Chapter Seven.The New Year’s Indian Feast.From time immemorial the Indians have been noted for the number of their feasts. Some of these—as the New Moon and the First-Fruits of the corn, celebrated, by a part of the tribes—were generally innocent, seeming to point to some Jewish origin in the dim past; others—such as the feast of the dogs when the poor animals were wantonly torn to pieces—were loathsome in the extreme.As soon as the missionaries succeeded in getting the red men to listen to the Gospel, they insisted upon the suppression of the sinful feasts; especially as they were more or less associated with their ideas of worship. Even the dog feast was considered “good medicine” to propitiate the evil spirits: for the dogs were prized by the Indian next to his children, and sacrificing them was making a very great offering.When the missionaries went among the Northern Wood Crees, they met with a great degree of success in winning the people from their pagan superstitions. They, of course, insisted upon the entire giving up of all the objectionable habits and customs of their past life; and among them, their sinful feasts. However, they did not try to root the word out of their language; but as a substitute for what was so wrong, organised a Christian festival. This great feast was celebrated on New Year’s day—unless that day happened to fall on Sunday, when it was held on the day following—at Norway House, the largest mission station in those days.Preparations for it were begun many months in advance. A great Indian council would be held at which, as a mere formality, the question would be first asked: “Are we to have the great feast this year?”This would be carried unanimously, and—for Indians—with great applause. The next question which required more time for answering would be: “What is each man prepared to give as his contribution toward the feast?”Very strange at first seemed the answers. Mamanowatum, a big Indian moose-hunter, would say:“I have discovered the trail of a moose. I will give half of the animal—and his nose.”The moose nose is considered a great delicacy. Moose meat is the best of all venison; and Mamanowatum was a most successful hunter. So this splendid contribution, although the moose had yet to be shot, and was hard to kill, would be recorded with great pleasure.Then Soquatum would say; “I have discovered a bear’s den. I will give half the bear to the feast—and all the paws.”This generous contribution would also meet with much approval, for the beat’s paws are likewise among the great delicacies of the country.Mustagan would speak next, and would say; “I know where there is a large beaver house, and I will give five beavers—and ten tails.”This donation would also meet with great satisfaction, as beavers are capital eating, and their great broad tails, together with the moose’s nose and the bear’s paws, constitute the principal delicacies of the country.Rapidly would the hunters rise up one after another and proffer their gifts, keeping the Indian secretary busily employed in writing down in syllabic characters, the various promised offerings of game, the greater quantity of which would be still roaming—perhaps hundreds of miles away—in the wintry forest.Those among the hunters who excelled in catching the valuable fur-bearing animals, whose flesh is worthless for food, would make their contribution in rich furs, such as minks, martins, otters and ermines, which would be exchanged in the Hudson Bay Company’s stores for flour, tea, sugar and plums.The council would last until all who could give, or had any remote idea of success, had recorded their contributions.Shortly after would begin the work of securing the promised offerings for the feast. Even the successful ones did not always bring in what they had promised. Sometimes those who had promised beaver, would be so fortunate as to meet with a herd of reindeer, and thus would return with their contribution in venison, perhaps four times in excess of the beaver promised. Or perhaps the man who promised a couple of wildcats—and they are not bad eating—while out diligently searching for them, would detect the tiny ascending thread of vapoury steam from a great snowdrift, which told him, that low down there in a den were sleeping some fat hears. These would be dug out, and killed, and part of the meat would be brought in to the feast. Again it sometimes happened—as hunter’s luck is very uncertain—that some who promised a large contribution were not able to bring so much. However, with the donations from the fur-traders and the mission house, there would be a large supply: and this was necessary, as Indians have good appetites.As the different kinds of animals were shot or captured, the meat would be brought to the mission, and well secured from cunning dogs in the large fish-house; where it would freeze solid, and so keep in good condition until required. About a week before the day of the feast, the missionary’s wife would call to her assistance a small number of clever Indian women; and, aided by some men who would cut the frozen meat into pieces of suitable size, they would roast or boil the whole of this great assortment. It was an “assortment,” and proudly would they look at it, and rejoice. Out of the flour, plums, sugar and bear’s grease—a substitute for suet—great plum-puddings would be made, hard and solid; but the chunks cut off with an axe, gave much satisfaction to the hearty eaters.When the day arrived, preparations for the feast began very early. The seats were removed from the church, and tables the whole length of the interior, were quickly made and put in position by the native carpenters. Great roaring fires were built in the two iron stoves, and the inside temperature of the building made as nearly tropical as possible; while outside it was fifty degrees below zero, or even colder. This intense heat was necessary to thaw out the meat, which, after it had been cooked a day or two before, had quickly cooled and frozen solid. The great supply was soon carried into the hot church, and after the few hours that elapsed before the feast began, it was in capital condition for the twelve or fifteen hundred hungry Indian who for weeks had been eagerly looking forward to this great event.They were a motley company, all welcome, and all in the best of humour. Chiefs and head men were receiving directions from the missionary, transmitting them to the workers, and seeing that everything was done. Happy busy women, under the loving guidance of the missionary’s wife, whom they simply idolised, were arranging the tables, for the equipment of which, all the table necessaries of the village,—principally tin cups and plates,—as well as of the mission pantry, were brought into service. Great boilers and kettles of tea were brewed, and hundreds of flat cakes, made of flour, water and a little salt, were baked in frying pans or on top of the stoves, cut into large pieces, and made ready for distribution.While busy hands were thus employed in making these final arrangements for the great feast, which generally began about one o’clock, the hundreds of other Indians—especially the young men—were having various sports outside. The toboggan slides of the schoolboys had many visitors; and some lively games of football were played on the frozen lake. The snow had been scraped away from a smooth hit of ice where the active skaters showed their speed and skill. But the thoughts of all were on the feast, and they were anxious for the sound of the bell that would summon them to its enjoyment.About the middle of the forenoon, there was a most interesting break in the preparations. The chief would go to the missionary and ask for a pencil and piece of writing paper. Then, taking with him one of the principal men into the church, where the crowd of workers were busily engaged, he would call for a short halt in the proceedings, and standing on a bench, ask:“How many of our people are sick, or aged, or wounded, and are thus unable to be with us at the great feast to-day? Give me their names.”As the names were mentioned, they would be recorded; until, perhaps, twenty or more were thus called out.“Any more?” the chief would cry. “Let none be overlooked on this happy day.”“Oh yes, there is an old bed-ridden woman, lying on her couch of rabbit skins and balsam boughs, in a wigwam six miles up Jack River,” says one.“I heard, that there are two sick people left behind in a wigwam on the island over near York village by the pagan Indians who have come to the feast,” says another.“Put them down, of course. But stop! One of you go out and ask those who have come, if there are not more than those two left behind.”Soon word comes in that there are not only these two sick ones, but a little girl with a broken leg.“Put her name down, too.”The list is again read over, and the question again asked:“Are you sure that we have not overlooked any? It would be a shame for us to be here feasting and any of our aged and afflicted ones forgotten.”The matter would be discussed until they were confident that all the names were recorded, even the afflicted ones of the still unconverted Indians who were always welcomed and generally on hand. Then the chief, with an assistant or two would go to the great piles of food, and cut off generous pieces of venison and bear’s meat, and, with an assortment of other things, make up as many large parcels as there were names on his list, each bundle, perhaps, containing enough food to last the afflicted ones a couple of days. Then the chief would go out to where the sturdy active young men were at their sports, and shouting the names of as many as he had bundles, give to the fleetest a large bundle and say:“Take that to Ookoominou, who Is sick in bed six miles up the river, and tell her that we are all sorry that she is so old and feeble that she cannot be with us to-day. With it give her our Christian greetings and love, and our wishes that she will enjoy her share of the feast.”With a look to see that the strings of his moccasins and his beaded garters are well tied, and tightening his sash belt around his leathern shirt, the swift runner would be off like an arrow; making straight for the far away wigwam, where, in age and feebleness, is one of the grandmothers of the tribe, now loved by all; but who would have been put to death years ago, if the blessed Gospel had not come among this people and wrought its marvellous transformations in their hearts. Six miles would that fleet Indian runner have to go, and return, ere he could have his share of the feast; but never fear, he will be back in time. What are twelve miles to him, when there is such a feast at the end of it? And then, is he not a Christian? And does he not consider it a joy to be the carrier of such a bundle, with such a loving message, to the aged and feeble Ookoominou? Of course he does.Others similarly addressed, and charged with loving messages, are rapidly sent off. While the majority of the messengers prefer to make the journey on flying feet, some, perhaps who have bundles for three or four in the same vicinity, prefer to take their fleet dog-trains. It makes but little difference, however, how they go. They are soon all off, and much sooner back again than we inexperienced ones would expect.Of the great feast itself, it is difficult to give anything like an adequate description. The tables are piled with the various kinds of food, the cups are filled with tea, and all the older people first seated. Some years it was customary for the missionary to have a large table at the head, to which were invited the officials of the Hudson Bay Company and their families, and any visiting friends who might be in the country. The chiefs were also given a place at this table, an honour much appreciated. When all were seated, they very heartily sang as grace before meat, the Cree translation of the Verse:“Be present at our table, Lord,Be here and everywhere adored;These creatures bless, and grant that weMay feast in Paradise with Thee.”When the older people had eaten, the tables were quickly cleared; then again filled and refilled, until all had feasted, and some had even returned “to fill up,” as they said, some vacancies discovered. What appetites they had; and what unrestrained enjoyment! No foreboding fears of coming nightmare, or fits of indigestion, disturbed their felicity. Dyspepsia and its kindred ills, had, up to those times, never visited that healthy hunting people; and so, when such a feast of fat things as this was prepared, where they knew they were all welcome guests, they went in for a good time and had it in full measure, without any anxiety for after consequences. It was an epoch in their history—the most blessed day of the year. From it some of them recorded time, as so many moons after the feast; and as the year advanced they made engagements by so many moons before the next feast.If supplies were still abundant when the last had eaten, the first were set to work again until the bear’s ribs were all picked and every haunch of venison had disappeared. Night was grandly closing in, ere this stage in the proceedings was reached. When it did arrive, willing hands soon took down the tables, swept out the building, replaced the seats, lighted the oil lamps, and the intellectual feast was held. For years Mamanowatum, whose familiar name was Big Tom, was appointed chairman. He was a large man, in fact, almost gigantic, slow and deliberate; but he generally made his mark in everything he undertook to do or say. It was amusing to see him in the chair, presiding over a great meeting. He was very much respected by all, and none dared to presume on his apparent good nature. He rose slowly, seeming to get up in short jerks; but when up, he had something to say and said it.They always opened every kind of a meeting held in the church with religious exercises. Then Mamanowatum made his address, always good and suggestive, the keynote of which was thanksgiving and gratitude to God for the blessings of the year. When he had finished, he called on different Indians for addresses. Some of them were very good also. This is the night of all others, when Indian orators try to be humorous and witty. As a race they do not excel along these lines, but sometimes they get off some very good things. While they began their speeches with some bright pleasantry that brought smiles, and even laughter, there was never anything unbecoming to the place, and all quickly drifted into a strain of thanksgiving to God for his blessings. To listen to their grateful joyous words, one would think they were the most highly favoured people on the earth; that there never was such a feast, such delicious venison, such fat bear meat, such strong tea with so much sugar in it; and that no other people had such kind missionaries. So with more grateful hearts than ever they would sing:“Praise God from whom all blessings flow.”Thus they talked and rejoiced together in this peculiar service which was all their own. The whites were expected to take back seats on this occasion and say nothing.About ten o’clock they together sang the doxology; and, with the benediction, pronounced by one of their own number, this most interesting of days, with its varied pleasures and enjoyments, came to a close.Long years have passed, since with the happy Crees we enjoyed those rich feast days; yet they stand in our missionary life as red-letter days; when our hearts were especially touched by the spontaneous and hearty kindness displayed toward the aged and afflicted ones, who unable to be present, were by the generous gifts sent, made to feel, that they were not forgotten or neglected, but were in a large measure made partakers of the pleasures of that eventful day.
