CHAPTER XIIORGANISATION AND TRAVEL
The marked feature of the year 1875 was the organisation of the four dioceses, into which the old diocese of Rupertsland was divided, into an ecclesiastical province, the first synod of which was held in the beginning of August. This necessitated the bishop’s going to Winnipeg, Red River, a journey of fifteen hundred miles. ‘In going I visited the stations of New Brunswick, Misenabe, and Michipicoton. At New Brunswick much progress is being made; most of the Indians are now baptized, and as the present agent of the Hudson’s Bay Company there is a great friend of missions, and one who will do all in his power for the spiritual benefit of those attached to his trading post, I hope it will not be long before heathenism will have taken its entire departure, and Christianity be the professed religion of that important portion of my charge. From all the stations I receive good reports, but before that advance can be made for which we so deeply long, we must have more labourers. We are so few, and the field is so large. In the autumn the mission was strengthened by the arrival of the Rev. J. H. Keenfrom England, and a valuable gift he is proving himself to be. I trust another man equally good will be sent next autumn.
‘In May I hope to set apart Mr. Saunders, a native of the country, for the work of the ministry among his countrymen (the Ojibbeways). Thus I shall be enabled to occupy three most important posts, so that, should I further carry out my plans, I shall consider that I have the diocese tolerably well in hand. The places I hope to occupy are Rupert’s House, to which an immense extent of country looks as its head; Matawakumma, which will guard the frontier from Roman Catholic encroachment; and Whale River, opening up communication with the interesting but much neglected Eskimo of the north-eastern coast of Hudson’s Bay. Another place, Flying Post, I had likewise hoped to supply with a permanent competent teacher, but the man intended for it, a pure Indian, will not be ready this year.’
The Rev. J. H. Keen had been assisting the bishop at Moose, but the people at Rupert’s House were still without a missionary, so at Christmas he was given up to them, and the bishop took the work at Moose Fort alone. The Christmas Day services began ere the stars had disappeared from the firmament, and continued till late in the afternoon. ‘After this,’ he writes, ‘I felt considerably fatigued, but a cup of tea revived me, and I spent a quietly happy evening with my wife and youngest children.’
In the following summer the bishop joined Mr. Keen at Rupert’s House. ‘Among those who camedown to meet me,’ he says, ‘were our old friends Matamashkum, Wapunaweshkum, Snuffers, and many others. Our joy was mutual.
‘Soon arrived the brigades from Mistasinnee, Waswanepe, and Nitchekwun, hundreds of miles up the Rupert’s River. We were busy morning, noon, and night. Every moment was employed, for these children of ours would have but a few days’ intercourse with their father, and then would again return to their distant homes. We had marriages to perform, many children to baptize, candidates for confirmation to prepare, communicants to instruct, the disobedient to rebuke. There was not much of this, however, and the days ran rapidly and happily on. The Psalter, beautifully printed from my translation, had come to us the previous ship time, and the Indians were delighted. After a little while it was most cheering to hear how well they read together their appointed portions. They gave me a very good collection, a good number of beaver; that is to say, they did not give me a large pile of beaver skins, but our native teacher, Jacob Matamashkum, had made a list of all the Indians, and after each name he had written down the man’s contribution in beaver. When the list was completed it was given to the resident trader, who credited me with three shillings for each beaver. Altogether it amounted to a considerable sum.’
Some time after this the bishop made a voyage in the Mink to Big River and Great Whale River, both on the eastern coast of Hudson’s Bay. At Great Whale River the work was of a varied character,amongst Indians, Eskimo, and English. The Eskimo were assembled in some numbers for the whale fishery. But it was not a success that season. The whales, or rather porpoises, remained outside the river, and would not come in. ‘A whale fishery when the whales are numerous is a very exciting sight. I myself,’ says the bishop, ‘have engaged in a fishery in which a thousand were killed, but that was many years ago. The Eskimo gave much cause for encouragement; no matter what they were about, when summoned to school or service the work was dropped instantly, their little books were taken up, and off they trotted, singing, listening, praying; they showed that they were thoroughly in earnest.’
