into the mysteries of this countenance. A whole nocturnal world lay in those eyes, the dark fringes of which cast a shadow upon the cheek. Those eyes glanced downwards into a depth, dreamy, calm, without gloom, but at the same time without joy and without a future. The sunlight of the smile was like a sunbeam on a cloudy day. The Feather-cloud had no light within itself. It was lit up from without and was splendidly tinted only for a moment.
After this gentle and beautiful but melancholy image, I must introduce to you the brave young warrior, and the great Sprude-bosse, or Dandy,—“Skonka Shaw,” or “White Dog,” the husband of the “Feather-cloud,” who entered duly painted and in great pomp of attire, with a huge tuft of feathers helmet-wise falling backwards from the head, and with three dark eagles' feathers with tufts of scarlet wool stuck aloft in his hair, and with the marks of five green fingers on his cheeks, to indicate that he was a brave warrior and had killed many enemies. He was tall and flexible of form, and he entered with a gay, animated aspect, amid a torrent of words, equally fluent with what I had heard in the House of Representatives at Washington, and of which I understoodabout as much. His countenance had the same characteristics that I had already observed among the Indians, the hawk nose, broad at the base, clear, acute but cold eyes, which opened square, with a wild-beast like glance; the mouth unpleasing, and for the rest, the features regular and keen. I made a sketch also of him; his countenance was much painted with red and yellow and green; there was nothing shy about it, and it looked very warlike. But that which won for him favour in my eyes was that he was a good husband and loved his beautiful Feather-cloud.
Mrs. Ramsay, in the meantime, had gone out with her, and put on her costume. And as she was very pretty-
