Books: Missionary Work Among The Ojebway Indians

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

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It was strange how superstitious the Indians continued to be even
after their acceptance of Christianity. They seemed never to lose
altogether their faith in witchcraft, especially in that form by which
it was believed that certain persons had power to cause sickness or
misfortune to others. They seemed also to have a firm belief in dreams.
Once I was visiting at a poor miserable little shanty on the Sarnia
Reserve, and found an old man and his son both lying very sick. The
poor creatures were in a wretched condition, the hovel they were in
consisting merely of strips of bark and old boards outside and inside
hung with rags and tatters and old cloths of every description. The
only person to tend them was an old woman--wife, I suppose, of the
elder man--who was crouching over the fire smoking her pipe. When we
came in, the sick man was gnawing a duck bone, some one having shot him
a wild duck. He said it was the first time he had eaten anything for
several days; his son was too ill to eat anything. The old man told
Wagimah that he had seen me before, a night or two ago in a dream. I
had made a garden, and divided it into four parts, and one of these
parts was very miserable and wretched. I was walking through this
miserable part one day, when I found this poor man. He was very sick
indeed, and I took him up and brought him into another part of the
garden which was very beautiful, and told him that he might stay there
and work, and be happy for ever. Such was his dream. I repeated some
verses of Scripture to the poor creature, and then we knelt and prayed.
I heard afterwards that the people around believed the old man to be
bewitched; some evilly-disposed "medicine man," they said, had brought
this sickness upon him by his enchantments.

It was a very interesting occasion, when the whole of Shaukeens'
family, consisting of seven children, were brought to me for baptism.

At 2 p.m. the horn was blown, and the people began to come together to
our little temporary school-house. About twenty-eight assembled, and we
began service with a hymn; then I read the evening prayers from my
Ojebway prayer-book, and at the close of the lesson began the baptismal
service. David Sahpah, his wife, and Adam stood sponsors for the
children. The names given to them were Stephen, Emma, Sutton, Esther,
Alice, Talfourd, and Wesley. Before their baptism, they had no names,
and I had to register them in my book as No. 1 boy, No. 2 girl, and so
on. It was curious to notice how Pagans attending our services never
made any change in their position as the service proceeded. This time
the mother, who had been baptized about two months before, kneeled, or
stood, or sat with the other people; but the father and children sat
quietly on their seats. After the service the children joined in the
devotions, and the father only remained sitting.

The Chief Ahbettuhwahnuhgund for a long time refused to be baptized,
although I very often had conversations with him on the subject, and I
felt that in his heart he fully believed the great truths of
Christianity. It was partly, perhaps, pride that kept him back, and
partly that he was waiting, as he said, to see the Church of England
Mission firmly established at Kettle Point.

In the first week of January, 1870, our new school-church and master's
house at Kettle Point were opened for use. Very pretty they looked as
we approached; three flags were flying, and there were crowds of
Indians around. Mr. Jacobs, who was now settled in charge of the
Mission, met us on the steps of the little church, and accompanied us
in. It was most tastefully decorated, and fitted up with a reading-desk
on each side, dark-stained communion rails, and crimson coverings.
Forty-five persons assembled at the opening service, and just filled
the seats. It was a cause of much satisfaction to the Indians to have
their little church, which they had worked so hard to build; at length
completed. They had themselves supplied all the saw-logs out of which
the lumber was made, and had put up the framework, so that it had been
but a very small expense to the Mission.

Shortly after this I received word from the Chief that he was anxious
to be baptized. His answer to my questions were very simple and
childlike, and I had every reason to hope that he was sincere in his
desire to be a Christian. "Many of these things that you tell me," he
said, "are new to me. I hear them now for the first time; nevertheless,
I believe them. I believe all that the Christian's book teaches; I
cannot but believe it. No man could have written that book. I receive
it all as true, and I trust that I may gradually learn all that there
is to be learnt about the Christian religion."

I gave him the name of Isaac, that being a name by which he had been
commonly known among the white people for some time past. It was very
interesting to kneel with that newly-baptized Indian Chief, and hear
him for the first time pronounce those sacred words, "Wayoosemegooyun
Kezhegoong ayahyun"--"Thou who art our Father, in heaven who art." The
Chief, his wife, his sister, and his children were all now Christians,
and could unite together in prayer and praise and Christian worship.

