About Three Miles From Buffalo Is An Indian Village, Called Tonawanda.

I frequently saw parties of the inhabitants, who resort to the city to dispose of their wares and produce.

Some of the warriors were fine athletic fellows, of great stature, the lowest I saw being over six feet in height. They were clothed in tanned buck-skin, curiously fringed and ornamented with porcupine-quills richly dyed; their squaws (wives) being enveloped in fine Canadian blue broad cloth, their favourite costume; the crimson or other gaudy-coloured selvedge forming a conspicuous ornament.

Like all the aborigines of America, they cling with tenacity to primeval habits and customs, resisting every attempt made by the white population, to make or persuade them to conform to civilized life. The ill-usage they have been subjected to by the Americans, may, however, account for this in a great measure. They were described to me by one of the residents as a dissipated set of fellows, who squandered all they got in "fire-water," as they term ardent spirits, and when inebriated are so quarrelsome that it is dangerous in the highest degree to irritate them.

Not very long after I arrived, a circumstance occurred that threatened most fearful consequences. The Indians whom I have before referred to were in the frequent habit, when they came to the city, to dispose of their produce (for many of them followed husbandry) of getting so tipsy, that there was continual danger of bloodshed; their natural animosity on such occasions being roused with fearful vehemence, so that the authorities were compelled to adopt some steps to remedy the evil.

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