara to make their annual sac- 
rifice to “‘ The Spirit,” which dwelt behind the rocks. They chose 
a victim from the loveliest of their Vestals—the one chosen by lot 
was sent forth in a newly made white birch canoe, clothed in a tunic 
of swans’ skins, over which fell asa mantle the glory of a woman, her 
long hair, ornamented with wreaths of flowers, around her neck were 
hung strings of white Wampum—the sign manual of her people that 
this particular maiden was the victim chosen by the tribe. From the 
Chippawa shore she was sped forth on the seething rapids above the 
Falls, an offering to the Mighty Being, who also would draw to him- 
self over the cataract, twelve for the one withheld, before as many 
moons should wax and wane. One autumn, the lot of sacrifice fell 
upon an aged sachem’s only child, the sole comfort of his old age. 
He opened not his mouth, and was dumb under the doom of the 
choice, but to live without her he could not. When she was far out 
