Books: Missionary Work Among The Ojebway Indians
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Edward Francis Wilson >> Missionary Work Among The Ojebway Indians
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The cottage on the other side of the road was now occupied by Mrs.
Bridge, the laundress, and a year or two later, we built a new laundry.
The new Home was opened on the 19th of August, 1879, and that winter
we had fourteen girls.
The following letter from an English lady who visited the Wawanosh
Home in the summer of 1880, gives a good idea of the Institution and
its surroundings:--
"I drove to see the Indian girls' Home, and was surprised to find in
these wilds such an English stone building, but with the advantage of a
nice verandah and green blinds which keep the house cool in summer. The
inside of the house I thought very, nice; all the rooms are high and of
a good size; a hall, school-room, class-room, and dining-room, and
prettily furnished sitting-room for the lady superintendent, a laundry,
and good kitchen with a large stove--all these are on the ground floor.
Upstairs there is a large dormitory with eight double beds and a smaller
one with four beds. These rooms are more airy and give more space to
each girl than in many institutions I have seen in England. A small room
is set apart for the sick. The lavatory is well fitted up, and
everything is clean and neat. The girls do the work partly themselves
under the matron, and learn to become servants. The Home has only been
fully opened a year, so of course it is still rough round the house, but
soon the ground will be laid out. On one side of the house will be the
vegetable garden, which the girls will be taught to keep weeded and in
order. On the other side of the house the committee intend putting up a
gymnasium with money a lady in England has collected: It is a room very
much wanted, for, in the winter, with the snow three to four, and
sometimes five feet deep, it is impossible to send children out, and if
they do not get exercise they would suffer. The room is to be 40 feet by
20, with one end divided off for a meat-house and tool-house; when I say
a meat-house I mean a place to keep meat, for they kill cattle and sheep
enough for the winter at the beginning of the very cold weather, it
freezes hard and keeps well. The gymnasium will, when finished, only
cost about 200 dollars. The children look very happy and very little
amuses them. I showed them some English village children's games, and
left them delighted."
There is always a "but," that is, kind friends are wanted to provide
for some of the new girls just come to the Home. If any one would give
or collect four shillings a week, that is sufficient to feed a child.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
A SAD WINTER.
The winter of 1882 was a sad time. There was great mortality all
through the country, and our Homes did not escape.
Our kind friend, Mrs. Fauquier, who, though a constant invalid, had
done very much to promote the interests and welfare of our Girls' Home,
was called away to the Heavenly Rest on the 4th of November, 1881.
During the last few years of her life she had made the Wawanosh Home
her special care, her work for Christ. Those girls were always in her
thoughts: she it was who devised their uniform dress of blue serge
trimmed with scarlet, and got friends in England to supply them; she
chose the furniture for the Home and fitted the lady superintendent's
rooms so prettily and tastefully. Many were the kind words of counsel
that the girls received from her, and it used to be her delight to have
them to visit her in the afternoon at the See House.
Only a month had passed after we heard of Mrs. Fauquier's death,--she
died in New York,--when the appalling tidings reached us that the
Bishop, too, was gone. He had died suddenly in Toronto on December 7th.
In the same mail bag which brought the sad news was a letter to me from
him, written only an hour or two before he died.
"The sad void," he wrote, "which my dear wife's departure hence has
made seems to grow wider and deeper; and it seems difficult to settle
down to work as of old. I must try to realize more fully than I have
done in the past what a blessing her presence for more than thirty
years has been. How true it is that we seldom appreciate our blessings
and privileges until they are taken from us."
The church at Sault Ste. Marie was draped with black the following
Sunday, and the Indian children of the Homes wore black scarves in
token of respect for him who had had their welfare so much at heart.
The next death was that of our carpenter's wife: she had been ailing
all through the previous autumn, and died January 2nd.
Then three days later we lost one of the Indian boys, a little fellow
named Charlie Penahsewa, who had only been with as a few months. We
buried him the next day in our little cemetery at 7 p.m. The boys
carried torches.
Several other boys were at this time in the sick room, two or three
also of the Wawanosh girls were ill, and the doctor was to and fro at
both the Homes.
