aised like flags, or spread out and nailed upon the roofs over the
graves, and myriads of tin pans: we counted thirty on one grave. A
looking-glass is one of the choicest of the decorations. On one we
noticed an old trunk, and others were adorned with rusty guns.

Last night there came a prolonged, heavy, booming sound, different from
any thing we had heard before. In the morning we saw that there had been
a great landslide on the mountain back of us, bringing down rocks and
trees.

AUGUST 30, 1865.

Yeomans, an old Indian chief, the _Tyee_ of the Flat-heads at Port
Angeles, came to see us to-day. He pointed to himself, and said, "Me all
the same white man;" explaining that he did not paint his face, nor
drink whiskey. Mrs. S., at the light-house, said that she had frequently
invited him to dinner, and that he handled his napkin with perfect
propriety; although he is often to be seen sitting cross-legged on the
sand, eating his meal of sea-urchins.

He is very dramatic, and described to us by sounds only, without our
understanding any of the words, how wild the water was at Cape Flattery,
and how the ships were rocked about there. It was thrilling to hear the
sounds of the winds as he represented them: I felt as if I were in the
midst of a great storm.

His little tribe appear to have great respect for his authority as a
chief, and show a proper deference towards him. He is a mild and gentle
ruler, and not overcome by the pride and dignity of his position. He is
always ready to assist in dragging our boat on to the beach, and does
not disdain the dime offered him in compensation for the service.

His son, a grown man, no longer young, who introduced himself to us as
"Mr. Yeomans's son," and who appears to have no other designation, is
much more of a wild Indian than the old man. Sometimes I see him at
night, going out with his _klootchman_ in their little canoe; she,
crouched in her scarlet blanket at one end, holding the dark sail, and
the great yellow moon shining on them.

I used to wonder, when we first came here, what their interests were,
and what they were thinking about all the time. Little by little we find
out. To-night he came in to tell us that there was going to be a great
_potlach_ at the coal-mines, where a large quantity of _iktas_ would be
given away,--tin pans, guns, blankets, canoes, and money. How his eyes
glistened as he described it! It seems that any one who aspires to be a
chief must