“Thou wast their Rock, their Fortress, and their might;
Thou, Lord, their Captain in the well-fought fight;
Thou in the darkness drear their one true Light.
Hallelujah!”
--_W. W. How._
Among the crowning glories of all missionary endeavor are the living
and dying testimonies of men and women who have been reclaimed from
vice and heathenism by the power of Divine grace.
Among the An-ko-me-nums were many who witnessed a good confession and
passed triumphantly home; too many, indeed, for any extended reference
within the limits of one short chapter.
There are some, however, whose character and service caused them to
stand forth as mountain peaks, to whom we must refer. Among these
were Amos Cushan, our first convert and native missionary; David
Sallosalton, “the Boy Missionary,” and Amos Shee-at-ston, our first
class-leader among the Songees; old Captain Tsit-see-mit-ston, of Sumas
Lake, Snak-wee-multh, Thit-sa-mut, Shee-ah-tluk, August Jackson, and
several others.
AMOS CUSHAN.
Kook-shin (or Kicking-foot) was our first convert to Christianity, and
for many years a most valuable assistant in the work among his people.
He was a youth of some twenty-five years of age when first I took up
my work at Nanaimo. As a lad Kook-shin was trained in heathenism, and
later when a young man learned to love the white man’s “fire-water.”
As a servant in the employ of the Hudson’s Bay Company he had acquired
a little knowledge of English, and for some time served us in the
capacity of interpreter.
His conversion was very clear, and so real to him that in after years
he always referred to it with delight. When the enemy came to tempt
him as to his conversion, to use his own words, “I pointed him to that
place in the mission-house garden on the spring morning when I was
working, where God spoke peace to my soul and made me, oh, so happy.
For a long time before this I had had two hearts, but now Jesus became
chief in my heart. Only one chief now. Jesus is my great Chief.”
When he was baptized he was named “Amos Cushan,” and almost immediately
became a local preacher, and to the end of his life was always
concerned for the salvation of his people.
No one who has not known the awful power of the drink habit can fully
appreciate the struggle he had with this demon. More than once he was
overcome, but finally he prevailed over his enemy and triumphed over
every foe.
As an agent of the Missionary Society he spent many years in
evangelistic labors among his own people on the east coast of Vancouver
Island and up the Fraser River, and later visited the west coast of
the island, the first Protestant missionary to carry the Gospel to
Alberni and the country of the Ats. He made many long and trying trips,
preaching in the open air and sleeping where he could, which finally,
after many years of toil, brought on consumption, to which fell disease
he finally succumbed. Notwithstanding the fact that he lingered long,
and the poor body was racked with pain and suffering, yet his spirit
was always bright; he was never heard to murmur. “In fact,” says one
who visited him during his last sickness, “it was a great comfort to be
with him, he was constantly praising God.”
It was Cushan who stood by the missionary in the great battle in
Qual-la-kup’s house, and where, it is said, they saved the lives of
half-a-dozen people. At camp-meetings and on other occasions he often
preached with great power on the terrors of the law, from such texts
as, “In hell he lifted up his eyes,” and “These shall go away into
everlasting punishment.” He was an earnest advocate of missions, and
was in demand at the various missionary meetings held in the district.
During his last illness a big potlatch was held at his native village,
which brought many hundreds of heathen together. And here he never lost
an opportunity to urge all to give their hearts to Jesus. Just before
his death he called all his children to his side, bade them good-bye,
and urged them to be good and serve God. “All, all is peace. Jesus is
very precious,” were among the final words of this devoted servant of
Jesus Christ.
[Illustration: AMOS CUSHAN. _p. 206_
DAVID SALLOSALTON. _p. 209_
SARAH SHEE-AT-STON. _p. 229_
“CAPTAIN JOHN” SU-A-LIS. _p. 187_
]
He was generally respected, and a large number attended his funeral.
Some of the hardest hearts were softened as he was laid away until the
resurrection morn.
“Servant of God well done,
Thy glorious warfare’s past,
The battle’s fought, the race is won,
And thou art crowned at last.”
THE BOY PREACHER.
I will never forget the bright, pleading little face that looked up
into mine one sunny morning in the year 1864, and prayed to be received
into my home and heart.
