competent to judge, will admit its fidelity, as far as it goes, to the description of a young Indian warrior over the whole Mississippi Valley, when prepared to take part in a public dance. AN INDIAN TOAST. When General Wayne was holding his treaty with the Indians at Greenville, a young chief sat down at the dinner table, next to the General. This was not much relished by the _White Chief_; but he did not wish to give open offence to his _Red Brother_. The cloth being removed, the wine began to circulate; when Wayne—thinking to confound and abash the young chief—asked him for a _toast_. This being interpreted and explained to this son of the forest, he filled his tumbler with wine, and gave ‘_The Great Spirit_’—and after an impressive pause, pressing his hand on his breast—he added, “_Because he put it into the heart of man to make such good liquor!_” SHREWDNESS. “_He that delivereth it unto thee hath the greater sin._” “I am glad,” said the Rev. Dr. Y——s to the chief of the Little Ottowas, “that you do not drink whiskey. But it grieves me to find that your people use so much of it.” “Ah, yes,” replied the Indian,—and he fixed an arch and impressive eye upon the Doctor, which communicated the reproof before he uttered it—“we Indians _use_ a great deal of whiskey, but we do not _make_ it.” LANGUAGE BY SIGNS. It is pretty well ascertained that there exists among mankind a universal language of signs, taught by nature herself. Voyagers have always used these signs among savage and previously undiscovered nations. They are always understood, and invariably form the basis of intercourse. The former director of the Hartford Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb, informed the writer, that all the mutes who came to that institution from different parts of the country, brought with them signs and motions which were essentially the same, and which coincided with those used in the institution. This proves that they are _natural_. Andrew Ellicott, Esq., commissioned by the United States to determine, in conjunction with the Commissioners of Spain, a line of demarcation between the territories of both nations,—related to the writer a curious trait in the savage character. On his way down the Mississippi, a number of strange Indians came into his camp, from the west side of the river. A Mr. Nolin happened to be there at the time,—well known for his enterprize and skill in catching wild horses in the Internal Provinces of Spanish America. He addressed them in such of the languages as he was acquainted with—but was not understood. He then conversed by certain signs. These were understood by the Indians, and were answered in like manner. Thus (if the expression may be allowed) a conversation ensued, in which not a word was spoken:—“and this,” said Nolin, “is a sort of universal language common to the Western tribes.”—(_See Major Long’s Expedition._) LOGAN.