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balls, and loads and fires at full gallop. As he seldom pulls a trigger until his gun is within a few feet of the mark, he hardly ever misses. Though the hunt seldom lasts over an hour or so, a good hunter will kill his ten or twelve buffaloes. It often happens that the party brings over twelve hundred tongues into the camp. The herd dispersed, the horses are relieved from duty, and the carts come into play. Their functions or rather those of the hunters when their turn comes - appear the most embarrassing part of the business. Out of twelve hundred carcases lying together, and shot by four hundred hunters, to find the beasts shot by each, appears a knotty problem. It did not put puzzle the plainhunters. Every man knew his victims, and very few disputes arose. A hunter was once asked how he could possibly discover his eight or ten buffalo out of thirteen hundred, which lay huddled together on the plain. The half-breed replied:

"Suppose four hundred learned men were all to write words on a piece of paper; would not each of them be able afterward to recognize his own handwriting?"

Just so, the plain-hunter recognized his shooting.

The task of skinning, drying, and manufacturing tallow and pemmican, mostly falls to the women; but as this business is often dangerous, the hunters superintend it. A hunter may escape the common accidents of the chase-broken bones, buffalo horns, and the like—and at the last moment fall a victim to the treacherous Sioux, who lurk about in the long grass on the wait for scalps. The fate of one poor fellow, named Louison Vallé, who perished in this way, is well remembered at Red River. He was skinning a buffalo after the chase, his little son keeping a look-out on his father's horse. The boy's attention flagged; Vallé's experienced eye detected a peculiar movement in the grass near him. He had only time to shout, "Make for the camp, my son! make for the camp!" when a shower of arrows overwhelmed him. The boy arrived safe in the camp and gave the alarm. A party was instantly started in pursuit of the murderers, and before night eight of the twelve were hunted down and shot.

The settlement itself, in the short summer season, is like every other flourishing agricultural district. Vegetation is as luxuriant as in the tropics; and cattle, apparently without number, pasture on the wilds which have never been scarred with a fence. Among the Scotch settlers especially, comfortable houses, corn-yard, parks and inclosures betoken a very high degree of material prosperity. The French Canadians, in the invariable blue capote, with red belt, might be mistaken any day for the Labitants one meets with traveling through Lower Canada; and the half-breeds though a lower race, and essentially distinguished from the French Canadians by their habits of idleness and filth- dress, and, in many respects, live like them. Some few of the half-breeds, who are blessed with an unusually happy disposition, will work, and acquire, in course of time, a comfortable settlement; but by far the greater portion of the race preserve nomad habits throughout, and are contemptuously called squatters by the legitimate Red Riverians. They often have a passion for show; and will leave their children and wife in rags and

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ashes in order to appear on Sunday in a handsome turn-out. Others, again, and this is more characteristic of the women than the men, will sacrifice every thing, will even work for tea. The bashful maidens of Red River (the half-breeds, we mean), who will hardly ever dare to look at a stranger in the face, or answer a civil question, who would deride an offer of dress or even money, can not resist the temptation of a couple of pounds of souchong.

The life of the thoroughly vagabond half-breed is well illustrated in Mr. Ross's sketch of Baptiste l'Esprit. He was, it may be observed, a well known character at Red River, and the type of a large class.

Baptiste had a wife and children; but they were all his property. When spring comes round Baptiste wants to join the hunt. He is in want of every thing. Wishes to make you believe he is the most honest fellow in the world. Wishes you to trust him, to try him once more. Promises every thing. Tries one; tries him this way, that way, the other way, every way, but is refused; yet the smile of confidence is never off his countenance while in his supplicating mood. Nor is it an easy task to resist importunities so urgent, and particularly when enforced by an object of charity; yet Baptiste is refused. But he is accustomed to refusals; such things never discourage him. Baptiste tries another and another, but with no better success. Unfortunately for Baptiste, his character is known. Nevertheless, Baptiste, still confident in his own cause, tries another; accustomed to persevere, tries again and again; and at last, by dint of importunities and fair promises, gets a horse to hire from one, a cart from another; but as the risk is great, the price is in proportion. A man of means gets a horse and cart for $10 a trip. Baptiste promises $20. But he is in want of ammunition, of every thing else Baptiste tries again; tries one, tries two, tries a dozen; at last succeeds. The rogue and the fool meet. Baptiste still wants clothing-something from the merchant as well as the settler. Himself and family are naked. Baptiste sets out again; calls here, calls there, travels up, travels down, nothing discouraged; gets credit from some merchant at last. After a month's preparation, and before Baptiste is half ready, the time for starting arrives. The others are off; Baptiste must start too, ready or not ready. At this stage all Baptiste's hopes hang on a hair; he must go, call is lost; but he can not go without something to eat. Charity steps forward, and a day after the rest, off goes Baptiste, helter skelter, with his horse and part of his family; but if no horse, as frequently happens, they tramp it on foot, neck or nothing. At the camp all is bustle; no one is idle but himself. The dogs eat, but Baptiste starves in the midst of plenty; asks, begs, lounges about, but shows no disposition to assist any one. He is above working; can not work. Sympathy steps forward. Baptiste must not starve. Gets a piece from one, some from another. Baptiste eats, but can not make provisions; has no servants; himself indolent, his family more so. They can do nothing but eat. However, they live well on the charity of others, and that is all they care about. Days pass, weeks pass, the summer passes; Baptiste eats, sleeps, smokes, and all is right; but no load; nothing to pay the hire of his horse and cart. The busy scenes of the camp pass unheeded

