MICMAC MISSION

DR. RAND,MICMAC MISSIONARY,Fell asleep Oct. 4, 1890.Aged 80 years.

DR. RAND,

MICMAC MISSIONARY,

Fell asleep Oct. 4, 1890.

Aged 80 years.

“There shall I wear a starry crownAnd triumph in almighty grace,While all the armies of the skiesJoin in my glorious Leader’s praise.”

“There shall I wear a starry crown

And triumph in almighty grace,

While all the armies of the skies

Join in my glorious Leader’s praise.”

MICMAC MISSION

MICMAC MISSION.

FOURTH QUARTERLY REPORT, 1865.

(Re-printed verbatim from old leaflet.)

To the Patrons and Friends of the Micmac Missionary Society.

Christian Friends,—It may be remembered that at the Annual Meeting of the Micmac Missionary Society held in January last year, it was agreed that the Rev. Mr. Rand, the Missionary, should furnish the Committee a Quarterly Report, to be published in the newspapers, if they saw fit. The Committee have carried out this arrangement up to the present, and the fourth quarterly report, which was read and adopted at the meeting on Monday last, is herewith presented to you. It speaks for itself.

I remain, Christian friends,

Yours sincerely,

Jas. Farquhar,Sec.

THE FOURTH QUARTERLY REPORT OF THE MICMAC MISSION, FOR THE YEAR ENDING DECEMBER 31ST, 1865.

This has been continued as usual. Indians have been visited at Hantsport, Cornwallis, Mount Uniacke, Londonderry, Amherst, Shediac and St. John, N. B. My reception has been uniformly kind, and without an exception good attention has been given to the Word of God, and to religions instruction. My aim has been to explain the way of salvation, and to direct them to the Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of the world. White friends have occasionally accompanied me on these visits. Invariably the solemn attention witnessed has surprised, impressed and pleased them. They have owned that, had they been unacquainted with the facts of the case, they could never have imagined these people to be other than Protestants and devout Christians. For the sake of brevity I will omit details except in two cases. In one place in New Brunswick, I visited within a radius of about seven or eight miles, four small encampments, and some of them twice. The chief resided there and I called on him twice. I have known him for years. He treated me very courteously and at our last interview asked me to tell him more particularly what my object is in going round among the Indians. I told him. I said, I am a minister of the Gospel. My sole business as such is to read, and expound the Word of God, both publicly and privately, both among the white people and among the Indians, to teach the way of salvation and to urge people to love and serve our Lord Jesus Christ. I told him further that since I could speak Micmac, and read the Scriptures in their language, that I took special delight in going among them, to lead and sing and pray, and talk with them of their soul’s salvation. He enquired how the Indians around in that place received me. I hesitated for a moment whether I ought to tell him, as it might possibly be the means of bringing some of them into trouble. But after a little reflection and silent prayer, I resolved to conceal nothing. They receive me kindly, said I, as they now do everywhere in Nova Scotia—they listen attentively and invite me to repeat my visits. “Well,” he answered, “that is just what I was going to say to you. But you don’t come often enough, nor early enough in the day. We have been looking for you ever since your last visit, when you promised to come again, and now it is so near night and you are in such a hurry that we have not time to ask you half the questions we wish to ask, nor to learn half the things we wish to learn. We want you to come in the morning and stay with us all day.” Such in substance was the statement of this worthy chief. Surely no one can reasonably blame me for wishing to continue steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, while even such evidence is afforded that our labors are not in vain in the Lord.

The second incident has reference to the Maliseets, near St. John. They speak a dialect differing materially from Micmac—and usually live in houses or small huts. I can speak but a few words or sentences in their tongue—but we have published a tract in it which I can read, as can also many of themselves—I can also sing Psalms and Hymns in Maliseet, and as most of them speak Micmac and English tolerably well, we get on sometimes very bravely together. One evening I had entered a hut, as the sun was setting, had received a cordial welcome, had sung in Maliseet,

