THE CHIEF GOD OF THE ALGONKINS, IN HIS

CHARACTER AS A CHEAT AND LIAR.

In Mr. Charles G. Leland's recent work, "the Algonquin Legends of New England," noticed in a late number of the "American Antiquarian," the Chief Divinity of the Micmacs and Penobscots appears under what seems at first the outrageously incongruous name of Gluskap, the Liar! This is the translation of the name as given by the Rev. Silas T. Rand, missionary among the Micmacs, and the best living authority on that language. From a comparison of the radi cals of the name in related dialects of the Algonkin stock, I should say that a more strictly literal rendering would be "word-breaker," or "deceiver with words." In the Penobscot dialect the word is divided thus. Glus-Gahbe, where the component parts are more distinctly visible.

The explanation of this epithet as quoted from native sources by Mr. Leland, is that he was called the liar because "when he left earth, like King Arthur, for Fairy Land, he promised to return, and has never done so."

It is true that the Algonkin Hero-God, like all the American culture-heroes, Ioskeha, Quetzalcoatl, Zamna, Bochica, Viracocha and the rest, disappeared in some mysterious way, promising again to visit his people, and has long delayed his coming. But it was not for that reason that he was called the "deceiver in words." Had Mr. Leland made himself acquainted with Algonkin mythology in general, he would have found that this is but one of several, to our thinking, opprobrious names they applied to their highest divinity, their National Hero, and the Reputed Saviour and Benefactor of their Race.

The Crees, living northwest of the Micmacs, call this Divine. personage, whom, as Father Lacombe tells us they regard as "Le Principal Genie et Le Fondateur de ces Nations," by the name Wisakketjak, which means "the Trickster," "the Deceiver." The Chipeways apply to him a similar term, Nenaboj, or as it is usually written, Nanabojoo, and Nanaboshoo, "the Cheat," allied to Nanabanisi, he is cheated. (Baraga, Otchipwe dictionary).

This is the same Deity that reappears under the names Manabozho, Michabo, and Messou, among the Chipeway tribes; as Napiw among the Blackfeet; and as Wetucks among the New England Indians, where he is mentioned by Roger Williams as "A Man that wrought great miracles among them, with some kind of broken resemblance to the Sonne of God." (Key into the language of America, p. 24.)

These appellations have various significations. The last mentioned is apparently from Ock or Ogh, father, with the prefix wit, which conveys the sense "in common" or "general." Hence it would be "the common father." Michabo, constantly translated by writers "the Great Hare," as if derived from Michi, great, and Wabos, hare, is really a verbal form from Michi and Wabi, white, and should be translated, "the Great White One." The reference is to the white light of the dawn, he, like most of the other American Hero-Gods, being an impersonation of the light.

In all the pure and ancient Algonkin Cosmogonical Legends, this Divinity creates the world by his magic powers, peoples it with game and animals, places man upon it, teaches his favorite people the arts of the chase, and gives them the corn and beans. His work is disturbed by enemies of various kinds, sometimes his own brothers, sometimes by a formidable serpent and his minions.

These myths, when analyzed through the proper names they contain, and compared with those of the better known mythologies of the old world, show plainly that their original purport was to recount under metaphorical language, on the one hand, the unceasing struggle of day with night, light with darkness, and on the other, that no less important conflict which is ever waging between the storm and sunshine, the winter and summer, the rain and the clear sky.

Writers, whose knowledge of religions was confined to that of the Semitic race, as represented in our Bible, have maintained that the story of Michabo's battles with the serpent, who is certainly represented as a Master of Magic and subtlety, and hence dangerous to the human race, must have come from contact with the missionaries. A careful study of the myth will dispel all doubts on this point. Years ago, Mr. E. G. Squier showed that this legend was unquestionably of aboriginal source; but he failed to perceive its significance. (See his article in The American Review, for 1848, entitled, Manabozho and the Great Serpent, an Algonquin legend.") The Serpent, typical of the sinuous lightning, symbolizes the storm, the rains and the water.

But to return to the class of names with which we began. The struggles of Michabo with these various powerful enemies I have just named, constitute the principal theme of the countless tales which are told of him by the native story tellers, only a small part of which, and those much disfigured, came under the notice of Mr. Leland, among the long civilized eastern tribes. Mr. Schoolcraft frequently refers to these "innumerable tales of personal achievement, sagacity, endurance, miracle and trick which place him in almost every scene of deep interest which can be imagined." (Algic Researches, Vol. 1, p. 134.) These words express the spirit of the greater

number of these legends. Michabo does not conquer his enemies by brute force, nor by superior strength, but by craft and ruses, by transforming himself into unsuspected shapes, by cunning and strategy. He thus comes to be represented as the Arch-Deceiver; but in a good sense, as his enemies on whom he practices these wiles are also those of the human race, and he exercises his powers with a benevolent intention. Thus it comes to pass that this highest divinity of these nations, their Chief God and Culture-Hero, bears in familiar narrative the surprising titles, "the Liar," "the Cheat," and "the Deceiver."

