“Thou hast no shore, fair ocean!Thou hast no time, bright day!Dear fountain of refreshmentTo pilgrims far away!“Upon the Rock of AgesThey raise thy holy Tower;Thine is the victor’s laurel,And thine the golden Dower.”
“Thou hast no shore, fair ocean!Thou hast no time, bright day!Dear fountain of refreshmentTo pilgrims far away!
“Thou hast no shore, fair ocean!
Thou hast no time, bright day!
Dear fountain of refreshment
To pilgrims far away!
“Upon the Rock of AgesThey raise thy holy Tower;Thine is the victor’s laurel,And thine the golden Dower.”
“Upon the Rock of Ages
They raise thy holy Tower;
Thine is the victor’s laurel,
And thine the golden Dower.”
And the 29th:—
“Jerusalem the golden,With milk and honey blest,Beneath thy contemplation,Sink heart and voice oppressed.“I know not, oh, I know not,What social joys are there;What radiancy of glory,What light beyond compare!”
“Jerusalem the golden,With milk and honey blest,Beneath thy contemplation,Sink heart and voice oppressed.
“Jerusalem the golden,
With milk and honey blest,
Beneath thy contemplation,
Sink heart and voice oppressed.
“I know not, oh, I know not,What social joys are there;What radiancy of glory,What light beyond compare!”
“I know not, oh, I know not,
What social joys are there;
What radiancy of glory,
What light beyond compare!”
But these and others were all eclipsed by the last, which seemed afterward to have been a prophecy of what was near at hand, and yet neither she nor we anticipated it:—
“Exult, O dust and ashes!The Lord shall be thy part;His only, his forever,Thou shalt be, and thou art!”
“Exult, O dust and ashes!The Lord shall be thy part;His only, his forever,Thou shalt be, and thou art!”
“Exult, O dust and ashes!
The Lord shall be thy part;
His only, his forever,
Thou shalt be, and thou art!”
This was a fascination to her. We were blind at the time, and did not see afar off. Now it is manifest that even then she was preparing to go to “Jerusalem the only.”She was tenting in the Land of Beulah.
For years past Mary had almost ceased to write letters. Neither her physical nor mental condition had permitted it. But a letter is found written on the 2d of February, 1869, which must have been the very last she ever wrote. Along with it she sent a copy of some of the stanzas fromHora Novissima, which at this time were such an enjoyment to her. The letter is addressed to Isabella, in China. She writes: “Your last letter, written October 5, ’68, was received January 5, 1869. All your letters are very precious to us, but this is peculiarly so. Perhaps I have written this before; but if I have, I am glad again to acknowledge the joy it gives me that our Father gives you faith to look gratefully beyond the passing shadows of this life into the abiding light of the life to come.
“Was the 19th of First Chronicles the last chapter weread in family worship before you left home? If so, the 13th verse must be the one you read: ‘Be of good courage, and let us behave ourselves valiantly for our people, and for the cities of our God: and let the Lord do that which is good in his sight.’ Even so let it be. May you ever ‘be strong in the Lord.’”
We had passed the nones of March. It was on Tuesday, the 10th, as I well remember, the day of the ministers’ meeting, which was held at the house of the Presbyterian minister Rev. Mr. Alexander. Mary had been planning to attend in the evening. But the day was chill and cold, as March days often are. She had been out in the yard seeing to the washed clothes, and had taken cold. In the evening she was not feeling so well, and decided to stay at home. For several days she thought—and we thought—it was only an ordinary cold, that some simple medicines and care in diet would remedy.
On Saturday, as she seemed to be growing no better, but rather worse, I called in Dr. Taggart, who pronounced it a case of pneumonia. The attack, he said, was a severe one, and her lungs were very seriously affected. Her hold on life had been so feeble for several years that we could not expect she would throw off disease as easily as a person of more vigor. But at this time her own impression was that she would recover. And the doctor said he saw nothing to make him think she would not.
But soon after the physician’s first visit, the record is, “She was occasionally flighty and under strange hallucinations, caused either by the disease or the medicines.” On the following Thursday, she evidently began to be impressed with the thought that she possibly would notget well. She said she felt moreunconsciousandstupidthan she had ever felt before in sickness. When, in answer to her inquiry as to what the doctor said of her case, I told her he was very hopeful, she said, “He does not know much more about it than we do.” At one time she remarked, “I feel very delicious, the taking down of the tabernacle appears so beautiful”; and she desired me to get Bernard’s Hymn, and read such passages as “Jerusalem the Golden” and “Exult, O dust and ashes.”
“Friday, March 19, noon.“I watched with your mother last night. Her strength seems to keep up wonderfully well, but the disease has quite affected her power of speech. When it came light, I perceived a livid hue about her eyes, and became alarmed. We sent for Dr. Taggart. The propriety of continuing the whiskey prescriptions seemed quite doubtful, especially as the mother was taking them under a conscientious protest. When the doctor came, he appeared to be alarmed also, and changed his treatment from Dover’s powders to quinine, but wished the whiskey continued.“During the morning she spoke several times about the probabilities of life. ‘God knows the best time,’ she said; ‘but, if I am to go now, I do not wish to linger long.’ She had been able, she said, to do but little for years, and there was not much reason for her living—but she would be glad to stay longer for the children’s sake. At one time she remarked, in substance: ‘I have tried all along to do right; I don’t know that I should be able to do better if the life was to be lived over again.’”
