Mr. Buchanan says: “In passing down the St. Lawrence in the summer of 1819, I stopped my batteaux at a tavern, where I proposed to remain all night. Two squaws were there with a basket of wild strawberries for sale, and I directed the mistress of the tavern to purchase some, that I might have them with cream for my supper. It was soon, however, to be perceived by the conversation in bargaining, that my landlady and the Indian women could not come to terms. There seemed to be much harshness in the manner of the former; but the replies of the latter were so meek, and their demeanour so submissive, that had I been making the bargain under the impression of my feelings, few words would have been necessary. The Christian purchaser, however, continued so extortionate in her demands, that the poor disappointed heathens turned away from her. Truly unreasonable indeed must the lady have been; for there was neither village, nor other house near likely to afford a market for the poor Indian hawkers, who it seemed had come to this very tavern with the hope of selling their fruit. Under this impression I followed the poor women, put a small sum into the hands of one of them, and hastily passed on, while they gazed at me with astonishment at so unexpected _a largess_, for so it appeared to them. On my return from a walk along the river, I was surprised to see the two squaws standing at the corner of the house patiently waiting for me; when, eyes sparkling with emotions which I could not misunderstand, but which I am incapable of portraying, they presented me with a bowl top-full of picked strawberries, which I rejected at first, being desirous of convincing them there were some, if not many, white men who felt kindly towards them. But their expression of entreaty was so vehement, their importunity so great, that I felt it necessary to their happiness to accept their present; for they had no other way of showing their gratitude. This humble offering furnished my supper, and sweet indeed would my meal have been, had not commiseration for the wrongs of these sorely abused, persecuted, forlorn, abandoned people, mingled with my enjoyment. I am so fully impressed with their undeserved misery, and with the nobleness of their character, that I should esteem the devotion of my life in their cause the most honourable way in which it could be employed; but alas, years and circumstances prevent my doing more than making this feeble effort to rouse the energies of youthful talent in their behalf; and as benevolence pervades the youthful mind more powerfully than that of the aged, I am not without a hope that thousands will yet start up to advocate the cause of the Red Indians, and prosecute measures for the amelioration of their state.