THE
CHEM AW A
AM ERICAN
INDIAN LEGENDS
T H E M Y T H O F T H E SM O K IN G P I N E
EW there are among present-day writers who have such
an interesting list of Indians legends to bestow upon
the public as Celia K. Husik. They are also most
interestingly told. Following are a couple of leg
ends from the pen of this entertaining writer:
When the chief Asonimo, who presided over the
tribe of Indians that dwelt on the banks of the Bomb-
ahook, was struck dead by a thunderbolt, the people of his tribe bur
ied him near the banks of that stream. And there today, near Hal-
lowol, Maine, over the spot of his grave stands the smoking pine.
This is the story the Indians tell of the origin of this tree:
When first the white men came to inhabit this land they found the
Indians a strong and sturdy race inhabiting this new country. To
them, the white men brought vice and disease, and soon the Indians’
native strength and vitality began to ebb. They grew feeble, lost their
former hardihood and vigor, and were soon unable to cope with the
more powerful stranger in the land.
Chief Asonimo saw this and warned his people that the great spirit
had spoken their fate, which was to be that of destruction. He coun
seled them not to join in strife with the white man, but to call him in
to council and to smoke with him the pipe of peace.
I am soon to die,” added the old chief, “ and where my body lies
there shall rise a great pine which shall forever smoke as a token of
eternal peace between the red and white people.”
The prophecy of the old chieftain was fulfilled. The compact of
peace between fhe Indians and the English was made and soon there
after Chief Asonimo died, struck down by a thunderbolt. Then it was
that his tribesmen decided to leave the land and move on westward.
On visiting their beloved Chief Asonimo’s grave to bid him a last
farewell, they beheld with awe and wonder the complete fulfillment of
hi, prophecy. There stood a beautiful tall pine from whose leaves and
branches a haze of smoky mist was constantly rising. Hence it is
that from that day on this tree has been called the smoking pine.
T H E L E G E N D O F N IA G A R A .
Once upon a time a young Indian maiden was about to be given in
marriage to an Indian chief. The girl detested the man, and, rather
than marry him, she preferred death. On the very day of the wedding,
while the guests were assembling, she seized an opportunity, entered a
skiff, and, quietly and unobserved, drifted down the Niagara toward the