Books: Missionary Work Among The Ojebway Indians

E >> Edward Francis Wilson >> Missionary Work Among The Ojebway Indians

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At 8:30 we all gathered for prayer, and then went to rest. The total
distance we had come, since leaving Prince Arthur's landing, was about
100 miles.

We passed a quiet Sunday in our camp at Red Rock. No Indians came
round, but we had a little service for ourselves under an awning. In
the afternoon our boys gathered for Sunday-school, and the Bishop
examined them in the Scriptures and Catechism.

_Aug_. 5.--We had intended to be up and preparing for our trip to
Lake Neepigon at five a.m., but heavy rain caused us to prolong our
slumbers, and we did not breakfast until 7:30 a.m. By this time,
however, the weather was clearing, and we determined on making a start.
There was plenty to do. We had a trip of 200 miles before us and
expected to be away about ten days. All the things in _The
Missionary_ that were not wanted were packed away in Mr. McLellan's
storehouse; provisions were given out sufficient to last the three boys
who were to remain behind, and supplies put up for the travelling
party. Then--about ten a.m.--the large canoe which we had hired was
brought round; Uhbesekun, our guide, put in his appearance; portage
straps were brought out, the packs made ready, and all placed on board.
The Bishop and myself walked across the portage, about three-quarters
of a mile in length, while Uhbesekun and the boys propelled the loaded
canoe up the rapids with poles.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

UP THE NEEPIGON RIVER.

Five miles of paddling above the rapids brought us to the mouth of the
river Neepigon, a rapid stream about 500 yards in width, we had to keep
close to shore in order to avoid the current.

Our canoe was about 20 feet in length, and weighed perhaps 150 lbs.,
she sat as light as a feather upon the water, and the least movement on
the part of any of the party tipped it over to one side. The paddlers
sat on the cross bars--about two inches wide, Uhbesekun in the bows,
then Joseph, the Bishop and myself, Jimmy and William, and Esquimau in
the stern, six paddles in all, and we travelled at the rate of from
four to six miles an hour.

About 1.30 p.m. rain began to fall, and the clouds threatened a storm.
We paddled on fast to a convenient landing-place, and then went ashore
for dinner, which we partook of under the tent, the rain pelting down
in torrents. However, it was merely a thunder-shower, and in the course
of an hour we were able to proceed.

By four o'clock we had reached our first long portage--three miles in
length--and now began the tug of war. Esquimau and Uhbesekun got the
huge canoe mounted on their shoulders--one at either end of it--keeping
it in its position by ropes which they held as they walked, with their
arms outstretched. Then followed Joseph with the bag of flour (70 lb.)
carried by a portage strap, placed in true Indian style round his
forehead. Then started Jimmy with the tent, blankets, axe, and gun, and
the Bishop with his bundle of wraps hung on his umbrella. William
remained behind with me while I made a sketch. There was no great hurry
for us, as the canoe-bearers would have to return again to take the
remainder of the things. William's pack consisted of my camp-bed,
blankets, mat, coats, &c, and I had the Bishop's valise and some coats.
The portage track was narrow, raspberry canes and high grass almost
hiding the path; up hill and down hill, and across a creek. We soon met
the canoe-bearers going back for their second load, and a little
further on was Joseph, who had deposited his flour and come back to
meet us.

The tents were already pitched when we reached the end of our tramp on
the shores of Lake Jessie, and soon our cook was at work baking bread
and frying pork for our evening meal.

We were all tired, and went to bed about 9 o'clock, after uniting
together in singing and prayer under the open vault of heaven. "Sweet
hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer, That calls me from a world of
care," was the hymn we sung. William shared my tent with me, and the
rest of the boys, with Uhbesekun, slept under the canoe.

The next morning was bright, but with a headwind, we made slow
progress. We accomplished twelve miles across Lakes Jessie and Maria
and pulled up for dinner at Split Rock portage. Here was some of the
grandest scenery we had yet witnessed--high, towering rocks, their
crests clad with fir and birch-trees, the rapids rushing in a white
foaming torrent over the rocks in two rushing, roaring streams, divided
one from the other by a high, precipitous, rocky island. I made a
sketch, and we had dinner, and then, having accomplished the portage
once more, started paddling. It was not far to go this time. In half an
hour we had reached Bland portage, and everything again had to be
unladen and carried. Soon we were in the canoe again heading for the
opposite shore, with a new set of rapids on our right. Now for some
stiff work again, a long portage of about two-and-a-half miles. We each
took our packs and toiled away, getting into camp about 6 p.m.

