BOOK II

NARRATIVE OF A YEAR'S RESIDENCE

AMONG THE INDIAN TRIBES OF

THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS

Madison Forks,[246] 15th August, 1842.

Rev. and dear Father:

After a journey of four months and a half across an ocean of prairies

and mountains, where we met many an obstacle, we arrived this day a

year ago, under the auspices of the Queen of Heaven, at one of the

Forts of the honorable company of Hudson Bay, called Fort Hall. Mr.

Ermantiger, the estimable commander of this Fort, received us in the

most friendly manner, and loaded us with favours. At this place we

found the vanguard of our dear neophytes awaiting us. How joyful and

happy was this meeting. What had they not done to obtain Black Gowns

to visit them? Four times had their deputations crossed the Western

desert--eight of their people had perished on the road, three from

sickness, and five fell victims to the Scioux tribe. Twice from the

Bitter Root river almost all their people had transported themselves

to the Green river, a distance of more than five hundred miles from

their usual encampment. In fine, those who then joined us had at the

first news of our approach again traversed the half of that space to

meet us; nor could they, on [CLXXIV] first seeing us, express their

feelings but by their silence. Very soon, however, they gave vent to

the grateful sentiments of their hearts, in such a manner as to

astonish us. "I am very ignorant and wicked," exclaimed the chief

Wistelpo to his companions, "nevertheless I am grateful to the Great

Spirit for all he has done for us." Detailing all the benefits he had

received he terminated his discourse in the following manner: "Yes, my

dear friends, my heart is filled with contentment, notwithstanding its

wickedness. I do not despair of the goodness of God, I only wish for

life to employ it in prayer; never will I give up praying; I will

continue to pray until my death, and when that hour comes I will throw

myself into the arms of the Master of Life. If it be His will that I

should be lost I will submit to his decree. Should he wish to save me

I will bless him forever. Once more I repeat, my heart is happy. What

can we do to prove to our Fathers that we love them."--Here the chief

made some practical reflections.

They informed us that since I left them in 1840 their brothers had

always remained in the same dispositions; that according to the plan I

had laid out for them, all the people met twice every day, and three

times on Sundays, to recite in common the prayers I had taught them.

They also told us that the chest containing the sacred ornaments and

vases, which we had left in their charge, was carried about as the ark

of salvation, wherever they went; that five or six children, dying

after having received the sacrament of baptism, had taken their flight

to heaven; that a young warrior, the day after his baptism, had died

from the effects of a wound, which, without the aid of a miracle,

would have carried him off long before; and finally, that a young

child, finding herself at the point of death, solicited baptism with

the greatest earnestness, and after having received [CLXXV] this

favour from the hands of Peter, an Iroquois, she repeated three times

to the witnesses of her happiness: "pray for me--pray for me--pray for

me;" then she prayed herself and sang canticles with a stronger

voice than any of the others, and upon drawing her last breath, she

exclaimed, pointing towards heaven: "Oh! what a beautiful sight! I

behold Mary, my mother, happiness does not belong to earth, in heaven

alone must you seek it. Listen to what the Black Gowns tell you,

because they profess the truth;" and immediately afterwards expired.

[Illustration: Indian Mode of Travelling]

We left Fort Hall on the 19th of the month, conducted by our new

guides, who were not long in giving us striking proof of their

devotion towards us. At the crossing of a very rapid river, called the

Lewis' Fork or Snake River, from the savages who people its borders,

one of our brothers, not being able to guide the mules of his cart,

was dragged into a place so deep that his whole equipage was plunged

under the water; immediately the good savages threw themselves into

the river, raised the cart out of the water, employed their hands and

feet so usefully, that only three mules were drowned and some bags of

provisions lost.

The 29th we met near the source of the Missouri, called the Beaver Head,

a detachment of Flat Heads, having as their leader Ensyla, called the

Little Chief, who has since received in baptism the name of Michael, on

account of his fidelity and courage. A few days previous, a party of

Indians having been discovered on the adjacent heights, a cry was raised

of "the Black Feet! the Black Feet!" Instantly the little camp put

itself on the defensive. Two of the bravest Flat Heads, lifting up their

muskets in the air, started off at full gallop to reconnoitre the enemy.

Already they had disappeared from our view, leaving us somewhat anxious,

but they soon returned, at the head of about ten [CLXXVI] strangers.

They were not the Black Feet, but a party of the Banac tribe, a species

of men half inimical and half friendly to the Flat Heads, who for that

very reason, as we shall see later, were more to be feared than open

enemies. When Michael joined us, the camp of these people was already

united with ours. Their chief and Michael knew each other but too well,

from having once been engaged in an affair in which Michael, finding

himself shamefully betrayed and attacked by a whole Banac village, had

only been able to save himself and six men, who accompanied him, by

killing the brother of the Banac chief, with eight of his people. They

nevertheless shook hands with each other, and separated the next day,

without appearing to entertain any unpleasant recollections. I had a

conversation with the Banac chief on the subject of prayer. He listened

attentively to what I told him, and promised to do amongst his people

what the Flat Heads did amongst theirs. The 30th, after having wound

through a mountain pass, to which we gave the name of the Fathers'

Defile, we advanced as far as a large plain, on the western verge of

which the Flat Heads were encamped. As we drew near, runners approached

us constantly. Already, Stiettiet Loodzo, surnamed the bravest of the

brave, and distinguished from the others by a large red ribbon, had

presented himself. Soon after, we perceived at a distance another

savage, of tall stature, hastening towards us with rapid strides. At the

same time, many cried out--"Paul," "Paul;" and indeed it was Paul,

surnamed "Big Face," the great chief of the nation; Paul, who, owing to

his virtue and his great age, had been baptized the preceding

year--Paul, whom they thought absent, but who had just arrived, as

though by God's special permission, that he might have the satisfaction

of presenting us himself to his [CLXXVII] people. At sun-set we were in

the midst of a most affecting scene. The Missionaries were surrounded by

their neophytes--men, women, young people, and children in their

mothers' arms, all anxious to be among the first to shake hands with us.

Every heart was moved. That evening was certainly beautiful. On the

feast of the holy name of Mary, the whole camp renewed the consecration

of themselves to their future Patroness, which had been previously made

by the vanguard of the first settlement.

About the time the Church celebrates the feast of Mary's pure heart, it

seemed as though the God of the Christians wished to give to _her_ new

children the consolation of seeing the principal eras in their lives

coincide, and in some manner become identified with those happy days

consecrated especially to her honor. It was on the feast which the

Church celebrates in memory of her triumph, that we first met with the

Flat Heads; it will be on the 24th of September, also one of the

festivals, that we shall arrive on the borders of our little Paraguay,

and on the feast of the Holy Rosary we shall select a beautiful spot for

our first settlement, and call it by the holy name of Mary. It is again

remarkable that the nomination took place on another feast called the

Patrocinium, or Patronage of the Blessed Virgin; and thus, Mary, chosen

patroness of the settlement, was hailed for the first time on this spot

with the angelical salutation, accompanied by the ringing of bells. It

was a great consolation for us to speak of her goodness, in the presence

of the representatives of twenty-six different nations. I forgot to

mention that on the day we took possession of the Blessed Mary's new

demesne, we set up a large cross in the middle of the camp, a

circumstance rendered more striking, from having, as they assured me,

been predicted [CLXXVIII] by the young girl, called Mary, of whom I

spoke to you before. How much I wished that all those who take a sincere

interest in the progress of our holy religion, could have been present.

How their hearts would have glowed within them on beholding all the good

Flat Heads, from the great chief to the smallest child, piously coming

up to press their lips to the wood which was the instrument of the

world's salvation, and on their bended knees taking the solemn promise

of dying a thousand times rather than abandon prayer, (religion.) I

started the 28th October for Fort Colville, which is situated on the

Columbia river, to procure provisions.[247] Ours had become so scanty,

and we entertained such slight hopes of obtaining them, that we had

already thought of converting into fishermen the carpenters of our

settlement. In case of their not being successful, and thereby unable to

supply our wants, we intended accompanying the savages on their hunting

expeditions. Our only building as yet was a wooden house, without a

roof, and the winter had already set in. We began by recommending our

wants to God, and with God's assistance we found ourselves, on St.

Martin's day, in possession of a temporary chapel, large enough to

contain all the colony, with about one hundred of the Pierced Nose

tribe, whom curiosity had attracted to the neighborhood. Since that

period they have been so careful in avoiding sin, so exact in attending

our instructions, and the fruit of the divine word has been so visible

in our settlement, that on the 3d of December two hundred and two

catechumens were ranged in our chapel, waiting for baptism. This was

too beautiful an offering to St. Francis Xavier, apostle of the Indians,

not to excite the fury of man's great enemy.--Accordingly, for a few

days previously we encountered multiplied trials. To speak only of the

most visible, the prefect, [CLXXIX] interpreter and sexton fell sick.

The very eve of the great day the environs were laid waste by a sort of

hurricane--the church windows were broken, large trees were rooted up,

and three huts were thrown down; but these obstacles, far from

prejudicing the triumph of religion, served only to render it still more

striking.

