{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_23270/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_23270","id":"gutenberg_23270","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23270","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - American","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Category: Travel Writing","Cree Indians -- Missions","Native America","Ojibwa Indians -- Missions"],"text":"Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England\n\n\n\n\nOn the Indian Trail, Stories of Missionary Work among Cree and Saulteaux\nIndians, by Reverend Egerton Ryerson Young.\n\n________________________________________________________________________\nIn his Introduction to the book the author tells us that some of the\nstories here recounted are new, while others have been published in\nothers of his works.  Thus, if you have read \"By Canoe and Dog-Train\"\nyou will experience a feeling of deja vue.\n\nLike so many nineteenth century clergymen, the author spends a lot of\ntime telling us how very holy he is.  But I suppose we have a different\nview of how we ought to tell others how much time we spend praying.\nThings are different these days.\n\nThis book is one of many to be found on the excellent Early Canadiana\nOnline.  We used the new (2005) ABBYY screen grabbing tool to capture\nthe images of the pages, using the third of the five sizes available.\nThis size was chosen because the image of each page just fits the\ntext of the page on the screen.  From other points of view it would have\nbeen better if we could have used the largest size, which we could not\neasily do for the following reason. The original scans were far from\nbeing nice clean ones, so there were many misreads.  We used the\nAthelstane editing system to produce the final text as we have published\nit.\n\nHad we used the full-sized scans it is quite possible that there would\nhave been just the same number of misreads in the OCRed text, because\nof the number of bits of hair and fluff, scratches and other blemishes\nin the scans.  So it is lucky that the Athelstane system can trap most\nof the misreads.\n\n________________________________________________________________________\nON THE INDIAN TRAIL, STORIES OF MISSIONARY WORK AMONG CREE AND SAULTEAUX\nINDIANS, BY REVEREND EGERTON RYERSON YOUNG.\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\nThis is not a continuous narrative of missionary work as are some of the\nauthor's books.  It is a collection of distinct chapters, some of which\nare written expressly for this volume, others of which, having in whole\nor in part seen the light in other form, are now, at the request of\nfriends, and thanks to the courtesy of the publishers, here gathered.\n\nRomantic missionary work among the red Indians will soon be a thing of\nthe past.  Civilisation is reaching this people, and the iron horse\nrushes and shrieks where the Indian trail was once the only pathway.\nThe picturesque garb is fast disappearing, and store clothes, often too\nsoon transformed into rags anything but picturesque, have robbed, the\nIndian of the interest that once clung to him.\n\nThese wanderings on the fast disappearing trail, speak of successes\nrather than failures; not but that there were many of the latter, as\nwell as long waiting after the seed time for the harvest, but because it\nis so much more pleasant and helpful to look on the bright side of life,\nand talk of victory rather than defeat.\n\nSo in the hope that this book will be helpful and encouraging to the\nfriends and supporters of missions, who have become such an innumerable\ncompany, and that His name may be glorified thereby, we send it on its\nway.\n\nE.R.Y.  _Toronto_.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER ONE.\n\nON THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.\n\nWe struck the prairie trail at Saint Paul in 1868.\n\nWe, that is my young wife and I in company with some other missionaries\nand teachers, were to travel many hundreds of miles upon it, in order\nthat we might reach the wigwam haunts of the Indians in the northern\npart of the Hudson Bay Territories, to whom we had been appointed to\ncarry the glorious Gospel of the Son of God.\n\nWe were to follow up the work begun by men of sublime faith and heroic\ncourage, and to carry it still farther into more remote regions where as\nyet the sweet story of a Saviour's love had never been heard.  We had\nconfidence enough in God to belief that if fur-traders could travel\nalong these trails, and live in those lonely remote regions for from the\nblessings of civilisation, and in order to make money by trading with\nthe Indians put up with the hardships and privations incident to such a\nlife, we could make equal sacrifices for Christ's sake, to carry the\nGlad Tidings of His great love to those who had never heard the wondrous\nStory.\n\nAfter about three weeks journeyings, we had travelled as far as we could\nby steamboat and railroad, and were at the extreme limit of these\nsplendid methods of civilised locomotion.  From this point onward there\nwas nothing before us but the prairie trail.  On and on it stretched for\nhundreds of miles, away and away to the land of the north wind.  Over\nits winding undulating course, long years ago, the hardy pioneers of the\nnew world adventured themselves; and as they bravely pushed on they were\nfilled with amazement and awe at the vastness of the great and\nillimitable prairies.\n\nFollowing closely in their trail, and even sometimes themselves the\npioneers, came those early heroic priestly followers of Loyola, eager\nand anxious to meet and to make friends of the wild Indians of the\nplains and forest, that among them they might plant the cross, and,\naccording to their belief, by the simple rite of baptism induct them\ninto the bosom of Mother Church.\n\nIn later years much of the romance of the great Trail had worn away.\nCommerce and Trade with their multiplied activities had so taken\npossession of it that when first we saw it in 1868, the long trains of\nnoisy creaking Red River carts, and the great canvas-covered wagons of\nthe adventurous immigrants, were the most conspicuous sights on its\ndusty stretches.  Occasionally bands of Indian warriors, plumed and\npainted, were seen upon it, dashing along on their fiery steeds, out on\nsome marauding adventure, or more likely, on the lookout for the vast\nherds of buffalo that still swarmed in the regions farther west, like\n\"the cattle on a thousand hills.\"\n\nIt was one of those perfect days in the lovely month of June when we\nleft the thriving young city of Saint Paul, and with our canvas-covered\nwagons, and fourteen picked horses, really entered on the trail.  As we\nleft the frontier city, thus severing the last link that bound us to\ncivilisation, we realised most vividly that now we were entering upon\nour missionary work.\n\nThirty days were we on this Prairie Trail.  Not all of them were of that\nrare beauty of the first.  Fierce thunderstorms several times assailed\nus when it was not always possible to protect ourselves from the\nterrible downpour of rain.  One night a genuine cyclone wrecked our\ncamp; tents and wagons with their varied contents went careering in\nerratic courses before its irresistible power.\n\nOur way was beset with dangers: bridgeless streams had to be crossed;\nprairie fires had to be fought, or wildly run away from treacherous\nquicksands sometimes spread most invitingly on either side of the\nmiserable looking trail, lured the unwary traveller to trust himself on\ntheir smooth and shining surface.  But woe to the foolish ones who left\nthe trail for the quicksands: unless speedily rescued by the united\nstrength of friends, horses and travellers would soon be swallowed up;\nso the warning cry of the guide was ever: \"Keep in the trail!\"\n\nThus we journeyed on, sometimes in the sunshine, and sometimes in the\nstorm.  Every morning and evening we had our family prayers.  The\nSabbaths were rest days for all--sweet and precious days, when out in\nthe sunshine on the glorious prairies, we, a little company of\nmissionaries and teachers--worshipped God: they were as the days of the\nSon of Man on earth.\n\nThirty days on such a trail could not pass without some strange\nadventures, and we had our share of them with white men and with\nIndians.\n\nA talkative parrot in our party nearly frightened the lives out of some\nvery inquisitive and superstitious Indians and French half-breeds.  They\nhad stopped their ox-carts one day at the same spot where we, coming in\nthe opposite direction, were resting for the dinner hour.  Hearing about\nthe wonderful parrot, they crowded around to see her.  Polly stood their\ninquisitive gazings for awhile, then, apparently somewhat annoyed, with\nwings ruffled, sprang forward as far as she could in her large cage, and\nshouted out:\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\nThe effect upon the superstitious half-breeds, and Indians, was about as\nthough His Satanic Majesty had suddenly appeared among them.  They\nrushed away, and nothing that we could do would induce any of them to\nlook at the bird again.\n\nAnother adventure, most unique and startling, occurred on this trip ere\nwe had proceeded many days on the trail.\n\n\"You had better keep a sharp eye on those splendid horses of yours, or\nyou may wake up some fine morning and find them missing.\"\n\nThis was rather startling news and caused a good deal of excitement in\nour camp.\n\nThe speakers were some scouts from the United States army, who were\nmaking a hurried trip from the head waters of the Missouri where the\ntroops had gone to quell some Indian disturbance.  They were now on\ntheir way to Saint Paul with dispatches for Washington.\n\nEach night of our journey we had, in true western style hobbled our\nhorses and left them to roam about and feed on the luxuriant grasses.\nThis hobbling is merely the tying of the forefeet loosely together with\nsoft leather thongs so that the animal in moving has to lift up both\nforefeet at once.  Its movements being thus necessarily slow, there is\nno roaming very far from the camp.  Having had no fear of danger, we had\nbeen very careless, leaving everything unguarded.\n\nThe terrible Sioux massacres a few years before in these very regions,\nwere now being forgotten.  It is true that as we journeyed, the ruins of\nthe destroyed, and in many places, not yet rebuilt homesteads of the\nsettlers, were vivid reminders of those dreadful frontier wars, when\nover nine hundred white people lost their lives.  The Indians were now\nhowever far to the north and west of us, so that we had no fears as we\nleisurely moved along.  Hence, it was somewhat startling when these\npicturesquely garbed scouts halted in our midst, and warned us to have a\nguard over our horses; telling us, that, the most notorious band of\nhorse thieves was in the neighbourhood, and was rumoured to have heard\nthat there was a party with some magnificent horses in the prairie\ncountry, and that doubtless, even now, they were on the lookout for us\nupon some of the trails.\n\nAfter a short halt for a hurried meal, our bronzed well-armed visitors\nleft us.  The last we saw of them was as they galloped away southward on\nthe trail.\n\nImmediately a council was called, when it was decided to move on to the\nvicinity of Clearwater, and there remain until all the final\npreparations for our long trip were completed.  Our horses were turned\nloose and hobbled during the day, but were not allowed to stray very far\nfrom the camp.  Watchful eyes were ever upon them, and also scanning the\nprairies for suspicious intruders.  Before sundown they were all\ngathered in and securely fastened in a large barn that stood out upon\nthe prairie, the sole building left of a large farmstead: all the other\nbuildings, including the dwelling house, had been burned during the\nIndian wars.  No survivors or relatives had as yet come to claim the\ndeserted place, and so the rich prairie grasses had almost covered with\ntheir green verdure the spot where the destroyed buildings once stood;\nand now all that remained to tell of former prosperity was this solitary\nold barn.\n\nThe men of our party were appointed to watch the barn during the night\nand protect the horses against all intruders.  Two well armed persons\nwere thought a sufficient guard for each of the eight or ten nights that\nwe remained in that vicinity.  One night a young man of our party and I\nwere appointed to watch.  He most thoroughly equipped himself with\nseveral varieties of weapons, resolved to be prepared for any emergency.\nI trusted to a quick-firing breech-loading rifle.\n\nWe gathered in the horses from the prairies, and were leading them\ntoward the barn when we met the leader of our party, a man past middle\nlife, most of whose years had been spent among the Indians, and in the\ngreat west.\n\nLooking at us who were to be the guards of the horses that night, he\nsaid, with a sneer:\n\n\"Queer guards are you!  I have some young Indians that could steal any\nhorse in that crowd to-night from under your very nose.\"\n\nStung by the sneers of this man, for it was not the first time that he\nhad tried to wound, I replied with perhaps too much emphasis:\n\n\"Mr -- I have the best horse in the company, and I will give him to\nyou, if either you, or any Indian living, can steal him out of that barn\nbetween sundown and sunrise.\"\n\nMy comrade and I carefully fastened our horses along one side of the\nbarn where they could stand comfortably, or lie down on some old prairie\nhay during the night.  Then we examined the barn.  At one end were the\nusual large double doors sufficiently wide and high to admit of the\nentrance of a wagon loaded with hay or sheaves of grain.  At the other\nend was a small door which we securely fastened on the inside.  We then\ncarefully examined the building for other places of ingress to make sure\nthat there were no openings sufficiently large for even a naked savage\nto squeeze through.  When thoroughly satisfied with our survey, we\ncollected a quantity of dried hay, and made ourselves some comfortable\nseats, where we could, without being seen, command the large end doors:\none of which was fastened inside with a hook and staple, while the other\nhad only the usual wooden latch.\n\nWe moved about and chatted on various subjects during the long beautiful\ngloaming, and when the darkness settled down upon us, we made ourselves\ncomfortable in our assigned positions, and with rides in hand, were\nindeed sentinels on the watch.  As the excitement of the occasion wore\noff, my young companion who was still in his teens, began to feel\nexceedingly drowsy.  I told him to cuddle down in the hay and go to\nsleep for a while, and if there was any appearance of danger I would\ninstantly awake him.  Very soon he was sleeping quietly at my feet.  He\nhad generously requested me to awake him when he had slept an hour or\nso, offering then to take my place.  Thanking him, I said: \"Get some\nsleep if you can; there is none, however, for me to-night.\"--I\nremembered too well those taunting words, and could not have slept had I\ntried.\n\nAs the hours slowly rolled along, I could not but think of the strange\ntransitions of the last few weeks.  Not six weeks before this I was the\npastor of a large church in a flourishing city.  Then I was living in a\nbeautiful home with all the comforts and conveniences of civilisation\naround me, where the vigilant policemen paced their various rounds,\nwhile we in peace and safety rested without one thought of danger; now I\nwas in the far West, away from the society and comforts of other days,\non the boundless plains where dangers lurk, and lawless, thievish\nvagabonds abound.  Not long ago I was in my own pulpit preaching to\nlarge congregations; now, during the quiet hours of this night, I was\nsitting on a bundle of dried prairie grass in an old barn, defending a\nlot of horses from horse thieves.  Strange transformations are these.\nTruly life is a play, and we, the actors, little know what parts we\nshall next be called on to assume.\n\nThus I mused; bub hush!  What noise is that?  Surely it cannot be that a\ncunning horse thief would come so deliberately this beautiful starlit\nnight and try at the principal door to seek an entrance.  No stealthy\nIndian clever at horse stealing would begin his operations in such a\nway.\n\nBut there is the sound, nevertheless.  Evidently it is that of a hand\nfeeling for the latch.\n\nStrict orders had been given at the camp, that under no consideration\nshould any one of our party approach the barn after dark.  So, here was\nan intruder who must be promptly dealt with, before he could draw and\nfire.\n\nSpringing up and lifting the rifle to my shoulder, I waited until the\nintruder's hand had found the latch.  Then the door swung open and there\nhe stood; a very tall man, clearly outlined in the starry night.\n\nMy first grim resolve was to fire at once.  Then there came the thought:\n\"It is a terrible thing suddenly to send a soul into eternity.  Perhaps\nhe is not a horse thief.  He may be some lone wanderer on the prairies,\nwho, seeing this old barn, desires to get under its shelter out of the\nheavy dews.  You have him covered with your rifle; even if he is a\ndesperate horse thief bent on mischief, ere he can draw his weapons, you\ncan easily drop him.\"\n\nThese thoughts must have flashed through my brains very rapidly for the\nman had not yet entered the barn when I had decided on my course of\naction.\n\nSo, while keeping him covered with my rifle, and with my hand upon the\ntrigger, I shouted:\n\n\"Who's there?\"\n\n\"It's only Matthew.  Surely you ought to know me by this time.\"\n\nInstead of an enemy, there came stumbling along in the darkness, one of\nour young friends from the camp: a school-teacher, going out to instruct\nthe Indians in the plains of the Saskatchewan.\n\nGroping his way along, he said: \"It is awfully close and hot down there\nin the camp, and so I thought I would rather come and spend the rest of\nthe night with you in the barn.\"\n\nFoolish fellow! he little knew how near he had come to losing his life\nby this direct breach of orders.\n\nAs I recognised his voice in answer to my challenge, and realised how\nnear I had come to shooting one of our party, a quick reaction seized\nme, and dropping the gun, I sank back trembling like a leaf.\n\nAfter chatting away at a great rate, he at length settled down in the\nhay, and went to sleep without having the slightest idea of the risk he\nhad run, or of the part I had played in what came so near being a\ntragedy.\n\nI continued my watch until relieved at sunrise, and then, with my\ncomrade, turned over all the horses safe and sound to those whose duty\nit was to watch them while they were feeding on the prairies.\n\nThere was a row for a time when I reported to the leaders of our company\nthe visit to the barn.  The good-natured delinquent was the subject of a\ngreat deal of scolding, which he bore with an unruffled demeanour.  As\nhe was six feet, six inches and a half in stature, no physical\ncastigation was administered; nor was any needed; he was so thoroughly\nfrightened when he heard how he had stood under cover of my rifle with\nmy finger on the trigger.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER TWO.\n\nON THE INDIAN TRAIL.\n\nWe will call the routes over which I travelled on my large mission\nfield, \"Indian trails;\" but the name at times would be found to be\ninept, as often, for scores of miles, there was not the least vestige of\na track or path.  This was because there was so little travel in summer\nof a character that would make a well defined trail, for during that\nseason the Indians preferred to avail themselves of the splendid and\nnumerous lakes and rivers, which enabled them to travel very easily by\ncanoe in almost any direction.\n\nThus, when obliged to travel on the short stretches of the so-called,\n\"Indian trail,\" it is not to be wondered at if the missionary sometimes\nlost his way, and had to be sought after and found, much to the\namusement of the Indians who constituted the hunting party.\n\n\"Good missionary, but him lost the trail.\"  More than once was I so\naddressed by my clever and experienced Indian canoeman, with whom every\nsummer I used to journey hundreds of miles into remote regions, to find\nthe poor sheep of the wilderness to whom to preach the glorious Gospel\nof the Son of God.  These summer routes lay through many lakes, and up\nand down rushing rivers full of rapids and cataracts.  Generally two\nskilful Indian canoemen were my companions, one of whom was called, \"the\nguide.\"\n\nThe Indians, for whom we were seeking, drifted naturally from their\nhunting grounds in the forests, to the shores of the lakes and rivers,\nfor the sake of the fish, which, daring the summer months, could be\neasily obtained and which then constituted their principal food.  The\nresult was, that while in winter, with our dog-trains, we could go\nanywhere--the terrible ice-king freezing everything solid from the lakes\nand rivers to the great quaking bogs--in summer, we were confined to\nthose trips which could be only made by the birch-bark canoe: in no\nother way could the Gospel he carried to these people.  After we became\naccustomed to the canoe and dog-train, we rejoiced that we were counted\nworthy to be the Messengers of Good Tidings'to these neglected ones,\nwho, having lost faith in their old paganism, were longing for something\nbetter.\n\nOne summer in the early years of my missionary life, when I had had but\nlittle experience in the northern methods of travel and was a novice at\nfinding my way on an obscure trail, I took a trip which I remember very\ndistinctly; partly, because of the difficulty I had in keeping the trail\nwhen alone and partly because of the dangers to which I was exposed when\nI lost it.\n\nMy birch canoe was a good one.  It was made especially for running\nrapids, and was so light that one man could easily carry it on his head\nwhen necessary.  I had as my companions two very capable Indian\ncanoemen.  One of them had never been over that route before and the\nother, whom by courtesy, we called, \"our guide,\" had only once travelled\nthat way--and that, several years before the date of this trip.\n\nAll the able bodied men of my mission excepting these two, were away\nserving the Hudson Bay Company as tripmen, which was the reason why I\ncould not obtain men better acquainted with the long route.  I had\neither to take these men and ran a good deal of risk, or wait another\nyear to carry the Gospel to those hundreds who had never heard it, and\nwho had sent a pleading call for me to come and tell them what the Great\nSpirit said in His Book.  So, after much prayer, I decided, trusting in\nGod and in these men, to make the journey.\n\nThe country through which we travelled was one of the roughest and\nwildest in that dreary, desolate land.  The streams were so full of\nrapids that we had constantly to be making portages.  This was slow and\nlaborious work.  Our method of procedure was something like this: as\nsoon as we discovered that the current was too rapid to be safe, or that\nwe were hearing some great falls, we went ashore and quickly unloaded\nour canoe; William, the guide, easily lifted it upon his head and\nstarting off, soon disappeared in the forest, running where possible,\nand keeping parallel with the raging stream until he reached a place\nbelow which the waters were again navigable; Peter, my other Indian, as\nspeedily as possible made a large bundle of our blankets, kettles, and\nsupplies, and with this upon his back, supported by a carrying strap\nround his forehead, quickly followed the trail made by William; while to\nme was assigned the work of carrying the guns, ammunition, changes of\nraiment and the presents, and Bibles for the Indians we expected to\nvisit.  Although my load was not nearly as heavy as those carried by my\nstalwart canoemen, yet I was utterly unable to keep up with them in the\ntrail.  Indians, when thus loaded, never walk: they seem to glide along\non a swinging trot that carries them over the ground very rapidly.  A\nwhite man, unaccustomed to this pace, is very soon left behind.  This\nwas my experience.  All I could do, was to trudge bravely along under my\nmiscellaneous load, which was becoming constantly disarranged, thus\ncausing delay.\n\nBut my greatest trouble was to keep the trail.  There was absolutely no\npath.  All the trail, was that made by my two Indians, and Indians are\ntrained to leave as little evidence of their movements as possible.  So\nI was often lost.  I would at the beginning of the portage, bravely\nshoulder my burden and endeavour to keep in sight of my men.  This,\nhowever, I found to be an utter impossibility.  A sharp turn among the\nrocky ridges, or a plunge into the dense dark forest, and they were gone\nfrom my vision.  Then my perplexities began.  If, as some times\nhappened, the trail was through mud, or reeds and rushes I could\ngenerally follow them in it; but, as more frequently happened, the trail\nwas over rocky ridges, or through dense forests, sometimes for miles,\nand I was often completely bewildered and lost.\n\nThe trouble at first was, that being too perplexed, or too ignorant of\nwhat was the safer course to pursue, I would quicken my pace and hurry\non--somewhere.  On and on I would stumble under my heavy awkward load\nuntil the sweat fell like rain from my brow and my back ached.  More\nthan once when thus hurrying I have been startled by some savage beast,\nthat with a snort or a growl, dashed away in front of me.  This only\nadded speed to my footsteps, and frightened now I would hurry on, until\nutterly worn-out and exhausted I threw off my heavy burdens and sank\ndown on the nearest rock or log, tired out.  Perhaps in my ignorance and\nperversity I had wandered far away, even in an opposite direction from\nthat which I should have taken.\n\nFortunate was it for me that I had such men for my comrades.  I knew\ntheir worth and loyalty, as well as their ability quickly to find me.\nAs soon as they had safely reached the end of the portage they would be\non the alert for my arrival.  If I delayed beyond what they thought to\nbe sufficient time they would set off on the back trail looking for me.\nWith that unerring instinct which so many of them possess in woodcraft,\nand which to me always seemed perfectly marvellous, they soon found\nwhere I had wandered from the trail.  From this point they had not the\nslightest difficulty in following and finding me.  Without any chiding,\nbut with perhaps a pitying look and a quiet utterance that sounded like\n\"Good missionary, but him lost the trail,\" they would quickly pick up my\nburdens, and safely guide me to our waiting canoe.  All I had to carry\nwas perhaps the Book which I had with me, the reading of which, enabled\nme profitably to pass the hours that often elapsed ere my faithful men\nfound me.\n\nWe lived on just what we could shoot, as it was impossible to carry\nadditional supplies in a birch canoe.  Hunter's luck varies considerably\neven in a land of game, and we at least had variety in our bill of fare.\nBlack bears being still numerous in those wild regions we sometimes had\nbear's steak broiled on the coals, or ribs skidded on a stick and nicely\nbrowned before the fire.  When my canoemen had time to prepare the\nbear's feet and boil them they were quite a luxury.  In fact, the three\ngreat luxuries specially prized by the denizens of that country are, the\nheaver's tails, the moose's nose, and the bear's paws.  Rarely was a\ndeer shot on those canoe trips, unless it happened to be in the far\nnorth regions, where occasionally one was caught swimming far out from\nland in a great lake.  When one was thus killed, there was of course\nabundance of food, but so little of it could be carried with us, that\nthe larger portion had to be left to be devoured by wolves, wolverines,\nor other wild animals.  However, in leaving all this meat on the trail\nthe words of the Psalmist would come to us:\n\n\"He giveth to the beast his food, and to the young ravens which cry.\"\nPerhaps it was only carrying out His great purposes, when we thus left\nall this food for some of His creatures to whom, \"He giveth their meat\nin due season.\"\n\nWild ducks, geese, and other aquatic birds were occasionally shot,\naffording us most savoury food as did also the beavers wild-cats, and\nmuskrats.\n\nOur nights were spent where the day's journey ended.  Missionaries in\nnearly all lands can generally find some human, habitation in which to\nobtain or prepare their food and spend the night.  As a child, I used to\nlisten with intense interest to my beloved father, who for many years\nhad been a pioneer missionary in what were then known as the wilds of\nUpper Canada--tell of his adventures.  Many had been his hardships and\ndangers, but I remember he used to say, that he could generally find the\ncomfortable log-cabin of a friendly settler in which to pass the night.\nThe trail in the wild north land leads through regions of country\nthousands of miles in extent, where there is not even to be found a\nleather tepee or a birch-bark wigwam, much less a house.  The result\nwas, when making such journeys, we had to do the next best thing, and\nthat was to camp at the spot where night overtook us.  Of course we were\non the lookout for as comfortable a place as it was possible to find.  A\nsmooth dry granite rock for our bed, and dry wood with which to make our\nfires, where we cooked our food and dried our clothes, were always\nconsidered the essential requisites for a comfortable camp.  Warm days\nalternated with damp and chilly ones, but the nights were generally\ncold.  The bright warm camp-fire was always welcomed with great delight\nafter a day's journey of sixty miles on the trail.  Pleasant indeed are\nthe memories of happy restful hours so spent, when the good honest day's\nwork was done, and the time of rest well earned.  After the hearty\nevening meal and prayers, it was each a luxury to be able to stretch our\ncramped limbs before a glorious camp-fire on the rocky shore of some\ngreat river or picturesque lake.  Then the attempt to read even some\nfavourite author was not always a great success.  It seemed more\ncongenial just to lie there, and muse and watch the dying of the day as\nthe brightness gradually faded out of the western sky, and the stars in\ntheir modest way, one by one, came out into conscious vision, until the\nwhole heavens were lit up by their radiance.  The only sounds were the\nroar of the distant cataract, the music of the running stream, the\nrippling of the waves at our feet, broken some nights by the occasional\ncry of a wild bird or beast, from among the trees of the encircling\nforest.  The quiet, picturesquely garbed men in their statuesque\nattitudes added much to the attractiveness of the surroundings.\n\nThen at night very close to the heart, and appropriate, were the words\nof the Psalmist: \"The heavens declare the glory of God, and the\nfirmament showeth His handiwork;\" and, \"When I consider thy heavens the\nwork of thy fingers, the moon and stars which thou hast ordained; what\nis man that thou art mindful of him, and the son of man that thou\nvisitest him?\"\n\nBut the nights spent on the Indian trail, were not always so delightful,\nor so conducive to lofty and celestial sentiments.  When the cyclonic\nwinds howled around us through the long night hours, blowing with such\nfury that it requited all of our watchfulness and strength to prevent\ncanoe, blankets, and bundles from being blown into the lake or river,\nour thoughts were not among the stars.  Sometimes the black\nthunderclouds gathered and the rain fell upon us in torrents, putting\nout our fires, perhaps before our evening meal was cooked, drenching us\ncompletely, and continuing sometimes so long that we had not a dry\nstitch upon us for days together.  Under such circumstances, while\nringing some quarts of water out of our clothes, or from the blankets in\nwhich we had slept, there was no disposition to sentimentalise about the\nrippling of the waves on the shore or the distant waterfall.