MISSIONARY WORK

AMONG

THE OJEBWAY INDIANS. 

BY THE

REV. EDWARD F. WILSON. 

CONTENTS. 

CHAP. 

INTRODUCTION. 

I. HOW IT CAME ABOUT THAT I WENT TO CANADA. 

II. FIRST MISSIONARY EXPERIENCES. 

III. OUR ARRIVAL AT SARNIA. 

IV. KETTLE POINT. 

V. INDIAN NAMES GIVEN. 

VI. CHRISTMAS ON THE RESERVE. 

VII. MISSION WORK AT SARNIA. 

VIII. THE BISHOP'S VISIT. 

IX. FIRST VISIT TO GARDEN RIVER. 

X. BAPTISM OF PAGAN INDIANS. 

XI. THE RED RIVER EXPEDITION. 

XII. CHANGES IN PROSPECT. 

XIII. ROUGHING IT. 

XIV. CHIEF LITTLE PINE. 

XV. OUR FIRST WINTER IN ALGOMA. 

XVI. CHIEF BUHKWUJJENENE'S MISSION. 

XVII. AN INDIAN CHIEF IN ENGLAND. 

XVIII. A TRIAL OF FAITH. 

XIX. LEARNING TO KNOW MY PEOPLE. 

XX. A WEDDING AND A DEATH. 

XXI. THE OPENING OF THE FIRST SHINGWAUK HOME. 

XXII. FIRE! FIRE!

XXIII. AFTER THE FIRE. 

XXIV. PROSPECTS OF RE-BUILDING. 

XXV. LAYING THE FOUNDATION STONE. 

XXVI. A TRIP TO BATCHENWAUNING. 

XXVII. THE WINTER OF 1874-5. 

XXVIII. THE NEW SHINGWAUK HOME. 

XXIX. RUNAWAY BOYS. 

XXX. CHARLIE AND BEN. 

XXXI. A TRIP UP LAKE SUPERIOR. 

XXXII. COASTING AND CAMPING. 

XXXIII. UP THE NEEPIGON RIVER. 

XXXIV. THIRTY YEARS WAITING FOR A MISSIONARY. 

XXXV. THE PAGAN BOY--NINGWINNENA. 

XXXVI. BAPTIZED--BURIED. 

XXXVII. THE WAWANOSH HOME. 

XXXVIII. A SAD WINTER. 

XXXIX. WILLIAM SAHGUCHEWAY. 

XL. OUR INDIAN HOMES. 

XLI. A POW-WOW AT GARDEN RIVER. 

XLII. GLAD TIDINGS FROM NEEPIGON. 

PREFACE. 

A few words addressed by the Bishop of Algoma to the Provincial Synodmay form a suitable preface to this little book, which aspires to noliterary pretensions, but is just a simple and unvarnished narrative ofMissionary experience among the Red Indians of Lake Superior, in theAlgoma Diocese. 

"The invaluable Institutions at Sault Ste. Marie still continue theirblessed work of educating and Christianizing the rising generation ofOjebways. Founded in a spirit of faith, hope, and charity, --carryingout a sound system of education, and in the past 'approved of God' bymany signs and tokens, the friends of these two 'Homes' may still rallyround them with unshaken confidence. Their history, like that of theChristian Church itself, has been marked by not a few fluctuations, buttheir record has been one of permanent and undoubted usefulness. 

"Only a person deeply interested and directly engaged in the work, asthe Rev. E. F. Wilson is, can understand the force of the difficultiesto be encountered from the ineradicable scepticism of Indian parents asto the disinterestedness of our intentions with regard to theirchildren; the tendency of the children to rebel against the necessaryrestraints imposed on their liberty; the reluctance of parents to leavetheir children in the 'Home' for a period sufficiently long for theformation of permanent habits of industry, and fixed principles ofright; the constitutional unhealthiness of Indian children, terminating, as it has here in a few cases, in death; the all butimpossibility of obtaining helpers for subordinate positions, such asteacher or servant, who regard the question of the evangelization ofthe Indian from any higher stand-point than the financial. 

"Against this formidable array of obstacles Mr. Wilson has not onlystruggled, but struggled successfully, till now these two Institutions, over which he has watched with all the jealous vigilance of a motherwatching her first-born child, stand on a basis of acknowledgedsuccess, as two centres for the diffusion of Gospel light and blessingamong the children of a people who have been long 'sitting in darkness, and the shadow of death. ' During the past year sundry improvements havebeen made in the Shingwauk Home, which will largely increase thecomfort of the occupants. The most notable event, however, to berecorded in this connection is the completion and consecration of the'Bishop Fauquier Memorial Chapel, ' a beautiful and truly ecclesiasticalstructure, designed, in even its minutest details, by Mr. Wilson, anderected by means of funds sent mainly from England, in response to hisearnest appeals for some enduring and useful memorial of the life andlabours of the late revered Bishop of this diocese. Long may it stand, as a hallowed centre for the diffusion of Gospel light among hundredsyet unborn, of the Indian tribes he loved so well. "

MISSIONARY WORK AMONG THE

OJEBWAY INDIANS. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

The largest freshwater lake in the world is Lake Superior, through thecentre of which runs the boundary line between the United States ofAmerica and the Dominion of Canada. The Indians call it the "OjebwayKecheguramee, " that is--literally translated--the Great water of theOjebways, or as they are often called the Chippeways. 

The Ojebways are an extensive Indian tribe spreading over a large partof Canada, the Northern States, and the North West; specimens of theirlanguage and customs appear in Longfellow's song of Hiawatha. LakeSuperior may be regarded as the centre of their ancient possessions. Along its northern shores, and back into the interior they still roamin wild freedom, hunting, and fishing, and paddling their birch-barkcanoes;--but in more civilized places, they are confined to reservedlands set apart for them by the Dominion Government, and many of themnow gain their living by farming or by working for the neighbouringwhite people. 

The Ojebway Indians are now just in that transition stage in whichthey particularly require a helping hand to lift them up to arespectable position in life, and to afford them the means of gainingtheir livelihood as a civilised Christian people. As one of their ownChiefs has said, "the time is passed for my people to live by huntingand fishing as our forefathers used to do; if we are to continue toexist at all we must learn to gain our living in the same way as thewhite people. "

It is with the view of making the wants of these poor people known, and of increasing the interest in a work which amid many difficulties, has for the past ten years been carried on among them, that these pagesare written. The writer will tell what have been his experiences withthe Indians since he first came to settle among them as a Missionary, and will describe how God in His providence gradually opened the wayfor him, how dangers were met, and difficulties overcome, and how inthe end two Institutions for the Christian training and civilization ofIndian children were brought into existence; the one called the_Shinywauk Home_, with accommodation for about seventy Indianboys, and the other called the _Wavanosh Home_ with room for aboutthirty Indian girls, --both of them built, and now in active operation, at Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, at the south-eastern extremity of LakeSuperior. 

CHAPTER I. 

HOW IT CAME ABOUT THAT I WENT TO CANADA. 

All things are wonderfully ordered for us by God. Such has been myexperience for a long time past. If only we will wait and watch, theway will open for us. 

Where shall I begin with my history as a Missionary? When I was achild, it was my mother's hope and wish that I should bear the gladtidings of the Gospel to distant lands. She was a Missionary in heartherself, and it was her earnest desire that one of her boys would growup to devote himself to that most blessed work. 

However there seemed little likelihood of her wishes being fulfilled. I disliked the idea of going to Oxford as my brothers had done. A wildfree life away from the restraints of civilization was my idea ofhappiness, and after studying agriculture for a year or two in England, I bade farewell to my native shores and started for Canada. 

Then God took me in hand. I had been only three days in the countrywhen He put it into my heart to become a Missionary. The impulse camesuddenly, irresistibly. In a few days it was all settled. Farming wasgiven up, and I entered upon my course as a theological student. Thatsame summer I spent a month or six weeks on an Indian Reserve, andbecame, as people would say, infatuated with the Indians. For this andother reasons, I preferred remaining in Canada that I might study forthe ministry, to returning to England; and whenever opportunityallowed, I paid a visit to some Indian Reserve, or went on an exploringtour up the great lakes. 

After rather more than two years' preparation, I returned to England, and in December, 1867, was ordained deacon at the Chapel Royal, by theBishop of London, Dr. Tait, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. 

Shortly after this, it was arranged that I should go out again toCanada as a Missionary to the Ojebway Indians, under the auspices ofthe Church Missionary Society, the Rev. Henry Venn being then Hon. Secretary, and on July 1, 1868, accompanied by my wife and an oldfaithful servant named Jane, we started for Canada. 

My wife, accustomed to the refinement and comforts of a beautiful oldrectory home in Gloucestershire, knew not whither she was going--shehad never been out of England before, and all was new and strange toher. Indeed, I for my part was going out also, "not knowing whither Iwent. " Whether our lot would be cast in one of the older and morecivilised dioceses of Canada, or whether we should find a home on thevery outskirts of civilization, I knew not. My instructions from theChurch Missionary Society Committee, were simply to go first to London, Ont. , where the late Bishop of Huron (Dr. Cronyn) then lived, and fromthence to travel around and select what might seem to be the best spotto make the centre for a new mission. We had thought of Cape Croker onthe Georgian Bay, and we had thought of Michipicoten, on Lake Superior, --but nothing could be settled until after our arrival in Canada, and asfor my wife she was content to go with me wherever I went. 

We had a splendid view of icebergs on the eighth day of our voyage. Itwas a clear, keen morning reminding one of Christmas time, the sailorswere washing the decks and all looked merry and bright, and around onall sides were icebergs of every size and shape, some looking likegreat sea monsters bobbing up and down on the water, others as if alarge extent of Dover Cliff were floating past. Twenty-seven we countedat one time, and during the morning fully 150 must have passed us. "Ah, " said an old sailor, "if one of them had touched us, this shipwouldn't be here. " Then came the excitement of whales, spouting in thedeep, and at 10 a. M. , on July 10th, the rocky coast of Belle Isle wasin sight. 

When we landed at Quebec, the heat was intense, the glass standing at 99deg. In the shade. My wife's first experiences of Canada are described ina letter home, dated from London, Ont. , July 22nd, '68. "At 4 p. M. Weleft Quebec and started by boat for Montreal. The boats for the lakes andriver are simply splendid, --such large handsome saloons and everythingvery nice, except that we had only one small towel between us and verylittle water. After leaving Montreal we had to go through a succession oflocks which was slow work and made us feel the heat very much. OnWednesday it was a little cooler, and we were able to enjoy the mostlovely scenery I had ever beheld, 'the thousand isles, '--that alone isquite worth coming out for. From Hamilton we took train to London. No onecan remember such a summer before, for the last three weeks the glass hasbeen standing at between 103 deg. And 99 deg. Except in the evening, whenwe think it cold if it goes down to 80 deg. The boarding-house we are inis cool and clean and quite English-like about a mile from the so-calledtown. "

Almost immediately after settling in at our London boarding-house Istarted on my first Missionary tour, the object being to choose a spotsuitable for the centre of our Mission. 

CHAPTER II. 

FIRST MISSIONARY EXPERIENCES. 

My first service among the Indians was held in a little log-house onthe Indian Reserve, at Sarnia (south of Lake Huron), on Sunday, July26th. Twenty-two Indians of the Ojebway tribe were present. They allseemed most anxious to have a Church of England Mission established intheir midst, as many of them, inclusive of their venerable old chief, Wawanosh, were already members of the Church, and had been from time totime visited by a Missionary. I promised to visit them again on myreturn from other Indian settlements and see what could be done. 

The following day, Monday, I took train to Toronto, and thence toCollingwood, from which place I intended to branch off to Owen Soundand visit the Cape Croker and Saugeen Indians. I had with me asinterpreter a young Indian named Andrew Jacobs, his Indian name beingWagimah-wishkung, and for short I called him Wagimah. At Owen Sound wemet with some Cape Croker Indians, and engaged their boat and two mento take us the following day to their settlement, about forty miles upthe Lake Shore. 

Soon after four the next morning we were up and dressed, and an hourlater were on our way. It was fine, but rather foggy, and the sunscarcely visible through the mist. Not a breath of wind was stirring, so we had to keep to our oars, sometimes one and sometimes anotherrowing. At noon we reached Commodore Point, and put in for about anhour, spending our time in eating raspberries, which were growing inthe greatest profusion, and bathing in the bay. Then on we pushedagain, past Griffith's Island, White Cloud Island, and King's Point, and arrived at length, after a voyage of eight hours, at Cape Croker. We found that there were about 350 Ojebway Indians in the place, themajority of whom were Roman Catholics or Methodists: they had goodhouses, some log, but mostly neat little frame weather-boardedbuildings; the land, however, was much neglected, very little attemptbeing made at farming. A Church of England service was conducted onSundays by an Indian Catechist named Angus. The Chief's name wasTabegwun. On the day after our arrival I held a meeting with theIndians, and explained to them my object in coming to visit them, andbegan by reading the Scriptures, and preaching to them, and baptizingone or two children. They gave me the names of twenty-six persons whoprofessed to belong to the Church of England, and were desirous ofhaving a Mission established among them. During our stay we were guestsat Mr. Angus's house, a clean, respectable dwelling, and were regaledwith venison and huckleberry pie. 

The next Indian Reserve that we visited was Saugeen. To reach thisplace we had to return by boat to Owen Sound, and then go acrosscountry in a westerly direction to the shores of Lake Huron. Thejourney was accomplished by "buggy. " We started at 4 a. M. On themorning of July 31st, and stopped to have our breakfast on the roadsideabout 7 o'clock, sitting one at each end of a log facing each other, our plates and cups in front of us. We reached the Indian village at8. 30 a. M. , and went to the house of the chief whose name was Madwayosh. Only his wife was at home, but we learnt all that we wanted from her. There were about 250 Ojebway Indians on this Reserve, and nearly allMethodists. They had a resident Methodist Missionary and a place ofworship in course of erection. I at once came to the conclusion that itwould be unsuitable for us to attempt any Mission work in this place;and when we bade adieu to Mrs. Madwayosh we drove on to the SaubleReserve, five miles further. A most dreadful road it was the whole way. We had both to get down and lead the horse more than half the distance, and then our traps were in the most imminent danger of jumping out asthe buggy went jolting and rolling on over huge boulders and logs andstumps. It took us over two hours to reach the place, and when we gotthere, rain was coming down in torrents. We inquired for Waubesee'shouse, he being a member of the Church, and after some trouble we atlength found it, but it lay back at a distance from the road, with onlya trail leading to it, so we had to take the horse out of the buggy andlead him after us. The little house, made entirely of bark, stood inthe most picturesque spot, surrounded by lofty pines. Near the housewas a calf shed, into which we tried to squeeze our horse, but he wouldnot go, so we had to take him to a stable about a mile off. 

Waubesee and his family received us very warmly. They said there usedto be a great many Church people among them, but no missionary had beento see them for many years, and now all who had belonged to the Churchwere either gone away into the States, or had joined the Methodists. Waubesee, his wife, children, and grandchildren, numbered eighteen inall, and he said that the whole number of Indians on the Reserve wasabout 250. He seemed to be an intelligent man, and got out his Ojebwayprayer-book and Testament to show us. Before we left, the family and afew others were called together, and we had reading and prayer, and Igave them a short address, Wagimah acting as my interpreter. 

We now had to drive to Southampton, a distance of eight miles, and itwas 6. 30 p. M. When we reached it. My interpreter left me here to returnto his home by the way we had come, and I took steamboat to Goderich, and from thence by train to London, where I rejoined my wife. 

My next trip was to Brantford, and my wife accompanied me. We startedon the 5th of August, and on our arrival there, were hospitablyentertained at the Rev. Mr. Nelles' house. From there I went to visitthe Indians on the New Credit Reserve, a considerable distance off. Icalled on Chief Sawyer, a tall, fine man, with a sensible-looking face. He said there were about 300 Ojebway Indians on the Reserve, and thatmany of them were most desirous of having a Church of England teacher. 

The result of all these visits was, that after much earnest prayer forDivine guidance, we finally decided upon making Sarnia ourheadquarters, and on the 8th of August I paid a second visit to theIndians there, and told them that I had decided to come and liveamongst them. We expected there would be a little difficulty at first, as the Methodists were already in the field, and might oppose ourcoming; but as the Chief and quite a large number of the people werealready professed members of the Church, having been frequently visitedby the Rev. Mr. Chase, the native minister at Muncy Town, it seemedonly fair that their oft-repeated petition to the Bishop of Huronshould be attended to, and that a Church of England Mission should beestablished among them. On the 11th of August a Council was held, atwhich some fifty Indians attended. They sat about indiscriminately onbenches, some smoking their pipes, others chewing tobacco. In a fewplain words I told them, how it was my own earnest desire to devotemyself as a Missionary to the Indians, and how I had been sent by agreat Society in England to search out and teach the Ojebway Indians ofthe western part of Canada. I had already, I said, visited the Indiansof Cape Croker, Saugeen, Sauble, and the Grand River, and had now madeup my mind to make Sarnia my head-quarters, and to build a church intheir midst. We would not, I said, put up a large expensive one, --wewould begin with a small rough one, and see how we got on, --an Indianhad already promised us land, and now I wanted all Indians whose heartswere in the work to lend us a helping hand and aid in erecting thechurch; it should be a small log building, and cost not more than 200dollars. Mr. Chase was also present, and spoke very nicely after I hadfinished. After the council was over I proposed to Mr. Chase and a fewother Indians that we should kneel down and ask God's blessing, and sowe knelt down and laid our case before God and asked Him to guide anddirect us, and to incline the hearts of the Indians to favour ourundertaking. Next morning I returned to London, and on the 15th wemoved down to Sarnia, and took up our abode temporarily at Mrs. Walker's boarding-house. 

CHAPTER III. 

OUR ARRIVAL AT SARNIA. 

Mrs. Walker's boarding-house was a frame, white-painted house situatein the town of Sarnia, a little way back from the main street. TheIndian Reserve almost adjoined the town, so that a quarter of an hour'swalk would take us on to their land. In front of the town and flowingdown past the Indian Reserve is the broad river St. Clair, connectingLake Huron with Lake Erie, its banks on the Canadian side dotted overwith the boats and fishing nets of the Indians. 

I at once invested in a horse and buggy, and also engaged Wagimah asmy interpreter. I could already read the service in Indian, butrequired an interpreter's aid for conversing with the people andpreaching. Our Sunday services were held in a vacant log hut, in whichwe had a little desk rigged up and some forms arranged as seats. On myfirst Sunday among them I baptized two children, an infant in armsnamed Jacob Gray, and a child of four or five named Thomas Winter. Bothof these boys some nine or ten years afterwards became pupils at theShingwauk Home. 

Our great object now was to build a log church and also a Missionhouse for our own use with as little delay as possible. There was aquaint old Indian, or rather half-breed, for he was partly French, withwhom I had some conversation in regard to our proposed operations. "Well, Mr. Leviere, " I said to him one day, "what do you think theIndians will be willing to do? Will they cut down the trees, --squareand haul the logs?" "I have been thinking about it a good deal, " hereplied. "You want a church forty feet long; this will take a greatmany logs, not much black ash now in the bush. I don't think, Sir, youwill find enough trees. Why not build a frame church? If you buildframe, Indians get out logs, fit the frame one day, raise building nextday, board it next day, get done quick; not cost much money, costperhaps $100, not much money. " "Now, supposing we were to do this, what would the Indians be willing to give? Would they work without pay?I want the white people to see that the Indians are really in earnest;I should like to point to our church and say, 'The Indians built thischurch without pay, because it was their wish to build a house to God. 'Do you think the Indians are ready to do this? Are you ready to give ahelping hand yourself?" "Oh, indeed, Sir, yes! I mean to work, and keepon working till it is finished; I think there are many who will do sotoo, perhaps ten or fifteen altogether; we shall want no pay, onlyprovisions. "

Our chief source of discouragement at this time was the opposition ofthe Methodist party, who were considerably in the majority on theReserve. As Indian land is held in common by all the members of theband, we were at one time in fear that we might be prevented frombuilding. A petition was sent to Government, and correspondence enteredinto with the Indian Department, and in the end we were permitted totake possession of one acre of land on the lot of a Church Indian namedAntoine Rodd. The opposition, however, was very bitter and ratherdepressing, and our opponents went so far as to threaten to deprive theold Chief, Wawanosh, of his chieftainship. 

On the other hand, we had every encouragement from the conduct of ourown Indians. The opposition that they met with only seemed to make themmore determined to stand by us and assist in the establishment of theMission. Directly the land question was settled, three or four of themstarted back in the bush with their axes, to fell the trees and hew andsquare the timbers for the frame-work of the church, and I heard thatthe old Chief had been to the Indian Agent's office and borrowed tendollars of the Annuity-money to pay a professed hewer, as none ofthemselves were good hands at such work. This, I told them, was morethan I expected of them; if they would give their labour, that was allthat I asked; but no, they would not be dissuaded; they were quitedetermined, they said, to raise the frame-work unaided, and they wouldmuch rather themselves pay for any labour they might have to employ. 

The "Raising" took place on the 22nd of September. About fifty Indianswere present, and all took part more or less in the work. In theafternoon two teams arrived from the town with a large party of ladiesand gentlemen, well supplied with baskets of provisions for a feast, which they had kindly arranged to give the Indians at the conclusion oftheir work. The roughly extemporised tables looked most inviting whenall was spread out, and two or three of the Indian women were mostactive and clever in getting everything ready. When the feast was overthe Indians gathered in a circle, and I expressed to them my pleasurethat we had got thus far with our work, and told them that I hoped weshould soon now, with God's blessing, have our little church open andready for service. Joseph Wawanosh on behalf of his father, the oldChief, then expressed his gratitude that a Missionary had at lengthcome among them, and that a church was in course of erection. Afterthis we concluded with a short service in the Ojebway language. 

It was very encouraging to me to find that our cause was being takenup in England; a little circular had been printed and distributed, andby the middle of October L64 had been contributed towards the erectionof our Mission buildings. 

In the meantime I was holding service regularly every Sunday in thevacant log cottage with an average attendance of from twenty to thirtyIndians, and during the week I visited a good deal among the people, myinterpreter usually accompanying me. I had prepared a little pocketcompanion containing passages of Scripture, copied from the OjebwayTestament, sentences of familiar conversation, and Indian prayers andcollects. With the help of this little book I was able to make myselfunderstood by the Indians, and soon became almost independent of aninterpreter. I had a plan of the Indian Reserve, and usually steered myway through the bush with my compass, taking little notice of the roughcorduroy tracks and Indian trails which never seemed to lead to theright place. 

One of these expeditions I will briefly describe:

I wanted to find old Widow Kwakegwah's house, which lay about twomiles back through the bush in a south-easterly direction. Wagimah waswith me and, leaving the river road, we plunged back at once into thebush without either path or track, and steered our way by my compass. Sometimes it lay through a thick growth of young saplings, which bentaside as we pushed our way through; sometimes over a mass of decayinglogs and upheaved roots; sometimes through long grass and swamp up toour knees; occasionally we came to a fallen tree, which we had toclamber over or under. Once or twice we came upon a little log hutstanding in the midst of a small clearing, sometimes empty with doorbolted, at other times showing signs of occupation. Into one of thesewe entered; it was a tiny log shanty, with a patch of Indian corn andpotatoes enclosed by a snake fence. We pushed open the door, a fire wasburning on the hearth, and in a corner was a blanket envelopingsomething that might be human. I told Wagimah to touch it, he did so, and the bundle moved, part of the blanket wriggled back and a woman'sface appeared. She said she was sick, and that no one had been to visither. We staid and had a little conversation, and then as it was gettinglate, hurried on to Widow Kwakegwah's. The old woman, who had a verypleasant, honest-looking face, gave us quite a hearty reception. I gother to tell me the number of her children and grandchildren, and thentaking up her Ojebway Testament read a few verses from St. John iii, and spoke a few words which Wagimah interpreted, after which we kneltfor prayer. After this we visited Peter Gray, with his wife and familyof eight children, they lived in a small log hut, and there was noglass in the windows. It was now five p. M. And we started on our twomiles' trudge back to Antoine Rodds' house, where I had left my buggy, and then drove back to the town. 

CHAPTER IV. 

KETTLE POINT. 

Besides the four hundred Indians on the Sarnia Reserve, there wereabout one hundred more living at Kettle Point, thirty miles distant, onthe eastern shore of Lake Huron. I had not been long settled at Sarnia, when, in company with my interpreter. I started on a first visit tothese people. I will describe the journey. 

Taking the railway as far as Forest, we had to walk on a distance ofeight or nine miles. Neither of us knew the country, but a couple ofIndians, whom we happened to fall in with, showed us the way. 

It was nearly two o'clock when we reached David Sahpah's house. Wefound the Indians most hospitable; some of them were Methodists, somestill pagans, and others members of the Church. They were most desirousof having a Church Mission established among them, as there was noschool for their children and no regular services held. Not a singleindividual, man, woman, or child, could read or write. They were veryanxious to have a school-house built and a schoolmaster sent to teachthem, indeed some of them had already got out logs with the view ofbuilding a school. The Chief's name was Ahbettuhwahnuhgund (Half aCloud), a fine, broad-shouldered, intelligent-looking man, but still apagan, although he had had several of his children baptized in theChurch. There was also a large family named Shaukeens, all of whom werepagans, and several others. They seemed, however, to have advanced morein their farming operations than the Sarnia Indians. The Chief had acapital house with several rooms in it, an orchard full of apples andcherries, and well-cultivated fields. In the evening we had service atDavid Sahpah's house, and then I spoke to the Indians and proposed thatwe should at once commence a fortnightly school among them, myself andmy interpreter taking it alternately. There was an empty log-housewhich they said we could use, and they all seemed pleased at theproposal, and said that they would send their children to be taught. 

We had to start at 3. 30 a. M. Next morning to catch the early train forSarnia. It was a clear starlight night when we emerged from thehospitable shelter of an Indian's log-house and started on ourpilgrimage through the bush. There was no moon, and we had somedifficulty in groping our way. Wagimah went first, and slowly andcautiously we proceeded, carrying our wraps and satchels with us. However, with all our care, we had soon lost our way, and foundourselves stumbling along over a potato patch, without having the leastidea where we were. For nearly an hour we were wandering about, when atlength we came once more upon a beaten track; but whether it was theright one or not we could not tell. However we followed it, and almostbefore we were aware we found ourselves out of the bush and standing ona broad clay road, and at length we arrived at Forest Station in goodtime for the cars to Sarnia. 

After this we visited Kettle Point every fortnight, and many were theamusing incidents connected with those trips. Sometimes I drove thewhole distance in my own trap, at other times took train to Forest orWidder, and some of the Indians would meet me with a waggon or sleigh, as the case might be, at the Station. It was on the 9th of Septemberthat we commenced our school in the vacant log-house. We began with A, B, C, as no one yet knew anything. There were eleven children and fiveadults present. I was amused in the evening to see a game of draughtsgoing on, on a log outside the Chief's house; the draught-board was aflat part of the log with squares carved out on its surface, the blackmen were squares of pumpkin rind with green side up, the white men thesame with the green side down. That night we slept at Adam Sahpah'shouse. 

Our sleeping places on these Kettle Point expeditions were various. Onebitterly cold night in the late autumn, I remember, passing in a littleboarded shanty used as a workshop. We were nearly perished in the morning, and were glad to get inside David Sahpah's comfortable log-house; a hugefire was blazing on the hearth, and the Indian women all busy, some withtheir pots and frying-pans, boiling potatoes and baking cakes, othersdressing and cleaning the children. Mrs. Ahbettuhwahnuhgund gave me achair, and down I sat by the blazing fire and gazed with a feeling ofhappy contentment into the yellow flames. The scene was certainly a novelone. In a dark corner by the chimney sat a dirty old couple on the couchwhere they had been passing the night; they were visitors from MunceyTown, and were staying a few nights only at Kettle Point. The old womanlighted up her pipe, and whiffed away with her eyes half shut; afterenjoying it for about twenty minutes or so, her old husband thought shehad had enough, and taking it from her put it in his own mouth and had hiswhiff. When he had done, he restored it again to his wife. Underneathanother old bedstead were a couple of large dogs, which occasionally lettheir voices be heard in a dispute; some of the stones on one side of thefire-place had broken away, making a little window through which the dogscould reach the fire, and it was amusing to see how they put their nosesand paws through the opening and warmed themselves just like human beings. Down in another corner sat an antiquated old woman enveloped in a blanket, and in vain endeavouring to comfort a little fat boy of about ten monthswho was crying, as only children know how to cry, for his mother. Findingthat she could not content the baby, she at length got up, and taking offher blanket, put one end of it round the baby's shoulders, tucked the endsunder its arms, and then with one sweep placed baby and blanket togetheron her back, and with one or two pulls once more got the blanket wrappedcompletely round her, and the little fat boy snugly ensconced between hershoulders; then she marched off to give him an airing. The bigger childrenwere set to clean themselves, a tin bowl of water and a towel being giventhem in turns. I was wondering whether my turn would come, when Mrs. Ahbettuhwahnuhgund, having once more filled the bowl, addressed me withthe words, "Maund'uhpe, " which in polite English would mean, "Here youare!" "Ah, meegwach, ahpecte"--"thank you kindly"--said I, and forthwithbegan my ablutions, while the children stood around me in wonderment. 

One night I slept with a pig. It was a vacant room in the Chief's newhouse. After our services were over and we had had supper, Mrs. Ahbettuhwahnuhgund took a clean blanket on her shoulder and a lanternin her hand, and calling me to follow led me to the apartment. Therewas a bedstead with a mattress on it in a corner, and on two chairs inthe middle of the room lay a pig which had been killed the day before. Early next morning, before I was fully awake, the door opened, and Mrs. Ahbettuhwahnuhgund appeared with a knife in her hand. What could shewant at this hour in the morning? I opened one eye to see. Her back wasturned to me, and I could not distinguish what she was doing, but Iheard a slicing and cutting and wheezing. Then the good lady turnedround, and closing the eye I had opened I did not venture to look outagain till the door was shut, and Mrs. Ahbettuhwahnuhgund departed;then I peeped out from my rug--poor piggy was minus one leg! Next timeI saw the missing limb it was steaming on the breakfast table!

I must not make this chapter longer. By-and-bye I shall tell of thebaptism of the Chief and several other of the pagan Indians of thisplace. Suffice it to say now that our little school kept nicelytogether, and services were held either by myself or my interpreterevery fortnight. In a little more than a year's time we had thesatisfaction of seeing both a school-church and a master's residenceerected, and a catechist placed in charge of the station. 

CHAPTER V. 

INDIAN NAMES GIVEN. 

It is a custom with the Indians to bestow Indian names uponmissionaries and others who come to work among them, in order to makethem, as it were, one with themselves. We had not been many monthsresident in Sarnia before we received an invitation from the paganChief at Kettle Point, to come to a grand feast which the Indians werepreparing in our honour at that place, and to receive Indian names bywhich we should be incorporated into the Ojebway tribe. 

It was one of the coldest of winter days when we started, the glass verylow, a high wind, and the snow whirling through the air in blindingclouds. We went by train to Forest, and there Ahbettuhwahnuhgund met uswith his sleigh. It was just a common box sleigh with two seats, and thebottom filled with straw, and two horses to pull us. We were all bundledup in rugs and blankets and wraps; the Chief, who was driving, had hishead completely smothered up in a bright blue shawl belonging to his wife, and wrapped so many times round that he was as wide at the top of his eyesas at his shoulders. The only one of the party who appeared careless aboutthe cold was an Indian named Garehees, who had come with us from Sarnia, and he sat with his feet hanging over the side of the sleigh; however, when we asked him how it was that he did not feel the cold, he repliedwith a grin, "Moccasins no cold, --white man boot cold, --ice!--two pairsocks under moccasins me--big blanket too!" In about an hour and a half wearrived at the Chief's house; it was the first time my wife had been toKettle Point, and she was very much pleased to make acquaintance with theIndians of whom she had often heard, and who had sent her presents ofapples and cherries from their orchards. She had brought with her a fewsmall gifts for the children, with which they were much delighted. Alittle boy named Isaac had a sugar-dog given to him; he soon had its nosein close quarters with his mouth, and the people laughed to see itdisappearing. Indians are nearly always very much behind time in theirarrangements; they do not appear yet to understand the value of time--whether in their councils, their daily work, their feasts, or theirattendance at church, they are generally behind the appointed hour. If acouncil is called to commence at noon, three or four Indians will haveperhaps assembled at that hour; others straggle in as the day wears on;they sit or lie about, smoking their pipes, chewing tobacco, and talking;and it will probably be three o'clock before the council actuallycommences. 

The Indian feast of to-day was no exception to the rule. It wasappointed to take place at noon, but hour after hour sped by, and itwas nearly four p. M. When they at length commenced. On entering theroom where the feast was laid out, we found two seats arranged for usat the end of the apartment beneath an ornamented canopy decked withcedar boughs, and we were requested to sit down. Then the Chief andShaukeens (both pagans) stood up, and the Chief made a brief oration tothe people, which John Jacobs, a young native, then studying for theministry at Huron College, interpreted for us. The Chief expressed hispleasure in receiving us among them, and his desire that we shouldbecome as one of them by receiving Ojebway names; and then, taking meby the hand, he continued: "The name that I have selected for you isone which we greatly respect and hold in fond remembrance; for it wasthe name of an old and respected Chief of our tribe who lived manyyears ago and whose name we wish to have retained; and seeing you are amissionary to the Ojebway Indians, it is the wish of my tribe as wellas myself that you should be called after our late respected Chief; soyour name hereafter is 'Puhgukahbun' (Clear Day-light). "

The moment my name was given, "Heugh! Heugh!" sounded from all sides, that being the Indian mode of expressing approval when anything is saidor done. 

Mrs. Wilson then rose and received her name in the same manner. TheChief, addressing her, said: "It is with great pleasure that I bestowalso on you, the wife of the missionary, an Ojebway name. The name I amabout to give you was the name of one of our sisters who has long sincepassed away from our midst, and it is our wish that her name should beretained among us. Your name therefore is 'Nahwegeezhegooqua' (Lady ofthe Sky). 

"Heugh! Heugh! Heugh!" again sounded through the room, and then theIndians one and all pressed forward to have a shake of the hand withtheir new brother and sister. We almost had our hands shaken off, andfrom all sides came the cry, "Boozhoo, Boozhoo, Puhgukahbun; Boozhoo, Nahwegeezhegooqua, Boozhoo, Boozhoo!"

As soon as order was restored, the feast began. I had the seat ofhonour next to the Chief, and Mrs. Wilson sat next to me. The table waswell covered with eatables--venison, cakes, pork, Indian bread, preserves, all in the greatest abundance. About thirty persons sat downto the first table the others waiting with true Indian patience fortheir turn to come; and a long time it was coming, for as soon as thefirst set had finished, an intermission was made for music andspeechifying. Several very pretty songs were sung by the Indian choir, some in English and some in Indian. 

After the feast was over and the tables cleared, I was asked to addressthe people, and Wagimah interpreted for me. I told them briefly hew muchpleased I was to receive an Ojebway name, and thus become one of theirnumber, and how Mrs. Wilson and myself would now feel that we couldshake hands with them and regard them as our brothers and sisters. God, I said, had greatly prospered our work since I came among them. We hadalready our church completed and our Mission-house nearly so at Sarnia;the great Society in England had contributed five hundred dollarstowards the erection of these buildings, and our friends in Englandabout five hundred dollars more; so that there would be no debt. As soonas we had money enough I hoped that with their help we should be ablealso to build a little church and teacher's house for them here atKettle Point, and send a catechist to reside among them and teach theirchildren. It was late in the evening when we bade good-bye and droveback to Forest, where we remained for the night and the next morningreturned to Sarnia. On our arrival I found a letter awaiting me from theSecretary of the Church Missionary Society, authorizing me to place acatechist in charge of the Kettle Point Mission. 

CHAPTER VI. 

CHRISTMAS ON THE RESERVE. 

