Books: Missionary Work Among The Ojebway Indians

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

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I had been told of a poor widow who was very ill and living with her
three children in a destitute condition. Jane went with me to find her
out, and we took, a supply of medicine and food with us. After wending
our way along a narrow foot-track in the snow, which twisted about
among the tall black trees, we came in sight of what looked like a heap
of dirty boards and branches of trees piled together, but the blue
smoke curling from the top told that it was a human habitation. It was
the first time Jane had seen an Indian wigwam, and she was horrified to
think that people could live in such a hovel. We drew aside the dirty
cloth which covered the entrance and crept in. Two dogs saluted us with
snarls, but were soon quieted, and crouching along by the smoky sides
of the cabin we shook hands with the poor woman and her daughter (a
girl of about fifteen), and then gazed round for something to sit upon;--
however, there was nothing but the earthen floor, so down we sat. The
little wigwam was just wide enough for a person of ordinary height to
lie down in, and in the centre was the fire, so that it may well be
imagined that there was not much room to turn round. On one side of the
fire lay the poor woman, doubled up in a dirty blanket, for she had not
been able to straighten herself for nearly two years, and was quite
unable to sit up; another blanket was fastened up against the side of
the place to shelter her from the wind. On the other side of the fire
crouched the daughter, listening to what I said about administering the
medicines. A little boy with bright eyes and a stock of uncombed black
hair was also crouching over the fire. This was Willie, the youngest of
the family, now about five years old, and little did I think then how
much I should have to do with that boy in his after life. Sitting down
by the poor woman, I uncovered my basket and displayed my medicines,
and explained to the daughter how the mixture was to be taken twice a
day, and the liniment to be rubbed on the affected parts. Jane then
changed places with me and applied some of the liniment, and the poor
creature immediately felt some relief and began talking about it to her
daughter. These poor people seemed to be entirely dependent on the
kindness of their neighbours; it was old Shesheet who first told me
about them, and I understood that he used often to send them food or
firewood. When I visited her on another cold day in October,
accompanied by my wife, we found her coiled up in her rags moaning with
pain, and only a few dying embers to keep her warm. Little Willie was
coiled up asleep in a sheepskin. While we stood, Willie roused up out
of his nest, and came to see what was going on; his sister, however,
motioned him to go back, and, like a discontented little puppy, he made
a low sort of whine, and buried himself again, head and all, in his
sheepskin. We went back to the Mission-house and brought some tea for
the poor woman, which she drank eagerly, and we provided her also with
a candle stuck in a bottle and some firewood, but she never smiled, or
said thank you. Her feelings as well as her features seemed to have
become hardened with constant pain and suffering. However, we were
agreeably surprised one day when she presented my wife with four tiny
baskets, tastefully made, and a smile for once actually played on her
lips. Some time after she was taken into a house by some friendly
Indians, and kindly cared for, the result of which was that she became
gradually better.

Very soon after our arrival at Sarnia we had proposed to the Indian
women that they should meet together once a week for needlework and
reading, but the scheme was not carried into effect until we had
settled in our new house on the Reserve. The first meeting was held in
our hall in the summer of 1869. On the hall-table were spread out all
the articles of clothing sent to us from England, and we had on view
patterns of prints, flannels, &c., from one of the dry goods stores in
the town, the prices being affixed, and discount allowed at ten per cent.

As soon as all were assembled I explained to them that the object in
meeting together was that they might provide clothing for themselves
and their children at as cheap a rate as possible, and at the same time
might have an opportunity for friendly talk and instruction. The plan
would be for them to engage in needlework for an hour and a half,
during part of which time I would read to them a story, which, my
interpreter had translated into Indian, and after that we would have
scripture reading, singing, and prayer to close the meeting. After all
who wished to become members of the meeting had given me their names,
they were invited to inspect the patterns and select the material with
which they wished to make a beginning. We found the plan answer very
well, and soon our "Mothers' Meeting" was thoroughly established.

