13th.  Some years ago, a Chippewa hunter of Grand Traverse Bay, Lake Michigan, found that an Indian of a separate band had been found trespassing on his hunting grounds by trapping furred animals.  He determined to visit him, but found on reaching his lodge the family absent, and the lodge door carefully closed and tied.  In one corner of the lodge he found two small packs of furs.  These he seized.  He then took his hatchet and blazed a large tree.  With a pencil made of a burned end of a stick, he then drew on this surface the figure of a man holding a gun, pointing at another man having traps in his hands.  The two packs of furs were placed between them.  By these figures he told the tale of the trespass, the seizure of the furs, and the threat of shooting him if he persevered in his trespass.  This system of figurative symbols I am inclined to call pictography, as it appears to me to be a peculiar and characteristic mode of picture-writing.

22d.  Mr. Ellis, in his Polynesian Researches, represents the Pacific Islands as being inhabited by two distinct races of men, each of whom appears to preserve the separate essential marks of a physical and mental type.  The first, which is thought the most ancient, consists of the Oceanic negroes, who are distinguished by dark skins, small stature, and woolly or crisped hair.  They are clearly Hametic.  They occupy Australia, and are found to be aborigines in Tasmania, New Guinea, New Britain, New Caledonia and New Hebrides.  The other race has many of the features of the Malays and South Americans, yet differs materially from either.

Yet what is most remarkable, the latter have an ingenious system of numeration, by which they can compute very high numbers.  They proceed by decimals, precisely like the Algonquin tribes, but while the arithmetical theory is precisely the same, a comparison shows that the names of the numerals have not the slightest resemblance.

POLYNESIAN.        ALGONQUIN. 
One,          Atabi,            Pazhik. 
Two,          Arua,             Neezh. 
Three,        Atora,            Niswi. 
Four,         Amaha,            Newin. 
Five,         Arima.             Nanun. 
Six,          Aono,             Ningodwaswa. 
Seven,        Ahitu,            Nizhwaswa. 
Eight,        Avaru,            Schwaswa. 
Nine,         Aiva,             Shonguswa. 
Ten,          Ahuru,            Metonna.

The Polynesians, like the Algonquins, then say, ten and one for eleven, &c., till twenty, which is erua ahuru, this is two tens; twenty-one consists of the terms for two tens and one.  In this manner they count to ten tens, which is rau.  Ten raus is one mano, or thousand; ten manos one million, and so on.  How exactly the Algonquin method, but not a speck of analogy in words.

27th.  One of the emigrant Germans who swarm about the city, a poor ill-dressed wood-sawyer, met me, on coming out of my office door, and, mistaking me for the owner of a visible pile of wood, addressed me in one of the Rhine dialects, inquiring the owner.  I replied:  Ich wies necht—­es is necht mein.  He looked with delighted astonishment at an American speaking his language—­“a stranger in a strange land”—­and was ready to proffer any services in his power.