We were anxious as soon as possible to have both church and Mission-house built on the Sarnia Reserve, so that we might move down among theIndians and dwell in their midst. When therefore the matter of the landwas settled, and one acre of Antoine Rodd's farm had been given overfor the use of our Mission, we began preparations for the erection ofthe two buildings. For the building of the church, I wished the Indiansto give as much in the way of labour and help as possible, so as toshow their earnestness in the cause; but for the erection of theMission-house, we had to depend largely on contributions from ourfriends in England. However, the Church Missionary Society made us agrant of L100, and friends helped liberally, so that we had no lack offunds, and by the time the two buildings were completed and fencedround with a board fence, all was paid for. 

We moved into our new house on the 29th of January, 1869, just sixmonths after our arrival in Canada. It was a nice little frame cottage, with a large room or hall in the centre, study and bed-room on oneside, and sitting-room and bed-room on the other; and at the back, connected by a covered passage, were the kitchen and pantry, withservants' bed-room over. We were close to the river, and from our frontwindows could see in summer-time all the shipping passing to and fro, which made it quite lively. 

We were sorry not to get into our Mission-house before Christmas, butthis was impossible. Our little church, however, was opened for servicetwo days after Christmas Day, and was beautifully decorated for theoccasion. 

I must go back a little, and tell how it all happened. I had boughtsome pews from an old Scotch church in the town which was going to bepulled down, and one day early in December we got them carried down toour little church building, and the Indians assisted me in putting themup; there were ten on each side, and as they would seat five each wehad room for a congregation of just a hundred persons. On ChristmasDay, thirty-four people assembled in the log-house, which had beenbeautifully decorated by the Indian women with cedar branches for theoccasion. After service I took the opportunity to say something to themabout the arrangements in the new church. Among other things Isuggested that they should sit together in families instead of the menon one side and the women on the other, as had been their custom. Theproposal was well received and caused some amusement Shesheet saidhumorously that he would consider it a great privilege to be allowed tosit by his wife. Just as we were coming away the old Chief's wife, Mrs. Chief as we used to call her, came running after Mrs. Wilson with aparcel, and pushed it into her hand, saying, in her broken English, "Christmas, Christmas!" It proved to be a prettily worked sweet-grassbasket, and the old lady giggled and laughed joyfully as Mrs. Wilsonexpressed her surprise and pleasure at the present. 

Two clergymen besides myself assisted in the services at the openingof the church, which on that occasion was crammed with about a hundredand fifty people. One of the most interesting features was just at theclose of the service, when an Indian named Buckwheat, from theneighbouring mission of Walpole Island, came forward, and, after givinga short address expressing the sympathy that was felt by the WalpoleIslanders for the Indians of this newly-formed Church mission, proceeded to loosen a belt from his waist, and to take from it a littlecarefully wrapped up packet, which he brought forward and presented asthe offering of his brethren towards the erection of our church andMission-house. It contained nine dollars. 

The next day was the children's treat and Christmas tree. It was heldin the hall of the new house, although we had not yet moved in. It wasamusing to watch the faces of the children as they gazed upon theunusual sight of a Christmas tree lighted up with tapers. Not even theolder people had ever seen one before. There were thirty-one childrenpresent, and there was some little gift for each of them. During theevening we taught them to scramble for nuts and candies. It was absurdto see them, at first all standing in mute astonishment and wonderingat my ruthless waste in throwing away such excellent sweatmeats allover the floor; however, they soon learned how to perform their part ofthe game, and began scrambling for the good things as eagerly as anyEnglish children. 

The Indians, although to all appearance so grave and stoical, have afund of quiet wit and humour about them, and are even sometimes quiteboisterous in their merriment. Joseph Wawanosh, the Chief's eldest son, was a particularly quiet grave-looking man, and yet there was often amerry twinkle in his eye, and sometimes he would come out with somefunny remark in his quaint broken English. He was our churchwarden, andhad a great weakness for making up large fires in the church, to whichmy wife strongly objected, and they waged a chronic war on the subject. Joseph, when spoken to used to pretend to shiver, and say he feltparticularly cold. One day Mrs. Wilson said to him, "How soon is yourwife coming home?" "Oh, about two weeks, " he replied. "Why, you will bestarved before then; you have no one to cook for you. " "Ah, no, I guessnot, " replied Joe; "Indian never starve in bush. " "Why not?" asked Mrs. Wilson. "Oh, " said Joe, shaking his head humorously; "lots ofsquirrels. " Old Antoine Rodd, or Shesheet, as he was more generallycalled, was a huge portly man, and was often very comical in hisremarks, his good-natured face beaming with fun. One day Mrs. Wilsonnearly slipped into a large puddle while threading her way along theill-kept road, "What would you have done if I had been drowned?" sheasked jokingly, as the old man helped her out of her difficulty. "Oh, Iwould, have dragged it!" he said. 

We, were very glad when at length we moved into our new house, and wesoon had plenty of our Indian friends to visit us. Widow Kwakegwahbrought a black and white cat as a present for my wife. She threw thecat into the kitchen in front of her, and then followed laughing. Itwas amusing to watch the cat making a survey of the whole house withtrue Indian curiosity. The Indians did not generally venture beyond thekitchen part without invitation; in that part, however, they madethemselves quite at home, and Jane was somewhat taken aback when JoeWawanosh told her he was going up to see her room. Mrs. Chief also wentup, and was delighted with Jane's trunks. She said she would come againanother day to see what was in them!

CHAPTER VII. 

MISSION WORK AT SARNIA. 

After settling in at our new home on the Sarnia Reserve, a great partof my time was taken up in exploring through the Bush and visiting theIndians in their houses. 

We found one very piteous case of a poor woman in the last stage ofconsumption. The poor creature was worn to a skeleton lying on a mostmiserable looking bed with nothing to cover her but a ragged strip ofblack funereal-looking cloth. Although so very ill, she was able toanswer the questions that Wagimah put to her, and when I offered to readthe Bible to her she seemed very glad. She listened most attentivelywhile I read in Ojebway the eighteenth chapter of St. Luke, and told herof the love of Christ in coming to save sinners. Then we knelt, and Ioffered two prayers for the sick copied into my pocket-companion fromthe Indian prayer-book. We visited the poor creature several timesagain, and once Mrs. Wilson accompanied me and brought with her someblanc-mange or jelly which she had made. She was much touched at thesight of the poor creature's utter destitution. We were amused as wewent along to see a pair of babies' boots hanging on the branch of atree, evidently placed there by some honest Indian who had chanced tofind them on the road. This is what the Indians generally do if theyfind anything that has been lost, --they hang it up in a conspicuousplace, so that the owner may find it again if he comes by the same way. 

I had been told of a poor widow who was very ill and living with herthree children in a destitute condition. Jane went with me to find herout, and we took, a supply of medicine and food with us. After wendingour way along a narrow foot-track in the snow, which twisted aboutamong the tall black trees, we came in sight of what looked like a heapof dirty boards and branches of trees piled together, but the bluesmoke curling from the top told that it was a human habitation. It wasthe first time Jane had seen an Indian wigwam, and she was horrified tothink that people could live in such a hovel. We drew aside the dirtycloth which covered the entrance and crept in. Two dogs saluted us withsnarls, but were soon quieted, and crouching along by the smoky sidesof the cabin we shook hands with the poor woman and her daughter (agirl of about fifteen), and then gazed round for something to sit upon;--however, there was nothing but the earthen floor, so down we sat. Thelittle wigwam was just wide enough for a person of ordinary height tolie down in, and in the centre was the fire, so that it may well beimagined that there was not much room to turn round. On one side of thefire lay the poor woman, doubled up in a dirty blanket, for she had notbeen able to straighten herself for nearly two years, and was quiteunable to sit up; another blanket was fastened up against the side ofthe place to shelter her from the wind. On the other side of the firecrouched the daughter, listening to what I said about administering themedicines. A little boy with bright eyes and a stock of uncombed blackhair was also crouching over the fire. This was Willie, the youngest ofthe family, now about five years old, and little did I think then howmuch I should have to do with that boy in his after life. Sitting downby the poor woman, I uncovered my basket and displayed my medicines, and explained to the daughter how the mixture was to be taken twice aday, and the liniment to be rubbed on the affected parts. Jane thenchanged places with me and applied some of the liniment, and the poorcreature immediately felt some relief and began talking about it to herdaughter. These poor people seemed to be entirely dependent on thekindness of their neighbours; it was old Shesheet who first told meabout them, and I understood that he used often to send them food orfirewood. When I visited her on another cold day in October, accompanied by my wife, we found her coiled up in her rags moaning withpain, and only a few dying embers to keep her warm. Little Willie wascoiled up asleep in a sheepskin. While we stood, Willie roused up outof 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 madea low sort of whine, and buried himself again, head and all, in hissheepskin. We went back to the Mission-house and brought some tea forthe poor woman, which she drank eagerly, and we provided her also witha candle stuck in a bottle and some firewood, but she never smiled, orsaid thank you. Her feelings as well as her features seemed to havebecome hardened with constant pain and suffering. However, we wereagreeably surprised one day when she presented my wife with four tinybaskets, tastefully made, and a smile for once actually played on herlips. Some time after she was taken into a house by some friendlyIndians, and kindly cared for, the result of which was that she becamegradually better. 

Very soon after our arrival at Sarnia we had proposed to the Indianwomen that they should meet together once a week for needlework andreading, but the scheme was not carried into effect until we hadsettled in our new house on the Reserve. The first meeting was held inour hall in the summer of 1869. On the hall-table were spread out allthe articles of clothing sent to us from England, and we had on viewpatterns of prints, flannels, &c. , from one of the dry goods stores inthe 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 inmeeting together was that they might provide clothing for themselvesand their children at as cheap a rate as possible, and at the same timemight have an opportunity for friendly talk and instruction. The planwould 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, myinterpreter had translated into Indian, and after that we would havescripture reading, singing, and prayer to close the meeting. After allwho wished to become members of the meeting had given me their names, they were invited to inspect the patterns and select the material withwhich they wished to make a beginning. We found the plan answer verywell, and soon our "Mothers' Meeting" was thoroughly established. 

But it was not always that everything went on so harmoniously andpeacefully. Unhappily there was a considerable amount of whiskey-drinking among the men, and sometimes drunken fights would occur inclose proximity to the house. A son of Antoine Rodd's was particularlyvicious when under the influence of liquor; once he frightened us allby 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. Anothertime the wife of this same man came rushing into our house with herinfant on her breast and another daughter following, --her drunkenhusband running after and threatening to kill them. We dragged them inand shut and locked all the doors, and soon the man was pounding awayand trying to get in. The two women in great alarm locked themselves upin the pantry and remained all night under our protection. The saddestoccurrence of all was when a man named Winter was actually killed byhis own son while in a state of intoxication. We did what we could totry and stem the tide of drunkenness by forming a Temperance Society, which a large number of the Indians joined; but a more effectual checkhas of late years been put upon the terrible practice by the action ofthe Dominion Government; it is now against law for a white man eitherto give or sell liquor to an Indian on any pretence, and the penalty isvery heavy. 

I must finish this chapter with an account of an Indian funeral. Thedaughter of one of our Indians, named Kwakejewun, had fallen sick anddied--died, as we hoped, trusting in her Saviour. As is usual among theIndians, a large number of people gathered together to show theirsympathy with the bereaved parents, and to follow the body to thegrave. The coffin was first brought into the church. I read the usualservice, and a hymn was sung very sweetly and plaintively. Then weproceeded to the cemetery, nearly a mile distant. The snow was deep onthe ground and sparkling in the sunlight. I drove in my cutter andheaded the long funeral procession. A sad and picturesque sight it was;from eighty to a hundred people in all, some in sleighs, some plodingthrough the snow on foot, --aged women in their white blankets, motherswith their children, some of them in bright scarlet shawls, boys andgirls, all in their Sunday attire. Through the silent forest we wendedour way till we came at length to the wild little cemetery with itsrude snake fence encircling it. The coffin was taken from the sleighand carefully lowered into the grave; then the men took off their hatsand we sang another hymn. It sounded very sweet in that wild desolatespot, and the poor mother stood enveloped in a blanket at the head ofthe 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. Themother grasped my hand warmly, and met me with a happy smile. Shebelieved, 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 workwas clearly defined. The Sarnia Reserve was our head-quarters. Herethere 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 theview of providing catechists suitable for the work I was authorized bythe Church Missionary Society to receive and educate some young men;and within a few months after we had taken up our residence on theReserve I commenced to teach two young Indians, named Wilson Jacobs andWilliam Henry, with the view of their becoming catechists. 

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

The following day we had appointed to have a gathering of Indians, asort of social party, to meet the Bishop. When morning broke, however, rain was pouring in torrents, and a picnic on the grass becamealtogether out of the question. So, after early dinner, our hall wascleared, and the business of cutting up bread-and-butter and cake andpreparing the tea began. Two or three Indian women had made theirappearance, 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 sixtyhad collected. Tea being ready, we called in as many as we could packinto 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 theirfill. 

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

In accordance with the instructions I had received from the C. M. S. , Imade arrangements as soon as practicable for placing a catechist incharge of the Kettle Point Mission, and about this time gave upemploying an interpreter, as his services would be no longer needed, and I had now a good stock of sermons written in Indian which I coulduse at my Sunday services. Before long, John Jacobs, the young nativestudent already mentioned, and who, after satisfactorily passing hiscourse at the Theological College, was ordained in July 1869, took uphis abode at Kettle Point as my assistant Missionary. Besides preachingon the Sunday, he taught school during the week, so that his time waswell occupied. 

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

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

It was on this visit to Garden River that I first felt drawn in spirittowards the Indians of the Lake Superior region, that there firstentered into my mind the idea of an institution for training the youngIndians, and that I first made the acquaintance of the old Indianchief, Augustin Shingwauk. 

CHAPTER IX. 

FIRST VISIT TO GARDEN RIVER. 

We met with a hearty welcome from Mr. And Mrs. Chance, though we hadnever seen them before. Their church and Mission-house and little logschool-house were picturesquely situated on rising ground quite closeto the river. The Mission-house, which occupied the centre of the threebuildings, was constructed of logs clapboarded over and whitewashed. Ithad a verandah in front, over the trellis work of which hops grew inprofusion, and clambered upwards to the roof. In front of the house wasa 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 airdeliciously. Outside the garden fence with its green gate, was a fieldof Indian corn which sloped down almost to the water's edge. The viewfrom the steps of the verandah was very pretty; one could see the broaddeep St Maria River, nearly a mile wide, and long lines of sailingvessels towed by small tugs, occasionally passing and repassing ontheir way from the upper to the lower lakes. Across the river were thewell-wooded hills of Sugar Island, with here and there a settler'sshanty and clearing. To the left hand could still be seen the broadriver 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 scantilyclad with fir and birch-trees. We felt that we were now indeed in theland of the Indian, far away from civilization; no railways, notelegraphs, no omnibuses or street cars, no hotels or shops for manyhundred miles. 

There was something very attractive and fascinating about this firstvisit to the wilds of Algoma. We were entertained royally. Peaches, cream, and preserved fruits were among the dainties which covered thetable. 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, wefound, come with us on the boat, and it just lasted out our four days'visit. We were told extraordinary stories about the difficulty ofprocuring the necessaries of life, and the manner of overcomingdifficulties. Until quite lately the steamboats in their passage up thelakes had never deigned to stop at Garden River; now, however, throughMr. 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 receivethe mails. Mr. And Mrs. Chance were Postmaster and Post-mistress, and wehad many a joke with them on the subject. Their fresh meat was alwaysprocured from the steamboats. Before this new arrangement was made, thesteward on the boat used to tie the meat to a log of wood, and haul itoverboard opposite the Mission-house, and Mr. Chance had to go out inhis boat to pick it up. They had a capital large sail boat, with twosails, called _The Missionary_. It had lately been presented to theMission by the Cathedral Sunday School, Toronto. It was very interestingto meet with the Indians of this locality. Many of them were tall, fine-looking men; notably so Augustin Shingwauk and Buhkwujjenene, both ofthem Chiefs, and very intelligent-looking men. Augustin was at this timeabout 60 years of age, and his brother Buhkwujjenene eight or ten yearshis 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 ofShingwaukoons was partly French, but his mother, Ogemahqua (Queen), waspure Indian, and daughter of a Chief named Shingahbawuhsin, and thisChief again was son of a Chief named Tuhgwahna, all of them residents ofthe Sault Ste. Marie district. 

The Indians of Garden River were not nearly so far advanced incivilization as those of Sarnia; very little was done in the way ofcultivating the soil, and very few of them could speak any English. They, however, seemed to evince great interest in religion, theservices were well attended, the responses in the Indian tongue wellmade, 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 hadservice in the white frame church, and very attentive and orderly hadthe congregation been while Mr. Chance read the service and interpretedmy 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 asI endeavoured to unfold before my simple hearers the great and wondroussubject of eternal life. Had they--sitting there before me--anything todo with this eternal life? Perhaps their thoughts day by day were onthe things of this world--their fishing, their hunting, their basket-making, or planting or digging potatoes. Did they ever think that theyhad souls to be saved; that before another Sunday came round thesethings which now took up their time and thoughts might have passed awayfor ever, and they themselves have entered upon the eternal state? Ifthey were true Christians, they would then be meeting with God, beholding Him face to face; they would be with the holy angels, withJesus. But if not prepared, where would they be? A great gulf would bebetween them and heaven--a great impassable gulf; they would be withthe lost! Before another Sunday came round this great and wonderfulchange might take place. Were they prepared?

Among my hearers were two women; one on the left hand side of thechurch was a newly-married young woman wearing a scarlet shawl and ahat 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 thegallery 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 hadcome to shake hands or to ask for "muskeke" (medicine). All at once weheard a shout from the garden, and a girl came rushing up, crying:"Quick! help! there are people drowning. " We all ran off with greathaste to the shore, the Indian women wailing in their own peculiar way, some burying their heads in their shawls and sobbing with grief. Quitea little fleet of boats and canoes were already off to the rescue; sixor seven in all. We could not at first make out where was the scene ofthe disaster, but soon it became only too apparent. There, far out inthe very centre of the broad river, being carried away by the current, were four or five specks, the heads of people struggling to savethemselves. The boats were still a long distance from them, andbreathlessly we watched as they made their way onward. Two, three ofthe specks had disappeared; only two were now visible. "How many werein the boat?" was anxiously asked. "Oh, there must have been eight ornine;" and only two now above water. It was sickening to think of. Thewailing cries of the women on the shore increased each moment, andgreat was the suspense as the foremost boat drew with all speed towardsthe poor drowning creatures. I waited to see the two who were afloatpulled into the boats, and then hurried up to the house to see if allneedful preparations had been made. Mrs. Chance had got everythingready; a good bright fire, blankets, and brandy. When I went back tothe shore, the poor half-drowned creatures had just landed. Shaking andshivering they were lifted out of the boat and supported up to thehouse. Four had been saved: two men--and two women. One was stillmissing, the young wife who had worn the hat and flowers! The childrenwho were supposed to have gone, it was found on inquiry had beenprovidentially left behind. As soon as we could get the poor creaturesup 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 onthe point of giving in when the boat reached him, and in a moment morewould 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 muchfeared that he would not survive the shock. The poor old woman's heartseemed almost broken at the loss of her daughter, and she sat wailingin the kitchen the whole afternoon. The house was of course crowdedwith Indians who came in to help or sympathize. From those who went tothe rescue we learned that the poor woman who was drowned had her handabove the water when the boat came up, but she sank before the peoplecould seize it. Her hat was afterwards found about two miles below theplace where she sank. In the evening the poor old woman described howthe accident had happened. She said the boat was small and rather tooheavily-laden. Just as they got to the middle of the river, a breezesprang up, and the waves began coming over the side. One of the menjumped into the water to lighten it, but it was of no use. The boatfilled, and in a few moments they were all struggling in the water. Thepoor old creature described how she sank to a great depth, and thenrose again; how she prayed to Kezha-Musnedoo (the Good Spirit) to saveher; how she sank again; and then, while under the water, saw the darkshadow of the boat coming over her; how again she rose to the surfaceand was saved. 

We met again for service in the evening, and Mr. Chance preached verysolemnly to a large congregation from the words, "Prepare to meet thyGod. "

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

CHAPTER X. 

BAPTISM OF PAGANS. 

There were not many genuine Pagans either at Sarnia or at KettlePoint. Pagan practices had fallen altogether into disuse. There weresome Indians living who had been "medicine men, " but we never heardthat they practised their charms. Still there were several families whoheld aloof from Christianity. When spoken to about being baptized, their reply was that they thought the Christian Indians behaved worsethan the Pagan Indians, and they were afraid that if they were baptizedthey 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 themere fact of the Indians being brought into contact with white peoplewould lead them into temptations from which, in their wild wanderingstate, they had been comparatively free. It has been said even by whitetravellers that they have found the pagan Indiana of the North morehonest and trustworthy than those in a semi-civilized and nominallyChristian state. The Indian when he mixes with the Whites soon learnstheir 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 weestablished our Mission were still nominally Pagan. Chief among themwere Ahbettuhwahnuhgund and his sister, and Shaukeens, with his wifeand family. Ahbettuhwahnuhgund's wife had been baptized, and so alsohad his two eldest children. One of the first religious rites that Iwas asked to perform when I began to visit Kettle Point was to receiveinto the Christian fold the Chief's little boy and aged sister; and atthe same time the wife of Shaukeens, who had had several ratherdangerous attacks of illness, was baptized. We called the little boyCornelius, and Mrs. Shaukeens received the name of Tabitha. 

It was strange how superstitious the Indians continued to be evenafter their acceptance of Christianity. They seemed never to losealtogether their faith in witchcraft, especially in that form by whichit was believed that certain persons had power to cause sickness ormisfortune to others. They seemed also to have a firm belief in dreams. Once I was visiting at a poor miserable little shanty on the SarniaReserve, and found an old man and his son both lying very sick. Thepoor creatures were in a wretched condition, the hovel they were inconsisting merely of strips of bark and old boards outside and insidehung with rags and tatters and old cloths of every description. Theonly person to tend them was an old woman--wife, I suppose, of theelder man--who was crouching over the fire smoking her pipe. When wecame in, the sick man was gnawing a duck bone, some one having shot hima wild duck. He said it was the first time he had eaten anything forseveral days; his son was too ill to eat anything. The old man toldWagimah that he had seen me before, a night or two ago in a dream. Ihad made a garden, and divided it into four parts, and one of theseparts was very miserable and wretched. I was walking through thismiserable part one day, when I found this poor man. He was very sickindeed, and I took him up and brought him into another part of thegarden which was very beautiful, and told him that he might stay thereand work, and be happy for ever. Such was his dream. I repeated someverses of Scripture to the poor creature, and then we knelt and prayed. I heard afterwards that the people around believed the old man to bebewitched; some evilly-disposed "medicine man, " they said, had broughtthis 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 toour little temporary school-house. About twenty-eight assembled, and webegan service with a hymn; then I read the evening prayers from myOjebway prayer-book, and at the close of the lesson began the baptismalservice. David Sahpah, his wife, and Adam stood sponsors for thechildren. 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 soon. It was curious to notice how Pagans attending our services nevermade any change in their position as the service proceeded. This timethe mother, who had been baptized about two months before, kneeled, orstood, or sat with the other people; but the father and children satquietly on their seats. After the service the children joined in thedevotions, 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 Ifelt that in his heart he fully believed the great truths ofChristianity. It was partly, perhaps, pride that kept him back, andpartly that he was waiting, as he said, to see the Church of EnglandMission firmly established at Kettle Point. 

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

Shortly after this I received word from the Chief that he was anxiousto be baptized. His answer to my questions were very simple andchildlike, and I had every reason to hope that he was sincere in hisdesire to be a Christian. "Many of these things that you tell me, " hesaid, "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; Icannot but believe it. No man could have written that book. I receiveit all as true, and I trust that I may gradually learn all that thereis to be learnt about the Christian religion. "

I gave him the name of Isaac, that being a name by which he had beencommonly known among the white people for some time past. It was veryinteresting to kneel with that newly-baptized Indian Chief, and hearhim for the first time pronounce those sacred words, "WayoosemegooyunKezhegoong ayahyun"--"Thou who art our Father, in heaven who art. " TheChief, 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 Franceand Germany, followed by the loss of the Pope's temporal power, and theestablishment of secular government in Rome. Here in Canada theexcitement of the day was the Red River rebellion, to quell which amilitary expedition was despatched under the command of General (thenColonel) Wolseley. I had arranged to make a Missionary tour to LakeSuperior during the summer, and it so happened that I fell in with thetroops on their way up the lake and did service for them as chaplainwhile 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 asguides and boatmen, and these were to precede the expedition andarrange for the portaging and crossing the rivers before the arrival ofthe troops. The steamship _Chicora_ was moored to the dock, thewhole vessel from stem to stern being heavily laded down, and there wasconsiderable delay before we started, but at length the ropes were letgo, 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 atthe various places where we stopped on our way up the lakes, thegeneral expectation evidently being that the troops would be on board. The disappointment was great when it was found that we had only anadvanced guard of Indian Voyageurs with us. One old lady, accosting oneof the passengers, in her enthusiasm exclaimed, "Have ye got the armyon board?" Above Manitoulin Island the channel becomes very narrow andis sprinkled with little rocky islets clad scantily with fir and birchtrees. On one was living an old grey haired man in charge of alighthouse; 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 agrunting whistle. At last we reached Garden River, and stepping onshore, I was soon exchanging hearty greetings with Mr. And Mrs. Chance. The _Chicora_ was detained four hours at this place, as all theboats for the expedition were to be taken off before they proceededfurther and to be rowed by the Indians to Sault Ste. Marie, a distanceof twelve miles. It was necessary to do this because the only way forthe _Chicora_ to get into Lake Superior was through a canal on theAmerican side of the river, and if the boats were left on board theymight be regarded by the American Government as munitions of war and sobe refused passage. So the Indians were to take charge of the boats andpole them up the rapids, while the _Chicora_ expected to goinnocently through the locks as a boat of peace. However the plan didnot answer; the _Chicora_ even though divested of her boats, wasrefused passage, and having unloaded everything on the Canadian sidewas obliged to return whence she came. Then a road had to be cut alongthe Canadian shore, the red-wheeled waggons brought into use, andeverything conveyed a distance of some three miles to a point above therapids, where a dock was constructed and another Canadian vessel, the_Algoma_ employed to carry the things on to Thunder Bay on theshore of Lake Superior. 

As there was likely under these circumstances to be considerable delaybefore I could continue my journey, I passed my leisure time under thehospitable roof of Mr. And Mrs. Chance, and was glad of the opportunityto renew my acquaintance with the Indians whom we had met last fall. Ihad hoped that Mr. Chance would have been able to accompany me on myexpedition up the Lake; indeed it had been his own wish to do so, andin 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 thisplan, 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 Indiannamed James as my attendant. Col. Wolseley and his staff and a largedetachment of troops were on board the steamboat, and on arrival atThunder Bay, about 300 miles distant from Sault Ste. Marie, we found ascene of the greatest activity and excitement. The troops, about 1200in number, were encamped on a wild bare spot with only a few roughshanties and houses, about three miles from the Hudson Bay CompanyPost, Fort William. The Bush had been burnt over, and it was a mostdesolate, uninviting looking place, although the distant scenery aroundwas grand. There was considerable difficulty in disembarking, as thewater near the shore was shallow and there was no dock, so everythinghad to be taken from the steamboat to the land in a flat scow hauled toand fro by a rope. We pitched our tent on the shore, close to thesoldiers' camp, other tents of explorers and travellers being closearound us. From this point the troops were to start on their journey toWinnipeg. First, forty miles of road had to be constructed, and boatsand everything had to be carried on waggons till the first water in thechain of lakes and rivers was reached. This had to be done for thewhole of the 700 miles to Winnipeg; wherever possible the troops wentby boat, and where there was no water on the route, a road had to beconstructed and the waggons used. It was no easy task that ColonelWolseley had before him in this wild, uninhabited and rocky country. 

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

After the visit of their Chief the Indians got quite friendly, and usedoften to come and see me in my tent. One of them remarked once that hethought there must be a great many white people in the world, to judgeby the large number that had come together that summer in such a shortspace of time. Some of the poor creatures were evidently afraid of beingreported to their priest when they came to visit me; they generallysquatted at the entrance of the tent, and appeared to be keeping a watchall the time, so that it was very seldom that I had an opportunity ofreading to them. Perhaps the most interesting incident that occurred wasan 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 theIndian Chief from Rainy Lake?" "No, " I replied, "where is he to befound? I should like very much to see him. " Indeed I was most anxious tomeet some Indian from that quarter, as I had heard that there was alarge settlement there of some thousand Ojebway Indians all in thedarkness of paganism. I was directed to a store where the Chief had gonein, and immediately went in search of him. There he stood, a fine, upright, muscular man, with sharp set features, and a fierce forbiddingeye; long shaggy black hair straggled down his back, a mink-skin turbangraced his forehead, into which were stuck four white eagle feathers, and behind it hung an otter skin appendage like a great bag, and coveredwith little pieces of bone or metal, which rattled as he walked. Iaddressed 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 toldme that his name was "Makuhda-uhsin" (Black Stone), that he had arrivedat Midday, that he was accompanied by four other men, two boys, and awoman, that they had come by canoe, and had camped six nights on theway. Koojeching, he said, was the place where they had come from, andthere he had left a thousand warriors. 

While he was talking, the rest of the party arrived, seeking theirChief. They all squatted down, and I had to feed them all, and thengive 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 wordsstill to say to them. I then told them briefly who I was, where I hadcome 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, andvery anxious that they should embrace Christianity. A change came upontheir faces as I spoke; they shuffled uneasily, eyed me suspiciously, and were evidently impatient to get away. They probably thought that Ihad got them into my tent with the idea of using some enchantments orexercising some witchcraft upon them. I did not understand all theysaid, but James told me afterward that they were all very angry. Theysaid they were all pagans, and intended to remain so. When I askedwhether, if I were to visit them some day, they would listen to me, andif 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 willnever become Christians" I heard afterwards that a Jesuit priest oncevisited their settlement, and after he had left the small-pox brokeout. In then superstitious ignorance, they attributed the disease tothe priest's visit, and so determined never to accept Christianity. 

I had arranged to visit the Lake Neepigon Indians on my way back downthe Lake, and took my passage on board a steamboat which was to call atRed Rock at the mouth of the Neepigon River. But my purposes werefrustrated; the steamboats were under the direction of the militaryauthorities orders were changed at the last moment, and instead of RedRock I found myself at Michipicotun. At this place there is a Hudson BayCompany Post and a small settlement of Indians. The approach to the Postis very picturesque, the river being bordered by high-wooded banks, andthe clean-looking white-washed buildings of the Company presented astriking contrast to the wild scenery around as we approached, rowing upthe river in one of the ship's boats. We pitched our tent in a clearedspot just across the river, opposite to the Post and near to some Indianwigwams. During our stay, which lasted about ten days, I visited everyday among the people, and at nightfall we would meet together in one oftheir wigwams for reading the Scripture and prayer. The name of theChief was Tootoomenaun; he lived like the rest of his people in a simplewigwam made of a circle of sticks sloping to a point, and covered withbirch-bark; and there, with his family and his dogs, he lay by the fireand smoked his pipe, while I read or talked to them, the smokecirculating about our heads and then finding its escape among theblackened pole-ends at the apex of the little domicile. Another Chieffrom the neighbouring settlement of Batcheewanig, about 90 milesdistant, 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 seemedvery anxious to be taught, and listened very attentively when I read orexpounded the Scriptures. Finding the people all so anxious to learn, Iopened a little day-school in the Chief's wigwam. I had a box for myseat, and the young people squatted round on mats. There was anattendance of eleven scholars. Two of the young men I found already knewthe alphabet, so I set them on to commence the first book while theothers were kept busy with the A, B, C. They were sharp at learning, andnearly all of them, with the exception of one or two of the youngestchildren, knew the capital letters and figures from 1 to 10 by the timethe two hours of study were over. This school teaching was continuedevery day until the steamboat arrived which was to take us the remainderof our homeward voyage to the Sault. 

It is interesting to me to recall this, my first missionary visit toLake Superior. Certainly it did not seem that much was accomplishedduring my tour, and I was a little disappointed that there was not alarger number of pagan Indians among whom I might look forward toestablish Missions in the future. Still I had gained, at any rate, someinsight into the condition of the people; there were the obduratepagans from Rainy Lake, Blackstone, whom I was destined to meet againat a future day, the Thunder Bay Indians all seemingly under Jesuitinfluence; then these more accessible Red men of Michipicotun andBatcheewanig. Some Pic River Indians also I had chanced to meet on mytravels, and had some conversation with. The Neepigon Indians I wassorry to miss seeing. I was obliged to leave them for another time, together with the people belonging to several other settlements on theNorth shore. 

Altogether, the result of my trips to Garden River and to LakeSuperior was that I felt inwardly drawn to come and labour among thepeople of these more Northern regions in preference to remaining amongthe semi-civilized Indians of Sarnia. How the way would open I couldnot at that time foresee, or how soon it might be my lot to move intothese wilder regions I could not tell. It was merely an unshapedthought, 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 tobe at home again after my long, rough journey, and very glad too was mywife to see me, for it was but seldom that we had had an opportunity ofwriting to one another during my absence. In the autumn our secondchild was born--a boy--to whom the Indians gave the name ofSuhyahquahdung (proclaimer), and shortly after this we gave up ourcottage on the Indian Reserve to Mr. Jacobs, and moved to a largerhouse in the town, where we should have room to take two or threeIndian pupils as boarders. This seemed to be a judicious step, as ofall things it appeared to be the most important, to commence preparingyoung men who might afterwards act as catechists and school teachersamong 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 WalpoleIsland was appointed to take his place as catechist at Kettle Point. 

Our readers will not have forgotten poor Shegaugooqua, the poordecrepid bed-ridden creature whom we found in such a pitiable conditionin an old wigwam back in the Bush. They will remember also the mentionwe made of her little five-year-old boy, with his shock of rough, blackuncombed hair, and his bright intelligent eyes. This little boy, Willieby name, we now took in hand. I arranged that the catechist who hadbeen appointed to the Kettle Point Mission should take two little boysinto his family, and train them up to a Christian and useful life. Oneof them was to be Willie, and the other a grandchild of the unfortunateman who was murdered--Tommy Winter. So, a few days before JoshuaGreenbird was expected, we brought Willie and Tommy to our house inSarnia to prepare them for entering upon their new life. The firstthing was to divest them of their dirty rags, and give them each athorough good scrubbing; then they were put into two new little suitsof grey cloth which my wife and I had each taken a share in making withthe sewing machine. Thus, clean and neat, these two little fellows ofsix years old were shipped off to their new home. Walpole Island, whereJoshua the catechist was coming from, was some 40 miles south ofSarnia, and Kettle Point was 30 miles or more to the north, the roadlying direct through the town; and as Joshua had arranged to drive in awaggon the whole way with his family and baggage, he made our house hisstopping-place on the road, and we gave him and his wife and fourchildren all a lodging for the night; then in the morning they startedon again, taking Willie and Tommy with them. For the first week or twothe two little boys were quite happy and contented in their new home, and went regularly to school with the other children who lived atKettle Point; but after a time they got home-sick, and then they didwhat Indian boys often do when first taken in hand and put underrestrictions--they ran away. However, they did not get far on theirthirty mile journey homeward before they were accosted by a farmer whowas driving along in his waggon. Willie, always ready with his tongue, and already knowing a little English, called to the former, "Say, yougoing Sarnia?" The farmer immediately guessed what was in the wind, andcried, "Yes, come along, boys; jump in. " So in they jumped; but weresomewhat mortified--poor little fellows--to find themselves, half anhour later, back again at the catechist's house. The lesson was a goodone for them, and from that day forward they had the impression deeplyprinted on their minds that farmers were everywhere on the watch forthem, ready to bring them home if they tried to run away. 

