“Having given directions to my Indian follower, a half-breed fellow of the most cunning description, to have all ready in the wigwam; I wandered into the woods. To no use was it that I thought over my grievance, nothing presented itself in any shape as a vindication of my wounded feelings--nor could I see how anything short of ridicule could ensue, from all mention of the transaction. The clanking sound of an Indian drum broke on my musings, and told me that the party were assembled; and on my entering the wigwam, I found them all waiting for me. There were full a dozen; many who had never done me the honour of a visit previously, came on this occasion to enjoy the laugh at my expense, the captain’s joke was sure to excite. Husbanding their resources, they talked only about indifferent matters--the gossip and chit-chat of the day--but still with such a secret air of something to come, that even an ignorant observer could notice, that there was in reserve somewhat that must abide its time for development. By mere accident, I overheard the captain whisper in reply to a question of one of the subalterns--‘No! no!--not now--wait, till we have the punch up.’ I guessed at once that such was the period they proposed to discuss the joke played off at my cost, and I was right; for no sooner had the large wooden bowl of sangaree made its appearance, than Hubbart filling his glass; proposed a bumper to our new ally, Rokey; a cheer drowned half his speech, which ended in a roar of laughter, as the individual, so complimented, stood at the door of the wigwam, dressed out in full costume with my bear-skin. “I had just time to whisper a command to my Indian imp, concluding with an order for another bowl of sangaree, before the burst of merriment had subsided--a hail-storm of jokes, many, poor enough, but still cause for laughter, now pelted me on every side. My generosity was lauded, my good taste extolled, and as many impertinences as could well be offered up to a man at his own table, went the round of the party. No allusion was spared either to my humble position as interpreter to the force, or my former life among the Indians, to furnish food for joke; even my family- -of whom, as I have mentioned, I foolishly spoke to them lately--they introduced into their tirade of attack and ridicule, which nothing but a sense of coming vengeance could hove enabled me to endure. “‘Come, come,’ said one, ‘the bowl is empty. I say, O’Kelly, if you wish us to be agreeable, as I’m certain you find us, will you order a fresh supply?’