Poor little Beaconsfield, one of the Michipicotin boys who had been
baptized at the same time as Frederick, was among the sick. His only
name when he first came to us, nearly five years before, was Chegauns
(little man close by); he was a little wild pagan boy, but with soft
eyes and gentle disposition, like Frederick, and was very quick to
learn. A kind lady in Kingston undertook his support, and took great
interest in him, and at her wish we named him "Benjamin Beaconsfield."
We had every reason to hope and believe that there was a work of grace
in his heart. The little fellow had a tender conscience, and would come
and tell me if he had been playing on Sunday or had told an untruth,
and would ask me to pray for him. Another boy in the sick room was
little Peter, Peterans as we called him [ans at the end of a word makes
its diminutive]; he was a grandchild of my old friend, widow Quakegwah,
at Sarnia. We sent him and another little fellow who was ailing to the
Wawanosh, for change of air and more careful nursing. But it was all in
vain. Beaconsfield died on the 16th of January, and little Peter died
at the Wawanosh on the 8th of February. They were both buried in our
little cemetery.
After this I had to go down to Toronto to attend to diocesan matters,
and was away about two months, going through the Muskoka district, and
being present in Montreal when the Provincial Synod met, and our new
Bishop, Dr. Sullivan, was unanimously elected.
When I returned to the Shingwauk things looked brighter; the sick room
was empty, and every one seemed more cheery. But our hopes were doomed
to be disappointed. I had only been home three days when my dear boy,
William Sahgucheway, the captain of our school, was taken suddenly ill
with inflammation, and a day or two later we were in the greatest alarm
about him. I felt about him as I had about Frederick--that surely his
life would be spared to us, he of all others was the one whom we looked
to as the pride and hope of our Institution; he was nineteen years of
age, and was looking forward and preparing for the ministry. But it was
not to be. God had called him, and eight days after he was taken ill
and died. In the next chapter I shall give a little account of his life.
Three days after William was buried, the bodies of our late dear
Bishop and Mrs. Fauquier arrived in charge of two of their sons, it
having been their expressed wish to be buried in our little cemetery
with our Indian children. On Monday, the 22nd, the long funeral cortege
moved slowly to the cemetery. There was a large gathering of people
both from the Canadian and American sides--people of all classes and
creeds. First, the clergy in their surplices, then the Indian boys, two
and two, one of them, who had been supported by the late Bishop,
carrying a banner with the words, "He rests from his labours;" then
came the hearse bearing the late Bishop's remains, with four horses,
all draped, and the Wawanosh girls followed, one of them bearing a
banner with the words, "She is not dead, but sleepeth;" then the
hearse, and members of the family and other mourners--a long mournful
procession. A vault had been prepared, and the coffins, covered with
flowers, were laid within it, and the latter part of the Burial Service
read. Thus the good, kind-hearted, self-sacrificing Bishop, the first
Bishop of this wild Missionary diocese, and his afflicted yet devoted
wife, who had laboured so earnestly for the welfare of the Indians
during the latter part of their lives, were now laid side by side in
the Indian cemetery to await the joyful resurrection to eternal life.
The very next grave to the Bishop's was that of Frederick, the
Neepigon boy.
Before the summer holidays commenced, the cemetery gate had once more
to be opened and the earth once more to be turned, for another boy,
Simon Altman, from Walpole Island, was dead. This was the fifth boy who
had died during the winter, not from any malignant disease or fever,
but from various causes, and seven bodies in all had been committed to
the silent dust. For a time we were afraid that the saddening effect
of so many deaths would lead to a complete break up of our work, as the
Indians are of course very superstitious and might be afraid to send
any more of their children to us.
Next autumn our number at both the Homes was very much reduced, still
we were able to keep on, and now our pupils are once more steadily on
the increase.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
WILLIAM SAHGUCHEWAY.
William Sahgucheway was born on the Indian Reserve of Walpole Island
about the year 1862, the exact date is not known. His father and mother
both died eight or ten years ago, and since then he had lived with an
uncle and aunt, of both of whom he was very fond. He had two younger
brothers, but no sisters. One of the brothers, Elijah, was a pupil with
William at the Shingwauk Home for two or three years. He left when the
Home was temporarily closed in the spring of 1880, and before it had
re-opened he had been called home to his Saviour. William felt the death
of his little brother very deeply. In a letter dated June 4th he says,
"Last Sunday my brother Elijah died: but now he is with Jesus and the
angels. This text he had in his Bible. 'Blessed are the dead which die
in the Lord' (Rev. xiv. 13); and also the Bible was dated May 30th,
1879. This is important to me, like if it were telling me how he died
and when he died."
