176 
RURAL HOURS. 
wrapped in blankets, bareheaded and barefooted. Without 
knocking or speaking, they entered the house with a noiseless 
step, and stood silently near the open door. We gave them a 
friendly greeting, and they proved to be women of the Oneida 
tribe, belonging to a family who had encamped in the woods the 
day before, with the purpose of selling their baskets in the village. 
Meek in countenance, with delicate forms and low voices, they 
had far more of the peculiarities of the red race about them than 
one would look for in a tribe long accustomed to intercourse with 
the whites, and a portion of whom have become more than half 
civilized. Only one of the three could speak Enghsh, and she 
seemed to do so with effort and reluctance. They were dressed 
in gowns of blue calico, rudely cut, coarsely stitched together, 
and so short as to show their broadcloth leggings worked with 
beads. Their heads were entirely bare, their straight, black hair 
hanging loose about their shoulders, and, although it was mid- 
summer at the time, they were closely wrapped in coarse white 
blankets. We asked their names. “ Wallee” — “ Awa” — “ Coot- 
lee” — was the answer. Of what tribe ? “ Oneida,” was the re- 
ply, in a voice low and melancholy as the note of the whip-poor- 
will, giving the soft Italian sound to the vowels, and four syllables 
to tbe word. They were delicately made, of the usual height of 
American women, and their features were good, without being 
pretty. About their necks, arms, and ankles, they Avore strings 
of cheap ornaments, pewter medals, and coarse glass beads, Avith 
the addition of a foAV scraps of tin, the refuse of some tin-shop 
passed on their way. One, the grandmother, was a Christian ; 
the other tAvo Avere Pagans. There was something startling and 
very painful in hearing these poor creatures Avithin our own com- 
