1837.--First Knowledge of the Sioux.--Hennepin and Du
Luth.--Fort Snelling.--Lakes Harriet and Calhoun.--Three Months
at Lake Harriet.--Samuel W. Pond.--Learning the Language.--Mr.
Stevens.--Temporary Home.--That Station Soon Broken Up.--Mary's
Letters.--The Mission and People. Native Customs.--Lord's
Supper.--"Good Voice."--Description of Our Home.--The
Garrison.--Seeing St. Anthony.--Ascent of the St.
Peters.--Mary's Letters.--Traverse des Sioux.--Prairie
Travelling.--Reaching Lac-qui-parle.--T. S. Williamson.--A
Sabbath Service.--Our Upper Room Experiences.--Church at
Lac-qui-parle.--Mr. Pond's Marriage.--Mary's Letters.--Feast.
About two hundred and forty years ago, the French voyagers and fur
traders, as they came from Nouvelle, France, up the St. Lawrence and
the Great Lakes, began to hear, from Indians farther east, of a great
and warlike people, whom they called Nadouwe or Nadowaessi, _enemies_.
Coming nearer to them, both trader and priest met, at the head of Lake
Superior, representatives of this nation, "numerous and fierce, always
at war with other tribes, pushing northward and southward and
westward," so that they were sometimes called the "Iroquois of the
West."
But really not much was known of the Sioux until the summer of 1680,
when Hennepin and Du Luth met in a camp of Dakotas, as they hunted
buffalo in what is now north-western Wisconsin. Hennepin had been
captured by a war-party, which descended the Father of Waters in
their canoes, seeking for scalps among their enemies, the Miamis and
Illinois. They took him and his companions of the voyage up to their
villages on the head-waters of Rum River, and around the shores of
Mille Lac and Knife Lake. From the former of these the eastern band of
the Sioux nation named themselves Mdaywakantonwan, _Spirit Lake
Villagers_; and from the latter they inherited the name of Santees
(Isanyati), _Dwellers on Knife_.
These two representative Frenchmen, thus brought together, at so early
a day, in the wilds of the West, visited the home of the Sioux, as
above indicated, and to them we are indebted for much of what we know
of the Dakotas two centuries ago.
The Ojibwas and Hurons were then occupying the southern shores of Lake
Superior, and, coming first into communication with the white race,
they were first supplied with fire-arms, which gave them such an
advantage over the more warlike Sioux that, in the next hundred years,
we find the Ojibwas in possession of all the country on the
head-waters of the Mississippi, while the Dakotas had migrated
southward and westward.
The general enlistment of the Sioux, and indeed of all these tribes of
the North-west, on the side of the British in the war of 1812, showed
the necessity of a strong military garrison in the heart of the Indian
country. Hence the building of Fort Snelling nearly sixty years ago.
At the confluence of the Minnesota with the Mississippi, and on the
high point between the two it has an admirable outlook. So it seemed
to us as we approached it on that first day of June, 1837. On our
landing we became the guests of Lieutenant Ogden and his excellent
wife, who was the daughter of Major Loomis. To Mary and me, every
thing was new and strange. We knew nothing of military life. But our
sojourn of a few days was made pleasant and profitable by the
Christian sympathy which met us there--the evidence of the Spirit's
presence, which, two years before, had culminated in the organization
of a Christian church in the garrison, on the arrival of the first
missionaries to the Dakotas.
The Falls of St. Anthony and the beautiful Minnehaha have now become
historic, and Minnetonka has become a place of summer resort. But
forty years ago it was only now and then that the eyes of a white man,
and still more rarely the eyes of a white woman, looked upon the Falls
of Curling Water;[2] and scarcely any one knew that the water in
Little Falls Creek came from Minnetonka Lake. But nearer by were the
beautiful lakes Calhoun and Harriet. On the first of these was the
Dakota Village, of which _Claudman_ and _Drifter_ were then the
chiefs; and on whose banks the brothers Pond had erected the first
white man's cabin; and on the north bank of the latter was a mission
station of the American Board, commenced two years before by Rev.
