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Legend of
the Four Sons
of Charlemagne
It
was autumn - the year 1833. The sun in the west was lending
its last full rays to add greater resplendence to the autumnal
livery of the trees and bushes lining the banks of the meandering
river coursing its way through the wilderness.
All
was peaceful and serene, the silence
being broken only by the sounds of
the wildlife making their way through
the bushes homeward at dusk, or the
fish at play in the fast-moving river.
Occasionally, the sound of a musket
could be heard in the distant prairies
to the east.
Four
foxes stretched lazily on the banks
of the river at the foot of the trail
leading to their den, awaiting the
return of their father, Charlemagne.
He had left in early morning to listen
in at an emergency session of the
Indian chiefs, whose tribal lands
were being threatened by the white
men, now coming to settle in this
area.
As the sun dipped below the horizon,
Charlemagne came into view, trotting
slowly to join his family. Immediately
the four foxes fell in line as Charlemagne
led them up the trail to their den.
It was readily apparent that their
father was in a troubled mood and
sad. They awaited his report on the
council of the Indian chiefs. After
resting a few minutes, Charlemagne
started to talk and, with a voice
choked with emotion, addressed his
sons.
"My sons, my report to you is sad.
The Black Hawk War has ended. The
white men are now coming to settle
along the banks of this river, taking
these lands which have been the happy
hunting grounds of the Sacs, the Fox
and the Pottawatomies. I tremble today
as I heard Chief Waubonsie of the
Pottawatomies relate his experiences
with the white men.
" 'They cannot be trusted,' the old
chief pointed out, 'and it is now
apparent that we cannot live side
by side. There can be no coexistence.
Our only choice now is to go further
west.' The other chiefs nodded their
approval of the westward move, and
soon they left to ride home and to
tell their tribes of these new plans."
Charlemagne continued, "When the white man comes to this
river and sees this beautiful spot in the valley where the
Fox River flows - and remember, my sons, this river is named
for our Indian neighbors, the Fox tribe in Wisconsin where
the river has its source - here is where the white man will
choose to settle.
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