The catechumens having assembled in the chapel, which had been adorned

with its most beautiful ornaments, and where they had been conducted

for the more immediate preparations of their hearts prior to receiving

the great sacrament of baptism, were so struck by the imposing

appearance of the chapel, and the melodious sounds of the organ, now

heard for the first time in the wilderness, that they were not able to

express their admiration. The next day, with the exception of the time

the Fathers took for their dinner, they were in church from eight

o'clock in the morning until half past ten in the evening. How

delightful it was to listen to the intelligent answers of the good

savages to all the questions proposed to them. Never will those who

were present forget the pious spirit of their replies. The

rehabilitations of their marriages succeeded baptism, but not without

great sacrifices on their part, because, until that time, the poor

Indians had been ignorant of the unity and indissolubility of the

conjugal tie. We could not help admiring the mighty effects of the

sacrament of baptism in their souls. One poor husband hesitated as to

which of his wives he should select. The oldest of them, perceiving

his irresolution, said to him: "You know how much I love you, and I am

also certain that you love me, but you cherish another more; she is

younger than I am. Well, remain with her; leave me our children, and

in that manner we can all be baptized." I could cite many such traits.

[CLXXX] I will here begin the narrative of my journey to Colville. On

the eve of my departure I informed the Flat Heads of my intentions. I

requested them to procure some horses, and a small escort, in case I

should meet with any of their enemies, the Black Feet. They brought to

me seventeen horses, the number I had asked them; and ten young and

brave warriors, who had already been often pierced with balls and

arrows in different skirmishes, presented themselves to accompany me

on my journey. With pleasure I bear testimony to their devotedness,

their child-like simplicity and docility, politeness, complaisance and

rare hilarity; but, above all, to their exemplary piety.

These good Flat Heads endeavored in every manner to divine and

anticipate all my wants. On the afternoon of the 28th October, as I

have already said, we commenced our march, and encamped at a distance

of ten miles from St. Mary's. That day we met no one but a solitary

hunter, who was carrying a buck, the half of which he offered to us,

with great eagerness. This furnished us with an excellent supper, and

a good breakfast for the next morning. The 29th, snow fell in large

flakes, notwithstanding which we continued our march. We crossed, in

the course of the day, a fine stream, without a name--the same one

which the famous travellers, Lewis and Clarke, ascended in 1806, on

their way to the section of country occupied by the tribe of the

Pierced Noses, (or Sapetans.) I will call it the river of St. Francis

Borgia.[248] Six miles further south we crossed the beautiful river of

St. Ignatius. It enters the plain of the Bitter Root,--which we shall

henceforward call St. Mary's,--by a beautiful defile, commonly called,

by the mountaineers or Canadian hunters, the Devil's Gate;[249] for

what reason, however, I know not. These gentlemen have frequently on

their lips the words [CLXXXI] devil and hell; and it is perhaps on

this account that we heard so often these appellations. Be not then

alarmed when I tell you that I examined the Devil's pass, went through

the Devil's gate, rowed on Satan's stream, and jumped from the Devil's

horns. The "rake," one of the passes, the horns, and the stream,

really deserve names that express something horrible--all three are

exceedingly dangerous. The first and second, on account of the

innumerable snags which fill their beds, as there are entire forests

swallowed up by the river. The third pass of which I spoke, adds to

the difficulties of the others a current still stronger. A canoe

launched into this torrent flies over it with the speed of an arrow,

and the most experienced pilot trembles in spite of himself. Twice did

the brave Iroquois, who conducted our light canoe, exclaim: "Father,

we are lost;" but a loud cry of "courage--take courage, John, confide

in God, keep steady to the oar," saved us in that dangerous stream,

drew us out from between the horns and threatening teeth of this awful

"rake." But let us return to our account of the journey to Colville.

We spread our skins on the borders of a little river at the foot of a

high mountain, which we were to cross the next day, having traversed

St. Mary's valley, a distance of about forty miles. This valley is

from four to seven miles wide, and above two hundred long. It has but

one fine defile, already mentioned, and which serves as the entrance

to, and issue from, the valley. The mountains which terminate it on

both sides appear to be inaccessible; they are piles of jagged rocks,

the base of which presents nothing but fragments of the same

description, while the Norwegian pine grows on those that are covered

with earth, giving them a very sombre appearance, particularly in the

autumn, in which season the snow begins to fall. They abound in

[CLXXXII] bucks, buffalos, and sheep, whose wool is as white as snow,

and as fine as silk; also in all kinds of bears, wolves, panthers,

carcasiux,[250] tiger cats, wild cats, and whistlers, a species of

mountain rat. The moose is found here, but is very seldom caught, on

account of its extraordinary vigilance, for, on the slightest rustling

of a branch it leaves off eating, and will not return to its food for

a long time afterwards. The soil of the valley is, with some few

exceptions, very light; it contains, however, some good pastures. The

whole course of the river is well lined with trees; especially with

the pine, the fir, cotton, and willow trees.

Amongst the most remarkable birds we distinguished the Nun's eagle, (so

called by travellers on account of the color of its head, which is

white, whilst the other parts of the body are black,) the black eagle,

buzzard, waterfowl, heron, crane, pheasant and quail. On the 30th we

ascended a gap in the mountain. The two sides were very lofty, and

studded with large pines, all the branches of which were covered with a

black and very fine moss, that hung in festoons, or in the shape of

mourning garlands, and added to the already funereal appearance of this

pass. We here filed off by a little path, scarce worthy however of the

name, for a distance of six miles. The road was filled with large blocks

of stone and trunks of trees, placed as if it were on purpose to render

the pass difficult and impracticable. The summit once attained, we

proceeded to cross a smiling little plain, called the Camash Prairies,

where the Flat Heads come every spring to dig up that nourishing root,

which, together with the game they are able to procure, forms their

chief nourishment. We very soon descended the mountain in a zigzag

direction, and reached a beautiful plain, which is watered by two

rivers, the St. [CLXXXIII] Aloysius and St. Stanislaus.[251] They unite

in this plain, whence they go to join the forks at Clark's, otherwise

called the Flat Head river. This valley extends about ten miles. I

perceived in this place one of those formidable Black Foot Indians in

the act of hiding himself. I did not speak of it to my young companions,

fearing that I might not be able to prevent a bloody struggle between

them. I however took the precaution of having a good watch kept over our

horses. The next day was Sunday, a day of rest. I celebrated the Holy

Sacrifice of the Mass, and baptized three little children of the Pointed

Hearts' tribe, whose parents had joined us on the road. The rest of the

day was spent in prayer and instructions. The chief of our band twice

addressed his companions, and spoke with much force and precision on the

different portions of our religion, which he already had heard

explained. The 1st of November--All Saints' Day--after having celebrated

the Holy Sacrifice under a large poplar tree, we proceeded on our

journey through a defile of about six miles. At the ford of the Great

Clark's Fork, we met two encampments of the Kalispel tribe, who, having

heard of our approach, had come thither to see us.[252] Men, women and

children, ran to meet us, and pressed our hands with every demonstration

of sincere joy. The chief of the first camp was called Chalax. I

baptized twenty-four children in his little village, and one young

woman, a Koetenaise, who was dying. The chief of the second camp was

named Hoytelpo; his band occupied thirty huts. I spent the night amongst

them; and, although they had never seen me before, they knew all the

prayers that I had taught the Flat Heads on my first journey. The fact

is, on hearing of my arrival in the mountains, they deputed an

intelligent young man to meet me, and who was also gifted with a good

[CLXXXIV] memory. Having learned the prayers and canticles, and such

points as were most essential for salvation, he repeated to the village

all that he had heard and seen. He had acquitted himself of his

commission so well, and with so much zeal, that he gave instructions to

his people during the course of the winter. The same desire for

information concerning religion, had communicated itself to the other

small camps, and with the same cheering success. It was, as you can

easily imagine, a great consolation for me to hear prayers addressed to

the great God, and his praises sung in a desert of about three hundred

miles extent, where a Catholic priest had never been before. They were

overjoyed when they heard that I hoped before long to be able to leave a

Missionary amongst them. I cannot pass over in silence, a beautiful

custom that is observed by these good people: Every evening, after

prayers, the chief instructs his people, or gives them some salutary

advice, to which they all listen with most profound attention, respect

and modesty. To see them at their devotions one would be more apt to

mistake them for perfectly religious men than savages. The next day,

before my departure, I baptised twenty-seven children of the tribe. On

that evening we alighted amongst fifteen huts of the same nation, who

received us with equal kindness.[253] Their chief had come several miles

to meet me. He acknowledged frankly that having become acquainted with

some American ministers, in the course of the summer--he had been told

by them that my prayer (religion) was not a good one. "My heart is

divided," said he, "and I do not know what to adhere to." I had no

trouble in making him understand the difference between those gentlemen

and priests, and the cause of their calumnious attacks against the only

true church of Christ, which their ancestors [CLXXXV] had abandoned. On

the 3d of November, after prayers and instructions to the savages, we

continued our march. We were on the borders of the Clarke Forks, to

which we were obliged to keep close during eight days, whilst we

descended the country bordering the stream. The river is at this place

of a greenish blue, very transparent, caused probably by the deposit of

a great quantity of oxigen of iron.[254] Our path during a great part of

the day was on the declivity of a lofty, rocky mountain; we were here

obliged to climb a steep rough pass from 400 to 600 feet high. I had

before seen landscapes of awful grandeur, but this one certainly

surpassed all others in horror. My courage failed at the first sight; it

was impossible to remain on horseback, and on foot my weight of two

hundred and eleven pounds, was no trifle. This, therefore, was the

expedient to which I resorted: My mule Lizette was sufficiently docile

and kind to allow me to grasp her tail, to which I held on firmly:

crying at one moment aloud, and at other times making use of the whip to

excite her courage, until the good beast conducted me safely to the very

top of the mountain.--There I breathed freely for awhile, and

contemplated the magnificent prospect that presented itself to my sight.

