Daily tobacco leaf-chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1890-1895, 1890-03-13
H0WTHEM00NC AMED0WN
THE LEGEND OF THE ORIGIN OF
LAKE CONWAY, FLORIDA


Moon queen.
have the facts about my lake from the
Indiaps who still fingered about its basin
when / came to live by it. twenty years ago.
/ dislike the feats of imaginative writer's,
who, to show their skill or learning, patch up
a few facts of observation to make roman
tic story, when the plain, unvarnished facts
are very well known to them if they had the
honesty to confess, as / do now.
In the dark before the morn, ere the bison
bull was calved, there lived hard by this hill
on which the lake now lies acrusty, covetous
old Yahoo. Not the Yahoo of Surfie story,
but that Wahoo, meaning holy, which gives
q name to the Great Swamp, near the scene
Of Dades massacre, Christmas eve of fifty
odd years ago.
The Yahoo lived In the old, old times Of
the Behemoth mammoth mastodon, whose
great bones are still found imbedded in the
mari Of Peace creek, close by. He was Bit
terly religious, and worshiped the great fiery
god, or Sun God, and kept his great herds of
elephants, buffaloes and other thick hided
monsters feeding on all the hills and valleys
Of the land In order to keep them he kept
burning oif-burning of the grass and shrubs
so that they could have the sweet, young
shoots The smell of all this securing and
burning went up into the nose of the Sun God,
and he liked it, and Shone on the old Yahoo
prosperously.
But it was wretched for the land and his
neighbours for either the great beasts would
come tramping over their corn and pump
kins, or the wretched fires would destroy all
they had, even the matched huts of Palmetto;
and the moor T1eOrAlS VVara starving
But there was one who disliked and resent
ed it, for, though there was no pretty moon
on the earth In those days, still she had her
home in the sky like the sun god, and the
people looked up to her a great deal, and
offered her fruits and flowers. OF course the
burning off stopped all that and the smoky
kitchen, right under her front parlor win
dow, vexed the Moon Queen constantly. AT
last, out of patience, she sent shower and
put the fire out
The Yahoo was astonished, for there had
never been such thing as rain before, as if
be had seen his cows turn upside down and
walk up the sky, like flies. But he was too
vain and bigoty to think it was meant for him
and went roaring his prayers and building
more fires than ever. This netted the Fair
Chita, as the Indians called her. and she sent
the Winds her messengers, from the Dog
Star to the Dipper, and gathered up all the
clouds over the wide world and emptied their
pitchers on the Yahoo's ground, rinsing out
like grand washday in heaven.
The floods came, and the hungry sea cry
ing to swallow up the shore, and the waters
rose over the bottoms, over the hills and over
the heads of rivers in the mountains, and all
the great brutes were drowned. This hap
pened, said Chipeo, the old chief Of the Sem
inoles, who died few years ago, aged 9S,
counting on his fingers, mine ages" or cen
turtles ago
Come" cried the Sun God, shivering in
the cold after the foods; "who upset the water
potT
But the clouds hurried out of his way, and
the stars skipped off to hide in the night, even
to this day.
"Come" he roared louder than ever, "who
put the fires outgn
II did" said the Moon Queen. "Yahoo was
burning the world up"
"What else was it made fora" roared the
king. "But III send you to put it in again.
He caught her by the heels and sent her spin
ming like new silver dollar down, down,
down till her head and shoulders struck
through the Great Beaver dam.
But Serope, the great beaver hunter, saw
her and pulled her out, and she rinsed Off in
fresh water, and said, "Now, what you want
you shall have; speak,"
always to be young and hunt beavers"
said Serope Sin my lake here"
Good, said the queen. "When age comes
with its rheumatism, at midsummer moon
rise, put your body in the moon hole and
leave it to soak till moonset. Take it and set
it against a tree to dry, and when it is right
crisp it will split open down the spine and
you may step out, brand new, like a chestnut
from burr"
"All right" said Serope, 'and you, ma
damn"
"Oh l am glad came. It's too cold spend
ing the nights up north, and I'll stop and win
ter in Florida"
Now it is all true, and any one that looks
at the proper hour can see the moon in the
water as well as in the sky, just as she prom
sed
This may not be altogether credible but
after all it is about as likely as anything sci
ence tells Of her ladyship's humors, and has
the advantage of herself as apreseut witness.
AS for Serope l am inclined to think he
got tired beaver hunting, and as the moon
hole was very comfortable he orept into it
and drew the lake water over him like a
blanket. Rather selfish to cork up the famous
fountain of life in Florida; but it explains
the loss of it to poor Ponce de Leon as well
as that pine stub story of mine.
The year has been fruitful and bountiful.
The rainy season was very abundant the
moisture painting the skies in that splendor
of transparent color which is one of the pc
culiar beauties of the climate; and the latter
season, though injurious to truck gardeners,
has been full of placid beauty. Sweet and
fresh as the morning is, there is quiet love
illness in the nightfall of these dry, bright
days of delicious color and calm. The dew
fall, which clothes the morning in white,
conserves the odor of resin and ambergris in
the air
The broad mellow belts melt into cool
grays, and, as the shadow darkens, the broad
bands of the zodiacal light are strong enough
to cast q faint shadow like deceptive young
moon. In that ghostly radiance the con-
densing dewfall lies in these Wits and wells
Of snow white vapor. The air is sweet with
burgeon of the spring mixed with the dry
spice of the dead summer past among its
crisp leaves. The soft incessant wash of the
water, the east wind that blows all night
from the Atlantic, make lullaby as musical
MS subduing, filling the drowsy ear with rep
Editions of the beautiful world outside as if
In the still night
The lulling water, and the whispering breeze
Come, with the echoes of an cid delight
From the still vexed Bermoothes.
So sweet my rest
In sleep, hear the waters low refrain;
A hooking bird pipes softly in his nest,
And all is still again
But out of doors,
A web Of pearl, l know the moonlight wove
To lie all night, upon the mellow floors,
Within my orange grove
So, when die,
And Earth, together wish its vague unease
Remote and starlike in the west shall lie,