And what is true of this reservation is equally true of that on the Tule
River, in Southern California, which I saw in 1872. In both, to sum up the
story, the Government has deprived the farmers of an important laboring
force by creating a pauper asylum, called a reservation; and, having
thus injured the community, it further injures the Indian by a system of
treatment which ingeniously takes away every incentive to better living,
and abstains from controlling him on those very points wherein an upright
guardian would most rigidly and faithfully control and guide his ward.

To force a population of laboring and peaceable Indians on a reservation
is a monstrous blunder. For wild and predatory or unsettled Indians, like
the Apaches, or many tribes of the plains, the reservation is doubtless
the best place; but even then the Government, acting as guardian, ought to
control and train its wards; it ought to treat them like children, or at
least like beasts; it ought not only to feed and clothe them, but also
to teach them, and enforce upon them order, neatness, good manners, and
habits of discipline and steady labor. This seems plain enough, but it
will never be done by "Indian agents," selected from civil life, be these
ministers or laymen.

An army officer, methodical, orderly, and having the habit of command,
is the proper person for superintendent of a reservation; for drill
and discipline, regular hours, regular duties, respectful manners,
cleanliness, method--these are the elements of civilization that are
needed, and which an army officer knows how to impress without harshness,
because they are the essence of his own life. But under our present Indian
policy the army is the mere servant of the Indian agent. If it were not
for the small military force at Camp Wright, Mr. Burchard, the agent,
could not keep an Indian on his reservation. But the intelligent,