“My father and mother are bad. They don’t want me to be good and go to
school; they would rather have me painted up and tattooed and learn to
dance and hunt and fight and go in the old way; but I want to do as you
say and be good, so I think if I live with you I will be good,” said
the dear boy.
My missionary heart was touched by his entreaties, and David
Sallosalton, whose heathen name was then Sa-ta-na, was received
into the mission house, and there trained for the work which in the
providence of God was to result in so great a harvest for the blessed
Master.
He applied himself to learn, and became a devoted Christian. On his
reception into the church he was baptized under the Christian name
of David. Shortly after he was put on the plan as an exhorter, and
faithfully and most successfully he assisted in the work of the mission.
For a time he labored in his own native village, and then was
appointed as lay helper at Chilliwack. Later on he became assistant
missionary to the Songees Indians at Victoria, under the Chairman, Rev.
William Pollard.
He was most enthusiastic in his interest in the camp-meetings, which
had become such an institution in our mission work both among Indians
and whites. His zeal and devotion and his eloquent and fervent appeals
contributed in no small measure to the success of these gatherings.
A spirit of utter self-forgetfulness marked the lad. Through storm
and sunshine he plodded on, daring dangers innumerable, and facing
death in many forms. He was tireless in laboring for the salvation of
his people, going from band to band, and seizing every opportunity to
preach unto them Jesus. Hundreds were impressed by his fervent words,
his native eloquence, and his pure and Christlike spirit, and were led
to give themselves to God.
David became of great value also in interpreting for the missionaries
who might not know the language of the Indians. He was for a time
a class-leader at Skowkale, in the Chilliwack Valley, and he had
another class at the head of Sumas Lake, twenty miles away, and a
third class at Squi-a-la camp, which were the blessed fruit of one of
the camp-meetings. Probably it was in his work through this valley
that David contracted the cold which was destined to end his earthly
career. It was often necessary for him to swim rivers and ford creeks
and sloughs and rushing torrents, in order to carry the glad tidings of
salvation to his benighted brethren. Once on such a journey he nearly
lost his life. He was miles away from any dwelling, and was attempting
to cross a slough at the head of Sumas Lake. The ice, being weak, gave
way, and down he went.
He says, in telling of his mishap: “I plunged and broke the ice again
and again as I tried to climb out upon it. The water was so cold that I
was becoming chilled and weak, and I thought, ‘Now, David go to heaven,
and nobody will know where David has gone’; so I got my Bible with my
name in it, and threw it right up on the shore, so that I think when
somebody find it they will say, ‘Oh, David has gone to heaven on the
lake’; but just then, while among the breaking ice, my feet caught on
a sand-bar, and by this means I struggled to the shore. I found my
Bible, and went on my way rejoicing again to be allowed to preach to my
people.” Who will say that Providence did not interfere to save one so
useful and so devoted to the cause of Christ?
David’s preaching was very earnest, very forceful and original, and
full of illustrations from nature. One of his sermons was called
his “Steamboat Whistle Sermon.” We had the pleasure of hearing this
wonderful sermon at one of the Chilliwack camp-meetings, which he
delivered in his broken English to a crowd of white people gathered at
the meeting, and which we doubt not was the means of leading some to
the Saviour.
A great number of white people and Indians had gathered at the
camp-meeting. An English service was first held, followed by a service
for the Indians. Amos Cushan, the old local preacher, who was a friend
of David’s, had preached to them his famous sermon on the judgment,
when, in response to his invitation, the whole congregation rushed
forward to the rude altar of prayer, and then scores of people with one
voice sent up their cries and petitions to heaven for salvation. After
a season of prayer and wonderful blessing a change was made in the
exercises. By this time crowds of white people were standing round the
camp and at the doors of their tents, looking on with amazement, and
many of them with their eyes filled with tears at seeing so many of the
red men anxious for pardon. David, seeing them, seized the opportunity
to preach, and springing to his feet he began in his broken English a
marvellous and soul-stirring address to them:
“My dear white friends,” said he, “you look at our Indian people
here, you hear them cry very much, and you say, ‘What they make all
that noise for, what make them feel so bad?’ Well, I tell you. My
dear people just heard about Jesus now, and they all want to find Him
and love Him. You heard long time ago, some of you; you find Jesus
long time; you love Him. It all same as steamboat on this river.”