It was during this winter (1870-71) that we began making plans forbuilding a church for the Sarnia Indians. The little building that wehad put up on our first arrival had never been intended as a permanentchurch; so now that the Mission was fairly established and wasbeginning to show good signs of prospering, it seemed to be only rightthat a more substantial building should be erected for the purpose ofDivine worship, and that the little frame building should be keptsimply for a school. The first thing was to trundle the old buildingout of the way; so a "bee" was called, and a number of the Indiansassembled, and with levers and rollers, and after working hard for acouple of days, the school was twisted round and removed to the farcorner of the lot. Then the foundations were dug for the new church. Itwas decided that it should be a brick building, with a spire, to costabout 1500 dollars. Mr. Jacobs, my assistant, busied himself in thematter, and together we managed to raise the requisite funds; and earlyin the spring building operations were commenced. 

However, it was not my destiny to be the pastor of this little brickchurch among the Sarnia Indians. God was calling me to other work. Itso happened that, in the providence of God, the Garden River Missionjust at this time fell vacant. The Rev. Mr. Chance, who had labouredthere so faithfully for the past 18 years, was called away to anothersphere in a more southerly district. Great were the lamentations of thepoor Garden River Indians when he left. Both he and his wife had becomemuch endeared to the people. Mrs. Chance was the schoolmistress anddoctor, and what would the poor children and the poor sick people dowithout her? and what would they do without their Missionary who hadlaboured so long and so faithfully among them: who had baptized theirchildren, and united their young people in marriage, and buried theirdead, and preached to them the glad tidings of the Gospel, and visitedthem, 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 infantdays; the Indian women had learned to look upon them almost as theirown; and one dear little girl--Alice--had died after a short illness, and was buried in the Indian Cemetery. It was a terrible wrench forthese poor Indians one and all to be separated from their Missionaryand his family. And the worst feature of all was that there seemed tobe considerable fear lest the Mission might be given up altogether. TheNew England Company, under whose auspices Mr. Chance had worked, haddetermined on withdrawing from that portion of the field; and unlesssome other Society saw fit to take them up, there seemed but littleprospect that the work among them would be continued. 

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

As Mr. Chance intended to leave Garden River early in the spring, andit was a part of my duty to make extended tours among the scatteredIndians, and minister to their spiritual wants, I decided on makinganother trip northward as soon as possible after navigation opened. Mywife accompanied me, and we took an Indian boy with us, named AleckBird, as cook and general servant. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

ROUGHING IT. 

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

Mrs. Chance taught me to bake bread before she left, which was veryuseful, as I still often have to make camp bread. After a few days wewere 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 tohave us with them, and the attendance at services both on Sundays andWednesday evenings, was very satisfactory. There was something quiteenchanting about our little log cottage, with the hops clambering upthe verandah, the garden-beds full of flowers, the broad river in frontof our windows, and the little sail-boat moored to the dock, which wecould use at our will and pleasure. Then there were plenty of fish inthe river, which the Indians brought to us, and an accommodating oldduck laid an egg every morning just beside the door-step. Aleck was acapital boy; always cheery and ready, and would do anything he wasasked to do. During our month's stay we only had fresh meat twice--oncewhen a bear was killed, and again when we killed our drake. Among otherduties of a new and peculiar kind, that of Post-master devolved uponme. The position was not an enviable one, and it took up a good deal oftime; but it was convenient to get the mail without having to sendtwelve miles to Sault Ste. Marie for it. One day the boat arrived atthe dock while we were at Church, and I had to set the people onsinging a hymn while I ran down to change the mail. Another day anIndian 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 turnedout of bed, seized the Post-office key, and in frantic haste rusheddown to get my mail ready. 

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

The first week in July we went on a little camping expedition to EchoRiver, where the Indians were making their birch-bark troughs ready forthe next year's sugar-making. It was a fine bright morning when westarted, and we went in _The Missionary_, with Aleck and two otherIndian boys to row us. Echo River is a deep, narrow stream, scarcely astone's throw wide, with the thick foliage of many and various treesoverhanging its banks. The only sounds which broke the stillness werethe notes of birds and the croaking of the bull-frog, mingled with themeasured splash of the oars. At length, after about two hours' pull, wereached a little creek, and the Indian boys told us that theirencampment was a short distance up it. It seemed scarcely possible totake the boat in, for the stream was very narrow, and nearly choked upwith floating saw-logs. However, we pushed along with poles, andsucceeded at length in reaching our destination. A good many of ourpeople ran down and welcomed us heartily to their camp. It must havebeen 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 beplaced, and a path cut up to it from the creek; poles and tentpins werethen made, and in a very short time our dwelling was ready for ourreception. Meanwhile the fight with the lords of the Bush hadcommenced. While we were rowing we had not been much troubled with themosquitoes, but now that we had invaded their dominions, they evidentlyregarded us as their lawful prey, and commenced the attack in goodearnest. My wife, with a very serious face, drew on my large mackintoshcoat, and sitting down on a heap of blankets, hid her hands, havingfirst 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 Isucceeded in making it habitable. Now we began to breathe a little morefreely. Later in the afternoon we ventured on a short walk to see ourneighbours. There were several wigwams all belonging to our own people. They were not conical, but had, generally, rounded roofs, over whichwere placed large sheets of birch-bark and Indian matting. 

The people were very busy at work, the men drawing out saw-logs withtwo or three yoke of oxen; the women very busy with the birch-bark orbasket-making. We found the Chief's wife sitting in a very airyapartment, 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 tentwe found that good Aleck had already got the kettle boiling, and wemade a capital supper off fried fish and potatoes. All was verycomfortable. The Indians had put a thick layer of maple branches for afloor; on these were laid first a couple of Indian reed mats, and thenour scarlet rugs and table cloth. After supper I sent Aleck to ask theIndians to come together for some singing. A great many collected, andwe sang the "Te Deum" and several hymns in Ojebway. Then we sat roundthe camp fire, which blazed up cheerily and gave light enough for us tosee our books. I was pleased to find how many of the people had theirOjebway prayer-books and testaments with them, carefully wrapped up ina pocket handkerchief. Each little knot of people lighted a smallsmouldering mosquito fire in the midst, so that smoke was rising on allsides. About ten o'clock I concluded with prayer; the people shookhands and departed. Rain was beginning to fall heavily. This and theclanging of cow-bells close outside the tent, and the music ofmosquitoes trying to make their entrance through the net suspended overus, drove sleep from our eyelids. In the morning we had other enemiesin the shape of minute sand-flies, smaller than a pin's head, whichattacked us fiercely. It was no easy matter to light the fire in themorning in the drenching rain. One of the good people came up with aniron pot full of potatoes, which he hung over the fire to be cooked forour breakfast. When it ceased raining I went out to visit some of thepeople, and then we prepared to start homeward. We had only one Indianto help Aleck at the oars, and a head-wind to row against, so that itwas late when we reached home; but, notwithstanding these drawbacks, wehad enjoyed our trip. 

The time for leaving Garden River was now drawing near, and theAmerican steamer _St. Paul_ was daily expected to pass. It wouldnot stop at Garden River, but we should have to run out to it in ourboat, so Aleck took up his position on the ridge of the roof to keep alook-out, and the first appearance of smoke round the point would bethe signal for the boat to be got ready. I had frequently requested thestewards on the boats to bring me fresh meat from Collingwood on theirup-trip. They at length complied with my request, and just the daybefore we expected to leave came a big joint of thirteen pounds--thefirst we had seen since we came up. So we had beef for breakfast, beeffor dinner, and beef for tea, and beef between times in the vain hopeof getting through it. At last we called in our Indian friends andneighbours to partake, and they cleared off nearly all the food in thehouse. 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, thinkingto get another. We had a very spare luncheon, and we had to tell theIndians that we were quite out of victuals. Then we sent Aleck to theJesuit priest to ask him if he would kindly send us a little butter andmilk. In the evening the good man came down himself, and expressed thegreatest 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 makesome 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 apint of huckleberries, and we scraped the flour-barrel and made ahuckleberry pie, and so had quite a feast. On Monday morning thesteamboat arrived, and we bade adieu to our Indian friends, andreturned to Sarnia. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

CHIEF LITTLE PINE. 

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

"When we arrived at Ahmejewunoong (Sarnia), the fire-waggons (railwaycars) were almost ready to start; so I still had to fast, and not untilwe had started on our way to Pahkatequayaug (London), did the black-coatknow that I had been all that time without food. Then he was very sorryindeed, and from that time began to take great care of me, and I toldhim plainly what was my object in coming. It is not necessary for me tosay anything about London. The black-coats met together in council toelect the great black-coat Chief (Bishop Hellmuth), and I went to thebig 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 wasimpatient to get on to Toronto to see the chief black-coat who hasauthority to send teachers to my people on the great Ojebway Lake. Wearrived in Toronto on the sixth day of the week when the raspberry moonwas twenty-two days old. I was glad to see the great city again, for Ihad seen it first many years ago, when it was but a papoose, and had buta few houses and streets. We went to the place where the black-coats whohave authority over missions meet, and I opened my heart to them anddivulged 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 Ifelt our religious wants had been well attended to; but when Iconsidered how great and how powerful is the English nation, how rapidtheir advance, and how great their success in every work to which theyput their hands, I wondered often in my mind, and my people wonderedtoo, why the Christian religion should have halted so long at GardenRiver, just at the entrance to the great Lake of the Ojebways; and howit was that forty winters had passed away and yet religion still slept, and the poor Indians of the great Ojebway Lake pleaded in vain forteachers to be sent to them. I said that we Indians know our greatmother, the Queen of the English nation, is strong, and we cannot keepback 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 doyou not help us? It is not good. I told the black-coats I hoped thatbefore I died I should see a big teaching wigwam built at Garden River, where children from the great Ojebway Lake would be received, andclothed, and fed, and taught how to read and how to write, and also howto farm and build houses, and make clothing, so that by-and-bye theymight go back and teach their own people. The black-coats listened towhat I said, and they replied their wish was the same as mine. Afterwards I saw the Bishop of Toronto (Strachan), and he said that itwas his own wish that Mr. Wilson should become our Missionary. My heartrejoiced more and more, and I felt now that the great object of myjourney was accomplished, and I could return again to my people. Butthey did not wish me to go home yet. It was to be arranged that thewhite people should meet together to hear me speak on the third day ofthe following week. 

"Many were the thoughts that filled my mind at that time, as I walkedalong the streets of Toronto, and looked at the fine buildings andstores full of wonderful and expensive things. 'How rich and powerfulis the English nation! I thought. 'Why is it that their religion doesnot go on and increase faster?' When I entered the place where thespeaking paper (newspaper) is made and saw the great machines by whichit is done, and by which the papers are folded, I thought, 'Ah, that ishow it is with the English nation, every day they get more wise, everyday they find out something new. The Great Spirit blesses them andteaches them all these things because they are Christians, and followthe true religion. Would that my people were enlightened and blessed inthe same way!'

"The next day was the day of prayer, and I went to the big wigwamwhere 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 inthe same way, and have such a beautiful wigwam to assemble in, wherethey might hear about God and His Son Jesus Christ. It rejoiced myheart 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. Sincethat time it had been burnt down and rebuilt, and then all burnt downagain, and yet now it stands here larger and grander than before. 'Thewhite people, ' I said to myself, 'have plenty of money; if they knewhow poor my people are, surely they would give more of their money tobuild a house for us where our children may be taught. ' I could notunderstand the words of the service, but my heart was full of thoughtsof God, and I thought how good a thing it was to be a Christian, and Irejoiced that I had heard of the love of Christ, who died for His redchildren, as well as for the pale faces, for He is not ashamed, we knownow, to call us brothers. During the few days we remained in Toronto Iwas out nearly all the time with Mr. Wilson, collecting money at thepeople's wigwams. I am an old man of seventy winters, and I cannot walkabout as much as I could when I was young; so he got a waggon, and wedrove 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 fromwigwam to wigwam, asking for money to help the Indians on the greatChippeway Lake. In the evening the white people met together in theteaching wigwam, and there were so many of them that they had no moreroom to sit, and I spoke to them and told them the thoughts of myheart. This time I spoke more boldly than I had done before. I toldthem that as an Indian chief I had a right to speak on behalf of mypoor people, for the land the white men now held was the land of myfathers; and now that the white man was powerful, and the Indian wasweak, the Indian had a right to look to him for help and support. As Iclosed my speech I looked around last of all upon the children; for Iwished my eyes last of all to rest upon these white children who hadreceived the benefit of education and Christian instruction; and I gavethem my beaver-skin to keep in their school, so that they might alwaysremember my visit and think upon my words. 

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

"When the day came for me to leave, the black-coat, Chance, took me inhis 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 mindthat my work was now over, and I should soon return to my people. Formany hours I travelled, and the sun had already sunk in the west, and Ithought I must be nearly arrived at Ahmujewunoong, when the fire-waggonchief came to look at my little paper; and then he looked at me andshook his head, and I understood I had come the wrong way. Presently thefire-waggon stood still, and the chief beckoned me to get out, and hepointed to the west, and made signs by which I understood that I mustnow wait for the fire-waggons going towards the sun-rising, and in themreturn 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 wasmidnight when I reached Pahkatequayang (London), and they let me go intothe wire-house and lie down to sleep. I slept well all night, and earlyin the morning a man beckoned to me that the fire-waggons were ready tostart for Sarnia, and showed me which way to go. 

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

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

"We have collected three hundred dollars, but three hundred dollars isnot enough to make religion increase. If we had but the worth of one ofthose big wigwams, of which I saw so many in Toronto, I think it wouldbe enough to build a teaching wigwam at Garden River, and enough tosend teachers also to the shores of the Great Ojebway Lake. I must havesomething done for my people before I die; and if I cannot get what Ifeel we ought to have from the Great Chiefs of this country, I amdetermined to go to the far distant land across the sea, and talk tothe son of our Great Mother, the Prince of Wales, who became my friendduring 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, arrangementswere made for our finally leaving Sarnia and removing our head-quartersto the Indian Mission at Garden River; the Committee of the ChurchMissionary Society agreed to the change as an experiment, and undertookto support the Mission for one year; but the withdrawal of the NewEngland Company and the fact of so many of the Indians having alreadybeen converted by the Roman Catholics, made them a little doubtful asto whether it would be a suitable spot for establishing one of theirMissions permanently. 

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

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

It was the end of September when we left Sarnia. A little girl hadbeen added to our family three weeks before. We had great difficulty ingetting servants to go to so wild and out of the way a place as SaultSte. Marie and Garden River were conceived to be. After many fruitlessendeavours we were obliged to give it up, and took no one with usexcept our faithful Jane as nurse. There were no Canadian boats at thattime running from Sarnia, so we had to take passage on an Americanvessel. We went well supplied with provisions sufficient to last usthrough the winter, and had all our furniture with us, besides horse, buggy, sleigh, and two cows. At that time there was but one clergymanin all the Algoma district, and he was located on the ManitoulinIsland, 150 miles east of the point to which we were bound. To the westand north our nearest clerical neighbours would be the Missionaries ofHudson Bay and Rupert's Land, 500 or 600 miles away. It had beenarranged that we should spend the winter at Sault Ste. Marie, a villageof 300 or 400 people, twelve miles above the Garden River Mission, anda house had been engaged there for us to live in; the Church people atSault Ste. Marie were anxious that we should do this, --a little stonechurch, St. Luke's, had just been built, and they, of course, weredesirous to have regular services held; and I expected every Sunday tohold one service at Garden River, besides visiting the Indians duringthe week. 

It was late on Saturday night, about 10 p. M. , when we reached SaultSte. Marie. The captain had kindly promised to put us off on theCanadian side, but it being so late and dark, and the channel not asafe 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 adilemma. Ten o'clock, Saturday night, and ourselves and our things allin the wrong place, --the right, place being a mile and a-half acrossthe water. The first thing to do under the circumstances was to take myfamily up to the hotel, after which I returned to the dock, andfortunately found a friend in need, Mr. Church, the owner of a sawmillon Sugar Island, a short distance below Garden River. He mostobligingly undertook to put all my things across to the Canadian sidefor me. His men set to work with a will--several of them were GardenRiver 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 acrosswhen one of the cows who was tethered to a parlour stove jumpedoverboard, taking the stove along with her. Happily the rope broke, thestove 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 oncemore safely got on board and made fast, and in a little while we hadreached our destination, and everything was landed at the Canadiandock. It was about one o'clock in the morning when I arrived there, andI went up to the empty Mission-house which we had occupied in thespring, and found a bed on which to snatch a few hours' rest. 

On Sunday morning the Indians came round, all delighted, to see meagain. After holding service in the church, I engaged two youngIndians, and getting into _The Missionary_, we started for SaultSte. Marie, as I was to have service there in the evening. 

During the next day or two we were moving our furniture, &c. Into thishouse which we had rented for the winter. It was roomy enough, butclose to the river, and intolerably damp; so after a week or two ofgreat discomfort we resolved on changing our quarters, and one finemorning, almost before light, saw _The Missionary_ and anotherboat, loaded with our household effects, and running before a stiffbreeze to Garden River. The Indians were delighted at the change, andall welcomed us warmly; but now fresh difficulties arose: the littlelog parsonage was so cramped and small that we had nowhere to bestowour goods, and a considerable proportion of them had to be stowed awayin the stable until two additional rooms could be built. It was ratherlate in the year for building operations, the winter being just aboutto commence; nevertheless we managed to secure the services of a coupleof workmen, and in a little time a "balloon frame" was run up and twonew rooms added to the house. 

A terrible winter it was--one of the worst winters that had been known--the glass being sometimes from 30 to 40 below zero, and the snow verydeep. One great snowdrift completely blocked the east end of theparsonage--it was about fifteen feet deep. The lower room was entirelydark, and we had to make a tunnel through the snow bank to let in thelight. Some mornings it was so cold that we could not sit to thebreakfast-table, but had all to huddle round the stove with our plateson our laps, and the empty cups that had been used when put back on thetable froze to the saucers. Bread, butter, meat, everything, was frozensolid, and we began to realize what an Algoma winter was. But, apartfrom these discomforts, we had a very pleasant winter with our Indianfriends; the services at the church were well attended, and there weregenerally upwards of thirty at the Holy Communion. At Christmas time wehad a great feast; nearly a hundred of the people came, and afterpartaking of the good things, we gave them a magic lantern exhibition, which pleased them greatly. Then we always had service in theschoolhouse every Wednesday evening, at which there was an exceedinglygood attendance; and on Friday evenings we held a cottage lecture, sometimes at one house, sometimes at another. Perhaps the mostdiscouraging thing was the day-school. It is so hard to induce theIndians to send their children regularly to school. There may be thirtynames on the register, but the average attendance is probably not morethan nine or ten, possibly at times twelve to fifteen. It seems to bethe same everywhere. The old people do not sufficiently realize theadvantages of education themselves, and so seem to care little whethertheir children are in their place at class or roving about the bush witha bow and arrow. The Indians are great people for medicine. I had a goodstock of it, and they were constantly coming to me with their ailments. They make medicines themselves from roots and herbs, but prefergenerally to get the White man's physic. There was an old white-hairedwoman, an aunt of the chief's, who used to come stumping along with athick stick, and caused some consternation in our nursery; she neverknocked at the door--Indians rarely do--but would come in and sitherself down in the middle of the floor, the children scampering away tohide. She was a good-natured old creature, and of course would do noharm, but she frightened the children nevertheless. 

We had one rather narrow escape while driving on the ice. It was onChristmas Day; I had been taking Morning Service at Sault Ste. Marie, and was driving back to Garden River with my wife and a young lady whowas coming to stay with us; the wind was blowing, and the glass was inthe neighbourhood of zero. All went well till we were within four milesof home; we had just passed a log cottage on the shore, and werestriking out to cross a bay; we fancied we heard a shout behind us, butit was too cold to stop and look back; however it would have beenbetter if we had done so, for a few moments more and our horse wasplunging in the water, the rotten ice having given way beneath hisfeet. As quick as thought we all hurried out at the back of the sleighand made for the solid ice. There were two or three inches of water onthe ice, and our feet got wet, but otherwise we were safe from danger. In the meantime some Indians had seen us from the shore, and camerunning to us with a rope and some rails. It was twenty minutes beforethe poor horse was extricated; he was down in the water up to his neck, his eyes looked glassy, and I was afraid the poor thing was dying. However the Indians evidently knew what to do, they got the end of arail under him as a lever to raise him up, and put a noose round hisneck; then, having first loosened the harness, they pulled with a will, and in a few moments had him out of the hole kicking on the ice; theythen gave him a good rubbing, and soon he made a plunge and was on hislegs again, trembling and shaking; one of the young fellows took himoff for a sharp trot to restore the circulation, then the sleigh wasfixed up, and after a delay of about an hour we were enabled tocontinue our journey. 

During the winter our mail was brought by men on snow-shoes with a dogtrain; they had to travel about 150 miles to a distant station, wherethey were met by other couriers, who exchanged bags with them and tookthem the remainder of the distance. The men go along at a jogging pace, and at night camp out in the snow. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

CHIEF BUHKWUJJENENE'S MISSION. 

It was sugar-making time, and Buhkwujjenene was at work three milesback in the bush collecting the sap from the maple-trees, and, with theassistance of his wife and a large family of daughters, boiling it downin huge black kettles to transform it into maple-sugar. It was rather alabour getting out there, and I had to take my snow-shoes. About twomiles back from where our parsonage stood is a long range of low, rockyhills, about 300 feet high, nearly parallel with the course of theriver, and for the most part bare and naked, only sprinkled with a fewragged balsams, pine, and birch. It was April, and the snow was gonefrom the exposed parts of the hill, but beyond, in the valley wheresugar-making was going on, it was still a couple of feet deep. 

Wandering along through the bush, the first sign of your approach to asugar-camp is generally the sound of an axe or the barking of a dog;these help to direct your steps; then, in a little while you see snow-shoe tracks, and then--here are the little birch-bark troughs, one ortwo to each maple-tree, and a slip of wood stuck in the tree about twofeet from the ground, which serves as a spout to convey the sap from thetree to the trough. It does not run fast, about a drop in every three orfour seconds, or sometimes much slower than that; however the littletrough gets full in time, and then the Indians come round and pour itinto birch-bark pails and carry it to the camp to be boiled. The sap isvery nice when you are thirsty--slightly sweet and very cold, as thenights must be frosty during sugar-making time, and there is generally alittle ice in each trough. Cold frosty nights and clear sunshiny days iswhat the Indians like for their sugar-making. As soon as the weathergets too warm the sap becomes bitter and is no longer of any use. 

Well, after my walk of course I took a draught of sap from the firsttrough I found, and then wended my way on to Buhkwujjenene's camp. Thesugar camp is made of poles about four inches thick, laid horizontallyfor walls, and fitted into each other at the corners, the crevices beingfilled with moss. The walls are only about four feet high, and theyenclose a space about ten or twelve feet square; the roof is also madeof poles placed like rafters and covered over with sheets of birch-bark, an opening being left the whole length of the ridge for the escape ofthe smoke. In the centre of the earthen floor is the fire, over whichare suspended five or six large sugar-kettles, holding perhaps twenty orthirty gallons each, and into these the sap is poured as it is broughtin from the trees. Along the inside of the wigwam on either side of thefire is a raised floor of boards or sticks, covered with fir branches, on which the Indians recline by day or sleep at night. The door isgenerally an old blanket hung over the opening. In just such a camp asthis I found Chief Buhkwujjenene, for though chief of his band he yethas to hunt and fish and make sugar for his living, the same as the restof his people. 

"Ah-ah-ah boo-zhoo boo-zhoo!"--That's the way we Indians greet oneanother. Very warm and hearty, is it not? There they all were, busyover their big pots--Isabel and Susette and Therese and Liquette, andthe old mother, who is very stout and comfortable-looking. 

I told Buhkwujjenene that I wanted to have a little talk with him, soas soon as I had some maple syrup, and my pockets filled with sugarcakes to take home to the children, he came with me out of the wigwam, and we sat down on a log together for a pow-wow. Of course he lightedhis pipe the first thing, for Indians can't talk without smoking. Itold him I had been thinking that I would cross the great salt water tothe land of the pale-faces, and try to collect some money to build thebig teaching wigwam that we had been talking about, and I suggested theidea of taking him with me, if he would like to go. I said his brother"Little Pine" had already done a good work by addressing meetings inCanada and thus giving a start to the scheme, and now it would be forhim, the other chief, to carry the work on and help to raise fundssufficient to erect the institution. Buhkwujjenene listened attentivelywhile I spoke, and then, laying his pipe down, replied as follows:

"It is true I have often thought that I would like to visit the greatcountry across the great salt water, and I have sometimes thought thatthe day would come for me to do so; still, I am getting advanced inyears now. I am no longer young as I used to be. I am not always well, and it is a long way to go. Nevertheless I am willing to accompany youif the Great Spirit wills it. I committed myself to the hands of theGreat Spirit when I became a Christian forty years ago. If it is Hiswill that I should go, I will go; if it is not His will I will stayhere. "

A few days after this the Indians held a council in the school-house, when it was definitely arranged that Buhkwujjenene should accompany meto England, and the Indians agreed to sell an ox, which belonged tothem in common, to assist in defraying his expenses. 

The party who were to make the trip across the Atlantic consisted ofMrs. Wilson, our little boy Archie (whom the Indians call Tecumseh, after the celebrated chief who fought under Sir Isaac Brock in 1812), Chief Buhkwujjenene, and myself. We started on a bright Monday morningtowards the middle of May, the first part of our journey beingaccomplished in the steam-boat _Waubuno, _ which took us as far asCollingwood, a distance of 300 miles. From Collingwood we took trainabout 100 miles to Toronto, where we staid a few days; then fromToronto we took train _via_ Niagara and Buffalo to New York. Ourtrain arrived a few hours only before the steamship _The India_was to start. 

So far Chief Buhkwujjenene had seen nothing more than he had seenbefore in his life, for he had already on more than one occasiontravelled through Canada. Now however that he was embarked on an oceansteamer, all would, for the next few months, be new to him. One of hisfirst experiences was the qualms of sea-sickness, and I verily believehe thought he was going to die. However, as with the white man so withthe Indian, a few days on the salt water set him all right, andstrength, spirits and appetite returned. One evening on deck he told mea dream he had had shortly before I proposed for him to accompany me. "I thought I was working outside my house, " he said, "when I heard thenote of a loon. (The loon is a favourite bird among the Indians, andthey regard it with superstitious reverence. ) The sound came from theWestern sky, and I gazed in that direction to try if I could see thebird. In another moment I heard the sweep of its wings over my head, and there it flew sailing majestically along and drawing after it anairy phantom ship with three masts; it sailed away off east, stilluttering its monotonous note till it was lost to view. Thus my dreamhas come true, " he said, "for this is the three-masted vessel that Isaw in my dream, and the loon is dragging us along!"

At length the north coast of Ireland came in sight, and then theScotch coast, and finally we came to anchor in the harbour at Greenock. It was late in the evening, about 8 p. M. , when we arrived, and we heardthat there was a through train to London at 8. 30, so we made a greateffort to catch it; we succeeded in boarding the train at the very lastmoment, and were off by the night mail to London. 

The next morning there appeared the following interesting, though notvery truthful, notice in the _Glasgow Herald:_--"An interestingstranger has arrived in this country, and it may possibly turn out thatthe 'Coming Man' has come at last. His name, we understand, is ChiefBuhkwujjenene, which signifies 'a man of the Desert, ' and he landed inGreenock from the Anchor Line steamer _India_. The man was dressedin the full costume of the Chippewa tribe, to which he belongs, namely, skins, feathers, &c. He is described as being tall and handsome, with afrank but thoughtful face, and appeared to be about thirty years ofage. It is understood that this chief, who proceeded immediately permail train to London, has been converted to Christianity, and has beenbrought over to England under the auspices of the Church of EnglandMissionary Society, in order that he may be instructed in Christiantruth, fitting him to return as a native teacher and preacher among histribe in the backwoods of America. A more appropriate lodging for 'aman of the Desert' cannot be found in the whole world than LeicesterSquare; though whether he would receive much Christian truth in thatlocality is another question. If he would send for his tribe, andencamp there permanently, a picturesque effect might be produced at avery trifling outlay. "

We travelled all night, and were due at Euston Square the followingday. Early the next morning we sent on the following telegram toannounce our arrival to our unexpecting friends:--"Myself, wife, Archie, and Indian chief have arrived; shall reach Euston at 3 p. M. "This was the first intimation that our friends had of the certainty ofour paying them a visit, as we had come away by the first boat down onthe opening of navigation, and our letters sent by dog-sleigh a week ortwo before that were still on the road. Still less had they anyexpectation of an introduction to one of the natives of our wildbackwoods. 

Our train steamed into Euston Square punctual to the time after itslong run of 400 miles. And now familiar sights met our eyes after afour years' absence from our native land; there were the cabs and therunning porters and the dense crowd of people filling the station; andthere--still more familiar sight--was my father's carriage and the well-known figure of our coachman on the box. Then came hearty shakes of thehand from my father and brother who had come to meet us, and ChiefBuhkwujjenene, who seemed quite lost, poor man, among the excitementand bustle, was introduced and shook hands with the venerable EnglishBlack-coat. 

It was strange the affection that Buhkwujjenene conceived for mybrother from the first; he misunderstood his name (Arthur), andthinking it to be Otter, always called him _Neegig. _ Upon myfather he conferred the name of _Pashegonabe, _ the great eagle, and one of my sisters he was pleased to call _Wabausenooqua, _which title he explained to mean a little spot cleared by the wind;though for what reason he gave this name we could never quite make out. _Neegig_ and he became great friends; they had one thing incommon, and that was a love for tobacco, and in the summer eveningsafter dinner the young white man and his grown companion would reclineon rustic seats in the garden, and smoke pipe after pipe, the red manmixing his "baccy" with some savoury bark from his native land which heproduced from the depths of his martin-skin tobacco-pouch. They couldnot understand each other's speech, but by dint of signs and a fewbroken words of English occasionally introduced by the Chief, theymanaged to carry on some conversation. 

Quite a sensation was caused not only in the house but in theneighbourhood by the new-comer's arrival. It was strange to see himsitting in his blanket coat in an easy chair beneath the gas-lights inthe drawing-room, strange to see him conducting a lady in to dinner andsitting at table awaiting the arrival and removal of the variouscourses, strange to see him walking the streets with his medals on hisbreast, his skunk skin and leggings and feather in his hat, or ridingin the same attire on the top of an omnibus; and yet amid it all hebore himself with such perfect grace and self-possession that every oneadmired and wondered at him. People thought he had a very pleasantexpression and agreeable manner, and they were astonished at hispoliteness and the cool self-possessed way in which he accepted themany new experiences which kept crowding upon him. A photographer inthe neighbourhood soon heard of his arrival and asked him to sit forhis portrait. Several likenesses were taken--representing him as aChristian Chief in his ordinary dress; and as a Chief of former days infeathers and Indian costume. As he could scarcely speak a word ofEnglish I was obliged to be tied rather closely to him as interpreter, and assist him in receiving visitors, numbers of whom came almostdaily. We also had a visiting-card prepared for him on which wasinscribed Chief Buhkwujjenene, Garden River, Canada. At morning andevening prayers and in church on Sundays he was most devotional, andwhenever the Lord's prayer was repeated he joined audibly in the Indiantongue--"_Wayoosemegooyun keezhegoong ayahyun, tah keche-ahpeetandahgwud kedezhenekausoowin_" &c. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

AN INDIAN CHIEF IN ENGLAND. 

We were not long in setting the Chief to work. It was Friday when wearrived, and on the following Thursday our first meeting was held inBishop Wilson's Memorial Hall, Islington. Notice was given of themeeting in church on the intervening Sunday, the Chief occupying a seatin one of the pews, and a circular was also issued headed:--

"A RED INDIAN CHIEF'S VISIT TO ENGLAND. "

The result was an overflowing meeting. The vicar occupied the chairand a number of clergy were on the platform. Chief Buhkwujjeneneseeming to be just as much at his ease as if he were addressing acouncil of his own people, stood forth and in simple eloquent termstold his story, myself interpreting for him every time he paused. 

"My brothers and sisters, " he began, "I salute you. I have come all theway across the great salt water to see you, and it does my heart goodto see so many pale faces gathered together before me. " He thenrecounted what had led him to take the journey. It had not been his ownwish, but he felt that God had led him to do so; God had preserved himamid the dangers of the ocean, and he trusted that God would prosperthe cause for which he came to plead. "Many years ago, " he said, "I and mypeople were in a very different state to what we are now: we had noteaching, no churches, no missionaries, our medicine men taught us tobelieve in good and bad spirits and to depend on dreams. I, when a boy, was obliged by my father to blacken my face and fast for many daystogether, and while doing this it was believed that whatever I dreamedwould come true. But now we Indians at Garden River are no longerheathen, we have all now accepted Christianity and we have our churchand our missionary. The desire of my heart is to see our religionspread among the other Indians; we want more Missionaries to be sent tous, and greater efforts made to extend the blessings of the Gospel. Wewant our children to be taught to follow civilized trades as the whitepeople do. We feel that the time is past for the Indians to live byhunting and fishing as our forefathers used to do. We wish to give upour old habits and adopt the customs of the pale faces. In order toaccomplish this we propose that a big teaching wigwam should be builtat Garden River where our sons may be taught to carpenter and makeboots and other such things as are useful, and where our daughters maylearn needlework and knitting and spinning. This is the desire of myheart, this is the cause for which I have come to plead. We Indians aretoo poor to help ourselves, and so we look to you white people who nowoccupy our hunting grounds to help us. We know that our great MotherQueen Victoria, loves her Indian subjects; often have we fought for herand we are ready to fight her battles again. We have readily given upour hunting grounds to you, and all that we ask of you is that you willhelp us in improving ourselves and in educating our children. "

After this the Chief put on his Indian dress and sang a war song. Muchinterest was stirred up by his address and the collection which wasmade after the meeting amounted to upwards of L11. 

The following Sunday the Holy Communion was administered at the oldparish church of St. Mary's, and among those who knelt at the rails toreceive the sacred emblems of our Lord's passion and death, was theIndian Chief Buhkwujjenene. I repeated the words to him in his owntongue as I administered the bread and wine. 

The following day we visited the Rev. Henry Venn, the venerableSecretary of the Church Missionary Society. He received us most kindly, and for his own part he hoped that the Committee, whom we were to meeton the morrow, would agree to continue their support of the mission atGarden River, and to assist us in our proposed scheme for theadvancement and civilization of the Indians; he feared, however, wemight have some difficulty in the matter, on account of our proposedplans not being strictly in accordance with the main object of theSociety, which is to carry the Gospel to the heathen. 

Among the earliest plans made for the edification and amusement of theChief was a visit to the Zoological Gardens at Regent's Park. Among thebirds the Chief quickly recognized the Canadian thrush, and doffed hishat with evident pleasure at the rencontre. We went the regular rounds, as every one does, through the monkey-house, through the parrot-house, down through the tunnel and alongside the canal to the house of thereptiles, then back to where the elephants and giraffes are kept. Thehippopotamus was on land so we saw him well; the giraffes walked roundand round and bowed their necks to the visitors as they always do; theelephant obeyed his keeper, stood up on his hind legs, elevated histrunk, trumpeted and consumed biscuits. Then we saw the lions andtigers fed. The Chief had a ride on one of the camels, and looked verypicturesque in his white blanket coat, though scarcely oriental enoughin his appearance to produce a natural effect. 

Another day we had an interview with his Royal Highness the Prince ofWales. It was not brought about in the way such things are generallyaccomplished, but still it did very well. The occasion was the openingof the Bethnal Green Museum. We had gallery tickets for the Chief andmyself. It was an imposing display. The centre of the hall was occupiedby all the great grandees in brilliant dress including natives of manya foreign clime. The arrival of Royalty was signalized by a clarionblast which thrilled through one's veins and set one on the tiptoe ofexpectation. The Royal party entered, the necessary ceremonies for theopening of the building were gone through, and then commenced a tour ofthe galleries. The Prince and his suite would pass close to us. Thiswas a chance not to be thrown away. I had a photograph of Buhkwujjenenein my pocket. Buhkwujjenene on his breast wore a silver medal presentedto him in common with other chiefs by the Prince on the occasion of hisvisit to Canada some years before. I stepped up to one of the managersof the Institution--Here was an Indian chief, a medal on his breast, given him by the Prince of Wales. Would it be out of place for theChief to present his _carte de visite_ to the Prince? The managergood-naturedly said that he would speak to one of the suite when theyapproached and ask if it could be done. Soon the word came that thePrince would be pleased to have Chief Buhkwujjenene presented to him. So space was made for us by a policeman in the front ranks of the crowd--and we awaited His Royal Highness's arrival. The moment came. HisRoyal Highness greeted the Chief most cordially and pleasantly, examined the medal on his breast, and said that he remembered his faceamong the Indian chiefs who had been presented to him in Canada. "Tellhim, " said the Prince to me; "tell him I remember his face perfectly. "We were then permitted to join the Royal procession and make the roundof the building. 

