After the Delawares, followed the Shawanese, headed by the same portly personage who had greeted us when we entered as strangers, into the Indian country. The same enormous pair of black spectacles were seated astride of his nose, and from his whole appearance, it is probable that he had not undressed from the time that we had last saw him, some four months previous. At his heels followed the same little potatoe-headed Indian, who had also met us on the same occasion. Behind them, came the gaudy warriors of the tribe, reeking with paint, shining with tin ornaments, and flaunting with ribands. These seated themselves beside the Delawares. Then followed the rest of the migrating tribes; the Peorias, the Piankashaws, the ragged Pottawattomies, and the lazy Kickapoos, who all in turn seated themselves, among their civilized brethren. They had scarcely become stationary, when the Otoes made their appearance. They moved in Indian-file over the green, headed by their sagacious old chief the Iotan. They walked swiftly and silently, and ranged themselves at a little distance from the more civilized, though less noble band, which had already collected. A few moments more, and the wild troop of Pawnees were seen approaching. They were muffled in their shaggy robes, and marched forward with a heavy though smothered tread. In front of them strode the giant form of the Wild Horse; his savage features not rendered any the less hideous by a drunken frolic, in which he had been engaged on the day previous. His long hair hung tangled round his head and shoulders. He wore no ornaments, and his body as usual was smeared with red ochre. The whole of his enormous chest was bared, and exposed to the cold chilling air of a frosty November morning. Behind him followed the graceful, though stern form of the Long Hair. He walked to his allotted place, without appearing to notice the congregated band of civilized Indians. There were several other chiefs in the train, and after them followed the whole savage herd, from the four Pawnee villages. These stationed themselves directly opposite the Delawares. Stern looks passed between them, and burning feelings were at work in their hearts. There they sat brooding over past wrongs. Enemies from the time that the Delawares had left the eastern states, they were now assembled to crush their bitter feelings, to put an end to that dark hatred which had hitherto existed between them, and to view each other, in a strange and novel light—that of friends. A total revulsion was to take place in their feelings. Old habits, old associations, were to be blotted out; deep-rooted prejudices were to be removed, and hands which before had clenched each other, only in the death-grapple, were now to be clasped in the warm pressure of friendship. Several days before the commencement of the meeting, a trifling incident was near putting an end to the incipient peace.