Not very long ago it was the good fortune of the writer to be in Edinburgh. He was talking to his friend, a well-known Writer to the Signet. The conversation turned on the old fur-trading days, and in a short time author and lawyer found themselves four stories high, in a garret, examining boxes, packages, and effects of James Hargrave and his son Joseph, who as fur traders, father and son, had occupied posts in the Hudson's Bay Company service extending from 1820 to 1892. Several cases were filled with copies of a book entitled "Red River," published by the younger Hargrave in 1871. Other boxes enclosed the library of father and son. Two canvas bags contained many pounds of new farthings, which, by some strange mischance, had found their way to the Hudson Bay and had been returned as useless. Miscellaneous articles of no value to the searchers lay about, but in one large valise were many bundles of letters. These were done up in the most careful manner. The packages were carefully tied with red tape, and each, securely sealed with three black ominous seals, emphasized the effect of the directions written on them, in some cases "to be opened only by my son," in others, "to be opened only by my children." After some delay the permission of the heirs was obtained, and the packages were opened and examined. They were all letters written between 1821 and 1859 by fur-trading friends to James Hargrave, who had carefully preserved them, folded, docketed, and arranged them, and who had, in the last years of his life at "Burnside House," his residence at Brockville, Canada, kept the large correspondence as the "apple of his eye." The vast majority of the letters, numbering many hundreds in all, had been addressed to York Factory. For most of his life Hargrave had been in charge of York Factory, on Hudson Bay. York Factory was during the greater part of this fur trader's life, as it had been for more than a century before his time, the port of entry to which goods brought by ship from Britain had been borne to the interior of Rupert's Land, and also the port from which the ships had carried their precious cargoes of furs to the mother country. James Hargrave had thus become the trusted correspondent of governor and merchant, of bishop and clergyman, of medical man and educationist. He was emphatically a middleman, a sort of Janus, looking with one face to the London merchants and with the other to the dwellers in Rupert's Land.