The Indians to this day talk of their Northwest “fathers” with regret.  “Our old traders, our fathers, did not serve us so,” is a remark I have frequently heard in every part of the country where the North-West Company had established posts.  Had their rule been distinguished by oppression or injustice, the natives would rather have expressed their satisfaction at its suppression; had it been tyrannical or oppressive, it would not have been long tolerated.  The natives in those times were numerous and warlike; the trading-posts were isolated and far apart; and in the summer season, when the managers proceeded to the depots, with the greater part of their people, were entirely at the mercy of the natives, who would not have failed to take advantage of such opportunities to avenge their wrongs, had they suffered any.  The posts, in fact, were left entirely to their protection, and depended on them for support during the absence of the traders, who, on their return in autumn, found themselves surrounded by hundreds of rejoicing Indians, greeting their “fathers” with every manifestation of delight;—­he who had not a gun to fire strained his lungs with shouting.

The native population has decreased at an extraordinary rate since those times.  I do not mean to affirm that this decrease arises from the Hudson’s Bay Company’s treatment of them; but, from whatever cause arising, it is quite certain they have greatly decreased.  Neither can it be denied, that the natives are no longer the manly, independent race they formerly were.  On the contrary, we now find them gloomy and dispirited, unhappy and discontented.

As to our vaunted “generosity” to the natives, I am at a loss to know in what it consists.  When a band of Indians arrive at a trading post, each individual is presented with a few inches of tobacco; here (at Fort Simpson) in winter we add a fish to each.  After their furs are traded, a few flints, awls, and hooks, and a trifle of ammunition is given them, in proportion to their hunts, and then—­“Va-t-en.”  This is about the average amount of “generosity” they receive throughout the country; varied, however, by the differences of disposition observable in the Hudson’s Bay Company’s traders, as among all other mortals.  Some of us would even withhold the awls and hooks, if we could; others, at the risk of being “hauled up” for extravagance, would add another hook to the number.

Were the Company’s standing rules and regulations acted upon, we might perhaps have some title to the generosity we boast of.  In these rules we are directed to supply poor Indians with ammunition and fishing tackle, gratis.  This looks very well on paper; but are we allowed the means of bestowing these gratuities?  Certainly not.[3] Our outfits, in many cases, are barely sufficient to meet the exigencies of the trade; they are continually reduced in proportion to the decrease in the returns; and the strictest economy is not only recommended, but enforced.  On the due fulfilment of these commands our prospects in the service depend; and few indeed will think of violating them, or of sacrificing their own interests to benefit Indians.  I repeat that, far from having it in our power to bestow anything gratuitously, we are happy when allowed sufficient means to barter for the furs the Indians bring us.