Indians have a great contempt, comparatively, for the beads we send them, which they consider as only fit for those plebeians who cannot by their exertions, win any better. They estimate them, compared with their own wampum, as we do pearls compared with paste. _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