From time immemorial the Indians have been noted for the number of their feasts. Some of these—as the New Moon and the First-Fruits of the corn, celebrated, by a part of the tribes—were generally innocent, seeming to point to some Jewish origin in the dim past; others—such as the feast of the dogs when the poor animals were wantonly torn to pieces—were loathsome in the extreme.
As soon as the missionaries succeeded in getting the red men to listen to the Gospel, they insisted upon the suppression of the sinful feasts; especially as they were more or less associated with their ideas of worship. Even the dog feast was considered “good medicine” to propitiate the evil spirits: for the dogs were prized by the Indian next to his children, and sacrificing them was making a very great offering.
When the missionaries went among the Northern Wood Crees, they met with a great degree of success in winning the people from their pagan superstitions. They, of course, insisted upon the entire giving up of all the objectionable habits and customs of their past life; and among them, their sinful feasts. However, they did not try to root the word out of their language; but as a substitute for what was so wrong, organised a Christian festival. This great feast was celebrated on New Year’s day—unless that day happened to fall on Sunday, when it was held on the day following—at Norway House, the largest mission station in those days.
Preparations for it were begun many months in advance. A great Indian council would be held at which, as a mere formality, the question would be first asked: “Are we to have the great feast this year?”
This would be carried unanimously, and—for Indians—with great applause. The next question which required more time for answering would be: “What is each man prepared to give as his contribution toward the feast?”
Very strange at first seemed the answers. Mamanowatum, a big Indian moose-hunter, would say:
“I have discovered the trail of a moose. I will give half of the animal—and his nose.”
The moose nose is considered a great delicacy. Moose meat is the best of all venison; and Mamanowatum was a most successful hunter. So this splendid contribution, although the moose had yet to be shot, and was hard to kill, would be recorded with great pleasure.
Then Soquatum would say; “I have discovered a bear’s den. I will give half the bear to the feast—and all the paws.”
This generous contribution would also meet with much approval, for the beat’s paws are likewise among the great delicacies of the country.
Mustagan would speak next, and would say; “I know where there is a large beaver house, and I will give five beavers—and ten tails.”
This donation would also meet with great satisfaction, as beavers are capital eating, and their great broad tails, together with the moose’s nose and the bear’s paws, constitute the principal delicacies of the country.
Rapidly would the hunters rise up one after another and proffer their gifts, keeping the Indian secretary busily employed in writing down in syllabic characters, the various promised offerings of game, the greater quantity of which would be still roaming—perhaps hundreds of miles away—in the wintry forest.
Those among the hunters who excelled in catching the valuable fur-bearing animals, whose flesh is worthless for food, would make their contribution in rich furs, such as minks, martins, otters and ermines, which would be exchanged in the Hudson Bay Company’s stores for flour, tea, sugar and plums.
The council would last until all who could give, or had any remote idea of success, had recorded their contributions.
Shortly after would begin the work of securing the promised offerings for the feast. Even the successful ones did not always bring in what they had promised. Sometimes those who had promised beaver, would be so fortunate as to meet with a herd of reindeer, and thus would return with their contribution in venison, perhaps four times in excess of the beaver promised. Or perhaps the man who promised a couple of wildcats—and they are not bad eating—while out diligently searching for them, would detect the tiny ascending thread of vapoury steam from a great snowdrift, which told him, that low down there in a den were sleeping some fat hears. These would be dug out, and killed, and part of the meat would be brought in to the feast. Again it sometimes happened—as hunter’s luck is very uncertain—that some who promised a large contribution were not able to bring so much. However, with the donations from the fur-traders and the mission house, there would be a large supply: and this was necessary, as Indians have good appetites.
As the different kinds of animals were shot or captured, the meat would be brought to the mission, and well secured from cunning dogs in the large fish-house; where it would freeze solid, and so keep in good condition until required. About a week before the day of the feast, the missionary’s wife would call to her assistance a small number of clever Indian women; and, aided by some men who would cut the frozen meat into pieces of suitable size, they would roast or boil the whole of this great assortment. It was an “assortment,” and proudly would they look at it, and rejoice. Out of the flour, plums, sugar and bear’s grease—a substitute for suet—great plum-puddings would be made, hard and solid; but the chunks cut off with an axe, gave much satisfaction to the hearty eaters.
When the day arrived, preparations for the feast began very early. The seats were removed from the church, and tables the whole length of the interior, were quickly made and put in position by the native carpenters. Great roaring fires were built in the two iron stoves, and the inside temperature of the building made as nearly tropical as possible; while outside it was fifty degrees below zero, or even colder. This intense heat was necessary to thaw out the meat, which, after it had been cooked a day or two before, had quickly cooled and frozen solid. The great supply was soon carried into the hot church, and after the few hours that elapsed before the feast began, it was in capital condition for the twelve or fifteen hundred hungry Indian who for weeks had been eagerly looking forward to this great event.
They were a motley company, all welcome, and all in the best of humour. Chiefs and head men were receiving directions from the missionary, transmitting them to the workers, and seeing that everything was done. Happy busy women, under the loving guidance of the missionary’s wife, whom they simply idolised, were arranging the tables, for the equipment of which, all the table necessaries of the village,—principally tin cups and plates,—as well as of the mission pantry, were brought into service. Great boilers and kettles of tea were brewed, and hundreds of flat cakes, made of flour, water and a little salt, were baked in frying pans or on top of the stoves, cut into large pieces, and made ready for distribution.
While busy hands were thus employed in making these final arrangements for the great feast, which generally began about one o’clock, the hundreds of other Indians—especially the young men—were having various sports outside. The toboggan slides of the schoolboys had many visitors; and some lively games of football were played on the frozen lake. The snow had been scraped away from a smooth hit of ice where the active skaters showed their speed and skill. But the thoughts of all were on the feast, and they were anxious for the sound of the bell that would summon them to its enjoyment.
About the middle of the forenoon, there was a most interesting break in the preparations. The chief would go to the missionary and ask for a pencil and piece of writing paper. Then, taking with him one of the principal men into the church, where the crowd of workers were busily engaged, he would call for a short halt in the proceedings, and standing on a bench, ask:
“How many of our people are sick, or aged, or wounded, and are thus unable to be with us at the great feast to-day? Give me their names.”
As the names were mentioned, they would be recorded; until, perhaps, twenty or more were thus called out.
“Any more?” the chief would cry. “Let none be overlooked on this happy day.”
“Oh yes, there is an old bed-ridden woman, lying on her couch of rabbit skins and balsam boughs, in a wigwam six miles up Jack River,” says one.
“I heard, that there are two sick people left behind in a wigwam on the island over near York village by the pagan Indians who have come to the feast,” says another.
“Put them down, of course. But stop! One of you go out and ask those who have come, if there are not more than those two left behind.”
Soon word comes in that there are not only these two sick ones, but a little girl with a broken leg.
“Put her name down, too.”
The list is again read over, and the question again asked:
“Are you sure that we have not overlooked any? It would be a shame for us to be here feasting and any of our aged and afflicted ones forgotten.”