Jedediah D. Stevens.
[2] Minnehaha means "Curling Water," not "Laughing Water," as
many suppose.
Here we were in daily contact with the Dakota men, women, and
children. Here we began to listen to the strange sounds of the Dakota
tongue; and here we made our first laughable efforts in speaking the
language.
We were fortunate in meeting here Rev. Samuel W. Pond, the older of
the brothers, who had come out from Connecticut three years previous,
and, in advance of all others, had erected their missionary cabin on
the margin of Lake Calhoun. Mr. Pond's knowledge of Dakota was quite
a help to us, who were just commencing to learn it. Before we left the
States, it had been impressed upon us by Secretary David Greene that
whether we were successful missionaries or not depended much on our
acquiring a free use of the language. And the teaching of my own
experience and observation is that if one fails to make a pretty good
start the first year in its acquisition, it will be a rare thing if he
ever masters the language. And so, obedient to our instructions, we
made it our first work to get our ears opened to the strange sounds,
and our tongues made cunning for their utterance. Oftentimes we
laughed at our own blunders, as when I told Mary, one day, that _pish_
was the Dakota for _fish_. A Dakota boy had been trying to speak the
English word. Mr. Stevens had gathered, from various sources, a
vocabulary of five or six hundred words. This formed the commencement
of the growth of the Dakota Grammar and Dictionary which I published
fifteen years afterward.
Mr. and Mrs. Stevens were from Central New York, and were engaged as
early as 1827 in missionary labors on the Island of Mackinaw. In 1829,
Mr. Stevens and Rev. Mr. Coe made a tour of exploration through the
wilds of Northern Wisconsin, coming as far as Fort Snelling. For
several years thereafter, Mr. Stevens was connected with the
Stockbridge mission on Fox Lake; and in the summer of 1835 he had
commenced this station at Lake Harriet. At the time of our arrival he
had made things look quite civilized. He had built two houses of
tamarack logs, the larger of which his own family occupied; the lower
part of the other was used for the school and religious meetings. Half
a dozen boarding scholars, chiefly half-breed girls, formed the
nucleus of the school, which was taught by his niece, Miss Lucy C.
Stevens, who was afterward married to Rev. Daniel Gavan, of the Swiss
mission to the Dakotas.
As the mission family was already quite large enough for comfort, Mary
and I, not wishing to add to any one's burdens, undertook to make
ourselves comfortable in a part of the school-building. Our stay there
was to be only temporary, and hence it was only needful that we take
care of ourselves, and give such occasional help in the way of English
preaching and otherwise as we could. The Dakotas did not yet care to
hear the gospel. The Messrs. Pond had succeeded in teaching one young
man to read and write, and occasionally a few could be induced to come
and listen to the good news. It was seed-sowing time. Many seeds fell
by the wayside or on the hard path of sin. Most fell among thorns. But
some found good ground, and, lying dormant a full quarter of a
century, then sprang up and fruited in the prison at Mankato. Also of
the girls in that first Dakota boarding-school quite a good proportion
became Christian women and the mothers of Christian families.
But the mission at Lake Harriet was not to continue long. In less than
two years from the time we were there, two Ojibwa young men avenged
the killing of their father by waylaying and killing a prominent man
of the Lake Calhoun Village. A thousand Ojibwas had just left Fort
Snelling to return to their homes by way of Lake St. Croix and the Rum
River. Both parties were followed by the Sioux, and terrible slaughter
ensued. But the result of their splendid victory was that the Lake
Calhoun people were afraid to live there any longer, and so they
abandoned their village and plantings and settled on the banks of the
Minnesota.
During our three months' stay at Lake Harriet, every thing we saw and
heard was fresh and interesting, and Mary could not help telling of
them to her friends in Hawley. The grandfather was ninety years old,
to whom she thus wrote:--
"LAKE HARRIET, June 22, 1837.
"We are now on missionary ground, and are surrounded by those
dark people of whom we often talked at your fireside last
winter. I doubt not you will still think and talk about them,
and pray for them also. And surely your grandchildren will not
be forgotten.
