1873-1874.--The American Board at Minneapolis.--The _Nidus_ of
the Dakota Mission.--Large Indian Delegation.--Ehnamane and
Mazakootemane.--"Then and Now."--The Woman's Meeting.--Nina
Foster Riggs and Lizzie Bishop--Miss Bishop's Work and Early
Death.--Manual Labor Boarding-School at Sisseton.--Building
Dedicated.--M. N. Adams, Agent.--School Opened.--Mrs. Armor and
Mrs. Morris.--"My Darling in God's Garden."--Visit to Fort
Berthold.--Mandans, Rees, and Hidatsa.--Dr. W. Matthews' Hidatsa
Grammar.--Beliefs.--Missionary Interest in Berthold.--Down the
Missouri.--Annual Meeting at Santee.--Normal School.--Dakotas
Build a Church at Ascension.--Journey to the Ojibwas with E. P.
Wheeler.--Leech Lake and Red Lake,--On the Gitche Gumme.--"The
Stoneys."--Visit to Odanah.--Hope for Ojibwas.
The American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions was to hold
its annual meeting in the autumn of 1873 in the city of Minneapolis.
That was almost the identical spot where our mission had been
commenced, nearly forty years before. And it was comparatively near to
the centre of our present work. These were reasons why we should make
a special effort to bring the Dakota mission, on this occasion,
prominently before this great Christian gathering. Our churches on the
Sisseton reservation were only a little more than 200 miles away.
Taking advantage of the St. Paul & Pacific Railroad, it would only be
a three-days journey. Accordingly, I applied to my friend Gen. Geo. L.
Becker of St. Paul, who was then president of the road, to send me
half-fares for a dozen Dakota men. He generously responded, and sent
me up a free pass down for that number.
This made it possible for all the churches on the Sisseton reservation
to be represented by pastors and elders. A. L. Riggs brought over a
good delegation from the Santee, so that we had there seventeen of our
most prominent men. The present missionaries and assistant
missionaries of the Board, except Mr. and Mrs. Morris, were all there.
Our brother John P. Williamson was engaged in church-building, and
could not attend. But there were the Pond brothers and Dr. T. S.
Williamson accepting with glad hearts the results of their labors
commenced thirty-nine years before. And the presence of so large an
Indian delegation added much to the popular interest of the occasion.
So that the subject of Indian missions in general, and of the Dakota
mission in particular, engaged the attention of this great meeting for
about one-third of their time. Artemas Ehnamane, the pastor of Pilgrim
Church at Santee, and Paul Mazakootemane, the hero of the outbreak of
1862, both made addresses before the Board, which were interpreted by
A. L. Riggs.
In the Dakota _Word Carrier_, we were at this time publishing a series
of "Sketches of the Dakota Mission," which we gathered into a pamphlet
and distributed to the thousands of Christian friends gathered there.
Number twelve of these sketches is mainly a contrast between the
commencement and the present state of our work among the Dakotas, from
which I make the following extract:--
"THEN AND NOW.
"In the first days of July, 1839, a severe battle was fought between
the Dakotas and Ojibwas. The Ojibwas had visited Fort Snelling during
the last days of June, expecting to receive some payment for land
sold. In this they were disappointed. The evening before they started
for their homes--a part going up the Mississippi, and a part by the
St. Croix--two young men were observed to go to the soldiers'
burying-ground, near the fort, and cry. Their father had been killed
some years before by the Dakotas, and was buried there. The next
morning they started for their homes; but these two young men, their
people not knowing it, went out and hid themselves that night close by
a path which wound around the shores of Lake Harriet. In the early
morning following, a Dakota hunter walked along that path, followed by
a boy. The man was shot down, and the boy escaped to tell the story.
"During their stay in the neighborhood of Fort Snelling, the Ojibwas
had smoked and eaten with the Dakotas. That scalped man now lying by
Lake Harriet was an evidence of violated faith. The Dakotas were eager
to take advantage of the affront. The cry was for vengeance; and
before the sun had set, two parties were on the war-path.