But it was not always that everything went on so harmoniously and
peacefully. Unhappily there was a considerable amount of whiskey-
drinking among the men, and sometimes drunken fights would occur in
close proximity to the house. A son of Antoine Rodd's was particularly
vicious when under the influence of liquor; once he frightened us all
by making a murderous attack on his father with his tomahawk and gun,
and the old man had to escape back into the Bush for his life. Another
time the wife of this same man came rushing into our house with her
infant on her breast and another daughter following,--her drunken
husband running after and threatening to kill them. We dragged them in
and shut and locked all the doors, and soon the man was pounding away
and trying to get in. The two women in great alarm locked themselves up
in the pantry and remained all night under our protection. The saddest
occurrence of all was when a man named Winter was actually killed by
his own son while in a state of intoxication. We did what we could to
try and stem the tide of drunkenness by forming a Temperance Society,
which a large number of the Indians joined; but a more effectual check
has of late years been put upon the terrible practice by the action of
the Dominion Government; it is now against law for a white man either
to give or sell liquor to an Indian on any pretence, and the penalty is
very heavy.

I must finish this chapter with an account of an Indian funeral. The
daughter of one of our Indians, named Kwakejewun, had fallen sick and
died--died, as we hoped, trusting in her Saviour. As is usual among the
Indians, a large number of people gathered together to show their
sympathy with the bereaved parents, and to follow the body to the
grave. The coffin was first brought into the church. I read the usual
service, and a hymn was sung very sweetly and plaintively. Then we
proceeded to the cemetery, nearly a mile distant. The snow was deep on
the ground and sparkling in the sunlight. I drove in my cutter and
headed the long funeral procession. A sad and picturesque sight it was;
from eighty to a hundred people in all, some in sleighs, some ploding
through the snow on foot,--aged women in their white blankets, mothers
with their children, some of them in bright scarlet shawls, boys and
girls, all in their Sunday attire. Through the silent forest we wended
our way till we came at length to the wild little cemetery with its
rude snake fence encircling it. The coffin was taken from the sleigh
and carefully lowered into the grave; then the men took off their hats
and we sang another hymn. It sounded very sweet in that wild desolate
spot, and the poor mother stood enveloped in a blanket at the head of
the open grave, and, with her eyes fixed on her daughter's coffin,
joined in the singing. Then I read the remainder of the service, and,
having shaken hands with the poor father and mother, returned home. The
mother grasped my hand warmly, and met me with a happy smile. She
believed, I think, that her child was safe with the Saviour.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE BISHOP'S VISIT.

We were now well settled into our Indian home at Sarnia and my work
was clearly defined. The Sarnia Reserve was our head-quarters. Here
there were some 400 Indians, and at Kettle Point, thirty miles away,
were about 100 more. The out-stations were to be New Credit, Saugeen,
and Cape Croker, which places together contained about 1150 Indians.
The idea was to place a catechist at each of these distant settlements,
and for me to visit them twice or three times in the year. With the
view of providing catechists suitable for the work I was authorized by
the Church Missionary Society to receive and educate some young men;
and within a few months after we had taken up our residence on the
Reserve I commenced to teach two young Indians, named Wilson Jacobs and
William Henry, with the view of their becoming catechists.

The great event of the summer was a visit we received from the Bishop
of Huron and Mrs. Cronyn. The fact that twenty-five persons were
confirmed, and that forty-five came forward afterwards to receive the
Holy Communion, will show that our work among these poor Indians had
already made some progress. Among the candidates for confirmation was
poor old Quasind, who came up bare-footed, a great-grandfather, and, I
suppose, about ninety years of age. In the evening our own child,
Archibald Edward, was christened during the time of Divine service by
the Bishop.

The following day we had appointed to have a gathering of Indians, a
sort of social party, to meet the Bishop. When morning broke, however,
rain was pouring in torrents, and a picnic on the grass became
altogether out of the question. So, after early dinner, our hall was
cleared, and the business of cutting up bread-and-butter and cake and
preparing the tea began. Two or three Indian women had made their
appearance, and were soon hard at work with merry faces and busy hands.
About 6 p.m. the Indians began to arrive, and by half-past seven sixty
had collected. Tea being ready, we called in as many as we could pack
into our hall; others sat in the passage or on cordwood piles outside;
then each had a cup and saucer given him, and baskets full of bread-and-
butter, buns, and cake, and tea were carried round, and all ate their
fill.

