54 NEW YORK STATE MUSEUM 



them the charge of the New Year of the red man, commanding that 

 f ore vermore they must dance over the council house during the te n 

 days of his New Year's feast. 



When Hai-no-nis left his brothers he followed the voices, and 

 discovering them to be the Ji-hen-yah (Sky Witches), promised 

 that if they would not further torment his brothers, they should 

 dance forever in their honor. 



And so the brothers 1 continue to dance, ever obeying the Moon, 

 which sometimes sends them to return wandering stars that may 

 have lost their way in the darkness. 



These Sky Witches frequently descend to the earth in the dark- 

 ness in search of victims for their sky feasts which they are ever 

 celebrating. 



In the astronomical lore of the paleface, this celestial group of 

 dancing brothers is known as the Pleiades, the brilliant constella- 

 tion in the neck of Taurus. The feast of the New Year, as with all 

 others of the Iroquois, is regulated by the Moon. 



O-SO-AH, THE TALL PINE, SPEAKS 



The spirit of the pine 2 was once a brave war chief who led his 

 warriors to victory till captured by his enemies and burned at 

 the stake. 



In the metempsychosis of the Iroquois, the liberated spirit 

 of the chief entered the pine, where it will remain forever the 

 forest guide of the Indian people. It is a fact that the two topmost 

 branches of the pine point to the east and the west, thus furnishing 

 a compass for the red man when lost in the woods. These branches 

 also symbolize the " deer horns," the insignia that ranks a chief. 



1 Only seven of the brothers are now commonly visible because some are very small and 

 dance behind the rest. On very clear nights those with good eyes can see the others. 



2 The myth setting forth the origin of the pine is a part of the Pleiades (Dancing Stars) 

 myth, though of a version a little different in some parts from the one recorded by Mrs 

 Converse. The legend relates that the chief of the skyward dancing party hearing the cries 

 of his mother looked down. His act was a fatal one for he immediately fell like a stone 

 into soft clay, for when he struck the earth he entered it and disappeared. The mother 

 mourned and watched over his grave spot for a year and when springtime came again she 

 saw a tiny green shoot springing above the sod. When the years passed by, it became a 

 lofty evergreen tree and the people called it O'-so'-a (ge-i). It was the first of its kind and 

 the soul and blood and body of the chief were in it. This the people knew for they heard 

 it sighing and moaning to its mates in the heavens at night. A thoughtless warrior slashed 

 its bark with his knife and red blood poured out, and it was human blood. "After many 

 years," says the story-teller, " the feathers that dropped from the wide branches sprang 

 up into the pine trees and these have thick sticky blood, but it is good for many things, 

 canoes, ropes and medicines. So it's a good thing he looked down."' 



