238 THE HIVE OF THE BEE-HUNTER. 



ning river, speed over the glassy lake like a swan, and 

 slioot through the foaming rapids as sportively as the 

 trout, and when the storm rages, and throws the waves 

 heavenward, and the lurid clouds seem filled with mol- 

 ten fire, you will see the Indian, like a spirit of the 

 storm, at one time standing out in bold relief against 

 the lightning-riven sky, the next moment — disappearing 

 in the watery gulf, rivalling the gull in the gracefulness 

 of his movements, and rejoicing, like the petrel, in the 

 confusion of the elements. 



The articles used in savage life, like all the works 

 of nature, are simple, and yet perfectly adapted to the 

 purpose for which they are designed. 



The most ingenious and laborious workman, aided 

 by the most perfect taste, cannot possibly form a vessel 

 so general in its use, so excellent in its ends, as the 

 calabash. • 



The Indian finds it suspended in profusion in every 

 glade of his forest home, spontaneous in its growth, and 

 more eifectually protected from destruction from ani- 

 mals, through a bitter taste, than by any artificial bar- 

 rier whatever. So with all the rest of his appropriations 

 from nature's hands. His mind scarcely ever makes an 

 efi"ort, and consequently seldom improves. 



The simple buff"alo skin that forms a protection for 

 the trifles of an Indian lover, when he would bear them 

 safely across the swollen stream, compared with the 

 gorgeous bar^e that conveyed Egypt's queen down the 



