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(IMAGE)

To Indians at peace, and with food in plenty, the winter camp is a scene of constant enjoyment. After the varying excitements, the successes and vicissitudes, the constant labors of many months, the prospect of the winter's peace and rest, with its home life and home pleasures, comes like a soothing balm to all.

To those of the warriors who have passed the age of passionate excitement (who have reached to "whistage" of their English-speaking contemporaries), this season brings the full enjoyment of those pleasures and excitements yet left to them in life. Their days are spent in gambling, their long winter evenings in endless repetitions of stories of their wonderful performances in days gone by, and their nights in the sound sweet sleep vounchsafed only to easy consciences.

The women also have a good time. No more taking down and putting up the teepe; no more packing and unpacking the ponies. To bring the wood and water, do the little cooking, to attend to the ponies, and possibly to dress a few skins, is all the labor devolved upon them.

To the younger of both sexes, whether married or single, this season brings unending excitement and pleasure. Now is the time for dances and feasts, for visits and frolics, and merry makings of all kinds, and for this time the "story-teller" has prepared and rehearsed his most marvelous recitals. Above all, it is the season for love making "love rules the camp" and now is women's opportunity.

Without literature without music or painting as arts, without further study of nature than is necessary for the safety of the needs of their daily life, with no knowledge or care for politics or finance, or the thousand questions of social or other science, that disturb and perplex the minds of civilized people, and with reasoning faculties little superior to instict, there is among Indians no such thing as conversation as we understand it. There is plenty of talk, but no interchange of ideas, no expression and comparison of views and beliefs, except on the most commonplace topics. Half a dozen old sages will be slitting around, quietly and gravely passing the pipe, and apparently engaged in important discussion. Nine times out of ten their talk is the merest campt tattle, or about a tray horse, or sick colt, or where one killed a deer, or another saw a buffalo-track. All serious questions of war and chase are reserved for discussion in the council lodge.

During the pleasant months he has constantly the healthy stimulus of active life; during the winter he is either in a state of lethargy, or of undue excitement. During the day, in the winter season, the men gamble or sleep; the women work or idle as suits each: but the moment it gets dark everybody is on the "qui vive", ready for any fun that presents itself. A few beats on a tom-tom bring all the inmates of the neighboring lodges; a dance or gambling bout is soon inaugurated, and oftentimes kept up until nearly morning.

The unsufficiency and uncertainty of human happiness has been the theme of eloquent writers of all ages. Every man's happiness is lodged in his own nature, and is, to a certain extent at least, independent of his external circumstances and surroundings. These primitive people demonstrate the general correctness of this theory, for they are habitually and universally happy people. They thoroughly enjoy the present, make no worry over the possibilities of the future, and "never cry over spilt milk". It may be arguied that their apparent happiness is only insensibility, the happiness of the mere animal whose animal desires are satisfied. It may be so, I simply state facts; other may draw conclusions. The indians is proud, sentitive, quick-tempered, easily wounded, easily excited, but though utterly unforgiving, he never broods. This is the whole secret of his happiness.

In spite of the fact that the wives are mere property, the domestic life of the Indian will bear comparison with that of average civilized communities. The husband, as a rule, is kind; ruling, but with no harshness. The wives are generally faithful, obedient, and industrious. The children are spoiled, and a nuisance to all red visitors. Fortunately, the white man, the "bug-a-boo" of their baby days, is yet such an object of terror as to keep them at a respectful distance. Among themselves, the members of the family are perfectly easy and unrestrained. It is extremely rare that there is any quarreling among the women.

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(IMAGE)

To Indians at peace, and with food in plenty, the winter camp is a scene of constant enjoyment. After the varying excitements, the successes and vicissitudes, the constant labors of many months, the prospect of the winter's peace and rest, with its home life and home pleasures, comes like a soothing balm to all.
To those of the warriors who have passed the age of passionate excitement (who have reached to "whistage" of their English-speaking contemporaries), this season brings the full enjoyment of those pleasures and excitements yet left to them in life. Their days are spent in gambling, their long winter evenings in endless repetitions of stories of their wonderful performances in days gone by, and their nights in the sound sweet sleep vounchsafed only to easy consciences.
The women also have a good time. No more taking down and putting up the teepe; no more packing and unpacking the ponies. To bring the wood and water, do the little cooking, to attend to the ponies, and possibly to dress a few skins, is all the labor devolved upon them.
To the younger of both sexes, whether married or single, this season brings unending excitement and pleasure. Now is the time for dances and feasts, for visits and frolics, and merry makings of all kinds, and for this time the "story-teller" has prepared and rehearsed his most marvelous recitals. Above all, it is the season for love making "love rules the camp" and now is women's opportunity.
Without literature without music or painting as arts, without further study of nature than is necessary for the safety of the needs of their daily life, with no knowledge or care for politics or finance, or the thousand questions of social or other science, that disturb and perplex the minds of civilized people, and with reasoning faculties little superior to instict, there is among Indians no such thing as conversation as we understand it. There is plenty of talk, but no interchange of ideas, no expression and comparison of views and beliefs, except on the most commonplace topics. Half a dozen old sages will be slitting around, quietly and gravely passing the pipe, and apparently engaged in important discussion. Nine times out of ten their talk is the merest campt tattle, or about a tray horse, or sick colt, or where one killed a deer, or another saw a buffalo-track. All serious questions of war and chase are reserved for discussion in the council lodge.

During the pleasant months he has constantly the healthy stimulus of active life; during the winter he is either in a state of lethargy, or of undue excitement. During the day, in the winter season, the men gamble or sleep; the women work or idle as suits each: but the moment it gets dark everybody is on the "qui vive", ready for any fun that presents itself. A few beats on a tom-tom bring all the inmates of the neighboring lodges; a dance or gambling bout is soon inaugurated, and oftentimes kept up until nearly morning.
The unsufficiency and uncertainty of human happiness has been the theme of eloquent writers of all ages. Every man's happiness is lodged in his own nature, and is, to a certain extent at least, independent of his external circumstances and surroundings. These primitive people demonstrate the general correctness of this theory, for they are habitually and universally happy people. They thoroughly enjoy the present, make no worry over the possibilities of the future, and "never cry over spilt milk". It may be arguied that their apparent happiness is only insensibility, the happiness of the mere animal whose animal desires are satisfied. It may be so, I simply state facts; other may draw conclusions. The indians is proud, sentitive, quick-tempered, easily wounded, easily excited, but though utterly unforgiving, he never broods. This is the whole secret of his happiness.
In spite of the fact that the wives are mere property, the domestic life of the Indian will bear comparison with that of average civilized communities. The husband, as a rule, is kind; ruling, but with no harshness. The wives are generally faithful, obedient, and industrious. The children are spoiled, and a nuisance to all red visitors. Fortunately, the white man, the "bug-a-boo" of their baby days, is yet such an object of terror as to keep them at a respectful distance. Among themselves, the members of the family are perfectly easy and unrestrained. It is extremely rare that there is any quarreling among the women.

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