"The young man who had been killed was the son-in-law of _Cloud-man_,
the chief of the Lake Calhoun village. _Scarlet Bird_ was the
brother-in-law of the chief. So _Scarlet Bird_ was the leader of the
war-party which came to where the city of Minneapolis is now built,
and about the setting of the sun crossed over to the east side; and
there, seating the warriors in a row on the sand, he distributed the
beads and ribbons and other trinkets of the man who had been killed,
and with them '_prayed_' the whole party into committing the deeds of
the next morning. The morning's sun, as it arose, saw these same men
smiting down the Ojibwas, just after they had left camp, in the region
of Rum River. Scarlet Bird was among the slain on the Dakota side; and
a son of his, whom he had goaded into the battle by calling him a
woman, was left on the field. Many Ojibwa scalps were taken, and all
through that autumn and into the following winter the scalp dance was
danced nightly at every Dakota village on the Mississippi and
Minnesota rivers, as far up as Lac-qui-parle.
"That was the condition of things then. Between then and now there is
a contrast. Then only a small government saw-mill stood where now
stand mammoth mills, running hundreds of saws. Then only a soldiers'
little dwelling stood where now are the palaces of merchant princes.
Then only the war-whoop of the savage was heard where now, in this
year of grace, 1873, a little more than a third of a century after, is
heard the voice of praise and prayer in numerous Christian sanctuaries
and a thousand Christian households. Then it was the gathering-place
of the nude and painted war-party; now it is the gathering-place of
the friends of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign
Missions. Then the dusky forms of the Dakotas flitted by in the
gloaming, bent on deeds of blood; now the same race is here largely
represented by pastors of native churches and teachers of the white
man's civilization and the religion of Christ. _And the marvelous
change that has passed over this country, converting it from the wild
abode of savages into the beautiful land of Christian habitations, is
only surpassed by the still more marvelous change that has been
wrought upon those savages themselves._ The greater part of the
descendants of the Indians who once lived here are now in Christian
families, and have been gathered into Christian churches, having
their native pastors. Some, too, have gone beyond to the still wild
portions of their own people, and are commencing there such a work as
we commenced, nearly forty years ago, among their fathers here.
"But the work is now commenced among the Teetons of the Missouri,
under circumstances vastly different from those which surrounded us in
its beginning here. Then, with an unwritten language, imperfectly
understood and spoken stammeringly by foreigners, the Gospel was
proclaimed to unwilling listeners. Now, with the perfect knowledge of
the language learned in the wigwam, a comparatively large company of
native men and women are engaged in publishing it. Many ears are still
unwilling to listen, and the hearts of the wild Indians are only a
very little opened to the good news; but the contrast between the past
and present is very great."
* * * * *
While this meeting of the American Board was in progress, the ladies
of the Woman's Boards held a meeting, which was reported as full of
interest. So many women publishers of the Word in all parts of the
world were present that the enthusiasm and Christ-spirit rose very
high. Nina Foster Riggs, who had just arrived from Fort Sully, the
center of Dakota heathendom, announced her wish for a female companion
in labor there. Several young women present said, "I will go." From
these, Miss Lizzie Bishop of Northfield, Minn., was afterward
selected. Her health was not vigorous, but she and her friends thought
it might become more so in the Missouri River climate. She at once
proceeded with T. L. Riggs and wife to Hope Station. There I met her
for the first time in the first of the June following. She impressed
me as a singularly pure-minded and devoted young woman. Two Teeton
boys in the family belonged to her especial charge. She said she found
the Lord's Prayer in Dakota too difficult of comprehension for their
use, and desired me to make something more simple. I sat down and
wrote a child's prayer, of which this is a translation:--
"My Father, God,
Have mercy on me;
Now I will sleep;
Watch over me:
If I die before the morning,
Take me to thyself.
For thy Son Jesus' sake, these I ask of thee."
[Illustration: MARY AND I.]
Miss Bishop's missionary work for the Teeton Sioux was soon over. But
I will let Nina Foster Riggs tell the story:
"After the meeting of the American Board in Minneapolis, in
October, 1873, Miss Elizabeth Bishop of Northfield, Minn.,
entered the Dakota work.
