t.

APRIL 30, 1866.

In the winter we were told, that, when the spring came fully on, the
Indians would have the "_Red Tamahnous_," which means "love." A little,
gray old woman appeared yesterday morning at our door, with her cheeks
all aglow, as if her young blood had returned. Besides the vermilion
lavishly displayed on her face, the crease at the parting of her hair
was painted the same color. Every article of clothing she had on was
bright and new. I looked out, and saw that no Indian had on any thing
but red. Even old blind Charley, whom we had never seen in any thing but
a black blanket, appeared in a new one of scarlet. But I was most
touched by the change in this woman, because she is, I suppose, the
oldest creature that I ever looked at. Nothing but a primeval rock ever
seemed to me so old; and when we had seen her before, she was like a
mummy generally in her clothing. These most ancient creatures have their
little stiff legs covered with a kind of blue cloth, sewed close round
them, just like the mummy-wrappings I have seen at Barnum's Museum. She
has more vivacity and animation than any one else I ever saw. If anybody
has a right to bright cheeks, she has. I like the Indians' painting
themselves, for in them it is quite a different thing from what it is in
fashionable ladies. They do it to show how they feel, not commonly
expressing their emotions in words.

This woman, who is a Pend d'Oreille, has the most extraordinary power of
modulation in her voice. The Indians, by prolonging the sound of words,
add to their force, and vary their meaning; so that the same word
signifies more or less, according as it is spoken quickly or slowly. She
has such a searching voice, especially when she is attempting to convict
me of any subterfuge or evasion, that I have to yield to her at once.
The Indians have no word, as far as I can learn, for "busy." So, when I
cannot entertain her, I have to make the nearest approach I can to the
truth, and tell her I am sick, or something of that kind; but nothing
avails, with her, short of the absolute truth. She is so very fantastic
and entertaining, that I should cultivate her acquaintance more, if it
were not for this deficiency in the language, which makes it impossible
to convey the idea to her when I want to get rid of her. As old as she
is, she still carries home the great sacks of flour--a hundred
pounds--on her back, superintends the salmon-fishery for the family,
takes