“Abide with me, fast falls the eventide;”

had spoken of Christ and his readiness to save, and now, said I, if you have no objections, I wish to kneel down in your hut and pray. “Certainly,” replied the man, “certainly,” and he and I bowed down together, though his wife, the only other person present, did not kneel, and I prayed. “Thank you, thank you,” said he as we arose—“that’s good, that’s very nice. It isn’t often we gets the likes o’ that here. It’s cus and swear and get drunk—that’s what we usually gets.” The words of the poor fellow and his earnest manner touched my heart. I could not but bless God that I am permitted by his grace—to visit the Indian’s lowly dwelling, to talk and sing and read of a Saviour’s love, and pray, where so many go merely for pastime—to curse and swear, and drink; but where few, alas, go to pray. People sometimes express astonishment that I can persevere and not get discouraged in the cultivation of so stubborn a soil, where so much labor and toil require to be expended, and so little fruit is seen. And I am sometimes amazed at it myself. But there is in my soul a deep-seated feeling that I am called to the work in which I am engaged, and incidents like the above wring tears from my eyes, bring me to my knees, and send me on in my work refreshed, and strengthened, with loins fresh-girded to the conflict, and full of joy and hope.

Since Jan. 1st, 1865, up to the present time, Jan. 5th, 1866, I have received in aid no less than one thousand and sixty-five dollars and eighty-one cents. Thirty-seven dollars, twenty-one and a half cents have reached me since the present year commenced, though most of it was mailed sometime before. During the year my former allowance of two hundred pounds, with forty pounds for travelling expenses, has been received, and seventy-five dollars, nine cents and a half, over and above. Last spring, after listening to a charity sermon by Rev. D. Freeman of Canning, Cornwallis, I determined to lay by in store every Lord’s day, one tenth of all receipts during the previous week, to be expended in charity; to be laid up in heaven at a hundred fold interest against the time to come, and having followed up this plan, I have been enabled to devote not only the former allowance of forty dollars to charity; but more than double that sum, and have been prospered in proportion. By far the largest amount received during any period of three months, was received during the quarter just closed, the amount for the quarter being three hundred and eighty-six dollars, thirty-three and a half cents. And the most of it came in since the 26th day of October. That day must ever be a memorable one to me. In order to encourage my Christian brethren in the ministry and out of it, to pray more, and to believe more firmly, and to wait on the Lord for temporal blessings as well as spiritual, always remembering to put the spiritual far in advance of the temporal,—I will relate the events of that day.

Under ordinary circumstances, I must have been anxious and troubled. I had no money, no salary, almost no food for a large family, and winter with all its peculiar wants was at hand. Besides all this I was in debt. When I struck a balance with the society on the old plan last year, my salary was three hundred dollars in arrears, and I needed all that money to meet demands against me. It seemed a strange way to get out of debt, to forgive all one’s debtors. But so I read, as applicable to myself under the circumstances, the sweet petition taught me in my infancy, and repeated ever since; but never half believed or understood. I had determined to look to my Father in Heaven for the means of paying my honest debts, as well as for the support of my family, and to ensure his blessing I meant to do everything he required of me, to please Him in all things. By His grace I determined that no bills for 1865 should be sent in at the year’s end, and that as many as possible of the former ones should be paid. But on the day mentioned, Oct. 26th, with all our other wants, there were debts to be paid. No one was pushing us, but the honor of God was concerned and our own credit, and the people we owed ought to have their money. So I entered into my closet, and shut the door, and prayed to my Father who is in secret, and my Father who seeth in secret has according to His promise rewarded me openly. For several hours He seemed to hold me at a distance, but, as in the beautiful example held up for imitation of the Syro-Phœnician woman, I was enabled to struggle on and get nearer and nearer to His blessed feet. Then came triumph, peace, thanksgiving and joy. All the evening the language of my heart could be best expressed in Psalm 103. “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy name!” I awoke the next morning in the same tranquil thankful frame of mind. My plans for the future all opened out distinctly before me while on my knees. Then came deliverance. The mail that day brought me a letter containing twelve dollars, greatly needed that very day, and mailed to me the day before, while I was fasting and praying. In three days after that I had received money enough to meet all the pressing necessities of the family, and since that memorable day, without the slightest trouble or anxiety on my part, without having given even a hint of my necessities to any mortal, and without having asked even for a public collection, I have received—nearly all in money—no less than four hundred and three dollars and eighty-seven cents. I have not been able to pay all old bills, and meet daily wants. But the amount of debt has been greatly reduced, and all fear for the future has been removed. Thanks be to God who heareth prayer, and thanks to the friends who have been prompted to aid us.