The matter would be discussed until they were confident that all the names were recorded, even the afflicted ones of the still unconverted Indians who were always welcomed and generally on hand. Then the chief, with an assistant or two would go to the great piles of food, and cut off generous pieces of venison and bear’s meat, and, with an assortment of other things, make up as many large parcels as there were names on his list, each bundle, perhaps, containing enough food to last the afflicted ones a couple of days. Then the chief would go out to where the sturdy active young men were at their sports, and shouting the names of as many as he had bundles, give to the fleetest a large bundle and say:
“Take that to Ookoominou, who Is sick in bed six miles up the river, and tell her that we are all sorry that she is so old and feeble that she cannot be with us to-day. With it give her our Christian greetings and love, and our wishes that she will enjoy her share of the feast.”
With a look to see that the strings of his moccasins and his beaded garters are well tied, and tightening his sash belt around his leathern shirt, the swift runner would be off like an arrow; making straight for the far away wigwam, where, in age and feebleness, is one of the grandmothers of the tribe, now loved by all; but who would have been put to death years ago, if the blessed Gospel had not come among this people and wrought its marvellous transformations in their hearts. Six miles would that fleet Indian runner have to go, and return, ere he could have his share of the feast; but never fear, he will be back in time. What are twelve miles to him, when there is such a feast at the end of it? And then, is he not a Christian? And does he not consider it a joy to be the carrier of such a bundle, with such a loving message, to the aged and feeble Ookoominou? Of course he does.
Others similarly addressed, and charged with loving messages, are rapidly sent off. While the majority of the messengers prefer to make the journey on flying feet, some, perhaps who have bundles for three or four in the same vicinity, prefer to take their fleet dog-trains. It makes but little difference, however, how they go. They are soon all off, and much sooner back again than we inexperienced ones would expect.
Of the great feast itself, it is difficult to give anything like an adequate description. The tables are piled with the various kinds of food, the cups are filled with tea, and all the older people first seated. Some years it was customary for the missionary to have a large table at the head, to which were invited the officials of the Hudson Bay Company and their families, and any visiting friends who might be in the country. The chiefs were also given a place at this table, an honour much appreciated. When all were seated, they very heartily sang as grace before meat, the Cree translation of the Verse:
“Be present at our table, Lord,Be here and everywhere adored;These creatures bless, and grant that weMay feast in Paradise with Thee.”
“Be present at our table, Lord,Be here and everywhere adored;These creatures bless, and grant that weMay feast in Paradise with Thee.”
When the older people had eaten, the tables were quickly cleared; then again filled and refilled, until all had feasted, and some had even returned “to fill up,” as they said, some vacancies discovered. What appetites they had; and what unrestrained enjoyment! No foreboding fears of coming nightmare, or fits of indigestion, disturbed their felicity. Dyspepsia and its kindred ills, had, up to those times, never visited that healthy hunting people; and so, when such a feast of fat things as this was prepared, where they knew they were all welcome guests, they went in for a good time and had it in full measure, without any anxiety for after consequences. It was an epoch in their history—the most blessed day of the year. From it some of them recorded time, as so many moons after the feast; and as the year advanced they made engagements by so many moons before the next feast.
If supplies were still abundant when the last had eaten, the first were set to work again until the bear’s ribs were all picked and every haunch of venison had disappeared. Night was grandly closing in, ere this stage in the proceedings was reached. When it did arrive, willing hands soon took down the tables, swept out the building, replaced the seats, lighted the oil lamps, and the intellectual feast was held. For years Mamanowatum, whose familiar name was Big Tom, was appointed chairman. He was a large man, in fact, almost gigantic, slow and deliberate; but he generally made his mark in everything he undertook to do or say. It was amusing to see him in the chair, presiding over a great meeting. He was very much respected by all, and none dared to presume on his apparent good nature. He rose slowly, seeming to get up in short jerks; but when up, he had something to say and said it.
They always opened every kind of a meeting held in the church with religious exercises. Then Mamanowatum made his address, always good and suggestive, the keynote of which was thanksgiving and gratitude to God for the blessings of the year. When he had finished, he called on different Indians for addresses. Some of them were very good also. This is the night of all others, when Indian orators try to be humorous and witty. As a race they do not excel along these lines, but sometimes they get off some very good things. While they began their speeches with some bright pleasantry that brought smiles, and even laughter, there was never anything unbecoming to the place, and all quickly drifted into a strain of thanksgiving to God for his blessings. To listen to their grateful joyous words, one would think they were the most highly favoured people on the earth; that there never was such a feast, such delicious venison, such fat bear meat, such strong tea with so much sugar in it; and that no other people had such kind missionaries. So with more grateful hearts than ever they would sing:
“Praise God from whom all blessings flow.”
Thus they talked and rejoiced together in this peculiar service which was all their own. The whites were expected to take back seats on this occasion and say nothing.
About ten o’clock they together sang the doxology; and, with the benediction, pronounced by one of their own number, this most interesting of days, with its varied pleasures and enjoyments, came to a close.
Long years have passed, since with the happy Crees we enjoyed those rich feast days; yet they stand in our missionary life as red-letter days; when our hearts were especially touched by the spontaneous and hearty kindness displayed toward the aged and afflicted ones, who unable to be present, were by the generous gifts sent, made to feel, that they were not forgotten or neglected, but were in a large measure made partakers of the pleasures of that eventful day.
Chapter Eight.The Extra Dog-Train of Supplies, and what came of it.“As you have so many splendid dogs this winter, why not take an extra train with you, and bring out from Red River some of the food of civilisation, so that we can have it to remind us of other days?”Thus spake the good wife, who, like myself, sometimes became tired of having the fresh water fish of the country as our principal diet for about one half of the year. During the other six months we lived principally upon game, such as venison, bear’s meat, beaver, wild-cat, ptarmigan, rabbits and even muskrats. So, this request to bring out something to eat that savoured of civilisation, was not an unreasonable one. I was going in to Red River settlement on business pertaining to the spiritual advancement of our mission, and this was a good opportunity to bring out with me some things that would add to our comfort and help on in the good work; we had to do so many things for our poor Indians, who were often in trouble, and were constantly looking to us for help.My splendid dugs obtained from Hamilton, Montreal and elsewhere, had increased and multiplied, until now I had a number of the finest sleigh dogs in the country. When the time came for the long trip, I harnessed them up; and, taking an additional train for the extra supply of food which was suggested by my wife, with my guide and dog drivers, began the journey. In order that we could return with full loads, we started with our sleds loaded with fish, numbers of which we cached at our different camping places, that we might have them on which to feed our dogs on the return journey.We were several days on the route, as we encountered a fierce blizzard which made travelling with our heavy loads very difficult. However, we reached the settlement, and met with a warm welcome at the home of our friend, the Hon. Mr Sifton. The business that brought us in to civilisation being soon arranged, we began our purchases of supplies for the return, special attention being given to the purchase of the extra load of good things. First, I went to a butcher, and purchased from him about two hundred and fifty pounds of his choicest cuts of meat; telling him, that as it was to be dragged by dogs on a sled some hundreds of miles, I wanted as little bone as possible. He was a decent man and treated me well. Then, I went to a storekeeper, and purchased from him rice, meal, butter, canned vegetables and various other things, making in all, a load of about six hundred pounds. I was very proud of such a load, in addition to the supply of flour which was on the other sleds. Sending my heavily loaded dog-sleds on a couple of days in advance, I followed—in company with Martin Papanekis, a favourite Indian driver—with such dogs as. Voyageur, as leader, and Jack and Cuffy and Caesar behind him, knowing we would have no difficulty in overtaking the rest of our party. We so arranged our return journey, that each night we reached the camp we had used on the outgoing trip. In two places, much to our disgust, we found that the wolves or wolverines, had been too clever for us, and had discovered our cache and devoured our fish. So those nights, we had to feed our dogs from the supplies of meat bought in Red River.In due time we reached our mission home where there was great satisfaction over the abundance and variety of the supplies secured at such a cost of toil and danger. The bill of fare was much improved, and twice a week we had a little roast of beef or mutton, with vegetables, and a dessert of rice pudding.For two or three weeks this continued, when our hearts were saddened, and our duties and cares greatly increased, by the breaking out of the measles among our Indians. This epidemic was caused, by the coming in to our country of some free-traders who had lately had the disease. They had been discharged from the hospital as cured; but in some way or other they had carried the germs of the disease so that going in and out of the wigwams they spread the contagion among the natives, and an epidemic broke out. This strange new disease terrified the people.At that time I had parties of Indians at Oomeme River, and also at Berens River, where we were then living. About this same time the measles also broke out among a number of pagan Indians under the rule of Thickfoot, a stubborn yet friendly old chief who refused to become a Christian. At this place we had but lately completed a mission house, some outbuildings, and a comfortable school-house, which we were using as a church until the latter should be completed. All the timber for these buildings we had drawn with our dogs from a large island several miles out from, the mainland. When the measles broke out, and we saw the fear of the Indians, at once, as far as possible, we turned our mission premises into a hospital. In addition to the buildings already mentioned, we also put up for the sick our large buffalo leather tent. Here, on improvised beds and couches, we gathered about us the afflicted ones, making them as comfortable as our limited means would allow.Over at Oomeme River, our Christian Indians fortunately escaped; but the pagan Indians, among whom the disease broke out, were wild with fear, and in many cases acted in a manner to aggravate the disease. Some of them, when they broke out, rushed from their heated wigwams and rolled themselves in the snow, which of course was most disastrous treatment, resulting in the death of numbers. Thereupon, their relatives became so terrified, that, being afraid to bury their bodies, they stripped the wigwams from around them, leaving them exposed to the devouring wolves; and then, sent word over to me, that if I desired their friends to be decently buried, I must come over and do it myself. Hearing this, I took some boards, nails, hammer, spades and other things necessary, and with some Indians, hurried over to the place. After some persuasion, I succeeded in getting an Indian family to move their wigwam from the spot where it had stood the whole winter, and where constantly the fire had been burning; and there, where the ground was yet warm and unfrozen, dug the grave, making it sufficiently large for all who had died. With our boards we made the coffins, and after a simple religious service buried their dead.At Berens River, our method of procedure among our sick was something like this. Early in the morning, large pots partly filled with water were hung over a good fire. Into them were put several pounds of the good fresh beef or mutton which we had brought from civilisation. When well boiled, several pounds of rice were stirred in and the whole left to boil until cooked into a rich nourishing soup. Then nourishing flat cakes were made in abundance. While this breakfast for the sick was being prepared, the missionary, with his assistants, was busily engaged in making the rounds of the sick. Their various wants were attended to, medicine was given, and every thing that could be, was cheerfully done for their comfort. Then, the missionary’s wife, with her helpers, followed with kettles of warm soup, bread and tea. Meals of this nourishing food were given to, and much relished by, the afflicted ones. There were some such severe cases, that at times it looked as though it would be impossible to save them; but with heaven’s blessing on our efforts, we were successful in bringing about the recovery of every case under our immediate care. While doing everything that we could for their physical recovery, we had grand opportunities for imparting religious instruction. Sweet hymns, translated into their own language, were sung, and the exceeding great and precious promises of the blessed Book, were often read and explained at every bedside. Their fear of this strange new disease left them, and they became patient and hopeful. The result was, that while among the pagan Indians at Oomeme River there were many deaths, not one of our Christian Indians died.When the last case was cured and the disease had disappeared, we took stock of our supplies. We found that all of that extra dog-train of food, together with a large quantity of flour and other things, had been used up in feeding our poor sick people. Not one-tenth of the whole had come to our own table; and so we had once again to fall back upon our native food. Fish was again our diet twenty-one times a week. But, we had the great joy and satisfaction of knowing that, in all human probability, we had saved the lives of many of our people; and had found such a place in their hearts, that our future efforts to evangelise or to help along in the blessed life, would be very much more effective.