“Friday, March 19, noon.
“I watched with your mother last night. Her strength seems to keep up wonderfully well, but the disease has quite affected her power of speech. When it came light, I perceived a livid hue about her eyes, and became alarmed. We sent for Dr. Taggart. The propriety of continuing the whiskey prescriptions seemed quite doubtful, especially as the mother was taking them under a conscientious protest. When the doctor came, he appeared to be alarmed also, and changed his treatment from Dover’s powders to quinine, but wished the whiskey continued.
“During the morning she spoke several times about the probabilities of life. ‘God knows the best time,’ she said; ‘but, if I am to go now, I do not wish to linger long.’ She had been able, she said, to do but little for years, and there was not much reason for her living—but she would be glad to stay longer for the children’s sake. At one time she remarked, in substance: ‘I have tried all along to do right; I don’t know that I should be able to do better if the life was to be lived over again.’”
“Saturday noon, March 20.“It is a privilege that I never knew before to watch and wait in a sick chamber where one is in sympathy and contact with the spirit that is mounting upward. It does seem as if the pins of the tabernacle were indeed being taken out one by one, and the taking of it down is beautiful—how much more beautiful will be its rebuilding!“Anna and I watched the first part of last night—or, rather, she watched, and I lay on the lounge and got up to help her. In the latter part, Alfred took Anna’s place. So we watch and wait. Her mind-wandering continues at intervals, and she complains of her dulness—so stupid, she says. Christ, she says, has been near to her all winter, and is now. A little while ago, she remarked that she had been once, at St. Anthony, as low as she is now, and God had restored her. So she wanted us to pray that God would restore her yet again. This forenoon she had a talk with Henry, Robbie, and Cornelia separately. When Mr. Warner came in, she asked to see him, and said she hoped to have seen him under different circumstances than the present—and then commended Anna to his gentle care.”
“Saturday noon, March 20.
“It is a privilege that I never knew before to watch and wait in a sick chamber where one is in sympathy and contact with the spirit that is mounting upward. It does seem as if the pins of the tabernacle were indeed being taken out one by one, and the taking of it down is beautiful—how much more beautiful will be its rebuilding!
“Anna and I watched the first part of last night—or, rather, she watched, and I lay on the lounge and got up to help her. In the latter part, Alfred took Anna’s place. So we watch and wait. Her mind-wandering continues at intervals, and she complains of her dulness—so stupid, she says. Christ, she says, has been near to her all winter, and is now. A little while ago, she remarked that she had been once, at St. Anthony, as low as she is now, and God had restored her. So she wanted us to pray that God would restore her yet again. This forenoon she had a talk with Henry, Robbie, and Cornelia separately. When Mr. Warner came in, she asked to see him, and said she hoped to have seen him under different circumstances than the present—and then commended Anna to his gentle care.”
“Saturday evening.“One feels so powerless by the side of a sick loved one! How we would like to make well, if we could! But the fever continues to burn, and we can only look on. Then the mind wanders and fastens on all kinds of impossible and imaginary things. We would set that right, but we can not. Dr. Taggart has just been here, and speaks encouragingly of your mother. He thinks if we can keep her along until the fever runs its course,then careful nursing will bring her up again. The neighbors are very kind in offering us help and sympathy.”
“Saturday evening.
“One feels so powerless by the side of a sick loved one! How we would like to make well, if we could! But the fever continues to burn, and we can only look on. Then the mind wanders and fastens on all kinds of impossible and imaginary things. We would set that right, but we can not. Dr. Taggart has just been here, and speaks encouragingly of your mother. He thinks if we can keep her along until the fever runs its course,then careful nursing will bring her up again. The neighbors are very kind in offering us help and sympathy.”
“Sabbath morning.“The mother is still here. But the hopes Dr. Taggart encouraged are not likely to be realized. Alfred and I watched with her until after midnight, and Mrs. Bushnell and Anna the rest of the night. As thebourboncontinued to be so distasteful, the doctor substitutedwine; but that was no more desirable.“When told it was the Sabbath morning, she looked up brightly and said, ‘I think He will come for me to-day.’ Over and over again, she said, ‘He strengthens me.’ Mrs. Carr and Mrs. Benson came in this morning and were very helpful. The doctor has been up again, and says he isstillhopeful. Sowehope and watch.”
“Sabbath morning.
“The mother is still here. But the hopes Dr. Taggart encouraged are not likely to be realized. Alfred and I watched with her until after midnight, and Mrs. Bushnell and Anna the rest of the night. As thebourboncontinued to be so distasteful, the doctor substitutedwine; but that was no more desirable.
“When told it was the Sabbath morning, she looked up brightly and said, ‘I think He will come for me to-day.’ Over and over again, she said, ‘He strengthens me.’ Mrs. Carr and Mrs. Benson came in this morning and were very helpful. The doctor has been up again, and says he isstillhopeful. Sowehope and watch.”
“Sabbath evening.“The sick one continues much the same as earlier in the day. Mrs. Blaisdell and Mrs. Merrill came to offer their sympathy. Dr. Taggart came again and desired that she might renew the whiskey. This she promised to do. Mr. Bushnell has been in and expressed his confidence in theminne-wakanfor those who are ready to perish.”
“Sabbath evening.
