They were a gentle, peaceful, unambitious people. They came as the friend, not the hereditary enemy, of the savage. They tendered the calumet--a symbol well understood by every Indian--and were received as allies and brethren. They had no national prejudices to overcome: the copper color of the Indian was not an insuperable objection to intermarriage, and children of the mixed blood were not, for that reason, objects of scorn. An Indian maiden was as much a woman to a Frenchman, as if she had been a _blonde_; and, if her form was graceful and her features comely, he would woo her with as much ardor as if she had been one of his own race. Nor was this peculiarity attributable only to the native gallantry of the French character, as it has sometimes been asserted; the total want of prejudice, which grows up in contemplating an inferior race, held in limited subjection, and a certain easiness of temper and tone of thought, had far more influence. The Frenchman has quite enough vanity, but very little pride. Whatever, therefore, is sanctioned by those who surrounded him, is, in his eyes, no degradation. He married the Indian woman--first, because there were but few females among the emigrants, and he could not live without "the sex;" and, second, because there was nothing in his prejudices, or in public sentiment, to deter him. The descendants of these marriages--except where, as in some cases, they are upheld by the possession of great wealth--have no consideration, and are seldom seen in the society of the whites. But this is only because French manners and feelings have long since faded out of our social organization. The Saxon, with his unconquerable prejudices of race, with his pride and jealousy, has taken possession of the country; and, as he rules its political destinies, in most places, likewise, gives tones to its manners. Had Frenchmen continued to possess the land--had French dominion not given place to English--mixture of blood would have had but little influence on one's position; and there would now have been, in St. Louis or Chicago, as many shades of color in a social assembly, as may be seen at a ball in Mexico. The French are a more cheerful people, than the Americans. Social intercourse--the interchange of hospitalities--the enjoyment of amusements in crowds--are far more important to them than to any other race. Solitude and misery are--or ought to be--synonyms in French; and enjoyment is like glory--it must have witnesses, or it will lose its attraction. Accordingly, we find the French emigrant seeking companionship, even in the trials and enterprises of the wilderness. The American, after the manner of his race, sought places where he could possess, for himself, enough for his wants, and be "monarch of all he surveyed."