While they were upon the ground with a surveyor, the attention of my husband was drawn towards a very bright-looking boy in Indian costume, who went hopping along by the side of the assistant that carried the chain, mimicking him as in the course of his operations he cried, “Stick!” “stuck!” He inquired who the lad was, and, to his surprise, learned that he was the brother of the old family servants Victoire, Genevieve, and Baptiste.  Tomah, for that was his name, had never been arrayed in civilized costume; he was in blanket and leggings, and had always lived in a wigwam.  My husband inquired if he would like to go to Fort Winnebago with him and learn to be a white boy.  The idea pleased him much, and, his mother having given her sanction to the arrangement, he was packed in a wagon, with the two gentlemen and their travelling gear, when they set forth on their return-journey.

Tomah had been equipped in jacket and trousers, with the other articles of apparel necessary to his new sphere and character.  They were near the Aux Plaines, and approaching the residence of Glode (Claude) Laframboise, where Tomah knew he should meet acquaintances.  He asked leave to get out of the wagon and walk a little way.  When the gentlemen next saw him he was in full Pottowattamie costume:  although it was bitter winter weather, he had put on his uncomfortable native garb rather than show himself to his old friends in a state of transformation.

On his arrival at Fort Winnebago, our first care was to furnish him with a complete wardrobe, which, having been placed in a box in his sleeping-apartment, was put under his charge.  Words cannot express his delight as the valuable possessions were confided to him.  Every spare moment was devoted to their contemplation.  Now and then Tomah would be missing.  He was invariably found seated by the side of his little trunk, folding and refolding his clothes, laying them now lengthwise, now crosswise, the happiest of mortals.

Our next step was to teach him to be useful.  Such little offices were assigned to him at first as might be supposed not altogether new to him, but we soon observed that when there was anything in the shape of work, Tomah slipped off to bed, even if it were before he had taken his supper.  Some fish were given him one evening to scale; it was just at dark; but Tom, according to custom, retired at once to bed.

The cook came to inquire what was to be done.  I was under the necessity of calling in my husband’s aid as interpreter.  He sent for Tomah.  When he came into the parlor Mr. Kinzie said to him, in Pottowattamie,—­

“There are some fish, Tomah, in the kitchen, and we want you to scale them.”

“Now?” exclaimed Tom, with an expression of amazement.  “It is very late.”

A young lady, Miss Rolette, who was visiting us, and who understood the language, could not refrain from bursting into a laugh at the simplicity with which the words were uttered, and we joined her in sympathy, at which Tom looked a little indignant; but when he understood that it was the white custom to scale the fish at night, and put salt and pepper on them, he was soon reconciled to do his duty in the matter.