Woodland Tales Part 18

This man had a friend who was a learned professor in a college, and he told him about the great thing he had learned from the old Indian. The professor was not old, but he was very sick and feeble in body. He could not sleep nights. His hair was falling out, and his mind filled with gloomy thoughts. The whole world seemed dark to him. He knew it was a kind of disease, and he went away out West to see his friend. Then he met the Medicine Man and said to him, "Can you help me?"

The wise old Indian said, "Oh, white man, where do you spend your days?"

"I spend them at my desk, in my study, or in the cla.s.sroom."

"Yes, and your nights?"

"In my study among my books."

"And where do you sleep?"

"I don't sleep much, though I have a comfortable bed."

"In the house?"

"Yes, of course."

"Listen, then, O foolish white man. The Great Spirit set Big Medicine in the sky to cure our ills. And you hide from it day and night. What do you expect but evil? This do and be saved. Take the Sky Medicine in measure of your strength."

He did so and it saved him. His strength came back. His cheeks grew ruddy, his hands grew steady, his hair ceased falling out, he slept like a baby. He was happy.

Now what is the Sky Medicine? It is the glorious sunlight, that cures so many human ills. We ask every Woodcrafter to hold on to its blessings.

And in this wise, O Guide, you must give it to the little ones. Make it an honourable exploit to be sunburnt to the elbows without blistering; another to be sunburnt to the shoulders; another to the waist; and greatest of all, when sunburnt all over. How are they to get this? Let them go to some quiet place for the last, and let the glory fall on their naked bodies, for ten minutes each day. Some more, and some less, according to their strength, and this is the measure--so long as it is pleasant, it is good.

In this way they will inherit one of the good things of the woods and be strong and hardened, for there is no greater medicine than the Sun in the sky.

TALE 72

The Angel of the Night

O Guide of the young Tribe! Know you the Twelfth Secret of the Woods?

Know you what walked around your tent on that thirtieth night of your camp out? No! I think you knew, if you continued for thirty nights, but you knew not that you knew. These things, then, you should have in heart, and give to those you are leading.

The Great Spirit does not put out good air in the daytime and poison air at night. It is the same pure air at night, only cooler. Therefore use more clothing while you sleep. But while the outdoor air is pure, the indoor may be foul. Therefore sleep out of doors, and you will learn the blessedness of the night, and the night air, with its cooling kindly influence laden.

Those who come here to our Camp from life in town and sleeping in close rooms, are unaccustomed, and nervous it may be, so that they sleep little at first. But each night brings its balm of rest. Strength comes.

Some know it in a week. The town-worn and nerve-weary find it at farthest in half a moon. And in one full moon be sure of this, when the night comes down you will find the blessed balm that the Great Spirit meant for all of us. You will sleep, a calm sweet vitalizing sleep.

You will know this the twelfth secret of the woods: What walked around your tent that thirtieth night? You know not, you heard nothing, for you slept. Yet when the morning comes you feel and know that round your couch, with wings and hands upraised in blessed soothing influence, there pa.s.sed the Angel of the Night, with healing under her wings, and peace. You saw her not, you heard her not, but the sweet healing of her presence will be with you for many after moons.

FOOTNOTES:

[C] The Guide will note that there are rare exceptions to these rules.

[D] The Guide will remember that Totemism and Tabuism were ideas which grew up long after the use of Totems began.

THINGS TO DO

[Ill.u.s.tration: Nests of Kingbird, Oriole, Vireo, Robin, Goldfinch, Phoebe (1/4 life size)]

Things to Do

TALE 73

Bird-nesting in Winter

What good are old bird-nests? These are some of the ends they serve. A Deermouse seeking the safety of a bramble thicket and a warm house, will make his own nest in the forsaken home of a Cat-bird. A Gray Squirrel will roof over the open nest of a Crow or Hawk and so make it a castle in the air for himself. But one of the strangest uses is this: The Solitary Sandpiper is a bird that cannot build a tree nest for itself and yet loves to give to its eggs the safety of a high place; so it lays in the old nest of a Robin, or other tree bird, and there its young are hatched. But this is only in the Far North. There are plenty of old bird-nests left for other uses, and for you.

Bird-nesting in summer is wicked, cruel, and against the law. But bird-nesting in winter is good fun and harms no one, if we take only the little nests that are built in forked twigs, or on rock ledges. For most little birds prefer to make a new nest for themselves each season.

If you get: A Goldfinch, floss nest;

A Phoebe, moss nest;

A Robin, mud nest;

A Vireo, good nest;

A Kingbird, rag nest;

An Oriole, bag nest;

you have six different kinds of beautiful nests that are easily kept for the museum, and you do no harm in taking them.

TALE 74

The Ox-eye Daisy or Marguerite

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Ox-eye Daisy or Marguerite]

Do you know that "Daisy" means "day's eye," because the old country Daisy opens its eyes when day comes, and shuts them every night. But our Daisy is different and much bigger, so we have got into the way of calling it "Ox-eye." Some of our young people call it "Love-me; love-me-not," because they think it can tell if one is loved. They pull out the white rays of the flower one by one, saying, "He loves me; he loves me not; he loves me; he loves me not." Then what they are saying as the last is pulled, settles the question. If the Daisy says "He loves me," they take a second Daisy and ask the next question, "Will he marry me?" Then, pulling the rays as before, "This year, next year, some time, never." And in this way they learn all that the Daisies know about these important matters.

We call it "our Daisy," but it is not a true native of America. Its home is Europe. The settlers of New England, missing the flower of their homeland, brought it over and planted it in their gardens. It spread widely in the North; but it did not reach the South until the time of the Civil War, when it is said to have gone in with the hay for Sherman's Army, to become a troublesome weed in the fields.

This sc.r.a.p of history is recorded in a popular ballad.