But our time was not all taken up in sightseeing. We had plenty to do, and only a little time to do it in. Nearly every night there was ameeting, and often we had two or three engagements in the course of aday. Never did an Indian chief have such a hard time of it. Wherever hewent, he wore his blanket coat, his feather in his hat, his leggingsand moccasins, and the skunk skin on his arm. Very seldom was anyattempt made to treat him rudely, though occasionally it was necessaryto hurry him through the streets to avoid a crowd collecting. Wideguesses were made at his nationality; one would take him for a NewZealander, another for a native of Japan. 

One of our best meetings was a garden-party at Mitcham Vicarage. Therewas a large gathering of ladies and gentlemen beneath the darkspreading cedars on the soft lawn. The Chief put on his feathers andornaments, and at once became the centre of attraction. I think it wason this occasion that he narrated the Indian tradition of the Flood:

"Nanaboozhoo, " said the Chief, "had a son. He loved his son. He toldhis son never to go near the water lest evil should come to him. Theson disobeyed his father: he went out in a canoe and was never seen orheard of more. Nanaboozhoo then vowed vengeance against the gods of thewater, who had destroyed his son. There were two of these gods, and oneday they lay sleeping on the shore. Nanaboozhoo was looking everywherefor them, determined to kill them. A loon offered to show him wherethey were sleeping. He followed the loon till he found them, and thenhe made short work of them with his tomahawk and his war-club. But lo, and behold, no sooner were the gods dead than the waters of the greatlake rose up in vengeance; they pursued Nanaboozhoo up on to the dryland, and he had to run for his life. He sought the highest mountainand climbed to the top of the highest pine-tree. Still the waterspursued him. They rose higher and higher. What could he do? He brokeoff a few of the topmost branches, and made a raft upon which he gotand saved himself. He saved also a number of the animals that werekicking and struggling in the water all around him. At length hebethought himself of making a new world. How should he do it? Could hebut procure a little of the old world he might manage it. He selectedthe beaver from among the animals, and sent it to dive after someearth. When it came up it was dead. He sent the otter, but it diedalso. At length he tried the musk rat. The musk rat dived. When it cameup it was dead. But in its claws was clenched a little earth. Nanaboozhoo carefully took this earth, rubbed it in his fingers till itwas dry, then placed it in the palm of his hand, and blew it gentlyover the surface of the water. A new world was thus formed, andNanaboozhoo and all the animals landed. Nanaboozhoo sent out a wolf tosee how big the world was. He was gone a month. Again he sent him out, and he was gone a year. Then he sent out a very young wolf. This youngwolf died of old age before it could get back. So Nanaboozhoo said theworld was big enough, and might stop growing. "

About L80 was collected on this occasion. 

We paid two visits to the Archbishop of Canterbury, at Lambeth. Onboth occasions he was most cordial and kind, and appeared to take muchinterest in the work of evangelizing the Indians. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

A TRIAL OF FAITH. 

After this, meetings were held at Hastings, Reading, Eynsford, Bayswater, Hampstead, Tooting, Wimbledon, Coleshill, Kensington, Ware, and many other places; all much of the same character--money wascollected, and photographs and articles of birchbark sold. The Chiefexcited much interest by recounting the circumstances of his ownconversion to Christianity. "When I was a little boy, not older thanthat little fellow there, " he said, pointing to a child in theassembly, "I was very badly off. My mother was dead, and my fatherloved the fire-water. I was often cold and hungry, and at night wouldsometimes crawl into the wigwam and lie down beside my drunken father. After I was grown older, a preacher came into our neighbourhood andbegan to preach the Gospel to the Indians, and I used to go sometimesto listen to him. I thought the words he spoke were very wonderful, andI was so much impressed by them that I took every opportunity I couldof going to listen. As for my father, he would not go to hear thepreaching, and he did not wish me to go, but I used to go secretlywithout telling him. One, evening I was going as usual to hear theMissionary speak, wending my way alone through the dark lonely bush. Mypath led me out into a clearing where I could see the distant horizon, and the sun was setting in great splendour, the heavens all lighted upwith gold and crimson. Suddenly, like an arrow, there darted into mybreast the words which I had heard the preacher use about the lastgreat day when the Saviour would return again in glory surrounded byall the holy angels. I sank upon my knees, and there and then offeredup my first prayer to God. The next morning I called on the Missionary, and told him that I wished to become a Christian, and a short timeafter that I was baptized. Some time after this I was very sick, and mylife was despaired of. My father, though disapproving of my havingaccepted Christianity, was nevertheless very fond of me; he was muchgrieved that I was sick, and I noticed that he had begun to think moreseriously of the Christian religion, for I had often spoken to him andurged him to become a Christian; I had also prayed constantly to Godthat He would change my father's heart. One day my father came to me asI still lay sick upon my bed, and he said to me, 'My son, Buhkwujjenene, I do not know whether you will get well again or not, for I know you are very sick indeed, but I wish to tell you this, thatI have resolved to become a Christian, and to-morrow morning myself andall your brothers and sisters are going to the Missionary to bebaptized. '"

It was a sore blow to us when word came from the Secretary of theChurch Missionary Society that the Committee had decided not tocontinue the Garden River Mission. 

It was to me a great trial of faith to be told that my choice laybetween accepting a more lucrative post in Rupert's Land orrelinquishing connection with the Society under whose auspices I hadfirst gone forth. What was I to do? How could I break the distressingnews to my poor friend Buhkwujjenene? I went down upon my knees, andlaid the matter before my God in prayer. And very soon the answer came. A letter was put into my hand which said, "A friend will guarantee youL100 a year if you will remain at your post at Garden River. " How Ithanked God. I felt it was His hand directing, and I at once acceptedthe offer. The Colonial and Continental Church Society guaranteed ayearly grant, and I was sure that we were being led by God, and thatall would be right. I could meet my poor Chief now with a bright faceand a light heart. I could tell him that all was well; that the GardenRiver Mission would be permanently established, and that the "bigteaching wigwam" should (D. V. ) be built. 

The next thing was to organize an English Committee and to open asubscription list for the support of the proposed Institution. Amongthem were the late Ven. Archdeacon Hunter, of Bayswater, and the Rev. J. Halcombe. 

A circular which was issued stated that the Chief had been greatlyencouraged by the sum of money (L740) already collected towards theobject he had so much at heart, and that the object of the Committeewas to further the good Chief's wishes by the erection of an IndustrialSchool at Garden River, where children both of Christian and of paganparents from all parts of the Ojebway territory, would be received, clothed, boarded, educated, instructed in Christian truth, and alsotaught to farm and to follow useful employments. The Committee did notexpect to do anything great at once, but to begin with small things, and gradually extend their work as the way might open. The amountrequired for the annual support of the Mission would be at least L600. It was expected that the Canadian Government would make a grant towardsthe support of the Institution when once fairly started, and the hopewas expressed that many friends would be found both in England and inCanada to assist, so that the poor Indians might not be left destituteand uncared for, but rather learn that it was the wish of their whitefriends, while sending them the good tidings of salvation, also to helpthem to become prosperous and happy in this life, and enable them tomaintain their rights as original owners of the soil. 

These steps having been thus satisfactorily taken and money sufficientcollected to make a commencement, it seemed unnecessary to keep thegood Chief away any longer from his home, and one day in the first weekin August we put him on board a steamboat in London Docks and startedhim off for Quebec. He preferred thus to go alone rather than wait toaccompany our party a month later, as he wanted to get home to see tohis cattle and crops and make provision for the winter. I gave him aletter, with full directions as to time of trains, &c. , which he couldshow to any one, and Indians are always clever in finding their wayabout, so that I felt no anxiety about him. When I met him afterwardsat Garden River, he pointed to his little log cottage, and said thatwas better than all the great houses in England. However, he retainedvery pleasing recollections of his visit, and often has he since askedme to write a letter for him to one or another of the good friends whomhe made while in the country of the pale faces. 

When we started on our homeward voyage, about a month later, we tookwith us a young man from the Rev. D. B. Hankins' congregation at Ware, named Frost, to be school teacher at the Institution when built, andalso a man and his wife from a farm in Kent as servants. On board thesteamboat we fell in with a family of emigrants, and persuaded them toaccompany us to Sault Ste. Marie. The man was a carpenter by trade, andhelped us in many ways, but the following year he fell ill and died. Wethen took the widow into our employment as laundress, and she is withus still. Our two younger children who had been with their nurse atLondon, Ontario, during our absence, now rejoined us, and we were soononce more settled and ready for a second Algoma winter. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

LEARNING TO KNOW MY PEOPLE. 

The Indians are a people requiring a good deal of patience on the partof their teachers, as, those who have tried working among them havegenerally found. There is on the one hand a charming fascination abouttheir simple manners and habits, their readiness to receive and acceptGospel teaching, the bright winning smile that lights up their faceswhen pleased, their stoical behaviour under adverse circumstances, their gentleness and politeness, the absence of that rough manner andloud talk which is so common among white people of the lower classes;and yet on the other hand we must admit that there are certain strongpoints in their natural character which are anything but pleasing; andit is, I believe, these points coming to the notice of people who arenot inclined to befriend them that have earned for them the characterof an idle, ungrateful people. Many a time has it been said to me, "Howcan you waste your time working among those Indians? They will neverget any better for all you can teach them or do for them. " And yet Ihave continued labouring, and do still labour among them, believingthat it is God's will that every wandering sheep should be sought outand, if possible, be brought into the Good Shepherd's fold. If at timesI have found them trying, yet, after all, I doubt if they are much moreso than many a community of white people. 

I will now give a few extracts from, my journal of the winter 1872-73. 

_Oct. _ 21, we were up at 5. 30 a. M. , preparing for the "Bee;" Irang the church bell to bring the Indians together, and hoisted theUnion Jack. Mrs. Cryer got tea made, and pork and potatoes cooked, andabout 7. 30 a. M. Twelve stalwart Indians sat down to breakfast. Thenaxes were shouldered, the oxen yoked, and we started for the farm landa little way back from the house. We mustered twenty-two in all and hada good days' work--chopping down trees and brush-wood, grubbing uproots, and making huge fires to burn all up. About twelve acres werecleared sufficiently for ploughing, and this will be fenced round. Inthe evening, when the men all came in for supper, I showed then myplans for the new buildings, and they seemed very much pleased withthem. Later in the evening I was asked to come in to Bubkwujjenene'shouse, as they wished to settle the matter about the ox. 

_Nov. _ 21. --The Indians held a great council in the school-housethis evening. Chief Buhkwujjenene was the principal speaker. He spokevery eloquently, feelingly, and quite to the point, --describing hisjourney to England and his kind reception by so many friends there. Then he spoke of the proposed Institution, for which money had beencollected, and told the people that an opportunity was now given themof improving themselves and their children, and he urged upon all tosupport the movement and to give up their children to be educated. Chief Little Pine spoke of the increasing value of their land and thedesire of the white people to purchase it from them. Our wealth, hesaid, is our land. As long as it lies idle it is worthless. We mustclear our land and farm it, and then it will be of the greatest value. He also spoke of the Institution, and advised the people to send theirchildren. Misquaubuhnooke and Shabahgeezhik also spoke, and each foundfault with the Indians for not exerting themselves more; they said thecongregations were not large enough on Sundays, and that many of thepeople who had families did not send their children to school. 

_Dec. _ 1, _Advent Sunday. _--Heavy snow falling, but goodcongregations. I preached from Rom. Xiii. 12. "The night is far spent, the day is at hand; let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light. " We have commenced a weeklyoffertory, and it amounts to nearly two dollars a Sunday. Twochurchwardens have been appointed, and one of them has charge of theChurch funds and is supposed to purchase all that is necessary in theway of fuel, oil, &c. The collections ought to be ample to meet allexpenses besides paying the sexton; but if not constantly watched theIndians are apt to spend the money on things not really wanted, whilewe are shivering for want of fire, and blinding ourselves for want oflight. 

_Dec. 27. _--Evening Communicants' meeting at WilliamShabahgeezhik's; about twenty-five present. I spoke very plainly to thepeople, and urged none to come forward to the Sacrament without duepreparation. I said I would rather see ten persons kneeling at the railand feel that they were truly in earnest, than thirty people who hadcome forward without thinking of what they were doing. I invited themto come and talk with me individually in private. I said God hadbrought me to this place to be their friend and counsellor, and to helpthem on their road to heaven, and I hoped that they would regard me assuch. 

_Dec. 28. _--Our first winter mail arrived to-day. The first mailwe hear was lost and one of the couriers drowned, so this must be thesecond that has now arrived. I had only just brought up a large packetof letters and papers to the house, when I was called away three milesdistant, to see a man who had been taken suddenly ill and was supposedto be dying. I went in the sleigh and administered medicine to him. Then came a call in an opposite direction to see Chief Little Pine, whois also sick. He has no serious symptoms, but is very weak, and eatsnothing. He says he does not wish to say anything about his illness, and wants no medicine. "The great God, " he said, "knows a11, and He cantake care of me. "

_Dec. 29, Sunday. _--We had twenty-seven at Holy Communion to-day, --little over half the number that assembled last year. I take this fora good sign. I trust that our people are beginning to think more, andto realize how solemn is this Holy Feast. The offertory collection wasnearly four dollars. This I take for the relief of the sick. On theother Sundays the money is used for church expenses. 

_Jan. _ 3, 1873. --Meeting to-night at Peter Jones'--about twenty-four present. After it was over I told the people that the meeting nextweek would be at Misquaubuhnooke's, on Sugar Island, and we had made aplan for Mr. Frost to go over and teach school there three times aweek. I also made some reference to the dancing, in which they so muchindulge at this time of the year, --exhorting them not to keep up theirparties late at night, to finish with reading and prayer, and not to beashamed for the Bible to be seen on the table; also not to let thewhiskey bottle appear. I said God willed that we should enjoyourselves, but in our enjoyment we must remember Him, and not give wayto sin. 

_Jan. _ 4. --Yesterday, while out, I was called in to see a poorboy in a very suffering state, a large piece of cord-wood having fallenon his arm and created some internal injury. The accident happened fivedays ago, and nothing yet had been done. I immediately applied acooling lotion. The poor little-fellow, who is only about thirteenyears old, was in great pain. His home is some three miles off, onSugar Island, and his mother had only heard of the accident to-day, andhad just arrived when I was called in. This morning I have brought himup in the sleigh to my house and placed him on a bed in the little oldschool-house; there is a nice fire in the stove, and we have given themother cooking utensils and food, so they will be quite comfortable. 

_Jan. _ 5. --About eleven o'clock last night the poor boy's mothercame knocking for me at the window; so I went over to see him. Heseemed much worse, and was screaming with the pain; his arm was quiteblack and the inflammation extending to the hand. The mother seemed ingreat trouble, and being Roman Catholics, I told her I would go over tosee the priest, and perhaps he would send some one to the Sault for thedoctor. The priest came back with me, but seemed to think it no use tosend for the doctor, as, if mortification was beginning, he could do nogood, I then left the priest alone with him, while I went to prepare asoothing draught. While walking with the priest, I took the opportunityto say a few words to him about my visiting his people. I told him Iwas often called in by has people to visit their sick ones, andhitherto had made it rather a point of honour not to speak to themabout religion, as I thought he would not like it, and only on oneoccasion had done so. I however, did not like this plan; as a clergymanI felt that I ought to have the privilege of speaking to those whom Iwas called on to visit, especially the dying; so, if he objected to mydoing so, it would be best for him to tell his people not to send forme. The priest said he certainly should not like his people to betalked to; still he would be sorry for me to give up visiting the sick, and "if I wished sometimes to offer words of consolation I must do so. "

At the close of my sermon to-day I mentioned this circumstance to ourpeople, showing them first of all the difference between our religionand that of the Roman Catholics--the latter shut the Bible up, we giveit to all; the latter teach people to depend on the priest foreverything, we point only to God and to Jesus Christ. I said I indeeddesired to see all the people on this Reserve members of our Church;still I felt that this would not be effected by strife and quarrelling, but only by love. I wished, I said, to try and copy the Saviour, wholoved all men alike. For this reason, when called to help RomanCatholics or to give them medicine, I was willing to do so, as Ithought it was right to do so. Still I had long felt dissatisfied thatmy tongue should be tied when visiting these people, for fear ofoffending the priest. For that reason I had now had a talk with thepriest, and told him that in future, if I visited his people, I must beallowed to talk to them. If he did not like me to do this, he mustforbid them sending for me. A good many of our people went in afterservice to see the poor sick boy. I took Archie in also to see him. Theboy seemed much pleased to see him, saying, 'Kagat minwahbumenahgooze'(he is very pretty), and afterwards repeated the same words to hismother when she came in. 

_Jan. 7. _--This evening I had quite a nice talk with my poor boy-patient. I told him the story of God's love in sending His Son to diefor us; also about the penitent thief on the cross being saved in hislast hour of life. The child listened very attentively, and appeared todrink in all that I told him, and I then knelt by his bed-side andprayed for him. 

_Jan. 10. _--My poor boy is, I hope, getting a little better. Hisarm gives him less pain. I again had a little talk with him, andprayer. I asked him if he thought God treated him hardly in sending himso much suffering, and he replied, "No. " I then told him that God hadcertainly sent it all in love for his soul, so that he might be led tothink and prepare for the future life: God had already heard ourprayers for him, and if he should get quite well, I hoped he wouldalways love and serve God. 

_Jan. _ 19. --Frost has begun his school on Sugar Island. The firstday he had thirteen children and the second day fourteen. He is gettingon wonderfully with the Indian language, and can read the lessons inchurch. 

_Feb. _ 2, _Sunday. _--To-day we had about seventy at atmorning service, and twenty-seven communicants. Chief Little Pine cameyesterday to see me about the Holy Communion. He said that recently Ihad spoken so strongly about the danger of receiving it unworthily thathe was afraid. I knew, he said, that he owed Penny over twenty dollars;also that he had not yet paid his promised subscription of ten dollarsto the school. I told him God knew the secrets of all our hearts. If hereally intended to pay what he was owing as soon as possible, it wasnot sin for him to be in debt, and he might partake of the Sacramentwith a clear conscience. I was rather glad, however, to see him turnaway at the end of the service. It is the first time that he has doneso, and I trust he is really beginning to think more of what it allmeans. 

CHAPTER XX. 

A WEDDING AND A DEATH. 

_Feb_. 3, 1873. --To-day William Buhkwujjenene, the Chief's onlyson, was married to Philemon Atoosa. The wedding was appointed for 10a. M. , and early in the morning William was off to fetch his bride andher party, their house being about four miles off, on Sugar Island. Itwas long past the hour when Buhkwujjenene, Atoosa, and several otherIndians came to me in a rather excited state, and Buhkwujjenene, asspokesman, explained that, although Atoosa, the father, was willing forhis daughter to be married in our church, the mother and brother wereopposed, and wanted the priest to marry them. I replied briefly thatthere were two religions, Roman Catholic and Church of England. Whenmarriages took place between parties of different Churches, agreementmust be made in which Church they would be married; this agreement hadalready been made in this case, banns had been published, and the brideand her father were both willing, so there was no need for any trouble. Chief Buhkwujjenene said that was enough, and he would go for theparty. However, I waited on and on, and at length went over toBuhkwujjenene's house to ascertain the cause of delay. I found that he, Atoosa, and his son, had gone over to see the priest. They soonreturned, and brought word that the priest raised no objection to themarriage being performed in our Church, and had even said, "If you dowhat is right in the Church of England you will go to heaven the sameas if you belonged to the Roman Catholic Church;" rather liberallanguage for a Jesuit priest. 

It was now past noon, and still there came one cause of delay afteranother, so that was 1. 45 p. M. Before the party had actually assembledin the church. All passed off very well. Bride and bridegroom put theirmarks in the register, and then all repaired to Chief Buhkwujjenene'sdwelling. The bride wore a blue merino dress with green trimmings, asmart crimson necktie, gold brooch, chain, and locket, her hair in anet with blue ribbons. The bridesmaids were Isabel, Nancy, Sophy, andTherese Weesaw. 

The feasting began at 2. 30 p. M. , the table very well spread--wedding-cake, wine, turkey, goose, rabbit, beef, tarts, buns, and preserves. About twenty-five sat down at a time, the bride and bridegroom at thehead. Two tables were cleared before the speeches began. Chief LittlePine made a capital speech, relating the happiness of his own marrieddays, and wishing for a like blessing on the young couple just united. 

_March_ 15. --Last evening our cottage reading was atBuhkwujjenene's. I had just given out the first hymn when a messagecame that I was wanted immediately at George Pine's, for Eliza was veryill, and, they feared, dying. I got my medicines and jumped into thesleigh. George Pine had gone away last Monday beaver-hunting. OnlySarah was in the house. Eliza was lying on a couch on the floor, herhead to the wall, her feet toward the stove, --Sarah sitting about twoyards from her on the floor by the wall, with Eliza's baby on herknees. The other two little children, Benjamin and Esther, were lyingon some blankets, on the floor at the other side of the room. While Iwas taking off my cap and muffler George Angisteh bent down and lookedat Eliza, and then said to Sarah, "She is dead!" He then got upquickly, and went out to summon the neighbours. In the meantime I felther pulse and heart, but her eyes were fixed, and she evidently wasdead; the women who came in tried rubbing her arms and legs, butwithout any effect. Gradually the room became crowded with persons, thetwo chiefs among the number. I gave a short address, expressed mybelief that Eliza was fully prepared for death, and was now happy; andtold the people her words about the eight true Christians whom shethought might be found in Garden River. I pitied, I said, the threelittle orphan children, and I trusted that God would care for them. Ispoke to Benjamin, the eldest (six years old), and told him his motherwas in heaven, and that he must try and love God, and then he would goto see her again by-and-bye. 

_March_ 18--To-day was the funeral. The church was crammed. Igave a short address after the lesson, and we sang a hymn. The coffinwas 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 tothe cemetery, so I had to go on snow-shoes, and the sleigh, with thecoffin, 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 usualevening service was over (in the school) I asked all the people toremain, so that we might have a little talk together about theInstitution which I hoped would be built during the summer. TheIndians, I said, had now transferred the land to us by deed, so thatthere was nothing to prevent our commencing the buildings at once. Itwas necessary, however, to consider what children would be receivedinto the Institution when it was completed. Many friends were readywith their money to pay for the support of pupils, but they wantedfirst of all to know their names and ages, and other particulars. Ifelt, I said, that this was an important matter, and it was time nowfor me to ask them whether they were willing to give up their childrento be trained in our Institution. I knew that it was a greatresponsibility for me to undertake the charge of their children; if itwere not that I was persuaded that our whole undertaking had been fromfirst 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, andnot mine. Chief Buhkwujjenene replied. He alluded briefly to our visitto England, spoke of the generosity of the English people incontributing, and ended by saying that he should gladly send two of hisdaughters to our Institution. Chief Little Pine then rose. He addressedhimself specially to the women, and told them a great work had beendone for their children, and they must make up their minds now to givethem up. In a humourous tone, be said, all the _weaned children_must be sent to the Institution at once, and the infants be kept untilthey were old enough. Their Missionary, he added, seemed to think itwould be a heavy burden on him, and so indeed it would be if he werealone: but he was not alone, God would help him, and so it would belight. He concluded by urging on the people to listen to the goodcounsel they had received. All that had been spoken was truth--it wasall truth. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

THE OPENING OF THE FIRST SHINGWAUK HOME. 

On June 3rd, 1873, the contract for the erection of the new IndustrialHome was signed. It was to cost 1550 dollars, and to be completed byAugust 25th. The specifications showed that it was to be a framebuilding, having, with the old parsonage, a frontage of 100 feet, twostories high, with verandah in front for each flat; suitable farmbuildings 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, andat length the roof put on and shingled. 

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

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

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

It was a fine bright day, and preparations began early in the morningwith the hoisting of flags, ringing the church bell, and firing ofguns. A string of flags--blue, yellow, red, and white--adorned the faceof the building, and a large Union Jack, given by Mrs. Buxton, washoisted on the centre of the roof. Men on the Reserve met first, earlyin the morning, for a "clearing bee" on the farm; and at 4 p. M. Ageneral gathering of all the people was appointed to take place at "TheHome" for the opening ceremony. 

We had at this time the promise of twenty-three pupils, but onlysixteen had as yet arrived--eight boys and eight girls. Six came fromSarnia, two from Walpole Island, two from Manitoulin Island, and sixbelonged to Garden River. Among the latter were Eliza Pine's littleorphan boy Benjamin. They all seemed very happy and contented in theirnew home. Those who came from a distance had their travelling expensespaid by their band; and we thought, if anything, it was rather anadvantage to get them, as their homes were too far off for them to belikely to run away if they became home-sick. Both boys and girls workedvery well, helping the matron (Mrs. Shunk) and schoolmaster to geteverything ready by 4 p. M. The dining hall was prettily decorated withstag-horn, moss, and flowers, and laid out with tables bearing, on oneside of the room, a "heavy dinner" for those who had been toiling atthe "Bee, " and on the other side a light repast for other visitors. Thehall was soon crowded with people, and all came in for some share ofthe feast. Then we had croquet and other games in the garden until 6p. M. , when a bell was rung, and all gathered in the hall. 

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

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

Then I invited the whole crowd of people to follow me in order throughthe building, that they might see every part of it. I went first, witha lamp, and was followed by the Chiefs and all the Indians, and theschoolmaster, with another lamp, brought up the rear. We ascended theboys' staircase, through the master's bedroom into the boys'dormitories, looked into the clothing store well supplied from Englishand Canadian Sunday-schools, then down our own staircase, into thedining-room, out again into the hall, through our kitchen and theInstitution kitchen, and the matron's sitting-room, into the girl'swork-room and dormitories, and so back to the dining-hall. Then allagain took their places, and the meeting was continued. I read over therules which had been placed on boards and hung up in the dining-hall;read over the names of the children already admitted, gave a fewparticulars about our work, and then invited the Chiefs each to give anaddress. They spoke very warmly, and expressed themselves as highlygratified with all that had been done and was being done for theiradvancement, and thanked God that this "big teaching wigwam, " whichthey had so long wished for, was now built and opened for use. We thenconcluded 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 undertakenthe support of individual children, and Tommy and Jimmy were providedfor by kind friends in England. We thus had much reason to be hopefuland to thank God. 

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

At last, Saturday night came; tea and prayers were half an hourearlier than on other days. Mr. Frost played the harmonium, and thechildren sang sweetly "Shall we gather at the river?" Then they hadtheir baths, and all retired to rest, looking forward to a happy day onthe 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 asusual to see that all was well. Earlier in the evening we had fanciedthat we smelt burning, but it was accounted for by the matron, who saidthat she had put some old rags into the washhouse stove. Everythingseemed 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 weresimultaneously awakened by the running to and fro of the boys in thedormitory overhead, and the shouting of the schoolmaster. We were bothup in an instant. I lighted a candle, put on a few clothes, and openedthe door leading into the nursery. The cause of alarm was immediatelyapparent. Flames were leaping up at the back of the house, seeming tocome from the cellar, which was entered by a staircase from theoutside, just under the nurseries. Every one now was crying "Fire!" andall seemed to be rushing about frantically. Mrs. Wilson called to theservants to wrap our children in blankets, and escape with them. I ranfrom the nursery to the kitchen, where was a door that led out to theback; there I found Cryer and Frost vainly endeavouring to stifle theflames by throwing on buckets of water. It was raining in torrents. Nota soul was at hand to help us. I sent Cryer and Frost to the river formore water. It was pitch dark, and the river a considerable distanceoff, so that by the time they returned, the flames had made greatheadway. It was evidently too late to save the building. Mrs. Wilsonand 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 bellhard for some minutes; still no one came. The children were wrapped inblankets, 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 countryround. I collected the Indian children in the garden, and counted themover; two were missing. Frost said he was sure they were all out; butwe could not tell. We shouted into the burning building; afterwards wefound that they were all right. I ran into my study, keeping my headlow to avoid the smoke, unlocked three or four drawers, and rapidlycollected important papers; then, half smothered, groped my way back tothe hall. Mrs. Wilson had followed me, and held the door closed while Iwas in to keep the fire from drawing outwards; the staircase was onfire, and my hair and whiskers were singed. All our watches, jewellery, &c. , were lost. My wife had collected and put them together in a basketon the floor, but it was too late to save it. Some of the Indians hadnow arrived, and I told them to save what they could, but every roomwas full of flame and smoke. The harmonium in the dining-hall mighthave been saved, but no one thought of it; it had only been brought inthe day before, and was a gift from a lady in England. The church wasnow in danger; it was only 20 feet from the burning building; whereshould we go? We took up the children, and ran back to the farmbuildings. It was still drenching with rain; the fire looked terrible, and we feared it would reach us even here. We must beat anotherretreat. 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, theyoungest; I took the other little girl, and the servants carried thetwo boys. Thus we went through the pelting rain, the women with onlyshawls wrapped round them; my wife in her dressing-gown and slippers. Ihastened on to the priest's house, and after a good deal of loudknocking 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 theother children. If I did give way at all it was just now when, for themoment, I was alone. I felt that all my hopes and prospects weredashed; 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 feelevery 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 wereadvancing on the barn; they had already seized on some out-buildingswhich lay between, and a pile of cordwood. Archie, our eldest boy, offour years old, was sitting under the fence, not crying, but a smile wason him lips, his blue eyes gazing calmly on the flames, his sunny lockswet with the falling rain. I took him up, and ran back with him to thepriest'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?" Leavingthe little fellow safely with his mother, I returned quickly to seeafter my Indian children. The Indians, had already taken some of themaway to their houses, and the rest I sent into an empty log house whichShunk had occupied. Then I turned my attention to the church. The peoplewere standing round doing nothing. I saw the church was in imminentdanger; part of the bell-tower had caught, and the roof was smoking withthe heat. I called aloud to the Indians to bring wet blankets and putthem on the roof, then I seized a rail, told some of the Indians to dothe same, and together we pushed over the burning end-wall of the doomedbuilding, and it fell with a crash into the glowing embers. Thus thechurch 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 shecould for her. The sexton, an Indian, came to know if he should ringthe 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 hisfur cap, also his boots. I would not go into the reading-desk, butknelt in the church, and read the Litany. All the people seemed greatlyaffected. I spoke a few words to them, comparing our position to thatof the Israelites when, on setting forth, full of hope and joy, ontheir road to the Promised Land, found their way suddenly barred beforethem by the Red Sea. I told them that the events that had happenedseemed sad and distressing to us, but who were we that we shouldunderstand God's purposes? We must believe that it was all for thebest; we must wait on God; He would make the way clear for us. If itwere His will, no doubt these ruins would be built up again, and weshould all rejoice once more. Buhkwujjenene then said a few words, andspoke very feelingly. When this little service was over, I returned tothe priest's house, and sat down at his table to write a telegram. There was telegraphic communication with the outer world through theUnited States, the wires having been extended to the American Saultonly a few months previously; thus I was enabled to telegraph toEngland. I wrote, "All is burned down; no lives lost; nothing saved. "The priest, who had been most kind throughout, sent it for me to thetelegraph office, thirteen miles off. He sent also at the same time forthe doctor and medicines, and a message to our friends at the Saulttelling of our sad plight. 

We now determined to go as soon as possible to Collingwood by thesteamship _Cumberland_, which was due on her way down. Poor littleLaurie was very ill, and we anxiously awaited the arrival of thedoctor. During the afternoon, I poked through the ashes with a stick, and found the remains of our watches and two sovereigns weldedtogether. 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 valuablesdestroyed were our piano, recently brought from England, the harmonium, a library of 500 volumes, and all our stores for the winter which hadjust been laid in. The whole loss was estimated at about L1300. Thecarpenters had only been out a day or two, and I was intending toinsure the building the following week. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

AFTER THE FIRE. 

Late in the afternoon Dr. King, of the American side, arrived. He wasvery kind and did all he could both for my suffering wife and our sickchild; there seemed but little hope that the latter would live, in herweak state the shock had been too great. After tea I went over to seemy poor Indian children. All were lacking in clothing more or less. Jimmy Greenbird, who ran into Frosts' room after the fire began andsaved 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 myarms and gave her some restorative. All night our little Laurie wasvery ill, and Mrs. Wilson never slept at all. Next day, Monday, theIndians held a council to hear from me what I proposed to do. Theyasked me whether I felt "weak or strong about it, " whether I wouldcollect money to re-build again, or whether I should give up theMission. I reminded them of what I had said in the church. I could onlywait on God till I saw my way. Some of them said it was unfair to askme just now when the calamity was but just over, and my wife and childsick; it would be better for them to set to work and try and repair thedamages and leave me more time to think: they then talked of putting upa house at once for our school-master, as he would remain and take myplace this winter. Old Chief Little Pine, spoke very nicely; addressingme, he said, "The destruction of these buildings and property is notloss. Were you to lose your wife and children it would be loss, forthey cannot be replaced. I have just lost a son, and I know what thatis. " Our friends at the Sault were most kind and sympathising; theysent us a portmanteau full of clothing and food. 

One more sad event has to be recorded. Tuesday was a clear coldmorning, and the stars were still shining brightly, undimmed as yet bythe streaks of dawn in the East, as I wended my way to the church. Iwas 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 thedeep 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 thesteamer. The boat could only stay a short time. The servants and theother children were already on board. I gently lifted my child into herlast narrow bed, then Cryer and I carried it on board with our hatsoff. Frost remained behind to take charge of the Mission temporarily. The Indian children who had come from a distance were left with him andthe Matron until we could decide what to do. The captain and officerswere very kind. When we got to Bruce Mines, I went up to a store to buya great coat and other necessaries. My wife was still in her dressinggown, being too ill to dress. We had special prayer on board for fineweather, the captain and others joining with us. On reachingCollingwood, we were most kindly received by Dr. And Mrs. Lett. Theywere greatly distressed to hear of our sad misfortune, and my wife wascarried up with the greatest care to their house. They gave up theirown bedroom to her on account of its being warm and comfortable, andwould not hear of our going elsewhere. Late in the evening a vehiclewas engaged, and Dr. Lett, my two little boys, and myself went togetherto the cemetery which is some distance off--taking the little coffinwith us. It was too late to read from the Service-book, but Dr. Lettrepeated some portions of the service from memory, and our littlegirl's body was committed to the ground--"earth to earth, ashes toashes, dust to dust, --in sure and certain hope of the gloriousresurrection. "

The telegram announcing our disaster was received at my father's housein England at 8 p. M. Oct. 1st, three days after it happened, and areply expressing much sympathy was immediately telegraphed to us. Aweek later came a letter saying that L250 had already been subscribedtowards the rebuilding: this simply in response to the telegram. Verygreat sympathy was aroused, and letters came pouring in from kindfriends both in England and in Canada. By Oct. 16th the "fire fund" inEngland had reached L518, and this before any letters with details hadarrived. Our friends up to that time knew only that "all was burntdown. " They were anxiously expecting letters, and hoped to hear that wehad at least saved some of our personal property. The following areextracts from some of the earliest letters received in response to thefirst detailed tidings of our calamity. "Your letter, giving thedetails of that terrible escape and your great anxiety, only reached usyesterday morning (Oct. 22). It made our hearts bleed for you. But howcomforting to know that you were kept in peace, even amid _such_sorrow. I knew you would be helped and comforted, as God's childrenalways are, when their need is the greatest. And now our fears andlongings have been greatly relieved by the short telegram which arrivedat 4 a. M. To-day. We do indeed rejoice and thank God with you for thisgreat mercy. After your sad account of your dear wife and her falls inescaping we feared much for her, but what a joy to have another livingbabe in place of the sweet little one whom the Good Shepherd has foldedin His own arms.... How mysterious it seems that everything, just whencompleted, should thus in a moment have been destroyed; and then, justwhen the fire came, that the children should have been so ill: but iftrials like these do make us cling the more to the Mighty One shall itnot 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 greattrial, such an overwhelming, overpowering misfortune; and then yourdarling child's death too, it all seems to have come upon you like anavalanche. Well, you have the best comfort. I came upon such a niceverse for you this morning, 'David encouraged himself in the Lord, hisGod. '"

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

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

"My dear Mr. Wilson, --I have only to-day been able to ascertain withany probable certainty where I could hope that a letter, conveying mydeep and heartfelt sympathy with you and yours under the late severevisitation which Our Heavenly Father, doubtless for wise and goodpurposes, has seen fit to bring upon you, might find you.... I feelassured that you have gone to the right quarter for comfort and supportin the trying hour; and that so doing you have experienced thefaithfulness of Him, who hath promised that He will never leave norforsake such as trust in Him, and have been comforted. If, in the midstof all your cares, you can find time to send me a line, first to tellhow your dear partner is--whom I pray may be spared to you--as well ashow you are yourself, and then what your plans for the future are, Ishall indeed feel greatly obliged. Such trials as these must notdiscourage us, but rather quicken our exertions and stimulate our zeal. Praying that you may be strengthened and supported in this your hour ofneed, and realize that it is _good to be afflicted_, believe me toremain your affectionate and sympathizing brother in the Lord, F. D. FAUQUIER. "

CHAPTER XXIV. 