‘How grieved was my heart that I had no one to leave behind who might take the Eskimo as his special charge!’ says the bishop. But the man desired was even then approaching Moose Fort in the annual ship. It was Mr. Peck, a layman, who had spent some of the earlier years of his life as a sailor. ‘It was by searching the Scriptures in my mess on board one of H.M.’s vessels that the light shone into my darkened soul; it was then I knew its truth,’ he says. The bishop was much pleased with the earnestness and evident fitness for the work of the young missionary. After remaining at Moose only a week, the latter set out in a boat with three or four Indians for his distant and lonely home. After a few months he returned to Moose to be ordained.
‘The two events of the winter,’ writes the bishop, February 1878, ‘have been the children’s school-treatand the ordination of Mr. Peck. The treat was a great success. Fifty-six partook of our hospitality. We divided them into two parties on two successive evenings; I never saw children enjoy themselves more. We had many games to amuse them, finishing each evening with a religious service. Edward Richards, one of the Coral Fundprotégés, is with us, assisting generally in the mission. He has done good work this winter in giving instruction to Mr. Peck in the Indian language. My son is spending the winter with us, cheering us much, and assisting in the work. In the summer he takes his mother, Beatrice, and Bertie to England, the two latter to go to school. I am afraid I shall find a bachelor’s life here rather hard.’
On May 10, 1878, the bishop, with heartfelt thanksgiving, ordained Mr. Peck deacon and priest. ‘He left us,’ writes Mr. Horden on June 18, ‘with our deepest sympathy and our most earnest prayers. He left us well prepared for his work, and with a good insight into the two difficult native languages he will be in constant contact with, the Cree and the Eskimo. He is full of zeal—zeal tempered with prudence, and I think that, should his life be spared, a noble career is before him. The surroundings of his home are very desolate, and he needs all the help and sympathy we can give him.’
This summer was spent as usual in almost constant travel by the bishop, who still had not been from end to end of his vast diocese. The station next in importance to Moose at that time was York Factory,but he had never yet seen it, owing to the great distance. This summer he visited Albany. Although it was the end of June, ice was still lying on the coast when he set out in a large canoe, accompanied by six Indians. The way lay along the western shore of James’ Bay. The scenery is very dreary, the coast low and flat, not a hill to be seen. At the end of three days he found himself ‘at a very small village, consisting of the residence of the fur trader, a nice church, a good parsonage, a few well-built houses, and a number of Indian tents.’
‘I was most heartily welcomed,’ he writes. ‘It was late in the evening when I got out of the canoe, and the next morning early I entered the church for service. The Rev. Thomas Vincent, who has built both his house and church, principally with his own hands, is most indefatigable. I saw no heathen Indians here, I heard no Indian drums, I beheld no superstitious rites, but I heard hymns of praise rising to heaven. A large number had been prepared for confirmation, and many knelt at the Lord’s table.’
After a stay of a fortnight’s duration the bishop returned to Moose, and started for Matawakumma, 500 miles distant, where the Rev. John Saunders, a native, like Mr. Vincent, of Albany, was now located. Matawakumma means, ‘the lake of the meeting of the waters.’ It is a large lake, irregular in outline, surrounded by woods. The first thing which strikes the visitor on approaching the station is the neat little church perched on a rising ground, like a beacon set on a hill, the rallying point for the little band of OjibbewayIndians of the neighbourhood. Then the residence of the fur-trader comes in sight, the store and other buildings, and the modest parsonage-house, with its garden and accessories. The whole way from Moose the bishop saw not more than a dozen people. The journey took rather more than a fortnight. The road was a broad river, impeded in its course by many rapids and shoals, and by numerous waterfalls, some of which are very beautiful.
‘Various portages had been made, and we were going on, as we thought, safely,’ writes the bishop, ‘when suddenly there is a heavy crash, and the water comes rushing into the canoe. We had come with force upon a rock, which had made a great hole in the bark. We paddle to the shore as fast as possible, take everything out of the canoe and begin repairing it. One goes to a birch tree and cuts off a large piece of bark, another digs up some roots and splits them, a third prepares some pitch, and in the course of an hour or two the bark is sewn into the bottom of the canoe, the seams are covered with pitch, and we are once more loading our little vessel.
‘At the end of our second week we come to an encampment of Indians. It is Sunday, and we stay and spend the day with them. They are old friends, Henry Martyn and his wife and others. Indians who are Christians, baptized and communicants. Indians who can give a reason for the hope which is in them. Indians who can read their books and write their letters, and who may be depended upon quite as much as any Europeans.