“The sick one continues much the same as earlier in the day. Mrs. Blaisdell and Mrs. Merrill came to offer their sympathy. Dr. Taggart came again and desired that she might renew the whiskey. This she promised to do. Mr. Bushnell has been in and expressed his confidence in theminne-wakanfor those who are ready to perish.”
“Monday morn, 5:30 o’clock.“The end seems to be coming on apace. Anna and Alfred watched the first part of the night, and Mrs. Wheeler and I have been watching since. The difficulty of breathing has increased within the last few hours, and added to it is a rattling in the throat. Your mother called my attention to it about three o’clock. It seemsnow as if we can’t do much but smooth the way, which we do tenderly—lovingly.”
“Monday morn, 5:30 o’clock.
“The end seems to be coming on apace. Anna and Alfred watched the first part of the night, and Mrs. Wheeler and I have been watching since. The difficulty of breathing has increased within the last few hours, and added to it is a rattling in the throat. Your mother called my attention to it about three o’clock. It seemsnow as if we can’t do much but smooth the way, which we do tenderly—lovingly.”
“Seven o’clock,A. M.“The battle is fought, the conflict is ended, the victory is won, and thatsoonerthan we expected. Your mother’s life’s drama is closed—the curtain is drawn.“About one hour ago she called for some tea. Mrs. Wheeler hasted and made some fresh. When she had taken that, we gave her also the medicine for the hour. She then appeared to lie easily. I sat down to write a note to Thomas, who was in the Freedman’s work in Mississippi. But I had written only a few lines when Mrs. Wheeler called me. She had noticed a change come on very suddenly. When I reached the bedside, your mother could not speak, and did not recognize me by any sign. She was passing through the deep waters, and had even then reached the farther shore.“Mrs. Wheeler called up the children, and sent Robbie for Alfred. But, before he could come, the mother had breathed her last breath. Quietly, peacefully, without a struggle, only the gasping out of life, she passed beyond our reach of vision.“Yesterday she had said to me, ‘I have neglected the flowers.’ I asked, ‘What flowers?’ She replied, ‘The immortelles.’Dear, good one, she has gone to the flower-garden of God.”
“Seven o’clock,A. M.
“The battle is fought, the conflict is ended, the victory is won, and thatsoonerthan we expected. Your mother’s life’s drama is closed—the curtain is drawn.
“About one hour ago she called for some tea. Mrs. Wheeler hasted and made some fresh. When she had taken that, we gave her also the medicine for the hour. She then appeared to lie easily. I sat down to write a note to Thomas, who was in the Freedman’s work in Mississippi. But I had written only a few lines when Mrs. Wheeler called me. She had noticed a change come on very suddenly. When I reached the bedside, your mother could not speak, and did not recognize me by any sign. She was passing through the deep waters, and had even then reached the farther shore.
“Mrs. Wheeler called up the children, and sent Robbie for Alfred. But, before he could come, the mother had breathed her last breath. Quietly, peacefully, without a struggle, only the gasping out of life, she passed beyond our reach of vision.
“Yesterday she had said to me, ‘I have neglected the flowers.’ I asked, ‘What flowers?’ She replied, ‘The immortelles.’Dear, good one, she has gone to the flower-garden of God.”
1869-1870.—Home Desolate.—At the General Assembly.—Summer Campaign.—A. L. Riggs.—His Story of Early Life.—Inside View of Missions.—Why Missionaries’ Children Become Missionaries.—No Constraint Laid on Them.—A. L. Riggs Visits the Missouri Sioux.—Up the River.—The Brules.—Cheyenne and Grand River.—Starting for Fort Wadsworth.—Sun Eclipsed.—Sisseton Reserve.—Deciding to Build There.—In the Autumn Assembly.—My Mother’s Home.—Winter Visit to Santee.—Julia La Framboise.
1869-1870.—Home Desolate.—At the General Assembly.—Summer Campaign.—A. L. Riggs.—His Story of Early Life.—Inside View of Missions.—Why Missionaries’ Children Become Missionaries.—No Constraint Laid on Them.—A. L. Riggs Visits the Missouri Sioux.—Up the River.—The Brules.—Cheyenne and Grand River.—Starting for Fort Wadsworth.—Sun Eclipsed.—Sisseton Reserve.—Deciding to Build There.—In the Autumn Assembly.—My Mother’s Home.—Winter Visit to Santee.—Julia La Framboise.
As Abraham, a stranger and sojourner in the land of the children of Heth, bought of them the cave of Machpelah wherein to bury Sarah, so it seemed to me that I had come to Beloit to make a last resting-place for the remains of Mary. The house seemed desolate. Sooner or later, it involved the breaking-up of the family. Indeed it commenced very soon. Robert went up to Minnesota to spend a year at Martha’s. In the meantime, Anna had become mistress of the home, and had with her Mary Cooley, an invalid cousin.
That year of 1869 I was commissioner from the Dakota Presbytery to the General Assembly, which met in New York City. It was an assembly of more than ordinary interest, as at that meeting, and the one that followed in the autumn, the two branches of the Presbyterian Church North were again united. During this stay in New York City I was the guest of Hon. Wm. E. Dodge. That was quite a contrast to living among theDakotas. But at the close of the assembly I hastened westward to join Dr. Williamson at St. Peter. He had procured a small double wagon and a pony team, with which we together should make our summer campaign. Having fitted ourselves out, as we always did, with tent and camping materials, our first objective point was Sioux City, where we had arranged to meet and take in Alfred L. Riggs.