\n\nThus in storm as in sunshine, it was necessary that the missionary and\nhis faithful canoemen should be on the trail, if the Book were to be\ncarried, and its glorious truths proclaimed to those wandering people in\ntheir wigwam homes, in regions so remote and inaccessible that in no\nother way could they be reached during the brief summer months.\nHowever, in spite of its hardships and dangers, the results accomplished\nmore than compensated for them all.  Physical sufferings are not worthy\nof record, where successful work has been done in the conversion of\nimmortal souls for whom the Saviour died.  Many have been the trophies\nwon and marvellous the transformations wrought as the result of these\ndifficult trips on the Indian trail.  The missionaries, numbers of whom\nare still toiling upon them, rejoice that they are counted worthy to\nendure such hardness, and to be \"in perils oft\" for His glory, and for\nthe salvation of those for whom He died.\n\nAs regards some abiding results attained by these adventurous trips, one\nor two incidents are here recorded.\n\nOn these long journeys, the missionary generally carried with him a\nsmall assortment of medicines.  He well knew that many a hard heart\ncould be reached, and many a prejudice overcome, by the healing of some\nafflicted member of the family, when all other means for influencing\nthem for good, had for the time being failed.\n\nAt one remote pagan village dwelt a man who had refused most positively\nto become a Christian.  When urged to accept of Christianity he had most\nemphatically repeated the expression most common among them: \"As my\nfathers lived and died, so will I.\"\n\nHe came to me one day in a state of much perplexity, and after speaking\nabout several things, mentioned the thankfulness that was in his heart\non account of my having cured his wife, who had been sick a long time.\nThe way in which he expressed himself, however, showed the great\nignorance under which he was living.  His words were something like\nthese, and most emphatically were they uttered:\n\n\"Missionary, my wife was long sick.  I went to the medicine man of my\npeople to cure her.  He tried and tried, but he could not do her any\ngood.  Then I came to you, and your medicines cured her, and she soon\ngot well.  So I believe, that as your medicine is stronger than that of\nthe medicine men of our religion, your religion must be better than\nours.  My wife and I have talked it over, and we want to sit at your\nfeet, and learn of this new way.\"\n\nOf course there was a good deal in his mind that was erroneous and I had\nto explain myself literally and enlighten him, ere I could begin to\nteach him the truths of the Gospel.  However, I had won his heart, and\nthat was half of the battle.  Now predisposed toward the truth, he and\nhis wife gladly accepted it.  They became sincere and earnest\nChristians, and were both made a blessing and a benediction to their\npeople.\n\nThere was a great hunter who had an only son.  He had a number of\ndaughters, but they were as nothing in his sight in comparison with his\nlittle boy.  One day the child fell sick, and the medicine man of the\ntribe was sent for in great haste, a famous old conjuror by the name of\nTapastanum.  He had some knowledge of roots and herbs, but like the\nother conjurors of his nation, pretended to depend upon his incantations\nand conjurings to effect his cures.  With a great deal of ceremony he\nbrought out his sacred medicine bag, his charms, and rattle and drum.\nThen arraying himself in the most hideous manner possible, he began his\nwild incantations.  He howled and yelled, he shook his rattle and beat\nhis drum.  All however was in vain.  The child rapidly became worse as\nthe days passed.  Seeing that there was no improvement, the father\nbecame thoroughly alarmed and lost all faith in Tapastanum's power.\nFearing however to offend him, he gave him some presents of tea and\ntobacco, and told him that he need not trouble himself to come again.\nUp to this time he had refused to listen to the missionary's teachings.\nHe had been loud and almost persecuting in his opposition to the\npreaching of the Gospel among his people, and had refused to come where\nthe friendly Indians gathered under the trees to hear the Word read and\nexplained.\n\nIndian-like however, he had been most observant, and it had not escaped\nhis notice that some cures had been effected by the pale face that had\nbeen too difficult for the native medicine men.  So, when he saw his\nlittle boy getting worse and worse, in spite of all the yells and antics\nof the conjuror, so soon as he had dismissed him, he came for the\nmissionary, and in a tone very different from that which he had first\nused, almost begged him to come and save his little boy.\n\n\"I will do the best I can,\" said the missionary, who was thankful for an\nopportunity thus, perhaps, to win his friendship and to lead him to the\ncross.\n\nWhen he examined the boy he found that it was a serious case of\ninflammation, so he candidly told the father, that as the disease had\nrun so long it was hard to say whether he would be able to cure him or\nnot, but he would gladly do his best.  The Indian father urged him to\nbegin at once to do all that was possible to save his boy; saying, that\nhe would be so glad if his child recovered, and would not blame the\nmissionary if he died.\n\nPrompt remedies were applied, and with God's blessing, and careful\nnursing, the child recovered, greatly to the joy of the father.\n\nNot long after, as the missionary gathered the people together for\nreligious service, he was pleased to see, leaning against a distant\ntree, the once stubborn old Indian whose son had been healed.  It was\nevident that he was anxious to hear what that missionary who had cured\nhis boy had to say, and jet, he was still too proud to come and sit with\nthe friendly Indians, who were anxious to learn about the message which\nthe Great Spirit had sent to the people.  So he compromised by taking a\nposition on the outskirts of the audience.\n\nFortunately the missionary was gifted with a strong clear voice, so\nwithout any apparent effort, he told the story of God's love in Jesus\nChrist in a tone that could be distinctly heard by all, even by the\ndistant hunter leaning against the tree.\n\nVery attentively did that Indian listen to all that was said, and so\ninterested was he, that at the next service he stood at a tree\nconsiderably nearer the speaker.  The next service he was in the midst\nof the audience, and a few weeks later he was at the Cross, a happy\nconverted man.\n\nIt was interesting and delightful to listen to his after apologies, and\nchidings of himself for his stubborn opposition to that in which he now\nso delighted.  Among other things he would say:\n\n\"But missionary, you know that I was so foolish and stubborn.  I was\nthen blind and deaf; but now I have rubbed the dust out of my eyes,\npulled the moss out of my ears, so now I see clearly and hear all right.\nThen, I could only say hard things against the Book which I thought was\nonly for the white man, but now, I have found that it is for every one,\nand I love to think and talk about the good things that it has brought\nto us.\"\n\nLong centuries ago Isaiah prophesied:\n\n\"Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf\nshall be unstopped;\n\n\"Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and the tongue of the dumb\nsing;\n\n\"For in the wilderness shall waters break out, and streams in the\ndesert.\"\n\nHere in this wild north land, as, thank God, it has been on many other\nmission fields, this glorious prophecy had been, and is being, most\nliterally fulfilled.  Eyes long spiritually blinded are now open to\nbehold the blessed light, deaf ears have been unstopped and now hear His\nloving voice, and tongues unloosened by His power make the wilderness\nvocal with His praise.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER THREE.\n\nPRACTICAL WORK IN INDIAN HOMES.\n\nSince the opening up of the heart of Africa, by the indomitable courage\nand zeal of such men as Speke and Moffat, Baker and Livingstone, Stanley\nand Cameron, Bishop Taylor and others, perhaps one of the least known\nportions of this habitable globe is the northern part of the great\nDominion of Canada.  The discovery of the rich gold mines in the great\nYukon River district--the greater number by far being in Canadian\nterritory--is attracting attention to that part of the hitherto unknown\nnorth-western portion of the great Dominion, and will doubtless lead to\nits becoming better known.\n\nIt is true that there are vast regions of this great country that are of\nbut little value to civilised people as a home.  Still there are\nhundreds of millions of acres, of land as fertile as any in the world,\nand thousands of people are crowding in every year and taking possession\nof what will yet become one of the greatest wheat producing portions of\nthe globe.\n\nFrom east to west, through the Dominion runs the great Canada Pacific\nRailway, the longest in the world.  This great road has not only broken\nthe long silence of the wilderness and opened up the grandest route to\nthe Orient, but it has also unsettled the Indians in their prairie and\nforest retreat; it has not only brought trade to their wigwam villages\nbut also the missionary with the Bible to their very doors.\n\nBut north of these new provinces where the whistle of the iron horse is\nheard, are vast regions that are as free from the inroads of the\nadventurous pioneer as is the Desert of Sahara.  This is a country of\nmagnificent lakes and rivers with their untold wealth of fish.  Its vast\nforests and morasses abound in fur-bearing animals of great value.\nBears and wolves, reindeer and moose, and many other animals which the\nIndians love to hunt, exist in large numbers.\n\nThe Indian tribes of these northern regions live altogether by hunting\nand fishing.  They are not warlike, as are the tribes of the great\nprairies, but in their pagan state have many vile and abominable\npractices, which show that they are just as bad as those who delight in\nwar and as much in need of the Gospel.\n\nMissionaries of the different denominations have gone into these remote\nregions, have lived amidst many privations, and have given their lives\nto the blessed work of Christianising, and then civilising these long\nneglected people.  They have not toiled in vain.  Thousands have\nrenounced their paganism and become earnest, genuine Christians.  The\nmissionary life in such a land and among such a people is, as might be\nwell imagined, very different from that in other countries.\n\nAs these mission fields are in such high latitudes the winter is very\nlong and severe.  Hence, the habitations to be at all comfortable must\nbe very warmly built.  There is no limestone in that land, and\nconsequently, no lime.  As a poor substitute, mud is used.  The houses\nare built with a framework of squared timber which is well logged up,\nand the chinks well packed with moss and mud.  When this is thoroughly\ndry, and made as air-tight as possible, the building is clapboarded, and\nlined with tongued and grooved boards.  Double windows are used to help\nkeep out the bitter cold.  When well built and cared for, some of these\nhomes are fairly comfortable; very different from the wretched,\nuncomfortable abodes some of the early missionaries were content to\ndwell in.\n\nAs great forests are everywhere in those regions, wood is used for fuel\ninstead of coal.  Great box stoves are kept red hot day and night from\nOctober until May.\n\nThe food used by the missionaries was the same as that on which the\nIndians lived.  Flour was almost unknown.  Fish and game afforded\nsubsistence to nearly all.  It is true that, many years ago, the great\nSaskatchewan, brigades of boats came to Norway house and York factory\nloaded down with vast quantities of pemmican and dried buffalo meat; but\nlong since the great herds of buffalo have been exterminated, and the\nfar-famed pemmican is now but a memory of the past.  The last time I saw\nthe wharves of the Hudson Bay Company's post at Norway House piled up\nwith bags of pemmican, was in 1871.  This pemmican was pounded buffalo\nmeat, mixed with the tallow and preserved in large bags made out of the\ngreen hides of the slaughtered animals, and was the food that for some\nmonths of each year gave variety to our fish diet.  It was healthy and\nnourishing to persons of good appetites and unimpaired digestive organs;\nbut to those not to the \"manner born,\" or unaccustomed to it all their\ndays, it appeared, whether cooked or raw, as partaking more of the\nnature of soap grease, than of anything more inviting.  Cut it has gone\nto return no more: much to the satisfaction of some, and to the regret\nof others.\n\nI and my Indian fishermen used to catch about ten thousand white fish in\ngill nets every October and November.  These we hung up on great stages\nwhere they froze as solid as stones.  A few hundred we would pack away\nin the snow and ice for use in the following May, when those left on the\nstages began to suffer from the effects of the spring warmth.  These ten\nthousand fish were needed by the missionary's family and his dogs: the\nfaithful dogs, from whom so much was required, lived on them all the\ntime, while the missionary's family had them on the table twenty-one\ntimes a week for six months.\n\nDuring the winter we had certain varieties of game which I shot, or\nwhich the Indian hunters brought in and exchanged with us for tea,\nsugar, cotton, flannels, or other things.  All trade was done by barter,\nas there was no money then in the land.  During the spring and summer\nmonths, occasionally, a wild goose or some ducks were obtained, and\nproved acceptable additions to our bill of fare.\n\nOnce or twice during the summer the boats of the Hudson Bay Company--the\ngreat trading corporation of the country--brought us from civilisation,\nour yearly supplies.  These consisted of: a few bags of flour, a keg of\nbolster, a can of coal oil, tea, sugar, soap, and medicines.  They also\nbrought an assortment of plain, but good, articles of clothing and dry\ngoods which we required in our own household, and with which we also\npaid the Indians whom we had to hire, as fishermen, dog-drivers,\ncanoemen or guides on my long journeys over the great mission field\nwhich was several hundreds of miles square.\n\nSo many were the calls upon us on account of the sickness and terrible\npoverty of the people, that often our little stock of flour was soon\ngone.  Other luxuries quickly followed, and is the mission home, as in\nthe wigwams of the natives, the great staple was fish, fish, fish.\n\nSo many have inquired how Mrs Young and I managed so long to live and\nthrive, and keep up our health and spirits, on an almost exclusive fish\ndiet, that I will here give the plan we pursued.\n\nWe were in good health, and charmed with, and thankful for, our work.\nWe both had so much to do, and were kept very busy either in our own\ncosy little log house home, or outside among the Indians, that our\nappetites were generally very good and we were ready for our meals as\nsoon as they were ready for us.  Still, after all, the very monotony of\nthe unchangeable fish diet sometimes proved too much for us.  We would,\nperhaps, be seated at the break fast table, neither of us with any\nappetite for the fish before us.  We would sip away at our cups of tea\nwithout apparently noticing that the fish were untested, and chat about\nour plans for the day.\n\n\"My dear,\" I would say, \"what are you going to do to-day?\"\n\n\"I am going to have Kennedy harness up my dogs, and drive me up the\nriver to Playgreen point to see how that old sick woman is getting on\nand take her the warm blanket I promised her.  I will also stop to see\nhow those sick babies are, and how Nancy's little twins are prospering.\nIn the afternoon I want to drive over to York village and see\nOosememou's sick wife--What is your day's programme?\"\n\nTo my good wife's question, my answer would be after this fashion:\n\n\"Well, first of all, as word has come that the wolves have been visiting\nour fish-cache, Martin Papanekis and I have arranged to drive over there\nwith the dogs to see the extent of the damage.  We may be detained some\nhours making the place so strong, that if they visit it again, which is\nlikely, they will be unable to reach the fish.  Then we will spend the\nrest of the day in that vicinity, visiting and praying with the\nneighbours.\"\n\nHaving taken our tea, we had prayers, and soon after began to carry out\nthe programmes of the day.\n\nFor several winters we kept for our varied duties, a number of dogs.\nMrs Young and I each had our favourite dog-trains.  So widely scattered\nwere the Indians, and for such diverse reasons did they look to us and\nclaim our attention, that our lives were full, not only of solicitude\nfor their welfare, but we were, sometimes for days together kept on the\n\"go,\" often travelling many miles each day in visiting the sick and\nafflicted, and in looking after the interests of those who needed our\npersonal help.\n\nOn that particular day in which the conversation above recorded was\nheld, it was after dark ere our work was accomplished and we met in our\nlittle dining-room for our evening meal.  It was really the first meal\nof the day; for we had a tacit understanding that when these times\narrived that we could not really enjoy our fish diet, we would\nresolutely put in the whole days work without tasting food.  The result\nwas, that when we drew up to the table after having refused the morning\nbreakfast, and ignored the midday meal, we found that our appetite, even\nfor fish, had returned, and we enjoyed them greatly.  And what was more,\nthe appetite for them remained with us for some considerable time\nthereafter.\n\nHunger is still a good sauce; and we found--and others also have made\nthe same discovery--that when the appetite fails and there is a tendency\nto criticise, or find fault with the food, or even with the cook, a\nvoluntary abstinence for two or three meals will be most beneficial for\nmind and body, and bring back a very decided appreciation of some of\nGod's good gifts which hitherto had been little esteemed.\n\nOf course the great and prominent work was the preaching of the Gospel\nand the teaching of the people to read the Word of God.  To this latter\nwork we devote a full chapter and so need not refer to it here.  Next\nperhaps to the direct results obtained by the preaching of the Word, we\naccomplished the most good by the medical work.\n\nIndians are fond of medicine and are believers in large doses.  The\nhotter the dose is with cayenne pepper, or the more bitter with any\npowerful drug, the more it is relished, and the greater faith they have\nin its power to effect a cure.  Various were the expedients of some of\nthem to induce us to give them a good strong cup of tea, made doubly hot\nwith red pepper.  In their estimation such a dose was good for almost\nany disease with which they could be afflicted, and was especially\nwelcomed in the cold and wintry days, when the mercury was frozen hard,\nand the spirit thermometer indicated anything between forty and sixty\ndegrees below zero.\n\nPractical sympathy never failed to reach some hearts, and so influenced\nthem, that they were ultimately brought to Christ.\n\nSo poverty stricken were the people, that the opportunities of helping\nthem were many.  Looked at from our standpoint of comfort, they had very\nlittle with which to make themselves happy.  Few indeed were their\npossessions.  Owning the land in common, there was in it no wealth to\nany one of them; but neither were there any landlords, or rents.  All\ntheir other possessions were their wigwams, traps, nets, guns, canoes,\ndogs, and clothing.  They lived from hand to mouth, as they had no\nfacilities for keeping any surplus food even if they were ever fortunate\nenough to secure more than they needed for their immediate wants.  If\nsome were successful in killing a number of deer or bears, they made but\nlittle attempt at trying to dry or preserve some of the meat for future\nuse.  Very rarely, a little deer-pemmican would be made out of some of\nthe venison; but this was an exceptional case.  The general plan, was to\nkeep open house after a successful hunt, with the pot boiling\ncontinually, everybody welcomed and told to eat heartily while the\nsupply lasted.  He was considered a mean man indeed, who, being\nfortunate in killing a large quantity of game, did not share it with all\nwho happened to come along.  This hospitality was often earned to such\nan extent, that there would be but very little left for the hunter\nhimself, or for his own family.\n\nThus, life among the Indians for long generations, was a kind of\ncommunism.  No unfortunate one actually starved to death in the village\nso long as there was a whitefish or a haunch of venison in the\ncommunity.  It was feast together when plenty comes; starve together\nwhen plenty goes.  They could not at first understand why, when the\nmissionary had anything in his mission house, he hesitated about giving\nit out to any one who said he was hungry.  This plan, of once a year\ngetting in front the outside world supplies to last a whole year, was\nindeed a mystery to them.  They had an idea that it was very nice to see\nso many things coming in by the company's boats; but when they were once\nin the house, the pagan Indians thought that they should be used up as\nquickly as anybody asked for them.  The practice of rationing out the\nsupplies to last for twelve months, was a style of procedure that more\nthan once exposed a missionary, who rigidly adhered to it, to be thought\nmean, stingy, and very unfriendly.  They even questioned the\ntruthfulness of one frugal, careful missionary, who carried out this\nsystem.  When asked to help some hungry Indians, he refused on the plea\nthat he had nothing left, knowing that that month's supply was gone.\nThey reasoned from the fact, that, they knew that he had the balance of\nhis year's supply stored away.\n\nOne very interesting phase of our work, was to help the Indian families,\nwho had moved from a wigwam into a cosy little house, into the mysteries\nof civilised housekeeping.  It is true that these houses were not very\nlarge or imposing.  They were generally built only of logs, well chinked\nup with moss and mud, and consisted of but one room, with the fireplace\nin the end or side.  As the people were able, they put up partitions and\nadded various little conveniences.  At first, when a family moved into\none of these homes, some of its members would be very much inclined to\nkeep to their wigwam habits.  As these were very shiftless, and far\nbelow what we considered to be their possibilities of methodical and\ntidy housekeeping, some practical lessons had to be given.  As they were\nwilling to learn, various plans and methods were adopted to help them.\nThe following was the most successful and perhaps on the whole, to all\nconcerned, the most interesting.  When we were aware that some new\nhouses had been erected and taken possession of by families who had\nknown no other habitations than their wigwams, I would announce from the\npulpit on Sabbath, that during the week, in connection with my pastoral\nvisitations, Mrs Young and I would dine at Pugamagon's house on Monday,\non Tuesday with Oostasemou, and on Wednesday with Oosememou.  These\nannouncements at first caused great consternation among the families\nmentioned.  When the services were over and we were leaving the church,\nwe would be accosted by the men whose names I had mentioned, generally\nin words like these:\n\n\"Could we believe our ears to-day, when we thought we heard you say,\nthat you and Ookemasquao, (Mrs Young's Indian name) were coming over to\ndine with us?\"\n\n\"Certainly, your ears are all right.  That is what they heard, and that\nis what we are thinking of doing,\" would be our answer.\n\n\"Nothing but fish, have we to set before you,\" would generally be their\nreply, uttered in tones of regret.\n\n\"Well, that is all right.  It is what we generally eat at home,\" we\nwould reply.\n\n\"Well, but we have no table as yet, or chairs, or dishes fit for you,\"\nwould be their next objection.\n\n\"That is all right, we are coming.\"\n\nMeantime, their half frightened wives would be seen standing behind\ntheir husbands, most attentively listening to the conversation.\n\nWhen they found that this enumeration of the lack of variety of food and\nthe poverty of their new homes, could not deter us from our\ndetermination to dine with them, almost in desperation they would say:\n\n\"Well, what are we to do to be ready to receive you?\"\n\n\"That is the very question we wanted you to ask,\" I would reply.  \"Now I\nwill tell you what is in our hearts.  Have plenty of your fish ready and\nwe will look after the rest of the dinner.  But there are several other\nthings about which we are anxious, and to which we want you to attend:\nfirst, we want to see when we visit you, how very clean and sweet your\nnew house will be; then, we are also anxious to see, how neat and tidy\nthe members of the family will be; we also wish to see, how bright and\npolished all your kettles, pots, and plates, will be.  We are both\ncoming to your homes as I announced, so be on the lookout and ready for\nus.  I believe we will all have a good time.\"\n\nSomewhat relieved by this interview, they would start off to their\nhomes.\n\nSoon after breakfast on Monday morning, Mrs Young would have her own\ndog-train and cariole brought up to the door, aid aided by willing\nhands, the cariole would be quickly loaded up for the visit to the\nIndian home announced for that day's visit.\n\nPerhaps it is but right here to state, that we never inflicted these\nvisits upon our Indians except when we had abundance of supplies of some\nkind or other in the mission house, and were thus able to carry over\nsufficient, with the fish the family supplied, for a hearty meal.  So,\nin her cariole Mrs Young had, not only this liberal supply of food,\nwith plenty of tea and sugar, but a large tablecloth, dishes, knives,\nforks, spoons, and other essentials.  About nine o'clock she was driven\nover to the home, where, with a certain amount of trepidation, the\nexpectant family were awaiting her coming.  They had been at work very\nearly and never did a floor made of well-planed spruce boards shine\nwhiter.  For hours it had been scrubbed; an unlimited amount of\nelbow-grease aided by some soft soap made out of strong lye and the\ngrease of a fat dog, had done the work most completely.  The faces of\nthe children showed that they had been most thoroughly polished, while\nall the family were arrayed in their Sunday apparel.  Every kettle and\npot bore evidence of the early hour at which the family had arisen and\nbegun operations.\n\nThe instructions given to me, were, that I was not to put in an\nappearance until about half-past twelve, and I was so interested that I\nwas generally on time.\n\nIt was a very gratifying sight that met me, and a very cordial welcome\nthat I received.  Every member of the family was simply radiant with\nhappiness and my good wife had most thoroughly caught the contagion of\nthe hour.  I, of course, shook hands all round and kissed the fat little\nbaby in its quaint, moss-bag cradle.  Then, we were speedily informed of\nwhat was very evident, that dinner was ready.  There was not a chair or\ntable in the house.  The snow white tablecloth was spread out on the\nalmost equally snow white floor, and upon it were placed in order\nplates, cups, and saucers, knives and forks.  Then the dinner which had\nbeen cooked in various pots, and pans, at the capacious fireplace, was\nserved up, or rather, down, and in our assigned places we seated\nourselves Indian-like, upon the floor.  After heaven's blessing was\nasked, the feast began.  The menu was not very elaborate.  Spoiled\nchildren of luxury, with lost appetites, might have sneered at it, but\nto us in that land, and especially to this happy Indian family, it was\none of the great events of their lives.  The missionary and his wife\nwere happy because they saw these poor people so happy.\n\nFor perhaps three hours, Mrs Young, had been the instructor of that\nIndian motherland her daughters, as under her direction they prepared\nthat dinner, and they were very proud of their teacher.\n\nThe dinner was pronounced a great success, and after it was over, and\nall had had an abundance, the Bible in the syllabic characters, was\nbrought out and read, when all devoutly kneeling, the missionary with a\nglad heart offered up an earnest prayer for heaven's blessing ever to\nabide upon that home.\n\nAfter prayers I was expected to leave, while Mrs Young remained for the\nrest of the day.  When she returned to our mission home in the evening,\ntired, but very happy over her day's work, she would give me some\nglimpses into the doings of the afternoon.  Of course, the first thing,\nwas to teach the women how, nicely and carefully, to wash and put away\nthe dishes; then, the house was once more swept up, when they were ready\nfor the afternoons work.  Sometimes the happy Indian mother was able to\nbring out a nice piece of dress cloth, which her now kind.  Christian\nhusband, had bought for her in exchange for his valuable furs.  This\ndress piece had to be cut and fitted by Mrs Young.  When asked as to\nhow she wished to have it made she would generally say:\n\n\"Please, Ookemasquao, cut it out so that it will be like the one you had\non in church, last Sunday.\"\n\nSo, as far as possible, the dress was cut and fitted in that style, the\nsewing of it commenced, and full instructions given so that the owner\nmight go on working, until she became perplexed with its intricacies,\nwhen she would come to the mission house for help, and so on until the\nwork was completed.\n\nIn addition to thus helping in dressmaking there were lessons to be\ngiven in patching and darning, and in lengthening out, or adding to, the\ndresses of the rapidly growing Indian girls.\n\nThus, from house to house we went, and for long years after the good\nresults of those visits remained; thus, was a noble ambition stirred in\nthose Indian women's lives to try and keep house like Ookemasquao; and\nthus, they endeavoured to let their husbands and children see, that no\nlonger did they wish to live in the careless way of the old pagan life,\nbut, as now they had become Christians in their profession, so in their\nhomes, they would have the neatness and cleanliness, that should belong\nto those who are thus called.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER FOUR.\n\nHOW THE GOSPEL IS CARRIED: BY CANOE IN SUMMER; BY DOG-TRAIN IN WINTER.\n\nThat great northern country is a land of innumerable lakes and rivers.\nUnfortunately, many of the streams abound with rapids, and navigation on\nthem, as generally understood, is an impossibility.  Hence, the only way\nof travelling on them in summer, is in the light birch canoe or in some\nother craft, so portable, that it can be carried or dragged across the\nmany portages that are so numerous in that land of cataracts and falls.\n\nFrom time immemorial, the birch canoe has been considered a part of the\ncraft of the Indian.  Centuries of its use has enabled him so to perfect\nit, that although attempts have been made by the white man to improve\nit, they have not been very successful.\n\nOne of our missionaries, who was one of the best canoemen in the\ncountry, was conceited enough to imagine, that the beautiful cedar canoe\nof the white man was superior to the birch-bark ones of the natives.  So\ncertain was he of this, that at a good deal of trouble and expense, he\nhad one of the very best models sent to him all the way from Ontario to\nNorway House.  On the beautiful Playgreen lake and other similar places,\nhe enjoyed it amazingly; but when he started off on his missionary\ntouring, the Indians, who are the best judges of these things urged him\nnot to attempt in that beautiful, but unreliable boat, to run the wild\nrapids of the mighty Nelson or other great rivers.  He, however, only\nlaughed at their fears and protestations.  