Books: Missionary Work Among The Ojebway Indians

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

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All these things weighed with me, and I earnestly sought the guidance
of Almighty God in prayer, content to follow His will and to be led by
His hand.

As Mr. Chance intended to leave Garden River early in the spring, and
it was a part of my duty to make extended tours among the scattered
Indians, and minister to their spiritual wants, I decided on making
another trip northward as soon as possible after navigation opened. My
wife accompanied me, and we took an Indian boy with us, named Aleck
Bird, as cook and general servant.

CHAPTER XIII.

ROUGHING IT.

We expected that when we got to Garden River we should find an empty
house, and have to do everything for ourselves; so we came well provided
with a supply of flour, salt meat, etc., etc. Quite a crowd of Indians
came running down to the dock when we landed, and all were eager to
shake hands, crying, "Boozhoo, boozhoo," the Indian mode of address.
Then one seized a bundle, another a portmanteau, and, all laden with our
baggage and supplies, accompanied us up to the Mission-house. Chief
Buhkwujjenene was most warm in his greetings. "Would that you could
always remain with us!" he exclaimed. On arriving at the little white-
washed Parsonage, we were very glad to find that, although Mr. Chance
had been gone for more than a week, Mrs. Chance and two of the children
were still there; the furniture also had not been removed.

Mrs. Chance taught me to bake bread before she left, which was very
useful, as I still often have to make camp bread. After a few days we
were left alone with our boy Aleck. It was a primitive style of living,
but we both enjoyed it immensely. The Indians were all so pleased to
have us with them, and the attendance at services both on Sundays and
Wednesday evenings, was very satisfactory. There was something quite
enchanting about our little log cottage, with the hops clambering up
the verandah, the garden-beds full of flowers, the broad river in front
of our windows, and the little sail-boat moored to the dock, which we
could use at our will and pleasure. Then there were plenty of fish in
the river, which the Indians brought to us, and an accommodating old
duck laid an egg every morning just beside the door-step. Aleck was a
capital boy; always cheery and ready, and would do anything he was
asked to do. During our month's stay we only had fresh meat twice--once
when a bear was killed, and again when we killed our drake. Among other
duties of a new and peculiar kind, that of Post-master devolved upon
me. The position was not an enviable one, and it took up a good deal of
time; but it was convenient to get the mail without having to send
twelve miles to Sault Ste. Marie for it. One day the boat arrived at
the dock while we were at Church, and I had to set the people on
singing a hymn while I ran down to change the mail. Another day an
Indian came shouting at my window at 6 o'clock in the morning that the
_Chicora_ was just coming in. Half awake and half asleep I turned
out of bed, seized the Post-office key, and in frantic haste rushed
down to get my mail ready.

My wife sent Aleck running after me with my boots, which I had
forgotten in my hurry! I was by this time able to preach to the Indians
in their own tongue. On the first Sunday after our arrival we had an
attendance of thirty-two persons at the Holy Communion, and among them
were a good many young men. The offertory collection amounted to just
one pound English money.

The first week in July we went on a little camping expedition to Echo
River, where the Indians were making their birch-bark troughs ready for
the next year's sugar-making. It was a fine bright morning when we
started, and we went in _The Missionary_, with Aleck and two other
Indian boys to row us. Echo River is a deep, narrow stream, scarcely a
stone's throw wide, with the thick foliage of many and various trees
overhanging its banks. The only sounds which broke the stillness were
the notes of birds and the croaking of the bull-frog, mingled with the
measured splash of the oars. At length, after about two hours' pull, we
reached a little creek, and the Indian boys told us that their
encampment was a short distance up it. It seemed scarcely possible to
take the boat in, for the stream was very narrow, and nearly choked up
with floating saw-logs. However, we pushed along with poles, and
succeeded at length in reaching our destination. A good many of our
people ran down and welcomed us heartily to their camp. It must have
been strange to them, I suppose, to see a lady in so wild and out-of-
the-way a spot.

