Books: Missionary Work Among The Ojebway Indians

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

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_March_ 15.--Last evening our cottage reading was at
Buhkwujjenene's. I had just given out the first hymn when a message
came that I was wanted immediately at George Pine's, for Eliza was very
ill, and, they feared, dying. I got my medicines and jumped into the
sleigh. George Pine had gone away last Monday beaver-hunting. Only
Sarah was in the house. Eliza was lying on a couch on the floor, her
head to the wall, her feet toward the stove,--Sarah sitting about two
yards from her on the floor by the wall, with Eliza's baby on her
knees. The other two little children, Benjamin and Esther, were lying
on some blankets, on the floor at the other side of the room. While I
was taking off my cap and muffler George Angisteh bent down and looked
at Eliza, and then said to Sarah, "She is dead!" He then got up
quickly, and went out to summon the neighbours. In the meantime I felt
her pulse and heart, but her eyes were fixed, and she evidently was
dead; the women who came in tried rubbing her arms and legs, but
without any effect. Gradually the room became crowded with persons, the
two chiefs among the number. I gave a short address, expressed my
belief that Eliza was fully prepared for death, and was now happy; and
told the people her words about the eight true Christians whom she
thought might be found in Garden River. I pitied, I said, the three
little orphan children, and I trusted that God would care for them. I
spoke to Benjamin, the eldest (six years old), and told him his mother
was in heaven, and that he must try and love God, and then he would go
to see her again by-and-bye.

_March_ 18--To-day was the funeral. The church was crammed. I
gave a short address after the lesson, and we sang a hymn. The coffin
was opened in the church that all who wished might take a last look.
This is a prevalent custom with the Indians. There was no road cut to
the cemetery, so I had to go on snow-shoes, and the sleigh, with the
coffin, was drawn by four men. Again at the grave I said a few words,
and commended the three little orphan children to God's care.

_May_ 28.--A very satisfactory meeting to-night. After the usual
evening service was over (in the school) I asked all the people to
remain, so that we might have a little talk together about the
Institution which I hoped would be built during the summer. The
Indians, I said, had now transferred the land to us by deed, so that
there was nothing to prevent our commencing the buildings at once. It
was necessary, however, to consider what children would be received
into the Institution when it was completed. Many friends were ready
with their money to pay for the support of pupils, but they wanted
first of all to know their names and ages, and other particulars. I
felt, I said, that this was an important matter, and it was time now
for me to ask them whether they were willing to give up their children
to be trained in our Institution. I knew that it was a great
responsibility for me to undertake the charge of their children; if it
were not that I was persuaded that our whole undertaking had been from
first to last ordered by God, I should consider it too heavy a burden,
but I was sure God would be with us and bless us--it was His work, and
not mine. Chief Buhkwujjenene replied. He alluded briefly to our visit
to England, spoke of the generosity of the English people in
contributing, and ended by saying that he should gladly send two of his
daughters to our Institution. Chief Little Pine then rose. He addressed
himself specially to the women, and told them a great work had been
done for their children, and they must make up their minds now to give
them up. In a humourous tone, be said, all the _weaned children_
must be sent to the Institution at once, and the infants be kept until
they were old enough. Their Missionary, he added, seemed to think it
would be a heavy burden on him, and so indeed it would be if he were
alone: but he was not alone, God would help him, and so it would be
light. He concluded by urging on the people to listen to the good
counsel they had received. All that had been spoken was truth--it was
all truth.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE OPENING OF THE FIRST SHINGWAUK HOME.

On June 3rd, 1873, the contract for the erection of the new Industrial
Home was signed. It was to cost 1550 dollars, and to be completed by
August 25th. The specifications showed that it was to be a frame
building, having, with the old parsonage, a frontage of 100 feet, two
stories high, with verandah in front for each flat; suitable farm
buildings were also to be erected on the land in the rear.

It was interesting to us to watch the progress of the work day by day,
to see the walls rising up, the partitions made between the rooms, and
at length the roof put on and shingled.

The plastering was not yet done when the first batch of children
arrived. They came from our old Mission at Sarnia, and were accompanied
by Mr. Jacobs. Their names were Mary Jane, Kabaoosa, Mary-Ann Jacobs,
Betsey Corning, Eliza Bird, John Rodd, Tommy Winter (who was at Kettle
Point); also Nancy Naudee and Jimmy Greenbird, from Walpole Island. It
was difficult to find accommodation for them all, as the rooms were not
ready; however, we managed to pack them in.