We were rather disappointed with the appearance of Lake Neepigon, with
its large unbroken line of horizon, land being almost too distant to be
visible. Our baggage was deposited on the face of a great slippery
rock, sloping down gradually into the deep water of the lake. A
favourable breeze was blowing, and as soon as we had dinner our blanket
sail was rigged up. When we were well out into the lake we found quite
a high sea running, and our canoe shipped water. Still we kept on, and
made about twenty miles before we put into an island for the night at
7:30 p.m.

A disappointment awaited us next morning. A strong head-wind was
blowing. We started at 8 a.m., and made about twelve miles. It was very
rough, and the waves dashed over the prow of our frail canoe. We went
in to an island for dinner, and, the wind increasing, we were obliged
to remain there for the rest of the day. All our baking-powder was
gone, and we were reduced to "grease bread," i.e., flat cakes of flour
and water fried in pork fat. They make a good substitute for bread, but
are rather greasy. Joseph had shot a brace of ducks in the morning
before coming away, and one of them we had for supper; which, with some
potted beef and tea in a tin basin, made very good fare!

_August 9th_--We packed up, got all on board, and started
precisely at 6:30. It was a head-wind and a high sea still, so we
proceeded only about one mile to another island, and then pulled in to
have breakfast and wait until the wind went down. At 1 p.m. we made a
start, and ran about five miles to another island. After running twelve
miles more we put in for supper. We calculated we had come fifty miles
on the lake, and had twenty miles more to go. The direct course was
sixty-five miles, but we had lost way by going into the bays.

_August 10th_--We stopped two hours on the island where we landed
for supper last night, and then--it being bright moonlight, and the
wind having calmed down, we started again on a twenty mile stretch,
determined, if possible, to reach the H. B. C. Post at the head of Lake
Neepigon before midnight.

The Bishop settled himself down in the bottom of the canoe, and
Uhbesekun, the four boys and myself, plied vigorously at our paddles--
forty-two strokes per minute. It was a glorious night, and the keen air
put fresh strength into our muscles, so that we kept on untiringly for
nearly three hours. Just at 11 o'clock we came underneath a stupendous
cliff, its dark, rugged face glittering in the moonlight, extending far
up towards the sky above us, with a few ragged fir trees crowning its
summit. It was the grandest scenery we had seen yet.

Our voices echoed as we passed beneath it, and we heard afterwards
that it was called Echo Rock. After passing the cliff, another mile or
so brought us to the Post. We had some difficulty in finding a camping
ground in the dark. The shore was rocky, and we had to cut out a place
in the thick bush on which to pitch our tents. The boys made up a large
fire, which was grateful in the chill night air, and soon we had the
pot boiling for tea. It was 1.30 a.m. when we got to bed, well tired
after our long paddle of seventy miles across the lake.

Next morning the Bishop was the first one astir. About 8 a.m. I got up
and went with Uhbesekun to H. B. Co.'s store to buy baking-powder and
sugar, both of which we had run out of. Prices are high here, flour is
6_d_. a pound--at the Sault it is only 1 1/2_d_. Our cook had
only just woke up, and was rubbing his eyes when we got back. We were
glad to get "spider-bread" again (bread baked in a spider or frying-pan)
instead of grease bread. Several Indians came round. I had a very
interesting talk with a chief this morning. He and another man came
over in a canoe from an island close by, and Esquimau and myself talked
to them as they sat floating on the water, keeping the canoe off the
rocks with their paddles. The chief was certainly the most intelligent
Indian we had yet met with on our travels. He was greatly interested in
hearing about the Shingwauk Home, and said that if he had a son young
enough to go he would send him, but his children were all either grown
up or dead.

We felt very thankful thus to meet one at length who will listen, and
who seems anxious for the improvement of his people. The old man's way
of speaking reminds me very much of "Little Pine" of Garden River, and
he appears to be a man of much the same stamp. Just after this a couple
of young boys visited our camp. One of them was a half-breed. They
carried bows and arrows, and were shooting squirrels. We gave them an
alphabet card. Most of the Indians just round the Post are Roman
Catholics, but those scattered over the lake, about 500 in number, are
nearly all pagans. The name of the chief with whom we talked this
morning is David Winchaub (Bowstring).