With great reluctance I refrain at present from publishing extracts from many of the letters which I have received during the year, containing contributions to the mission, and breathing encouragement to myself, kindness to the Indians, and love to the precious Redeemer. Suffice it to say that the hand of God has been strikingly manifest in many of the contributions received throughout, and particularly during the last quarter. I cannot withhold the following letter received from a poor orphan girl, a school-teacher in New Brunswick, enclosing as a “birthday offering,” a piece of gold, value $2.50. “Rev. Sir, when two weeks ago the enclosed piece of gold was handed me, I was immediately impressed with a desire to send it to you for your great mission. Not knowing the best manner of doing so, I made it a subject of prayer. Your own acquaintance with the willingness of the precious Redeemer to hear and answer prayer, will reveal to you my joy at hearing you were actually in the place. I will add no more, except, ‘The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.’ Such a contribution and letter require no comment. In ways as unlooked for, have five cent pieces, five dollar pieces, five pound pieces, with sums of intermediate value, been received, and the gold and silver have seemed to sparkle with a celestial lustre as they have been dropped as if by angel fingers into my hands. Even the love of money may be lawful when it is inspired by the love of Christ, when the money is consecrated to Him, and used for His glory and the best interests of man. Surely under such circumstances it is neither filthy lucre nor the Mammon of unrighteousness.”

Another friend writes: “I am much pleased with the stand you have taken. Since I saw you I have had about eighteen hundred pounds removed from under my stewardship, making, with other losses, more than four thousand pounds. But as my Heavenly Father has done it, it is all right.” The brother goes on to speak of his tranquility of mind in submitting to privation and suffering, and sends the handsome sum of four dollars, evidently a thank-offering to the Lord.

I know not who the author of the following is: “Dear Brother, I herewith enclose to you four dollars, to be appropriated either for your own immediate requirements, or for the prosecution of the Micmac Mission as you may deem best.”

“I have every confidence in your work of faith, and would say persevere. I fully believe that the prayer of faith is answered by the Almighty. Pray, brother Rand, for my dear wife, who is yet, I fear, without Christ. My heart would rejoice in her conversion. I long for it. Yours, &c., A Sincere Friend.”

Thus has closed what has been in some respects one of the most eventful years of the Mission. The plan of “Trusting in the Lord” for support—“Muller’s plan,” as it is called, but which, in reality, dates much further back—found at first but little favor in the eyes of our friends. It might do, they said, for England, but not for Nova Scotia,—as though the Lord were not the same everywhere. It was looked upon as an experiment, and one that would probably fail. But a plan upon which scores of ministers and missionaries both at home and in heathen lands have acted for years, and acted successfully, can hardly be regarded as an experiment. I cannot but hope that not only my own faith, but that of many others has been somewhat strengthened already. My desire to continue in the same course has been increased. The Lord can and will give us more grace, and we will go forward in His strength, giving to Him all the glory, and making mention of His righteousness, even of His only.

our success in distributing thescriptures among theindians.

In order to have before us distinctly the subject, we must take into account the condition of the Micmacs when we began our labours, the obstacles we have had to encounter, and then the achievements that have been made. The whole can be summed up very briefly.

I began my labours in the year 1840—nearly forty years ago. I was thirty-six years old. The Indians, so far as civilization was concerned, with very few exceptions, were in the same condition that they had been for two hundred years before. Nominally they were Roman Catholics; they had great confidence in their priests, but as to the Bible they did not know there was such a book, and had they known there was such a book, there was no possibility of their knowing what was in it. Not more than one in a thousand could read English, even imperfectly, and that one—and others to my certain knowledge—could not understand what he read, even in the plainest spelling-book. Most carefully had they been guarded against attending the Protestant schools, and adopting the habits of the white people, and their priests carefully abstained from teaching them to read, lest—as we have their own statements to prove—they might read books that would undermine their faith. They have not only not given the Indians the Holy Scriptures, but have used all sorts of means, foul and fair, to prevent them from receiving them and learning to read them. Such was the condition of things forty years ago.

This shows of itself what were some of the chief obstacles we had to meet and overcome. But there were others, and these were formidable. To have attempted to instruct them through the medium of the English language would at the time have been simple folly. To have attempted to teach them our language without understanding theirs, and while they had no wish to learn ours, and no possible means of learning it, even had they wished it, would have been simply the scheming of insanity. The task of learning the Micmac language under the circumstances, without books, without a competent teacher, and with all the zeal and ardor of the Roman Catholic hierarchy, and the prejudices and the suspicions of the tribe aroused against us to prevent it needs only to be mentioned to be appreciated. With all the natural talent with which God had endowed me for the work, for which I am amply credited, if any one imagines the task was easily accomplished, I can only say he isvery much mistaken. If the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ had not been with me, encouraging and aiding me in a most marvellous manner, it never would or could have been done.But it was done, blessed be His name forever!