A little clearing was cut with the axes, on which our tent was to be
placed, and a path cut up to it from the creek; poles and tentpins were
then made, and in a very short time our dwelling was ready for our
reception. Meanwhile the fight with the lords of the Bush had
commenced. While we were rowing we had not been much troubled with the
mosquitoes, but now that we had invaded their dominions, they evidently
regarded us as their lawful prey, and commenced the attack in good
earnest. My wife, with a very serious face, drew on my large mackintosh
coat, and sitting down on a heap of blankets, hid her hands, having
first guarded her head and face with a thick veil. I filled the frying-
pan with hot ashes, and covering them with green leaves, carried it in.
The place was soon full of smoke, and after a vigorous whiffing I
succeeded in making it habitable. Now we began to breathe a little more
freely. Later in the afternoon we ventured on a short walk to see our
neighbours. There were several wigwams all belonging to our own people.
They were not conical, but had, generally, rounded roofs, over which
were placed large sheets of birch-bark and Indian matting.

The people were very busy at work, the men drawing out saw-logs with
two or three yoke of oxen; the women very busy with the birch-bark or
basket-making. We found the Chief's wife sitting in a very airy
apartment, there being nothing over her head but a few twisted sticks,
on which the bark had not yet been laid. When we returned to our tent
we found that good Aleck had already got the kettle boiling, and we
made a capital supper off fried fish and potatoes. All was very
comfortable. The Indians had put a thick layer of maple branches for a
floor; on these were laid first a couple of Indian reed mats, and then
our scarlet rugs and table cloth. After supper I sent Aleck to ask the
Indians to come together for some singing. A great many collected, and
we sang the "Te Deum" and several hymns in Ojebway. Then we sat round
the camp fire, which blazed up cheerily and gave light enough for us to
see our books. I was pleased to find how many of the people had their
Ojebway prayer-books and testaments with them, carefully wrapped up in
a pocket handkerchief. Each little knot of people lighted a small
smouldering mosquito fire in the midst, so that smoke was rising on all
sides. About ten o'clock I concluded with prayer; the people shook
hands and departed. Rain was beginning to fall heavily. This and the
clanging of cow-bells close outside the tent, and the music of
mosquitoes trying to make their entrance through the net suspended over
us, drove sleep from our eyelids. In the morning we had other enemies
in the shape of minute sand-flies, smaller than a pin's head, which
attacked us fiercely. It was no easy matter to light the fire in the
morning in the drenching rain. One of the good people came up with an
iron pot full of potatoes, which he hung over the fire to be cooked for
our breakfast. When it ceased raining I went out to visit some of the
people, and then we prepared to start homeward. We had only one Indian
to help Aleck at the oars, and a head-wind to row against, so that it
was late when we reached home; but, notwithstanding these drawbacks, we
had enjoyed our trip.

The time for leaving Garden River was now drawing near, and the
American steamer _St. Paul_ was daily expected to pass. It would
not stop at Garden River, but we should have to run out to it in our
boat, so Aleck took up his position on the ridge of the roof to keep a
look-out, and the first appearance of smoke round the point would be
the signal for the boat to be got ready. I had frequently requested the
stewards on the boats to bring me fresh meat from Collingwood on their
up-trip. They at length complied with my request, and just the day
before we expected to leave came a big joint of thirteen pounds--the
first we had seen since we came up. So we had beef for breakfast, beef
for dinner, and beef for tea, and beef between times in the vain hope
of getting through it. At last we called in our Indian friends and
neighbours to partake, and they cleared off nearly all the food in the
house. Evening came, and our boat had not arrived.

The next day was Sunday. Morning service was over, and the Indians,
remembering the good feast of yesterday, came sniffing round, thinking
to get another. We had a very spare luncheon, and we had to tell the
Indians that we were quite out of victuals. Then we sent Aleck to the
Jesuit priest to ask him if he would kindly send us a little butter and
milk. In the evening the good man came down himself, and expressed the
greatest distress at our laughable condition. He was a German by birth,
but spoke English very well. "I think I have a leetle cock," he said,
"and I will give him to you, and if you have some rice, you may make
some soup; that will be better than to starve." We thanked him warmly,
and Aleck went and brought the "leetle cock," and an Indian gave us a
pint of huckleberries, and we scraped the flour-barrel and made a
huckleberry pie, and so had quite a feast. On Monday morning the
steamboat arrived, and we bade adieu to our Indian friends, and
returned to Sarnia.

CHAPTER XIV.

CHIEF LITTLE PINE.

