Books: Missionary Work Among The Ojebway Indians

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

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At our meeting for prayer that evening I said to Uhbesekun, "I hear
that you belong to these people whom we have been talking to. Will you
not join us to-night in our prayers?" So Uhbesekun instead of going
away, as had been his custom, remained with us, wrapped in his blanket
on the ground near the camp fire, and when we knelt for prayer he also
turned over with his face toward the earth.

Oshkahpuhkeda came over in good time the next day according to
promise, with his two boys. The younger one was to go with us. His name
is Nin-gwin-ne-na, and he is a quiet, gentle lad of thirteen or
fourteen. The father repeated his wish that we should take all his
children in the event of his death, and took an affectionate leave of
his son. "I know I shall lie awake at night and grieve the loss of my
boy." he said, "we Indians cannot bear to be parted from our children,
but it is right that he should go. If my heart is too heavy for me to
bear, I shall come to Red Rock and get on the Fire Ship and come to see
him." I took the boy by the hand and said, "Ningwinnena shall be my son
while he is away from you; I will take great care of him." The Bishop
also said, "We will take good care of your son, and shall hope to come
and see you again." Then Ningwinnena followed me along the portage track.

Arriving once more on the shore of the lake, we found a favourable
wind blowing, and put up a blanket for a sail. We had thirty miles to
go to bring us to Flat Rock, where we should leave the lake and make
our first portage inland. We reached it at five minutes to four, the
portage occupied fifty minutes, and soon we were launched once more on
Sturgeon Lake. A heavy thunderstorm came on, and continued during the
time we wended our way through the narrow, stony creek which connects
Sturgeon Lake with the river Neepigon. The Bishop and myself sat in the
canoe with our mackintoshes on while the boys waded along knee deep in
the water, and twice we had to get out and pick our way along the
stepping stones as there was not water enough for the canoe. By-and-bye
we emerged on the broad Neepigon river, and its swift current now bore
us quickly along upon our course to Long Pine portage, where we were to
camp for the night. It had now ceased raining; it was 7.30 p.m., and we
had travelled forty miles. The tents were pitched, a fire lighted,
supper consumed, prayers round the camp-fire as usual, the new boy
Ningwinnena joining with us, and then we retired for the night, three
boys and the guide under the canoe, and myself and two boys in the tent.

_August_ 14_th_.--Esquimau came to call up the cook at 4
a.m. He and Uhbesekun were to carry the canoe across the portage, and
return here for breakfast before conveying the remainder of the
baggage, hence the early start. We had only twenty miles more to go,
and expected to reach Reed Rock in the evening, which was according to
the programme we had made before starting.

Ningwinnena seems to be a very nice boy, and quick at taking things
in. He has that gentleness of disposition peculiar to savage life, and
follows me about like a faithful hound. Last night I gave him his first
lesson in the alphabet, and I never saw any boy make such rapid
progress; he could say the alphabet through in half-an-hour, although
at first not knowing A from B, and a little while after he was spelling
and reading such short words as dog, cat, man, fish. He must come of a
good stock. He was also most handy in putting up my tent last night,
and rolling up my camp bed this morning, seeming to take in at once the
right way to do things.

The day has passed, and we are once more back at our Neepigon
encampment, having arrived in the middle of pouring rain at 5.10 p.m.
The three boys were very pleased to see us back, and we went up to Mr.
McLellan's house for supper. He has been most kind in supplying us with
milk and fresh butter.

_August_ 16_th_.--The morning opened with a heavy mist,
threatening clouds and wind. Hoping for a change for the better, we
took down our tents, and by 9 a.m. all was packed on board _The
Missionary_,--then, as was our custom, the boys gathered in a
semicircle, a hymn was sung, a portion of Scripture read, and prayer
offered, Ningwinnena standing beside me and looking curiously at my
book as I read. By the time we started, the wind had become favourable
and we made a splendid run, getting into Pugwash Bay at 5.30 p.m. Eight
or ten birch bark canoes on the shore told us the whereabouts of the
Indians, though no wigwams were visible, the bush being so thick; as we
neared the shore, the people began to show themselves, men, women, and
children starting up one after another from amid the dense foliage and
gazing at us with curious eyes. There were about seventy people, though
nearly half of them were away. Some had been baptized by the Jesuits,
others were pagans. After ascertaining these facts we paddled along the
shore a little way to a sandy beach, where we made our camp. Our three
tents were pitched in the thick of the bush like the Indians, and a
huge fire lighted in the middle as the weather had become autumnal and
chilly.

