The success which has attended the efforts of the missionaries in
preaching the Gospel among the most northern tribes of Indians has been
very encouraging. For a long time they had been dissatisfied with their
old paganism. They had in a measure become convinced that their
religious teachers, their medicine-men, and conjurers, were impostors
and liars, and so, while submitting somewhat to their sway, were yet
chafing under it. When the first missionaries arrived among them they
were soon convinced that they were their true friends. Not only were
they men of saintly lives and pure characters, but they were men who
practically sympathised with the people, and to the full measure of
their ability, and often beyond, they helped the sick and suffering
ones, and more than once divided their last meal with the poor, hungry
creatures who came to them in their hours of direst need. The result
was that the people were so convinced of the genuineness of these
messengers of peace and good will, that large numbers of them gladly
accepted the truth and became loving Christians.
The story of the founding of these missions went far and wide throughout
all these northern regions, and at many a distant camp fire, and in many
a wigwam hundreds of miles away, the red men talked of the white man and
his book of heaven.
Occasionally some of these hunters or trappers, from these still remote
pagan districts of their great hunting grounds, would meet with some of
the Christian hunters from the missions, and from them would learn
something of the great salvation revealed in the book of heaven, and
they would return more dissatisfied than ever with their old, sinful,
pagan ways.
Then it sometimes happened that a missionary, full of zeal for his
Master, and of sympathy for these poor, neglected souls in the
wilderness, would undertake long journeys into their country to preach
to them this great salvation. Many were the hardships and dangers of
those trips, which were often of many weeks' duration. They were made
in summer in a birch canoe with a couple of noble Christian Indians, who
were not only able skillfully to paddle the canoe, and guide it safely
down the swift, dangerous rapids, and carry it across the portages, but
also be of great help to the missionary in spreading the Gospel by
telling of their own conversion, and of the joy and happiness which had
come to them through the hearty acceptance of this way.
In winter the missionaries could only make these long journeys by
travelling with dogs, accompanied by a faithful guide and some clever
dog drivers. Sometimes they travelled for three hundred miles through
the cold forests or over the great frozen lakes for many days together
without seeing a house. When night overtook them, they dug a hole in
the snow, and there they slept or shivered as best they could. Their
food was fat meat, and they fed their dogs on fish. The cold was so
terrible that sometimes every part of their faces exposed to the
dreadful cold was frozen. Once one of the missionaries froze his nose
and ears in bed! Often the temperature ranged from forty to sixty
degrees below zero. It was perhaps the hardest mission field in the
world, as regards the physical sufferings and privations endured; but,
fired by a noble ambition to preach the Gospel "in the region beyond,"
these men of God considered no sufferings too severe, or difficulties
insurmountable, if only they could succeed. They were among those of
whom it is said:
"Fired with a zeal peculiar, they defy
The rage and rigour of a northern sky,
And plant successfully sweet Sharon's rose
On icy fields amidst eternal snows."
Wherever they could gather the wandering Indians together, even in
little companies, for religious worship they did so. On the banks of
the lakes or rivers, in the forests, at their camp fires, or in their
wigwams, they ceased not to speak and to preach Jesus. The result was,
a spirit of inquiry was abroad, and so, in spite of the old conjurers
and medicine-men, who were determined, if possible, not to lose their
grip upon them, there was a longing to know more and more about this
better way.
Norway House Mission was the spot to which many eyes were directed, and
to which deputations asking for missionary help often came. It was the
largest and most flourishing of those northern missions, and for years
had its own printing press and successful schools.
Very pathetic and thrilling were some of the scenes in connection with
some of these importunate Indian deputations, who came from remote
regions to plead with the resident missionary that they might have one
of their own, to live among them and help them along in the right way.
One deputation, consisting of old men, came year after year, and when
still refused each successive year, because there was none to volunteer
for a life so full of hardships, and no money in the missionary
treasury, even if a man could be found, became filled with despair, and
even bitterness, and said: "Surely then the white men do not, as they
say, consider us as their brothers, or they would not leave us without
the book of heaven and one of their members to show us the true way."
Another old man, with bitterness of soul and tremulousness of speech,
when replying to the refusal of his request for a missionary for his
people, said: "My eyes have grown dim with long watching, and my hair
has grown grey while longing for a missionary." These importunate
appeals, transmitted year after year to the missionary authorities, at
length, in a measure, so aroused the Churches that more help was sent,
but not before the toilers on the ground had almost killed themselves in
the work. Vast indeed was the area of some of those mission fields, and
wretched and toilsome were the methods of travel over them. George
McDougall's mission was larger than all France; Henry Steinhaur's was
larger than Germany; the one of which Norway House was the principal
station was over five hundred miles long, and three hundred wide; and
there were others just as large. No wonder men quickly broke down and
had soon to retire from such work. The prisoners in the jails and
penitentiaries of the land live on much better fare than did these
heroic men and their families. The great staple of the North was fish.
Fish twenty-one times a week for six months, and not much else with it.
True, it was sometimes varied by a pot of boiled muskrat or a roasted
leg of a wild cat.
Yet, amid such hardships, which tried both souls and bodies, they toiled
on bravely and uncomplainingly, and, as far as possible, responded to
the pleading Macedonian calls that came to them for help, from the
remote regions still farther beyond, and gladly welcomed to their
numbers the additional helpers when they arrived.