A number of them set off\ntogether on a long missionary journey, one of the objects of which was,\nto assist in the building of a new church.  For a time, the erection of\nthe little sanctuary in the wilderness went on uninterruptedly, much to\nthe delight of the resident Christian Indians, who had long wished for\none in which to worship God.\n\nThe securing of sufficient food for the builders, was one of the duties\nthat devolved upon, and gave considerable anxiety to, the missionary.\nWhen the supplies which had been secured were about exhausted, and it\nseemed as though the work of building would have to cease on account of\nthe lack of food, word came through some passing hunters that they had\nseen abundance of sturgeon sporting at the foot of some great rapids of\nthe Nelson River.  As they are considered delicious and nourishing food,\nan expedition was at once prepared to go and capture as many of them as\npossible.  The missionary himself, an energetic, active man, took charge\nof the party, and insisted, on going in his beautiful cedar canoe.  When\nthey reached the head of the rapids, at the foot of which the sturgeon\nwere reported to have been seen in such numbers, there was a brief rest\nere the run down was attempted.  The Indians all protested against the\nmissionary's resolve to run such wild rapids in a canoe which they were\ncertain was so unfitted for such a dangerous trip.  The missionary,\nhowever, was stubborn and unmoved by their entreaties.  When they saw\nthat their words availed not, to change his resolve, an old experienced\nguide said:\n\n\"Well, then let one of us go with you, to sit in the stern of your boat\nand help you to steer, and also, by our weight, to keep the head of your\ncanoe high up as we run the rapids.\"\n\nThis kindly offer to risk and to share the dangers, he also refused,\nsaying, \"that he could go in his white man's canoe anywhere an Indian\ncould go in a birch-bark.\"  Their objection to his canoe, was, that it\nwas not built high enough in front, and so when he made the last wild\nrush in the rapids where the pitch in the waters was so steep, instead\nof the boat rising like a duck on the mad billows at the foot, it would\nplunge under like a log and disappear.\n\nWell would it have been for the wilful missionary if he had listened to\nthe advice of these experienced men who knew what they were talking\nabout.  He, however, cut them short by ordering them to enter their\ncanoes and go on, and he would soon follow.  With regret they left him\nthere, sitting on a rock, leisurely watching them as they began the\nhazardous trip.  With care and skill, the Indians all succeeded in\nsuccessfully running those dangerous rapids which are as wild and fierce\nas any in the Saint Lawrence.  As quickly as possible they went ashore\nat the foot, and, with their hearts full of foreboding, clustered at a\npoint where they could watch the missionary make the run.\n\nAlas! their fears were too well grounded.  Down the rushing, roaring\nriver, they saw the brave, but rash man, coming.  With consummate skill\nin the upper rapids, did he manage his beautifully polished craft; but\nwhen the last wild plunge at the foot was made, both canoe and\nmissionary suddenly disappeared.  It was many days ere the poor putrid\nbody was recovered, far away down the great river.\n\nA solitary grave is there on the bank, and a little tombstone set up by\nloving hands, records the name of this brave, but rash man.\n\nFor the manufacture of a first class Indian canoe, the birch-bark must\nbe taken from the tree at the right time of the year with the greatest\ncare.  The framework must be arranged with a skill and accuracy that\ncomes only of long practice.  The fact is, the first-class canoe-makers,\nwere about as rare among the tribes, as are first-class poets in\ncivilisation.  Many Indians could make canoes; but there were a few men\nwhose fame for their splendid crafts, were known far and wide, and who\nwere always able to obtain the highest price for all they could make.\n\nIt is really wonderful, considering the cranky nature of a canoe at its\nbest, what journeys can be made in them.  My skilled canoeman and I used\nto run wild rapids, and cross over storm swept lakes of large\ndimensions.  We lived on the game we could shoot as we hurried along,\nslept on the rocks or sandy beach where night overtook us, and were\nalways thankful when we found the little companies of Indians for whom\nwe were seeking.  As they were generally eager to hear the truth, but\nlittle time was lost between the religious services.  Long sermons and\naddresses were the order of the day; and often from early morn until\nlate at night, there was only the short intermissions for our hasty\nmeals of fish or game.\n\nAs we journeyed on from place to place, our meals were cooked and eaten\nin the open air, and for days we met no human beings.  Our bed was on\nsome balsam boughs, if obtainable; if not, a smooth granite rock or\nsandy beach did very well.  So healthful were we, and so congenial was\nthe work and its surroundings, that there were no sleepless nights,\nexcept when sometimes myriads of mosquitoes assailed us, or a fierce\nthunderstorm swept over us.  Then the nights were not so pleasant, and\nwe welcomed the coming of the day, even if, because of the storm, it\nrevealed a damp condition of affairs among our supplies.\n\nThis was the general plan of our proceedings: when we reached one of the\nlittle Indian villages at a time which had been, perhaps, arranged six\nmonths or a year before.  All who possibly could come in from contiguous\nfishing or hunting grounds, were there to meet me; then, for several\ndays services would be held, after which the Indians would return to\ntheir different hunting grounds, while I would again launch my canoe and\nwith my skilled paddlers, push on to some other point, where would be\ngathered another company of Indians awaiting my arrival and longing to\nhear the glorious Gospel of the Son of God.\n\nVery precious was the Word to those people so isolated.  The coming of\nthe missionary in his canoe to preach to them, and perhaps teach them\nhow to read for themselves the precious Book, was one of the few happy\nbreaks during the brief summer months in their lonely, monotonous lives.\nThey were ever on the lookout for my coming, and especially did those\nwho had renounced their paganism and accepted Christianity give me a\nhearty welcome, even if it was expressed in their quiet, dignified way.\n\nThe Indian's alertness and keenness of hearing, as well as of seeing,\nwas something remarkable to me.  The following is a good illustration of\nit.  One summer, when thus travelling, I was on the lookout for some\nfriendly Indians whose camping place was determined each summer by the\nabundance of the food supply.  Anxious to make as much of the time as\npossible, my men and I were paddling away in our canoe at four o'clock\nin the morning.  To hasten our progress, we pushed out into the centre\nof the great river, down which we were travelling, as there the current\nwas much more rapid than near the shore.  At that early hour, the\nmorning mists still lay low and dense on either side, completely hiding\nfrom view every object on the shore.  While thus pushing on between\nthose walls of vapoury mist, we were startled by the rapid firing of\nguns.  To me this was a decided mystery, but it was at once understood\nby my experienced canoemen.  Quickly turning the head of our canoe in\nthe direction from which came the tiring, they paddled through the now\nrapidly disappearing vapours, and there on the shore we descried a\ncompany of friendly Indians on the lookout for our coming.  Their ears\nhad been of more service than their eyes; for although they had been\nunable to see us, their practiced ears had caught the sound of our\npaddles.  After greeting us most cordially, they produced some smoked\nreindeer tongues and other native delicacies which they had brought for\nthe missionary.  Some very suggestive and profitable religious services\nwere enjoyed there by the riverside.  For the comfort and encouragement\nof those who had already become His children we talked of the loving\nkindnesses and providential care of our Heavenly Father.  We also\npleaded with those who had not yet decided to renounce the paganism of\ntheir forefathers, to do so speedily and to accept of the religion of\nthe Lord Jesus Christ.\n\nThus the work went on, and through many happy summers, my canoe was\nafloat for days on many waters, while as a glad messenger, I travelled\nthrough the wilderness beseeching men and women to be reconciled to God.\n\nOf the dog-travelling in that land so much has been written, that but a\nshort account need here be given.  Winter begins in those regions in the\nlatter part of October and continues without any perceptible break until\nApril.  So immense, however, are the ice-fields on the great lakes, that\nthey do not all disappear until a month or six weeks later.  One winter\nI was able to make quite a long journey with my dog-trains, arriving\nhome as late as the eighteenth of May.  At that date, however, the snow\nhad all disappeared and the frost was nearly all out of the ground.\n\nThe cold is intense, the spirit thermometer indicating from thirty to\nsixty below zero.  We have seen the mercury frozen as solid as lead for\nweeks together.  For months milk is frozen into cakes like marble.  We\nused to carry large pieces of it wrapped up in a newspaper, and when at\nthe camp-fire we desired a little in our cup of tea, we cut it off with\nan axe.  As will be seen from this we had about seven months of bright\ncold winter.  During all that time there was not a thaw, the snow was\nnever soft, and there was no dampness in the air or under foot.  Soft\ndeer skin moccasins are very much superior to civilised boots or shoes\nunder such conditions.\n\nThere are no roads in that vast country.  The frost King freezes up\nevery lake and stream, and hardens into adamant every muskeg and quaking\nbog.  The snow covers everything with its great mantle of beauty, and\nmakes it possible to travel on snow-shoes or by dog-train through vast\nregions absolutely impassable in the summer months.  Horses or other\nlarge animals, are absolutely worthless for travel in such regions.  The\nsnow is a great leveller.  It fills up many a dangerous pitfall and puts\nsuch a cushion on the logs and rocks, that upsets or falls are only\nlaughed at by the dog-travellers as they merrily dash along.  The only\ndrawbacks to a tumble down a steep declivity of some hundreds of feet,\nas once befell the writer, were the laughter of his comrades, and the\ndelay incident to digging him out of the snowdrift at the bottom, which\nwas anywhere from twenty to thirty feet deep.  These accidents and\ndelays were not frequent; and, although there were hardships and\nsufferings, there were many things to instruct and interest, and to\nbreak the monotony of winter travelling in that lonely land.\n\nIn the coldest, brightest, sunniest days, the fitful mirage played its\nstrange antics with distant landscapes, and at times brought within near\nvision places many miles away.  Sometimes circle within circle appeared\naround the sun, until as many as four were distinctly visible; each\ncircle at times having within it four mock suns--sixteen mock suns\nvisible at the same time was a sight worth going a long distance to see.\nStrange to say, the Indians dreaded the sight of them, as they declared\nthey were always the forerunners of blizzard storms; and the more vivid\nthese sun-dogs, as they called them, the more dreadful would be the\nstorm.\n\nBut the most fascinating and glorious of all the celestial phenomena of\nthose glorious regions, are the Northern Lights--the Aurora Borealis.\nConfined to no particular months of the year, we have seen them flashing\nand quivering through the few hours of the short nights following the\nhottest days in July or August, as well as in the long cold nights of\nthe winter months.  They would sometimes linger on all night in their\nweird beauty, until lost in the splendour of the coming day.  A\ndescription of them has often been attempted by writers of northern\nscenes, and I have to confess, that I have been rash enough to try it\nelsewhere; but their full glories are still unwritten and perhaps ever\nwill be.  They appear to belong to the spiritual rather than to the\nearthly; and there are times when they so dazzle and overwhelm, that it\ndoes seem as though only the language of spirits is adequate to the task\nof describing them.  Then they are so changeable.  Never have I seen two\ngreat exhibitions of them alike.  At first they are of purest white; but\nwhen the scintillations begin, they take on every colour of the rainbow.\nSometimes they appear in great brilliant arcs, as in the illustration.\nAt other times they are simply ribbons of wavy undulations that seem to\nsoothe, as well as charm, with their rhythmic motions and ever changing\nhues.  At still other times they are mighty armies of disciplined\nwarriors going out to conflict.  Then, when they seem wearied with their\nwarlike deeds, they appear to marshal all their forces; and, fairly\nfilling the northern heavens, to rush on, and up, until the very zenith\nis reached, where they form a corona of such dazzling splendour, that it\nreally seems as though the longing prayer of the church militant was\nbeing fulfilled; and, that universal triumph had come to the world's\nRedeemer here, and now the angelic and redeemed hosts of heaven and\nearth are bringing forth the Royal Diadem to \"crown Him Lord of all.\"\n\nThe dogs which we use in the dog-trains, are generally of any breed that\nhas in it size, endurance, and sagacity.  The Esquimaux breed of dogs\nformerly predominated; but in later years there has been such an\nadmixture of other varieties, that a pure Esquimaux dog is now a rarity\nexcept at some of the most northern posts and missions.  My worthy\npredecessor among the Crees, left me a train of mongrels, that were good\nenough for hauling wood and fish for the mission; and also for the short\ntrips to the places near home where I held weekly services; but when I\nattempted to make the long journeys of hundreds of miles to the remote\nparts of my great mission field, which was larger than all England or\nthe state of New York, they proved miserable failures.  Travelling with\nsuch dogs, was like the experience of the man who, in the olden times,\npaid first-class fare to ride in a packet boat on the Erie canal, from\nNew York to Buffalo, and then drove a horse on the towpath all the way.\nSo, after nearly killing myself travelling with weak or lazy dogs,\nhaving to walk or run on snowshoes all the time on account of their\ninability to draw me, I resolved, if possible, to become the owner of\nbetter ones.  I appealed to some good friends in civilisation to aid me,\nand the result was, that I was soon supplied with some of the finest\ndogs that could be obtained.  Among them, Jack and Cuffy, the gifts of\nSenator Sanford of Hamilton, were never equalled.  Through the kindness\nof James Ferrier, Esquire, of Montreal, five beautiful Saint Bernards\nwere obtained from Mrs Andrew Allan.  Dr Mark of Ottawa, and other\nfriends also remembered me, with the result, that soon I had some of the\nfinest dog-trains in the land.  These civilised dogs had all the good\nqualities of the Esquimaux without any of their thievish tricks.  They\nproved themselves equal in their endurance and sagacity; and only lacked\nin that their feet seemed more easily to become injured and sore.\n\nThe dog-sleds are ten feet long and eighteen inches wide.  They are used\nto carry our bedding and supplies, as often for days and nights together\nwe are entirely dependent on our loads for food and lodgings.  These\nmiscellaneous loads are well packed up in the great deer skin wrappers\nand so securely tied to the sleds, that no matter how many may be the\nupsets, the loads never become disarranged.  My own sled, which was\ncalled a \"cariole,\" was one of the usual oak sleds with parchment sides\nand a firm back attached.  Sometimes these carioles were handsomely\npainted and were very comfortable vehicles in which to ride.  When well\nwrapped up in fur robes, with plenty of fat meat to eat, splendid dogs\nto draw you, and loving loyal Indian attendants with you dog-travelling\nwas not without its pleasures and enjoyments; especially if the sun was\nbright, the icy pavement under you free from drifting snows, and the\ntemperature not colder than forty degrees below zero.  It was a\ndifferent thing, however, when blizzards howled around you and the air\nwas so fall of the fine cutting particles of icy snow, that it was\ndangerous to expose any part of the face to their pitiless attacks.\nThen it was, that the marvellous skill of the experienced Indian-guide\nwas seen, and we were led on amidst such miserable surroundings with an\naccuracy and speed that seemed almost incredible.\n\nThe camp, when the day's travel was ended--especially if blizzards had\nassailed us--was a welcomed spot, even if it was only a whole day out in\nthe snow on the sheltered side on some dense spruce or balsam grove.  At\ntimes we were able to find places in which thus to camp that were quite\npicturesque.  When the halt for the night was called by the guide, the\nfirst thing done was to unharness our faithful dogs.  Our snow-shoes\nwere improvised as shovels, and from the spot selected as our resting\nplace, the snow was quickly piled up in a great bank at our rear; and,\nsometimes, if the night threatened to be unusually severe, on each side\nof us.\n\nThen the great roaring fire of dry wood, at which we cooked our suppers,\nthawed out the fish for our dogs, and warmed our half frozen bodies, was\nvery welcome.  When supper was eaten, and prayers, so sweet and\nprofitable to us all, were over, how delightful to sit down on our robes\nand spend some hours in pleasant chat ere my bed was made and I was\ncosily and thoroughly tucked in by my faithful comrades.  It was hard at\nfirst to sleep with the head completely covered; there was such a sense\nof smothering, that I often ran the risk of the freezing rather than the\nsmothering.  One night, perhaps because of this suffocating sensation, I\nunconsciously uncovered my head.  After a time I awoke suddenly to\nconsciousness, to find that I was trying to pull off my now frozen nose\nwhich I thought was the end of an axe handle.\n\nWe fed our dogs on fish, giving them only one meal a day, and that one,\nwhen the day's work was done.  To feed them in the morning, caused them\nto be sluggish and stupid for some time thereafter; and the same\nhappened if they were fed at noon.  Long experience has shown, that the\ndogs thrive the best, and are able to do the most work, on one good meal\ngiven to them before their long night's rest.  The dog-shoes, which are\nso essential to their comfort and recovery when a foot is frozen or\nbadly injured, are much prized by them.  These shoes are made out of a\nwarm English cloth called duffle, and are in shape like a large mit\nwithout a thumb.  An old dog that has once become accustomed to dog\nshoes, is ever hankering after them when on a long cold trip.\nSometimes, they will come and most comically hold up their feet to be\nshod.  At other times, they have been known to come into camp and there\nlie down on their backs, and, holding up their four feet, plead most\nludicrously and importunately for these warm woollen shoes.  Some of\nthem get very cunning at their work, and shirk from doing their share of\nthe pulling; and yet, to avoid discovery, will appear to be doing more\nwork than any other dog in the train.\n\nBut this dog travelling was hard work at best; and dogs, as well as\ntheir master, were always glad when the long journeys were ended and a\nwelcome rest for a little while could be taken, to heal up the wounds\nand frost bites, and gather strength for the next trip.\n\nGood was accomplished, and that was the great reward for all the risks\nrun and sufferings endured.  Many for whom Christ died, would never up\nto the present hour, have heard the Gospel or have seen the Book, if it\nhad not been for the missionary carrying it to them by the canoe in\nsummer, and the dog-train in winter.  Thank God, many of them have heard\nand have accepted gladly the great salvation thus brought to them.  With\nits reception into their hearts and lives, marvellous have been the\ntransformations.  Where the devil-dance, and ghost-dance, and other\nabominations, performed to the accompaniment of the conjurer's rattle or\nthe monotonous drumming of the medicine man, once prevailed and held the\npeople in a degrading superstition, the house of prayer has now been\nerected, and the wilderness has become vocal with the sweet songs of\nZion.  Lives once impure and sinful have been transformed by the\nGospel's power, and a civilisation real and abiding, has come in to\nbless and to add to their comfort for this life, while they dwell in a\nsweet and blessed assurance of life eternal in the world to come.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER FIVE.\n\nGOD ON THE ROCK, OR HOW THE INDIANS ARE TAUGHT TO READ THE BOOK.\n\nThe British and Foreign Bible Society, the American Bible Society, and\nother kindred institutions that print and scatter the Word of God, have\nbeen, and are, of incalculable benefit to the missionaries.\n\nLong ago the Psalmist said: \"The entrance of thy words giveth light;\"\nand blessedly and gloriously is this truth being realised.\n\nNo matter where a missionary goes, he feels much hampered if he has not\nthe Book in the language of the people.  It is a matter of thankfulness,\nthat in these later years--thanks to these glorious Bible Societies--\nthere is hardly a land or nation where a missionary can go, but he will\nfind the Bible printed in the language or languages of that nation, and\noffered to the people at rates so reasonable, that the poorest of the\npoor may have it if they will.  But it was not always so, and we need\nnot go back to Wickliffe or Tyndal to read of difficulties in the way of\npresenting to the common people the Word of God in their own tongue.\nAll the great missionary societies in their earlier days had their\nCareys, and Morrisons, and Duffs, who struggled on, and persevered\nagainst oppositions and difficulties that to ordinary mortals would have\nbeen insurmountable, and would have filled them with despair.\n\nThe difficulties that John Eliot had to overcome ere he was able to give\nthe Bible to the Indians of New England, were numerous and exasperating;\nbut his indomitable will carried him through to ultimate success.  Sad\nindeed is it to think, that there is not a man, woman or child of them\nleft to read his Bible.  All the tribes for whom, at such a cost of\ntears and difficulties, he translated the Book, are gone.  The greed for\nland and the cruelties of the early settlers, were too much for the poor\nIndian.  From his different reservations where Eliot, Brainard, Mayhews,\nand other devoted friends tried to save him, he was driven back, back,\nwith such destruction and loss at each move, that ultimately he was\nsimply wiped out.  And so to-day, in the library of Harvard University\nand in a very few other places, there are to be found copies of Eliot's\nBible; sealed books, which no man can read; a sad evidence of \"Man's\ninhumanity to man.\"\n\nOne of the most signal triumphs in giving the Bible to a people in their\nown language, and printed in a way so simple as to be very easily\nacquired by them, is that of the translation and printing of the Book in\nthe syllable characters.  These syllabic characters were invented by the\nRev  James Evans, one of the early Methodist missionaries to the\nscattered tribes of Indians in what were then known as the Hudson Bay\nTerritories.  For some years Mr Evans had been employed as a missionary\namong the Indians who resided on different reservations in the Province\nof Ontario, then known as Upper Canada.  At the request of the parent\nWesleyan Missionary Society, and at the solicitation of the Hudson Bay\nFur-trading Company, Mr Evans, accompanied by some devoted brother\nmissionaries went into those remote northern regions to begin missionary\noperations.  Mr Evans and some of his companions travelled all the way\nfrom Montreal to Norway House, on the Nelson River, in a birch-bark\ncanoe.  A look at the map will give some idea of the length and\nhardships of such a journey in those days.  But they succeeded in\naccomplishing it; and with glad hearts began their blessed work of the\nevangelisation of the natives.\n\nMissionary methods must necessarily differ in different lands.  The\nmissionary to succeed must be a man who can adopt himself to his\nsurroundings; and he must be quick to see where success can be most\neasily attained.  Here was a people who were fishermen and hunters,\nliving far north of the agricultural regions.  As hunters, they were\never on the go, so that it was almost an impossibility to keep them long\nenough in one place to teach them to read in the ordinary way.  Over\nthese difficulties Mr Evans pondered and worked and, after any amount\nof experimenting and failure, succeeded in inventing and perfecting that\nis known as the syllabic characters.\n\nThese very simple characters each represent a syllable, so all the\ndifficulties of learning to spell are done away with.  In prosecuting\nhis work, Mr Evans had to labour under many disadvantages.  Living in a\nland so remote from civilisation, he had but little material on which to\nexperiment, and but few facilities to aid him.  From the fur-traders he\nbegged a few sheets of the lead that lines the interior of tea chests.\nThis he melted into suitable pieces, out of which he carved his first\ntype.  For paper he was obliged at first to use birch bark.  His ink was\nmanufactured out of the soot from his chimney and sturgeon oil.  Yet\nwith these rude appliances he succeeded in being able to print portions\nof the Scriptures and some hymns in the language of the Cree Indians.\nWhen the story of his marvellous invention reached England, generous\nfriends came to his assistance.  From some of his types, as models, a\ngenerous supply was cast; these, with a good hand printing press and all\nnecessary supplies of paper, ink, and other essentials, were shipped to\nhim by the Hudson Bay Company, to Norway House.  For years the work of\nprinting portions of the Word of God was there prosecuted, until at\nlength the British and Foreign Bible Society took up the work, and now,\nall the Bibles the people require are most cheerfully furnished them by\nthat most generous and glorious society.\n\nThe love of the Christian Indians for their Bible is very gratifying.\nSo great a comfort and solace is it to them in their solitary wigwams\nand lonely hunting-camps, that nothing will induce them to leave it out\nof their pack.  The trail may be rough and the journey of many days\nduration; food may have to be carried on their backs for days together\nso that every pound of weight has to be determined upon; days of hunger\nmust be faced ere the journey ends and abundance of game is reached, yet\nthe Great Book is ever carried as the most prized of all their\npossessions.  Such a thing as a Christian Indian throwing out his Bible,\nwhen in an emergency his load had to be lightened, I have never known.\nTheir work as hunters gives them a good deal of leisure time, which\nenables them to be diligent students of the Book.  When in the beginning\nof the winter, they go to the distant hunting grounds, the hunting lodge\nis erected, and the traps and snares and other appliances for capturing\nthe game are all arranged.  Then, especially in the capture of some\nkinds of game, they have to allow some days to pass ere they visit the\ntraps.  This is to allow all evidences of their presence to disappear,\nas some of the most valuable fur-bearing animals have a wonderful power\nof detecting the presence of man, and will not approach either his traps\nor trail, until some considerable time after the hunter had finished his\nwork and retired.  During these long waitings in their wigwams, or\nhunting lodges, the Indians have not much with which to interest\nthemselves; the result is, the Bible has come to them as a wonderful\nbenediction.  Its startling incidents and stories, become more prized\nthan the legends and myths that have come down to them from their\nforefathers, and have been repeated over and over in their hearing by\nthe old story-tellers of the tribe.  Then, when the revelation of God's\nlove in the gift of His Son has been proclaimed to, and received by\nthem--and here in this Book they can read it for themselves--they are\nfilled with grateful and adoring love, and the Book is indeed most\nprecious.\n\nAs I journeyed among these wonderful people, I carried as part of my\noutfit, a number of these syllabic Bibles, and no gift was more\nacceptable to those who had but lately renounced their paganism and\ngiven their hearts to God.  In some way or other they had acquired a\nknowledge of the syllables, so that the acquisition of a Bible that they\ncould call their own, was a treasure most prized and used.  Amongst\nthose, who until my visit had never seen a Bible or heard a missionary,\nthere were conflicting ideas regarding the Book.  Some, at first, were\nafraid of it.  It was \"great medicine,\" and only for the white man.  One\nold conjurer who boasted of his supernatural powers and of the wonderful\nthings he could do by the aid of his \"medicines,\" failing signally when\nI challenged him to show his power, declared, that it was because of the\nBook which I carried in my pocket.  Then, I permitted an Indian to take\nthe Book some distance away; and when he still failed, he protested that\nit was because I had so much of it in my head or heart.  Of course this\nfeeling of fear for the Book quickly left them as they became acquainted\nwith it.  When Christianity is accepted, there comes a great love for\nthe precious volume that has in it so much information of things about\nwhich they are in such ignorance, and that reveals the love of the Great\nSpirit for His Indian children.\n\nThe missionaries employed simple and primitive ways to teach the\nsyllabic characters to those who knew them not, but who were anxious to\nlearn.  Sometimes with a lead pencil on a piece of board or birch-bark,\nthe characters were drawn and slowly and carefully gone over, time and\ntime again, until they were completely mastered.  When pencils gave out,\nthe end of a burnt stick, or a piece of coal from the fire, had to serve\nas a substitute.\n\nOur illustration will show one of my methods used at Burntwood River far\nup in the Nelson River country.  I had the honour of being the first\nmissionary who ever reached the Indians of that section and preached to\nthem the Gospel.  They are a fine company of Indians, and I found, that\nwith the few exceptions of some old conjurers and medicine men and\npolygamists, the people were not only glad to see me, but anxious to\nhear and accept the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ.  I visited them\ntwice a year and began the work; but to my beloved first colleague, the\nRev  John Semmens, was given the work of establishing the mission.  On\nmy visits, which as usual were made with my dogs in winter and by canoe\nin summer, I had to gather the Indians for religious services as best I\ncould.  The large kitchen of the Hudson Bay Company's trading post was\nput at my disposal by the officer in charge, who was ever kindly\ndisposed toward the good work.  In this, as well as in the poor wigwams\nof the natives, we met, and sang, and prayed, and explained to them as\nwell as possible the plan of salvation--God's great love toward them.\n\nIn the short brilliant summer the work was very much more pleasant.\nThen, under the beautiful trees, or where the great rocks rose up around\nus and cast their welcome shadows, we could gather the people and talk\nof the loving Heavenly Father; not only of His Creative power, but of\nHis redeeming love in the gift of His beloved Son.\n\nIn my missionary experiences I have found, that the majority of men are\nsick of sin.  