HAVING in a former letter given you some account of a winter visit to
the Indians, I shall now give a short sketch of their summer encampment,
which I went to see one beautiful afternoon in June, accompanied by my
husband and some friends that had come in to spend the day with us.

The Indians were encamped on a little peninsula jutting out between two
small lakes; our nearest path would have been through the bush, but the
ground was so encumbered by fallen trees that we agreed to go in a
canoe. The day was warm, without being oppressively hot, as it too often
is during the summer months: and for a wonder the mosquitoes and black-
flies were so civil as not to molest us. Our light bark skimmed gaily
over the calm waters, beneath the overhanging shade of cedars, hemlock,
and balsams, that emitted a delicious fragrance as the passing breeze
swept through the boughs. I was in raptures with a bed of blue irises
mixed with snow-white water-lilies that our canoe passed over. Turning
the stony bank that formed the point, we saw the thin blue smoke of the
camp curling above the trees, and soon our canoe was safely moored
alongside of those belonging to the Indians, and by help of the
straggling branches and underwood I contrived to scramble up a steep
path, and soon found myself in front of the tent. It was a Sunday
afternoon; all the men were at home; some of the younger branches of the
families (for there were three that inhabited the wigwam) were amusing
themselves with throwing the tomahawk at a notch cut in the bark of a
distant tree, or shooting at a mark with their bows and arrows, while
the elders reposed on their blankets within the shade, some reading,
others smoking, and gravely eyeing the young rival marksmen at their
feats of skill.

Only one of the squaws was at home; this was my old acquaintance the
hunter's wife, who was sitting on a blanket; her youngest, little David,
a papouse of three years, who was not yet weaned, was reposing between
her feet; she often eyed him with looks of great affection, and patted
his shaggy head from time to time. Peter, who is a sort of great man,
though not a chief, sat beside his spouse, dressed in a handsome blue
surtout-coat, with a red worsted sash about his waist. He was smoking a
short pipe, and viewing the assembled party at the door of the tent with
an expression of quiet interest; sometimes he lifted his pipe for an
instant to give a sort of inward exclamation at the succ