"We reached this station two weeks since, after enjoying
Lieutenant Ogden's hospitality a few days, and were kindly
welcomed by Mr. Stevens' family, with whom we remain until a
house, now occupied by the school, can be prepared, so that we
can live in a part of it. Then we shall feel still more at
home, though I hope our rude habitation will remind us that we
are pilgrims on our way to a house not made with hands, eternal
in the heavens.
"The situation of the mission houses is very beautiful,--on a
little eminence, just upon the shore of a lovely lake skirted
with trees. About a mile north of us is Lake Calhoun, on the
margin of which is an Indian village of about twenty lodges.
Most of these are bark houses, some of which are twenty feet
square, and others are tents, of skin or cloth. Several days
since I walked over to the village, and called at the house of
one of the chiefs. He was not at home, but his daughters smiled
very good-naturedly upon us. We seated ourselves on a frame
extending on three sides of the house, covered with skins,
which was all the bed, sofa, and chairs they had.
"Since our visit at the village, two old chiefs have called
upon us. One said, this was a very bad country,--ours was a
good country,--we had left a good country, and come to live in
his bad country, and he was glad. The other called on Sabbath
evening, when Mr. Riggs was at the Fort, where he preaches
occasionally. He inquired politely how I liked the country, and
said it was bad. What could a courtier have said more?
"The Indians come here at all hours of the day without
ceremony, sometimes dressed and painted very fantastically, and
again with scarcely any clothing. One came in yesterday dressed
in a coat, calico shirt, and cloth leggins, the only one I have
seen with a coat, excepting two boys who were in the family
when we came. The most singular ornament I have seen was a
large striped snake, fastened among the painted hair, feathers,
and ribbons of an Indian's head-dress, in such a manner that it
could coil round in front and dart out its snake head, or creep
down upon the back at pleasure. During this the Indian sat
perfectly at ease, apparently much pleased at the astonishment
and fear manifested by some of the family."
"June 26.
"Yesterday Mr. Riggs and myself commemorated a Saviour's love
for the first time on missionary ground. The season was one of
precious interest, sitting down at Jesus' table with a little
band of brothers and sisters, one of whom was a Chippewa
convert, who accompanied Mr. Ayer from Pokeguma. One of the
Methodist missionaries, Mr. King, with a colored man, and the
members of the church from the Fort and the mission, completed
our band of _fifteen_. Two of these were received on this
occasion. Several Sioux were present, and gazed on the strange
scene before them. A medicine man, _Howashta_ by name, was
present, with a long pole in his hand, having his head decked
with a stuffed bird of brilliant plumage, and the tail of
another of dark brown. His name means 'Good Voice,' and he is
building him a log house not far from the mission. If _he_
could be brought into the fold of the Kind Shepherd, and become
a humble and devoted follower of Jesus, he might be
instrumental of great good to his people. He might indeed be a
_Good Voice_ bringing glad tidings to their dark souls."
TO HER MOTHER.
"HOME, July 8, 1837.
"Would that you could look in upon us; but as you can not, I
will try and give you some idea of our _home_. The building
fronts the lake, but our part opens upon the woodland back of
its western shore. The lower room has a small cooking-stove,
given us by Mrs. Burgess, a few chairs and a small table, a box
and barrel containing dishes, etc., a small will-be pantry,
when completed, under the stairs, filled with flour, corn-meal,
beans, and stove furniture. Our chamber is low, and nearly
filled by a bed, a small bureau and stand, a table for writing,
made of a box, and the rest of our half-dozen chairs and one
rocking-chair, cushioned by my mother's kind forethought.
"The rough, loose boards in the chamber are covered with a
coarse and cheap hair-and-tow carpeting, to save labor. The
floor below will require some cleaning, but I shall not try to
keep it white. I have succeeded very well, according to my
judgment, in household affairs,--that is, very well for me.
"Some Indian women came in yesterday bringing strawberries,
which I purchased with beans. Poor creatures, they have very
little food of any kind at this season of the year, and we feel
it difficult to know how much it is our duty to give them.