And now what is the condition of things at the present day? Why the whole New Testament, with several books of the old, viz., Genesis, Exodus, Psalms,—in Micmac, and the Gospel of John in Maliseet, the language of the St. John Indians, as they are sometimes called, have been published. Scores of the Indians have learned to read them, hundreds have heard them read; they know everywhere now that there is such a book as the Bible. Scores of copies have been distributed among them, and the priests are powerless to prevent it. Furthermore, numbers have given evidence of having received the truth of the Gospel in the love of it, and by their consistent lives and triumphant deaths, have given proof of the reality of the grace they professed to have received. And mark the change which has taken place in the condition of the tribe in respect tocivilizationsince we began our labours, and as the direct result of our labours. To what else is all this to be ascribed? Certainly it has not been achieved by the Roman Catholic Church, because it has been achievedin spite ofthat church. The old dress both of men and women has been discarded, and that of the white people adopted very generally; you can no longer tell an Indian by his dress. Comfortable houses and all the appearance of civilization, are continually to be met with. Everywhere there is a determination to obtain learning, and to learn the English language. Indian children to some extent attend the English schools which are now open to all, and many adults have mastered the mysteries of reading Micmac, one at least now living, after forty years of age who never went to school at all. I have, within the last three or four years, seen Indians all the way from Topique, Fredericton, St. John, The Restigouche, Prince Edward Island and Cape Breton; in all these places I have distributed copies of the Scriptures and of a small volume entitled “A First Reading Book in Micmac and English;” and in all these places I have found intelligent Indians who could read them, and have been most kindly and cordially received and listened to by them, as I read and preached and prayed and sang hymns to them in their own tongue; and I have scarcely met with what deserved the name of opposition.

I have never taken a particular account of books distributed, and I have never charged the Indians anything for copies of the Scriptures. I could never make up my mind to that. We have treated the Indians in this Province with such outrageous wrong, that I would gladly undo that had I the power. We have seized upon their lands, destroyed their means of living, destroyedthem, corrupted their morals in every way,—and for Christian men, after all this, to say to them: “We will notgiveyou the Word of God unless youpayfor it,” it seems to me would be the wildest wickedness, from which all those who have any regard for God or conscience, should devoutly pray: “Good Lord deliver us!”

The B. & F. Bible Society furnished the means of printing Genesis, Exodus, Psalms and three of the Gospels and Acts in Micmac, and the Gospel of John in Maliseet. The rest of the New Testament was published—one thousand copies, by private subscriptions for that very purpose, chiefly in England, but some of it came from France and other places.

There are now in Halifax unbound about nine hundred copies. All that were bound, about eight or nine years ago, have been distributed. What I now ask is, that money may be furnished for binding a portion at least of the rest. They can be bound for ——

I may add that I have in manuscript a translation of the Books of Job and of Jonah, and some of the other narratives of the Old Testament. Genesis is out of print, and so is the Gospel of John in Maliseet, the greater portion of these having been destroyed by fire, the former in a great conflagration in Halifax many years ago, and the latter in the recent great fire in St. John.

I enclose herewith a few letters that have [been] received from different places requesting books for the Indians, the most of them written by Indians themselves. In very many cases I have taken down their names, as I have been on my missionary excursions, at their request, and sent them books by mail. These letters speak for themselves. They prove two things; that there are Indians that can read and write, and that they receive and value the books that are printed in their own tongue.

The following extract from a letter dated Dublin, Feb. 28, 1880, from His Grace Archbishop Trench, to myself, must surely find a response in every true Christian’s heart:

“I thank you much for the two little books which you have been good enough to send me. Let me congratulate you very heartily on having been permitted to help so many to hear or read in their own tongue the wonderful works of God.”

Surely we have no cause toboastof our doings, but if there is one thing the advocates of the Bible in Nova Scotia have reason to be glad of,—notproudof—it surely is that under God they have been permitted to unfold their priceless volume to the long-neglected Indians.

SILAS T. RAND.

first verse of scripture translatedinto micmac by dr. rand.

Mudu Nikskam teliksatcus oositcumoo wedjeigunumooedogub-unn neooktoo-bistadjul oocwisul, coolaman m’sit wen tan kedlamsitc ootenincu, ma oonma-djinpooc, cadoo ooscoto apskooawe memadjooocun.—John III: 16.

