021. READ: These scattered leaves from the unwritten school-book of...

DoctorTigerMaster742
021. READ: These scattered leaves from the unwritten school-book of…

021. READ: These scattered leaves from the unwritten school-book of the wilderness have been gathered together for the children of to-day; both as a slight contribution to the treasures of aboriginal folk-lore, and with the special purpose of adapting them to the demands of the American school and fireside. That is to say, we have chosen from a mass of material the shorter and simpler stories and parts of stories, and have not always insisted upon a literal rendering, but taken such occasional liberties with the originals as seemed necessary to fit them to the exigencies of an unlike tongue and to the sympathies of an alien race.Nevertheless, we hope and think that we have been able to preserve in the main the true spirit and feeling of these old talestales that have been handed down by oral tradition alone through many generations of simple and story-loving people. The “Creation myths” and others rich in meaning have been treated very simply, as their symbolism is too complicated for very young readers; and much of the characteristic detail of the rambling native story-teller has been omitted. A story that to our thinking is most effectively told in a brief ten minutes is by him made to fill a long evening by dint of minute and realistic description of every stage of a journey, each camp made, every feature of a ceremony performed, and so on indefinitely. True, the attention of his unlettered listeners never flags; but our sophisticated youngsters would soon weary, we fear, of any such repetition.

There are stories here of different types, each of which has its prototype or parallel in the nursery tales of other nations. The animal fables of the philosophic red man are almost as terse and satisfying as those of Aesop, of whom they put us strongly in mind. A little further on we meet with brave and fortunate heroes, and beautiful princesses, and wicked old witches, and magical transformations, and all the other dear, familiar material of fairy lore, combined with a touch that is unfamiliar and fascinating.

The “Little Boy Man,” the Adam of the Sioux, has a singular interest for us in that he is a sort of grown-up child, or a “Peter Pan” who never really grows up, and whose Eve-less Eden is a world where all the animals are his friends and killing for any purpose is unknown. Surely the red man’s secret ideal must have been not war, but peace! The elements, indeed, are shown to be at war, as in the battle between Heat and Frost, or that of the mighty Thunder and the monstrous Deep; but let it be noted here that these conflicts are far more poetic and less bloody than those of Jack the Giant-killer and other redoubtable heroes of the Anglo-Saxon nursery.

The animal loves are strangeperhaps even repellent; yet our children have read of a prince who falls in love with a White Cat; in the story of “The Runaways” we come upon the old, old ruse of magic barriers interposed between pursuer and pursued; and Andersen’s charming fantasy of “The Woodcutter’s Child” who disobeyed her Guardian Angel has scarcely a more delicate pathos than the “Ghost Wife.”

There are, to be sure, certain characters in this forest wonder-world that are purely and unmistakably Indian; yet after all Unk-to-mee, the sly one, whose adventures are endless, may be set beside quaint “Brer Fox” of Negro folk-lore, and Chan-o-te-dah is obviously an Indian brownie or gnome, while monstrous E-ya and wicked Double-Face re-incarnate the cannibal giants of our nursery days. Real children everywhere have lively imaginations that feed upon such robust marvels as these; and in many of us elders, I hope, enough of the child is left to find pleasure in a literature so vital, so human in its appeal, and one that, old as it is, has for the most part never until now put on the self-consciousness of type.The stories are more particularly intended to be read beside an open fire to children of five years old and upward, or in the school-room by the nine, ten, eleven-year-olds in the corresponding grades.

FIRST EVENING

THE cold December moon is just showing above the tree-tops, pointing a white finger here and there at the clustered teepees of the Sioux, while opposite their winter camp on the lake shore a lonely, wooded island is spread like a black buffalo robe between the white, snow-covered ice and the dull gray sky.All by itself at the further end of the village stands the teepee of Smoky Day, the old story-teller, the school-master of the woods. The paths that lead to this low brown wigwam are well beaten; deep, narrow trails, like sheep paths, in the hard-frozen snow.

To-night a generous fire of logs gives both warmth and light inside the teepee, and the old man is calmly filling his long, red pipe for the smoke of meditation, when the voices and foot-steps of several children are distinctly heard through the stillness of the winter night.

The door-flap is raised, and the nine-year-old Tanagela, the Humming-bird, slips in first, with her roguish black eyes and her shy smile.

“Grandmother, we have come to hear a story,” she murmurs. “I have brought you a sun-dried buffalo-tongue, grandmother!”