(The camp was on the banks of the old Fraser, and many had come by
steamer.) “When she going to start she whistle one whistle, then she
whistle another, and if you don’t get your things very quick and run,
she whistles last time” (boats whistle three times before leaving),
“and she go off and leave you behind, and you very sorry because you
too late. Now Jesus like that. He whistle, He call. He whistle and
whistle, and if you don’t get on board Jesus’ salvation ship, you too
late. I think some my people get on board before some of you, because
they not afraid to repent and come on board. Now, my white friends, you
hurry up, have all your things packed up, be quick and get on board or
you be too late. I think some of this poor Indian people go into heaven
and you left out. Oh, come on board quick, come on board, come to Jesus
now! This a very good ship, room for all you people, and Indian people
too, black and white; come now, all come.”
No one could help being moved at the speaker’s strong, earnest appeal,
a message from a heart burning with love for souls. Oh, how anxious he
seemed; how he pleaded for the people to come to Jesus; how he sought
to show them the need of doing so, and of doing it right then.
We looked around when he had finished and saw a number of the most
hardened sinners in tears and broken down by the earnest, loving,
living message of the young Indian preacher. Who can measure the
results of that strong and sympathetic appeal? Never can it fade from
my memory or its effect be effaced from the heart. We feel that the
Great Shepherd alone can tell how many of His sheep were found by the
call given in that “Steamboat Whistle Sermon” by His young servant on
the old camp-ground on the banks of the Fraser. One man was saved that
day who became well known as a faithful worker among the Indians in
after days. This was old Captain Tsit-see-mit-ston, who lived at the
head of Sumas Lake.
David knew nothing of fear in the prosecution of his work for the
Master. Many a time, in the midst of circumstances most trying, would
he declare his allegiance to Christ. Never was he ashamed of his
Saviour, and his young heart was so full of love for Him that the
influence was felt by all who came near to his warm and faithful life.
Although his opportunities were few and his advantages limited, owing
to a lack of an English education, he was a living demonstration of the
fact that “God often chooses the weak things of the world to confound
the things that are mighty.”
On one occasion he was accompanying me on a missionary trip which
included a visit to a sick Indian who lived up the Chilliwack River.
When we arrived at Skowkale, on the east bank of the river, a priest
came to the opposite side. He seemed desirous of crossing the river (it
was before the river had changed its course at Vedder Crossing), and as
there was no bridge, and no canoe or boat on his side, he called to the
Indians on our side to come over and fetch him. I told them to go for
the man, but they said, “Oh, no, we don’t want that teacher any more.”
“But,” said I, “it is only politeness to row the man over if he wishes
it; you do not need to listen to him or follow his teaching, but you
ought to be kind and help any man when you can.”
At last they were persuaded, and rowed across after the man, bringing
him to our side. When the priest arrived on the bank of the river I
said:
“Good-morning, sir, you seem to be travelling.”
“Yes,” said he, “I am going up to see a sick man at the village above.”
“Oh, indeed,” said I; “my little friend and I were just going to the
same place.”
“Then,” said the man, in a mixture of French and English, “you better
not go, he is my convert.”
“Yes,” said I, “but I have been to see the sick man before, and I
thought of going again.”
“Then,” said he, “you people are all in the wrong way; it is no good
you go.”
“Well,” said I, “which way are you in? Here is my chart,” holding up
the Bible. At this he got angry, and said, “That book is no good.”
All this time David stood quietly by without saying a word, but when he
saw the man getting angry he stepped up and said, “Mr. Crosby, I think
you gentlemen speak too much your own words. Very good, I read some
out of God’s Word.” So he read some striking verse out of his little
Testament. This made the priest very angry, and he tried to snatch the
book out of the boy’s hand, saying, “He can’t read; he is only a little
Siwash” (Chinook for Indian). “It is only something he had committed to
memory, the little Siwash.”
