lot of store clothes. There he was, in a stove-
pipe hat, a velvet vest and a coat and pants most
handsome. We took drinks, and I kinder froze
to him till I had him comfortable over draw-
poker in the verandah of the Cummin's House.
Sir, in the course of three hours and three
quarters I won of that Ingin all the money
he'd got from tradin' hosses, and all his clothes,
from the crown of his hat to the soles of his
boots. Sir, it was very hot; and, lawful sakes!
it was a sight to see that Ingin, a child of
Adam, and as bare as a robin, a walking away
solemn, perspirin' with rage in the rays of the
setting sun, and looking like a hot roast
turkey." The hot roast turkeys of Cuagnawagha
had not yet been plucked of their feathers by
speculators from down East, direct lineal
descendants of the cunning man of Pyquag who
questioned Anthony Van Coclear the trumpeter
out of his horse.

But oh! the squaws of Cuaguawagha. The
elder squaws were unutterably hideous, so they
prudently stayed at home, and minded the
papooses. The younger squaws were here,
philandering. Such mellow brunettes did I see,
with nature's pure carmine mantling upon
their dusky cheeks. Such lustrous blue-black
tresses. Such liquid, lingering, longing eyes.
If their foreheads had not been quite so low,
and the chiselling of their mouths not quite
so square, many of these girls would have
been positively beautiful. Their figures, in
early youth, are very shapely and graceful,
and their gait a strictly "gliding" motion, as I
noted above. A lady of our party admitted that
they walked prettily, but that they turned their
toes in. Another critic discovered that they
walked on tiptoe, in consequence of the wretched
condition of the pavement. I could only
notice that they glided; that their ankles were
faultless, and that they were exquisitely shod.
Moccasins they may have worn on week days;
this Sabbath their pretty feet were arrayed in
brodequins and bottines of varnished and
bronzed leather, of soft kid, and even of bright-
coloured silk and satin. Otherwise, there was
little European in their costume. Crinoline had
not yet invaded Cuagnawagha. There was an
upper garment, which was the inner garment—
the innermost garment, in fact—snowy white,
leaving the arms bare, but very maidenly and
modest. This was all they had for bib, or
tucker, or bodice. Then came a petticoat falling
in straight heavy folds, and decorated round
the bottom with three or four rows of ribbons,
the whole offering a close resemblance to the
garment known in operatic wardrobes as the
"Amina skirt." Over all, and covering the
head, was a long mantle, in shape somewhat
like a priest's cope—a square of fine broadcloth,
of yellow, of red, or of black, and adorned with
curious patchwork embroidery. The lady critic
above mentioned complained that they went
about with drawing-room table-covers over their
heads; but what will not lady critics say?
Such were the squaws of Cuagnawagha. Their
necklaces and armlets of beads, "their ribbons,
chains, and ouches," I need not dwell upon.
As for their manner of receiving the addresses
of the young braves, it was remarkably like
that which, on previous occasions, I have
observed in Kensington Gardens, in many private
parlours, and on some staircases.

We were turning our faces towards the shore
again, when there issued from one of the hovels
a procession which we could not choose but
follow. It was the funeral train of a little
child. As at a Turkish funeral, the assistants
came along at the double quick, but not jostling
and halloaing as the Turks, or at least the Arabs,
do. The men were first, absolutely running,
but with that grave concentrated expression in
their faces, of which only Indians and Breton
peasants seem masters. Then came a squad of
squaws, and then, alone, the mother of the dead
child, bearing in her own arms—whose could
be better?—the tiny corpse, which was in a
species of wicker pie-dish, adorned with
innumerable streamers of rainbow-hued ribbon, and
strips of cloth. A bevy of dusky children,
running but silent, brought up the rear. We
followed this curious train into the church, and
I went up into a rickety gallery, and looked
down on the coffin of the poor little papoose
stranded in the midst of a big bier in the
chancel, like a pincushion in a brewer's vat.
The priest came, with his cross-bearer, and his
acolytes and tapers and holy water, and the
service for the dead was chanted; but in the
midst of a timid quavering of the Dies Iræ,
there burst from the hitherto silent assemblage
a prolonged and harrowing wail. It rings in my
ears even now, and I can see the Indian women
on their knees on the church pavement, rocking
themselves to and fro, and howling dismally. It
was savagery asserting itself. It was as the
voice of the wild animal in the depths of the
forest, mourning for her cubs.

We followed the train again, away from the
church and to the cemetery, and saw the
papoose comfortably stowed away, gay-ribboned
pall and all, in a quiet corner where the grass
grew tall. Sleep soundly, O papoose; thou
art well out of a troublous world. Then we
came back to the shore, and took boat and sped
across the great river, and saw the last of
Cuagnawagha. And many and many a time, in
far distant lands, have I recalled the rocky
shore, the fat old chief, the gliding squaws, and
the dead papoose with its rainbow pall.

          MR. WHELKS REVIVED.

SOME articles upon the Amusements of the
People were among the first utterances of
Household Words. It was the object of the
writer of those articles to inquire, through an
examination of the popular amusements of the time,
"how far the education of Mr. Joe Whelks, of
the New-cut, Lambeth, was at all susceptible
of improvement through the agency of his
theatrical tastes." The conclusion arrived at,
was, That the education of Mr. Joe Whelks, of