by him. No effort made. Late and early every one is at work Baptiste alone is idle, but consoles himself with saying, "There is time enough yet." Before he looks about him the hunters are loaded. A move is made for home. Baptiste is roused from his apathy. His cart is still empty. Begins to bestir himself. Goes round, asks one, asks two, asks this one, asks that one, asks every one, for something to put in his cart; promises this, that, and the other thing. The good people were shy, but Baptiste was not to be discouraged, did not slacken in his im portunities; they upbraided him for his indolence, mistrusted his prom ises. Baptiste is no favorite; nevertheless, he could sing a good song, te. a good story. Some pity his family; Charity stretches forth her hand, and now the cart is loaded in a trice-Baptiste the while as proud as if ne had done all himself, quite satisfied, happy as happy could be. The last to start, the last to camp, Baptiste, fat as a seal, and sleek as an Esquimaux, arrives to resume again the delicious enjoyment of indolence. As soon as he arrives, he sits down, smokes his pipe, then unloads his pony, and tells the story of his journey. Is highly pleased with the trip; praises his own industry and success. "Look," says he to his wife, "at this piece, look at that piece, and at that," turning them over and over. His wife is charmed; counts his profits. There is enough to pay all, so now they can enjoy themselves. A day, a week passes; but not a word about paying off debts till the load gets nearly expended; then they begin to reflect. They distribute the remains of the profits a day after the fair. This piece is laid aside for a new gown for Madame, that piece for a shawl. So much for tea, so much for tobacco, the two great luxuries of Red River; a bit to this gossip, a bit to that. Madame has her cronies. Then there must be a merry let out. Friends are invited, a feast given, the last piece disappears. The load is gone. Then Baptiste for the first time begins to think of the borrowed horse, the borrowed cart, the generous friends who supplied him at starting. "We must," says he, pay something; a little to one, a little to another." The happy couple reason the matter over and over. The piece set aside for the new gown is cut in two; half goes for the horse, half for present use. "We can do no more now," said the wife. To this Baptiste adds, "Amen. But we will pay all next trip." The new shawl, the tea, the tobacco, etc., are attended to, and the cronies are not forgotten. After another consultation, Baptiste, with the half piece worth two dollars, the eighth of what he had promised, goes to settle with the owner of the horse, finds him, hangs down his head, is silent for some time, at last looks up with a sorrowful countenance, tells a pitiful story, very different from the one he told his wife. "I have been unfortunate," said he; "I had bad luck; my horse was sick, I broke my cart in the plains. Most of my provisions I lost in crossing a river. After a hard summer's labor, I had scarcely a mouthful left for my family. Brought nothing home; my cart was empty. Ask my comrades; they will confirm the truth of my statement. Here," says he, holding up the half piece, "is all I can give you now; but Baptiste never cheated anybody; if you lend me the horse for the next trip, I will pay you all honestly." Sympathy for poor Baptiste, and a desire to be paid, have their effect. The

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lender believes Baptiste, lends him the horse again, and the debt is doubled.

On a journey through the settlement, some travelers visited one of their cabins, and found father, mother, and child, squatted, gipsy-like, within, there being no table, chair, or stool to render it comfortable. In one corner slept a young woman, having before her bed a couple of pieces of bark to serve as curtains, while on other parts of the floor slept four male travelers. A rain storm came on, and the rain beat through the log walls till we were all nearly ankle deep in water. Plash, plash through this went the child, about four years old, to light her mother's pipe at the chimney. Having returned with the pipe, she began quietly to nurse at her mother's breast; and after a short meal from this source, she cried for the pipe, which was filled and lighted for her. After smok ing heartily, the child passed the pipe to her father, by whom it was passed to the mother, and from the mother back to the little girl, who still filled up the intervals by nursing. Meanwhile the lady with the bark curtains was supplied with a pipe before she got up and dressed.