It was just at this time that the district of Algoma, with Parry Sound
and Muskoka, was set apart by the Church as a Missionary Diocese, and
on the 10th September,1873, Archdeacon Fauquier, of the Huron Diocese,
was elected our first Missionary Bishop. His consecration was appointed
to take place October 28th.

And now I must tell about the opening of our Home, which took place on
Monday, the 22nd of September.

It was a fine bright day, and preparations began early in the morning
with the hoisting of flags, ringing the church bell, and firing of
guns. A string of flags--blue, yellow, red, and white--adorned the face
of the building, and a large Union Jack, given by Mrs. Buxton, was
hoisted on the centre of the roof. Men on the Reserve met first, early
in the morning, for a "clearing bee" on the farm; and at 4 p.m. a
general gathering of all the people was appointed to take place at "The
Home" for the opening ceremony.

We had at this time the promise of twenty-three pupils, but only
sixteen had as yet arrived--eight boys and eight girls. Six came from
Sarnia, two from Walpole Island, two from Manitoulin Island, and six
belonged to Garden River. Among the latter were Eliza Pine's little
orphan boy Benjamin. They all seemed very happy and contented in their
new home. Those who came from a distance had their travelling expenses
paid by their band; and we thought, if anything, it was rather an
advantage to get them, as their homes were too far off for them to be
likely to run away if they became home-sick. Both boys and girls worked
very well, helping the matron (Mrs. Shunk) and schoolmaster to get
everything ready by 4 p.m. The dining hall was prettily decorated with
stag-horn, moss, and flowers, and laid out with tables bearing, on one
side of the room, a "heavy dinner" for those who had been toiling at
the "Bee," and on the other side a light repast for other visitors. The
hall was soon crowded with people, and all came in for some share of
the feast. Then we had croquet and other games in the garden until 6
p.m., when a bell was rung, and all gathered in the hall.

The two Indian Chiefs, Buhkwujjenene and Augustin Shingwauk (Little
Pine), Mr. Frost, and myself, sat at a table at one end, with the boys
and girls of the Home ranged on our right and left, the rest of the
room being occupied by the people.

The opening ceremonies were conducted in a very simple manner, with a
short service, a special prayer for the occasion, hymns, and the
declaration that the building was now open, and was to be known by the
name of "The Shingwauk Industrial Home," Shingwank (a pine tree) having
been the family name of the Garden River Chiefs, for several
generations back.

Then I invited the whole crowd of people to follow me in order through
the building, that they might see every part of it. I went first, with
a lamp, and was followed by the Chiefs and all the Indians, and the
schoolmaster, with another lamp, brought up the rear. We ascended the
boys' staircase, through the master's bedroom into the boys'
dormitories, looked into the clothing store well supplied from English
and Canadian Sunday-schools, then down our own staircase, into the
dining-room, out again into the hall, through our kitchen and the
Institution kitchen, and the matron's sitting-room, into the girl's
work-room and dormitories, and so back to the dining-hall. Then all
again took their places, and the meeting was continued. I read over the
rules which had been placed on boards and hung up in the dining-hall;
read over the names of the children already admitted, gave a few
particulars about our work, and then invited the Chiefs each to give an
address. They spoke very warmly, and expressed themselves as highly
gratified with all that had been done and was being done for their
advancement, and thanked God that this "big teaching wigwam," which
they had so long wished for, was now built and opened for use. We then
concluded the meeting with another hymn and the blessing.

I had been very successful in getting support for my Indian children.
Several Sunday-schools in Toronto and elsewhere had kindly undertaken
the support of individual children, and Tommy and Jimmy were provided
for by kind friends in England. We thus had much reason to be hopeful
and to thank God.

During the remainder of the week our Indian children attended
regularly every day at school.

At last, Saturday night came; tea and prayers were half an hour
earlier than on other days. Mr. Frost played the harmonium, and the
children sang sweetly "Shall we gather at the river?" Then they had
their baths, and all retired to rest, looking forward to a happy day on
the morrow, the first Sunday in our new Institution.