It would be an interesting literary and psychological study to compare this form of the Michabo myth with some in the old world, which closely resemble it in what artists call Motive. I would name particularly the story of the "wily Ulysses" of the Greeks, the "transformations of Ebu Seid of Serug" and the like in Arabic, and the famous tale of Reynard the Fox in Medieval literature. The same Spirit breathes in all of them; all minister to the delight with which the mind contemplates mere physical strength beaten in the struggle with intelligence. They are all peans sung for the victory of mind over matter. In none of them is there much nicety about the means used to accomplish the ends. Deceit by word and action is the general resource of the heroes. They all act on the Italian maxim:

"O per Fortuna, O per Ingano,

Il Vencer Sempre e Laudabil Cosa."

The moralist may object to the lessons instilled by such examples; but certain it is that for long generations both red and white men took huge delight in the recountal of such exploits, and to this day their charm has not departed from them.

DANIEL G. BRINTON, M. D.

EARTH AND SHELL MOUNDS ON THE ATLANTIC COAST OF FLORIDA.*

Two and a half miles west of Daytona, Florida, a beautiful town largely founded upon an Indian shell ridge on the west bank of the Halifax river, is a mound, concerning which, I shall next speak. It is a double-headed mound, situated at the termination of a natural ridge, but is separated from it by a slight depression of perhaps six feet. A similar depression continued through the mound, leaving a knoll or pinnacle of that height on either side, and the entire slope descended at an angle of about thirty-five degrees to a marsh at the base, which extended for a distance of some miles. I was limited in time and not prepared to excavate, but could not fail to observe this peculiarity of slope. The perpendicular height of this mound I estimated at thirty feet from the marsh level. Each summit was about thirty feet in breadth of plateau, and the extreme distance from the outer edge of one plateau to that of the other, about seventy-five or eighty feet. This mound was quite unique in this feature of a divided summit.

I now recur to the "Spruce Creek" mound, (before instanced as a specimen of the flanked mounds), because it displays some other peculiarities of a unique character, so far as my own experience of mounds goes. Spruce Creek comes into Halifax river on the west side, some five miles north of Mosquito inlet. Sailing up this creek some six miles, we reached a long bend, on the southern bank of which rose a continuous cliff of Coquina rock, the summit twenty-five feet above the water level, and the base bedded for a height of ten feet, in a sloping bank of debris.

Having a general idea that the mound stood upon the plateau somewhere in the rear of this cliff, and looking for a break where it could be ascended conveniently, we saw, after skirting it a quarter of a mile, a low projecting promontory covered with palmetto. Just beyond it was a marshy cove, and here we moored the yacht and landed upon the promontory, where we found ourselves at the foot of a steep ravine. Ascending this ravine about one hundred and fifty yards, the rise became steeper, and we found ourselves upon the summit of the desired mound. With a suspicion that it was not altogether a natural ravine, I retraced my steps, and was satisfied that the promontory on which I had landed was an arti

*This article and the one in the March Number constitute the different parts of a paper read before the Anthropological Section of the American Association for the advancement of Science, at their session in Philadelphia, September, 5, 1884.

ficial construction. It arose four feet above the water level, and terminated in a dug way near the base of the mound. Examining this ascent carefully, I found that the bottom and sides of the ravine showed the thick bed of leaves undisturbed, and no abrasion of the sides indicated a water course.

A DUG-WAY AND A LANDING.

It was impossible to resist the conviction, that when the mound was constructed, easy access to and from the water, and a suitable place to land were also provided. Further examination showed that the descent was from West to East, and crossing the left flank of the mound as we ascended, we came upon an open field covering several acres, quite clear of trees and having in its centre a sand mound five feet in height.

The great mound, on the south side, joined this field with no indication of a trench or ditch. The mound itself rose to the height of twenty-two feet above the plain, and the summit plateau was forty feet in diameter. On the west and northwest the sides sloped steeply down into a pit some eight feet deep. On the north extended the flanking ridge before noticed. On the northeast, the surfaces of the adjacent plateau to the cliff, had been scraped away to some feet below the original level, the material no doubt having contributed its share to the construction of the mound. With its present dense shade it offered an agreeable shelter for our tents, and it was pleasant to imagine that it had perhaps furnished similar accommodation to our savage predecessors some centuries since. Adjacent to this plateau descended the dug way, and beyond that, the steep bank rose to the summit level of the cliff. On the southeast of the mound and fifty yards from its base, were three pits but a few yards apart, and quite disconnected. These were about twelve feet square and eight feet deep, about three feet of the lower depth being in rotten Coquina rock. These pits were similar to those before mentioned as occurring at the terminus of the flanking ridge on the north side of the mound. The earth from these pits could have been carried to the mound at an early stage of the work, and heaped upon its slope with slight expenditure of labor, since, on this south side no trench intervened. I was, greatly to my regret, denied the privilege of excavating this mound as completely as I wished. Having in one day's work, cleared the sides of the scrub growth and the summit of a vast mass of dead and decayed trees, I was advised that the owner objected, and would pay me a visit. All I could do the next day before he came to forbid it, was, to dig the entire summit plateau the depth of five feet, the material being replaced as we went along. From the appearance of the surface, other explorers had in successive efforts done quite as much, and it was not surprising that our work was quite fruitless.