Since a little previous to the outbreak in 1862, he had been preaching to white people; first at Lockport, Ill., where he was ordained and continued with the church five years, and then for a year at Centre, Wis., and now at Woodstock, Ill. But all this time he seemed to be only waiting for the Dakota work to assume such a shape as to invite his assistance. For some time he had been especially acquainting himself with the most approved methods of education, that he might fill a place which, year by year, was becoming more manifestly important to be filled.
As in the progress of modern missions a large and increasing share of the new recruits are the children of missionaries, it will be interesting to know, from one of themselves, how they grow upinandintothe Missionary Kingdom.
“My first serious impression of life was that I was living under a great weight of something; and as I began to discern more clearly, I found this weight to be the all-surrounding, overwhelming presence of heathenism, and all the instincts of my birth and all the culture of a Christian home set me at antagonism to it at every point. The filthy savages, indecently clad, lazily lounging about the stove of our sitting-room, or flattening their dirty noses on the window-pane, caused such a disgustfor everything Indian that it took the better thought of many years to overcome the repugnance thus aroused. Without doubt, our mothers felt it all as keenly as we, their children, but they had a sustaining ambition for souls, which we had not yet gained.
“This feeling of disgust was often accompanied with, and heightened by, fear. The very air seemed to breathe dangers. At times violence stalked abroad unchallenged, and dark, lowering faces skulked around. Even in times when we felt no personal danger, this incubus of savage life all around weighed on our hearts. Thus it was, day and night. Even those hours of twilight, which brood with sweet influences over so many lives, bore to us on the evening air only the weird cadences of the heathen dance or the chill thrill of the war-whoop.
“Yet our childhood was not destitute of joy. Babes prattle beside the dead. So, too, the children of the mission had their plays like other children. But it was lonesome indeed when the missionary band was divided, to occupy other stations, and the playmates were separated. Once it was my privilege to go one hundred and twenty miles—to the nearest station—to have a play-spell of a week, and a happy week it was.
“Notwithstanding our play-spells, ours was a serious life. The serious earnestness of our parents in the pursuit of their work could not fail to fall in some degree on the children. The main purpose of Christianizing that people was felt in everything. It was like garrison life in time of war. But this seriousness was not ascetical or morose. Far from it. Those Christian missionary homes were full of gladness. With all the disadvantages of such a childhood was the rich privilege of understanding the meaning of cheerful earnestness in Christian life.Speaking of peculiar privileges, I must say that I do not believe any other homes can be as precious as ours. It is true every one thinks his is the best mother in the world, and she is to him; but I mean more than this; I mean that our missionary homes are in reality better than others. And there is reason for it. By reason of the surrounding heathenism, the light and power of Christianity is more centred and confined in the home. And then, again, its power is developed by its antagonism to the darkness and wickedness around it. For either its light must ever shine clearer, or grow more dim until it expires.
“Next to our own home, we learned to love the homeland in ‘the States,’ whence our parents came. A longing desire to visit it possessed us. We thought that there we should find a heaven on earth. This may seem a strange idea; but as you think of us engulfed in heathenism and savage life, it will not seem so strange. It was like living at the bottom of a well, with only one spot of brightness overhead. Of course, it would be natural to think that upper world all brightness and beauty. Thus all our glimpses of another life than that of heathenism came from ‘the States.’ There all our ideas of Christianized society were located. The correspondence of our parents with friends left behind, the pages of the magazines and papers of the monthly mail, and the yearly boxes of supplies, were the tangible tokens which in our innocent minds awakened visions of the wonderful world of civilization and culture in ‘the East.’
“These supplies were in reality, perhaps, very small affairs, but we thought them of fabulous value. Indeed they were everything to us. With the opening of the new year the list of purchases began to be arranged.Each item was carefully considered, and the wants of each of the family remembered. This was no small task when you had to look a year and a half ahead. What debates as to whether B could get on with one pair of shoes, or must have two; or whether C would need some more gingham aprons, or could make the old ones last through. And, then, it was so hard to remember mosquito bars and straw hats in January; but if they were forgotten once, the next January found them first on the list. It was fun to make up the lists, but not so exhilarating when, on summing up the probable cost, it was found to be too much, and then the cruel pen ran through many of our new-born hopes. Then the letter went on its way to Boston, or maybe to Cincinnati, and we waited its substantial answer. Sometimes our boxes went around by lazy sloops from Boston to New Orleans; thence the laboring steamboat bore them almost the whole length of the Father of Waters; then the flat-boatmen sweated and swore as they poled them up the Minnesota to where our teams met them to carry them for another week over the prairies. Now it was far on into rosy June. After such waiting, no wonder that everything seemed precious—the very hoops of the boxes and the redolent pine that made them; even the wrappers and strings of the packages were carefully laid away. And, thanks to the kind friends who have cared for this work at our several purchasing depots, our wants were generally capitally met; and yet sometimes the packer would arrange it so that the linseed oil would give a new taste to the dried apples, anything but appetizing, or turn the plain white of some long-desired book into a highly ‘tinted’ edition.
“When the number of our years got well past thesingle figures, then we went to ‘the States,’ to carry on the education begun at home. Then came the saddest disappointment of all our lives. We found we were yet a good way from heaven. For me, the last remnant of this dream was effectually dispelled when I came to teach a Sabbath-school in a back country-neighborhood, where the people were the drift-wood of Kentucky and Egyptian Illinois. Thenceforth the land of the Dakotas seemed more the land of promise to me. From that time the claims of the work in which my parents were engaged grew upon my mind.