CHAPTER XI.

THE RED RIVER EXPEDITION.

The year 1870 was memorable in Europe for the great war between France
and Germany, followed by the loss of the Pope's temporal power, and the
establishment of secular government in Rome. Here in Canada the
excitement of the day was the Red River rebellion, to quell which a
military expedition was despatched under the command of General (then
Colonel) Wolseley. I had arranged to make a Missionary tour to Lake
Superior during the summer, and it so happened that I fell in with the
troops on their way up the lake and did service for them as chaplain
while they were encamped at Thunder Bay.

It was a busy scene in the dock at Collingwood just prior to starting.
There were about a hundred Iroquois Indians who had been engaged as
guides and boatmen, and these were to precede the expedition and
arrange for the portaging and crossing the rivers before the arrival of
the troops. The steamship _Chicora_ was moored to the dock, the
whole vessel from stem to stern being heavily laded down, and there was
considerable delay before we started, but at length the ropes were let
go, the planks drawn in, and we were off. This was the _Chicora's_
first trip of the season, and large crowds gathered about the docks at
the various places where we stopped on our way up the lakes, the
general expectation evidently being that the troops would be on board.
The disappointment was great when it was found that we had only an
advanced guard of Indian Voyageurs with us. One old lady, accosting one
of the passengers, in her enthusiasm exclaimed, "Have ye got the army
on board?" Above Manitoulin Island the channel becomes very narrow and
is sprinkled with little rocky islets clad scantily with fir and birch
trees. On one was living an old grey haired man in charge of a
lighthouse; he had been there the whole winter shut in by ice and snow,
and was so full of delight at witnessing "the first boat of the season"
that he saluted us by firing his gun, to which we responded by a
grunting whistle. At last we reached Garden River, and stepping on
shore, I was soon exchanging hearty greetings with Mr. and Mrs. Chance.
The _Chicora_ was detained four hours at this place, as all the
boats for the expedition were to be taken off before they proceeded
further and to be rowed by the Indians to Sault Ste. Marie, a distance
of twelve miles. It was necessary to do this because the only way for
the _Chicora_ to get into Lake Superior was through a canal on the
American side of the river, and if the boats were left on board they
might be regarded by the American Government as munitions of war and so
be refused passage. So the Indians were to take charge of the boats and
pole them up the rapids, while the _Chicora_ expected to go
innocently through the locks as a boat of peace. However the plan did
not answer; the _Chicora_ even though divested of her boats, was
refused passage, and having unloaded everything on the Canadian side
was obliged to return whence she came. Then a road had to be cut along
the Canadian shore, the red-wheeled waggons brought into use, and
everything conveyed a distance of some three miles to a point above the
rapids, where a dock was constructed and another Canadian vessel, the
_Algoma_ employed to carry the things on to Thunder Bay on the
shore of Lake Superior.

As there was likely under these circumstances to be considerable delay
before I could continue my journey, I passed my leisure time under the
hospitable roof of Mr. and Mrs. Chance, and was glad of the opportunity
to renew my acquaintance with the Indians whom we had met last fall. I
had hoped that Mr. Chance would have been able to accompany me on my
expedition up the Lake; indeed it had been his own wish to do so, and
in that case we should have taken his own boat _The Missionary_
and a crew of Indians, and so have been independent of the steamboats.
Circumstances however occurred to prevent the carrying out of this
plan, and in the end I started alone by steamboat, with my tent, camp-
bed, a good stock of books, provisions, &c., and a Garden River Indian
named James as my attendant. Col. Wolseley and his staff and a large
detachment of troops were on board the steamboat, and on arrival at
Thunder Bay, about 300 miles distant from Sault Ste. Marie, we found a
scene of the greatest activity and excitement. The troops, about 1200
in number, were encamped on a wild bare spot with only a few rough
shanties and houses, about three miles from the Hudson Bay Company
Post, Fort William. The Bush had been burnt over, and it was a most
desolate, uninviting looking place, although the distant scenery around
was grand. There was considerable difficulty in disembarking, as the
water near the shore was shallow and there was no dock, so everything
had to be taken from the steamboat to the land in a flat scow hauled to
and fro by a rope. We pitched our tent on the shore, close to the
soldiers' camp, other tents of explorers and travellers being close
around us. From this point the troops were to start on their journey to
Winnipeg. First, forty miles of road had to be constructed, and boats
and everything had to be carried on waggons till the first water in the
chain of lakes and rivers was reached. This had to be done for the
whole of the 700 miles to Winnipeg; wherever possible the troops went
by boat, and where there was no water on the route, a road had to be
constructed and the waggons used. It was no easy task that Colonel
Wolseley had before him in this wild, uninhabited and rocky country.