SMOKY DAY TELLING TALES OF OLD DAYS AROUND HIS FIRE.

One by one the little people of the village follow her, and all seat themselves on the ground about the central fire until the circle is well filled. Then the old man lays down his pipe, clears his throat once or twice and begins in a serious voice:”These old stories for which you ask teach us the way of life, my grandchildren. The Great-Grandfather of all made us all; therefore we are brothers.

“In many of the stories the people have a common language, which now the Great Mystery has taken away from us, and has put a barrier between us and them, so that we can no longer converse together and understand the speech of the animal people.”Observe, further, that silence is greater than speech. This is why we honor the animals, who are more silent than man, and we reverence the trees and rocks, where the Great Mystery lives undisturbed, in a peace that is never broken.”Let no one ask a question until the story is finished.”

FOURTH EVENING

THERE is no greater rudeness than to interrupt a story-teller, even by the slightest movement. All Sioux children are drilled in this rule of behavior, as in many others, from their earliest babyhood, and old Smoky Day has seldom to complain of any lack of attention. Even Teona and Waola, active boys of eleven and twelve, and already daring hunters, would be ashamed to draw upon themselves by word or motion the reproving looks of their mates. A disturbance so serious as to deserve the notice of the old teacher himself would disgrace them all!

“Although we shall hear again of the animal people,” he begins pleasantly but with due gravity, “and even of some who are not animals at all, we must remember that each of these warriors of whom I shall tell you really represents a man, and the special weakness of each should remind us to inquire of our own weakness. In this life, it is often the slow one who wins in the end; and this we shall now see!”

THE WAR-PARTY

One day the Turtle made ready to go upon the war-path. His comrades who wished to go with him were Live Coals, Ashes, the Bulrush, the Grasshopper, the Dragonfly and the Pickerel. All seven warriors went on in good spirits to the first camp, where a strong wind arose in the early morning and blew the Ashes away.

“Iho!” exclaimed the others, “this one was no warrior!”

The six kept on their way, and the second day they came to a river. There Live Coals perished at the crossing. “S-s-s,” he said, and was gone!

“Ah!” declared the five, “it is easy to see that he could not fight!”

On the further side of the river they looked back, and saw that the Bulrush had stayed behind. He stood still and waved his hand to the others, who grumbled among themselves, saying:”He was no true brave, that one!”

The four who were left went on till they came to a swampy place, and there the Grasshopper stuck fast. In his struggles to get out of the bog he pulled both legs off, and so there were only three to go upon the war-path!

The Dragonfly mourned for his friend. He cried bitterly, and finally blew his nose so hard that his slender neck broke in two.

“Ah!” declared the other two, “we are better off without those feeble ones!”

The Pickerel and the Turtle, being left alone, advanced bravely into the country of the enemy. At the head of the lake they were met and quickly surrounded. The Pickerel escaped by swimming, but the Turtle, that slow one, was caught!

They took him to the village, and there the head men held a council to decide what should be done with him.

“We will build a fire and roast him alive in the midst of it,” one proposed.

“Hi-i-i!” the Turtle shrilled his war-cry. “That is the brave death I would choose! I shall trample the fire, and scatter live coals among the people!”

“No,” declared another, “we will boil water and throw him into the pot!”

“Hi-i-i!” again cried the Turtle. “I shall dance in the boiling pot, and clouds of steam will arise to blind the eyes of the people!”

The counsellors looked doubtfully at one another, and at last one said:”Why not carry him out to the middle of the lake and drown him?”Then the Turtle drew in his head and became silent.”Alas!” he groaned, “that is the only death I fear!”

So the people took him in a canoe, and rowed out to the middle of the lake. There they dropped him in, and he sank like a stone!

But the next minute he came up to the top of the water and again uttered his war-cry.

“Hi-i-i!” he cried. “Now I am at home!” And he dived and swam wherever he would.

This story teaches us that patience and quick wit are better than speed.

1. What was the purpose of Wigwam Evenings? Use the text to support your answer.
2. In the fourth paragraph, Eloise Eastman writes “Surely the red man’s secret ideal must have been not war, but peace!” What belief about Native Americans does this statement suggest was common when this book was written?
3. What is the purpose of the first paragraph of “Fourth Evening,” and how do you know? Keep in mind this book’s intended audience.
4. Why might you have expected the narrator to follow the pickerel instead of the turtle?
5. The final, italicized line sums up the point of the second half of the story– how the turtle escaped. However, that point doesn’t have much to do with the first half of the story–up until the turtle ends up by himself. Write one short sentence that sums up the ‘lesson’ in the first half of the story.