“As you have so many splendid dogs this winter, why not take an extra train with you, and bring out from Red River some of the food of civilisation, so that we can have it to remind us of other days?”
Thus spake the good wife, who, like myself, sometimes became tired of having the fresh water fish of the country as our principal diet for about one half of the year. During the other six months we lived principally upon game, such as venison, bear’s meat, beaver, wild-cat, ptarmigan, rabbits and even muskrats. So, this request to bring out something to eat that savoured of civilisation, was not an unreasonable one. I was going in to Red River settlement on business pertaining to the spiritual advancement of our mission, and this was a good opportunity to bring out with me some things that would add to our comfort and help on in the good work; we had to do so many things for our poor Indians, who were often in trouble, and were constantly looking to us for help.
My splendid dugs obtained from Hamilton, Montreal and elsewhere, had increased and multiplied, until now I had a number of the finest sleigh dogs in the country. When the time came for the long trip, I harnessed them up; and, taking an additional train for the extra supply of food which was suggested by my wife, with my guide and dog drivers, began the journey. In order that we could return with full loads, we started with our sleds loaded with fish, numbers of which we cached at our different camping places, that we might have them on which to feed our dogs on the return journey.
We were several days on the route, as we encountered a fierce blizzard which made travelling with our heavy loads very difficult. However, we reached the settlement, and met with a warm welcome at the home of our friend, the Hon. Mr Sifton. The business that brought us in to civilisation being soon arranged, we began our purchases of supplies for the return, special attention being given to the purchase of the extra load of good things. First, I went to a butcher, and purchased from him about two hundred and fifty pounds of his choicest cuts of meat; telling him, that as it was to be dragged by dogs on a sled some hundreds of miles, I wanted as little bone as possible. He was a decent man and treated me well. Then, I went to a storekeeper, and purchased from him rice, meal, butter, canned vegetables and various other things, making in all, a load of about six hundred pounds. I was very proud of such a load, in addition to the supply of flour which was on the other sleds. Sending my heavily loaded dog-sleds on a couple of days in advance, I followed—in company with Martin Papanekis, a favourite Indian driver—with such dogs as. Voyageur, as leader, and Jack and Cuffy and Caesar behind him, knowing we would have no difficulty in overtaking the rest of our party. We so arranged our return journey, that each night we reached the camp we had used on the outgoing trip. In two places, much to our disgust, we found that the wolves or wolverines, had been too clever for us, and had discovered our cache and devoured our fish. So those nights, we had to feed our dogs from the supplies of meat bought in Red River.
In due time we reached our mission home where there was great satisfaction over the abundance and variety of the supplies secured at such a cost of toil and danger. The bill of fare was much improved, and twice a week we had a little roast of beef or mutton, with vegetables, and a dessert of rice pudding.
For two or three weeks this continued, when our hearts were saddened, and our duties and cares greatly increased, by the breaking out of the measles among our Indians. This epidemic was caused, by the coming in to our country of some free-traders who had lately had the disease. They had been discharged from the hospital as cured; but in some way or other they had carried the germs of the disease so that going in and out of the wigwams they spread the contagion among the natives, and an epidemic broke out. This strange new disease terrified the people.
At that time I had parties of Indians at Oomeme River, and also at Berens River, where we were then living. About this same time the measles also broke out among a number of pagan Indians under the rule of Thickfoot, a stubborn yet friendly old chief who refused to become a Christian. At this place we had but lately completed a mission house, some outbuildings, and a comfortable school-house, which we were using as a church until the latter should be completed. All the timber for these buildings we had drawn with our dogs from a large island several miles out from, the mainland. When the measles broke out, and we saw the fear of the Indians, at once, as far as possible, we turned our mission premises into a hospital. In addition to the buildings already mentioned, we also put up for the sick our large buffalo leather tent. Here, on improvised beds and couches, we gathered about us the afflicted ones, making them as comfortable as our limited means would allow.
Over at Oomeme River, our Christian Indians fortunately escaped; but the pagan Indians, among whom the disease broke out, were wild with fear, and in many cases acted in a manner to aggravate the disease. Some of them, when they broke out, rushed from their heated wigwams and rolled themselves in the snow, which of course was most disastrous treatment, resulting in the death of numbers. Thereupon, their relatives became so terrified, that, being afraid to bury their bodies, they stripped the wigwams from around them, leaving them exposed to the devouring wolves; and then, sent word over to me, that if I desired their friends to be decently buried, I must come over and do it myself. Hearing this, I took some boards, nails, hammer, spades and other things necessary, and with some Indians, hurried over to the place. After some persuasion, I succeeded in getting an Indian family to move their wigwam from the spot where it had stood the whole winter, and where constantly the fire had been burning; and there, where the ground was yet warm and unfrozen, dug the grave, making it sufficiently large for all who had died. With our boards we made the coffins, and after a simple religious service buried their dead.
At Berens River, our method of procedure among our sick was something like this. Early in the morning, large pots partly filled with water were hung over a good fire. Into them were put several pounds of the good fresh beef or mutton which we had brought from civilisation. When well boiled, several pounds of rice were stirred in and the whole left to boil until cooked into a rich nourishing soup. Then nourishing flat cakes were made in abundance. While this breakfast for the sick was being prepared, the missionary, with his assistants, was busily engaged in making the rounds of the sick. Their various wants were attended to, medicine was given, and every thing that could be, was cheerfully done for their comfort. Then, the missionary’s wife, with her helpers, followed with kettles of warm soup, bread and tea. Meals of this nourishing food were given to, and much relished by, the afflicted ones. There were some such severe cases, that at times it looked as though it would be impossible to save them; but with heaven’s blessing on our efforts, we were successful in bringing about the recovery of every case under our immediate care. While doing everything that we could for their physical recovery, we had grand opportunities for imparting religious instruction. Sweet hymns, translated into their own language, were sung, and the exceeding great and precious promises of the blessed Book, were often read and explained at every bedside. Their fear of this strange new disease left them, and they became patient and hopeful. The result was, that while among the pagan Indians at Oomeme River there were many deaths, not one of our Christian Indians died.
When the last case was cured and the disease had disappeared, we took stock of our supplies. We found that all of that extra dog-train of food, together with a large quantity of flour and other things, had been used up in feeding our poor sick people. Not one-tenth of the whole had come to our own table; and so we had once again to fall back upon our native food. Fish was again our diet twenty-one times a week. But, we had the great joy and satisfaction of knowing that, in all human probability, we had saved the lives of many of our people; and had found such a place in their hearts, that our future efforts to evangelise or to help along in the blessed life, would be very much more effective.