Very soon after my arrival at Thunder Bay I began to look about for
Indians, that being the primary object of my visit. I found quite a
large settlement of them at Fort William, but was disappointed to
discover that they were all Roman Catholics. The Jesuits, it appeared,
had been among them for more than a century. They had a priest resident
among them, an old man, I was told, gentlemanly, courteous, and
generally beloved and respected both by Indians and Whites; they had
also a little church decorated with flowers and images. However, I
managed to draw a few people around me, and scarcely a day passed but I
had Indian visitors to my tent. The Indian Chief, whose name was
Mungedenah, did not seem to be at all bigoted in his religion. Pointing
to the sky, he said, "I know there is only one God, and I do not think
Christians ought to be divided." He seemed most anxious to have an
Ojebway Testament. I told him that the Garden River Indians could
nearly all read the Testament for themselves. Tears came into his eyes
and he said he wished indeed it could be the same with them. When he
rose to leave, he thanked me, and pointing up to heaven said God would
bless me.

After the visit of their Chief the Indians got quite friendly, and used
often to come and see me in my tent. One of them remarked once that he
thought there must be a great many white people in the world, to judge
by the large number that had come together that summer in such a short
space of time. Some of the poor creatures were evidently afraid of being
reported to their priest when they came to visit me; they generally
squatted at the entrance of the tent, and appeared to be keeping a watch
all the time, so that it was very seldom that I had an opportunity of
reading to them. Perhaps the most interesting incident that occurred was
an interview that I had with some wild pagan Indians from the Interior.
Some one put his head in at my tent door, and said, "Have you seen the
Indian Chief from Rainy Lake?" "No," I replied, "where is he to be
found? I should like very much to see him." Indeed I was most anxious to
meet some Indian from that quarter, as I had heard that there was a
large settlement there of some thousand Ojebway Indians all in the
darkness of paganism. I was directed to a store where the Chief had gone
in, and immediately went in search of him. There he stood, a fine,
upright, muscular man, with sharp set features, and a fierce forbidding
eye; long shaggy black hair straggled down his back, a mink-skin turban
graced his forehead, into which were stuck four white eagle feathers,
and behind it hung an otter skin appendage like a great bag, and covered
with little pieces of bone or metal, which rattled as he walked. I
addressed the Chief in Indian, and he turned and shook hands with me,
and after a little conversation he agreed to accompany me to my tent,
where I prepared a meal for him. He was very ready to converse, and told
me that his name was "Makuhda-uhsin" (Black Stone), that he had arrived
at Midday, that he was accompanied by four other men, two boys, and a
woman, that they had come by canoe, and had camped six nights on the
way. Koojeching, he said, was the place where they had come from, and
there he had left a thousand warriors.

While he was talking, the rest of the party arrived, seeking their
Chief. They all squatted down, and I had to feed them all, and then
give them tobacco for a smoke. They were all wild-looking creatures,
their countenances as thoroughly unchristianlike as could be conceived.
As soon as their hunger was satiated, and they had filled their pipes,
they were rising to go, but I asked them to remain as I had a few words
still to say to them. I then told them briefly who I was, where I had
come from, and my object in coming to Thunder Bay. I had heard, I said,
that they were all pagans at Koojeching. I was very sorry for it, and
very anxious that they should embrace Christianity. A change came upon
their faces as I spoke; they shuffled uneasily, eyed me suspiciously,
and were evidently impatient to get away. They probably thought that I
had got them into my tent with the idea of using some enchantments or
exercising some witchcraft upon them. I did not understand all they
said, but James told me afterward that they were all very angry. They
said they were all pagans, and intended to remain so. When I asked
whether, if I were to visit them some day, they would listen to me, and
if they would like me to come to see them and tell them about God,
Black Stone replied, "Come if you will, but as for my people they will
never become Christians" I heard afterwards that a Jesuit priest once
visited their settlement, and after he had left the small-pox broke
out. In then superstitious ignorance, they attributed the disease to
the priest's visit, and so determined never to accept Christianity.