— READ: I.

The first white men of your people who came to our country were named Lewis and Clark. They brought many things which our people had never seen. They talked straight and our people gave them a great feast as proof that their hearts were friendly. They made presents to our chiefs and our people made presents to them. We had a great many horses of which we gave them what they needed, and they gave us guns and tobacco in return. All the Nez Perce made friends with Lewis and Clark and agreed to let them pass through their country and never to make war on white men. This promise the Nez Perce have never broken.

II.

For a short time we lived quietly. But this could not last. White men had found gold in the mountains around the land of the Winding Water. They stole a great many horses from us and we could not get them back because we were Indians. The white men told lies for each other. They drove off a great many of our cattle. Some white men branded our young cattle so they could claim them. We had no friends who would plead our cause before the law councils. It seemed to me that some of the white men in Wallowa were doing these things on purpose to get up a war. They knew we were not strong enough to fight them. I labored hard to avoid trouble and bloodshed. We gave up some of our country to the white men, thinking that then we could have peace. We were mistaken. The white men would not let us alone. We could have avenged our wrongs many times, but we did not. Whenever the Government has asked for help against other Indians we have never refused. When the white men were few and we were strong we could have killed them off, but the Nez Perce wishes to live at peace.

On account of the treaty made by the other bands of the Nez Perce the white man claimed my lands. We were troubled with white men crowding over the line. Some of them were good men, and we lived on peaceful terms with them, but they were not all good. Nearly every year the agent came over from Lapwai and ordered us to the reservation. We always replied that we were satisfied to live in Wallowa. We were careful to refuse the presents or annuities which he offered.

Through all the years since the white man came to Wallowa we have been threatened and taunted by them and the treaty Nez Perce. They have given us no rest. We have had a few good friends among the white men, and they have always advised my people to bear these taunts without fighting. Our young men are quick tempered and I have had great trouble in keeping them from doing rash things. I have carried a heavy load on my back ever since I was a boy. I learned then that we were but few while the white men were many, and that we could not hold our own with them. We were like deer. They were like grizzly bears. We had a small country. Their country was large. We were contented to let things remain as the Great Spirit Chief made them. They were not; and would change the mountains and rivers if they did not suit them.

III.

[At his surrender in the Bear Paw Mountains, 1877]

Tell General Howard that I know his heart. What he told me before I have in my heart. I am tired of fighting. Our chiefs are killed. Looking Glass is dead, Tu-hul-hil-sote is dead. the old men are all dead. It is the young men who now say yes or no. He who led the young men is dead. It is cold and we have no blankets. The little children are freezing to death. My people — some of them have run away to the hills and have no blankets and no food. No one knows where they are — perhaps freezing to death. I want to have time to look for my children and see how many of them I can find. Maybe I shall find them among the dead. Hear me, my chiefs, my heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands I will fight no more against the white man.

6. What does the last sentence of speech II mean if you interpret it figuratively?
7. Answer each of the questions below for each of the speeches (I, II, and III).
a. What emotion did this speech intended to bring out in the listener? [All of these speeches were directed toward an audience of white settlers and/or soldiers.]
b. How do the speeches bring out that emotion?
c. Why would Chief Joseph want his audience to feel that emotion?
8. Everything in speech III is historically accurate, but some scholars think that the speech was made up by someone other than Chief Joseph who was there with the soldiers fighting against the Nez Pearce. If this were true, why do you think they might have written the speech?

— READ: Colonel Lloyd kept from three to four hundred slaves on his home plantation, and owned a large number more on the neighboring farms belonging to him. The names of the farms nearest to the home plantation were Wye Town and New Design. “Wye Town” was under the overseership of a man named Noah Willis. New Design was under the overseership of a Mr. Townsend. The overseers of these, and all the rest of the farms, numbering over twenty, received advice and direction from the managers of the home plantation. This was the great business place. It was the seat of government for the whole twenty farms. All disputes among the overseers were settled here. If a slave was convicted of any high misdemeanor, became unmanageable, or evinced a determination to run away, he was brought immediately here, severely whipped, put on board the sloop, carried to Baltimore, and sold to Austin Woolfolk, or some other slave-trader, as a warning to the slaves remaining.

