My heart was full, but when I wrote I dare not put the half in; For the neighbors know I love him, And they're mighty found of chaffin', So I dare not write his name _outside_, For fear they would be laughin', But wrote, "From little Kate to one Whom she loves faithfully," And he knows it--oh, he knows it-- Without one word from me. Now, girls, would you believe it, That postman so _consated_, No answer will he bring me, So long have I waited? But maybe--there mayn't be one, Because--as I have stated-- My love can neither read nor write, But he loves me faithfully, And I know, where'er my love is, That he is true to me. THE ARICKARA INDIANS [Footnote: This description is taken from. Irving's _Astoria_, an account of early explorations in the Northwest, undertaken under the management of John Jacob Astor.] _By_ WASHINGTON IRVING The village of the Rikaras, [Footnote: The Arickaras, or Rees as they are now sometimes called, are reduced to a few hundred persons who are, with the Mandans and other Indians, on a reservation in North Dakota.] Arickaras, or Ricarees, for the name is thus variously written, is between the 46th and 47th parallels of north latitude, and fourteen hundred and thirty miles above the mouth of the Missouri. [Footnote: This would place the village somewhere near the present site of Bismarck, North Dakota.] The party reached it about ten o'clock in the morning, but landed on the opposite side of the river, where they spread out their baggage and effects to dry. From hence they commanded an excellent view of the village. It was divided into two portions, about eighty yards apart, being inhabited by two distinct bands. The whole extended about three quarters of a mile along the river bank, and was composed of conical lodges, that looked like so many small hillocks, being wooden frames intertwined with osier, and covered with earth. The plain beyond the village swept up into hills of considerable height, but the whole country was nearly destitute of trees. While they were regarding the village, they beheld a singular fleet coming down the river. It consisted of a number of canoes, each made of a single buffalo hide stretched on sticks, so as to form a kind of circular trough. Each one was navigated by a single squaw, who knelt in the bottom and paddled, towing after her frail bark a bundle of floating wood intended for firing. This kind of canoe is in frequent use among the Indians; the buffalo hide being readily made up into a bundle and transported on horseback; it is very serviceable in conveying baggage across the rivers.