{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_74890/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_74890","id":"gutenberg_74890","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/74890","summary":null,"tags":["Bishops -- Ontario -- Biography","Category: Biographies","Category: History - American","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Church of England. Diocese of Moosonee -- Bishops -- Biography","Horden, John, 1828-1893","Hudson Bay Region -- Church history","Indians of North America -- Missions -- Hudson Bay Region","Inuit -- Missions -- Hudson Bay Region"],"text":"[Illustration: THE RIGHT REV. JOHN HORDEN, BISHOP OF MOOSONEE]\n\n\n\n\n                             FORTY-TWO YEARS\n                               AMONGST THE\n                            INDIANS AND ESKIMO\n\n                        PICTURES FROM THE LIFE OF\n                      THE RIGHT REVEREND JOHN HORDEN\n                         FIRST BISHOP OF MOOSONEE\n\n                                    BY\n                              BEATRICE BATTY\n\n                                  LONDON\n                       THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY\n              56 PATERNOSTER ROW AND 65 ST PAUL\u2019S CHURCHYARD\n                                   1893\n\n                                PRINTED BY\n                 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE\n                                  LONDON\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThe contents of the present volume are in a large measure the outcome of\na long-continued personal correspondence with the late Bishop of Moosonee.\n\nAs Editor of the _Coral Magazine_ I received from him many appeals\nfor aid in the various departments of his work. I asked for graphic\ndescriptions of the surroundings; and I did not ask in vain. Questions\nconcerning the daily life of himself and those about him, the food and\nhabits of the people, modes of travel, dress, climate, products, seasons,\nand special incidents were duly answered and fully entered into. The\nbishop had the pen of a ready writer, and all that he wrote was graphic\nin the extreme. He was, however, modestly unaware of his talent in this\nrespect, until his eyes were opened to the fact by the well-deserved\nappreciation of the letters and papers which came more frequently and\nmore regularly increasing in interest as time wore on.\n\nThe bulk of this book is made up of extracts from this correspondence,\nwith just enough information supplied to give the reader a clear idea\nof the bishop\u2019s life and work. The journal of his first voyage to the\ndistant sphere of his future labours he sent to me in quite recent\nyears, with the expressed hope that it might be published. The various\npapers and letters afford not only a vivid picture of life amongst the\nIndians and Eskimo, but a valuable example of what may be accomplished,\neven under the most untoward circumstances, by indomitable perseverance,\nunwavering fortitude, and cheerful self-denial, accompanied always by\nprayer and a firm reliance upon God. \u2018I can do all things through Christ\nwho strengtheneth me\u2019 was the bishop\u2019s watchword. His motto\u2014\u2018The happiest\nman is he who is most diligently employed about his Master\u2019s business.\u2019\n\nShould the pictures of life and work offered in the accompanying volume\nlead others to follow in Bishop Horden\u2019s footsteps, their purpose will\nhave been indeed fulfilled.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n    CHAPTER                                             PAGE\n\n        I. THE VOYAGE OUT                                 13\n\n       II. ACQUIRING THE LANGUAGE                         18\n\n      III. EARLY LIFE                                     23\n\n       IV. WINTER AT MOOSE FORT                           28\n\n        V. A VISIT TO THE ESKIMO AT WHALE RIVER           42\n\n       VI. SCHOOL WORK                                    50\n\n      VII. FIRST RETURN TO ENGLAND                        56\n\n     VIII. AGAIN AT WORK                                  60\n\n       IX. DAYS OF LABOUR                                 70\n\n        X. THE BISHOPRIC OF MOOSONEE                      76\n\n       XI. A PICNIC AND AN INDIAN DANCE                   83\n\n      XII. ORGANISATION AND TRAVEL                        92\n\n     XIII. YORK FACTORY                                  105\n\n      XIV. THE RETURN TO MOOSE                           116\n\n       XV. TRYING TIMES                                  132\n\n      XVI. CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR\u2019S DAY AT ALBANY        150\n\n     XVII. THE PACKET MONTH                              160\n\n    XVIII. CHURCHILL AND MATAWAKUMMA                     172\n\n      XIX. A DAY AT BISHOP\u2019S COURT                       183\n\n       XX. CLOSING LABOURS                               193\n\n      XXI. LAST DAYS                                     219\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: A LOG HUT]\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n                                                                 PAGE\n\n    THE RIGHT REVEREND JOHN HORDEN, BISHOP OF MOOSONEE   _Frontispiece_\n\n    A LOG HUT                                                        9\n\n    MAP OF MOOSONEE                                                 12\n\n    A TRADER\u2019S STORE                                                36\n\n    A GROUP OF ESKIMO                                               46\n\n    SHOOTING A RAPID                                                99\n\n    CANADIAN TIMBER                                                119\n\n    MOOSE FACTORY                                                  124\n\n    A PAGE OF THE CREE \u2018PILGRIM\u2019S PROGRESS\u2019                        145\n\n    A DOG SLEDGE                                                   151\n\n    ALBANY, HUDSON\u2019S BAY                                           156\n\n    AN INDIAN TRAVELLING ON SNOW-SHOES                             161\n\n    THE CHURCH AT FORT GEORGE                                      169\n\n    CHURCHILL IN SUMMER                                            173\n\n    ON THE CHURCHILL RIVER                                         177\n\n    A LARGE CANOE SHOOTING A RAPID                                 189\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: MAP OF MOOSONEE (SCALE, 400 MILES TO THE INCH).\n\n_Stanford\u2019s Geog\u02e1. Estab\u1d57. London_]\n\n\n\n\nFORTY-TWO YEARS AMONGST THE INDIANS AND ESKIMO\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE VOYAGE OUT\n\n\nIn the year 1670, a few English gentlemen, \u2018the Governor and Company of\nAdventurers of England trading to Hudson\u2019s Bay,\u2019 obtained a charter from\nKing Charles II. The company consisted of but nine or ten merchants. They\nmade large profits by bartering English goods with the Indians of those\nwild, and almost unknown, regions for furs of the fox, otter, beaver,\nbear, lynx, musk, minx, and ermine.\n\nThe company established forts, and garrisoned them with Highlanders and\nNorwegians. The climate was too cold and the food too coarse to attract\nEnglishmen to the service. The forts, or posts, were about a hundred\nand fifty or two hundred miles apart, and to them the Indians resorted\nin the spring of the year with the furs obtained by hunting, snaring,\nand other modes of capture. In return for these they obtained guns,\npowder and shot, traps, kettles, axes, cloth, and blankets. The standard\nof value for everything was a beaver skin. Two white foxes were worth\none beaver skin, two silver foxes were worth eight beaver skins, one\npocket-handkerchief was worth one beaver skin, one yard of blue cloth\nwas worth one-and-a-half beaver skins, a frying-pan was worth two beaver\nskins. As time went on, and the value of furs in the market rose or fell,\nthe prices of certain things altered. But this is a sample of what they\nwere when the hero of our tale first went out to Hudson\u2019s Bay in 1851.\n\nLet us accompany the young missionary on his voyage to Moose Fort, the\nchief of the company\u2019s trading posts. \u2018We, that is, my dear wife and\nmyself,\u2019 he writes, \u2018went on board ship at Gravesend on June 6, 1851.\nOur ship was strongly built, double throughout; it was armed with\nthick blocks of timber, called ice chocks, at the bows, to enable it\nto do battle with the ice it would have to encounter. At Stromness we\nremained a fortnight, taking in a portion of our cargo and a number of\nmen who were going to Hudson\u2019s Bay in the service of the company. It\nwas a solitary voyage. All the way we saw but one vessel. On a Saturday\nafternoon we entered the Straits.\n\n\u2018The weather had been very foggy; but the fog rose, the sun shone out,\nand a most beautiful spectacle presented itself. The water was as\nsmooth as a fish-pond, and in it were lying blocks of ice of all sizes\nand shapes, some of them resembling churches, others castles, and others\nhulls of ships, while at a considerable distance, on either side, rose\nthe wild and dreary land\u2014a land of desolation and death, without a tree\nor a blade of grass, but high and mountainous, with masses of snow lying\nin all the hollows. The captain and mates became very anxious. The\ndangers of the voyage had commenced. An ice-stage, raised eight or nine\nfeet above the deck, was erected, and on this continually walked up and\ndown one or two of the ship\u2019s officers. A man, too, was constantly at\nthe bow on the look out, and yet the blows we received were very heavy,\nsetting the bells a-ringing, and causing a sensation of fear.\n\n\u2018When we had got about half-way through the Straits, we saw some of the\ninhabitants of this dreary land. \u201cThe Eskimo are coming,\u201d said a sailor.\n\n\u2018By-and-by, I heard the word _Chimo_ frequently repeated, which means\n\u201cWelcome,\u201d and presently we saw a number of beautiful little canoes\ncoming towards us, each containing a man. These were soon followed\nby a large boat containing several women and children. They all came\nalongside, bringing with them seal-skins, blubber, fox-skins, whalebone,\nand ivory. These they freely parted with in exchange for pieces of iron,\nneedles, nails, saws, &c., they setting a very great value on anything\nmade of iron. Now these people, who were very, very dirty, were not\ndressed like English people, but both men and women wore coats made of\nseal-skins, breeches of dog-skins, and boots of well-dressed seal-skins,\nthe only difference between a man\u2019s and a woman\u2019s dress being that the\nwoman had a long tail to her coat, reaching almost to the ground, and\nan immense hood, in which she carried her little naked baby, which was\nperched on her shoulders.\n\n\u2018Again hoisting our sails, in two or three days we cleared the Straits\nand entered Hudson\u2019s Bay. Danger was not over. Our difficulties had\nscarcely commenced. Ahead, stretching as far as the eye could reach,\nis ice\u2014ice; now we are in it. More and more difficult becomes the\nnavigation. We are at a standstill. We go to the mast-head\u2014ice! rugged\nice in every direction! One day passes by\u2014two, three, four. The cold is\nintense. Our hopes sink lower and lower; a week passes. The sailors are\nallowed to get out and have a game at football; the days pass on; for\nnearly three weeks we are imprisoned. Then there is a movement in the\nice. It is opening. The ship is clear! Every man is on deck. Up with the\nsails in all speed! Crack, crack, go the blows from the ice through which\nwe are passing; but we shall now soon be free, and in the open sea. Ah!\nno prisoner ever left his prison with greater joy than we left ours.\n\n\u2018A few days afterwards, as evening was closing in, there was a great\ncommotion on board: heavy chains were got on deck; we were nearing the\nplace of our destination; in the midnight darkness the roar of our guns\nannounced the joyful intelligence that we were anchored at the Second\nBuoy, only twenty-five miles from Moose Fort.\u2019\n\nLooking at the map of North America, a little inland from the coast of\nLabrador, you will find Hudson\u2019s Bay, and in the south-west corner, at\nthe mouth of the Moose River, Moose Fort. Here is the residence of the\ndeputy governor and his subordinate officers; a number of people are\nanxiously looking out; they are expecting the one ship that comes to them\nin the course of the year. A small vessel lying a little way out to sea\nhas raised the long-looked-for signal, and rejoicing is the order of the\nday.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nACQUIRING THE LANGUAGE\n\n\nOur travellers were delighted with the appearance of Moose Fort and its\nimmediate surroundings. The little church, the line of neat cottages with\ntheir gardens in front, and the new factory buildings, lying irregularly\nalong the banks of the river, gave the place almost the air of an English\nvillage. Towering picturesquely above all, was the old fort, strongly\nbuilt and loopholed, now serving the purpose of a salesroom, but once\nneeded as a place of defence from attacks of the Indians. Poplars, pines,\nand juniper formed a green background, and the place bore a smiling and\npleasant aspect, altogether surprising to those who had expected to\narrive on a barren and desolate shore.\n\nMr. Horden was received with unmistakable joy by the people, who had long\nbeen left without a teacher, his predecessor in the office having quitted\nMoose Fort the year before. He was at once at home amongst the Indians,\nand immediately set about learning their difficult language.\n\nGreek and Latin he declared to be tame affairs \u2018in comparison with\nSakehao and Ketemakalem\u0101o, with their animate and inanimate forms, their\ndirect and inverse, their reciprocal and reflective, their absolute\nand relative, their want of an infinitive mood, and their two first\npersons plural. This I found very troublesome for a long time; to use\n_kelananow_ for we, when I meant _I_ and _you_; and _nelanan_, when I\nwished to express _I_ and _he_. If merely the extra pronoun had required\nto be learnt, I should not have minded, but I did mind very much when I\nfound in the verb the pronoun inseparably mixed up with the verb, and\nthat in portions of it the whole of the personal pronouns were expressed\nby different inflections of the verb. But I had the very strongest of\nmotives to urge me forward: the desire to speak to the Indian in his own\nlanguage the life-giving words of the Gospel.\n\n\u2018I had been at my new home but a few days before I set to work in\nearnest. The plan I adopted was this: every week, with the assistance\nof an interpreter, I translated a small portion of the service of the\nEnglish Church. This I read over and over again, until I had nearly\ncommitted it to memory, and was able to read it on Sunday. The Lord\u2019s\nPrayer and a few hymns I found already translated, and I soon added a\nfew hymns more. Chapters of the Bible and sermons were rendered by the\ninterpreter sentence by sentence. Rather tedious, but we improved fast,\nand I shall not soon forget the expression of surprise and joy on the\ncountenances of my congregation, when, after a few months, I made my\nfirst address to them without an interpreter\u2014but I am anticipating.\n\n\u2018My plan was threefold. I provided myself with two books and a living\ninstructor; the latter a young Indian with a smattering of English. The\nfirst of the two books was a small one to carry in my pocket; in it I\nwrote a few questions with the aid of the interpreter. Having learnt\nthem, I went into an Indian tent, sat down among its inmates, drew out\nbook and pencil, and put one of my questions. One of those present would\nat once give me an answer, entering generally into a long explanation, of\nwhich I did not understand a word. However, they, knowing my aim, talked\non, and I listened, wondering what it was all about. Getting gradually\nbewildered, I returned home. I repeated the process again and again,\nand after a few days light began to shine out of darkness, the jumble\ndivided itself into words, the book and pencil no longer lay idle, every\nword that I could separate from the others was at once jotted down, all\nwere copied out, translated as far as possible, and committed to memory;\nand presently I got not only to catch up the words, but likewise to\nunderstand a good deal of what was said.\n\n\u2018The second book was a much larger one, and ruled. Having this and\npen and ink by my side, I would call an Indian, and he would take his\nseat opposite; I then made him understand that I wished him to talk\nabout something, and that I wished to write down what he said. He would\nbegin to speak, but too fast; I shook my head, and said, _P\u0101kack,\np\u0101kack_\u2014\u201cslowly, slowly,\u201d and at a more reasonable rate he would\nrecommence. As he spoke, so I wrote, writing on every other line. We sat\nthus until I could bear no more. Then, with the interpreter\u2019s assistance,\nI wrote the translation of each word directly under it, thus making an\ninterline. The work was a little trying, but by it I gained words, I\ngained words in combination, I gained the inflections of words, I gained\nthe idiom of the language, I gained a knowledge of the mind of the\nIndian, the channel in which his ideas ran, I gained a knowledge of his\nmode of life, the trials and privations to which he was subjected.\n\n\u2018Now as to the Indian lad. I began by drilling him in the powers of\nan English verb, and after a few days we said a lesson to each other,\nhe saying\u2014First person singular, I love; second person singular, thou\nlovest, &c. Then I going on with mine, thus:\n\n    _Ne sakehou_          I love him.\n    _Ke sakehou_          Thou lovest him.\n    _Sakehao_             He loves him.\n    _Ne sakehanam_        We love him.\n    _Ke sakehanou_        We love him.\n    _Ke sakehawou_        You love him.\n    _Sakehawuh_           They love him.\n\nThen the inverse form:\n\n    _Ne sakehik_          Me loves he.\n    _Ke sakehik_          Thee loves he.\n    _Sakehiko_            He is loved by him.\n    _Ne sakihikonau_      Us loves he.\n    _Ke sakehikonau_      Us loves he.\n    _Ke sakehikowou_      You loves he.\n    _Sakehikowuk_         They are loved by him.\n\nAnd so on and on. The subjunctive mood, with its _iks_ and _uks_ and\n_aks_ and _chucks_, was terribly formidable, still the march was onward,\nevery week the drudgery became less and the pleasure greater, and every\nweek I was able to enter more and more into conversation with those who\nformed my spiritual charge.\n\n\u2018In my talk I made mistakes enough. Once I had a class of young men\nsitting around me, and was telling them of the creation of Adam and Eve.\nAll went well until I came to speak of Eve\u2019s creation; I got as far as\n\u201cGod created Eve out of one of Adam\u2019s \u2014\u2014,\u201d when something more than a\nsmile broke forth from my companions. Instead of saying, \u201cout of one of\nAdam\u2019s ribs,\u201d I had said, \u201cout of one of Adam\u2019s pipes.\u201d _Ospikakun_ is\n\u201chis rib,\u201d and _ospwakun_, \u201chis pipe.\u201d\n\n\u2018After eight months I never used an interpreter in my public\nministrations, and I had been in the country but a few days more than\na twelvemonth, when, standing by the side of good Bishop Anderson,\nI interpreted his sermon to a congregation of Albany Indians. I say\nthis with deep thankfulness to God for assisting me in my formidable\nundertaking.\u2019\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nEARLY LIFE\n\n\nMr. Horden had not only a wonderful power of acquiring languages,\nbut a wonderful power of adapting himself to all things, people, and\ncircumstances. This stood him in good stead throughout his career. Born\nin Exeter, January 20, 1828, in humble circumstances, simply educated,\napprenticed to a trade in early boyhood, he lived to attain a high\nposition. All difficulties were overcome by his dauntless energy of\npurpose and unwavering perseverance.\n\nHe wished to study, but his father put him to a smithy. He desired to\nbecome a missionary, but his relatives discouraged the idea. He did not\nrebel, he did not kick against authority, but he neglected no opportunity\nto further his purpose. He read and thought, he attended evening Bible\nreadings, he taught in the Sunday school, and when his indentures were\nout he left the anvil for the desk. He obtained the post of usher in a\nboys\u2019 school. And now being independent, he offered himself to the Church\nMissionary Society, with a view to going to India as a lay agent, and\nhe was accepted with the understanding that he would await a suitable\nopening, which might perhaps not occur for two or three years.\n\nHe was willing to wait, but his patience was not to be tried. The society\nlearnt that the Wesleyans had withdrawn from Hudson\u2019s Bay, and that there\nwas great need of a teacher at Moose Fort. Here was an opening for a\nyoung man such as John Horden appeared to be. Hastily he was telegraphed\nfor\u2014Hudson\u2019s Bay was not India! But he was willing to go. It were better\nhe should take a wife with him. The lady was ready, like-minded with\nhimself. They must start in three weeks. They agreed to do it. He went\nhome, got married, and returned to London. The needful outfit was hastily\nprepared, and they started, as we have seen. Such in short is the story\nof our hero\u2019s earlier life.\n\nLarge and varied were to be his experiences in his later years. The\nsociety at home hearing of his success with the Indians, his great\nprogress in learning the language, and his ready adaptability to all\nthe requirements of the post, had determined to send him to the Bishop\nof Rupert\u2019s Land for ordination. \u2018But,\u2019 said the bishop, \u2018this plan was\nformed in ignorance of the distance and difficulties of travelling in\nthis part of the country, and I did not wish to expose Mr. Horden with\nwife and baby to it.\u2019 Bishop Anderson chose rather to traverse his huge\ndiocese and ordain the young missionary at Moose.\n\nOn the morning of June 28, in the year 1852, the start was made from St.\nAndrews, Red River, in a canoe decorated by one of the bishop\u2019s scholars\nwith a mitre and the Union flag at the stern, and at the bow a rose and\nduck. For the latter \u2018I might have substituted the dove with the olive\nbranch, had I known of it in time,\u2019 says the bishop, \u2018but it was done to\nsurprise me, and the more familiar object was naturally enough selected.\u2019\nThe provisions consisted largely of flour and pemmican, the clothing, of\nthe bishop\u2019s robes and a few necessaries, the bedding, of a pillow with\na buffalo robe and blankets. The journey lasted six weeks. Throughout it\nthe bishop confirmed, married, and baptized as he passed from post to\npost, and on arriving at Moose Fort the work was repeated. He found the\nIndians full of love and regard for their teacher. \u2018He has their hearts\nand affections,\u2019 he wrote, \u2018and their eyes turn to him at once. This is\nhis best testimonial for holy orders.\u2019\n\nCareful examination of the candidate still further convinced the bishop\nof his suitability, and when the annual ship arrived bringing an English\nclergyman, the Rev. E. A. Watkins, destined for Fort George, he no longer\ndelayed, but ordained Mr. Horden both deacon and priest, Mr. Watkins\npresenting. The bishop and Mr. Watkins had then to hasten on their\nseveral ways, lest early winter might overtake them ere they reached\ntheir destinations. And so the ardent, earnest young catechist was left\nat Moose, pastor as well as teacher of his flock, known to and esteemed\nby every man, woman and child of the Indian families who resorted thither\nduring the summer season, and supremely happy in his work and position.\n\nThe home in which he and his wife dwelt was of the simplest, its walls\nwere of plain pine wood; but within it was enlivened by the baby prattle\nof their first-born child, baptized by the bishop, Elizabeth Anderson.\nWithout, it was surrounded by a garden, in which some hardy flowers\ngrew side by side with potatoes, turnips, peas, and barley. Moose is\nnot by any means bare of wild flowers, and in mosses it is very rich,\nwhilst goodly clumps of trees waved their branches in the breeze on an\nisland only five minutes\u2019 walk from the house. During the winter the\nmissionary and his family, together with the three or four gentlemen of\nthe Hudson\u2019s Bay Company, with their servants, and a few sick and aged\nIndians and children, were the sole inhabitants of the settlement. Then\nMr. Horden gave himself up to his little school, to his translation work,\nand to such building operations as in course of time became necessary\u2014a\nschool-house, a church, a new dwelling-house. After dinner he was\noccupied with hammer, chisel, saw and plane until dark. In the evening he\ngave instruction to a few young men.\n\nOne such, whom he employed for a time as a school assistant in later\nyears, he had the pleasure of sending in due course for ordination by\nthe Bishop of Rupert\u2019s Land, who appointed him to the charge of Albany\nstation, one hundred miles north of Moose, an important outpost, at\nwhich eighty families of Indians congregated during the summer. Hannah\nBay, another post, fifty miles east of Moose, was resorted to by fifty\nfamilies; Rupert\u2019s House, one hundred miles east, was frequented by\nsixty families; and Kevoogoonisse, 430 miles south, by thirty families.\nAll these places were to be visited by Mr. Horden, as well as Martin\u2019s\nFalls, three hundred miles from Albany, and Osnaburg, two hundred miles\nfurther on; also Flying Post, one hundred from Kevoogoonisse, and New\nBrunswick, one hundred from Flying Post.\n\nThis was sufficient to appal the mind and daunt the courage of one still\nyoung and inexperienced. It did not daunt John Horden. He longed only to\nteach all who were thus placed under his ministerial charge. The journeys\nmust be made at particular seasons, as throughout the greater part of the\nyear no Indians were at the trading-posts.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nWINTER AT MOOSE FORT\n\n\nThe four seasons are called in the Indian tongue, Sekwun, Nepin,\nTukwaukin, and Pepooa. Spring begins about the middle or end of May,\nwhen the ice in the river breaks up. Vegetation proceeds rapidly. In a\nfew days the bushes look green, and within a fortnight the grass and\ntrees appear in summer garb. Sometimes the \u2018breaking-up\u2019 is attended with\ndanger, often with inconvenience.\n\nIn the spring of 1860 the little settlement was visited with a disastrous\nflood. The ground all around is low, not a hill within seventy miles.\nMr. Horden was occupied in building his new church\u2014the frame already\nrested on the foundations. One Sunday morning it floated off and took\nan excursion of nearly a quarter of a mile, and with the aid of ropes,\npoles, and other implements it had to be dragged back to its former\nposition and strongly secured. \u2018The ice,\u2019 said Mr. Horden, \u2018made much\nmore havoc than it did in \u201957. A few days after the water had subsided I\nfound my garden thickly planted with ice blocks of a considerable size;\nbut our gardening operations were not impeded, we were able to raise a\nlarge quantity of potatoes of very good quality. The effects of a flood\nare not always evident at once; it is after the lapse of months that\nthey become apparent, when the poor Indian on arriving at his winter\nhunting-grounds finds that the water has been there, and destroyed\nnearly the whole of the rabbits. He is reduced to great straits, and the\nenergies of the whole family are required to keep them from starvation.\u2019\n\nRabbits are the staple food of the Indians in the season. The skins,\nbeing of little value for barter, are used by them as blankets, the women\nsewing them very neatly together.\n\nIn 1861 Mr. Horden writes: \u2018In May we were again threatened with a flood.\nOn returning from church one Sunday evening the river presented an awful\nappearance. The strength of the current had broken up the ice, and formed\nit into a conical shape, which rose as high as the tops of the trees on\nthe high bank of the river. We abandoned our house, having first taken\nevery precaution to guard against the fury of the waters, but, although\nthe threat was so formidable, we experienced no flood, and after spending\na few pleasant days at the establishment of the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company\nwe returned, and at once began our gardening. The children look upon a\nflood as a rare treat. To them it is something of a pleasant, exciting\nnature, after the dull monotony of a seven or eight months\u2019 winter. It\ndrives us from our house, but we take shelter in one equally good, where\nwe ourselves enjoy pleasant company, and where the children have a large\nnumber of playmates. What we look upon as our greatest trial are the\nprivations and sufferings to which the Indians are subjected.\u2019\n\nNepin is very changeable, sometimes excessively warm, with plenty of\nmosquitoes and sand-flies, which are very troublesome; sometimes quite\ncold, and the transition is very rapid. It may be hot in the morning, and\nin the evening so cold that an overcoat may be worn with comfort.\n\n\u2018This is the busy season,\u2019 writes Mr. Horden, \u2018when I take my journeys.\nBrigades of canoes from the various posts arrive, bringing the furs\ncollected during the preceding winter; in fact, every person appears to\nhave plenty to do.\u2019 Just as summer is ending, the ship arrives, and it\nis very anxiously looked for, for on it almost everything depends\u2014flour,\ntea, clothing, books, everything.\n\n\u2018Tukwaukin is generally very boisterous, with occasional hail and snow\nstorms. Then the Indians hunt geese, which are salted and put into\nbarrels for our use, although they are not quite so good as a corned\nround of beef. Before the arrival of Pepooa, all of the Indians are gone\noff to their winter grounds, from which most of them do not return until\nthe arrival of spring.\u2019\n\nEach point of Mr. Horden\u2019s vast parish had to be reached by an arduous\njourney. Arduous is indeed but a mild expression for the troubles,\ntrials, privations, and tremendous difficulties attendant on travel\nthrough the immense, trackless wastes lying between many of the\nposts\u2014wastes intersected with rivers and rapids, varied only by tracts\nof pathless forest, swept by severe storms. \u2018Last autumn,\u2019 he writes,\n\u2018I took a journey to Kevoogoonisse; it is 430 miles distant, and during\nthe whole way I saw no tent or house, not even a human being, until I\narrived within a short distance of the post. I appeared to be passing\nthrough a forgotten land; I saw trees by tens of thousands, living,\ndecaying, and dead; I saw majestic waterfalls, and passed through fearful\nrapids; I walked over long and difficult places, and day after day struck\nmy little tent, and felt grieved at seeing no new faces, none to whom\nI might impart some spiritual blessing. In the whole space of country\nover which I travelled, perhaps a dozen Indian families hunt during the\nwinter. Sometimes even this tract is insufficient to supply their wants;\nanimals become scarce, the lands are burnt by the forest fires, and they\nare reduced to the greatest distress. I have seen terrible cases of this\nkind. I have seen a man with an emaciated countenance, who in one winter\nlost six children, all he had; and, horrible to relate, nearly every one\nof them was killed for the purpose of satisfying the cravings of hunger.\nAt the post to which he was attached, Kevoogoonisse, out of about 120\nIndians, twenty died through starvation in one winter.\u2019\n\nThe country may be said to be one vast forest, with very extensive\nplains, watered by large rivers and numerous lakes, inhabited by a few\nroving Indians, who are engaged in hunting wild animals to procure furs\nfor the use of civilized man.\n\nSometimes sad things took place during the absence of the missionary on\nhis journeyings to visit outlying stations. During the short summer of\n1858, he set out with his wife and their little children to visit Whale\nRiver, in the country of the Eskimo. It was not his first journey to that\npost. \u2018You will have need of all your courage,\u2019 said he to his wife.\nTempestuous seas, shelterless nights, and stormy days were vivid to his\nown memory, but wife and children were glad to see anything new, after\nthe monotonous days and nights of the long Moose winter.\n\nThe family had not long been gone, when whooping-cough broke out at\nMoose. Young, old, and middle-aged were attacked alike, and numbers died.\nSo terrible was the sickness that at one time there was but one man able\nto work, and his work was to make two coffins. The missionary returned\nto a sorrowing people. Out of five European families four had lost each\na child, and \u2018the sight of the grave-yard and the mothers weeping there\nis one I never shall forget. In ordinary years the average mortality was\ntwo. This year it was thirty-two.\u2019 Amongst the children taken was dear\nlittle Susan, the orphan child of a heathen Indian, whom they had cared\nfor from infancy, and whose little fingers had just before her illness\ntraced upon a sampler the text: \u2018Remember now thy Creator in the days of\nthy youth, while the evil days\u2019\u2014\u2014Here the words had ceased\u2014she was taken\nfrom all evil, and the evil days would not draw nigh her, the needle\nremained in the sampler at that spot. Amongst the aged taken were blind\nKoote, old blind Adam, and old blind Hannah, all of whom are specially\nmentioned in Mr. Horden\u2019s account of the previous Christmas Day services.\n\n\u2018Yesterday,\u2019 he writes, speaking of Christmas 1857, \u2018was a deeply\ninteresting one to me. As usual, I met the Indians at seven, the\nEnglish-speaking congregation at eleven, and Indians again at three.