CALIFORNIA AND THE MINES.

A part of California was discovered as early as 1542, by a Spaniard named Cobrillo; and its northern section was visited for the first time by foreigners in 1578, when Sir Francis Drake, then at the head of an expedition from England, gave to this region the name of New Albion. The Spaniards planted colonies upon its sea coast in 1768, from which period, until 1836, the territory was a province of Mexico. In the latter year a revolution occurred. The people, after having frequently compelled the Mexican governors and other officials to abandon their posts, declared themselves independent, and undertook to organize new political institutions. Several weak and ineffectual attempts to regain absolute control were made from time to time by the Mexicans, until the year 1846. In July of that year the port of Monterey, a central point on the Pacific coast of the State, was seized, in the name of the United States, by a uaval force under Commodore Sloat, who at once unfurled the American flag, and established a provisional government. At that epoch, the administration of the affairs of the territory was in the hands of a civil governor and a military commandant, both natives of California, but holding commissions from the President of Mexico. In 1848 the discovery of a gold "placer" at Columa, (Sutter's Mills,) and the ascer tained reality of its extraordinary richness, followed immediately by further and equally surprising developments, startled the whole civilized world, and a tide of emigration began to flow in from every quarter, with a rapidity and volume unparalleled in the history of nations. The population forthwith attained the required number for the formation of a distinct state. The inhabitants prepared and submitted to Congress the draught of a constitution; and in September, 1850, California was nd nitted into full membership as one of the United States.

By the constitution, adopted by the people in November, 1849, and by the act of Congress consequent thereon, the limits of California are established as follows: Commencing at latitude 42° north, and longitude 20° west; thence running south on said line of longitude till it intersects the 39th degree of north latitude; thence, in a direct course southeasterly, to the river Colorado; thence down the channel of said river to the boundary between Mexico and the United States; thence along said boundary to the Pacific Ocean, and into the same three English miles; thence northwesterly, in the direction of the Pacific coast, to the original parallel of 42°; and, finally, along this line to the point of beginning. It lies between 32° and 42° north latitude; and its extremes of longitude, owing to its angular position, embrace an extent of about 10°-its eastern point being at 114° 30' and the western at 124° 30', although the average distance of the eastern boundary from the sea-coast, and, consequently, the average breadth of the State is about 212 miles. Its length from north to south is 764 miles; estimated area, 188,500 square miles. It is bounded north by the territory of Oregon, east by that of Utah, south by Lower California, and west by the Pacific Ocean.

The waters of California partake of those varied peculiarities which mark its terrene surface and its atmospheric properties The sea and its numerous contiguous bays and estuaries, the inland lakes, the rivers and their countless tributaries, are all subjects of speculative interest. They yield abundantly almost every description of fish found in like latitudes, besides many kinds which are either unknown or not common in other regions. Some of the rivers are navigable many miles from their mouths; others flow over precipices and ledges, constituting falls or rapids, which the industry of man may hereafter convert into valuable mill sites. The sea-shores are prolific in marine plants, which, at some future day, will doubtless be applied to useful purposes. Immense quantities of kelp are thrown up by the waves an article that now forms the most available material for the manufacture of iodine, and is also excellent as a compost for arid soils, like those of this State. Lichens, in all their variety, spring profusely from the rocky strand along its entire extent, which, like the mosses of Iceland, will undoubtedly, in due time, be much prized for their nutritive and medicinal properties. The coasts and inland water-courses swarm with wild fowl, some of which resemble the aquatic birds found on the eastern shores of the continent, and others seem peculiar to the tracts which they inhabit. The principal rivers, communicating with the Pacific, are the Sacramento and San Joaquin. These flow through almost the whole length of the great val ley between the Sierra Nevada and the coast range of mountains, the former taking its rise in the north and the latter in the south, and both, uniting near the centre of the State, pass into the noble Bay of San Francisco, whence they reach the sea. They are fed in their course by great numbers of mountain streams from the western slopes of Sierra Nevada. Other important rivers, though of less considerable extent. intersect the State in various directions.

There is nearly, if not quite, as great a diversity of climate in California as of its geological features. The coast and its neighborhood are

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