“Yes,” said David, “that’s so; me little Siwash, but this book tell me
if I love Jesus and work for him, when I die I go up to heaven, and I
live with Jesus up there. Me little Siwash, but me love Jesus; Jesus
my friend, Jesus my King; Jesus save me and help me to be good and
not get angry. Cannot I read?” and taking out his Bible he turned to
passage after passage, as if God had inspired and told him just where
to turn the leaves, and read:
“Therefore, being justified by faith we have peace with God through our
Lord Jesus Christ.” “There is one mediator between God and man, the
man Christ Jesus.” And again, “The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son,
cleanseth us from all sin.” “He that believeth and is baptized shall
be saved, but he that believeth not shall be damned.” And so he went
on, reading passage after passage, slyly hitting, without apparently
knowing it, one after another of the errors of the priest’s own Church,
until the countenance of the latter was a study. It changed to purple,
and from purple to livid, in a very short time, until his indignation
mastered him, and he made off up the river bank; not, however, before
our young Indian, turning over the leaves of his Bible, repeated, very
significantly, the passage, “The wicked flee when no man pursueth,
but the righteous are bold as a lion.” This courageous action on the
part of David fired the zeal and enthusiasm of all the Indians, and
gathering together they commenced to sing a part of one of Wesley’s
hymns, which they had learned at the camp:
“Jesus, the name high over all,
In hell or earth or sky;
Angels and men before it fall,
And devils fear and fly.”
And just as the priest, with the wind blowing strongly against him,
hurried rapidly up the bank of the river, with his long coat-tails
flying in the breeze, the last line of the verse was ringing out on the
air, which is a translation from the Indian language in which it was
sung, “The devil gets afraid and runs.”
We are informed by a lady who often entertained Sallosalton that one
day he was going to visit the Indians who lived across the Chilliwack
River. Having arrived at the bank of the river he saw an Indian on the
other side, and called to him to come across and row him over with his
canoe. The man, being a Roman Catholic, refused to do so, so David took
off his clothes, tied them in a bundle, placed the bundle on the top of
his head, plunged into the river and was soon on the other shore. He
then dressed himself, and went on his way rejoicing that he was able to
carry the blessed light to his heathen people. Nothing could daunt our
young hero, nothing discourage his young heart. He was wholly given up
to his work for the Master.
On the occasion of one of his visits to the head of Sumas Lake he met a
white man whom he had known in Nanaimo. This man was one who had known
the grace of God but had wandered from the fold, and he thought to
cause David some discomfort by his talk.
“David,” said he, “what are you doing here, so far away from your home?
We don’t see you in Nanaimo any more. What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing,” said David, “I am simply preaching to my people.”
“Oh, you’re preaching, are you? Preaching for the Methodists, I
suppose? How much do they pay you? You know some of these preachers get
good pay; how much do you get?”
“Oh,” said David, “you think me work for nothing? You think me get no
pay? By-and-bye me get great pay. Me get great crown up in heaven.
Jesus pay me. Me be a king up there. Oh, yes, me get pay by-and-bye, me
get great pay.” This set this poor old backslider thinking, and we hope
it was the means of leading him back to Jesus Christ, from whom, by
his worldliness and selling of whiskey, he had wandered so far. David
was not in the least disturbed by the man’s remarks, but marched on,
singing, “There is a happy land, far, far away.”
None could have a higher motive than this for his life’s work. To
David in all his work came the glorious hope of the heavenly welcome,
which, beaming brightly on his earthly way, chased away many shadows
that might otherwise have lingered there. Sunshine and joy seemed
ever present with him, and made him a most desirable companion, while
his deep religious convictions gave the influence of holy thought and
motive as an additional claim to the fellowship which others were
privileged to have with him.
The Rev. Morley Punshon, D.D., before the British Conference of 1873,
gave a good description of this incident, and of Sallosalton’s work. He
says, in speaking of him:
“In British Columbia I met an Indian, one of the most eloquent men I
ever heard. If I had not met Sciarelli (a Hindu), I should have said
he is the most eloquent man who ever stood before an audience. He was
only seventeen years of age, but a youth of very great promise, who
rejoiced our heart with the prospect of long-continued usefulness,
but whom God loved so much that He took him out of the world after a
short time of most earnest and successful labor upon the Fraser River.
This young man, David Sallosalton, wrought a great work among his
countrymen.”
THE END CAME ALL TOO SOON.
At the last camp-meeting David attended he was feeling quite poorly.
For some time he had been sick, for the hard trips he had taken
through storm and tempest were having serious effects upon his frail
constitution, and yet his zeal had brought him, even under distressing
difficulties, to his last camp-meeting. He had fought hard for the
Master during these years, and now he was seen to be breaking down in
health. One arm had been rendered powerless by a stroke of paralysis.