“I can never forget the thrill of emotion that filled my soul and body at the completion of this task—fortaskit was, taxing all my powers of mind and body.”—Extract from Dr. Rand’s private diary written during the summer of 1849.

J. S. C.

MICMAC MYTHOLOGY

MICMAC MYTHOLOGY.[2]

“Weegegijik. Kessegook, wigwamk;Meskeek oodun Ulnoo, kes saak.”

“Weegegijik. Kessegook, wigwamk;

Meskeek oodun Ulnoo, kes saak.”

[May you be happy. The old people are encamped;There was once, long ago, a large Indian village.]

[May you be happy. The old people are encamped;

There was once, long ago, a large Indian village.]

With this suggestive couplet the Legends, or Ahtookwokun of the Micmacs, in their original form, almost invariably commence. The inseparable introduction shows us how the literature of the people had long ago taken on a settled form, even though there were no written records; it confirms to a considerable degree the common impression that they had a ballad arrangement, and were chanted to weird music in that ancient time; and also indicates how carefully the old men cherish the memory of their former greatness.

These people look upon their folk-lore as a sacred treasure to be carefully preserved by their holy men; and, as in our Saxon traditions the dying Bleys relates the story of Arthur’s birth, so an aged Sakumow may be heard repeating the immortal legends to faithful witnesses, just before he passes on to the regions of the far West, where Glooscap dwells in the presence of the Great Spirit, and where the golden sunsets give us foregleams of that beautiful abode, the happy hunting-ground of the faithful.

Let us approach the study of Micmac Mythology with a becoming reverence, for we are dealing with sacred things; and, as we learn what little we can about a vanishing religion, may we not join with the great American poet in the hope

“That the feeble hands and helplessGroping blindly in the darkness,Touch God’s right hand in that darknessAnd are lifted up and strengthened.”

“That the feeble hands and helpless

Groping blindly in the darkness,

Touch God’s right hand in that darkness

And are lifted up and strengthened.”

Dr. Silas T. Rand, to whom we are indebted for all we know about the ancient religion of the people, thought that a number of the Micmac Legends might be Bible narratives, not any more changed than one would expect after centuries of transmission by word of mouth alone. Professor E. N. Horsford, through whose foresight and generosity the legends were published, and Mr. Charles G. Leland, who has a very interesting collection of Algonquin Legends, were both persuaded that several of the stories must have come either direct from hardy Norsemen, or from the Norsemen through the Eskimo. The two legends that perhaps most closely resemble traditions found in Iceland are “The Adventures of Kaktoogwasees” and “The Beautiful Bride,” the former the thirteenth and the latter the twenty-fourth in Dr. Rand’s collection; they relate almost identical incidents, in the same order, and must have started from the same original, whether Norse or not. The variations which led Dr. Rand to consider them separate stories are probably due to some narrators having confined their attention chiefly to the attractive bride, while others had taken more delight in picturing the rugged qualities of the young Thunderer and his companions. Carefully comparing the two stories, we see that Glooscap acts a prominent part in each, always proving himself a faithful friend. He allows the travellers the use of hiskweedun, or canoe, which is a small rocky island covered with a low growth of trees, and, more wonderful still! thekweeduntravels without the use of paddles wherever the owner may wish. In both tales we find a man so swift of foot that it is necessary for him to keep one leg tied up firmly to his body, except on great occasions, for when both legs are free, he cannot by any means control his actions; and, when the great occasion comes for an exhibition of his magic, he makes a complete circle around the earth, carrying a brimming goblet of water, in somewhat less than thirty minutes, thus winning the laurels for his party. In both tales, too, we find a magician who keeps the hurricane securely fastened within his nostrils, and it is very interesting when he removes the stoppages and breathes freely, raising a tempestuous sea, and laying waste whole areas of forest. Kaktoogwasees, the young Thunderer, has better magic in his party than all his enemies combined, and we do not hesitate to congratulate him as he leads home his beautiful bride, the daughter of the Earthquake, who, as described in Legend XXIV., has hair as glossy black as the wing of the raven, cheeks of crimson, and a brow as white as January snow.

