CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR’S DAY AT ALBANY
The bishop was very busy during the early part of the winter of 1885,
fulfilling the duties of the doctor (who was absent at Albany) in
addition to his own. But he felt well and strong, and happy in the
progress of all his work. He was revising and correcting his translation,
with a view to a new edition being printed, of the Book of Common
Prayer, and the hymn-book, which he had compiled many years before.
The first editions of both he had himself printed at Moose, and bound
too. In earlier days the Indians had carried their few pages of neatly
written-out texts, and hymns, and Gospel portions between strips of bark
fastened together with thongs of deer-skin. The first bound books were a
strange novelty to them.
December found him once more setting out for Albany. The archdeacon
having gone to England to see his _Pilgrim’s Progress_ through the press,
the bishop had arranged to spend Christmas at that station. On December
18 he walked down to the starting-point. The sledge was already on the
ice, and presently the dogs, each held by its own trace, were brought
down and fastened to it—it being strongly moored the while, lest they
should run off with it, so eager were they to go.
[Illustration: A DOG SLEDGE]
‘All being ready, I got into my sledge and looked at my team. It was
composed of twelve splendid creatures, perfectly clean, and in the best
of order, with ears erect and their fine tails gracefully turned up
over their backs; they were jumping and howling, endeavouring to move
the sledge. I said good-bye to the numerous friends around me; I waved
adieu to many others standing on the river’s bank; the binding rope was
cast off, and then not a sound was heard, save the soft movement of the
sledge over the snow, and the tinkling of the musical bells attached to
the dogs’ necks. We sped down the river at a great rate; the houses were
soon left behind, and we were in the wilderness. At the river’s mouth
the ice became quite smooth, with the smallest sprinkling of snow on
its surface—its best possible condition. There was no cold in the air,
I needed no wrapping up; it was the perfection of travelling. At about
fourteen miles from Moose we saw the ill-fated Princess Royal, standing
with her masts erect; a few miles further on, at the North Bluff Beacon,
we remained for half an hour to give the dogs a rest, and to take a
little refreshment. Then on and on; the dogs, requiring no whip to urge
them, either galloped or went at a fast trot the whole way to Piskwamisk,
“The place of the stone heaps,” where we encamped. We had gone nearly
forty miles in six hours. We soon made ourselves comfortable; a fire was
lit in the tent, the robes spread, and in a little while a good cup of
coffee was ready, which, with a biscuit, was enough until the evening’s
substantial meal.
‘The good dogs were then attended to, the harness taken off, a collar
with a chain attached was placed around each dog’s neck, and, to prevent
their indulging in the much-desired fight, each was fastened to a
separate tree stump, close to which was strewn some fine brush for a bed.
All were then served with a good supper of fish, and after looking round
to see that no more was forthcoming, they coiled themselves up, with
their tails over their heads, and nothing was heard of them until next
morning. The whole of the next day we were obliged to remain in camp,
the weather being very rough, and the atmosphere so thick that we could
scarcely see fifty yards out to sea. It was still somewhat thick on the
morning of the third day, but as meat for the dogs failed we were obliged
to proceed. It cleared soon after starting, and four hours brought us to
our next encampment, Cock Point. We were now forty miles from Albany, and
this we accomplished in little more than six hours on the day following.
‘I found all well: young Kelk and his brothers quite as ready for a
romp as ever, and as ready as ever to run a snow-shoe race, or join in
the glorious game of “tobogganing.” But work was to occupy most of my
attention. I visited all the people, by whom I was most warmly received,
and I invited them to our Christmas services—not that services had
been neglected, for Sunday after Sunday, Mr. Broughton, Chrissie’s
husband, had conducted an English service; while young Mr. Vincent, the
archdeacon’s son, conducted an Indian one.
[Illustration: ALBANY, HUDSON’S BAY]
‘Christmas Day dawned bright and clear. Before it was light the church
was nearly filled with Indians, many having come in from their distant
hunting-grounds to join in the festival. The singing was hearty, and
the attention throughout very deep. As I read and spoke of the love of
Christ, the manger of Bethlehem, the joy of the angels, the adoration of
the shepherds, and the blessings Christ is willing to dispense to all who
believe on Him, we all, I think, felt that Christ was with us of a truth.
At four o’clock another congregation assembled. There were only two or
three persons present who had ever seen England, yet the English language
is well spoken by nearly everyone, and this service was as enjoyable as
its predecessor had been. In the afternoon we had our third service, in
Indian, and after the sermon twenty-eight of us knelt around the Lord’s
table.
‘On New Year’s Day, at five o’clock, I was serenaded by the “Albany
Band.” It consists of a drum, a violin, and a triangle, and on these
three instruments our New Year’s morning music was discoursed. Two hours
and a half later there was a good congregation in the church, in which
we met to return thanks for the mercies of the past year, and to ask a
continuance of them during that so lately begun. I preached on Psalm xc.
12, “So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto
wisdom.” Directly after breakfast we began to prepare for visitors, the
entire population of Albany. For their consumption a large quantity of
currant wine, cakes, and tea was provided, together with an abundance
of sweets, intended mostly for the little ones. About ten o’clock all
the men-servants of the establishment came in, dressed in their best,
and, after wishing us a “Happy New Year,” all sat around the room, and a
lively conversation began. But what a difference now from the old days!
Then, nearly all were Europeans, for very few natives were fit for the
service in any capacity; now, all are natives. Shop-master, blacksmith,
cooper, carpenters, storekeeper—not one of them has ever seen more than
five hundred people at one time, and now all would be able to take their
places in the workshops of England, speaking and reading English as if
born in England. The oldest present I married four-and-thirty years ago,
and he and his wife have now a goodly number of grandchildren. All are
very well conducted, nearly all are communicants. What would the state of
things have been had there been no mission in the country!
‘The men and lads having departed, after an interval the wives,
daughters, and young children came in, and a goodly number they were,
healthy and strong; while in colour they were of all shades, from pure
white to dark brown. All spoke English well—quite as good, nay, very much
better English than is spoken by many of the working-classes in England;
while all above the age of seven years can read fairly. This was a very
enjoyable party, the enjoyment culminating in a grand scramble for
sweets.
‘After our dinner the Indians all came in again. There was a little
speech-making, and a great deal of cake-eating and tea-drinking; after
which grandfather, and daughter, and son-in-law, and the four young
grandsons, had the evening to themselves, and a very pleasant one they
had.
‘New Year’s Day was over. A few days more passed, and then on the morning
of January 5 the sledge and dogs—now thirteen—were once more on the ice.
We started. The cold was terrible, thirty-five degrees below zero, and
a strong wind blowing. Six hours afterwards we were in our tent, making
a fire, over which a kettle of good coffee was soon boiling. The next
day, and still the next day, the wind was equally strong, the temperature
nearly as low, and the atmosphere filled with fine particles of snow. The
third day was our last out, and at three o’clock in the afternoon I was
once more in my old quarters. I found all well, and at once fell into the
old routine of work.’