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His poor old father, once a slave, looked on in pride. "Now," said Tsohailum to him, "I am a great man just now, and so are you; but some day I shall get killed, and then you will be nobody, and when you die will be buried accordingly. Better let me kill you; then there will be many blankets given away, and canoes and muskets, and you will be buried like a great chief." The old fellow, much to his son's disgust, declared that he thought he would like to take his chance. Yet, with all his power, he was unfortunate in affairs matrimonial-as, indeed, might be expected from the very summary method of wooing he adopted. One night he surprised one of his wives in flagrante delicto. Without saying a word, he killed the lover; then, cutting off his head, he tossed it outside the door. While the lodges were roused by the screams of the paramour, Tsohailum drew his long knife several times across the soles of his wife's feet, saying, as she limped outside, "Now go home to your father's house, you strumpet!" He said he would never stoop to kill a woman. Tsohailum used to boast that if ever he was killed, it would not be by a man, but by a woman, a boy, or an idiot, but that the bullet which would end his career had not yet been cast. His end was approaching. His power and pride grew so great that he closed the Cowichan River, from time immemorial the common canoe-way of different tribes, all friendly with him. None but those of his own tribe, he said, should pass in front of his door. Now this was infringing on the right of way, and nobody looks upon this more jealously than the Indian; so treachery began to hatch for him. "He is too proud, Tsohailum, now," the old people and the young people all alike said; “he is too powerful." On an island not far from the mouth of the Cowichan River lived a small tribe called the Lamalchas, mostly runaway slaves of Tsosieten, whose existence was merely tolerated. If a Lamalcha had a pretty daughter or wife, she was taken from him, and he himself treated as a slave. Now, a rumour came to the ears of Tsohailum that the Lamalchas had heen speaking evil of him, and saying that he wasn't such a big man as he pretended to be, and such-like calumny. In his wrath, Tsohailum declared that he would exterminate the dogs. Many volunteered to assist him, but he declared he would not take good men to dogs like they, but would do it himself, only taking enough men to paddle him. So he loaded his two muskets and lay down to sleep, telling his men to arouse him when he was in sight of the Lamalcha village. They exchanged glances, and gently raising his arms, they withdrew the charges and dropped the balls overboard. Suspecting nothing, Tsohailum was roused when in sight of the village, and the canoe drawn into a cove, where the paddlers remained. The Lamalcha "village" was only one very large lodge, and nobody was about in the heat of the day. Entering the doorway, he shouted his war-cry, "I am Tsohailum, chief of Quamichan," and at the dreaded cry the terrified inmates ran into a corner. Levelling his musket at the chief, he fired, and to the astonishment of himself and every one else, without effect. Seizing the other he again fired and missed. A woman who was sitting unperceived behind the high boards which formed the walls of the entrance, seeing this, threw the stick they dig up shell-fish with over his head, and held him back, crying, "Now you have got Tsohailum; he's bewitched!" The men then took courage, and rushed upon him with axes, and killed him who was looked upon as more than mortal. So Tsohailum's prophecy came true he was killed by a woman at last. Then his old rival and master-Tsosieten-bought his head for five blankets, to kick about his village.

This fatalism is common among the Indians. A Flatbow chief declared that if he died it

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would be by a wound in his little finger. This place he looked upon-like the heel of Achilles -as his only vulnerable point. It so happened that he was wounded there, and died of

inflammation resulting therefrom.

The North-western Indian is a thorough conservative; he is loth to change. What was good enough for his father is good enough for him. Why should he bother himself with change, unless it is absolutely forced on him? and so he stands still. The picture of the Nimpkish village in Vancouver's narrative, and of that in Friendly Cove, Nootka Sound, in that of Cook, might stand for the portraits of the same villages at this day. Notwithstanding, also, the multiplicity of languages, they have not materially altered since the days of Cook, as the vocabulary of the Nootka language given in the narrative of that famous traveller's voyage of 1772 (the earliest date at which we hear of the Western Vancouver Indians), proves. In fact, the multiplicity of their languages shows how stationary they are in particular spots, for if they moved about much their language would soon have varied, and altered altogether by the incorporation of words of foreign origin. Of course, an unwritten language will vary somewhat, but these North-western languages have not altered to anything like the extent of those in the interior, especially to the east of the Rocky Mountains, where a missionary will form a vocabulary of a language, and come back twenty years afterwards and find it of no use to him. These wandering tribes go great distances to war, are often taken prisoners by other tribes, whose language they acquire, which, if they escape, they partially introduce into their own tribes. Foreign wives (who naturally have much intercourse with the children), as well as slaves speaking other languages, are amongst them. In these and similar ways the languages of the plain Indians change, while from the absence of like causes, those of the coast tribes are tolerably stable.