"We are not troubled with all the insects which used to annoy
me in Indiana, but the mosquitoes are far more abundant. At
dark, swarms fill our room, deafen our ears, and irritate our
skin. For the last two evenings we have filled our house with
smoke, almost to suffocation, to disperse these our officious
visitors."
"July 31.
"Until my location here, I was not aware that it was so
exceedingly common for officers in the army to have two wives
or more,--but one, of course, legally so. For instance, at the
Fort, before the removal of the last troops, there were but two
officers who were not known to have an Indian woman, if not
half-Indian children. You remember I used to cherish some
partiality for the military, but I must confess the last
vestige of it has departed. I am not now thinking of its
connection with the Peace question, but with that of moral
reform. Once, in my childhood's simplicity, I regarded the army
and its discipline as a school for gentlemanly manners, but now
it seems a sink of iniquity, a school of vice."
With the month of September came the time of our departure for
Lac-qui-parle. But Mary had not yet seen the Falls of St. Anthony. And
so we harnessed up a horse and cart, and had a pleasant ride across
the prairie to the government saw-mill, which, with a small dwelling
for the soldier occupant, was then the only sign of civilization on
the present site of Minneapolis. Then we had our household goods
packed up and put on board Mr. Prescott's Mackinaw boat, to be carried
up to Traverse des Sioux. Mr. Prescott was a white man with a Dakota
wife, and had been for years engaged in the fur trade. He had on board
his winter outfit. Mary and I took passage with him and his family,
and spent a week of new life on what was then called the Saint Peter's
River. The days were very enjoyable, and the nights were quite
comfortable, for we had all the advantages of Mr. Prescott's tent and
conveniences for camp life. His propelling force was the muscles of
five Frenchmen, who worked the oars and the poles, sometimes paddling
and sometimes pushing, and often, in the upper part of the voyage,
wading to find the best channel over a sand-bar. But they enjoyed
their work, and sang songs by the way.
FROM MARY'S LETTERS
"Sept. 2, 1837.
"Dr. Williamson arrived at Lake Harriet after a six days'
journey from home, and assured us of their kindest wishes, and
their willingness to furnish us with corn and potatoes, and a
room in their house. We have just breakfasted on board our
Mackinaw, and so far on our way have had cause for thankfulness
that God so overruled events, even though some attendant
circumstances were unpleasant. It is also a great source of
comfort that we have so good accommodations and Sabbath-keeping
company. You recollect my mentioning the marriage of Mr. and
Mrs. Prescott, and of his uniting with the church at Lake
Harriet, in the summer.
"Perhaps you may feel some curiosity respecting our appearance
and that of our barge. Fancy a large boat of forty feet in
length, and perhaps eight in width in the middle, capable of
carrying five tons, and manned by five men, four at the oars
and a steersman at the stern. Near the centre are our sleeping
accommodations nicely rolled up, on which we sit, and breakfast
and dine on bread, cold ham, wild fowl, etc. We have tea and
coffee for breakfast and supper. Mrs. Prescott does not pitch
and strike the tent, as the Indian women usually do; but it is
because the boatmen can do it, and her husband does not require
as much of her as an Indian man. They accommodate us in their
tent, which is similar to a soldier's tent, just large enough
for two beds. Here we take our supper, sitting on or by the
matting made by some of these western Indians, and then, after
worship, lie down to rest."
"Monday, Sept. 4.
"Again we are on our way up the crooked Saint Peter's, having
passed the Sabbath in our tent in the wilderness, far more
pleasantly than the Sabbath we spent in St. Louis. Last
Saturday I became quite fatigued sympathizing with those who
drew the boat on the Rapids, and with following my Indian
guide, Mrs. Prescott, through the woods, to take the boat above
them. The fall at this stage of water was, I should think, two
feet, and nearly perpendicular, excepting a very narrow
channel, where it was slanting. The boat being lightened, all
the men attempted to force it up this channel, some by the rope
attached to the boat, and others by pulling and pushing it as
they stood by it on the rocks and in the water. Both the first
and second attempts were fruitless. The second time the rope
was lengthened and slipped round a tree on the high bank, where
the trader's wife and I were standing. Her husband called her
to hold the end of the rope, and, as I could not stand idle,
though I knew I could do no good, I joined her, watching the
slowly ascending boat with the deepest interest. A moment more
and the toil would have been over, when the rope snapped, and
the boat slid back in a twinkling. It was further lightened and
the rope doubled, and then it was drawn safely up and
re-packed, in about two hours and a half from the time we
reached the Rapids."
