hands of Sakechak. But the hunter of the hill Wecheganawaw was without the wisdom which would make the mud avail to the re-production of the world. He fell on his knees, and besought the Great Master of all to endow him with the knowledge which should lead to the re-establishment of things as they were before the deluge. The Master answered not; but his intentions to communicate his wishes to the good hunter were made known by the ant. So Sakechak slept and dreamed, and this was his dream:—

He saw again the Great Master, who bade him divide the lump of mud into five portions. The central portion—that which came out of the middle of the lump—he was commanded to take into the hollow of his hand, to wet with spittle, and to mould into a cake, a little highest in the middle, and flattened all around the edges. He was commanded, when he had done this, to blow a bubble upon the water, and set the little cake afloat in the bubble; with these words:—I-yah ask-ke—"I make an earth." He was not to suffer the little world to break away, but was to attach it to his canoe by a string formed of the sinews of the mud-turtle. As it increased in size, he was to strew upon it the remaining portions of mud, which he was enjoined to be very careful to crumble fine, and rub thoroughly to dust. The voice told him, that in less than three moons the lump would be so swelled that he might disembark upon it, he and all the creatures that were with him.

Sakechak did as the voice of the Master bade him. He divided the lump into five portions, and that which came out of the middle of the lump he moulded into a cake, a little highest in the middle, and flattened all around the edges. He blew the bubble upon the water, and he set the cake afloat in the bubble, having first fastened it to his canoe with a string formed of the sinews of the mud-turtle. As it increased in size, he strewed upon it a part of the remaining portions of the lump, first crumbling them very fine, and rubbing them thoroughly into dust. The wind, which was high at the time, blew the yellow dust, which was lightest, into his eyes, and thence the eyes of the Indian have always been tinged with yellow. The little cake increased rapidly in size. One day, as Sakechak had taken up the third portion of the mud to prepare it, by crumbling and rubbing, for strewing upon the earth, his wife discovered a star—the first which had been seen since the breaking up of the fountain. The loud shout of joy which burst from her, and her cry "A star! a star!" so discomposed Sakechak, that he forget what he was about, and threw down the lumps, unrubbed or uncrumbled. This carelessness occasioned the unevenness of the earth; the mountains and the rocks which are now found upon it are the lumps which he threw down unrubbed. He, however, strewed upon it the remaining portion, which is the reason why rocks are found so far below the surface. And the earth, so formed from the mud brought up by the otter, grew so fast that, upon the seventh sun of the third moon, the hunter Sakechak, and his family, and all the beasts, birds, and other living things which were with him, left their canoes for the dry and stable earth, which thenceforth became, and has since continued, their residence.

Upon the earth thus created trees soon sprung up; but they were only trunks destitute of branches. But the wit of Sakechak soon gave them what they wanted. He shot arrows into the trunks, and these became branches, and took the nature of the trunks. Each became an oak, or a pine, or a tulip, or a sweet gum, following the nature of the trunks. Many seasons passed away, however, before the hills were all clothed with trees, or the dense cloud of leaves hid the bosom of the valleys.

The earth was re-peopled from the loins of Sakechak; from him, from one family of Caddos, are all men descended. No matter whither they have been carried; whether they have covered their tent with leaves beneath the warm sky of the south, or built it of ice, where the earth never thaws; whether they are red like myself, or white like the wise man at whose bidding we are gathered together; they are descended from one man, the hunter Sakechak, of the hill Wecheganawaw.

III. THE BIRD OF AGES.

The waters were spread over the face of the earth; there was nothing to be seen but one vast and entire ocean, save the mighty Bird of Ages, which had lived from the beginning of time, whose eyes were fire, whose glances were lightning, and the clapping of whose wings was thunder. He had lived long in the skies above the stars; but, when he heard the rushing and dashing about of the waters, he descended from his seat to the ocean, and touching it, the earth instantly rose, and remained on the surface of the water. It rose of its present size, covered with verdure, as the low grounds which have been flooded by winter rains are green when these rains are withdrawn from them. The mountains, then as now, towered to the skies, and the valleys were deep, and the rivers rushed impetuously over the steeps which attempted to impede their course. Winters locked up a portion of the earth, and the summer suns beamed fiercely and intensely upon another portion. The stars shone by day, and the beams of the moon gladdened the hours of darkness. Winds swept the vast expanse of ocean, and a part of the time was calm as a part of the time is now. The world was very like what it is at this day, save that, within its mighty boundaries, over all its far limits, neither on mountain, hill, valley, tree, nor bush, in den nor burrow, in water nor air, dwelt a living creature. No gentle song of bird arose to break the stillness of morning, no cry of wild beast to disturb the unbroken hush of midnight; the noise of the winds chasing each other over the vast waste was all that was heard breaking the monotonous repose of the earth.

"This will not do," said the bird, talking to himself; "here is a fine world and nobody to occupy it. Here are stars, beautiful as anything can be; a moon, that sheds her mild light on—what?—and a sun so bright that not even the Bird of Ages can look steadily on his beams—with that bird alone to behold him or them. How balmy is the air which I feel fanning my feathers!—but it cannot breathe to revive the human heart after sickness or toil, or gladden the spirit of the beast which lies panting in the shade from excessive heat. It is lost, wasted, and so are the beams of the sun, the moon, and the stars; and so are the sweet fruits that grow spontaneously about the earth, and the beautiful flowers that waste their fragrance on the desert air. This must not be," repeated the Bird.

So he flew up to the highest pinnacle of the Mountain of the Thunders, and there fell to musing, the while scratching the side of his head with his mighty claw. At last he bethought himself of a spell or charm, which was taught him by his father, who lived before time was, and survived its commencement many ages. He recollected that this venerable and wise bird, who did not die till his claws were rotted off, and his feathers all dispersed to the winds, told him that if one of his descendants were to eat nothing for seven days, and to quench his thirst with the dew which should lie upon the mountain-laurel, he would enjoy the power to accomplish that which ought to be done. "Nothing can be clearer," said the Bird of Ages to himself, "than that the world ought to be inhabited. Now I, by fasting seven days, and quenching my thirst with the dew of the mountain-laurel alone, shall, according to the word of my father, be enabled to see this earth tenanted by beautiful creatures; the seeds, which now lie dormant in the earth, will spring up to furnish food for innumerable creatures, and those innumerable creatures will enjoy the bounties spread out in such profusion before them! How delightful it will be to see and hear the