We had tea about 7 o'clock, and then put our canoe in the water and
paddled over to the island to visit our friend the chief. He was
sitting cross-legged in a large tent, his summer residence, cooler
probably than a wigwam. Only Esquimau and Joseph were with me. We
entered the chiefs tent and soon got into conversation with him.

I asked him if he would like me to relate to him the history of Little
Pine's conversion to Christianity. He said yes, and listened very
attentively, several times uttering ejaculations, as I recounted to him
how bewildered Little Pine had been about the many religions offered to
him when he was still a pagan some forty years ago; how he and his
father and other Indians made a journey of 300 miles in a canoe, and
then walked another 100 miles till they got to Toronto; how they went
to visit the Great Chief, Sir John Colborne, and asked his advice as to
what they should do about religion, and how Sir John Colborne said to
them, "This country belongs to the Queen. I belong to the Queen's
Church, and I think all you Indians, who are so loyal, ought to belong
to the Queen's Church too." And then, how Little Pine and his party
returned to Garden River, and ever since that time had been faithful
members of the Church of England.

The Chief then made some remarks expressing his approval of what we
had told him, and said he quite understood all that we meant.

I then asked him if he would like me to tell him what was written in
God's book, the Bible. There was only one Bible. French Christians and
English Christians were the same in that,--they had only one Bible. He
would see from what I would tell him whether it was the same as what he
had been taught. He said he was willing to hear and asked me to
proceed. As he was rather deaf, and I wanted him thoroughly to
understand. I asked Esquimau to interpret what I said instead of
speaking to him myself. As I dwelt on the universal sinfulness of
mankind, and urged that there was not a single one free from sin, the
Chief said emphatically, "Kagat, kagat, kagat, kagat! me suh goo
azhewabuk!" (Truly, truly, truly, truly, it is indeed so!) The boys and
myself then knelt and offered up prayer to God for this poor, ignorant,
yet eagerly-listening chief, and for his people, that they might be
taught the true way to life and eternal happiness. It was 9.30 p.m.
when we paddled back to our camp. We met as usual around the camp fire,
and each one repeated a verse of Scripture; then we knelt in the shade
of the dark bush, with the ripple of the water in our ears, and God's
heaven lighted up by His silvery moon, nearly at its full, and offered
up our confessions, and prayers, and praises to Almighty God before
retiring to rest.

_Sunday, August 11th_--While I was dressing, William came to say
that a squaw had come in a canoe with fish to sell. I said, "No, we do
not buy fish on Sunday." So he gave her a piece of bread and sent her
away. We had arranged with the Chief to hold a short service in the
afternoon at his camp, so we passed the morning quietly among
ourselves, reading the first part of the Church prayers, chanting the
Psalms, and one lesson, and then the Bishop taught and catechised the
boys from the Gospel for the day (Matt. vii. 15).

In the afternoon, about 4 p.m., we put our canoe in the water, and
leaving our pagan guide to take care of the tents, the Bishop, four
boys, and myself, paddled across the water to Winchaub's camp. After
waiting some little time, about sixteen or seventeen people gathered
together; being Roman Catholics, the Bishop thought it best not to
attempt a service, but merely to address them on the object of our
visit. So, after shaking hands with the Chief, the Bishop began.. He
spoke first of man's sin and the love of God in preparing a way of
salvation for us by the sacrifice of His own Son. Then he spoke of the
uselessness of mere formal religion, and that we must give our hearts
to God. The Bible, he said, teaches us to care for and to do good to
one another. Then he referred to our Industrial Home at Sault Ste.
Marie, and after urging the people to send their children to it, left
it to me to give a detailed account of the work of the Home. The
Indians listened attentively to all we said, and the Chief thanked the
Bishop, and said that he and the other men would talk together about
what they had heard, and later in the evening he would come over and
give the Bishop their answer.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THIRTY YEARS WAITING FOR A MISSIONARY.