The windings of the river with the scenery on its banks were before

me, on one side hung over our heads, rocks piled on rocks in the most

precipitous manner, and on the other stood lofty peaks crowned with

snow and pine trees: mountains of every shape and feature reared their

towering forms before us. It really was a fine view and one which was

well worth the effort we had made. On descending from this elevation I

had to take new precautions. I preceded the mule, holding her by the

bridle, while she moved cautiously down to the foot of the "Bad Rock,"

(as it is called by the savages,) as though she feared stumbling

[CLXXXVI] and rolling with her master into the river which flowed

beneath us. At this place Clarke's Fork runs through a narrow defile

of rocky mountains; at times the soft murmurings of the waters charm

the traveller, at others it spreads out and presents a calm surface

clear as crystal. Wherever it is narrowed or intercepted by rocks it

forms rapids, with falls and cascades; the noise of which, like that

caused by a storm in the forest, is heard at a great distance. Nothing

can be more diversified than this fine river.[255] There is in this

vicinity a great variety of trees, bushes and different species of the

tamarisk tree. The lichnis, a medicinal plant mentioned by Charlevoix

in his history of Canada, grows here abundantly. We met in the course

of that day with only one family, and that was of the Kalispel tribe.

Whilst the women were rowing up the river their light canoe, made of

the fir tree bark, which contained their children and all the

baggage, the men followed along the bank with their rifles or bows in

their hands in pursuit of game.

On the 4th we entered a cedar and pine forest so dense that in its

whole length we could scarcely see beyond the distance of twenty feet.

Our beasts of burden suffered a great deal in it from the want of

grass. We scarcely got through it after three day's march. It was a

real labyrinth; from morning till night we did nothing but wind about

to avoid thousands of trees, fallen either from fire, storms or age.

On issuing from this forest we were charmed by an interesting

prospect: Our view extended over the whole surface of the lake called

"Pends-d'oreilles," studded with small islands covered with woods:

over its inlets and the hills which overlook them, and which have for

the most part their base on the borders of the lake and rise by

gradual terraces or elevations until they reach the adjoining

mountains, which are covered with perpetual snow. The [CLXXXVII] lake

is about 30 miles long and from 4 to 7 wide.[256] At the head of it we

traversed a forest, which is certainly a wonder of its kind; there is

probably nothing similar to it in America. The savages speak of it as

the finest in Oregon, and really every tree which it contains is

enormous in its kind. The birch, elm and beech, generally small

elsewhere, like the toad of La Fontaine, that aimed at being as large

as the ox, swell out here to twice their size. They would fain rival

the cedar, the Goliath of the forest, who, however, looking down with

contempt upon his pitiful companions,

"Eleve aux cieux

Son front audacieux."

"Rears to heaven his audacious head."

The birch and beech at its side, resemble large candelabras placed

around a massive column. Cedars, of four and five fathoms in

circumference, are here very common; we saw some six, and I measured

one forty-two feet in circumference. A cedar of four fathoms, lying on

the ground, measured more than two hundred feet in length.[257] The

delicate branches of these noble trees entwine themselves above the

beech and elm; their fine, dense and ever-green foliage, forming an

arch through which the sun's rays never penetrate; and this lofty

vault, supported by thousands of columns, brought to the mind's eye,

the idea of an immense, glorious temple, carpeted with the hardy

ever-greens that live and flourish best in the shade.

Before entering the forest we crossed a high mountain by a wild

winding path. Its sides are covered with fine cedars and pines, which

are, however, of smaller dimensions than those in the forest. Several

times whilst ascending the mountain I found myself on parapets of

rocks, whence, thanks to my safe-footed mule, I retired in safety.

Once I [CLXXXVIII] thought my career at an end. I had wandered from my

companions, and following the path, I all at once came to a rocky

projection which terminated in a point about two feet wide; before me

was a perpendicular descent of three feet; on my left stood a rock as

straight as a wall, and on my right yawned a precipice of about a

thousand feet.--You can conceive that my situation was anything but

pleasant. The slightest false step would have plunged the mule and his

rider into the abyss beneath. To descend was impossible, as on one

side I was closed in by the rock, and suspended over a dreadful chasm

on the other. My mule had stopped at the commencement of the descent,

and not having any time to lose, I recommended myself to God, and as a

last expedient sunk my spurs deeply into the sides of my poor beast;

she made one bold leap and safely landed me on another parapet much

larger than that I had left.

The history of the fine forest, and my leap from the dangerous rock,

will be treated with incredulity by many of your acquaintance. If so,

tell them that I invite them to visit both these places: "Venite et

videte." I promise them before hand that they will admire with me the

wonders of nature. They will have, like me, their moments of

admiration and of fear. I cannot pass over in silence the pleasant

meeting I had in the depth of the forest. I discovered a little hut of

rushes, situated on the banks of the river. Raising my voice to its

highest pitch, I tried to make its inhabitants hear me, but received

no answer. I felt an irresistible desire to visit it, and accordingly

made my interpreter accompany me. We found it occupied by a poor old

woman, who was blind, and very ill. I spoke to her of the Great

Spirit, of the most essential dogmas of our faith, and of baptism. The

example of the Apostle St. [CLXXXIX] Philip teaches us that there are

cases when all the requisite dispositions may entirely consist in an

act of faith, and in the sincere desire to enter Heaven by the right

path. All the answers of the poor old woman were respectful, and

breathing the love of God. "Yes," she would say, "I love the Great

Spirit with my whole heart; all my life he has been very kind to me.

Yes, I wish to be His child, I want to be His forever." And

immediately she fell on her knees, and begged me to give her baptism.

I named her Mary, and placed around her neck the miraculous medal of

the Blessed Virgin. After leaving her, I overheard her thanking God

for this fortunate adventure. I had scarcely regained the path, when I

met her husband, almost bent to the earth by age and infirmity; he

could hardly drag himself along. He had been setting a trap in the

forest for the bucks. The Flat Heads who had preceded me, had told him

of my arrival. As soon, therefore, as he perceived me, he began to cry

out, with a trembling voice: "Oh how delighted I am to see our Father

before I die. The Great Spirit is good--oh how happy my heart is." And

the venerable old man pressed my hand most affectionately, repeating

again and again the same expressions. Tears fell from my eyes on

witnessing such affection. I told him that I had just left his hut,

and had baptized his wife. "I heard," said he, "of your arrival in our

mountains, and of your baptizing many of our people. I am poor and

old; I had hardly dared to hope for the happiness of seeing you.

Black-gown, make me as happy as you have made my wife. I wish also to

belong to God, and we will always love Him." I conducted him to the

borders of a stream that flowed near us, and after a brief

instruction, I administered to him the Holy Sacrament of Baptism,

naming him Simon. On seeing me depart, he repeated, impressively:

[CXC] "Oh how good is the Great Spirit. I thank you, Skylax,

(Black-gown) for the favor you have conferred on me. Oh how happy is

my heart. Yes, I will always love the Great Spirit. Oh how good the

Great Spirit is; how good He is." During that same journey, I

discovered in a little hut of bulrushes, five old men, who appeared to

be fourscore years old. Three of them were blind, and the other two

had but one eye each; they were almost naked, and offered a real

personification of human misery. I spoke to them for a considerable

time on the means of salvation, and on the bliss of another world.

Their answers edified me much, and affected me even to tears; they

were replete with the love of God, a desire of doing right, and of

dying well. You might have heard these good old men crying out from

different parts of the hut, forming together a touching chorus, to

which I sincerely wished that all the children of St. Ignatius could

have listened. "Oh Great Spirit, what a happiness is coming to us in

our old days! We will love you, O Great Spirit. _Le-mele

Kaikolinzoeten; one le-mele eltelill._ We will love you, O Great

Spirit. Yes, we will love you until death." When we explained to them

the necessity of baptism, they demanded it earnestly, and knelt down

to receive it. I have not found as yet amongst these Indians, I will

not say opposition, but not even coldness or indifference. These

little adventures are our great consolation. I would not have

exchanged my situation, at that moment, for any other on earth. I was

convinced that such incidents alone were worth a journey to the

mountains. Ah, good and dear Fathers, who may read these lines, I

conjure you, through the mercy of our Divine Redeemer, not to hesitate

entering this vineyard; its harvest is ripe and abundant. Does not our

Saviour tell us: "Ignem veni mittere in terram et quid volo nisi ut

accendatur." [CXCI] It is amidst the poor tribes of these isolated

mountains that the fire of divine grace burns with ardor.