"Two years later, at the next western meeting of the society,
and during the session of the Woman's Board of Missions, her
death was announced. Of the intervening twelve months twice
told, it falls to my lot to speak, and I attempt the task with
mingled feelings, for I know it is impossible to do justice to
the beauty of Lizzie's character.
"Young, delicate, already suffering with a disease which made
her to be over-fastidious in some things, sensitive to the
discomforts of frontier life, and inexperienced in its ways of
living, she came into the mission work.
"These hindrances were met and more than overbalanced by her
singleness of purpose, her even temper, her devotion to her
chosen labor, and her unwavering trust in Jesus.
"The first winter of her stay at Hope Station, on the bank of
the Missouri River, opposite Fort Sully, was a winter of trial
and of danger. Indians had threatened to burn the mission house.
Hostile ones crowded about the place, the camps were noisy with
singing and dancing in preparation for war-parties, and once a
shot was fired into the house.
"None of these things disturbed Lizzie. 'I do not _choose_ to be
killed by the Indians,' she said, 'but if the Lord wills it so,
it is all right.' And she went on as usual with her housework
and her sewing-school, and the care of the two Indian boys who
were taken into the family in the spring. While she taught the
sewing-class, several little girls, some six or eight, made
dresses of linsey-woolsey for themselves; and then, under Miss
Bishop's supervision, combed their hair, bathed, and put on
clean clothes. She also instructed several women in some
branches of housework, and was always looking for the
opportunity of doing good.
"Very early in the winter she had a slight hemorrhage from the
lungs, which was followed by others more severe at intervals
through the summer. But she still kept up.
"In the fall, after the removal to another mission station, her
health gave way, and she was obliged to go to the fort to rest
and recuperate. After her return she was able to resume only a
part of her former work; but she carried on, with great
enthusiasm, the morning school for children, and aided somewhat
in the sewing-school.
"Although, as the spring advanced, her health failed more and
more, yet her courage would not give way, and she never but once
expressed the opinion that she should not recover. Her plan had
been to spend this second summer in her own home, though
sometimes she was almost ready to stay on and work for 'my
boys,' as she called them.
"Finally, she concluded to go to Minnesota for the summer, but
made every arrangement to return to the mission in the fall.
After some hesitation because of her delicate health, she
decided to make the journey with our mission party overland,
down the country. So she took the trip, enjoyed every day, and
declared she felt better and slept better every night.
"The party camped out over the Sabbath, and on Monday evening,
the seventh day after leaving Fort Sully, arrived at the Yankton
agency. Here, at the mission home of our friend J. P.
Williamson, the welcome was so warm, and the companionship so
pleasant, that Miss Bishop desired to spend a few days longer
than she had intended. She wanted to visit the schools, and
learn both here and at Santee agency something to help her when
she should go back to teach the Indian children on the Upper
Missouri. So she stayed behind, full of hope and zeal. But her
friends parted from her with foreboding in their hearts. In a
few days she was again attacked with her old trouble; she
rallied so as to get to her home, and to be again with her
mother and sister. But she sank rapidly, and, after some weeks
of severe suffering, she entered into rest.
"Writing of her, her sister said: 'Her favorite motto was,
"Simply to thy cross I cling." She trusted in Christ because he
has promised to save all who come to him. She enjoyed hearing
us sing to the last such hymns as, "Jesus, Lover of My Soul,"
"Nearer, my God, to Thee," "My Faith Looks up to Thee," "Father,
Whate'er of Earthly Bliss," "How Firm a Foundation," and
others.'
"Resting on Him who is able to save, she passed away.
"The work she loved, and so conscientiously carried on, has
fallen to other hands, but is not finished nor lost; and in the
homes she helped to make happy she is missed, yet her memory is
an abiding presence, cheering and encouraging.
"'And a book of remembrance was written before him for them that
feared the Lord, and that thought upon his name. And they shall
be mine, saith the Lord of Hosts, in that day when I make up my
jewels.'[8]"
[8] Mention should be made here of Rev. Samuel Ingham and his
wife, who joined the missionary force at Santee immediately
after the meeting of the Board at Minneapolis. Mr. Ingham was
suffering at the time from what was considered a temporary
malady, but which proved serious and ended his life Dec. 27,
1873. Mrs. Ingham continued in her work in the "Dakota Home,"
the new school for girls.
