The mischievous creature was highly diverted with the circumstance, and
laughed immoderately.

"Snow-storm," said he, "Mrs. Moodie and the children are obliged to you
for your kindness in bringing them the grapes; but how came you to tie
them up in a dirty shirt?"

"Dirty!" cried the old man, astonished that we should object to the fruit
on that score. "It ought to be clean; it has been washed often enough.
Owgh! You see, Moodie," he continued, "I have no hat--never wear hat--want
no shade to my eyes--love the sun--see all around me--up and down--much
better widout hat. Could not put grapes in hat--blanket-coat too large,
crush fruit, juice run out. I had noting but my shirt, so I takes off
shirt, and brings grape safe over the water on my back. Papouse no care
for dirty shirt; their _lee-tel bellies have no eyes_."

In spite of this eloquent harangue, I could not bring myself to use the
grapes, ripe and tempting as they looked, or give them to the children.
Mr. W____ and his wife happening to step in at that moment, fell into such
an ecstacy at the sight of the grapes, that, as they were perfectly
unacquainted with the circumstance of the shirt, I very _generously_
gratified their wishes by presenting them with the contents of the large
dish; and they never ate a bit less sweet for the novel mode in which they
were conveyed to me!

The Indians, under their quiet exterior, possess a deal of humour. They
have significant names for every thing, and a nickname for every one, and
some of the latter are laughably appropriate. A fat, pompous, ostentatious
settler in our neighbourhood they called _Muckakee_, "the bull-frog."
Another, rather a fine young man, but with a very red face, they named