CASTOROI^OGIA. 2O3 



111 the great mysterious darkness 

 Of the speechless days that shall be ! 



' On the grave-posts of our fathers 

 Are no signs, no figures painted ; 

 Who are in those graves we know not, 

 Only know they are our fathers. 

 Of what kith they are and kindred, 

 From what old, ancestral Totem, 

 Be it Eagle, Bear, or Beaver, 

 They descended, this we know not. 

 Only know they are our fathers. 



' Face to face we speak together. 

 But we cannot speak when absent. 

 Cannot send our voices from us 

 To the friends that dwell afar off ; 

 Cannot send a secret message, 

 But the bearer learns our secret, 

 May pervert it, may betray it. 

 May reveal it unto others. ' 



Thus said Hiawatha, walking 

 In the solitary forest, 

 Pondering, musing in the forest. 

 On the welfare of his people. 



From his pouch he took his colours. 

 Took his paints of different colors. 

 On the smooth bark of the birch-tree 

 Painted many shapes and figures, 



And each figure had a meaning, 

 Each some word or thought suggested. 



Gitche Manito the Mighty, 

 He the Master of Life, was painted 

 As an egg, with points projecting 

 To the four winds of the heavens. 



Mitche Manito the Mighty, 

 He the dreadful Spirit of Evil, 

 As a serpent was depicted. 

 As Kenabeek, the great serpent. 



Life and Death he drew as circles, 

 Life was white, but death was darkened. 



