Folk-stories of the Northern Border

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Thousand Islands publishing Company, 1897 - 273 páginas
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Página 250 - There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it; I have killed many; I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my country, I rejoice at the beams of peace; but do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear.
Página 49 - I have given you lands to hunt in, I have given you streams to fish in, I have given you bear and bison, I have given you roe and reindeer, I have given you brant and beaver, Filled the marshes full of wild fowl, Filled the rivers full of fishes; Why then are you not contented?
Página 250 - I appeal to any white man to say, if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat; if ever he came cold and naked, and he clothed him not. During the course of the last long and bloody war, Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my love for the whites, that my countrymen pointed as they passed, and said, 'Logan is the friend of white men.
Página 47 - From the red stone of the quarry With his hand he broke a fragment, Moulded it into a pipe-head, Shaped and fashioned it with figures; From the margin of the river Took a long reed for a pipe-stem, With its dark green leaves upon it; Filled the pipe with bark of willow, With the bark of the red willow; Breathed upon the...
Página 46 - ON the Mountains of the Prairie, On the great Red Pipe-stone Quarry, Gitche Manito, the mighty, He the Master of Life, descending, On the red crags of the quarry Stood erect, and called the nations, Called the tribes of men together.
Página 46 - Life, descending, On the red crags of the quarry Stood erect, and called the nations, Called the tribes of men together. From his footprints flowed a river, Leaped into the light of morning, O'er the precipice plunging downward Gleamed like Ishkoodah, the comet. And the Spirit, stooping earthward, With his finger on the meadow Traced a winding pathway for it, Saying to it,
Página 246 - twas the selfsame power divine Taught you. to sing, and me to shine ; That you with music, I with light Might beautify and cheer the night. The songster heard his short oration, And warbling out his approbation, Released him, as my story tells, And found a supper somewhere else.
Página 250 - Logan, not sparing even my women and children. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature.
Página 249 - In the spring of the year 1774, a robbery and murder were committed on an inhabitant of the frontiers of Virginia, by two Indians of the Shawanee tribe. The neighbouring whites, according to their custom, undertook to punish this, outrage in a summary way.
Página 256 - Then I'll not be proud of my youth or my beauty, Since both of them wither and fade; But gain a good name by well doing my duty, This will scent like a rose when I'm dead.

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