“Of late years the children of missionaries have everywhere furnished a large portion of the new reinforcements. This is both natural and strange. It is natural that they should desire to stay the hands of their parents, and go to reap what they have sown. On the other hand, they go out in face of all the hardships of the work, made vividly real to them by the experience of their childhood. They are attracted by no romantic sentiment. The romance is for them all worn off long ago. For instance, those of us on this field know the noble red man of the poet to be a myth. We know the real savage, and know him almost too well. Thus those who follow in the work of their missionary fathers do not do it without a struggle—often fearful. On the one hand stands the work, calling them to lonesome separation, and on the other the pleasant companionship of civilized society. But if the word of the Lord has come to them to go to Nineveh, happy are they if they do not go thither by way of Joppa.
“I have spoken of the drawbacks to entering the work, but the inducements must also be remembered. They are greater than the drawbacks. We know them alsobetter than strangers can. If we have known more of the discouragements of the work, we also know more of its hopefulness. We know the real savage, but we now know and fully believe in his real humanity and salvability by the power of the cross. Now, too, when the work is entered, the very difficulties which barred the way grow less or disappear. We find the dreaded isolation to be more in appearance than reality. We here are in connection with the best thought and sympathy of the civilized world, whether it be in scholarship, statesmanship, or Christian society. And not unfrequently do we have the visits of friends and the honored representatives of the churches. One may be much more alone in Chicago or New York.
“The difficulties of the work in earlier years are also changing. We have a different standing before the people among whom we labor. We also have matured and tested our methods of operation, and can be generally confident of success. We have also an ever increasing force in the native agency which adds strength and hopefulness to the campaign. The people we come to conquer are themselves furnishing recruits for this war, so that we, the sons of the mission, stand among them as captains of the host, and our fathers are as generals.”
With such a growing-up, it would seem that he wasattractedto the life-work of his father and mother. And yet our children will all bear witness that no special influence was ever used to draw them into the missionary work. Some ministers’ sons, I understand, have grown up under the burden of the thought that they were expected to be ministers. It was certainly my endeavor not to impose any such burden on my boys. Butwe certainly did desire—and our desire was not concealed—that all our children should develop into the most noble and useful lives, prepared to occupy any position to which they might be called. Accordingly, when a boy, while pursuing his education, has shown a disposition “to knock off,” I have used what influence I had to induce him to persevere. But, beyond this, it has been my desire that each one should, under the divine guidance,choose, as is their right to do, what shall be their line of work in life. At the same time, it is but just to myself, as well as to them, to say that it gives me great joy now, in my old age, to see so many of Mary’s children making the life-work of their father and mother their own.
This visit of Alfred to the Santee and Yankton agencies was made for the purpose of looking over the field, and forming an intelligent judgment as to whether the way was open and the time had come to commence some higher educational work among the Dakotas. The place for such an effort was evidently the Santee agency. And John P. Williamson, who had so long and so well carried on the mission work among the Santees, had for several years past been more and more attracted to the Yanktons, where there was an open door; and to the Yankton agency he had removed his family, in the early spring, before our visit. So the hand of God had shaped the work. It required only that we recognize his hand, and put ourselves in accord with the manifestations of his will. After a few weeks, Alfred returned to his people in Woodstock, and made his arrangements to close his labors there in the following winter, when he accepted an appointment from the American Board to take charge of its work at the Santee agency.
Our summer campaign now commenced. The Williamsons, father and son, with Titus, one of the Santee pastors, and myself, proceeded up the Missouri. We made a little stop, as we had done in former years, with theSechangoos, or Brules, near Fort Thompson, preaching to them the Gospel of Christ. Some interest was apparent. At least, a superstitious reverence for the name that is above every name was manifest. “What is the name?” one asked. “I have forgotten it.” And we again told them of Jesus.
Our next point was the Cheyenne agency, near Fort Sully, a hundred miles above Fort Thompson, at Crow Creek. There we spent a week, and met the Indians in their council house. Our efforts were in the line of sowing seed, much of which fell by the way-side or on the stony places. And then we passed on another hundred miles, to the agency at the mouth of Grand River, where were gathered a large number of Yanktonais, as well as Teetons. This agency is now located farther up the river, and is called Standing Rock. Among these people we found some who desired instruction, but the more part did not want to hear. Our attempt to gather them to a Sabbath meeting seemed quite likely to fail. But there had been a thunder storm in the early morning, and out a few miles, on a hill-top, a prominent Dakota man was struck down by the lightning. He was brought into the agency, and before his burial, at the close of the day, we had a large company of men and women to listen to the divine words of Jesus, who is the Resurrection and the Life. It was an impressive occasion, and it was said by white men that many of those Indians listened that day for the first time to Christian song and Christian prayer. But that agency has since passedinto the hands of the Catholics, and David, one of our native preachers, who visited there recently, was not permitted to remain.