PROSPECTS OF RE-BUILDING. 

"Shingwauk--an announcement!" Such was the heading of a communicationwhich appeared in the correspondence columns of the "Church Herald" inthe Spring of 1874, between four and five months after our fire, --andit ran thus: "A little more than four months ago the ShingwaukIndustrial Home at Garden River was burnt to the ground, and not avestige of it left. An appeal was then made to Church people of Canada, England, and Ireland to assist in re-building it, and the sum requiredbeing L2000; the building to comprise an Industrial School for boys andgirls, and principals residence. I am happy to announce that this sumis, so far as I can ascertain, almost, if not already, secured. Fromthe Canadian Church, 1410 dols. ; from Government, 1000 dols. ; and thebalance from the Old Country. I mention this in no spirit ofboastfulness, but in humble gratitude to God the Father and our LordJesus Christ, that the Holy Spirit hath thus inclined the hearts of Hispeople to give. All that has been contributed has been 'offertorymoney' in the truest sense of the word. No expense (beyond printing)has been incurred, and every contribution that has been offered, whether of a hundred pounds or a penny, has I believe been given with afull and grateful heart, as unto God and not as unto men. "

It was indeed a very great cause not only for thankfulness, but fordeepened faith and more earnest trust in God, the Giver of all goodgifts, that a work which had seemed so completely destroyed shouldthus, in the short space of four and a half months, without any effortbeing made on my part, be in a fair way towards re-establishment on alarger scale and on a more sure and permanent basis than before. Trulycan we say, "God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform. "

If only we have faith in God, how much more may be accomplished thanwe have any idea of. He is _able_ to do for us far more than wecan either ask or think. 

I feel it only right, at this point, to place it on record, as anencouragement to others who would fain trust simply in God, that theeffect on myself of that fire--I cannot call it that disastrous fire--was to draw out fresh faith and trust in my heavenly Father. At thattime, when every earthly prop seemed to have given way, --when wesuspected incendiarism and knew not whom to trust, and my littledaughter was dead, and my wife seemed to be dying, and all thingsseemed to be against me, --I was enabled in that hour of deep trial tolook above, to realize that God was my Father--my good Father--whowould not let me want; in my helplessness I just cast myself upon Him, and rested on His strong arm. Before, I had often been anxious and hadworried myself about the future, but in this my hour of distress I feltvery deeply how insecure are all earthly investments, and that as Hisservants, --"labourers together with God, " our work not of earth, but ofheaven, --the truest happiness was to depend very simply on our heavenlyFather for the supply of all our daily needs. 

Certainly it was wonderful how the money came in for re-building ourburnt Institution. The English fund kept mounting up. First it wasL250; that was a little more than a week after the telegram wasreceived, and before any details had arrived. Eighteen days after thefire it was L518; a week later, L550. In four and a half months it hadmounted up to L1500; just double the amount we had collected for thefirst Institution. And all without any great effort being made. Itseemed like a fulfilment of the verse, "The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace. "

And now we must return to Collingwood. 

Spring has come; the Indian grammar and dictionary are completed, andhave been sent to Toronto for publication; the ice is moving out of thebay, --the first steamboat preparing to start northward. We bid adieu toour kind friends, and are off once more to Algoma!

On the second morning we pass the Garden River dock. Our poorInstitution is gone; and in its place stands a very desolate-lookingframe cottage, with only a door in front, and not a single windowfacing the river. It has been built on the site of the burnt building, and is occupied by Mr. Frost, the Catechist. The poor old church isstanding still, scorched on one side. Some of the Indians are waving tous as we pass;--but we are not going to stop there, --the boat goesgliding on, and an hour later we are landed on the Sault Ste. Mariedock. [Footnote: Shortly after this the Rev. P. T. Rowe was appointedby the Bishop missionary to Garden River. It was thought better formany reasons to erect the new Institution at Sault Ste. Marie inpreference to Garden River. ]

We had engaged a house for the summer, near the river, and here wetook up our residence on the 18th day of May. Early the next morning Istarted off to look for land whereon to build the new Institution. East, west, and north, high and low, land was looked at, but noneseemed sufficiently desirable to choose as a site for the new ShingwaukHome; either it was too near the village, or too far away, or too farfrom the river, or of too high a price. At length, however, the spotwas decided on. One sultry evening, almost the last day of May, my wifeand myself sauntered down the road along by the bank of the broad Ste. Marie River, a distance of nearly a mile and a half from the village. Here was a little open clearing, while all around was thick, tangled, almost impenetrable bush, but in front was the beautiful sparklingriver, a mile and a half in width, and two pretty green islands just infront of us. Cryer, the farm-man, had followed us with a spade, and wegot him to turn up the sod in several places that we might see what thesoil was like. We decided there and then to make this the site of theShingwauk Home. The soil indeed was somewhat stony, but the distancefrom the village was just what we wanted, and the land was cheap (onlyL1 an acre) and, best of all, it was close to the river, which meantplenty of boating and fishing and swimming for the boys, and skating inwinter. We bought ninety acres, but it cost us nothing, as theMunicipal Council gave us a bonus of 500 dols. On the 3rd of June (ourwedding-day) I selected the spot on which to build, measured it andstaked it out, and assisted Cryer to chop out a clearing. The bush wasso dense that we could see nothing of the river from where we wereworking; but after a few days' labour the clearing was extended to theroadway, and we could then see where we were; we made some big fires, and burnt up the brush-wood as fast as we cut it down. On the 24th Junethe contract was signed, and excavations for the building were commenced. 

The first week of June saw the arrival of Bishop Fauquier to take uphis residence at Sault Ste. Marie. 

The first week of June also saw the first issue of our littleMissionary paper, at that time called the "Algoma Quarterly, " but nowthe "Algoma Missionary News. "

CHAPTER XXV. 

LAYING THE FOUNDATION STONE. 

On Friday, the 31st of July, 1874, the foundation stone of the newShingwauk Home was laid by the Earl of Dufferin, Governor-General ofCanada. 

It was fortunate that his Excellency had planned a trip to the UpperLakes just at this very time. Two days before his arrival a telegramwas received from Col. Cumberland, Provincial A. D. C. Who wasaccompanying his lordship--"I have his Excellency's commands to saythat it will give him much pleasure to lay the corner-stone of yourSchool on his arrival, which will probably be Friday afternoon. " Allnow was bustle and excitement, and great preparations were made;triumphal arches erected, flag-poles put up and flags hoisted, and acold collation prepared in the carpenter's shop, which was the onlybuilding at present erected. The ladies of Sault Ste. Marie mostliberally gave us every assistance, and the "spread" of good things wascomplimented by the Governor-General, who remarked that he had neverbefore seen a luncheon so tastefully laid out in Canada. 

On Friday, at 1 p. M. , the steamship _Chicora_, which had beenchartered by the vice-regal party, drew up at the Sault dock. Theleading inhabitants of the place welcomed his Excellency on landing, and presented him with a loyal address, to which he made a suitablereply. During the procession a salute was fired by a company ofvolunteers. The guns were two handsome brass field pieces, stronglymounted, bearing the date 1776. An old Highlander who accompanied theparty remarked, "Captain Wilson's guns are twa sma' pieces, but theymake a tremendous noise;" and certainly the reports, as they followedeach other with the utmost regularity, justified the remark. 

After some introductions to the Governor-General, he and Lady Dufferinembarked for the Shingwauk Home. They were followed by quite a fleet ofother boats, and in due time all landed at our own newly-made dock. Here we met the distinguished party, and accompanied them to the siteof the new buildings. Our Bishop being away, the responsibility of theoccasion all rested on myself. After a short service, conducted by thetwo visiting clergymen, Lord Dufferin advanced and gave us thefollowing address:--

"It is with great pleasure that I have taken an humble part in theinteresting ceremony of to-day. I am always glad to have an opportunityof showing the sympathy which I feel and the interest which I take inthe welfare of our Indian fellow-subjects. We are bound to rememberthat we are under the very gravest obligations toward them, and thatthe white race, in entering their country and requiring them to changetheir aboriginal mode of life, incurs the duty of providing for theirfuture welfare and of taking care that in no respect whatsoever aretheir circumstances deteriorated by changes which are thussuperinduced. It must also be remembered that, although we ourselveshave the advantage of living under Parliamentary institutions, and thatthe humblest person in the land is able to feel that his representativeis in a position to plead his cause and watch over his interests in theHigh Court of the Parliament of the Dominion, for obvious reasons theseadvantages have not yet been extended to the Indian population. On thataccount, therefore, if on no other, we are bound to be very solicitousin our endeavours to advance civilization, to settle the country, andto bring it under cultivation, that we do them no wrong or injury. Imust say that no better or surer method could be adopted to securethose results than that which we have now assembled to inaugurate. Itis very evident that so great a change as that from the wild life ofthe hunter to the occupation of the cultivator could scarcely beeffected at all, unless those who are thus invited to alter all theirhabits of thought and life are educated with that intent. For thispurpose it is obviously the best method to lay hold of the youngergeneration, by instructing them in the arts and habits of civilizedlife, and to put them in a position to join with us on equal terms inour endeavour to build up this great country, so that the various racesmay be united by common interests and in a common cause. I am happy tothink that with this intent there is further joined the interest ofreligion, which is even a greater and stronger means of cementing thehearts of men together than that of patriotism. But when the two areunited and combined, as they are upon this occasion, it is impossiblebut to anticipate the happiest and most successful results. I canassure you, Mr. Wilson, on behalf of those (and there are, perhaps, many more than you can imagine) who take a deep interest in this work, and on behalf of your Indian friends, that you deserve our heartiestand warmest sympathy. I can only conclude these imperfect observationsby saying, on behalf of Lady Dufferin and myself, that we both wishthis Institution and those engaged in promoting it all the success thatthey themselves could desire. "

At the close of this address, I, in a few words, tendered my gratefulthanks for the honour his Lordship and Lady Dufferin had conferred onus by paying us this visit and laying the foundation stone of ourInstitution, and then we repaired for luncheon to the carpenter's shop, which was ornamented with flowers and scarlet bunting. 

All passed off most agreeably, and there were many hearty cheers whenthe little steamboat crossed the great river under a salute to deposither noble freight on the other side. 

Twenty men were at work at the foundations of the new Home the dayafter this visit, and all went forward with vigour. It may be well herebriefly to describe the general plan and appearance of the building. The main building has a frontage of 75 feet, facing the river; it isbuilt of stone, and is three stories high; there was a wing at theeastern extremity, and other additions have been added since; theoriginal cost of the building was 7000 dollars, and the additions havemade it worth about 3000 dollars more. At first all was swamp andstumps, but the earth taken from the excavations helped to fill up thelow spots, and in time, after considerable labour, the place began tolook quite presentable, and a picket fence was put up along the roadwayin front. On the side nearest the river were the carpenters cottage andshop (in one), which have already been mentioned, on the right, and onthe left another cottage of the same dimensions, intended at first foran infirmary, but afterwards used as a laundry. These two cottages werequickly erected at a cost of about 600 dollars each, and were foundvery useful while the larger building was gradually rising intoexistence; indeed, we were enabled, by making use of these cottages, tore-open the Institution in a small way that very same autumn. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

A TRIP TO BATCHEEWAUNING. 

Besides the Indian Home which was being built I had various otherobjects to attend to. There were the Garden River Indians to visit fromtime to time, and I wanted, if possible, to make another trip up LakeSuperior. One Indian settlement, about fifty miles up the lake, calledBatcheewauning, I had already visited, and the Bishop had consented tomy building a school-church there and placing a catechist in charge. So, as soon as the new Institution was fairly started, I arranged to pay avisit to this place, accompanied by Mr. Frost. We took with us a tentand a good supply of provisions, also lesson books and slates, and avoyage of some ten hours brought us to the saw mills, where we were toland. It was a dark night and raining a little. The outline of the sawmill and a cluster of small buildings was just visible. The inhabitantsof Batcheewauning consisted of about twelve men and three women--whitepeople, and some sixty or seventy Indians, whose village was six milesoff across the bay. We landed our things, a sack of camp kettles andprovisions, our bedding and tent. Jacob, the Indian boy who had comewith us, was left in charge, while Frost and I went off to look for asuitable place to camp. The owner of the saw mill directed us to an openspot on the shore, and we bent our steps thitherward; but afterwandering about for some time, searching in vain for a smooth spot, weespied a man approaching with a lantern, and, accosting him, inquiredwhether all the land around were as rough. "Yes, " he replied, "it isonly lately cleared, but you will see better in the day-time where tocamp, --and to-night you had better turn into the shanty here. " To thisproposition we agreed, and following our guide, were led into an old logshanty with crevices in its sides and roof. He lighted us a dip, andpointed to an unoccupied corner, where he said we could fix ourselvesfor the night. The accommodation, certainly, was rude, and the place byno means clean; yet we were glad of the shelter. We laid our blankets onthe floor, and, oiling our faces and necks to keep off the mosquitoes, were soon asleep. At first streak of dawn we awoke. The mosquitoes wouldnot let us rest. They became exceedingly voracious, as always, just atsunrise. It was a fine morning, the water in the bay sparkling in thesunlight, and the thickly wooded mountains looking soft and blue in thefar distance. Frost and myself set out again to look for a place tocamp. There was not much choice. About eight acres had been roughlycleared around the saw mill, and beyond this on all sides was the thickbush. We overcame the roughness of the ground by borrowing some oldboards from the mill, with which we made a floor, and erected our tentover it. Frost kindled a fire, and I made some oatmeal porridge forbreakfast, after which we strolled along the shore, and were surprisedto find an encampment of Indians quite close to us. They belonged to theIndian village six miles off, and were camping here for the summer forthe sake of the fishing. They occupied the ordinary conical-shapedwigwams made of poles covered with birch bark, a tire in the middle, andan aperture above for the smoke to escape. We spoke to several, and theysaid that there were no Indians now in the village; most of them werecamping here, and others had gone to Point aux Pins. We told them theobject of our visit, which was to ascertain their condition and wants, and, if they appeared desirous to have their children taught, weintended building a school and sending them a teacher in the summer. Allto whom we spoke appeared much pleased by this intelligence. Many ofthem knew me, as I had visited them once before, and they seemed veryglad that we could both speak to them in their own language andunderstand what they said. These people were nearly all Christians. Somehad been baptized by Mr. Chance, some by myself, and others by theMethodists; but they had no school for their children and no regularservices, and they appeared to be delighted with our proposals to builda school and to send them a teacher. By way of proving their sinceritywe invited them to begin sending their children at once to school, andsaid that while we remained we would teach every day in our camp. Thisproposal was readily accepted. We commenced at once with twelvechildren, but found that unfortunately we had come without any alphabetcards. However, this difficulty was soon overcome. We cut the letters ofthe alphabet out of a newspaper, and pasted them on to a sheet of paper. Mr. Frost taught the children to sing several Indian hymns--"There is ahappy land, " "Here we suffer grief and pain, " &c. They learned the hymnsreadily, and soon began to join quite nicely in the singing. On Saturdayevening we held a council of the people, and I propounded all our plansto them. I told them of the "big teaching wigwam" which we were buildingof stone at Sault Ste. Marie for Ojebway children from all parts, andtold them also of the appointment of a Bishop to reside at the Sault, who would take an interest in them, and would come round in the courseof the summer to visit them. Then we spoke of the school-house which weproposed to build for them, and agreed on the spot which seemed to bethe most suitable for the site, just at the mouth of BatcheewauningRiver, near to the Indian village. On Sunday we had three services, andSunday-school twice. The morning service was in an Indian wigwam, forIndians only. In the afternoon at the saw mill, in English; all thesettlers and some Indians attended--in all about thirty. In the eveningwe held an informal meeting at our own tent. The Indians came togetherabout sun-down, and, it being cold, we all sat round the camp fire. Wesang several hymns and I read the latter part of the I Thess. Iv, dwelling on the subject of the death of Christians as distinguished fromthat of unbelievers, and then offered prayer, asking God's blessing uponthem and their children, and upon Missionary effort among them and theirheathen brethren. After the service I was asked to baptize a child, which I did, and then the people returned to their camp. 

We chose a very pretty spot for the school; the soil was good, and Ipurchased 120 acres at 2s. Per acre to be the property of the AlgomaDiocese; I made a rough plan of the proposed school-house, with roomsfor the Catechist overhead, --pointed windows on either side to lightboth floors, which, with a bell-tower, would give a church-like look tothe little building. The cost I estimated at about 500 dollars. Weintended to return to the Sault by steamboat, but none came, so we gotsome Indians to take us back in their boat, --a man, a boy, and twosquaws, --and a leaky old tub it was with old rags stuffed in betweenthe boards. Happily we had fair weather. We camped one night on theroad, and got home in about twenty-two hours from the time of starting, after ten days' absence. Very soon after my return I engaged acarpenter, and the following week sent him up with a couple of men tobegin erecting the building. Within a month afterwards a Catechist wasengaged and placed in charge of the Mission. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE WINTER OF 1874-5. 

By the time winter set in, the walls of the new Shingwauk Home wereerected and the roof on, but beyond this nothing could be done untilspring. However, we could not wait for the new building to be completedbefore re-organizing our work. The two frame cottages, alreadymentioned, had been finished and furnished, and these we intended toutilize for the present. The first pupil to arrive, singularly enough, was named Adam, --Adam Kujoshk, from Walpole Island. We had eighteenpupils altogether, boys and girls; a lady was engaged to act as matronand school teacher; they had lessons and meals in a large common roomin one of the cottages, and in this one the matron and the girlsresided. The other was occupied by the laundress and the boys. Forourselves we had engaged an old house at the Point, not more than halfa mile distant across the bay; so all fitted in very well. 

It was a hard winter, but the children kept well, and they had a merryand a happy Christmas. On Christmas morning we all drove in to theSault to church; such a sleigh load--twenty, I think, altogether, --somesitting, some standing or hanging on, and two brisk ponies to pull. Then there was the Christmas dinner of roast beef and plum pludding, towhich all the children did ample justice; and in the evening they cameover to our house, and we had a few amusements for them, and sang someChristmas hymns. New Year's night was the time fixed for the ChristmasTree and the prize-giving. Prizes were to be given not only forreading, writing, and arithmetic, but also for laundry work, sewing, baking, cutting wood, carpentering, &c. Such of the children's parentsas lived near enough were invited to be present, and a generalinvitation had been given to our friends at the Sault, so we had a goodgathering both of whites and Indians, and the room was crowded. In thebuilding occupied by the matron and girls, coffee and refreshments hadbeen prepared for our guests, and in the other cottage was theChristmas Tree. Passing from one building to the other, a pretty sightwas presented by the new Shingwauk Home, illuminated with half-a-dozencandles in each window. The Christmas Tree was loaded with presents, alarge proportion of them being gifts from friends both in England andin Canada, and prizes were given to the successful children. We hadseveral Christmas Carols and hymns during the evening, and all passedoff pleasantly and happily. 

After these festivities were over, I thought the matron needed a rest, for what had been play to others had been in a great measure work andanxiety to her. So I offered to take charge myself while she went to afriend's house for a couple of days. 

I was curious to see how the children would manage after three months'training in the ways of the Whites. Our principle was to teach them to_do everything for themselves_, and so we kept no servants; thematron superintended, and every week the children were appointed totheir various duties--two cook girls, two laundry girls, two housegirls, and so on; and the boys in like manner, some to farm work, someto carrying water, some to chopping wood. Every Saturday the workersreceived pocket-money from two to five cents each--that is--if they hadno bad marks. Well, as I have said, I was curious to see for myself howthese rules would work, and how the children would manage, and in noway could I do better than by becoming at once their visitor, teacher, and quasi-matron. Another point, too, I was anxious to ascertain, andthat was how "the four cents a meal" plan could be made to answer. 

For three months now had these children been fed, and by dint ofwonderful care and economy, the matron had managed to keep within themark. How she could do it had been rather a puzzle to me. The only timethat I had undertaken to cater for them, was in the Fall, when I took anumber of them down to Garden River, to dig potatoes on our land there, and on that occasion I remember I gave them bread and jam for tea, andfound that the jam alone which they devoured cost more than four centsa head, leaving out the bread and the tea. 

Well, it was half-past two when I arrived at the cottage. The matronhad just left, and it was time to commence afternoon school. Thechildren sat on benches round a long table, Eliza Jane and Betsy, andBenjamin, David, Adam, eighteen of them altogether, --some of themrejoicing in long Indian names as well: Menesenoons, the littlewarrior; Puhgoonagezhigooqua, hole in the sky; and so forth. In agesthey ranged from the eight-year-old little warrior up to Adam andAlice, the two eldest, who were both turned sixteen. And as regardseducation, one (_not_ the little warrior) was still stumbling overthe Alphabet; while one or two who had attended school before they cameto us had advanced as far as the Fourth Reader, and were learningEnglish Grammar and Geography. 

School was over at 5 p. M. , and then the workers fell to their duties, and the non-workers went forth to play. Alice Wawanosh (grand-daughterof the old Chief at Sarnia) was girl monitor for the week, and MaryJane and 'Hole in the Sky' the cook girls. I was interested to see howvery systematically they set to work: Alice got the scales and weighedout the bread half a pound to each child; Mary Jane set the table witha bright array of tin mugs and plates, and 'Hole in the Sky' put thekettle to boil and measured out the tea. Then the bread and butter wascut up, and in a very little time all was ready. At another table acloth was laid for me, and everything placed ready in the nicest order. When the big bell rang the children all mustered and got themselvestidy, and the small bell was the signal to take their seats. They stoodwhile I said grace, and then quietly and orderly took their evening meal. 

After tea came the washing up. Each one, without being told, fell tohis or her duty. The boys brought in wood, and filled up the kettle andboiler with water; the girl monitor weighed out the oatmeal for to-morrow's breakfast and handed over to the cook girls, who in their turncarefully stirred it into the big iron pot on the stove. A wisearrangement this to insure breakfast being in good time in the morning, as the porridge has only to be heated up with a little fresh water, andis none the worse. 

By seven o'clock everything was in order, books were got out, and thechildren seated themselves quietly round the table, not for school, butjust to amuse themselves, as best they liked. I sat in the Matron'srocking chair by the cook-stove, and was amused to hear them puzzlingover the English words, spelling, and helping one another; some of themhad copies of my Ojebway grammar, and were teaching themselves theEnglish sentences translated from the Indian. 

At half-past seven I suggested they should sing a few hymns beforeprayers, so the monitor got the hymn books, and they started the tunesthemselves, and sang very prettily "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, ""Beautiful River, " and "Hark, hark my soul, angelic songs areswelling. " Then we had prayers. I read a short passage from the Gospelsin English, and explained it in Indian. Kneeling down, they all joinedaudibly in the general confession and the Lord's prayer. After prayersall went off to bed, the boys over to the Carpenter's Cottage, and thegirls into the three dormitories. The monitor and cook, girls, however, had to stay up another hour, for bread had been set and was not yet allbaked. There was the large wooden kneading trough by the stove, and thescales, and as fast as one batch of bread came out of the oven anotherwent in, one girl cutting the dough, weighing it--four pounds to a loaf--and another making up the bread and placing it in the tins. I thinktwenty loaves altogether were baked that evening, and very nicely bakedtoo. 

John Rodd was the wood-cutter, and his task was to light the fire inthe morning. He was early to his work, and by 6 a. M. A bright fire wasburning up, lamps were lighted, the bell rung, and soon the occupantsof the dormitories began to make their appearance, shivering, --and soindeed was I--for it was a cold morning, twenty degrees below Zero, orthereabouts: the smoke seemed to freeze in the chimney, the windowpanes were caked with ice, and nearly everything in the house frozensolid. It was just as well that the porridge had been made over-night, even though it was frozen; a little hot water soon brought it to, andit did not take very long to heat up. "Hole in the Sky" stirred it, andkept her fingers warm, and we all huddled round the stove, wishing thewood would stop crackling and smoking, and begin to glow with a red heat. 

At last, by seven o'clock, breakfast was ready, the bell rang, andeach child sat down to his tin basin of steaming porridge, with atablespoonful of treacle in the middle. This, with a cup of tea, and ahunch of bread, was their breakfast, and I don t think they fared byany means badly. After breakfast the "workers" went to their houseduties, and the boys to their out-door work till half-past nine, when abell called them to prayers. Then books and slates were got out, andschool commenced. All were kept steadily at work till twelve, the cookgirls only occasionally getting up to poke the fire or peep into thepots. Dinner was at half-past twelve, pork, beans, turnips, potatoes, and bread; and then there was intermission until half-past two, whenthey assembled again for school. 

Thus all went on very satisfactorily during my two days' visit to thisembryo Institution. Merry enough they were, chasing each other about, laughing, talking, and singing, and yet all did their duties regularlyand systematically--no jarring or disputes, and no shirking of work, all seemed kind and ready to help one another. 

Of the Indian children who were with us that first winter we know theafter-record of some. Adam Kujoshk and Alice Wawanosh married May 31st. 1878, and are now living comfortably in Sarnia. Adam is a first-classcarpenter, and can command high wages. He was employed in the cabinet-work department, making and fitting the cabins on board the splendidnew steamship _United Empire_, which was launched at Sarnia in theSpring of 1883. There is a young Adam, who we hope will one day be apupil at the Shingwauk Home. Mary-Jane died at her home in Sarnia, trusting in her Saviour. "Hole in the Sky" has been out to service, isa very respectable girl, and gives satisfaction to her employers. DavidNahwegahbosh married Sophia Esquimau, another of our pupils, and theyare living on the Manitoulin Island. Benjamin Shingwauk, "the LittleWarrior, " is still with us, studying, and will, we hope, shortly passthe public examination and receive a teacher's certificate. John Rodddied at the Shingwauk in 1877, and was buried in our little cemetery;he died trusting in the Saviour. Joseph Sahgejewh is still with us, working at our sash and door factory, and receiving wages. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE NEW SHINGWAUK HOME. 

Our new Shingwauk Home was formally opened on the 2nd of August, 1875, by the Bishop of Huron and the Bishop of Algoma. There was a largeattendance including several friends from other dioceses; the day wasvery fine, and all passed off most auspiciously. After partaking of asumptuous repast in the dining-hall, which was beautifully decoratedfor the occasion, the guests assembled in the school-room for theopening ceremony. A Special Service, prepared for the occasion, wasconducted by the Bishop of Algoma, who then offered a few interestingremarks relative to the object of the Institution and the manner inwhich it had come into existence. He reminded the friends present howthe original building had been destroyed by fire six days after itscompletion, and that the present one, in which they were assembled, hadbeen erected to take its place; that the object was to train youngIndians to a Christian and civilized life, and to offer them all theadvantages which their white brethren enjoyed. His Lordship then calledupon the Bishop of Huron to formally open the building. BishopHellmuth, on rising, said that it gave him great pleasure to be presentat the opening of this Institution, in which he felt a deep interest. He was persuaded that the true way to do any permanent good to the pooraborigines of this country, was to take their young, and train them. Ifthis had been done forty years ago, he felt assured that there would bemany a man now from among them holding high official position in thecountry. In his own diocese he had at the present time three nativeMissionaries and a considerable number of native school teachers, maleand female, all of whom worked to his entire satisfaction, He trustedthat children leaving this building would become centres for theincreased spread of Christian truth, and he felt no doubt but that theblessing of God would rest upon a work which had been undertaken infaith and with earnestness of purpose. 

The audience then rose, and the Bishop solemnly declared the buildingopen for its intended purpose as an Industrial Home for Indianchildren, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the HolyGhost. 

After the Doxology had been sung, short addresses were given by Mr. Simpson (formerly Member for the district), and Mr. Dawson, ourParliamentary Representative at Ottawa. 

Then, at the Bishop's request, I added a few remarks relative to thesystem upon which we proposed to carry on the work of the Home. Forty-one children, I said, were at that time present, and we were expectingseveral more. My experience thus far had been that it was a somewhatdifficult matter to train Indians to a civilized life, still I hadgreat hopes that our present undertaking would, under God's blessing, prove successful. The first thing, I felt, was to draw the childrenaround me, and let them feel that I cared for them and really soughttheir good. I regarded them all as my children. A good proof that I hadin some measure gained their affection and confidence was, that many ofthose who had been with us the previous winter, and had been homeduring the summer for their holidays, had of their own accord come backagain, some of them from a great distance, and all seemed anxious toget on and learn all they could. We keep no servants, I said, but, every child is appointed to his or her work, and, as the company mightsee, wore badges on their arms, indicating their employment for theweek. In regard to funds, all was prosperous. Ever since the fire God'sblessing had, in a most marked manner, rested upon our work. People hadgiven liberally, without any of the means usually used for raisingfunds being resorted to. All was paid for, and a little balance in hand. 

At the conclusion of the speaking the clerical party retired todisrobe, and then the Bishops, with a number of friends present, wereconducted over the various parts of the building. On arriving outside, the Indian children were found drawn up in a line in front of thebuilding, each holding a flag; the National Anthem was sung, and thenall marched forward, two and two, in very tolerable order, singing thehymn, "Onward, Christian soldiers. " They were followed by the company, and made a complete tour of the grounds. In the evening tea and coffeewere served to the assembled guests, and the day's entertainmentconcluded with a display of fireworks and a bonfire on one of theislands opposite the Institution. 

The whole cost of the Institution, with land, cottages, &c. , in roundnumbers, came to L2325. 

We soon got into regular working order. School hours were from 9 to 12in the morning, and from 2. 30 to 5 in the afternoon, every day exceptSaturday. We had fifty pupils, twenty-five boys and twenty-five girls, varying in age from six or seven years up to seventeen. Some of themwere very poorly clad when they came to us, and very dirty; and thefirst thing was to give them a bath and burn all their clothes, and rigthem out afresh. It was of course a great change to them to commenceregular habits, to run when they heard the bell ring, and do all thatthey were told; and some of them began to pine under a sense ofcaptivity. Some of them, when home-sick, seemed to lose all controlover themselves, and made an unearthly noise; others would watch theiropportunity and run away. In the next chapter we shall tell about threerun-away boys, and their capture after ten days' absence. On the whole, however, the children seemed to be wonderfully contented and happy, andall went merrily and cheerfully day after day. The fish-boys used to goout after their nets each morning, and bring in plenty of fish; thewater-boys had their grey pony, which they called "Muhnedooshish"(Little Evil Spirit), because it had such a bad temper and was alwaysbacking up and upsetting the water, instead of going forward with itsload. The baker-boys made and baked the bread, in the brick oven. Thesailor-boys, in their blue serge suits, had charge of _TheMissionary_, and did all commissions by water. All were willing towork, and seemed to enjoy their life, and on Saturdays we gave them afew cents pocket-money as an encouragement to good conduct. True, thematron was sometimes at her wit's end, with so many to provide for andsuch raw young hands to do the work, and it was doubtless a task ofconsiderable difficulty to keep everything in order, and to have mealsin time and well cooked, with only these young girls as her assistants, the greater number of whom could scarcely speak a word of English; andgreat credit I felt was due to her for her patience with them. However, they really did try to do their best, and were quick enough when theycould understand what was wanted of them. 

On Sundays the children used all to walk to the Sault to church in themorning, and in the evening we had service in the School-room. OnSunday afternoons there was Sunday school, and on Wednesday and Fridayevenings Bible-class. Every morning at prayers the children wouldrepeat a verse of Scripture after me, so as to know it by heart at theend of the week. This plan has been continued uninterruptedly, and thechildren who have been with us have thus a good store of Scripturalknowledge. They were also taught the Lord's Prayer, the Creed, the TenCommandments, the Catechism, and the Collects in English, their lessonsbeing of course varied according to their capacities. Our great desirewas that they might all prove themselves to be true Christians--servants and soldiers of the Lord Jesus Christ. 

The industries which we taught at the first outset were capentering, boot-making, and farming. 

It was of course a great object to make the children talk English. Twice a week I had an English class, and taught them to repeat Englishwords and sentences, to point to their eyes, nose, ears, &c. , and tobring me things I specified. In order to induce them to keep a checkupon one another during play-time, I dealt out to each a certain numberof buttons of a particular pattern each Saturday, and if any of themheard a companion speak Indian he was to demand a button, and thefollowing Saturday the buttons were exchanged for nuts. We certainlyhave been very successful in teaching our pupils to talk English. It isan understood thing in the Institution that they must do so, and noIndian is allowed except for about an hour each day. Boys who come tous unable to speak a word of English in September, by the followingJune can generally manage to make themselves well understood. 

For the support of our pupils we looked chiefly to the Canadian SundaySchools, many of which undertook each a _protege_ at L15 perannum. This would cover the cost of food and clothing for an individualchild; and for the general expenses of the Home we depended on thecontributions of our friends in England and a grant from the CanadianGovernment. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

RUNAWAY BOYS. 

One day three boys were missing; nobody could tell what had become ofthem; the bush was scoured, the roads searched, and messengersdespatched to the Sault to try and gain some clue to their whereabouts. After a time it was discovered that some bread and other things weremissing, and it became clear that they had decamped. Their home was 300miles away, and the idea was that they had probably gone to GardenRiver, about ten miles below us, with the intention of getting on boardthe first steamboat that might pass, and so get home; so we made up acrew, and late the same evening despatched the schoolmaster and someboys in _The Missionary_ to Garden River. They arrived back thenext day, bringing word that a boat had been stolen from one of theIndians there during the night, and that, moreover, an Institutionbutton, with "Shingwauk Home, Sault Ste. Marie" imprinted on it, hadbeen picked up in the sand near the place from which the boat was taken. 