Chief Little Pine (Augustin Shingwauk) was following his work in the
lonely bush, his heart was sad at the thought of the black-coat
(missionary) leaving them. Suddenly a thought entered his mind, it was
as though an arrow had struck his breast; "I will go with him,--I will
journey with this black-coat where he is going. I will see the great
black-coat (the Bishop of Toronto) myself, and ask that Mr. Wilson may
come and be our teacher, and I will ask him also to send more teachers
to the shores of the great Ojebway Lake, for why indeed are my poor
brethren left so long in ignorance and darkness with no one to instruct
them? Is it that Christ loves us less than His white children? Or is it
that the Church is sleeping? Perhaps I may arouse them, perhaps I may
stir them up to send us more help, so that the Gospel may be preached
to my poor pagan brethren. So I resolved to go. I only told just my
wife and a few friends of my intention. I felt that the Great Spirit
had called me to go, and even though I was poor and had but a few
dollars in my pocket, still I knew that the great God in heaven, to
whom forty years ago I yielded myself up, would not let me want. I felt
sure that He would provide for my necessities. So when the raspberry
moon had already risen, and was now fifteen days old (July 15), and the
black-coat and his wife stepped on board the great fire-ship, I stepped
on also. I had not told him as yet what was my object in going and at
first he left me to myself, thinking, I suppose, that I was going on my
own business. I was a stranger on board; no one knew me, and no one
seemed to care for me.

"When we arrived at Ahmejewunoong (Sarnia), the fire-waggons (railway
cars) were almost ready to start; so I still had to fast, and not until
we had started on our way to Pahkatequayaug (London), did the black-coat
know that I had been all that time without food. Then he was very sorry
indeed, and from that time began to take great care of me, and I told
him plainly what was my object in coming. It is not necessary for me to
say anything about London. The black-coats met together in council to
elect the great black-coat Chief (Bishop Hellmuth), and I went to the
big church to see them all. But I had nothing particular to say to them,
for their great black-coat had nothing to do with my people. I was
impatient to get on to Toronto to see the chief black-coat who has
authority to send teachers to my people on the great Ojebway Lake. We
arrived in Toronto on the sixth day of the week when the raspberry moon
was twenty-two days old. I was glad to see the great city again, for I
had seen it first many years ago, when it was but a papoose, and had but
a few houses and streets. We went to the place where the black-coats who
have authority over missions meet, and I opened my heart to them and
divulged its secrets. I said that at Garden River we were well content,
for we had had the Gospel preached to us now for forty winters, and I
felt our religious wants had been well attended to; but when I
considered how great and how powerful is the English nation, how rapid
their advance, and how great their success in every work to which they
put their hands, I wondered often in my mind, and my people wondered
too, why the Christian religion should have halted so long at Garden
River, just at the entrance to the great Lake of the Ojebways; and how
it was that forty winters had passed away and yet religion still slept,
and the poor Indians of the great Ojebway Lake pleaded in vain for
teachers to be sent to them. I said that we Indians know our great
mother, the Queen of the English nation, is strong, and we cannot keep
back her power any more than we can stop the rising sun. She is strong,
her people are great and strong, but _my_ people are weak. Why do
you not help us? It is not good. I told the black-coats I hoped that
before I died I should see a big teaching wigwam built at Garden River,
where children from the great Ojebway Lake would be received, and
clothed, and fed, and taught how to read and how to write, and also how
to farm and build houses, and make clothing, so that by-and-bye they
might go back and teach their own people. The black-coats listened to
what I said, and they replied their wish was the same as mine.
Afterwards I saw the Bishop of Toronto (Strachan), and he said that it
was his own wish that Mr. Wilson should become our Missionary. My heart
rejoiced more and more, and I felt now that the great object of my
journey was accomplished, and I could return again to my people. But
they did not wish me to go home yet. It was to be arranged that the
white people should meet together to hear me speak on the third day of
the following week.

"Many were the thoughts that filled my mind at that time, as I walked
along the streets of Toronto, and looked at the fine buildings and
stores full of wonderful and expensive things. 'How rich and powerful
is the English nation! I thought. 'Why is it that their religion does
not go on and increase faster?' When I entered the place where the
speaking paper (newspaper) is made and saw the great machines by which
it is done, and by which the papers are folded, I thought, 'Ah, that is
how it is with the English nation, every day they get more wise, every
day they find out something new. The Great Spirit blesses them and
teaches them all these things because they are Christians, and follow
the true religion. Would that my people were enlightened and blessed in
the same way!'

