Wisconsin magazine of history: Volume 50, number 2, winter, 1967

              WISCONSIN  MAGAZINE OF   HISTORY
WINTER,  1967
nings fill the air with various sounds, did not appear to have awakened as yet to life and activity. To be sure, quite early in the evening" before the heat of day had altogether subsided, the unwelcome music of innumer¬ able mosquitoes was perceptible enough, but not a cricket or insect of any other kind raised a chirp. The young Indians and the frogs had it pretty much to themselves.
Now if any man wants to know what frogs can accomplish in the matter of making a noise, let him take a summer trip to Green Bay. Had the Word-maker who invented the epithet which was to denote the cry of this sonorous reptile first listened to these North¬ western Stentors, he would have been more apt to style it a bellowing than a croaking creature. The Green Bay gentry are assuredly no croakers. On hearing them one might im¬ agine they had been more successful than Aesop's unfortunate experimenter and had actually made some considerable approxima¬ tion to ox-like proportions; but when it is seen that they are scarcely larger than the dwellers in our own marshes, one is the more surprised at the capabilities of their lungs. In point of voice, they are well entitled to the appellation of bull-irogs. Every evening they seem to assemble in mass meetings at several localities along the river shores, as if some weighty matter relative to Frogdom was to be discussed. Two or three—perhaps of the older and more experienced ones—were usually heard for some minutes haranguing, as it were, the green-headed multitude which listened in profound silence till some lucky hit or uncommon burst of eloquence, or one can't tell what, suddenly inflamed the enthusiasm of the living mass, when such an uproarious expression of fellow feeling would break forth as might amply satisfy any stump- orator—biped or quadruped—that he had fairly won the hearts and suffrages of his dear auditors. The vociferations would soon sub¬ side and the solitary voice again be heard for a short time, again to be drowned in a universal bellowing. These performances were mostly continued about the length of time commonly allotted to town meetings, when, an adjournment taking place, the multi¬ tude would peaceably retire to their slumbers, no more to be heard till the pursuits of the
succeeding day being ended, the several as¬ semblies again convened.
Later in the night, the deep silence which mostly prevailed, the peculiar brilliancy of the stars, and the effect of the auroral light which was frequently observed, were very im¬ pressive. The northern light as seen at this time was much like that of early dawn without its blush, and added to the effulgence of the heavenly bodies, kept up a gentle twilight, often through the whole night.
Oshkosh had two sons with him at the council—one of them nearly of age, and the other quite a little boy. No one, from any¬ thing that passed publicly, could have inferred the relationship that existed between the boys or the father. Whatever might have been felt, there was no manifestation before folks of paternal, filial, or fraternal affection or in¬ terest. Whether they were sons of the same mother was not stated. The Sachem is a biga¬ mist—as distinguished men who can afford it are allowed to be among the pagan Indians. One could not discover that he took at any time the least notice of his sons, or they of him. If the chief exercised authority over them it was by a kind of influence impercepti¬ ble to the Friends. Whether the custom of curtain-lecturing'' obtains among the Indians was not ascertained. When the lads were en¬ gaged in their evening amusements within the area of the Fort—the Sachem's sons among the rest—a perfect equality appeared to reign among themselves and a perfect indifference among the chiefs as to which of them might bear the palm. The heads of the Nation were usually seated, with their pipes, looking grave¬ ly at the merry group before them, Oshkosh, distinguished from the others only by his odd, and to our notions, most uncomfortable as well as undignified posture. Seated on a bench, he would throw his body forward so as to bring his head as nearly as he could to a level with the knees, on which his elbows rested, his back approaching a horizontal line. In this strange attitude he would remain for a long time, silently regaling himself with the fumes of tobacco and kinni-kinnic.
"* A censorious lecture given behind the confines of a bed curtain.
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