"The most of them had adorned themselves for the occasion. Plumes were floating from their scalp-locks; their heads and breasts were painted with vermilion, and long strings of wampum hung from their necks and mutilated ears. But at the present moment there appeared to be no thought of their appearance. Every sense was wrapped up in an intense interest in the approaching council; every breath was held; and every eye fixed with eagerness upon the face of the Commissioner, as he arose to address the meeting." (Op. cit., pp. 233-235.) This vivid description of the gathering of the Oto in a great earth-covered structure near the banks of the Missouri during the summer of 1833 tends to recall Lieut. Timberlake's meeting with the head men of the Cherokee, when they came together in the townhouse at Chote late in the year 1761. The two structures were of similar appearance and probably did not differ greatly in size, although at Chote there were several tiers of seats surrounding the central space within the house which were lacking in the Oto lodge, but the two gatherings were evidently quite similar, although belonging to different generations and being in regions separated by many hundreds of miles of forest and plain. The great rotundas, or townhouses of the Cherokee, were the most interesting of the various native structures which formerly stood east of the Mississippi. (Bushnell, (1), pp. 59-63.) The preceding notes on the Oto refer to their permanent earth-lodge villages, which were occupied only part of each year. When away from the village they would make use of the skin-covered tipi, although the temporary shelter of the Pawnee may have been copied by some members of the tribe. Fortunately a very good description of the appearance of a winter encampment of several families, at some point far west of the Missouri on the prairie of Nebraska, during the winter of 1851-52, has been preserved. The account was prepared by a traveler who became separated from his companions and reached the camp unexpectedly while traversing the snow-covered wilderness. The "little camp consisted of two large tents, which stood in a deep ravine, overgrown with stunted oaks, and on the banks of a deep stream, whose waters were hidden beneath a thick covering of ice." One tent belonged to the chief Wa-ki-ta-mo-nee, the other to a half-breed named Louis Farfar. Arriving at the camp, so the narrative continues, I "crawled into the tent of the medicine-man, and took my place by his blazing fire, while the other occupants lay or crouched around. The old mother was busy in the preparation of the meat, and by her side, next the opening, were two daughters; the older about eighteen, the younger about two years old. The father of the family, his son, and Schin-ges-in-ki-nee had, according to Indian custom, kept the best places for themselves, which was so much the better for me as I was placed between them. The medicine