Nothing more was heard of these boys for ten days, except that one ofthe steamboats brought a report that they had seen three boys in anopen boat near Bruce Mines, and that they had been hailed by them andasked for bread. Ten or eleven days after these boys decamped, we werepreparing to start on an expedition up Lake Superior to Batcheewauning;our four sailor boys were ready, dressed in their new blue serge suitsand straw hats from England, _The Missionary_ was well loaded withcamp-kettles, tent, and provisions. We got as far as the Sault, whenthe wind, which had been favourable, suddenly veered round and blew aheavy gale in our faces, accompanied by thunder and heavy rain. As itwas already between 3 and 4 p. M. , it was plain we could not start thatday, And just at the critical moment word came that those three runawayboys were on an island forty miles below. Our informant was a GardenRiver Indian. The boys, be said, had turned adrift the boat theyescaped in, which was a small one, and had taken a larger one belongingto a Sugar Island Indian. This Indian finding his boat gone, pursuedthe boys in his canoe, overtook them, took his boat away from them, andleft them alone to their fate on an island. Shabahgeezhik did not thinkthe boys would be in distress, as there were a few settlers on theisland who would feed them if they worked for their board. As soon aswe heard this news, we immediately decided to head our boat round andrun before the wind down to this island and catch our boys. We juststopped for ten minutes at the Shingwauk in passing, to get a dry coator two and tell of the change in our plans, and then off we started. Itwas 5 p. M. , and we thought we could make the island that night. Shabahgeezhik went with us as pilot. We ran along at good speed throughHey Lake, across the American channel, in and out among islands. Wewere soon wet and cold, and it became very dark. Shabahgeezhik steered, and seemed to know well what he was about, but we had some narrowshaves of running into islands, it was so dark. Once or twice we wereclose upon rocks, but just saved ourselves. We passed through the"Devil's Gap, " about as narrow as one of the canal locks, and soon camein sight of the dark line of the Bruce Mines Shore. We had run well; itwas only 10 o'clock, and we were nearly there. Once or twice we saw afire on the lonely, uninhabited shore, where fishing or exploringparties were encamping. It looked cheerful, but we did not stop. Now atlength we reached our island, and drew along shore to grope for thedock. There were lights shining from two dwellings--one near the shore, the other upon the hill. Securing our boat, we landed and went up to alog hut. A half-breed woman appeared at the door when we knocked, butshe seemed scared when she found there were so many of us. We wanted tofind Mr. Marks' house, he being the principal settler on the island. The woman gave us some hurried directions, and then shut and locked thedoor. We started in search of Mr. Marks' house, which it would seem wasup the hill, about a mile distant. After scouring round a little tofind the road, we at length hit on a cattle-track which seemed to go inthe right direction. But what a track it was! Every step we took itbecame worse; it led along the side of the hill through the bushes andtall grass, and under foot slimy sticks and roots spread over a blackswamp. For a few steps one would balance one's self, and then down onewould go, knee deep in the mire. Always hoping that the road wouldimprove, we persevered for nearly half a mile. But it only got worse, and reluctantly we had to turn back to our starting-point. ThenShabahgeezhik took a run further up the hill to look for another road. In a few minutes he shouted for us to follow, and the track this timeled us out just above Mr. Marks' house. It was nearly midnight, but Mr. Marks was standing outside. We told him who we were and what ourerrand, and he immediately gave the satisfactory information that theboys we wanted were with a half-breed in a shanty just below. He showedus which way to go, and we descended the hill-side in quest of them. Arriving at the shanty, we knocked at the door. A man answered inEnglish, and asked what we wanted. At length the door was cautiouslyopened. We said that Mr. Marks had told us to come here for three boyswho had run away. Upon this the man opened the door, and said, "Yes, the boys were there, and we could take them. " A lamp was lighted, andwe told the boys, who were, lying on the floor and scarcely awake yet, to get up and come along, and then our sailor boys each took charge ofone prisoner, and we marched them down to the boat. The boys got thetent up and went to bed with their prisoners, while we accepted thekind hospitality of Mr. And Mrs. Marks, and slept in their house. Itwas 1 a. M. When we got to bed, and at 4 a. M. We were astir again, andprepared for the start home. The wind was against us, and we had topull. At 7. 30 we went ashore for breakfast. We were very chilly, ourthings still being wet, and we lighted a large fire and got everythingdry. After breakfast we managed to sail a little, tacking against thewind, and by 12. 30 p. M. We had made Sugar Island. Here was the Americanchannel, and we resolved to get dinner, and wait for a tow. In this wewere very fortunate, for just as we were finishing dinner a propellercame along. We signalled to her, and she very politely shut off steamand gave us a line from her stern. A storm was getting up, rainbeginning to fall, and we had to cross Lake George, and had rather arough time of it, the propeller dragging us forward mercilessly throughthe crested waves, the spray and foam dashing all over us, so that weshipped a good deal of water and had to bale. Arriving at lengthopposite the Shingwauk, we got our masts up, and, giving the propellera wave of hats and a cheer, the tow-line was let go, up went our sailsin a trice, and in a few moments more we had arrived at the shore. Allthe boys were dancing on the dock, greatly edified to see the return ofthe runaways. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

CHARLIE AND BEN. 

During a short visit which I paid to England in the winter of 1877, the idea was formed of building a separate Home for Indian girls, andnow it became necessary to make the project known also in Canada. Accordingly, in the summer vacation of that year I started off, takingwith me two little fellows from our Institution--Charlie and Ben, andalso a model which I had made of the Shingwauk Home. My object was notso much to collect money as to tell the friends who had been helping uswhat, by God's help, we had been enabled to do, and what, with Hisblessing, we still hoped to do. 

The first part of the journey was a dash of two miles along a muddyroad in a buggy drawn by my spirited little mare "Dolly, " with only tenminutes to catch the boat. The next 300 miles were passed on board thesteamboat _Ontario_, which, after rather a rough passage, landedus in Sarnia on the night of Tuesday, May 22nd. From Sarnia we tooktrain to Toronto. Here we passed the Queen's birthday, and the boys sawa splendid display of fireworks in the evening. The most remarkablepart of the entertainment was a races between a pig and an elephant inmid-air. They were fire balloons shaped like those animals, and it wasreally very good. On Friday we arrived in Belleville about noon. Thiswas the beginning of our work, and we held our first meeting thatevening in the Town Hall. There was a fair attendance, and after themeeting our two boys distributed papers about our Home, andcontribution envelopes, which I asked the people to take home withthem, and at any future day that they might feel disposed, to putsomething in and place it on the offertory plate, and it would thus indue time come to us. The envelopes, I should mention, had the followingwords on them: "Algoma. A contribution to God's work in the IndianInstitution at Sault Ste. Marie. "

After visiting Brockville, Smith's Falls, and Prescott, we arrived inOttawa on the 31st. I had here an interview with the Premier in regardto my work among the Indians, which was quite satisfactory, and in theafternoon we went to pay our respects to the Governor-General. Happilyhis Excellency was at home, and he received the boys very kindly, andshowed them through the rooms of Rideau Hall. One thing that he said tothem at parting I hope they will always remember. He said, "I hope youboys will grow up to be good Canadians. " This just expresses the secretof our work; this is just what we want to do with our Indian boys: tomake Canadians of them. When they leave our Institution, instead ofreturning to their Indian Reserves, to go back to their old way ofliving, we want them to become apprenticed out to white people, and tobecome, in fact, Canadians. 

At Montreal we had several meetings, and met with many kind friendswho evinced great interest in our work. 

Early on the morning of June 8th we arrived in Quebec, and found roomsprovided for us at the hotel. The Synod of the diocese was sitting, andwe received a hearty welcome from the Bishop and many of the clergywhom I knew. In the afternoon I took the boys to the citadel, wherethey were greatly pleased to see the soldiers and the big guns; and inthe evening we dined at the Bishop's. Both the Bishop and Mrs. Williamshave always taken much interest in our work. On Sunday evening Ipreached at the cathedral. The following day I took my boys over theocean steamship _Sardinian_, and in the afternoon drove out tovisit Wolf's monument and the gaol. The boys each took a copy of theinscription on the monument, and we returned to Mr. Hamilton's fordinner. There was a capital meeting in the National School Hall in theevening. The Bishop of Quebec presided, and nearly all the city clergywere present. 

We had not intended to go further east than St. John, N. B. , but findingwe had a day or two to spare, we resolved to run on into Nova Scotia andvisit Halifax. Two telegrams had been despatched, one to Rev. Geo. Hill, rector of St. Paul's, Halifax, to tell of our intended visit, and theother to Montreal in the hope of obtaining a pass from the manager ofthe line. The application for the pass was happily successful, and aftertravelling all day and all night and half the next day, we at lengthreached Halifax, met with a warm reception from Mr. Hill and had acapital meeting. The boys enjoyed themselves immensely, paddling aboutin the sea water among the limpets and star-fish and sea-weed, andmaking vain attempts to catch crabs. 

Returning by way of New Brunswick, we next visited Fredericton, andwere the guests of the Lieutenant Governor, who had most kindly invitedus. The Bishop and a large party of clergy and others came to lunch attwo p. M. , and at four o'clock in the afternoon was a Sunday-schoolgathering in the school-house, the model was exhibited and I gave anaddress. After this there was a very pleasing little ceremony atGovernment House. At Lady Tilley's invitation a number of young girls, members of her Sunday-school class, had met together week after week atGovernment House and made a variety of articles for sale, then--shortlybefore our arrival--a bazaar had been held, and the large sum realizedof 300 dollars. This sum was presented to me by one of the little girlswhen they were all assembled in the drawing-room, and is to be appliedto the building fund of the Wawanosh Home. The most successful meetingof any that we held took place in the large Temperance Hall. LadyTilley kindly consented to become one of the patronesses of our Girl'sHome. The following day, Wednesday, I called on the Bishop and we spentan hour and a half very pleasantly in examining every part of theirbeautiful cathedral--the _one_ church gem in Canada. The Bishopset to work in his own way to satisfy himself what our boys were goodfor, and I am glad to say that the result of the examination wassatisfactory. 

The afternoon of this day, June 26th, we bade farewell to ourFredericton friends and took the train back to St. John. About half anhour before we arrived we received word that a fearful fire was raging, and as we drew near the fated city we found that the report was onlytoo true. The whole city seemed to be in a blaze, the fire appearing toextend fully two miles, even at that early hour, about 6 p. M. Leavingthe two boys at the Rev. Mr. Dowling's house, Mr. Dowling and myselfstarted to cross the harbour to try and render some assistance to ourfriends. We could not take the ferry for the landing stage was on fire, so we hailed a fishing-smack, and landed in Portland. We walked around, to the back of the fire; all the principal part of the city was inflames, and everything in wild confusion; hundreds of people, old andyoung, heavily ladened and hustling each other along, fire engines atevery corner, the open places crowded with a motley throng of peoplewith piles of baggage and furniture. 

We made our way round to Mrs. Peter's house, where we had been onSaturday; they were all packed up ready to fly, but could not get ateam. The flames were fast advancing upon them. The gas works wereclose by, and it was expected they would blow up every minute. Theyounger children were already sent off with their nurse. We staid tillafter midnight, doing what little we could to help, and then returnedto Carleton by the suspension bridge, bringing several refugees withus. The following day, Thursday, we drove to the station in St. John byway of the suspension bridge. The city was still on fire and envelopedin smoke. Happily, however, the station was just outside the burntdistrict, so we bade adieu to our friends and started once more for thewest. 

After visiting and holding meetings in Toronto, Hamilton, St. Catharines, and elsewhere, we arrived July 4th at Niagara. We were nowin the great fruit district of Canada, strawberries, cherries, grapes, apples, plums, peaches, all in the greatest abundance, orchardseverywhere, rich luxuriant vines trailing over trellis-work, the earthfairly teeming with plenty. What a contrast to poor Algoma, where wecan grow neither apple nor plum and cannot even ripen tomatoes. Nothingdelighted our boys more than to sit up in a cherry tree and eatcherries _ad libitum_--such a delicious novelty--and then to besummoned in for a tea of strawberries and cream! In the evening we metArchdeacon McMurray, who received us warmly. He was the firstMissionary at Sault Ste. Marie, more than forty years ago, and verykindly gave us an organ for the Institution. From Niagara, we proceededby train to Drummondville. The falls of Niagara were scarcely more thana stone's throw from the house, and the following morning as soon asbreakfast was over we went to pay them a visit. Grand and impressive aswas the sight, I fear that our boys, boylike, were more taken up with acouple of bears in their cages than with that enormous mass of watersurging over the rocks, and tumbling 200 feet into the boiling basin ofwhite foam below. 

On Friday the 6th we arrived in Brantford and had a meeting in theevening. The following day we walked out to visit the MohawkInstitution, supported by the New England Company; this institution hasbeen, I believe, nearly thirty years in existence, and they have atpresent thirty-eight boys and forty-two girls. It was strange how shyour boys seemed of the young Mohawks, though making friends so readilywith white boys. Mohawks and Ojebways were hereditary enemies, and, indays gone by, used to delight in scalping one another. 

Altogether we travelled upwards of 4000 miles, and I calculated that Ihad addressed about 5, 500 people at meetings and about 6700 Sunday-school children, besides sermons in churches. Though we made nocollections, I nevertheless had handed to me 990 dollars for the Girl'sHome Building Fund, and 225 dollars for the Shingwauk. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

A TRIP UP LAKE SUPERIOR. 

It had been arranged that directly the holidays commenced at theShingwauk Home, the Bishop and myself should start on a Missionary tourup Lake Superior, the plan being simply as follows:--We would take withus our boat, _The Missionary_, five or six Indian boys to man it, and provisions for six or seven weeks. We would first proceed bysteamboat 300 miles direct to Prince Arthur's Landing, taking our boaton board; remain there about a week, during which we would pay a visitinto the interior; then coast the whole way back, visiting all theIndians along the north shore of the Lake. 

When we reached the Landing, the Indian superintendent, to our greatsatisfaction, invited us to join him in an expedition to the "Height ofLand" where he was going to pay the wild Indian tribes their annuitymoney. 

At length after four days we reached the Hudson Bay waters, theSavanne connecting through a long chain of lakes and rivers with LakeWinnipeg. Lac des Milles Lacs, into which we soon entered, is a perfectlabyrinth of lakes and islands. Here and there were expectant Indianscome out to meet us in their frail bark canoes, and, paddling upalongside, they joined the cluster at our stern. A strange andimpressive sight was it when we at length hove in sight of the "Heightof Land, " a huge rocky eminence like an upturned basin, literallyswarming all over with Indians, in every position and every imaginablecostume. One solitary wigwam stood at the top and others could just beseen, betraying a considerable village in the rear. A large Union Jackalso floated from a mast planted in the rock. There they sat andcrouched and smoked, or stood, or leaned with that majestic composurepeculiar to the Indian race; while below, on the slippery sides of therock, tumbled and rolled about their dirty children, or prowled theirgrim and wolfish-looking dogs. It was a gay holiday time for them all. For three days and three nights pork and flour and tobacco would beflowing freely into their laps from their great and good mother, theQueen; and to every individual, man, woman, and child, yea, to even thepapoose of a day old, would be given L1 to spend as they pleased. 

We got our tents pitched--the Bishop's and our own--and then went outto survey the scene. A most novel and interesting one indeed it was, wigwams on all sides of us, some of them containing perhaps fortypeople, others conical, in which were two or three families with a firecommon to them all in the middle. In the water near the dock wereseveral boys bathing and diving, as though perfectly in their element. Here and there stalked a stately chief in his scarlet coat, leggings, mocassins, and feathers in his head. The councillors, of which therewere three to each band, wore dark coats with scarlet trimmings. Butthere were more outlandish personages than these to be seen; tall, lankmen, with nothing on them but a scarlet blanket wound around the nakedbody, at times covering the shoulders, at times drawn only around thewaist. Nearly all had plaited hair and silver earrings, and many hadfeathers in their heads, or head-dresses of beads and ribbons. Thesquaws were dressed much the same as our own Indians in bodices andskirts, though not quite so tidily. Some of the bead-work worn by themen was very handsome; it consisted mostly of garters below the knee, waistbands and tobacco-pouches worn round the neck and covering thefront of the body. They also had their curiously-carved pipes, some ofthem with stems a yard long, tomahawks, knives, and other appendages. 

Soon men and squaws were seen wending their way to their wigwams, bending under the weight of a side of bacon or a bag of flour. Now wasa high time of joviality for them all--even the dogs licked their lipsand prepared for the feast. 

A crowd collected in rear of the Government buildings; and squattingupon mats on the ground were the musicians, three or four in number, beating away vigorously at their very unmusical drums--just the sizeand shape of a flat cheese, their drumsticks being shaped like a crook. Soon the war-dancers appeared upon the scene, each with a whoop and aflourish of his knife or tomahawk. Conspicuous among them wasBlackstone--no longer in European dress, but with legs bare on eitherside to his hips--a white shirt almost hidden by massive beadworkornaments, long braided hair, feathers in his head, and his right handflourishing a bayonet. The dancing consisted in the actors leapingsuddenly to their feet with a whoop, and working the whole bodyconvulsively up and down while standing on their toes, without movingfrom their position, a monotonous whirring sound being kept up all thetime, in which the squaws sitting around assisted. This was kept uplong enough for me to sketch one man, when with another whoop and aflourish they sank into a squatting position, the drums still going onunceasingly. After a little rest up they got again, and so it kept onfor a couple of hours. The proceedings, however, were broken in themiddle by a speech from Blackstone. 

When it was nearly tea-time I went out to look for my boys, and foundEsquimau talking to an old man under a bark shelter with a stick or twoburning at their feet; the old man was living quite alone and this washis wigwam, just room for him to lie down and no more. I sent theyounger boys to light a fire and get tea ready, and then stayed withEsquimau to talk to the old man. When he found I was going to speakabout religion, he called to his children--two men and a squaw--to comeand listen. Another man came up, and in rather an officious mannerinformed me that it was no use for me to talk to the Indiana aboutreligion; that they would not listen to me, and did not intend toaccept Christianity. The Great Spirit, he continued, has made us all, and he has given one religion to the whites and another to the Indians. He does not wish his red children to accept the white man's religion. Isaid I was sorry that any of them should think that, but that if any ofthem did not wish to hear me they could go somewhere else, and I wouldtalk only to the old man. The old man, however, had now changed hismind and said he did not wish to hear me speak. Several others cameround and all said that I must not speak to them about Christianity. One said their custom was for any one who wished to speak to them firstof all to put down tobacco. This roused me. "No!" I said, "I am not atrader to carry tobacco about. I am working for my Master, the GreatSpirit: the Great Spirit has told His followers that when they go outto preach they are not to carry money or anything else with them, theyare simply to tell His message, if they are received, it is well, ifnot, they are to go away from that place and take the message toothers. " I then said to Esquimau--"We had better kneel down and ask Godto help us, and teach us what to do. " So we knelt, and each offeredprayer, amid the jeers and interruptions of the Indians. Then I stoodout among them and said in a loud voice, "My friends, I have come hereto see you about religion, not to buy and sell, and trade with you, butto tell you about the Great Spirit who made you. Your Superintendent, Mr. Wright, has come to pay you money, but I have come to speak to youon religion. I have no tobacco, no pork, no money to give you. But Icome to tell you of God who made us, and of His Son who came into theworld to save us. I have been told that I must not speak, that none ofyou will listen to me, but I tell you that I will speak to you: God hastold me to speak to you, so this evening I will come among you tospeak; those that wish to hear me can listen, those who will not hearcan keep away. "

During tea it was arranged that the Bishop and myself, with the fourIndian boys, should go out about sundown and address the people. Beforestarting we knelt together in the tent, and the Bishop offered up anearnest prayer to God that He would give us grace and wisdom to speak, and incline the hearts of these heathen people to hear and accept Hisword. 

On the road there we were met by Blackstone. He seemed very angry, andsaid, "I am told that you are going to speak to the people to-night. You must not speak to-night, you must wait until to-morrow. " I said, "No, my friend, I must speak to them to-night. " "It shall not be, " saidBlackstone, "you will not be listened to to-night; to-morrow I will letyou speak. " I pointed to the sky, and said, "The Great Spirit has toldme to speak to-night and I must obey the Great Spirit, I cannot obeyman about this. ". Blackstone still refused to allow me to speak, but Iwas determined, and we went on. We went to the top of the rockyelevation, and immediately began singing a hymn in Indian. Our boysstood out nobly, and sang splendidly. I felt that it required moredetermination on their part to face the opposition of their own peoplethan for us who were recognised as "black-coats. "

The singing attracted a number of people around us, and I spoke outloudly and addressed them. We then sang another hymn suitable for theoccasion and the boys sang out lustily, like good soldiers of Christ. After this the Bishop gave a short, but very earnest and pointedaddress. Then Esquimau spoke very freely and forcibly, urging upon thepeople to give up their vain customs and accept Christianity. Then weknelt on the bare rock and prayed God to turn the hearts of the peopleto Himself, after which we left. Quite a number of people had gatheredtogether when the singing commenced, and remained during more than halfthe time. 

_July_ 24. --The next evening we had service again; myself and myfour boys standing on the summit of the rocky eminence in the dimtwilight, wigwams on all sides below us; a couple of old women cookingat a fire just beside us, and a few straggling Indians or childrenlying or sitting about. We sang a hymn in Indian at the top of ourvoices. This brought a great many people out, but not so many as lastnight. Then I addressed them. 

We then sang another hymn, after which Esquimau spoke and urged thepeople to give up their vain customs and to become Christians; and, after kneeling on the hard rock and offering up an earnest prayer toGod to change the hearts of these poor heathen, we departed. 

Black clouds had gathered overhead and it was beginning to rainheavily when we sought the shelter of our tent. 

_July_ 25. --The day following Blackstone appeared at my tentdoor. I asked him to come in but he declined. He seemed to be in abetter frame of mind, and spoke in friendly terms, telling me all aboutthe journey from here to the place where he generally lives, at theNorth-west angle about 200 miles distant. I showed him a photograph ofthe Shingwauk Home, and he asked some questions about it. He stayedsome little time, and then said that the Indians were going to hold acouncil, and left. 

About noon the boys returned with a tin pail of raspberries which westewed and had for dinner. The monotonous sing-song and drum-beating ofthe Indians had been going on the whole morning in an adjoining wigwam;we were expecting hourly that the council would begin, but Blackstonekept putting it off. I suspected that he intended to have it at ourusual time of meeting so as to draw away the people, and so for thatreason we had our meeting earlier, about five o'clock. Before startingI called the boys together into the tent, and, after reading a fewverses of Scripture, asked them if either of them were inclined to giveup the attempt to teach these heathen people; they had been with methrough it all, they had seen the reception we had met with, they hadacted their part according to the talent committed to them; would theynow give it up as hopeless, or would they go with me again to-night? Tothis they each in turn replied cheerfully and earnestly that theywished to go with me; so we knelt in prayer and asked for God's helpand proceeded forth once more to our rocky pulpit. We saw Blackstonegoing to and fro among the wigwams, and I thought I would ask him oncemore whether he would give his countenance to our service. So I calledto him, "Blackstone, may I speak to you?" "Pahmah, pahmah, " (by-and-by, bye-and-bye), was his reply; "I am busy just now. " We waited until hecame round again, and as he merely brushed past I resolved to commenceat once. We chose a new situation this time, another rocky eminence inthe middle of the wigwams. We conducted our little service as usual, and urged upon the people once more to forsake their customs and toaccept the crucified Saviour. When I spoke of the Resurrection ofChrist on the third day, there was a jeering laugh from some of theIndians which made me think of Acts xvii. 32. Blackstone, as I hadexpected, commenced his pow-pow or council directly we began ourservice, and so drew away all the principal men. 

But it was time to prepare for our departure. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

COASTING AND CAMPING. 

Quite a high sea was running on Thunder Bay when, on _July_ 30, having parted with the Bishop, I started off in _The Missionary_with my seven Indian boys. A stiff south-east wind was blowing, and, asour course lay in a southerly direction, we had to tack. We managed, however, to run across Thunder Bay within five or six miles of ourpoint, and then tacked about to reach it; and about three miles furtherran into a nice little sheltered bay, where we camped for the night. The boys were merry, and soon had a capital fire blazing up and thecamp-pots hissing and bubbling. By eight o'clock supper was ready, andthen, after prayer and singing and each one repeating a verse ofScripture around the camp fire, we all turned in for the night, havingsafely accomplished the first twenty miles of our homeward trip. 

It may be well to state at this point, for the information of thosewho are not acquainted with the topography of Canada, that LakeSuperior, upon which we were now sailing, is the largest body of freshwater in the world, the length of it from end to end, by the coursewhich the steamboats take, being 623 miles. The breadth of the lake atthe widest point is 160 miles. Its area is fully as large as Ireland, and its mean depth is 1000 feet. The north shore of the lake belongs tothe Province of Ontario, is exceedingly wild and rocky and isinhabited almost exclusively by Indians with a few Hudson Bay Company'sposts at various points on the route. Prince Arthur's Landing is the_only_ Canadian town on the north shore, and that has risen intoexistence only within the last few years. The south shore of LakeSuperior, borders on the State of Michigan. 

_July _31. A dense fog filled the air when we arose early thismorning. We waited until eight o'clock to see if it would lift, but asit appeared to have no intention of doing so, we started off, myselfsteering and the boys rowing. With a good compass, we steered ourcourse straight into Silver Islet. We landed on the main shore, andspent half an hour viewing the silver stamping mills. The fog was nowclearing, and we proceeded to cross Black Bay. This was a wide stretch, and we had to pull as there was no wind. After this, we got into anarrow channel studded with islands: then were out on the open lakeagain, a heavy swell rolling in and breaking on reefs near the shore. About five p m. We came off Cape Magnet, and soon after reached a snuglittle bay, where we camped for the night. 

After two more days sailing, we got into Neepigon, and found theBishop (who had come on the _Manitoba_) waiting for us. The Bishophad his tent pitched on the shore, and had been cooking for himself intwo little bright tin pots. We were all wet and cold, and as quickly aspossible our two tents were up and a large camp-fire built, over whichwere soon hissing three ugly black kettles--one with water for the tea, another with potatoes, another with rice and currants--while theBishop's little kettle hung meekly by, at one end of the horizontalstick, and soon lost its brightness under the unwonted heat of the fire. 

At 8:30 we all gathered for prayer, and then went to rest. The totaldistance we had come, since leaving Prince Arthur's landing, was about100 miles. 

We passed a quiet Sunday in our camp at Red Rock. No Indians cameround, but we had a little service for ourselves under an awning. Inthe afternoon our boys gathered for Sunday-school, and the Bishopexamined them in the Scriptures and Catechism. 

_Aug_. 5. --We had intended to be up and preparing for our trip toLake Neepigon at five a. M. , but heavy rain caused us to prolong ourslumbers, and we did not breakfast until 7:30 a. M. By this time, however, the weather was clearing, and we determined on making a start. There was plenty to do. We had a trip of 200 miles before us andexpected to be away about ten days. All the things in _TheMissionary_ that were not wanted were packed away in Mr. McLellan'sstorehouse; provisions were given out sufficient to last the three boyswho were to remain behind, and supplies put up for the travellingparty. Then--about ten a. M. --the large canoe which we had hired wasbrought round; Uhbesekun, our guide, put in his appearance; portagestraps were brought out, the packs made ready, and all placed on board. The Bishop and myself walked across the portage, about three-quartersof a mile in length, while Uhbesekun and the boys propelled the loadedcanoe up the rapids with poles. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

UP THE NEEPIGON RIVER. 

Five miles of paddling above the rapids brought us to the mouth of theriver Neepigon, a rapid stream about 500 yards in width, we had to keepclose to shore in order to avoid the current. 

Our canoe was about 20 feet in length, and weighed perhaps 150 lbs. , she sat as light as a feather upon the water, and the least movement onthe part of any of the party tipped it over to one side. The paddlerssat on the cross bars--about two inches wide, Uhbesekun in the bows, then Joseph, the Bishop and myself, Jimmy and William, and Esquimau inthe stern, six paddles in all, and we travelled at the rate of fromfour to six miles an hour. 

About 1. 30 p. M. Rain began to fall, and the clouds threatened a storm. We paddled on fast to a convenient landing-place, and then went ashorefor dinner, which we partook of under the tent, the rain pelting downin torrents. However, it was merely a thunder-shower, and in the courseof an hour we were able to proceed. 

By four o'clock we had reached our first long portage--three miles inlength--and now began the tug of war. Esquimau and Uhbesekun got thehuge canoe mounted on their shoulders--one at either end of it--keepingit in its position by ropes which they held as they walked, with theirarms outstretched. Then followed Joseph with the bag of flour (70 lb. )carried by a portage strap, placed in true Indian style round hisforehead. Then started Jimmy with the tent, blankets, axe, and gun, andthe Bishop with his bundle of wraps hung on his umbrella. Williamremained behind with me while I made a sketch. There was no great hurryfor us, as the canoe-bearers would have to return again to take theremainder of the things. William's pack consisted of my camp-bed, blankets, mat, coats, &c, and I had the Bishop's valise and some coats. The portage track was narrow, raspberry canes and high grass almosthiding the path; up hill and down hill, and across a creek. We soon metthe canoe-bearers going back for their second load, and a littlefurther on was Joseph, who had deposited his flour and come back tomeet us. 

The tents were already pitched when we reached the end of our tramp onthe shores of Lake Jessie, and soon our cook was at work baking breadand frying pork for our evening meal. 

We were all tired, and went to bed about 9 o'clock, after unitingtogether in singing and prayer under the open vault of heaven. "Sweethour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer, That calls me from a world ofcare, " was the hymn we sung. William shared my tent with me, and therest of the boys, with Uhbesekun, slept under the canoe. 

The next morning was bright, but with a headwind, we made slowprogress. We accomplished twelve miles across Lakes Jessie and Mariaand pulled up for dinner at Split Rock portage. Here was some of thegrandest scenery we had yet witnessed--high, towering rocks, theircrests clad with fir and birch-trees, the rapids rushing in a whitefoaming torrent over the rocks in two rushing, roaring streams, dividedone from the other by a high, precipitous, rocky island. I made asketch, and we had dinner, and then, having accomplished the portageonce more, started paddling. It was not far to go this time. In half anhour we had reached Bland portage, and everything again had to beunladen and carried. Soon we were in the canoe again heading for theopposite shore, with a new set of rapids on our right. Now for somestiff work again, a long portage of about two-and-a-half miles. We eachtook our packs and toiled away, getting into camp about 6 p. M. 

We were rather disappointed with the appearance of Lake Neepigon, withits large unbroken line of horizon, land being almost too distant to bevisible. Our baggage was deposited on the face of a great slipperyrock, sloping down gradually into the deep water of the lake. Afavourable breeze was blowing, and as soon as we had dinner our blanketsail was rigged up. When we were well out into the lake we found quitea high sea running, and our canoe shipped water. Still we kept on, andmade about twenty miles before we put into an island for the night at7:30 p. M. 

A disappointment awaited us next morning. A strong head-wind wasblowing. We started at 8 a. M. , and made about twelve miles. It was veryrough, and the waves dashed over the prow of our frail canoe. We wentin to an island for dinner, and, the wind increasing, we were obligedto remain there for the rest of the day. All our baking-powder wasgone, and we were reduced to "grease bread, " i. E. , flat cakes of flourand water fried in pork fat. They make a good substitute for bread, butare rather greasy. Joseph had shot a brace of ducks in the morningbefore coming away, and one of them we had for supper; which, with somepotted beef and tea in a tin basin, made very good fare!

_August 9th_--We packed up, got all on board, and startedprecisely at 6:30. It was a head-wind and a high sea still, so weproceeded only about one mile to another island, and then pulled in tohave breakfast and wait until the wind went down. At 1 p. M. We made astart, and ran about five miles to another island. After running twelvemiles more we put in for supper. We calculated we had come fifty mileson the lake, and had twenty miles more to go. The direct course wassixty-five miles, but we had lost way by going into the bays. 

_August 10th_--We stopped two hours on the island where we landedfor supper last night, and then--it being bright moonlight, and thewind having calmed down, we started again on a twenty mile stretch, determined, if possible, to reach the H. B. C. Post at the head of LakeNeepigon before midnight. 

The Bishop settled himself down in the bottom of the canoe, andUhbesekun, the four boys and myself, plied vigorously at our paddles--forty-two strokes per minute. It was a glorious night, and the keen airput fresh strength into our muscles, so that we kept on untiringly fornearly three hours. Just at 11 o'clock we came underneath a stupendouscliff, its dark, rugged face glittering in the moonlight, extending farup towards the sky above us, with a few ragged fir trees crowning itssummit. It was the grandest scenery we had seen yet. 

Our voices echoed as we passed beneath it, and we heard afterwardsthat it was called Echo Rock. After passing the cliff, another mile orso brought us to the Post. We had some difficulty in finding a campingground in the dark. The shore was rocky, and we had to cut out a placein the thick bush on which to pitch our tents. The boys made up a largefire, which was grateful in the chill night air, and soon we had thepot boiling for tea. It was 1. 30 a. M. When we got to bed, well tiredafter our long paddle of seventy miles across the lake. 

Next morning the Bishop was the first one astir. About 8 a. M. I got upand went with Uhbesekun to H. B. Co. 's store to buy baking-powder andsugar, both of which we had run out of. Prices are high here, flour is6_d_. A pound--at the Sault it is only 1 1/2_d_. Our cook hadonly just woke up, and was rubbing his eyes when we got back. We wereglad to get "spider-bread" again (bread baked in a spider or frying-pan)instead of grease bread. Several Indians came round. I had a veryinteresting talk with a chief this morning. He and another man cameover in a canoe from an island close by, and Esquimau and myself talkedto them as they sat floating on the water, keeping the canoe off therocks with their paddles. The chief was certainly the most intelligentIndian we had yet met with on our travels. He was greatly interested inhearing about the Shingwauk Home, and said that if he had a son youngenough to go he would send him, but his children were all either grownup or dead. 

We felt very thankful thus to meet one at length who will listen, andwho seems anxious for the improvement of his people. The old man's wayof speaking reminds me very much of "Little Pine" of Garden River, andhe appears to be a man of much the same stamp. Just after this a coupleof young boys visited our camp. One of them was a half-breed. Theycarried bows and arrows, and were shooting squirrels. We gave them analphabet card. Most of the Indians just round the Post are RomanCatholics, but those scattered over the lake, about 500 in number, arenearly all pagans. The name of the chief with whom we talked thismorning is David Winchaub (Bowstring). 

We had tea about 7 o'clock, and then put our canoe in the water andpaddled over to the island to visit our friend the chief. He wassitting cross-legged in a large tent, his summer residence, coolerprobably than a wigwam. Only Esquimau and Joseph were with me. Weentered the chiefs tent and soon got into conversation with him. 

I asked him if he would like me to relate to him the history of LittlePine's conversion to Christianity. He said yes, and listened veryattentively, several times uttering ejaculations, as I recounted to himhow bewildered Little Pine had been about the many religions offered tohim when he was still a pagan some forty years ago; how he and hisfather and other Indians made a journey of 300 miles in a canoe, andthen walked another 100 miles till they got to Toronto; how they wentto visit the Great Chief, Sir John Colborne, and asked his advice as towhat they should do about religion, and how Sir John Colborne said tothem, "This country belongs to the Queen. I belong to the Queen'sChurch, and I think all you Indians, who are so loyal, ought to belongto the Queen's Church too. " And then, how Little Pine and his partyreturned to Garden River, and ever since that time had been faithfulmembers of the Church of England. 

The Chief then made some remarks expressing his approval of what wehad told him, and said he quite understood all that we meant. 

I then asked him if he would like me to tell him what was written inGod's book, the Bible. There was only one Bible. French Christians andEnglish Christians were the same in that, --they had only one Bible. Hewould see from what I would tell him whether it was the same as what hehad been taught. He said he was willing to hear and asked me toproceed. As he was rather deaf, and I wanted him thoroughly tounderstand. I asked Esquimau to interpret what I said instead ofspeaking to him myself. As I dwelt on the universal sinfulness ofmankind, and urged that there was not a single one free from sin, theChief said emphatically, "Kagat, kagat, kagat, kagat! me suh gooazhewabuk!" (Truly, truly, truly, truly, it is indeed so!) The boys andmyself then knelt and offered up prayer to God for this poor, ignorant, yet eagerly-listening chief, and for his people, that they might betaught the true way to life and eternal happiness. It was 9. 30 p. M. When we paddled back to our camp. We met as usual around the camp fire, and each one repeated a verse of Scripture; then we knelt in the shadeof the dark bush, with the ripple of the water in our ears, and God'sheaven lighted up by His silvery moon, nearly at its full, and offeredup our confessions, and prayers, and praises to Almighty God beforeretiring to rest. 

_Sunday, August 11th_--While I was dressing, William came to saythat a squaw had come in a canoe with fish to sell. I said, "No, we donot buy fish on Sunday. " So he gave her a piece of bread and sent heraway. We had arranged with the Chief to hold a short service in theafternoon at his camp, so we passed the morning quietly amongourselves, reading the first part of the Church prayers, chanting thePsalms, and one lesson, and then the Bishop taught and catechised theboys from the Gospel for the day (Matt. Vii. 15). 