With only one of these deputations pleading for a missionary have we
here to do.
It was a cold, wintry morning. The fierce storms of that northern land
were howling outside, and the frost king seemed to be holding high
carnival. Quickly and quietly was the door of the mission house opened,
and in there came two Indians. One of them was our beloved friend
Memotas, who was warmly greeted by all, for he was a general favourite.
The little children of the mission home, Sagastaookemou and Minnehaha,
rushed into his arms and kissed his bronzed but beautiful face. When
their noisy greetings were over, he introduced the stranger who was with
him. He seemed to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years of age,
and was a fine, handsome looking man; in fact, an ideal Indian of the
forest. Very cordially was he welcomed, and Memotas said his name was
Oowikapun.
Thus was our hero in the mission house, and in the presence of the first
missionary he had ever seen. How had he reached this place? and what
was the object of his coming? These questions we will try to answer.
The last glimpse we had of Oowikapun was when he was quietly speeding
away from the far-off village where dwelt Astumastao, and, according to
the hunters, returning not in the trail leading to his own village; His
presence here in the mission house, hundreds of miles in the opposite
direction, now explains to us the way in which he must have travelled.
From his own lips, long after, the story of his adventurous trip was
told.
Oowikapun said that, when he left Astumastao after that last interview
in which he so completely failed to divert her from her determination to
undertake, with the other women, the long, dangerous journey, and in
which she had shown him how little he was to be depended upon, he went
back to the wigwam of his friends feeling very uncomfortable. His
relatives had all gone off hunting or visiting, and so there he was
alone in his tent. He kindled a fire, and by it he sat and tried to
think over what had happened, and was full of regret at what Astumastao
had resolved to do. While almost frightened at the dangers she was
about to face, he could not but be proud of her spirit and courage.
Then the thought came to him, What are you doing? Is there not man
enough in you to do this work, and save these women from such risks? Is
it not as much for you as anybody else the missionary is needed? Are
you not about the most miserable one in the tribe? Here is your
opportunity to show what you can accomplish; and, as Memotas was always
doing the hard work for his wife, here is your chance to save from
danger, and do the work that the one you are longing to call your wife
is intending to do.
"While I thought about it," said Oowikapun, "the thing took such hold
upon me that it fairly made me tremble with excitement, and I resolved
to set about it at once. So I very quickly gathered my few things
together, and when all was still I left the village. Some falling snow
covered up my snowshoe tracks and the little trail made by my sled, and
so no one could tell in which direction I had gone.
"I had many adventures. The snow was deep; but I had my good snow-shoes
and plenty of ammunition, and, as there was considerable game, I managed
very well. One night I had a supper of marrow bones, which I got hold
of in a strange way. I was pushing along early in the forenoon when I
heard a great noise of wolves not very far off. Quickly I unstrapped my
gun and prepared to defend myself if I should be attacked. Their
howlings so increased that I became convinced that they were so numerous
that my safest plan was to get up in a tree as quickly as possible.
This I did, and then I drew up my sled beyond their reach. Not very
long after I had succeeded in this, I saw a great moose deer plunging
through the snow, followed by fierce grey wolves. He made the most
desperate efforts to escape; but, as they did not sink deeply in the
snow, while he broke through at every plunge, they were too much for
him, and although he badly injured some of them, yet they succeeded in
pulling him down and devoured him. It was dreadful to see the way they
snarled and fought with each other over the great body. They gorged
themselves ere they went away, and left nothing but the great bones.
When they had disappeared, I came down from the tree, in which I had
been obliged to remain about six hours. I was nearly frozen, and so I
quickly cut down some small dead trees and made up a good fire. I then
gathered the large marrow bones from which the wolves had gnawed the
meat, and, standing them up against a log close to the fire, I roasted
them until the marrow inside was well cooked; then, cracking them open
with the back of my axe, I had a famous supper upon what the wolves had
left.
"I had several other adventures," said Oowikapun; "but the most
interesting of all, and the one most pleasing to me, was that I reached
Beaver Lake in time to rescue an old man from being eaten by the wolves.
His relatives were some very heartless people of the Salteaux tribe.
They were making a long journey through the country to a distant hunting
ground, and because this old grandfather could not keep up in the trail,
and food was not plentiful, they deliberately left him to perish. They
acted in a very cruel and heartless way. They cut down and stuck some
poles in the snow, and then over the top they threw a few pieces of
birch bark. This in mockery they called his tent. Then seating him on
a piece of a log in it, where he was exposed to view from every side,
they left him without any fire or blankets, and gave him only a small
quantity of dried meat in a birch dish which they call a _rogan_.
There, when he had eaten this meat, he was expected to lie down and die.
"When I found him he was nearly dead with the cold. He had eaten his
meat and was sitting there on the log brandishing his old tomahawk to
keep off several wolves, who were patiently waiting until he would
become wearied out, when they would spring in upon him and speedily
devour him. So intent were they on watching him, that I was able to get
up so close to them that I sent a bullet through two of them, killing
them instantly. The others, frightened by the report of the gun,
quickly rushed away. I cheered up the old man, and speedily made a fire
and gave him some warm soup which I prepared.
"I had to stay there with him a day before he was strong enough to go on
with me. I have succeeded in bringing him with me to Norway House by
dragging him on my sled most of the way. I took him to the house of
Memotas, where he was kindly treated and cared for, as are all who come
under the roof of that blessed man."