\nAmong the communicants present were no less than three blind persons. Old\nAdam, over whose head have, I should think, passed a hundred winters.\nOld Koote, always at church, led with a string by a little boy, and poor\nold lame Hannah, whose seat is seldom empty, be the weather what it may.\nThe day previous to our communion we had a meeting of the communicants.\nOld blind Koote said, \u201cI thank God for having preserved me to this day.\nGod is good! I pray to Him every night and morning. That does good to my\nsoul. I think a great deal about heaven, I ask Jesus to wash away all my\nsins, and to take me there.\u201d\u2019\n\nAny of the Indians who can come in to celebrate the Christmas and New\nYear\u2019s festivals eagerly seize the opportunity. But this is not possible\nfor the greater number, whose hunting-grounds lie at considerable\ndistances from the fort. In their far-away tents they have no means\nof Christian communion or instruction, except by intercourse with one\nanother, and by the study of the portions of Scripture, prayers, and\nhymns which they gladly and thankfully carry away with them to their\nlonely homes in the wilderness.\n\nThe society had sent out a printing-press to Moose Fort, to facilitate\nthe supply of books to the Indians. Mr. Horden had hoped to receive by\nthe ship copies of his translations ready printed, instead of which,\nto his dismay, blank sheets arrived with the press. He was no printer,\nalthough his father had been, and now his energy, courage, and power to\novercome difficulties pre-eminently showed themselves. He shut himself up\nin his room for several days, resolved to master the putting together of\nthe press; a very complicated business. But he accomplished it, and great\nwas his joy and triumph when he found that the machinery would work. From\nthis press issued, in one winter, no less than sixteen hundred books in\nthree Indian dialects.\n\nThe winter over and gone, the snow nearly disappeared, day after day the\ngeese and wavies are seen flying overhead. The mighty river, which has\nbeen for many months locked up, with a giant\u2019s strength has burst its\nbonds asunder, and rushes impetuously towards the sea; a few birds appear\nin the trees, the frogs have commenced their croaking, fish find their\nway to the well-laid nets; and the busy mosquito has begun its unwelcome\nbuzz. The Indians collect their furs, tie them in bundles, and place them\nin the canoes, and with their dogs and household stuff they make their\nway down stream to the trader\u2019s residence. They run a few rapids, carry\ntheir canoe and baggage over many portages, sail the frail bark over\none or two lakes, and are at the end of their journey. Down come the\ntrader\u2019s servants to help to carry the packs to the store.\n\n[Illustration: A TRADER\u2019S STORE]\n\nLet us look around. The store contains everything that an Indian needs,\nwhether for business or comfort. Here a rack full of guns, there a pile\nof thick blankets, a bale of blanket coats, and an almost unlimited\nsupply of blue and red cloth; axes and knives, matches and kettles, beads\nand braid, deer-skin and moose-skin, powder and shot, twine for nets and\nsnares, tea and sugar, flour and oatmeal, pork and pease; and some good\nbooks too, which tell the Indian of God and heaven, and which he can read.\n\nThe trader approaches, his face beaming with delight as he eyes the\npacks, for they are large and valuable. He soon begins work. The first\nbale contains nothing but beaver skins. Eighty-five examined are said to\nbe worth a hundred and twenty beaver according to the standard value. The\nnext contains forty marten, ten otter, a hundred and fifty rat. These\nare adjudged worth a hundred beaver; the third bale is composed of five\nhundred rabbit skins, worth twenty-five beaver. Consider a beaver equal\nto two shillings and sixpence, and you will see the value of the hunt in\nsterling money. We have now\u2014bale one value one hundred and twenty beaver;\nbale two value one hundred beaver; and bale three value twenty-five\nbeaver; altogether two-hundred-and-forty-five beaver. Last summer\nyonder Indian took out a debt in goods of one hundred and fifty beaver,\nthis he pays, and then he has ninety-five beaver with which to trade.\nNinety-five quills are given to him, and his trading begins. The trader,\nlike an English shopman, stands behind a counter, and the Indian outside.\nNative-like, he consults long before the purchase of each article. Having\ndecided, he calls out, \u2018A gun;\u2019 a gun is delivered, and he pays over ten\nof his quills; then three yards of cloth, for which he pays two quills;\ntwo books, and for them he pays one quill; and so on he goes, the heap\nof goods increasing and the supply of quills decreasing gradually. As he\napproaches the end, the consultation becomes very anxious; he is making\nquite sure that he is laying out his money to the best advantage. But\nthe end comes at last, and, satisfied with his bargains, he gathers all\nup into one of the purchased blankets, and retires to his tent, where he\nexamines and admires, and admires again, article after article.\n\nShall we take a peep into an Indian\u2019s tent when encamped in the forest\non a trapping expedition? A fire burns in the centre, but through the\nlarge opening overhead we see the snow lying thick on the branches\nof the trees. The day has just broken, but the Christian Indian has\nalready engaged in worship and taken his morning meal. Then on with his\nsnow-shoes, for there is no moving without them. The blanket which forms\nthe tent door is raised, and he steps outside. How cold! and how drear\nthe scene! how still and death-like! no birds, no sound, save the wind\nwhistling through the forest. Now he is at a marten trap, a very simple\ncontrivance, composed of a framework of sticks, in the middle of which\na bait is placed, which being meddled with, causes the descent of a log,\nwhich crushes the intruder. Here is a beautiful dark marten, quite a\nprize. He takes it out and fastens it to a sledge, re-baits the trap, and\non he goes to another. Ah! he sees tracks, but the marten has not entered\nthe trap; on to another. What is this? He looks dismayed; a wolverine has\nbeen here, and has robbed the trap. He resets it and goes on to the next;\nthe wolverine has been there too; to another and another, with the same\nresult. He is disheartened, but it cannot be helped. So he trudges on\nover a round of thirty traps, taking altogether six fine martens; not a\nbad day\u2019s hunt, all things considered. Evening is drawing on. He returns\nto the tent, and there awaits him a glorious repast, perhaps of beaver\nmeat. He feels quite refreshed, and recounts all the vicissitudes of the\nday, the gains and disappointments.\n\nOn the morrow he takes the martens and skins them; and what is he to do\nwith the bodies? Our Indian friends are not fastidious. He eats them. The\nskins he turns inside out, and stitches them up. In the spring he brings\nthem to the fur-trading post, and there exchanges them, as we have seen,\nfor all the requisites of Indian life. An Indian cannot afford to cast\naway anything; all he kills is to him \u2018beef,\u2019 sometimes good, sometimes\nnot a little bad. \u2018In my own experience,\u2019 Mr. Horden says, \u2018I have eaten\nwhite bear, black bear, wild cat, while for a week or ten days together\nI have had nothing but beaver, and glad indeed I have been to get it.\u2019\n\nWhen the Indians have come into the post the work of instruction at\nonce commences. Amid school-work, services, visiting and talking with\nindividuals, the missionary found his time fully occupied. Little leisure\nremained for his dearly-loved translation work\u2014yet this progressed. In\n1859 Mr. Horden had already the prayer and hymn book and the four Gospels\nprinted in the syllabic character. The prayer and hymn book were printed\nin England. The Gospels he had himself printed at Moose. \u2018The performance\nof this labour,\u2019 he writes, \u2018was almost too much for me, as, since last\nwinter, although not incapacitated for work, I have felt that even a very\nstrong constitution has limits, which it may not pass with impunity; I\nhave occasionally suffered from weakness of the chest. I need not say\nwith what delight the Indians received the books prepared for them. I did\nnot think it right to provide them all gratis, I therefore charged two\nshillings each, a little less than one beaver skin, and with the money\nthus raised I am able to purchase a year\u2019s consumption of paper. Our\nservices are now conducted in a manner very similar to what they are at\nhome. Our meetings for prayer are extremely refreshing, and my spirit is\noften revived by joining with my brethren around the throne of grace.\u2019\n\nIt must be remembered that Mr. Horden had not only the Indians under\nhis ministry, but the Europeans of the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company; thus he\nhad English as well as Indian services to hold, and as there were some\nNorwegians amongst the company\u2019s servants who did not readily follow\neither the English or the Indian, he set himself to learn for their sake\nsufficient Norwegian to read the service and to preach to them in their\nown tongue.\n\nTo these languages he added Eskimo and Ojibbeway\u2014the latter being the\nspeech of the people of the Kevoogoonisse district, the former that of\nthe natives of Whale River.\n\nHow could all this be crowded into the busy day of this father of his\nflock? How but by rising in the small hours of the morning, when by the\nlight of a lamp in his little study he read, and wrote, and translated,\nand in addition to all else taught himself Hebrew.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nA VISIT TO THE ESKIMO AT WHALE RIVER\n\n\nIn February 1861, Mr. Horden writes, \u2018My hands are quite full; I find it\nimpossible to do all that I should wish to do. On Sundays I hold three\nfull services, and attend school twice, and every morning except Saturday\nI conduct school. On Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday evening I hold a\nservice. These matters, with my house and sick visiting, leave me very\nlittle leisure. But as myself and my family enjoy good health, I can\nsay that happiness is to be found as well among the primeval forests of\nMoosonee as in the more sunny land of our birth.\u2019\n\nFor his Eskimo children the bishop always had a very special affection.\nVery early in his missionary career he managed, as we have seen, to pay\nthem a visit. He then could not converse with them, nor could he do so\nwithout the aid of an interpreter when he paid a summer visit to Whale\nRiver about the year 1862. We give his own graphic account of this.\n\n\u2018Let our thoughts for a while be transferred to a land more bleak and\ndesolate than Moose, to the land where snow never entirely disappears,\nto the land of barren rock and howling storm, to the country of the\nwhite bear and the hardy Eskimo, where I spent some time last summer.\nI remained with the Eskimo only eight days, yet those eight days were\nindeed blessed ones, and will not soon be forgotten by me, for they were\namongst the most successful missionary days I have had since I have been\nin the country.\n\n\u2018The Eskimo appeared to me to be kind, cheerful, docile, persevering, and\nhonest. Nothing could exceed the desire they professed for instruction,\nnothing the exertions they made to learn to read, nothing the attention\nwith which they listened to the Word of God. I was most fortunate (but\nshould I not use another word?) in obtaining the services of a young\nEskimo as my interpreter, who had received instruction from missionaries\n(Moravians) while living on the coast of Labrador. He spoke English but\nimperfectly; but knew some hymns and texts exceedingly well, and showed\nhimself most willing to assist me to the fullest extent of his power.\nI could not have done half the work I did, had I not had him as my\nassistant. Accompany me for a day, commencing with the early morning.\n\n\u2018Soon after six we had a service with the Eskimo; about twenty-five were\npresent. Some of the men were dressed very much like working men in\nEngland. They purchase their clothing from the store of the Hudson\u2019s Bay\nCompany. Others were dressed in the comfortable native style, composed\nof a loose seal-skin jacket coming to the waist, seal-skin breeches, and\nseal-skin boots. One of the women had on an English gown, of which she\nseemed not a little proud; the others were attired in a dress somewhat\nsimilar to the men, with the addition of an immense hood to their\njackets, in which they deposit their little babies.\n\n\u2018The service was commenced by singing a hymn; reading followed, then\nprayer, the Lord\u2019s Prayer being repeated aloud by all; singing again;\nthen a long lesson on the \u201cSyllabariam,\u201d _i.e._ the system of reading\nby syllables, without the labour of spelling. They were then instructed\nin Watt\u2019s First Catechism, and another hymn completed the service.\nAfter having taken my breakfast, I assembled the Indians, who were\nnearly twice the number of the Eskimo, but not half as painstaking. My\nservice with them was somewhat less simple than that with the Eskimo,\nas they had received more instruction, and a few could use their prayer\nbooks intelligently; but I noticed an apathy among them which rather\ndisheartened me.\n\n\u2018I then took a lesson from my Eskimo interpreter, writing questions and\nobtaining his assistance in translating a portion of the baptismal and\nmarriage services; I then went to the Eskimo tents until dinner-time.\nThey are made of seal-skins in the shape of a common marquee. Some of\nthem are spacious and not very dirty. In the centre is a fire, over\nwhich is suspended a large kettle full of cray-fish. An old woman was\nsewing very industriously at a pair of seal-skin short boots, which she\npresented to me. Her husband was equally industrious, making models of\nEskimo implements. I instantly transferred to paper the few words of\nconversation they had with me. My next visit was to a tent where younger\npeople were assembled. I asked a few questions, which they readily\nanswered. I was pleased at this, as showing that they could understand\nme. I then dined, and took a short stroll along the river towards the\nsea, to see what prospect there was for the whale fishermen. The fishers\nwere there, waiting patiently, but with the look of disappointment on\ntheir countenances. They could see hundreds of whales outside the bar of\nthe river, but while they remained there not one could be caught, and\nthere seemed no chance of any coming inside the bar. Leaving them, I went\nto hold a second service with my Eskimo, then another with my Indians.\nIt was then tea-time. I spent an hour with my Eskimo interpreter, after\nwhich I held an English service with the master and mistress, the only\nEnglish-speaking woman for hundreds of miles, and the European servants\nof the company. Half an hour\u2019s social chat at length closed the day, and\nwith feelings of thankfulness at having been placed as a labourer in the\nvineyard of the Lord, I retired to rest.\n\n[Illustration: A GROUP OF ESKIMO]\n\n\u2018I was so deeply impressed with the conduct of the Eskimo, their anxiety\nto learn, and their love for the truths of Christianity, that I could not\nforbid water that some of them should be baptized. Three of them could\nread well; these received the rite of baptism at an evening service, all\nthe Europeans being present, for all appeared to take a deep interest\nin the proceedings. All three were young, neat, tidy, and dressed\nin European costume. They answered my inquiries very intelligently,\nreceiving severally the names of John Horden, Thomas Henry, and Elizabeth\nOke. John and Elizabeth were afterwards married. Malikto, the father of\nthe bridegroom, stood up at the conclusion of the service, and said that\nhe hoped they would not forget the instruction they had received, after I\nleft them. It was a delightful but solemn service.\u2019\n\nThe Eskimo formed a large part of Mr. Horden\u2019s charge, and he was much\nattracted by their gentle contentment amidst their dreary surroundings,\nand by their teachableness. \u2018What should we have been, had we, like\nthem,\u2019 he said, \u2018had no Bible to direct us to God?\u2019\n\nThus speaks the Eskimo, the man who considers himself pre-eminently the\n\u2018man,\u2019 and who has _not_ been taught that God made him, the sun, and the\nmoon, and the stars also:\n\n\u2018Long, long ago, not long after the creation of the world, there lived a\nmighty Eskimo, who was a great conjurer; nothing was impossible to him;\nno other of his profession could stand before him. He found the world too\nsmall and insignificant for his powers, so, taking with him his sister\nand a small fire, he raised himself up into the heavens. Heaping immense\nquantities of fuel on the fire, he formed the sun, which has continued\nburning ever since. For a while he and his sister lived together in\nperfect harmony, but after a time he began to ill-treat her, and his\nconduct towards her became worse and worse until one day he scorched\nher face, which was exquisitely beautiful. This was not to be borne,\nshe therefore fled from him, and formed the moon. Her brother is still\nin chase of her, but although he sometimes gets near her, he will never\novertake her. When it is new moon the burnt side of her face is towards\nus; when full moon the reverse is the case. The stars are the spirits of\nthe dead Eskimo that have fixed themselves in the heavens, and meteors\nand the aurora are these spirits moving from one place to another whilst\nvisiting their friends.\u2019\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nSCHOOL WORK\n\n\nIn school work and teaching Mr. Horden took from first to last the\nkeenest interest. After he became bishop he still visited the Moose\nSchool daily, whenever he was in residence. In earlier years he had for\na time the able assistance of a native master, Mr. Vincent. A small\nboarding-school had been commenced in 1855 with two children, who were\nsupported through the Coral Missionary Fund.[1] The following year, two\nmore children were taken, and in 1857 the number on the list amounted to\neight; to these others were yearly added, supported by friends of the\nCoral Fund.\n\nLittle Susan was one of these. Her unfinished sampler with the needle in\nit was sent to England. The children\u2019s histories were many of them very\nsad and pathetic. Some were orphans. The parents of others were disabled,\nor too sick and suffering to work. One little girl was described as\nhaving so wild a look that a portrait of her scarcely resembled that of\na human being. Another, after remaining for a time in the school, fell\nill with the strange Indian sickness called \u2018long thinking,\u2019 a gypsy-like\nyearning for the wild life of the forest, and she had to be sent back to\nher widowed father. One boy died early of decline, a complaint to which\nthe Indian is very subject. Another was the child of a father who lay\nsick and bed-ridden in a most deplorable condition\u2014parts of his body\nactually rotten. \u2018He might\u2019 have been the Lazarus of the parable,\u2019 wrote\nMr. Horden. \u2018He gets little rest night or day, but, like Lazarus, his\nmind is stayed on God.\u2019\n\nA few children having thus been gathered together with the certainty of\nsupport, Mr. Horden commenced building a school-house. He had from the\nfirst assembled the children for daily instruction, but to board and\nclothe them was impossible without some friendly help, all necessaries\nat Moose being nearly double the price of the same articles at home.\nAt one time it was quite double. From this we may gather with what\ndelight was hailed, as the season came round, the arrival of the annual\nship, bringing to the missionary and his family the stores needed for\nthemselves and their charges for the year to come.\n\nIn 1864 very especially, Mr. and Mrs. Horden awaited in eager expectation\nthe ship\u2019s appearance, for not only did they long to know that the wants\nof the school children and the poor who depended upon them would be\nsupplied, but they were hoping themselves to return in her with their\nlittle family for a well-earned rest and change in England, from which\ncountry they had then been absent thirteen long years. The three elder\nchildren were of an age to need an English education. The little son,\na boy of nine or ten, whose principal amusement was to go to the woods\nwith an axe over his shoulder to cut firewood, must, ere it was too late,\nbe weaned from the free life in the forest, and begin to measure his\npowers of mind and body with other lads of his age and class at home. The\nwife and mother yearned to see the relatives parted from long ago; the\nhard-worked man hoped for stimulus and help in the society and sympathy\nof his brethren and fellow-labourers.\n\nThese hopes and yearnings were doomed to disappointment. \u2018You know,\u2019\nwrote Mr. Horden on January 25, 1865, \u2018that it was my intention to be at\nhome this year, and I had expected to have reached England in October or\nthe beginning of November. But August passed and the ship did not arrive,\nand anxiety increased daily. The 23rd came, the latest day on which the\nship had ever been known to appear, and then we began to despond and to\nsay, \u201cNo ship this year!\u201d The schooner still remained outside, hoping\nagainst hope, until October 7. That same night, in the midst of a most\nfearful storm, we heard the report of large guns at sea; our excitement\nwas extreme, our hopes revived, and from mouth to mouth passed the joyful\nexclamation, \u201cThe ship\u2019s come! the ship\u2019s come!\u201d We lay down to rest,\nlightened of a great weight of anxiety, dreaming of absent friends, with\na strange pleasant confusion of boxes, storms, ice, guns, and the many\nother etceteras of the sailing, arrival, and unloading of our ship.\n\n\u2018Morning dawned, the storm had subsided, a boat was despatched for\nletters, the schooner was again ordered to sea, all hearts beat high,\nand by ten o\u2019clock our illusions were dispelled. The guns had been fired\nby the York schooner, which had been despatched to Moose to acquaint us\nwith our misfortune, and to bring the little that had been saved from the\nwreck. It was very little, yet sufficient to remove anxiety as to our\nliving for this winter, as we thus became possessed of flour and tea,\nwhich we can only obtain by the ship, for in our wintry land no fields\nof wheat wave their golden heads, and no sound of the reapers ever falls\nupon the ear. Of the many packages sent me, the Coral Fund box was the\nonly one which came to hand, all the rest are at the bottom of the sea:\nand of the contents of your box, everything was much damaged, except the\nservice book, now lying on the communion table at Moose. The packet-box\nwas saved, which accounts for my receiving your letter.\n\n\u2018The Moose ship left England in company with the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company\u2019s\nship, bound for York Factory, which is a post about seven hundred miles\nnorth of Moose, and came across the Atlantic and nearly through Hudson\u2019s\nStraits without any mishaps. On August 13 the two ships were together,\na few miles to the east of Mansfield Island; the captains visited and\ncongratulated each other upon having passed the most dangerous portion\nof the voyage, and expected that within a week the one would be at York\nand the other at Moose. But how blind is man! Within a few hours both of\nthem were ashore on Mansfield Island, about twelve miles distant from\neach other. The York ship had a very large number of men on board, and\nby almost incredible exertions she was got off, but not until she had\nsustained such damages as necessitated the constant use of the pumps.\nThe Moose ship could not be got off, and still lies with nearly all her\nvaluable cargo on the rocks. The York ship came to her and took all the\ncrew on board, together with what had been saved, and proceeded to York\nFactory. There she was examined, and then it appeared how near all had\nbeen to death; the wonder was how she could possibly have kept afloat. To\nreturn to England in her would have been madness, so she still lies at\nYork. Happily a second vessel had gone to York, which took home nearly\nthe whole of the crews of the two disabled ships.\n\n\u2018When I last wrote I asked for the service book for my new church;\nthat edifice has now, I am happy to say, been opened; the interesting\nceremony took place on Whit-Sunday, May 15, 1864. The ice had entirely\ndisappeared from the river; the sun shone forth brilliantly, all Nature\nsmiled. A large congregation assembled at our usual hour for service,\nand all seemed impressed with the solemnity of the occasion. The subject\nof the sermon was the dedication of Solomon\u2019s temple. At its close the\ncollection amounted to upwards of 4_l._, and after that a number of\nEuropeans, natives, and Indians, assembled round the table of the Lord.\nIt was the first time I ever administered a general communion, many of\nthe Indians not understanding English; but on this occasion I wished them\nto see that, in spite of diversity of language, God is alike the God of\nthe white man and the red. Altogether it was a most interesting and happy\nday. It is literally a church in the wilderness. I hope it will not be\nlong before others rise in this part of the country.\n\n\u2018I have lately heard of my poor Eskimo brethren in the far-off desert;\nthat infant church has been much tried. Just one half of its members have\nbeen carried off by death; there were but four, two of whom are gone, and\nboth somewhat suddenly. One of them was the young Eskimo interpreter,\nwho when I was last with them was of such very great service to me. Late\nin the fall he went off in his kayak to set a fox trap. He did so, but\nas he was getting into the canoe to return home it upset with him, and\nthe coldness of the water prevented him from swimming. His body was not\ndiscovered until the evening of the following day. The other was the\nonly baptized woman, her name was Elizabeth Horden. These trials must be\nnecessary, or they would not be sent.\u2019\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nFIRST RETURN TO ENGLAND\n\n\nIn 1865 Mr. Horden and his family came home; the journey was a long\nand very anxious one. \u2018Among the many dangerous voyages which our bold\nsailors undertake,\u2019 he writes, \u2018there is none more dangerous, or attended\nwith more anxiety, than the one to or from Moose Factory. Hudson\u2019s\nStraits are dangerous, Hudson\u2019s Bay fearfully so, James\u2019s Bay worst of\nall. It is full of sunken rocks and shoals; it is noted for its fogs.\n\n\u2018When the ship came, it was in a somewhat disabled condition, so severely\nhad she been handled by the ice. However, we repaired her at Moose, and\nalthough it was very late in the season we determined, putting ourselves\nin God\u2019s hands, to trust ourselves in her. We left Moose with a fair\nwind, which took us in safety over our long, crooked, and dangerous\nbar; but we had not proceeded above half a day\u2019s sail before a heavy\nstorm came upon us. Dangers were around us, the dread of all coming to\nMoose Factory, the Gasket Shoal, was ahead; the charts were frequently\nconsulted; the captain was anxious, sleep departed from his eyes. We are\nat the commencement of the straits; we see land, high, rugged, barren\nhills; snow is lying in the valleys, stern winter is already come; it\nseems a home scarcely fit for the white bear and the walrus. What are\nthese solitary giants, raising their heads so high, and appearing so\nformidable? They are immense icebergs which have come from regions still\nfarther north, and are now being carried by the current through Hudson\u2019s\nStraits into the Atlantic Ocean. The glass speaks of coming bad weather,\nthe top-sails are reefed, reefs are put to the main-sail; and now it is\non us, the wind roars through the rigging, the ship plunges and creaks.\nNight comes over the scene, there is no cessation of the tempest; it\nhowls and roars, it is a fearful night! One of the boats is nearly swept\naway, and is saved with difficulty; we have lost some of our rigging; one\nman is washed overboard, and washed back again. The sea breaks over the\nvessel, and dashes into the cabin; but One mightier has said, \u201cHitherto\nshalt thou come, and no farther.\u201d By the morning, the morning of the\nSabbath, the wind had abated.\u2019\n\nDreary weeks followed; the time for arrival in England had long since\npassed, and our travellers were still beating about in the Atlantic.\nLuxuries had vanished, comforts had departed, necessaries were becoming\nvery scarce, and they began to ask each other, \u2018Is England ever to be\nreached?\u2019 Then the children saw a steamer for the first time in their\nlives, and their surprise was great; and now they pass vessel after\nvessel. They are running up the English Channel, a pilot comes on board,\nand on they go, till they are safely moored in the West India Docks. Now\nto a railway station and into a railway carriage, out of that and into a\ncab through the busiest part of London; the shops are brilliantly lighted\nup; the children are at the windows, their exclamations of surprise are\nincessant, a new world is opened to their view\u2014a world of bustle, a world\nof life.\n\nMr. Horden spent a busy year in England, travelling, as he expressed it,\n\u2018from Dan to Beersheba,\u2019 speaking on behalf of \u2018his beloved people\u2019 and\nhis work; everywhere eliciting sympathy and interest. In his absence from\nthe station Mr. Vincent of Albany had gone to Moose, to provide for the\nspiritual wants of the flock and to keep the school going. The children\nwere examined before the Christmas holidays in Scripture and Catechism\nand arithmetic, after which they were rewarded with little presents\nsent in the bales from England. He reported the mission as presenting a\ncheering aspect. \u2018From every quarter,\u2019 he writes, \u2018the heathen are being\ngradually brought under the influence of the Gospel; we have much cause\nfor encouragement, but we also meet with opposition. I visited an outpost\nin the Rupert\u2019s River district last summer, about five hundred and fifty\nmiles distant from this station, called Mistasinnee. Both there and on\nthe way I had frequent opportunities of preaching the Gospel to anxious\ninquirers, and before leaving that post I had forty-eight baptisms,\nhalf the number being adults; the trip occupied about two months. We\nare having a very mild winter, but not a favourable one for living, as\nrabbits and partridges are very scarce. Sometimes we have a difficulty\nin making up something for dinner. I hope, however, as the season\nadvances, we shall do better, for partridges then will be returning to\nthe northward, and we may get a few in passing.\u2019\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nAGAIN AT WORK\n\n\nAt the end of the year Mr. Horden returned to Moose with his wife and two\nyoungest children, and that same year the homeward-bound ship was once\nmore in imminent peril. And now our hero began a series of long journeys,\nthe longest he had made\u2014one occupying three months and covering nearly\ntwo thousand miles\u2014amongst people of various languages. He thus vividly\ndescribes it:\n\n\u2018I left Moose Factory for Brunswick House in the afternoon of May 20,\n1868. The weather was very cold, and on the following morning we left\nour encampment amidst a fall of snow. All along the river banks the\nice lay piled up in heaps, occasionally forming a wall twenty feet\nhigh. This ice was very detrimental to our progress; it prevented the\nIndians from tracking the canoe, so that they were forced to use the\npaddle or pole, which is harder work and does not permit of such rapid\nprogress. We got on pretty well until we came to where the river rushes\nwith awful rapidity between high and almost perpendicular rocks: it\ncertainly appeared like travelling to destruction. We had to cross the\nriver several times, so as to get where the current was weakest. We had\ncrossed twice, and bad enough it was each time; we were to cross the\nthird time; our guide demurred. It could not be done with safety; we\nshould be driven down a foaming rapid and destroyed.\n\n\u2018But it was now just as dangerous to go backward as forward, so, after\na little persuading, the old man was induced to try. I took a paddle,\nand we got out into the middle of the stream, paddling for our lives; we\nwere carried a considerable way down, but the other side was reached in\nsafety. Then we poled, or tracked, on, as we best could, very slowly,\nuntil we had to cross again, and so on until the first portage was\nreached. Over this we plod, and again our canoe floats into the river;\nthen pole, paddle, or track until a majestic fall or a roaring rapid\nwarned us to make another portage; and so on, again and again, day after\nday.\n\n\u2018As we went towards the south we actually saw some trees beginning to\nbud. On the very last day of May, in the afternoon, I reached Brunswick\nHouse. It is situated on a beautiful lake, the whole establishment\nconsisting of about five or six houses; it is a fur-trading post. The\nIndians speak the Saulteaux language; there are about a hundred and fifty\nof them here; they are quiet and teachable, but given to pilfering and\nvery superstitious. To comfort they seem to be strangers, lying about\nanywhere at night, their principal resort being the platforms near the\ntrading-house. I believe that God\u2019s blessing rested on my labours among\nthese Indians. This was their first introduction to the Christian\nreligion, and I trust that ere long many will be numbered among Christ\u2019s\ndisciples.\n\n\u2018After remaining with them nine days, I was obliged to hurry northward.