DAYS OF LABOUR
Nothing perhaps could give a better idea of Mr. Horden’s gigantic labours
than an account of a day’s work at different times. A Sunday in the
winter of 1871 is thus spent by him.
‘While it was yet dark,’ he says, ‘at half-past six o’clock the church
bells summoned us to the house of prayer; the cold was severe, but I
found a tolerable congregation awaiting me, and the service was very
enjoyable. The congregation dismissed, I returned home to breakfast,
and soon afterwards went to the church again for our English service.
This is conducted precisely as in a church at home; the full service is
read, and we use one prayer which you do not, for the Governor-General of
Canada and the Lieutenant-Governor of the Hudson’s Bay Territories. The
congregation is composed of the deputy-governor, his family and his staff
of clerks, and the doctor—not one of whom is ever absent, and all but one
are communicants—my own family, and the servants European and native of
the Hudson’s Bay Company. After the sermon a general offertory was made,
and then the communicants met around the Lord’s table, there to renew
their vows, and to partake of that spiritual food which was ordained to
strengthen them in their heavenly course.
‘At a quarter to two the bell was rung for school, and a few minutes
after I was with the scholars, on my knees seeking a blessing on our
meeting together. School over, our second Indian service commenced with
a larger congregation than in the early morning, for young children can
be brought out now. There is again a departure from the church, yet
some remain, and those, as their English-speaking brethren had done in
the morning, commemorate their dying Saviour’s love. In all thirty have
communicated. The shades of evening are falling as I leave the church,
after a fatiguing, but blessed day’s work.’
The necessity was laid upon Mr. Horden of being like St. Paul, ‘in
journeyings oft,’ and the day’s work we have now to speak of was one of
journeying.
‘Last summer,’ he says, ‘I was on my way to Rupert’s House. A large boat
just built was going there, and I took a passage in it. It was loaded
with a miscellaneous cargo of bricks, potatoes, a stove, bags of flour,
and bales of goods. The crew was composed of Rupert’s House Indians, fine
manly fellows, and all Christians. Leaving Moose somewhat late in the
day, we went but a short distance and encamped on an island, eight miles
off, called Ship-sands. Here we set up our tent and cooked our supper;
then we gathered together, and joined our voices in a hymn of praise. I
read a portion of Scripture, and we all knelt in prayer to the God of
heaven and earth, and not long after lay down to rest. At midnight there
was an arrival, and I was aroused from sleep by my guide, with the cry of
“Musenahekun! Musenahekun!” A packet! a packet! These are magic words.
I started to my feet in an instant, for not since February had I seen a
letter from home, and it was now June 17. It was, however, but a poor
affair, containing no private letters from England, and but little public
news. The real packet I welcomed at Rupert’s House nearly a month later.
‘In the early morn we spread our sails to the wind and went joyously
forward. The east point of Hannah Bay is reached, and it now seems that
further progress is impossible; there is ice, ice; block after block is
pushed aside; hoisting sail, back we go, to round a projecting point.
We are in a narrow, crooked lane of water, through which we move very
carefully, with poles in hand, ready to do battle with any piece of ice
which lies in our way, and so hour after hour slips by, and all hopes of
reaching Rupert’s House are at an end; but towards evening our labours
are crowned with success, and the clear sea stretches before us. There is
no place to land. We set our best man at the helm, and taking reefs in
our sails, trust to the protection of the Almighty. I think it was the
most uncomfortable night I have ever spent.
‘In the early morning the wind abated. We once more set sail, and
traversed beautiful Rupert’s Bay, with its varied scenery of hill and
valley, wooded headlands and bare rocks, Gheiles Mount, the highest
eminence in this part of the country, rising majestically above all. By
and by, the North Point is reached, and we enter Rupert’s River. We have
been seen at Rupert’s House, the flag is waving in the breeze; the few
houses form a pretty picture in the morning light; and just before seven
o’clock I am heartily welcomed by a crowd of Europeans and natives, who
come down to the river’s bank to meet me, as I get out of the boat.’
Rupert’s House is an important post of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and the
centre of their fur trade in a very extensive district. The business
is managed by a trader high in the Hudson’s Bay service, assisted by
a clerk, a storekeeper, and a staff of tradesmen and servants; the
buildings consist of the master’s residence, houses for the servants,
large and substantially built stores, and last, though not least, a
capacious church. ‘That church,’ says Mr. Horden, ‘how long I had sighed
for it; how hard I had laboured one summer getting logs brought to the
place from distant woods, and sawn into boards for the commencement of
the building! And now I see a stream of worshippers flowing from tents
and marquees, gradually filling it, until there is scarcely room for
another human being. What joy and gratitude did I feel! This is the
fifth church in my district since Moose became my home; my next must be
four hundred miles from Rupert’s House, for the Saulteaux Indians of New
Brunswick.
‘There goes the bell! it is just six o’clock. I had service every
morning at Rupert’s House, but this morning there is an innovation, I
am one of the assembly, not the leader; I have deputed an Indian to
conduct the service, and right well he performs his duty. The Litany is
very impressively rendered, and a chapter of St. Matthew well read. The
numerous voices mingle in their translation of “He dies, the friend of
sinners dies”—_Nepeu, umra ka sakehat_—to Luther’s hymn; then I take the
Testament and once more read the chapter and explain it, enforcing its
lessons on my hearers; the hymn, “Lord, dismiss us with Thy blessing,” is
sung, and the congregation separates.
‘It is time for breakfast. I take mine with my kind host, the trader, who
is not only an English gentleman, but a Churchman and communicant. At
nine o’clock I am in my vestry, and around me are the servants’ children.
I am in a small English school, reading the English Testament, teaching
English hymns, till eleven, when my Indians come to me family by family.
‘Here is Jacob Matamashkum.
‘“Well, Jacob, how did you get on last winter?”
‘“Part of it very badly, part tolerably well. It was a poor season for
furs, martens entirely failed, and none of the other animals made up
for the deficiency; many of the Indians will be quite unable to pay
their debts to the trader. We had our prayers every day, and we kept the
Sabbath, but once now and then we were obliged to look for some food on
Sunday when we had nothing. We love our religion more and more, and are
very glad indeed we have the church to assemble in.”
‘Then I gave my instructions, assured that, as far as possible, they
would be attended to. And so the hours passed by. At four o’clock I
had a very solemn service; two gentlemen, one more than seventy years
of age, and the other in middle life, both from far in the interior
of the country, knelt together for the first time in their lives at
the Lord’s table; the elder had not seen a clergyman for upwards of a
quarter of a century. At six o’clock it is ding-dong, ding-dong, again,
and again the voice of praise is raised, prayer offered, the Bible read
and explained, and the congregation then separated to their fragile and
temporary dwellings. Yet once more the bell calls to prayer; the master,
the gentlemen from the interior, the servants, their wives and children
obey the summons, and I hold an English service, enjoyable and enjoyed.
At its termination I take a short walk, reflecting on the day’s events,
offering up a silent prayer that God would vouchsafe His blessing thereon
abundantly.’