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AUTHOR AT THE POLISH BALL.
My Indian wardrobe was therefore laid under heavy con-
tributions for that night.     My nephew Burr and myself
were dressed as chiefs, and two or three more of my friends
were arrayed as warriors.    My dear little Christian Clara,
whose sphere it was not, and who never wore  an Indian
dress or painted her fair face before, becoming inspired with
a wish to see the splendour of the scene, proposed to assume
the  dress  of an   Indian   woman and   follow   me   through -
the mazes of that night as an Indian squaw follows her lord
on such occasions.    I selected for her one of the prettiest and
most beautifully ornamented women's dresses, which was made
of the fine white skin of the mountain sheep ; and with her hair
spread over her back, and her face and her arms painted to the
colour of a squaw, and her neck  and ears loaded with the
usual profusion of beads and other ornaments, and her fan of
the eagle's tail in her hand, she sidled along with us amidst the
glare and splendour, and buzz and din of the happy throng
we were soon in the midst of, and dragging our awkward
shields and quivers and heavy buffalo robes  through, as
well as we could.     We took  good care not  to dance on
that occasion, so we kept the paint on our faces, and by
understanding no questions, answered none, and passed off
with   everybody   as   real  Indians.     We  went  resolved to
gratify our eyes, but to give no gratification to   others be-
sides what they could take to themselves by looking at us.
Our interpreter was true to his promise : he made out his
own descriptions for us, and assured all who inquired, that
we could not speak a word of English.    French, German,
Russian, and Italian were all  tried in vain upon us ;  and .
as they turned away, one after another, from us, they ex-
claimed, " What a pity ! how unfortunate the poor things
can't speak English ! how interesting it would be  to talk
with them! that's  a noble-looking fellow, that big chief;
egad, he is six feet and a half.    I'll be  bound that fellow
has taken many a scalp.   That's a nice-looking little squaw :
upon my word, if she had a white skin she would be rather
pretty ! " and a thousand such  remarks, as the reader can
k
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