At this camp-meeting of which we have spoken David, as usual, seized an
opportunity to tell his experience. A great crowd of Indians and white
people were standing near, and David said:
“My friends, you see that little tree,” pointing to a little maple
standing near by. “Well, when I first came to camp long ago that tree
was a very small tree; now you see how it has grown; it is a strong
tree now. It is all the same with David’s heart, it grow every day, it
get strong like the tree, but the devil he try me when I come to this
camp-meeting; he say, ‘Now, look, you foolish boy, you go among these
Indians, you preach and travel around in ice and cold, and do what the
missionary want you to do, and you get sick, and be no great man. Now,
if you had not done that, if you had stayed home among your people, you
had been a chief, a great man, by this time. Now you go away from your
people, you preach; you say your people wrong, your people all dark;
and now the old medicine men on the Fraser River not like you preach so
strong, and they make you sick and poor like you be now.’ But I tell
the devil, ‘You go away; Jesus is my Captain, He lead me all right;
by-and-bye I not be sick any more; by-and-bye I be in heaven with
Jesus; no witch-doctors do me any harm.’” Thus he went on addressing
the people, and the power of the blessed Spirit seemed to accompany
his words in great measure, and his face shone as with a light from
heaven, and he said, “Oh, my friends, me think by-and-bye me not sick;
by-and-bye me get to heaven; no sickness up in heaven.” Up went both
arms, one of which, through his paralysis, he had not used for a long
time, and he shouted out with all his strength, “By-and-bye I shall
have wings; I shall fly!” There were shouts of “Praise the Lord,” and
“Hallelujah,” all over the camp, and many of the people shed tears of
joy. All were touched and deeply moved at this wondrously passionate
appeal, and this bright hope for the future, as also the miraculous
movement of David’s paralyzed arm. No doubt of his fitness for the
glory land, or his bright prospects of reaching it. Indeed, he seemed
to all to be living just on the border. The camp-meeting broke up under
a holy influence, for one and all felt the power of one who was soon
to bid farewell to earth and pass over into the kingdom eternal. After
this camp-meeting was over David spent some days visiting his friends
in the Chilliwack valley, where he was always welcome, and whose homes
he brightened and blessed by his happy experience. Then he returned to
Victoria, where he was employed as a native assistant. He gradually
grew worse, getting weaker all the time, and finally his spirit fled to
the heaven to which he had tried to point the way.
The Chairman, the now sainted Wm. Pollard, was his superintendent,
and watched over him to the last. He said David’s death was the most
triumphant he had ever witnessed. In a letter dated January 14th, 1873,
he said: “The death of David Sallosalton was a sad blow to this mission
and to the Indian work in general. He was deservedly popular, and he
was pious, eloquent and useful. He was universally beloved and almost
idolized by the Indians.”
The late Rev. Cornelius Bryant, then missionary at Sumas, who had known
David from his childhood, in referring to his death, paid this tribute
to the worth of Indian Missions: “If no other had been saved than David
Sallosalton, our Indian brother, whose glowing experience I heard in
the church a few months ago, and who is doubtless now a glorified
inhabitant of the skies, we had been well rewarded for all missionary
effort.” Mr. Pollard wrote the following obituary of him:
“The subject of this notice belonged to the Nanaimo tribe of Indians,
and he was born in Nanaimo camp about 1853. His parents were pagan,
and David’s early education was pagan. About 1860 our missionaries
visited Nanaimo, and the Gospel was introduced among the Indians;
this was a new era in David’s history. He when a little boy welcomed
the messengers of mercy, and as far as he could comprehend the light
he walked in it, but it was not until he was eleven years of age
that he was converted. He attended the mission school then conducted
by the Rev. T. Crosby, and was the fruit of his pious and earnest
ministrations. This zealous missionary discovered in his pupil piety
and gifts of more than ordinary promise, and spared no pains to train
him to future usefulness. David from the time of his conversion
maintained an unblemished character, and labored earnestly and
continuously to teach his countrymen the way of life. In September,
1871, he came to Victoria to attend the English school and act as
assistant missionary to the Songees Indians. He made great progress in
his work, often preaching to them every evening in the week, besides
twice on the Sabbath, and the Lord gave him great favor with both the
whites and the Indians. Great hopes were entertained that he might long
be spared as a missionary to his people. He was not only remarkable for
his piety, but had extraordinary natural qualifications for public
speaking in his own language. The Rev. Dr. Punshon, who heard him when
on a visit to this country, pronounced him one of the greatest natural
orators he had ever heard. Last spring his health began to fail, and
though everything was done to prolong his valuable life, yet it was
evident that consumption was undermining his constitution. The only
desire that he seemed to have was to live that he might preach Christ.