At this point—Grand River—our company separated. John P. Williamson and Titus returned down the Missouri, and Dr. Williamson and I took a young man, Blue Bird by name, and crossed over to Fort Wadsworth. On Saturday we traveled up the Missouri about thirty miles, where we spent the Sabbath, and where we were joined by a Dakota man who was familiar with the country across to the James River, and who could find water for us in that “dry and thirsty land.” As we journeyed that Saturday afternoon, the day grew dark, the sun ceased to shine, our horses wanted to stop in the road. It was a weird, unnatural darkness—an eclipse of the sun. We stopped and watched its progress. For about five minutes the eclipse was annular—only a little rim of light gleamed forth. The moon seemed to have a cut in one side, appearing much like a thick cheese from which a very thin slice had been cut out. We all noted this singular appearance. The Dakotas on the Missouri represent that year by the symbol of ablack sun with stars shiningabove it.
When we reached the Sisseton reservation, we held our usual camp-meeting again at Dry Wood Lake, regulating and confirming the churches, and receiving quite a number of additions, though not so many as in the year previous. The place for the Sisseton agency had been selected, some log buildings erected, and the agent, Dr. Jared W. Daniels, with his family, was on the ground. The time seemed to have come when, to secure the fruits of the harvest, some more permanent occupation should be made in the reservation. Mary was goneup higher. The boys, for whose sakes, mainly, we had made a home in Beloit, were no longer in college. Thomas had graduated, and spent a year in teaching freedmen in Mississippi, and was now in the Chicago Theological Seminary; while Henry had commenced to seek his fortune in other employment. Without apparent detriment, I could break up housekeeping in Beloit, and build at Sisseton. The plan was formed during this visit, and talked over with Dr. Williamson and Agent Daniels. God willing, and the Prudential Committee at Boston approving, it was to be carried into effect the next spring.
And so I returned to my home in Beloit, and went on to attend the meeting of the two General Assemblies at Pittsburg, where their union became an accomplished fact. At the close of this meeting, I spent a couple of weeks in visiting friends in Fayette County, Pa., and the old stone church of Dunlap’s Creek, which had been the church-home of my mother when as yet she was unmarried.
For several winters preceding this I had been working on translations of the Book of Psalms and Ecclesiastes and Isaiah. They were printed in 1871. But this winter of 1869-70 was mostly spent with the Santees. Mr. Williamson had left that place and gone to the Yankton agency, where he has since continued with great prosperity in the missionary work. And so there came to me a pressing invitation from Mrs. Mary Frances Pond and Miss Julia La Framboise to come out and help them that winter.
Julia La Framboise was the teacher of the mission-school at Santee. She was born of a Dakota mother,and her father always claimed that he had Indian blood mixed with his French. Julia was a noble Christian woman, who had been trained up in the mission families, completing her education at Miss Sill’s Seminary, in Rockford, Ill. I found them all actively engaged in carrying forward mission work. But we conceived more might be done to bring children into the school and men and women to the church. Accordingly, I called together the pastors and elders of the church, and engaged them to enter upon a system of thorough church visitation, which had the effect of greatly increasing the numbers in attendance on both the school and the church.
Even then, as it afterward appeared, Julia was entering upon the incipient stages of pulmonary consumption. She was not careful of herself. After teaching school until one o’clock, she was ever ready to go with the agent’s daughters to interpret for them in the case of some sick person, or to relieve the wants of the poor. Before I left, in March, her cough had become alarming. And so it increased. The second summer after this, she was obliged to stop work, and simply wait for the coming of the messenger that called her to the Father’s house above.
1870-1871.—Beloit Home Broken Up.—Building on the Sisseton Reserve.—Difficulties and Cost.—Correspondence with Washington.—Order to Suspend Work.—Disregarding the Taboo.—Anna Sick at Beloit.—Assurance.—Martha Goes in Anna’s Place.—The Dakota Churches.—Lac-qui-parle, Ascension.—John B. Renville.—Daniel Renville.—Houses of Worship.—Eight Churches.—The “Word Carrier.”—Annual Meeting on the Big Sioux.—Homestead Colony.—How it Came about.—Joseph Iron Old Man.—Perished in a Snow Storm.—The Dakota Mission Divides.—Reasons Therefor.
1870-1871.—Beloit Home Broken Up.—Building on the Sisseton Reserve.—Difficulties and Cost.—Correspondence with Washington.—Order to Suspend Work.—Disregarding the Taboo.—Anna Sick at Beloit.—Assurance.—Martha Goes in Anna’s Place.—The Dakota Churches.—Lac-qui-parle, Ascension.—John B. Renville.—Daniel Renville.—Houses of Worship.—Eight Churches.—The “Word Carrier.”—Annual Meeting on the Big Sioux.—Homestead Colony.—How it Came about.—Joseph Iron Old Man.—Perished in a Snow Storm.—The Dakota Mission Divides.—Reasons Therefor.
The spring of 1870 brought with it a breaking-up of the Beloit home. Some months before Mary’s death, she had invited to our house an invalid niece, the daughter of her older sister, Mrs. Lucretia Cooley. A dear, good girl Mary Cooley was. She had during the war acted as nurse, in the service of the Christian Commission. But her health failed. It was hoped that a year in the West might build her up. After her aunt had gone from us, Mary Cooley remained with us. But the malady increased; and this spring her brother Allan came and took her back to Massachusetts. And now, only a little while ago, we heard of her release in California, whither the family had removed. The good Lord had compassion upon her, and took her to a land where no one says, “I am sick.”
Then the house was rented. The household goods and household gods were scattered, the major part being taken up into the Indian country. Anna would spendthe summer with friends in Beloit, and Cornelia, the youngest, I took up to Minnesota, and left with Martha on the frontier.
