In person the Chippewas are not remarkable; they are generally robust, their complexion swarthy, their features broad, and their hair straight and black, which is the case in most of the Indian tribes. But they have not that piercing eye, which so generally animates the Indian countenance.
The aspect of the women is more agreeable than that of the men; they wear their hair of a great length, and pay much attention to its arrangement, greasing it with considerable taste.
They appear to be more attentive to the comforts of dress, and less anxious about its exterior than of their red brethren. Deer and fawn skins, dressed with the hair on, so skilfully that they are perfectly supple, compose their shirt or coat, which is girt round the waist with a belt, and reaches half way down the thigh. Their moccasins and leggins are generally sewn together, and the latter meet the belt to which they are fastened. A ruff or tippet surrounds the neck, and the skin of the deer’s head is formed into a curious sort of cap.
A robe of several deer skins sewn together is throw over the whole; this dress is sometimes worn single, but in winter it is always made double, the hair forming both the lining and the outside.
Thus attired, a Chippewa will lay himself down on the snow and repose in comfort; and if in his wanderings across the numerous lakes with which his country abounds, he should fall short of provisions, he has only to cut a hole in the ice, when he seldom fails of taking a blackfish, or a bass, which he broils over his little wood fire with as much skill as a French cook.
At the time of the French and Indian wars, the American army was encamped on the Plains of Chippewa. Colonel St. Clair, the commander, was a brave and meritorious officer, but his bravery sometimes amounted to rashness, and his enemies have accused him of indiscretion. In the present instance perhaps he may have merited the accusation, for the plain on which he had encamped was bordered by a dense forest, from which the Indian scouts could easily pick off his sentinels without in the least exposing themselves to danger.
CHIPPEWA INDIANS FISHING ON THE ICE.
Five nights had passed, and every night the sentinel, who stood at a lonely out-post in the vicinity of the forest, had been shot; and these repeated disasters struck such dread among the remaining soldiers, that no one would come forward to offer to take the post, and the commander, knowing it was only throwing men’s lives away, let it stand for a few nights unoccupied.
At length, a rifleman of the Virginian corps, volunteered his services for this dangerous duty; he laughed at the fears of his companions, and told them he meant to return safe and drink his commander’s health in the morning. The guard marched up soon after, and he shouldered his rifle and fell. He arrived at the place which had been so fatal to his comrades, and bidding his fellow soldiers “good night,” assumed the duties of his post. The night was dark, thick clouds overspread the firmament, and hardly a star could be seen by the sentinel as he paced his lonely walk. All was silent except the gradually retreating footsteps of the guard; he marched onwards, then stopped and listened till he thought he heard the joyful sound of “All’s well”—then all was still, and he sat down on a fallen tree and began to muse. Presently a low rustling among the bushes caught his ear; he gazed intently towards the spot whence the sound seemed to proceed, but he could see nothing save the impenetrable gloom of the forest. The sound grew nearer, and a well-known grunt informed him of the approach of a bear. The animal passed the soldier slowly, and then quietly sought the thicket to the left. At this moment the moon shone out bright through the parting clouds, and the wary soldier perceived the ornamented moccasin of a savage on what an instant before he believed to be a bear! He could have shot him in a moment, but he knew not how many other animals might be at hand; he therefore refrained, and having perfect knowledge of Indian subtilty, he quickly took off his hat and coat, hung them on a branch of a fallen tree, grasped his rifle, and silently crept towards the thicket. He had barely reached it, when an arrow, whizzing past his head, told him of the danger he had so narrowly escaped.