\nOur progress was rapid, the water was in good order. A few days at\nMoose, and I went to the sea-coast to Rupert\u2019s House. I found between\nthree and four hundred Indians assembled there, under the guidance of\ntheir teacher, Matamashkum. Our joy was great and mutual; they have been\nheathens, many of them have committed horrible crimes, but those days\nhave passed away, and now they rejoice in the merits of a Crucified\nSaviour. Twice every day we had service, almost out of doors, for there\nwas no available room at the place capable of containing all. During the\nday I had examinations, and baptisms, and weddings, and consultations;\nand one afternoon we had a grand feast, for the Indians had made a good\nhunt, and the fur-traders, delighted with what they had done, provided\nthe feast for them. There was nothing of dissipation. Eating and drinking\nwas quite a serious matter with them, and it was astonishing to see the\nquantities of pea-soup, pork, geese, bread, biscuit, tobacco, tea and\nsugar, they consumed; the providing a body of Indians with a good feast\nis no light matter.\n\n\u2018Having spent two Sundays at Rupert\u2019s House, I took canoe and went to\nFort George, northwards along the sea-coast. For a portion of the way I\nhad company, as many Indians were also going north. This was the most\npleasant of all the journeys; the weather fine, the scenery often grand,\nthe wind fair. Two hundred miles were made in four days and a half. At\nFort George I met a good body of Christian Indians with their teacher,\nWilliam Keshkumash.\n\n\u2018A few days here, and I embarked on board a schooner, to go yet further\nnorth, to Great Whale River. Soon after getting out to sea we were among\nthe ice; however, on we go. It is the sea, but there is no water! We are\nin an Arctic scene; we cannot go through, so we turn our head for Fort\nGeorge again, and wait there for nearly another week, and then try once\nmore. We get half way, then, as the vessel cannot move forward, I leave\nit, and accompanied by two native sailors proceed in a small boat. Two\ndays bring us to an encampment of Indians. I now leave my boat and enter\na canoe, having with me Keshkumash, his wife, and their young son; two\nother canoes, each containing a man and his wife, keep us company. We\nhave to work in earnest. Sometimes we got along fast, then we were in the\nmidst of ice and could not move at all, again we were chopping a passage\nfor the canoe with our axes; and then, when we could do nothing else,\nwe carried it over the rocks and set it down where the ice was not so\nclosely packed.\n\n\u2018After two days and a half of this we came to a standstill, and I\ndetermined to go on foot. I took one Indian with me, and we set off. Our\nwalk was over high bare hills; rivers ran through several of the valleys,\nthese we waded. About ten o\u2019clock that night I sat down once more in a\nhouse, very, very tired, and very, very thankful. I spent several days\nwith the Indians of this place; they are a large tribe of Crees, but\nspeak somewhat differently from those of Moose. Most of them believed the\nwords that were spoken, but some cared for none of those things, being\nfilled with their own superstitions.\n\n\u2018By-and-by the schooner Fox made her appearance, and I embarked once\nmore, to endeavour to get to the last inhabited spot, Little Whale River.\nWe went half way, and then the ice sent a hole through the Fox\u2019s side;\nthis we covered with a sheet of lead. I now again deserted the Fox, and\ntook to the canoe, in which, in somewhat less than two days, I got at\nlast to my journey\u2019s end. And that journey\u2019s end is a dreary, dreary\nplace, with scarcely any summer. It was August, and the ice was lying\nthick at the mouth of the river. But my work was not dreary. I here met\nEskimo, the most teachable of people. They were very ready for school\nor service, and although their attainments were not high, so much was I\nimpressed with their sincerity and perseverance, that I admitted four\nfamilies into the Christian Church. This rewarded me for all my toil. I\ncan address them now as brothers and sisters; and I am sure that all my\nfriends will rejoice with me for the blessing with which God crowned my\nlabour.\n\n\u2018I had my difficulties in getting back again; ice still disputed our\nprogress, but on August 30, late in the evening, the trusty Fox, battered\nand bruised, came to anchor at Moose Factory, and I had the happiness of\nonce more meeting my family, and of finding that all had been quite well\nduring the whole of my absence.\u2019\n\nAbout this time Mr. Horden began to plead for help to train up one of the\nmost promising of his school-boys as a catechist. Friends of the Coral\nFund took up the lad, and the money expended upon his education was not\nin vain, for that boy is now a native pastor in charge of Rupert\u2019s House.\nOf him and of his ordination we shall have more to relate by-and-by.\nThe school children in whom Mr. Horden had first taken an interest were\ngrowing up. Some were already earning their living, some were married;\none girl had gone with her husband to the Red River settlement, and\nwas, wrote Mr. Horden, in 1869, in as respectable a sphere of life as\nany Christian farmer\u2019s wife in England could be. Another had married a\nfine young Moose Fort hunter, an excellent voyager. After an absence of\nseveral months, they with their little child came back to the place,\nstayed a few days, and again departed. In May, at the breaking-up of the\nriver, the Indians came in. One canoe Mr. Horden felt sure was that of\nAmelia and her husband, and he at once went to see them.\n\n\u2018I saw,\u2019 he says, \u2018first a fair little boy, plump and hearty, showing\nthat great care had been taken of him. I then cast my eye on a woman\nsitting near, whom I took to be a stranger; but another look showed me\nthat the poor emaciated creature was indeed none other than Amelia, who\nhad been brought to the brink of the grave by starvation. She had lost\nher husband, but in all her privations she had taken care that her baby\nson should not want. The tale of her suffering was very distressing.\nAfter leaving Moose in the end of March, they by themselves had gone to\ntheir hunting-grounds, hoping to get a few furs to pay off the debt they\nhad contracted with the fur-trader; for in the early part of the winter\nthey had been very unfortunate, a wolverine having destroyed nearly\nall the martens they had trapped. Amelia\u2019s husband was soon attacked\nby sickness, which entirely laid him by; food was very scarce, and the\nlittle the forest might yield he could not seek. He gradually became\nworse and worse, his sufferings aggravated by want, his only source of\nconsolation was his religion; both expected to lay their bones, as well\nas those of the child, where they were. He wrote a letter, and got Amelia\nto go and hang it up where some Indians might pass in the summer, stating\ntheir joint deaths and the cause, and requesting burial. The end came,\nthe once strong young man lay a corpse; but Amelia had something to live\nfor\u2014for her little son she would struggle on. Unable to dig a grave, for\nshe had no strength and the ground was frozen as hard as a stone, she\ncovered the body with moss, and set off to the Main Moose River, hoping\nthere to fall in with Indians. She was not disappointed. After a while\nshe fell in with Isaac Mekawatch, a Moose Indian, who took care of her\nand her child, and brought them in safety to the fort. Such incidents as\nthis are amongst the sad experiences of life in Moosonee.\u2019\n\nIn 1870 Mr. Horden wrote: \u2018I have this summer travelled about thirteen\nhundred miles, and during a part of this time I experienced a\nconsiderable degree of hardship, which brought me down greatly. I am now,\nhowever, well as ever I have been in my life. It was a very long journey,\nand occupied many weeks, yet I did not travel out of my parish all the\ntime. When I was at Matawakumma, five hundred miles south of Moose, I was\nupwards of eleven hundred miles from Little Whale River.\n\n\u2018I left Moose on June 13, and overtook a boat going to the Long Portage,\nwith goods for the supply of New Brunswick, and I went forward in it.\nTravelling by boat is very monotonous work indeed. At breakfast-time,\ndinner-time, and when the day\u2019s work was done, we endeavoured to catch\na few fish, our rod a long rough stick cut from the woods, a piece of\nstrong cord for a line, to which we attached a large hook baited with\nsalt pork; with this we would occasionally draw out a perch, a trout, a\npike from six to twelve pounds in weight. At the Long Portage I changed\nmy mode of travelling, my companions now using the canoe. With my new\nfriends I got on extremely well, taking advantage of every opportunity\nto instruct them in divine things. Most of them received the instruction\ngladly, but a few held back; they love their old superstitions, their\nconjurations, dreams, spirits, and all the other things which so sadly\ndebase the Indian mind. In due time New Brunswick was reached, and I at\nonce began my work.\n\n\u2018The Indians here, before they had ever seen a missionary, used to meet\nfor prayer and exhortation, having learnt a little from an Indian who had\nseen one. Desirous of knowing how they conducted their service, about\nwhich I had heard a great deal, I arranged one evening to be present as a\nspectator. They showed no shyness, but consented at once.\n\n\u2018At the time appointed, all being assembled, one gave out the verse of a\nhymn, which was sung by all; another then repeated a text of Scripture,\nthen a second verse of the hymn was sung, followed by a second text; all\nthen knelt down, I by the side of the old chief, and about six began to\npray aloud at the same time, each in his own words. Ojibway\u2019s prayer was\nvery simple, of course, but it was a cry to Jesus for mercy; and can we\ndoubt that his prayer was heard? Kneeling by his side was one sent by God\nto show him the way of salvation.\n\n\u2018One of those who opposed the Gospel said: \u201cI would not give up my\nchildren to you for baptism on any account. My eldest child has been\ntwice so ill that I thought she would die, but an Indian, by his charms,\nsaved her; and recently a spirit appeared to me, telling me to take heed\nand never give up my children, for if I did, he would no longer take care\nof them, and they would die.\u201d\n\n\u2018I remained at Brunswick until the Indians departed to Michipicoton\nfor supplies of flour. I went with them a little way, and then on to\nFlying Post by a road untrodden by any save the Indian on his hunting\nexpeditions. I found it a terrible route\u2014the worst I have ever\ntravelled\u2014but having no one to think of but myself, I did not mind it\u2014I\nwas about my Master\u2019s business. In due time we reached Flying Post. Our\nlast portage was eight miles of truly horrible walking; it cost us many\nweary hours.\n\n\u2018The Indians of Flying Post evinced a great desire for instruction. This\nwas my first visit; I baptized seventeen persons. From Flying Post I\nwent on to Matawakumma. At Matawakumma the Indians are decreasing, as\nat Flying Post. The decay of a people brings sad reflections, and the\nIndians seem doomed to extinction. I found a church partly built under\nthe guidance of their trader, Mr. Richards, who takes a deep interest\nin his Indians\u2019 welfare. A bell and a set of communion plate I hope to\nget out next ship time; the little church in the wilderness will then be\ntolerably well furnished.\n\n\u2018I here made the largest comparative collection I have ever made in my\nlife, no less than 8_l._ 2_s._ 8_d._ The poor people were truly liberal\nin their poverty, and some of these poor sheep for the first time\napproached the table of the Lord. Some of them are very intelligent, can\nread well, and thoroughly understand their Christian responsibilities and\nappreciate their privileges. And now, my work done, I turn my canoe-head\nMooseward, and pass over grand lakes, down a large river, run the rapids,\nadmire the falls, carry over the portages, hurrying towards the sea, and\nafter an absence of between eight and nine weeks I found myself once more\nin the bosom of my family.\u2019\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nDAYS OF LABOUR\n\n\nNothing perhaps could give a better idea of Mr. Horden\u2019s gigantic labours\nthan an account of a day\u2019s work at different times. A Sunday in the\nwinter of 1871 is thus spent by him.\n\n\u2018While it was yet dark,\u2019 he says, \u2018at half-past six o\u2019clock the church\nbells summoned us to the house of prayer; the cold was severe, but I\nfound a tolerable congregation awaiting me, and the service was very\nenjoyable. The congregation dismissed, I returned home to breakfast,\nand soon afterwards went to the church again for our English service.\nThis is conducted precisely as in a church at home; the full service is\nread, and we use one prayer which you do not, for the Governor-General of\nCanada and the Lieutenant-Governor of the Hudson\u2019s Bay Territories. The\ncongregation is composed of the deputy-governor, his family and his staff\nof clerks, and the doctor\u2014not one of whom is ever absent, and all but one\nare communicants\u2014my own family, and the servants European and native of\nthe Hudson\u2019s Bay Company. After the sermon a general offertory was made,\nand then the communicants met around the Lord\u2019s table, there to renew\ntheir vows, and to partake of that spiritual food which was ordained to\nstrengthen them in their heavenly course.\n\n\u2018At a quarter to two the bell was rung for school, and a few minutes\nafter I was with the scholars, on my knees seeking a blessing on our\nmeeting together. School over, our second Indian service commenced with\na larger congregation than in the early morning, for young children can\nbe brought out now. There is again a departure from the church, yet\nsome remain, and those, as their English-speaking brethren had done in\nthe morning, commemorate their dying Saviour\u2019s love. In all thirty have\ncommunicated. The shades of evening are falling as I leave the church,\nafter a fatiguing, but blessed day\u2019s work.\u2019\n\nThe necessity was laid upon Mr. Horden of being like St. Paul, \u2018in\njourneyings oft,\u2019 and the day\u2019s work we have now to speak of was one of\njourneying.\n\n\u2018Last summer,\u2019 he says, \u2018I was on my way to Rupert\u2019s House. A large boat\njust built was going there, and I took a passage in it. It was loaded\nwith a miscellaneous cargo of bricks, potatoes, a stove, bags of flour,\nand bales of goods. The crew was composed of Rupert\u2019s House Indians, fine\nmanly fellows, and all Christians. Leaving Moose somewhat late in the\nday, we went but a short distance and encamped on an island, eight miles\noff, called Ship-sands. Here we set up our tent and cooked our supper;\nthen we gathered together, and joined our voices in a hymn of praise. I\nread a portion of Scripture, and we all knelt in prayer to the God of\nheaven and earth, and not long after lay down to rest. At midnight there\nwas an arrival, and I was aroused from sleep by my guide, with the cry of\n\u201cMusenahekun! Musenahekun!\u201d A packet! a packet! These are magic words.\nI started to my feet in an instant, for not since February had I seen a\nletter from home, and it was now June 17. It was, however, but a poor\naffair, containing no private letters from England, and but little public\nnews. The real packet I welcomed at Rupert\u2019s House nearly a month later.\n\n\u2018In the early morn we spread our sails to the wind and went joyously\nforward. The east point of Hannah Bay is reached, and it now seems that\nfurther progress is impossible; there is ice, ice; block after block is\npushed aside; hoisting sail, back we go, to round a projecting point.\nWe are in a narrow, crooked lane of water, through which we move very\ncarefully, with poles in hand, ready to do battle with any piece of ice\nwhich lies in our way, and so hour after hour slips by, and all hopes of\nreaching Rupert\u2019s House are at an end; but towards evening our labours\nare crowned with success, and the clear sea stretches before us. There is\nno place to land. We set our best man at the helm, and taking reefs in\nour sails, trust to the protection of the Almighty. I think it was the\nmost uncomfortable night I have ever spent.\n\n\u2018In the early morning the wind abated. We once more set sail, and\ntraversed beautiful Rupert\u2019s Bay, with its varied scenery of hill and\nvalley, wooded headlands and bare rocks, Gheiles Mount, the highest\neminence in this part of the country, rising majestically above all. By\nand by, the North Point is reached, and we enter Rupert\u2019s River. We have\nbeen seen at Rupert\u2019s House, the flag is waving in the breeze; the few\nhouses form a pretty picture in the morning light; and just before seven\no\u2019clock I am heartily welcomed by a crowd of Europeans and natives, who\ncome down to the river\u2019s bank to meet me, as I get out of the boat.\u2019\n\nRupert\u2019s House is an important post of the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company, and the\ncentre of their fur trade in a very extensive district. The business\nis managed by a trader high in the Hudson\u2019s Bay service, assisted by\na clerk, a storekeeper, and a staff of tradesmen and servants; the\nbuildings consist of the master\u2019s residence, houses for the servants,\nlarge and substantially built stores, and last, though not least, a\ncapacious church. \u2018That church,\u2019 says Mr. Horden, \u2018how long I had sighed\nfor it; how hard I had laboured one summer getting logs brought to the\nplace from distant woods, and sawn into boards for the commencement of\nthe building! And now I see a stream of worshippers flowing from tents\nand marquees, gradually filling it, until there is scarcely room for\nanother human being. What joy and gratitude did I feel! This is the\nfifth church in my district since Moose became my home; my next must be\nfour hundred miles from Rupert\u2019s House, for the Saulteaux Indians of New\nBrunswick.\n\n\u2018There goes the bell! it is just six o\u2019clock. I had service every\nmorning at Rupert\u2019s House, but this morning there is an innovation, I\nam one of the assembly, not the leader; I have deputed an Indian to\nconduct the service, and right well he performs his duty. The Litany is\nvery impressively rendered, and a chapter of St. Matthew well read. The\nnumerous voices mingle in their translation of \u201cHe dies, the friend of\nsinners dies\u201d\u2014_Nepeu, umra ka sakehat_\u2014to Luther\u2019s hymn; then I take the\nTestament and once more read the chapter and explain it, enforcing its\nlessons on my hearers; the hymn, \u201cLord, dismiss us with Thy blessing,\u201d is\nsung, and the congregation separates.\n\n\u2018It is time for breakfast. I take mine with my kind host, the trader, who\nis not only an English gentleman, but a Churchman and communicant. At\nnine o\u2019clock I am in my vestry, and around me are the servants\u2019 children.\nI am in a small English school, reading the English Testament, teaching\nEnglish hymns, till eleven, when my Indians come to me family by family.\n\n\u2018Here is Jacob Matamashkum.\n\n\u2018\u201cWell, Jacob, how did you get on last winter?\u201d\n\n\u2018\u201cPart of it very badly, part tolerably well. It was a poor season for\nfurs, martens entirely failed, and none of the other animals made up\nfor the deficiency; many of the Indians will be quite unable to pay\ntheir debts to the trader. We had our prayers every day, and we kept the\nSabbath, but once now and then we were obliged to look for some food on\nSunday when we had nothing. We love our religion more and more, and are\nvery glad indeed we have the church to assemble in.\u201d\n\n\u2018Then I gave my instructions, assured that, as far as possible, they\nwould be attended to. And so the hours passed by. At four o\u2019clock I\nhad a very solemn service; two gentlemen, one more than seventy years\nof age, and the other in middle life, both from far in the interior\nof the country, knelt together for the first time in their lives at\nthe Lord\u2019s table; the elder had not seen a clergyman for upwards of a\nquarter of a century. At six o\u2019clock it is ding-dong, ding-dong, again,\nand again the voice of praise is raised, prayer offered, the Bible read\nand explained, and the congregation then separated to their fragile and\ntemporary dwellings. Yet once more the bell calls to prayer; the master,\nthe gentlemen from the interior, the servants, their wives and children\nobey the summons, and I hold an English service, enjoyable and enjoyed.\nAt its termination I take a short walk, reflecting on the day\u2019s events,\noffering up a silent prayer that God would vouchsafe His blessing thereon\nabundantly.\u2019\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE BISHOPRIC OF MOOSONEE\n\n\nThe summer of 1872 passed. On September 13 of that year Mr. Horden wrote\nto the present writer: \u2018Your much prized letter reached me a day or two\nbefore I set out on one of my longest and most trying journeys, from\nwhich I have but just returned. I took your letter with me, and indulged\nmyself with an occasional perusal of it; it has been to many of the posts\nof the country, has journeyed over some of our terrible portages, and has\nsailed over many a lake through the \u201cforgotten land,\u201d as it may well be\ncalled, for it is waiting, and will long wait, to be taken possession of.\nThe Indians cannot be said to hold possession, they are so few in number,\nand the country is so vast, that one unacquainted with it can have no\nconception of its extent. Fancy travelling a whole fortnight, and during\nthat time not seeing one hundred persons. A feeling of great sadness\nsometimes crept over me as my solitary canoe glided over the bosom of\nsome beautiful sea-like lake; myself and canoe-men were alone in the\nwilderness. I shall (D.V.) write you again in February, when I hope to\nsend you as usual a \u201clittle budget.\u201d\u2019\n\nLittle did the hero of our history imagine when he wrote those last\nlines that a new era was even then about to open in his eventful life.\nOur readers, who have thus far followed his steps with interest, will\nlearn, we feel assured, with heartfelt sympathy, that the well-tried and\ndevoted missionary, the faithful friend and pastor of his flock during so\nmany years, was now to become the missionary bishop of the newly-formed\ndiocese of Moosonee, formerly a portion of the enormous diocese of\nRupertsland. At short notice he started for England, leaving wife and\nchildren at Moose, for he was not to be long absent. He was consecrated\nat Westminster Abbey on December 15, 1872.\n\nIn the few short months which he spent at home the new bishop pleaded\nhard, and not without response, for assistance to carry out his plans\nfor advancing and consolidating his former work in what was henceforth\nto be his diocese, stretching 1,500 miles from east to west and north\nto south, inhabited by Crees, Ojibbeways and Eskimo, together with some\nEuropeans and half-castes. As a missionary he had the joy of witnessing\nthe conversion of the greater part of those children of the wilderness,\nand now, as a missionary bishop, his heart was set on the raising up of a\nnative ministry, supported as far as possible by native resources.\n\nIn this some progress had already been made. His plan was to divide\nthe diocese into five districts, each of them superintended by a fully\nqualified pastor, who would be assisted by two or three other Indian\nclergymen, whose training would be confined to a thorough knowledge of\ntheir Bibles and Prayer-books in their own language. These men would\naccompany the members of their own tribes to their hunting-grounds, and\nas they would be able in a great measure to support themselves, they\nwould require but a comparatively small allowance for their maintenance.\nThis was his purpose, and what he purposed he had with the Divine\nassistance, which he ever sought, never yet failed to carry out.\n\n    All praise to Thee, my Father and my God.\n    Thus far Thy love has brought me on life\u2019s road;\n    Day after day Thy mercy was renewed,\n    Night after night my safety been secured.\n    ...\n    More like to Jesus I would daily grow,\n    Through whom redemption, love, and mercy flow;\n    More loving, holy, generous, resigned,\n    Thoughtless of self, the friend of all mankind.\n\nThus was the newly consecrated bishop moved to sing.\n\nAt home in Moose again, with his dear wife and children, Bishop Horden\nhastened to buckle to his beloved work; but he found time to write a\ngraphic account of his homeward journey, in which he had as his companion\nhis second daughter, who had just left school; the eldest was already\nat Moose. They travelled _vi\u00e2_ New York to Michipicoton, and thence\nthe remainder of the long, long journey by canoe, \u2018encamping,\u2019 wrote\nthe bishop, \u2018in woods under a canvas marquee, waited on by Indians,\ntravelling through perfect solitudes for days without seeing any human\nbeing other than our crew. It was on the morning of Tuesday, July 8,\nthat we stepped into our canoe, having four Indian companions. We went\nup the river slowly against the stream. Then came a long portage, where\nwe carried everything, and this detained us many hours; then on and on\ntill night. Then we put ashore, lit our fire, erected our tent, fried our\npancakes, boiled our kettles, made our beds, and having partaken of a\ngood supper, we assembled our men around us, and they knelt in prayer to\nthe Father in heaven; then, shutting the tent\u2019s frail door, we lay down\nto rest.\n\n\u2018The feeling was strange: so many months had elapsed since the ground\nhad been my bed. Sleep did not come at once, and thoughts were busy on\nthe past and the future. Presently I slept soundly until the early morn,\nwhen we were awakened to pursue our way. We were off by five o\u2019clock,\nand during the day travelled mostly among large lakes. There were no\nbirds, no creatures of any kind visible, except when we were crossing the\nportages, and here we saw quite enough of the dreaded mosquito. On the\nthird day we came upon two men engaged in erecting a house, which was\nto be a trading post in opposition to the great traders of the country,\nthe Hudson\u2019s Bay Company. On our fifth night, when we were not very far\nfrom New Brunswick, we were so troubled by mosquitoes that we could get\nno sleep, and we were not at all sorry when the light of the early morn\nallowed us to pursue our way over a bare and swampy portage.\n\n\u2018This ended, we once more got into our canoe, and in a few hours found\nourselves at the little post of New Brunswick. Here were some Indians,\nbut not very many, and with them I spent the day, praying with and\nteaching them. They are as yet mere infants in the faith, knowing but\nlittle; but I would fain hope that much good has been already effected\nby the preaching of the Gospel. They were very low, but some among them\nhave already been baptized, and are walking consistently. The new trader\nthey have among them is an old friend, who takes deep interest in the\nspiritual welfare of those who come to him for the purposes of trade.\n\n\u2018Work done, we once more entered our canoe, passed through Brunswick Lake\nout into the broad Brunswick branch of the Moose River, and here our real\ntroubles began. It rained heavily for several days. It was bad enough in\nthe canoe, but it was much worse on the portages. Fancy a narrow rough\npath through the woods, with thick bushes on either side, and the path\ndeep in mud and water. I was much afraid my dear daughter Chrissie would\nsuffer from such exposure, but she bore up cheerfully, and proved herself\nan expert traveller.\n\n\u2018When the portages were passed we had 150 miles further to go; but the\nwind became fair, and we almost flew over the water. On Tuesday morning,\nJuly 22, we rounded the head of Moose Island, and our home stood before\nus. There was a great running and calling, and a hoisting of flags. The\nguns gave their loud welcome, and the dear ones who had been left behind\ncame out to greet us; and there was joy\u2014deep, oh, how deep and grateful!\nfor God had indeed dealt very graciously with us. Our first evening\npassed. It has left the impression of a pleasant dream. I cannot record\nour sayings and doings\u2014our exclamations, our tones of joy and sorrow as\nwe spoke of this friend\u2019s success, or that one\u2019s distress: of this one\nbeing born, and that one dying; it was an evening unique in our history.\nWe had no \u201cpemmican,\u201d for we are not in the land of the buffalo; it is an\narticle of food unknown here. Neither had we \u201csalt goose,\u201d a viand which\ntakes the place of the pemmican; we had something better for that evening!\n\n\u2018I at once set to work; life is too short and precious to waste much of\nit; and since then every day has been crowded. I sometimes scarcely know\nwhat to do first, and yet I find time to sit down and write a line or two\nto a friend. The way I manage it is this. I get my work of translation\nforward by devoting to it a few extra hours daily, knowing that a packet\ntime will come, and that it is necessary that every hour of packet week\nmust be given up to writing; the bonds of Christian friendship must not\nbe lightly broken. The translation work is very heavy and trying. This\nis what I have accomplished since I returned in July: I have revised\nour Indian hymn-book, adding to it a large number of new hymns. I have\ntranslated all the first lessons between the tenth Sunday after Trinity\nand the first Sunday in Lent, as well as some for many of the holy days.\nWhat I wish to accomplish is the Psalter, the first lessons, and the New\nTestament, to be bound up in one volume. If I go on as I have done, I may\nget the whole ready in twelve months from this time. I shall give myself\nno rest until my people have the whole of the Word of God in their hands.\u2019\n\nThus the good bishop worked on, happy in the conviction that if things\nwere not hurrying onward to perfection, they were at least moving slowly\nin the right direction\u2014his exertions being helped by his Heavenly Father,\nto whom he attributed all progress.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nA PICNIC AND AN INDIAN DANCE\n\n\nThe year 1874 was an eventful one at Moose; the breaking-up of the ice\nbrought with it a flood, and the bishop and his family had to be fetched\nin a canoe to the house of the deputy-governor for safety. The moving\nice masses tore up the river bank, broke down the fences, snapped trees\nas if they had been reeds; whilst an incessant roar was kept up as the\nmile-wide river rushed madly on towards the sea. Crops were backward and\nsparse that season.\n\nIn July the bishop started on his summer visitation tour to Rupert\u2019s\nHouse, East Main, and Fort George. Everywhere he was received with open\narms; everywhere the services were well attended; at each of the posts\nvisited many were baptized and confirmed.\n\nBy September the bishop was back again, busy amongst his Indians and\nwith the European sailors who had spent perforce a whole year in the\nvicinity, the ship of 1873 having been ice-bound off Charlton Island;\nthere was no place nearer at hand at which she could winter in safety.\nBut the captain, mate, and some of the men had visited Moose during the\nsummer, and every opportunity of communication had been taken advantage\nof. Now they were occupied in cleaning the ship and making ready for a\nfresh start homewards. Late one night, just before she set sail, the\nbishop and his wife accompanied their newly-married daughter on board,\ntheir eldest\u2014the child whom Bishop Anderson had baptized. All hands were\ninvited aft; a last solemn and affecting farewell service was held.\n\nThe annual ship came and went, and the good folks at Moose began to feel\nat once that winter was at the door. The weather, though still warm,\ncould not be long depended upon. \u2018We begin,\u2019 wrote the bishop, \u2018to take\nup our potatoes; that done, we look well to our buildings, to prevent\nas far as possible the entrance of frost; then we endeavour to lay in a\nstock of fish for the winter, some of which are salted while others are\nfrozen\u2014in which state they keep good almost all the winter; after that,\npigs and cattle are killed, and cut up, and allowed to freeze. Then the\ngreat labour of the season begins\u2014the cutting and hauling of firewood,\nfor we have no coals here. We send men armed with large axes into the\nthick woods, and there they chop down tree after tree, strip off the\nbranches, cut them into billets about three feet long, split them and\npile them into a \u201ccord.\u201d A cord is a pile of billets eight feet long and\nfour feet high, one and a half of such being considered a fair day\u2019s\nwork for a man. Then other men come with horses and oxen, harnessed to\nsledges, and haul the wood to our respective houses, near which it is\nreplied. Then the men are sent further off to get logs for building\npurposes, which are rafted down the river on the breaking-up of the ice.\n\n\u2018My young son Bertie delights in chopping, and in winter both Bertie\nand Beatrice delight in tobogganing, which gives them capital exercise.\nA piece of wood about six feet long, ten inches broad, and a quarter\nof an inch thick, is turned up a little in front, and is then called a\nsled; this is brought to the edge of the river\u2019s bank, which is in some\nplaces very steep. Bertie sits down in front, armed with a short stick\nto guide the sled; his sister sits down behind him, and down they rush\nwith amazing speed, the impetus carrying them far out on the frozen\nriver; then they trudge up the bank, bringing the sled with them, and\nthe process is repeated again and again. As this sort of exercise is a\nlittle too violent for a person of middle age, I don\u2019t engage in it now.