The competition, though deadly between the heads of the rival companies, was not always carried on by the employés at swords-point. Tricks were sometimes in order to get the advantage of a rival. In close proximity as were many of the forts of the companies, there was sometimes a good deal of manoeuvring to get hold of Indians known to be approaching the posts after a hunting expedition. The question often presented itself to the inmates of one or other of the forts, how to inveigle the returned hunters to their special trading-post and secure the furs without the interference of their rivals. Bancroft tells the story how this question was on one occasion answered.

"There were too many," he writes, "to coerce, therefore courtesy should do it (i.e., defeat the vigilance of the rival traders). Childish rivalry for the moment should give place to friendship's hallowed communion. A grand ball should be given to the honourable North-West Company, and on the spot. When drink was not wanting, a ball in fur-hunting circles was a matter quickly arranged. Invitations were answered by the dancers presenting themselves in the evening at the hour named in grandest apparel, with clean capotes, bright hatcords, and new embroidered moccasins. The native fiddler struck up a Scotch reel, and while from the huge fire came fitful gusts from savoury roasts, the guests were invited to manifest their appreciation of the entertainment by the measure of their potations. Would they not drink? Would they not dance? Would they not take another drink? and another, and another?

"This within the palisades; while down in the hollow behind the fort muffled men with packs and snow-shoes were hurrying to and fro, hitching dogs to sledges, patting the creatures to keep them quiet, and directing their eager movements only by signs and whispers. Finally, the sledges being well loaded with goods and the bells all removed from the dogs' necks, the party started at a round pace for the Indian camp. Long after the noiseless train had departed, the sound of revelry was borne upon the frosty air, until finally stillness

reigned. Next day the North-West look-out reported the returned hunters. With bells ringing merrily a party set out in pursuit, only after a long day's journey to find the hunters all dead-drunk, with not so much as a musquash left to sell.

"Yes, it was a brilliant ball, but the Nor'-Westers swore there should be dancing to another tune ere long. Soon opportunity offered. Rival trains in search of the same hunters meeting one cold day, it was proposed to build a rousing fire, and eat and drink together. Soon a huge pile of logs was crackling furiously, and spirits were flowing freely. This time the Nor'-Westers by spilling their liquor upon the snow were at length enabled to put their competitors into a state of intoxication; then, tying them to their sledges, they sent the dogs homeward, while they went forward to the Indian camp and secured the furs."

But all occasion for these rivalries, with the enmities they gave rise to, had now happily passed. Even hostility to colonisation, by the conditions of the new license, was specifically forbidden, and was now also a thing of the past. Under the régime of toleration, the much trampled on colony of the Red River shewed germs of new life. Since the troubles of 1816, it had, however, a new and peculiar visitation, from which it was now happily recovering. But we must leave one of its settlers, the historian, Alexander Ross, to tell the story of this new misfortune:

"Every step," writes Ross, "was now a progressive one: agricultural labour advanced, the crops looked healthy and vigorous, and promised a rich harvest. In short, hope once more revived, and everything put on a thriving and prosperous appearance: when, lo! in the midst of all these pleasing anticipations, just as the corn was in ear, and the barley almost ripe, a cloud of grasshoppers from the west darkened the air, and fell like a heavy shower of snow on the devoted colony. This stern visitation happened in the last week of July, and late one afternoon. Next morning, when the people arose, it was not to gladness, but to sorrow; all their hopes were in a moment blighted! Crops, gardens, and every green

herb in the settlement had perished, with the exception of a few ears of the barley, half ripe, gleaned in the women's aprons. This sudden and unexpected disaster was more than they could bear. The unfortunate immigrants looked up towards heaven and wept."*

Not figuratively, but in sad truth, there was left to the colony neither "seed to the sower nor bread to the eater!" Is it a wonder that many a Scottish immigrant turned heartbroken from the settlement? And turning from the settlement he might be excused for saying that it was "no abode for civilised men!"