Superstitious practices have disappeared; nor have they amongst them

the castes of East India. Speak to these Savages of heavenly things;

at once their hearts are inflamed with divine love; and immediately

they go seriously about the great affair of their salvation. Day and

night they are at our sides, insatiable for the "Bread of Life."

Often, on retiring, we hear them say, "Our sins, no doubt, rendered us

so long unworthy to hear these consoling words." As to privations and

dangers, the Oregon Missionaries must expect them, for they will

certainly meet them, but in a good cause. Sometimes they will be

obliged to fast, but a better appetite will be their reward. Their

escapes from the many dangers of the road, or from enemies always on

the alert, teach them to confide in God alone, and ever to keep their

accounts in order. I here feel the full application of that consoling

text of the Scripture: "My yoke is sweet, and my burden is light." At

the last day it will be manifest that the holy name of Jesus has

performed wonders amongst these poor people. Their eagerness to hear

the glad tidings of salvation is certainly at its height. They came

from all parts, and from great distances, to meet me on my way, and

presented all their young children and dying relatives for baptism.

Many followed me for whole days, with the sole desire of receiving

instructions. Really our hearts bled at the sight of so many souls who

are lost for the want of religion's divine and saving assistance. Here

again may we cry out with the Scripture: "The harvest indeed is great,

but the laborers are few." What Father is there in the Society whose

zeal will not be enkindled on hearing these details? And where is the

Christian who would refuse his mite to such [CXCII] a work as that of

the "Propagation of the Faith?" that precious pearl of the Church,

which procures salvation to so many souls, who otherwise would perish

unaided and forever. During my journey, which lasted forty-two days, I

baptized 190 persons, of whom 26 were adults, sick, or in extreme old

age; I preached to more than two thousand Indians; who thus evidently

conducted into my way by Providence, will not, I trust, tarry long in

ranging themselves under the banner of Jesus Christ. With the

assistance of my catechists, the Flat Heads, who were as yet but

catechumens, the conversion of the Kalispel tribe was so far advanced

that when the time came round for the winter's hunting, the Rev.

Father Point enjoyed the consolation of seeing them join the Flat Head

tribe, with the sole desire of profiting by the Missionary's presence.

This gave him an opportunity to instruct and baptise a great number on

the Purification and on the Feasts of the Canonization of St. Ignatius

and St. Francis Xavier. On my return, the 8th of December,[258] I

continued instructing those of the Flat Heads who had not been

baptized. On Christmas day I added 150 new baptisms to those of the 3d

of December, and 32 rehabilitations of marriage; so that the Flat

Heads, some sooner and others later, but all, with very few

exceptions, had, in the space of three months, complied with every

thing necessary to merit the glorious title of true children of God.

Accordingly on Christmas eve, a few hours before the midnight Mass,

the village of St. Mary was deemed worthy of a special mark of

heaven's favour: The Blessed Virgin appeared to a little orphan boy

named Paul, in the hut of an aged and truly pious woman.--The youth,

piety and sincerity of this child, joined to the nature of the fact

which he related, forbade us to doubt the truth of his statement. The

following is what he recounted [CXCIII] to me with his own innocent

lips: "Upon entering John's hut, whither I had gone to learn my

prayers, which I did not know, I saw some one who was very

beautiful--her feet did not touch the earth, her garments were as

white as snow; she had a star over her head, a serpent under her feet;

and near the serpent was a fruit which I did not recognise. I could

see her heart, from which rays of light burst forth and shone upon me.

When I first beheld all this I was frightened, but afterwards my fear

left me; my heart was warmed, my mind clear, and I do not know how it

happened, but all at once I knew my prayers." (To be brief I omit

several circumstances.) He ended his account by saying that several

times the same person had appeared to him whilst he was sleeping; and

that once she had told him she was pleased, that the first village of

the Flat Heads should be called "St. Mary." The child had never seen

or heard before any thing of the kind; he did not even know if the

person was a man or woman, because the appearance of the dress which

she wore was entirely unknown to him. Several persons having

interrogated the child on this subject, have found him unvarying in

his answers. He continues by his conduct to be the angel of his tribe.

[Illustration: Apparition]

On the 23d of December, Father Point, at the head of the inhabitants

of forty lodges, started for the buffalo hunt.--On the road they met

with huntsmen of five or six different tribes, some of whom followed

him to the termination of the chase, from the desire of learning their

prayers. The Flat Heads having prolonged their stay at St. Mary's as

long as they possibly could, so as not to depart without receiving

baptism, experienced such a famine, the first weeks of January, that

their poor dogs, having not even a bone to gnaw, devoured the very

straps of leather with which they tied their horses during the night.

The cold moreover was [CXCIV] so uninterruptedly severe that during

the hunting season, which lasted three months, such a quantity of snow

fell that many were attacked with a painful blindness, vulgarly called

"snow disease." One day when the wind was very high, and the snow

falling and freezing harder than usual, Father Point became suddenly

very pale, and would no doubt have been frozen to death, in the midst

of the plain, had not some travellers, perceiving the change in his

countenance, kindled a large fire. But neither the wind, ice, or

famine, prevented the zealous Flat Heads from performing on this

journey all they were accustomed to do at St. Mary's. Every morning

and evening they assembled around the Missionary's lodge, and more

than three-fourths of them without any shelter than the sky, after

having recited their prayers, listened to an instruction, preceded and

followed by hymns. At day-break and sunset the bell was tolled three

times for the Angelical Salutation. The Sunday was religiously kept;

an observance which was so acceptable to God, that once especially it

was recompensed in a very visible manner. The following is what I read

in the Journal kept by Father Point during the winter's hunt.

_Sixth February._--To-day, Sunday, a very high wind, the sky greyish,

and the thermometer at the freezing point; no grass for the horses; the

buffalos driven off by the Pierced Noses. The 7th, the cold more

piercing--food for our horses still scarcer--the snow increasing; but

yesterday was a time of perfect rest, and the fruits of it show

themselves to-day in perfect resignation and confidence. At noon we

reached the summit of a mountain, and what a change awaits us. The sun

shines, the cold has lost its intensity; we have in view an immense

plain, and in that plain good pasturages, which are clouded with

buffalos. The encampment stops, the hunters assemble, and before [CXCV]

sunset 155 buffalos have fallen by their arrows. One must confess that

if this hunt were _not_ miraculous, it bears a great resemblance to the

draught of fishes made by Peter when casting his net at the word of the

Lord, he drew up 153 fishes.--St. John, xxi. 11. The Flat Heads confided

in the Lord, and were equally successful in killing 153 buffalos. What a

fine draught of fishes! but what a glorious hunt of buffalos! Represent

to yourself an immense amphitheatre of mountains, the least of which

exceeds in height Mont Martre,[259] and in the midst of this majestic

enclosure a plain more extensive than that of Paris, and on this

magnificent plain a multitude of animals, the least of which surpasses

in size the largest ox in Europe. Such was the park in which our Indians

hunted. Wishing to pursue them, continues Father Point, in his journal,

I urged on my horse to a herd of fugitives, and as he was fresh, I had

no difficulty in getting up to them. I even succeeded in compelling the

foremost to abandon his post, but enraged, he stopped short, and

presented such a terrible front, that I thought it more prudent to open

a passage and let him escape. I acted wisely, as on the same day, one of

these animals, in his fall, overturned a horse and his rider.