I had arranged to visit the Lake Neepigon Indians on my way back down
the Lake, and took my passage on board a steamboat which was to call at
Red Rock at the mouth of the Neepigon River. But my purposes were
frustrated; the steamboats were under the direction of the military
authorities orders were changed at the last moment, and instead of Red
Rock I found myself at Michipicotun. At this place there is a Hudson Bay
Company Post and a small settlement of Indians. The approach to the Post
is very picturesque, the river being bordered by high-wooded banks, and
the clean-looking white-washed buildings of the Company presented a
striking contrast to the wild scenery around as we approached, rowing up
the river in one of the ship's boats. We pitched our tent in a cleared
spot just across the river, opposite to the Post and near to some Indian
wigwams. During our stay, which lasted about ten days, I visited every
day among the people, and at nightfall we would meet together in one of
their wigwams for reading the Scripture and prayer. The name of the
Chief was Tootoomenaun; he lived like the rest of his people in a simple
wigwam made of a circle of sticks sloping to a point, and covered with
birch-bark; and there, with his family and his dogs, he lay by the fire
and smoked his pipe, while I read or talked to them, the smoke
circulating about our heads and then finding its escape among the
blackened pole-ends at the apex of the little domicile. Another Chief
from the neighbouring settlement of Batcheewanig, about 90 miles
distant, was on a visit, and I had many a long talk with these two red-
skinned brethren. They said they had had no minister to visit them,
either Jesuit or Protestant, since the previous summer, and they seemed
very anxious to be taught, and listened very attentively when I read or
expounded the Scriptures. Finding the people all so anxious to learn, I
opened a little day-school in the Chief's wigwam. I had a box for my
seat, and the young people squatted round on mats. There was an
attendance of eleven scholars. Two of the young men I found already knew
the alphabet, so I set them on to commence the first book while the
others were kept busy with the A, B, C. They were sharp at learning, and
nearly all of them, with the exception of one or two of the youngest
children, knew the capital letters and figures from 1 to 10 by the time
the two hours of study were over. This school teaching was continued
every day until the steamboat arrived which was to take us the remainder
of our homeward voyage to the Sault.

It is interesting to me to recall this, my first missionary visit to
Lake Superior. Certainly it did not seem that much was accomplished
during my tour, and I was a little disappointed that there was not a
larger number of pagan Indians among whom I might look forward to
establish Missions in the future. Still I had gained, at any rate, some
insight into the condition of the people; there were the obdurate
pagans from Rainy Lake, Blackstone, whom I was destined to meet again
at a future day, the Thunder Bay Indians all seemingly under Jesuit
influence; then these more accessible Red men of Michipicotun and
Batcheewanig. Some Pic River Indians also I had chanced to meet on my
travels, and had some conversation with. The Neepigon Indians I was
sorry to miss seeing. I was obliged to leave them for another time,
together with the people belonging to several other settlements on the
North shore.

Altogether, the result of my trips to Garden River and to Lake
Superior was that I felt inwardly drawn to come and labour among the
people of these more Northern regions in preference to remaining among
the semi-civilized Indians of Sarnia. How the way would open I could
not at that time foresee, or how soon it might be my lot to move into
these wilder regions I could not tell. It was merely an unshaped
thought, the beginning of a desire created in my breast.

CHAPTER XII.

CHANGES IN PROSPECT.

It was at the end of June that I arrived at Sarnia. Very glad was I to
be at home again after my long, rough journey, and very glad too was my
wife to see me, for it was but seldom that we had had an opportunity of
writing to one another during my absence. In the autumn our second
child was born--a boy--to whom the Indians gave the name of
Suhyahquahdung (proclaimer), and shortly after this we gave up our
cottage on the Indian Reserve to Mr. Jacobs, and moved to a larger
house in the town, where we should have room to take two or three
Indian pupils as boarders. This seemed to be a judicious step, as of
all things it appeared to be the most important, to commence preparing
young men who might afterwards act as catechists and school teachers
among their people.

And so Mr. Jacobs, who had recently married, settled in at the Mission-
house as Pastor of the Sarnia Indians, and an Indian from Walpole
Island was appointed to take his place as catechist at Kettle Point.

