It must be obvious to the reader, that the character of the Indians is proportionate to the associations under the influence of which they are trained. “The Aborigines of America,” to use the language of Timothy Flint, “are a moody and musing race, whose familiarity with the wilderness renders them sullen and grave. How could they be otherwise? They are more accustomed to behold the rocks and forests and mighty rivers of the transatlantic world than those objects which excite the loquacity of mankind.” Whatever some individuals may say about the inward power of “mind” and “will” and “volition” in forming the human character, it will be admitted by all who have travelled through scenes of physical majesty and grandeur, that scenery exercises an extensive influence over human beings. The sight of the mighty Maranon or St Lawrence rolling their immense volumes of water towards the ocean, tends to excite a feeling of sublimity, rather than that light-heartedness of spirit which vents itself in loud peals of laughter, and which is generally connected with a keen perception of the ridiculous. The North American Indian is forced to associate with rocks and rivers and almost boundless forests from his infancy; he hears the tempest roll, and fancies that his Manitto speaks in thunder from the clouds; and the natural consequence of this constant familiarity with the wilderness is a certain degree of gravity and sullenness in his deportment. The mode in which he is educated or trained fosters this habit, and all the circumstances around him, whether of a physical, mental, or moral description, tend to render it an element in his character. Indeed if the circumstances which surround these children of the wilds, their mode of procuring a subsistence, the manner in which they are educated, the nature of their religion, and their method of waging war, be taken into account and duly considered, it will not appear surprising that they should exhibit a degree of gravity and sullenness which is seldom found among polished nations.