CHAPTER XXII.

FIRE! FIRE!

At 10 o'clock that Saturday night (September 27th) I went my rounds as
usual to see that all was well. Earlier in the evening we had fancied
that we smelt burning, but it was accounted for by the matron, who said
that she had put some old rags into the washhouse stove. Everything
seemed to be safe and comfortable, and at 11 p.m. I retired to rest.

About 3 o'clock in the morning Mrs. Wilson and myself were
simultaneously awakened by the running to and fro of the boys in the
dormitory overhead, and the shouting of the schoolmaster. We were both
up in an instant. I lighted a candle, put on a few clothes, and opened
the door leading into the nursery. The cause of alarm was immediately
apparent. Flames were leaping up at the back of the house, seeming to
come from the cellar, which was entered by a staircase from the
outside, just under the nurseries. Every one now was crying "Fire!" and
all seemed to be rushing about frantically. Mrs. Wilson called to the
servants to wrap our children in blankets, and escape with them. I ran
from the nursery to the kitchen, where was a door that led out to the
back; there I found Cryer and Frost vainly endeavouring to stifle the
flames by throwing on buckets of water. It was raining in torrents. Not
a soul was at hand to help us. I sent Cryer and Frost to the river for
more water. It was pitch dark, and the river a considerable distance
off, so that by the time they returned, the flames had made great
headway. It was evidently too late to save the building. Mrs. Wilson
and the servants had collected the children; I caught up one of them,
and we all ran to the church through the vestry. I rang the church bell
hard for some minutes; still no one came. The children were wrapped in
blankets, all four of them ill with coughs; the youngest, Mabel Laurie,
very ill with inflammation of the lungs. I ran back to the wash-house;
the flames now were leaping up madly, and lighting all the country
round. I collected the Indian children in the garden, and counted them
over; two were missing. Frost said he was sure they were all out; but
we could not tell. We shouted into the burning building; afterwards we
found that they were all right. I ran into my study, keeping my head
low to avoid the smoke, unlocked three or four drawers, and rapidly
collected important papers; then, half smothered, groped my way back to
the hall. Mrs. Wilson had followed me, and held the door closed while I
was in to keep the fire from drawing outwards; the staircase was on
fire, and my hair and whiskers were singed. All our watches, jewellery,
&c., were lost. My wife had collected and put them together in a basket
on the floor, but it was too late to save it. Some of the Indians had
now arrived, and I told them to save what they could, but every room
was full of flame and smoke. The harmonium in the dining-hall might
have been saved, but no one thought of it; it had only been brought in
the day before, and was a gift from a lady in England. The church was
now in danger; it was only 20 feet from the burning building; where
should we go? We took up the children, and ran back to the farm
buildings. It was still drenching with rain; the fire looked terrible,
and we feared it would reach us even here. We must beat another
retreat. Should we go to the Jesuit priest? He was a hospitable man,
and would surely give us shelter. "Take up the children again," I said,
"we must go at once." My wife persisted in carrying little Laurie, the
youngest; I took the other little girl, and the servants carried the
two boys. Thus we went through the pelting rain, the women with only
shawls wrapped round them; my wife in her dressing-gown and slippers. I
hastened on to the priest's house, and after a good deal of loud
knocking succeeded in rousing him. He expressed the greatest sympathy,
and invited us in. The rain had drenched us to the skin. I left Mrs.
Wilson in charge of the priest's housekeeper, and ran back for the
other children. If I did give way at all it was just now when, for the
moment, I was alone. I felt that all my hopes and prospects were
dashed; still I could pray, and God was not far off. I was comforted.
Man might fail me, but God would not. If anything, it was good to feel
every earthly prop give way, and to cling alone to the Mighty One.

On the road I met the servants with two of the children. The flames were
advancing on the barn; they had already seized on some out-buildings
which lay between, and a pile of cordwood. Archie, our eldest boy, of
four years old, was sitting under the fence, not crying, but a smile was
on him lips, his blue eyes gazing calmly on the flames, his sunny locks
wet with the falling rain. I took him up, and ran back with him to the
priest's house. "Naughty fire to burn down papa's house," he said.
"Papa, shall we go away in the big boat now our house is burnt?" Leaving
the little fellow safely with his mother, I returned quickly to see
after my Indian children. The Indians, had already taken some of them
away to their houses, and the rest I sent into an empty log house which
Shunk had occupied. Then I turned my attention to the church. The people
were standing round doing nothing. I saw the church was in imminent
danger; part of the bell-tower had caught, and the roof was smoking with
the heat. I called aloud to the Indians to bring wet blankets and put
them on the roof, then I seized a rail, told some of the Indians to do
the same, and together we pushed over the burning end-wall of the doomed
building, and it fell with a crash into the glowing embers. Thus the
church was saved.