Down in the human heart there is a longing for something\nwhich is only really satisfied by the acceptance of the Lord Jesus\nChrist.  It is true that these inner feelings may be long hidden from\nouter vision, or there may be an endeavour to satisfy their cravings by\nthe vigorous exercise of all the religious ceremonies that have been\nrevealed to them in their idolatrous or pagan surroundings; but when\nthey can be induced to speak out and unburden their very souls, their\nbitter wailing cry is one of dissatisfaction and unrest.  Happy is the\nmissionary who can so win the confidence of a people thus dissatisfied,\nthat they will reveal to him their heart's burdens and longings.  His\nvictory is more than half assured.  Christ in His fulness, lovingly\npresented to such, and accepted by them, is soon in their hearts a\nsatisfying portion.\n\nThe missionary ever finds among all classes of pagan people that the\nBook is always considered a mysterious and wonderful volume.  Its\nmarvellous incidents ever attract.  They never tire of the services\nwhere it has a prominent place.  Sermons, even though hours in duration,\nif full of its truths, will be attentively listened to.\n\nOne day at one of these places where I was holding some extended\nservices, I said to the friendly Indians who were around me: \"Would you\nnot like to read this Book for yourselves?\"  A chorus of hearty\naffirmative answers, was the quick response.  It did not take us long to\norganise our school, for it was indeed a primitive affair.  I was\nfortunate in having a goodly number of syllabic Bibles, which, at a\ngreat deal of trouble, we had brought with us in our canoe.  We had\ncarried them across many a portage and had guarded them from injury in\nmany a storm.  Not one person in that audience except my boatmen, knew a\nletter or syllabic character.  We had no primary books, which are\nconsidered so essential in organising a school that has to begin at\nfirst principles; we had not even a slate, pencil, paper, or blackboard.\nHowever, \"necessity is the mother of invention,\" and it was so here.\n\nNear at hand was a huge rock that towered up like a house, one side of\nit being as smooth as a wall.  This constituted an admirable substitute\nfor a blackboard.  Burnt sticks from the camp-fire, where our fish and\nbear's meat had been cooked, were used as substitutes for chalk.  (Our\nsmaller illustration shows thirty-six syllabic characters with their\nnames.)\n\nAfter a few words of explanation the work of memorising the characters\nbegan.\n\nA, E, Oo, Ah.  It was just like a lot of little children in a primary\nschool beginning with A, B, C.  Over, and over again, we repeated them,\none after the other, until my mixed audience became familiarised with\nthe sounds.  Thus we studied them for hours.  At first the interest in\nthe work was very great, and from the old men of eighty, to the boys and\ngirls of six or eight the best of attention was paid.  They seemed to\nvie with one another in their efforts to see which could master them\nmost quickly.\n\nAfter a time the interest flagged considerably, especially among the\nolder men, as to them, these characters alone, were as yet, unmeaning\nsounds.  Some of them got up and lit their pipes, and moving around,\ndivided their time between the lesson and the smoking.  Of course I had\nto let them smoke.  I might have found it a difficult matter to have\nstopped them if I had been so foolish as to have tried.  So I told them\nsome pleasant stories, as we toiled on at our lesson, it was not many\nhours before a number of my undisciplined pupils had a fairly good idea\nof the names of the characters.  Knowing that I could arouse the\ninterest of the most apathetic among them when I began to combine the\ncharacters into words, I asked for their earnest attention while I\nproceeded in my work.\n\nI marked out some simple words such as: (pa-pa,) (ma-ma,)\n(Oo-me-me,)--(English: pigeon.)  I showed them how thus to combine these\nsigns into words.  This very much interested them; but the climax came,\nwhen with the burnt stick I marked (Maneto,--English: God, or the Great\nSpirit.)  Great indeed was the excitement among them.  They could hardly\nbelieve their own eyes that before them was Maneto, the Great Spirit.\nHe whom they had heard in the thunder and the storm, whose power they\nhad seen in the lightning flash, about whom, with reverence and awe,\nthey had talked in their wigwams, and at their camp-fires--\"Maneto!\"\nHere, made by a burnt stick on a rock visible to their eyes, was that\nname: _God on the Rock_!  It was indeed a revelation.  Something that\nfilled, and thrilled them, as I have never before or since seen Indians\nthrilled.\n\nFor a time I could only keep quiet and look on, and rejoice as I studied\nthem.  Some of them in their amazement were doubtful of their own\nsenses.  They acted as though they could not believe their own eyes; so\nthey appealed to those nearest to them, and said:\n\n\"Is it Maneto to you?\"\n\nOthers were noticed rubbing their eyes, as though they feared that by\nsome witchery bad medicine had been thrown in them, and, in their Indian\nphraseology, they were \"seeing double.\"\n\nThere was no more inattention.  Every pipe went out, and every eye\nfollowed me, as in these syllables I wrote on the rock, God is Love.\nAfter talking about this a little.  I then wrote, God Loves You.  This\nwe followed with other short sentences full of blessed Gospel truths.\nThus passed some hours in this delightful way, and before they were\nended, numbers of my pupils had become quite familiarised with the\nformation of words out of these characters.\n\nThen we opened our bundle of Bibles, and, passing them around as far as\nthey would go, I had them all turn to the first verse of the first\nchapter of Genesis.  After some explanation of a few additional signs\nwhich they there saw upon the printed page, and which give some\nvariation to the sound of the syllabic character to which they are\nattached, we began the study of the verse.  Of course our progress at\nfirst was slow.  It could not be otherwise under such circumstances.\nBut we patiently persevered, and it was not very long ere they were able\nto read in their own language: \"Ma-wache Nistum Kaesamaneto Keoosetou\nKesik Mesa Askee, (In the beginning God created the heaven and the\nearth.\")\n\nWhen they had acquired the ability to read this verse for themselves,\nand had grasped a little of its meaning, there was another outburst of\ndelight.  That first verse of Genesis is very suggestive and full of\nmeaning to any one, no matter how learned, who strives to investigate\nit.  It is in itself the first chapter of God's revelation of Himself to\nman, and has long occupied the attention and study of the most godly and\nprofound.  Here, for the first time, it was being read by a company of\npoor Indians just emerging from paganism.  But they were sharp and keen,\nand able to grasp a new truth; and so when the verse first opened before\nthem with its wondrous meaning, great was their delight and amazement.\n\n\"Now we know all about it!\" some of them shouted.  \"The Kaesa-Maneto,\n(the great God,) made all these things, the heaven and the earth.\"\n\nOthers said:\n\n\"Our fathers talked about it in their wigwams, and wondered how all\nthese things came as they are; but they had to confess that they were in\ndarkness, and knew nothing.  But now we know it!  We know it!\"\n\nOver and over again they read the verse until they had thoroughly\ncommitted it to memory.  And in after days, at many a campfire and in\nmany a hunting lodge, it was repeated to others who had not heard it,\nbut who, on hearing it, were also filled with gratification and delight\nat the answer which it gave to what had long been a subject of\nperplexity and awe.\n\nDay after day before that rock the study of other verses followed.\nSlowly of course at first, but gradually increasing as they became more\nand more acquainted with the syllabics.  Thus these eager interested\nIndians, studied amidst these primitive surroundings, and applied\nthemselves with such earnestness to their work, that although they had\nnever been to school a day in their lives, some of them, in ten days or\ntwo weeks were able to read with fluency the Word of God in their own\nlanguage.  No wonder the great Lord Dufferin, then Governor General of\nthe Dominion of Canada, said to me:\n\nThe man who invented that syllabic alphabet, was one of the great\nbenefactors of humanity, and more richly deserved a pension, a title,\nand a resting place in Westminster Abbey, than many who were there\nburied.\n\nFor some years, at several of the missions, the Christian Indians were\nonly taught a knowledge of these syllabic characters, and were thus only\nable to read the books which were printed with them.  Now, however, in\nall the schools, the English language is taught also, and our common\nalphabet is in general use.  The result is, that many of the younger\ngeneration understand, talk, and read in English.  English Bibles are\nbeing circulated among them, and many of the younger people already\nprefer the English Bible to the Indian translation.  Still, all the\nolder people only understand the syllabic characters; and so for years\nto come, this wonderful invention will still be utilised, and will\ncontinue to be a benediction.  Hymn-books, catechisms, the Pilgrim's\nProgress, and a few other books of a religious character, have been\nprinted in the syllables, and are much prized and well used, by their\nIndian readers.\n\nAll the churches that are currying on missionary work in those vast\nnorthern regions have availed themselves of Mr Evans' invention.  Among\nother tribes than the Cree, where there are different sounds in their\nlanguage, some few extra characters have been added.  Even in Labrador\nand Greenland the devoted Moravian missionaries who are there toiling,\nare successfully using the syllabic characters to teach the poor\nwandering Esquimaux how to read, in his own uncouth Language, the Word\nof God.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER SIX.\n\nTHE STORY OF SANDY HARTE.\n\nAmong all of my appointments, the one which perhaps afforded me the\ngreatest pleasure and satisfaction, was that of Nelson River.  At Oxford\nhouse we had a larger number of converted Indians; but that mission had\nbeen long organised, and devout and earnest men, like Reverend Messrs\nBrooking, and Stringfellow, had given to it years of honest self-denying\ntoil.  Nelson River, on the other hand, was a new and untried field,\nwhere it was my privilege and joy to go as the first missionary.\n\nOf the many grand converts there happily rescued from the darkness and\npower of paganism, there is one beautiful character who is now the right\nhand of the resident missionary.  His name is Sandy Harte.  My\nintroduction to him was a peculiar one.  The day was one of rare beauty,\nand I had spent the forenoon in teaching a number of adults and Indian\nchildren how to read the Word of God printed in the syllabic characters.\nDuring the noon hour of rest I entered the birch bark wigwam of one of\nthe principal Indians, and was naturally surprised to observe a fine\nlooking Indian lad stretched out on a bed of rabbit robes and blankets\nwhile the other boys were engaged in various sports.  Addressing him, I\nsaid:\n\n\"Why are you lying here this beautiful day?\"\n\nWith a sudden movement he jerked away the upper robe that was over him,\nand, pointing to his shattered thigh, said in tones full of bitterness:\n\n\"Missionary, that is the reason why I am here, instead of being out in\nthe sunshine with the other boys.\"\n\nThe despairing tone, the emphatic utterance, at once aroused my\nsympathies and caused me to be deeply interested in this wounded boy, so\nhelpless, not knowing the hour when, according to the prevailing custom,\nhe might be put to death.  The heartless reasoning of these Indians in\nsuch cases was like this: he will always be lame and helpless; why\nshould he be a burden on his friends? let us kill him at once; it will\nbe better for him and them.  However, they had postponed the killing of\nthis lad because he was the son of the chief.\n\nAfter I had examined his wound and had given some directions as to its\ntreatment, I sat down beside him and heard from his lips the sad story\nof the misfortune which had crippled him for life.  It seems, that he\nand another boy were out shooting partridges and rabbits.  While moving\nthrough the forest, Sandy walking ahead, the gun of his comrade\naccidentally went off and poured its contents into his leg.  The bone\nwas badly splintered, and the muscles so cut and torn, that there was\nabsolutely no possibility of his ever being able to walk on it again.\n\nAfter I had had quite a chat with him, I asked if he would like to be\nable to read the Word of God.  His bright eyes shone with pleasure, and\nhis response was so expressive of eager longing, that I at once began\nthe first lesson.  Sitting beside him on the ground, I drew the syllabic\ncharacters and spent an hour or so in teaching them to him.  He had a\nvery retentive memory, and was intensely anxious to learn as rapidly as\npossible.  So, every day, when I had finished giving lessons to the\ncrowd of young and old people, I used to hurry over to the wigwam where\nhe lay to give him additional instruction; and so deeply interested was\nhe, that I felt well repaid for my trouble.\n\nAs I was hundreds of miles from home--having come on that long trail\nwith a couple of Indians in a birch canoe--and had a number of other\npoints at which I wished to stop and do missionary work, I was obliged\nto bring my visit at this place to an end after a couple of weeks.  But\nbefore leaving, I had an informal conversation with Murdo, Oowikapun,\nand some other of the friendly Indians.\n\n\"What a pity it is,\" I exclaimed, \"that Sandy could not be educated!  If\nonly he could be educated enough to be your teacher, what a good thing\nit would be!  For, next to a missionary to live permanently among you, a\ngodly teacher would be the best thing you could have.  He will never\nagain have the full use of his leg, so will not be able to become a\ngreat hunter; but if he had an education, he might be a blessing to you\nall!\"\n\nThen I bade farewell to these northern Indians who had received me so\nkindly, and with some parting words, especially urging that the wounded\nboy should be kindly cared for, I resumed my adventurous journey.\n\nAs we journeyed on from place to place we had plenty of strange\nadventures.  We shot a fine black bear, and, at our first meal after our\nbattle with him, enjoyed picking his ribs.  In his capture, I was very\nmuch interested in watching how human experience was able to overmatch\nanimal instinct.  We had a very narrow escape in some wild and\ntreacherous rapids, where we lost part of the contents of our canoe and\nwere all nearly drowned ere we succeeded in reaching the shore.  This\nloss was the more keenly felt, as in such an isolated place it is\nutterly impossible to replenish your store.  However, after several such\nmishaps, we succeeded in carrying out our programme; and at length\nreached home in safety.\n\nThe long winter, with its seven or eight months of bitter cold, set in\nshortly after.  For a few weeks I was kept busy with home matters and\nthe affairs of the local mission appointment.  As soon, however, as the\ngreat lakes and rivers were well frozen over and a sufficient fall of\nsnow made it possible to begin my winter journeys, I harnessed my dogs,\nand with my guide and dog-drivers, responded, as far as possible, to the\nmany calls to tell the Story of the Great Book.\n\nSo many were the Macedonian calls from other places that winter, that I\ndid not make a trip to Nelson River.  This I regretted exceedingly, for\nalthough it was the most distant, it was one of the most promising and\nencouraging of all the new fields to which I had gone.\n\nAbout the middle of the following summer, while enjoying the glories of\na magnificent sunset, I saw a canoe with some Indians in it coming\ntoward our home.  When they had landed, two of them at once came up to\nme, greeted me most cordially, and before I could fully return their\ngreetings, or recall where I had before seen them, exclaimed:\n\n\"We remember your good words to us--and we have brought Sandy along.\"\n\n\"Sandy along!  Who is Sandy?\"  I asked.\n\n\"Why, Sandy Harte--you remember him--the boy who was shot in the leg--\nthe one you used to go and teach; we have brought him along, for we\nremember your words, so sweet to us, about him.\"\n\n\"What were my words?\"  I asked, for I could not at that moment recall\nthem.\n\n\"Why, your words were: What a pity it is that Sandy is not educated!  If\nhe were educated, he might be such a blessing to you all.  We have not\nforgotten it.  We have often talked about it.  What you said to us and\ntaught us from the Great Book was so good, we are hungry for more.  We\nare willing to be taught.  You cannot come all the time.  We want some\none to be with us who knows something; so we have brought Sandy all the\nway in the canoe to be taught by you; and then, to come back to us, that\nwe may learn of him.\"\n\nThere was no mistake about it.  There was Sandy in the middle of the\ncanoe looking up at me with those brilliant black eyes that had so\nattracted me in that wigwam far away.\n\nI went down to the canoe, spoke kindly to the lad, shook his hand, and\ninvited all the Indians into my house.\n\nAfter introducing them to my good wife, I told her Sandy's story; and\nhow they had remembered my words of a year ago, and had brought him on\nthis long journey to place him in our care: utterly unable themselves to\ndo anything for his support, I confess, that for the moment, I regretted\nhaving been so quick in uttering words which had been so construed, by\nthese Indians and which had thrown upon our care this wild wounded\nIndian boy.\n\nIt was the time of the first Riel Rebellion in Manitoba, and although we\nwere living far north of the actual scene of rebellion, yet our supplies\nhad in so great a measure been cut off, that we were existing on very\nscant rations.  Often we averaged no more than two meals a day, and\nfrequently, when eating breakfast, we did not know from what quarter our\ndinner was to come.  And now while on the verge of starvation, came this\nextraordinary addition to our family, which meant another mouth to feed,\nand another body to clothe.  In our abounding poverty, here indeed was a\ntrial of faith!\n\nAfter talking the matter over with my brave large-hearted wife, and\nasking divine direction, the noble woman said:\n\n\"The Lord is in it, and He who has sent the mouth to be filled will\nsurely send all our additional requirements.\"\n\nSo we cheerfully received Sandy into our home and made him as one of our\nfamily.  He was in a deplorable condition in more ways than one.  Coming\nfrom a wild band of Indians who were in complete ignorance of\ncleanliness and of the habits and requirements of the whites, this poor\nwounded Indian boy had many things to learn; and at first, on account of\nhis ignorance and prejudices, we had many opportunities for the exercise\nof patience and forbearance.\n\nHOW SANDY WAS CONQUERED.\n\nLike nearly all of the pagan Indians, Sandy had prejudices against\nwomen, and it was hard at first to get him to pay any attention to what\nthe missionary's wife said.  He thought it humiliating and degrading to\nobey, or even to pay any attention to a woman's request.  Yet we both\ntreated him with the greatest kindness, and hoped and prayed, that time\nand the grace of God would work the changes needed for him.\n\nHe was a bright scholar and made rapid progress in his studies, and in a\nfew months was able to read in his own language.  For a time, the\nnovelty of his new surroundings kept him interested, and he seemed quite\nat home.  He made many friends among our Christian Indians, who, on\nlearning of the peculiar way in which he had been thrown upon our hands,\nbecame much interested in him.  He went to Sunday school, and also\nattended the various services in the church; but for a long time it\nseemed as though it was only in the spirit of mere idle curiosity, or\nbecause others did so.\n\nWhen the first long winter after his arrival had ended, and the\nspringtime had come again, Sandy became very homesick and longed to go\nback to his far-off wigwam abode.  The sight of rippling waters and\nrunning streams was too much for his wild untamed spirit, and he chafed\nunder the discipline of a civilised home, and became dejected and\nmiserable.  We all noticed his restlessness; but talked kindly to him,\nand urged him to apply himself to his lessons, that he might the sooner\nbe able to return to his wild free life in his distant home.  But\nIndian-like, the more we said to him, the worse he seemed to become,\nuntil he made it very uncomfortable for us all.\n\nOne day instead of going to school, he hobbled away on his crutches to a\npicturesque point of land which jutted far out into the lake.  In the\nevening, the teacher came to the mission house and inquired why Sandy\nhad not been at school that day.  This of course was news to us.  We\nwere at once much alarmed, and immediately began searching for the\nabsentee.  After about an hour's search, in which quite a number of\nIndians took part, Sandy was found curled up among the rocks on the\npoint, crying bitterly for his Nelson River home.\n\nHaving exhausted all my persuasive powers, I saw that I must change my\nstyle of dealing with him.  So, appearing to be very indignant, I picked\nup a large stick, and, rushing at him, sternly ordered him to get up and\nreturn to our house as quickly as possible.  With a frightened glance\ninto my face to see how much I meant, he sprang up and hurried back to\nthe mission house, I gave him a severe reprimanding, asking him, among\nother things if he thought such conduct on his part was a fair return\nfor all our kindness to him.  Then I said to him sharply:\n\n\"Go up to your room and bring down all your torn and soiled clothes and\nmoccasins.\"\n\nWith a sad look he obeyed, and soon returned with his bundle.  After\nlooking over the lot, I took them away from him; and, calling in an\nIndian woman, gave her some soap and sewing material, and told her to\ntake all of those things, wash and mend them nicely, bring them back to\nme, and I would pay her for her trouble.  When he saw his clothes going\naway, he was in great perplexity and distress as he was not at all sure\nthat they would be returned to him.  The fact was, he had a good deal of\nvanity about him in those days, and I made the discovery that he had\nbecome very proud of the clothes we had given him in place of the\nwretched ones in which he had been brought to us.  So, the threatened\nloss of all he had except what he wore, was to him a dire calamity, I\nlet him grieve for some hours, saying but little to him, resolved to put\na stop to his nonsense which was only making himself and others\nmiserable.\n\nWhen the bundle of clean clothing returned, I added to it new pants,\nshirts, moccasins, a bright handkerchief, and a hat; then, in the\nkindest way possible, with loving words.  I gave him the whole bundle.\nPoor boy! he was bewildered and amazed.  He could not speak his thanks;\nbut his glistening tear dimmed eyes told us that he was cured and\nconquered.  Never did the stern lesson have to be repeated.\n\nBut he was greatly perplexed.  It was such different treatment from that\nto which he had been accustomed.  This combination of sternness and\nkindness, was to him such a mystery, that he evidently could not stop\nthinking and wondering about it.  So, one day when he had nothing to do,\nhe went over to have a talk on the subject with one of the Indians who\nwas a sensible Christian man and a great friend of his.\n\n\"I cannot make out our missionary,\" said Sandy.  \"When he came after me\nto the point where I had hid, he seemed very angry, and took up a big\nstick as if to strike me.  Indeed, he nearly frightened the life out of\nme although he did not once hit me.  Then, after ordering me back to the\nhouse in such a hurry, he made me bring out all my clothes, and gave\nthem to a woman to carry away.  Of course I never expected to see them\nagain: but I did--they came back clean and mended, and he had added a\nlot more to them.  I cannot understand it.  The missionary at first\nseemed as though he would thrash me, then he turned round and gave me\nall these good things.\"\n\nFrom the Christian Indian to whom Sandy had gone, we afterward learned\nall about this interview.  He said he let the lad tell him of his\nperplexities, and then gave him a long faithful talk.  Here is the\nsubstance of his reply to Sandy.\n\n\"The missionary and his kind wife have come here to do us good.  They\nhave left their friends far away.  They were many days on their journey\nto this land, and have suffered many hardships.  When your friends\nbrought you here, they took you into their home and treated you, not as\na servant, but as one of their own family.  There is not an Indian in\nthe village but would be glad to change places with you, and to be\ntreated as you have been.  If they have food, they share it equally with\nyou.  You have had medicine and bandages for your sore leg.  You are\nwell dressed.  They have been like parents to you.  Yet you have not\nbeen grateful.  You acted very foolishly.  You ran away from school and\nhid yourself.  You made their hearts alarmed for fear some serious\naccident had happened to you.  The worst is, you do not obey Ookemasquao\n(the missionary's wife,) as you ought.  White ladies are to be as much\nobeyed and respected as men.  Yet in spite of all your foolishness and\nstubbornness, they have been very patient with you.  They kept hoping,\nthat as you grew older you would grow wiser; but you have been getting\nso much worse lately, that the missionary has had to deal sternly with\nyou.  He, however, felt sorry for you; his heart was kind toward you all\nthe time; and so, when you went back, he showed his love to you by his\npresents.  We all see, that the missionary and his wife have nothing in\ntheir hearts toward you but love.  But you must be obedient, and you\nought to be thankful.  They are praying much for you, and hoping that\nyou will yet become a good Christian, and at some future time, be a\ngreat blessing to your own people.\"\n\nThus this sensible Christian Indian talked to Sandy, and it was to him a\nrevelation.  From that day there was a decided change in him for the\nbetter.  He became obedient and studious, and was ever anxious to do\nwhat he could in return for the kindnesses shown to him.  He was a\ncapital shot, and he and I had some fine bunting and fishing excursions\ntogether.  As his lameness interfered with successful hunting on land,\nbut not with his dexterity in handling the paddle, I purchased for him a\nlight canoe in which he made many short excursions.\n\nLike all Indian boys, he was very clever with the bow and arrow.  I\nremember an exhibition, of his quickness and skill that almost amazed\nme.  I had taken him with me on a shooting excursion to a place which\nwas called the Old Fort.  It was so named from the fact, that many years\nbefore, the Hudson Bay Company had a trading post there for traffic with\nthe Indians.  It had been abandoned for many years, but in its vicinity\nwere some capital hunting grounds.  This spot to which Sandy and I had\ngone for ducks, was about twenty miles from our home.  We had paddled\nthat distance in our canoe, and were quite successful in replenishing\nour larder.  While carefully paddling along, we saw a fine large mallard\nduck swimming quite a distance ahead.  When we thought we were within\nrange, Sandy, who was in the bow of the canoe, carefully raised his gun\nand fired.  Whether it was owing to the movement of the canoe or not I\ncannot say; but he missed the duck.  Quick as a flash he threw down his\ngun, and, catching up his bow and arrow, fired at the duck which of\ncourse had instantly risen, and was flying away directly in front of us.\nImagine my surprise and delight, to see the arrow wing its way so\nunerringly, that it pierced the duck, and brought it suddenly down into\nthe river.\n\nThus Sandy not only became a wiser and a better boy, but at times he was\nquite helpful in his way, and returned from some hunting excursions with\nquite a variety of small game which added considerably to our household\nbill of fare.  We praised him for his skill and industry and very\nquickly discovered, that kind loving words were the highest reward which\ncould be given him.  Poor boy! he had had but few of them in paganism;\nand now from us, whom he had learned to respect and love, they were as\nwater to a thirsty soul.\n\nSANDY'S CONVERSION.\n\nAbout a year after this unpleasantness with Sandy, a very gracious\nrevival began among our Indians, extending far and wide.  It was the\nfruit of years of teaching and preaching by numbers of devoted\nmissionaries, and of much personal effort to bring the people to a\ndecision for Christianity.  I had observed with great joy, that the\nprayer-meetings and other social religious services, were largely\nincreased by the attendance of Indians who had been under religious\ninfluences for a long time, but had not yet fully given themselves to\nChrist.  Even among the pagan Indians there was less opposition to\nChristianity, and a greater willingness to hear the Word than ever\nbefore.  At times this spirit showed itself in a way that to most people\nwould have seemed to savour much of selfishness.  For example, one day,\nvery early in the morning, the chief came rushing into our mission\nhouse, and gave utterance to this extraordinary statement:\n\n\"Missionary, there are a lot of pagan Indians at the Fort.  They are the\nones you were talking to about becoming Christians.  I have just come\nfrom visiting them, and have been urging them to give up their old way;\nthey said to me, `Tell your missionary, if he will give us one good\nsquare meal of potatoes, we will come and hear him preach three times!'\"\n\nDoubtless many will smile at this quaint offer--this queer exchange of\ncommodities; yet we who were on the ground, and remembered the haughty\nstubborness of those same Indians only a short time before, were glad to\nhear thus from them.  We promptly accepted the challenge and furnished\nthe potatoes.  What appetites they had!  But they carried out their\nshare of the contract, and listened attentively--and smoked--during the\nthree services.  They were always friendly afterward; and, in subsequent\nyears, a number of them became sincere Christians.  It pays to get the\ntruth into the heart, even if we have to begin by filling the stomach\nwith potatoes!\n\nSo anxious had Sandy become to win our approval, that we knew he was\nwilling and courageous enough to take any stand we suggested.  But we\nwere so very anxious that his decision for Christ should be built on a\ndeeper, firmer foundation than a mere desire to please us, that, in\ntalking with him, we used no special personal persuasion to bring him to\na decision for the Lord Jesus.  It was evident to us by his life that\nthe Good Spirit was graciously working upon his heart, and that he was\nunder deep religious conviction.\n\nAnd soon the blessed hour came.  One afternoon, while I was urging upon\nthe large audience who had assembled in the church the privilege and\nnecessity of immediate decision for Christ, Sandy, with others, sprang\nup from his seat near the door and came forward for prayer.  His first\naudible petition still rings in my ear as though uttered but yesterday:\n\n\"O Tapa-yechekayan Kiss-awa-totawenan!\"  (Oh Lord, have mercy upon me!)\n\nI knelt beside him and pointed him to the dear Saviour--the sinners\nFriend.  I quoted the sweet promises of the blessed Book, and assured\nhim they were for him.  He wept, and was deeply anxious for the\nassurance that even, he had a personal interest in the crucified One.\nEarnest prayers were offered for him and others, who, like him, were\nseeking the Pearl of great price.  We talked to him of the love of God\nas revealed in Jesus.  