At length she stopped and began scratching at the roots of some bushes
till she laid bare a skull. On the top of the skull some leaves, hair,
food, and scraps of clothes were carefully arranged in a pattern. She
picked up as many of them as she could carry in her beak and flew with
them down to the sea, letting the wind scatter them in different
directions. This she did till all had disappeared and the skull
likewise, and then she returned to the house with the four men following
her, and they found the chief and his daughter quite cured, for as soon
as the skull and the other things had touched the sea, they recovered by
magic.
* * * * *
'Do you hear the noise she is making?' asked the shaman, when the bird
had begun to chatter as noisily as before. 'She wants to go away from
here, but not to her home, because the other birds will be
ashamed of her. The place she wishes to go to is a town called
Close-along-the-beach. Therefore, let a canoe be got ready at once to
take her there.' So the canoe was got ready, and the bird flew into it,
and they pushed off from the shore, and paddled till the bird suddenly
broke out into the strange speech, which no one could understand but the
shaman.
'This must be the place,' they said, and paddled in towards the beach,
and the canary flew out of the boat and went very fast down to the shore
followed by a man who wished to see where she was going, and she stopped
at a tree whose roots stuck out above the ground. For this was the
bird-town of Close-along-the-beach.
That is how the ancient Indians first heard of witchcraft.
[_Tlingit Myths and Texts._]
_WHAT BECAME OF OWEN PARFITT?_
In the early part of the eighteenth century a family named Parfitt were
living in a small town in the West of England called Shepton Mallet. We
are not told how many children they had, but some probably died young,
for the only two we hear about are the eldest daughter Mary and her
brother Owen, about fifteen years younger.
Owen was apprenticed by his father to a tailor as soon as he had reached
the proper age, and learnt his trade thoroughly. But he hated sitting
still sewing all day long, and one morning his stool waited for him in
vain, and some hours later a message was brought that he had enlisted
under the king's banner. Little was known of him for many years:
occasionally a report was carried by some pedlar or old soldier that
Owen was serving in this country or in that, but after a while even
these rumours ceased, and at length people forgot that such a person as
Owen Parfitt had ever existed. His parents were dead; only his sister
was left to remember him.
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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