.

"To the north it is cold; the winters are long and bitter, with no
grass; you cannot keep horses there, but must travel with dogs. What is
a country without horses?

"On the Columbia they are poor and dirty, paddle about in canoes, and
eat fish. Their teeth are worn out; they are always taking fish-bones
out of their mouths. Fish is poor food.

"To the east, they dwell in villages; they live well; but they drink the
muddy water of the Missouri--that is bad. A Crow's dog would not drink
such water.

"About the forks of the Missouri is a fine country; good water; good
grass; plenty of buffalo. In summer, it is almost as good as the Crow
country; but in winter it is cold; the grass is gone; and there is no
salt weed for the horses.

"The Crow country is exactly in the right place. It has snowy mountains
and sunny plains; all kinds of climates and good things for every
season. When the summer heats scorch the prairies, you can draw up under
the mountains, where the air is sweet and cool, the grass fresh, and the
bright streams come tumbling out of the snow-banks. There you can
hunt the elk, the deer, and the antelope, when their skins are fit for
dressing; there you will find plenty of white bears and mountain sheep.

"In the autumn, when your horses are fat and strong from the mountain
pastures, you can go down into the plains and hunt the buffalo, or trap
beaver on the streams. And when winter comes on, you can take shelter in
the woody bottoms along the rivers; there you will find buffalo meat for
yourselves, and cotton-wood bark for your horses: or you may winter in
the Wind River valley, where there is salt weed in abundance.

"The Crow country is exactly in the right place. Everything good is to
be found there. There is no country like the Crow country."

Such is the eulogium on his country by Arapooish.

We have had repeated occasions to speak of the restless and predatory
habits of the Crows. They can muster fifteen hundred fighting men, but
their incessant wars with the Blackfeet, and their vagabond, predatory
habits, are gradually wearing them out.

In a recent work, we related the circumstance of a white man named Rose,
an outlaw, and a designing vagabond, who acted as guide and interpreter
to Mr. Hunt and his party, on their journey across the mountains to
Astoria, who came near betraying them into the hands of the Crows, and
who remained among the tribe, marrying one of their women, and adopting