\nThen there is the fishing. Walking out two or three miles in snow-shoes,\na gipsy tent is made in the woods; holes are cut in the thick ice, a pile\nof pine brush is brought from the woods; and then comes the sitting and\nshivering at the hole, bobbing a baited hook up and down, perhaps the\npleasure of catching a fish, then the pleasure of cooking it, and then\nthe pleasure of eating it.\u2019\n\nDuring the cold of this year\u2019s winter the bishop allowed himself a rare\nholiday\u2014the only one, indeed, with the exception of those connected with\nChristmas-tree doings, ever recorded by him in his many letters to us.\nAvailing himself of an unusually fine warm day in February, he held a\ngrand picnic with his family and friends, driving out four or five miles\nin dog and horse sleighs, taking dinner in a large comfortable tent, with\na fine fire in the centre, and then going down to the river and fishing\nthrough holes cut in the ice. \u2018Bobbing our hooks, baited with either a\npiece of fat pork or rabbit, until a hungry trout made a dart at it, we\ngenerally succeeded,\u2019 he says, \u2018in drawing it through the thick ice on\nto the snow, where in a short time he became frozen hard; for when I say\nthat we had a warm day, I mean the thermometer stood but a little below\nzero.\u2019 Yes, there sat the bishop and his children and friends on pine\nbrush on the ice, quite enjoying themselves!\n\n\u2018We got home very nicely in the evening, but the cold was then becoming\nsevere, and as the wind was high we should have been very uncomfortable\nindeed had we been out much later. With all the drawbacks, I am very\nhappy here at Moose. I have no time for _kushkaletumowin_, or \u201cthinking\nlong.\u201d Were the day thirty hours instead of twenty-four, I should still\nfind it too short. Each year finds me busier than its predecessor, and\nso I suppose it will continue to the end. The happiest man is he who is\nmost diligently employed about his Master\u2019s business. I have before me\nfor next summer a most extensive journey; I go to Red River to attend\nthe first meeting of our provincial synod, and then to York Factory,\ntravelling over four thousand miles.\u2019\n\nThe school, under the bishop\u2019s own immediate superintendence, was going\non well, the scholars making good progress. One boy, out of school\nhours, was employed in chopping wood for the school fire. Another had\naccompanied the bishop in all his last summer journeyings, behaving in\nan exemplary manner. A third, Edward Richards, was already very useful,\nassisting as a master in the school. The Indians are very fond of their\nchildren, and perhaps a little over-indulgent. The spoilt children\nare sometimes disobedient. The bishop gives an amusing description of\nparental admonition on one occasion at a distant camp. \u2018I had been,\u2019 he\nsays, \u2018away from home for some time, and hoped before night to arrive at\nEast Main. I had reached a part of the coast opposite the large island\nWepechenite, \u201cthe Walrus,\u201d when I observed a body of Indians standing\non a rock, watching us. Here was an opportunity not to be missed; those\nIndians might not hear the Gospel again for years. I at once directed\nmy men to look out for a good landing-place, and I got ashore. My men\nalso came ashore, and began collecting wood for the purpose of cooking\nbreakfast. In the meantime the Indians, seeing our movements, got their\ncanoes into the water; they did not come empty-handed, but brought a\nlarge number of fine white fish, called by them Atikamakwuk\u2014\u201cdeer of the\nsea,\u201d some dried, others fresh, just taken from the nets. I collected all\nour visitors to a service, at which many children were to be baptized.\nThe deepest attention was paid. The morning hymn was heartily sung, for\nthese Indians are all Christians. The discourse is being delivered when\nthere is a great stir among the congregation; faces look excited, voices\nare raised, apparently in anger. For a moment I was at a loss to account\nfor this; then I saw that it was my address that was taking effect,\nalthough not quite in the way I had intended. I was speaking to the young\npeople, telling them their duty to their parents. The mothers thought\nthis an opportunity not to be passed over, so, raising their voices, they\ncried out to their daughters, \u201cDo you hear? Isn\u2019t this what we are always\ntelling you?\u201d Then, rushing at them, they brought them to the front,\nsaying, \u201cCome here, that he may see you; let him see how ashamed you\nlook, you disobedient children!\u201d Turning to me they said, \u201cYes, they are\ndisobedient, they will not listen; perhaps now they have heard you they\nwill behave better.\u201d The young people promised better conduct for the\nfuture. The service over, we once more took to our canoe, and paddled on\nunder the hottest sun, I think, I have ever experienced.\u2019\n\nIt was during this summer trip that the bishop witnessed an Indian dance.\n\n\u2018I had travelled far,\u2019 he says. \u2018I had visited the stations on the\nEast Main coast, and had been some time at Little Whale River. It is a\ndreary place, and the mighty, frowning, rocky portals of the river seem\nfitted for the entrance to other regions, to another world. I had spent\nmuch time preaching the Gospel to Europeans, half-castes, Indians, and\nEskimo, and I was intending almost immediately to turn the bow of my\ncanoe southwards, and speed back as fast as possible to my home at Moose\nFactory.\n\n\u2018Walking out one evening with the gentleman in charge of the post, we\nwere somewhat startled by a great noise proceeding from an encampment\nof Indians a quarter of a mile distant, on the top of a high hill. \u201cA\nconjuring, a conjuring extraordinary!\u201d said we. We ascended the hill\nquietly, and quite unobserved. Having attained the summit, we walked\nrapidly towards a large tent from which the noise was proceeding, and\nlooked in, but at first could make out nothing distinctly. We entered,\nand found six or seven men standing as closely together as possible\naround a very small fire, dancing, or rather shuffling up and down,\nwithout in the least changing their position; the women and children were\nsitting around, admiring and applauding spectators of the doings of their\nlords and masters. There was music, too, both vocal and instrumental.\nThe player was likewise the vocalist; he was an old man, who sat among\nthe women and children; his instrument an old kettle, over which a\npiece of deer-skin had been tightly drawn, and this he beat with a\nstick, accompanying with his cracked voice, raised to its highest pitch.\nThe dancing and music continued for some hours, but about every five\nminutes there was a momentary cessation, when all in the tent joined in\na prolonged howl. All seemed to thoroughly enjoy the sport, and I was\nmyself glad to see it, for it was no conjuring after all, only a little\nsimple amusement, and it was the first sign of animation I had witnessed\namong those Indians, who are not of a very high type of humanity. They\nare now all Christians, but the standard of Christianity is low\u2014how can\nit be otherwise? I am the nearest clergyman to them, and I am six hundred\nmiles distant. The difficulty of reaching them is very great, for the\nsea in their vicinity is open but for a short time in the whole year.\nThis summer I had hoped to see a labourer stationed among them and the\nteachable Eskimo, but for the present I have been disappointed.\u2019\n\nThe bishop\u2019s thoughts were much occupied with the need for more churches\nand schools, more pastors and teachers, in his extensive diocese. In 1875\nhe writes: \u2018At present there are three clergymen in the diocese besides\nmyself, and the work we have to do is very great and onerous. I have\ngiven, God\u2019s grace enabling me to do so, more than twenty years of my\nlife to the cause which is so close to my heart, and I long to see the\nwhole of the country under my charge not only free from superstition, but\nlikewise entirely under the sway of Christ, that there shall not be a\ntribe, either among the Crees, Ojibbeways, or Eskimo, which has not its\nwell-instructed and fully-accredited teacher. Many of the tribes do not\nsee a minister\u2019s face for years.\u2019\n\nBishop Horden had now been actively engaged in the mission field nearly\na quarter of a century. On January 6, 1876, he writes: \u2018During the whole\nof that time I have not been laid up with any serious illness whatever,\nand I am thankful to add that I still feel as strong in body and as\ncapable of work as when I first landed here; truly God has surrounded me\nwith loving-kindness and tender mercy; but in the course of last year He\ntaught me, in a manner not to be misunderstood, that the threads of my\nlife are held in His hand, for He plucked me from the very jaws of death.\n\n\u2018With a large number of fellow-passengers I was on board the steamship\nManitoba, on Lake Superior, on my way to Michipicoton, when late in the\nevening we came into collision with the American steamship the Comet, a\nvessel more than twice the size of our own, laden with a heavy cargo of\nsilver ore and pig-iron. That we escaped without material injury seemed\nquite miraculous, for the Comet sank immediately, and with her, I am\ngrieved to add, eleven of her crew of twenty-one men. I trust that this\nnearness to death, showing me how uncertain is life, is causing me to\nvalue it more highly, and to labour more earnestly in the vineyard before\nthe night cometh in which no man can work.\u2019\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nORGANISATION AND TRAVEL\n\n\nThe marked feature of the year 1875 was the organisation of the four\ndioceses, into which the old diocese of Rupertsland was divided, into\nan ecclesiastical province, the first synod of which was held in the\nbeginning of August. This necessitated the bishop\u2019s going to Winnipeg,\nRed River, a journey of fifteen hundred miles. \u2018In going I visited the\nstations of New Brunswick, Misenabe, and Michipicoton. At New Brunswick\nmuch progress is being made; most of the Indians are now baptized, and as\nthe present agent of the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company there is a great friend of\nmissions, and one who will do all in his power for the spiritual benefit\nof those attached to his trading post, I hope it will not be long before\nheathenism will have taken its entire departure, and Christianity be the\nprofessed religion of that important portion of my charge. From all the\nstations I receive good reports, but before that advance can be made for\nwhich we so deeply long, we must have more labourers. We are so few, and\nthe field is so large. In the autumn the mission was strengthened by the\narrival of the Rev. J. H. Keen from England, and a valuable gift he is\nproving himself to be. I trust another man equally good will be sent next\nautumn.\n\n\u2018In May I hope to set apart Mr. Saunders, a native of the country, for\nthe work of the ministry among his countrymen (the Ojibbeways). Thus I\nshall be enabled to occupy three most important posts, so that, should\nI further carry out my plans, I shall consider that I have the diocese\ntolerably well in hand. The places I hope to occupy are Rupert\u2019s House,\nto which an immense extent of country looks as its head; Matawakumma,\nwhich will guard the frontier from Roman Catholic encroachment; and Whale\nRiver, opening up communication with the interesting but much neglected\nEskimo of the north-eastern coast of Hudson\u2019s Bay. Another place, Flying\nPost, I had likewise hoped to supply with a permanent competent teacher,\nbut the man intended for it, a pure Indian, will not be ready this year.\u2019\n\nThe Rev. J. H. Keen had been assisting the bishop at Moose, but the\npeople at Rupert\u2019s House were still without a missionary, so at Christmas\nhe was given up to them, and the bishop took the work at Moose Fort\nalone. The Christmas Day services began ere the stars had disappeared\nfrom the firmament, and continued till late in the afternoon. \u2018After\nthis,\u2019 he writes, \u2018I felt considerably fatigued, but a cup of tea revived\nme, and I spent a quietly happy evening with my wife and youngest\nchildren.\u2019\n\nIn the following summer the bishop joined Mr. Keen at Rupert\u2019s House.\n\u2018Among those who came down to meet me,\u2019 he says, \u2018were our old friends\nMatamashkum, Wapunaweshkum, Snuffers, and many others. Our joy was mutual.\n\n\u2018Soon arrived the brigades from Mistasinnee, Waswanepe, and Nitchekwun,\nhundreds of miles up the Rupert\u2019s River. We were busy morning, noon,\nand night. Every moment was employed, for these children of ours would\nhave but a few days\u2019 intercourse with their father, and then would again\nreturn to their distant homes. We had marriages to perform, many children\nto baptize, candidates for confirmation to prepare, communicants to\ninstruct, the disobedient to rebuke. There was not much of this, however,\nand the days ran rapidly and happily on. The Psalter, beautifully printed\nfrom my translation, had come to us the previous ship time, and the\nIndians were delighted. After a little while it was most cheering to hear\nhow well they read together their appointed portions. They gave me a\nvery good collection, a good number of beaver; that is to say, they did\nnot give me a large pile of beaver skins, but our native teacher, Jacob\nMatamashkum, had made a list of all the Indians, and after each name he\nhad written down the man\u2019s contribution in beaver. When the list was\ncompleted it was given to the resident trader, who credited me with three\nshillings for each beaver. Altogether it amounted to a considerable sum.\u2019\n\nSome time after this the bishop made a voyage in the Mink to Big River\nand Great Whale River, both on the eastern coast of Hudson\u2019s Bay. At\nGreat Whale River the work was of a varied character, amongst Indians,\nEskimo, and English. The Eskimo were assembled in some numbers for the\nwhale fishery. But it was not a success that season. The whales, or\nrather porpoises, remained outside the river, and would not come in. \u2018A\nwhale fishery when the whales are numerous is a very exciting sight. I\nmyself,\u2019 says the bishop, \u2018have engaged in a fishery in which a thousand\nwere killed, but that was many years ago. The Eskimo gave much cause for\nencouragement; no matter what they were about, when summoned to school or\nservice the work was dropped instantly, their little books were taken up,\nand off they trotted, singing, listening, praying; they showed that they\nwere thoroughly in earnest.\u2019\n\n\u2018How grieved was my heart that I had no one to leave behind who might\ntake the Eskimo as his special charge!\u2019 says the bishop. But the man\ndesired was even then approaching Moose Fort in the annual ship. It was\nMr. Peck, a layman, who had spent some of the earlier years of his life\nas a sailor. \u2018It was by searching the Scriptures in my mess on board one\nof H.M.\u2019s vessels that the light shone into my darkened soul; it was\nthen I knew its truth,\u2019 he says. The bishop was much pleased with the\nearnestness and evident fitness for the work of the young missionary.\nAfter remaining at Moose only a week, the latter set out in a boat with\nthree or four Indians for his distant and lonely home. After a few months\nhe returned to Moose to be ordained.\n\n\u2018The two events of the winter,\u2019 writes the bishop, February 1878, \u2018have\nbeen the children\u2019s school-treat and the ordination of Mr. Peck.\nThe treat was a great success. Fifty-six partook of our hospitality.\nWe divided them into two parties on two successive evenings; I never\nsaw children enjoy themselves more. We had many games to amuse them,\nfinishing each evening with a religious service. Edward Richards, one\nof the Coral Fund _prot\u00e9g\u00e9s_, is with us, assisting generally in the\nmission. He has done good work this winter in giving instruction to Mr.\nPeck in the Indian language. My son is spending the winter with us,\ncheering us much, and assisting in the work. In the summer he takes his\nmother, Beatrice, and Bertie to England, the two latter to go to school.\nI am afraid I shall find a bachelor\u2019s life here rather hard.\u2019\n\nOn May 10, 1878, the bishop, with heartfelt thanksgiving, ordained Mr.\nPeck deacon and priest. \u2018He left us,\u2019 writes Mr. Horden on June 18,\n\u2018with our deepest sympathy and our most earnest prayers. He left us well\nprepared for his work, and with a good insight into the two difficult\nnative languages he will be in constant contact with, the Cree and the\nEskimo. He is full of zeal\u2014zeal tempered with prudence, and I think that,\nshould his life be spared, a noble career is before him. The surroundings\nof his home are very desolate, and he needs all the help and sympathy we\ncan give him.\u2019\n\nThis summer was spent as usual in almost constant travel by the bishop,\nwho still had not been from end to end of his vast diocese. The station\nnext in importance to Moose at that time was York Factory, but he had\nnever yet seen it, owing to the great distance. This summer he visited\nAlbany. Although it was the end of June, ice was still lying on the coast\nwhen he set out in a large canoe, accompanied by six Indians. The way lay\nalong the western shore of James\u2019 Bay. The scenery is very dreary, the\ncoast low and flat, not a hill to be seen. At the end of three days he\nfound himself \u2018at a very small village, consisting of the residence of\nthe fur trader, a nice church, a good parsonage, a few well-built houses,\nand a number of Indian tents.\u2019\n\n\u2018I was most heartily welcomed,\u2019 he writes. \u2018It was late in the evening\nwhen I got out of the canoe, and the next morning early I entered the\nchurch for service. The Rev. Thomas Vincent, who has built both his\nhouse and church, principally with his own hands, is most indefatigable.\nI saw no heathen Indians here, I heard no Indian drums, I beheld no\nsuperstitious rites, but I heard hymns of praise rising to heaven. A\nlarge number had been prepared for confirmation, and many knelt at the\nLord\u2019s table.\u2019\n\nAfter a stay of a fortnight\u2019s duration the bishop returned to Moose,\nand started for Matawakumma, 500 miles distant, where the Rev. John\nSaunders, a native, like Mr. Vincent, of Albany, was now located.\nMatawakumma means, \u2018the lake of the meeting of the waters.\u2019 It is a large\nlake, irregular in outline, surrounded by woods. The first thing which\nstrikes the visitor on approaching the station is the neat little church\nperched on a rising ground, like a beacon set on a hill, the rallying\npoint for the little band of Ojibbeway Indians of the neighbourhood.\nThen the residence of the fur-trader comes in sight, the store and\nother buildings, and the modest parsonage-house, with its garden and\naccessories. The whole way from Moose the bishop saw not more than a\ndozen people. The journey took rather more than a fortnight. The road was\na broad river, impeded in its course by many rapids and shoals, and by\nnumerous waterfalls, some of which are very beautiful.\n\n\u2018Various portages had been made, and we were going on, as we thought,\nsafely,\u2019 writes the bishop, \u2018when suddenly there is a heavy crash, and\nthe water comes rushing into the canoe. We had come with force upon a\nrock, which had made a great hole in the bark. We paddle to the shore as\nfast as possible, take everything out of the canoe and begin repairing\nit. One goes to a birch tree and cuts off a large piece of bark, another\ndigs up some roots and splits them, a third prepares some pitch, and in\nthe course of an hour or two the bark is sewn into the bottom of the\ncanoe, the seams are covered with pitch, and we are once more loading our\nlittle vessel.\n\n\u2018At the end of our second week we come to an encampment of Indians. It is\nSunday, and we stay and spend the day with them. They are old friends,\nHenry Martyn and his wife and others. Indians who are Christians,\nbaptized and communicants. Indians who can give a reason for the hope\nwhich is in them. Indians who can read their books and write their\nletters, and who may be depended upon quite as much as any Europeans.\n\n[Illustration: SHOOTING A RAPID]\n\n\u2018Early on Monday morning we are once more in our canoe, and soon get into\nMatawakumma Lake, in which we paddle for five hours in very heavy rain.\nSoaked quite through, we feel not a little glad to step ashore on the\nfriendly beach, and find ourselves once more with civilised man.\u2019\n\nAnd ere long the time came for the bishop\u2019s sore trial of parting with\nwife and children. The two youngest must go to an English school.\nBut \u2018who was to take them?\u2019 he writes. \u2018There was no one but their\ndear mother, and although it was hard to part with her in this dreary\nand solitary land, it was absolutely necessary; and they were to be\naccompanied by my eldest son, Dr. Horden, who had spent the winter with\nus. Our annual ship came early, and the party was to start in her on her\nreturn voyage. I spent one night on board. Next morning, at an early\nhour, the ship\u2019s guns told us that the voyage had commenced. I remained\nuntil after breakfast, and then, after a sorrowful farewell, I left in a\nboat, and in a few minutes found myself on the deck of the schooner bound\nfor Fort George.\n\n\u2018Now the way to Fort George is, in part, the way to England, and so the\ntwo vessels started in company. The day was beautiful, the wind was fair,\nand we made good progress; but the great ship, spreading more canvas,\ngradually got ahead\u2014late in the evening she was about twelve miles\ndistant, and I thought we had seen the last of her. That night and the\nnext day the weather was very wild and disagreeable, but the day, after\nall, was once more prosperous, and soon after breakfast we espied our\nhuge companion a few miles to the west of us. She drew towards us, and\nwhen we saw the last of her, as night came on, she was about ten miles\nahead.\n\n\u2018The following day we should easily have reached our destination had the\nweather been clear; as it was, we could not venture near the dangerous\ncoast. On Sunday the weather cleared up, the high land of Wastekan Island\ncame in sight, and by-and-by the low and dangerous lead islands. Then the\nwild and uninviting land all around showed we were at the mouth of Big\nRiver, the tortuous channel of which we carefully threaded, and at four\no\u2019clock we dropped anchor in front of the little village, consisting only\nof six or eight houses.\n\n\u2018I was agreeably surprised to find a large number of my red friends\nassembled on the beach to greet me. I at once collected them together,\nand we had a most interesting service. Later in the evening we had the\nEnglish-speaking people and the crew of our vessel, making altogether\nquite a respectable congregation. On Friday morning we had to say\ngood-bye, and once more go on board. The next day was dark and dismal,\nthe wind blowing a hurricane, while the sea ran mountains high. At noon\nwe caught a momentary sight of land, but we were obliged to stand out,\nas we could not see our way through the tortuous course to Moose. No one\non board slept a moment that night. The storm abated in the morning,\nand at daybreak we were once more sailing in the right direction; in\nthe afternoon the wind was very light, and a little after six o\u2019clock\nwe landed at Moose. I made my way to my own house; the loved ones, who\nwere accustomed to greet me with such joy on my return, were far away,\nbattling with the great Atlantic waves.... They were gone, and it ill\nbecame me to sit down and mope; so I set to work to drive melancholy\naway. More work came upon me than I had calculated upon.\n\n\u2018This was the only winter that Mr. Saunders, the Ojibbeway clergyman,\ncould be at Moose for a long time, and I could not translate into the\nOjibbeway tongue without his assistance. We first attacked the Moosonee\nhymn-book. This finished, we commenced the Prayer-book, and having\nfinished the morning prayers we put it aside to get one of the Gospels\ndone. The great diversity of languages in the diocese vastly increases\nour labour\u2014Cree, Ojibbeway, Chipwyan, and Eskimo\u2014and there must be\nseparate translations for each. The English school, too, I manage myself,\nwith over thirty scholars. They are a happy lot, very well behaved,\nwith a great love for their school\u2014as a proof of which I need only say\nthat there has been scarcely an absentee for the winter. All this,\nwith sermons, visiting my people, correspondence, which grows instead\nof diminishing, keeps me thoroughly employed every day from morning to\nnight. The winter hitherto has been a very mild one. When it stands at or\na little above zero, we consider it decidedly warm.\n\n\u2018Of all I received last ship time nothing gladdened my eyes more than the\nsight of a box of Eskimo books in the syllabic character, printed from\nmanuscript sent home the previous year. I can fancy with what delight\nMr. Peck pounced on them, and with what gratification the Eskimo beheld\nthe raising of the lid which exposed to view so much spiritual food. Our\nnative library is becoming extensive, new books being added every year.\nThere is no language without literature. It is blessed work supplying the\naborigines of any country with the Word of Life; that Word which reveals\nto them Jesus, and raises them in spiritual things to a level with the\nmost polished and civilised nations on earth.\u2019\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nYORK FACTORY\n\n\nLeaving the station in charge of the Rev. J. Keen, the bishop started,\nin June 1879, on the long contemplated visit to York Factory, in the\nnorthern part of his diocese. \u2018I left Moose,\u2019 he says, \u2018on June 30,\nhaving made every necessary arrangement for the management of the mission\nduring my absence. At Michipicoton, close to the mighty Lake Superior,\nkind friends were my hosts for four days, days full of work, and then a\nsteamer carried me to Sault St. Marie, a long way out of my course, where\nI was obliged to remain a week, during which I was the guest of another\nmissionary bishop, the Bishop of Algoma, whose diocese is rapidly filling\nup from England and the well-peopled parts of Canada.\n\n\u2018I went through Lake Superior. Four-and-twenty hours of railroad\nfollowed, and fourteen hours more of steamer, and the second stage\nwas completed. A month was spent with my kind friend the Bishop of\nRupertsland. I was in the centre of the civilisation of the country,\nin the neighbourhood of Winnipeg, only a few years ago a waste, now a\npopulous town, with splendid schools, churches, banks, colleges, town\nhall, &c. I was constantly at work, preaching in the various churches,\nsometimes in Cree, sometimes in English, added to which to my lot fell\nthe duty of preaching the sermon at the opening of the synod, at which\nthe clergy were collected from various parts of the country. I need not\nsay how thoroughly this month was enjoyed; it gave me the largest amount\nof Christian intercourse I have had for several years.\n\n\u2018When the steamer which was to convey me through Lake Winnipeg was ready\nto start I went on board, and in her had a journey of three hundred miles\nto Old Fort, from which I was conveyed to Norfolk House by boat. I was\nfar enough away from civilisation now, and had before me five hundred\nmiles of dreary and desolate country. There were some immense lakes to\ncross, and some rough rapids to descend; but we saw no bold falls, such\nas I have been accustomed to find in other parts of the country.\n\n\u2018On September 19 I found myself at my journey\u2019s end, at York Factory, a\nspot I had longed to visit for many, many years, a spot at which several\ndevoted missionaries have laboured, where Christ has been faithfully\npreached, and where many precious souls have been gathered into His\ngarner.\u2019\n\nThe Rev. J. Winter had arrived at the station to take the place of\nArchdeacon Kirkby, who had quitted York by the annual ship just a week\nbefore. Mr. Winter had heard the archdeacon\u2019s farewell sermon. The\nlatter had faithfully toiled there for twenty-seven years, and there\nwas scarcely a dry eye. The interpreter was the first to break down,\nthen followed the archdeacon himself, together with the congregation.\nFor a few moments there was a pause; it was with difficulty that he\nfinished his discourse. \u2018I had wished,\u2019 wrote the bishop, \u2018to express\nto him personally my sense of the praiseworthy manner in which he had,\nsingle-handed, managed this large district. It needs more labourers\u2014one\nat Churchill, and another at Trout Lake. One great difficulty is the\nnumber of languages spoken. At York and Severn, Cree; at Trout Lake, a\nmixture of Cree and Saulteaux; and at Churchill, Chipwyan and Eskimo,\nwhich have no resemblance either to each other or to the Cree or\nSaulteaux. I have been busy ever since coming here, for besides the\nIndian there is a somewhat large English congregation, York having ever\nbeen a place of great importance in the country, although it is now much\nless so than formerly. I conduct an English school daily, give lessons\nin Cree to Mr. Winter, and twice a week I give lessons to the European\nand native servants of the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company. Altogether I am as fully\nemployed as I have ever been at Moose; but I cannot but know that with me\nthe sun has passed the meridian, and that it behoves one to work while it\nis called to-day.\n\n\u2018In January I go northward two hundred miles to Churchill, the most\nnortherly inhabited spot in the diocese of Moosonee. It is a very dreary\nplace. The wife of the gentleman in charge there, the sister of one of\nour missionaries, is often years without seeing the face of a civilised\nwoman, while the intensity of the cold there is as great almost as\nin any spot on the earth\u2019s surface. You may conceive with what joy a\nvisitor is received. What a welcome I may expect on my arrival! The\nIndians there will be quite strange to me; with their language I am not\nat all acquainted. I had never seen one until I came here, and here only\none\u2014a poor girl, now a happy, comfortable, Christian lassie, with an\nEnglish tongue, but who was cast out as an encumbrance by her unnatural\nrelatives. In June I go on a tour to Trout Lake and Severn; this will\noccupy me nearly two months, and in August I once more set off for\nEngland.\u2019\n\nThe voyage from York Factory in the autumn of 1880 was the most tedious\nand stormy on record, occupying ten weeks instead of five. It was the\nmiddle of November ere Bishop Horden reached England, when once more\nhe had the joy of greeting his wife and children. And now followed a\ncontinual round of preaching, speaking, and travelling, with very heavy\ndaily correspondence. At many a meeting the bishop held his audience\nin rapt attention with the story of the rise and progress of the Moose\nmission, with graphic descriptions of parts of the Moose diocese, with\naccounts of the work in the six several districts into which it was now\ndivided, each under the care of an ordained clergyman. Charters had\nbeen granted to two companies for the construction of railways from\nthe corn-growing provinces of Manitoba and Saskatchewan to the shores\nof Hudson\u2019s Bay, one or both of which would run for the greater part\nthrough the Moosonee diocese. The bishop pleaded for help, therefore,\nfor a church extension fund. He would often close his address with an\nIndian\u2019s account of the condition of his people when in a state of\nheathenism, giving it in the native Cree, with a literal translation.\n\n  Naspich ne ke muchepimatisin  w\u0101skuch  numa k\u0101kwan\n   Very   I  was     bad       formerly  not  anything\n\n  ne kisk\u0101let\u0101n piko Muchemuneto  ishpish    ka  primatiseyan;\n  I   know it   only  the devil  as long as  I     lived\n\n  misew \u0101 ililewuk ne ke wapumowuk  moshuk \u0101 muchepima.\n   all the Indians I     saw them   always   they being\n\n  tisitchik,          \u0101 notenittochik,          \u0101 keshkw\u0101p\u0101chik,\n   wicked    when they fight with each other  when they get drunk\n\n   \u0101 mukosh\u0101chik,    \u0101 mit\u0101witchik,          \u0101 kosapatutik,\n  when they feast  when they conjure  when they pretend to prophesy\n\n  \u0101 kelaskitchik;             muskum\u0101\u00f6 wewa,                nutopowuk,\n  when they lie   he takes from him by force his wife  they ask for liquor\n\n  naspich,  saketowuk,    utaw\u0101wuk,           kimotask\u0101wuk\n   much    they like it  they buy it  they rob (other) people\u2019s lands\n\n    kisewaha\u00f6       weche ililewa,     naspich  tapw\u0101\n  he angers them  his fellow Indians,   very    truly\n\n  ke muhepimatisewuk.\n   they were wicked.\n\nThese sentences will illustrate the peculiar structure of the Indian\ntongue, which, with its \u2018sesquipedalian compounds,\u2019 as Professor Max\nM\u00fcller calls them, might deter almost any student from the attempt\nto master it. Bishop Horden, with great patience, perseverance, and\nthoroughness, compiled a grammar of the Cree language, which appeared\nabout this time, and in which we are, step by step, introduced to a\nsystem complete in the mechanism of all its parts. Words that seem all\nconfusion gradually assume their proper forms. Around the verb, which is\nthe most important factor in the formation of those polysyllabic words,\ncluster all the other ideas. They are glued on to it, so to speak. That\nwhich with us would be a whole sentence is accumulated in the Cree into a\nlong compound word; agent, action, object, with adverbial expletives, are\nall combined.