The hall table was covered with books, illustrated magazines, maps,
&c., and as soon as the Indians had finished tea they took up these and
amused themselves with the pictures. There was a draught-board also,
which engrossed the attention of some of the young men, many of them
being very clever in playing the game. An old Indian, generally known
as "the Doctor," caused great merriment by singing one or two old
Indian songs in that peculiar tone of voice which only an Indian can
command. The great event of the evening was the conferring of an Indian
name on our little boy, only a few months old. The task was delegated
to old Shesheet. The old man came forward with his usual radiant face,
and after a few prefatory remarks, expressing his great pleasure in
meeting the Bishop and Mrs. Cronyn, he took "the pale-faced babe" into
his arms and conferred upon it the name of "Tecumseh," a great warrior
who many years ago fell in battle fighting under the British flag.
After I had thanked the Indians for making my little boy one of
themselves, the Bishop rose and gave a very nice address, which Wagimah
interpreted. He told them how anxious he had been to see these, his
Indian brothers and sisters, ever since he had heard of their becoming
members of the Church of their great mother the Queen. He was very
pleased indeed to see them, and so was his "squaw," who had come with
him, and he wished them every prosperity and happiness and the blessing
of God on the Mission. Before parting we sang a hymn, and then closed
with prayer and the blessing. The Bishop and Mrs. Cronyn stood up at
the end of the hall and shook hands with the Indians one by one as they
passed out.

In accordance with the instructions I had received from the C.M.S., I
made arrangements as soon as practicable for placing a catechist in
charge of the Kettle Point Mission, and about this time gave up
employing an interpreter, as his services would be no longer needed,
and I had now a good stock of sermons written in Indian which I could
use at my Sunday services. Before long, John Jacobs, the young native
student already mentioned, and who, after satisfactorily passing his
course at the Theological College, was ordained in July 1869, took up
his abode at Kettle Point as my assistant Missionary. Besides preaching
on the Sunday, he taught school during the week, so that his time was
well occupied.

It was just about this time that I had a severe attack of fever, which
for the time quite prostrated me, and my medical adviser ordered me to
go away for a few weeks' rest and change of air. So Mr. Jacobs came to
take my place at Sarnia and with two of his sisters occupied the
Mission-house during our absence. After spending a week with friends in
Toronto, we thought we would explore a more northern region, and visit
Mr. Chance's Mission at Garden River, which we had often beard of, so
we took train to Collingwood, and were soon on our way up the lakes in
the beautiful steamboat _Chicora_.

Thus was God gradually opening the way for us, and preparing for us a
larger and more important sphere of work.

It was on this visit to Garden River that I first felt drawn in spirit
towards the Indians of the Lake Superior region, that there first
entered into my mind the idea of an institution for training the young
Indians, and that I first made the acquaintance of the old Indian
chief, Augustin Shingwauk.

CHAPTER IX.

FIRST VISIT TO GARDEN RIVER.

We met with a hearty welcome from Mr. and Mrs. Chance, though we had
never seen them before. Their church and Mission-house and little log
school-house were picturesquely situated on rising ground quite close
to the river. The Mission-house, which occupied the centre of the three
buildings, was constructed of logs clapboarded over and whitewashed. It
had a verandah in front, over the trellis work of which hops grew in
profusion, and clambered upwards to the roof. In front of the house was
a neat little garden, with two or three fir-trees, some lilac bushes,
and well-filled flower-beds. There was quite a profusion of roses,
which, even at this late season of the year, scented the air
deliciously. Outside the garden fence with its green gate, was a field
of Indian corn which sloped down almost to the water's edge. The view
from the steps of the verandah was very pretty; one could see the broad
deep St Maria River, nearly a mile wide, and long lines of sailing
vessels towed by small tugs, occasionally passing and repassing on
their way from the upper to the lower lakes. Across the river were the
well-wooded hills of Sugar Island, with here and there a settler's
shanty and clearing. To the left hand could still be seen the broad
river winding its course down toward Lake George, the smaller stream,
called Garden River, joining it a short distance below. Then behind,
the scene was equally, if not more grand--high rocky hills scantily
clad with fir and birch-trees. We felt that we were now indeed in the
land of the Indian, far away from civilization; no railways, no
telegraphs, no omnibuses or street cars, no hotels or shops for many
hundred miles.