Chapter Nine.A Lesson never to be Forgotten.When I was a small boy, my father was stationed on a large mission in the back woods of Canada. The hardy emigrants from the Old World were crowding into that new country, and every year additional thousands of acres of grain were growing, where shortly before the dark primeval forests, which had stood for centuries, held possession.The native Indian tribes were retreating before this irresistible march of the white man, or were settling on reservations selected for them by the government. For years they retained their right to roam about, and kill the game which still abounded, but which was rapidly becoming less as the white settlements increased. In addition to their hunting and fishing, the industrious Indians added to their comfort by manufacturing native baskets, brooms, handles for axes, hoes and similar articles, which they sold to the friendly settlers for food and clothing. Those that left the fire-water alone, and were industrious, were thus able to live comfortably.To these Indians on their reservations the Gospel was proclaimed by the self-sacrificing missionaries, as they travelled their toilsome rounds. These visits were not made in vain. Many of these children of the forest, sick and dissatisfied with their old paganism which gave no peace to their troubled spirits, gladly received the truth, and became earnest, consistent Christians. Their godly lives were, in many places, a constant reproof to the inconsistencies and sins of their white neighbours. At rare intervals in my boyhood days it was my great privilege to be permitted to accompany my father to some of the Indian encampments that were not very far from our home, I well remember the sweet plaintive voices of the Indians, as they sung some of our hymns which had been translated into their language. Their devout and attentive demeanour during the religious services, deeply impressed me. It was ever a great pleasure to visit them in their wigwams, to see the young people at their sports, and the older ones at their work: building canoes, or making baskets.In my boyish curiosity, I did not confine my rambling solely to the Christian Indians; but, as all were very friendly, I wandered about the encampments to the different wigwams, to see what I could that was novel and interesting. Being known as the son of the Blackcoat—for in this way was the missionary designated by the tribe—I was always welcomed in the wigwams, and was given a seat in the circle around the fire.In one wigwam the following characteristic incident occurred which made a deep impression on my mind. Seated on the ground were representatives of three generations, all, except the aged grandfather, busily engaged in work, principally basket-making. He was a patriarchal-looking old man, and, to my youthful eyes as he sat there on his blanket smoking his long pipe, seemed to be absorbed in thought, noticing neither me nor any one else.The youngest of the company, and the one that naturally attracted my attention, was a young lad of about my own age. He was busily engaged with an Indian crooked knife, endeavouring to make an arrow. In his eagerness to succeed, he let his knife slip, and unfortunately, cut himself very badly. At the sight of the blood,—which flowed freely, for the wound was an ugly one—the lad set up a howl of pain and alarm, which greatly startled his stoical relatives. Relief was quickly afforded, the cut covered with balsam and tied up in a piece of deer skin. Not one word of sympathy did the boy receive; but on the contrary from nearly all in the wigwam arose a chorus of indignation and disgust. To them it was a great disgrace that one of their family, and he a boy of so many winters, should howl and cry like that, for such a trifling injury.How the other families would laugh at them when they heard of it! It looked for a time as if they would severely punish him, not for his awkwardness in handling his knife, but because he did not control his feelings and treat the wound and the pain with utter indifference.The old grandfather especially, was deeply stirred and indignant at conduct so unworthy of his grandson, to whom evidently he was deeply attached.Indians very seldom punish their children. Upon the boys especially, the rod is seldom used. The girls in the heathen families often have a hard time of it, being frequently knocked about and beaten; but the boys generally escape, even if they richly deserve punishment. Here, however, was a very serious case. The boy had committed a crime in crying out at an ordinary cut on his hand, inflicted by himself. It would never do to let this pass. The lad must be taught a lesson he would never forget. And this is the way in which it was done, much to my amazement, by his old grandfather.Placing near him the lad, who evidently was now feeling that he had been very guilty, he gave him a talk upon the duty of bearing pain without uttering a cry, or even a groan. Then the old man, who had been a great warrior in his younger days, told him, that unless he were more courageous than that, he would never become a brave warrior or a good hunter; and, that unless he was able to control his feelings, and never cry out no matter what happened, they could never respect him any more than they would an old grandmother.While the old man talked excitedly to him, now thoroughly roused out of his usual calm demeanour, he renewed the fire which had partly burnt down. When, by the addition of some very dry wood, it was burning very vigorously, he again turned quickly to his grandson, and speaking out sharply and excitedly, said: “See here! Look at me! This is the way a brave warrior should stand pain!” Then, to my horror, he suddenly reached out his hand, and holding one finger in the flame, kept it there until it was fearfully burnt.During this sickening ordeal, not a muscle of the old man’s face quivered; not a groan escaped from his firmly set lips. To judge from his appearance, it might have been a stick that he was burning. When at length he drew back the crisp burnt finger of his now blistered hand, he held it toward his grandson and gave him another lecture, telling him among other things that if he ever expected to be great or honoured among his people, he must hear pain without flinching or uttering a cry.
When I was a small boy, my father was stationed on a large mission in the back woods of Canada. The hardy emigrants from the Old World were crowding into that new country, and every year additional thousands of acres of grain were growing, where shortly before the dark primeval forests, which had stood for centuries, held possession.
The native Indian tribes were retreating before this irresistible march of the white man, or were settling on reservations selected for them by the government. For years they retained their right to roam about, and kill the game which still abounded, but which was rapidly becoming less as the white settlements increased. In addition to their hunting and fishing, the industrious Indians added to their comfort by manufacturing native baskets, brooms, handles for axes, hoes and similar articles, which they sold to the friendly settlers for food and clothing. Those that left the fire-water alone, and were industrious, were thus able to live comfortably.
To these Indians on their reservations the Gospel was proclaimed by the self-sacrificing missionaries, as they travelled their toilsome rounds. These visits were not made in vain. Many of these children of the forest, sick and dissatisfied with their old paganism which gave no peace to their troubled spirits, gladly received the truth, and became earnest, consistent Christians. Their godly lives were, in many places, a constant reproof to the inconsistencies and sins of their white neighbours. At rare intervals in my boyhood days it was my great privilege to be permitted to accompany my father to some of the Indian encampments that were not very far from our home, I well remember the sweet plaintive voices of the Indians, as they sung some of our hymns which had been translated into their language. Their devout and attentive demeanour during the religious services, deeply impressed me. It was ever a great pleasure to visit them in their wigwams, to see the young people at their sports, and the older ones at their work: building canoes, or making baskets.
In my boyish curiosity, I did not confine my rambling solely to the Christian Indians; but, as all were very friendly, I wandered about the encampments to the different wigwams, to see what I could that was novel and interesting. Being known as the son of the Blackcoat—for in this way was the missionary designated by the tribe—I was always welcomed in the wigwams, and was given a seat in the circle around the fire.
In one wigwam the following characteristic incident occurred which made a deep impression on my mind. Seated on the ground were representatives of three generations, all, except the aged grandfather, busily engaged in work, principally basket-making. He was a patriarchal-looking old man, and, to my youthful eyes as he sat there on his blanket smoking his long pipe, seemed to be absorbed in thought, noticing neither me nor any one else.
The youngest of the company, and the one that naturally attracted my attention, was a young lad of about my own age. He was busily engaged with an Indian crooked knife, endeavouring to make an arrow. In his eagerness to succeed, he let his knife slip, and unfortunately, cut himself very badly. At the sight of the blood,—which flowed freely, for the wound was an ugly one—the lad set up a howl of pain and alarm, which greatly startled his stoical relatives. Relief was quickly afforded, the cut covered with balsam and tied up in a piece of deer skin. Not one word of sympathy did the boy receive; but on the contrary from nearly all in the wigwam arose a chorus of indignation and disgust. To them it was a great disgrace that one of their family, and he a boy of so many winters, should howl and cry like that, for such a trifling injury.
How the other families would laugh at them when they heard of it! It looked for a time as if they would severely punish him, not for his awkwardness in handling his knife, but because he did not control his feelings and treat the wound and the pain with utter indifference.
The old grandfather especially, was deeply stirred and indignant at conduct so unworthy of his grandson, to whom evidently he was deeply attached.
Indians very seldom punish their children. Upon the boys especially, the rod is seldom used. The girls in the heathen families often have a hard time of it, being frequently knocked about and beaten; but the boys generally escape, even if they richly deserve punishment. Here, however, was a very serious case. The boy had committed a crime in crying out at an ordinary cut on his hand, inflicted by himself. It would never do to let this pass. The lad must be taught a lesson he would never forget. And this is the way in which it was done, much to my amazement, by his old grandfather.
Placing near him the lad, who evidently was now feeling that he had been very guilty, he gave him a talk upon the duty of bearing pain without uttering a cry, or even a groan. Then the old man, who had been a great warrior in his younger days, told him, that unless he were more courageous than that, he would never become a brave warrior or a good hunter; and, that unless he was able to control his feelings, and never cry out no matter what happened, they could never respect him any more than they would an old grandmother.
While the old man talked excitedly to him, now thoroughly roused out of his usual calm demeanour, he renewed the fire which had partly burnt down. When, by the addition of some very dry wood, it was burning very vigorously, he again turned quickly to his grandson, and speaking out sharply and excitedly, said: “See here! Look at me! This is the way a brave warrior should stand pain!” Then, to my horror, he suddenly reached out his hand, and holding one finger in the flame, kept it there until it was fearfully burnt.
During this sickening ordeal, not a muscle of the old man’s face quivered; not a groan escaped from his firmly set lips. To judge from his appearance, it might have been a stick that he was burning. When at length he drew back the crisp burnt finger of his now blistered hand, he held it toward his grandson and gave him another lecture, telling him among other things that if he ever expected to be great or honoured among his people, he must hear pain without flinching or uttering a cry.
