trongly point out the necessity of a covering from the rigour of the
seasons. Both sexes, and those of all ages, are invariably found naked.
But it must not be inferred from this, that custom so inures them to
the changes of the elements, as to make them bear with indifference the
extremes of heat and cold; for we have had visible and repeated proofs,
that the latter affects them severely, when they are seen shivering,
and huddling themselves up in heaps in their huts, or the caverns of the
rocks, until a fire can be kindled.

Than these huts nothing more rude in construction, or deficient in
conveniency, can be imagined. They consist only of pieces of bark laid
together in the form of an oven, open at one end, and very low, though
long enough for a man to lie at full length. There is reason, however,
to believe, that they depend less on them for shelter, than on the
caverns with which the rocks abound.

To cultivation of the ground they are utter strangers, and wholly depend
for food on the few fruits they gather; the roots they dig up in the
swamps; and the fish they pick up along shore, or contrive to strike
from their canoes with spears. Fishing, indeed, seems to engross nearly
the whole of their time, probably from its forming the chief part of a
subsistence, which, observation has convinced us, nothing short of the
most painful labour, and unwearied assiduity, can procure. When fish
are scarce, which frequently happens, they often watch the moment of
our hauling the seine, and have more than once been known to plunder its
contents, in spite of the opposition of those on the spot to guard it:
and this even after having received a part of what had been caught. The
only resource at these times is to shew a musquet, and if the bare sight
is not sufficient, to fire it over their heads, which has seldom failed
of dispersing them hitherto, but how long the terror which it excites
may continue is doubtful.

The canoes in which they fish are as despicable as their huts, being
nothing more than a large piece of bark tied up at both ends with vines.
Their dexterous management of them, added to the swiftness with which
they paddle, and the boldness that leads them several miles in the
open sea, are, nevertheless, highly deserving of admiration. A canoe
is seldom seen without a fire in it, to dress the fish by, as soon as
caught: fire they procure by attrition.

From their manner of disposing of those who die, which will be