In the afternoon, about 4 p. M. , we put our canoe in the water, andleaving our pagan guide to take care of the tents, the Bishop, fourboys, and myself, paddled across the water to Winchaub's camp. Afterwaiting some little time, about sixteen or seventeen people gatheredtogether; being Roman Catholics, the Bishop thought it best not toattempt a service, but merely to address them on the object of ourvisit. So, after shaking hands with the Chief, the Bishop began.. Hespoke first of man's sin and the love of God in preparing a way ofsalvation for us by the sacrifice of His own Son. Then he spoke of theuselessness of mere formal religion, and that we must give our heartsto God. The Bible, he said, teaches us to care for and to do good toone another. Then he referred to our Industrial Home at Sault Ste. Marie, and after urging the people to send their children to it, leftit to me to give a detailed account of the work of the Home. TheIndians listened attentively to all we said, and the Chief thanked theBishop, and said that he and the other men would talk together aboutwhat they had heard, and later in the evening he would come over andgive the Bishop their answer. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THIRTY YEARS WAITING FOR A MISSIONARY. 

At 8 p. M. Chief Winchaub came over, having had a friendly cup of tea, he delivered his promised answer. --The Indians, he said, approved allthat we had said; they were glad to see us, and that we had built thisbig teaching wigwam for Indian boys, they would like to have theirchildren educated, but most of them thought it was too far to sendtheir children. He, for his part, if he had a child, would send him, and another man was willing to send his little boy when older, atpresent he was too young. We asked him about one promising-looking ladwe had seen, the dark-eyed boy with the bow and arrows. The Chief saidhe had spoken to that boy's father, but he was not willing to send him, it was too far, and he would never know how it fared with him. 

The Chief then said he had one other thing he wished to speak about, --there was one band of Indians on the lake, not belonging to him, who, he understood, wished to embrace Christianity and become members of theChurch of England. At the time of the great council at Sault Ste. Marie, thirty years ago, the great White Chief had told them that theyshould have a Missionary of the English Church, and they had beenwaiting for him ever since. After telling us this he bade us adieu andleft. 

We had already gone to bed, in preparation for an early start in themorning, and I was lying awake, when my attention was attracted by thesplash of paddles and an animated conversation going on upon the water. 

Esquimau came to my tent and said, "One of those men that the Chiefwas talking about has just arrived, and he has two boys with him. " Isaid to William, "This is God's doing, " and we both got up and went outto see the man; the Bishop also got up and came out. It was a mostinteresting interview. We stirred up the dying embers of the camp fireand sat around it on logs. This man, whose name we found was Mesten, had travelled about forty miles, not knowing that we were here till hemet Esquimau. He said that he and his people, though at present pagans, were prepared to accept the English religion. Their former chief, whowas now dead, had told them to do so thirty years ago. He had waitedfor a Missionary to come until he died, and since then they had beenwaiting on year after year; they would not accept the French religion, but were waiting for an English Black-coat to come and teach them. 

He did not know how many they were in number, but he thought about ahundred; our guide, Uhbesekun, he said, was one of their number. Wethen made inquiries as to their location, and found it would take usabout ten miles out of our way to visit them. The Bishop was soimpressed with the evident leading of God's Providence in the matterthat even, though it might cause some alteration in our plans, wedetermined to pay them a visit. 

_August 12th_. --Uhbesekun was commissioned to wake everyone athalf-past four, but I was the first to wake, and sent William to arousethe others. A head-wind was blowing, so we had to paddle and row hard;we accomplished about thirty miles in seven consecutive hours. We haddinner on a rocky island, and then five or six miles more brought us tothe Indian encampment in Chiefs Bay. There were only two wigwamsvisible, with six or seven people in each, a few canoes on the shore, and seven or eight large dogs prowling about. After introducingourselves to the men and telling them the object of our visit, wepaddled on about a mile further to deposit our baggage at the portage, and left two boys and the guide to light a fire and erect the tents, and then the Bishop, Joseph, William, and myself, returned to theIndian camp. The men were away when we got there, so I sat down andmade a sketch of the camp and our boys showed the photograph of theShingwauk Home to the women, and told them all about it. By this timethe men had returned, a fish-box was brought for the "Big black-coat"to sit on, and a tub turned up for me, and then the pow-wow began. 

The Bishop briefly related what had led us to visit them, how one oftheir number had fallen in with us the night before, and had told usthat they were desirous of embracing the English religion, and so wehad come on purpose to see them. 

There were two principal men listening to us, and they several timesexpressed their approval as the Bishop proceeded. One of them thenreplied at length. He said, "Thirty years ago all the Indian Chiefs werecalled together at the Rapids (Sault Ste. Marie) to meet the Great WhiteChief in order to make a treaty with him about surrendering their landsto the Queen, My father was chief at that time; his name wasMuhnedooshans. The Great White Chief (Sir John Robinson) made a treatywith us. We were each to receive L6 a year as an annuity. My fatheroften spoke to us about it when he was alive. My eldest brother is nowour chief; his name is Cheyadah. The chieftainship has been in ourfamily for many generations past. We still carry out the precepts of ourfather; we do not do as the other Indians do. The Great White Chief gavemy father a paper which showed the boundaries of the land set apart forour use by the Queen. My eldest brother now has this paper. My fathersaid to us, 'Do not travel about all the time as the other Indians do, but settle upon this land and farm like the white people do. ' We obeythe precepts of our father. We have already cleared some land, and everyyear we plant potatoes. We cannot do much more than this until we havesome one to teach us. We have built also three log-houses like the whitepeople. Some of us live in these houses in the winter time. Our land isabout four miles in extent. At present it is our fishing season, so weare scattered about fishing, and live in wigwams as you see us now. Thisis how we gain our living. Another thing that the Great White Chief saidto my father was, that we should not join the French religion, but hewould send us an English black-coat to teach us. So every year my fatherwas waiting for the English teacher to come; he waited on in vain, yearafter year, and died a pagan. His last words to us were that we shouldstill wait for an English teacher to come, and that when he came we mustreceive him well and ask him to open a school for our children to betaught. He also told us never to sell our land to the white people, butalways to keep it, and not to scatter about, but to keep together. Thusto this present day have we kept to the precepts of our father, and wenow welcome you as the English teachers that our father told us to lookfor. "

The Bishop then spoke again, and told them that he felt most thankfulin his heart to hear their words; he was very thankful that the GreatSpirit had directed his steps to come and see them. He had it in hisheart to do all he could for them; he was sorry that he could not atonce send them a teacher; that was impossible for the present. All thathe could offer was to take one or two of their boys into ourInstitution at Sault Ste. Marie. Then, at the Bishop's request, I gavethe people a full account of the origin and history of our ShingwaukHome, much the same as I had said to Chief Winchaub the night before. They seemed much interested, though afraid to send any children onaccount of the great distance. 

After this the conversation became general. They told us their names;they said they were very thankful we had come to see them; they knew thewhite man was right about religion, for he knew everything, their knivesand axes and clothing were all made by white men; Indians were poor andignorant, and needed to be taught. They had almost given up looking fora Missionary. When they went to the Hudson Bay Post in the spring, theywere told they had better join the Roman Catholics, but they said, No, they would still wait, and they were glad now that they had done so. Ithen made a list of the heads of families and the number belonging toeach, the total being about seventy. We showed them a hymn-book printedin Indian at the Shingwauk Home, which interested them greatly, thoughat first they held it upside down. Then I showed them the IndianTestament, and told them this was the Book that God had given to us. They handled it very reverently, and answered readily in the affirmativewhen asked if they would like to hear some of the words it contained. Iread part of the 8th chapter of St. Mark, about the feeding of the fourthousand, the curing of the blind man, and our Lord's words about theworth of the soul. The people listened most intently, indicating theirwonderment by suppressed ejaculations as I read anything that especiallystruck them, such, for instance, as the fact that 4000 men were fed withthe loaves and fishes; but what produced the most intense attention wasthe account of our Lord's mockery, Crucifixion, and Resurrection. Theirsympathy with the suffering Saviour was most marked, and their simpleastonishment most evident when I came to the part about the stone rolledaway and the angels telling the women that Jesus was risen from the dead. 

When we were preparing to go back to our camp, Oshkahpuhkeda said tome, "Well, if my son is not too big, you may take him with you; I knowI shall be sad without him, I shall weep often for him, but I want himto be taught, and I will try to control myself until he returns to seeme next summer. " I said I should be very glad to take the boy, andwould treat him as my son, and I would write to the Hudson BayCompany's agent at Red Rock, that through him he might hear how his sonfared, and next summer his boy should go back to him, and he need notsend him again unless he wished. I also asked him whether he would bewilling that the lad should be baptized after he had receivedinstruction. "Yes, yes, " he said, "that is what I wish; I wish my sonto be educated and brought up as a Christian. My wife, " he continued, "is dead; I also have a sickness working in my body--perhaps I shallnot live long. If I die, I wish you to take all my children: this boywho is going with you, his brother whom you saw with Meshen last night, this little girl sitting here (about ten years old), and that papoose, --you may have them all and bring them up as Christians. "

We thought it would be better to take the younger of the two boys, ifMeshen (with whom he had gone) should get back in time, and to this thefather also agreed. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

THE PAGAN BOY--NINGWINNENA. 

We returned with thankful hearts to our camp. The Bishop was muchimpressed, and said it reminded him of Cornelius, who was waiting, prepared for the visit of the Apostle Peter; and for my part I thoughtof Jonadab, the son of Rechab, whose followers carried out to theletter the precepts of their father. 

At our meeting for prayer that evening I said to Uhbesekun, "I hearthat you belong to these people whom we have been talking to. Will younot join us to-night in our prayers?" So Uhbesekun instead of goingaway, as had been his custom, remained with us, wrapped in his blanketon the ground near the camp fire, and when we knelt for prayer he alsoturned over with his face toward the earth. 

Oshkahpuhkeda came over in good time the next day according topromise, with his two boys. The younger one was to go with us. His nameis Nin-gwin-ne-na, and he is a quiet, gentle lad of thirteen orfourteen. The father repeated his wish that we should take all hischildren in the event of his death, and took an affectionate leave ofhis son. "I know I shall lie awake at night and grieve the loss of myboy. " he said, "we Indians cannot bear to be parted from our children, but it is right that he should go. If my heart is too heavy for me tobear, I shall come to Red Rock and get on the Fire Ship and come to seehim. " I took the boy by the hand and said, "Ningwinnena shall be my sonwhile he is away from you; I will take great care of him. " The Bishopalso said, "We will take good care of your son, and shall hope to comeand see you again. " Then Ningwinnena followed me along the portage track. 

Arriving once more on the shore of the lake, we found a favourablewind blowing, and put up a blanket for a sail. We had thirty miles togo to bring us to Flat Rock, where we should leave the lake and makeour first portage inland. We reached it at five minutes to four, theportage occupied fifty minutes, and soon we were launched once more onSturgeon Lake. A heavy thunderstorm came on, and continued during thetime we wended our way through the narrow, stony creek which connectsSturgeon Lake with the river Neepigon. The Bishop and myself sat in thecanoe with our mackintoshes on while the boys waded along knee deep inthe water, and twice we had to get out and pick our way along thestepping stones as there was not water enough for the canoe. By-and-byewe emerged on the broad Neepigon river, and its swift current now boreus quickly along upon our course to Long Pine portage, where we were tocamp for the night. It had now ceased raining; it was 7. 30 p. M. , and wehad travelled forty miles. The tents were pitched, a fire lighted, supper consumed, prayers round the camp-fire as usual, the new boyNingwinnena joining with us, and then we retired for the night, threeboys and the guide under the canoe, and myself and two boys in the tent. 

_August_ 14_th_. --Esquimau came to call up the cook at 4a. M. He and Uhbesekun were to carry the canoe across the portage, andreturn here for breakfast before conveying the remainder of thebaggage, hence the early start. We had only twenty miles more to go, and expected to reach Reed Rock in the evening, which was according tothe programme we had made before starting. 

Ningwinnena seems to be a very nice boy, and quick at taking thingsin. He has that gentleness of disposition peculiar to savage life, andfollows me about like a faithful hound. Last night I gave him his firstlesson in the alphabet, and I never saw any boy make such rapidprogress; he could say the alphabet through in half-an-hour, althoughat first not knowing A from B, and a little while after he was spellingand reading such short words as dog, cat, man, fish. He must come of agood stock. He was also most handy in putting up my tent last night, and rolling up my camp bed this morning, seeming to take in at once theright way to do things. 

The day has passed, and we are once more back at our Neepigonencampment, having arrived in the middle of pouring rain at 5. 10 p. M. The three boys were very pleased to see us back, and we went up to Mr. McLellan's house for supper. He has been most kind in supplying us withmilk and fresh butter. 

_August_ 16_th_. --The morning opened with a heavy mist, threatening clouds and wind. Hoping for a change for the better, wetook down our tents, and by 9 a. M. All was packed on board _TheMissionary_, --then, as was our custom, the boys gathered in asemicircle, a hymn was sung, a portion of Scripture read, and prayeroffered, Ningwinnena standing beside me and looking curiously at mybook as I read. By the time we started, the wind had become favourableand we made a splendid run, getting into Pugwash Bay at 5. 30 p. M. Eightor ten birch bark canoes on the shore told us the whereabouts of theIndians, though no wigwams were visible, the bush being so thick; as weneared the shore, the people began to show themselves, men, women, andchildren starting up one after another from amid the dense foliage andgazing at us with curious eyes. There were about seventy people, thoughnearly half of them were away. Some had been baptized by the Jesuits, others were pagans. After ascertaining these facts we paddled along theshore a little way to a sandy beach, where we made our camp. Our threetents were pitched in the thick of the bush like the Indians, and ahuge fire lighted in the middle as the weather had become autumnal andchilly. 

These poor people seem to have nothing to eat as a rule except fishand small animals; and they sat and lay around like half-starved dogswhile we partook of our evening meal. Two or three of them broughtraspberries for which we gave them bread in exchange, and we invitedone man, who seemed to be something of a chief among them, to takesupper with the boys. These Indians are of a very low type, and arevery dirty, appearing to have no idea of anything beyond pork and flour. 

I went to see an old man who had been baptized about a year ago by theRoman Catholics, and read the Bible to him. His wife was still a pagan, but they both listened attentively while I read and seemed glad to bevisited. 

_August_ 19_th_. --By 8. 15 a. M. We were fairly out on thebay. I steered and the boys rowed till the wind being favourable, wehoisted our sails and made a good start, winding our way for some milesamong islands, and then coming out on the open lake. The wind fell, andthe last part of the way we had to row, which made us late in gettingto Pic Island, --and a hard matter indeed it was to get in. In the dimtwilight we could see nothing but high, forbidding rocks, with the darkrippling waves lapping their sides. Being on the side of the islandexposed to the lake, we could not think of attempting to land until weshould find a secure harbour for our boat, for a sudden storm rising inthe night would knock her to pieces on such a coast. At length, gropingabout among the rocks, we espied a crevice into which it appeared_The Missionary_ would just fit. But, oh! what a place for thenight! High, slippery rocks, piled about us by some giant hand, no woodfor a fire, no grass, no place for a camp--nothing but sharp ledges andpoints of rocks. The boys clambered about with their shoeless feet likecats, and we heard them shouting, --"This is where I am going to sleep!This is where I shall sleep!" The Bishop groaned and said, "I shallremain on the boat. "

I, for my part, followed the boys, and presently found a sort of smallcavern under a ledge of rock, into which I had my camp-bed carried, andhaving lighted a candle, sent Esquimau to bring the Bishop. It wasreally most comfortable, and, moreover, in the corner of the cavern wefound a dry log, probably washed there by the waves in a storm; andwith this log we lighted a fire and made some tea, and so--after all--we had quite a cosy time of it. 

_August_ 20_th_. --We all slept sweetly till about 5 a. M. , when I think we awoke simultaneously; at any rate we were all on thestir soon after that hour. And now we were hungry, and there was nobread, no fire, and no wood, and fourteen miles to get to the mainland, and a head-wind. What was to be done? By the kindly light of day wediscovered that our position was not so distressing as we had at firstimagined. A little way over the rocks was a shore with drift-wood lyingon it, our cook was despatched with the frying-pan and his bag offlour, and after all we did famously. 

Before starting off we joined in repeating the morning psalms. We hada hard pull against a steady head-wind, and could only make two milesan hour, so that it was a little after three when we reached Pic River;and having run the boat on to a sandy shore, carried up our things andprepared our camp. 

After eight more day's sailing, we reached the Shingwauk again, wherea warm welcome awaited us. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

BAPTIZED--BURIED. 

"I know I shall lie awake at night and grieve at the loss of my boy, --weIndians cannot bear to be parted from our children, but it is right thathe should go. " Such were the words of the pagan Indian on the shores ofLake Neepigon, when he parted from his loved son Ningwinnena, and gavehim up to return with us. I remembered those words, --and often over thecamp fire--as we journeyed home I looked across at my adopted son andthought, I will take the very best care I can of you and I trust thatby-and-bye it may please God for you to return and do a good work amongyour people. Such a nice intelligent boy he was, --such gentle eyes, andsuch a trustful look, --he seemed quite to accept me as his father andguardian, and was always ready to give a helping hand, and he learnedwith marvellous rapidity. Our arrival at Sault Ste. Marie was quite anew era in his life, --the steamboats, the shops, and people;--few ofcourse in comparison to places further south--but multitudes compared tothe Neepigon region, and he had never seen a horse in his life till hereached the Sault. 

It was a great pleasure to me preparing this dear boy for baptism, there were two other pagan lads from Michipicoten and I had them in aclass together. I had good reason to hope and believe that all of themembraced the truth and accepted the Lord Jesus as their Saviour. Thethree boys were baptized by Bishop Fauquier at St. Luke's Church, SaultSte. Marie, on the 27th of October; the Bishop took a great fancy toNingwinnena, became his godfather, and gave him his own name, Frederick. Everyone indeed loved the Neepigon boy; he was so gentle inhis ways, so quiet and polite in his manner, and made such quaintefforts to converse in English. He seemed so pleased too at any littleattention shown him. 

But, poor boy, he was soon laid on the bed of sickness. His mother haddied of consumption, and that terrible hereditary disease was secretlysapping his life. At Christmas time he was ill with bronchitis andinflammation of the lungs. 

From this attack he never thoroughly recovered. There was a hollownessof the cheek, and an unnatural brightness about the eye, and yetotherwise, he had become well enough again to occupy his place inschool and pursue his studies with the other boys. Just afterrecovering from this illness he wrote a short note in English to theBishop, composed by himself, in pencil. "Me not learn much book, allthe time sick me, " and so forth. 

Shortly after this he was much delighted at receiving a letter fromhis father. His poor father spoke of the longing he felt to see hisloved son once more, and how anxiously he was looking forward to thespring, when he hoped to see him again. The Bishop also kindly wrote tohim in reply to his little letter--exhorting him to try and live as Godtells us to do in the Book which He has given to us; and concludingwith the earnest hope that when he died, he might go to that happyplace where the Saviour Jesus Christ is preparing to receive all whotruly love him, "Goodbye, my dear boy, " added the Bishop, "may Godbless, and make you good. " This letter Frederick fondly treasured tothe time of his death, and afterwards expressed his desire to see theBishop again. 

On Sunday, March 28th, Frederick was at church in the Sault with theother boys. There was administration of the Holy Communion, and theother boys who had been confirmed remained to partake. Frederickremained with them and innocently came up with the rest to kneel at therails. I was very sorry to turn him back, but whispered to him inIndian, that only those who were confirmed were about to take theSacrament, and he quietly withdrew to his seat. Afterwards I explainedit to him, and, a day or two subsequently, wrote to the Bishop askinghim to arrange, if possible, to hold a confirmation before the boysdispersed for their holidays, so that Frederick, among others, might beconfirmed. Had I known that he was so soon to die, and that in his lastillness he would not be sufficiently conscious to partake intelligentlyof the sacred feast, I would not have turned the dear boy back. Toooften do we, perhaps, unwittingly act the part of the disciples whohindered the little children in their approach to Jesus. 

On Sunday evening, April 27th, Frederick came in for a little talkwith me after service. He seemed very earnest and spoke very nicely ofhis trust in the Saviour. I said to him (in Indian) I want you to getquite well, Frederick, before you go home, perhaps your father will beangry with me if he sees you sick. He looked up in my face to see if Imeant what I said, and, seeing me smile, replied, "No, I am sure hewill not be angry. He entrusted me to you. My grandfather said, beforehe died, that we were to wait for an English teacher, and that when hecame we must listen to him, and do what he told us. That is why myfather gave me up to you. "

The dear boy seemed to have some presentiment that he might not live, and expressed himself on the subject in his broken English to one ofour little children who had taken him up some canned peaches. "All thetime my head just like broke. All the time sick me. By-and-bye I guessme dead. "

A few days after, severe symptoms set in, and the doctor was sent for. Frederick became delirious and had to be watched constantly both nightand day. We never have any difficulty in procuring night watchers amongour Indian boys. Quite a forest of hands generally goes up when thequestion is put after evening prayers. "Who will stay up to watch to-night?" Two boys stay at a time, and the change is made every three orfour hours. 

For three days and nights poor Frederick lay in a perfectlyunconscious state, taking neither medicine or nourishment. The doctorpronounced it to be organic disease of the brain, the result of aconsumptive tendency in his system, and gave but faint hope of hisrecovery. Day and night we watched him; and were glad when on thefourth day he showed signs of returning consciousness. His brain neverseemed to become quite clear, but he had intervals of intelligence, during which he would often answer questions and attempt to repeatverses of Scripture. The verse "Suffer little children to come untoMe, " he said through. He attempted also "God so loved the world, " butonly got as far as "believeth in Him. " Two nights before he died, hetried to say the Lord's prayer, but it seemed to be an effort to him;at the words, "as it is in heaven, " he stopped, and after a pause, said, "can't say 'my Father. ' Too much runaway me. "

After a pause I asked him--"Who was it that died on the Cross for us, Frederick?" He rambled for a moment or two, and then, as the meaning ofmy question flashed upon him, spoke out in clear accents "JesusChrist. " Very little longer was he to live. We had prayed earnestly, constantly, for his recovery, but it was not God's will. On Saturdayevening, after prayers, I perceived that he was sinking, and told theboys who were watching him that I did not think he would live throughthe night. He was breathing heavily and quickly. He would take nonotice when spoken to, and could not swallow. An hour or two sped by, it was ten o'clock, and he was now gasping frequently for breath, hispulse being scarcely perceptible. I called to his bedside those boyswho had made the Lake Superior trip with me last summer, and we stoodwatching him. Then as his end drew near, we knelt and I offered up thebeautiful commendatory prayer for the sick, and we joined in repeatingthe Lord's prayer. As we rose from our knees the dear boy gave one morefaint gasp for breath and expired. How wonderful are the ways of God, how little can we understand His dealings. But the very essence offaith is the trusting in God when we do not understand His dispensations. 

We had earnestly hoped that Frederick's father would have arrived intime to see his boy's body before its burial, and for that reason wekept it twelve days packed in ice, and I wrote to him and sent moneyfor his passage. But it was not so to be. The Manitoba arrived atmidnight on Wednesday, the 28th of May, but instead of the father, camea letter from him full of expectancy and longing to see his loved son. This seemed to make it sadder still. The letter was dated May 12th; itwas written evidently for him by some white man at the Post; and saidthat he was patiently waiting at Red Rock, with his son Muqua, forFrederick to return; it also enclosed money for the boy's passage onthe steamboat. 

The day after I received this letter, we buried Frederick. I prepareda slab for his grave, on which were inscribed the words--"_FrederickOshkahpukeda_, a boy from the wild regions of Lake Neepigon. Wasbaptized a Christian, Oct. 27th, 1878: and was taken home to hisSaviour, May 17th, 1879;--aged fourteen. " "'Blessed are the dead whichdie in the Lord. '" The Bishop read the service at the grave. 

Sometime after, I received the following touching letter from the poorpagan father; written for him by some friend who understood Indian. 

"_Red Rock, May_ 31_st_, 1879. 

DEAR SIR, --I learn that my poor boy is dead, so that our talk is dead, for I will not send any more of my children to the Home; but if youwant to follow out the engagement you made then, put up a schoolhousesomewhere round here, so that our children may learn, for after whathas happened I don't think that any of the Indians at Neepigon will lettheir children go to the Home. 

I don't think that we will be able to visit the grave of my poor boy. I would have been very glad if you could have sent the body in thesteamer. 

I feel very sorry for what has happened, my heart is sore. I do notknow what to do. 

Did not my poor boy say anything before he died? Surely he saidsomething about his father! If so, let me know when you write. I do notblame anybody about the death of my boy, but I am most happy for thecare you have taken with him. I want you to send me an alphabet, and asmall book with words of two or three letters, about the school. I havenothing more to say at present. I am very sick at heart. My respects toyou, and I hope to see you soon, or hear from you about my son's lastwords. I would like very much to know. 

Your sincere friend, OSHKAHPUKEDA. 

P. S. --Tell all the boys I send them my love; and the boy that he lovedbest I shall think him my son. Good-bye. "

 * * * * *

A year after this, Oshkahpukeda, and a number of the other Indians ofLake Neepigon were baptized; the site for a Mission was selected, and aroughly built log school-house with bark roof was constructed, alsoanother log-house for a teacher. Joseph Esquimau, a pupil of theShingwauk Home was placed in charge of the Mission temporarily, andconducted services, and taught school very successfully. In the summerof 1881, the Rev. R. Renison, was appointed by the Bishop to takecharge of the Mission, and moved there with his family. Several of theIndians had by that time built log-houses for themselves, and thevillage is called Ningwinnenang, after the boy who died. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

THE WAWANOSH HOME. 

The spot selected for the Wawanosh Home was rather more than a mileabove the village of Sault Ste. Marie. I bought five acres of bush landat three pounds an acre as a site for the Institution, and a ten-acrecultivated lot, just opposite, for L60. 

Immediately after making the purchase, we took all our boys up therefor a "clearing bee;" they hoisted the Union Jack on the site of thenew Home, and within a few days had cleared a considerable piece ofland and commenced digging the foundations. It was to be a stonebuilding of two storeys high with a frontage of about forty-five feet, and a wing running back, and to cost about L700. During the summer ourboys got out all the stone necessary for building, most of it wascollected on the Shingwauk land, and they were paid 20 cents a cord forpiling it. 

We were anxious as soon as possible to get the new Home intooperation. After the summer of 1876 no girls returned to the Shingwauk, and we doubled our number of boys. It seemed hard to shut the girls outfrom the privileges of Christian care and education, and we werenaturally desirous of receiving back as soon as possible those whom wehad already commenced teaching. For this reason we thought it well atonce to make a beginning by erecting the back wing of the Institutionfirst. During the winter stone and sand were hauled, and on the 5th ofMay, 1877, building operations commenced. We took the contractourselves. I had a good practical man as carpenter at the Shingwauk, and we got our plans and specifications; then an estimate was made, andafter being approved by a third party--a person experienced in suchmatters--the work began. Mrs. Fauquier, our Bishop's wife, and two orthree other ladies kindly joined with me as a committee to manage theInstitution, a lady was engaged as lady Superintendent, a man and wifeas gardener and matron, and about the first week in September the girlsbegan to arrive. 

We only took ten girls that winter, as we were of course cramped forroom. 

It was rather uphill work bringing into operation the Wawanosh Home, but difficulties during the progress of a work often have the effect ofmaking it more solid and strong in the end. To induce Sunday Schoolsand friends to aid us, I divided the estimated cost of the buildingwith its fittings and furniture, into forty-four lots, and aconsiderable number of these lots were "taken up. " Still we were shortof money. When the Spring of 1878 came, all our money for building wasgone, and the fund to meet current expenses, even with only ten girlsto provide for, was found to be insufficient. It was very discouraging. Sorrowfully I told our lady Superintendent that we must close theInstitution for the present, --and sorrowfully I dismissed the girls fortheir holidays and told them that they must not come back until theyheard from me that we were able to receive them. 

But God heard our prayers and opened the way for us. 

On Sunday Sept. 7th, I had just returned from Garden River where I hadbeen to hold service with the Indians, and on my arrival found a sail-boat lying at our dock. An Indian had come over a hundred miles and hadbrought five little girls for the Wawanosh Home. Two of them had beenwith us the winter before and had misunderstood me about coming back, and the other three were new ones, --they all looked so happy andpleased. But their faces fell when I explained to the man ourcircumstances, that we had closed for want of funds, and could not seeour way towards re-opening for the present. The Indian said it seemedvery hard to have come such a long distance and then to have to go allthe way back again. "Can you not manage to take them, " he said; "I willhelp you all I can, --I will bring you some barrels of fish in the Fall"

I told the man they could all remain with us that night, and I wouldlet him know what could be done after I had thought it over. I went tosee Mrs. Fauquier, and the other ladies came together, and we talked itover and had much earnest prayer. It seemed to us all that it was thehand of God pointing out the way, and that we ought to have faith to goon. The end of it was that we kept those five children; the lady whohad had charge of the Home the previous winter most generously agreedto remain for another year at a reduced salary and to do without theservices of a matron. And so the Wawanosh Home was open again. 

Two weeks later I received a letter from England: "I have good news totell you. Miss ---- wrote a few days ago to ask how much money waswanted to complete the Girls' Home. We sent her word that the originalestimate was L700, and that about L500 had been collected. I to-dayreceived from her a cheque for L350! Of this L100 is her annualsubscription, and L250 for the completion of the Home. You will I amsure look on it as God's gift in answer to the prayer of faith. " Thefollowing January a letter came from the Indian Department at Ottawa, saying that the Government had in reply to my request, made a grant ofL120 towards the building expenses of the Wawanosh Home, and that thisgrant would be continued annually, provided there were not less thanfifteen girls, towards the maintenance of the Institution. 

Thus did Almighty God open the way for us, and clear away all ourdifficulties. By the middle of the summer of 1879 the building wascompleted, the ground in front cleared and formed into a garden, with apicket fence and two gates, and a drive up to the front door, and atthe back a stable, cow-house, pig-styes, &c. 

The cottage on the other side of the road was now occupied by Mrs. Bridge, the laundress, and a year or two later, we built a new laundry. 

The new Home was opened on the 19th of August, 1879, and that winterwe had fourteen girls. 

The following letter from an English lady who visited the WawanoshHome in the summer of 1880, gives a good idea of the Institution andits surroundings:--

"I drove to see the Indian girls' Home, and was surprised to find inthese wilds such an English stone building, but with the advantage of anice verandah and green blinds which keep the house cool in summer. Theinside of the house I thought very, nice; all the rooms are high and ofa good size; a hall, school-room, class-room, and dining-room, andprettily furnished sitting-room for the lady superintendent, a laundry, and good kitchen with a large stove--all these are on the ground floor. Upstairs there is a large dormitory with eight double beds and a smallerone with four beds. These rooms are more airy and give more space toeach girl than in many institutions I have seen in England. A small roomis set apart for the sick. The lavatory is well fitted up, andeverything is clean and neat. The girls do the work partly themselvesunder the matron, and learn to become servants. The Home has only beenfully opened a year, so of course it is still rough round the house, butsoon the ground will be laid out. On one side of the house will be thevegetable garden, which the girls will be taught to keep weeded and inorder. On the other side of the house the committee intend putting up agymnasium with money a lady in England has collected: It is a room verymuch wanted, for, in the winter, with the snow three to four, andsometimes five feet deep, it is impossible to send children out, and ifthey do not get exercise they would suffer. The room is to be 40 feet by20, with one end divided off for a meat-house and tool-house; when I saya meat-house I mean a place to keep meat, for they kill cattle and sheepenough for the winter at the beginning of the very cold weather, itfreezes hard and keeps well. The gymnasium will, when finished, onlycost about 200 dollars. The children look very happy and very littleamuses them. I showed them some English village children's games, andleft them delighted. "

There is always a "but, " that is, kind friends are wanted to providefor some of the new girls just come to the Home. If any one would giveor collect four shillings a week, that is sufficient to feed a child. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

A SAD WINTER. 

The winter of 1882 was a sad time. There was great mortality allthrough the country, and our Homes did not escape. 

Our kind friend, Mrs. Fauquier, who, though a constant invalid, haddone very much to promote the interests and welfare of our Girls' Home, was called away to the Heavenly Rest on the 4th of November, 1881. During the last few years of her life she had made the Wawanosh Homeher special care, her work for Christ. Those girls were always in herthoughts: she it was who devised their uniform dress of blue sergetrimmed with scarlet, and got friends in England to supply them; shechose the furniture for the Home and fitted the lady superintendent'srooms so prettily and tastefully. Many were the kind words of counselthat the girls received from her, and it used to be her delight to havethem to visit her in the afternoon at the See House. 

Only a month had passed after we heard of Mrs. Fauquier's death, --shedied in New York, --when the appalling tidings reached us that theBishop, too, was gone. He had died suddenly in Toronto on December 7th. In the same mail bag which brought the sad news was a letter to me fromhim, written only an hour or two before he died. 

"The sad void, " he wrote, "which my dear wife's departure hence hasmade seems to grow wider and deeper; and it seems difficult to settledown to work as of old. I must try to realize more fully than I havedone in the past what a blessing her presence for more than thirtyyears has been. How true it is that we seldom appreciate our blessingsand privileges until they are taken from us. "

The church at Sault Ste. Marie was draped with black the followingSunday, and the Indian children of the Homes wore black scarves intoken of respect for him who had had their welfare so much at heart. 

The next death was that of our carpenter's wife: she had been ailingall through the previous autumn, and died January 2nd. 

Then three days later we lost one of the Indian boys, a little fellownamed Charlie Penahsewa, who had only been with as a few months. Weburied him the next day in our little cemetery at 7 p. M. The boyscarried torches. 

Several other boys were at this time in the sick room, two or threealso of the Wawanosh girls were ill, and the doctor was to and fro atboth the Homes. 

Poor little Beaconsfield, one of the Michipicotin boys who had beenbaptized at the same time as Frederick, was among the sick. His onlyname when he first came to us, nearly five years before, was Chegauns(little man close by); he was a little wild pagan boy, but with softeyes and gentle disposition, like Frederick, and was very quick tolearn. A kind lady in Kingston undertook his support, and took greatinterest in him, and at her wish we named him "Benjamin Beaconsfield. "We had every reason to hope and believe that there was a work of gracein his heart. The little fellow had a tender conscience, and would comeand tell me if he had been playing on Sunday or had told an untruth, and would ask me to pray for him. Another boy in the sick room waslittle Peter, Peterans as we called him [ans at the end of a word makesits diminutive]; he was a grandchild of my old friend, widow Quakegwah, at Sarnia. We sent him and another little fellow who was ailing to theWawanosh, for change of air and more careful nursing. But it was all invain. Beaconsfield died on the 16th of January, and little Peter diedat the Wawanosh on the 8th of February. They were both buried in ourlittle cemetery. 

After this I had to go down to Toronto to attend to diocesan matters, and was away about two months, going through the Muskoka district, andbeing present in Montreal when the Provincial Synod met, and our newBishop, Dr. Sullivan, was unanimously elected. 

When I returned to the Shingwauk things looked brighter; the sick roomwas empty, and every one seemed more cheery. But our hopes were doomedto be disappointed. I had only been home three days when my dear boy, William Sahgucheway, the captain of our school, was taken suddenly illwith inflammation, and a day or two later we were in the greatest alarmabout him. I felt about him as I had about Frederick--that surely hislife would be spared to us, he of all others was the one whom we lookedto as the pride and hope of our Institution; he was nineteen years ofage, and was looking forward and preparing for the ministry. But it wasnot to be. God had called him, and eight days after he was taken illand died. In the next chapter I shall give a little account of his life. 

Three days after William was buried, the bodies of our late dearBishop and Mrs. Fauquier arrived in charge of two of their sons, ithaving been their expressed wish to be buried in our little cemeterywith our Indian children. On Monday, the 22nd, the long funeral cortegemoved slowly to the cemetery. There was a large gathering of peopleboth from the Canadian and American sides--people of all classes andcreeds. First, the clergy in their surplices, then the Indian boys, twoand two, one of them, who had been supported by the late Bishop, carrying a banner with the words, "He rests from his labours;" thencame the hearse bearing the late Bishop's remains, with four horses, all draped, and the Wawanosh girls followed, one of them bearing abanner with the words, "She is not dead, but sleepeth;" then thehearse, and members of the family and other mourners--a long mournfulprocession. A vault had been prepared, and the coffins, covered withflowers, were laid within it, and the latter part of the Burial Serviceread. Thus the good, kind-hearted, self-sacrificing Bishop, the firstBishop of this wild Missionary diocese, and his afflicted yet devotedwife, who had laboured so earnestly for the welfare of the Indiansduring the latter part of their lives, were now laid side by side inthe Indian cemetery to await the joyful resurrection to eternal life. 

