"Yes," I answered, "say on."
"You say, `Notawenan'." ("_Our_ Father"). "He is your Father?"
"Yes, He is my Father."
Then he said, while his eyes and voice yearned for the answer, "Does it
mean He is my Father--poor Indian's Father?"
"Yes, O yes!" I exclaimed. "He is your Father too."
"Your Father--missionary's Father, and Indian's Father, too!" he
repeated.
"Yes, that is true," I answered.
"Then we are brothers?" he almost shouted out.
"Yes, we are brothers," I replied. The excitement in the audience had
become something wonderful. When our conversation with the old man had
reached this point, and in such an unexpected, and yet dramatic manner,
had so clearly brought out, not only the Fatherhood of God, but the
oneness of the human family, the people could hardly restrain their
expressions of delight. The old man, however, had not yet finished, and
so, quietly restraining the most demonstrative ones, he again turned to
me, and said,--
"May I say more?"
"Yes, say on; say all that is in your heart."
Never can I forget his answer.
"Well, I do not want to be rude, but it does seem to me that you, my
white brother, have been a long time in coming with that great Book and
its wonderful story, to tell it to your red brothers in the woods."
This question thrilled me, and I found it hard to answer. This is the
question that millions of weary, longing, waiting souls, dissatisfied
with their false religions, and craving for that soul rest which only
can be found in the hearty acceptance of the glorious Gospel of the Son
of God, are asking. I tried to apologise for the slowness of the
advancement of the Redeemer's kingdom, and the apathy of those who,
while acknowledging the brotherhood of humanity, so often forget that
they are their brother's keeper.
We closed the service for a brief period, and then, as soon as a hurried
dinner had been eaten, we all assembled again for the afternoon service.
This second service lasted for five hours. After singing and prayer, I
read the beautiful story of the Ethiopian eunuch, and the Baptismal
Service. I endeavoured to explain what we meant by becoming Christians,
and stated that I was willing to baptize all who would renounce their
paganism, with its polygamy, conjuring, gambling, and other vices, and
from that time begin to worship the true God. Polygamy was the greatest
stumbling-block among them, as some of them had three or four wives.
Intemperance here is but little known, on account perhaps of the great
difficulty of importing liquor into a region so remote from
civilisation.
After I had spent a long time in making clear the doctrines or the
blessed Book, and had answered many questions, I invited all who were
willing to comply with these conditions, and desired baptism, to come to
the front of the audience, where I was standing.
About forty men and women immediately responded, and came forward and
seated themselves at my feet. Some were trembling, others were weeping:
all seemed deeply moved. Then I read the beautiful Scripture lessons in
connection with the baptismal service for children, and dwelt upon the
love of Jesus for children, and His willingness to receive them. I
invited the parents to consecrate their children to God, even if they
themselves were as yet undecided. We had a solemn and impressive time.
All desired new names, and for the great majority I had to make the
selection. While baptizing them and selecting Christian names as
additions to their generally poetic and expressive Indian names, my
constant prayer was, that they might "see His face, and His name" be
Written "in their foreheads."
Still there was some opposition. Satan would not thus easily be
dispossessed or driven out. Old conjurers and medicine men, faithful
followers of the enemy, quickly began their opposition. Their selfish
natures were aroused. They were shrewd enough to see that if I
succeeded, as I was likely to do, they, like Demetrius, the shrine-maker
of Diana, would soon be without an occupation. So at this afternoon
gathering they were there to oppose. But they were in such a helpless
minority that they dared do no worse than storm and threaten. One
savage old conjurer rushed up to me, just as I was about to baptize his
wife, who, with many others, had come for this sign and seal of her
acceptance of Christ. Before I had perceived his purpose, or had power
to stop him, he seized and shook her roughly, and, looking at me, in his
impotent wrath, said in an insulting manner,--
"Call her Atim," ("dog").
"No," I said, looking kindly at the poor trembling woman, "I will do
nothing of the kind; but I will give her the sweetest name ever borne by
woman, for it was the name of the mother of Jesus."
So I baptized her Mary.
We spent several days in giving lessons in the Syllabic characters
between the religious services, three of which we endeavoured to hold
each day. Sometimes we assembled all the people together, and, with
these characters marked on the side of a rock with a burnt stick, we
taught them as best we could. At other times we went from tent to tent,
and gave them lessons, and had religious conversation and prayer.
It was on one of these rounds of wigwam visitations that I came across
Pe-pe-qua-na-pua, or Sandy Harte, the story of whose life and conversion
has been so widely circulated. Several acquired such a knowledge of
these characters that, by persevering for a few weeks, they were able to
read very nicely in the blessed Book.
I left with them several dozen copies of the New Testament, Hymn-books,
and Catechisms, in their own language.
So great was their anxiety for religious instruction, that many of them
remained for three days after they had eaten all of their provisions.
When I first heard this, I could hardly credit it, but found out by
personal investigation that it was the actual fact. With tears in their
eyes they bade me farewell, and said, that on account of their famishing
children they must start off for their fishing and hunting grounds. But
they added, "What we have heard from you will make us glad and thankful
all the time."
With my faithful travelling companions, I made a trip out from Nelson
River to another small band about thirty miles away. We spent the
Sabbath in a miserable wigwam, where the snow and sleet dashed in upon
us, making us shiver in spite of all we could do. Still, as the poor
Indians were anxious to hear the Gospel, we soon forgot our physical
discomforts in the joy of preaching this great salvation. Nineteen of
them accepted Christ as their Saviour, and were baptized. We held a
meeting for the purpose of hearing them tell of their wishes as to this
blessed religion. Many very interesting things were said. We here
record only one.
A fine-looking man said, "What has fully decided me to endeavour to be a
good Christian all my days is this. The Missionary has told us many
reasons, all sufficient to decide us; but the one that came very near to
my heart was, that all the little children who have died have been taken
to that better land, and there they are with the loving Saviour in
heaven. My little ones have passed away, leaving my heart sore and
bleeding. I yearn after them; I long to meet them again. So I want so
to live that when I die Jesus will permit me to embrace them, and never
be separated from them again."
On this trip, we found at another small encampment a young girl, about
twelve years of age, dying of consumption. I talked to her of Jesus and
heaven, and prayed with her several times. When the closing scene drew
near, she said to her sorrowing mother, "I am glad the praying man has
told me such words of comfort. I have lost that dread of death I had.
I believe that dear Jesus will take me to that better land; but, mother,
when you come, will you look for me until you find me? for I do wish to
see you again."
Is it any wonder that I became deeply attached to these Nelson River
Indians? I visited them twice a year, and by pen and voice pleaded for
them until my heart's desire was obtained, and a brother beloved
volunteered to go and live among them. Of him with joy I write.