Here, too, the slaves of all the other farms received their monthly allowance of food, and their yearly clothing. The men and women slaves received, as their monthly allowance of food, eight pounds of pork, or its equivalent in fish, and one bushel of corn meal. Their yearly clothing consisted of two coarse linen shirts, one pair of linen trousers, like the shirts, one jacket, one pair of trousers for winter, made of coarse negro cloth, one pair of stockings, and one pair of shoes; the whole of which could not have cost more than seven dollars. The allowance of the slave children was given to their mothers, or the old women having the care of them. The children unable to work in the field had neither shoes, stockings, jackets, nor trousers, given to them; their clothing consisted of two coarse linen shirts per year. When these failed them, they went naked until the next allowance-day. Children from seven to ten years old, of both sexes, almost naked, might be seen at all seasons of the year.

There were no beds given the slaves, unless one coarse blanket be considered such, and none but the men and women had these. This, however, is not considered a very great privation. They find less difficulty from the want of beds, than from the want of time to sleep; for when their day’s work in the field is done, the most of them having their washing, mending, and cooking to do, and having few or none of the ordinary facilities for doing either of these, very many of their sleeping hours are consumed in preparing for the field the coming day; and when this is done, old and young, male and female, married and single, drop down side by side, on one common bed,the cold, damp floor,each covering himself or herself with their miserable blankets; and here they sleep till they are summoned to the field by the driver’s horn. At the sound of this, all must rise, and be off to the field. There must be no halting; every one must be at his or her post; and woe betides them who hear not this morning summons to the field; for if they are not awakened by the sense of hearing, they are by the sense of feeling: no age nor sex finds any favor. Mr. Severe, the overseer, used to stand by the door of the quarter, armed with a large hickory stick and heavy cowskin, ready to whip any one who was so unfortunate as not to hear, or, from any other cause, was prevented from being ready to start for the field at the sound of the horn.

Mr. Severe was rightly named: he was a cruel man. I have seen him whip a woman, causing the blood to run half an hour at the time; and this, too, in the midst of her crying children, pleading for their mother’s release. He seemed to take pleasure in manifesting his fiendish barbarity. Added to his cruelty, he was a profane swearer. It was enough to chill the blood and stiffen the hair of an ordinary man to hear him talk. Scarce a sentence escaped him but that was commenced or concluded by some horrid oath. The field was the place to witness his cruelty and profanity. His presence made it both the field of blood and of blasphemy. From the rising till the going down of the sun, he was cursing, raving, cutting, and slashing among the slaves of the field, in the most frightful manner. His career was short. He died very soon after I went to Colonel Lloyd’s; and he died as he lived, uttering, with his dying groans, bitter curses and horrid oaths. His death was regarded by the slaves as the result of a merciful providence.

Mr. Severe’s place was filled by a Mr. Hopkins. He was a very different man. He was less cruel, less profane, and made less noise, than Mr. Severe. His course was characterized by no extraordinary demonstrations of cruelty. He whipped, but seemed to take no pleasure in it. He was called by the slaves a good overseer.

The home plantation of Colonel Lloyd wore the appearance of a country village. All the mechanical operations for all the farms were performed here. The shoemaking and mending, the blacksmithing, cartwrighting, coopering, weaving, and grain-grinding, were all performed by the slaves on the home plantation. The whole place wore a business-like aspect very unlike the neighboring farms. The number of houses, too, conspired to give it advantage over the neighboring farms. It was called by the slaves the Great House Farm. Few privileges were esteemed higher, by the slaves of the out-farms, than that of being selected to do errands at the Great House Farm. It was associated in their minds with greatness. A representative could not be prouder of his election to a seat in the American Congress, than a slave on one of the out-farms would be of his election to do errands at the Great House Farm. They regarded it as evidence of great confidence reposed in them by their overseers; and it was on this account, as well as a constant desire to be out of the field from under the driver’s lash, that they esteemed it a high privilege, one worth careful living for. He was called the smartest and most trusty fellow, who had this honor conferred upon him the most frequently. The competitors for this office sought as diligently to please their overseers, as the office-seekers in the political parties seek to please and deceive the people. The same traits of character might be seen in Colonel Lloyd’s slaves, as are seen in the slaves of the political parties.