Dr. Rand says: “I have not found more than five or six Indians who could relate these queer stories, and most, if not all of these, have now gone. Who the original author was, or how old they are we have no means of knowing.” It is evident that several have been borrowed from the Russians and the Eskimo; such, for example, as relate to characters having flinty hearts, or who keep their hearts hidden away within some half-dozen concentric coatings, living or dead and perhaps all hidden away in the bottom of the sea. Also, if we compare Legend III. in Dr. Rand’s collection with the one entitled “The Weaver’s Son” in Jeremiah Curtin’s “Folklore of Ireland,” we must be convinced that the Micmac Legend is an incomplete version of the Irish story. Some of the Legends may have been borrowed from every people with whom the Micmacs came in contact since their ancestors first began to wander from the highlands of Asia; but, granting that all tales bearing such resemblances have been borrowed, it may still be reasonably supposed that most of the Legends of the Micmacs are simply the crystalized thought of a people who had a keen appreciation of the beautiful, living as they did season after season in the most intimate contact with the varied manifestations of nature,—a people whose restless minds were ever on the alert to find some explanation of the workings of that

“Divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will.”

Many people cannot think of mythology without seeing confused apparitions of Zeus with his family of gods and goddesses on old Olympus, but here, among the earliest Acadians, we find traditions which, when organized into a system will be worthy of the most careful study. Dr. Rand, who translated the legends and recorded them for us, did not make any attempt to classify the characters, and for that very reason his work is of the greater value to science, since he was not hunting up a basis for any theory of his own. Mr. Leland has made a beginning, in the way of grouping related stories; but someone might well spend half a life-time in opening up this promising mine, and placing Micmac Mythology, as it surely deserves to be placed, on an equality with our accepted Classics.

It may seem a rash statement, and evince a poor appreciation for the classic authors we have read, but there are those who are persuaded that in the Mythology of the Americans, as in that of our fathers, the Norsemen, we find a rugged strength and a manly purity which is very obscure if not altogether unknown among those imaginary characters which grew up in the minds of the ancient Greeks, and later became the property of Rome and the world. True, the tales of the northern nations are not so gracefully told, and themselves lack the perfect etiquette we find among the Greeks; but for strength, and brilliancy of conception, surely those great characters rudely sketched in black and white have a stimulating suggestiveness that is altogether obscure amid the milder tones and softly blending harmonies of the polished ideals of the East. Philosophers, who know, tell us that we of Northern climes cannot worship, or love, or even hate with that refinement of cruelty which those experience who bask in brighter sunshine beneath a milder sky. Suppose we yield them the palm in this respect, are we not more than repaid by the dignity and majesty that comes with the consciousness of being master of the fury of the elements! Such dignity did the Micmac heroes have; and the ideals of the people left its impress upon the character of the nation, until the necessity of self-preservation, and the slip-shod policy of their conquerors, destroyed every noble ambition.

In Micmac Mythology we have a plant of native growth which bids fair to be as beautiful and profitable as any of the famous exotics; shall we not cultivate it with some of the attention we now bestow upon Greek Mythology? and as we study the story of Acadian heroes,—rugged, strong, and beautiful in their primeval simplicity, may we not hope to hear a deep voice speaking to us through the shady vistas of the past, and saying:—

“Be thou a hero, let thy mightTramp on the eternal snows its way,And through the ebon walls of night,Carve out a passage unto day.”

“Be thou a hero, let thy might

Tramp on the eternal snows its way,

And through the ebon walls of night,

Carve out a passage unto day.”

Of the eighty-seven stories in Dr. Rand’s collection many are pure and simple myths; some are mythical with an evident purpose to teach some practical lesson, and so may be considered fables or parables; while still others are merely records of history, somewhat mythical, perhaps, and yet no doubt largely the record of facts.

Perhaps the feature that most impresses itself upon the careful reader is the number of instances in which weakness overcomes all obstacles. Frail children and dwarfs are able by the use of magic to overcome fabulous monsters, and destroy whole families of giants with such weapons as a spear made from a splinter, or a supple bow whose string is a single hair. A small canoe which a weak old woman can sew up in a single evening, is found sufficient to carry two men over a stormy sea in the teeth of a raging hurricane, while in the quiet of Glooscap’s tent old Noogomich, the grandmother, chips a piece of beaver bone into the pot when preparing a meal for visitors, and in a few moments the pot is seen to be full of the finest moose-meat.

The Micmacs did not worship images. They believed in a Great Spirit whom they calledNikskam, which means Father-of-us-all, and compares with the Norse All-fadir; to him they also gave the nameNesulk, meaning Maker, andUkchesakumow, the Great Chief. They seem to have had that mute reverence for the Great Spirit which kept the children of Israel from lightly uttering the sacred name “Jehovah,” for we find no mention anywhere in the Legends ofNesulkthe Maker orNikskamthe All-father. They have the nameMunduwhich sounds like “Manitou” of the neighboring tribes, or as the poet has it: “Gitche Manito the mighty;” but they give the name to the spirit of evil. Perhaps they borrowed it from enemies, and naturally supposed that the god of their enemies must be the devil. Notice in this connection the place called “Main-de-Dieu” in Cape Breton, which, someone has said, is Mundu ordevilfor the Micmac, andhand of Godfor the Frenchman.