William Sahgucheway came first to the Shingwauk Home on the 17th of
June, 1875. I had paid a visit to Walpole Island that summer, and
William was one who, in company with five or six other children, came
back with me to Sault Ste. Marie. He was at that time a bright,
intelligent looking lad of twelve or thirteen years of age, and being
an orphan, he was made rather a special favourite from the first; the
attachment grew, and soon the boy learned to look upon me as his
father, and always commenced his letters "My dear Noosa" (father) when
writing to me. William like the other boys in the Institution, was
supported by the contributions of Sunday school children, and it was
quite hoped that he would at no distant day have become a student at
Huron Theological College.
William's Indian name was "Wahsashkung"--shining light. A most
appropriate name, for his presence always seemed to bring light and
happiness; he was always so cheerful, so ready to help, so self-
denying; grown people and little children were equally his friends.
We always regarded that verse in Matt. v. as specially his verse,--"Let
your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and
glorify your Father which is in heaven."
William accompanied me on many of my travels. He was with me on the
shores of Lake Neepigon in 1878, when that pagan tribe was discovered,
who for thirty years had been waiting for a Missionary to come to them.
He befriended the pagan boy, Ningwinnena, and taught him to pray and
love his Saviour. And when the poor boy died at Christian, six months
after entering the Institution, William was among those who knelt at
his bedside and watched his last expiring breath. In 1879 William
accompanied me to England, and while there wrote a little journal of
his travels, extracts from which were published. Wherever he went he
made friends, and many white people on both sides of the Atlantic will
long remember his bright, intelligent face, his gentle voice, and kind
obliging manner.
In the spring of 1880, when I was dangerously ill and my life
despaired of, William was one of the few Indian boys who were
privileged to come to my bedside, and the only one who was allowed to
take turn in watching beside me at night; for whenever there was
anything to be done requiring special effort or care, it was always
William who was wanted, and William who was ready.
About three years before this time the dear boy became truly in
earnest about religion, and dedicated his life to the Saviour. From his
earliest boyhood he would appear to have been a child of grace,
avoiding what was bad, with a desire to follow what was pure and good;
but with nearly all followers of Christ there is probably some period
in life which may be looked back to when the seeds of truth began more
distinctly to germinate in the soul, and that blessed union with the
Saviour, which is the joy of all true believers, was for the first time
perhaps fully realized and felt. It was on the 23rd March, 1877, that
this dear boy, William, after a long earnest talk, knelt down beside me
and yielded his heart to the Saviour: "Tabaningayun Jesus, kemeenin
ninda noongoom suh tebekuk, kuhnuhga kayahhe che tebanindezosewaun keen
dush chetebanemeyun"--"Lord Jesus, I give my heart to Thee this night,
no longer to belong to myself, but to belong to Thee." I gave him a
Bible the same evening, and it became his most valued treasure; on the
first leaf is the verse, "Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise
cast out," and on the last leaf, "God is love."
I always tried to impress on those who had dedicated themselves to the
Saviour's service, that they should prove the fact of their union with
Christ by working for Him and bearing fruit to the glory of His name.
William seemed to be especially impressed with this, and rarely a week
passed without his trying to exercise some influence for good among his
companions. Many are the boys now in the Institution who can trace
their first serious thoughts on their spiritual condition to his
intercourse with them. In January, 1878, a boys' prayer meeting was
commenced weekly, and continued almost without interruption, except
during holidays. The boys met on Wednesday evenings after prayers--
quite by themselves--one read a portion of Scripture in his own
language, and others offered a few words of simple prayer. It was due
to William and one or two like-minded companions that these little
gatherings were kept together, and there can be little doubt that much
blessing resulted.
William used latterly to take notes of the sermons which he heard on
Sundays.
And now we come to the last scenes of the dear boy's life here on earth.