During his illness he often spoke of heaven, especially as a place
where there would be no temptation, no whiskey, no devil. Shortly
before his death, when asked what portion of Scripture he wished to
have read, he said: ‘Read to me the death of Christ.’ A few minutes
before he died a friend quoted the first part of the fourteenth chapter
of John. He expressed great joy that Christ had gone to heaven to
prepare mansions for his children, and said: ‘In a very short time I
shall be in my Father’s house.’ He then closed his eyes, folded his
hands, as if intending to pray, and thus fell asleep without a pain or
a doubt, on the 29th of October, in the nineteenth year of his age,
David Sallosalton, the most perfect Christian we ever knew.”
THE OLD CAPTAIN OF SUMAS LAKE.
Tsit-see-mit-ston, the old warrior chief of the Sumas, whose home was
at Nah-nates, round the head of Sumas Lake, was a convert of our first
camp-meeting at Chilliwack in 1870. I remember well the tall, rather
fierce-looking man, who impressed one by his stalwart, athletic form
and proud bearing that he might have been a great hunter and a fierce
fighter in his day. We learned afterwards that he had been in many
terrible scenes of bloodshed. Years gone by, when the Coast Indians
came up the Fraser River on their slave-taking expeditions, many a
slave-seeker found his death at the hands of this stalwart warrior. He
had a powerful frame and unflinching nerve, and was alert and agile to
the very end.
His curiosity was aroused when he heard the people were camping in
the bush, and so he, with some of his people, came to attend the
camp-meeting. As the blessed Spirit came in power upon the Indians in
that place, “Old Cap.” (as he was called by the whites) said: “I felt
so miserable I did not know what to do; and when asked to speak my body
trembled and shook. It was not fear, for I had never been afraid of
anything. But what could I say? I could not utter a word. And when the
good people saw how I was, they commenced to pray for me, and led me to
the foot of the cross, where I laid down my burden of sin, and God gave
me a new heart. My difficulty in speaking was soon gone, and I felt
that I wanted to talk all the time in telling of the joy that had come
into my soul.”
The great old warrior would shout and talk, and seemed never to tire
of telling of the love of God in his soul. He became a missionary to
his own people, and by precept and example pointed them to the Saviour
of men. He had the unspeakable joy of seeing every adult member of his
band make public profession of conversion ere he passed to the land of
light and glory. We often stayed all night at his camp, and night and
morning he would call all his people in to prayers, and it was then we
had times of refreshing coming from the Lord.
The old man was wonderfully energetic, and in order to have all his
people at church on Sunday--for they had to journey a distance of
fifteen miles or more--he bought a number more horses, so that he might
have one each for them to ride. These horses he kept on the prairie
during the summer, and in the fall he had a lot of his young men cut
enough wild hay to keep them through the winter. It was remarked again
and again that no matter how stormy the day, “Old Captain” and his
people would be seen at church.
Finally age told upon him, and one day he “fell on sleep,” and died
happy in the Lord. Years have gone by since he passed away, and we
still see the effect of his life upon his people. What a change the
Gospel makes from a savage to a saint.
THE REDEEMED SLAVE.
Snak-wee-multh, or Old Sam, was a native of Vancouver Island, though
in his boyhood he had been seized in one of the many slave raids and
carried away to the far north, where he remained for years, until he
had forgotten his own language, but never lost his love or longing for
the old home of his youth. Long after middle life he found his way back
to his own tribe, but never recovered the fluent use of his own tongue.
In youth he was trained in heathenism, and afterwards acquired a
knowledge of the still more savage customs and heathen practices of the
north people. He was first in all dark deeds and in the heathen dance
among his people; and as he had many new tricks of savage life to show
them, which he had learned while a slave, the dancers looked upon him
as a kind of demi-god, for, as they said, “he had so much power, he
could do more wonderful feats than any one of them.”