We tried to explain to him the way of faith--the\nsimple plan of salvation.  That best of all Teachers, that infallible\nGuide, the Holy Spirit, applied the truth to his heart; and our dear\nSandy saw the way, and believed unreservedly in the Lord Jesus.  He was\na sweet singer, and had often joined with us in our songs of devotion at\nour family altar; but now as never before he sang in his own musical\nlanguage the translation of the verse \"My God is reconciled,\" etcetera.\n\n  \"Ma' to noo-too-ta-min\n  Ne-pa-tan a-e-sit,\n  Ak-wa a-wa-ko-mit\n  Na-ma-ne-say-ke-sin,\n  Wa-na-tuk-ne-pa-hi-to-tan\n  Abba No-ta a-e-tae-yan.\"\n\nNeed we add that our Indian boy, so strangely thrown on our care, was\ndoubly dear and precious to as from that hour!  We had had our long\nmonths of trouble and anxiety about him, and friends, both white and\nIndian, had thought, and had told us, that what we were doing for him\nwas, \"love's labour lost.\"  How thankful we were at this glad hour of\nhis clear and beautiful conversion, that we had persevered?  We never\ncould help feeling that his coming to us was from God, and in spite of\nall the discouragements, we had not dared to give up our charge.  We had\naccepted it as a trust although it became a trial of patience; yet when\nthe clouds cleaved away, we had our exceeding great reward.\n\nFrom that day, his presence in our humble mission home was a\nbenediction.  He became a very devout and reverent student of the Word\nof God; and as its blessed truths opened up before him, he had many\nquestions to ask, so that we had many loving talks about the holy Book.\nOften his heart overflowed with gratitude and thanksgiving to God, and\nhe would exclaim--\n\n\"O missionary, these words are very sweet to my heart!\"\n\nTo spend hours on his knees with his open Bible before him, was no\nuncommon thing for Sandy.  And when he came down from his upper room\nwith his face radiant, he would sometimes exclaim:\n\n\"Oh, how blind and stupid I was!  I used to think that the white man's\nreligion was just like the Indian's, only performed in another way, but\nnow I know--yes I know it is different: oh so different!  For do I not\nfeel it in my heart, that God is my Father, and His Son is my Saviour,\nmy Elder Brother!  Oh yes, I know!  I know!\"\n\nThen he would burst into song, asking us to join with him, which we\noften did gladly; and heaven seemed nearer while we sang.\n\nThus, he lived with us as a son in our home.  He studied hard, and grew\nphysically and spiritually.  His faith never wavered, and his simple\ntrust never gave way to doubt.  He was a benediction in the schoolroom,\nand the transformation of a number of wild Indian lads into loving,\ndocile pupils, was the result of his kindly influence over them.\n\nThe long cold winter came and passed away.  During it I travelled some\nthousands of miles on my dog-sleds, or tramped through, the deep snow,\nday after day, on my snow shoes.  Among other places, I visited Nelson\nRiver, and had the great pleasure of taking down some little gifts from\nSandy to his relatives.\n\nThe following summer, I again visited his people and had the joy of\ntelling them, that he was well and was making rapid progress in his\nstudies.  Great was their rejoicings at this good news.\n\nOn these trips we had our usual amount of hardships and dangers, and met\nwith some peculiar adventures.  One that very much interested us all,\nand for a time much excited me, was our discovery of a bear fishing, and\nour capture of his supplies.  He was a fine large black fellow, and had\nseated himself on a rock near the shore.  Between this rock and the\nshore rushed a little portion of the great river, in which quite a shoal\nof white fish seemed to have been spawning.  The sharp eyes of the bear\nhaving detected them, he had resolved to capture a number of them for\nhis supper.  His hand-like paw was all the fishing tackle he needed.  He\nvery skilfully thrust it low down into the water under the passing fish,\nand with a sudden movement sent the finny beauty flying through the air,\nand out upon the not very distant shore.  When our canoe appeared around\na bend in the river, his fine sense of hearing detected our approach.\nAt first, he seemed to show fight, and acted as though he would defend\nhis fish; but a bullet caused him to change his mind about fighting, and\nhe fled into the forest leaving us to enjoy his splendid fish.  Good\nfish indeed they were, and quite sufficient for our evening and morning\nmeals, in spite of the good appetites which such a glorious out-of-door\nlife had given us.\n\nSANDY, A BENEDICTION.\n\nThe next summer after Sandy's conversion, my good wife and I noticed,\nthat for several days he was restless and excited, and, to use an Indian\nphrase, there was something on his mind.  We kindly questioned him as to\nthe cause of his unrest and mental disquietude, and drew from him, that\nit was solely on account of a visit that was soon to be paid him by\nquite a number of the trip men of his own Nelson River people.  His\nanxiety was, that at this the first meeting with his own people since he\nhad become a Christian, the talk which he was going to give them on the\nsubject of the good Book and his acceptance of Christianity, might be\nmade a great blessing to them.\n\nSo many and so valuable were the furs obtained in those days in the\nNelson River district, that often two brigades of boats were necessary\nto bring up the catch of the previous winter.  If the missionaries have\nbeen preaching the Gospel at the different posts where these brigades\nare made up, in all probability, part of the people have accepted\nChristianity, while others still walk in their own ways.  On their\ntrips, the Christians naturally travel together, while the pagans,\nselecting one of their own party as their leader, form a separate\nbrigade.\n\nIt was known, that the first brigade coming consisted principally of\nthose who had as yet refused to renounce their pagan ways.  Among them\nwere some of Sandy's own relatives, and he was intensely anxious, that\nthey should no longer continue in their opposition to Christianity, and\nwhen appealed to on the subject, shrug their shoulders and say:\n\n\"As our fathers lived and died, so will we.\"\n\nSo we found out that the cause of Sandy's restlessness was his great\nanxiety to help these, his friends, to know the Christ.\n\nWith glad hearts we cheerfully promised to aid him all we could.  Still\nhe lingered, and it was evident that something else was on his mind,\nalthough he had very warmly expressed his gratitude for our promise of\nassistance.  We encouraged him to tell us what was still on his heart,\nso that if possible we might help him.  Cheered by our words he said:\n\n\"Oh!  I know you will help me to tell them of Jesus and His love; but\nyou know that most of these boatmen are not yet Christians, and they are\nso blind and stupid.  They are just like I was in my ignorance of this\nreligion--of the Bible; and my trouble and fear is that when I begin to\ntalk to them of this blessed way, they will get up and leave before I\nhave had time to say all that there is in my heart.  I am afraid we\ncannot keep them together unless--unless--\"\n\n\"Unless what?\"  I said as he stopped.\n\nThe dear fellow looked up in our faces, and, seeing nothing but\nencouragement there, mustered up courage to say this that was in his\nheart:\n\n\"Unless we give them something to eat.\"\n\nWe had been long enough among the Indians to know that the boy was\nright; for often, to win the poor ignorant creatures and bring them\nwithin sound of the Gospel, had we given them even the food from our own\ntable, until we ourselves knew what genuine hunger was.  Then we could\nbetter understand, how difficult it was for poor hungry listeners to\ngive undivided attention to spiritual exhortations on an empty stomach.\n\n\"Of course you shall have a dinner for them, Sandy,\" said my brave wife,\n\"and we will do the best we can afford for you and your people.\"\n\nHis cup of happiness seemed full, as he heard this answer, and as we saw\nthe clouds flitting away, I said:\n\n\"Is this what has been troubling you for days?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he replied, \"what right have I to ask such a favour from you who\nhave been so kind to me?  You let me come into your house when I was\nwounded, and dark, and wicked; clothed me, and have even treated me as\nthough I had been your son; and best of all, you have led me up into\nthis great joy of knowing that I am a child of God.\"\n\nHere his eyes filled and he was overcome by deep emotion.  Much moved,\nwe waited silently until he had controlled himself, when he continued:\n\n\"You know how every day we have together prayed for my people; and when\nalone before God I pray for them; they are always in my heart and\nprayers; and now that I am to have the chance of speaking to them, I do\nwant it to succeed.  You know, that the poor pagan Indian seems better\nable, or more willing, somehow, to listen after he has had something to\neat.\"\n\nSo it was settled to Sandy's great delight, that when his friends\narrived from Nelson River they were to be invited to the mission house\nfor dinner.\n\nIt was a beautiful day when they came.  A long table had been made and\nput up on the grassy lawn in front of the house, and a good substantial\nmeal had been prepared.  Fortunately, our supply boat had arrived from\nRed River, and some Indian hunters had brought in abundance of game, so\nthat we had enough and to spare, even for a crowd of Indians.\n\nSandy was full of bliss.  To watch him, and to observe how interested\nhis people were in him, gave us great delight.\n\nHe seated his Indian friends to suit his own mind, for his thoughts were\nmore on the after service than on the substantial meal before them.\nWhen all were in their assigned places, he said:\n\n\"Now, wait a minute.  From the Great Spirit we receive all our\nblessings; so shut your eyes while I thank Him and ask His blessing upon\nus.\"\n\nThey obeyed readily: for was he not the son of a chief, and taught of\nthe missionary?  They did not know what \"Amen\" meant, so, after Sandy\nhad said it, still kept their eyes shut, and had to be told to open them\nand begin at their dinners.\n\nThey had a good time together.  There was nothing rude or awkward in any\nof their actions, and a stranger looking on, would never have imagined\nthat the majority of these polite, courteous, yet picturesquely garbed\nbronzed stalwart men, had never before sat at a table or eaten with\nforks.  These latter are considered superfluous in the Indian country.\nGive an Indian a good knife and a horn or wooden spoon--and what cares\nhe for a fork?  His only concern is in reference to the supply of food.\nBut on this occasion we had placed forks at each place, and after those\nwho had never seen them before had observed how one familiar with them\nused his, they all quickly imitated him and did exceedingly well.\n\nWhat appetites they had!  It was a pleasure to see how they enjoyed\ntheir dinner--especially as we knew that we had enough for all.\n\nSANDY, A MISSIONARY.\n\nWhen dinner was ended, and they were about to rise from the table, a few\nwords from Sandy caused them all to remain quietly seated.  Now we\nperceived, why he had arranged them at the table as he did.  Every one\nwas so seated that he could easily see, as well as hear.  It was evident\nthat they were all very much interested, and full of curiosity to hear\nthe message he had for them.\n\nThey were doubtless well aware, that such a feast as had been prepared\nfor them meant a talk at the close; but none of them ever dreamed that\nSandy--\"their Sandy\"--was to be the principal speaker.  When at the\nclose he so naturally and ably took control, they were at first amazed,\nand then delighted, that one of their own people--and a young man at\nthat--was not only able to do such a thing, but was encouraged in the\nundertaking by the missionary and his wife.\n\nFearing that our presence might embarrass Sandy, my wife and I moved our\nchairs back a little behind him, but still near enough to hear all that\nwas said.  We were intensely interested in the proceedings, and lifted\nup our hearts to God that divine help and guidance might be given to the\none whom we now loved to call \"our Sandy.\"\n\nA little nervousness that was at first noticeable, disappeared after a\nfew sentences, and then, with a fluency and eloquence that simply amazed\nus, the loving burning words flowed from his lips.  With few words of\nexplanation he took up his beloved Bible and hymn-book, and began the\nservice.\n\nOf the actual words of that address, I can now recall very few; but the\nmemory of it will live forever.  He told them the story of his life from\nthe time when, having found my way to their distant land, I met him in\nhis wigwam home as he lay wounded upon the ground, talked kindly to him,\nand gave him his first lesson.  He spoke of his long, long journey in\nthe canoe, and of his arrival at our home.  He described how kindly he\nhad been received, how stupidly and ungratefully he had acted when the\nnovelty of the new way of living had worn off, and how he had been so\nfoolish as to long for his old life in the wigwam.  He denounced in very\nemphatic language, his own ingratitude toward us for all the kindness we\nhad shown him and the patience with which we had borne with his\nstupidity.\n\nThen he told the story of his conversion: would that I could tell it as\nhe did!  He contrasted their old foolish religion of the conjurers--\nwhich had only kept them in fear and terror all their days, bringing no\npeace or rest to their souls--with that which was taught in the blessed\nBook; which had come as a great joy into his life, filling him with\npeace in the assurance that even he was a child of God.  He had his date\nin his spiritual life--his well remembered birthday; and to it he\nreferred.  He told of that afternoon in the church, when, in response to\nthe invitation: \"Who will give his heart to God to-day?\" he had\nanswered, \"I will!\" and bowing down before God in prayer, had sought for\nthe forgiveness of his sins and the assurance of the divine favour.\nVery clearly, and with much emotion he assured them that, while trusting\nand believing that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, was able and willing to\nreceive him, He had indeed received him.\n\nThus in earnest tones, in his beautiful Indian tongue, he went on and\non; now, urging and exhorting them to accept of this great salvation\nfrom the Great Spirit who was the loving Father of all, and who desired\nthe salvation of every one of His children whether they were white or\nIndian; and then, again referring to his own conversion and the joy that\nhad come to him, as one reason why he wished them all to be Christians.\n\nMrs Young and I were delighted and also amazed; not only at his\nreadiness of utterance, but at the religious character and power of the\naddress.  I could only say in my heart:\n\n\"This is the outcome of those long hours which this young child of God\nhas spent day after day with the open Book before him and the Holy\nSpirit as his teacher; and, thank God, here is the glorious reward for\nall we have had to do for, and bear with this wild unkempt Indian lad.\nIn this one glad hour we see enough amply to repay us for all we have\nhad to put up with ere there was the first appreciation of our kindness.\nIt has seemed a long time between the seed sowing and the reaping; but\nthe harvest time has come at last and here we witness this glorious\nsight--Sandy, our once wild rebellious Indian boy, now with radiant face\nand eloquent tongue, in most beautiful and scriptural language, urging\nand beseeching his Indian friends to renounce their old foolish paganism\nand to accept of Christianity.\"\n\nAs he talked the faces of his Indian auditors were indeed studies.  They\nwere literally drinking in his marvellous words.  To a few of them I had\npreached on some of my long journeys; but beside these few, there were\nthose now listening to Sandy who had never heard such things before, and\nthey seemed amazed and confounded.  Persons who have never witnessed it,\ncan hardly imagine the astonishment, and sometimes awe, that fails over\na company of pure pagans, when, for the first time, the story of\nRedeeming Love is heard.\n\nSandy went on to tell them of his love and anxiety for them, and of his\ndesire and constant prayers that they should all become Christians, and\nknow for themselves that God loved them and that they were His children.\nHe explained to them, how, at first, he thought the Bible was only for\nthe white man; but that he had learned, that the Great Spirit has given\nHis Book to all races, loving all alike.  This was the reason he was so\nanxious that his own people should accept this great salvation which was\nfor them.  It would make them happy, as it was making others everywhere\nwho fully accepted it.\n\nThey listened to the end of his long address with intense interest.  In\nresponse to his request, a number of questions were asked in reference\nto this new way, and how it was possible for them to enter into it.  His\nanswers were very appropriate and beautiful.  In addition to his own\nwords, he again opened his Bible and read promise after promise to them,\nto show the universality of the love of God, and that he had given his\nSon to die for them all, and what they must do to receive this love into\ntheir hearts.\n\nAt his request, I followed with a short address, endorsing what he had\nsaid.  I lovingly entreated them to remember his words, and to do as he\nhad done--give their hearts to God; and thus become His happy, loving\nchildren.  A hymn was sung; earnest prayers were offered up; the\nbenediction was pronounced--and this remarkable service came to an end.\n\nEre they departed they gathered around Sandy and kissed him.  They asked\nhim more questions about this new way, and with some of them he had\nearnest faithful talks.  They all came and shook hands with us, and very\nkindly thanked us for our great love and kindness to their Ookemasis,--\nthe young chief,--as they now laughingly called Sandy.\n\nAfter remaining with us some years, Sandy returned to his own land and\npeople.  Among them he still lives a devoted, industrious Christian.  He\nis the right-hand man of the missionary, a blessing and a benediction to\nmany, and we count it as one of our \"chief joys\" that we were\ninstrumental in leading him into the light.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER SEVEN.\n\nTHE NEW YEAR'S INDIAN FEAST.\n\nFrom time immemorial the Indians have been noted for the number of their\nfeasts.  Some of these--as the New Moon and the First-Fruits of the\ncorn, celebrated, by a part of the tribes--were generally innocent,\nseeming to point to some Jewish origin in the dim past; others--such as\nthe feast of the dogs when the poor animals were wantonly torn to\npieces--were loathsome in the extreme.\n\nAs soon as the missionaries succeeded in getting the red men to listen\nto the Gospel, they insisted upon the suppression of the sinful feasts;\nespecially as they were more or less associated with their ideas of\nworship.  Even the dog feast was considered \"good medicine\" to\npropitiate the evil spirits: for the dogs were prized by the Indian next\nto his children, and sacrificing them was making a very great offering.\n\nWhen the missionaries went among the Northern Wood Crees, they met with\na great degree of success in winning the people from their pagan\nsuperstitions.  They, of course, insisted upon the entire giving up of\nall the objectionable habits and customs of their past life; and among\nthem, their sinful feasts.  However, they did not try to root the word\nout of their language; but as a substitute for what was so wrong,\norganised a Christian festival.  This great feast was celebrated on New\nYear's day--unless that day happened to fall on Sunday, when it was held\non the day following--at Norway House, the largest mission station in\nthose days.\n\nPreparations for it were begun many months in advance.  A great Indian\ncouncil would be held at which, as a mere formality, the question would\nbe first asked: \"Are we to have the great feast this year?\"\n\nThis would be carried unanimously, and--for Indians--with great\napplause.  The next question which required more time for answering\nwould be: \"What is each man prepared to give as his contribution toward\nthe feast?\"\n\nVery strange at first seemed the answers.  Mamanowatum, a big Indian\nmoose-hunter, would say:\n\n\"I have discovered the trail of a moose.  I will give half of the\nanimal--and his nose.\"\n\nThe moose nose is considered a great delicacy.  Moose meat is the best\nof all venison; and Mamanowatum was a most successful hunter.  So this\nsplendid contribution, although the moose had yet to be shot, and was\nhard to kill, would be recorded with great pleasure.\n\nThen Soquatum would say; \"I have discovered a bear's den.  I will give\nhalf the bear to the feast--and all the paws.\"\n\nThis generous contribution would also meet with much approval, for the\nbeat's paws are likewise among the great delicacies of the country.\n\nMustagan would speak next, and would say; \"I know where there is a large\nbeaver house, and I will give five beavers--and ten tails.\"\n\nThis donation would also meet with great satisfaction, as beavers are\ncapital eating, and their great broad tails, together with the moose's\nnose and the bear's paws, constitute the principal delicacies of the\ncountry.\n\nRapidly would the hunters rise up one after another and proffer their\ngifts, keeping the Indian secretary busily employed in writing down in\nsyllabic characters, the various promised offerings of game, the greater\nquantity of which would be still roaming--perhaps hundreds of miles\naway--in the wintry forest.\n\nThose among the hunters who excelled in catching the valuable\nfur-bearing animals, whose flesh is worthless for food, would make their\ncontribution in rich furs, such as minks, martins, otters and ermines,\nwhich would be exchanged in the Hudson Bay Company's stores for flour,\ntea, sugar and plums.\n\nThe council would last until all who could give, or had any remote idea\nof success, had recorded their contributions.\n\nShortly after would begin the work of securing the promised offerings\nfor the feast.  Even the successful ones did not always bring in what\nthey had promised.  Sometimes those who had promised beaver, would be so\nfortunate as to meet with a herd of reindeer, and thus would return with\ntheir contribution in venison, perhaps four times in excess of the\nbeaver promised.  Or perhaps the man who promised a couple of wildcats--\nand they are not bad eating--while out diligently searching for them,\nwould detect the tiny ascending thread of vapoury steam from a great\nsnowdrift, which told him, that low down there in a den were sleeping\nsome fat hears.  These would be dug out, and killed, and part of the\nmeat would be brought in to the feast.  Again it sometimes happened--as\nhunter's luck is very uncertain--that some who promised a large\ncontribution were not able to bring so much.  However, with the\ndonations from the fur-traders and the mission house, there would be a\nlarge supply: and this was necessary, as Indians have good appetites.\n\nAs the different kinds of animals were shot or captured, the meat would\nbe brought to the mission, and well secured from cunning dogs in the\nlarge fish-house; where it would freeze solid, and so keep in good\ncondition until required.  About a week before the day of the feast, the\nmissionary's wife would call to her assistance a small number of clever\nIndian women; and, aided by some men who would cut the frozen meat into\npieces of suitable size, they would roast or boil the whole of this\ngreat assortment.  It was an \"assortment,\" and proudly would they look\nat it, and rejoice.  Out of the flour, plums, sugar and bear's grease--a\nsubstitute for suet--great plum-puddings would be made, hard and solid;\nbut the chunks cut off with an axe, gave much satisfaction to the hearty\neaters.\n\nWhen the day arrived, preparations for the feast began very early.  The\nseats were removed from the church, and tables the whole length of the\ninterior, were quickly made and put in position by the native\ncarpenters.  Great roaring fires were built in the two iron stoves, and\nthe inside temperature of the building made as nearly tropical as\npossible; while outside it was fifty degrees below zero, or even colder.\nThis intense heat was necessary to thaw out the meat, which, after it\nhad been cooked a day or two before, had quickly cooled and frozen\nsolid.  The great supply was soon carried into the hot church, and after\nthe few hours that elapsed before the feast began, it was in capital\ncondition for the twelve or fifteen hundred hungry Indian who for weeks\nhad been eagerly looking forward to this great event.\n\nThey were a motley company, all welcome, and all in the best of humour.\nChiefs and head men were receiving directions from the missionary,\ntransmitting them to the workers, and seeing that everything was done.\nHappy busy women, under the loving guidance of the missionary's wife,\nwhom they simply idolised, were arranging the tables, for the equipment\nof which, all the table necessaries of the village,--principally tin\ncups and plates,--as well as of the mission pantry, were brought into\nservice.  Great boilers and kettles of tea were brewed, and hundreds of\nflat cakes, made of flour, water and a little salt, were baked in frying\npans or on top of the stoves, cut into large pieces, and made ready for\ndistribution.\n\nWhile busy hands were thus employed in making these final arrangements\nfor the great feast, which generally began about one o'clock, the\nhundreds of other Indians--especially the young men--were having various\nsports outside.  The toboggan slides of the schoolboys had many\nvisitors; and some lively games of football were played on the frozen\nlake.  The snow had been scraped away from a smooth hit of ice where the\nactive skaters showed their speed and skill.  But the thoughts of all\nwere on the feast, and they were anxious for the sound of the bell that\nwould summon them to its enjoyment.\n\nAbout the middle of the forenoon, there was a most interesting break in\nthe preparations.  The chief would go to the missionary and ask for a\npencil and piece of writing paper.  Then, taking with him one of the\nprincipal men into the church, where the crowd of workers were busily\nengaged, he would call for a short halt in the proceedings, and standing\non a bench, ask:\n\n\"How many of our people are sick, or aged, or wounded, and are thus\nunable to be with us at the great feast to-day?  Give me their names.\"\n\nAs the names were mentioned, they would be recorded; until, perhaps,\ntwenty or more were thus called out.\n\n\"Any more?\" the chief would cry.  \"Let none be overlooked on this happy\nday.\"\n\n\"Oh yes, there is an old bed-ridden woman, lying on her couch of rabbit\nskins and balsam boughs, in a wigwam six miles up Jack River,\" says one.\n\n\"I heard, that there are two sick people left behind in a wigwam on the\nisland over near York village by the pagan Indians who have come to the\nfeast,\" says another.\n\n\"Put them down, of course.  But stop!  One of you go out and ask those\nwho have come, if there are not more than those two left behind.\"\n\nSoon word comes in that there are not only these two sick ones, but a\nlittle girl with a broken leg.\n\n\"Put her name down, too.\"\n\nThe list is again read over, and the question again asked:\n\n\"Are you sure that we have not overlooked any?  It would be a shame for\nus to be here feasting and any of our aged and afflicted ones\nforgotten.\"\n\nThe matter would be discussed until they were confident that all the\nnames were recorded, even the afflicted ones of the still unconverted\nIndians who were always welcomed and generally on hand.  Then the chief,\nwith an assistant or two would go to the great piles of food, and cut\noff generous pieces of venison and bear's meat, and, with an assortment\nof other things, make up as many large parcels as there were names on\nhis list, each bundle, perhaps, containing enough food to last the\nafflicted ones a couple of days.  Then the chief would go out to where\nthe sturdy active young men were at their sports, and shouting the names\nof as many as he had bundles, give to the fleetest a large bundle and\nsay:\n\n\"Take that to Ookoominou, who Is sick in bed six miles up the river, and\ntell her that we are all sorry that she is so old and feeble that she\ncannot be with us to-day.  With it give her our Christian greetings and\nlove, and our wishes that she will enjoy her share of the feast.\"\n\nWith a look to see that the strings of his moccasins and his beaded\ngarters are well tied, and tightening his sash belt around his leathern\nshirt, the swift runner would be off like an arrow; making straight for\nthe far away wigwam, where, in age and feebleness, is one of the\ngrandmothers of the tribe, now loved by all; but who would have been put\nto death years ago, if the blessed Gospel had not come among this people\nand wrought its marvellous transformations in their hearts.  Six miles\nwould that fleet Indian runner have to go, and return, ere he could have\nhis share of the feast; but never fear, he will be back in time.  What\nare twelve miles to him, when there is such a feast at the end of it?\nAnd then, is he not a Christian?  And does he not consider it a joy to\nbe the carrier of such a bundle, with such a loving message, to the aged\nand feeble Ookoominou?  Of course he does.\n\nOthers similarly addressed, and charged with loving messages, are\nrapidly sent off.  While the majority of the messengers prefer to make\nthe journey on flying feet, some, perhaps who have bundles for three or\nfour in the same vicinity, prefer to take their fleet dog-trains.  It\nmakes but little difference, however, how they go.  They are soon all\noff, and much sooner back again than we inexperienced ones would expect.\n\nOf the great feast itself, it is difficult to give anything like an\nadequate description.  The tables are piled with the various kinds of\nfood, the cups are filled with tea, and all the older people first\nseated.  Some years it was customary for the missionary to have a large\ntable at the head, to which were invited the officials of the Hudson Bay\nCompany and their families, and any visiting friends who might be in the\ncountry.  The chiefs were also given a place at this table, an honour\nmuch appreciated.  When all were seated, they very heartily sang as\ngrace before meat, the Cree translation of the Verse:\n\n  \"Be present at our table, Lord,\n  Be here and everywhere adored;\n  These creatures bless, and grant that we\n  May feast in Paradise with Thee.\"\n\nWhen the older people had eaten, the tables were quickly cleared; then\nagain filled and refilled, until all had feasted, and some had even\nreturned \"to fill up,\" as they said, some vacancies discovered.  What\nappetites they had; and what unrestrained enjoyment!  No foreboding\nfears of coming nightmare, or fits of indigestion, disturbed their\nfelicity.  Dyspepsia and its kindred ills, had, up to those times, never\nvisited that healthy hunting people; and so, when such a feast of fat\nthings as this was prepared, where they knew they were all welcome\nguests, they went in for a good time and had it in full measure, without\nany anxiety for after consequences.  It was an epoch in their history--\nthe most blessed day of the year.  From it some of them recorded time,\nas so many moons after the feast; and as the year advanced they made\nengagements by so many moons before the next feast.\n\nIf supplies were still abundant when the last had eaten, the first were\nset to work again until the bear's ribs were all picked and every haunch\nof venison had disappeared.  Night was grandly closing in, ere this\nstage in the proceedings was reached.  When it did arrive, willing hands\nsoon took down the tables, swept out the building, replaced the seats,\nlighted the oil lamps, and the intellectual feast was held.  