These poor people seem to have nothing to eat as a rule except fish
and small animals; and they sat and lay around like half-starved dogs
while we partook of our evening meal. Two or three of them brought
raspberries for which we gave them bread in exchange, and we invited
one man, who seemed to be something of a chief among them, to take
supper with the boys. These Indians are of a very low type, and are
very dirty, appearing to have no idea of anything beyond pork and flour.

I went to see an old man who had been baptized about a year ago by the
Roman Catholics, and read the Bible to him. His wife was still a pagan,
but they both listened attentively while I read and seemed glad to be
visited.

_August_ 19_th_.--By 8.15 a.m. we were fairly out on the
bay. I steered and the boys rowed till the wind being favourable, we
hoisted our sails and made a good start, winding our way for some miles
among islands, and then coming out on the open lake. The wind fell, and
the last part of the way we had to row, which made us late in getting
to Pic Island,--and a hard matter indeed it was to get in. In the dim
twilight we could see nothing but high, forbidding rocks, with the dark
rippling waves lapping their sides. Being on the side of the island
exposed to the lake, we could not think of attempting to land until we
should find a secure harbour for our boat, for a sudden storm rising in
the night would knock her to pieces on such a coast. At length, groping
about among the rocks, we espied a crevice into which it appeared
_The Missionary_ would just fit. But, oh! what a place for the
night! High, slippery rocks, piled about us by some giant hand, no wood
for a fire, no grass, no place for a camp--nothing but sharp ledges and
points of rocks. The boys clambered about with their shoeless feet like
cats, and we heard them shouting,--"This is where I am going to sleep!
This is where I shall sleep!" The Bishop groaned and said, "I shall
remain on the boat."

I, for my part, followed the boys, and presently found a sort of small
cavern under a ledge of rock, into which I had my camp-bed carried, and
having lighted a candle, sent Esquimau to bring the Bishop. It was
really most comfortable, and, moreover, in the corner of the cavern we
found a dry log, probably washed there by the waves in a storm; and
with this log we lighted a fire and made some tea, and so--after all--
we had quite a cosy time of it.

_August_ 20_th_.--We all slept sweetly till about 5 a.m.,
when I think we awoke simultaneously; at any rate we were all on the
stir soon after that hour. And now we were hungry, and there was no
bread, no fire, and no wood, and fourteen miles to get to the mainland,
and a head-wind. What was to be done? By the kindly light of day we
discovered that our position was not so distressing as we had at first
imagined. A little way over the rocks was a shore with drift-wood lying
on it, our cook was despatched with the frying-pan and his bag of
flour, and after all we did famously.

Before starting off we joined in repeating the morning psalms. We had
a hard pull against a steady head-wind, and could only make two miles
an hour, so that it was a little after three when we reached Pic River;
and having run the boat on to a sandy shore, carried up our things and
prepared our camp.

After eight more day's sailing, we reached the Shingwauk again, where
a warm welcome awaited us.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

BAPTIZED--BURIED.

"I know I shall lie awake at night and grieve at the loss of my boy,--we
Indians cannot bear to be parted from our children, but it is right that
he should go." Such were the words of the pagan Indian on the shores of
Lake Neepigon, when he parted from his loved son Ningwinnena, and gave
him up to return with us. I remembered those words,--and often over the
camp fire--as we journeyed home I looked across at my adopted son and
thought, I will take the very best care I can of you and I trust that
by-and-bye it may please God for you to return and do a good work among
your people. Such a nice intelligent boy he was,--such gentle eyes, and
such a trustful look,--he seemed quite to accept me as his father and
guardian, and was always ready to give a helping hand, and he learned
with marvellous rapidity. Our arrival at Sault Ste. Marie was quite a
new era in his life,--the steamboats, the shops, and people;--few of
course in comparison to places further south--but multitudes compared to
the Neepigon region, and he had never seen a horse in his life till he
reached the Sault.