\n\nThe bishop, in the midst of all his hard work when in England, now\nspeaking for the Church Missionary Society, now pleading for his own\ndiocese, in the midst of engagements and travel, in the midst even of\nhis very journeyings to and fro, found time to write some of his graphic\ndescriptive papers. We give the following true story of one of the former\nCoral School children, written by him in the waiting-room of a railway\nstation, whilst expecting a train.\n\n\u2018Amelia Davey was originally named Amelia Ward, and was one of the\nchildren of the Coral Fund. She got on with her learning very well, could\nread and write English creditably, and spoke English as well as if she\nhad been an English girl, instead of a Cree. At the age of about nineteen\nshe married a young Indian named James Okune Shesh; and, after about\nthree years of married life, lost him through disease and starvation, she\nherself narrowly escaping death.\n\n\u2018Some time afterwards she married another Indian, named Solomon Davey,\na good steady man, who was to her an excellent husband. Last autumn\nthey left Moose Factory with their children, accompanied by Davey\u2019s old\nfather and mother, for their winter hunting-grounds. For a time all went\nwell, fish and rabbits supplying the daily needs of the family; the food\ngradually, however, failed, until scarcely any was obtainable. Day after\nday Solomon went off to seek supplies; evening after evening he returned\nbringing little or nothing. The party now determined to make their way\nto Moose; there they knew their wants would be relieved, but Solomon\u2019s\nstrength entirely broke down, and they were obliged to place him on\na sledge, which was hauled by his mother; thus they moved painfully\nforward. The poor fellow was covered up as well as possible. He seemed\nvery quiet; his mother went to him to assure herself that all was right;\nbut the spirit had fled. The brave good Indian, who had done his best to\nsupply the wants of those dependent on him, had perished in the attempt.\nFresh trouble came; Amelia\u2019s time had come for the arrival of another\nbaby; camp was made, and a little unsuspecting mortal was ushered into\nthe world.\n\n\u2018How they lived I know not; but two days after the child\u2019s birth, Amelia,\ntying up her little one, and placing it on her back, and putting her\nsnow-shoes on her feet, essayed to walk to Moose, still eighteen miles\ndistant. Bravely she stepped out; her own life as well as the lives\nof those she left behind depended on her reaching it. She slept once;\nthe bitter cold seemed anxious to make her its victim, but the morning\nstill beheld the thin spare form alive, and, asking God to give her the\nstrength she so sorely needed, she struggled on again.\n\n\u2018Presently the houses of Moose make their appearance, but they are far,\nfar off. Can they be reached? It seems scarcely possible, but the effort\nis made, the necessary strength is supplied, and she finds herself in\na house, with Christian hands and Christian hearts to minister to her\nnecessities.\n\n\u2018But can this poor wrinkled old woman, apparently sixty years of age, be\nthe bright, well-favoured, cheerful Amelia of thirty? The very same. What\nyou see has been produced by the cold and want; and how about the babe?\nWell, the dear little baby was well and strong; the Christian mother\nhad preserved it with the greatest imaginable care, and it was to her,\ndoubtless, all the more dear from the terrible circumstances under which\nit was born.\n\n\u2018Parties were at once sent off to those left behind, with food and other\nnecessaries, and all were brought to Moose, where they were kindly and\nabundantly cared for. The last thing Solomon did last autumn was to go\nto the Rev. J. H. Keen, and purchase for himself a Cree New Testament to\ntake with him to his hunting-grounds.\u2019\n\nOther stories the bishop told or wrote, too many for the size of the\npresent volume. There was David Anderson, one of the many lambs of the\nBishop of Rupertsland\u2019s flock, whose arm was shattered by an accidental\ngunshot, and for whom a false arm was sent out from England. This arm for\na time he would not use, because he thought it wrong thus to supplement\na limb of which \u2018God had seen fit to deprive him!\u2019 There was the devoted\nwife of the dying hunter (Jacob Matamashkum), who saved him in the last\npangs of starvation by applying his lips to her own breast. There was the\naged grandmother (good old Widow Charlotte), who took the dead daughter\u2019s\nbabe and nourished it at her bosom thirty years after her own last child\nhad been born. There was Richard, son of the Widow Charlotte, who was\n\u2018a famous fisherwoman\u2019 even after she had become a great grandmother.\nThe son was a delicate young man, who had largely depended on her for\nsubsistence. He married and fell ill. The poor wife on the morning before\nhe died ruptured a blood-vessel in driving in a tent-peg, and was carried\nto the grave just a month after him. There were the starving parents,\nwho, having lost their two youngest children from hunger, set off with\nthe remaining two for the nearest station, a hundred miles away, to get\nfood. The wife drew the sledge on which the children lay, while the\nhusband walked in front to break a road in the snow for her, till at last\nhis strength failed, and he could go no further. She, however, set up a\nlittle tent for him, and hastened on. She might yet get help in time to\nsave him. She reached Albany, and sank unconscious. But friends were at\nhand\u2014the children, scarcely alive, were taken from the sledge. The mother\nrecovered to say where her husband lay. A party went in search of him; he\nwas dead, and the body was hard frozen.\n\nMany of the school-children wrote to the bishop whilst he was in England\nletters, that might favourably compare with those of children possessing\nfar greater advantages than they. All spoke of deepest attachment to him,\nall longed for his return amongst them. \u2018We shall be so happy to see\nyou again,\u2019 was the refrain of every letter. The elder sister of one of\nthe girls had become the wife of the Rev. J. Saunders, native pastor of\nMatawakumma. Her letter addressed to Mrs. Horden is full of interest. It\nis dated August 13, 1881. She says:\n\n    \u2018We are pretty dull up here, but we enjoy good health, and we\n    must feel thankful to Him who gives us health and life. Of\n    course you know that we spent the first winter you were away\n    at Moose, and I must say your absence was very much felt, and\n    when, the bishop went away the following summer, Moose was\n    quite deserted.\n\n    \u2018I think the people at Moose will be very glad to see you back\n    again. Sometimes I wish to see Moose and my friends living\n    there, but, knowing the difficulty and expense of travelling,\n    I put the subject out of my mind, and try to feel contented.\n    If this place was not such a poor one for living I should\n    certainly feel more settled. In the winter we do very well\n    in the way of food, but my husband is obliged to occupy a\n    good deal of his time in hunting; but in the summer we depend\n    altogether on our nets, and if fish fails, then there is\n    nothing at all; but I am glad to say that it is only sometimes\n    that we get only enough for breakfast. I feel happy to say\n    that our Heavenly Father never allows us to be without food\n    altogether, and we bless the Bounteous Hand which can give\n    us food even in this bleak and lonely wilderness. Many times\n    while I was at Moose I thought it would be impossible to exist\n    on fish alone, but experience teaches me that we can exist on\n    fish, and fish alone. Many times I think how nice and helpful\n    it would be if we had a cow.\n\n    \u2018I feel rather surprised that my husband did not arrange with\n    the bishop before this to have a cow; to my mind that should\n    have been considered before now. The other missionaries have\n    cattle, and I think we could keep a cow very nicely here. I am\n    afraid I shall be tiring you, so I must conclude my letter,\n    wishing you and yours every blessing.\n\n                 \u2018I remain yours very gratefully,\n\n                                                 \u2018FRANCES SAUNDERS.\u2019\n\nThe bishop did not return to Moose in the summer of 1881. He found much\nto do in England, and so the annual ship by which he was expected arrived\nwithout him. The Rev. Thomas Vincent visited Moose, taking the place of\nthe Rev. J. Keen, in the course of the winter, which was a mild one. The\nsummer had been dry, and there had been many forest fires\u2014hundreds of\nyoung rabbits and partridges must have been roasted alive. A sad loss for\nthe Indians, who largely depend on these for food.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nTHE RETURN TO MOOSE\n\n\nIn the spring of 1882, the good folk at Moose became more and more\npressing for their beloved bishop\u2019s return. They were looking eagerly\nforward to his presence amongst them again; and he went, but he went\nalone, Mrs. Horden remaining in England with their children. A fortnight\nafter his arrival in Moose he wrote:\n\n\u2018My canoe journey occupied eighteen days, and was rather arduous. The\nheat, against which there could never be the slightest protection, was\nterrible, sometimes rising as high as 110\u00b0 in the shade, which was\naggravated by the rocky and difficult character of many of our portages.\nThese things were nothing to me some years ago, but it is different now.\nI cannot bear fatigue as I could when I came by the same route fifteen\nyears ago; then it was physically a pleasure, now it is a labour.\u2019\n\nThe bishop had travelled _vi\u00e2_ New York, Montreal and Matawa. \u2018We\nalighted at the station,\u2019 he writes, \u2018and a mile ride on a very rough\nroad brought us to the thriving young town. Fifteen years ago, with wife\nand two young children, I had found the reaching Matawa a difficult\njourney by canoe, and when I had reached it, it consisted of three\nhouses; now its population is about five hundred, while the number of\npeople passing through is very large. It has fine shops, many hotels, a\nbroad street, and an English church and parsonage are being built for a\nvery energetic resident clergyman. It is the seat of the lumber trade\nin the Upper Ottawa; hence its importance. But where are the Indians,\nwho not long since were numerous here? This place knows them no more!\nI saw scarcely any; as a race they have passed away; many have died,\nfor they cannot stand the diseases Europeans bring with them\u2014measles,\nwhooping-cough, diphtheria, make short work of them. Many, too, have gone\nto work on the railways, while the women have married French Canadians,\nand so the Indian becomes swallowed up by the advancing whites.\n\n\u2018I travelled on by rail as far as the railroad went\u2014forty miles from\nMatawa. The country is rocky and uninteresting, with a good spot for\nfarming here and there. This railroad forms part of the Great Canadian\nPacific, which is being carried forward with extraordinary rapidity, and\nwill be accomplished years before it was expected to be, the part causing\nmost difficulty being that north of Lake Superior. At Matawa I remained\nfour days, the guest of Mr. and Mrs. Bliss, spending a Sunday there,\nwhich I much enjoyed. I preached both morning and evening, and in the\nafternoon gave an address to the children. I never spend an idle Sunday.\nI should hope no one ever does; but a Sunday never passes without my\nsaying something for the Master in a public manner. I feel that I must\nwork; the truth comes home to me more and more forcibly every day that\n\u201cthe time is short,\u201d that it behoves us to work while it is called to-day.\n\n\u2018On Tuesday, August 1, I had done with railways and telegrams, almost\nwith letters, and was once more in my birch-bark canoe up the Ottawa.\nThere lies the bedding, tied up in an oil-cloth to prevent its getting\nwet; there the provisions, and the kettles and frying-pan, and tent and\npaddles; and here are my companions\u2014four Temiscamingue Indians, fine\nstrong fellows, who with alacrity place the canoe in the water, and\nthen everything in it in a very orderly manner; then one of them with\na respectful touch of his cap says, \u201c_Ashi nen he posetonau kekinow_\u201d\n(\u201cAlready we have embarked everything\u201d). I step into the canoe; a nice\nseat has been prepared for me, and we are off. The sound of the paddles\nis familiar; I could almost forget that I had not heard it for two years.\nThrough the whole course of our journey I did not see a dozen farms. But\nwhat is this I see? Logs, logs, logs; tens, hundreds, thousands, all\nformed into a raft, on their way to build houses, churches, palaces,\ncottages, in the civilised world. And here we are at the foot of a\ngreat rapid; we are obliged to get out of our canoe, which, with all\nthe baggage, has to be carried over a long portage. But there comes a\ncurious-looking structure, square in shape, and on it a couple of small\nhouses and four men. It is composed of a large number of squared logs\nformed into a small raft called a \u201ccrib\u201d; the men look resolute and\ndetermined, and handle immense oars called sweeps. They come on towards\nthe rapid, slowly at first, then the speed increases, and down they go,\ncovered with water, down, down, down, until quieter waters are reached.\nA few more strokes of the oar send it out into mid-stream, where it will\nwait until all the other cribs have descended, when they will be again\njoined together, and so go on until the next rapid is reached. As we sit,\ncrib after crib descends without accident; but it is dangerous work, and\nthe Ottawa frequently secures its victims.\n\n[Illustration: CANADIAN TIMBER]\n\n\u2018We have a good deal of portaging, and very hot it is. On this portage\nthere is an abundance of blueberries; we gather and eat them, and\ncapitally they quench our thirst, almost making us forget the fiery sun\nabove us. At the head of the Long Sault our difficulties are over, we are\non the placid waters of the great Lake Temiscamingue. Some time after it\nhas become quite dark, one of my companions exclaims, \u201c_Ma!_\u201d (\u201cListen\u201d)\n\u201c_kagat iskota chemau_\u201d (\u201ctruly the fire-boat\u201d\u2014the steamer); and in the\ndistance I hear the puffing of the giant, who has now invaded these\nhitherto quiet waters. At midnight we put up our tent and seek repose; we\nset off again early, and about four P.M. reach Temiscamingue.\n\n\u2018Five days beyond Temiscamingue we found ourselves on the broad waters of\nthe Abbitibbe Lake, a grand expanse, dotted with islands, which make it\nin places very picturesque. And there stands the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company\nestablishment, where I am sure of a welcome.\u2019\n\nA few days later the bishop landed at Long Portage House, a small and\nlonely establishment. All are friends here, and preparations are at once\nmade for a service, which all greatly enjoy. \u2018And there is a beautiful\nlittle baby to baptize,\u2019 continues the child-loving bishop, and there are\nseveral who are anxious to receive the sacrament of the Lord\u2019s Supper.\n\n\u2018I wished to get to Moose before the ship, so before six o\u2019clock we\nare in our canoe and hurrying forwards; down we plunge over our last\ngreat rapid, and are in the Moose River. We are soon nearing Moose, and\nalready come upon some of its people. Here is Widow Charlotte in her\ncanoe, fishing; her face brightens as she grasps my hand and tells me how\nthankful she is to see me once more; she looks well, but the last three\nyears have told greatly upon her. A little further on we meet stirring\nWidow Harriet, engaged in the same occupation. At breakfast-time we meet\na large canoe on its way to Abbitibbe, containing a family returning to\nCanada; we breakfast and have prayers together, and I learn that the\nship arrived safely from England two days ago, and that all were well.\nWe paddle on, pass the Bill of Portland, and the Mill, and the winter\nfishing-place at the mouth of Maidman\u2019s Creek, and we cross the broad\nriver, and sweep round the head of Charles Island. Here is Sawpit Island,\nand there, directly in front of us, is Moose Island, but showing no\nsigns of being inhabited. We travel along it, we round its head, and\na new world lies before us\u2014for it seems indeed nothing less, coming as\none does on the large thriving establishment after days of travel in the\nwilderness.\u2019\n\n[Illustration: MOOSE FACTORY, CAPITAL OF THE DIOCESE OF MOOSONEE\n\n1, Bishop\u2019s Court; 2, school-house; 3, cottage (residence of a good\nhelper); 4, cottage (residence of catechist); 5, stores; 6, church; 7,\nresidence of chief factor; 8, residence of officers; 9, large store and\nsale shop; 10, cattle byres; 11, Pontypool, a mile below the church]\n\nMoose at this time and at this season presented an even still more\npleasant aspect than when, some thirty years before, the Bishop of\nRupertsland had described it as the prettiest spot in the country. Since\nthen it has somewhat increased in importance, and the condition of the\nbuildings and their surroundings give it a charming appearance.\n\nThe grazing cattle first attract attention, then the neat residence of\nthe bishop and the other mission buildings, the adjoining cottages with\ntheir well-kept gardens, and a number of Indian tents and marquees in the\nforeground, the church with its metal covered spire glistening in the\nsun\u2019s rays a little distance off. Near the landing-place are the Hudson\u2019s\nBay Company buildings, the substantial residence of the company\u2019s\nrepresentative and that of his subordinate officers. The large handsome\nstore, and a good garden, with the steward\u2019s house adjoining, with a\ngroup of workshops\u2014carpenter\u2019s, joiner\u2019s, cooper\u2019s, and the blacksmith\u2019s\nforge behind, cow-houses and stables for cattle, horses, pigs, and sheep.\nIn the foreground is the grave-yard neatly fenced round; then a field of\nwaving barley, another of potatoes, and a large hay-meadow, with again a\ngroup of cottages, gardens, and tents.\n\nThe ship had come in, and people were hurrying about everywhere. The\nMink was receiving cargo, the Marten too, as well as a barge with\nsails set. These transferred their contents to large flat-bottomed\nboats, which conveyed them to a store by the riverside. Along the banks\nwere moored many smaller craft, full of grass, brought from the salt\nmarshes, to be turned into hay for the cattle during the long winter.\nIn the midst of all the bustle the advent of the bishop in his canoe\nis observed. The white mission flag is hastily run up. The red flag of\nthe Hudson\u2019s Bay Company is hoisted. The mission party, which includes\nArchdeacon Vincent from Albany and Mr. Peck from Fort George, as well\nas two young missionaries, the Rev. H. Nevitt and Rev. J. Lofthouse,\nwho had come by the ship, and Mrs. Saunders from Matawakumma, hasten to\nthe landing-stage. The bishop\u2019s daughter Chrissie, with her husband,\nMr. Broughton, and their three boys, Kelk, Fred and Arthur, are there\nalready, and the first greetings are not given before the chief members\nof the station are all collected about the bishop. All are anxious to\nwelcome him and to give him the news he longs to hear, of the welfare of\nthemselves and the various members of his flock in the different parts of\nhis diocese. Then the bell from the church tower sends forth its summons,\nand the Indians hurry to respond to it, and soon the church is filled\nfrom end to end by an eager and interested congregation. He to whom they\nall look as a father has come back, and having given their greeting and\nreceived his blessing, they depart again to their several occupations.\n\nThe bishop was speedily immersed in work. Only a few days after his\nreturn he confirmed forty-five young Indians, men and women who had\nbeen carefully prepared by Mr. Vincent. Later on he confirmed all the\nEnglish-speaking young people, both half-caste and Indian. His heart\nwas cheered by the progress made in the mission during his absence. The\nchurch was not large enough to contain the congregation. The winter came\nand passed.\n\nThe spring-tide of 1883 was not a cheerful one, and the bishop felt\nthe contrast between the scene in his out-of-the-world home and the\nsurroundings in which he had passed the preceding year. \u2018_Mispoor,\nmispoor, mispoor_\u2019\u2014\u2018Snow, snow, snow,\u2019 he wrote on May 2, \u2018everything\nwhite, the ground all covered, the river all dead and still\u2014the\nice-covering four feet thick.... I turned to my table and found comfort\nfrom reading a portion of the Book of books, God\u2019s great gift to\nmankind, until I was called to prayers. Family prayers they were, and\nyet no member of my family knelt with me; the nearest is a hundred miles\ndistant, the rest thousands.\u2019\n\nNot until May 21 did the ice begin to break. \u2018On Trinity Sunday I looked\nout at three o\u2019clock\u2014all was still, and I lay down again. At five I\nonce more looked out\u2014the operation of breaking-up had commenced. In the\nevening the river, which for so many months had shown no signs of life,\nwas rolling on in a vast flood.\u2019\n\nIn the summer of this year whooping-cough once more broke out at Moose\nand Albany. At the latter place forty-four died of it; amongst the number\nthe bishop\u2019s infant grandson. At Moose, the illness raged almost as\nfiercely. Day after day funerals are recorded by the bishop, who was much\ndepressed by the mourning and sadness around him. \u2018Could I,\u2019 he says,\n\u2018when the service is over, come back to a cheerful home, it would be\ndifferent, but I come back to the once joyous, but now solitary house, to\nhear my own footsteps, and to feed upon my own thoughts.\u2019\n\nOn August 22 a terrible storm broke over Moose. The morning dawned\nbrightly, and everything betokened a beautiful summer day. The sun shone\nout, the air was warm, and the wind blew from the south-east. After\nbreakfast the wind grew stronger and yet stronger, until it became a\nperfect hurricane. Forest trees bent like wands, some were torn up by the\nroots, others snapped in two. The river was like a tempest-tossed sea.\nThe great flagstaff of the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company came down with a mighty\ncrash. The mission flagstaff swayed to and fro, threatening every instant\nto fall. The houses suffered little, being built of solid logs, strongly\nbolted together with iron bolts. That Wednesday night was a fearful one,\nthe next day not quite so bad. The weather continued dull and raining.\nThe ship was expected, and a load of anxiety would be removed by its\narrival. But September dawned, and there was no ship!\n\n\u2018It is now September 5, and one of the gloomiest days I have known for\na very long time. The haycocks are lying in the fields, thoroughly\ndrenched, and turning black from their long exposure to the daily\ndownpour. The potatoes are cut down by the heavy frost of last Saturday,\nand the barley lies prostrate. All this we could bear, but this year\nthere is a fear that we may have to depend more on what our fields may\ngive than is generally the case, for as yet there is no ship. We have had\na vessel lying at the river\u2019s mouth for nearly a month waiting for her,\nand every face begins to look serious. There is good cause, for there are\nnot sufficient supplies here for another year. Of wine there is none. Of\nmedicine, scarcely any. A restriction has been put on the sale of food\nand clothing; the supply is scanty, and the look-out is really very dark\nindeed. What adds so much to our gloom is the saddening fact that death\nis still amongst us, carrying off our little ones amid great suffering.\u2019\n\nThe 7th of September passed, but the joyful cry of \u2018The ship is come!\u2019\nhad not been raised. The hearts of the watchers began to grow sick with\nhope deferred, and all sorts of conjectures were formed as to the cause\nof the delay. On September 10 the bishop wrote, \u2018Our gloom deepens as\nday succeeds day, and we get no tidings of our ship. There are parties\nhere from distant stations all waiting, but in a couple of days all must\nleave, so as to burden us no longer for the provisions they require.\nSeptember 15. Our ship has not come, and I am afraid now it will not\ncome. You can have no idea of our state of anxiety. She may come yet, and\nI trust she may; but it is now so late that we are beginning to give up\nhope. And here we are, with no medicine or wine for the sick, scarcely\nany candles, a very limited supply of tea and sugar, a very scanty supply\nof clothing, only half a crop of potatoes, and no hope of improvement\nfor nearly twelve months. I feel that we must not run these risks in\nfuture. It is absolutely necessary that we should have at Moose a full\nyear\u2019s supply for all our missions in this quarter. It _must be done_,[2]\nand I shall require 500_l._, which will be expended in the purchase of\nflour, tea, sugar, salt pork, bacon, preserved Australian beef, &c. We\nshall then always have a year\u2019s stock of necessaries on hand, and so be\nindependent for one year of the ship\u2019s arrival.\u2019\n\nAt last, when all hope had fled from the breasts of those who so long\nhad watched, and watched in vain, on the morning of September 21 the cry\nwas raised, \u2018The ship\u2019s come!\u2019 \u2018Magic words,\u2019 the bishop wrote, \u2018which\nentirely changed the current of our thoughts.\u2019\n\nThe flag was hoisted to announce the event, and everyone was full of\ngrateful joy, everyone busy with a helping hand, for the weather was\nalready winterly, with snow falling every day, and the ship must start\nquickly on her return voyage. The danger was that she might not reach\nhome again in safety so late in the season. She had been delayed for\nweeks in the ice in coming out, and the return voyage was indeed a\nterrible one. The water in the ship\u2019s tanks froze some inches thick, and\nheavy gales and blinding snow-storms accompanied her until she reached\nEngland late in November.\n\nMoosonee has two ports, Moose Factory and York Factory, and the York\nship that year could not return to England at all. She had arrived at\nYork when the people were almost in despair, and had then set out for\nChurchill, where she was weather-bound. This place is so small and out\nof the world, that as soon as possible the crew was transferred to York\nFactory, where there was better accommodation for them, the men having to\nwalk thither two hundred miles on snow-shoes.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nTRYING TIMES\n\n\nThe summer of 1884 was again a sickly one; a severe influenza cold\nattacked almost everyone. The bishop had accomplished two visitation\ntours, when a cry of distress came from Albany. The sickness was there;\nmany in the prime of life were dying. Archdeacon Vincent was himself ill.\nThe bishop went. Morning, noon and night he was by the bedside of the\nsufferers, or making up medicines for them, till at length a change took\nplace; and after a stay of four or five weeks he was able to return to\nMoose, taking with him Mr. Vincent and his eldest daughter.\n\nIt was September, and he was at once plunged in a whirl of business, for\nthe battered old ship had come again, and it had brought so many fine\npackages of eatables and necessaries that every spare foot of the mission\npremises was filled with them.\n\nThe ship was again nearly a month behind her time. For a thousand miles\nshe had contended with ice, and had been very severely handled. After she\nhad sailed on her return voyage the various autumn works were rapidly\nproceeded with: garden produce was taken up; the cattle and byres were\nmade snug and taut; and for house and school 120 cords of wood were cut.\nThen the Indians, who had spent three or four months at the station,\nbegan to disperse, to shoot the geese and ducks so plentiful at that\nseason, and to hunt the fur-bearing animals, which had by this time\ndonned their valuable winter coats.\n\nAll are anxious to get to their winter quarters whilst the river is\navailable for the canoes. They assemble for a last Sunday service at the\nstation; family after family come to receive the bishop\u2019s parting words\nof counsel and advice; then the farewell is spoken. \u2018Farewell,\u2019 they say;\n\u2018we will not forget.\u2019 The last shake of the hand is given, and they go\nto their homes in the wilderness, not to return until the spring, unless\nsome adverse or untoward circumstance compels them to come in.\n\nWinter came. It set in severely, and much earlier than usual, preventing\nthe fall fishery, much depended upon for the supply of winter food. All\nthe more thankful was the bishop for the founding of the Moose store.\n\nIn January he wrote: \u2018It is a very great relief to know that the food\nis here. As to the store being put up, that must bide its time. Every\nperson has as much as he can do, myself included. Just now wood and fire\ntake precedence of everything else. Day after day chopping and hauling\nare going on, while the disappearance of our immense piles of wood tells\npretty plainly of the difficulty we have in keeping up the necessary\nwarmth in our houses.\u2019\n\nThe past year had been a very chequered one, outwardly full of trouble,\nbad seasons, unprecedented storms, fatal epidemics, cases of starvation,\nmuch to discourage and depress. Yet the bishop could write thankfully\nthat he had been enabled to labour so continuously in this inclement and\nisolated land, he and his faithful band of assistants having visited\nnearly the whole of the great diocese in the course of the year.\nEverywhere the Gospel was received with readiness. \u2018We have now no active\nopposition,\u2019 he says; \u2018indeed, there are very few persons in the diocese,\nexcept those in the far north, who have not been baptized, by far the\ngreater part into our own beloved Church. For those on the north-western\npart of the bay a man admirably adapted for the work has been appointed\nin the person of the Rev. J. Lofthouse, who longs, with God\u2019s blessing,\nto gather into Christ\u2019s fold the Eskimo of that region, as the Rev. E. J.\nPeck has done on the eastern side of the bay.\n\n\u2018For the present winter Mr. Lofthouse is at York Factory, in the place\nof Mr. Winter, who is in England on account of his wife\u2019s health; but I\nexpect them back in the summer, when Mr. Lofthouse will go to his more\nnorthern home.\u2019\n\nThe Rev. E. J. Peck visited Fort George and Great Whale River, and\nstarted from Little Whale River for the distant station of Ungava, at\nthe entrance of the Hudson\u2019s Straits, to see the Indians and Eskimo of\nthat quarter. He was then to embark on board the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company\u2019s\nsteamer for Quebec, whence he was to proceed to England.\n\n\u2018The Rev. H. Nevitt remained at Moose all the summer, conducting services\nand school, and attending to the numerous needs of our large summer\npopulation.\n\n\u2018As soon as the river broke up, I set off for Long Portage House, a\nstation one hundred and twenty miles distant, on the way to Canada. The\nIndians there are Ojibbeways, and as yet have not made much progress in\nthe religious life; but they received my message with attention, and I\ntrust will yet become emancipated from the superstitions which oppress\nthem. Returning from Long Portage House, I remained a short time at\nMoose, and, making all necessary arrangements, went in my mission boat to\nRupert\u2019s House, which I formerly visited yearly, and where I have long\nwished to see a missionary permanently settled, and for which I had too\nfondly hoped to see one arrive from England last autumn.\n\n\u2018Sad troubles have come upon my much loved people there during the last\nfew years, numbers of them having died of starvation from the failure of\ndeer, which were formerly very numerous in their hunting-grounds. I trust\nthat such stories of misery and death as I was constrained to listen to\nwill never fall on my ears again. My mission was very successful, for I\nwas enabled not only to minister to all the Rupert\u2019s House Indians and\nresidents, but likewise to the Indians of the far interior, who came in\nthe different trading brigades from Mistasinnee, Waswanepe, Machiskun,\nand Nitchekwun. These are all Christians, many of them communicants,\nand the greater part of them read and write the syllabic characters\nvery well. Rupert\u2019s House is a great centre of trade, hence the vital\nnecessity of the establishment of a strong mission there.\u2019\n\nIn returning from Rupert\u2019s House on a former occasion, somewhat late\nin the cold season, the bishop very nearly lost his life. He set off\nin a cariole, with a train of dogs, accompanied by two young Indians,\ntravelling by night, to escape the danger of snow blindness from\nthe glare of the sun on the snow. They crossed Rupert\u2019s Bay, and at\nCabbages Willows took breakfast with an Indian woman whose husband was\ngoose-hunting. After resting some hours they went on to the east point of\nHannah Bay, intending to cross that night, but the air had become warm,\nand rain indicated a possible breaking up of the ice, so they reluctantly\nturned into the woods and encamped. In the morning the weather was\nagain cold with a strong wind, so on they went. When they had reached\nthe middle of the bay, about ten miles from the nearest land, the guide\nsuddenly exclaimed:\n\n\u2018What is this! the tide is coming in, and the ice is breaking up.\u2019\n\nThey looked seaward, and saw mass after mass rise up on end and fall\nagain. The guide had a small stick in his hand; he struck the ice on\nwhich they were standing, and it went through; clearly there was but a\nstep between them and death.\n\n\u2018Get into the cariole at once!\u2019 cried he, \u2018and let us hurry back. We may\nbe saved yet!