The commencement of the Manual Labor Boarding-School on the Sisseton
reserve was an event which indicated progress. Agent M. N. Adams had
received authority from the department to erect a suitable building.
On the 4th of September, 1873, the foundation walls were so far
completed that the _corner-stone_ was laid with appropriate
ceremonies. There was quite a gathering of the natives and white
people on the reservation. After prayer in Dakota by Pastor Solomon,
Mr. Adams made a speech, which was interpreted, setting forth the
advantages that would accrue to this people from such a school as this
building contemplated. He then announced that he had in his hands
copies of the Bible in Dakota and English, and a Dakota hymn book,
together with eight numbers of the _Iapi Oaye_, a copy of the _St.
Paul Press_, and a Yankton paper, and also sundry documents, all of
which he deposited in the place prepared for them. I added a few
remarks, and then the corner-stone was laid and pronounced _level_.
Speeches followed from Solomon, John B., and Daniel Renville, pastors;
and from Robert Hopkins, Two Stars, and Gabriel Renville. They
accepted this as the guarantee of progress in the new era on which
they had entered.
That autumn the boarding-school was commenced. As only a part of the
building could be made habitable for the winter, the girls alone were
placed there, under the care and teaching of Mr. and Mrs. Armor. Mr.
and Mrs. Morris took the boys and cared for them, in very close
quarters, at the mission, only a little way off. In the summer of 1874
there appeared in the Word Carrier articles on "Our Girls," and "Our
Boys," written by Mrs. Armor and Mrs. Morris, respectively. In each
department they had about sixteen. Mrs. Armor classed her scholars as
_large girls_, _little girls_, and _very little girls_. That first
year was a good beginning of the school.
Mrs. Morris was willing to undertake the hard work these sixteen boys
imposed upon her, because she had just met with a great sorrow. She
had gone on East with _two_ children, and came back with only _one_.
"As I sit and mend," she writes, "the alarming holes which the boys
make in their clothes, an unbidden tear sometimes falls when I think
of _our_ blue-eyed, sunny-haired boy, whose last resting-place is in
the valley of the Susquehanna. And I think how much rather I would
have worked for him than for these boys. But I say to myself, '_My
darling is safe and out of reach of harm_'; and these boys need the
doing for that my darling one will never need more. For
"' Mine in God's garden runs to and fro,
And that is best.'
And I know that somehow the Lord knows what is best; and he does as he
will with his own."
* * * * *
In the early spring of 1874, I was requested jointly by the American
Board and the American Missionary Association to visit and report upon
various Indians agencies, where their appointees, or nominees rather,
were agents. Accordingly, I started in the month of May, by St. Paul,
on the Northern Pacific Railroad, to Bismarck, and thence by steamboat
up the Missouri to Fort Berthold. At this time Major L. B. Sperry, who
had been a professor in Ripon College, was the nominee of the American
Missionary Association. It was not my good fortune to find Agent
Sperry at home, but Mrs. Sperry, in a very ladylike way, gave me the
best accommodations during the week I remained.
Here were gathered the remnant of the Mandans, only a few hundred
persons, and the Rees, or Arricarees, a part of the Pawnee tribe, and
the Gros Ventres, or Minnetaree, properly the Hidatsa. Altogether they
numbered about two thousand souls. We had before this entertained the
desire that we might be able to establish a mission among these
people, and this thought or hope gave interest to my visit. The Mandan
and the Hidatsa languages were both pretty closely connected with the
Dakota; but what seemed to bring these nearer to us was the fact that
many of all these people could understand and talk the Dakota, that
forming a kind of common language for them.
_Howard Mandan_, or "The-man-with-a-_scared-face_," as his Indian name
is interpreted, was the son of _Red Cow_, the principal chief of the
Mandans, and had been taken down by Gen. C. H. Howard, a year before,
and placed in A. L. Riggs' school at Santee. Howard had returned home
before my visit, and also Henry Eaton, a Hidatsa young man, who had
been East a good many years and talked English well.