CHAPTER III.

MYTHOLOGY, RELIGION, AND SUPERSTITIONS OF THE NORTH-WESTERN INDIANS.

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LOOKING at the smoke-dried, leathern-looking countenance of an old Indian sitting in front of his lodge, gazing at the river rushing past (though in all likelihood he is gazing on vacancy and thinking of nothing), you are very apt to ask, has he any joys and higher animation than

the merely animal, anything in the shape of religion-theology it cannot be styledany religious feelings and aspirations; in this sensual here, anything of a more lasting and better hereafter? No merely passing traveller can give anything like a connected account of their religious beliefs, and this will be the more apparent when I say that after residing among these races for several years, and my fellow-labourer (Mr. Sproat) an even more protracted period, with our minds constantly directed to this object, and ready to pick up the merest fragments of their religious belief, our combined knowledge is of the most imperfect character, and our ascertained facts only obtained with the utmost difficulty and at rare intervals. The race is so habitually suspicious of strangers, so afraid of ridicule, and so overawed by things mysterious, that even when they do know facts bearing on this subject, they are very wary in enlightening you. The truth is, however, few of them-even the most intelligent men-have any very clear idea of a religious system, and no two of them agree on the subject. They have no priests (in the true sense of the term), whose duty and interest it is to perpetuate the remembrance of religious beliefs and creeds, and accordingly, as invariably happens under such a system, the people lapse into many beliefs, or into ignorance. Among the Western Vancouver Island Indians there is a belief in Quawteaht as the Supreme Beingthe Originator of all things. A belief in this Being, under different names, is found throughout the Indian tribes all over the American continent. My old friend Quassoon, whose name figures frequently in these pages, and who was one of our chief informants, having accompanied both Mr. Sproat and myself on our exploratory or hunting tours, gave us this tradition of the origin of the Indians :

The first Indian who ever lived was of short stature, and with very strong hairy arms and legs, and was named Quawteaht. Where he came from was not known, but he was the father of all the Aht or west coast Indians. Before his time birds, beasts, and fishes existed in the world. Quawteaht killed himself-why, the narrator could not say-but as he lay covered with vermin, a beneficent spirit, Tootah (the word for "thunder"), in the shape of a bird, came and put the vermin into a box, and Quawteaht revived, and looked about, but saw no one, as the bird had flown away. By-and-by the bird returned, and Quawteaht married her, and had a son, who was the forefather of all the Indians.

Quawteaht lived at Toquaht, and named all the tribes, who affix aht to their tribal names, in honour of their great ancestor; though really this termination of the west coast names appears to be derived from maht, "a house." a house." At one time there must have been only a few tribes-collections of people from the same district in Asia, or speaking one language. Then a few families branched off here and there, for better fishing and hunting grounds, and in course of time increased and formed separate tribes; or some village would assert independent tribal rights, and in due time become in reality a distinct race, speaking a different dialect. In Vancouver Island, for instance, there are numerous small tribes, thirty or so in number, some of which appear once to have been much greater, while others do not appear to have ever exceeded their present numbers. Among the natives of the east coast of Vancouver Island, Quawteaht is called Hælse, and the same or similar stories are related of his doings. It was he who named all the tribes, and who taught men all the arts. Before his day men lived in holes in the ground, until he taught them to make an axe out of the elk's horn, and cut down the cedar-trees and make board lodges. Formerly they could not fish, but only

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WORSHIP OF THE SUN BY THE COROADOS OF SOUTH AMERICA (AMAZON RIVER).

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