\u2019\n\nThe bishop did so, and almost instantly the hinder part of the cariole\nwent through the ice into the sea. Faces blanched a little, but happily\nthe dogs seemed aware of the danger and made no halt, but hurried onward\nas fast as they could go; there was no stoppage for a moment.\n\nRunning by the side of the cariole, one of his companions said to the\nbishop:\n\n\u2018Perhaps God is not pleased at your leaving the Indians so soon. Should\nwe get back safely, the Indians will be very glad to see you again, for\nthey are not tired of the teaching you gave them.\u2019\n\nIn the afternoon they came to the Indian hut before alluded to. It was\nfull now; several hunters were there, and geese were abundant. They were\nmade very welcome, and sitting round the fire, all listened with wrapt\nattention to the guide as he narrated the incidents of the day. When he\nhad finished they expressed their wonder and joy at the escape.\n\n\u2018Not long afterwards,\u2019 says the bishop, \u2018I went out to have a look at\nour surroundings. I soon came upon a curious sight: a high cross-like\nerection with lines attached to it covered with bones of animals and\nbirds, and pieces of red and blue cloth and other things. I had never\nseen anything of the kind before, and had no idea what it was intended\nfor. I called Wiskechan, the proprietor of the tent, and said, \u201cWhat is\nthis?\u201d\n\n\u2018\u201cOh,\u201d said he, \u201cthis is my _mistikokan_ (conjuring pole), which I shake\nin this way when I do my conjuring.\u201d\n\n\u2018Looking solemnly at him, I replied, \u201cI have come to tell you of better\nthings, of God\u2019s willingness to give you all things through Jesus Christ,\nHis Son. If you wish to accept the message I have brought, you must give\nup this.\u201d\n\n\u2018Without a moment\u2019s hesitation he called for his axe, and instantly\nchopped the pole down. What a glorious end to a day of danger! My\nthanksgivings that night were very hearty. I slept in peace, surrounded\nby my red-skin brethren, and a little after the next noontide was again\nat Rupert\u2019s House.\u2019\n\nRupert\u2019s House, which is called after Prince Rupert, cousin of King\nCharles II., to whom and a band of associates the king granted a charter,\ngiving them exclusive rights to trade with the inhabitants of Hudson\u2019s\nBay, is situated near the mouth of Rupert\u2019s River, which empties itself\ninto the beautiful Hudson\u2019s Bay, studded with picturesque islands. It\nlies one hundred miles east of Moose, from which it is reached by a sea\nvoyage in summer along the southern shore of Hudson\u2019s Bay, and by a\nsnow-shoe or cariole journey in winter.\n\nAs a fur-trading post it is of considerable importance, being the\nhead-quarters of a large district.\n\nThe posts dependent on it are East Main, Mistasinnee, Waswanepe,\nNitchekwun, and Machiskun; and every summer large canoes come from each\nof those places, bringing all the furs collected during the previous\ntwelve months, and taking back with them full loads of bags of flour,\nchests of tea, casks of sugar, bales of cloth, kegs of gunpowder,\nshot, cases of guns, and all the other etceteras which comprise an\nIndian\u2019s wants. The furs are examined, counted and sorted, made up into\nlarge bales, shipped on board the Moose schooner, and taken to Moose,\nwhere they remain until they are put on board the yearly ship, to be\ntransported to England.\n\nAt Rupert\u2019s House the number of residents in the service of the Hudson\u2019s\nBay Company was about fifty; these were all half-castes, but speaking\nEnglish as well as if born in England. They were very well conducted,\nseveral of them were communicants; \u2018and although there is not yet, I am\nsorry to say,\u2019 wrote the bishop at that time, \u2018a resident clergyman among\nthem, all are punctual in their attendance at an English service held for\nthem by their trader every Sunday.\n\n\u2018The Indians did number somewhat over three hundred, but for the last\nfew years they have suffered greatly from a failure of food. And many\nof them have been starved to death. All are now Christians, but when I\nfirst went to them they were in a sad state of heathenism; their minds\nwere very dark, and their deeds corresponded thereto. They were devoted\nto conjuring, having the most superstitious dread of the conjurer\u2019s\npower. Their sick they never burdened themselves with for any length of\ntime; there was the unfailing remedy of relief, the bowstring; for death\nrequired no attention save the burying of the body. Parents, as soon\nas they became dependent on their children, were subjected to the same\noperation. Murder for gain was rife; indeed, I could hardly point to\nany place better adapted to illustrate the text, \u201cThe dark places of the\nearth are full of the habitations of cruelty,\u201d than Rupert\u2019s House. But\nof many of the Indians it might now be said, \u201cBut ye are washed, but ye\nare sanctified.\u201d All are baptized.\n\n\u2018In consequence of the immensity of my charge, I am not able to visit\nRupert\u2019s House as I did formerly every summer. When my canoe was seen\napproaching, every man, woman, and child would leave their tents, and\ncome and stand on the river\u2019s bank to see their \u201cfather,\u201d as they called\nme, and, if possible, to get a shake of his hand. For some years we had\nno church, but assembled in a large upper room kindly placed at our\ndisposal. Within a short time of my arrival, it was always packed as full\nas it could hold, and so it would be two or three times every day of my\nstay. And then every family came to me privately, and we talked over the\nevents of the previous winter: how they had been off for food; whether\nfurs had been plentiful or not; who had been sick, and who had died; how\nthey had followed their religious duties; what instruction they had given\ntheir children. The whole family history of the year was gone through,\nand reproof, commendation, or encouragement given, as the case required.\n\n\u2018How full of work was every day, and every minute of every day! From six\no\u2019clock in the morning until nearly nine at night, except at meal times,\nit was work, work, work; but what blessed work! How the people responded\nto every call! It was work which made me bless God for calling me to\nenjoy so high a privilege. And many see things now with a much clearer\neye than when they were ministered to by His servant. He directed them to\nthe Master, and into the Master\u2019s presence they have entered.\u2019\n\nThe bishop was more and more desirous to be able to place a missionary\npermanently at Rupert\u2019s House. The Rev. H. Nevitt, who had already made\nacquaintance with the station, would have liked to be located there, but\nhe could not be spared from Moose until someone came to take his place.\nThe \u2018someone\u2019 expected had not come out in the last year\u2019s ship, and was\nstill anxiously looked for.\n\nIn July the bishop visited Martin\u2019s Falls, a canoe voyage of three\nhundred miles from Albany. The Indians here he found not very\nsatisfactory, being steeped much more deeply in heathenism than any\nothers in the diocese, not very accessible, remaining at the station no\nlonger than was necessary for their trading purposes. He determined to\nplace a resident catechist there. He then went on two hundred and fifty\nmiles further, by a most difficult route, to Osnaburgh, situated on a\nlarge and beautiful lake. Here, morning, noon, and night, the teaching\nwent on. The bishop\u2019s heart was gladdened to see that God was blessing\nthe work, and he made up his mind to appoint one of his divinity students\nas pastor at the post; in the meantime he left a trusty native agent,\nhimself an Osnaburgh Indian, in charge.\n\nIn 1886 this man writes as follows:\n\n    \u2018I wish to tell you I am doing the work you wanted me to do.\n    Only some of the Osnaburgh Indians listen to me. I am always\n    going about. Last fall I went very far to see the Cranes; they\n    are good people, and say prayers morning and evening. I wish\n    you would let Queen Victoria know that I am teaching her people\n    to serve and fear God and to love Jesus.\n\n                                                     \u2018JAMES UMBASI.\u2019\n\nIn July the Rev. J. Peck returned from his visit to England, bringing\nwith him a wife. They remained for the time with the bishop. The Moose\nChurch, or Cathedral, had been enlarged by means of a new chancel; the\nhundred seats thereby gained were a great comfort to the congregation.\n\u2018It is a long time,\u2019 says the bishop, \u2018since I felt happier than on the\ndedication day.\u2019\n\nShip time was again approaching, not quite so anxious a time, now that a\nyear\u2019s provision in advance was safely stored on the mission premises.\nThe poor would not want, and the missionary would be fed. But how little\ndid any think how greatly those stores would be needed this year!\n\nThe ship, the Princess Royal, came; she discharged her precious cargo,\nconsisting of all the necessaries for all the inhabitants of South\nMoosonee; and then she reloaded with bales of furs, huge bags of\nfeathers, and hogsheads of oil. She left her anchorage, and got out\nover the long and crooked bar at the mouth of the river. She was then\nassailed by a terrible storm of three days\u2019 duration, which drove her\nback over the bar again, and ashore on an extensive sand-bank. Here she\nwas fiercely buffeted by the sea, and threatened to part asunder. The\nlife-boat was lowered, and into it got the pilot, the second mate, and\nten of the crew, who succeeded in reaching the schooner Martin, which lay\nat anchor in the river.\n\nThe captain and remainder of the crew were to follow in the pinnace,\nbut the risk for the pinnace was greater than that for the life-boat,\ntherefore they decided on remaining by the ship. The vessel was half full\nof water, and after a night of anxious watching they were taken ashore by\nthe Martin. The vessel lay a total wreck about fourteen miles from Moose.\n\nAll was done that could be done for the shipwrecked mariners. The men\nwere taken into the employ of the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company, one of the\ncarpenter\u2019s shops being fitted up for their accommodation. Their own\ncook prepared their meals. Mr. Peck was appointed chaplain to them, his\nsailor experiences especially fitting him for the service. The bishop and\nhis divinity students held night-school for them twice a week, teaching\nnavigation, reading, writing, and arithmetic, closing always with singing\nand study of the Scriptures and prayer.\n\nAll behaved well; the captain set his men an excellent example; never\nbeing absent from his place in church as long as he remained at the\nstation.\n\nIn the midst of all this, the bishop was still occupied in his important\ntranslation work. He had in the summer examined and revised an edition of\nthe _Pilgrim\u2019s Progress_ into Cree, by the Rev. J. Vincent.\n\nHe hoped to be able to send the work home by the next ship, to be\nprinted. The names of some of the characters in this work are remarkable\nfor their length in the Cree dress. Christian is the same as in English,\nbut Hopeful is Opuhosalems; Faithful is Atapwawinewen; Little Faith,\nTapwayaletumowineshish; Evangelist is Miloachemowililew; Save-all is\nMisewamunachetow; Money-love is Sakeskooleanas; Worldly Wisdom is\nUskewekutatawaletumowilileu! \u2018I think,\u2019 says the bishop, commenting on\nthe translation, \u2018that the Indians of Moosonee will be as well able\nto appreciate and enjoy this wondrous book as the generality of their\nEnglish brethren.\u2019 The work was printed with the help and through the\nagency of the Religious Tract Society (the friend and helper of all\nevangelical workers); and we give a specimen of it, that our readers may\nsee what the printed page is like.\n\nIn March 1885, the bishop had at last been able to commence the erection\nof a new and large building in which to place the winter stores.\n\n[Illustration: A PAGE OF THE CREE \u2018PILGRIM\u2019S PROGRESS\u2019]\n\n\u2018We have been logging,\u2019 he wrote; \u2018I have two men and a boy cutting logs,\nand sawing them with large pit saws. They are working at Maidman Island,\nthree miles distant. We shall not be able to get our boards home until\nopen water, but when the sawing is completed we shall get on with the\nframe.\u2019\n\nApril brought with it a second epidemic of influenza; the packeters\nreturning from Abbitibbe with the letters conveyed it to Moose. Everyone,\nexcept a few Europeans, was attacked, and work was at a standstill. Many\ndeaths resulted, and the bishop\u2019s heart was sad. The poor folks at Moose\nhad been disappointed too by the failure of grey geese and wavies, as\nwell as the beautiful snow-buntings, which generally come in clouds, just\nbefore the geese. The bishop greatly feared that when the Indians came in\nfrom their hunting-grounds they would all take the dreaded influenza, and\nthat their tents would become the scene of disease and misery.\n\nOn May 8 the great guns, the break-up signal, were fired. The Indians\nfollow the ice down, and so as soon as the passage was practicable canoe\nafter canoe appeared opposite Bishop\u2019s Court, and the bank was alive with\nmen, women, children, and dogs. \u2018There they were,\u2019 says the bishop, \u2018just\nas well as when they went in the autumn. We soon entered the house of\nprayer to thank our Heavenly Father for the loving care He had exercised\ntowards those who for so many months had had their home amongst the\ngloomy forests of Moosonee. Each family was then seen apart, and I was\nmade acquainted with the whole history of the winter.\n\n\u2018In June a dispersion took place, when most of the men manned the boats\nwhich take the supplies to the stations in the interior, and most of\ntheir wives and families going off to the fishing-stations, only to\ncome in on Saturday to take part in the Sunday services. The morning of\ndeparture presented a busy scene\u2014from the store issued the men, carrying\nbags of flour, kegs of pork and gunpowder, bales of cloth, calico, and\nleather, cases of guns, chests of tea, and all the things mentioned in a\ntrader\u2019s inventory. All is snugly packed in the boats, the signal given,\nand they push off from the launch. It is a pretty sight, the men are\nall standing up, and their long ironclad poles for a time rise together\nas they force their respective boats forward, bending to the work, and\nputting forth their strength.\n\n\u2018Two of the boats were under the guidance of Jacob Mekwatch, \u201cour prince\nof hunters.\u201d The other three boats were under the charge of James Gideon,\nanother excellent Indian and good hunter, who had several men among his\ncrews who could conduct a service and deliver a very good address\u2014for\nall of the most intelligent Indians are trained to do this, so that\nwhen there is no clergyman at the place one of them may be able to lead\nhis fellow Indians in worship. All looked well, no one complained. But\nmany days had not elapsed before influenza attacked the boats\u2019 crews;\none after the other of the poor men succumbed, and was brought back to\nbe under medical care. James Gideon became so ill that it was feared he\nwould die, and many of his crew were but little better. It was a sad\ntime, for many were taken ill so far up the river that it was judged best\nfor them to remain with the boats. Happily, though there was so much\nsickness, there were no deaths. It was a sad, sad time.\u2019\n\nBut brighter days dawned at last. Entrusting the station to Mr. Nevitt\u2019s\ncare, the bishop started on a long visitation tour, from which he did not\nreturn till late in the autumn.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nCHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR\u2019S DAY AT ALBANY\n\n\nThe bishop was very busy during the early part of the winter of 1885,\nfulfilling the duties of the doctor (who was absent at Albany) in\naddition to his own. But he felt well and strong, and happy in the\nprogress of all his work. He was revising and correcting his translation,\nwith a view to a new edition being printed, of the Book of Common\nPrayer, and the hymn-book, which he had compiled many years before.\nThe first editions of both he had himself printed at Moose, and bound\ntoo. In earlier days the Indians had carried their few pages of neatly\nwritten-out texts, and hymns, and Gospel portions between strips of bark\nfastened together with thongs of deer-skin. The first bound books were a\nstrange novelty to them.\n\nDecember found him once more setting out for Albany. The archdeacon\nhaving gone to England to see his _Pilgrim\u2019s Progress_ through the press,\nthe bishop had arranged to spend Christmas at that station. On December\n18 he walked down to the starting-point. The sledge was already on the\nice, and presently the dogs, each held by its own trace, were brought\ndown and fastened to it\u2014it being strongly moored the while, lest they\nshould run off with it, so eager were they to go.\n\n[Illustration: A DOG SLEDGE]\n\n\u2018All being ready, I got into my sledge and looked at my team. It was\ncomposed of twelve splendid creatures, perfectly clean, and in the best\nof order, with ears erect and their fine tails gracefully turned up\nover their backs; they were jumping and howling, endeavouring to move\nthe sledge. I said good-bye to the numerous friends around me; I waved\nadieu to many others standing on the river\u2019s bank; the binding rope was\ncast off, and then not a sound was heard, save the soft movement of the\nsledge over the snow, and the tinkling of the musical bells attached to\nthe dogs\u2019 necks. We sped down the river at a great rate; the houses were\nsoon left behind, and we were in the wilderness. At the river\u2019s mouth\nthe ice became quite smooth, with the smallest sprinkling of snow on\nits surface\u2014its best possible condition. There was no cold in the air,\nI needed no wrapping up; it was the perfection of travelling. At about\nfourteen miles from Moose we saw the ill-fated Princess Royal, standing\nwith her masts erect; a few miles further on, at the North Bluff Beacon,\nwe remained for half an hour to give the dogs a rest, and to take a\nlittle refreshment. Then on and on; the dogs, requiring no whip to urge\nthem, either galloped or went at a fast trot the whole way to Piskwamisk,\n\u201cThe place of the stone heaps,\u201d where we encamped. We had gone nearly\nforty miles in six hours. We soon made ourselves comfortable; a fire was\nlit in the tent, the robes spread, and in a little while a good cup of\ncoffee was ready, which, with a biscuit, was enough until the evening\u2019s\nsubstantial meal.\n\n\u2018The good dogs were then attended to, the harness taken off, a collar\nwith a chain attached was placed around each dog\u2019s neck, and, to prevent\ntheir indulging in the much-desired fight, each was fastened to a\nseparate tree stump, close to which was strewn some fine brush for a bed.\nAll were then served with a good supper of fish, and after looking round\nto see that no more was forthcoming, they coiled themselves up, with\ntheir tails over their heads, and nothing was heard of them until next\nmorning. The whole of the next day we were obliged to remain in camp,\nthe weather being very rough, and the atmosphere so thick that we could\nscarcely see fifty yards out to sea. It was still somewhat thick on the\nmorning of the third day, but as meat for the dogs failed we were obliged\nto proceed. It cleared soon after starting, and four hours brought us to\nour next encampment, Cock Point. We were now forty miles from Albany, and\nthis we accomplished in little more than six hours on the day following.\n\n\u2018I found all well: young Kelk and his brothers quite as ready for a\nromp as ever, and as ready as ever to run a snow-shoe race, or join in\nthe glorious game of \u201ctobogganing.\u201d But work was to occupy most of my\nattention. I visited all the people, by whom I was most warmly received,\nand I invited them to our Christmas services\u2014not that services had\nbeen neglected, for Sunday after Sunday, Mr. Broughton, Chrissie\u2019s\nhusband, had conducted an English service; while young Mr. Vincent, the\narchdeacon\u2019s son, conducted an Indian one.\n\n[Illustration: ALBANY, HUDSON\u2019S BAY]\n\n\u2018Christmas Day dawned bright and clear. Before it was light the church\nwas nearly filled with Indians, many having come in from their distant\nhunting-grounds to join in the festival. The singing was hearty, and\nthe attention throughout very deep. As I read and spoke of the love of\nChrist, the manger of Bethlehem, the joy of the angels, the adoration of\nthe shepherds, and the blessings Christ is willing to dispense to all who\nbelieve on Him, we all, I think, felt that Christ was with us of a truth.\nAt four o\u2019clock another congregation assembled. There were only two or\nthree persons present who had ever seen England, yet the English language\nis well spoken by nearly everyone, and this service was as enjoyable as\nits predecessor had been. In the afternoon we had our third service, in\nIndian, and after the sermon twenty-eight of us knelt around the Lord\u2019s\ntable.\n\n\u2018On New Year\u2019s Day, at five o\u2019clock, I was serenaded by the \u201cAlbany\nBand.\u201d It consists of a drum, a violin, and a triangle, and on these\nthree instruments our New Year\u2019s morning music was discoursed. Two hours\nand a half later there was a good congregation in the church, in which\nwe met to return thanks for the mercies of the past year, and to ask a\ncontinuance of them during that so lately begun. I preached on Psalm xc.\n12, \u201cSo teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto\nwisdom.\u201d Directly after breakfast we began to prepare for visitors, the\nentire population of Albany. For their consumption a large quantity of\ncurrant wine, cakes, and tea was provided, together with an abundance\nof sweets, intended mostly for the little ones. About ten o\u2019clock all\nthe men-servants of the establishment came in, dressed in their best,\nand, after wishing us a \u201cHappy New Year,\u201d all sat around the room, and a\nlively conversation began. But what a difference now from the old days!\nThen, nearly all were Europeans, for very few natives were fit for the\nservice in any capacity; now, all are natives. Shop-master, blacksmith,\ncooper, carpenters, storekeeper\u2014not one of them has ever seen more than\nfive hundred people at one time, and now all would be able to take their\nplaces in the workshops of England, speaking and reading English as if\nborn in England. The oldest present I married four-and-thirty years ago,\nand he and his wife have now a goodly number of grandchildren. All are\nvery well conducted, nearly all are communicants. What would the state of\nthings have been had there been no mission in the country!\n\n\u2018The men and lads having departed, after an interval the wives,\ndaughters, and young children came in, and a goodly number they were,\nhealthy and strong; while in colour they were of all shades, from pure\nwhite to dark brown. All spoke English well\u2014quite as good, nay, very much\nbetter English than is spoken by many of the working-classes in England;\nwhile all above the age of seven years can read fairly. This was a very\nenjoyable party, the enjoyment culminating in a grand scramble for\nsweets.\n\n\u2018After our dinner the Indians all came in again. There was a little\nspeech-making, and a great deal of cake-eating and tea-drinking; after\nwhich grandfather, and daughter, and son-in-law, and the four young\ngrandsons, had the evening to themselves, and a very pleasant one they\nhad.\n\n\u2018New Year\u2019s Day was over. A few days more passed, and then on the morning\nof January 5 the sledge and dogs\u2014now thirteen\u2014were once more on the ice.\nWe started. The cold was terrible, thirty-five degrees below zero, and\na strong wind blowing. Six hours afterwards we were in our tent, making\na fire, over which a kettle of good coffee was soon boiling. The next\nday, and still the next day, the wind was equally strong, the temperature\nnearly as low, and the atmosphere filled with fine particles of snow. The\nthird day was our last out, and at three o\u2019clock in the afternoon I was\nonce more in my old quarters. I found all well, and at once fell into the\nold routine of work.\u2019\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nTHE PACKET MONTH\n\n\n\u2018February is the most interesting month of the year to us; it is the\n\u201cPacket Month,\u201d the month in which we have our one communication with the\nouter world during the dreary months of our long winter. On the third day\nof the month, 1886, we had two arrivals\u2014Mr. Broughton and Mr. Vincent,\nthe agents from Rupert\u2019s House and Albany\u2014each bringing the \u201cpacket\u201d\nof his respective district. The news was generally good, but from the\nsmallest post of all\u2014English River\u2014came the saddest possible. Three\nchildren of the only resident there, the whole of whom were in robust\nhealth in the autumn, were cut off by diphtheria in the course of eleven\ndays, in the beginning of winter.\n\n[Illustration: AN INDIAN TRAVELLING ON SNOW-SHOES]\n\n\u2018On the 5th, a little after breakfast, the \u201cpacketers\u201d were espied\ncrossing the river, in snow-shoes. Directly they arrived their precious\nload was transferred to the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company offices; there hammers\nand chisels, seized by willing hands, soon knocked the covers from\nthe boxes, and the work of distribution commenced. All my letters are\nthrown upon the table; the eye travels along them somewhat nervously,\nbrightening as this and that well-known hand is seen, looking with sad\ninquiry at such as are black-edged, and disappointedly anxious if those\nexpected most are not forthcoming. The receiving of letters is good;\nthe answering of them, when they are many in number, is great drudgery.\nTelephones have not come our way yet, and the nearest telegraph office is\nabout four hundred miles distant.\n\n\u2018On the 7th the break-up of our party commenced. Mr. Broughton started\nfor Albany. In the evening the packet was closed, and the next morning\nthe \u201cpacketers\u201d once more turned their faces southwards, and set out on\ntheir three hundred miles\u2019 tramp to Abbitibbe; thence the packet will be\nforwarded to Temiscamingue and Matawa, and twelve days more will take it\nto England.\u2019\n\nIn March Mr. Nevitt left Moose Fort for Rupert\u2019s House, with the purpose\nof at length establishing a permanent mission at that station. \u2018For many\nyears I had longed, with a most earnest longing, to see a missionary\nestablished there, until the heart was beginning to grow sick, and at\nlast I determined to give up all help here at Moose, rather than allow\nmy dear hungering people to remain longer without a shepherd to watch\nover them. I therefore told Mr. Nevitt to prepare for departure. This was\nneither unexpected nor disagreeable to him. A train of dogs and a sledge\narrived from Rupert\u2019s House, which, after a few days\u2019 stay here, were to\nreturn thither with supplies of various kinds. Here was an opportunity\nnot to be neglected. A few necessaries were collected and placed in the\nsledge, and, after having been commended to God\u2019s providential care, he\nset out for his new home, accompanied by two members of his future flock.\nOne of them, Richard Swanson, was educated at our mission school at\nMoose; the other, Samuel Wesley, at the school at Albany.\u2019\n\nThis spring there was a flood of a somewhat serious character at Moose.\nAt three o\u2019clock one morning in April, a heavy crash awoke all the\ninhabitants of the fort. An immense field of ice was borne in on the\nland, the water rose several feet at once, and everyone was on the alert.\nNothing serious happened during the day, and Mrs. Peck, who was staying\nat Moose on account of her health, and the servant retired to bed about\nhalf-past nine.\n\nAt eleven the alarm bell was rung; almost everyone fled to the factory;\nthe bishop took Mrs. Peck to one of the mission buildings further from\nthe river, he himself remaining up to watch. Early the next morning they\nwent to the company\u2019s establishment, where the bishop spent the day in\nbed, for he had passed the greater part of two nights without removing\nhis clothes. Had the water risen only a little higher, the results would\nhave been very disastrous. As it was, the scene all around was desolate\nin the extreme. However, Easter Sunday dawned bright and fair, the ice\nyielded to the current, and the water found again its proper channel.\n\nWhen May came that year the snow had disappeared, the grass was becoming\ngreen, the air was mild and genial, and the birds were singing in the\nwoods, despite the huge ice blocks which still were lying there. June,\n1886, was the finest month the bishop had ever known in Hudson\u2019s Bay.\nGenerally at that time winter has scarcely departed, and the trees show\nno appearance of life; but now the poplars were bursting into leaf,\nthe willows were already clothed with the first fresh flush of green,\nbirds hopped among the branches, the cattle bells told that the cows\nwere grazing near at hand, and the meadows formed one superb carpet. The\nhearts of all in that sterile land rejoiced, but Moose was comparatively\nempty, for the season being so advanced the Indian brigades had left\nearly.\n\n\u2018Before starting they came to me, mostly one by one, each to give me his\nlittle confidence. One said: \u201cI have not yet given my subscription to\nthe church, and will give it now, but I am not able to do as much as I\ndid last year; then I made a good fur hunt, this year but a very poor\none; but I know we must not appear before God empty, so I will do what\nI can.\u201d Another said: \u201cPray for me while I am away. I know I have given\nyou a great deal of trouble, and I am very sad at heart at thinking how\nwickedly and foolishly I have acted, but I hope I shall be very different\nin future.\u201d Another: \u201cMy wife has been taken ill; I shall be glad if\nyou will go to her, and read and pray by her.\u201d Another and another and\nyet another required a book, some two, a Prayer and hymn-book; then\nall descend to their boats, which speedily make from the shore, and,\nimpelled by heavy oars, they commence their journey.\u2019\n\nOn July 1, 1886, the bishop wrote: \u2018It is hot; we are being literally\nbaked, and from the heat there is scarcely any shelter, for the houses,\nall made of wood, retain the heat in such a manner that they are like\novens. But we are getting exactly the weather we need, with a prospect of\nvery fair crops of potatoes and turnips, and, what is better, of being\nfree from the terrible epidemics which have caused so much sorrow during\nthe last few years. The packet, or rather the first instalment of it,\nreached us late in the evening of Sunday, June 20\u2014the first news from\nthe outer world since the beginning of February; and then for a day or\ntwo we were deep in letters and newspapers. But the 23rd was the great\nday of arrivals, for we had no less than three. In the early morning,\nsoon after getting up, we saw a large boat coming up the river; the boat\nfrom Rupert\u2019s House, coming for supplies for the mission. Presently we\nsaw a large canoe, and from the shape of it we knew it must be from Fort\nGeorge, and that our dear friend and earnest worker, Mr. Peck, must be in\nit; and very soon I had the pleasure of grasping by the hand a sunburnt,\nweather-beaten son of toil, who, after more than four months of hard and\ncontinuous work\u2014of travel by snow-shoe, dog-sledge, and canoe\u2014returned\nto his wife, to find her as well as she had ever been in her life, and\nhoping to see a steam-launch, which had been sent out for his use, ready\nfor sea, that he might at once leave again for his northern home. But\nin this he was disappointed, for the job of putting the various parts\ntogether was more difficult than we had anticipated. During the whole\nmonth the hammers were giving forth their noise from four o\u2019clock in\nthe morning until night. All the mission staff, setting aside their\nwork, spent day after day in steaming planks, nailing them on, in sawing\nwood, in caulking, and painting, and puttying. On the same day came the\nremainder of the packet.\n\n\u2018Throughout the first days of July all were still occupied with Mr.\nPeck\u2019s boat. The hammering went on; nail after nail was driven, and\nthe caulking went on incessantly; the air was filled with the odour\nof burning tar. On the 9th the craft was ready to be launched. In the\nevening almost everyone in the place was at the mission, either as a\nspectator or a helper. We had a long way to drag the boat, and this\noccupied nearly two hours. Then we had the pleasure of seeing it descend\nquietly into the water, in which, I trust, it will make many voyages for\nthe extension of the kingdom of our Lord among the Indians and Eskimo of\nthe wide district of East Main.\n\n\u2018All now were busy in preparation for departure, for the sooner our\nfriends arrived at their place of destination the better. Saturday was\nso employed, and so was Monday; while on Sunday we held three delightful\nservices, at two of which Mr. Peck preached.\n\n\u2018On Tuesday the boat was loaded with casks of flour, cans of beef\nand salt pork, chests of tea, and all the other etceteras needful to\nhousekeeping, for at Fort George the nearest shop is three hundred miles\naway. About two o\u2019clock in the afternoon it went down the river. An hour\nafterwards, Mr. and Mrs. Peck and our kind doctor entered a canoe and,\namid the blessing and prayers of a large number of people assembled on\nthe bank of the river, they set off. Canoe and boat went on to Ship\u2019s\nSands, an island eight miles down the river. Here they passed the night.