George Catlin had, many years ago, interested us in the Mandans, by
his effort to prove, from their _red hair_ in some cases--perhaps only
_redded_ hair--and in some instances blue eyes, and the resemblances
which he claims to have found in their languages, that they were the
descendants of a Welsh colony that had dropped out of history a
thousand years ago. And Dr. Washington Matthews of the United States
Army had created in us a desire to do something for the spiritual
enlightenment of the Hidatsa, by his admirable grammar and dictionary
of their language. In his introduction to this book he gives us much
valuable information about the people.
Hidatsa, he tells us, is the name by which they call themselves. They
are better known to us by the names Minnetaree and Gros Ventre. This
last is a name given them by the Canadian French, and without any
special reason. It is a fact that Indians can eat large quantities of
food, but it is very rarely indeed that you will find one whose
appearance would justify the epithet _gros ventre_. The other term,
Minnetaree, is the name given them by the Mandans, and means, _to
cross the water_. The story is that when the Hidatsa people came to
the Missouri River from the north-east, the Mandan village was on the
west side of the river. They called over, and the Mandans answered
back in their own language: "Who are you?" The Hidatsa, not
understanding it, supposed they had asked, "What do you want?" and so
replied; "_Minnetaree, to cross over the water_." Whence came the
Hidatsa? Their legend says they originally lived _under_ a great body
of water which lies far to the north-east of where they now live. From
this under-water residence some persons found their way out, and,
discovering a country much better than the one in which they lived,
returned and gave to their people such glowing accounts of their
discoveries that the whole nation determined to come out. But, owing
to the breaking of a tree on which they were climbing out of the lake,
a great part of the tribe had to remain behind in the water, and they
are there yet.
This is very much like the myth of another tribe, who lived under the
ground by a lake. A large grape-vine sent its tap-root through the
crust of the earth, and by that they commenced to climb out. But a
very fat woman taking hold of the vine, it broke, and the remainder
were doomed to stay where they were. Do such legends contain any
reference to the great Deluge?
After the Hidatsa came up, they commenced a series of wanderings over
the prairies. During their migrations they were often ready to die of
hunger, but were always rescued by the interference of their deity. It
was not manna rained down around their camp, but the stones of the
prairie were miraculously changed into buffalo, which they killed and
ate. After some time they sent couriers to the south, who came back
with the news that they had found a great river and a fertile valley,
wherein dwelt a people who lived in houses and tilled the ground. They
brought back corn and other products of the country. To this beautiful
and good land the tribe now directed their march, and, guided by
their messengers they reached the Mandan villages on the Missouri
River. With them they camped and learned their peaceful arts.
Dr. Matthews says they have a tradition that during these years of
wandering the Genius of the Sun took up one of the Hidatsa maidens,
and their offspring came back, and, under the name of Grand-Child, was
the great prophet and teacher of his mother's people. Can that have
any reference to the "Son of Man"?
These Indians, the Mandans, the Hidatsa, and the Rees, live in one
village at Berthold, in all numbering something over two thousand; and
they have lived together, as we know, more than a hundred years, and
yet the languages are kept perfectly distinct and separate. Many of
them learn each other's language; and many of them talk Dakota also.
"Many years ago they were considered ripe for the experiments of
civilization; they stand to-day just as fit subjects as ever for the
experiment, which never has been, and possibly never will be, tried."
This is Dr. Matthews' statement. Let us hope that the latter part may
not be prophetic.
"They worship a deity," says Dr. Matthews, "whom they call 'The First
Made' or 'The First Existence.'" Sometimes they speak of him as "The
Old Man Immortal." They believe in _shades_ or _ghosts_, which belong
not only to men, but to animals and trees and everything.
"In the 'next world' _human shades_ hunt and live on the shades of the
buffalo and other animals who have lived here. Whether the shade of
the buffalo then ceases to exist or not, I could find none prepared to
tell me; but they seem to have a dim faith in shades of shades, and in
shadow-lands of shade-lands; belief in a shadowy immortality being the
basis of their creed."
