We must confess that, per contra, the Redskins are not at all jealous of our civilization, in which they take but slight interest, and that those whom accident or commercial reasons carry to cities, and by such we mean cities like New York, or New Orleans;--these Indians, we say, far from being astounded at what they see, look around them with glances of pity, not understanding how men can voluntarily consent to shut themselves up in the smoky cages called houses, and expend their life in ungrateful toil, instead of living in the open air among the vast solitudes, hunting the buffalo, bear, and jaguar, under the immediate eye of Heaven. Are the savages completely wrong in thinking so? Is their reasoning false? We do not believe it. Desert life possesses, for the man whose heart is still open enough to comprehend its moving incidents, intoxicating delights which can only be experienced there, and which the mathematically ruled customs of towns cannot at all cause to be forgotten, if they have once been tasted. According to the principles of Indian etiquette on matters of politeness, no question must be addressed to strangers who sit down at the camp-fire, until they are pleased to begin the conversation. In an Indian's wigwam a guest is regarded as sent by the Great Spirit; he is sacred to the man he visits as long as he thinks proper to remain with him, even if he be his mortal enemy. The Jaguar, thoroughly conversant with Redskin customs, remained silently by the side of his guests, smoking and thinking, and waiting patiently till they decided on speaking. At length, after a considerable lapse of time, Tranquil shook the ashes from his pipe on his thumbnail, and turned to the young man. "You did not expect me, I fancy?" he said. "I did not," the other answered; "still be assured that the visit, though unexpected, is not less agreeable to me." The hunter curled his lip in a singular fashion. "Who knows?" he muttered, answering his own thoughts rather than the Jaguar's remark; "perhaps yes, perhaps no; man's heart is a mysterious and undecipherable book, in which only madmen fancy they can read." "It is not so with me, hunter, as you know from experience." The Canadian shook his head. "You are still young; the heart to which you refer is still unknown to yourself; in the short period your existence has passed through, the wind of passion has not yet blown over you and bowed you down before its powerful impetus: wait, in order to reply with certainty, until you have loved and suffered; when you have bravely sustained the shock, and resisted the hurricane of youth, it will be time for you to speak." These words were uttered with a stern accent, but there was no bitterness about them. "You are harsh to me, to-day, Tranquil," the young: man answered sorrowfully; "how have I sunk in your esteem? What reprehensible act have I done?" "None--at any rate, it pleases me to believe so; but I fear that soon--"