There was something very attractive and fascinating about this first
visit to the wilds of Algoma. We were entertained royally. Peaches,
cream, and preserved fruits were among the dainties which covered the
table. Where all the good things came from was a matter of wonder to us.
The meat, however, consisting of a hind quarter of mutton, had, we
found, come with us on the boat, and it just lasted out our four days'
visit. We were told extraordinary stories about the difficulty of
procuring the necessaries of life, and the manner of overcoming
difficulties. Until quite lately the steamboats in their passage up the
lakes had never deigned to stop at Garden River; now, however, through
Mr. Chance's exertions, a dock had been made and a Post-office erected;
and about once in ten days a steam vessel would stop to leave or receive
the mails. Mr. and Mrs. Chance were Postmaster and Post-mistress, and we
had many a joke with them on the subject. Their fresh meat was always
procured from the steamboats. Before this new arrangement was made, the
steward on the boat used to tie the meat to a log of wood, and haul it
overboard opposite the Mission-house, and Mr. Chance had to go out in
his boat to pick it up. They had a capital large sail boat, with two
sails, called _The Missionary_. It had lately been presented to the
Mission by the Cathedral Sunday School, Toronto. It was very interesting
to meet with the Indians of this locality. Many of them were tall, fine-
looking men; notably so Augustin Shingwauk and Buhkwujjenene, both of
them Chiefs, and very intelligent-looking men. Augustin was at this time
about 60 years of age, and his brother Buhkwujjenene eight or ten years
his junior. They could trace their ancestry back for four generations.
Their father's name was Shingwaukoons (Little Pine), and he appears,
from all accounts, to have been a very intelligent Chief. The father of
Shingwaukoons was partly French, but his mother, Ogemahqua (Queen), was
pure Indian, and daughter of a Chief named Shingahbawuhsin, and this
Chief again was son of a Chief named Tuhgwahna, all of them residents of
the Sault Ste. Marie district.

The Indians of Garden River were not nearly so far advanced in
civilization as those of Sarnia; very little was done in the way of
cultivating the soil, and very few of them could speak any English.
They, however, seemed to evince great interest in religion, the
services were well attended, the responses in the Indian tongue well
made, and the singing hearty.

I must relate one sad incident that occurred during our short visit.
It was a beautiful Sunday towards the end of September; we had had
service in the white frame church, and very attentive and orderly had
the congregation been while Mr. Chance read the service and interpreted
my preaching. I had been speaking on the subject of "Eternal Life"--
"This is life eternal, that they might know Thee, the only True God,
and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent." Very wrapt was the attention as
I endeavoured to unfold before my simple hearers the great and wondrous
subject of eternal life. Had they--sitting there before me--anything to
do with this eternal life? Perhaps their thoughts day by day were on
the things of this world--their fishing, their hunting, their basket-
making, or planting or digging potatoes. Did they ever think that they
had souls to be saved; that before another Sunday came round these
things which now took up their time and thoughts might have passed away
for ever, and they themselves have entered upon the eternal state? If
they were true Christians, they would then be meeting with God,
beholding Him face to face; they would be with the holy angels, with
Jesus. But if not prepared, where would they be? A great gulf would be
between them and heaven--a great impassable gulf; they would be with
the lost! Before another Sunday came round this great and wonderful
change might take place. Were they prepared?

Among my hearers were two women; one on the left hand side of the
church was a newly-married young woman wearing a scarlet shawl and a
hat with flowers. She could not have been more than twenty. The other,
who was her mother, sat on the opposite side; an old woman--a widow--
wrapped in a black shawl. The husband of the young woman was in the
gallery overhead.

