In the afternoon I visited the lodge of an old chief of the Nez Percés, named Lawyer. He showed us a wound in his side from which he was yet suffering, although several years had elapsed since it was received. It had been inflicted in a fight with their old hereditary enemies, the Blackfeet Indians. These are the most dangerous banditti among all the tribes,—perfect Ishmaelites—who, while they are at war with all the neighboring savages, have nourished the most implacable hatred to the whites, since they first met them in the days of Lewis and Clarke. War is their employment, and the booty they gain by it, their support. They are admirable horsemen and as much distinguished for their treachery as for their headlong courage. Their hunting grounds extend from the Yellow Stone and Missouri rivers to the Rocky Mountains. He showed us also some locks of their hair which he wore about him,—not as love tokens, or presented willingly by the former owners, but rather the reverse, as I presume they are the remains of scalps he had taken. To-day Governor Stevens and Mr. Doty, one of his party, dined with us. It was the first dinner party we had given in the wilderness. Yet think not, O ye who dine your friends at Delmonico's, that our entertainment was at all like yours! In the centre of our tent, a buffalo robe was laid on the ground (the luxury of a table being confined to the Governor), on which were placed the tin plates which were our only dishes, for china is not adapted to mule traveling on the plains. About this we reclined rather in the Oriental style. At one end of the table (I mean the buffalo skin) was a beef steak from one of the cattle daily killed at the camp, and at the other end a portion of the same unfortunate animal's liver. One side-dish was a plate of potatoes—the other, a plate of bread of leaden heaviness. The second course was—coffee, likewise served in tin cups. Yet we gathered around this feast with appetites which could not be found among the strollers in Broadway, and which it required no French sauces to provoke. _Friday, May 25th._—We woke this morning to hear the rain pattering about us, and to be thankful that we were encamped, and not obliged to resume our march. At noon it cleared up, when we procured our horses and rode over to the Indian camp to pay another visit to our friend Lawyer. We found the old chief surrounded by his family and reading a portion of the New Testament, while a German soldier of Governor Stevens' party, was engaged taking his portrait in crayon. He afterwards presented me with a copy, which I keep as a memento of these pleasant days in the wilderness.