Chapter Ten.The Honest Indian; or, Venison for Pemmican.Years ago the missionaries living in the northern part of what were then known as the Hudson Bay territories, were often so remote from civilisation, that they were obliged to depend principally on fish and game for their livelihood. Hence, in times of scarcity, they welcomed the arrival of a hunter who came in with plenty of game.One cold wintry day, a man of this description made his appearance at our mission home. He was a fine stalwart Indian, and, in the quiet way of his people, came into our kitchen without knocking. Unstrapping from his back a fine haunch of venison, he threw it down upon the table. As our supplies of food were very limited at the time—for we were averaging hardly more than two good meals a day—I was glad to see this welcome addition; and so, after I had cordially greeted him, I said:“What shall I give you for this venison?”“I want nothing for it, as it belongs to you,” was his answer.“You must be mistaken,” I replied, “as I never saw you before, and have had no dealings with you.”“Oh, but it does belong to you, and I want nothing more for it,” he insisted.“Excuse me,” I said, “but youmustlet me pay you for it. We are very glad to get it, as there is little food in the house; but we have a rule here, that we pay the Indians for everything we get from them.”The reason we had come to this determination, was because we had found by rather dear experience,—as we presume other missionaries on similar fields have,—that the natives have an idea the missionary is rich, or that he is backed up by wealthy churches; and, with unlimited resources at his disposal, is able to make large gifts in return for lesser ones received. A few rabbits, or a brace of ducks would be given with great politeness to the missionary or his wife. Then the donor, often accompanied by his wife and several children, would remain to dinner, and, in all probability, eat the greater part of the gift. Of course they must be asked to supper—and they had glorious appetites. As they still lingered on until time for retiring arrived, the missionary was at length obliged to hint, that he thought they would better go and see if their wigwam was where they left it in the morning. This would generally bring things to a crisis, and the man would say: “Ever since we came we have only been waiting to get the present you are going to give us for the one we gave you.”While they were contented to sell at a reasonable rate the various things which they could supply for our needs, yet, if a present were accepted, they expected something many times its value. Had this been allowed to continue, we would have been speedily left destitute of everything in the house. Therefore, not many weeks before the arrival of this strange Indian with the venison, as a precautionary measure we had made a rule that no more presents were to be received from the Indians; but that for everything brought which we needed, such as meat, fish, or moccasins, there was to be a fair tariff price mutually agreed upon. Yet in spite of all this, here was a stalwart Indian insisting, that I should receive a haunch of venison without payment. Judging from some past experiences, I was fearful that if I accepted it as a present, it would about bankrupt me. So I again said to him:“You must let me pay you for this.”“No, no,” he energetically replied. “I take no pay. It belongs to you.”“How do you make that out?” I inquired, more perplexed than ever.Then he proceeded to give me his explanation, which deeply interested me, and which will also I am sure interest my readers.First, he began by asking me a few questions:“Did you make a trip with your guide and dog drivers to Burntwood River last winter?”“Yes, I did,” was my answer.“And were your dog-sleds not heavily loaded?”“Yes,” I replied.“And was there not a heavy fall of snow followed by a blizzard, which as you had no trail through the deep snow, made it very difficult travelling?”“Quite true,” I replied, for all had happened just as he was describing it. “And did you not at a certain place make a cache of some of your pemmican and other heavy things, so as to lighten your loads, that your dogs might make better time?”“Yes,” I answered, for well did I remember that long journey, and the fearful storm which made travelling through the trackless forest almost impossible.I had gone on a journey of several hundreds of miles to carry the Gospel to some Indians who were still in the darkness of paganism. I travelled with sixteen dogs and four Indian companions, and there was not the least vestige of a road. This is the one great drawback; and any party of hunters, traders, or missionaries, wishing to travel with any rapidity, must send one of their number on ahead of the dog trains to mark out the path with his great snow shoes as he strides along. The skill and endurance with which this work is performed, is marvellous and almost incredible to those who have not witnessed it. Often the country for days together is tamely monotonous, without any striking feature in the landscape, and without the least sign of human footsteps. Clouds may gather and cover the whole heavens with a sombre grey mantle, so that the white man gets bewildered and does not know south from north, or east from west. Yet the Indian guide pushes on without hesitancy, and with unerring accuracy.While endeavouring to push on as rapidly as possible, we were assailed by a fierce storm. The snowfall was so great, that, with our heavy loads, speedy progress was an utter impossibility. We found, that we must either lighten our loads, or be content to lose much valuable time on the way. After talking it over with my Indians, we decided on the former course, and so, a “cache” was made. A number of the heavier articles were tied up in large blankets, some saplings bent down by the stalwart men, and the bundles fastened in their tops. When let go, the young trees sprang up, and thus held their loads so far above the ground that they were safe from the prowling wolves or wolverines. This plan is very much safer than that of using large trees, as up the latter many of the wild animals can climb, and short work would be made of the “cache.”With lightened sleds—although some of the things left behind were sadly missed—we hurried on, and after a few days reached our destination. We found the majority of the Indians glad to see us, and anxious for instruction in the ways of the great Book. They had become dissatisfied with the ways of their fathers, and had lost all faith in their conjurers, so they listened with great attention to what we had to tell of the Gospel of the Son of God.While we were thus engaged in our missionary duties, blizzards were raging through that cold northland; so that when we began the long home journey, we discovered but few traces of the trail, which our snow shoes and dog-trains had made not very long before. However, my guide was very clever, and my splendid dogs most sagacious, so we travelled home most of the way on the same route, even though the original path was deeply buried by the snow.The place where our cache had been made was duly reached; and glad enough were we to obtain the additional supplies it contained, for we had been on short allowance for some time. The strong arms of my Indians soon bent down the saplings, untied the bundles and consigned them to the different dog-sleds. To my surprise, I observed, that at one of the bundles—the heaviest article in which had been a piece of pemmican weighing perhaps fifty or sixty pounds—my men were talking and gesticulating most earnestly. In answer to my inquiries, they said, that that bundle had been taken down during our absence, and a piece of pemmican had been cut off and taken away.“Nonsense!” I replied. “You are surely mistaken. It looks to me just as it was when we put it up. And then there was not the vestige of a track here when we returned.”However, in spite of my protestations, my men were confident that some pemmican had been taken by a stranger, and that the blizzard had covered up the tracks. With a little more discussion the matter was dropped, and after a good meal we proceeded on our way.Months later, along came this strange Indian with the venison and his story, which we will now let him finish:“I was out hunting in those forests through which you passed: for they are my hunting grounds. I found the trail of a moose, and for a long time I followed it up, but did not succeed in getting a shot. I had poor success on that hunting trip. Shooting nothing for some days, I became very hungry. While pushing along through the woods, I came across your trail and saw your cache. So when I saw it was the missionary’s cache, the friend of the Indian, I was glad, and I said to myself. If he were here, and knew that I was hungry, he would say: ‘Help yourself:’—and that was just what I did. I pulled down a sapling, and opening the bundle, cut off a piece of pemmican—just enough to make me feel comfortable under my belt until I could reach my wigwam, far away. Then I tied up the bundle, fastened it in the treetop, and let it swing up again. And now I have brought you this venison, to pay for that pemmican which I took.”Honest man! He had carried the haunch of venison on his back, a distance of about sixty miles.Of course I was delighted, and while complimenting him for his honesty, inquired how he knew that it was my party that had made the cache, rather than a party of Indian hunters.Without any hesitancy he replied: “Oh I saw your snow shoe tracks in the snow.”“Impossible!” I answered; “for the snow shoes used by the whole party were made by Sandy, my Indian boy, and were all of one pattern.”“That no matter,” he answered, while his eyes twinkled with amusement. “Snow shoes all right, but I saw your tracks all the time. When Indian walk, he walk with toes in; when white man walk, he walk with toes out. So I saw where the missionary make tracks all the time.”We all voted him a clever, as well as an honest Indian, and rejoiced that under the faithful teachings of another missionary, this red Indian of the forest, had been so grounded in the lessons of the sermon on the mount.
Years ago the missionaries living in the northern part of what were then known as the Hudson Bay territories, were often so remote from civilisation, that they were obliged to depend principally on fish and game for their livelihood. Hence, in times of scarcity, they welcomed the arrival of a hunter who came in with plenty of game.
One cold wintry day, a man of this description made his appearance at our mission home. He was a fine stalwart Indian, and, in the quiet way of his people, came into our kitchen without knocking. Unstrapping from his back a fine haunch of venison, he threw it down upon the table. As our supplies of food were very limited at the time—for we were averaging hardly more than two good meals a day—I was glad to see this welcome addition; and so, after I had cordially greeted him, I said:
“What shall I give you for this venison?”
“I want nothing for it, as it belongs to you,” was his answer.
“You must be mistaken,” I replied, “as I never saw you before, and have had no dealings with you.”
“Oh, but it does belong to you, and I want nothing more for it,” he insisted.
“Excuse me,” I said, “but youmustlet me pay you for it. We are very glad to get it, as there is little food in the house; but we have a rule here, that we pay the Indians for everything we get from them.”
The reason we had come to this determination, was because we had found by rather dear experience,—as we presume other missionaries on similar fields have,—that the natives have an idea the missionary is rich, or that he is backed up by wealthy churches; and, with unlimited resources at his disposal, is able to make large gifts in return for lesser ones received. A few rabbits, or a brace of ducks would be given with great politeness to the missionary or his wife. Then the donor, often accompanied by his wife and several children, would remain to dinner, and, in all probability, eat the greater part of the gift. Of course they must be asked to supper—and they had glorious appetites. As they still lingered on until time for retiring arrived, the missionary was at length obliged to hint, that he thought they would better go and see if their wigwam was where they left it in the morning. This would generally bring things to a crisis, and the man would say: “Ever since we came we have only been waiting to get the present you are going to give us for the one we gave you.”
While they were contented to sell at a reasonable rate the various things which they could supply for our needs, yet, if a present were accepted, they expected something many times its value. Had this been allowed to continue, we would have been speedily left destitute of everything in the house. Therefore, not many weeks before the arrival of this strange Indian with the venison, as a precautionary measure we had made a rule that no more presents were to be received from the Indians; but that for everything brought which we needed, such as meat, fish, or moccasins, there was to be a fair tariff price mutually agreed upon. Yet in spite of all this, here was a stalwart Indian insisting, that I should receive a haunch of venison without payment. Judging from some past experiences, I was fearful that if I accepted it as a present, it would about bankrupt me. So I again said to him:
“You must let me pay you for this.”
“No, no,” he energetically replied. “I take no pay. It belongs to you.”
“How do you make that out?” I inquired, more perplexed than ever.
Then he proceeded to give me his explanation, which deeply interested me, and which will also I am sure interest my readers.
First, he began by asking me a few questions:
“Did you make a trip with your guide and dog drivers to Burntwood River last winter?”
“Yes, I did,” was my answer.