SHOOTING A RAPID
SHOOTING A RAPID
SHOOTING A RAPID
‘Early on Monday morning we are once more in our canoe, and soon get into Matawakumma Lake, in which we paddle for five hours in very heavy rain. Soaked quite through, we feel not a little glad to step ashore on the friendly beach, and find ourselves once more with civilised man.’
And ere long the time came for the bishop’s sore trial of parting with wife and children. The two youngest must go to an English school. But ‘who was to take them?’ he writes. ‘There was no one but their dear mother, and although it was hard to part with her in this dreary and solitary land, it was absolutely necessary; and they were to be accompanied by my eldest son, Dr. Horden, who had spent the winter with us. Our annual ship came early, and the party was to start in her on her return voyage. I spent one night on board. Next morning, at an early hour, the ship’s guns told us that the voyage had commenced. I remained until after breakfast, and then, after a sorrowful farewell, I left in a boat, and in a few minutes found myself on the deck of the schooner bound for Fort George.
‘Now the way to Fort George is, in part, the way to England, and so the two vessels started in company. The day was beautiful, the wind was fair, and we made good progress; but the great ship, spreading more canvas, gradually got ahead—late in the evening she was about twelve miles distant, and I thought we had seen the last of her. That night and the next day the weather was very wild and disagreeable, but the day, after all, was once more prosperous, and soonafter breakfast we espied our huge companion a few miles to the west of us. She drew towards us, and when we saw the last of her, as night came on, she was about ten miles ahead.
‘The following day we should easily have reached our destination had the weather been clear; as it was, we could not venture near the dangerous coast. On Sunday the weather cleared up, the high land of Wastekan Island came in sight, and by-and-by the low and dangerous lead islands. Then the wild and uninviting land all around showed we were at the mouth of Big River, the tortuous channel of which we carefully threaded, and at four o’clock we dropped anchor in front of the little village, consisting only of six or eight houses.
‘I was agreeably surprised to find a large number of my red friends assembled on the beach to greet me. I at once collected them together, and we had a most interesting service. Later in the evening we had the English-speaking people and the crew of our vessel, making altogether quite a respectable congregation. On Friday morning we had to say good-bye, and once more go on board. The next day was dark and dismal, the wind blowing a hurricane, while the sea ran mountains high. At noon we caught a momentary sight of land, but we were obliged to stand out, as we could not see our way through the tortuous course to Moose. No one on board slept a moment that night. The storm abated in the morning, and at daybreak we were once more sailing in the right direction; in the afternoon the wind wasvery light, and a little after six o’clock we landed at Moose. I made my way to my own house; the loved ones, who were accustomed to greet me with such joy on my return, were far away, battling with the great Atlantic waves.... They were gone, and it ill became me to sit down and mope; so I set to work to drive melancholy away. More work came upon me than I had calculated upon.
‘This was the only winter that Mr. Saunders, the Ojibbeway clergyman, could be at Moose for a long time, and I could not translate into the Ojibbeway tongue without his assistance. We first attacked the Moosonee hymn-book. This finished, we commenced the Prayer-book, and having finished the morning prayers we put it aside to get one of the Gospels done. The great diversity of languages in the diocese vastly increases our labour—Cree, Ojibbeway, Chipwyan, and Eskimo—and there must be separate translations for each. The English school, too, I manage myself, with over thirty scholars. They are a happy lot, very well behaved, with a great love for their school—as a proof of which I need only say that there has been scarcely an absentee for the winter. All this, with sermons, visiting my people, correspondence, which grows instead of diminishing, keeps me thoroughly employed every day from morning to night. The winter hitherto has been a very mild one. When it stands at or a little above zero, we consider it decidedly warm.
‘Of all I received last ship time nothing gladdened my eyes more than the sight of a box of Eskimobooks in the syllabic character, printed from manuscript sent home the previous year. I can fancy with what delight Mr. Peck pounced on them, and with what gratification the Eskimo beheld the raising of the lid which exposed to view so much spiritual food. Our native library is becoming extensive, new books being added every year. There is no language without literature. It is blessed work supplying the aborigines of any country with the Word of Life; that Word which reveals to them Jesus, and raises them in spiritual things to a level with the most polished and civilised nations on earth.’