When I got back to the priest's house I found Mrs. Wilson very ill;
but the housekeeper, a kind-hearted French woman, was doing all she
could for her. The sexton, an Indian, came to know if he should ring
the bell for service. I was scarcely aware it was Sunday, but I said,
"Yes and I would come myself." I had no hat, but the priest lent me his
fur cap, also his boots. I would not go into the reading-desk, but
knelt in the church, and read the Litany. All the people seemed greatly
affected. I spoke a few words to them, comparing our position to that
of the Israelites when, on setting forth, full of hope and joy, on
their road to the Promised Land, found their way suddenly barred before
them by the Red Sea. I told them that the events that had happened
seemed sad and distressing to us, but who were we that we should
understand God's purposes? We must believe that it was all for the
best; we must wait on God; He would make the way clear for us. If it
were His will, no doubt these ruins would be built up again, and we
should all rejoice once more. Buhkwujjenene then said a few words, and
spoke very feelingly. When this little service was over, I returned to
the priest's house, and sat down at his table to write a telegram.
There was telegraphic communication with the outer world through the
United States, the wires having been extended to the American Sault
only a few months previously; thus I was enabled to telegraph to
England. I wrote, "All is burned down; no lives lost; nothing saved."
The priest, who had been most kind throughout, sent it for me to the
telegraph office, thirteen miles off. He sent also at the same time for
the doctor and medicines, and a message to our friends at the Sault
telling of our sad plight.

We now determined to go as soon as possible to Collingwood by the
steamship _Cumberland_, which was due on her way down. Poor little
Laurie was very ill, and we anxiously awaited the arrival of the
doctor. During the afternoon, I poked through the ashes with a stick,
and found the remains of our watches and two sovereigns welded
together. We also collected a quantity of silver, all welded together,
scarcely a spoon or fork retaining its shape; still it was valuable,
and I disposed of it afterwards in Toronto. Among the chief valuables
destroyed were our piano, recently brought from England, the harmonium,
a library of 500 volumes, and all our stores for the winter which had
just been laid in. The whole loss was estimated at about L1300. The
carpenters had only been out a day or two, and I was intending to
insure the building the following week.

CHAPTER XXIII.

AFTER THE FIRE.

Late in the afternoon Dr. King, of the American side, arrived. He was
very kind and did all he could both for my suffering wife and our sick
child; there seemed but little hope that the latter would live, in her
weak state the shock had been too great. After tea I went over to see
my poor Indian children. All were lacking in clothing more or less.
Jimmy Greenbird, who ran into Frosts' room after the fire began and
saved his coat for him, was rolled up in a counterpane. Little Nancy,
eleven years old, had her hand to her head and looked ill. She said,
"My brain pains me." She seemed inclined to faint, so I took her in my
arms and gave her some restorative. All night our little Laurie was
very ill, and Mrs. Wilson never slept at all. Next day, Monday, the
Indians held a council to hear from me what I proposed to do. They
asked me whether I felt "weak or strong about it," whether I would
collect money to re-build again, or whether I should give up the
Mission. I reminded them of what I had said in the church. I could only
wait on God till I saw my way. Some of them said it was unfair to ask
me just now when the calamity was but just over, and my wife and child
sick; it would be better for them to set to work and try and repair the
damages and leave me more time to think: they then talked of putting up
a house at once for our school-master, as he would remain and take my
place this winter. Old Chief Little Pine, spoke very nicely; addressing
me, he said, "The destruction of these buildings and property is not
loss. Were you to lose your wife and children it would be loss, for
they cannot be replaced. I have just lost a son, and I know what that
is." Our friends at the Sault were most kind and sympathising; they
sent us a portmanteau full of clothing and food.

