“O, teach me, Lord, that I may teach
The precious things Thou dost impart,
And wing my words that they may reach
The hidden depths of many a heart.”
--_Frances Ridley Havergal._
In March, 1863, I was asked by the Rev. Ephraim Evans, D.D.,
Superintendent of Missions in British Columbia, to go to Nanaimo to
teach an Indian school.
I said, “Doctor, I should like to go, but I do not know the language.”
He said, in a very decided tone of voice, “Go and learn the language.
My brother James learned two or three Indian languages.” [He alluded to
Rev. James Evans, the heroic missionary to Norway House, and inventor
of the wonderful Cree syllabic characters.]
The very commanding way in which that statesmanlike man put it helped
to inspire me to make the effort. I said to myself, “If your brother
James could learn two or three languages, so can I, by the help of God.”
I was off from Victoria by the first conveyance, the little sloop
_Alarm_, taking with us Her Majesty’s mail--there were no steamboats to
Nanaimo in those days. We made the trip, some seventy-five miles from
Victoria, in eight days.
Nanaimo was a small town, almost entirely built of logs, situated on
a hillside facing the harbor, with a large Indian village a mile away
along the shore.
We were met and cordially welcomed by Bro. Bryant--afterwards the
Rev. Cornelius Bryant--at that time the oldest Methodist in British
Columbia. I was soon at work in the Indian camp, in the little shell of
a building built by Rev. E. Robson, which served both as a school-house
and church. Brother Robson had commenced the work among the Indians,
holding school for a time, until the pressure of his many other duties
as pastor to the people of the neighboring town compelled him to give
it up.
My pupils were a wild-looking lot of little folk, with painted and
dirt-begrimed faces and long, uncombed hair. Some of them were clothed
in little print shirts, others had a small piece of blanket pinned
around them, while some had no clothing at all.
One of the first difficulties was my ignorance of their language. Hence
I had to use the language of signs. Beckoning and pointing to the
school-house, I sought to persuade them to come into school. They would
look at me, laugh at my efforts, and make a bolt for the bushes near
by. Sometimes I made an attempt to capture them, but they would run
like wild hares, and I could not get near them.
I had always a love for children, and prided myself on my ability to
win them; but these, I was afraid, were going to outdo me.
[Illustration: INDIAN CHURCH AND MISSION HOUSE AT NANAIMO.]
Finally I took an Indian with me to the woods and secured two stout
poles or posts, with which we fixed up a swing at the back of the
school-house. Then I started again with my sign language, and at last
succeeded in getting one of them into the swing. As I swung the little
fellow to and fro I noticed the others peeping out curiously from among
the bushes. Pointing to the swing and then to the school-house, I
beckoned to them, as much as to say, “If you come here and have a swing
you will have to go to school.” By this means I got acquainted with
them and won their confidence.
As I saw the difficulty of reaching them, my struggle to secure a
knowledge of their language became intense. Often in the night I would
be found on my knees praying to God to help me to get my tongue around
the difficult guttural tones.
One who has never tried it cannot fully realize the difficulty of
securing a language without grammar or printed vocabulary. I had to
make my own dictionary little by little. First I got a small book and
put down English words on the one side, and when I learned their Indian
equivalents put them down on the other. Day by day I got fresh words,
and when walking about visiting the sick or looking after my pupils I
would be pronouncing the words I had secured.
Finally I got my first sentence together and started through the
village one morning shouting as hard as I could shout, and making the
sounds as much like an old Indian as possible: “Muck-stow-ay-wilth
May-tla ta school”--“All children come to school,” repeating this again
and again as I went along.
The old people ran out of their houses to see what old Indian was
passing. Putting their hands to their ears they said: “Listen to him!
He speaks it just like an Indian,” and then they laughed.
A lot of the little folk followed me, and I went from house to house
arousing others, getting them out from under their dirty blankets,
washing their faces, and then taking them along to school.
This method I followed for a while. Sometimes there was nothing near
at hand with which to wash them, and they would run off without it. To
overcome this difficulty we got a big barrel, and sawing it in two,
filled the two halves with fresh water and placed them on either side
of the school-house door. Then we got one or two big barley sacks and
cut them up into strips for towels, and supplied some bits of soap and
a couple of big combs. And now everybody had to do his toilet before he
came into school.
It was an amusing sight indeed to see those little fellows at it. They
would dash and splash the water over them, and the principal part of
the dirt would be left on the towel. But by perseverance we got them to
use it in the right way.
The most trying condition of things, however, was the need of clothes
for the children. Some of them had the scantiest dress, and some
no dress at all. So I wrote to certain lady friends in Victoria,
explaining to them the condition and appearance of my pupils, and
asking if they would gather up some cast-off clothing and send to me.
The kind ladies very soon responded to the appeal and promised to send
a box. This was my first “Supply Committee.”
Some weeks passed and the gift came, and I shall never forget the
exciting time we had when the great box was opened in the school-house.
The sparkling eyes and eager faces of the dusky little mortals was a
picture indeed.
Of course, many of the clothes were much too large and had to be “fixed
up,” but what did that matter?
Like white children, they wanted to “try on.” One little girl was soon
inside of a dress about twice too long for her, and holding up the
front, with the long train following, she went prancing up and down in
it, looking very proud.
The excitement became great. One little boy was trying on a coat much
too big for him. Another little fellow got hold of a little pair of
pants which he thought were the thing for him, and was buttoning up the
waist, when the others burst into loud laughter and told him he had got
into them the wrong side first.
Some Indian women, directed by Mrs. Raybold, a good lady from town,
were soon busy with needle and thread, while the missionary plied the
shears. And so we worked and sewed and cut and fixed up, until we had
the children fairly well dressed.
The old people, in the meantime, showed very little appreciation,
often, indeed, taking the children away with the most silly excuses.
On their hunting and fishing trips they carried nearly all their
household effects, children, dogs, cats, chickens, etc. Hence we often
had to follow them and teach school on the beach, or under a shady tree
on the bank of the river.
After I had been some time at this work, spending my whole energy for
the benefit of their children, some of the parents asked me how long
they had to let their children go to school before I would pay them.
I replied, “Oh, I couldn’t pay you. In our country the people pay the
teacher.” “Oh, well,” they said, “we cannot let them go much longer
unless you pay us.”
But by and by the swing, our singing and kindness won the hearts of the
little ones, and they came of their own accord when the hand-bell was
rung.
Sometimes, on a fine day in the summer, they would take a notion to run
off and keep away from school. What boy or girl likes to attend school
on a hot day? When I started to round them up they made for the beach,
and when I drew near they would slip off their blanket or simple dress
and make a bolt for the salt water. In they would go, the tide being
up, diving and swimming away out of reach of everybody. For a little
you would lose sight of them, then away in the distance you would see
two or three little fellows pop up, shake their heads, rub their hands
over their faces, and cry out, “Ha! ha! ha!”
In spite of all the difficulties in the way of rapid progress, many who
were naturally bright made considerable advancement. It was from this
school that little Satana (afterwards David Sallosalton) came to me
and gave himself up to God and the work of evangelizing his people.
It was while I was engaged in my work at Nanaimo that I had the
pleasure of a visit from Wm. Duncan, of the Church Missionary Society,
who had spent several years among the Tsimpseans at Metlakatlah, and
who afterwards was instrumental in founding the model missionary
community at that place. The pleasurable acquaintance thus made was
years afterwards renewed when I went north to undertake missionary work
among the people of the same nation. Wm. Duncan was one of the most
successful of missionaries, earnest, devoted, resourceful, a man the
influence of whose life and labors will always be felt among the people
for whom his life was given.