poor little beasts?" Answered me: "They bit me first; I have a right to be revenged." Through complacency, I one day overcame natural disgust and assisted at their porcupine feast. I beheld the Indians carve the meat on their leathern shirts, highly polished with grease--filthy, and swarming with vermin; they had disrobed themselves, for the purpose of providing a tablecloth! They dried their hands in their hair - this is their only towel - and as the porcupine has naturally a strong and offensive odor, one can hardly endure the fragrance of those who feast upon its flesh and besmear themselves with its oil.
A good old woman, whose face was anointed with blood of the porcupine, (the Indians` mourning weeds) presented me a wooden platter filled with soup; the horn spoon destined for my use was dirty and covered with grease; she had the complaisance to apply it to the broad side of her tongue, before putting it into my unsavory broth.
If a hit of dried meat, or any other provision is in need of being cleansed, the dainty cook fills her mouth with water and spurts it with her whole force upon the fated object. A certain dish, which is considered a prime delicacy among the Indians, is prepared in a most singular manner, and they are entitled to a patent for the happy faculty of invention. The whole process belongs exclusively to the female department. They commence by rubbing their hands with grease, and collecting in them the blood of the animal, which they boil with water; finally, they fill the kettle with fat and hashed treat. But---hashed with the teeth ! Oftenhalf a dozen old Nvomen are occupied in this mincing operation for hours; mouthful after mouthful is masticated, and thus passes from the mouth into the cauldron, to compose the choice ragout of the Rocky Mountains. Add to this, by way of an excluisite dessert, an immense dish of crusts; composed of pulverized ants, grasshoppers and locusts, that had been dried the sun, and you may then be able to form some idea of Assiniboin luxury.