“And were your dog-sleds not heavily loaded?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“And was there not a heavy fall of snow followed by a blizzard, which as you had no trail through the deep snow, made it very difficult travelling?”
“Quite true,” I replied, for all had happened just as he was describing it. “And did you not at a certain place make a cache of some of your pemmican and other heavy things, so as to lighten your loads, that your dogs might make better time?”
“Yes,” I answered, for well did I remember that long journey, and the fearful storm which made travelling through the trackless forest almost impossible.
I had gone on a journey of several hundreds of miles to carry the Gospel to some Indians who were still in the darkness of paganism. I travelled with sixteen dogs and four Indian companions, and there was not the least vestige of a road. This is the one great drawback; and any party of hunters, traders, or missionaries, wishing to travel with any rapidity, must send one of their number on ahead of the dog trains to mark out the path with his great snow shoes as he strides along. The skill and endurance with which this work is performed, is marvellous and almost incredible to those who have not witnessed it. Often the country for days together is tamely monotonous, without any striking feature in the landscape, and without the least sign of human footsteps. Clouds may gather and cover the whole heavens with a sombre grey mantle, so that the white man gets bewildered and does not know south from north, or east from west. Yet the Indian guide pushes on without hesitancy, and with unerring accuracy.
While endeavouring to push on as rapidly as possible, we were assailed by a fierce storm. The snowfall was so great, that, with our heavy loads, speedy progress was an utter impossibility. We found, that we must either lighten our loads, or be content to lose much valuable time on the way. After talking it over with my Indians, we decided on the former course, and so, a “cache” was made. A number of the heavier articles were tied up in large blankets, some saplings bent down by the stalwart men, and the bundles fastened in their tops. When let go, the young trees sprang up, and thus held their loads so far above the ground that they were safe from the prowling wolves or wolverines. This plan is very much safer than that of using large trees, as up the latter many of the wild animals can climb, and short work would be made of the “cache.”
With lightened sleds—although some of the things left behind were sadly missed—we hurried on, and after a few days reached our destination. We found the majority of the Indians glad to see us, and anxious for instruction in the ways of the great Book. They had become dissatisfied with the ways of their fathers, and had lost all faith in their conjurers, so they listened with great attention to what we had to tell of the Gospel of the Son of God.
While we were thus engaged in our missionary duties, blizzards were raging through that cold northland; so that when we began the long home journey, we discovered but few traces of the trail, which our snow shoes and dog-trains had made not very long before. However, my guide was very clever, and my splendid dogs most sagacious, so we travelled home most of the way on the same route, even though the original path was deeply buried by the snow.
The place where our cache had been made was duly reached; and glad enough were we to obtain the additional supplies it contained, for we had been on short allowance for some time. The strong arms of my Indians soon bent down the saplings, untied the bundles and consigned them to the different dog-sleds. To my surprise, I observed, that at one of the bundles—the heaviest article in which had been a piece of pemmican weighing perhaps fifty or sixty pounds—my men were talking and gesticulating most earnestly. In answer to my inquiries, they said, that that bundle had been taken down during our absence, and a piece of pemmican had been cut off and taken away.
“Nonsense!” I replied. “You are surely mistaken. It looks to me just as it was when we put it up. And then there was not the vestige of a track here when we returned.”
However, in spite of my protestations, my men were confident that some pemmican had been taken by a stranger, and that the blizzard had covered up the tracks. With a little more discussion the matter was dropped, and after a good meal we proceeded on our way.
Months later, along came this strange Indian with the venison and his story, which we will now let him finish:
“I was out hunting in those forests through which you passed: for they are my hunting grounds. I found the trail of a moose, and for a long time I followed it up, but did not succeed in getting a shot. I had poor success on that hunting trip. Shooting nothing for some days, I became very hungry. While pushing along through the woods, I came across your trail and saw your cache. So when I saw it was the missionary’s cache, the friend of the Indian, I was glad, and I said to myself. If he were here, and knew that I was hungry, he would say: ‘Help yourself:’—and that was just what I did. I pulled down a sapling, and opening the bundle, cut off a piece of pemmican—just enough to make me feel comfortable under my belt until I could reach my wigwam, far away. Then I tied up the bundle, fastened it in the treetop, and let it swing up again. And now I have brought you this venison, to pay for that pemmican which I took.”
Honest man! He had carried the haunch of venison on his back, a distance of about sixty miles.
Of course I was delighted, and while complimenting him for his honesty, inquired how he knew that it was my party that had made the cache, rather than a party of Indian hunters.
Without any hesitancy he replied: “Oh I saw your snow shoe tracks in the snow.”
“Impossible!” I answered; “for the snow shoes used by the whole party were made by Sandy, my Indian boy, and were all of one pattern.”
“That no matter,” he answered, while his eyes twinkled with amusement. “Snow shoes all right, but I saw your tracks all the time. When Indian walk, he walk with toes in; when white man walk, he walk with toes out. So I saw where the missionary make tracks all the time.”
We all voted him a clever, as well as an honest Indian, and rejoiced that under the faithful teachings of another missionary, this red Indian of the forest, had been so grounded in the lessons of the sermon on the mount.
Chapter Eleven.The Vindication of the Sabbath.When the missionaries go among the heathen preaching the blessed Gospel of the great Book, they necessarily have to begin, with first principles. When good impressions have been made, and hearts touched, then follows religious instruction in matters of which they have been perfectly ignorant! and much that is false, and often very childish, has to be unlearned.To these people, before the arrival of the missionary, the Sabbath was utterly unknown. The preaching of it at first filled them with perplexity and trouble. They thought that it would interfere with their plans, and so break up their hunting arrangements as to bring them to absolute want. They were poor, even though working and fishing every day; and to give up one day out of every seven, and not fire a gun, or set a net—what would become of them! Thus argued some of the Indians.Faithfully and lovingly the missionaries set before them the commands of God adding the promises of blessings to the obedient. The Book itself was diligently searched, and there was a great desire to know, if such passages as the one we here quote referred to white people and Indians now: “If thou turn away thy foot from the Sabbath, from doing thy pleasure on my holy day, and call the Sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord, honourable: and shalt honour him not doing thine own ways, nor finding thine own pleasure, nor speaking thine own words, then shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord, and I will cause thee to ride upon the high places of the earth, and feed thee with the heritage of Jacob thy father; for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.”At last, under faithful teaching, aided by the blessed Spirit, the Christian Indians resolved to take the Book for their guide, and to keep the Sabbath day. At once, the guns and bows and arrows were put aside, and the fish-nets were left hanging in the breeze for that day. No traps were visited, neither were the axes lifted up against the trees. Their simple meals were cooked and eaten, and all who could attend, were found in the house of God three times each Sabbath.But now arose fierce opposition from an unexpected quarter. The great fur-trading company that had for so long a time held despotic power in the land, in their short-sightedness,—fearing a diminution in the returns of the fur by the hunters if one-seventh of the time was to be, as they put it, spent in idleness,—sneered at the actions of the missionaries, and by bribes and threats, endeavoured to induce the Indians to ignore their teachings on the subject.When, the summer tripping began, and the Indians refused to travel or work in the boats on the Sabbath, the action of the company developed into downright persecution. Some description of this “tripping” in that great wild northland is necessary, in order that our readers may understand the position taken by the Sabbath-keeping Indians, and its most satisfactory results.So remote from the seaboard are some of the interior posts of the Hudson Bay Company, that seven years, and sometimes more elapsed, ere the furs obtained for the goods sent, could reach the London market. The bales of goods were first shipped by the company’s vessels to York factory, on the Hudson Bay. Then they were taken by the Indian trippers in strong boats that would hold from three to five tons. A number of these boats constituted a “brigade.” A captain of the whole was appointed, and a good state of discipline maintained.The first brigade would take the bales up the rivers, often having to pass many dangerous places and encounter many risks. Great care and watchfulness were necessary, and yet in spite of all, boats were sometimes wrecked and lives lost. The hardest part of the work was in what was called, “making the portages.” Some of the rivers are full of falls and rapids that are impassable for the boats. Here the portages have to be made. The hardy boatmen row up to the rapids as close as is safe, unload their cargoes, and carry them on their backs to the selected spot below the obstruction in the river. Then the boats have to be hauled ashore, and dragged overland by the united strength of the several crews to the same place; here they are again launched, and with cargoes aboard, the journey is resumed. On some of these trips the number of portages runs up into the scores. Great lakes have to be crossed where fierce storms at times rage, and where head-winds blow with such fury, that sometimes the brigades are delayed many days.At Norway house,—which for many years was the great northern depôt for the company’s goods, and the great distributing centre for the interior parts,—this first brigade would exchange its cargo of goods for the bales of rich furs which another brigade, that had come from the further interior, perhaps from Athabasca or the Saskatchewan country, had brought down thus far on their way to the ships for the London market. Then this second brigade would return hundreds of miles into the interior; and, meeting another brigade from regions still more remote, would exchange its cargo of goods with this third brigade, for regions yet more distant. Thus it would go on, until some of the bales of goods were more than three thousand miles from the seaboard where they were landed; and the different posts had their supply of goods for the fur trade with the Indians. So it happened, that years elapsed ere the goods reached some of the places; and the furs also were years in reaching the ship for England.All of this heavy work was performed by the Indian boatmen, or “trippers,” as they were called. They were the fur-hunters during the cold winter months; but so long as there was open water—that is, no ice—they were employed by hundreds to take in goods and bring out furs.The one despotic command delivered to these brigades by the company was, “push on!” They argued: The summer in these high latitudes is short; we must make the most of it. Every day tells, and there must be no lagging by the way. The result was, that the men were worked to the last degree of endurance. Many failed at the oar, while others dropped under the heavy loads on the difficult portages. “Fill up the ranks quickly, and push on,” was the order. It was all excitement, and rush, and high pressure, from the beginning of the tripping season until the close. There was no relaxation—no Sabbath—no rest.It seemed utter folly for the missionary to come in where such a condition of things existed, and say to the best men of the best brigade: “We know the summer is short, and it is essential for the welfare of the company and your own wages, that the goods should be taken in, and the furs brought out. But a Higher Power has said, ‘Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy, so when Saturday night overtakes you, tie up your boats, lay aside your oars, and rest in quietness and devotion until God’s day is over.’”The company in their blindness were at first astounded, then enraged. To lose one-seventh of the short summer, when, as it was, the brigades were sometimes caught by the ice, would never do! This fanaticism must be stopped! They threatened—they persecuted the missionary and the Indians. Their monopoly in the country gave them great power, and they wielded it unmercifully. Unable to induce the missionary by bribes or threats to take another stand, they resorted to persecution; and by calumnies most foul, strove to destroy his good name, and to drive him out of the country.He was a wise and judicious, as well as a brave man; and, standing at his post, endeavoured to show his rich and powerful detractors, that no harm would come to them by their employees resting one day in seven. He bravely declared, that a man could do more work in six days by resting the seventh, than by working continuously; and he challenged them to the test.At first the statement, which had been, so conclusively proved to be true was laughed to scorn. However, as the missionary and his Christian Indians remained true, the company were obliged to yield so far as to send off a Sabbath-keeping brigade, which they did with many fears and misgivings. To their surprise, they did their work just as well, and returned in less time, with the men in better health than those who knew no Sabbath. The logic of actual success triumphed eventually. All opposition ceased, and up to the time when the old order of things came to an end, and oars gave way to steam power, no one was found rash enough to question the ability of the Sabbath-keeping Indians to excel in work those who kept not the day of rest.I often travelled with those Christian Indians, and the Sabbaths spent on these long trips, are sweet and happy memories. Up to the last hour on Saturday when it was safe to travel, the journey would be pursued, until, in some quiet harbour or cosy bend in the river, safe from sudden storms or tornadoes, the boats would be securely fastened, and the cargoes carefully covered with the oilcloths. After a supper cooked on the rocks, all would gather around the bright camp-fire for the evening devotions. A hymn would be sung, a chapter of the good Book read, and prayer offered by one or two of the company. The Sabbath would be spent quietly and restfully, with at least two impressive and simple services. On Monday, at first blush of morn, we were up, and, after a hasty meal and a prayer, the journey would be resumed with renewed vigour.Thus was the Sabbath introduced among the northern Indians.