Fortunately, however, the latter was more dexterous than I should have

been in such a perilous situation; he aimed his blows so promptly and

well, that of the three who were thrown, only two arose. On another

occasion, a hunter who had been also dismounted, had no other means to

avoid being torn to pieces than to seize hold of the animal by the horns

just at the time he was about to trample him to death. A third hunter,

fleeing at all speed, felt himself stopped by the plaited tail of his

horse hooked on the buffalo's horn; but both fearing a trap, made every

effort to disengage themselves. The buffalo hunt is attended with

[CXCVI] dangers, but the greatest of these does not consist in the mere

pursuit of the animal, but proceeds rather from the bands of Black Feet

who constantly lurk in these regions, especially when there is some

prospect of meeting with the larger game, or stealing a number of

horses. Of all the mountain savages the Black Feet are the most

numerous, wicked, and the greatest thieves. Happily, however, from

having been often beaten by the smaller tribes, they have become so

dastardly, that unless they are twenty to one, they confine their

attacks to the horses, which, thanks to the carelessness of their

courageous enemies, they go about with so much dexterity and success,

that this year, while our good Flat Heads were asleep, they discovered

their animals as often as twenty times, and carried off more than one

hundred of them. During the winter, about twenty of these gentlemen

visited the Flat Heads in the day time, and without stealing any thing,

but in this manner. There resided in the camp an old chief of the Black

Feet tribe, who had been baptised on Christmas day, and named Nicholas;

this good savage, knowing that the Missionary would willingly hold an

interview with his brethren, undertook himself to harangue them during

the night, and so well did he acquit himself, that upon the calumet's

being planted on the limits of the camp, and the messenger being

admitted to an audience, singing was heard in the neighboring mountains,

and soon after a band of these brigands issued, armed as warriors, from

the gloomy defile. They were received as friends, and four of the

principals were ushered into the Missionary's lodge; they smoked the

calumet and discussed the news of the day. The Missionary spoke of the

necessity of prayer, to which subject they listened most attentively;

nor did they manifest either surprise or repugnance. They told him that

there had arrived [CXCVII] recently in one of their forests a man who

was not married, and who wore on his breast a large crucifix, read every

day in a big book, and made the sign of the cross before eating any

thing; and in fine, that he was dressed exactly like the Black-gowns at

St. Mary's. The Father did every thing in his power to gain their good

will--after which, they were conducted to the best lodge in the

encampment. It certainly would seem that such hosts were worthy of

better guests. However, towards the middle of the night, the explosion

of fire arms was heard. It was soon discovered that a Flat Head was

firing at a Black Foot, just as the latter was leaving the camp, taking

with him four horses.--Fortunately, the robber was not one of the band

that had been received within the encampment, which, upon being proved,

far from creating any suspicion, on the contrary, had the effect of

their kindly offering them a grave for the unfortunate man. But whether

they wished to appear to disapprove of the deed, or that they

anticipated dangers from reprisals, they left the wolves to bury the

body, and took their departure. Good Nicholas, the orator, joined them,

in order to render the same services to the others that he had to these.

He went off, promising to return soon with the evidences of his success.

He has not been seen as yet, but we are informed, he and his companions

have spoken so favorably of prayer, and the Black-gowns, that already

the Sunday is religiously observed in the camp where Nicholas resides,

and that a great chief, with the people of sixty lodges, intend shortly

to make our acquaintance, and attach themselves to the Flat Heads. In

the meanwhile, divine justice is punishing rigorously a number of their

robbers. This year, the Pierced Noses caught twelve of them in flagrant

faults, and killed them. About the time that the Black Foot above

mentioned met his fate at [CXCVIII] the hands of a Flat Head, thirty

others Were receiving the reward due to their crimes, from the

Pends-d'oreilles tribe. A very remarkable fact in this last encounter

is, that of the four who commenced, and the others who finished it, not

one fell; although, in order to break in on the delinquents, who were

retrenched behind a kind of rampart, they were obliged to expose

themselves to a brisk fire. I saw the field of combat some time

afterwards. Of the thirty robbers who had been slain, only five or six

heads remained, and those so disfigured as to lead one to think that an

age had already elapsed since their death.

Two years before, the same tribe, (Pends-d'oreilles) assisted by the

Flat Heads, making in all a band of seventy men, stood an attack of

fifteen hundred Black Feet, whom they defeated, killing in five days,

during which time the battle lasted, fifty of their foes, without

losing a single man on their side. They would not commence the attack

until they had recited their prayers on their knees. A few days ago,

the spot was pointed out to me where six Flat Heads withstood 160

Black Feet with so much resolution, that with a handful of their men

who came to their aid, they gained the victory. The most perfidious

nation, after the Black Feet, is the Banac tribe; they also bear the

Flat Heads much ill will. It has happened more than once that at the

very moment the Banac tribe were receiving the greatest proofs of

friendship from the Flat Heads, the former were plotting their ruin.

Of this you have already had one proof, but here is another. One day a

detachment of two hundred Banacs visited the camp of the Flat Heads,

and after smoking with them returned to their encampment. The small

number of the Flat Heads had not, however, escaped their notice, and

they determined to take advantage of their apparent weakness.

Accordingly, they [CXCIX] retraced their steps that very night to

execute their base designs. But the chief, named Michael, having been

advised of their intention, assembled in haste his twenty warriors,

and after entreating them to confide in God, he rushed on these

traitors so happily and vigorously, that at the first shock they were

routed. Already nine of the fugitives had fallen, and most of the

others would have shared the same fate if Michael, in the very heat of

the pursuit, had not recollected that it was Sunday, and on that

account stopped his brave companions, saying: "My friends, it is now

the time for prayer; we must retire to our camp." It is by these and

similar exploits, wherein the finger of God is visible, that the Flat

Heads have acquired such a reputation for valor, that notwithstanding

their inferior numbers, they are feared much more than they on their

side dread their bitterest enemies. These victories however cannot but

be fatal even to the conquerors; hence we will strive to inspire all

with the love of peace, which may be accomplished if each party

remains at home. For this purpose we must create among them a greater

taste for agriculture than for hunting. But how can we compass this

unless the same measures are employed for the missions of the Rocky

Mountains that were so happily adopted for Paraguay. If the true

friends of Religion only knew of what the Indians who surround us are

capable when once converted, I can not doubt but that they would

assist us in our efforts to accomplish so beautiful, so advantageous a

project. It is, moreover, through the Iroquois of the North, whose

cruelty formerly exceeded that of the Black Feet, that the knowledge

of the true God came to the Flat Heads, and awakened amongst them the

desire of possessing the Black-gowns. We have seen to what dangers the

good Flat Heads exposed themselves to obtain Missionaries, [CC] and

what sacrifices they have made to merit the title of children of God;

and now what is their actual progress? In their village, enmities,

quarrels and calumnies, are unknown; they are sincere and upright

amongst themselves, and full of confidence in their Missionaries. They

carry this to such a degree that they place implicit reliance on their

veracity, and cannot suppose that they have any thing else in view but

their happiness; they have no difficulty in believing the mysteries of

our faith, or in approaching the tribunal of penance: difficulties

which appear insurmountable to the pride and cowardice of many

civilized Christians. The first time they were asked if they believed

firmly in all that was contained in the Apostles' creed, they

answered, "Yes--very much." When they were spoken to about confession,

some wished it to be public.--This will explain to you how it

happened that before we resided three months amongst them we were

enabled to baptize all the adults, and four months later to admit a

large number to frequent communion. There are whole families who never

let a Sunday go by without approaching the holy table. Often twenty

confessions are heard consecutively without their being matter for

absolution. This year we performed the devotion of the month of Mary,

and I can flatter myself that the exercises were attended with as much

piety and edification as in the most devout parishes of Europe. At the

end of the month a statue was borne in triumph to the very place where

our Blessed Mother designed to honor us with the aforementioned

apparition.--Since that day a sort of pilgrimage has been established

there, under the name of "Our Lady of Prayer." None pass the pious

monument without stopping to pray on their knees; the more devout come

regularly twice a day to speak to their Mother and her divine Son, and

the children [CCI] add to their prayers the most beautiful flowers

they can cull in the prairies.

On the Feast of the Sacred Heart we made use of this monument,

decorated with garlands of flowers, as a repository, and our people

received for the first time, the benediction of the blessed sacrament;

a happiness which they now enjoy every Sunday after vespers. Some of

them already understand the nature of the devotion of the Sacred

Heart. To propagate it we have laid the foundations of several

societies, of which all the most virtuous men, women and young people

have become members. Victor, the great chief, is prefect of one of

these associations, and Agnes his wife is president of another. They

were not elected through any deference for their dignity or birth, but

solely on account of their great personal merits.[260] A fact which

proves that the _Flat Heads_ regard merit more than rank, is, that the

place of great chief becoming vacant by the death of Peter, they chose

for his successor the chief of the men's society, and for no other

reason did he obtain this high dignity than for the noble qualities,

both of heart and head, which they all thought he possessed. Every

night and morning, when all is quiet in the camp, he harangues the

people; the subject of his discourse being principally a repetition of

what the Black Gowns have said before. This good chief walks

faithfully in the footsteps of his predecessor, which is no slight

praise. This last, who was baptized at the age of 80, and admitted to

communion in his 82d year, was the first to deserve this double

favour, more on account of his virtue than his years. The day of his

baptism he said to me, "If during my life I have committed faults they

were those of ignorance; it appears to me that I never did any thing,

knowing it to be wrong." At the time of his first communion, which

preceded his death but [CCII] a few days, having been asked if he had

not some faults with which to reproach himself since his

baptism--"Faults," he replied, with surprise, "how could I ever commit

any, I whose duty it is to teach others how to do good?" He was buried

in the red drapery he was accustomed to hang out on Sunday to announce

that it was the day of the Lord. Alphonsus, in the prime of youth,

soon followed him. He said to me on the day of his baptism: "I dread

so much offending again the Great Spirit, that I beg of him to grant

me the grace to die soon." He fell sick a few days afterwards and

expired with the most Christian dispositions, thanking God for having

granted his prayer. In the hope of their glorious resurrection, their

mortal remains have been deposited at the foot of the large cross.

Of twenty persons who died within the year, we have no reason to fear

for the salvation of one.