I had been away on a tour through the other dioceses, and William, as
captain of the school, had additional duties devolving upon him during
the principal's absence. He had charge of the clothing store and had to
give out clothing each week to the boys, and perform other duties
requiring care and attention. The bodies of the late Bishop Fauquier
and Mrs. Fauquier were expected shortly to arrive for interment in the
Shingwauk cemetery, and preparations had to be made for this; the road
to the cemetery, which was blocked in places by large boulders and old
pine stumps, had to be cleared and levelled. William, of course, was
called into service for this--no one could clear a road through a rough
tract of land better than he. He was busy preparing for the spring
examinations, and very anxious to be victor; but books were laid aside
without a murmur, and he shouldered his pickaxe and shovel, and in
company with two or three other big boys set cheerfully and heartily to
work. It seemed strange that his last work on earth should be preparing
this road to the cemetery along which his own body would be carried
before those of the Bishop and Mrs. Fauquier arrived. That hard work,
with taking a chill, was probably in some measure the cause of his
death. He seemed very well on the Friday, the day on which I returned
home, and joined the boys in offering a hearty welcome, but the
following Sunday he seemed to be ailing, and on Monday, although he had
come down to lessons, and was setting to work, he was trembling and
scarcely able to stand. I recommended him to return to his room to bed,
which he at once did, but it was very soon evident that a serious
illness was setting in. An Indian woman was engaged to nurse him, and
the doctor from the Sault attended him. For the first few days no great
alarm was felt, and the pain seemed to in some measure subdued. No one
would allow himself to imagine that death was so near. It was not until
Friday evening, the 12th, that a decided change for the worse set in.
He became very low and weak, with a slight tendency to delirium. We
were all very anxious, and the Indian boys took turns watching at his
bedside. On Sunday afternoon ten or twelve of the boys came up to his
room for prayer. William, though very weak, and only able to say a few
words at a time, asked permission to speak to them, and he spoke very
earnestly for six or seven minutes in his own language; then we knelt
and prayed--prayed with great earnestness that God, if it were His holy
will, would permit our dear boy to recover. All Monday he was very ill.
Our hopes were sinking. It scarcely seemed possible that the dear boy
could live more than another day or two. We had much earnest prayer at
his bedside, and the faintest signs of improvement were eagerly looked
for. He was quite resigned to God's will, wishing to recover if it were
his Father's will, or ready to die if the call had come. In the
afternoon he seemed to realize that his end was drawing near. To one
who visited him and remained a short time alone with him he said, "I
should like to meet my little brother Elijah again; I do so love
Elijah." And after a pause he said, "I don't think I shall live long, I
am getting very weak." "We all love you very much," was replied, "we
indeed wish to keep you with us, but God's will must be done." "Yes."
he said, "God's will must be done. May be God will revive me, but I
have no wish whether to live or die. I wish for what is God's will."
"Is there anything you want?" was asked. "No--thank you," he replied
with great effort, then put his hand to his heart and slowly waved it
upwards. "I shall soon be singing on the golden shore," he said. To one
of our little girls who came in he said, "Do you like to see me like
this, Winnie?" "No," said the little child, the tears trickling down
her cheeks. "Perhaps I will get well again if it is God's will," he
said, "but I don't know." To the carpenter, who had lost his wife only
a few months before, he spoke very earnestly: "You see," he said,
"there is nothing to trouble me, nothing at all; God is love, this is
all God's love to me; may be God will take me away." "Poor boy, poor,
boy," ejaculated the carpenter, with tears in his eyes, "how you are
changed; how much you must have suffered." "Oh, it is just nothing,"
said William; "God is love, I can trust in Him: 'the blood--of Jesus
Christ--cleanseth us--from all sin.'"
I could hardly bear to speak to him of death,--it seemed to me as
though he must live, that a change for the better would set in, and
that the dear boy would revive. I repeated some passages of Scripture
to him and knelt often for prayer. Many, indeed, were the earnest
prayers that went up to the throne of grace for the boy's recovery.
Between eleven and half-past he was left for the night in charge of
two Indian boys, Kahgaug and Willis. They were to keep hot bricks to
his hands and feet, and administer a stimulating mixture and
nourishment, and at two o'clock their place would be taken by two other
boys. Having been up a great part of the preceding night, I then
retired to rest, to be called if there was any change for the worse.
Just at half-past two there came a knock at the door,--"William is
worse; please come at once."
