A FABLE.

FROM THE ODJIBWA.

The Racoon searches the margins of streams for shell-fish, where he is generally sure of finding the AS-SHOG-AISH-I, or crawfish. Indian story says, that the enmity between these two species, and the consequent wariness of each for the other, was such, that the poor racoon, with all his stealthiness, was at last put to great straits for a meal. The crawfish would no longer venture near the shore, and the racoon was on the point of starvation. At length he fixed on this expedient to decoy his enemy.

Knowing the crawfish to feed on worms, he procured a quantity of old rotten wood (filled with these worms) and stuffing it in his mouth and ears, and powdering it over his body, he lay down by the water’s edge, to induce the belief that he was dead.

An old crawfish came out warily from the water, and crawled around and over his apparently deceased enemy. He rejoiced to find an end put to his murderous career, and cried out to his fellows, “Come up my brothers and sisters, Aissibun is dead, come up and eat him.” When a great multitude had gathered around, the racoon suddenly sprung up, and set to killing and devouring them in such a way that not one was left alive.

While he was still engaged with the broken limbs, a little female crawfish, carrying her infant sister on her back, came up, seeking her relations. Finding they had all been devoured by the Racoon, she resolved not to survive the destruction of her kindred, but went boldly up to the enemy and said, “Here, Aissibun, you behold me and my little sister. We are all alone. You have eaten up our parents, and all our friends, eat us too.” And she continued plaintively singing her chant.

Racoon, racoon, monster thin!
You have murdered all my kin:
Leave not one to pine alone
On those shores so late our own.
You have glutted not a few,
Stealthy monster, eat us too
Let the work be finished soon,

Aissibun amoon.

Here, behold us! linger not,
Sad and lone is now my lot:
One poor sister, young and small,
Now makes up my little all
She a baby faint and weak,
Who cannot yet mother speak
Come, you monster, eat us soon,

Aissibun amoon.

Once my people, lodge and band,
Stretched their numbers through the land;
Roving brooks and limpid streams,
By the moon’s benignant beams.
First in revel, dance, and play,
Now, alas! ah! where are they?
Clutch us, monster, eat us soon,

Aissibun amoon.

The Racoon felt reproached by this act of courage and magnanimity. “No,” said he, “I have banqueted on the largest and the fattest, I will not dishonour myself by such little prey.”

At this moment Manabozho happened to pass by seeing how things were. “Tyau!” said he to the Racoon, “thou art a thief and an unmerciful dog. Get thee up into trees, lest I change thee into one of these same worm-fish, for thou wast thyself originally a shell, and bearest in thy name the influence of my transforming hand."

He then took up the little supplicant crawfish and her infant sister and cast them into the stream. “There,” said he, “you may dwell. Hide yourselves under the stones, and hereafter you shall be playthings for little children.”