My plan was to put up two buildings, a dwelling-house and a school-house, for the erection of which the committee at Boston had appropriated $2800. That may seem quite an amount; but the materials had to be transported from Minneapolis and the Red River of the North. What I purchased at Minneapolis was carried by rail and steamboat one hundred and fifty miles. There remained one hundred and thirty, over which the lumber was hauled in wagons in the month of June, when the roads were bad and the streams swimming. And so the cost was very great,—dressed flooring coming up to $75 per 1000 feet, dressed siding $65, shingles about $15 per 1000, and common lumber $60 a thousand feet.
When the materials were on the ground, but little money was left for their erection. But, with one carpenter and two or three young men to assist, I pushed forward the work, and by the middle of September the houses were up, and ready to be occupied, though in an unfinished state.
During this time there were some things transpired which deserve to be noticed.
Before commencing to build, I had received the written approval of the agent. In regard to the locality we differed. He wished me to build in the immediate vicinity of the agency, while I, for very good reasons, selected a place nearly two miles away. But that, I think, could have made no difference in his feeling toward the enterprise. However, soon after I commenced, I was visited by Gabriel Renville, who was recognized as the head man on the reservation. He did not forbid my proceeding,but wanted to know whether I had authority to do so. I replied that I had the approval of Agent Daniels, which I regarded as sufficient. When I reported this to Mr. Daniels, he advised me to write to the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, and obtain a permit, which, he said, might save me trouble.
Accordingly, I wrote immediately to the Department of the Interior, stating the life-long connection we had had with these Indians, and the work we had done among them, and that now I was authorized by the A. B. C. F. M. to erect mission buildings among them, and asking that our plan be approved.
After three or four weeks, when I was in the very middle of my work of building, there came an order from Washington that I should suspend operations until they would settle the question to what religious denomination that part of the field should be assigned. That subject was then under advisement, they said.
Should I obey? If I did so, much additional expense would be incurred, and my summer’s work, as planned, would be a failure. Really no question could be raised about it. The American Board had been doing missionary work among those Indians for a third of a century, and no other denomination or missionary board pretended to have any claim on the field. It was unreasonable, under the circumstances, that we should be asked to suspend, and thus suffer harm and loss. So I placed my letter safely away and went on with my work. No human being there knew that I had received such a command.
By the return mail I wrote to Secretary Treat, rehearsing the whole case, and asking him, without delay, to write to the authorities at Washington. I told him I had concluded to disregard thetaboo, and would not in consequence thereof drive a nail the less. When the summer months were passed, and my houses were both up, I received a letter from the commissioner commending my work, and telling me to go forward.
In the latter end of August there came to me a letter, written in a strange hand, saying that Anna was lying sick at Mr. Carr’s, of typhoid fever. The intention of the letter evidently was not to greatly alarm me, but it conveyed the idea that she was very sick, and the result was doubtful. Ten or twelve days had passed since it was written. My affairs were not then in a condition to be left without much damage, and so I determined to await the coming of another mail. When I heard again, a week later, there was no decided change for the better. So the letter read. But in the meantime this word had come to me—“This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God.” It came to me like a revelation. I seemed to know it. It quieted my alarm. All anxiety was not taken away, but my days passed in comparatively quiet trust. About the middle of September I started down with my own team, and, on reaching St. Peter and Mankato, I received letters from Anna written with her own hand. She had come up gradually, but a couple of months passed before she was strong.
Before I commenced building at Good Will, which was the name we gave to our new station, the understanding was that Anna would be married in the coming autumn, and she and her husband would take charge of the mission work there. Anna seemed to have grown up into the idea that her life-work was to be with the Dakotas. But it was otherwise ordered. In the October following, when we all again met in Beloit, she was married to H. E. Warner, who had lost an arm in the War of theRebellion, and they have since made their home in Iowa.
Martha Taylor Riggs had been married to Wyllys K. Morris, in December, 1866. For a time they made their home in Mankato, Minn., and then removed to a farm twenty miles from town. Life on the extreme frontier they found filled with privations and hardships, and so were quite willing to accept the new place; and before the winter set in they were removed to Good Will. Robert, who had gone up after his mother’s death, and spent a year with Martha at Sterling, Minn., returned to Beloit, and entered the preparatory department of the college. Cornelia went with us to Good Will, and remained two years.
The home was again in Dakota land. We at once opened a school, which has since been taught almost entirely by W. K. Morris.[6]The native churches needed a good deal of attention. At Lac-qui-parle a number of families had stopped and taken claims. There a church was organized of about forty members, which for two or three years was in the charge of Rev. John B. Renville. But about this time Mr. Renville removed to the reservation, and from that time the Dakota settlement gradually diminished, until all had removed, and the Lac-qui-parle church was absorbed by those on the reserve.
[6]This school has been much enlarged since 1877.
[6]This school has been much enlarged since 1877.
Ascension, orIyakaptape, so named from its having been from time immemorial the place where the Coteau was ascended by the Dakotas on their way westward, was the district in which a number of the Renville families took claims. Daniel Renville, one of our licentiates, hadbeen preaching to the church gathered there. But it was understood all along that John B. Renville was to be their pastor. And so it came about, as he now transferred his home to that settlement.
