322 APPENDIX B. 



WDole. That is the curst Misfortune of our Traders ; 

 A thousand Fools attempt to live this Way, 

 Who might as well turn Ministers of State. 

 But, as you are a Friend, I will inform you 

 Of all the secret Arts by which we thrive, 

 Which if all practis'd, we might all grow rich, 

 Nor circumvent each other in our Gains. 

 What have you got to part with to the Indians ? 



Murphey. I've Rum and Blankets, Wampum, Powder, Bells, 

 And such like Trifles as they're wont to prize. 



M'Dole. 'Tis very well : your Articles are good : 

 But now the Thing's to make a Profit from them. 

 Worth all your Toil and Pains of coming hither. 

 Our fundamental Maxim then is tliis, 

 That it's no Crime to cheat and gull an Indian. 



Murphey. How ! Not a Sin to clieat an Indian, say you 7 

 Are they not Men ? hav'nt they a Right to Justice 

 As well as we, though savage in their Manners 1 



M'Dole. Ah ! If you boggle here, I say no more ; 

 This is the very Quintessence of Trade, 

 And ev'ry Hope of Gain depends upon it ; 

 None who neglect it ever did grow rich. 

 Or ever will, or can by Indian Commerce. 

 By this old Ogden built his stately House, 

 Purchased Estates, and grew a little King. 

 He, like an honest Man, bought all by weight, 

 And made the ign'rant Savages believe 

 That his Right Foot exacitly weighed a Pound. 

 By this for many years he bought their Furs, 

 And died in Quiet like an honest Dealer. 



Murphey. Well, I'll not stick at what is necessary; 

 But his Devise is now grown old and stale. 

 Nor could I manage such a barefac'd Fraud. 



M'Dole. A thousand Opportunities present 

 To take Advantage of their Ignorance ; 

 But the great Engine I employ is Rum, 

 More pow'rful made by certain strength'ning Drugs. 

 This I distribute with a lib'ral Hand, 

 Urge them to drink till they grow mad and valiant ; 

 Which makes them think me generous and just, 

 And gives full Scope to practise all my Art. 

 1 then begin my Trade with water'd Rum ; 

 The cooHng Draught well suits their scorching Throats. 

 Their Fur and Peltry come in quick Return : 

 My Scales are honest, but so well contriv'd, 

 That one small Slip will turn Three Pounds to One ; 

 Which they, poor silly Souls ! ignorant of Weights 