Sam kept on this way until he became very sick, and as he lay on his
sick bed I visited him, and had the joy of pointing him to Jesus.
During this sickness he several times begged me to give him some
medicine to make him sleep. He said he wanted it so strong that he
would not wake up again. He said he had heard the white man had this
medicine, and if he could only take some it would be so good of me to
give it to him. Again and again did he beg for a sleeping-powder.
I told him I could not give him that kind of medicine, but if he would
only give his heart to Jesus he would then be happy all the time. I
kept up my visits regularly, carrying him simple foods from day to day.
Finally the light came in upon his dark mind, and oh, what a change!
How he would thank me and praise God for the comfort he had in his
heart!
For years he had been very fond of tobacco, and, like most of the
Indians, had used so much of it that no one could come near him without
noticing the dreadful effects of it. Everything seemed to be saturated
with the smell of tobacco, and he would use it the last thing before
going to bed and the first thing in the morning. After he was converted
he had a dream. He dreamed that One grand and pure sat by his side and
said, “You would have been lost if it had not been for your wife”--she
had helped him to the light--and the pure One went on to say, “You will
have to stop the use of tobacco, for if you get up to the shining gate,
and the great and pure One smells any tobacco on you, He will send you
away, as no one can go into that happy place who smells of that stuff;
it is not so much different to rum and whiskey, so stop it or else you
will be lost.”
Poor Sam had a great struggle, but he got the victory. And finally,
after months of sickness, when he was sinking rapidly, he told us that
“with a clean mouth, and not with the smell of dirty tobacco, he was
going home to heaven, washed in the blood of the Lamb, and had no doubt
of a welcome in the skies.”
And so, from that heathen house, with an earthen floor, a poor cot, and
heathen surroundings, the scene of many a weird heathen dance and much
bloodshed, Old Sam passed away to the mansions above. Oh, the power of
the blood of Jesus! A slave, a poor dark pagan, saved--a saint, a king!
AN INDIAN CLASS-LEADER.
Shee-at-ston was a native of the Songees tribe of Indians, who lived
opposite the City of Victoria, B.C. He was born about the year 1855. He
was a high caste Indian, in the line of succession from Chee-at-luk
(old King Free-zee), the hereditary chief of that district.
In his early life he was doubtless introduced to all the abominations
of paganism, and was, when I first knew him, still carrying out the
practices of a real heathen life. He, with others of his people, had
become victims of the white man’s fire-water, being so close to a town
where so many were ruined by it.
He must have long desired a better life, for on several occasions he
found his way into the old Pandora Street Methodist Church, Victoria,
and was asked by the kind usher to take a seat. About this time the
attention of a number of Christian workers of that church had been
directed to the depraved condition of the Indians, not only at their
camps, but of the numbers who were wandering about the towns in
dissipation and shame, and they were moved to take up work among the
Songees people.
Shee-at-ston was one of the first to come to the little Sunday-school
which these Christians were conducting. There he heard the word of
life, and after awhile gave his heart to God and was baptized, “Amos
Shee-at-ston.”
As soon as he became a Christian he built himself a neat little house,
and moved out of the old lodge with its associations of heathenism.
Some fourteen of the Songees Indians were converted and formed into a
class, which met in Amos’s house, and of which he became the leader.
His conversion to God created great excitement and aroused a good deal
of persecution from his heathen people. Many a time evilly disposed
ones, who may have been put up to it by wicked white men, would bring
their bottle of the accursed fire-water to tempt him again to drink,
but by the grace of God he was kept faithful.
Amos was a great help to the workers after they hired the old bar-room
in town for evangelistic purposes. He was always in his place at the
time of religious service, and ready to give his testimony to the power
of grace, either in the Chinook or in his own language. Thus saved
from heathenism and a life of degradation and drunkenness, he was
the means of helping many of his friends to the true light. His wife
became converted, and her sister as well. They afterwards lived happy
Christian lives, and then went triumphantly home to the skies. The wife
of Amos was christened “Sarah.”
When the summons came to devoted Amos Shee-at-ston, though sudden, he
was ready to obey the call. That terrible disease, the smallpox, had
spread among his friends in the “rancheree,” and finally seized our
faithful and devoted class-leader, and in a short time he exchanged the
garments of earth for the robes of heaven.