Not having been able this year to obtain either provisions or

sufficient clothes to supply the wants of our mission, I started for

Fort Vancouver, the great mart of the honorable Hudson Bay Company,

and distant about one thousand miles from our establishment. The

continuation of this narrative will show you that this necessary

journey was providential. I found myself during this trip a second

time amongst the Kalispel tribe.

They continue with much fervour to assemble every morning and evening to

recite prayers in common, and manifest the same attention and assiduity

in listening to our instructions. The chiefs on their side are incessant

in exhorting the people to the practice of every good work. The two

principal obstacles that prevent a great number from receiving baptism,

are--first, the plurality of wives; many have not the courage to

separate themselves from those, by whom they have children. The second

is their [CCIII] fondness for gambling, in which they risk every thing.

I baptized 60 adults amongst them during this last journey.

Crossing a beautiful plain near the Clarke or Flat Head river, called

the Horse prairie, I heard that there were 30 lodges of the Skalzy or

Kœtenay tribe, at about two day's journey from us.[261] I determined

whilst awaiting the descent of the skiff, which could only start six

days later, to pay them a visit, for they had never seen a priest in

their lands before. Two half breeds served as my guides and escorts on

this occasion. We gallopped and trotted all the day, travelling a

distance of 60 miles. We spent a quiet night in a deep defile,

stretched near a good fire, but in the open air. The next day, (April

14) after having traversed several mountains and valleys, where our

horses were up to their knees in snow, we arrived about 3 o'clock in

sight of the Kœtenay camp. They assembled immediately on my approach;

when I was about twenty yards from them, the warriors presented their

arms, which they had hidden until then under their buffalo robes. They

fired a general salute which frightened my mule and made her rear and

prance to the great amusement of the savages. They then defiled before

me, giving their hands in token of friendship and congratulation. I

observed that each one lifted his hand to his forehead after having

presented it to me. I soon convoked the council in order to inform

them of the object of my visit. They unanimously declared themselves

in favour of my religion, and adopted the beautiful custom of their

neighbours, the Flat Heads, to meet night and morning for prayers in

common. I assembled them that very evening for this object and gave

them a long instruction on the principal dogmas of our faith. The next

day, I baptized all their little children and nine of their adults,

previously instructed, amongst whom was the wife of an Iroquois,

[CCIV] who had resided for thirty years with this tribe. The Iroquois

and a Canadian occupy themselves in the absence of a priest in

instructing them. My visit could not be long. I left the Kœtenay

village about 12 o'clock, accompanied by twelve of these warriors and

some half-blood Crees, whom I had baptized in 1840. They wished to

escort me to the entrance of the large Flat Head lake,[262] with the

desire of giving me a farewell feast; a real banquet of all the good

things their country produced. The warriors had gone on ahead and

dispersed in every direction, some to hunt and others to fish. The

latter only succeeded in catching a single trout. The warriors

returned in the evening with a bear, goose, and six swan's eggs. "Sed

quid hoc inter tantos." The fish and goose were roasted before a good

fire, and the whole mess was soon presented to me. Most of my

companions preferring to fast, I expressed my regret at it, consoling

them however by telling them that God would certainly reward their

kindness to me. A moment after we heard the last hunter returning,

whom we thought had gone back to the camp. Hope shone on every

countenance. The warrior soon appeared laden with a large elk, and

hunger that night was banished from the camp. Each one began to occupy

himself; some cut up the animal, others heaped fuel on the fire, and

prepared sticks and spits to roast the meat. The feast which had

commenced under such poor auspices continued a great part of the

night. The whole animal, excepting a small piece that was reserved for

my breakfast, had disappeared before they retired to sleep. This is a

sample of savage life. The Indian when he has nothing to eat does not

complain, but in the midst of abundance he knows no moderation. The

stomach of a savage has always been to me a riddle.

The plain that commands a view of the lake is one of the [CCV] most

fertile in the mountainous regions. The Flat Head river runs through

it and extends more than 200 miles to the North East. It is wide and

deep, abounding with fish and lined with wood, principally with the

cotton, aspen, pine and birch. There are beautiful sites for villages,

but the vicinity of the Black Feet must delay for a long while the

good work, as they are only at two day's march from the great district

occupied by these brigands, from whence they often issue to pay their

neighbours predatory visits. A second obstacle would be the great

distance from any post of the Hudson Bay Company; consequently the

difficulty of procuring what is strictly necessary. The lake is highly

romantic, and is from 40 to 50 miles long. Mountainous and rocky

islands of all sizes are scattered over its bosom, which present an

enchanting prospect. These islands are filled with wild horses. Lofty

mountains surround the lake and rise from its very brink.

On the 16th of April, after bidding adieu to my travelling companions,

I started early in the morning, accompanied by two Canadians and two

savages. That evening we encamped close to a delightful spring, which

was warm and sulphurous;[263] having travelled a distance of about

fifty miles. When the savages reach this spring they generally bathe

in it. They told me that after the fatigues of a long journey they

find that bathing in this water greatly refreshes them. I found here

ten lodges of the Kalispel tribe; the chief, who was by birth of the

Pierced Nose tribe, invited me to spend the night in his wigwam, where

he treated me most hospitably. This was the only small Kalispel camp

that I had as yet met in my journeys. I here established, as I have

done wherever I stopped, the custom of morning and evening prayers.

During the evening the chief who had looked very gloomy, made a public

exposition of [CCVI] his whole life. "Black Gown," said he, "you find

yourself in the lodge of a most wicked and unhappy man; all the evil

that a man could do on earth, I believe I have been guilty of: I have

even assassinated several of my near relations; since then, there is

nought in my heart but trouble, bitterness and remorse. Why does not

the Great Spirit annihilate me? I still possess life, but there will

be neither pardon nor mercy for me after death." These words and the

feeling manner with which they were addressed to me drew tears of

compassion from my eyes. "Poor, unfortunate man," I replied, "you are

really to be pitied, but you increase your misery by thinking that you

cannot obtain pardon. The devil, man's evil spirit, is the author of

this bad thought. Do not listen to him, for he would wish to

precipitate you into that bad place (hell). The Great Spirit who

created you is a Father infinitely good and merciful. He does not

desire the death of the sinner, but rather that he should be converted

and live. He receives us into his favour and forgets our crimes,

notwithstanding their number and enormity, the moment we return to Him

contrite and repentant. He will also forgive you if you walk in the

path which His only Son, Jesus Christ, came on earth to trace for us."

I then recounted the instance of the good thief and the parable of the

prodigal son. I made him sensible of the proof of God's goodness in

sending me to him. I added that perhaps his life was drawing to a

close, and that he might be in danger of falling into the bad place on

account of his sins; that I would show him the right path, which if he

followed he would certainly reach Heaven. These few words were as balm

poured on his wounded spirit. He became calmer, and joy and hope

appeared on his countenance. "Black Gown," said he, "your words

re-animate me: I see, I understand better now, you have [CCVII]

consoled me, you have relieved me from a burden that was crushing me

with its weight, for I thought myself lost. I will follow your

directions; I will learn how to pray. Yes, I feel convinced that the

Great Spirit will have pity on me." There was fortunately in the camp

a young man who knew all the prayers, and was willing to serve as his

catechist. His baptism was deferred until the autumn or winter.

The results of my visit to the Pointed Hearts were very consoling.

They form a small but interesting tribe, animated with much fervour.

As soon as they were certain of my visit, they deputed couriers in

every direction to inform the savages of the approach of the

Black-gown; and all, without exception, assembled at the outlet of the

great lake which bears their name, and which was the place I had

indicated.[264] An ingenuous joy, joined to wonder and contentment,

shone on every face when they saw me arrive in the midst of them.

Every one hastened to greet me. It was the first visit of the kind

they had received, and the following is the order they observed. Their

chiefs and old men marched at the head; next came the young men and

boys; then followed the women--mothers, young girls, and little

children. I was conducted in triumph by this multitude to the lodge of

the great chief. Here, as every where else in the Indian country, the

everlasting calumet was first produced, which went round two or three

times in the most profound silence. The chief then addressed me,

saying: "Black-gown you are most welcome amongst us. We thank you for

your charity towards us. For a long time we have wished to see you,

and hear the words which will give us understanding. Our fathers

invoked the sun and earth. I recollect very well when the knowledge

of the true and one God came amongst them; since which time we have

offered [CCVIII] to Him our prayers and vows. We are however to be

pitied. We do not know the word of the Great Spirit. All is darkness

as yet to us, but to-day I hope we shall see the light shine. Speak,

Black-gown, I have done--every one is anxious to hear you." I spoke to

them for two hours on salvation and end of man's creation, and not one

person stirred from his place the whole time of the instruction. As it

was almost sunset, I recited the prayers that I had translated into

their language a few days before. After which I took some

refreshments, consisting of fragments of dried meat, and a piece of

cooked moss, tasting like soap, and as black as pitch. All this

however was as grateful to my palate as though it had been honey and

sugar, not having eaten a mouthful since day-break. At their own

request I then continued instructing the chiefs and their people until

the night was far advanced. About every half hour I paused, and then

the pipes would pass around to refresh the listeners and give time for

reflection. It was during these intervals that the chiefs conversed on

what they had heard, and instructed and advised their followers. On

awakening the next morning, I was surprised to find my lodge already

filled with people. They had entered so quietly that I had not heard

them. It was hardly day-break when I arose, and they all following my

example, placed themselves on their knees, and we made together the

offering of our hearts to God, with that of the actions of the day.

