very depths of misery. "Can it be possible," said I to myself, "that
this poor creature has only these scanty rags to cover her?"

Stepping back to my own room, I brought out a pretty calico wrapper,
which I presented to the little, dirty, blackened object. She took it,
and commenced a fresh series of sobbing and sighing. I made signs to her
to put it on, opening it and explaining to her how it was to be worn,
and recommending to her, by gestures, to lose no time in making herself
more comfortable.

At this, the other women burst into a laugh.

"Very mal-à-propos," thought I, "and somewhat unfeeling." At that moment
my husband, entering, explained to me that the chief mourner was Madame
Four-Legs, the widow; that she had undoubtedly a comfortable wardrobe at
home, but that it was part of the etiquette of mourning to go for a
season with neglected persons and blackened faces. All this was told me
in the intervals of shaking hands, and offering and receiving
condolences in the most uncouth, guttural language I had ever heard.
Their Father at length dismissed them, with a promise of some presents
to help dry up their tears. It must not be inferred that the grief of
the poor little widow was not sincere. On the contrary, she was greatly
attached to her husband, and had had great influence not only with him
but with the nation at large. She was a Fox woman, and spoke the
Chippewa, which is the court language among all the tribes, so that she
was often called upon to act as interpreter, and had, in fact, been in
the habit of accompanying her husband, and assisting him by her counsels
upon all occasions. She was a person of great shrewdness and judgment,
and, as I afterwards experienced, of strong and tenacious affections.