floating on the lake. He shot the first arrow with great precision, and came very
near his mark. The second flew still nearer; and as he took the third and last
arrow, he felt his arm strengthen, and drawing it up with vigour, sent the shaft
right through the neck of the swan, a little above the breast. Still even this death-
stroke did not prevent the bird from flying off,—which it did very slowly,
flapping its wings, and rising gradually into the air, until it passed far away into
the sunset.
Quoting again from Longfellow, we place before the reader his allusion to this
pretty legend:—
“Can it be the sun descending
O’er the level plain of water?
Or the Red Swan, floating, flying,
Wounded by the magic arrow,
Staining all the waves with crimson,
With the crimson of its life-blood,
Filling all the air with splendour,
With the splendour of its plumage?
Yes; it is the sun descending,
Sinking down into the water;
No; it is the Red Swan floating,
Diving down beneath the water;
To the sky its wings are lifted,
With its blood the waves are reddened!”The Indians regard the maize, or Indian corn, with almost superstitious
veneration,—which is not wonderful, perhaps, when its immense importance to
them is taken into consideration. They esteem it, says Schoolcraft, so important
and divine a grain, that their story-tellers invented various tales, in which this
idea is symbolised under the form of a special gift from the Great Spirit. The
Odjebwa-Algonquins, who call it Mon-da-min, or the Spirit’s grain or berry,
cherish a legend, in which the stalk in full tassel is represented as descending
from the sky, under the guise of a handsome youth; in response to the prayers of
a young man offered at his fast of virility, or coming to manhood.
“All around the happy village
Stood the maize-fields, green and shining,
Waved the green plumes of Mondamin,
Waved his soft and sunny tresses,