\nThe next day Mr. Peck went on board his boat, while Mrs. Peck continued\nher voyage in the canoe. In a few days East Main was reached; here Mrs.\nPeck rested for a night. East Main was formerly the principal Hudson\u2019s\nBay Company\u2019s station in James\u2019 Bay, but the river silting up and\npreventing the annual ship from getting near enough for protection from\nthe open sea, Moose became the head-quarters of the fur trade. A hundred\nand fifty miles had yet to be travelled, which would occupy five or six\ndays. At last Fort George, a few miles up the Fort George River, was\nreached, the home of the faithful missionary and his brave and faithful\nwife.\n\n[Illustration: THE CHURCH AT FORT GEORGE]\n\n\u2018When the Pecks had left, an influenza cold attacked almost everyone\nat Moose, persistently clinging to the sufferers; but is it any wonder\nthat we have colds here, when sometimes there is a difference of over\nfifty degrees between the temperature of the morning and evening? In\nthe morning we may be almost roasting: before evening the wind may have\nsuddenly chopped round to the north, and, sweeping over the frozen bay,\nmay render fires and warm coats desirable, if not necessary.\u2019\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nCHURCHILL AND MATAWAKUMMA\n\n\nIn 1886 the bishop wrote with much thankfulness of the location of the\nRev. J. Lofthouse at Churchill\u2014\u2018the last house in the world,\u2019 as he\ncalled it, for there is no other between it and the North Pole. Churchill\nboasts, however, of quite a little colony of English and half-caste\nChipwyans, Eskimo, and Crees. The Chipwyans are difficult to trade with,\nand apt to avoid a station for years if their demands are not complied\nwith. They are cruel to their wives and their dogs, and are terrible\nthieves, but they stand in great fear of the Eskimo. The Eskimo of\nChurchill are not so bloodthirsty as their brethren in the west, who come\nin with their faces marked with red ochre, to indicate that they have\ncommitted a murder during the winter, a mark in which they glory, for\nin their opinion there is more honour in killing a human being than in\nkilling a walrus or white bear.\n\n[Illustration: CHURCHILL IN SUMMER]\n\nOut of the world as it seems, Churchill is a busy place with the coming\nand going of Crees, Eskimo, and Chipwyans. The annual ship goes thither\nfrom York Factory, and boats have to be built for the loading and\nunloading of the cargo, as well as or carrying on the trade further\nnorth with Mable Island. Food is very dear, and is obtained with toil and\ndifficulty. In summer, porpoises are hunted; in winter, bears, wolves,\nand foxes are shot. The cold is intense, and quantities of wood must\nbe hewn, and hauled home on sledges drawn by the Eskimo dog. The short\nsummer will scarcely allow any garden produce to come to perfection. A\nfew very poor and puny potatoes are grown, which are highly prized by\nthe Europeans, and carefully eked out. A very little hay is made for the\nwinter fodder of the cows; which, however, gladly eat the nourishing\nwhite moss, which is the food of the reindeer.\n\n\u2018I must tell you,\u2019 says the bishop, with a spice of humour,\u2019 about the\nChurchill cows, for they are\u2014or were\u2014a curious lot. There were three of\nthem. About one there was nothing very particular, except that it was\nsomewhat of a dwarf. The second went about harnessed, for, Churchill\npasture not making her particularly fat, she was so supple that she\nrequired no milkmaid to milk her; she did it herself, and seemed to enjoy\nthe exercise. The harness supported a bag, which enclosed the udder, and\nwhich prevented her from indulging in a draught of new milk. The third\nhad an artificial tail. The poor brute had been off at a little distance\nfrom the place, when she was set upon by some wolves; she bellowed, and\nat once made for home, where she arrived almost frightened to death, and\nwithout a tail. What was to be done now? The flies were in myriads, and,\nif she had no protection against them, they would put her to a much more\ncruel death than that threatened by the wolves. A happy thought struck\none of the colony of fifty. They had a dead cow\u2019s tail lying in the\nstore! Why not use that? The suggestion was at once acted upon; the tail\nwas attached to the stump by means of some twine, and over it was tied\nsome canvas, well saturated with Stockholm tar. It was a great success,\nand the creature was again able to do battle with her diminutive but\npersevering foes.\u2019\n\nIn undertaking the distant station of Churchill, in the midst of a dreary\nwaste, Mr. Lofthouse had a life of self-denial before him, as well as\nvery serious work, not the least of which was the necessity for learning\nthree languages, neither of them bearing any resemblance to the other.\nFor example, the phrase \u2018It is good\u2019 is in Chipwyan _nazo_, in Cree\n_milwashiu_, and in Eskimo _peyokumme_.\n\nFar away from Moose, five hundred miles distant, very difficult to\nreach\u2014the journey to it occupying about twenty days\u2014is the station\nof Matawakumma. Long and dangerous rapids have to be ascended, long\nand disagreeable portages to be crossed, one of which is four miles\nin length. One long lake\u2014Kinokummisse, meaning \u2018long lake\u2019\u2014must be\ntraversed, and another\u2014Matawakumma, \u2018The meeting of the waters\u2019\u2014must be\ngone over.\n\n[Illustration: ON THE CHURCHILL RIVER]\n\nThe station is very prettily situated on a long point of land which\nruns almost across the lake. There are a few houses representing\nthe fur-trading establishment. At a short distance is the modest\nparsonage-house and neat church, both of which have been almost entirely\nerected by the Rev. J. Saunders\u2019 own hands. It was the most isolated\nstation in Moosonee, but it is so no longer, as at only two days\u2019 journey\ndistant runs the great Canadian Pacific railroad, by which all supplies\nare now introduced into that part of the country.\n\nThere is at present no danger of starvation here, but formerly, when\nall supplies were got up from Moose, and were consequently limited,\ngreat privation was frequently experienced. If the rabbits failed,\nfamine stared the inhabitants in the face. The worst year ever known\nwas the one the bishop first spent in the country, when a fourth of the\nentire population died, some from actual starvation, the rest being\nkilled and eaten by their friends! The tales of that terrible winter are\nheartrending in the extreme. The most painful case was that of a man and\nhis wife who lost their whole family of six children.\n\nAmong the Indians of Matawakumma was one named Arthur Martin.\n\n\u2018I forget his Indian name,\u2019 says the bishop. \u2018I give the name he received\nat his baptism. At the time referred to he was a young man, and was not\nsubjected to as great privations as some of his countrymen. I received\nhim into the Church in 1852, and in 1854 I received his wife, on my first\nvisit to Matawakumma, where I married them. Many of the Indians there\nclung very closely to their old superstitions, and the drum and the\nconjuring tents were in constant requisition. Some of them still hold\nback, not having yet taken the Saviour to their hearts.\n\n\u2018But this was not the case with Arthur and his wife; when once they had\nput their hand to the plough, they looked not back again. Their Saviour\nwas their all in all. They both learnt to read, and made themselves well\nacquainted with the books as they came out in the Ojibbeway language,\nthe only one they knew, and they did their best to train their children\nin the ways of the Lord. Their eldest son, Louis, one of the most\nintelligent Indians I have ever known, followed in his father\u2019s steps,\nand eventually became a valuable catechist in the mission. His letters\nwere excellent, while to Mr. Saunders he was invaluable, assisting him in\neverything; for he handled hammer, axe, and paddle with equal facility,\nand he was his constant companion in his journeys through the country. I\nhad hopes that eventually I might ordain him, and thus increase both his\ninfluence and usefulness among his countrymen; but this was not to be. He\nwent with Mr. Saunders to their railway station, Biscotasing; in getting\ninto a carriage while in motion, he fell and injured his leg. It required\namputation; the operation was performed, and it was hoped that all would\ngo well; but a few days after mortification set in, and the end soon\ncame. He seemed necessary for our work; it never occurred to us that we\nmight be obliged to do without him. Truly\n\n                      God moves in a mysterious way.\n\n\u2018The death of this son was a heavy blow to his father, now growing old;\nbut he was soon resigned to the will of God, and went on his Christian\ncourse. Like Job of old, he was tried by personal suffering; in that,\ntoo, his faith remained firm and steadfast. A mist and darkness came over\nhim\u2014blindness took possession of both his eyes. It was thought that his\nsight might be restored by an operation, and he was sent down to Moose\nfor that purpose. He was quite alone, having no relative with him, but he\nwas taken good care of by a Christian woman, who tended him with sisterly\ndevotion.\n\n\u2018For awhile he kept well, was never absent from the house of God; then\nweakness attacked him in the legs, and he could no longer attend the\nservices, yet not a word of complaint fell from him. He longed for news\nfrom home, and this he received; his wife was very unwell, but hoped soon\nto see him back with her again. Inflammation of the lungs set in, and in\nthree or four days he had passed away. God was with him in his trial, and\nsupported him. He made all his bed in his sickness. I saw him on the day\nof his death, September 12, between the morning and afternoon services.\nBlind and speechless, he lay in his tent surrounded by a few Christian\nfriends, who said that he was quite insensible. He regained consciousness\nas I spoke to him of Jesus and His love. When I asked him whether he felt\nJesus near, a joyous, assuring smile came over his countenance, more\nexpressive than the most eloquent of speeches.\n\n\u2018He was waiting in peace the Master\u2019s call, and it was not long in\ncoming. I commended him to God in prayer, and, shaking him warmly by\nthe hand, hurried off to church to conduct service. Soon afterwards the\nmessenger arrived to summon him to the Master\u2019s presence. With the Lord\nhe went through the dark valley; with Him he crossed the dividing river,\nand then entered the joy of his Lord.\u2019\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nA DAY AT BISHOP\u2019S COURT\n\n\nThe bishop was now contemplating a visit to England. He had not seen his\nwife or children for six years, and looked forward to meeting them in\nthe fatherland once more. He hoped to leave Moose in June 1888, to be in\ntime for the Lambeth Conference in July. He intended the summer following\nto visit York and Churchill, in North Moosonee, which could be more\nconveniently done in starting from England. \u2018To visit them from Moose,\u2019\nhe said, \u2018would involve a very, very long and expensive journey, and a\nwinter\u2019s stay, which is now quite unnecessary, seeing that both stations\nare well occupied, and I can do much more for the missions in England\nthan I could there.\u2019\n\nIn February \u2018the packet\u2019 came, and friends from all the surrounding\nstations gathered together to bring and receive letters, and to wish him\nGod speed on his proposed journey.\n\nMay-day came, and a depth of snow lay upon the ground. The river was\nstill ice-bound. All Nature was hushed, not even the \u2018goose call\u2019 was\nheard, for the weather was so severe that the geese kept close. One\nof the mission party went off early, and sat for many hours in his\ngoose-stand with his decoy geese professionally arranged, but he returned\nunsuccessful.\n\nThe bishop too was up early. \u2018I always am,\u2019 he wrote, \u2018wishing to have\nan hour of perfect quiet before the duties of the day begin. I generally\nread a chapter of the Hebrew Bible every morning. I was never taught to\nread it. I never heard a word of it read, except what is contained in the\nEnglish Bible; yet I have read the Hebrew Bible right through, carefully\nand grammatically. Hebrew is a very difficult language, but it is not\ninsurmountable, and the word impossible must never find its way into\nthe vocabulary of one who intends to devote himself to mission work. A\nman who is daunted by difficulties, who thinks there is a possibility\nof his not acquiring the language of the people to whom he may be sent,\nhad far better never put his foot on ship-board for foreign work. He\nwill in the end prove a bitter disappointment, both to himself and\nthose who are associated with him. \u201cI can do all things through Christ,\nwho strengtheneth me,\u201d must be the watchword of every one who enters\nthe diocese of Moosonee. And now look at the 84th Psalm in the Revised\nVersion; observe the beauty of the sixth verse. It is superlatively sweet\nand consolatory: \u201cPassing through the valley of weeping, they make it a\nplace of springs; yea, the early rain covereth it with blessings.\u201d Then I\nread the third chapter of St. Paul\u2019s Epistle to the Ephesians, in Greek;\nwhat beauty, too, there is in this chapter, especially in verses fourteen\nto nineteen.\n\n\u2018Before I had completed the second chapter my three young grandsons,\nFred, Arthur, and Sydney Broughton, had come into my sitting-room to wish\nme good-morning, when the two elder ones remained to receive a lesson\nfrom me, which they do every day. Family prayers were held at eight\no\u2019clock punctually, for I am a very punctual man, never keeping anyone\nwaiting, and we then discussed our frugal breakfast. There was myself\nand my daughter Chrissie\u2014her husband having some time before gone to the\nHudson\u2019s Bay Company\u2019s establishment to preside at breakfast there; my\ntwo grandsons, and the Rev. E. Richards, my much beloved native helper;\nArthur and his beautiful little mischievous sister, Gertrude, taking\ntheir breakfast with their nurse in another room. We had one rabbit, the\nlast, I am afraid, for the season, a little imported bacon, and some good\nbread to eat, while to drink we had excellent coffee.\n\n\u2018A little after ten o\u2019clock I should have had the first class of our\nschool in my room, but thinking the shooting of a goose or duck as\nnecessary an accomplishment in Moosonee as writing a letter, I had given\nthe bigger boys a week\u2019s holiday to go goose-hunting, and had moreover\npromised a prize to the most successful hunter. Then our doctor came in,\nand we discussed the various cases under his care. I take a deep interest\nin his work, and always assist him when he requires help. I am extremely\nsorry to find that the condition of a good young man, married, with one\nchild, is very critical. Consumption will, I fear, at no distant day make\nhim its victim. For dinner we had a little cold beef, a part of the\nstore laid by last autumn, when the whole beef of the year was killed;\nit was still quite fresh and good; some mashed potatoes, and afterwards\na nice raspberry tart. We drink spruce beer at dinner, a most wholesome\nnon-intoxicating drink, refreshing and an excellent digestive. After\ndinner much of my time was spent with two of my sick folk, who delight in\nhearing the Word of God read to them.\u2019\n\nThe rest of the bishop\u2019s day was filled up with study with his divinity\nstudents, the ever continuing work of translation, and lessons to\nan evening class of young men of the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company. He never\npermitted himself an idle moment. \u2018He had,\u2019 he said, \u2018no desire to rust\nout.\u2019 And there seemed little danger of it.\n\nOn May 31, 1888, the bishop left Moose Fort for England. It was his\nfourth visit in the course of thirty-seven years of missionary life in\nthe Great Lone Land.\n\n\u2018What a day,\u2019 he writes, \u2018was my last Sunday at Moose! How fully were\nall the services attended! What a large number of communicants, and how\nsolemn was our ordination service, when the Rev. E. Richards was made\npriest! How painful were the partings of the succeeding week, for every\none at Moose is to me as a son or a daughter. As the hour of departure\napproached a crowd assembled at the head of the island, where I was to\nembark. At four o\u2019clock I stepped into my canoe, and standing up, the\npeople being on the high bank, I gave them my fatherly blessing. I had\ntwo companions to go with me to Canada\u2014a young grandson, eight years\nof age, and a most loved young friend, who was to stay with her uncle\nin Montreal. My daughter and her children accompanied me, to remain for\nthe night, and the evening was one of cheerful sadness. Our encampment\nseemed like a small canvas village, so many had come off in their canoes.\nAfter the tents were all erected, we soon had a good fire roaring in the\nforest, by which we cooked our meal; then we had a very solemn service,\nand by half-past nine the fires were out, the tents were closed, and all\nwas quiet.\n\n\u2018We were astir in the early morning, when we again bent the knee together\nin prayer, after which the last farewells were uttered, the last kiss\ngiven\u2014my last to my sweet little granddaughter, Gertrude, who was too\nyoung to understand the nature of \u201cGood-bye,\u201d and who would for many\na day wonder why grandpapa did not come and have a romp with her, and\ntake his accustomed place at table. Then we descended to our respective\ncanoes; they to return to Moose, we to pursue our solitary way up the\nmighty river, until we came to the great sign of modern civilisation,\nthe iron road of the steam-engine at Missenabie, a station of the\nCanadian Pacific Railway. I had five Indians with me, all good fellows,\nChristians, in whom I had the fullest confidence, and who, I knew, would\ndo their very best to bring us in safety to the place of our destination.\nThey divided themselves into two bodies, and took turn and turn about\nat the tracking. A long line was attached to the canoe; to this one\nparty harnessed itself, for in going against the stream the paddle is\nbut little used, the principal work being done by the tracking line and\npole\u2014the latter a powerful instrument of propulsion about nine feet long,\nand shod with iron, wonderfully useful among the rapids.\n\n\u2018At breakfast time we all went ashore; a fire was kindled, the kettle\nboiled, a little meat cooked, and, sitting on boxes or stones, the meal\nwas consumed; after which we continued our way until dinner-time, when\nthere was another halt. Then we went on again until eight o\u2019clock, when\nwe put up for the night. This was quite a business, for we could not\nencamp everywhere. We went up into the woods; axes were brought into\nrequisition, and a large space was cleared; the marquees were put up, and\neverything was made as comfortable as possible, so that presently we were\nquite at home; supper, conversation, and service finished the day, when\nwe lay down, grateful for continued mercies.\n\n\u2018In the morning, during the breakfast hour, all met near the fire;\nwe first had a hymn, after which I read a portion of Scripture, and\nprayers from the Prayer Book. Prayer-time was to us a season of great\nrefreshment. We had sometimes heavy rains; this caused us much trouble,\ngreatly increasing the difficulty and danger of the rapids. Frequently we\nwere all obliged to get ashore, and make our way as best we could through\nthe pathless woods, where the fallen trees were lying about in every\ndirection. This was intensely hard work.\n\n[Illustration: A LARGE CANOE SHOOTING A RAPID]\n\n\u2018On one occasion we had ascended a terrible and long rapid, and had got\nby the easiest side of the stream just opposite the foot of our longest\nportage, but between us and it ran the swollen and fiercely flowing\nriver. We all grasped a paddle firmly, and bending with our full strength\ndashed out into the stream; we could get no further, and were swept down\nlike lightning into the boiling rapid. The sight was the most dangerous\nI had ever witnessed, but the men were equal to the emergency. Turning\nround in the canoe, the bow became the stern, and we were kept clear of\nthe rocks which threatened our destruction.\n\n\u2018Then on we went again to face fresh dangers, to meet with new\ndifficulties; still ever onwards, till on Saturday morning we came into\nthe smooth waters of the Missenabie Lake. Missenabie was a small and\ninconsiderable post which up to this time had been buried deep in the\nwilderness, but which by the carrying of the Canadian Pacific Railway\nthrough the country, had been brought to the very confines of the\ncivilised world, being only fifty miles from a railway station.\u2019\n\nAfter spending Sunday at Missenabie, a day\u2019s journey brought the\ntravellers to Missenabie station. The Indians heard for the first time\nthe voice of the \u2018steam giant.\u2019 Paddling with some difficulty under\nthe wooden bridge which is the path of the \u2018fire-sledge,\u2019 the station\nwas presently reached. It was a dreary spot\u2014a tent or two, a couple\nof tumbledown stores, a house or two for the railway officials, and\nmultitudes of mosquitoes. A railway truck was the bishop\u2019s parlour; in\nthe booking-office he held services in three languages, Cree, Ojibbeway,\nand English. Very early in the morning the train came in from the West,\nand carried the party away. To the little grandson, aged eight, all\nthings were new and strange. A lad passed through the cars with oranges\nand apples for sale; the child had never seen either an apple or an\norange in his life, and when one of each was handed to him, he asked,\n\u2018Grandpapa, which is which?\u2019\n\nAt Ottawa, Montreal, and the grand old town of Quebec, our travellers had\nsome few days\u2019 rest. At the latter place, Master Fred saw a Punch and\nJudy show for the first time, and enjoyed it; and the bishop enjoyed it\n\u2018almost as much as he.\u2019 Grandfather and grandson visited the site of the\nbattle which gave Quebec to England, and the monuments erected to the\nmemory of the brave Generals Montcalm and Wolfe. Twelve days later they\nwere in England. \u2018But,\u2019 says the bishop, \u2018the heart was still far away\nacross the water, amid the secluded forests of Moosonee.\u2019\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nCLOSING LABOURS\n\n\nBishop Horden did not spend a very great many months in England. He left\nagain on May 22, 1889, the parting from wife and family being softened by\nthe hope of shortly returning to them. Taking steamer direct for Quebec,\nhe went on from thence to Montreal\u2014\u2018one of the most beautifully situated\ncities in the world, containing fine shops, a noble quay, many grand\nhouses, and a large number of very fine churches.\u2019\n\nThe following evening he took his place in the train going west, to\nspend three days and two nights in it. The car was crowded, and each\nday he\u2014indefatigable man that he was\u2014gave a much appreciated lecture\nto the occupants packed closely together around him. After passing\nthrough hundreds of miles of wilderness he at last landed at Winnipeg,\nthe capital of the West. Two or three hours later he was sitting in the\nParliament House, witnessing the conferring of university degrees by the\nMetropolitan, amongst the students being Miss Holmes, the first lady who\nhad taken a degree in Manitoba. On Sunday there was an ordination and\nconfirmation, and in the evening Bishop Horden preached in the cathedral,\nalthough he was suffering from a severe cold contracted during his long\nrailway journey. The following day he started by rail and steamer for\nNorway House, which he reached on June 14.\n\nThere used to be stirring times at Norway House. Here the great council\nwas held. Here in olden time the Governor of the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company,\nwho possessed more real power than the most arbitrary of sovereigns,\nheld his court annually, and to it flocked the principal officers of the\ncompany. The affairs of the country were discussed, and everything was\narranged for another year. During the whole summer the greatest activity\nprevailed. Boats were continually arriving and departing; now an immense\nbrigade from York Factory, then another from the Saskatchewan or the\nMackenzie River district. The dwelling-houses were crowded, and the great\nstores were constantly receiving or giving out supplies.\n\nBut the railway and steamers have changed all this, and among other\nresults have brought about the downfall of Norway House. Goods for the\ninterior are no longer sent to York Factory, and thence by boat to the\nvarious stations. They are forwarded to the Saskatchewan by rail and\nsteamer, and thence onward to the interior. Now Norway House supplies\nonly two or three trading posts in its immediate district. Very few\nofficers and few men are required for the business. The stores lie empty,\nand the great square is almost deserted.\n\nBishop Horden spent two Sundays here, waiting for the boats to Oxford\nHouse, whence he journeyed on to York Factory. Then he set off for\nChurchill, another journey of two hundred miles.\n\nA peaceful voyage of nine days in a schooner, the first that for twenty\nyears had visited York Factory, brought the bishop to Moose Fort. It was\nquite dark when he landed, but a great crowd had gathered on the beach\nto welcome him, chief amongst them his daughter, Mrs. Broughton, and her\nhusband, and their three youngest children, and Archdeacon Vincent, who\nhad been in charge at Bishop\u2019s Court.\n\n\u2018I was really at home, and felt so overjoyed and so thankful; I was\nhappy, and so seemed all around me. Monday was devoted to the affairs of\nthe mission, and it gratified me to find that things had gone on so well\nduring my absence. I visited all the people in their houses, for they are\nvery dear to me, and found all well.\u2019\n\nBut his own house was lonely, and would be lonelier still in the winter,\nfor the Broughtons were to be now stationed at Rupert\u2019s House. He had\nnot been expected to return so soon to Moose; the archdeacon had the\nwork there well in hand, whilst at Albany Mr. and Mrs. Nevitt were fully\ninstalled. He himself needed some little quiet and rest. He decided,\ntherefore, to go with his daughter and grandchildren to Rupert\u2019s House\nfor the next months.\n\nThe Moose ship, Lady Head, had already arrived. The season was advanced,\na parting service was held, and once more the bishop went on board the\nMink, and sailed with his dear ones for Rupert\u2019s House. Here he came\nin contact with Indians from various stations, bringing in furs for\nbarter at the factory. The Rev. E. Richards assisted him in all his\nministrations. A cheerful Christmas was followed by quiet work, and\nthen a busy and a happy Eastertide, notwithstanding the \u2018snow which\nlay several feet deep on the ground, biting winds, and the death-like\nappearance of all Nature.\u2019\n\nThe spring was very dreary. There was nothing for the geese to feed upon,\nand the hunters came home evening after evening having shot nothing. When\nthe Indians from the surrounding districts came in, there was amongst\nthem one very sad and reduced party. Where were the rest? All, to the\nnumber of eighteen, had perished from starvation.\n\nAs the summer approached, the bishop went northward to East Main\nRiver\u2014now a small outpost, but once the most important place in the bay.\nAbout one hundred Indians had met together there, and every moment was\nmade the most of, for they seldom saw a clergyman.\n\nThe bishop thence went in a boat to Fort George. This is almost the most\ninteresting bit of travel in the country. High and rocky islands, some of\nthem well wooded, others majestically rugged, rise in constant succession.\n\nA week was spent at the Fort, and then, with Mr. Peck as his companion,\nthe bishop pushed on to the dreary storm-beaten land of Great Whale\nRiver\u2014a hard and difficult journey along an inhospitable and dangerous\ncoast. Sometimes they met a few Indians on the way, and the desert was\nmade to rejoice with \u2018some of the songs of Zion.\u2019\n\nOne morning they put ashore among a body of Eskimo, who had their books\nwith them. The bishop heard them all read; for one woman, who could\nnot read as well as the rest, they made the apology that she had but\njust recently joined them from the north, and could not be expected to\ndo very well yet; but she was getting on, for they taught her every\nday. The next day, and half of the following, was spent here, then the\ntravellers proceeded, the canoe flying before a threatened storm. Just\nbefore midnight they reached the mouth of the river, and two or three\nhours afterwards the storm broke with terrible violence, lasting without\nintermission for a couple of days.\n\n\u2018Three days of intense work (I wish it could have been three weeks), and\nthe schooner was ready for sea; so, leaving Mr. Peck to continue his\nlabours, I took a passage kindly granted me, and bidding farewell to all,\nI set off on my way south.\u2019\n\nThe bishop was much gratified with the progress made by the Eskimo,\ntheir earnestness was so evident, their attention so fixed; his heart\nwas lifted in gratitude to God. After another week spent at Fort George,\nhis mission completed, his face was once more turned homewards, and he\nreached Moose just about ship time. \u2018In all this journey God\u2019s hand has\nbeen on me for good.\u2019\n\nSoon after the bishop had returned to Moose, Mr. and Mrs. Nevitt went\nto take charge of Rupert\u2019s House, the Rev. E. Richards and his wife\ncoming to assist the bishop at Moose. Great preparations were made for\nthe Christmas of 1890. The old mission ox brought home several loads\nof pine and cedar-brush from the woods for the church decorations. On\nChristmas Eve a high tea was provided at Bishop\u2019s Court for the joyous\nband of workers, a dish of splendid trout gracing the hospitable board.\nChristmas morning dawned not too cold for enjoyment, and hearty, cheery\nservices followed throughout the day. A feast had been planned for the\nschool-children. Cakes were made by \u2018the Rev. E. Richards and his wife;\u2019\na large heap of biscuits were provided from the bishop\u2019s own store; huge\nkettles were suspended in the school-yard; tea, sugar, and milk were\nthere in abundance, and one afternoon in the Christmas week the scholars\nall assembled and enjoyed a substantial meal.\n\nA Christmas-tree followed, which Mr. and Mrs. Richards had decorated\nwith artificial flowers and ornaments, lights and gifts. The children\u2019s\nparents were there, and the European residents and all stood round the\ntree, and sang \u2018God save the Queen.\u2019\n\n    Muncto pinache Kicheake-maskwas,\n    O Pimache; Melche puskilakat,\n    Kitche mihwaletuk Kinwaish\n    Pimatesit, O Pimache.\n\nOther gatherings there were that joyous Christmastide spent by the bishop\namongst his own especial flock; and doubtless, as he said, for many days\nto come the pleasures and wonders of those happy evenings were subjects\nof comment in every house.\n\nThe bishop had brought with him from York Factory a very promising youth,\nIsaiah Squirrel by name, whom he hoped to train under his own eye for the\nChristian ministry. He was now at Moose, \u2018learning all sorts of things,\nand showing himself very teachable.\u2019\n\nAt the beginning of the year 1891 the bishop announced with thankful joy,\n\u2018I have now ready for the press the Pentateuch, Isaiah, Jeremiah, the\nLamentations, Ezekiel, and Daniel; the Psalms and New Testament have been\nin print some years. The whole Bible will, I trust, form the crown of my\nmissionary life. I take the deepest delight in this translation work,\nwhich has always engaged very much of my time and attention.\u2019\n\nMay was cold and damp this year; snow and ice abounded, and the ground\nwas still almost bare of pasture. Flocks of snowbirds were about, which\nwere pursued by the boys with bows and arrows, and a few American robins\nsang among the leafless trees; but the geese, like everything else,\nfailed. Day after day the Indian went forth to his goose-stand in the\nmarsh, arranged his decoys, loaded his guns, and sat and called, hoping\nthat a flight of geese would be enticed by the friendly voice to come and\nvisit his flock of dummies. But no geese came, and the hunter returned\neach evening disconsolate and supperless to his tent. When the kettle on\nthe fire is well filled with _mechim_ (food), there is joy in the camp,\nand the Indian does not heed the weather\u2014storm rain, and snow are to him\nof no account; but with wife and children hungering around him things are\nsad indeed; and thus they were in the month of May.\n\nThe summer proved a sickly one in all the district. In June the bishop\nwent to Rupert\u2019s House, and whilst working there from morning till\nnight amongst the great body of Indians congregated for the season, the\ninfluenza broke out, and he became at once doctor and nurse, until he was\nhimself attacked. He was for some time very unwell, and his voice went.\nMr. and Mrs. Nevitt had left to go home by the annual ship, Mr. Nevitt\u2019s\nhealth having failed, and Mr. Richards was at Moose, so he could not, and\nwould not, give in, except for a day or two. Happily, he was in the house\nof his dear daughter Chrissie, where every possible attention was given\nhim. \u2018The voice returned, but strength was slow in coming.\u2019 Then his much\nloved little granddaughter was attacked very severely, and it was a sore\ntrial to have to leave her, still hovering between life and death, when\nhe was obliged to return to Moose. A long time elapsed before he could\nhear from Rupert\u2019s House. Then at last came a little letter from the\nchild herself to tell of her recovery.