The very next grave to the Bishop's was that of Frederick, theNeepigon boy. 

Before the summer holidays commenced, the cemetery gate had once moreto be opened and the earth once more to be turned, for another boy, Simon Altman, from Walpole Island, was dead. This was the fifth boy whohad died during the winter, not from any malignant disease or fever, but from various causes, and seven bodies in all had been committed tothe silent dust. For a time we were afraid that the saddening effectof so many deaths would lead to a complete break up of our work, as theIndians are of course very superstitious and might be afraid to sendany more of their children to us. 

Next autumn our number at both the Homes was very much reduced, stillwe were able to keep on, and now our pupils are once more steadily onthe increase. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

WILLIAM SAHGUCHEWAY. 

William Sahgucheway was born on the Indian Reserve of Walpole Islandabout the year 1862, the exact date is not known. His father and motherboth died eight or ten years ago, and since then he had lived with anuncle and aunt, of both of whom he was very fond. He had two youngerbrothers, but no sisters. One of the brothers, Elijah, was a pupil withWilliam at the Shingwauk Home for two or three years. He left when theHome was temporarily closed in the spring of 1880, and before it hadre-opened he had been called home to his Saviour. William felt the deathof his little brother very deeply. In a letter dated June 4th he says, "Last Sunday my brother Elijah died: but now he is with Jesus and theangels. This text he had in his Bible. 'Blessed are the dead which diein the Lord' (Rev. Xiv. 13); and also the Bible was dated May 30th, 1879. This is important to me, like if it were telling me how he diedand when he died. "

William Sahgucheway came first to the Shingwauk Home on the 17th ofJune, 1875. I had paid a visit to Walpole Island that summer, andWilliam was one who, in company with five or six other children, cameback with me to Sault Ste. Marie. He was at that time a bright, intelligent looking lad of twelve or thirteen years of age, and beingan orphan, he was made rather a special favourite from the first; theattachment grew, and soon the boy learned to look upon me as hisfather, and always commenced his letters "My dear Noosa" (father) whenwriting to me. William like the other boys in the Institution, wassupported by the contributions of Sunday school children, and it wasquite hoped that he would at no distant day have become a student atHuron Theological College. 

William's Indian name was "Wahsashkung"--shining light. A mostappropriate name, for his presence always seemed to bring light andhappiness; he was always so cheerful, so ready to help, so self-denying; grown people and little children were equally his friends. We always regarded that verse in Matt. V. As specially his verse, --"Letyour light so shine before men, that they may see your good works andglorify your Father which is in heaven. "

William accompanied me on many of my travels. He was with me on theshores of Lake Neepigon in 1878, when that pagan tribe was discovered, who for thirty years had been waiting for a Missionary to come to them. He befriended the pagan boy, Ningwinnena, and taught him to pray andlove his Saviour. And when the poor boy died at Christian, six monthsafter entering the Institution, William was among those who knelt athis bedside and watched his last expiring breath. In 1879 Williamaccompanied me to England, and while there wrote a little journal ofhis travels, extracts from which were published. Wherever he went hemade friends, and many white people on both sides of the Atlantic willlong remember his bright, intelligent face, his gentle voice, and kindobliging manner. 

In the spring of 1880, when I was dangerously ill and my lifedespaired of, William was one of the few Indian boys who wereprivileged to come to my bedside, and the only one who was allowed totake turn in watching beside me at night; for whenever there wasanything to be done requiring special effort or care, it was alwaysWilliam who was wanted, and William who was ready. 

About three years before this time the dear boy became truly inearnest about religion, and dedicated his life to the Saviour. From hisearliest boyhood he would appear to have been a child of grace, avoiding what was bad, with a desire to follow what was pure and good;but with nearly all followers of Christ there is probably some periodin life which may be looked back to when the seeds of truth began moredistinctly to germinate in the soul, and that blessed union with theSaviour, which is the joy of all true believers, was for the first timeperhaps fully realized and felt. It was on the 23rd March, 1877, thatthis dear boy, William, after a long earnest talk, knelt down beside meand yielded his heart to the Saviour: "Tabaningayun Jesus, kemeeninninda noongoom suh tebekuk, kuhnuhga kayahhe che tebanindezosewaun keendush chetebanemeyun"--"Lord Jesus, I give my heart to Thee this night, no longer to belong to myself, but to belong to Thee. " I gave him aBible the same evening, and it became his most valued treasure; on thefirst leaf is the verse, "Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wisecast out, " and on the last leaf, "God is love. "

I always tried to impress on those who had dedicated themselves to theSaviour's service, that they should prove the fact of their union withChrist by working for Him and bearing fruit to the glory of His name. William seemed to be especially impressed with this, and rarely a weekpassed without his trying to exercise some influence for good among hiscompanions. Many are the boys now in the Institution who can tracetheir first serious thoughts on their spiritual condition to hisintercourse with them. In January, 1878, a boys' prayer meeting wascommenced weekly, and continued almost without interruption, exceptduring holidays. The boys met on Wednesday evenings after prayers--quite by themselves--one read a portion of Scripture in his ownlanguage, and others offered a few words of simple prayer. It was dueto William and one or two like-minded companions that these littlegatherings were kept together, and there can be little doubt that muchblessing resulted. 

William used latterly to take notes of the sermons which he heard onSundays. 

And now we come to the last scenes of the dear boy's life here on earth. 

I had been away on a tour through the other dioceses, and William, ascaptain of the school, had additional duties devolving upon him duringthe principal's absence. He had charge of the clothing store and had togive out clothing each week to the boys, and perform other dutiesrequiring care and attention. The bodies of the late Bishop Fauquierand Mrs. Fauquier were expected shortly to arrive for interment in theShingwauk cemetery, and preparations had to be made for this; the roadto the cemetery, which was blocked in places by large boulders and oldpine stumps, had to be cleared and levelled. William, of course, wascalled into service for this--no one could clear a road through a roughtract of land better than he. He was busy preparing for the springexaminations, and very anxious to be victor; but books were laid asidewithout a murmur, and he shouldered his pickaxe and shovel, and incompany with two or three other big boys set cheerfully and heartily towork. It seemed strange that his last work on earth should be preparingthis road to the cemetery along which his own body would be carriedbefore those of the Bishop and Mrs. Fauquier arrived. That hard work, with taking a chill, was probably in some measure the cause of hisdeath. He seemed very well on the Friday, the day on which I returnedhome, and joined the boys in offering a hearty welcome, but thefollowing Sunday he seemed to be ailing, and on Monday, although he hadcome down to lessons, and was setting to work, he was trembling andscarcely able to stand. I recommended him to return to his room to bed, which he at once did, but it was very soon evident that a seriousillness was setting in. An Indian woman was engaged to nurse him, andthe doctor from the Sault attended him. For the first few days no greatalarm was felt, and the pain seemed to in some measure subdued. No onewould allow himself to imagine that death was so near. It was not untilFriday evening, the 12th, that a decided change for the worse set in. He became very low and weak, with a slight tendency to delirium. Wewere all very anxious, and the Indian boys took turns watching at hisbedside. On Sunday afternoon ten or twelve of the boys came up to hisroom for prayer. William, though very weak, and only able to say a fewwords at a time, asked permission to speak to them, and he spoke veryearnestly for six or seven minutes in his own language; then we kneltand prayed--prayed with great earnestness that God, if it were His holywill, would permit our dear boy to recover. All Monday he was very ill. Our hopes were sinking. It scarcely seemed possible that the dear boycould live more than another day or two. We had much earnest prayer athis bedside, and the faintest signs of improvement were eagerly lookedfor. He was quite resigned to God's will, wishing to recover if it werehis Father's will, or ready to die if the call had come. In theafternoon he seemed to realize that his end was drawing near. To onewho visited him and remained a short time alone with him he said, "Ishould like to meet my little brother Elijah again; I do so loveElijah. " And after a pause he said, "I don't think I shall live long, Iam getting very weak. " "We all love you very much, " was replied, "weindeed wish to keep you with us, but God's will must be done. " "Yes. "he said, "God's will must be done. May be God will revive me, but Ihave no wish whether to live or die. I wish for what is God's will. ""Is there anything you want?" was asked. "No--thank you, " he repliedwith great effort, then put his hand to his heart and slowly waved itupwards. "I shall soon be singing on the golden shore, " he said. To oneof our little girls who came in he said, "Do you like to see me likethis, Winnie?" "No, " said the little child, the tears trickling downher cheeks. "Perhaps I will get well again if it is God's will, " hesaid, "but I don't know. " To the carpenter, who had lost his wife onlya few months before, he spoke very earnestly: "You see, " he said, "there is nothing to trouble me, nothing at all; God is love, this isall God's love to me; may be God will take me away. " "Poor boy, poor, boy, " ejaculated the carpenter, with tears in his eyes, "how you arechanged; how much you must have suffered. " "Oh, it is just nothing, "said William; "God is love, I can trust in Him: 'the blood--of JesusChrist--cleanseth us--from all sin. '"

I could hardly bear to speak to him of death, --it seemed to me asthough he must live, that a change for the better would set in, andthat the dear boy would revive. I repeated some passages of Scriptureto him and knelt often for prayer. Many, indeed, were the earnestprayers that went up to the throne of grace for the boy's recovery. 

Between eleven and half-past he was left for the night in charge oftwo Indian boys, Kahgaug and Willis. They were to keep hot bricks tohis hands and feet, and administer a stimulating mixture andnourishment, and at two o'clock their place would be taken by two otherboys. Having been up a great part of the preceding night, I thenretired to rest, to be called if there was any change for the worse. 

Just at half-past two there came a knock at the door, --"William isworse; please come at once. "

I hurried up to the sick room as quickly as possible, but it was amoment too late--the dear boy had breathed his last. His hands wereclasped on his breast, his eyes lifted to heaven, a smile just fadingon his lips, and thus he had left the earth and gone to meet hisSaviour. Three boys only were with him when he died--Wigwaus, Benjamin, and Davidans. We knelt together, and I offered up prayer, humblycommending the soul of the dear brother departed into the hands ofAlmighty God, as into the hands of a faithful Creator and most mercifulSaviour. 

A feeling of awe seemed to pervade the whole household when, at earlydawn, the tolling of the school-bell told only too plainly that thebeloved spirit had departed. Never was a boy more loved by his play-mates or more honoured and respected by his teachers. As he lived hedied, trusting in the merits of an Almighty Saviour for his salvation. 

On the evening of his death his dear form was laid by loving hands inthe coffin, and some white flowers placed on his breast; the lid wasdrawn back a little, and on it were placed his Prayer-book, his Bible(open at I John iv. ), a photograph of him in a frame, and a single waxtaper. Then the folding doors leading into the back school-room wereopened and the boys gathered around and sang the hymn he loved, "Safein the arms of Jesus. " Scarcely an eye was dry, and many a sigh washeaved, and many a sob broke the silence of the apartment as they cameup one by one to look on the marble face of their dead companion, andto imprint a kiss on his cold brow. Many of the boys would not besatisfied with coming once; they came again and again, and some laidtheir faces down on his and sobbed. Several hymns were sung: "Here wesuffer grief and pain, " "There is a happy land, " and "My God, myFather, while I stray, " and prayer also was offered. 

The funeral was on Thursday, Ascension day, at nine o'clock in themorning. The coffin was brought into the school-room by six boys, whohad been appointed pall-bearers, and I read the opening sentences ofthe burial service and special psalms and lessons; then, after a hymn, was the sermon, from I John iii. 2, "We know that when He shall appear, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is, " and I read someextracts from William's diary, which he had commenced keeping fouryears before; they show what the boy's thoughts were and how near helived to his Saviour. 

_Jan_. 27, 1878. --"O Lord Jesus Christ, I have given my heart toThee. I belong to Thee, and I want to work for Thee as long as I live. Give me Thy Holy Spirit in mine heart. May I not get cold and careless, but may I always be full of love to Thee. May I not be a dead branch, but may I bear much fruit to the glory of Thy name. Amen. "

_March_ 5. --"O Lord Jesus Christ, give me Thy Holy Spirit that Imay be able to fight the temptations of the world, the flesh, and thedevil. "

_Oct_. 1. --"O God, I give my body unto Thee, and wherever youwant me to go, I will go, and whatever you want me to do as long as Ilive, I shall do this for the name of Christ. "

_March_ 21, 1879. --"O Lord. I am trying to work for Thee. Am Itrying to walk in the light every day? Am I going to serve God or servethe devil? Let me not think too much of the things of this world. Letme more think about the things of heaven. This is all, --for Christ'ssake. "

After another hymn had been sung, a procession was formed to thecemetery, and the dear boy's body was laid in the grave, earth toearth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of aglorious resurrection to eternal life. 

There was one more duty to be performed on the return of the funeralparty to the school-room, and that was to distribute some of the dearboy's books and treasures to those who would specially value them. Itook for my share the Bible which I had given him four years before, and an ancient arrow head, which he had dug up while making the road tothe cemetery, and had laughingly remarked that he would keep it till hedied. The rest of the things were packed in a box and sent home to hisaunt. 

Who shall estimate the amount of good done by this earnest whole-souledIndian boy during his short career? He sowed good seed, and we trustthere may be an abundant harvest in the hearts and lives of the otherboys. When asked how many of them had received special benefit by theirintercourse with William, twenty boys rose to their feet. Many testifiedthat they had been spoken to by him of the Saviour, others that they hadbeen checked by him in doing something sinful, others, that he hadtalked or read or offered prayer with them. What a blessed testimony, that in a school of fifty-four boys, twenty should have been benefitedby the example and teaching of one boy who loved the Saviour! May Godthe Holy Spirit bless this simple recital to the hearts of those whoread it, and may other boys, whether white or Indian, be stirred intheir souls to follow the example of this young soldier of the cross, and let their light shine before men as did this young Indian boy--Wahsashkung--Shining light--William Sahgucheway. 

CHAPTER XL. 

OUR INDIAN HOMES. 

Come and visit our Indian Homes now, this summer of 1884. No longer arewe in the midst of bush and swamp, as we were ten years ago. The landhas been cleared up and a good part of it brought under cultivation, fences have been put up, and several new buildings added. Let us visitthe Shingwauk Home first. We may go by water, and land at the Shingwaukdock; there is the boat-house, with our new boat, _The Missionary_, given to us by the children of St. James's Sunday-school, Toronto, floating gently on the dark water within. We have no need to walk up tothe Institution. There is an excellent tramway, which has just beencompleted, and visitors are requested to take their seats in thetramcar, and some of the Indian boys will push them up to the Home. Wecan already see the Institution over the brow of the hill, and a littleto the right the Memorial Chapel, and nearer to us the Factory, and offto the left the boot shop and carpenter's cottage. We note that thereare neat stone walls round some of the fields, and a white picket fenceinclosing the Institution; the old-fashioned lych-gate in front of theChapel also strikes us, with the hops clambering over it; but we musthasten on and enter the Home. As we walk up the central drive we noticethat the Institution is a substantial stone building, the bareness ofthe walk relieved by a pretty trellis-work, up which hops and othercreeping plants are climbing; to our right is a cottage-wing, which isthe principal's residence, and to our left the entrance hall, with anornamental belfry over it; a little further to our left is another smallstone building--the dairy. We enter the hall, and, having written ournames in the Visitors' book, we ascend the oak staircase and visit theschool-room. Here the boys are all busy at work with their slates andbooks, and Mr. Wotton, the master, is instructing a class by the black-board. The school-room is nicely fitted up with modern desks and otherappliances; on the walls are large maps and pictures, which give it acheerful look; the ceiling is panelled in woods of two shades. Openinginto the school-room is a smaller room, a class-room separated from itby three folding-doors. Ascending the staircase, we visit thedormitories. The east dormitory for the senior boys is fitted withEnglish iron bedsteads, the junior dormitory has wooden bedsteadspainted blue, and wide enough for two little fellows to sleep in each;the front dormitory, which is the largest of them all, is hung withhammocks, --there is sleeping accommodation altogether for about sixty-five boys. Descending once more, we pass through the lavatory and thematron's sitting-room down to the dining-hall, and we note as we goalong every here and there a shelf with three white pails full of waterand an ominous F painted on them. Evidently experience has taughtcaution. The dining-hall is a fine large room, the ceiling panelled likethe school-room. It has five long tables, at each of which twelve orfourteen boys can sit comfortably. One side of the room we notice israiled off--this is called the pen, and here the boys have to wait inpatience while the tables are prepared for meals. Adjoining the dining-hall are the kitchen on one side, the work-room on the other. Everything looks clean and tidy and well kept--the matron takes pride inhaving her department all in good order. In the work-room we find theIndian servant, Eliza, working at the sewing-machine making garments forthe boys. Passing on through the other doorway, we cross a passage, andenter the class-room where John Esquimau is sitting at his studies, reading theology and studying Latin and Greek, with a view to enteringthe ministry. Adjoining this room is the office and dispensary. 

And now we must leave the Institution building and visit the Chapel(see Frontispiece), a little winding path under the trees leads us toit. The building is of stone, set in a frame-work of wood, which, painted dark, gives a most picturesque appearance. There is a deepporch at the western entrance with stained glass window; within areheavy oak doors with ornamental mountings, and these, being opened, give us a view of the interior of the Chapel, and a very pretty view itis. In front of us are pillars supporting the chancel arch, and oneither side a smaller arch, one enclosing the vestry, the other theorgan-chamber; the space between the top of these arches and the roofbeing filled with fretwork. The windows are stained glass. The pulpitand prayer-desk and all the seats are of oak, and nicely carved. Underthe chancel window is an oak reredos, on which are inscribed the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Commandments in Indian. The altar-clothis a very handsome one, given by a lady in England, and the stone fontwas presented by relatives of the late Bishop. Service is held in theChapel twice every Sunday, the pupils from both Homes attending; and onWednesday evenings there is a short service and catechizing. 

Crossing to the other side of the road after leaving the Chapel, weenter the sash and door factory, and are immediately deafened by thedin of the various machines in motion. Three Indian boys are at workhere under the foreman, making doors, window-sash mouldings, and turnedwork of all descriptions. The boys are old pupils who have passedthrough the Institution, and now receive wages for their work, but theyattend school every evening, which is a great advantage to them. One ortwo of the younger boys are also commencing to learn carpenter work atthe factory. Crossing to the other cottage to the left of theInstitution, we enter the boot shop; here we find another old pupil atwork, --Harry Nahwaquageezhik, --and a very good boot maker he is. Hedoes all the work for the Institutions, both mending and making, andhas one or two younger boys under his instruction. When not required atthe boot shop, Harry goes to garden or farm work. 

And now we must drive out to the Wawanosh Home and pay it a visitalso. It is upwards of two miles from Shingwauk, up the northern roadand away from the river. As we drive up the road bordered with fieldsof grain or grass on either side, or shaded by birch and fir trees, wecatch sight of the stone building to our right, in a nest of greenfoliage; and on the left white garments flapping in the breeze bespeakthe presence of the laundry, with the laundress' cottage close beside. A number of the girls are on the verandah, or amusing themselves on thegrass, for it is play-time and school is over. Miss Cunningham, thelady Superintendent, meets us at the door, and conducts us through thebuilding; on the left as we enter are the school-room and work-roomwith folding doors between, and on the right Miss Cunningham's littlesitting-room, and the girls' dining-room; then at the back are thekitchen and wash-house, and overhead the girls' dormitories andlavatory and other bed-rooms. All is kept very clean and neat, and doescredit to those who are in charge. 

Such are our buildings and our work, and such the efforts that we aremaking for the evangelization and training of these poor Ojebway Indians. 

And now perhaps the question will be asked:--

DO THESE INDIAN HOMES SEEM LIKELY TO PROVE A SUCCESS?

Have we reason to expect that we shall, in due time, achieve ourobject, and raise the Indian to a position equal to that of his whitebrethren? Is this idea of inducing them to exchange the bow and arrowfor the carpenter's bench, the war-club for the blacksmith's hammer, the net and canoe for the plough, a mere visionary one, or is it ascheme that we have a good prospect of seeing carried into effect? Thefollowing questions suggest themselves and we are prepared with theanswers:--

1. Are the Indians willing to make the change? Yes, for the most part, they desire it. 

2. Are their sons capable of receiving education and acquiring aknowledge of the various trades sufficient to make a livelihood? Werefer to the appended letters from the masters of the various tradesthat our boys are learning: and as to education, our own experience isthat Indian boys can learn as fast as white boys, and many of them will_retain_ what they have learnt a good deal better. They readdistinctly, without any foreign accent, write a capital hand, and arevery fair arithmeticians. 

3. Will they stick to their work? Yes. We were doubtful about this atfirst, but now we can say yes. Our apprentice boys work ten hours aday, six days a week, and very rarely ask for a holiday. Having oncebecome accustomed to regular work, they like it, and will stick to itas well as any white man. 

4. Will their love for a wild life ever be eradicated? Perhaps not. Whyshould it? Our boys, all of them, thoroughly enjoy a "camp out, " such aswe have sometimes in the summer, but scarcely one of them would wish togo back and spend his whole life in this manner. They know that a lifedepending on hunting and fishing means poverty, dirt, and ignorance; andthey don't mean to go back to this. We don't wish to un-Indianize themaltogether, we would not overcurb their free spirit; we would not pluckthe feather from their cap or the sash from their waist or the moccasinfrom their foot. They are a proud, grand nation in their way. An Indianwas never a slave any more than a Briton. An Indian has no words ofprofanity in his language. An Indian is noted for his loyalty to theBritish Crown. Let them hand down their noble and good qualities totheir children. But in the matter of procuring a livelihood let us, fortheir own good, induce them to lay aside the bow and fish-spear, and, inlieu thereof, put their hand to the plough, or make them wield the toolof the mechanic. 

We hope to see the day, if it please God, when these Indian Homesshall be three times their size, and the number of the pupils derivingbenefit from them shall be three-fold increased. 

The tailor to whom one boy was apprenticed writes as follows:--

"DEAR SIR, --Aubee has all the necessary qualifications to make a goodtailor. I think it would be better for him to come every week, insteadof every second week, as at present. 

Yours &c. , W. VAUGHAN. "

_From the Printer_. 

"The Indian boys who are employed in the Shingwauk Printing Office--incharge of which I have been for the past eighteen months--have, duringthat time, made very considerable progress. I have found them, as arule, apt, obedient, steady and clever, and do not doubt, that incourse of time and with proper education, they will make excellentprinters. 

S. REID. "

_From the Tinsmith_. 

"DEAR SIR, --I think that you have not a boy in the Home betterdeserving of praise than Pedahjewun. He will make a first-classtinsmith. He has been with me two years and I never knew him to tell mea lie in that time. 

H. P. PIM. "

_From the Carpenter and Builder_. 

"SIR, --From the time Jackson has been under me, he has learnt thetrade fast. He is fond of it, is steady and obliging, and I think willmake a good mechanic as joiner and carpenter. 

Yours truly, E. MURTON (Builder). "

CHAPTER XLI. 

A POW-WOW AT GARDEN RIVER. 

The following is an account of a visit paid by the Bishop and Mrs. Sullivan to Garden River, where Indian names were conferred on them:--

Garden River was reached about 6 p. M. On Saturday, August 29th, thetent pitched, the vacant Mission house occupied, fires lighted, waterbrought from the river, and other preparations made for the night, theboys of the party voting, with true tramp-like instinct, that theypreferred slumbering in the new mown hay in the barn. After tea underthe shade of a spreading pine tree, the Bishop and myself spent sometime visiting the Indian houses, among them that of an old man ofeighty, who had been blind for four years, but bore his affliction, augmented as it was by other trials, with an uncomplaining submission. Another dwelling visited was that of Chief Buhkwujjenene, already knownto our readers. On the table his Indian Testament lay open, hisconstant study, in which, he told the Bishop, he had taught himself toread his own tongue. 

At 9 p. M. All assembled in the little church, and there, by the lightof "a lantern dimly burning, " and amid a holy calm, unbroken save bythe rustling of the leaves at the open windows, joined in the eveningsacrifice of prayer and praise. 

Soon after breakfast next morning the tinkling of the church bell washeard, and groups of two or three were seen assembling, and passinginto the sacred building, with a quiet, silent reverence. The service, with the exception of the Old Testament lesson and the sermon, whichwas interpreted, was in Ojebway, and old and young listened attentivelyas the preacher told the story of the Brazen Serpent, and pointed hishearers to Him who said of Himself, "I, if I be lifted up, will drawall men unto Me. "

At 3 p. M. The bell was rung, the flags hoisted, and the whole partyushered into the school-house to find the platform furnished with chairs, the centre one carefully reserved for the "Kechemakadawekoonuhya" (thebig black coat). By the time the feast was over the sun was setting. Nowthe table was put aside, benches arranged, and the signal for thepow-wow, given on the drum, when all who could find space to sit or standcrowded in. A few minutes' silence followed, and then Chief Buhkwujjenenerose, advanced to the platform, shook hands (an invariable preliminary toan Indian speech), and said, "Chief's, principal men, brothers, andsisters, we were told many days ago that our new Bishop was coming amongus, and we decided to have a cup of tea with him. Now he has come, andhas eaten and drank with us. Now (turning to the Bishop) we are glad thatyou have come, and that you have told us the Gospel. " His way being pavedby this brief introduction, the Bishop addressed them, saying that hethanked them for the feast they had prepared, and the very kind welcomethey had given to him. When Jesus Christ was on earth, Matthew thepublican and others made feasts for Him, and as the Indians had receivedhim in Christ's name and for His sake, therefore they would receive thefulfilment of the promise which Christ gave, that "whosoever gave to adisciple a cup of cold water only should in no wise lose his reward. " Athis last visit he told them he would go to school and learn theirlanguage, and he had done this, and as he had a good teacher, Mr. Wilson, he had been able to read part of their beautiful services yesterday intheir own tongue; it was a hard language to learn, but he would persevereuntil he was able to preach to them. He had some good news to tell themabout their church. A gentleman in Toronto, whom he had never seen, hadsent him 50 dollars in aid of it (great clapping of hands), and more, hewas sure, was on the way, for God never failed to hear and help Hischildren who prayed to Him in their trouble and difficulty. He had heardthat they were going to give him a new name. He had had two namesalready, first Edward Sullivan, then Edward Algoma, and he hoped that thenew one would be a good one, and that he would not be ashamed to tell ithis friends and theirs in Montreal and Toronto. 

After this the other old Chief, a fine looking specimen of the aboriginalrace, rose from his seat, and, divesting himself of his loose scarletjacket, put on a fantastic head-dress composed of eagle feathers, thenthrew round his neck a blue ribbon with a heavy silver medal suspendedfrom either end (one presented to his father by George III, and the otherto himself by the Prince of Wales). Then fastening on his right wrist anarmlet made of polecat skins, he stepped on to the platform, andapologizing, for the lack of a portion of his costume, on account of theexcessive heat, proceeded in highly poetic strains, and with a fervid, impassioned manner, to which no description could do justice, to picturethe glory of the rising sun, how at first the night is dark, very dark, and the darkness clears a little, and the light looks through, and thegreat sun appears, creeping up slowly higher and higher, from east towest, till the whole heaven is filled with his brightness, making allthings glad--"so, " said the old Chief, turning suddenly to the Bishop, "has your teaching been, and our hearts are glad because of the newlight, and henceforth you will be called 'Tabahsega, ' _i. E. _, 'spreading or radiant light. '" Here he extended his hand, and said, "Boozhoo (_i. E. _, good day) Tabahsega, " a salutation which wasre-echoed by the others, who, coming forward in succession, repeated theceremony of hand-shaking. The old Chief then beckoned to the Bishop'swife to come forward, and going back to his former figure, to bring outthe idea of the soft roseate hue that overspreads the sky before therising of the sun, announced that her name should be "Misquahbenooqua"(_i. E. _, rosy dawn), at which there was great applause, and a numberof squaws came forward and confirmed the title given by going through thehand-shaking process again. The evening was by this time far advanced, but there still remained a part of the ceremony which could not possiblybe dispensed with. This was the smoking of the pipe of peace. The pipewas no ordinary one, but about four feet long, the bowl carved of stone, and the stem of wood in spiral form, dyed with alternate lines of red andblue. With this in his hand, duly prepared and lit, old Shingwauk stoodin the centre of the group, and, first taking a few preliminary whiffs(for the pipe to go out before all have smoked is unlucky), presented itto each, of the guests, beginning with the Bishop, who performed his partas well as could be expected of one who was a stranger to the art, theothers following his example, so far, at least in some cases, as puttingthe pipe to their lips. This being the last scene in this interestingdrama, the Bishop addressed a few parting words of counsel to thosepresent, through the interpreter, expressing the hope that, as they hadfeasted together very happily on earth, they might be permitted, in God'smercy, to sit down together at the marriage supper of the Lamb. He thenconcluded with a collect and the benediction in Indian, after which ourkind and hospitable entertainers dispersed to their homes, and thevisitors returned by boat to Sault Ste. Marie. 

CHAPTER XLII. 

GLAD TIDINGS FROM NEEPIGON. 

I shall now close this little volume with a letter from, the Rev. R. Renison, who is labouring most devotedly among the poor NeepigonIndians. It is dated February, 1884, and it speaks for itself. 

"On Monday, Feb. 12th, Oshkahpukeda and myself left Ningwinnenang tovisit a family of pagan Indians about forty miles from this Mission. Our blankets, overcoats, provisions, and cooking utensils, made a packof forty pound weight for each to carry; over lakes, through the densebush, up steep hills which were sometimes almost insurmountable. It wasone of the most beautiful winter mornings that I have ever yetexperienced. The sun shone brightly, and it was just cold enough torender a brisk walk enjoyable. At 11 a. M. We reached a wigwam at thenorth end of McIntyre Bay, which was occupied by Mishael Obeseekun, their wives and children, who had left the Mission some time previousfor the purpose of snaring rabbits, which at present is the chiefsupport of the Indians. Here we received a hearty welcome; a large potof rabbits was quickly cooked--we enjoyed them thoroughly; and all thelittle children declared that they were glad to see their Missionary. Mishael's wife having noticed that my moccasin was badly torn, took herneedle and thread and had it fixed 'in less than no time. '

Before leaving I took the Indian New Testament and read the followingverse:--'This is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptation thatChrist Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief. 'I find it a good plan, when reading to the Indians, to take one text ata time. They differ very much from the white people in this respect, asyou may read it over and over twenty times and yet they will be glad tohear it again. The result of this plan is, that many of the Indians atour Mission have committed to memory several verses. I was muchastonished as well as delighted a few days ago to find that Obeseekuncould repeat accurately ten texts. 

Well, at 2 p. M. We reached 'Kookookuhooseebee' (owl river). Wefollowed this river for about half an hour, and then entered the bush. We walked till sun down, and then camped near the shore of BlackSturgeon Lake. We had a splendid fire, as there was plenty of dry pineclose at hand. We ate heartily, but slept little, as the night was verycold. We had breakfast by moonlight, and then recommenced our journey. 

Our route lay through the middle of the lake, which is about ten mileslong. As we again entered the bush at its north end, to our greatastonishment we met the very pagan Indian whom we were so anxious tosee. He had a small tebaugan drawn by one dog--was on his way to the'Neepigon Post' for pork and flour. His wife and children were veryhungry, rabbits and fish this winter being so scarce that several ofthe Indians are obliged to abandon their usual hunting grounds. 

'Kebuk, ' for this is the pagan's name, was very glad to see us, alarge fire was quickly made, snow melted, pork fried, and soon theMissionary, guide, and pagan were enjoying a hearty meal. 

About two years ago, and upon two different occasions, I had visitedthis pagan family. I tried to preach Christ to them the Saviour of allmen. I must confess that after twice travelling a distance of eightymiles through the dense bush, that I was a little discouraged anddepressed in spirits to find that the invitation was refused, and fulland free salvation through the precious blood of Jesus rejected. 

And now for the third time the Missionary and pagan meet face to face. He knows full well the errand on which I have come. As we sat for a fewminutes in silence around the blazing fire I prayed to my Father insecret to enlighten his understanding, and give him grace to receivethe Gospel message and enter the fold of the Good Shepherd. 

'Owh suh kadabwayandung kuhya kabaptizooind tahbemahjeah, owhduhyabwendusig tahnahneboomah. ' ('He that believeth and is baptizedshall be saved, and he that believeth not shall be condemned. ') Theonce proud pagan now kneels in prayer; he receives Christ rejoicingly;accepts, this time, the Gospel invitation. 'Proceed on your journey, 'said he, 'go to my wigwam, baptize all my children, and next spring, when navigation opens, I will go to the Mission and myself and wifewill be baptized in the church at Ningwinnenang. This is my wish, Iwill build a house on the Mission ground and am very anxious that mychildren should be properly instructed. ' After bidding us a friendly'boozhoo, ' he proceeded on his journey to the Neepigon Post, and wehastened toward the wigwam from which we were still ten miles distant. 

At about 3 p. M. We reached Muskrat Lake, which is four miles long. Onthe opposite shore we saw the pagan's daughter fishing for pike withhook and line under the ice. When she first noticed us approaching, shequickly disappeared in the bush, entered the wigwam and apprized themof our coming. 

When we arrived we found eight pagans, including two old women of 80and 75 years old, one girl and four children. After many friendly'boozhoos' and hearty expressions of welcome, the Missionary and guideseated on shingoob branches rested their wearied limbs beside a blazingfire, whilst the two old women smoking their pipes and preparingrabbits and pike for dinner, were heard to say 'pooch tah pukedawaugpooch tah-kadishkhusk-enawug' (they must be very hungry and must have ahearty meal). After dinner the Indian New Testament was introduced, thesimple Gospel expounded and some of Christ's beautiful invitationsread. I tried to prove to them from God's own Word that we all need aSaviour, for that all have sinned and come short of the glory of God;that there is one way only by which we can be saved, namely, byentering the fold of the good Shepherd; that Jesus Christ himself isthe door, 'He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved. '

It appears that nearly two months ago these nine pagans hadunanimously agreed to become Christians and join our mission atNingwinnenang. The seed sown two years ago was not sown in vain, thebread cast upon the waters is found after many days, God's word willnot return to Him void. One of the old women, 80 years old, with onlyone eye, determines to return with the Missionary, a distance of 40miles through the dense bush and over frozen lakes, to be instructed atthe Mission and prepared for baptism. The young woman and four childrenwere baptized. The rest of the family, namely an old man of 75, 'Kebuk, ' and his wife will (D. V. ) be baptized in the spring in ourlittle church, and then we hope to have quite a nice congregation. 

In conclusion, let me add that poor old Wesqua, who returned with usto the Mission, has not yet recovered from the fatigue of the journey, the last day's travelling in particular for her was very trying. We hadto cross an arm of the lake about 15 miles in breadth, and the piercingnorth wind was too much for an old woman of 80, whose entire clothingconsisted of an old canvass bag rent in two and rolled around her legsfor leggings, her skirts of blue calico did not reach much below herknees, and a piece of old blanket thrown over her head and shoulderswas all that she had to save her from the sharp wind which blows atintervals across the Neepigon Lake. When she arrived the blood hadalmost ceased to circulate, her hands were numb, and she was indeed ina pitiable condition. Half a teaspoonful of stimulant in a cup of warmwater was all we had to give. She revived, and after a supper of breadand tea was soon herself again. 

Let me ask some of my Christian friends to whom 'the lines have fallenin pleasant places' to remember the poor Indians at Neepigon. Cast offwarm clothing even of an inferior quality, will be thankfully receivedand gratefully acknowledged; and we trust that those who cannot assistus from a pecuniary point of view will at least remember us in theirprayers. "

THE END. 

Trancriber's note: The following words (may be mis-spelt) in originaltext, are retained to get the flavour of the author's language: