stations, 6 ordained missionaries, 26 assistant missionaries, 13
churches, 12 native pastors and preachers, 9 native teachers, and
847 church members, contributing during the past year $779.83 for
their own missions among the heathen Indians, and $1,080.58 for
pastoral support and church expenses.
Of this there now passes directly to the care of the American
Missionary Association 5 stations, with also an interest in the
Native Missionary field at Devil’s Lake, 4 ordained missionaries,
21 assistant missionaries, 2 churches, Pilgrim Church at Santee
and Shiloh Church at the Sully Station, with 8 native preachers, 5
native teachers, and a church membership of 194.
As has been noticed, the organization of the work from the first
has been on the Presbyterian model, and thus the fruits of the
mission have mostly gone into the Presbyterian connection. The
church at the Fort Sully Station was an exception. It was organized
as a Congregational church. Nevertheless, this Presbyterian cast,
this whole native force, is to be considered as one, and will be
used by whichever denomination is ready to prosecute the work
most vigorously, for the denominationalism of these churches is
not of a radical type, as is instanced by the recent change of
ecclesiastical relations on the part of the Pilgrim Church at
Santee. This is the original mother church, but in order to come
into closer and more sympathetic relations with the churches that
support the Santee Training School, it voted cheerfully and almost
unanimously to leave Presbytery and become Congregational. Indeed
this is not hard for them to do, for Indians are naturally very
democratic.
In the work that may now be done for this people, SANTEE NORMAL
TRAINING SCHOOL must be an important factor. It has vital relation
to all these native churches, and it has a name among the heathen
communities. Its growth has been slow, for it has taken time and
work to instil the idea of a higher education into the minds of
the people. Henceforth its growth might be rapid. It now has one
hundred and one pupils in attendance, with seventeen instructors,
including those in charge of the industrial and boarding
departments. This winter a number of pupils have been turned away
for lack of room. If accommodations could be provided, the number
of pupils might soon be doubled.
While giving great attention to industrial training, it affords
unparalleled advantages for that training which is needed to make
teachers suited to Indian schools.
The school is the basis of evangelizing the Indian. There will be
no large audiences to preach to, except on exceptional occasions,
until the school has gathered a company of disciples. Certain
persons not understanding the nature of missionary work, or unable
to take more than a superficial view, have recently represented our
schools as of low grade, and unnecessary to real missionary work.
But this is contradicted by the grand progress of the work.
We have spoken of five mission stations as now passing under
the care of the A. M. A. But of these Standing Rock is hardly
opened, and Berthold and Sully stations are sadly in need of
reinforcements. And there are the large Indian Agencies of Spotted
Tail’s and Red Cloud’s tribes, numbering about 7,000 each, which
we ought to occupy. Then there is the Crow country in Montana,
next door to our Berthold Mission. We should have at once six
ordained missionaries and their wives, with as many more assistant
missionaries, all picked men. This would enable us to manage a yet
larger number of native missionary teachers working along with
them.
[Illustration: SISSETON GIRLS, WITH TEACHER.]
The tribes speaking the Dakota language are the most numerous of
any Indian people upon the continent. They are now universally
open to Christianity and Christian civilization. They now look to
Christian people for their future. Within the last ten or twelve
years the whole temper of their mind has changed. The noted chief,
Sitting Bull, is an illustration. Only a few years ago he hated the
very wind that blew from the direction of the white man’s country.
When the wind blew from the east he would send out the town crier
to say, “Get you all into your teepees. This is bad air from the
white man’s country.” But when it blew from the north his crier
would proclaim, “Come out and breathe the healthy air.” And once
when a woman of the tribe brought home a “rooster” from a distant
trading post to enliven the tedium of her labor, Sitting Bull heard
it crow and instantly dispatched his chief soldier to “soldier
kill” the woman, that is, cut up her tent and kill her horses, for
the crime of having that white man’s bird in the sacred precincts
of a Dakota camp. But now the same Sitting Bull is petitioning for
Christian teachers, and land, and domestic animals, and undoubtedly
would also welcome “the-bird-that-crows-in-the-morning.”
* * * * *
INDIAN INDUSTRIES AT HAMPTON.
BY GEN. S. C. ARMSTRONG.
Every Indian boy who comes to Hampton is allowed his choice to
learn farming or a trade, and to select the trade he prefers, to
which he is expected to stick. They often wish to change after some
months, for they are a fickle people. While this is by no means
done as a matter of course, it has sometimes been found wise to do
so. A boy who could do nothing at blacksmithing made remarkable
progress in the wheelwright’s shop; one who is poor on the farm may
be good in the shoe-shop, and _vice versa_; but it does not do to
encourage shifting trades. The girls go through the same routine of
housework, cooking, cutting and making and mending clothes.
The boys are assigned to work as follows: carpenters, 15; painters,
1; tinsmiths, 6; shoe-makers, 13; harness-makers, 3; farmers, 13;
blacksmiths, 3; wheelwrights, 3; tailors, 1. A generous lady in New
York City has recently given $5,000 for an Indian workshop, which
will be completed and occupied by the first of April next, and be a
most satisfactory change from the shed in which they have for four
years uncomfortably worked at their trades.
Considering the past of the Indian, the disposition of our boys
and girls to work is remarkable. The general rule is to work from
seven to twelve o’clock, A.M., or from one to six o’clock, P.M.,
Saturday being holiday. Those who work mornings study afternoons,
and _vice versa_. All are paid, girls as well as boys, usually at
the rate of $2.50 per month, for to expect Indians to take a real
interest in their work without some compensation is absurd. It is
weak and foolish to reason that the skill they attain is enough
compensation. Human nature requires something more. On the other
hand they purchase all their underclothing and shoes with their
earnings, and are thus taught the use of money and the true value
of garments, and become quite skillful in buying. A school uniform
is provided for each one, made in our tailoring department.
Their appreciation of work is a direct contradiction to the
statement that an Indian hates to labor. Frequently boys who are
working a half-day at some trade will ask to be allowed to work the
entire day, including Saturday, so as to earn more and be better
able to take care of themselves when they go home. Their wages are
then increased and they go to night school. Every such application
is encouraging.
Especially those who make extra time in the shops are inclined to
save. They generally agree to draw but one-half of extra earnings,
the other half being saved to buy them tools and other outfit when
they shall finally leave school. We allow ten per cent. interest
on all such savings; they are quick to see the advantage of laying
up money. They seem to have no marked aptitude for special trades,
unless it be for work in leather, shoe and harness-making. Their
ancestors have dealt in this commodity more than in any other. They
take to all handiwork remarkably; while quick to learn, they are
slow to execute. They seldom bungle or “botch” a job. The first
pair of shoes made by an apprentice is always serviceable. An
Indian carpenter will make as good a mortise as a white one, but
will take three times as long. Our expert harness-maker says he can
do no better work than some of his boys, but they are very slow
about it. We are constantly making and selling carts made by Sioux
boys. They have made all our school benches, desks, wardrobes and
wash-stands, besides window-frames, etc., for the outside market.
We would be only too glad to make buggy or plow harness, single
or double, tin-ware of all kinds and brogan shoes for individuals
or institutions in the North or South, solely on the ground of
the merit and cheapness of the work done. A neat carriage harness
was made last summer for a lady in Newport, R.I. Of the 500 dozen
articles of tinware, 75 sets of double plow harness, and 2,000
pairs of men’s shoes made last year by our Indian boys for the
use of the Western tribes (ordered by the Indian Department at
the lowest contract prices of the previous year) the New York
inspectors reported: “They are as well and as strongly made, and
for actual service fully equal to any purchased by the Department.”
This year we are making an even larger amount of material for the
Indian Department, but at prices which little more than cover cost
of material. An outside private trade would be much more desirable.
We were paid for men’s brogans “extra” good leather, $1.22½ per
pair, boxed and delivered in New York City. Carlisle does even more
than Hampton in supplying Indians, and with excellent success.
Owing to bodily ailments, Indian labor is more unsteady than that
of Negroes. While in their own life they have endurance, a steady
routine of industry is new to them, and they are for our purposes
a rather feeble race: they find digging exhausting, but on the
hunter’s trail or on the warpath they are tireless when we would
soon be weary.
Unless every Indian child is educated to some occupation, teaching
is of little account. Hard work rather than the higher studies
gives them the best drill. As for all, so for Indians, home
influence is a great thing. After the best practical education they
are not fit for the loose, idle, dirty life of Indian camps any
more than any other children. What is to be done? The best success
with the thirty Sioux children who returned in October, 1881, to
their agencies (five of them girls) has been with those to whom the
agents gave separate rooms near the agencies, having their food
cooked and their life led separately. An efficient agent will, by
the care he takes, save four-fifths of our Indian graduates to
decent lives; a careless, weak agent (and not a third of the sixty
U.S. Indian Agents are first-class men) will lose four-fifths of
them. We cannot make men of them in three years, but can give them
a start in that time that a good agent can keep up, and lead them
to true success.
Here, more and more, we find the real trouble; not with the Indian,
but in our miserable system of paying so small salaries to Indian
agents that a competent one is the exception. The boy or girl
who goes home finds no strong, kind friend to advise and help;
the current of influence is against a Christian life. Here the
missionary is needed; never more than now.
Hampton, Carlisle and the many schools that are educating Indians
need to be supplemented by good agents and wise missionaries who
will help them to stand against the odds that would make the
new life they have chosen nest to impossible. Here is the point
of chief anxiety. Public sentiment must be felt at Washington
before it shall remove the chief stumbling-block to Indian
progress—poor agents. As Secretary Teller says in his last Report,
the Indians are chiefly on reservations, and must for the present
be treated there; to be gradually pushed upon lands of their own,
individually, by the efforts of wise men and the influence of
Christian education.
REVIVAL WORK AMONG INDIANS AT HAMPTON.
Miss Isabel B. Eustis, in giving an account of the revival meetings
at Hampton, writes as follows of the Indians:
Meanwhile at one end of the chapel there sat a company of one
hundred who took no part in the service. The Indian students
watched with wondering and wistful eyes the scenes around them.
“Pass me not, O Gentle Saviour,” they sang often in their own
services during these days, and the Lord heard their cry and turned
aside and called them too. Stago, our fiery little Apache boy,
heard his voice, and set hard to work to conquer his temper and
self-will. The quick-witted, ambitious, head-strong girl, whose
influence over the other scholars we dreaded, listened, and her
hard expression softened, and the stubborn will yielded, and with
gentleness and humility she met the daily requirements which had
often roused her rebellious spirit before. Shallow natures grew
earnest and proud, and we knew that there was one walking with the
Indian students too who could purify and inspire and help.
On Wednesday evening our senior Indian boy, of his own accord, left
his class and took his seat with the other Indian scholars. Waiting
his opportunity, he rose and called the attention of the school to
those who sat behind him. He reminded me of the darkness out of
which they had come, and of the dangers to which they must return.
He told us that they longed for a share in the blessing God was
giving the school, and asked our patience while they prayed to the
Father, and spoke of Him in a language we could not understand.
Kamnach rose first. Kamnach came to the school four years ago,
directly from his wild Indian life. His hair was uncut; he wore
Indian clothes; he had been always familiar with scenes of
bloodshed, and placed little value on human life. After three years
he went back to his home, a changed man we thought in appearance
and heart. But it was hard to stand among his savage comrades. He
plead to come back to school. He was a happy boy, when, less than
a year ago, he placed his foot again on Hampton soil. Poor boy! he
had yet to learn that always his worst temptations would come from
his own distorted heart. Some misunderstanding of his position as a
returned student, some distrust of those who were over him, and he
fell into passionate hatred, and was ready to commit a deliberate
and deadly crime. We thought his repentance would be quick and
deep, but not so. The first Sunday of the new year, the anniversary
of the day on which he confessed Christ, he had no heart to meet
the Lord, whose first command was to love and forgive. But the
passing Saviour’s voice reached him now. He stood before the
crowded school, and with the help of an interpreter acknowledged
his sin, and renewed his allegiance to the Saviour, and begged the
Indian students to follow the Lord Jesus, though they would find
many things in His religion hard to understand and difficult to do.
After Kamnach’s confession a Sioux boy made a prayer. He spoke in
another tongue, but more than one felt his heart was lifted to the
Father’s heart by the earnestness and pathos of the stranger’s
voice. Another tried to speak in broken English. Missing the
words he wanted to say, waiting and struggling for confession,
he acknowledged Jesus Christ as the Saviour of his soul. Our
hearts were knit together in love. We knew that we belonged to one
common family and nothing could separate from the love of Christ.
Evidently the son of God who came to save the lost finds nothing in
the Indian nature he cannot soften and subdue. Evidently the Indian
is able to place his confidence in such a Saviour and yield himself
in glad obedience to Him.
CHILDREN’S PAGE.
* * * * *
[Illustration: INDIAN HUT.]
THE LITTLE INDIAN OF CLEAR LAKE.
ABRIDGED FROM GOSPEL IN ALL LANDS.
Did you ever see an Indian—a real, live Indian—in bead-embroidered
buck-skin coat and breeches, girded with a curiously wrought
wampum belt, shod with moccasins, his face painted black and red,
his hair bristling, like a porcupine’s back, with a gay forest of
feathers—as he dashed through the woods or over the prairie, on a
wild horse, or strode along proudly on foot, with bow and arrows in
his hands, and a large tomahawk and scalping-knife in his girdle?
You have seen him in the pictures, at least, and thought him a fine
sight; and perhaps you felt in your heart that it must be fine to
live such a wild, daring life, hunting, fishing and roaming in the
woods and over the fields.
But all Indians are not like him. Tribes differ very much in their
character and habits. Besides, they are never quite so brave and
fine in real life as they are in pictures. Most of them are poor
miserable creatures; and if you should go into one of their wigwams
of sticks and barks, and see their naked bodies, filthy faces and
tangled hair, as they squat in the smoke and stench around a little
fire, on the bare earth, in the middle of the shanty, snatching at
poor food with dirty fingers, like a pack of ravenous wolves. I do
not believe you would think it very fine, ever after have the least
desire to live like an Indian.
The little boy of our story was born and lived on the shores of
Clear Lake, a fine sheet of water among the mountains, thirty or
forty miles north of Napo Valley.
Like all his mates, he was so short and thick that he seemed to
be about as broad as he was long. His skin was not copper-colored
like that of most other Indians, but black. His face was broad and
round, his lips thick and pouting, and his nose wide and flat.
His long coarse hair, all tangled and matted, dangled around his
high cheek-bones and above his naked shoulders, like the shaggy
mane of a Canadian pony, and half hid his coarse, brutal features:
a pair of small, round, dull eyes, like leaden bullets, made the
treacherous expression that slept in every line of his features
seem ten-fold more revolting.
His wigwam, or lodge, was nothing but a rude screen of bushes or
skins to break the force of the wind. You would not think it very
nice or comfortable, but he did, and could sleep just as well
there, or on the ground beside a large stone, or behind the stump
of a fallen tree as you do on the softest feathers. But he never
slept two nights in the same place, for fear of being discovered by
an enemy and murdered.
It is a hard and cheerless life which those little Indian children
lead, as you can easily see, but the life of this little Indian was
especially so; for his father and mother had both been murdered,
and he had no friends to care for him any more kindly than they
would care for a dog; and even the _Hias Tyee_, or Big Chief of the
tribe, whose duty it was to see that this little waif on the stormy
sea of Indian life was provided for, thought only to get some
advantage out of him; and so, when he saw a white man camping one
day on the shores of the lake, he brought down the boy and offered
to sell him for ten dollars. It proved to be a kind, good-hearted
man, who saw that the little fellow was friendless and forlorn,
and so the bargain was soon closed, and he became servant to the
“pale-face” till he was twenty-one years old, on condition of
receiving his food and clothing.
On reaching home, the first thing, of course, was to clip off his
dangling locks, give him a thorough scrubbing with soap and brush,
and cover his black nakedness with decent clothing.
That afternoon, when the pigs were fed, he was found with his nose
in the trough eating sour milk with the animals as if he had been
one of them. At night nothing could persuade him to sleep in a room
or on a bed; and after dark, when the family had retired to rest,
he stole out of the house as slyly as a cat, and hid himself away
in the tall weeds beside the fence. Every night for many weeks he
did the same, and was so fearful of being murdered in his sleep
that he changed his nest every night, never daring to sleep twice
in the same spot.
His tongue was constantly telling lies, and he would steal
everything he fancied that came in his way. He seemed to have no
idea of right and wrong. He could not comprehend what such words as
love and duty and kindness meant. Fear was the only motive which
had the least influence in controlling him. Even the difference
between cleanliness and dirt was a thought too sublime and profound
for his understanding.