"The next day was the day of prayer, and I went to the big wigwam
where the children assemble to be taught. I stood up and spoke to them,
and told them how much I desired that my children should be taught in
the same way, and have such a beautiful wigwam to assemble in, where
they might hear about God and His Son Jesus Christ. It rejoiced my
heart to hear them sing. After this I entered the great house of prayer
(the cathedral). I was in Toronto when the first one was there. Since
that time it had been burnt down and rebuilt, and then all burnt down
again, and yet now it stands here larger and grander than before. 'The
white people,' I said to myself, 'have plenty of money; if they knew
how poor my people are, surely they would give more of their money to
build a house for us where our children may be taught.' I could not
understand the words of the service, but my heart was full of thoughts
of God, and I thought how good a thing it was to be a Christian, and I
rejoiced that I had heard of the love of Christ, who died for His red
children, as well as for the pale faces, for He is not ashamed, we know
now, to call us brothers. During the few days we remained in Toronto I
was out nearly all the time with Mr. Wilson, collecting money at the
people's wigwams. I am an old man of seventy winters, and I cannot walk
about as much as I could when I was young; so he got a waggon, and we
drove from house to house. I thought some of the people were very good.
One woman gave us ten dollars, but many of them gave us very little,
and some would not give us anything at all.

"When we reached St. Catharine's Mr. Wilson and myself went from
wigwam to wigwam, asking for money to help the Indians on the great
Chippeway Lake. In the evening the white people met together in the
teaching wigwam, and there were so many of them that they had no more
room to sit, and I spoke to them and told them the thoughts of my
heart. This time I spoke more boldly than I had done before. I told
them that as an Indian chief I had a right to speak on behalf of my
poor people, for the land the white men now held was the land of my
fathers; and now that the white man was powerful, and the Indian was
weak, the Indian had a right to look to him for help and support. As I
closed my speech I looked around last of all upon the children; for I
wished my eyes last of all to rest upon these white children who had
received the benefit of education and Christian instruction; and I gave
them my beaver-skin to keep in their school, so that they might always
remember my visit and think upon my words.

"On the second day of the week, early in the morning, we entered the
fire-waggon to go to the river of the Mohawks. I was greatly rejoiced
to see Mr. Chance once more, and also his wife and children. I remained
with them three days.

"When the day came for me to leave, the black-coat, Chance, took me in
his waggon to the place where the fire-waggons start, and sent a wire-
message to Mr. Wilson to be ready to meet me when I arrived.

"I sat in the fire-waggon, and smoked my pipe, and rejoiced in my mind
that my work was now over, and I should soon return to my people. For
many hours I travelled, and the sun had already sunk in the west, and I
thought I must be nearly arrived at Ahmujewunoong, when the fire-waggon
chief came to look at my little paper; and then he looked at me and
shook his head, and I understood I had come the wrong way. Presently the
fire-waggon stood still, and the chief beckoned me to get out, and he
pointed to the west, and made signs by which I understood that I must
now wait for the fire-waggons going towards the sun-rising, and in them
return part of the way back. By-and-bye the fire-waggons approached,
coming from where the sun had set; and a man told me to get in. It was
midnight when I reached Pahkatequayang (London), and they let me go into
the wire-house and lie down to sleep. I slept well all night, and early
in the morning a man beckoned to me that the fire-waggons were ready to
start for Sarnia, and showed me which way to go.

"Thus I at length got back to Sarnia, and was glad to lie down and
rest in Mr. Wilson's wigwam; and now I am waiting for the fire-ship to
come, and as soon as it comes I shall go on board and return straight
home to my people.

"The black-coat, Wilson, has asked me to let him write down all this
that I have told him, so that it may be made into a book and read by
everybody. And I hope that by-and-bye all the white people will see
this book, and that their hearts will be warmed towards the poor
ignorant Indians who live on the shores of the Great Ojebway Lake.

"We have collected three hundred dollars, but three hundred dollars is
not enough to make religion increase. If we had but the worth of one of
those big wigwams, of which I saw so many in Toronto, I think it would
be enough to build a teaching wigwam at Garden River, and enough to
send teachers also to the shores of the Great Ojebway Lake. I must have
something done for my people before I die; and if I cannot get what I
feel we ought to have from the Great Chiefs of this country, I am
determined to go to the far distant land across the sea, and talk to
the son of our Great Mother, the Prince of Wales, who became my friend
during his visit to Canada, and gave me my medal, and who, I believe,
will still befriend me if I tell him what my people need."