One more sad event has to be recorded. Tuesday was a clear cold
morning, and the stars were still shining brightly, undimmed as yet by
the streaks of dawn in the East, as I wended my way to the church. I
was going to toll the bell, for our little daughter Laurie was dead.
The soft morning star beamed down upon me as in pity; all was quiet,
all looked calm, serene, and peaceful,--the silence only broken by the
deep tolling of the bell. The little coffin had to be made in haste,
and was only just ready in time, for the steamship _Cumberland_
arrived at 10 a.m. My wife was carried on a mattress down to the
steamer. The boat could only stay a short time. The servants and the
other children were already on board. I gently lifted my child into her
last narrow bed, then Cryer and I carried it on board with our hats
off. Frost remained behind to take charge of the Mission temporarily.
The Indian children who had come from a distance were left with him and
the Matron until we could decide what to do. The captain and officers
were very kind. When we got to Bruce Mines, I went up to a store to buy
a great coat and other necessaries. My wife was still in her dressing
gown, being too ill to dress. We had special prayer on board for fine
weather, the captain and others joining with us. On reaching
Collingwood, we were most kindly received by Dr. and Mrs. Lett. They
were greatly distressed to hear of our sad misfortune, and my wife was
carried up with the greatest care to their house. They gave up their
own bedroom to her on account of its being warm and comfortable, and
would not hear of our going elsewhere. Late in the evening a vehicle
was engaged, and Dr. Lett, my two little boys, and myself went together
to the cemetery which is some distance off--taking the little coffin
with us. It was too late to read from the Service-book, but Dr. Lett
repeated some portions of the service from memory, and our little
girl's body was committed to the ground--"earth to earth, ashes to
ashes, dust to dust,--in sure and certain hope of the glorious
resurrection."

The telegram announcing our disaster was received at my father's house
in England at 8 p.m. Oct. 1st, three days after it happened, and a
reply expressing much sympathy was immediately telegraphed to us. A
week later came a letter saying that L250 had already been subscribed
towards the rebuilding: this simply in response to the telegram. Very
great sympathy was aroused, and letters came pouring in from kind
friends both in England and in Canada. By Oct. 16th the "fire fund" in
England had reached L518, and this before any letters with details had
arrived. Our friends up to that time knew only that "all was burnt
down." They were anxiously expecting letters, and hoped to hear that we
had at least saved some of our personal property. The following are
extracts from some of the earliest letters received in response to the
first detailed tidings of our calamity. "Your letter, giving the
details of that terrible escape and your great anxiety, only reached us
yesterday morning (Oct. 22). It made our hearts bleed for you. But how
comforting to know that you were kept in peace, even amid _such_
sorrow. I knew you would be helped and comforted, as God's children
always are, when their need is the greatest. And now our fears and
longings have been greatly relieved by the short telegram which arrived
at 4 a.m. to-day. We do indeed rejoice and thank God with you for this
great mercy. After your sad account of your dear wife and her falls in
escaping we feared much for her, but what a joy to have another living
babe in place of the sweet little one whom the Good Shepherd has folded
in His own arms.... How mysterious it seems that everything, just when
completed, should thus in a moment have been destroyed; and then, just
when the fire came, that the children should have been so ill: but if
trials like these do make us cling the more to the Mighty One shall it
not be well?... L550 is now in hand for you, and more keeps coming in."

Another writes:--"I cannot say how we all felt for you in your great
trial, such an overwhelming, overpowering misfortune; and then your
darling child's death too, it all seems to have come upon you like an
avalanche. Well, you have the best comfort. I came upon such a nice
verse for you this morning, 'David encouraged himself in the Lord, his
God.'"

On the 30th October, a large packing case and bale were despatched
from England containing full supplies of clothing and house requisites,
books, &c., and many handsome presents from our kind and sympathizing
friends.

But besides all this help from England we received also very much
sympathy and a great deal of substantial help from our friends in
Canada. The very first contribution I received towards rebuilding was
from the Methodist minister of the Sault, although I had never made his
acquaintance or spoken to him. One lady sold a diamond ring from her
finger and sent us the proceeds, and many others helped liberally. Dr.
Lett was indefatigable in his exertions for us. The following is from
our dear Bishop, who had been elected only a few weeks before the fire
occurred and was not yet consecrated.

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