I hurried up to the sick room as quickly as possible, but it was a
moment too late--the dear boy had breathed his last. His hands were
clasped on his breast, his eyes lifted to heaven, a smile just fading
on his lips, and thus he had left the earth and gone to meet his
Saviour. Three boys only were with him when he died--Wigwaus, Benjamin,
and Davidans. We knelt together, and I offered up prayer, humbly
commending the soul of the dear brother departed into the hands of
Almighty God, as into the hands of a faithful Creator and most merciful
Saviour.
A feeling of awe seemed to pervade the whole household when, at early
dawn, the tolling of the school-bell told only too plainly that the
beloved spirit had departed. Never was a boy more loved by his play-
mates or more honoured and respected by his teachers. As he lived he
died, trusting in the merits of an Almighty Saviour for his salvation.
On the evening of his death his dear form was laid by loving hands in
the coffin, and some white flowers placed on his breast; the lid was
drawn back a little, and on it were placed his Prayer-book, his Bible
(open at I John iv.), a photograph of him in a frame, and a single wax
taper. Then the folding doors leading into the back school-room were
opened and the boys gathered around and sang the hymn he loved, "Safe
in the arms of Jesus." Scarcely an eye was dry, and many a sigh was
heaved, and many a sob broke the silence of the apartment as they came
up one by one to look on the marble face of their dead companion, and
to imprint a kiss on his cold brow. Many of the boys would not be
satisfied with coming once; they came again and again, and some laid
their faces down on his and sobbed. Several hymns were sung: "Here we
suffer grief and pain," "There is a happy land," and "My God, my
Father, while I stray," and prayer also was offered.
The funeral was on Thursday, Ascension day, at nine o'clock in the
morning. The coffin was brought into the school-room by six boys, who
had been appointed pall-bearers, and I read the opening sentences of
the burial service and special psalms and lessons; then, after a hymn,
was the sermon, from I John iii. 2, "We know that when He shall appear,
we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is," and I read some
extracts from William's diary, which he had commenced keeping four
years before; they show what the boy's thoughts were and how near he
lived to his Saviour.
_Jan_. 27, 1878.--"O Lord Jesus Christ, I have given my heart to
Thee. I belong to Thee, and I want to work for Thee as long as I live.
Give me Thy Holy Spirit in mine heart. May I not get cold and careless,
but may I always be full of love to Thee. May I not be a dead branch,
but may I bear much fruit to the glory of Thy name. Amen."
_March_ 5.--"O Lord Jesus Christ, give me Thy Holy Spirit that I
may be able to fight the temptations of the world, the flesh, and the
devil."
_Oct_. 1.--"O God, I give my body unto Thee, and wherever you
want me to go, I will go, and whatever you want me to do as long as I
live, I shall do this for the name of Christ."
_March_ 21, 1879.--"O Lord. I am trying to work for Thee. Am I
trying to walk in the light every day? Am I going to serve God or serve
the devil? Let me not think too much of the things of this world. Let
me more think about the things of heaven. This is all,--for Christ's
sake."
After another hymn had been sung, a procession was formed to the
cemetery, and the dear boy's body was laid in the grave, earth to
earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of a
glorious resurrection to eternal life.
There was one more duty to be performed on the return of the funeral
party to the school-room, and that was to distribute some of the dear
boy's books and treasures to those who would specially value them. I
took for my share the Bible which I had given him four years before,
and an ancient arrow head, which he had dug up while making the road to
the cemetery, and had laughingly remarked that he would keep it till he
died. The rest of the things were packed in a box and sent home to his
aunt.
Who shall estimate the amount of good done by this earnest whole-souled
Indian boy during his short career? He sowed good seed, and we trust
there may be an abundant harvest in the hearts and lives of the other
boys. When asked how many of them had received special benefit by their
intercourse with William, twenty boys rose to their feet. Many testified
that they had been spoken to by him of the Saviour, others that they had
been checked by him in doing something sinful, others, that he had
talked or read or offered prayer with them. What a blessed testimony,
that in a school of fifty-four boys, twenty should have been benefited
by the example and teaching of one boy who loved the Saviour! May God
the Holy Spirit bless this simple recital to the hearts of those who
read it, and may other boys, whether white or Indian, be stirred in
their souls to follow the example of this young soldier of the cross,
and let their light shine before men as did this young Indian boy--
Wahsashkung--Shining light--William Sahgucheway.
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