For years\nMamanowatum, whose familiar name was Big Tom, was appointed chairman.\nHe was a large man, in fact, almost gigantic, slow and deliberate; but\nhe generally made his mark in everything he undertook to do or say.  It\nwas amusing to see him in the chair, presiding over a great meeting.  He\nwas very much respected by all, and none dared to presume on his\napparent good nature.  He rose slowly, seeming to get up in short jerks;\nbut when up, he had something to say and said it.\n\nThey always opened every kind of a meeting held in the church with\nreligious exercises.  Then Mamanowatum made his address, always good and\nsuggestive, the keynote of which was thanksgiving and gratitude to God\nfor the blessings of the year.  When he had finished, he called on\ndifferent Indians for addresses.  Some of them were very good also.\nThis is the night of all others, when Indian orators try to be humorous\nand witty.  As a race they do not excel along these lines, but sometimes\nthey get off some very good things.  While they began their speeches\nwith some bright pleasantry that brought smiles, and even laughter,\nthere was never anything unbecoming to the place, and all quickly\ndrifted into a strain of thanksgiving to God for his blessings.  To\nlisten to their grateful joyous words, one would think they were the\nmost highly favoured people on the earth; that there never was such a\nfeast, such delicious venison, such fat bear meat, such strong tea with\nso much sugar in it; and that no other people had such kind\nmissionaries.  So with more grateful hearts than ever they would sing:\n\n\"Praise God from whom all blessings flow.\"\n\nThus they talked and rejoiced together in this peculiar service which\nwas all their own.  The whites were expected to take back seats on this\noccasion and say nothing.\n\nAbout ten o'clock they together sang the doxology; and, with the\nbenediction, pronounced by one of their own number, this most\ninteresting of days, with its varied pleasures and enjoyments, came to a\nclose.\n\nLong years have passed, since with the happy Crees we enjoyed those rich\nfeast days; yet they stand in our missionary life as red-letter days;\nwhen our hearts were especially touched by the spontaneous and hearty\nkindness displayed toward the aged and afflicted ones, who unable to be\npresent, were by the generous gifts sent, made to feel, that they were\nnot forgotten or neglected, but were in a large measure made partakers\nof the pleasures of that eventful day.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER EIGHT.\n\nTHE EXTRA DOG-TRAIN OF SUPPLIES, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.\n\n\"As you have so many splendid dogs this winter, why not take an extra\ntrain with you, and bring out from Red River some of the food of\ncivilisation, so that we can have it to remind us of other days?\"\n\nThus spake the good wife, who, like myself, sometimes became tired of\nhaving the fresh water fish of the country as our principal diet for\nabout one half of the year.  During the other six months we lived\nprincipally upon game, such as venison, bear's meat, beaver, wild-cat,\nptarmigan, rabbits and even muskrats.  So, this request to bring out\nsomething to eat that savoured of civilisation, was not an unreasonable\none.  I was going in to Red River settlement on business pertaining to\nthe spiritual advancement of our mission, and this was a good\nopportunity to bring out with me some things that would add to our\ncomfort and help on in the good work; we had to do so many things for\nour poor Indians, who were often in trouble, and were constantly looking\nto us for help.\n\nMy splendid dugs obtained from Hamilton, Montreal and elsewhere, had\nincreased and multiplied, until now I had a number of the finest sleigh\ndogs in the country.  When the time came for the long trip, I harnessed\nthem up; and, taking an additional train for the extra supply of food\nwhich was suggested by my wife, with my guide and dog drivers, began the\njourney.  In order that we could return with full loads, we started with\nour sleds loaded with fish, numbers of which we cached at our different\ncamping places, that we might have them on which to feed our dogs on the\nreturn journey.\n\nWe were several days on the route, as we encountered a fierce blizzard\nwhich made travelling with our heavy loads very difficult.  However, we\nreached the settlement, and met with a warm welcome at the home of our\nfriend, the Hon.  Mr Sifton.  The business that brought us in to\ncivilisation being soon arranged, we began our purchases of supplies for\nthe return, special attention being given to the purchase of the extra\nload of good things.  First, I went to a butcher, and purchased from him\nabout two hundred and fifty pounds of his choicest cuts of meat; telling\nhim, that as it was to be dragged by dogs on a sled some hundreds of\nmiles, I wanted as little bone as possible.  He was a decent man and\ntreated me well.  Then, I went to a storekeeper, and purchased from him\nrice, meal, butter, canned vegetables and various other things, making\nin all, a load of about six hundred pounds.  I was very proud of such a\nload, in addition to the supply of flour which was on the other sleds.\nSending my heavily loaded dog-sleds on a couple of days in advance, I\nfollowed--in company with Martin Papanekis, a favourite Indian driver--\nwith such dogs as.  Voyageur, as leader, and Jack and Cuffy and Caesar\nbehind him, knowing we would have no difficulty in overtaking the rest\nof our party.  We so arranged our return journey, that each night we\nreached the camp we had used on the outgoing trip.  In two places, much\nto our disgust, we found that the wolves or wolverines, had been too\nclever for us, and had discovered our cache and devoured our fish.  So\nthose nights, we had to feed our dogs from the supplies of meat bought\nin Red River.\n\nIn due time we reached our mission home where there was great\nsatisfaction over the abundance and variety of the supplies secured at\nsuch a cost of toil and danger.  The bill of fare was much improved, and\ntwice a week we had a little roast of beef or mutton, with vegetables,\nand a dessert of rice pudding.\n\nFor two or three weeks this continued, when our hearts were saddened,\nand our duties and cares greatly increased, by the breaking out of the\nmeasles among our Indians.  This epidemic was caused, by the coming in\nto our country of some free-traders who had lately had the disease.\nThey had been discharged from the hospital as cured; but in some way or\nother they had carried the germs of the disease so that going in and out\nof the wigwams they spread the contagion among the natives, and an\nepidemic broke out.  This strange new disease terrified the people.\n\nAt that time I had parties of Indians at Oomeme River, and also at\nBerens River, where we were then living.  About this same time the\nmeasles also broke out among a number of pagan Indians under the rule of\nThickfoot, a stubborn yet friendly old chief who refused to become a\nChristian.  At this place we had but lately completed a mission house,\nsome outbuildings, and a comfortable school-house, which we were using\nas a church until the latter should be completed.  All the timber for\nthese buildings we had drawn with our dogs from a large island several\nmiles out from, the mainland.  When the measles broke out, and we saw\nthe fear of the Indians, at once, as far as possible, we turned our\nmission premises into a hospital.  In addition to the buildings already\nmentioned, we also put up for the sick our large buffalo leather tent.\nHere, on improvised beds and couches, we gathered about us the afflicted\nones, making them as comfortable as our limited means would allow.\n\nOver at Oomeme River, our Christian Indians fortunately escaped; but the\npagan Indians, among whom the disease broke out, were wild with fear,\nand in many cases acted in a manner to aggravate the disease.  Some of\nthem, when they broke out, rushed from their heated wigwams and rolled\nthemselves in the snow, which of course was most disastrous treatment,\nresulting in the death of numbers.  Thereupon, their relatives became so\nterrified, that, being afraid to bury their bodies, they stripped the\nwigwams from around them, leaving them exposed to the devouring wolves;\nand then, sent word over to me, that if I desired their friends to be\ndecently buried, I must come over and do it myself.  Hearing this, I\ntook some boards, nails, hammer, spades and other things necessary, and\nwith some Indians, hurried over to the place.  After some persuasion, I\nsucceeded in getting an Indian family to move their wigwam from the spot\nwhere it had stood the whole winter, and where constantly the fire had\nbeen burning; and there, where the ground was yet warm and unfrozen, dug\nthe grave, making it sufficiently large for all who had died.  With our\nboards we made the coffins, and after a simple religious service buried\ntheir dead.\n\nAt Berens River, our method of procedure among our sick was something\nlike this.  Early in the morning, large pots partly filled with water\nwere hung over a good fire.  Into them were put several pounds of the\ngood fresh beef or mutton which we had brought from civilisation.  When\nwell boiled, several pounds of rice were stirred in and the whole left\nto boil until cooked into a rich nourishing soup.  Then nourishing flat\ncakes were made in abundance.  While this breakfast for the sick was\nbeing prepared, the missionary, with his assistants, was busily engaged\nin making the rounds of the sick.  Their various wants were attended to,\nmedicine was given, and every thing that could be, was cheerfully done\nfor their comfort.  Then, the missionary's wife, with her helpers,\nfollowed with kettles of warm soup, bread and tea.  Meals of this\nnourishing food were given to, and much relished by, the afflicted ones.\nThere were some such severe cases, that at times it looked as though it\nwould be impossible to save them; but with heaven's blessing on our\nefforts, we were successful in bringing about the recovery of every case\nunder our immediate care.  While doing everything that we could for\ntheir physical recovery, we had grand opportunities for imparting\nreligious instruction.  Sweet hymns, translated into their own language,\nwere sung, and the exceeding great and precious promises of the blessed\nBook, were often read and explained at every bedside.  Their fear of\nthis strange new disease left them, and they became patient and hopeful.\nThe result was, that while among the pagan Indians at Oomeme River\nthere were many deaths, not one of our Christian Indians died.\n\nWhen the last case was cured and the disease had disappeared, we took\nstock of our supplies.  We found that all of that extra dog-train of\nfood, together with a large quantity of flour and other things, had been\nused up in feeding our poor sick people.  Not one-tenth of the whole had\ncome to our own table; and so we had once again to fall back upon our\nnative food.  Fish was again our diet twenty-one times a week.  But, we\nhad the great joy and satisfaction of knowing that, in all human\nprobability, we had saved the lives of many of our people; and had found\nsuch a place in their hearts, that our future efforts to evangelise or\nto help along in the blessed life, would be very much more effective.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER NINE.\n\nA LESSON NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN.\n\nWhen I was a small boy, my father was stationed on a large mission in\nthe back woods of Canada.  The hardy emigrants from the Old World were\ncrowding into that new country, and every year additional thousands of\nacres of grain were growing, where shortly before the dark primeval\nforests, which had stood for centuries, held possession.\n\nThe native Indian tribes were retreating before this irresistible march\nof the white man, or were settling on reservations selected for them by\nthe government.  For years they retained their right to roam about, and\nkill the game which still abounded, but which was rapidly becoming less\nas the white settlements increased.  In addition to their hunting and\nfishing, the industrious Indians added to their comfort by manufacturing\nnative baskets, brooms, handles for axes, hoes and similar articles,\nwhich they sold to the friendly settlers for food and clothing.  Those\nthat left the fire-water alone, and were industrious, were thus able to\nlive comfortably.\n\nTo these Indians on their reservations the Gospel was proclaimed by the\nself-sacrificing missionaries, as they travelled their toilsome rounds.\nThese visits were not made in vain.  Many of these children of the\nforest, sick and dissatisfied with their old paganism which gave no\npeace to their troubled spirits, gladly received the truth, and became\nearnest, consistent Christians.  Their godly lives were, in many places,\na constant reproof to the inconsistencies and sins of their white\nneighbours.  At rare intervals in my boyhood days it was my great\nprivilege to be permitted to accompany my father to some of the Indian\nencampments that were not very far from our home, I well remember the\nsweet plaintive voices of the Indians, as they sung some of our hymns\nwhich had been translated into their language.  Their devout and\nattentive demeanour during the religious services, deeply impressed me.\nIt was ever a great pleasure to visit them in their wigwams, to see the\nyoung people at their sports, and the older ones at their work: building\ncanoes, or making baskets.\n\nIn my boyish curiosity, I did not confine my rambling solely to the\nChristian Indians; but, as all were very friendly, I wandered about the\nencampments to the different wigwams, to see what I could that was novel\nand interesting.  Being known as the son of the Blackcoat--for in this\nway was the missionary designated by the tribe--I was always welcomed in\nthe wigwams, and was given a seat in the circle around the fire.\n\nIn one wigwam the following characteristic incident occurred which made\na deep impression on my mind.  Seated on the ground were representatives\nof three generations, all, except the aged grandfather, busily engaged\nin work, principally basket-making.  He was a patriarchal-looking old\nman, and, to my youthful eyes as he sat there on his blanket smoking his\nlong pipe, seemed to be absorbed in thought, noticing neither me nor any\none else.\n\nThe youngest of the company, and the one that naturally attracted my\nattention, was a young lad of about my own age.  He was busily engaged\nwith an Indian crooked knife, endeavouring to make an arrow.  In his\neagerness to succeed, he let his knife slip, and unfortunately, cut\nhimself very badly.  At the sight of the blood,--which flowed freely,\nfor the wound was an ugly one--the lad set up a howl of pain and alarm,\nwhich greatly startled his stoical relatives.  Relief was quickly\nafforded, the cut covered with balsam and tied up in a piece of deer\nskin.  Not one word of sympathy did the boy receive; but on the contrary\nfrom nearly all in the wigwam arose a chorus of indignation and disgust.\nTo them it was a great disgrace that one of their family, and he a boy\nof so many winters, should howl and cry like that, for such a trifling\ninjury.\n\nHow the other families would laugh at them when they heard of it!  It\nlooked for a time as if they would severely punish him, not for his\nawkwardness in handling his knife, but because he did not control his\nfeelings and treat the wound and the pain with utter indifference.\n\nThe old grandfather especially, was deeply stirred and indignant at\nconduct so unworthy of his grandson, to whom evidently he was deeply\nattached.\n\nIndians very seldom punish their children.  Upon the boys especially,\nthe rod is seldom used.  The girls in the heathen families often have a\nhard time of it, being frequently knocked about and beaten; but the boys\ngenerally escape, even if they richly deserve punishment.  Here,\nhowever, was a very serious case.  The boy had committed a crime in\ncrying out at an ordinary cut on his hand, inflicted by himself.  It\nwould never do to let this pass.  The lad must be taught a lesson he\nwould never forget.  And this is the way in which it was done, much to\nmy amazement, by his old grandfather.\n\nPlacing near him the lad, who evidently was now feeling that he had been\nvery guilty, he gave him a talk upon the duty of bearing pain without\nuttering a cry, or even a groan.  Then the old man, who had been a great\nwarrior in his younger days, told him, that unless he were more\ncourageous than that, he would never become a brave warrior or a good\nhunter; and, that unless he was able to control his feelings, and never\ncry out no matter what happened, they could never respect him any more\nthan they would an old grandmother.\n\nWhile the old man talked excitedly to him, now thoroughly roused out of\nhis usual calm demeanour, he renewed the fire which had partly burnt\ndown.  When, by the addition of some very dry wood, it was burning very\nvigorously, he again turned quickly to his grandson, and speaking out\nsharply and excitedly, said: \"See here!  Look at me!  This is the way a\nbrave warrior should stand pain!\"  Then, to my horror, he suddenly\nreached out his hand, and holding one finger in the flame, kept it there\nuntil it was fearfully burnt.\n\nDuring this sickening ordeal, not a muscle of the old man's face\nquivered; not a groan escaped from his firmly set lips.  To judge from\nhis appearance, it might have been a stick that he was burning.  When at\nlength he drew back the crisp burnt finger of his now blistered hand, he\nheld it toward his grandson and gave him another lecture, telling him\namong other things that if he ever expected to be great or honoured\namong his people, he must hear pain without flinching or uttering a cry.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER TEN.\n\nTHE HONEST INDIAN; OR, VENISON FOR PEMMICAN.\n\nYears ago the missionaries living in the northern part of what were then\nknown as the Hudson Bay territories, were often so remote from\ncivilisation, that they were obliged to depend principally on fish and\ngame for their livelihood.  Hence, in times of scarcity, they welcomed\nthe arrival of a hunter who came in with plenty of game.\n\nOne cold wintry day, a man of this description made his appearance at\nour mission home.  He was a fine stalwart Indian, and, in the quiet way\nof his people, came into our kitchen without knocking.  Unstrapping from\nhis back a fine haunch of venison, he threw it down upon the table.  As\nour supplies of food were very limited at the time--for we were\naveraging hardly more than two good meals a day--I was glad to see this\nwelcome addition; and so, after I had cordially greeted him, I said:\n\n\"What shall I give you for this venison?\"\n\n\"I want nothing for it, as it belongs to you,\" was his answer.\n\n\"You must be mistaken,\" I replied, \"as I never saw you before, and have\nhad no dealings with you.\"\n\n\"Oh, but it does belong to you, and I want nothing more for it,\" he\ninsisted.\n\n\"Excuse me,\" I said, \"but you _must_ let me pay you for it.  We are very\nglad to get it, as there is little food in the house; but we have a rule\nhere, that we pay the Indians for everything we get from them.\"\n\nThe reason we had come to this determination, was because we had found\nby rather dear experience,--as we presume other missionaries on similar\nfields have,--that the natives have an idea the missionary is rich, or\nthat he is backed up by wealthy churches; and, with unlimited resources\nat his disposal, is able to make large gifts in return for lesser ones\nreceived.  A few rabbits, or a brace of ducks would be given with great\npoliteness to the missionary or his wife.  Then the donor, often\naccompanied by his wife and several children, would remain to dinner,\nand, in all probability, eat the greater part of the gift.  Of course\nthey must be asked to supper--and they had glorious appetites.  As they\nstill lingered on until time for retiring arrived, the missionary was at\nlength obliged to hint, that he thought they would better go and see if\ntheir wigwam was where they left it in the morning.  This would\ngenerally bring things to a crisis, and the man would say: \"Ever since\nwe came we have only been waiting to get the present you are going to\ngive us for the one we gave you.\"\n\nWhile they were contented to sell at a reasonable rate the various\nthings which they could supply for our needs, yet, if a present were\naccepted, they expected something many times its value.  Had this been\nallowed to continue, we would have been speedily left destitute of\neverything in the house.  Therefore, not many weeks before the arrival\nof this strange Indian with the venison, as a precautionary measure we\nhad made a rule that no more presents were to be received from the\nIndians; but that for everything brought which we needed, such as meat,\nfish, or moccasins, there was to be a fair tariff price mutually agreed\nupon.  Yet in spite of all this, here was a stalwart Indian insisting,\nthat I should receive a haunch of venison without payment.  Judging from\nsome past experiences, I was fearful that if I accepted it as a present,\nit would about bankrupt me.  So I again said to him:\n\n\"You must let me pay you for this.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" he energetically replied.  \"I take no pay.  It belongs to\nyou.\"\n\n\"How do you make that out?\"  I inquired, more perplexed than ever.\n\nThen he proceeded to give me his explanation, which deeply interested\nme, and which will also I am sure interest my readers.\n\nFirst, he began by asking me a few questions:\n\n\"Did you make a trip with your guide and dog drivers to Burntwood River\nlast winter?\"\n\n\"Yes, I did,\" was my answer.\n\n\"And were your dog-sleds not heavily loaded?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I replied.\n\n\"And was there not a heavy fall of snow followed by a blizzard, which as\nyou had no trail through the deep snow, made it very difficult\ntravelling?\"\n\n\"Quite true,\" I replied, for all had happened just as he was describing\nit.  \"And did you not at a certain place make a cache of some of your\npemmican and other heavy things, so as to lighten your loads, that your\ndogs might make better time?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I answered, for well did I remember that long journey, and the\nfearful storm which made travelling through the trackless forest almost\nimpossible.\n\nI had gone on a journey of several hundreds of miles to carry the Gospel\nto some Indians who were still in the darkness of paganism.  I travelled\nwith sixteen dogs and four Indian companions, and there was not the\nleast vestige of a road.  This is the one great drawback; and any party\nof hunters, traders, or missionaries, wishing to travel with any\nrapidity, must send one of their number on ahead of the dog trains to\nmark out the path with his great snow shoes as he strides along.  The\nskill and endurance with which this work is performed, is marvellous and\nalmost incredible to those who have not witnessed it.  Often the country\nfor days together is tamely monotonous, without any striking feature in\nthe landscape, and without the least sign of human footsteps.  Clouds\nmay gather and cover the whole heavens with a sombre grey mantle, so\nthat the white man gets bewildered and does not know south from north,\nor east from west.  Yet the Indian guide pushes on without hesitancy,\nand with unerring accuracy.\n\nWhile endeavouring to push on as rapidly as possible, we were assailed\nby a fierce storm.  The snowfall was so great, that, with our heavy\nloads, speedy progress was an utter impossibility.  We found, that we\nmust either lighten our loads, or be content to lose much valuable time\non the way.  After talking it over with my Indians, we decided on the\nformer course, and so, a \"cache\" was made.  A number of the heavier\narticles were tied up in large blankets, some saplings bent down by the\nstalwart men, and the bundles fastened in their tops.  When let go, the\nyoung trees sprang up, and thus held their loads so far above the ground\nthat they were safe from the prowling wolves or wolverines.  This plan\nis very much safer than that of using large trees, as up the latter many\nof the wild animals can climb, and short work would be made of the\n\"cache.\"\n\nWith lightened sleds--although some of the things left behind were sadly\nmissed--we hurried on, and after a few days reached our destination.  We\nfound the majority of the Indians glad to see us, and anxious for\ninstruction in the ways of the great Book.  They had become dissatisfied\nwith the ways of their fathers, and had lost all faith in their\nconjurers, so they listened with great attention to what we had to tell\nof the Gospel of the Son of God.\n\nWhile we were thus engaged in our missionary duties, blizzards were\nraging through that cold northland; so that when we began the long home\njourney, we discovered but few traces of the trail, which our snow shoes\nand dog-trains had made not very long before.  However, my guide was\nvery clever, and my splendid dogs most sagacious, so we travelled home\nmost of the way on the same route, even though the original path was\ndeeply buried by the snow.\n\nThe place where our cache had been made was duly reached; and glad\nenough were we to obtain the additional supplies it contained, for we\nhad been on short allowance for some time.  The strong arms of my\nIndians soon bent down the saplings, untied the bundles and consigned\nthem to the different dog-sleds.  To my surprise, I observed, that at\none of the bundles--the heaviest article in which had been a piece of\npemmican weighing perhaps fifty or sixty pounds--my men were talking and\ngesticulating most earnestly.  In answer to my inquiries, they said,\nthat that bundle had been taken down during our absence, and a piece of\npemmican had been cut off and taken away.\n\n\"Nonsense!\"  I replied.  \"You are surely mistaken.  It looks to me just\nas it was when we put it up.  And then there was not the vestige of a\ntrack here when we returned.\"\n\nHowever, in spite of my protestations, my men were confident that some\npemmican had been taken by a stranger, and that the blizzard had covered\nup the tracks.  With a little more discussion the matter was dropped,\nand after a good meal we proceeded on our way.\n\nMonths later, along came this strange Indian with the venison and his\nstory, which we will now let him finish:\n\n\"I was out hunting in those forests through which you passed: for they\nare my hunting grounds.  I found the trail of a moose, and for a long\ntime I followed it up, but did not succeed in getting a shot.  I had\npoor success on that hunting trip.  Shooting nothing for some days, I\nbecame very hungry.  While pushing along through the woods, I came\nacross your trail and saw your cache.  So when I saw it was the\nmissionary's cache, the friend of the Indian, I was glad, and I said to\nmyself.  If he were here, and knew that I was hungry, he would say:\n`Help yourself:'--and that was just what I did.  I pulled down a\nsapling, and opening the bundle, cut off a piece of pemmican--just\nenough to make me feel comfortable under my belt until I could reach my\nwigwam, far away.  Then I tied up the bundle, fastened it in the\ntreetop, and let it swing up again.  And now I have brought you this\nvenison, to pay for that pemmican which I took.\"\n\nHonest man!  He had carried the haunch of venison on his back, a\ndistance of about sixty miles.\n\nOf course I was delighted, and while complimenting him for his honesty,\ninquired how he knew that it was my party that had made the cache,\nrather than a party of Indian hunters.\n\nWithout any hesitancy he replied: \"Oh I saw your snow shoe tracks in the\nsnow.\"\n\n\"Impossible!\"  I answered; \"for the snow shoes used by the whole party\nwere made by Sandy, my Indian boy, and were all of one pattern.\"\n\n\"That no matter,\" he answered, while his eyes twinkled with amusement.\n\"Snow shoes all right, but I saw your tracks all the time.  When Indian\nwalk, he walk with toes in; when white man walk, he walk with toes out.\nSo I saw where the missionary make tracks all the time.\"\n\nWe all voted him a clever, as well as an honest Indian, and rejoiced\nthat under the faithful teachings of another missionary, this red Indian\nof the forest, had been so grounded in the lessons of the sermon on the\nmount.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER ELEVEN.\n\nTHE VINDICATION OF THE SABBATH.\n\nWhen the missionaries go among the heathen preaching the blessed Gospel\nof the great Book, they necessarily have to begin, with first\nprinciples.  When good impressions have been made, and hearts touched,\nthen follows religious instruction in matters of which they have been\nperfectly ignorant! and much that is false, and often very childish, has\nto be unlearned.\n\nTo these people, before the arrival of the missionary, the Sabbath was\nutterly unknown.  The preaching of it at first filled them with\nperplexity and trouble.  They thought that it would interfere with their\nplans, and so break up their hunting arrangements as to bring them to\nabsolute want.  They were poor, even though working and fishing every\nday; and to give up one day out of every seven, and not fire a gun, or\nset a net--what would become of them!  Thus argued some of the Indians.\n\nFaithfully and lovingly the missionaries set before them the commands of\nGod adding the promises of blessings to the obedient.  The Book itself\nwas diligently searched, and there was a great desire to know, if such\npassages as the one we here quote referred to white people and Indians\nnow: \"If thou turn away thy foot from the Sabbath, from doing thy\npleasure on my holy day, and call the Sabbath a delight, the holy of the\nLord, honourable: and shalt honour him not doing thine own ways, nor\nfinding thine own pleasure, nor speaking thine own words, then shalt\nthou delight thyself in the Lord, and I will cause thee to ride upon the\nhigh places of the earth, and feed thee with the heritage of Jacob thy\nfather; for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.\"\n\nAt last, under faithful teaching, aided by the blessed Spirit, the\nChristian Indians resolved to take the Book for their guide, and to keep\nthe Sabbath day.  At once, the guns and bows and arrows were put aside,\nand the fish-nets were left hanging in the breeze for that day.  No\ntraps were visited, neither were the axes lifted up against the trees.\nTheir simple meals were cooked and eaten, and all who could attend, were\nfound in the house of God three times each Sabbath.\n\nBut now arose fierce opposition from an unexpected quarter.  The great\nfur-trading company that had for so long a time held despotic power in\nthe land, in their short-sightedness,--fearing a diminution in the\nreturns of the fur by the hunters if one-seventh of the time was to be,\nas they put it, spent in idleness,--sneered at the actions of the\nmissionaries, and by bribes and threats, endeavoured to induce the\nIndians to ignore their teachings on the subject.\n\nWhen, the summer tripping began, and the Indians refused to travel or\nwork in the boats on the Sabbath, the action of the company developed\ninto downright persecution.  Some description of this \"tripping\" in that\ngreat wild northland is necessary, in order that our readers may\nunderstand the position taken by the Sabbath-keeping Indians, and its\nmost satisfactory results.\n\nSo remote from the seaboard are some of the interior posts of the Hudson\nBay Company, that seven years, and sometimes more elapsed, ere the furs\nobtained for the goods sent, could reach the London market.  The bales\nof goods were first shipped by the company's vessels to York factory, on\nthe Hudson Bay.  Then they were taken by the Indian trippers in strong\nboats that would hold from three to five tons.  A number of these boats\nconstituted a \"brigade.\"  A captain of the whole was appointed, and a\ngood state of discipline maintained.