Our readers will not have forgotten poor Shegaugooqua, the poor
decrepid bed-ridden creature whom we found in such a pitiable condition
in an old wigwam back in the Bush. They will remember also the mention
we made of her little five-year-old boy, with his shock of rough, black
uncombed hair, and his bright intelligent eyes. This little boy, Willie
by name, we now took in hand. I arranged that the catechist who had
been appointed to the Kettle Point Mission should take two little boys
into his family, and train them up to a Christian and useful life. One
of them was to be Willie, and the other a grandchild of the unfortunate
man who was murdered--Tommy Winter. So, a few days before Joshua
Greenbird was expected, we brought Willie and Tommy to our house in
Sarnia to prepare them for entering upon their new life. The first
thing was to divest them of their dirty rags, and give them each a
thorough good scrubbing; then they were put into two new little suits
of grey cloth which my wife and I had each taken a share in making with
the sewing machine. Thus, clean and neat, these two little fellows of
six years old were shipped off to their new home. Walpole Island, where
Joshua the catechist was coming from, was some 40 miles south of
Sarnia, and Kettle Point was 30 miles or more to the north, the road
lying direct through the town; and as Joshua had arranged to drive in a
waggon the whole way with his family and baggage, he made our house his
stopping-place on the road, and we gave him and his wife and four
children all a lodging for the night; then in the morning they started
on again, taking Willie and Tommy with them. For the first week or two
the two little boys were quite happy and contented in their new home,
and went regularly to school with the other children who lived at
Kettle Point; but after a time they got home-sick, and then they did
what Indian boys often do when first taken in hand and put under
restrictions--they ran away. However, they did not get far on their
thirty mile journey homeward before they were accosted by a farmer who
was driving along in his waggon. Willie, always ready with his tongue,
and already knowing a little English, called to the former, "Say, you
going Sarnia?" The farmer immediately guessed what was in the wind, and
cried, "Yes, come along, boys; jump in." So in they jumped; but were
somewhat mortified--poor little fellows--to find themselves, half an
hour later, back again at the catechist's house. The lesson was a good
one for them, and from that day forward they had the impression deeply
printed on their minds that farmers were everywhere on the watch for
them, ready to bring them home if they tried to run away.

It was during this winter (1870-71) that we began making plans for
building a church for the Sarnia Indians. The little building that we
had put up on our first arrival had never been intended as a permanent
church; so now that the Mission was fairly established and was
beginning to show good signs of prospering, it seemed to be only right
that a more substantial building should be erected for the purpose of
Divine worship, and that the little frame building should be kept
simply for a school. The first thing was to trundle the old building
out of the way; so a "bee" was called, and a number of the Indians
assembled, and with levers and rollers, and after working hard for a
couple of days, the school was twisted round and removed to the far
corner of the lot. Then the foundations were dug for the new church. It
was decided that it should be a brick building, with a spire, to cost
about 1500 dollars. Mr. Jacobs, my assistant, busied himself in the
matter, and together we managed to raise the requisite funds; and early
in the spring building operations were commenced.

However, it was not my destiny to be the pastor of this little brick
church among the Sarnia Indians. God was calling me to other work. It
so happened that, in the providence of God, the Garden River Mission
just at this time fell vacant. The Rev. Mr. Chance, who had laboured
there so faithfully for the past 18 years, was called away to another
sphere in a more southerly district. Great were the lamentations of the
poor Garden River Indians when he left. Both he and his wife had become
much endeared to the people. Mrs. Chance was the schoolmistress and
doctor, and what would the poor children and the poor sick people do
without her? and what would they do without their Missionary who had
laboured so long and so faithfully among them: who had baptized their
children, and united their young people in marriage, and buried their
dead, and preached to them the glad tidings of the Gospel, and visited
them, and sympathized with them, and helped them in their homes? Mr.
Chance's children had all been born and brought up at Garden River;
Indian nurses had attended them and cared for them during their infant
days; the Indian women had learned to look upon them almost as their
own; and one dear little girl--Alice--had died after a short illness,
and was buried in the Indian Cemetery. It was a terrible wrench for
these poor Indians one and all to be separated from their Missionary
and his family. And the worst feature of all was that there seemed to
be considerable fear lest the Mission might be given up altogether. The
New England Company, under whose auspices Mr. Chance had worked, had
determined on withdrawing from that portion of the field; and unless
some other Society saw fit to take them up, there seemed but little
prospect that the work among them would be continued.

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