At 8 p.m. Chief Winchaub came over, having had a friendly cup of tea,
he delivered his promised answer.--The Indians, he said, approved all
that we had said; they were glad to see us, and that we had built this
big teaching wigwam for Indian boys, they would like to have their
children educated, but most of them thought it was too far to send
their children. He, for his part, if he had a child, would send him,
and another man was willing to send his little boy when older, at
present he was too young. We asked him about one promising-looking lad
we had seen, the dark-eyed boy with the bow and arrows. The Chief said
he had spoken to that boy's father, but he was not willing to send him,
it was too far, and he would never know how it fared with him.

The Chief then said he had one other thing he wished to speak about,--
there was one band of Indians on the lake, not belonging to him, who,
he understood, wished to embrace Christianity and become members of the
Church of England. At the time of the great council at Sault Ste.
Marie, thirty years ago, the great White Chief had told them that they
should have a Missionary of the English Church, and they had been
waiting for him ever since. After telling us this he bade us adieu and
left.

We had already gone to bed, in preparation for an early start in the
morning, and I was lying awake, when my attention was attracted by the
splash of paddles and an animated conversation going on upon the water.

Esquimau came to my tent and said, "One of those men that the Chief
was talking about has just arrived, and he has two boys with him." I
said to William, "This is God's doing," and we both got up and went out
to see the man; the Bishop also got up and came out. It was a most
interesting interview. We stirred up the dying embers of the camp fire
and sat around it on logs. This man, whose name we found was Mesten,
had travelled about forty miles, not knowing that we were here till he
met Esquimau. He said that he and his people, though at present pagans,
were prepared to accept the English religion. Their former chief, who
was now dead, had told them to do so thirty years ago. He had waited
for a Missionary to come until he died, and since then they had been
waiting on year after year; they would not accept the French religion,
but were waiting for an English Black-coat to come and teach them.

He did not know how many they were in number, but he thought about a
hundred; our guide, Uhbesekun, he said, was one of their number. We
then made inquiries as to their location, and found it would take us
about ten miles out of our way to visit them. The Bishop was so
impressed with the evident leading of God's Providence in the matter
that even, though it might cause some alteration in our plans, we
determined to pay them a visit.

_August 12th_.--Uhbesekun was commissioned to wake everyone at
half-past four, but I was the first to wake, and sent William to arouse
the others. A head-wind was blowing, so we had to paddle and row hard;
we accomplished about thirty miles in seven consecutive hours. We had
dinner on a rocky island, and then five or six miles more brought us to
the Indian encampment in Chiefs Bay. There were only two wigwams
visible, with six or seven people in each, a few canoes on the shore,
and seven or eight large dogs prowling about. After introducing
ourselves to the men and telling them the object of our visit, we
paddled on about a mile further to deposit our baggage at the portage,
and left two boys and the guide to light a fire and erect the tents,
and then the Bishop, Joseph, William, and myself, returned to the
Indian camp. The men were away when we got there, so I sat down and
made a sketch of the camp and our boys showed the photograph of the
Shingwauk Home to the women, and told them all about it. By this time
the men had returned, a fish-box was brought for the "Big black-coat"
to sit on, and a tub turned up for me, and then the pow-wow began.

The Bishop briefly related what had led us to visit them, how one of
their number had fallen in with us the night before, and had told us
that they were desirous of embracing the English religion, and so we
had come on purpose to see them.

There were two principal men listening to us, and they several times
expressed their approval as the Bishop proceeded. One of them then
replied at length. He said, "Thirty years ago all the Indian Chiefs were
called together at the Rapids (Sault Ste. Marie) to meet the Great White
Chief in order to make a treaty with him about surrendering their lands
to the Queen, My father was chief at that time; his name was
Muhnedooshans. The Great White Chief (Sir John Robinson) made a treaty
with us. We were each to receive L6 a year as an annuity. My father
often spoke to us about it when he was alive. My eldest brother is now
our chief; his name is Cheyadah. The chieftainship has been in our
family for many generations past. We still carry out the precepts of our
father; we do not do as the other Indians do. The Great White Chief gave
my father a paper which showed the boundaries of the land set apart for
our use by the Queen. My eldest brother now has this paper. My father
said to us, 'Do not travel about all the time as the other Indians do,
but settle upon this land and farm like the white people do.' We obey
the precepts of our father. We have already cleared some land, and every
year we plant potatoes. We cannot do much more than this until we have
some one to teach us. We have built also three log-houses like the white
people. Some of us live in these houses in the winter time. Our land is
about four miles in extent. At present it is our fishing season, so we
are scattered about fishing, and live in wigwams as you see us now. This
is how we gain our living. Another thing that the Great White Chief said
to my father was, that we should not join the French religion, but he
would send us an English black-coat to teach us. So every year my father
was waiting for the English teacher to come; he waited on in vain, year
after year, and died a pagan. His last words to us were that we should
still wait for an English teacher to come, and that when he came we must
receive him well and ask him to open a school for our children to be
taught. He also told us never to sell our land to the white people, but
always to keep it, and not to scatter about, but to keep together. Thus
to this present day have we kept to the precepts of our father, and we
now welcome you as the English teachers that our father told us to look
for."