After this the Chief said: "Black-gown, we come here very early to

observe you--we wish to imitate what you do. Your prayer is good; we

wish to adopt it. But you will leave us after two nights more, and we

have no one to teach us in your absence." I had the bell rung for

morning prayers, promising him at the same time that the prayers

should be known before I left them. [CCIX] After a long instruction

on the most important truths of religion, I collected around me all

the little children, with the young boys and girls; I chose two from

among the latter, to whom I taught the Hail Mary, assigning to each

one his own particular part; then seven for the Our Father; ten others

for the Commandments, and twelve for the Apostles' Creed. This method,

which was my first trial of it, succeeded admirably. I repeated to

each one his part until he knew it perfectly; I then made him repeat

it five or six times. These little Indians, forming a triangle,

resembled a choir of angels, and recited their prayers, to the great

astonishment and satisfaction of the savages. They continued in this

manner morning and night, until one of the chiefs learned all the

prayers, which he then repeated in public. I spent three days in

instructing them. I would have remained longer, but the savages were

without provisions. There was scarcely enough for one person in the

whole camp. My own provisions were nearly out, and I was still four

days' journey from Fort Colville. The second day of my stay among

them, I baptized all their small children, and then twenty-four

adults, who were infirm and very old. It appeared as though God had

retained these good old people on earth to grant them the

inexpressible happiness of receiving the sacrament of baptism before

their death. They seemed by their transports of joy and gratitude at

this moment, to express that sentiment of the Scripture: "My soul is

ready, O God, my soul is ready." Never did I experience in my visits

to the savages so much satisfaction as on this occasion, not even when

I visited the Flat Heads in 1840; nor have I elsewhere seen more

convincing proofs of sincere conversion to God. May He grant them to

persevere in their virtuous resolutions. Rev. Father Point intends

passing the winter [CCX] with them to confirm them in their

faith.[265] After some advice and salutary regulations, I left this

interesting colony, and I must acknowledge, with heartfelt regret. The

great chief allowed himself scarcely a moment's repose for three

nights I spent amongst them; he would rise from time to time to

harangue the people, and repeat to them all he was able to remember of

the instructions of the day. During the whole time of my mission, he

continued at my side, so anxious was he not to lose a single word. The

old chief, now in his eightieth year, was baptized by the name of

Jesse. In the spring the territory of this tribe enchants the

traveller who may happen to traverse it. It is so diversified with

noble plains, and enamelled with flowers, whose various forms and

colors offer to experienced botanists an interesting _parterre_. These

plains are surrounded by magnificent forests of pine, fir and cedar.

To the west their country is open, and the view extends over several

days' journey. To the south, east and north, you see towering

mountains, ridge rising above ridge, robed with snow, and mingling

their summits with the clouds, from which, at a distance, you can

hardly distinguish them. The lake forms a striking feature in this

beautiful prospect, and is about thirty miles in circumference. It is

deep, and abounds in fish, particularly in salmon trout, common trout,

carp, and a small, oily fish, very delicious, and tasting like the

smelt. The Spokan river rises in the lake, and crosses the whole plain

of the Cœur d'Alènes. The valley that borders above the lake is from

four to five miles wide, exceedingly fertile, and the soil from ten to

fifteen feet deep. Every spring, at the melting of the snow, it is

subject to inundations, which scarcely ever last longer than four or

five days; at the same time augmenting, as in Egypt, the fertility of

the soil. The potatoe grows here very well, and in great abundance.

[CCXI] The Spokan river is wide, swift and deep in the spring, and

contains, like all the rivers of Oregon, many rapid falls and

cascades.[266] The navigation of the waters of this immense territory

is generally dangerous, and few risk themselves on them without being

accompanied by experienced pilots. In descending Clark's river, we

passed by some truly perilous and remarkable places, where the pilots

have full opportunity to exhibit their dexterity and prudence. The

rapids are numerous, and the roar of the waters incessant, the current

sweeping on at the rate of ten or twelve miles an hour; the rugged

banks and projecting rocks creating waves resembling those of the

troubled sea. The skilful pilot mounts the waves, which seem ready to

engulf us, the canoe speeds over the agitated waters, and with the aid

of the paddle, skilfully plied, bears us unharmed through numberless

dangers. The most remarkable spot on this river is called the

_cabinets_; it consists of four apartments, which you have hardly time

to examine, as you are scarcely half a minute passing by them.[267]

Represent to yourself chasms between two rocky mountains of a

stupendous height, the river pent in between them in a bed of thirty

or forty feet, precipitating itself down its rocky channel with

irresistible fury, roaring against its jagged sides, and whitening

with foam all around it. In a short space it winds in four different

directions, resembling very much, forked lightning. It requires very

great skill, activity, and presence of mind, to extricate yourself

from this difficult pass. The Spokan lands are sandy, gravelly, and

badly calculated for agriculture. The section over which I travelled

consisted of immense plains of light, dry, and sandy soil, and thin

forests of gum pines. We saw nothing in this noiseless solitude but a

buck, running quickly from us, and disappearing [CCXII] almost

immediately. From time to time, the melancholy and piercing cry of the

wood snipe increased the gloomy thoughts which this sad spot

occasioned. Here, on a gay and smiling little plain, two ministers

have settled themselves, with their wives, who had consented to share

their husbands' soi-disant apostolical labors.[268] During the four

years they have spent here, they have baptized several of their own

children. They cultivate a small farm, large enough, however, for

their own maintenance and the support of their animals and fowls. It

appears they are fearful that, should they cultivate more, they might

have too frequent visits from the savages. They even try to prevent

their encampment in their immediate neighborhood, and therefore they

see and converse but seldom with the heathens, whom they have come so

far to seek. A band of Spokans received me with every demonstration of

friendship, and were enchanted to hear that the right kind of

Black-gowns intended soon to form an establishment in the vicinity. I

baptized one of their little children who was dying.

It was in these parts that in 1836 a modern Iconoclast, named Parker,

broke down a cross erected over the grave of a child by some Catholic

Iroquois, telling us emphatically, in the narrative of his journey, that

he did not wish to leave in that country an emblem of idolatry.[269]

Poor man!--not to know better in this enlightened age! Were he to

return to these mountains, he would hear the praises of the Holy Name

of Jesus resounding among them; he would hear the Catholics chaunting

the love and mercies of God from the rivers, lakes, mountains,

prairies, forests and coasts of the Columbia. He would behold the

Cross planted from shore to shore for the space of a thousand

miles--on the loftiest height of the Pointed Heart territory, [CCXIII]

on the towering chain which separates the waters of the Missouri from

the Columbia rivers; in the plains of the Wallamette, Cowlitz and

Bitter Root--and, whilst I am writing to you, the Rev. Mr. Demers is

occupied in planting this same sacred symbol amongst the different

tribes of New Caledonia.[270] The words of Him who said that this holy

sign _would draw all men to Himself_, begin to be verified with regard

to the poor destitute sheep of this vast continent. Were he who

destroyed that solitary, humble Cross now to return, he would find the

image of Jesus Christ crucified, borne on the breast of more than 4000

Indians; and the smallest child would say to him: "Mr. Parker, we do

not adore the cross; do not break it, because it reminds us of Jesus

Christ who died on the cross to save us--we adore God alone."

In the beginning of May I arrived at Fort Colville on the Colville

river; this year the snow melted away very early. The mountain torrents

had overflowed, and the small rivers that usually moved quietly along in

the month of April, had suddenly left their beds and assumed the

appearance of large rivers and lakes, completely flooding all the

lowlands. This rendered my journey to Vancouver by land impossible, and

induced me to wait, nolens volens, at the Fort, for the construction of

the barges which were not ready until the 30th of the same month, when I

was again able to pursue my journey on the river. On the same day that I

arrived among the Shuyelpi or Chaudiere tribe, who resided near the

Fort, I undertook to translate our prayers into their language. This

kept me only one day as their language is nearly the same as that of the

Flat Heads and Kalispels, having the same origin. They were all very

attentive in attending my instructions, and the old, as well as the

young, tried assiduously to learn their prayers. I [CCXIV] baptized all

the younger children who had not received the sacrament before, for Mr.

Demers had already made two excursions amongst them, with the most

gratifying success. The great chief and his wife had long sighed for

baptism, which holy sacrament I administered to them, naming them Martin

and Mary. This chief is one of the most intelligent and pious I have

become acquainted with.