We find records of horrible man-eating giants called Kookwesijik; and another family of enormous beings called Ooskoon Kookwesijik,—the liver-coloured giants, who return from their hunting expeditions carrying at their belts a string of caribou as easily as a Micmac could carry a string of rabbits. These tawny giants are friendly, as is shown by their dealings with a party of Micmacs recorded in Legend XVII.; the party had been lost in a fog for several days in or near St. John harbour, and ever afterwards held their powerful deliverers in grateful remembrance, although the Ooskoon Kookwesijik amused themselves for a time at the expense of the pigmy Ulnoo. We might find entertainment for hours with theMegumoowesoo, which is like a fawn or satyr of Greek mythology; or theCulloo, an enormous bird, of human intelligence, and strength sufficient to carry a whole war-party on its back; or indeed with the dreadChenoo, or Northman, a sort of were-wolf, believed to be a transformed lunatic who had been maddened by disappointment in love, and whose icy heart now finds no pleasure save when feasting on human flesh and blood.

All the famous warriors arebooowins, orpow-wows; they have supernatural powers, and when wide awake and in full presence of mind cannot be killed except by other braves possessing like powers. It is remarkable that these braves, or as they say,kenaps, even though mortally wounded, would immediately be in perfect health and strength if by any chance they could succeed in taking the life of a warrior; it was also believed that while akenapwas dancing the magic dance, his body could not be pierced by the swiftest arrow. Abooowincould assume not only the character but also the form of whatever animal might be the totem of the clan to which he belonged, but he was restricted to his own totem, whether fox or wolf, or wild-goose, or loon, and so when two were fighting, each generally knew what he might expect of his opponent in the event of defeat in fair battle.

The last fight between the Kennebecs and the Micmacs occurred at the mouth of Pictou harbour, and was an instance in which one hero, or as they say,kenap, succeeded in destroying, single-handed, a whole war-party of the enemy. The incident is worthy of mention in this connection, for the hero of this closing scene of inter-tribal warfare was a booowin or pow-wow, who might well be compared, if we consider what he accomplished, with Samson, the strong man of Israel, or perhaps, even more properly with Heracles and the other demigods of ancient Grecian story. Our hero’s name isKaktoogo, or Old Thunder, but he also had a second name given by the French, for the French had arrived on Acadia’s shores before this final defeat of the invading Kennebecks; the dignified name wasToonale, an attempt to pronounceTonnere, the French translation of his sonorous name. You will notice that “r” was replaced by “l” in all words borrowed from the French and English, for neither the “r” nor “j” sound was formerly heard in the language of the Micmacs.

Let us picture two war-parties of the Kennebecs intrenched within blockhouses from which they make repeated sallies upon the wary natives ofMegamaage[3]. The forts are constructed by first digging a cellar, and then felling and arranging great trees, so that not only a barricade is formed, but a heavily roofed fort. The Micmacs are intrenched in a somewhat similar manner on their camping-ground at Merrigomish. It was quite evident to the Micmacs that their ancestral foes were not on a mere scalping expedition but had designed a war of extermination. Kaktoogo the Thunderer must make good use of all his magic, or he and his people will certainly be destroyed. First and last of the American Red-men, he took command of a navy; for in order to avoid ambuscades, he took possession of a French trading ship, and came around by sea from Merrigomish to Pictou. Soon he bore down upon the hostile fort with all sails set, and in true Indian fashion, as if his gallant craft were a bark canoe, ran hard aground as near as possible to his deadly foe; but before the French timbers quiver from that disastrous shock; Kaktoogo has leaped into the water, as Cæsar’s standard-bearer did on the coast of savage Britain a few centuries ago, and makes his way with all speed toward the land. Kaktoogo has every faculty alert, and, since he is a mighty pow-wow, no one but another demigod can kill him outright. He reached the shore and rushed upon the fort before either friends or foes had recovered from their astonishment, and,

“Like valor’s minion carved out his passage”

as nobly as ever did Macbeth, or Samson, or any other warrior, nor did he pause till every man of them had paid the forfeit of his life.