The Bishop then spoke again, and told them that he felt most thankful
in his heart to hear their words; he was very thankful that the Great
Spirit had directed his steps to come and see them. He had it in his
heart to do all he could for them; he was sorry that he could not at
once send them a teacher; that was impossible for the present. All that
he could offer was to take one or two of their boys into our
Institution at Sault Ste. Marie. Then, at the Bishop's request, I gave
the people a full account of the origin and history of our Shingwauk
Home, much the same as I had said to Chief Winchaub the night before.
They seemed much interested, though afraid to send any children on
account of the great distance.

After this the conversation became general. They told us their names;
they said they were very thankful we had come to see them; they knew the
white man was right about religion, for he knew everything, their knives
and axes and clothing were all made by white men; Indians were poor and
ignorant, and needed to be taught. They had almost given up looking for
a Missionary. When they went to the Hudson Bay Post in the spring, they
were told they had better join the Roman Catholics, but they said, No,
they would still wait, and they were glad now that they had done so. I
then made a list of the heads of families and the number belonging to
each, the total being about seventy. We showed them a hymn-book printed
in Indian at the Shingwauk Home, which interested them greatly, though
at first they held it upside down. Then I showed them the Indian
Testament, and told them this was the Book that God had given to us.
They handled it very reverently, and answered readily in the affirmative
when asked if they would like to hear some of the words it contained. I
read part of the 8th chapter of St. Mark, about the feeding of the four
thousand, the curing of the blind man, and our Lord's words about the
worth of the soul. The people listened most intently, indicating their
wonderment by suppressed ejaculations as I read anything that especially
struck them, such, for instance, as the fact that 4000 men were fed with
the loaves and fishes; but what produced the most intense attention was
the account of our Lord's mockery, Crucifixion, and Resurrection. Their
sympathy with the suffering Saviour was most marked, and their simple
astonishment most evident when I came to the part about the stone rolled
away and the angels telling the women that Jesus was risen from the dead.

When we were preparing to go back to our camp, Oshkahpuhkeda said to
me, "Well, if my son is not too big, you may take him with you; I know
I shall be sad without him, I shall weep often for him, but I want him
to be taught, and I will try to control myself until he returns to see
me next summer." I said I should be very glad to take the boy, and
would treat him as my son, and I would write to the Hudson Bay
Company's agent at Red Rock, that through him he might hear how his son
fared, and next summer his boy should go back to him, and he need not
send him again unless he wished. I also asked him whether he would be
willing that the lad should be baptized after he had received
instruction. "Yes, yes," he said, "that is what I wish; I wish my son
to be educated and brought up as a Christian. My wife," he continued,
"is dead; I also have a sickness working in my body--perhaps I shall
not live long. If I die, I wish you to take all my children: this boy
who is going with you, his brother whom you saw with Meshen last night,
this little girl sitting here (about ten years old), and that papoose,--
you may have them all and bring them up as Christians."

We thought it would be better to take the younger of the two boys, if
Meshen (with whom he had gone) should get back in time, and to this the
father also agreed.

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE PAGAN BOY--NINGWINNENA.

We returned with thankful hearts to our camp. The Bishop was much
impressed, and said it reminded him of Cornelius, who was waiting,
prepared for the visit of the Apostle Peter; and for my part I thought
of Jonadab, the son of Rechab, whose followers carried out to the
letter the precepts of their father.

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