Beaver, what for you go way long time?' I
say, 'I not go nowhere; I just take one littel walk.' Then that woman
he get heap mad, and say, 'No, Black Beaver, you not take no littel
walk. I know what for you go way; _you go see nodder one woman_.' I
say, 'Maybe not.' Then that woman she cry long time, and all e'time now
she mad. You never seen 'Merican woman that a-way?"

I sympathized most deeply with my friend in his distress, and told him
for his consolation that, in my opinion, the women of his nation were
not peculiar in this respect; that they were pretty much alike all
over the world, and I was under the impression that there were
well-authenticated instances even among white women where they had
subjected themselves to the same causes of complaint so feelingly
depicted by him. Whereupon he very earnestly asked, "What you do for
cure him? Whip him?" I replied, "No; that, so far as my observation
extended, I was under the impression that this was generally regarded
by those who had suffered from its effects as one of those chronic and
vexatious complaints which would not be benefited by the treatment he
suggested, even when administered in homoeopathic doses, and I believed
it was now admitted by all sensible men that it was better in all such
cases to let nature take its course, trusting to a merciful
Providence."

At this reply his countenance assumed a dejected expression, but at
length he brightened up again and triumphantly remarked, "I tell you,
my friend, what I do; I ketch 'um nodder one wife when I go home."

Black Beaver had visited St. Louis and the small towns upon the
Missouri frontier, and he prided himself not a little upon his
acquaintance with the customs of the whites, and never seemed more
happy than when an opportunity offered to display this knowledge in
presence of his Indian companions. It so happened, upon one occasion,
that I had a Comanche guide who bivouacked at the same fire with
Beaver. On visiting them one evening according to my usual practice, I
found them engaged in a very earnest and apparently not very amicable
conversation. On inquiring the cause of this, Beaver answered,

"I've been telling this Comanche what I seen 'mong the white folks."

I said, "Well, Beaver, what did you tell him?"

"I tell him 'bout the steam-boats, and the railroads, and the heap o'
houses I seen in St. Louis."

"Well, sir, what does he think of that?"

"He say I'ze d----d fool."

"What else did