It was a great pleasure to me preparing this dear boy for baptism,
there were two other pagan lads from Michipicoten and I had them in a
class together. I had good reason to hope and believe that all of them
embraced the truth and accepted the Lord Jesus as their Saviour. The
three boys were baptized by Bishop Fauquier at St. Luke's Church, Sault
Ste. Marie, on the 27th of October; the Bishop took a great fancy to
Ningwinnena, became his godfather, and gave him his own name,
Frederick. Everyone indeed loved the Neepigon boy; he was so gentle in
his ways, so quiet and polite in his manner, and made such quaint
efforts to converse in English. He seemed so pleased too at any little
attention shown him.

But, poor boy, he was soon laid on the bed of sickness. His mother had
died of consumption, and that terrible hereditary disease was secretly
sapping his life. At Christmas time he was ill with bronchitis and
inflammation of the lungs.

From this attack he never thoroughly recovered. There was a hollowness
of the cheek, and an unnatural brightness about the eye, and yet
otherwise, he had become well enough again to occupy his place in
school and pursue his studies with the other boys. Just after
recovering from this illness he wrote a short note in English to the
Bishop, composed by himself, in pencil. "Me not learn much book, all
the time sick me," and so forth.

Shortly after this he was much delighted at receiving a letter from
his father. His poor father spoke of the longing he felt to see his
loved son once more, and how anxiously he was looking forward to the
spring, when he hoped to see him again. The Bishop also kindly wrote to
him in reply to his little letter--exhorting him to try and live as God
tells us to do in the Book which He has given to us; and concluding
with the earnest hope that when he died, he might go to that happy
place where the Saviour Jesus Christ is preparing to receive all who
truly love him, "Goodbye, my dear boy," added the Bishop, "may God
bless, and make you good." This letter Frederick fondly treasured to
the time of his death, and afterwards expressed his desire to see the
Bishop again.

On Sunday, March 28th, Frederick was at church in the Sault with the
other boys. There was administration of the Holy Communion, and the
other boys who had been confirmed remained to partake. Frederick
remained with them and innocently came up with the rest to kneel at the
rails. I was very sorry to turn him back, but whispered to him in
Indian, that only those who were confirmed were about to take the
Sacrament, and he quietly withdrew to his seat. Afterwards I explained
it to him, and, a day or two subsequently, wrote to the Bishop asking
him to arrange, if possible, to hold a confirmation before the boys
dispersed for their holidays, so that Frederick, among others, might be
confirmed. Had I known that he was so soon to die, and that in his last
illness he would not be sufficiently conscious to partake intelligently
of the sacred feast, I would not have turned the dear boy back. Too
often do we, perhaps, unwittingly act the part of the disciples who
hindered the little children in their approach to Jesus.

On Sunday evening, April 27th, Frederick came in for a little talk
with me after service. He seemed very earnest and spoke very nicely of
his trust in the Saviour. I said to him (in Indian) I want you to get
quite well, Frederick, before you go home, perhaps your father will be
angry with me if he sees you sick. He looked up in my face to see if I
meant what I said, and, seeing me smile, replied, "No, I am sure he
will not be angry. He entrusted me to you. My grandfather said, before
he died, that we were to wait for an English teacher, and that when he
came we must listen to him, and do what he told us. That is why my
father gave me up to you."

The dear boy seemed to have some presentiment that he might not live,
and expressed himself on the subject in his broken English to one of
our little children who had taken him up some canned peaches. "All the
time my head just like broke. All the time sick me. By-and-bye I guess
me dead."

A few days after, severe symptoms set in, and the doctor was sent for.
Frederick became delirious and had to be watched constantly both night
and day. We never have any difficulty in procuring night watchers among
our Indian boys. Quite a forest of hands generally goes up when the
question is put after evening prayers. "Who will stay up to watch to-
night?" Two boys stay at a time, and the change is made every three or
four hours.

For three days and nights poor Frederick lay in a perfectly
unconscious state, taking neither medicine or nourishment. The doctor
pronounced it to be organic disease of the brain, the result of a
consumptive tendency in his system, and gave but faint hope of his
recovery. Day and night we watched him; and were glad when on the
fourth day he showed signs of returning consciousness. His brain never
seemed to become quite clear, but he had intervals of intelligence,
during which he would often answer questions and attempt to repeat
verses of Scripture. The verse "Suffer little children to come unto
Me," he said through. He attempted also "God so loved the world," but
only got as far as "believeth in Him." Two nights before he died, he
tried to say the Lord's prayer, but it seemed to be an effort to him;
at the words, "as it is in heaven," he stopped, and after a pause,
said, "can't say 'my Father.' Too much runaway me."