\n\nThe first brigade would take the bales up the rivers, often having to\npass many dangerous places and encounter many risks.  Great care and\nwatchfulness were necessary, and yet in spite of all, boats were\nsometimes wrecked and lives lost.  The hardest part of the work was in\nwhat was called, \"making the portages.\"  Some of the rivers are full of\nfalls and rapids that are impassable for the boats.  Here the portages\nhave to be made.  The hardy boatmen row up to the rapids as close as is\nsafe, unload their cargoes, and carry them on their backs to the\nselected spot below the obstruction in the river.  Then the boats have\nto be hauled ashore, and dragged overland by the united strength of the\nseveral crews to the same place; here they are again launched, and with\ncargoes aboard, the journey is resumed.  On some of these trips the\nnumber of portages runs up into the scores.  Great lakes have to be\ncrossed where fierce storms at times rage, and where head-winds blow\nwith such fury, that sometimes the brigades are delayed many days.\n\nAt Norway house,--which for many years was the great northern depot for\nthe company's goods, and the great distributing centre for the interior\nparts,--this first brigade would exchange its cargo of goods for the\nbales of rich furs which another brigade, that had come from the further\ninterior, perhaps from Athabasca or the Saskatchewan country, had\nbrought down thus far on their way to the ships for the London market.\nThen this second brigade would return hundreds of miles into the\ninterior; and, meeting another brigade from regions still more remote,\nwould exchange its cargo of goods with this third brigade, for regions\nyet more distant.  Thus it would go on, until some of the bales of goods\nwere more than three thousand miles from the seaboard where they were\nlanded; and the different posts had their supply of goods for the fur\ntrade with the Indians.  So it happened, that years elapsed ere the\ngoods reached some of the places; and the furs also were years in\nreaching the ship for England.\n\nAll of this heavy work was performed by the Indian boatmen, or\n\"trippers,\" as they were called.  They were the fur-hunters during the\ncold winter months; but so long as there was open water--that is, no\nice--they were employed by hundreds to take in goods and bring out furs.\n\nThe one despotic command delivered to these brigades by the company was,\n\"push on!\"  They argued: The summer in these high latitudes is short; we\nmust make the most of it.  Every day tells, and there must be no lagging\nby the way.  The result was, that the men were worked to the last degree\nof endurance.  Many failed at the oar, while others dropped under the\nheavy loads on the difficult portages.  \"Fill up the ranks quickly, and\npush on,\" was the order.  It was all excitement, and rush, and high\npressure, from the beginning of the tripping season until the close.\nThere was no relaxation--no Sabbath--no rest.\n\nIt seemed utter folly for the missionary to come in where such a\ncondition of things existed, and say to the best men of the best\nbrigade: \"We know the summer is short, and it is essential for the\nwelfare of the company and your own wages, that the goods should be\ntaken in, and the furs brought out.  But a Higher Power has said,\n`Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy, so when Saturday night\novertakes you, tie up your boats, lay aside your oars, and rest in\nquietness and devotion until God's day is over.'\"\n\nThe company in their blindness were at first astounded, then enraged.\nTo lose one-seventh of the short summer, when, as it was, the brigades\nwere sometimes caught by the ice, would never do!  This fanaticism must\nbe stopped!  They threatened--they persecuted the missionary and the\nIndians.  Their monopoly in the country gave them great power, and they\nwielded it unmercifully.  Unable to induce the missionary by bribes or\nthreats to take another stand, they resorted to persecution; and by\ncalumnies most foul, strove to destroy his good name, and to drive him\nout of the country.\n\nHe was a wise and judicious, as well as a brave man; and, standing at\nhis post, endeavoured to show his rich and powerful detractors, that no\nharm would come to them by their employees resting one day in seven.  He\nbravely declared, that a man could do more work in six days by resting\nthe seventh, than by working continuously; and he challenged them to the\ntest.\n\nAt first the statement, which had been, so conclusively proved to be\ntrue was laughed to scorn.  However, as the missionary and his Christian\nIndians remained true, the company were obliged to yield so far as to\nsend off a Sabbath-keeping brigade, which they did with many fears and\nmisgivings.  To their surprise, they did their work just as well, and\nreturned in less time, with the men in better health than those who knew\nno Sabbath.  The logic of actual success triumphed eventually.  All\nopposition ceased, and up to the time when the old order of things came\nto an end, and oars gave way to steam power, no one was found rash\nenough to question the ability of the Sabbath-keeping Indians to excel\nin work those who kept not the day of rest.\n\nI often travelled with those Christian Indians, and the Sabbaths spent\non these long trips, are sweet and happy memories.  Up to the last hour\non Saturday when it was safe to travel, the journey would be pursued,\nuntil, in some quiet harbour or cosy bend in the river, safe from sudden\nstorms or tornadoes, the boats would be securely fastened, and the\ncargoes carefully covered with the oilcloths.  After a supper cooked on\nthe rocks, all would gather around the bright camp-fire for the evening\ndevotions.  A hymn would be sung, a chapter of the good Book read, and\nprayer offered by one or two of the company.  The Sabbath would be spent\nquietly and restfully, with at least two impressive and simple services.\nOn Monday, at first blush of morn, we were up, and, after a hasty meal\nand a prayer, the journey would be resumed with renewed vigour.\n\nThus was the Sabbath introduced among the northern Indians.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER TWELVE.\n\nGOD MORE POWERFUL THAN THE CONJURER.\n\nThe following beautiful story deserves a place among the very many real\nanswers to prayer.  Still does the Lord say to his followers: \"I will\nyet for this be inquired of by the house of Israel, to do it for them.\"\n\nOur Indian converts believe in God.  With a simple, childlike faith they\ntake Him at his word.  One of our Indians at his baptism, received the\nEnglish name of Edmund Stephenson.  He was an earnest, simple Christian.\nHis religion made him industrious, and so by his diligent hunting and\nfishing he provided comfortably for his wife and two little ones.\n\nOne evening, about the middle of last October, he left his family at his\nlittle home at Norway House, and started up a rapid river to visit some\nof his relatives, who lived several miles away.  In those high latitudes\nthe cold winter sets in so early that already the river, was covered\nwith ice.  To make the trip much quicker he fastened on his skates, and\nwhen last seen, was speeding rapidly away in the evening twilight.\n\nHe did not return the next day as he had promised, and his family\nbecoming alarmed, sent an Indian messenger to inquire the reason.  To\nhis surprise he was informed by the friends that Edmund had not visited\nthem and they knew not of his whereabouts.  When these tidings were\ncarried home there was great alarm, and a search party was quickly\norganised.  From the point where he was last seen alive, they carefully\nexamined the ice, and, after a little time, discovered the most\nconclusive evidence that the poor man was drowned.\n\nOver a part of the river where the current is very rapid, they\ndiscovered that the ice had been broken through; and although all was\nnow again firmly frozen over, yet, in the congealed mass, they\ndiscovered one of Edmund's deer-skin gloves, a button of his coat, and\nother evidences that he had here fallen through the ice, and had made a\nmost desperate effort to escape.  As it was nearly dark when the\nsearchers made these discoveries as to the place and manner, of his\ndeath, they were obliged to be satisfied with this, and to postpone the\nsearch for the body until the next day.\n\nEarly the next morning they set to work diligently.  As much snow had\nfallen since the previous evening, they were very much hampered in their\nefforts; and, although a large number of men, with snow shovels, axes\nand grappling irons sought carefully in many places for the remains,\nseveral days passed, and they were still unsuccessful in their efforts.\n\nAmong the searchers were some Indians who still believed in the skill\nand supernatural powers of the conjurers, or medicine men.  These,\nhaving become discouraged in their efforts, resolved to consult one of\nthese old men, so they said:\n\n\"Let us go and consult old Kwaskacarpo, and get him to conjure for us,\nand tell us where to find the body.\"\n\nThe Christian Indians protested against this, and tried to dissuade\nthem; but to no purpose they were so discouraged in their efforts.  So\nthey carried gifts of tea and tobacco to the conjurer, and told him of\nthe object of their coming.  In response to their wishes, and in return\nfor their gifts, he took his sacred drum and medicine-bag into the tent,\ndrummed away noisily until he worked himself up into a kind of frenzy or\ndelirium, and then told them where to cut the ice and drag for the body\nof their dead comrade.\n\nWhen the Christian Indians heard that these others had gone to the\nconjurer for help, they were very much grieved.  One especially, a grand\nold man by the name of Thomas Mustagan, was very much depressed in\nspirit.  While feeling deeply the loss of Edmund, he was very much hurt\nwhen the news reached him, that some of the searchers instead of going\nto God in their perplexity and trouble, had, like King Saul, resorted to\nsuch disputable agencies.\n\nNo sooner had he received this news, than he resolved to adopt a very\ndifferent course.  Getting his wife to cook a quantity of food; he\ncarried it, with some kettles of tea, to a spot on the shore near to\nwhere the men were diligently searching for the body.\n\nClearing away the snow he made a fire; and, when the tea was prepared,\ncalled the hungry and almost discouraged men around him, and made them\neat his food and drink his tea.  Then he talked to them of the one\nliving and true God, and of His power to hear and answer prayer.  He\nspoke of the foolishness and wickedness of those, who, having heard\nabout Him, had gone and consulted the wicked old conjurer.  \"Let us go\nto that God about whom we have been taught by our missionaries.  He is\nthe one to help us in our trouble.\"\n\nWith the people all around him, he kneeled down in snow, and earnestly\nand reverently asked God to hear and help them in their sorrow and\nperplexity.  He prayed that wisdom might be given them, so that they\nmight find the body of their dear friend lying somewhere in that cold\nriver; that they might take it up, and bury it in their little village\ngraveyard.  He asked God very earnestly to comfort the poor sorrowing\nwidow and the little helpless children.  Thus with believing faith did\nthis venerable old Indian of more than fourscore winters, call upon God.\n\nWhen they arose from their knees he said: \"Now trusting in God to answer\nus, let us go to work.\"\n\nOn account of the quantity of snow that had fallen on the ice, they had\nfirst to scrape it away, and then use their judgment about where to cut\nthrough the ice, and drag for the body.  Although Thomas was so old a\nman, he now seemed the most alert and active of the party.  By common\nconsent, he was given charge of the party of Christian Indians, who now\nworked diligently under his direction.\n\nIn the meantime, the old conjurer Kwaskacarpo in a confident voice told\nhis followers, that he had conjured, and the answer was, that they were\nto cut the ice in a certain designated place.\n\nPaying no attention to him or his party, the Christian Indians worked\naway, and as fast as the ice was cleared of snow, Thomas looked through\nas well as he could.\n\nAll at once he arose quickly from a spot of semi-transparent ice which\nhe had been carefully examining, and calling to the men with the axes\nand ice-chisels, he said:\n\n\"Try here.\"\n\nSoon they had a large hole cut, the grappling irons were brought into\nuse, and there hundreds of yards from the place where the conjurer had\ndirected his followers to look for it, the body was found.\n\nThomas, while intently searching through the ice, had seen on the under\nsurface at that place a quantity of air bubbles.  The thought came to\nhim, that here the body had rested, and the last air from the lungs had\nescaped and formed these bubbles.  He had asked for wisdom and divine\ndirection and he was not disappointed, for in less than an hour after\nthese pious Indians had been on their knees in earnest prayer the body\nof their comrade was being borne away to his home, and from thence to\nits final resting place in the \"God's Acre\" of the little Christian\nvillage.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER THIRTEEN.\n\nBETSY, THE INDIAN WIFE.\n\nShe was not a bad looking woman, but she had such a sorrowful face that\nnever seemed to have on it a smile.  Mrs Young and I had both noticed\nthis, and had spoken to each other about it.  Her name was Betsy.  She\nwas the wife of an Indian whose name was Atenou, but who, when baptised,\nhad, like most of his countrymen, asked for the addition to it of an\nEnglish name, and so was known as Robert Atenou.  His record seemed to\nbe that of a quiet, industrious sort of an Indian, who fished and hunted\nas did the rest, and gave trouble to none.  As he, like many of his\npeople, was gifted with readiness of utterance, and was very faithful in\nhis attendance at all of the religious services, and seemed to be living\na godly life, he had been, given an official position in the church,\nwhich, he very much appreciated.\n\nIt was noticed however, that Robert's advancement in the church, did not\nseem to remove the cloud that was on his wife's face.  While the other\nwomen were so bright and happy and thankful at the change which\nChristianity had brought into their lives, and were at times not slow in\nspeaking about it, she was a very marked exception.\n\nNot wishing to pry into her affairs, while perplexed, we were obliged\nfor a time to remain in the dark, and could only conjecture as to the\ncause.\n\nPerhaps the most marvellous and conspicuous evidence of the blessedness\nof the Gospel, next to its divine power in the salvation of the soul, is\nto be seen in the glorious way in which it uplifts women.  Sad indeed is\nthe condition of women in lands unreached by the blessed influences of\nChristianity.  He whose wonderful and tender love for His mother, and\nfor the goodly women who ministered to Him, was so manifested when He\nwalked this earth of ours, is Jesus still.  And wherever His name is\nsuccessfully proclaimed, and hearts opened to receive Him, there at once\nis a glorious uplifting of woman from a condition of inferiority and\ndegradation, into one where she is honoured and respected.\n\nThe northern Indian tribes on this continent, while not very warlike, or\nmuch in the habit of going after the scalps of their enemies, had other\ncrimes and sins, which showed that they were fallen and sinful, and much\nin need of the Gospel.  Among the defects and wickednesses of the men,\nwas the almost universal contempt for, and cruelty to the women.  If a\nman spoke or acted kindly to his wife, or mother, or daughter, it was by\nthem considered a sign of weakness and effeminacy.  To be harsh and cold\ntoward the women, was supposed to be one of the signs of the ideal\nIndian toward which they were ever striving.  All manual labour, apart\nfrom hunting and fishing, was considered degrading to be left to the\nwomen, and some, as much as possible, even left the fishing to them.\nWhere there were no tribal wars, the perfect Indian was only the great\nhunter.  And with the great hunter, his work ended when the game was\nkilled.  If it were at all possible to send his wife or mother to the\nspot where the animal lay, that his arrow or gun had brought down, he\nwould scorn to carry or drag it back to camp.  He had killed the bear,\nor moose, or reindeer, or whatever animal it might happen to be, and now\nit was woman's work to take it to the wigwam, and as quickly as possible\nprepare for him his meal.  Thus we have seen the great stalwart\nsix-footed hunter come stalking into the village with his gun upon his\nshoulder, while the poor mother, or wife, or daughter, came trudging on\nbehind, almost crushed down with the weight of the game upon her back.\nHe carried the gun--she the game.\n\nThen, no matter how tired she might be with the heavy burden, no time\nwas allowed for rest.  With a quick harsh \"kinipe\" (hurry); she was soon\nat work.  The skin was quickly and skilfully removed, and some of the\nsavoury meat was cooked and placed before her husband or son.  Not a\nmouthful would she be allowed to taste until the despot had leisurely\nfinished, unless it were to pick some of the bones which he\ncondescendingly threw to her, as, at a distance from him, she sat with\nthe girls and dogs.  Thus she was treated as a slave, or drudge, or\nbeast of burden.  Then when sickness or old age came on, and she became\nunable to work and toil and slave, she was without mercy put out of\nexistence: the usual method being strangulation.\n\nThis was the sad condition of women in various parts of this great\ncontinent ere the Gospel reached the Indian tribes.  Very marvellous and\nstriking have been the transformations which we have witnessed among\nthose to whom we had gone with the truth.  At some places we witnessed\nchanges wrought by the labours of the worthy men who had preceded us; in\nother places we were permitted both to sow the seed and see the glorious\nharvest.\n\nAlthough, from the white man's standpoint the people here were poor, yet\nthe little houses, where were the followers of the Lord Jesus, were\nhomes of happiness, and the spirit of kindliness and affection\neverywhere prevailed.  There men and women lived on terms of equality.\nNo longer did the men eat alone and of the best of the game and fish,\nbut all together men and women, boys and girls as one loving family,\nshared proportionately what had been secured.  The result was, there was\na spirit of contentment and happiness in our mission village that was\nvery gratifying.\n\nHowever, amidst these happy faces and notes of thanksgiving, here was\nthis one sorrowful face and silent tongue.  What was the cause?  The\ntruth came out at last, and in a way that was almost dramatic.\n\nMrs Young and I were busy one day with our routine duties, when Betsy\ncame into our home, and hardly taking time enough to give the usual\nmorning salutation exclaimed in a most decided way; \"Robert is not kind\nto me, and does not treat me like the other men, who profess to be\nChristians, treat their wives.\"\n\nThis strong emphatic remark startled us, and at once gave us the clue to\nthe cause of the sorrowful face.  At first we hardly knew just how to\nanswer such an emphatic utterance, and so in silence waited for her to\nproceed.  But there she sat quietly her face nearly hidden in her black\nshawl, seeming to be afraid to proceed further.  So we had at length to\nbreak the awkward silence, by saying we were very sorry to hear her\nwords and could not understand their meaning, as Robert seemed to be a\nvery good man, and an earnest Christian.\n\nThis at once caused her to break her silence, and turning around to me,\nshe said:\n\n\"Yes, that is it.  If he did not so profess to be a Christian, I would\nnever mind it, and would silently bear it; but he _professes_ to be a\nChristian, and does not treat me in the way in which the other Christian\nmen treat their wives.\"\n\nThen she quieted down, and in a very straightforward way told us her\nstory, which was as follows:\n\n\"When Robert goes out and shoots a deer, it is true he does not come\nhome with the gun upon his shoulder, and make me go out on his trail and\nbring in the game; he brings it in himself, like the other Christian\nIndians; but when it is brought in, he makes me skin it; and then takes\nthe two haunches over to the fort, and there exchanges them with the\nfur-traders for some flour, tea and sugar, which he brings home.  I have\nto cook for him a fore-shoulder of the deer, make cakes at the fire, out\nof his flour, and then when the tea is made and supper is ready, sit and\nwatch him, and our boys, and any men visitors who happen to be there--\nand a number are generally around by that time--eat until all is\nconsumed.  He never gives any of these good things to me, or to the\ngirls.  We have to go out in a canoe, and, with a net, catch some fish\nfor our food.  And yet,\" she added, with some bitterness, \"he calls\nhimself a Christian; and treats us in this way, as though he had never\nheard the missionary.\"\n\nOf course we were both indignant as she told her story, and were not\nslow in letting her know of our annoyance at her having been, so\ntreated.  But wife-like, and woman-like, when I said:\n\n\"Robert shall hear of this, and shall be straightened out forthwith,\"\nher fears were aroused, and it seemed as though she were now frightened\nat what she had said.  However there was not much difficulty in quieting\nher fears, although at first it did seem as though she would rush out of\nthe house, and return to her tent, and submit to the humiliating life\nwhich she saw should not have continued so long.\n\nAfter a little consultation with Mrs Young, our course of action was\nagreed upon.  It was, that Betsy should be kept at the mission house\nuntil I had assembled in the church a number of the elderly Christian\nmen; and later Robert, whom we learned from his wife was then at his\ntent, was to be summoned.\n\nBut little time was required in which to gather the men I wanted, as\nmost of the people were then at their homes.  They were completely in\nthe dark as to the object for which I had called them together.  When in\nthe church.  I sent for Mrs Young and Betsy to join us.  Poor Betsy was\nnow so frightened, that it seemed as if, like a startled deer, she would\nrun to the woods.  However, she was in good hands.  Mrs Young spoke\nsoothing words, and cheered her much by telling her, that what she had\ndone in coming to us with the story of her wrongs was perfectly right,\nand that very soon every thing would be cleared up.\n\nShortly after the two women came in and took seats together, Robert, for\nwhom I had sent two men, walked in.\n\nAt first he was much surprised at the gathering, and especially puzzled\nand perplexed at seeing his wife sitting there by the side of the wife\nof the missionary.  Before he could say anything, I pointed out a seat\nfor him where he would be in full view of his brother Indians, and yet,\nwhere his presence would not overawe, or crush down his wife.  Soon\nafter, I locked the church door and said:\n\n\"Let us pray.\"\n\nAfter prayers I turned to Betsy, and said:\n\n\"Now Betsy, if what you told Mrs Young and me in the mission house is\ntrue, and I believe it is, I want you now to tell the story over again\nthat these Christian men may hear it.  Never mind the fact of Robert's\nbeing here; if he is a Christian, as he says he is, the hearing of it\nwill, I hope, do him good.\"\n\nThe faces of those Indians were studies.  None knew, not even Robert\nhimself, what Betsy had to say; and so they waited in amazement to hear\nher story.\n\nWith an encouraging word from Mrs Young, she began; and although at\nfirst she was timid and nervous, she soon recovered her self-possession,\nand in a perfectly natural manner told the story of the treatment she\nand the girls had received from the hands of her husband.  With renewed\nemphasis she dwelt on that which seemed to have given her the most\nsorrow?  \"If he had not so professed to be a Christian, I would not have\nso much minded it.\"\n\nIndians are the best listeners in the world.  They never interrupt\nanyone in his talk.  And so, even Robert, who at first was simply\ndumbfounded and amazed, controlled himself and held his peace.  Very few\nwhite men could have done so.  I had purposely so placed him, that if he\nhad suddenly attempted violence, stronger men could instantly have\nrestrained him.  But nothing of the kind was attempted.  As his wife\nwent on and on, showing the difference between his conduct toward her\nand their girls, and that of the other Christian men toward their wives\nand daughters, Robert's head went lower and lower, until there he sat,\nhumiliated and disgraced before his brethren.  When Betsy finished her\ntalk and sat down, I turned to the good men there assembled and merely\nsaid:\n\n\"What do you think of such conduct on the part of one who professes to\nbe a Christian?\"\n\nTheir indignation knew no bounds.  Indian like, they had let Betsy tell\nher whole story without any interruption; but the looks on their faces\nas she proceeded, told how deeply affected they were.  Now that they had\nheard her story, it seemed as though they all wanted to speak at ones;\nbut there are well understood, although unwritten, rules of precedence\namong them, so the first in order spoke, and then the second, and then\nthe third, and so on.\n\nHow they did dress the poor fellow down!  While it was very severe, it\nwas Christian and brotherly.  They spoke as men who were grieved and\nwounded.\n\n\"Is this the way you have acted!  You, Robert Atenou, who for so long a\ntime have professed to be a Christian; you, to treat your poor wife and\nchildren like that; as though no Bible, or missionary had come among us!\nNow we know why Betsy has been so sad, and did not rejoice like the\nother women.\"\n\nThus they faithfully chided him, and expressed their sorrow at his\nheartless conduct.\n\nPoor Robert, I had soon to pity him.  First, of course, I was a little\nanxious as to the way in which a once proud-spirited fiery Indian, would\ntake his wife's arraignment of his misdoings and selfishness, and also\nthese reprimands from his brethren.  However, it turned out all right.\nRobert just buried his bronzed face in his hands, and received it all in\nsilence.  When I thought it had gone far enough, and had decided in my\nown mind not then and there to question him, I asked for a cessation of\nthe speaking, and went and opened the church door.\n\nAt once Robert arose and left the church.\n\nNot one word had he spoken to anybody.\n\nBetsy, wife-like, wished immediately to follow him, but Mrs Young\npersuaded her not to go for a little while.  She took the poor\nfrightened creature into the mission house, gave her a cup of tea and\nsomething to eat, and what she prized more, some loving sympathetic\nwords.  When she did return home, she found that Robert was absent.  The\nchildren said that he had come in, and, after saying some kind words to\nthem, had taken his gun and ammunition and had gone off hunting.  He did\nnot return until the next day, but he had with him a fine deer.  This he\nskinned himself, and taking the two hind quarters, went as usual to the\nfort, and bartered them for flour, tea and sugar.  When he returned to\nhis tent, he handed these things to his wife, and desired her to cook\nthem as usual.  After all had been prepared he had all placed before his\nwife, daughters, and sons.  Then, telling them to enjoy the meal, he\nleft the tent.  Taking a net, he went out upon the lake in a canoe, and\nafter some time spent in fishing, was seen cooking and eating his catch\nupon the shore.\n\nThus he lived for weeks.  He was a good hunter, and worked most\nindustriously and successfully.  All the game taken, he brought to his\nwife and children, upon which he insisted that they should feast, while\nhe confined himself to a fish diet; although those caught at that season\nwere far from being the best.\n\nOne Saturday evening, as we were standing in the front of our mission\nhome enjoying the splendours of a most magnificent sunset, we saw Robert\ncoming up the trail.  As he drew near I accosted him kindly, but it was\neasy to see that he was in trouble, and that there was \"something on his\nmind.\"  We chatted about various things, and I encouraged him to speak\nout freely.  With a sudden effort he broke loose from his feeling of\nrestraint, and said:\n\n\"Missionary, are you going to let me come to the Sacrament of the Lord's\nSupper to-morrow?\"\n\nFour times a year we had this sacramental service, and it was a great\nevent to our native Christians.  In answer to his question I replied:\n\n\"Why Robert, what is there to cause me to wish to prevent you from\ncoming to the Lord's table?\"\n\nLooking at me earnestly, he said:\n\n\"There is a good deal.  Just think of the way I have treated my wife and\ndaughters!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I said, \"I remember that; but I also know how you have been\ntreating them during the last few weeks.\"\n\nWith a face from which the shadows had now fled away, he said quickly:--\n\n\"Have you heard anything about that?\"\n\n\"O yes, Robert,\" I replied, \"I know all about it.  I have good eyes and\nears, and I have seen and heard how nobly you have redeemed yourself.  I\nam very glad of it.  Of course I will welcome you to the Lord's table.\"\n\nAfter a little further conversation, I said:\n\n\"Tell me, Robert, why did you act so selfishly toward your wife and\ndaughters?\"\n\nHe just uttered with emphasis the Indian word which means:\n\"Stupidity,\"--then after a little pause he quietly added; \"But I think I\nhave got over it.\"\n\nAnd so he had.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER FOURTEEN.\n\nFIVE INDIANS AND A JACK-KNIFE.\n\nIndian boys dearly love pocket-knives.  As they have to make their own\nbows and arrows, the paddles for their birch canoes, and also the frames\nfor their snow shoes, of course a good knife is a valued possession.  In\nwhittling, Indian boys do not push the knife from them, but always draw\nit toward them.  They are very clever in the manufacture of the few\nthings which they require, and are encouraged by their fathers to do\ntheir work as neatly as possible.  So the better the knife, the better\nthe work which these Indian lads can do, and they are ambitious to\npossess the very best knife that it is possible for them to obtain; just\nas the older Indians will give any price within their means for the very\nbest guns that are made.  Knowing this love for a good knife, I once\nused it among a lot of Indian lads, as an incentive to encourage them to\nsing: as our story will explain.\n\nAt one of our Indian villages, where a flourishing mission with its day\nand Sunday schools exists, the devoted lady teacher said to me on a\nrecent visit:\n\n\"I do wish you would do something to encourage our boys to sing.  They\nhave good voices, but they seem afraid to use them.  If I do succeed in\ngetting one to sing, the others laugh at him, and then there is no more\nsinging that day.\"\n\nI gladly promised to do what I could; but before I describe the plan\nadopted, perhaps I would better give some description of these Indians\namong whom this courageous young lady was living.  Their hunting grounds\nare in the vast region which lies between Lake Winnipeg and Hudson Bay.\nThey are called Saulteaux, and are a subdivision of the great Algonquin\nfamily.\n\nUntil very recently they lived altogether by hunting and fishing.  So\nignorant were they, even of the existence of bread, that when the first\nmissionaries, who translated into their language the Lord's prayer, came\nto the petition, \"Give us this day our daily bread,\" to make it\nintelligible to them, they had to translate it, \"Give us this day\nsomething to keep us in life.\"\n\nThey were, and still are very poor.  Once the forests abounded in game,\nand the richest fur-bearing animals, such as the black and silver foxes,\notters, beavers, minks, martens and ermines, were caught in large\nnumbers; but incessant huntings have almost annihilated some of these\nanimals, and others are very difficult to find.  