Service was over, and we had wended our way back to the parsonage,
followed by several Indians, men and women with their babes, who had
come to shake hands or to ask for "muskeke" (medicine). All at once we
heard a shout from the garden, and a girl came rushing up, crying:
"Quick! help! there are people drowning." We all ran off with great
haste to the shore, the Indian women wailing in their own peculiar way,
some burying their heads in their shawls and sobbing with grief. Quite
a little fleet of boats and canoes were already off to the rescue; six
or seven in all. We could not at first make out where was the scene of
the disaster, but soon it became only too apparent. There, far out in
the very centre of the broad river, being carried away by the current,
were four or five specks, the heads of people struggling to save
themselves. The boats were still a long distance from them, and
breathlessly we watched as they made their way onward. Two, three of
the specks had disappeared; only two were now visible. "How many were
in the boat?" was anxiously asked. "Oh, there must have been eight or
nine;" and only two now above water. It was sickening to think of. The
wailing cries of the women on the shore increased each moment, and
great was the suspense as the foremost boat drew with all speed towards
the poor drowning creatures. I waited to see the two who were afloat
pulled into the boats, and then hurried up to the house to see if all
needful preparations had been made. Mrs. Chance had got everything
ready; a good bright fire, blankets, and brandy. When I went back to
the shore, the poor half-drowned creatures had just landed. Shaking and
shivering they were lifted out of the boat and supported up to the
house. Four had been saved: two men--and two women. One was still
missing, the young wife who had worn the hat and flowers! The children
who were supposed to have gone, it was found on inquiry had been
providentially left behind. As soon as we could get the poor creatures
up to the house, we set to work to revive them.

One of the men, the husband of her who had not yet been found, was on
the point of giving in when the boat reached him, and in a moment more
would probably have sunk. He was perfectly cold when we brought him in,
and being in a consumptive state at the time of his immersion, we much
feared that he would not survive the shock. The poor old woman's heart
seemed almost broken at the loss of her daughter, and she sat wailing
in the kitchen the whole afternoon. The house was of course crowded
with Indians who came in to help or sympathize. From those who went to
the rescue we learned that the poor woman who was drowned had her hand
above the water when the boat came up, but she sank before the people
could seize it. Her hat was afterwards found about two miles below the
place where she sank. In the evening the poor old woman described how
the accident had happened. She said the boat was small and rather too
heavily-laden. Just as they got to the middle of the river, a breeze
sprang up, and the waves began coming over the side. One of the men
jumped into the water to lighten it, but it was of no use. The boat
filled, and in a few moments they were all struggling in the water. The
poor old creature described how she sank to a great depth, and then
rose again; how she prayed to Kezha-Musnedoo (the Good Spirit) to save
her; how she sank again; and then, while under the water, saw the dark
shadow of the boat coming over her; how again she rose to the surface
and was saved.

We met again for service in the evening, and Mr. Chance preached very
solemnly to a large congregation from the words, "Prepare to meet thy
God."

A day or two after this we left the Garden River Mission and returned
to Sarnia.

CHAPTER X.

BAPTISM OF PAGANS.

There were not many genuine Pagans either at Sarnia or at Kettle
Point. Pagan practices had fallen altogether into disuse. There were
some Indians living who had been "medicine men," but we never heard
that they practised their charms. Still there were several families who
held aloof from Christianity. When spoken to about being baptized,
their reply was that they thought the Christian Indians behaved worse
than the Pagan Indians, and they were afraid that if they were baptized
they would become as bad. It was sad that such a thing could be said,
and sadder still that there should be any truth about it. Of course the
mere fact of the Indians being brought into contact with white people
would lead them into temptations from which, in their wild wandering
state, they had been comparatively free. It has been said even by white
travellers that they have found the pagan Indiana of the North more
honest and trustworthy than those in a semi-civilized and nominally
Christian state. The Indian when he mixes with the Whites soon learns
their bad habits, but is more slow to learn what is holy and good.

There were several families at Kettle Point who at the time when we
established our Mission were still nominally Pagan. Chief among them
were Ahbettuhwahnuhgund and his sister, and Shaukeens, with his wife
and family. Ahbettuhwahnuhgund's wife had been baptized, and so also
had his two eldest children. One of the first religious rites that I
was asked to perform when I began to visit Kettle Point was to receive
into the Christian fold the Chief's little boy and aged sister; and at
the same time the wife of Shaukeens, who had had several rather
dangerous attacks of illness, was baptized. We called the little boy
Cornelius, and Mrs. Shaukeens received the name of Tabitha.

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