After a pause I asked him--"Who was it that died on the Cross for us,
Frederick?" He rambled for a moment or two, and then, as the meaning of
my question flashed upon him, spoke out in clear accents "Jesus
Christ." Very little longer was he to live. We had prayed earnestly,
constantly, for his recovery, but it was not God's will. On Saturday
evening, after prayers, I perceived that he was sinking, and told the
boys who were watching him that I did not think he would live through
the night. He was breathing heavily and quickly. He would take no
notice when spoken to, and could not swallow. An hour or two sped by,
it was ten o'clock, and he was now gasping frequently for breath, his
pulse being scarcely perceptible. I called to his bedside those boys
who had made the Lake Superior trip with me last summer, and we stood
watching him. Then as his end drew near, we knelt and I offered up the
beautiful commendatory prayer for the sick, and we joined in repeating
the Lord's prayer. As we rose from our knees the dear boy gave one more
faint gasp for breath and expired. How wonderful are the ways of God,
how little can we understand His dealings. But the very essence of
faith is the trusting in God when we do not understand His dispensations.

We had earnestly hoped that Frederick's father would have arrived in
time to see his boy's body before its burial, and for that reason we
kept it twelve days packed in ice, and I wrote to him and sent money
for his passage. But it was not so to be. The Manitoba arrived at
midnight on Wednesday, the 28th of May, but instead of the father, came
a letter from him full of expectancy and longing to see his loved son.
This seemed to make it sadder still. The letter was dated May 12th; it
was written evidently for him by some white man at the Post; and said
that he was patiently waiting at Red Rock, with his son Muqua, for
Frederick to return; it also enclosed money for the boy's passage on
the steamboat.

The day after I received this letter, we buried Frederick. I prepared
a slab for his grave, on which were inscribed the words--"_Frederick
Oshkahpukeda_, a boy from the wild regions of Lake Neepigon. Was
baptized a Christian, Oct. 27th, 1878: and was taken home to his
Saviour, May 17th, 1879;--aged fourteen." "'Blessed are the dead which
die in the Lord.'" The Bishop read the service at the grave.

Sometime after, I received the following touching letter from the poor
pagan father; written for him by some friend who understood Indian.

"_Red Rock, May_ 31_st_, 1879.

DEAR SIR,--I learn that my poor boy is dead, so that our talk is dead,
for I will not send any more of my children to the Home; but if you
want to follow out the engagement you made then, put up a schoolhouse
somewhere round here, so that our children may learn, for after what
has happened I don't think that any of the Indians at Neepigon will let
their children go to the Home.

I don't think that we will be able to visit the grave of my poor boy.
I would have been very glad if you could have sent the body in the
steamer.

I feel very sorry for what has happened, my heart is sore. I do not
know what to do.

Did not my poor boy say anything before he died? Surely he said
something about his father! If so, let me know when you write. I do not
blame anybody about the death of my boy, but I am most happy for the
care you have taken with him. I want you to send me an alphabet, and a
small book with words of two or three letters, about the school. I have
nothing more to say at present. I am very sick at heart. My respects to
you, and I hope to see you soon, or hear from you about my son's last
words. I would like very much to know.

Your sincere friend,

OSHKAHPUKEDA.

P.S.--Tell all the boys I send them my love; and the boy that he loved
best I shall think him my son. Good-bye."

* * * * *

A year after this, Oshkahpukeda, and a number of the other Indians of
Lake Neepigon were baptized; the site for a Mission was selected, and a
roughly built log school-house with bark roof was constructed, also
another log-house for a teacher. Joseph Esquimau, a pupil of the
Shingwauk Home was placed in charge of the Mission temporarily, and
conducted services, and taught school very successfully. In the summer
of 1881, the Rev. R. Renison, was appointed by the Bishop to take
charge of the Mission, and moved there with his family. Several of the
Indians had by that time built log-houses for themselves, and the
village is called Ningwinnenang, after the boy who died.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE WAWANOSH HOME.

The spot selected for the Wawanosh Home was rather more than a mile
above the village of Sault Ste. Marie. I bought five acres of bush land
at three pounds an acre as a site for the Institution, and a ten-acre
cultivated lot, just opposite, for L60.