In the spring of 1863, Mr. Renville had purchased a little house in St. Anthony, where they made their home for several years, Mrs. Renville teaching a school of white children for a part of the time. Removing from there, they pre-empted a piece of land on Beaver Creek. During these years they had in their family from four to six half-breed or Dakota children, whom they taught English very successfully, and for the most part maintained them out of their own scanty means. While living in St. Anthony, Mr. Renville had translated “Precept Upon Precept,” which was printed in Boston, and became thenceforth one of our Dakota school-books.
As Mr. Daniel Renville was now released from labor at Ascension, I proposed his name to the Good Will church, and advised them to elect him to be their religious teacher. But when the election took place they all voted for me. I thanked them for the honor they did me, and told them that it could not be. Our plan of missionary work was changed. Henceforth the preaching and pastoral work were to be done almost exclusively by men from among themselves. It was better for them that it should be so, for only in that way would they learn to support their own Gospel. We missionaries had never asked them to contribute anything toward our support. It was manifestly incongruous that we should do so. And yet they were so far advanced in the knowledge of Christian duties that they ought to assume the burden of contributing to the support of their own religious teachers. It would be a means of grace to them. Moreover, a manwho spoke the language natively had great advantage over us, both in preaching and pastoral work.
When I had made this speech to them, they went again into an election, and chose Daniel Renville to be their pastor. He was soon afterward ordained and installed by the Dakota Presbytery, and continued with the Good Will church about six years. Previous to this time, the original Dakota Presbytery had been divided into theMankatoandDakota, the latter of which was again confined to the Dakota field, as it had been when first formed in 1845.
At this time Solomon was the pastor of the Long Hollow church, and Louis was stated supply at Fort Wadsworth, or Kettle Lakes, and Thomas Good a licentiate preacher at Buffalo Lake. Some time after this the Mayasan church was organized, and Louis called to take charge of it, David Gray Cloud coming into his place at Fort Wadsworth.
The General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church had set on foot their Million Thank Offering effort, which was available for poor churches in erecting houses of worship. By means of this outside help, the Ascension church and the Long Hollow church, as well as the Homestead Settlement church on the Big Sioux, were enabled to build houses—two of them of logs. The building at Long Hollow continues to be occupied by the church, while the other two houses have given place to larger and better frame buildings.
In the spring of 1871 our Dakota church organizations were eight,viz.: The Pilgrim Church, at Santee, with 267 members, Rev. Artemas Ehnamane and Rev. Titus Ichadooze pastors; The Flandreau or River Bend church, on the Big Sioux, with 107 members, Joseph Iron-oldmanpastor elect; the Lac-qui-parle church, with 41 members, now without a pastor; the Ascension church, on the Sisseton reservation, with 69 members, Rev. John B. Renville pastor; the Dry Wood Lake or Good Will church, with 42 members, Rev. Daniel Renville pastor; the Long Hollow church, with 80 members, Rev. Solomon Toonkan-shaecheya pastor; the Kettle Lakes or Fort Wadsworth church, with 38 members, Rev. Louis Mazawakinyanna stated supply; and the recently organized church at Yankton agency, with 19 members, in charge of Rev. John P. Williamson.
In the month of May of this year, the first number of theIapi Oayeappeared. It was a very modest little sheet of four pages, eight by ten inches, and altogether in the Dakota language, with the motto, “Taku washta okiya, taku shecha kepajin,” which, being interpreted, would read, “To help what is good, to oppose what is bad.” Rev. John P. Williamson, who had the sole charge of it for the first twelve numbers, in his first Dakota editorial, thus accounts for its origin: “For three years I have prepared a little tract at New Year, which Mr. E. R. Pond printed, and I distributed gratuitously to all who could read Dakota. And many persons liked it, and some said, ‘If we had a newspaper, we would pay for it.’ I have trusted to the truth of this saying, and so this winter have been preparing to print one. But I have found many obstacles in the way, and have not gotten out the first number until now.” As it was to be the means of conveying the thoughts and speech of one person to another, it was proper, he said, to call itIapi Oaye, or “Word Carrier.” The subscription price was placed at fifty cents a year. This was not increased afterthe paper was doubled in size, as it was the first of January, 1873, at the commencement of the second volume. When the change was made, I was taken in as associate editor, and henceforth about one-third of the letter-press was to be in the English language. By this means we could communicate missionary intelligence to white people, and thus secure their aid in supporting the paper, as well as extend the interest in our work. And, as an attraction to the Dakotas, a full-page picture has been generally added.
In starting the paper, the main object proposed was to stimulate education among the Dakotas, so that we were not disappointed to find that, in addition to all that came in from subscriptions, several hundred dollars were required from the missionary funds to square up the year. But we lived in hope, and do so still, that the time will come when the enterprise will be self-supporting. It has proved itself to be an exceedingly important assistant in our missionary work, which we can not afford to let die.
With the homesteaders on the Big Sioux, on the 23d of June, 1871, we held our first general conference of the Dakota churches.[7]From the Sisseton Agency there went down John B. Renville, Daniel Renville, and Solomon, of the pastors, with several elders and myself. Dr. Williamson came up from St. Peter; and John P. Williamson, A. L. Riggs, and Artemas Ehnamane, and others, came over from the Missouri River. Year by year, from that time on, we have continued to hold these meetings, and they have constantly increased ininterest and importance. On this first occasion, four or five days were spent, and religious meetings held each day. The circumstances by which we were surrounded intensified the interest. As yet there was no church or school-house in which we could assemble, and our meetings were held out-of-doors, or under a booth in connection with Mr. All Iron’s cabin.