When the missionaries go among the heathen preaching the blessed Gospel of the great Book, they necessarily have to begin, with first principles. When good impressions have been made, and hearts touched, then follows religious instruction in matters of which they have been perfectly ignorant! and much that is false, and often very childish, has to be unlearned.
To these people, before the arrival of the missionary, the Sabbath was utterly unknown. The preaching of it at first filled them with perplexity and trouble. They thought that it would interfere with their plans, and so break up their hunting arrangements as to bring them to absolute want. They were poor, even though working and fishing every day; and to give up one day out of every seven, and not fire a gun, or set a net—what would become of them! Thus argued some of the Indians.
Faithfully and lovingly the missionaries set before them the commands of God adding the promises of blessings to the obedient. The Book itself was diligently searched, and there was a great desire to know, if such passages as the one we here quote referred to white people and Indians now: “If thou turn away thy foot from the Sabbath, from doing thy pleasure on my holy day, and call the Sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord, honourable: and shalt honour him not doing thine own ways, nor finding thine own pleasure, nor speaking thine own words, then shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord, and I will cause thee to ride upon the high places of the earth, and feed thee with the heritage of Jacob thy father; for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.”
At last, under faithful teaching, aided by the blessed Spirit, the Christian Indians resolved to take the Book for their guide, and to keep the Sabbath day. At once, the guns and bows and arrows were put aside, and the fish-nets were left hanging in the breeze for that day. No traps were visited, neither were the axes lifted up against the trees. Their simple meals were cooked and eaten, and all who could attend, were found in the house of God three times each Sabbath.
But now arose fierce opposition from an unexpected quarter. The great fur-trading company that had for so long a time held despotic power in the land, in their short-sightedness,—fearing a diminution in the returns of the fur by the hunters if one-seventh of the time was to be, as they put it, spent in idleness,—sneered at the actions of the missionaries, and by bribes and threats, endeavoured to induce the Indians to ignore their teachings on the subject.
When, the summer tripping began, and the Indians refused to travel or work in the boats on the Sabbath, the action of the company developed into downright persecution. Some description of this “tripping” in that great wild northland is necessary, in order that our readers may understand the position taken by the Sabbath-keeping Indians, and its most satisfactory results.
So remote from the seaboard are some of the interior posts of the Hudson Bay Company, that seven years, and sometimes more elapsed, ere the furs obtained for the goods sent, could reach the London market. The bales of goods were first shipped by the company’s vessels to York factory, on the Hudson Bay. Then they were taken by the Indian trippers in strong boats that would hold from three to five tons. A number of these boats constituted a “brigade.” A captain of the whole was appointed, and a good state of discipline maintained.
The first brigade would take the bales up the rivers, often having to pass many dangerous places and encounter many risks. Great care and watchfulness were necessary, and yet in spite of all, boats were sometimes wrecked and lives lost. The hardest part of the work was in what was called, “making the portages.” Some of the rivers are full of falls and rapids that are impassable for the boats. Here the portages have to be made. The hardy boatmen row up to the rapids as close as is safe, unload their cargoes, and carry them on their backs to the selected spot below the obstruction in the river. Then the boats have to be hauled ashore, and dragged overland by the united strength of the several crews to the same place; here they are again launched, and with cargoes aboard, the journey is resumed. On some of these trips the number of portages runs up into the scores. Great lakes have to be crossed where fierce storms at times rage, and where head-winds blow with such fury, that sometimes the brigades are delayed many days.
At Norway house,—which for many years was the great northern depôt for the company’s goods, and the great distributing centre for the interior parts,—this first brigade would exchange its cargo of goods for the bales of rich furs which another brigade, that had come from the further interior, perhaps from Athabasca or the Saskatchewan country, had brought down thus far on their way to the ships for the London market. Then this second brigade would return hundreds of miles into the interior; and, meeting another brigade from regions still more remote, would exchange its cargo of goods with this third brigade, for regions yet more distant. Thus it would go on, until some of the bales of goods were more than three thousand miles from the seaboard where they were landed; and the different posts had their supply of goods for the fur trade with the Indians. So it happened, that years elapsed ere the goods reached some of the places; and the furs also were years in reaching the ship for England.
All of this heavy work was performed by the Indian boatmen, or “trippers,” as they were called. They were the fur-hunters during the cold winter months; but so long as there was open water—that is, no ice—they were employed by hundreds to take in goods and bring out furs.
The one despotic command delivered to these brigades by the company was, “push on!” They argued: The summer in these high latitudes is short; we must make the most of it. Every day tells, and there must be no lagging by the way. The result was, that the men were worked to the last degree of endurance. Many failed at the oar, while others dropped under the heavy loads on the difficult portages. “Fill up the ranks quickly, and push on,” was the order. It was all excitement, and rush, and high pressure, from the beginning of the tripping season until the close. There was no relaxation—no Sabbath—no rest.
It seemed utter folly for the missionary to come in where such a condition of things existed, and say to the best men of the best brigade: “We know the summer is short, and it is essential for the welfare of the company and your own wages, that the goods should be taken in, and the furs brought out. But a Higher Power has said, ‘Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy, so when Saturday night overtakes you, tie up your boats, lay aside your oars, and rest in quietness and devotion until God’s day is over.’”
The company in their blindness were at first astounded, then enraged. To lose one-seventh of the short summer, when, as it was, the brigades were sometimes caught by the ice, would never do! This fanaticism must be stopped! They threatened—they persecuted the missionary and the Indians. Their monopoly in the country gave them great power, and they wielded it unmercifully. Unable to induce the missionary by bribes or threats to take another stand, they resorted to persecution; and by calumnies most foul, strove to destroy his good name, and to drive him out of the country.
He was a wise and judicious, as well as a brave man; and, standing at his post, endeavoured to show his rich and powerful detractors, that no harm would come to them by their employees resting one day in seven. He bravely declared, that a man could do more work in six days by resting the seventh, than by working continuously; and he challenged them to the test.
At first the statement, which had been, so conclusively proved to be true was laughed to scorn. However, as the missionary and his Christian Indians remained true, the company were obliged to yield so far as to send off a Sabbath-keeping brigade, which they did with many fears and misgivings. To their surprise, they did their work just as well, and returned in less time, with the men in better health than those who knew no Sabbath. The logic of actual success triumphed eventually. All opposition ceased, and up to the time when the old order of things came to an end, and oars gave way to steam power, no one was found rash enough to question the ability of the Sabbath-keeping Indians to excel in work those who kept not the day of rest.
I often travelled with those Christian Indians, and the Sabbaths spent on these long trips, are sweet and happy memories. Up to the last hour on Saturday when it was safe to travel, the journey would be pursued, until, in some quiet harbour or cosy bend in the river, safe from sudden storms or tornadoes, the boats would be securely fastened, and the cargoes carefully covered with the oilcloths. After a supper cooked on the rocks, all would gather around the bright camp-fire for the evening devotions. A hymn would be sung, a chapter of the good Book read, and prayer offered by one or two of the company. The Sabbath would be spent quietly and restfully, with at least two impressive and simple services. On Monday, at first blush of morn, we were up, and, after a hasty meal and a prayer, the journey would be resumed with renewed vigour.
Thus was the Sabbath introduced among the northern Indians.