Means by which the independence of the Indians was first diminished.

Indian—Brother, I am come to trade with you; but I forewarn you to be more moderate in your demands than formerly.

Trader—Why, brother, are not my goods of equal value with those you had last year?

Indian—Perhaps they may; but mine are more valuable because more scarce. The Great Spirit, who has withheld from you strength and ability to provide food and clothing for yourselves, has given you cunning and art to make guns and provided scaura;^[6] and by speaking smooth words to simple men, when they have swallowed madness, you have, by little and little, purchased their hunting grounds, and made them corn lands. Thus the beavers grow more scarce, and deer fly farther back; yet after I have reserved skins for my mantle, and the clothing of my wife, I will exchange the rest.

Trader—Be it so, brother: I came not to wrong you, or take your furs against your will. It is true, the beavers are few, and you go further for them. Come, brother, let us deal fair first, and smoke friendly afterwards. Your last gun cost fifty beaver skins, you shall have this for forty—and you shall give marten and raccoon skins in the same proportion for powder and shot.

Indian—Well, brother, that is equal. Now for two silver bracelets, with long, pendent ear-rings of the same, such as you sold to Cardarani, in the sturgeon month,^[7] last year. How much will you demand?

Trader—The skins of two deer for the bracelets, and those of two fawns for the ear-rings.

Indian—That is a great deal; but wampum grows scarce, and silver never rusts. Here are the skins.

Trader—Do you buy any more? Here are knives, hatchets, and beads of all colours.

Indian—I will have a knife and a hatchet, but must not take more: the rest of the skins will be little enough to clothe the women and children, and buy wampum. Your beads are of no value; no warrior who has slain a wolf will wear them.^[8]

Trader—Here are many things good for you, which you have not skins to buy; here is a looking-glass, and here is a brass kettle, in which your woman may boil her maize, her beans, and above all, her maple-sugar. Here are silver brooches, and here are pistols for the youths.

Indian—The skins I can spare will not purchase them.

Trader—Your will determine, brother; but next year you will want nothing but powder and shot, having already purchased your gun and ornaments. If you will purchase from me a blanket to wrap round you, a shirt and blue stroud for under garments for yourself and your woman, and the same for leggings, this will pass the time, and save you the great labour of dressing the skins, making the thread, &c. for your clothing, which will give you more fishing and shooting time in the sturgeon and bear months.

Indian—But the custom of my fathers.

Trader—You will not break the custom of your fathers by being thus clad for a single year. They did not refuse those things which were offered to them.

Indian—For this year, brother, I will exchange my skins; in the next, I shall provide apparel more befitting a warrior. One pack alone I will reserve, to dress for a future occasion. The summer must not find a warrior idle.

The terms being adjusted, and the bargain concluded, the trader thus shows his gratitude for liberal dealing.

Trader—Corlaer has forbid bringing scaura to steal away the wisdom of the warriors; but we white men are weak and cold; we bring kegs for ourselves, lest death arise from the swamps. We will not sell scaura, but you shall taste some of ours in return for the venison with which you have feasted us.

Indian—Brother, we will drink moderately.

A bottle was then given to the warrior, by way of present, which he was advised to keep long, but found it irresistible. He soon returned with the reserved pack of skins, earnestly urging the trader to give him beads, silver brooches, and above all, scaura, to their full amount. This, with much affected reluctance at parting with the private stock, was at last yielded. The warriors now, after giving loose for a while to frantic mirth, began the war-whoop, made the woods resound with infuriated howlings; and having exhausted their dear-bought draught, probably determined, in contempt of that probity, which at all other times they rigidly observed, to plunder the instruments of their pernicious gratification. He, well aware of the consequences, took care to remove himself and his goods to some other place, and a renewal of the same scene ensued. Where, all this time, were the women, whose gentle counsels might have prevented these excesses? Alas! unrestrained by that delicacy which is certainly one of the best fruits of refinement, they shared in them, and sunk sooner under them. A long and deep sleep generally succeeded, from which they awoke in a state of dejection and chagrin, such as no Indian had ever experienced under any other circumstances. They felt as Milton describes Adam and Eve to have done after their transgression. Exhausted and forlorn, and stung with the consciousness of error and dependence, they had neither the means nor the desire of exercising their wonted summer occupations with spirit. Vacancy produced languor, and languor made them wish for the potion which gave temporary cheerfulness.^[9] They carried their fish to the next fort or habitation to barter for rum. This brought on days of frenzy, succeeded by torpor. When again roused by want of exertion, they saw the season passing without the usual provision, and by an effort of persevering industry, tried to make up for past negligence; and then worn out by exertion, sunk into supine indolence, till the approach of winter called them to hunt the bear; and the arrival of that, (their busy season,) urged on their distant excursions in pursuit of deer. Then they resumed their wonted character, and became what they used to be; but conscious that acquired tastes and wants, which they had not themselves the power of supplying, would throw them again on the traders for clothing, &c. they were themselves out-straining every sinew to procure enough of peltry to answer their purpose, and to gratify their newly-acquired appetites. Thus the energy, both of their characters and constitutions, was gradually undermined—and their numbers as effectually diminished, as if they had been wasted by war.

The small-pox was also so fatal to them, that whole tribes on the upper lakes have been entirely extinguished by it. Those people being in the habit of using all possible means of closing the pores of the skin, by painting and anointing themselves with bears’ grease, to defend them against the extremity of cold, to which their manner of life exposed them; and not being habitually subject to any cutaneous disease, the small-pox rarely rises upon them; from which it may be understood how little chance they had of recovering. All this I heard aunt Schuyler relate, whose observations and reflections I merely detail.

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