a desolate little house near by, lives Mrs. S., whose husband was
recently lost at sea. She is a woman who awakens my deepest wonder, from
her being so able to dispense with all that most women depend on. She
prefers still to live here (her husband's father keeps the light), and
finds her company in her great organ. One of the last things her husband
did was to order it for her, and it arrived after his death. I think the
sailors must hear it as they pass the light, and wonder where the
beautiful music comes from. There is something very soft and sweet in
her voice and touch.

Sometimes I see the four children out in the boat. The little girls are
only four and six years old, yet they handle the oars with ease. As I
look at their bare bright heads in the sunshine, they seem as pretty as
pond-lilies. I feel as if they were as safe, they are so used to the
water.

PORT ANGELES, October 1, 1865.

Port Angeles has been the scene of a grand ceremony,--the marriage of
Yeomans's daughter to the son of a Makah chief. Many of the Makah tribe
attended it. They came in a fleet of fifty canoes,--large, handsome
boats, their high pointed beaks painted and carved, and decorated with
gay colors. The chiefs had eagle-feathers on their heads, great
feather-fans in their hands, and were dressed in black bear-skins. Our
Flat-heads in their blankets looked quite tame in contrast with them.
They approached the shore slowly, standing in the canoes. When they
reached the landing in front of Yeomans's ranch, the congratulations
began, with wild gesticulations, leapings, and contortions. They were
tall, savage-looking men. Some of them had rings in their noses; and all
had a much more primitive, uncivilized look, than our Indians on the
Sound. I could hardly believe that the gentlemanly old Yeomans would
deliver up his pretty daughter to the barbarians that came to claim her,
and looked to see some one step forward and forbid the banns; but the
ceremony proceeded as if every thing were satisfactory. There may be
more of the true old Indian in him than I imagined; or perhaps this is a
political movement to consolidate the friendship of the tribes. When
they landed, they formed a procession, bearing a hundred new blankets,
red and white, as a _potlach_ to the tribe. They brought also some of
the much-prized blue blankets, reserved for special ceremonies and the
use of chiefs.

What occurred inside the lodge, we could not tell; but were qu