This has been continued as usual. Indians have been visited at
Hantsport, Cornwallis, Mount Uniacke, Londonderry, Amherst, Shediac and
St. John, N. B. My reception has been uniformly kind, and without an
exception good attention has been given to the Word of God, and to
religions instruction. My aim has been to explain the way of salvation,
and to direct them to the Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of the
world. White friends have occasionally accompanied me on these visits.
Invariably the solemn attention witnessed has surprised, impressed and
pleased them. They have owned that, had they been unacquainted with the
facts of the case, they could never have imagined these people to be
other than Protestants and devout Christians. For the sake of brevity I
will omit details except in two cases. In one place in New Brunswick, I
visited within a radius of about seven or eight miles, four small
encampments, and some of them twice. The chief resided there and I
called on him twice. I have known him for years. He treated me very
courteously and at our last interview asked me to tell him more
particularly what my object is in going round among the Indians. I told
him. I said, I am a minister of the Gospel. My sole business as such is
to read, and expound the Word of God, both publicly and privately, both
among the white people and among the Indians, to teach the way of
salvation and to urge people to love and serve our Lord Jesus Christ. I
told him further that since I could speak Micmac, and read the
Scriptures in their language, that I took special delight in going among
them, to lead and sing and pray, and talk with them of their soul’s
salvation. He enquired how the Indians around in that place received me.
I hesitated for a moment whether I ought to tell him, as it might
possibly be the means of bringing some of them into trouble. But after a
little reflection and silent prayer, I resolved to conceal nothing. They
receive me kindly, said I, as they now do everywhere in Nova
Scotia—they listen attentively and invite me to repeat my visits.
“Well,” he answered, “that is just what I was going to say to you. But
you don’t come often enough, nor early enough in the day. We have been
looking for you ever since your last visit, when you promised to come
again, and now it is so near night and you are in such a hurry that we
have not time to ask you half the questions we wish to ask, nor to learn
half the things we wish to learn. We want you to come in the morning and
stay with us all day.” Such in substance was the statement of this
worthy chief. Surely no one can reasonably blame me for wishing to
continue steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord,
while even such evidence is afforded that our labors are not in vain in
the Lord.
The second incident has reference to the Maliseets, near St. John. They
speak a dialect differing materially from Micmac—and usually live in
houses or small huts. I can speak but a few words or sentences in their
tongue—but we have published a tract in it which I can read, as can
also many of themselves—I can also sing Psalms and Hymns in Maliseet,
and as most of them speak Micmac and English tolerably well, we get on
sometimes very bravely together. One evening I had entered a hut, as the
sun was setting, had received a cordial welcome, had sung in Maliseet,
“Abide with me, fast falls the eventide;”
had spoken of Christ and his readiness to save, and now, said I, if you
have no objections, I wish to kneel down in your hut and pray.
“Certainly,” replied the man, “certainly,” and he and I bowed down
together, though his wife, the only other person present, did not kneel,
and I prayed. “Thank you, thank you,” said he as we arose—“that’s good,
that’s very nice. It isn’t often we gets the likes o’ that here. It’s
cus and swear and get drunk—that’s what we usually gets.” The words of
the poor fellow and his earnest manner touched my heart. I could not but
bless God that I am permitted by his grace—to visit the Indian’s lowly
dwelling, to talk and sing and read of a Saviour’s love, and pray, where
so many go merely for pastime—to curse and swear, and drink; but where
few, alas, go to pray. People sometimes express astonishment that I can
persevere and not get discouraged in the cultivation of so stubborn a
soil, where so much labor and toil require to be expended, and so little
fruit is seen. And I am sometimes amazed at it myself. But there is in
my soul a deep-seated feeling that I am called to the work in which I am
engaged, and incidents like the above wring tears from my eyes, bring me
to my knees, and send me on in my work refreshed, and strengthened, with
loins fresh-girded to the conflict, and full of joy and hope.