* While this chapter was passing through the press, the author had the pleasure to receive a courteous invitation to visit the library of Wm. J. Macdonell, Esq., a worthy Scottish gentleman, well known in Toronto for his literary tastes, for his unostentatious charity, and for his many years zealous representation of France as local Consul. In the course of a pleasant chat, among his books, the writer discovered that his venerable entertainer was a nephew of Miles Macdonell, first Governor of the Selkirk Colony, and was shown, appended to the Selkirk "M. • morial to the Duke of Richmond, the Canadian Governor-General, in 1819, a manuscript letter of Lord Selkirk to Mr. Macdonell's father, brother of Governor Miles Macdonell, with a number of letters from the latter, referring to the affairs of the colony.

The purport of the Selkirk letter, which is dated Montreal, Dec. 1, 1815, is to interest his correspondent, then in Boston, to secure for him a few chosen men of good character, to go with him to Red River, and to whom he would give a free passage and good wages for a time while in his service. To those accepting the proposal, and accompanying his Lordship, a grant of land would be given at the close of the engagement, should the person settle in the colony, or if not, a free passage back to Canada. A free passage is also offered to any young woman who may agree, at the invitation of the person entering his employ, to come to the colony as his wife. The interesting letter thus concludes: "I propose, early next spring," says Lord Selkirk, "to go up with these people myself, which may serve as an answer to anyone who apprehends danger from the Indians. I think these men will be satisfied when they know that they will be exposed to no danger but such as I must share with them. I have the most unquestionable evidence that the people who committed such unjustifiable outrages against your brother Miles, were not Indians, but British subjects, whom I am determined to bring to justice, and I trust that the example of their punishment will prevent any similar attempt from being made in future."

The existence of these letters, and their value in throwing light on the early history of the country, call urgently for the founding, in our midst, of an Historical Society, in the archives of which they may be preserved, and where they may be accessible to students of our local annals.

AVAGERY, it has been said, is civilisation's childhood. We should like to think so. Despite past experience of the Indian in his savage state, we should like to think, that in his brutalised condition there were the makings of something better. We

should like to think, that as it has been the fate of some portions of the race to lapse into barbarism, that out of barbarism they will yet emerge. We should like to think, that, in the philanthropies of a coming day, forces will yet be moved to restore the Indian to civilisation, and to eradicate from his nature those dispositions and tendencies that drag him backward in the path of progress, or, while imitating bad examples set before him, that civilise him out of existence. We are told that a race that cannot itself contribute its redeemers will never be redeemed. But this is too pessimistic a view to be willingly entertained. We admit it would be encouraging to find, that, when some advance has been made by the savage towards civilisation, reversionary tendencies did not persistently crop out, and undo the work that had been done. But have the conditions been favourable to the experiment ?

Has the reclamation of the Indian been tried under conditions so auspicious that one might look for anything but failure; and has it been tried with earnestness and persistence? People who speak hopelessly of the civilisation of the aborigines have spoken with like hopelessness of the "lapsed masses" of their own kind. There is one feature, at least, of encouragement in the Indian's case, namely, that we have never enslaved him, though, unfortunately, he has enslaved himself. But for the latter we are more responsible, perhaps, than he. Too often we have made of the noble savage an ignoble brute.

The problem of Indian civilisation is a profoundly interesting one. To the people of this continent, it is more however than this. On three specific grounds it is of momentous import: first, as a duty incumbent upon governments, in the management of those wards of a nation whose hunting-grounds the country has appropriated; secondly, as a Christian people, responsible for the care and wellbeing of their less favoured brethren; and thirdly, in the relation of all towards subject tribes whose good-will it is desirable to propitiate, for the sake of the poor settler who makes his habitation among them. The Indian Question, long ago, became one peculiarly appropriate for the white race to discuss. As has been said of it, it is a question entirely of the white man's making. We came to the Indian, not the Indian to us. We were the aggressors. We invaded his territory, and we made of it an aceldama of blood. With one hand we held before him the Cross; with the other we cut him down with the sword. While we taught him that Christ's kingdom was peace, we showed him that man's mission was war. So far from bringing him the olive branch, we have brought him fire-arms and fire-water, and what was worse, the diseases of lust, and an example in morals he has not been slow to copy. We speak of the failure of efforts to civilise,