So complete was the victory that their ancestral foes never sent another war-party intoMegamaagethe Acadie, or Wholesome Place of the Micmacs. The bold Kaktoogo had at last “made a realm,” but it cannot be said of him that he “reigned,” for more insidious foes than the Kennebecs or the more dreaded Mohawks were among them, and were gradually conquering them by blandishments that stole away the manhood of the nation.Coureurs-du-boiswere roaming everywhere throughout the forest, bringing dangerous thunder-weapons and more dangerous fire-water; and Glooscap, the Magnificent One, was grieved as he marked the steady approach of what the pale-face calls “Civilization.” The daring intruders soon visited the Son of Heaven at his home on that giant rock, Blomidon, around whose amethystine base “The tides of Minas swirl;” and several attempts were made to capture the mighty Sakumow, that he too might be caged and sent home to France.

At last Glooscap was disgusted with the treachery of the foreigners, and saddened by the weakness of his own people; so, by way of giving vent to his righteous indignation, he turned his kettle upside down, and transformed his two dogs into rocks, where they stand to-day, the guardians of Blomidon, still looking westward awaiting his return. Then the Great Snowy Owl retreated into the depths of the forest, where his mournful cry is often heard as he wails again and again: “Koo-koo-skoe,—I am so sorry.” The lordly Glooscap sailed away to the land of the setting sun on Fundy’s ebbing tide as it returned again to the ocean; there he makes his home in the Acadie of the blessed, until the faithless interlopers have either changed their barbarian habits, or gone to their own place. When all men shall have learned to honour Truth he will return and usher in the millennium amidst the wildest rejoicing of the elements.

But oh, the people are weary of waiting for his return, the stoutest hearts are failing; for search-party after search-party has come back, bringing only ample proofs of his unceasing love; Glooscap will never return to beautifulMegamaagethe Acadie, or Wholesome Place of the Micmacs; Kenap and Sakumow now drown the memory of the former times by destroying body and soul with the withering curse of the pale-face, or take up the wail of the old women and re-echo the mournful cry of the Wobekookoogwes, the great Snowy Owl, which comes again with startling clearness from the depth of the forest: “I am so sorry,—Koo-koo-skoo.” And now as the camp-fire has burned low, and the melancholy cry of the owl resounds through the lonely archways of the forest, let us repeat the final word of theBooske-atookwa, the sage story teller, and reverently sayKespeadooksit,—the story is ended.

We have spent a few moments, idly perhaps, in hastily reviewing some features of the Mythology of the Micmacs, and we have found a weird delight in studying what was to them most sacred. But the mythology of the people, beautiful as it is, is not by any means the life-giving Truth; the outgrowth of the human mind, this rugged faith must fail to lead that mind to anything outside of itself; for the most magnificent statue on which man ever worked is still at heart a stone. Like Tennyson’s Prophet, the Mythology of the Micmacs is dead:

“Dead!And the people cried with a stormy cry;‘Send them no more for evermore,Let the people die.’Dead!‘Is he then brought so low?’And a careless people came from the fieldsWith a purse to pay for the show.”

“Dead!

And the people cried with a stormy cry;

‘Send them no more for evermore,

Let the people die.’

Dead!

‘Is he then brought so low?’

And a careless people came from the fields

With a purse to pay for the show.”

Is it fair for us to infer that the Christians of the Maritime Provinces are content to let the Micmacs grope on in their gloom, ignorantly lifting their hearts in adoration to an unknown God! Can we be so base as to join the rabble “With a purse to pay for the show,”—we who have been given the true Mythology and commanded to carry the news to every creature?

Though Silas T. Rand was a man with the usual desires for visible results in his missionary work, he restrained these desires, and laboured to supplement rather than to supplant the work which had been so faithfully done by the Roman Catholic missionaries. He labored to present the Gospel message in its fullness as related to the unobserved duties of everyday life; and to instil into the minds of the Micmac Christians a clearer understanding of that perfect love which casts out fear. He did not work for a reward; he found his reward in his work, and any one may find it too by speaking of good Mr. Land (Rand) when in conversation with those for whom he gave his life.

It will be fifty years on the twelfth of this present month of November since Dr. Rand began the work which has incidentally given us this glimpse of the rich Mythology of the Micmacs. Shall we not on this jubilee occasion revive in some way the work so faithfully carried on, and all unite to realize the fullness of the Gospel message ourselves, as we attempt to give it in its fullness to every man for whom our Father meant it?

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