Immediately after making the purchase, we took all our boys up there
for a "clearing bee;" they hoisted the Union Jack on the site of the
new Home, and within a few days had cleared a considerable piece of
land and commenced digging the foundations. It was to be a stone
building of two storeys high with a frontage of about forty-five feet,
and a wing running back, and to cost about L700. During the summer our
boys got out all the stone necessary for building, most of it was
collected on the Shingwauk land, and they were paid 20 cents a cord for
piling it.

We were anxious as soon as possible to get the new Home into
operation. After the summer of 1876 no girls returned to the Shingwauk,
and we doubled our number of boys. It seemed hard to shut the girls out
from the privileges of Christian care and education, and we were
naturally desirous of receiving back as soon as possible those whom we
had already commenced teaching. For this reason we thought it well at
once to make a beginning by erecting the back wing of the Institution
first. During the winter stone and sand were hauled, and on the 5th of
May, 1877, building operations commenced. We took the contract
ourselves. I had a good practical man as carpenter at the Shingwauk,
and we got our plans and specifications; then an estimate was made, and
after being approved by a third party--a person experienced in such
matters--the work began. Mrs. Fauquier, our Bishop's wife, and two or
three other ladies kindly joined with me as a committee to manage the
Institution, a lady was engaged as lady Superintendent, a man and wife
as gardener and matron, and about the first week in September the girls
began to arrive.

We only took ten girls that winter, as we were of course cramped for
room.

It was rather uphill work bringing into operation the Wawanosh Home,
but difficulties during the progress of a work often have the effect of
making it more solid and strong in the end. To induce Sunday Schools
and friends to aid us, I divided the estimated cost of the building
with its fittings and furniture, into forty-four lots, and a
considerable number of these lots were "taken up." Still we were short
of money. When the Spring of 1878 came, all our money for building was
gone, and the fund to meet current expenses, even with only ten girls
to provide for, was found to be insufficient. It was very discouraging.
Sorrowfully I told our lady Superintendent that we must close the
Institution for the present,--and sorrowfully I dismissed the girls for
their holidays and told them that they must not come back until they
heard from me that we were able to receive them.

But God heard our prayers and opened the way for us.

On Sunday Sept. 7th, I had just returned from Garden River where I had
been to hold service with the Indians, and on my arrival found a sail-
boat lying at our dock. An Indian had come over a hundred miles and had
brought five little girls for the Wawanosh Home. Two of them had been
with us the winter before and had misunderstood me about coming back,
and the other three were new ones,--they all looked so happy and
pleased. But their faces fell when I explained to the man our
circumstances, that we had closed for want of funds, and could not see
our way towards re-opening for the present. The Indian said it seemed
very hard to have come such a long distance and then to have to go all
the way back again. "Can you not manage to take them," he said; "I will
help you all I can,--I will bring you some barrels of fish in the Fall"

I told the man they could all remain with us that night, and I would
let him know what could be done after I had thought it over. I went to
see Mrs. Fauquier, and the other ladies came together, and we talked it
over and had much earnest prayer. It seemed to us all that it was the
hand of God pointing out the way, and that we ought to have faith to go
on. The end of it was that we kept those five children; the lady who
had had charge of the Home the previous winter most generously agreed
to remain for another year at a reduced salary and to do without the
services of a matron. And so the Wawanosh Home was open again.

Two weeks later I received a letter from England: "I have good news to
tell you. Miss ---- wrote a few days ago to ask how much money was
wanted to complete the Girls' Home. We sent her word that the original
estimate was L700, and that about L500 had been collected. I to-day
received from her a cheque for L350! Of this L100 is her annual
subscription, and L250 for the completion of the Home. You will I am
sure look on it as God's gift in answer to the prayer of faith." The
following January a letter came from the Indian Department at Ottawa,
saying that the Government had in reply to my request, made a grant of
L120 towards the building expenses of the Wawanosh Home, and that this
grant would be continued annually, provided there were not less than
fifteen girls, towards the maintenance of the Institution.

Thus did Almighty God open the way for us, and clear away all our
difficulties. By the middle of the summer of 1879 the building was
completed, the ground in front cleared and formed into a garden, with a
picket fence and two gates, and a drive up to the front door, and at
the back a stable, cow-house, pig-styes, &c.

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