nd storm,
without a doubt or care, for sixty years at least, sitting gravely at
the door of her lodge, with an old green umbrella over her head, happy
for hours together in the dignified shade. For her happiness pomp
came not, as it so often does, too late; she received it with grateful
enjoyment.

One day, as I was seated on one of the canoes, a woman came and sat
beside me, with her baby in its cradle set up at her feet. She asked
me by a gesture to let her take my sun-shade, and then to show her how
to open it. Then she put it into her baby's hand, and held it over
its head, looking at me the while with a sweet, mischievous laugh, as
much, as to say, "You carry a thing that is only fit for a baby." Her
pantomime was very pretty. She, like the other women, had a glance,
and shy, sweet expression in the eye; the men have a steady gaze.

That noblest and loveliest of modern Preux, Lord Edward Fitzgerald,
who came through Buffalo to Detroit and Mackinaw, with Brant, and was
adopted into the Bear tribe by the name of Eghnidal, was struck in
the same way by the delicacy of manners in women. He says:
"Notwithstanding the life they lead, which would make most women rough
and masculine, they are as soft, meek, and modest as the best brought
up girls in England. Somewhat coquettish too! Imagine the manners of
Mimi in a poor _squaw_, that has been carrying packs in the woods all
her life."

McKenney mentions that the young wife, during the short bloom of her
beauty, is an object of homage and tenderness to her husband. One
Indian woman, the Flying Pigeon, a beautiful and excellent person, of
whom he gives some particulars, is an instance of the power uncommon
characters will always exert of breaking down the barriers custom has
erected round them. She captivated by her charms, and inspired her
husband and son with, reverence for her character. The simple praise
with which the husband indicates the religion, the judgment, and the
generosity he saw in her, are as satisfying as Count Zinzendorf's more
labored eulogium on his "noble consort." The conduct of her son,
when, many years after her death, he saw her picture at Washington, is
unspeakably affecting. Catlin gives anecdotes of the grief of a
chief for the loss of a daughter, and the princely gifts he offers
in exchange for her portrait, worthy not merely of European, but of
Troubadour sentiment. It is also evident that, as Mrs. Schoolcraft
says, the women have great powe