"Tuesday, Sept. 5.
"In good health and spirits, we are again on our way. As the
river is shallow and the bottom hard, poles have been
substituted for oars; boards placed along the boat's sides
serve for a footpath for the boatmen, who propel the boat by
fixing the pole into the earth at the prow and pushing until
they reach the stern.
"At Traverse des Sioux our land journey, of one hundred and
twenty-five miles to Lac-qui-parle, commenced. Here we made the
acquaintance of a somewhat remarkable French trader, by name
Louis Provencalle, but commonly called Le Bland. The Indians
called him Skadan, _Little White_. He was an old voyager, who
could neither read nor write, but, by a certain force of
character, he had risen to the honorable position of trader. He
kept his accounts with his Indian debtors by a system of
hieroglyphics.
"For the next week we were under the convoy of Dr. Thomas S.
Williamson and Mr. Gideon H. Pond, who met us with teams from
Lac-qui-parle. The first night of our camping on the prairie,
Dr. Williamson taught me a lesson which I never forgot. We were
preparing the tent for the night, and I was disposed to let the
roughness of the surface remain, and not even gather grass for
a bed, which the Indians do; on the ground, as I said, that it
was for _only one night_. 'But,' said the doctor, 'there will
be a _great many one nights_.' And so I have found it. It is
best to make the tent comfortable for _one night_."
This was our first introduction--Mary's and mine--to the broad
prairies of the West. At first, we kept in sight of the woods of the
Minnesota, and our road lay among and through little groves of timber.
But by and by we emerged into the broad savannahs--thousands of acres
of meadow unmowed, and broad rolling country covered, at this time of
year, with yellow and blue flowers. Every thing was full of interest
to us, even the Bad Swamp,--Wewe Shecha,--which so bent and shook
under the tramp of our teams, that we could almost believe it would
break through and let us into the earth's centre. For years after,
this was the great _fear_ of our prairie travelling, always reminding
us very forcibly of Bunyan's description of the "Slough of Despond."
The only accident of this journey was the breaking of the axle of one
of Mr. Pond's loaded carts. It was Saturday afternoon. Mr. Pond and
Dr. Williamson remained to make a new one, and Mary and I went on to
the stream where we were to camp, and made ready for the Sabbath.
"ON THE BROAD PRAIRIE OF 'THE FAR WEST.'
"Saturday Eve., Sept. 9, 1837.
"_My Ever Dear Mother:_--
"Just at twilight I seat myself upon the ground by our fire,
with the wide heavens above for a canopy, to commune with her
whose yearning heart follows her children wherever they roam.
This is the second day we have travelled on this prairie,
having left Traverse des Sioux late Thursday afternoon. Before
leaving that place, a little half-Indian girl, daughter of the
trader where we stopped, brought me nearly a dozen of eggs (the
first I had seen since leaving the States), which afforded us a
choice morsel for the next day. To-morrow we rest, it being the
Sabbath, and may we and you be in the Spirit on the Lord's
day."
"LAC-QUI-PARLE, Sept. 18.
"The date will tell you of our arrival at this station, where
we have found a _home_. We reached this place on Wednesday
last, having been thirteen days from Fort Snelling, a shorter
time than is usually required for such a journey, the Lord's
hand being over us to guide and prosper us on our way. Two
Sabbaths we rested from our travels, and the last of them was
peculiarly refreshing to body and spirit. Having risen and put
our tent in order, we engaged in family worship, and afterward
partook of our frugal meal. Then all was still in that wide
wilderness, save at intervals, when some bird of passage told
us of its flight and bade our wintry clime farewell.