The slaves selected to go to the Great House Farm, for the monthly allowance for themselves and their fellow-slaves, were peculiarly enthusiastic. While on their way, they would make the dense old woods, for miles around, reverberate with their wild songs, revealing at once the highest joy and the deepest sadness. They would compose and sing as they went along, consulting neither time nor tune. The thought that came up, came outif not in the word, in the sound;and as frequently in the one as in the other. They would sometimes sing the most pathetic sentiment in the most rapturous tone, and the most rapturous sentiment in the most pathetic tone. Into all of their songs they would manage to weave something of the Great House Farm. Especially would they do this, when leaving home. They would then sing most exultingly the following words:
“I am going away to the Great House Farm!
O, yea! O, yea! O!”
This they would sing, as a chorus, to words which to many would seem unmeaning jargon, but which, nevertheless, were full of meaning to themselves. I have sometimes thought that the mere hearing of those songs would do more to impress some minds with the horrible character of slavery, than the reading of whole volumes of philosophy on the subject could do.

I did not, when a slave, understand the deep meaning of those rude and apparently incoherent songs. I was myself within the circle; so that I neither saw nor heard as those without might see and hear. They told a tale of woe which was then altogether beyond my feeble comprehension; they were tones loud, long, and deep; they breathed the prayer and complaint of souls boiling over with the bitterest anguish. Every tone was a testimony against slavery, and a prayer to God for deliverance from chains. The hearing of those wild notes always depressed my spirit, and filled me with ineffable sadness. I have frequently found myself in tears while hearing them. The mere recurrence to those songs, even now, afflicts me; and while I am writing these lines, an expression of feeling has already found its way down my cheek. To those songs I trace my first glimmering conception of the dehumanizing character of slavery. I can never get rid of that conception. Those songs still follow me, to deepen my hatred of slavery, and quicken my sympathies for my brethren in bonds. If any one wishes to be impressed with the soul-killing effects of slavery, let him go to Colonel Lloyd’s plantation, and, on allowance-day, place himself in the deep pine woods, and there let him, in silence, analyze the sounds that shall pass through the chambers of his soul,and if he is not thus impressed, it will only be because “there is no flesh in his obdurate heart.” I have often been utterly astonished, since I came to the north, to find persons who could speak of the singing, among slaves, as evidence of their contentment and happiness. It is impossible to conceive of a greater mistake. Slaves sing most when they are most unhappy. The songs of the slave represent the sorrows of his heart; and he is relieved by them, only as an aching heart is relieved by its tears. At least, such is my experience. I have often sung to drown my sorrow, but seldom to express my happiness. Crying for joy, and singing for joy, were alike uncommon to me while in the jaws of slavery. The singing of a man cast away upon a desolate island might be as appropriately considered as evidence of contentment and happiness, as the singing of a slave; the songs of the one and of the other are prompted by the same emotion.

9. In the second-to-last paragraph, Douglass writes, “The mere recurrence to those songs, even now, afflicts me; and while I am writing these lines, an expression of feeling has already found its way down my cheek.” What is he afflicted with, and what is the expression of feeling?
10. Why do you think Douglass decided to document his experience as a slave by writing the book that this chapter is excerpted from? Use the text to support your answer.
11. What tone does Douglass use when he describes slaves being whipped and beaten? Consider your answer to the last question as you answer this question

— READ: Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
     I heard a Negro play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
     He did a lazy sway . . .
     He did a lazy sway . . .
To the tune o’ those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
     O Blues!
Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
     Sweet Blues!
Coming from a black man’s soul.
     O Blues!
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan
     “Ain’t got nobody in all this world,
       Ain’t got nobody but ma self.
       I’s gwine to quit ma frownin’
       And put ma troubles on the shelf.”

Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more
     “I got the Weary Blues
       And I can’t be satisfied.
       Got the Weary Blues
       And can’t be satisfied
       I ain’t happy no mo’
       And I wish that I had died.”
And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that’s dead

12. List two ways in which Hughes’s poem imitates what it describes.
13. In line 13, Hughes writes “He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.” How would this line have been different if Hughes had written “musical idiot” instead of “musical fool”? What is the difference between idiot and fool in this context?
14. Hughes and Douglass both write about music that’s inspired by a deep sense of despair, but they use very different writing styles. How are their styles different, and how does the difference in style affect the way they’re able to represent the music to the reader?

— READ: Come all of you poor workers
Good news to you I’ll tell?
Of how that good old union?
Has come in here to dwell