The lakes once teemed\nwith fish; but the rapid increase of the white population in the\nnorth-western states and in Manitoba has so multiplied the demands, that\nnot one quarter as many fish are now caught as formerly.\n\nThe result is, that the poor Indians whose sole dependence was on these\nthings, are not as well off as they formerly were, even with the little\nhelp which they receive from the government.  Hence it is the imperative\nduty of the missionaries, not only to Christianise them, but to do all\nthey can, in harmony with the government officials, to encourage them to\nraise cattle, to cultivate what land is available, and to raise those\nhardy crops which will come to maturity in such a cold northern region.\n\nThis was the place; and those were the Indians whose boys the devoted\nteacher wished me to encourage to sing.  The request was made during the\ncelebration of a feast which I was giving them.  I had taken out from\ncivilisation such things as flour, tea, sugar, currants, candies; and at\nfour a.m. the Indian women had come to the place appointed and had\ncooked the cakes etcetera, and made all other needed preparations.\n\nAt about ten the people assembled on the bank of the river in front of\nthe church.  Everybody came.  All were welcome.  It was not asked\nwhether they were Christian or pagan.  We greeted them all cordially,\nand treated them alike.\n\nOf the happy incidents of the feast, the glad hours of loving converse,\nand the religious services held after, we have no room here to write.\nSuffice it to say, that at about four p.m. the children's hour came, and\nwith them we had a very interesting time.  I was delighted with their\nanswers to my many questions, especially with their knowledge of the\nblessed Book.  The girls sang very sweetly, but not much music came from\nthe boys, and so I began at once to act on the request of the teacher.\n\nKnowing, as I have stated, the boys' love for pocket-knives, I went to\none of my boxes, and taking out six very good ones, I stood up before\nthe crowd and said:\n\n\"Boys, listen to me.  I am going to give these six knives to the six\nboys who will sing the best.  And look!  While five of them are good two\nbladed knives, one of them is a splendid four bladed one!  Now, I am\ngoing to give this best one, to the boy who will sing the best of all!\"\n\nGreat indeed was the excitement among the Indian lads.  Nearly every boy\nin the audience rushed to the front and the trial began.  Indians in\ntheir wild state have no music worth preserving, and so in all of our\nmissions, our hymns and songs are translated, and the tunes of\ncivilisation are used.  The teacher seated herself at the little organ,\nand the testing began.  They sang such hymns as \"Rock of Ages\", \"Come,\nthou Fount of every blessing\", \"Just as I am\", \"Jesus my all, to heaven\nis gone,\" and many others.\n\nThe inferior singers were weeded out very rapidly, and sent back to\ntheir seats.  When the number was reduced to about ten, the work of\nselection proceeded more slowly; but eventually the number was reduced\nto six.  The question now was, Which of these six was to receive the\nfour-bladed knife?  This was not easy to settle.  The members of the\ncommittee differed very decidedly; so one boy after another was tried,\nover and over again, and still no unanimous decision could be reached.\n\nWhile the committee was discussing the matter, five of the boys, seeing\nour perplexity, took the matter out of our hands and settled it in a way\nthat surprised and delighted us all.  These five were fine specimens of\nIndian lads.  They were lithe and strong, and full of life and fun.  The\nsixth boy, Jimmie Jakoos, was a cripple, having one leg which was very\nmuch shorter than the other: the result being that he had to use\ncrutches.  These five had moved over to one side, and were observed to\nbe excitedly, though quietly, engaged in conversation.\n\nAfter their brief discussion, one of them sprang up, and looking at me\nasked:\n\n\"Missionary, may I say something?\"\n\n\"Certainly you may,\" I replied.\n\n\"Well, missionary,\" he answered, \"we five boys have been talking it\nover, and this is what we think about it.  You see we are well and\nstrong.  We can chase the rabbit, and partridge, and other game; and\nthen when winter comes, we can skate on the rivers, and lake; but Jimmie\nis lame, he has a bad leg.  He cannot run in the woods.  He cannot go\nskating on the ice.  But Jimmie is fond of whittling.  He is a good hand\nat making bows, and arrows, and paddles, and other things, and a fine\nknife would be just the thing for him.  And so we five boys have talked\nthe matter over, and as he is a cripple, we will be very glad if you\nwill give the best knife to Jimmie.\"\n\nNoble boys!  How the people were thrilled at this speech.  It\nelectrified me, and filled not only my eyes with tears, but my heart\nwith joy.\n\nI could but think of the past, of the cruelty and intense selfishness of\nthose dark days, when, among both the young and old, everyone was for\nhimself, and the unfortunate, and feeble, were neglected and despised.\nNow, thanks to the blessed ennobling influences of Christianity, even\nthe boys were catching this Christly spirit, and would spontaneously act\nin this delightful way.\n\nSo to Jimmie was given the four-bladed knife and to the other boys were\nhanded the two-bladed ones; but so pleased was I with the beautiful\nspirit displayed by them, that I added to the gift a good shirt or\njacket as each boy chose.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER FIFTEEN.\n\nTHE SAULTEAUX CHIEFTAINESS; OR, A SEARCHER AFTER THE TRUTH.\n\nShe was a large woman, and as she came into our mission home her conduct\nwas so different from that of the ordinary Indian woman, that I was\nsomewhat prejudiced against her.  Generally the Indian women when they\nenter a house are quiet, and modest, and unobtrusive in their movements;\nbut here stalked in a large woman, who gazed at us with searching\nglances, and had such decided ways, that I felt disturbed at her\npresence and soon left the house for a couple of hours in the woods\nwhere some of my Indian men were at work.\n\nWhen I returned, it was with the hope that she had finished her visit\nand retired.  But no, there she was; and it was quite evident that she\nhad come to stay.  When my good wife saw my apparent annoyance at this\nnew visitor, she called me to one side and said:\n\n\"You must not be annoyed at this woman.  She is a chieftainess, and the\ndaughter of a chief.  Her husband was a chief, and when he died, she, at\nthe request of her people, took his position, and has maintained it ever\nsince.\"\n\nShe had heard from some fur-hunters about our having come to live in the\nland of the Saulteaux.  She had also heard of the wonderful book we had,\nwhich was the word of the Great Spirit; and this too, had excited her\ncuriosity.  She had listened to these rumours with incredulity and did\nnot believe them; but as they increased, her curiosity was so excited,\nthat she resolved at length to find out for herself if these things were\ntrue, and had actually come many days journey to investigate for\nherself.  Here she was, thoroughly installed in our little home, and I,\nat first, much prejudiced against her on account of her decided emphatic\nsort of way.\n\nI sat down beside her, and had her tell me her story.  She was indeed a\nclever woman, and was full of anxiety to learn if what she had heard\nwere true.  She was an anxious inquirer after truth, literally\ninsatiable in her curiosity, and in her desire to learn all she could.\nShe could talk morning, noon and night, and would keep one of us busy\nanswering her questions all the time she was not sleeping or eating.\n\nShe stayed with us about two weeks, and then returned to her people;\nmeanwhile attending every religious service, and receiving many lessons\nin divine truth.  The simple plan of salvation was explained to her, and\nshe was taught how to pray.\n\nEre she went away, I said to her: Now you are going back home, and I\nwant to say something to you.  You must try to remember what we have\nsaid about the loving Father, and His beloved Son.  You must try to pray\nevery day to Him, and you must try to love Him and keep all of His\ncommands.\n\n\"Now one of these commands is, `Remember the Sabbath day to keep it\nholy.'  Christians keep one day in seven, and you say that your people\ndesire to be Christians; and I believe you.  We want you to be a\nChristian in everything, and so we want you to remember this among the\nother commandments.  To help you in this matter, I am going to give you\nthis big sheet of paper and pencil, and you will mark each day as it\ngoes by.\"\n\nSo starting her on Monday, I showed her how to mark the days in this\nway:--111111.  \"Those six are _your_ days, in which to hunt and fish and\nattend to all your duties as a chieftainess.  Look after all your\naffairs on those six days; then, when the seventh day comes, make a big\nmark in this way:--\n\n\"This mark is for God's day.  Leave your gun and net on that day, and do\nnot go hunting or fishing: it is the day of rest and worship.  Make all\npreparations for it on the day before.  See that you have plenty of food\ncaptured, and wood cut, so that when the day of God chines, you will not\nhave to work or hunt or fish.  On that day think much about the Great\nSpirit, and pray much to your loving father who sees and hears you all\nthe time, and who is well pleased if we keep His day and worship Him\nupon it.\"\n\nEre she left, she pleaded earnestly with me to come and visit her and\nher tribe, and preach to them, and explain the way of the Great Book.\nMy engagements were very many but finding that I could crowd in a visit,\nI said:\n\n\"When the eagle-moon is filling out listen for the ringing of the\nmissionary's sleigh-bells, for then will he be coming to see you and\nyour people with his dog-train and guide.\"\n\nMy programme of engagements was so great, that it was about six months\nere I could make the promised visit.  So when the eagle moon came--which\nis February--I harnessed up my dogs, and taking one of my experienced\nguides and a couple of dog-drivers, started for the far-off land of\nOokemasis.\n\nWe were about two weeks on the journey.  It was one of the most\ndangerous and toilsome I ever undertook.  We often had to travel along\non the narrow ledges of ice that overhung the rapid waters of the great\nriver.  Sometimes our dog-sleds would whirl round on the ice and we come\nvery near falling off into the dark cold waters.  This was much more\ndangerous from the fact, that much of the travelling had to be done by\nnight for the dazzling rays of the sun during the daytime rendered us so\nliable to the terrible snow-blindness, which is such a painful disease.\nHowever, we persevered, and by daylight when possible, and by night when\nwe could do no better, pushed on, and at last reached our destination.\n\nThe last six miles of the journey lay across a frozen lake on the\nfarther shore of which was the village of the chieftainess.  When not\nmore than half way across the lake, the sharp eyes of those on the\nlookout, detected our coming, whereupon great excitement prevailed in\nthe village.  Never, it seemed, was there a happier woman than\nOokemasis.  She received us with a wondrous welcome, and in emphatic\nways expressed her gratitude and joy.  Already when we arrived, the\nfeast of welcome was being prepared.  When she was certain that it was\nthe missionary, she had taken down from a staging some heads of\nreindeer, and, after singeing off the hair and chopping them into great\nchunks, had put them into a big pot to boil.\n\nAfter the warm welcome, we were escorted to a large tent to wait until\ndinner was ready.  As she had no tea, I gave her a quantity much to her\ndelight.  So excited was she, that she kept running into the tent to\ntell me how great was her joy, that at length the man and the Book had\ncome to her people.  When dinner was ready, she escorted me and my\nattendants out to it.  A spot had been cleaned away, in the centre of\nwhich, on a big dish, was a large pile of pieces of reindeer heads.\nAround were a number of tin cups filled with hot strong tea.  Her\ninvitations had been limited to the number of tin cups she could muster.\nShe placed me at her left, and her chief next in authority to herself,\non her right.  My guide and dog-drivers were next to me on my left, and\nthe circle was completed with other Indian men.  She was the only woman\nin the circle as soon as we were seated on the ground, some of the men\nat once seized hold of a piece of meat, and drawing their hunting\nknives, were about to begin their dinners:\n\n\"Stop,\" said I.  \"Wait a minute.  You are all going to be Christians,\nand one thing Christians do, is to ask a blessing upon their food.  The\nGreat Spirit gives us all the good things, and we must thank Him for\nthem.  So now shut your eyes, and I will ask the blessing.\"\n\nEvery eye was closed as I asked a blessing of several sentences.  When I\nhad finished, I said \"Amen\" and of course opened my own eyes.  To my\namazement and amusement, every eye, except those of my own Indian\nattendants, was still closed.  \"Open your eyes,\" I said.  \"Amen, here\nmeans, _open your eye_.  It has some other meanings, but that will do\nhere.\"\n\nThen we went at our dinners.  There were no plates or forks, only our\nhunting knives.  Every one, including the missionary, took up a piece of\nthe well-cooked meat in his left hand, and began whittling off his\ndinner with his knife.  My friend, the chieftainess, had large, strong\nand not very clean hands.  But she cared not for that.  She grabbed up a\nlarge piece of juicy meat, into which her hand almost sank, and cut and\ntore off the savoury bits with great delight.  Then she flung it on the\nground and took a good drink of the tea; and then seizing hold of the\nmeat tore at it again with great satisfaction.  Suddenly she dropped it\nagain upon the ground, and, plunging her greasy hand into the bosom of\nher dress, said:\n\n\"O, missionary, I want you to see how I have tried to keep the record of\nthe praying day.\"  So out of the bosom of her dress she drew a greasy\ndirty paper, which at first I did not recognise as the large clean sheet\nI had given her.\n\n\"Here, look,\" she said, \"see how I have tried to keep the record of the\npraying day!\"\n\nWith much interest, I examined it, and found, that during all those six\nmonths, she had faithfully kept the record.  There it was; the right day\nfor all that long period.  Then she went on to tell me of all her\nexperiences.  She said, that some days when she was in her wigwam trying\nto think of the Great Spirit and of His Son, and was trying to pray to\nHim, a boy would rush in and say:\n\n\"Ookemasis, there is a big reindeer out in the ravine, I am sure you can\nshoot it.\"\n\n\"But I would say, `No.  This is the praying day and I cannot fish or\nshoot on this day.'  So I have never gone hunting or fishing on the\npraying day.  I just try to think of the Great Spirit, my Father, and to\npray and talk to Him, and have Him talk to me.\"\n\nOf course I spoke kind and encouraging words to her, and she was very\nhappy indeed to hear them.\n\nThen she put back the dirty paper, and reaching down to the ground again\nseized hold of her big piece of meat.  Looking at mine, a bony bit which\nI had selected because I could hold it a little more easily while I\ncarved it, she shouted out:\n\n\"Your piece of meat is a very poor one, mine is a very good piece,\" and\nbefore I could realise what she was about, she exchanged the pieces.  Of\ncourse I could do nothing but accept it, with thanks.  I had to approve\nof the motive, even if I did not applaud the deed.  It was an act of\nkindness that we are not all educated up to.\n\nAfter the dinner we had a religious service that lasted until supper\ntime.  Then, after a good supper of fish, we had another service, that\nlasted until midnight.  Then she put me in charge of one of her Indians\nwho had a large wigwam.  With him my Indians and I spent the night.\nThere were only twenty-two of us sleeping around the fire in the centre.\n\nI remained with them for a number of days, and since then, they have all\ngiven up paganism, and have become good earnest Christian people.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER SIXTEEN.\n\nBIG TOM.\n\nHis full name was Mamanowatum, which means, \"O be joyful.\"  He was a big\nman, almost gigantic, and generally slow in his movements, except when\non the trail.  When he arose to address an assembly, either in council,\nor church, he got up by inches, and seemed to rest between.  But when he\nwas up, and began to talk, he had something to say that was worthy of\nattention.\n\nOur first introduction to him was in 1868.  He was the guide and\nsteersman of the Hudson Bay inland boat, in which my wife and I\ntravelled from Fort Garry, on the Red River of the North, to Norway\nHouse, situated on Playgreen Lake, beyond the northern extremity of Lake\nWinnipeg.\n\nAt this time Big Tom, as he was called by everybody, had been an earnest\nChristian for several years.  Earlier missionaries had preceded us, and\namong the Indian converts was this godly man, about whom it is a\npleasure to write.  We both took to him at once.  He was one of nature's\nnoblemen.  While pleased with his kindly considerate ways, we admired\nthe skill and ability with which he managed the little boat on such a\nstormy lake.\n\nThe long and dangerous journey was of about four hundred miles and\noccupied us for about fourteen days.  Big Tom steered our boat with a\nlong oar, which he used as a rudder.  The principal propelling power of\nthese boats, is the long strong oars, manned by the Indian crews.  We\nhad in our boat eight good oarsmen, and the vigour and endurance of\nthese men was a matter of constant admiration.  When head winds\nprevailed, or we were in the midst of calm, hour sifter hour these\nfaithful men toiled on at their oars, as diligently as ever did any\ngalley slave.  A favouring breeze, even if it turned into a dangerous\ngale, was ever welcomed, as it gave the men a rest from their slavish\nwork.\n\nAs soon as the wind was favourable the cheery cry of:\n\n\"Meyoo-nootin,\" (Fair wind,) from the guide,--or as was the cry on this\ntrip, \"Souway-nas,\" (South wind,)--gladdened every heart.  At once there\nwas great activity.  The oars were hauled in, and the mast which had\nbeen lashed to the side of the boat, was quickly placed in position.\nRopes were speedily arranged, the big square sail was hoisted, and on we\nsped before the favouring breeze.\n\nWith the rising of the wind, generally came the great waves; and the\nmost careful steering on the part of Big Tom was necessary to keep our\nheavily laden boat from plunging her prow into foam-covered billows.  It\nwas a pleasure to observe the watchful care of this cautious steersman,\nas well as to see the strength and quickness with which he managed our\nlittle boat when great waves seemed about to sweep over us.  His\ncourteous ways won our respect, while his ability as a steersman\ncommanded our admiration.\n\nHe did all that he could to make our trip, which had many drawbacks, as\ncomfortable and as enjoyable as possible.  It was not very comfortable\nto have a great struggling ox on board, very close to the place where we\nhad to sit.  Sometimes, as the boat was tossed on the waves, his head\nwas over one side of the little craft; and then shortly after, his tail\nwas over the other side.\n\nEvery night where we camped on the shore.  Big Tom gathered bundles of\nfragrant grass, part of which he gave the ox as provender, and with the\nrest he endeavoured to make our surroundings more comfortable and\ninviting.  He regretted, perhaps as much as we did, our having to travel\nso long a time with this great ox so close to us; and yet ere we reached\nthe end of our journey, it seemed almost a certainty, that what we had\nconsidered an unmitigated nuisance, had been our salvation.  One night,\nin our anxiety to push on, the Indians decided not to go ashore and\ncamp, but to sail on all night as the wind was favourable.  During the\nsmall hours the wind increased almost to a gale, while dark clouds\nobscured nearly every star.  Big Tom--hero that he was--stuck to his\npost and, nobly aided by his experienced Indians, under close-reefed\nsail, sped rapidly on in the gloom.  The missionary and his wife were\nsleeping in their camp bed, which had been spread out at the feet of the\nsteersman; and just beyond us, lying down at our feet, was the great ox.\nSuddenly the boat was thrown on its side, and came to a standstill.\nFor a time there was great excitement, and the shouting of orders by the\nusually quiet Indians, about equalled the raging of the storm.\n\nWith great presence of mind.  Big Tom instantly lowered the sail, thus\nsaving us from a complete upset.  It was found that we had run on the\nsloping side of a smooth submerged granite rock.  Fortunate indeed was\nit for us that our boat was well ballasted by its cargo, and that the\nheaviest item was the ox.  The unanimous opinion of the Indians was,\nthat his great weight saved us from a capsize.  By careful management\nthe boat was released from its perilous position uninjured, and the\nadventurous journey resumed.\n\nAfter this exciting adventure.  Big Tom decided that there must be no\nmore night travelling.  So from early dawn until late at night we\nhurried on, encamping each evening in some favourable spot upon the\nshore.\n\nThe camp-fire, generously supplied with fuel from the great forests so\nnear, lit up the swarthy features of our stalwart men, some of whom were\nengaged in preparing the evening meal, while others, in picturesque\ngroups, were otherwise occupied.  This hearty evening meal was enjoyed\nby all.\n\nShortly after, we all assembled for our evening devotions.  Some\nadditional logs thrown upon our camp-fire so brightened it up, that all\nwho wished could easily follow the reading of the lesson in their own\nTestaments and use their own hymn-books in the service of song.  The\nmemories of some of those religious services are very precious.  Still\ncan we hear Big Tom's deep rich voice reading in his musical Cree\nlanguage:\n\n\"Weya Muneto a ispeeche saketapun uske, ke niakew oo pauko-Koosisana,\npiko una tapwatowayitche numaweya oo ga nissewunatissety, maka oo ga\nayaty kakeka pimatissewin.\"  Which is the translation of that matchless\nverse, the sixteenth of the third chapter of Saint John's Gospel.\n\nThen after the chapter was read, an appropriate hymn would be sung.  The\nIndians have but little music of their own, and less poetry that can be\nmade available for religious worship.  The result is, that the\nmissionaries and teachers have already translated over four hundred of\nour choicest hymns into the Indian language, and use with them the tunes\nwith which they have been generally associated.  Upon the occasion to\nwhich we refer, it did seem sweet and appropriate to us to sing, even if\nin another language, the favourite evening hymn:\n\n  \"Glory to thee my God this night,\n  For all the blessings of the light;\n  Keep me, O keep me King of kings,\n  Beneath thine own almighty wings.\"\n\nWhen our evening hymn had been sung, we knelt reverently upon the rocks,\nwhile Big Tom, or some other godly Indian, led us in prayer, followed by\none or two others.  Then sweet rest was ours, until the early dawn.  A\nsharp call, to which all promptly responded, was followed by a hasty\nbreakfast, and earnest prayers, and then the journey was resumed.\n\nTwo Sabbaths were spent on this journey.  To our Christian Indians, the\nSabbath was indeed a much prized blessing.  By scripturally using it as\na day of rest and religious worship, and not as a day of dissipation,\nthey were physically, as well as spiritually, invigorated; and thus able\nto do much better work.  We had, in addition to the morning and evening\nprayers, two delightful religious services in both the Indian and\nEnglish languages.  The intervals between were spent in reading the Book\nand some sweet song services.\n\nAs the years rolled on, with their varied duties, we ever found in Big\nTom, a most valued and trusted assistant.  His noble consistent life,\nmade him a benediction, to both whites and Indians.  If disputes arose,\nand arbitration was necessary, it was Big Tom who was first thought of\nas an arbitrator; and we cannot recall an instance where his decision\nwas rejected.\n\nHe was a great hunter in his day, and many were the stories afloat of\nhis skill and prowess.  For years he held the record of being the best\nmoose hunter in the village.  The moose, although the largest of the\ndeer tribe, and of an ungainly appearance, can move through the forest\nwith great rapidity.  It never gallops like other deer, but swings along\non a pacing trot, at a rate, and with an endurance that would soon leave\nthe swiftest horse behind.  Its head is freighted with great broad horns\nof enormous dimensions and weight, and yet among the dense trees, it\ncan, when alarmed, move so swiftly, that the fleetest hunter is soon\nleft far in the rear.  Its sight is not equal to that of some other of\nthe deer species; but nature has given it the most acute powers of\nhearing and of scent.  From Big Tom and others we have heard it stated,\nthat even when a fierce November storm was raging in the woods, with\ntrees swaying to and fro, and branches crashing against each other and\nbreaking in the gale, if the incautious hunter, hundreds of yards away,\nhappened to step on a small dry twig that snapped under his foot, the\nmoose at once detected the sound and was off like an arrow, never\nstopping for many miles.\n\nOf Big Tom's skill as a hunter, we have nothing more to record at\npresent; but here we wish to put on record an instance of his\nself-abnegation, which beautifully reveals the disinterested character\nof the man, and shows what was the heart's ambition.\n\nFor many generations these American Indians have been divided into\ntribes.  Many and diverse are their languages; but numbers of their\ncustoms and methods of government are similar.  In all the tribes chiefs\ngoverned who had more or less authority.  In some, the honour was\nhereditary; in others, not so; although in the latter the son of the\nchief, if he were at all suitable, had the best chance of being\nappointed in his father's place.  When the Canadian government made\ntreaties with the Indians of the great north-west, it ever acknowledged\nthe authority of the chiefs; and through them, today still transacts all\nbusiness with the tribes.  For some time before the treaty was made with\nthe northern Crees, the office of chieftainship had fallen into\nabeyance.  When word arrived that the government was about to enter into\ntreaty with them, and wished to know who was their chief, there was a\ngood deal of excitement.  The Dominion government has been very\nhonourable in its treatment of the Indians, and in the respect which it\nhas paid to the chiefs of this naturally sensitive people, whose\nallowances have been silver medals, fine clothes, and extra gratuities,\nboth in money and supplies.  Of course there was excitement among the\nCrees at the prospect of great political changes.  Councils were\nfrequent, and many pipes were smoked in wigwams and beside camp-fires\nover the matter.  Various names were discussed, and sons and grandsons\nwere brought forward, only to be rejected one after another.  Big Tom\ntook but little interest in these proceedings, and attended but few\ncouncils.  One day to his surprise, while at work in his garden, he was\nwaited upon by a deputation of Indians and informed that he was urgently\nneeded at the council house.  Here in full council he was told that he\nwas the choice of the people, and that they wanted him to be their\nchief--to wear the silver medal with the face of the Great Mother (the\nQueen) upon it, and to be their voice to speak to the Queen's\nrepresentative, (the Governor), on all matters that referred to the\nhappiness and welfare of the tribe.\n\nI had been informed of the decision of the people, and had accepted an\ninvitation to be present at the council when Big Tom was to be\nappointed.  In other days, I had attended conventions among my white\nfriends, and there had observed the readiness with which proffered\nhonours, political and ecclesiastical, were accepted.  Here, however,\nwas a surprise in store for us; an exception to the general rule, so\nmarvellous that it is worth pondering.\n\nWhen the office of chief was offered to him, the big man, who looked\nevery inch a chief, instead of accepting the position at once, became\ndeeply affected, and seemed utterly unable to make any suitable reply.\nHe tried, we thought, to express his thanks for the great honour; but\nall he really did was in broken words to ask for an adjournment of the\ncouncil until the next day.  While disappointed at the adjournment, I\nwas pleased at the thought that Big Tom, taken unawares, had felt that\nhe could not give the oration which the occasion demanded, and so had\nasked for time to get his thoughts in order, when he would give us a\nspeech worthy of the great event; for Big Tom was a speaker of no mean\norder, although rather slow until he warmed up to his subject.\n\nOn the reassembling of the council, we were all there, eager to hear an\nIndian oration under the best auspices.  It was a speech, calm,\neloquent, delightful; but how different from what had been expected.\nWhat a chance was here for an ambitious, aspiring man!  How he could\nhave talked about himself; what he had done, and what he was going to\ndo!  But in Big Tom's address there was nothing of the kind.  Quietly\nand modestly he talked, warming up as he proceeded.  The only brief\nreport I have of his address is the following, and it fails to do\njustice to the occasion or to the man:\n\n\"Long ago when the missionaries came and preached to us, for a time we\nrefused to listen to them, and would not become Christians.  Then, after\na while, many of us who had been in darkness, began to feel in our\nhearts, that what they told us was for our good; and so we accepted\nthese things, and they have done us good.  When I got the assurance in\nmy heart that I was a child of God, and had a soul that should live\nforever, I found, that in working out this salvation, I had something\ngreat to live for.  To do this was the great object of my life.  By and\nby I married, and then, as my family increased and began to grow up\naround me, I found I had another object for which to live--to help its\nmembers along in the way to heaven, as well as to work for their comfort\nhere.\n\n\"Then, after a while, the missionary gave me the charge of a class.  We\nwere to meet, and talk together about our souls, and God's love for us,\nand to do all we could to help each other to the better land.  To do my\nduty as the leader was a great and an important work.  While attending\nto these duties, I found I had another object for which to live.  These\nthree things,--my own soul's salvation; the salvation of my family; to\ndo all I can to help and encourage the members of my class to be true\nand faithful to Him,--are uppermost in my heart.\n\n\"I am thankful for your confidence in me, in asking me to be your chief.\nI know it is a great honour; but I see it will have many\nresponsibilities, and, that whoever has the position, will have to\nattend to many other things than those which I have set my mind upon.\nSo you must appoint some one else; for, with those three things I cannot\nlet anything else interfere.  I thank you, my brothers, and love you\nall.\"\n\nNoble, disinterested Big Tom!  As I listened to him while he thus\ntalked, I was prouder of him than ever; and I thanked God for the\nconversion of such men from paganism to Christianity, and for the\ndevelopment in their hearts and lives of such noble qualities and\nvirtues.","title":"On the Indian Trail: Stories of Missionary Work among Cree and Salteaux Indians","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":45791}