"Before noon we had a season of social worship, lifting up our
hearts with one voice in prayer and praise, and reading a
portion of God's Word. It was indeed pleasant to think that God
was present with us, far away as we were from any human being
but ourselves. The day passed peacefully away, and night's
refreshing slumbers succeeded. The next morning we were on our
way before the sun began his race, and having ridden fifteen or
sixteen miles, according to our best calculations, we stopped
for breakfast and dinner at a lake where wood and water could
both be obtained, two essentials which frequently are not found
together on the prairie.
"Thus you will be able to imagine us with our two one-ox carts
and a double wagon, all heavily laden, as we have travelled
across the prairie."
Thomas Smith Williamson had been ten years a practising physician in
Ripley, Ohio. There he had married Margaret Poage, of one of the first
families. One after another their children had died. Perhaps that led
them to think that God had a work for them to do elsewhere. At any
rate, after spending a year in the Lane Theological Seminary, the
doctor turned his thoughts toward the Sioux, for whom no man seemed to
care. In the spring of 1834 he made a visit up to Fort Snelling. And
in the year following, as has already been noted, he came as a
missionary of the A. B. C. F. M., with his wife and one child,
accompanied by Miss Sarah Poage, Mrs. Williamson's sister, and Mr.
Alexander G. Huggins and his wife, with two children.
This company reached Fort Snelling a week or two in advance of Mr.
Stevens, and were making preparations to build at Lake Calhoun; but
Mr. Stevens claimed the right of selection, on the ground that he had
been there in 1829. And so Dr. Williamson and his party accepted the
invitation of Mr. Joseph Renville, the Bois Brule trader at
Lac-qui-parle, to go two hundred miles into the interior. All this was
of the Lord, as it plainly appeared in after years. At the time we
approached the mission at Lac-qui-parle, they had been two full years
in the field, and, under favorable auspices, had made a very good
beginning. About the middle of September, after a pretty good week of
prairie travel, we were very glad to receive the greetings of the
mission families....
A few days after our arrival, Mary wrote: "The evening we came, we
were shown _a little chamber_, where we spread our bed and took up our
abode. On Friday, Mr. Riggs made a bedstead, by boring holes and
driving slabs into the logs, across which boards are laid. This
answers the purpose very well, though rather uneven. Yesterday was the
Sabbath, and such a Sabbath as I never before enjoyed. Although the
day was cold and stormy, and much like November, twenty-five Indians
and part-bloods assembled at eleven o'clock in our school-room for
public worship. Excepting a prayer, all the exercises were in Dakota
and French, and most of them in the former language. Could you have
seen these Indians kneel with stillness and order, during prayer, and
rise and engage in singing hymns in their own tongue, led by one of
their own tribe, I am sure your heart would have been touched. The
hymns were composed by Mr. Renville the trader, who is probably
three-fourths Sioux."
* * * * *
Doctor Williamson had erected a log house a story and a half high. In
the lower part was his own living-room, and also a room with a large
open fire-place, which then, and for several years afterward, was used
for the school and Sabbath assemblies. In the upper part there were
three rooms, still in an unfinished state. The largest of these, ten
feet wide and eighteen feet long, was appropriated to our use. We
fixed it up with loose boards overhead, and quilts nailed up to the
rafters, and improvised a bedstead, as we had been unable to bring
ours farther than Fort Snelling.
That room we made our home for five winters. There were some hardships
about such close quarters, but, all in all, Mary and I never enjoyed
five winters better than those spent in that upper room. There our
first three children were born. There we worked in acquiring the
language. There we received our Dakota visitors. There I wrote and
wrote again my ever growing dictionary. And there, with what help I
could obtain, I prepared for the printer the greater part of the New
Testament in the language of the Dakotas. It was a consecrated room.
Well, we had set up our cooking-stove in our upper room, but the
furniture was a hundred and twenty-five miles away. It was not easy
for Mary to cook with nothing to cook in. But the good women of the
mission came to her relief with kettle and pan. More than this, there
were some things to be done now which neither Mary nor I had learned
to do. She was not an adept at making light bread, and neither of us
could milk a cow. She grew up in New England, where the men alone did
the milking, and I in Ohio, where the women alone milked in those
days. At first it took us both to milk a cow, and it was poorly done.