CHAPTER XV.

OUR FIRST WINTER IN ALGOMA.

Shortly after making this tour with Chief Little Pine, arrangements
were made for our finally leaving Sarnia and removing our head-quarters
to the Indian Mission at Garden River; the Committee of the Church
Missionary Society agreed to the change as an experiment, and undertook
to support the Mission for one year; but the withdrawal of the New
England Company and the fact of so many of the Indians having already
been converted by the Roman Catholics, made them a little doubtful as
to whether it would be a suitable spot for establishing one of their
Missions permanently.

Before leaving Sarnia we had the satisfaction of seeing the little
brick church on the Reserve completed and opened for use. This,
together with the Kettle Point Mission, was now handed over to the
charge of the native pastor, the Rev. John Jacobs.

I must mention one little incident that happened at this time. It was
in the evening, and I had called to see Mr. Jacobs. He met me with his
usual geniality, and we sat conversing for some time. Near the sofa was
a large clothes-basket with a blanket over it. By-and-bye some little
faint cries came from the neighbourhood of the basket. "What have you
got there, Kesheg?" I asked. Mr. Jacobs was a little confused, and
laughingly muttered something about an "arrival." The blanket was
removed, and there lay two little mortals nestled together, one fair
like his English mother, and the other dark like her father. The
Indians afterwards gave them Indian names--"River Prince" and "River
Princess."

It was the end of September when we left Sarnia. A little girl had
been added to our family three weeks before. We had great difficulty in
getting servants to go to so wild and out of the way a place as Sault
Ste. Marie and Garden River were conceived to be. After many fruitless
endeavours we were obliged to give it up, and took no one with us
except our faithful Jane as nurse. There were no Canadian boats at that
time running from Sarnia, so we had to take passage on an American
vessel. We went well supplied with provisions sufficient to last us
through the winter, and had all our furniture with us, besides horse,
buggy, sleigh, and two cows. At that time there was but one clergyman
in all the Algoma district, and he was located on the Manitoulin
Island, 150 miles east of the point to which we were bound. To the west
and north our nearest clerical neighbours would be the Missionaries of
Hudson Bay and Rupert's Land, 500 or 600 miles away. It had been
arranged that we should spend the winter at Sault Ste. Marie, a village
of 300 or 400 people, twelve miles above the Garden River Mission, and
a house had been engaged there for us to live in; the Church people at
Sault Ste. Marie were anxious that we should do this,--a little stone
church, St. Luke's, had just been built, and they, of course, were
desirous to have regular services held; and I expected every Sunday to
hold one service at Garden River, besides visiting the Indians during
the week.

It was late on Saturday night, about 10 p.m., when we reached Sault
Ste. Marie. The captain had kindly promised to put us off on the
Canadian side, but it being so late and dark, and the channel not a
safe one, he was unable to do so, and we were hurried off, boxes,
tables, cows, horse, and all on the American dock. This placed us in a
dilemma. Ten o'clock, Saturday night, and ourselves and our things all
in the wrong place,--the right, place being a mile and a-half across
the water. The first thing to do under the circumstances was to take my
family up to the hotel, after which I returned to the dock, and
fortunately found a friend in need, Mr. Church, the owner of a sawmill
on Sugar Island, a short distance below Garden River. He most
obligingly undertook to put all my things across to the Canadian side
for me. His men set to work with a will--several of them were Garden
River Indians--and in a little time all was packed on board his scow,
and we were steaming across the Ste. Marie River. Fortune, however,
seemed to be against us,--we were about one-third of the way across
when one of the cows who was tethered to a parlour stove jumped
overboard, taking the stove along with her. Happily the rope broke, the
stove sank, and the cow swam. A boat was put off, the cow taken in tow,
and rowed back to the American side. However, in due time she was once
more safely got on board and made fast, and in a little while we had
reached our destination, and everything was landed at the Canadian
dock. It was about one o'clock in the morning when I arrived there, and
I went up to the empty Mission-house which we had occupied in the
spring, and found a bed on which to snatch a few hours' rest.

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