The work of God does not, however, proceed without contradictions; it

is necessary to prepare oneself for them beforehand when undertaking

any enterprise amongst the tribes. I have had some hard trials in all

my visits. I expected them, when on the 13th of May, I started to see

the Okinakane tribe, who were desirous to meet a priest.[271] The

interpreter, Charles, and the chief of the Shuyelpi, wished to

accompany me. In crossing the Columbia river my mule returned to the

shore, and ran at full speed into the forest; Charles pursued her,

and two hours afterwards I was told that he had been found dead in the

prairie. I hastened immediately, and perceived from a distance a great

gathering of people. I soon reached the spot where he was lying, and,

to my great joy, perceived that he gave signs of life. He was however,

senseless, and in a most pitiful state. A copious bleeding and some

days of rest restored him and we resumed our journey. This time the

mule had a large rope tied around her neck, and we crossed the river

without any accidents; we took a narrow path that led us by mountains,

valleys, forests and prairies, following the course of the river

Sharameep.[272] Towards evening we were on the borders of a deep

impetuous torrent, having no other bridge than a tree which was rather

slight and in constant motion from the rushing of the waters. It

reminded me of the bridge of souls spoken of in the Potowattamie

legends. These savages believe that souls must traverse this bridge

[CCXV] before they reach their elysium in the west. The good, they

say, pass over it without danger; the bad, on the contrary, are unable

to hold on, but stumble, stagger and fall into the torrent below,

which sweeps them off into a labyrinth of lakes and marshes; here they

drag out their existence; wretched, tormented by famine and in great

agony, the living prey of all sorts of venomous reptiles and ferocious

animals, wandering to and fro without ever being able to escape. We

were fortunate enough to cross the trembling bridge without accident.

We soon pitched our camp on the other side, and in spite of the

warring waves which in falls and cascades thundered all night by our

side, we enjoyed a refreshing sleep. The greater part of the next day

the path conducted us through a thick and hilly forest of fir trees;

the country then became more undulating and open. From time to time we

perceived an Indian burial ground, remarkable only for the posts

erected on the graves, and hung with kettles, wooden plates, guns,

bows and arrows, left there by the nearest relatives of the

deceased--humble tokens of their grief and friendship.

We encamped on the shore of a small lake called the Sharrameep,[273]

where was a Shuyelpi village; I gave these savages several

instructions and baptized their infants. At my departure the whole

village accompanied me. The country over which we travelled is open;

the soil, sterile and sandy, and the different chains of mountains

that traverse it seem to be nothing but sharp pointed rocks, thinly

covered with cedars and pines. Towards evening we came up with the men

of the first Okinakane encampment, who received us with the greatest

cordiality and joy. The chief who came out to meet us was quite

conspicuous, being arrayed in his court dress--a shirt made of a horse

skin, the hair of which was outside, the mane partly on his [CCXVI]

chest and back, giving him a truly fantastic and savage appearance.

The camp also joined us, and the fact of my arrival having been soon

noised abroad in every direction, we saw, issuing from the defiles and

narrow passes of the mountains, bands of Indians who had gone forth to

gather their harvest of roots. Many sick were presented to me for

baptism, of which rite they already knew the importance. Before

reaching the rendezvous assigned us, on the borders of the Okinakane

lake, I was surrounded by more than 200 horsemen, and more than 200

others were already in waiting.[274] We recited together night

prayers, and all listened with edifying attention to the instruction I

gave them. The interpreter and Martin continued the religious

conversation until the night was far advanced; they manifested the

same anxiety to hear the word of God that the Stiel Shoi had

shown.[275] All the next day was spent in prayer, instructions and

hymns--I baptized 106 children and some old people, and in conclusion

named the plain where these consoling scenes occurred, the "plain of

prayer." It would be impossible for me to give you an idea of the

piety, the happiness of these men, who are thirsting for the

life-giving waters of the Divine word. How much good a missionary

could do, who would reside in the midst of a people who are so

desirous of receiving instruction, and correspond so faithfully with

the grace of God. After some regulations and advice, I left this

interesting people, and pursuing my journey for three days over

mountains and through dense forests, arrived safely at Fort Colville.

Amongst the innumerable rivers that traverse the American continent,

and afford means of communication between its most distant portions,

the Columbia river is one of the most remarkable, not only on account

of its great importance, [CCXVII] west of the mountains, but also from

the dangers that attend its navigation. At some distance from the

Pacific ocean, crossing a territory which exhibits, in several

localities, evident marks of former volcanic eruptions, its course is

frequently impeded by rapids, by chains of volcanic rocks, and immense

detached masses of the same substance which, in many places, obstruct

the bed of the river.[276]

I embarked on this river, on the 30th of May, in one of the barges of

the Hudson Bay Company; Mr. Ogden, one of the principal proprietors,

offered me a place in his. I shall never forget the kindness and

friendly manner with which this gentleman treated me throughout the

journey, nor the many agreeable hours I spent in his company. I found

his conversation instructive, his anecdotes and bon mots entertaining

and timely; it was with great regret that I parted from him.[277] I will

not detain you with a description of the rapids, falls and cascades,

which I saw on this celebrated river; for, from its source in the

mountains to the cascades it is but a succession of dangers. I will

endeavour, however, to give you some idea of one of its largest rapids,

called by the Canadian travellers, "great dalles."[278] A dalle is a

place where the current is confined to a channel between two steep

rocks, forming a prolonged narrow torrent, but of extraordinary force

and swiftness. Here the river is divided into several channels separated

from one another by masses of rocks, which rise abruptly above its

surface. Some of these channels are navigable at certain seasons of the

year, although with very great risk, even to the most experienced pilot.

But when, after the melting of the snow, the river rises above its usual

level, the waters in most of these channels make but one body, and the

whole mass of these united streams descend with irresistible fury. At

this season the most courageous dare not encounter [CCXVIII] such

dangers, and all navigation is discontinued. In this state the river

flows with an imposing grandeur and majesty, which no language can

describe. It seems at one moment to stay its progress; then leaps

forward with resistless impetuosity, and then rebounds against the

rock-girt islands of which I have already spoken, but which present only

vain obstructions to its headlong course. If arrested for a moment, its

accumulated waters proudly swell and mount as though instinct with life,

and the next moment dash triumphantly on, enveloping the half smothered

waves that preceded them as if impatient of their sluggish course, and

wild to speed them on their way. Along the shore, on every projecting

point, the Indian fisherman takes his stand, spreading in the eddies his

ingeniously worked net, and in a short time procures for himself an

abundant supply of fine fish. Attracted by the shoals of fish that come

up the river, the seals gambol amid the eddying waves--now floating with

their heads above the river's breast, and anon darting in the twinkling

of an eye from side to side, in sportive joy or in swift pursuit of

their scaly prey. But this noble river has far other recollections

associated with it. Never shall I forget the sad and fatal accident

which occurred on the second day of our voyage, at a spot called the

"little dalles." I had gone ashore and was walking along the bank,

scarcely thinking what might happen; for my breviary, papers, bed, in a

word, my little all, had been left in the barge.[279] I had proceeded

about a quarter of a mile, when seeing the bargemen push off from the

bank and glide down the stream with an easy, careless air, I began to

repent having preferred a path along the river's side, so strewn with

fragments of rocks that I was compelled at every instant to turn aside

or clamber over them. I still held on my course, when all at once, the

barge [CCXIX] is so abruptly stopped that the rowers can hardly keep

their seats. Regaining, however, their equilibrium, they ply the oars

with redoubled vigour, but without any effect upon the barge. They are

already within the power of the angry vortex: the waters are crested

with foam; a deep sound is heard which I distinguish as the voice of the

pilot encouraging his men to hold to their oars--to row bravely. The

danger increases every minute, and in a moment more all hope of safety

has vanished. The barge--the sport of the vortex, spins like a top upon

the whirling waters--the oars are useless--the bow rises--the stern

descends, and the next instant all have disappeared. A death-like chill

shot through my frame--a dimness came over my sight, as the cry "we are

lost!" rung in my ears, and told but too plainly that my companions were

buried beneath the waves. Overwhelmed with grief and utterly unable to

afford them the slightest assistance, I stood a motionless spectator of

this tragic scene. All were gone, and yet upon the river's breast there

was not the faintest trace of their melancholy fate. Soon after the

whirlpool threw up, in various directions, the oars, poles, the barge

capsized, and every lighter article it had contained. Here and there I

beheld the unhappy bargemen vainly struggling in the midst of the

vortex. Five of them sunk never to rise again. My interpreter had twice

touched bottom and after a short prayer was thrown upon the bank. An

Iroquois saved himself by means of my bed; and a third was so fortunate

as to seize the handle of an empty trunk, which helped him to sustain

himself above water until he reached land. The rest of our journey was

more fortunate. We stopped at Forts Okinakane and Wallawalla,[280] where

I baptized several children.

The savages who principally frequent the borders of the Columbia river

are from the lakes; the chief of whom, with [CCXX] several of the

nation, have been baptized; also the Shuyelpi or Chaudieres, the

Okinakanes, Cingpoils, Walla-wallas, Pierced Noses, Kayuses, Attayes,

Spokanes, the Indians from the falls and cascades, and the Schinouks

and Classops.[281]