But Mary succeeded best. Nevertheless, application and perseverance
succeeded, and, although never boasting of any special ability in that
line of things, I could do my own milking, and Mary became very
skilful in bread-making, as well as in other mysteries of
housekeeping.
* * * * *
The missionary work began now to open before us. The village at
Lac-qui-parle consisted of about 400 persons, chiefly of the Wahpaton,
or Leaf-village band of the Dakotas. They were very poor and very
proud. Mr. Renville, as a half-breed and fur-trader, had acquired an
unbounded influence over many of them. They were willing to follow his
leading. And so the young men of his soldiers' lodge were the first,
after his own family, to learn to read. On the Sabbath, there gathered
into this lower room twenty or thirty men and women, but mostly women,
to hear the Word as prepared by Dr. Williamson with Mr. Renville's
aid. A few Dakota hymns had been made, and were sung under the
leadership of Mr. Huggins or young Mr. Joseph Renville. Mr. Renville
and Mr. Pond made the prayers in Dakota. Early in the year 1836, a
church had been organized, which at this time contained seven native
members, chiefly from Mr. Renville's household. And in the winter
which followed our arrival nine were added, making a native church of
sixteen, of which one half were full-blood Dakota women, and in the
others the Dakota blood greatly predominated.
One of the noted things that took place in those autumn days was the
marriage of Mr. Gideon Holister Pond and Miss Sarah Poage. That was
the first couple I married, and I look back to it with great
satisfaction. The bond has been long since sundered by death, but it
was a true covenant entered into by true hearts, and receiving, from
the first, the blessing of the Master. Mr. Pond made a great feast,
and "called the poor, and the maimed, and the halt, and the blind,"
and many such Dakotas were there to be called. _They_ could not
recompense him by inviting him again, and it yet remains that "he
shall be recompensed at the resurrection of the just."
Nov. 2.
"Yesterday the marriage referred to was solemnized. Could I
paint the assembly, you would agree with me that it was deeply
and singularly interesting. Fancy, for a moment, the audience
who were witnesses of the scene. The rest of our missionary
band sat near those of our number who were about to enter into
the new and sacred relationship, while most of the room was
filled with our dark-faced guests, a blanket or a buffalo robe
their chief 'wedding garment,' and coarse and tawdry beads,
brooches, paint, and feathers their wedding ornaments. Here and
there sat a Frenchman or half-breed, whose garb bespoke their
different origin. No turkey or eagle feathers adorned the hair,
or parti-colored paint the face, though even _their_ appearance
and attire reminded us of our location in this wilderness.
"Mr. Riggs performed the marriage ceremony, and Dr. Williamson
made the concluding prayer, and, through Mr. Renville, briefly
explained to the Dakotas the ordinance and its institution.
After the ceremony, Mr. Renville and family partook with us of
our frugal meal, leaving the Indians to enjoy their feast of
potatoes, turnips, and bacon, to which the poor, the lame, and
the blind had been invited. As they were not aware of the
supper that was provided, they did not bring their dishes, as
is the Indian custom, so that they were scantily furnished with
milk-pans, etc. This deficiency they supplied very readily by
emptying the first course, which was potatoes, into their
blankets, and passing their dishes for a supply of turnips and
bacon.
"I know not when I have seen a group so novel as I found on
repairing to the room where these poor creatures were
promiscuously seated. On my left sat an old man nearly blind;
before me, the woman who dipped out the potatoes from a
five-pail boiler sat on the floor; and near her was an old man
dividing the bacon, clenching it firmly in his hand, and
looking up occasionally to see how many there were requiring a
share. In the corner sat a lame man eagerly devouring his
potatoes, and around were scattered women and children.
"When the last ladle was filled from the large pot of turnips,
one by one they hastily departed, borrowing dishes to carry
home the supper, to divide with the children who had remained
in charge of the tents."