But he could believe in ghosts and haunting spirits of dead men,
like most other ignorant and barbarous people; and he thought they
lingered around every stump and tree, and followed him wherever he
went. He could hear them fluttering in the leaves, or rapping on
the limbs and trunks of the trees, or whispering in the wind. He
supposed they took possession of the bodies of men and animals, and
caused them to sing and dance, and do all sorts of silly tricks,
by a kind of inspiration. He had some notions of the Great Spirit,
it is true, but they were confused and indistinct, and had little
power over him, while a slavish fear of the inferior spirits and
other such ghostly nonsense tormented him night and day, and made
him a timid, miserable, degraded, creature.
Had you seen him in that condition you would have thought it
impossible to make anything good out of such a stupid little
animal. You would have said it was of no use to try to teach a
creature so brutal and superstitious anything about God and heaven,
and a higher life, or even about the decencies of civilized society.
But a kind lady took him under her care. She taught him to read and
write. She showed him the folly of believing in ghosts, and talking
with the spirits. She told him the story of Jesus, and made him
learn the ten commandments, and the precious words of the Saviour,
and explained to him how God made him, and fed, and clothed, and
kept him, day by day, and that he ought to love Him, and do right
in return for His kindness. She impressed him with the thought that
God is angry with wicked boys and girls every day, and that only
the pure in heart, whose lives are good, can be happy on earth, or
go to heaven when they die.
At first he was stupid and stubborn, and unwilling to learn; but
after a little while his stolid face began to brighten, his dull
eyes sparkled with unusual interest, and he was more and more
attentive, till his coarse, animal features wore an entirely new
expression. One day he came in with a very serious look, and said
in an earnest tone:
“Mistress, oh me got bad heart! Ask Great Spirit to give me better
heart.”
He was told to ask for himself; and then the poor little child of
the Great Father went into his own room alone and shut the door,
and kneeled down beside the bed and prayed, oh! so earnestly, that
God would forgive his sins for Jesus’ sake, and take away his
wicked feelings, and show him how to be good. From that moment he
was a changed boy. His bad habits were all laid aside. He ceased
to be stupid and stubborn and inattentive. He told no more lies,
and pilfered no more. His face glowed with kindly feeling, as if a
ray from heaven were sleeping on it. His coarse features lost their
repulsive expression and became rather pleasant to see. I am sure
there was rejoicing in heaven that day over this little stray lamb
from the wilderness; and I do not doubt that when God gathers up
his jewels from the earth the poor Indian boy will be a precious
gem in the Saviour’s crown of glory.
RECEIPTS FOR FEBRUARY, 1883.
* * * * *
MAINE, $261.26.
Augusta. South Cong. Ch. and Soc., 55 (30 of
which from Barrett E. Potter to const. REV.
HENRY V. EMMONS L. M.); “A Friend,” 5 $60.00
Blue Hill. Bbl. of C., _for Wilmington, N.C._
Brownsville. Cong. Ch. 18.00
Brunswick. Bbl. of C., val. 20, and 2.56 for
freight, _for Selma, Ala._ 2.56
Camden. E. D. Mansfield, 6; A. Howe and Wife,
3; J. H., 1 10.00
Gardiner. Two Bbls. of C., and 4.25 for
freight, _for Selma, Ala._ 4.25
New Sharon. Cong. Ch. 5.00
Portland. Rev. I. P. Warren, D.D., 50, to
const. MISS E. A. STANWOOD L. M.; Plymouth
Ch., 43, to const. C. S. D. GRIFFEN L. M. 93.00
Scarborough. “Friend in Cong. Ch.” 50.00
Skowhegan. “Friends,” by Mrs. L. W. Weston,
_for Tillotson C. & N. Inst._ 8.00
South Berwick. Ladies of Cong. Ch. and Soc.,
Bbl. of C., _for Wilmington, N.C._
Union. Bbl of C., _for Selma, Ala._
West Falmouth. Bbl. of C. and 2.25 _for
Freight, for Selma, Ala._ 2.25
Woolwich. “Morning Glories” 3.20
——. “A Friend.” 5.00
NEW HAMPSHIRE, $419.05.