By all these means our interest in Fort Berthold and its people grew,
and we became impatient of delay. But step by step we were led by the
hand of the Lord, until at the meeting of the American Board in
Chicago in the autumn of 1875, after an animated discussion on Indian
Missions, and the debt of the Board was lifted by a special effort,
Secretary S. B. Treat arose and said: "We are ready to send a man to
Fort Berthold." The man and the woman, Charles L. Hall and Emma
Calhoun, were ready, and the next spring they were commissioned to
make their home among the Mandans, Arickarees and Hidatsa.
On leaving Berthold in May, 1874, I proceeded down the Missouri to
Bismarck, where I was subjected to considerable delay; and then
stopping a few days with Thomas at Hope Station, and making a short
call at the Yankton agency, I went to the Santee to attend our annual
meeting of the Dakota Conference, which commenced its sessions with
the Pilgrim Church on the 18th of June.
A. L. Riggs had put up in large characters the motto of the
meeting--1834-1874. Thus we were reminded that forty years had passed
since the brothers Pond had made their _log cabin_ on the banks of
Lake Calhoun. These gray-headed men were expected to have been present
on this occasion, but were not. T. L. Riggs and wife could not come
down. Otherwise the attendance of whites and Indians was good. The
presence of Rev. Joseph Ward of Yankton, and of Mrs. Wood, the mother
of Mrs. Ward, and also of Rev. De Witt Clark of Massachusetts, greatly
added to the interest. The question discussed by the native brethren
with the most eagerness was, "Shall the eldership receive any money
compensation?" This had come up to be a question solely because such
native church helpers were receiving compensation among the
Episcopalians. But our folks decided against it by an overwhelming
vote.
So full an account has been given of the like meeting held a year
previous, that this, which was in most respects equally interesting,
may be passed over. Of the school here during the winter past, the
_Word Carrier_ had contained this notice: "The Normal School of the
Dakota Mission at Santee agency has had a prosperous winter session,
notwithstanding the dark days last fall, when its doors were closed,
and many of its former pupils removed beyond the reach of earthly
training by the small-pox." The whole number of scholars for the
winter three months was _eighty-five_.
After this meeting closed, I spent six weeks with the churches in my
own part of the field on the Sisseton reservation. I found the people
at Ascension church, J. B. Renville pastor, in the midst of church
building. Their log church had become too small, and they had for a
year been preparing to build a larger and better house of worship. Mr.
Adams took a great interest in this enterprise, and helped them much
by obtaining contributions and otherwise. The Dakota men and women
also took hold of it as their own work, and the house went up, and was
so far finished before the winter that its dedication took place about
the middle of December. The cost of the house was then given at $1500.
Two or three hundred more were afterward used in its internal
completion. This was a great step forward. _Dakota Christians build_,
with but little help, _their own house of worship_!
About the middle of August I left Sisseton to complete my work of
visiting Indian agencies, which I had undertaken to do for the
American Missionary Association. At St. Paul I was joined by Rev.
Edward Payson Wheeler, who was just from Andover Seminary. He was the
son of the missionary Wheeler who had spent his life with the Ojibwas,
at Bad River. He had learned the language in his boyhood, and I was
only too happy to have as my companion of the journey one who was at
home among the Ojibwas.
From St. Paul we went up the Lake Superior Road until we reached the
Northern Pacific, on which we traveled westward to Brainerd, and then
took stage seventy miles to Leech Lake. There we found white friends
and Ojibwas, to whom we preached, Mr. Wheeler trying the language he
had not used for years. We then proceeded by private conveyance, over
a miserable road through the pine woods, to Red Lake. Rev. Mr. Spees
and wife, who were there doing work under the American Missionary
Association, and Agent Pratt received us kindly. My friend Wheeler
talked with the Indians--the old men remembered his father, and seemed
to warm very much toward the son. It appeared to me that there was a
grand opening for an educational work and preaching the Gospel. When
we left Red Lake, I fully believed that E. P. Wheeler would return
there as a missionary before the snow fell. But I was disappointed.
The American Missionary Association was heavily in debt, and had no
disposition whatever to enlarge work among the Indians.
We then returned by the way we came, and went on to Duluth, where we
took a steamer on the Gitche Gumme (Lake Superior) for Bayfield. On
the downlake steamer we formed the acquaintance of Rev. John
McDougall, a Methodist minister, who, with his family, was going to
the Canadian Conference, from the far-off country of the Saskatchawan.
