powerfully predisposed to it, by a longing after its fierce and terrible excitement, by the hope of glory which it offers, and by the maxims instilled into them from their infancy that they are to exist only for war. It is the nature of man, as Dr Ferguson observes, "to pine in the lap of ease, and to exult in the midst of alarms that seem to threaten his being." The call to arms, therefore, though it cannot be made with any authority, is instantly, and by all, obeyed with alacrity. When the war-chief wishes to call out his countrymen, his first movement is to march three times round his winter-house, spreading the great bloody flag, deeply variegated with tints of black. As soon as the young warriors see flying this grand signal of blood and death, they crowd round him to listen to the oration by which he is to rouse their courage. Brethren," says he, " the blood of our countrymen is yet unavenged; their bones lie uncovered; their spirits cry out to us from the tomb, and must be heard. Youths, arise! anoint your hair, paint your faces, cause the forests to resound with your songs, console the spirits of the dead, by the assurance that they shall be avenged. Youths! follow me while I march through the war-path to surprise our enemies, to eat their flesh, to drink their blood, to tear them limb from limb! We will return in triumph, or, if we perish, this belt will be the monument of our valour." He then throws down on the floor the belt, or collar of wampum, the grand symbol of Indian policy.

66

* Adair, 380.

Many a hand would wish to lift it up; but this were presumptuous in any one, except a warrior of high fame, who thereupon becomes second in command of the expedition. Then begin the preparations, which consist, not, as with us, of arms, funds, or ammunition, but of solemn observances to propitiate the great spirit and the genii who preside over the Indian destinies. The chief is painted black from head to foot, and commences a fast of several days, not the luxurious abstinence of the Catholic devotee, but a thorough and genuine fast. Lest this should not sufficiently extenuate his frame, he drinks the great war-medicine, consisting of a decoction of consecrated herbs and roots, and operating as a brisk emetic. During this period his attention is exclusively fixed on his dreams, which are to portend all that is hid in the secrets of fate respecting the approaching conflict. The whole train of his slumbers is therefore submitted to the sages and old men, and according to them it is fixed whether war shall be, and in what shape or scale. In almost every instance the decision is made in favour of the projected hostilities. The chief then, having passed through this important train of trial, washes off the deep coating of black in which he has been invested. A huge fire is kindled in the centre of the village, and the great war-cauldron placed on it, into which every warrior throws something; and each of the allies, who have been prevailed upon to join the expedition, sends something to be thrown into it. Lastly, the sacred dog is loosened from the post to which he had been bound, and, being sacrificed to Areskoui, the god of war, is boiled in the

cauldron, to form the chief dish at the great war-festival. To it are admitted only the warriors and counsellors, all females being excluded; and the dog is eaten in deep silence. During this succession of ceremonies, the experienced members are in a state of incessant and watchful anxiety, well knowing, that omission or irregularity in the slightest particular will draw down the wrath of the great spirit, and convert this hopeful enterprise into a source of the deepest calamity. But if the omens continue good, they begin at last to fit themselves for immediate departure. The chief paints himself, not as before, in one deep gloomy tint of black, but in various colours, at once brilliant and terrible. He, and each warrior after him, sings his war-song, and then dances his wardance, in which they at once narrate and act over again those deeds of their former life in which they place their glory. It is now time for the final equipment. The bow and quiver, or carbine, is suspended from the left shoulder, the tomahawk from the left hand, and the scalping-knife is stuck in the girdle. The manitous, or objects chosen by each warrior for his guardian power, are collected and placed in a box, which has been considered as a species of ark, and intrusted to the guardianship of one of the most distinguished chiefs. The women, mean time, have been busily negotiating the means of gratifying their vengeance and appeasing the manes of their lost relations. More tender feelings arise as the moment comes when the warriors are to depart, perhaps to return no more, but to become victims of the same dreadful fate which they are imprecating on others. The chief having

made a short final harangue, each warrior departs singing his death-song; after which they proceed in deep silence. The women follow to a considerable distance. When the separation comes, they exchange the most tender names, with ardent wishes for their return and success; and each receives some object, which has been long worn by the other, to serve as a memorial, should this be the final parting.

Before commencing operations, the Indians fulfil one of the laws of nations, by making an open declaration of war. This can be transmitted by none of the channels usual among civilized nations; but they have one of their own. A herald, painted black, bears a red tomahawk, on one side of which are represented figures, indicating the cause for which war has been undertaken. He reaches the principal village, enters at midnight, throws it down, and disappears like a phantom. Fair warning being thus given to the threatened party, there is an end to all frank and open proceedings, the war is henceforth one continued stratagem, in which each party seeks only to circumvent and surprise the other.

While the Indians continue in their own country, they straggle in small parties for the convenience of hunting, still holding communication by loud cries of birds and beasts, which they can imitate in perfection. None ever fail of joining the rendezvous on the frontier. The skill with which they trace their path through the trackless woods has been particularly noted. The slightest indications, such as would never attract the notice of an European, enable them to find a sure path through the boundless monotony of the western

forests. Equal is their skill in tracing the print of each other's steps, even over the yielding grass, where scarcely a trace of them remains. They even boast, that they can know by inspection the impression made by the feet of each nation and tribe. No less art is used to evade the discoveries thus made. They walk as much as possible in the water, along the margin of marshes or rivers, on the trunks of fallen trees, or wherever the foot makes the least impression. To conceal, at least, their numbers, a large body walks in file, one behind the other, each placing his foot on the print made by his forerunner; while the largest foot of the company brings up the rear; by which management a large body appears as if only one man. They sometimes fix on their feet the hoof of the buffalo and the paw of the bear, and run for miles the winding course usual with those animals. Their efforts are now incessant to surprise and cut off their enemies. They send forth from the depth of woods the cries of the animals which are the favourite objects of national hunting. When they have taken a prisoner, they paint his body, and set him against a tree in the attitude of a spy, lying in wait for the enemy coming to surprise him in this position.

These little movements are only preliminary to the grand object of surprising a village, and, if possible, the principal village of the enemy. Towards it all their steps tend, as they steal, like silent ghosts, through the darkest depth of the most unfrequented forests. Having approached it, they cast a hasty glance from the top of a tree, and then shroud themselves in the thickest cover. Amid repeated and fa