intervening between them.  Immense quantities of roasted meat, bear, beaver, siffleu or marmot, were piled up at intervals, the whole length of the building; berries mixed up with rancid salmon oil, fish roe that had been buried underground a twelve-month, in order to give it an agreeable flavour, were the good things presented at this feast of gluttony and flow of oil.  The berry mixture, and roes were served in wooden troughs, each having a large wooden spoon attached to it.  The enjoyments of the festival were ushered in with a song, in which all joined:—­

“I approach the village,
Ya ha he ha, ya ha ha ha;
And hear the voices of many people,
Ya ha, &c. 
The barking of dogs,
Ya ha, &c. 
Salmon is plentiful,
Ya ha, &c. 
The berry season is good,
Ya ha, &c.

After the song commenced the demolition of the mountains of meat, which was but slowly effected, notwithstanding the unremitting and strenuous exertions of the guests.  The greatest order, however, was maintained; the relatives of the deceased acted as stewards, each of them seizing a roasted beaver, or something else, squatted himself in front of one of the guests, and presenting the meat, which he held with both his hands (males and females officiating), desired him to help himself.  If the guest appeared backward in the attack, he was pressed, in the politest terms, to eat.  “Now, I pray you, tear away with a good will;”—­“I am glad to see you eat so strongly;”—­“Come now, stuff yourself with this fine piece of fat bear.”  And stuff himself he must, or pay a forfeit, to avoid a catastrophe.  But having paid thus, and acknowledged himself fairly overcome by his host’s politeness, he is spared any further exertions, and his viands are no longer presented to him in this way, but placed in a dish beside him.

Well aware of our inability to maintain the honour of our country in a contest of this kind, we paid our forfeit at the commencement of the onslaught, reserving our portions to be disposed of at home.

The gormandizing contest ended as it began, with songs and dances; in the latter amusement, however, few were now able to join; afterwards ensued a rude attempt at dramatic representation.  Old Quaw, the chief of Nekaslay, first appeared on the stage, in the character of a bear—­an animal he was well qualified to personate.  Rushing from his den, and growling fiercely, he pursued the huntsman, the chief of Babine portage, who defended himself with a long pole; both parties maintained a running fight, until they reached the far end of the building, where they made their exit.  Enter afterwards a jealous husband and his wife, wearing masks (both being men).  The part these acted appeared rather dull; the husband merely sat down by the side of his “frail rib,” watching her motions closely, and neither allowing her to speak to nor look at any of the young men.  As to the other characters, one personated a deer, another a wolf, a third a strange Tsekany.  The bear seemed to give the spectators most delight.