For more than a quarter of a century he had been a missionary among
the Crees and Bloods and Piegans.
But what interested me most was the account he gave of a small band of
about seven hundred Indians called Stoneys. They talk the Dakota
language, and, as their name indicates, they are evidently a branch of
the Assinaboines.
The name Assinaboine means Stone Sioux, and is a compound of French
and Ojibwa. The last part is Bwan, which is the name the Ojibwas give
the Dakotas or Sioux.
These Stoneys are said to be all Christians. They have their
school-house and church, and Rev. John McDougall, son of the old
gentleman, is their missionary. They live on Bow River, which, I
suppose, is a branch of the Saskatchawan, about two hundred miles
north-west from Fort Benton, and one hundred north of the Canada line.
To us who labor among the Dakotas, it is very cheering to know that
this small outlier of the fifty thousand Dakota-speaking people have
all received the Gospel. We clap our hands for joy.
Landing at Bayfield, we were kindly received by the Indian agent Dr.
Isaac Mahan.
Nestled among the hills, and looking out into the bay filled with the
Apostle Islands, this town has rather a romantic position. And just
out a little way, on Magdalen Island, is La Pointe, the old mission
station. We passed around it in a sail-boat on our way to Odanah.
Very soon after reaching Bayfield, we found a boat going over to
Odanah, which, I understand, is the Ojibwa for town or village, and
which is the name by which the mission station on Bad River has long
been known. As I entered the boat, Mr. Wheeler introduced me to the
Ojibwa men who were to take us over. When I shook hands with one of
them, he said, "My father, Mr. Riggs." Was he calling me his father,
or was it the Indian? I wondered which, but asked no questions. Two or
three days after, I learned that adoption was one of the Ojibwa
customs, and that when Mr. Wheeler was a little boy this man lost his
boy. He came to the mission and said to the missionary, "My boy is
gone; you have a great many boys; let me call this one mine." And so
they said he might so call him; and from that time Edward Payson
Wheeler became the adopted child of an Ojibwa.
Now, after he had been gone ten years, going away a boy and coming
back a man, they all seemed to regard him like a son and a brother. It
was very interesting for me to see how they all warmed toward him.
They came to see him, and wanted him to go to their houses. They all
wanted to talk with him; and when we came to leave, they all flocked
to the mission to shake hands, and to have a last word and a prayer;
and they gave him more _muckoks_ of _manomin_ (wild rice) than he
could bring away with him.
For four days we were the guests of the boarding-school which is in
charge of Rev. Isaac Baird. We became much interested in the school
and the teachers--Mrs. Baird, Miss Harriet Newell Phillips, Miss
Verbeek, Miss Dougherty, and Miss Walker. Naturally, I should be
prejudiced in favor of the Dakotas, but I was obliged to confess that
I had not seen anywhere twenty-five boys and girls better-looking and
more manly and womanly in their appearance than those Ojibwas. The
whole community gave evidence of the good work done by the school in
past years--many of the grown folks being able to talk English quite
well.
But there was one impression that came to me without bidding--it was
that civilization had been pressed farther and faster than
evangelization. While houses and other improvements attested a great
deal of labor expended, the native church is quite small, only now
numbering about twenty-eight, and the _metawa_, their sacred heathen
dance, was danced while we were there, within a stone's-throw of the
church. My spirit was stirred within me, and I said to the members of
that native church that they ought so to take up the work of
evangelizing their own people in good earnest that the dancing of the
_metawa_ thus publicly would become an impossibility.
My visit to various points in the Ojibwa country has interested me
very greatly. From what I have seen and heard, the conviction grew
upon me that the whole Ojibwa field, comprising thirteen or fourteen
thousand people in the States of Wisconsin and Minnesota, is now open
to the Gospel as it never has been before. The old laborers sowed the
good seed, but they saw little fruit. No wonder they became
discouraged. For years the field was almost entirely given up. But,
although the servants retired, the Master watched the work, and here
and there the seed has taken root and sprung up. This appears in the
new desire prevailing that they may again have schools and
missionaries. Shall we not take advantage of this favorable time to
tell them of Jesus the Saviour?