\n\nIn August, 1891, an event happened which was destined to be of very great\nimportance to the diocese of Moosonee. This was the arrival at Fort Moose\nof the Rev. J. A. Newnham. The bishop had met and conversed with Mr.\nNewnham on his visit to Montreal in the previous year, and finding how\nhis heart was yearning for the mission cause in Moosonee, he had invited\nhim to join him there.\n\n\u2018I was charmed,\u2019 wrote Mr. Newnham, \u2018with my first acquaintance with\nMoose. My room in the bishop\u2019s house looks over a small encampment of\nabout forty tents and sixty dogs. Just now is the busy season; the hay is\nbeing carried, and the ship unloaded, but quite a congregation gathers\nevery evening at 6\u00b730 for a short service. I attended it my first evening\non shore, and was much struck with the hearty responses, and the clear\nand true singing of our well-known hymn tunes.\u2019\n\nAfter the service Mr. Newnham was introduced to the Indians, who greeted\nhim with \u2018What cheer?\u2019 their form of \u2018How do you do?\u2019 As he sat in his\nstudy later, he could see them constantly coming to the house. The bishop\nnever locked his door; even in the night it was left unfastened, and\nanyone might come to him at any hour for assistance or advice.\n\nThe bishop spent nearly the whole of this year at Moose, devoting all his\nleisure to the translation of the Cree Bible. He hoped to have the whole\nof the Old Testament ready for the press by midsummer 1892. The revision\nof the New Testament, which had been printed many years before, would\noccupy him, he said, during the following winter. Again he wrote, \u2018and\nthis will be the crowning work of my life, which will give spiritual\nfood to my people for generations after my decease.\u2019 In less than a year\nafter these words were penned, the earnest worker and writer lay in his\ngrave, his work on earth done.\n\nTowards the close of the year 1891, Archdeacon Vincent lost his wife,\nwho had long been in a declining state. He brought her to Moose for\nburial. On December 20 the bishop preached the funeral sermon from the\nwords, \u2018It is well.\u2019 These had been almost her last words before her\ndeath. Returning with the archdeacon to Albany, Bishop Horden there spent\nChristmas and New Year\u2019s Day. It was his last winter trip to Albany.\n\u2018The last,\u2019 he wrote, \u2018that I shall in all probability ever undertake.\nMy first winter trip to Albany took place long, long ago, forty years\nago this very month! I was then young and active, and thought nothing a\nhardship; I could sleep in the open, bivouac with the cold bright sky\noverhead, with the thermometer 40\u00b0 below zero. I had no back, nor legs,\nnor shoulders; at least I had them as well as now, and much better; I\nmerely did not know of their existence from any pain or inconvenience\nthey caused me. But forty years make a difference. I know now that I have\nseveral members of my body, and these tell me in the most unmistakable\nmanner that there must be no more getting over the rough snow and ice,\nand that the discomforts of a cold smoky tent must be no longer endured,\nunless there be absolute necessity. They tell me that, for the future,\nwinter travelling must not be indulged in. And we must bow to the\ninevitable; we cannot be always young; the halting step and the grey head\nwill come, and why should we dread their approach, when we know that \u201cif\nthe earthly house of our tabernacle be dissolved, we have a building from\nGod, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens\u201d?\n\n\u2018I am not, however, writing a sermon. I was about to speak of my last\nwinter journey to Albany. I wished to go there, because there was very\nlittle hope of my going next summer. At seven o\u2019clock on the morning\nof December 21, I was sitting in my sledge, and ten beautiful dogs in\nexcellent condition were being harnessed thereto, each having its own\nsingle trace, by which it was attached to the sledge. The archdeacon\noccupied a second sledge. When all were harnessed, there was a great\nhowling, and jumping, and tugging, for the dogs were anxious to be off,\nbut the sledge was too firmly moored for their united strength until\nall was ready; then the binding rope was cast off, howling ceased in\na moment, each dog hauled with all his might, and we were away at the\nrate of ten miles an hour. The fine tails of the dogs were curled up\nover their backs, they were overjoyed to be once more on the road. The\ngreat pace was not long kept up, but settled into between five and six\nmiles an hour, and so it continued throughout the day. To the music of\nour dog-bells we rushed down the river, soon losing sight of Moose, on\npast Middleborough Island, through Hay Creek, and then over a rough\nuncomfortable sort of plain at North Bluff, where stands the great beacon\nerected to attract the attention of our annual ship, and to tell her\nthat she is nearing the place of her destination.\n\n\u2018Near the beacon we brought up for awhile, to give the dogs a rest. We\nhad accomplished half of our day\u2019s work, and had come about eighteen\nmiles. We are soon off again; the air is very comfortable, and all our\nsensations are pleasurable as we run across North Bay, past Jarvis Bluff\nand Little Piskwamisk on to Piskwamisk, where our first \u201chotel\u201d is\nsituated\u2014a small circular erection, gradually getting smaller towards\nthe top, where a number of poles meet together; the whole is covered\nwith snow, the doorway is blocked up with snow\u2014as comfortless looking\na place as can well be imagined. This is our hotel, and we at once set\nabout making it as habitable as we can. The snow is dug away from the\nentrance with our snow-shoes, as well as from the sides, that there may\nbe no dripping from its melting as the evening advances. Wood is carried\nin and a fire lit, and when a good beef-steak has been fried and a strong\ncup of tea made and partaken of, we almost fall in love with our smoky\nhotel, and at any rate think it far preferable to the open bivouac in the\nheaven-covered forest.\n\n\u2018On the second day the weather was very warm, and much rain fell in the\nearly part, but we continued on our way, having but twenty-five miles to\ntravel, which brought us to our second hotel at Keshepinakok.\n\n\u2018On the third day we had forty miles of travel. The weather was colder\nand our dogs trotted on without much fatigue. About four o\u2019clock in\nthe afternoon we saw the settlement in the distance, and then the dogs,\nknowing that they were nearly home, put on extra speed, and we were soon\nin front of the factory. A steep bank had to be ascended, but there was\nno difficulty, for a number of men and boys ran down and gave their ready\nhelp, and I was soon in the middle of a large yard, receiving the warm\nwelcome of all who had congregated there. One day at Albany, and then\ncame Christmas Day, when I preached two sermons, one in English, the\nother in Indian; afterwards I had the examination of the candidates for\nconfirmation belonging to the two congregations, Indian and English, with\nwhom I was very well pleased; and the examination of the scholars in the\nschool, who quite satisfied me, and I visited all the families in their\nrespective houses. I also gave a feast to the Indians and another to the\nschool children, and inspected some beautiful fox-skins. Quite a number\nof the silver fox came in during my visit. They are black, but the tips\nare white. They are too heavy for English wear, but are exported mostly\nto China. The late King George the Fourth had new coronation robes made\nfor him, which were lined with the choicest parts of the silver fox\nskins, and for each skin forty guineas were paid; rather expensive robes,\nI should think.\n\n\u2018I found time to correct the proofs of two of my Indian books, which are\nprinting in England. The days were well filled up and fled swiftly, and\nit seemed but a short time before I was compelled to say good-bye to\nAlbany, and on the third day after we once more ran up Moose River, and\nreceived the congratulations of all my people, who had lined the banks to\nsee me as I passed.\u2019\n\nThe end of February, 1892, came before the \u2018packet\u2019 of that year arrived.\nAll hope of its coming had died away, and many who had travelled hundreds\nof miles to meet it had been forced to travel back again without getting\na letter to tell of those far away, or even a paper. \u2018Cruel, cruel!\u2019\nsaid the sympathising bishop, and yet he was sometimes inclined to\nfeel grateful for the very absence of news himself. \u2018Our outer door is\nopened,\u2019 he wrote, \u2018but twice or three times a year, and then we have a\ndeluge of papers and a great number of letters, and we find the deluge\nalmost as bad as the previous dearth.\u2019\n\nMoose was enjoying a mild winter, and food was plentiful, rabbits never\nmore abundant, of pheasants there was no scarcity, and there was no\nsickness; the Moose doctor was enjoying quite a sinecure. Far otherwise\nwas it with Rupert\u2019s House. The weather there also had been very mild,\nbut rain had fallen in torrents, and the swamps around were giving\nforth miasma, which brought disease and death to the little settlement.\nInfluenza and dysentery attacked almost every individual.\n\nWhen the Rupert\u2019s House dogs brought the budget for the \u2018packet,\u2019 the\nbishop\u2019s share of news was a sad and gloomy one. Mr. Broughton wrote that\nthe Indians were dying out from disease, and his own little daughter had\nagain been attacked with influenza. Saddest tidings of all, four children\nhad been frozen to death, almost close to the station. The father of\nthose children was Weyawastum; he had died, as did also his wife, some\nyears ago. The grandmother and her husband took the children under their\ncare, she being a kind old body, and speaking very good English. They\nwere spending the winter at Pontax Creek, about seven miles distant from\nthe station, coming in occasionally for provisions, which were never\ndenied them. At New Year the husband, named Huskey, came in to spend a\nfew days at the place, and was there attacked by the prevailing disease,\nso severely as to be unable to return home. His wife and the children\nremained at Pontax Creek, no one feeling the least anxiety about them.\nThey had a good tent and a sufficiency of provisions, and should those be\nconsumed more would be given them. But one morning, someone walking down\nthe river during a terribly cold spell of weather came upon a child lying\ndead, and hard frozen, only a mile from the establishment. And still\nfarther on lay another, and yet another, and still another was found in\nthe same condition. The tent was entered, but it was cold and silent, and\nthere lay the dead body of kind old Betsy, the faithful grandmother. All\nwere taken to Rupert\u2019s House, and buried in one grave. It must have been\na terribly solemn event in that little settlement\u2014five coffins entering\nthe church in procession, four young lives passing away in such a manner.\nThe full particulars will never be known, but it is supposed that while\nthe grandmother was with the children in the tent she was suddenly taken\nill, or being ill had become delirious, and the children being afraid,\nor wishing to obtain help for the old woman, had set off to get to the\nsettlement, but the cold was too severe for them, and so all had perished.\n\nIf the winter at Moose had been late in coming, and mild when it came, it\nlasted long into the year 1892. On May 6 the bishop wrote:\u2014\n\n\u2018Day succeeds day, and there is the same cold biting air, the same dark\nleaden sky and heavy snowflakes, which have lately again and again\nthrown us back into apparent midwinter. I should be glad to write more\ncheerfully, but I must write what I see and know, and not give a picture\nfrom the imagination; what I write must be truth, and not romance. You\ncan\u2019t conceive how anxiously we are longing for spring; to see our noble\nriver rushing by, carrying on its bosom the laden boat, the beautiful\ncanoe, the majestic vessel. But it is still blocked up, heavily fettered\nwith its icy chains. The surface is still white, and an oppressive\nsilence hangs over it; the fluttering haze has not yet appeared into\nwhich the mighty magician of long ago changed himself, appearing yearly\nin the spring, just before the breaking-up of the river, that he may meet\nhis beautiful sister, the lovely American robin. She has already come,\nand it was with joy which can be felt, but not described, that I heard\nher singing her sweet song this morning, as if she would thus hasten\nthe steps of her loitering brother, and bring him to cheer both her\nown heart and the hearts of all others who are anxiously awaiting his\narrival. Whilst you enjoy sweet May weather, feel deeply thankful for\nit, and think of those in this wild lone land who are fighting the great\nChristian battle as your substitutes; pray for them, that their spirits\ndroop not on account of the hardness of their surroundings, and show\nyour sympathy practically by making greater and yet greater exertions in\nsupporting the missionary cause.\n\n\u2018Now, looking out of my window, what can I see? Besides the cathedral\nand adjacent houses, I see the frozen surface of the river, dotted here\nand there with goose-stands, for this is the time for geese, and each\ngoose-stand should be supplied with one or two smart hunters, whose\ndecoy geese and their perfect imitation of the goose\u2019s call generally\nsucceed in alluring the silly birds to their destruction. But the stands\nare unoccupied, the decoy geese are lying in heaps, the weather is so\nunpropitious that no birds are flying. They are delaying their journey to\nthe sea coast, and are feeding in the plains in the interior; and when\nthey come they will make but a short stay, and hurry forward to where\nthey lay their eggs and bring up their families.\n\n\u2018But something exquisitely beautiful seems to enjoy the dreary\nwaste\u2014flocks of the snow bunting are constantly flitting by, alighting on\nthe garden, the plain, and the dust heaps. When they first came they were\nwhite, but now they have begun to assume their summer garb, and clothe\nthemselves in russet brown. They are not allowed to feed in peace.\nThe fierce hawk hovers about, and occasionally swoops down and makes a\ncapture; big boys and men are out with their guns, small boys are out\nwith their bows and arrows, girls are out with their bird nets\u2014all intent\non business, for food is scarce, and those pretty birds are plump and\nfat, and said to be very good eating. And this is really all I can see\nfrom my window, except the dark distant pines, which fill up but do not\nenliven the landscape.\n\n\u2018You must not think that because I have such surroundings I am therefore\ndull and melancholy; such is by no means the case. God has blessed me\nwith a sanguine temperament, and a great capacity for love of work, and\nthis being the case, hope for better days and their speedy appearance\ncauses me to look, in dark days, more to the future than the present; it\ngives no time for repining, or, as the people here say, thinking long.\n\n\u2018Well, thank God! I have written the last word of my Cree translation of\nthe Bible. I had hoped to get it done by the time the river broke up,\nthat I might then put my work aside for another winter, and devote myself\nto the Indians who will be coming in from the far interior; that I might\ntake my long journeys to those distant centres of the mission whence\nthe Indians cannot come; that Cree and Ojibbeway and Eskimo might again\nhear from my lips of the wondrous love of God in the gift to the world\nof His well-beloved Son; and my hope has been realised. The last word of\nthe New Testament was written many years ago, but all will probably be\nre-written; all will at any rate be revised, if God permit, next winter,\nso as to bring it into accord with the Revised Version. It is, I think,\na very good translation of the Authorised Version, and I could make but\nlittle improvement in it. My first work next winter will be to go through\nvery carefully, with my most valued assistant from Rupert\u2019s House, all I\nhave written this winter. Every word will be examined, and wherever an\nimprovement can be made it will be made; and then the New Testament will\ncome under review, and then I trust one of the principal works of my life\nwill be accomplished, my most cherished hope realised\u2014my people will have\nthe Word of God in a form they can thoroughly understand.\u2019\n\nIn June, 1892, the bishop visited Rupert\u2019s House, and, still full of\nenergy and indefatigable in his work, had scarcely returned when he\nprepared to start off on a much longer trip to Whale River and Fort\nGeorge.\n\nOn the eve of setting off he wrote, alluding to the arrival of a \u2018packet\u2019\nwith letters and papers:\n\n\u2018Just think of seven months of reviews and missionary publications, as\nwell as other periodicals, coming at one time, and that the busiest time\nof the year, when every minute must be utilised for work. The consequence\nis that many papers are never opened at all. It is sometimes a question\nwith me as to whether this is a gain or a loss; it certainly keeps my\nmind fixed on my work, of which there is always a great deal more to\nbe done than can be well got through. You good people at home cannot at\nall realise our position; we are in another world, and you have the same\ndifficulty in endeavouring to realise it as you would have in realising\nthe condition of life in the planet Mars.\n\n\u2018On Saturday last I returned from Rupert\u2019s House, having with me my\ndaughter, Mrs. Broughton, her husband, and family. They will now live at\nMoose, Mr. Broughton having been appointed to the charge of the whole\nsouthern department. At present they are staying with me, but next week\nthey go to the Factory, five minutes\u2019 walk from my house, which will\nthen be vacated by its present occupants, who are returning to Canada.\nTo-morrow I set off for Fort George and Whale River, Mr. Peck\u2019s district.\nI shall be absent about a month, and trust that in that time I may be\nable to do much for the Master. We are passing through the hottest summer\nknown here for many years; the heat is sometimes almost unbearable, while\nthe mosquitoes are most venomous and annoying. Our gardens look well so\nfar, and we hope to have good crops by-and-by.\u2019\n\nIn August the bishop was back at Moose Fort. \u2018I am once more in the old\nhouse,\u2019 he writes, \u2018home from my long summer journeyings, and I don\u2019t\nthink I shall leave it again this year, but employ myself in my usual\neducational and translation duties. I first went to Whale River, which\nreceives its name from the large number of porpoises found there: there\nwas formerly a great trade in the oil produced from them as well as in\ntheir skins. I started from Moose in the Mink schooner on July 15. We had\nfoul winds, and the cold became severe, and many icebergs were about,\nwhich occasionally gave our vessel some heavy blows. Then we passed the\nTwins, two large islands of equal size, on which grows neither tree nor\nshrub; then we caught sight of Cape Jones, which divides James\u2019 Bay from\nHudson\u2019s Bay, and Bear Island, a large, high rock of most forbidding\naspect; and then we ran along Long Island, which has a very bad repute\nas the centre of the abode of storms, and as we pass it the great tors\non the mainland rise one after the other in their majesty of desolation;\nand there is more ice, and more islands, and an abundance of fog, hiding\neverything from view. And here, at last, is the south point of the\nriver, and presently we come to anchor, for the wind will not allow us\nto proceed up to the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company\u2019s establishment; but a canoe\nis soon alongside, and in that I am taken ashore, and am presently among\nthose who have been eagerly looking for me, and who receive me with a\nwarm welcome. There is much work to do, and I am alone.\n\n\u2018Our first service on Sunday commences at half-past six in the morning:\nall the Indians at the place are present, and all seem to enjoy it; some\namong the congregation I have not seen for years. They had wandered\noff to Ungava, many hundreds of miles distant, and had long remained\nthere; they now say that they intend to make Whale River their permanent\ntrading post. We take breakfast, and then for our Eskimo service. You\nsee before you a goodly number of clean, intelligent-looking people,\nshort and stout; you see that they have books in their hands, and notice\nthat they readily find out the places required; they sing very nicely,\nhaving greatly improved since my last visit to them. Thank God for the\nblessing He has vouchsafed to the missionaries\u2019 labour. And now we attend\nthe English service. One young person is confirmed, and three partake\nof the Lord\u2019s Supper. After this we have dinner; this finished, it will\nsoon be time for our second Indian service, so let us walk quietly to\nthe house we use as a church. It is already crowded with young and old;\nall sing the sweet Indian hymns, and use the Church prayers in their\nIndian dress. I baptize twelve children and perform four marriages. The\nIndians retire, and soon the interesting Eskimo flock in and take their\nplaces; two people are confirmed, and four partake of the sacrament. We\nare all a little tired now, the more so from the atmosphere being very\nclose in the church; so we go up to the top of the extensive plain on\nwhich are pitched the Indian and Eskimo tents, and take a brisk walk\namong the heather, which gives us an appetite for tea. On the table is\ntea, preserved milk, sugar, bread, and marrow fat. Our last service is\nafterwards held; the old familiar English one. We have had a busy day,\nand yet not quite so busy as it would have been at Churchill, on the\nwestern side of the bay, where, in addition to the three languages spoken\nhere, we should have had the Chipwyan. We have a little conversation and\nthen go to bed, for we must be early astir tomorrow morning.\n\n\u2018Yes, in the morning there was a great stir: all hands were up at four\no\u2019clock, loading the schooner, which had taken everything in by six\no\u2019clock, when I held my last service, the last in all probability I shall\never hold at Whale River. I then had breakfast, after which, having said\ngood-bye to and shaken hands with every one\u2014English, half-caste, Indian\nand Eskimo\u2014I hastened on board. The anchor was at once raised, and we\nbegan to descend the river amidst volley after volley of musketry, the\nIndians wishing to testify their appreciation of what had been attempted\nfor their good.\n\n\u2018After we had left the river we bent our way southward, and went as fast\nas the baffling winds would allow us. We had the high rocky coast on our\nleft, on which side lay Long Island; then we passed Bear Island and Cape\nJones, and Lucker Creek and Wastekan Island, the highest land between\nCape Jones and Fort George, and Governor\u2019s Island, and Horse Island, and\nothers, and so came to the mouth of Fort George River. We were seen at\nthe fort, when instantly the flag was run up. On and on we went until we\narrived opposite the landing-place, when the anchor was dropped and a\nboat took me ashore. I was directly in the midst of old and warm friends,\nwho gave me the heartiest of welcomes.\n\n\u2018I was eight days at Fort George, and they were all busy ones. I kept\nschool twice a day, devoting the mornings to the Indian children and the\nafternoons to those speaking English. I held likewise two services each\nday, one in each language, and for the few days that some Eskimo were\nat the place, one for them as well. The principal Eskimo here is called\nNero, and he is really a fine fellow, about the size of a big English\nboy, although I think the English boy would have but little chance with\nhim in a wrestling match. I got him to assist me in one of the services,\nand what he did he did well.\n\n\u2018The Indians are all busy haymaking. They go up the river some distance,\nand there find abundance of grass, and bring it down in boats, spreading\nit on a large field, where they make it into hay. There are stables\nfor the cattle, but there are no horses. There are four or five houses\nfor the workpeople, and on a large plain are some Indian tents\u2014and the\ngardens are looking well\u2014the potatoes and turnips look as if good crops\nwould be secured, a matter for congratulation, as this is by no means\nalways the case. Day follows day, and the last arrived, when I gave a\ntreat to all the children.\n\n\u2018Our farewell service is held, and it is a very solemn one, for every\none at Fort George is very dear to me. I wish all and everyone good-bye,\nfor I start early on the morrow; but early as it is, everyone is on the\nriver\u2019s bank to see me as I step into a large canoe, which is to take me\nseven miles to the Mink, lying in Stromness harbour. Several farewell\nvolleys are fired, and I am speedily out of sight of my hospitable\nfriends and on my way to the old house at Moose.\u2019\n\nTo the bishop\u2019s great joy and thankfulness a young missionary, Mr.\nWalton, arrived by the ship in the autumn of 1892. He was destined for\nthe distant post of Ungava. The bishop was much pleased with him, and,\nafter due examination, ordained him, and sent him on to Fort George to\nfill meanwhile the place of Mr. Peck, who was by doctor\u2019s advice to take\nhis wife and children to England by the ship homeward bound.\n\nMr. Peck would, the bishop hoped, return in the following May, to proceed\nto Ungava with the Rev. W. Walton.\n\nThe journey to Ungava is toilsome and very difficult. Mr. Peck had\nvisited the post in 1885, having been driven back three times before he\nsucceeded in crossing the Labrador peninsula, eight hundred miles. He\nwas repaid at length by meeting with many Eskimo anxious for the message\nof salvation. The thought of the pressing need for a missionary to this\nfar-off spot had ever since lain \u2018heavy on the heart of the bishop.\u2019 He\nsaid, \u2018If we go to the North Pole, we shall be still in the diocese of\nMoosonee.\u2019 The ice-bound regions visited by Sir John Franklin, Admiral\nMcClintock, Captain Parry, and other Arctic explorers, are nearly all in\nthis diocese.\n\nThe bishop worked on, assisted by the Rev. J. A. Newnham, who had\nreturned from a visit to Montreal, bringing with him a wife, who took\nthe deepest interest in the women and girls, and proved a great addition\nto the mission party. The native pastor, the Rev. E. Richards, was also\nstaying at Moose at this time, especially to help in the revision of the\nBible translations.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nLAST DAYS\n\n\nTowards the end of November the bishop was taken suddenly ill. We have\nthe account of his attack in his own words, written on January 2, 1893,\nby his daughter Chrissie from his dictation. \u2018Three-and-fifty years ago\nChristmas was spent by me in bed; my life was almost given up. I was\nsuffering from typhus fever, and my doctor said that, had I not had a\nconstitution of lead, I must have succumbed to the virulence of the\ndisease. God raised me up again, and eventually sent me to the land of\nsnow, and I am now spending my forty-second Christmas in connection\nwith it. And how very joyous every Christmas has been up to the present\none! How wonderfully good my health has always been, how I could always\njoin the frolic and fun of the youngsters! I felt as one of them; the\ndifference in our age was as nothing. We were all children. This year,\ntoo, the church has been beautifully decorated; the splendid trees have\nbeen laden with their precious fruits, faces have brightened with joy as\nof yore: but I have seen nothing of them; the mingled voices of childhood\nhave been unheard.\n\n\u2018It has been God\u2019s will that I should spend this Christmas in a sick\nroom, and amid much and severe suffering. He has brought down my strength\nin my journey; but amidst it all He has kept me in perfect peace. On\nNovember 20 I was very well. I preached at both English and Indian\nservices, and took my class in the Indian school, spending the evening\nwith my dear daughter and her family. I was in bed by ten, and arose\non Monday, November 21, before it was daylight, according to custom,\nfor I had a great work on hand, and about a quarter after seven, when\nthe light had become sufficiently strong, I went on with my revision of\nthe New Testament in the Cree language. I commenced the twelfth chapter\nof St. Luke, and worked on steadily for a quarter of an hour, when I\nsuddenly felt as if I had received a very heavy blow in the lower portion\nof my back. I knew it was a stroke of rheumatism, but rheumatism was a\ncompanion of many years\u2019 standing\u2014not a pleasant one by any means, but it\nhad never materially interfered with my work. So, thinking that this was\nmerely a twinge of a rather more severe character than usual, I continued\nmy labour; but soon stroke after stroke succeeded of a more and more\nviolent nature. I sat up until after prayers and breakfast, and then was\nconducted to bed, which I reached with great difficulty; severe torturing\npains, the nature of which I had hitherto no conception of, came on with\nevery movement.\n\n\u2018For a week I could do nothing, although my general health had not much\nsuffered. I then, however, resumed the revision of my last winter\u2019s work\non the Cree Old Testament, devoting some hours to it every day, assisted\nby my most valuable helper, the Rev. E. Richards. In a few days more I\ntrust that the whole of the Old Testament will be fit for the printer\u2019s\nhands; I shall then go on with the New Testament, and, God helping me, I\nhope to see it completed in the summer. Picture me in my work. I am lying\non my back in my bed; Mr. Richards is sitting at a table by my side; I\nhave my English Bible, the Revised Version, in my hand; Mr. Richards\nhas my translation before him, which he is reading to me slowly and\ndistinctly. Every sentence is very carefully weighed, and all errors are\ncorrected. This is a glorious occupation, and I cannot feel too thankful\nthat I am able to follow it in these days of my weakness.\n\n\u2018I am much better than I was, and I trust it will not be long before I\nshall be able to be about as usual. But it was almost worth while to be\nvisited with this affliction, to experience the loving and anxious care\nof every one by whom I am surrounded. Everyone does his and her best to\nalleviate my sufferings. Our medical man has done his very utmost; a\nkind and loving daughter, and her equally kind husband and children, Mr.\nand Mrs. Newnham, Mr. and Mrs. Richards, and all my Indian and native\nfriends, have vied with each other in administering to my comfort.\u2019\n\nThe end of February, the date at which the bishop expected his budget of\nnews from the outer world, brought to his friends in England the sad\ntidings that he had died suddenly on January 12. The telegram had been\ncarried four hundred miles to Matawa, the nearest post-office. In due\ncourse letters followed. The end had come very unexpectedly to those\nabout him.\n\nThe Rev. J. A. Newnham wrote: \u2018Our dear bishop has entered into rest\u2014a\nmore perfect rest than that which he expected to enjoy later in the year.\nIt seems to have been failure of the heart which caused his death....\nThe people of Moosonee, and of Moose Factory especially, have lost a\nfather, a loving friend, and are plunged in grief.... The remains, clad\nin episcopal robes, and laid in the coffin, were placed in the church\nawaiting the funeral, and the people, young and old, all came to take a\nlast farewell of the face so dear to them, and of one who had been in and\nout of their houses, cottages, and wigwams for over forty years, as a\nmissionary, pastor, friend, and bishop.... Archdeacon Vincent arrived on\nthe evening of the 20th. On the 21st, Saturday, the coffin was closed in\nthe presence of four clergymen\u2014the Rev. W. G. Walton having arrived with\nthe dogs from Fort George\u2014and of the gentlemen of the Honourable Hudson\u2019s\nBay Company from Fort George, Rupert\u2019s House, and Albany, as well as\nMoose Fort.\n\n\u2018At three P.M. the burial service was read, and the body of the first\nBishop of Moosonee was reverently committed to the grave. It was a\nbeautiful afternoon, almost spring-like, and the whole adult population\nwas present in the church and at the grave. Thus our bishop, amid the\ntears of his bereaved people, was laid to rest, as he had said he would\nhave wished, in the midst of his flock.\u2019\n\nAt the time of his death Bishop Horden had just attained the age of\nsixty-five. He had been forty-two years in the field. He had laboured\nin the apostolic spirit with a large measure of apostolic success. He\nhad laid well and deeply, building upon the Rock which is Christ, the\nfoundation of the work in that vast district. This is being continued\nby men trained under his influence, and fired by his example. Denied\nthe brief season of earthly rest to which he had looked forward, he has\nentered the sooner into the perfect rest above. He has ceased from his\nlabours, and for us it is to strive and pray that the flock which he so\nlong and faithfully shepherded in Moosonee shall at length be brought to\njoin him in the heavenly fold above.\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES\n\n\n[1] At the instance of the then editors of the _Coral Missionary\nMagazine_.\n\n[2] It was done by the Coral Fund.\n\n                                PRINTED BY\n                 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE\n                                  LONDON","title":"Forty-two years amongst the Indians and Eskimo : $b pictures from the life of the Right Reverend John Horden, first Bishop of Moosonee","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":46697}