to this day. How absurd it
is to try to force on such people Catholic or Protestant forms, which
they do _not_ understand and never will, while their souls take in with
joy the poly-pantheistic developments of supernaturalism, and that which
suits their lives. Like the little boy who _thought_ he would like to
have a Testament, but _knew_ he wanted a squirt, the Indian, unable to
rise to the grandeur of monotheistic trinitarianism, is delighted with
goblins, elves, and sorcery. He can manage the squirt.

At Fond-du-Lac I became acquainted with a Mr. Duffy, a very genial and
clever man, a son of a former governor of Rhode Island. He had an Indian
wife and family, and was looked up to by the Indians as _Kitchimokomon_,
"the white man." That he was a gentleman will appear from the following
incident. There was one of our party who, to put it mildly, was not
remarkable for refinement. A trader at Fond-du-Lac had a very remarkable
carved Indian pipe, for which he asked me fifteen dollars. It certainly
was rather a high price, so I offered ten. Immediately the man of whom I
spoke laid down fifteen dollars and took the pipe. He was _dans son
droit_, but the action was churlish. It seemed so to Duffy, who was
standing by. After I had returned to Philadelphia, Mr. Duffy sent me a
very handsome pipe for a present, which he assured me had been smoked at
two grand councils. He was indeed a "white man."

There was an old Indian here whose name in Indian meant "He who changes
his position while sitting," but white people called him Martin "for
short." He was wont to smoke a very handsome pipe. One day, seeing him
smoking a wretched affair rudely hewn, I asked him if he had not a
better. He replied, "I had, but I sold it to the _kcheemo-komon
iqueh_"--the long-knife woman (_i.e._, to a white lady). Inquiry proved
that the "long-knife woman" was Miss Lottie Foster, a very beautiful and
delicate young lady from Philadelphia, to whom such a barbaric term
seemed strangely applied. As for me, because I always bought every stone
pipe which I could get, the Indians called me _Poaugun_ or Pipe. Among
the Algonkin of the East in after-days I had a name which means _he who
seeks hidden things_ (_i.e._, mysteries).

We came to Duluth. There were in those days exactly six houses and
twenty-six Indian wigwams. However, we were all accommodated somehow.
Here there were grand conferences of the railroad kings with the
authorit