owed him no duties
whatever. So far was this theory carried in many cases that the children
would not provide for their fathers when these became disabled by
sickness, accident, or age, but sent their unfortunate sires for
assistance to the gentes from which they came. Again, the life of a
woman was in many cases rated as of higher value than that of a man. We
have Father Ragueneau's authority for the statement that among the
Hurons thirty gifts was considered sufficient compensation for the death
of a man, but the blood-money exacted for the killing of a woman was
forty gifts. Such a condition of affairs as that mentioned by the old
Jesuit is strong argument for the theory that woman was held by the
primitive Americans in higher esteem than has been generally thought,
while her control of the property must have won for her--judging from
modern civilized instances--at least some consideration from her
husband.

Undoubtedly there was an obverse side to the picture. Marriage by
purchase was a feature of American primitive existence; and, though this
also has its modern counterpart, the methods pursued among the Amerinds
were not so pleasing to the vanity of the bride as are those of our own
day and civilization. The woman herself rarely had anything to say in
the matter; sometimes the selection of a wife for a warrior was
undertaken by the whole gens, or at least a committee thereof. Among the
Hurons, for instance, this selection was made by the old women, and we
are told by J. W. Sanborn that these old ladies, in their search for
fitting brides for the young men of the tribe, "united them with painful
uniformity to women several years their senior." This may have been
wiser in tribal polity than agreeable to the warriors; as for the
prospective brides, their preferences were not taken into account at
all. In view of these facts, it is no wonder that every lake in our
country can boast its "Lovers' Leap," where the young Indian pair,
fleeing from their cruel parents, cast themselves headlong down--to be
afterward "enshrined in song and story."

"Song and story" have indeed lent their potent aid to confuse and blur
our view of the primitive American woman. Longfellow's story of
_Hiawatha_ is famous for many reasons, but the chief among them is not
its fidelity to truth of conditions. Yet so truly has the name of
Minnehaha, "The Laughing Water," become even as a household word to many
of our readers of poetry that this sk