* * * * *
How gladly would we make extended reference to many others who
witnessed a good confession and went triumphantly home, but our space
will not permit. There was true-hearted Charley Thit-sa-mut, the chief
who succeeded “Old Captain” at Sumas Lake, who for twenty years lived
such a faithful life that whites and Indians alike bore testimony
to his worth of character; and “Big Jim” Shee-ah-tluk, of Squi-a-la,
who also was one of the converts of our first camp-meeting, an
earnest-hearted Christian, who always delighted to have the missionary
come to his house, and was ever ready in the olden times to ferry
the preacher across slough or river in his canoe; and Chief Dick, of
Achelitz, quiet, conscientious and devoted; and Thomas Sallosalton, the
brother of David, who lived a happy life among his own people till God
said, “Come up higher”; and his sweet-spirited sister, Mrs. Sunneah,
who, when she was passing over the river, called her friends to see the
white-winged angels who had come to take her home.
Then there was August Jackson, of our Victoria Mission, who was
converted to God in his youth and became a most devoted assistant to
the missionary. Besides his work in the church, he was a council-man
in the Songees tribe, and much respected by all who knew him. I know
Brother Tate hoped he would be called into the work as an agent of
the church. He married a bright girl from Coqualeetza Institute, at
Chilliwack, and all seemed to promise fair, when, by an accident in the
saw-mill in which he worked, he received a wound from which he never
recovered. He died July, 1903, at the early age of thirty-three years.
Bro. Tate, his pastor, speaking of him, said, “He was, without doubt,
one of the best men I ever knew.”
And, finally, we must mention poor old Annie Lay-why-eton, who died
of smallpox after successfully nursing her son through that awful
disease. She was a sincere member of the Church for many years, and
in her eagerness to hear the Word used to trudge in feebleness from
Kultus Lake, on the Upper Chilliwack, to the church at Skowkale, a
distance of about five miles, and back. She was blind, and had to cross
the river on a single log. The very last time she attended church she
spoke at the class-meeting, and told how she thought that morning she
could not get to church, but she felt such a longing desire to have her
soul fed once more that she made the attempt. Coming to the log she
feared she could not get across, but looking up to God for help, she
got down on her hands and knees and crawled over. What a rebuke to the
careless indifference of many professed Christians to the privileges of
religious worship.
We rejoice as well in the faith and devotion of many who are still with
us, among whom are Capt. John Sua-lis, who for thirty-five years or
more has been our faithful native assistant at Chilliwack, and Chief
Wm. Sapass, our devoted class-leader at Skowkale. When the “roll is
called up yonder,” we are persuaded many will answer to their names
who went up to the glory-land from the various bands and tribes of the
An-ko-me-num people.
Before leaving Chilliwack and Sumas, the kind friends of that valley
gathered to bid farewell, and presented me with the following address,
which I have treasured in loving memory of the precious years spent
with them and among the Indians of the Fraser River. I insert this
letter because I believe my readers will sympathize with me in my
declaration of the exceeding comfort and encouragement which it gave me
in the prosecution of the work to which I had devoted my life.
SUMAS AND CHILLIWACK,
September 22nd, 1873.
_To Rev. Thos. Crosby_,--
We wish to take the opportunity of your leaving this district for
Ontario to express our hearty admiration of the untiring efforts you
have put forth in the work of evangelizing the natives of this land, a
work in which you have been eminently blessed by God. But as you have
materially helped the work of God amongst our own race by preaching
to the scattered settlers in various parts of this province, and
especially so on this mission, which you were mainly instrumental in
founding, we beg to assure you of our sincere sympathy and love as
you leave us on a visit to the mother churches of old Canada, and to
your friends and relatives living there. At the same time we tender
you the accompanying purse as a small expression of our affectionate
regard, hoping that after you have fully accomplished your mission
East we shall have the pleasure of welcoming your return. We subscribe
ourselves, on the part of the lay-official members and friends of the
Wesleyan Methodist Church on this mission,
D. MCGILLIVARY.
GEO. W. CHADSEY.
A. C. WELLS.
D. W. MILLER.
ISAAC KIPP.
[Illustration: SKOWKALE CHURCH.]
[Illustration: SKOWKALE MISSION PEOPLE.]