Missionary Work Among the Ojebway Indians Part 13

William used latterly to take notes of the sermons which he heard on Sundays.

And now we come to the last scenes of the dear boy's life here on earth.

I had been away on a tour through the other dioceses, and William, as captain of the school, had additional duties devolving upon him during the princ.i.p.al's absence. He had charge of the clothing store and had to give out clothing each week to the boys, and perform other duties requiring care and attention. The bodies of the late Bishop Fauquier and Mrs. Fauquier were expected shortly to arrive for interment in the s.h.i.+ngwauk cemetery, and preparations had to be made for this; the road to the cemetery, which was blocked in places by large boulders and old pine stumps, had to be cleared and levelled. William, of course, was called into service for this--no one could clear a road through a rough tract of land better than he. He was busy preparing for the spring examinations, and very anxious to be victor; but books were laid aside without a murmur, and he shouldered his pickaxe and shovel, and in company with two or three other big boys set cheerfully and heartily to work. It seemed strange that his last work on earth should be preparing this road to the cemetery along which his own body would be carried before those of the Bishop and Mrs. Fauquier arrived. That hard work, with taking a chill, was probably in some measure the cause of his death. He seemed very well on the Friday, the day on which I returned home, and joined the boys in offering a hearty welcome, but the following Sunday he seemed to be ailing, and on Monday, although he had come down to lessons, and was setting to work, he was trembling and scarcely able to stand. I recommended him to return to his room to bed, which he at once did, but it was very soon evident that a serious illness was setting in. An Indian woman was engaged to nurse him, and the doctor from the Sault attended him. For the first few days no great alarm was felt, and the pain seemed to in some measure subdued. No one would allow himself to imagine that death was so near. It was not until Friday evening, the 12th, that a decided change for the worse set in.

He became very low and weak, with a slight tendency to delirium. We were all very anxious, and the Indian boys took turns watching at his bedside. On Sunday afternoon ten or twelve of the boys came up to his room for prayer. William, though very weak, and only able to say a few words at a time, asked permission to speak to them, and he spoke very earnestly for six or seven minutes in his own language; then we knelt and prayed--prayed with great earnestness that G.o.d, if it were His holy will, would permit our dear boy to recover. All Monday he was very ill.

Our hopes were sinking. It scarcely seemed possible that the dear boy could live more than another day or two. We had much earnest prayer at his bedside, and the faintest signs of improvement were eagerly looked for. He was quite resigned to G.o.d's will, wis.h.i.+ng to recover if it were his Father's will, or ready to die if the call had come. In the afternoon he seemed to realize that his end was drawing near. To one who visited him and remained a short time alone with him he said, "I should like to meet my little brother Elijah again; I do so love Elijah." And after a pause he said, "I don't think I shall live long, I am getting very weak." "We all love you very much," was replied, "we indeed wish to keep you with us, but G.o.d's will must be done." "Yes."

he said, "G.o.d's will must be done. May be G.o.d will revive me, but I have no wish whether to live or die. I wish for what is G.o.d's will."

"Is there anything you want?" was asked. "No--thank you," he replied with great effort, then put his hand to his heart and slowly waved it upwards. "I shall soon be singing on the golden sh.o.r.e," he said. To one of our little girls who came in he said, "Do you like to see me like this, Winnie?" "No," said the little child, the tears trickling down her cheeks. "Perhaps I will get well again if it is G.o.d's will," he said, "but I don't know." To the carpenter, who had lost his wife only a few months before, he spoke very earnestly: "You see," he said, "there is nothing to trouble me, nothing at all; G.o.d is love, this is all G.o.d's love to me; may be G.o.d will take me away." "Poor boy, poor, boy," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the carpenter, with tears in his eyes, "how you are changed; how much you must have suffered." "Oh, it is just nothing,"

said William; "G.o.d is love, I can trust in Him: 'the blood--of Jesus Christ--cleanseth us--from all sin.'"

I could hardly bear to speak to him of death,--it seemed to me as though he must live, that a change for the better would set in, and that the dear boy would revive. I repeated some pa.s.sages of Scripture to him and knelt often for prayer. Many, indeed, were the earnest prayers that went up to the throne of grace for the boy's recovery.

Between eleven and half-past he was left for the night in charge of two Indian boys, Kahgaug and Willis. They were to keep hot bricks to his hands and feet, and administer a stimulating mixture and nourishment, and at two o'clock their place would be taken by two other boys. Having been up a great part of the preceding night, I then retired to rest, to be called if there was any change for the worse.

Just at half-past two there came a knock at the door,--"William is worse; please come at once."

I hurried up to the sick room as quickly as possible, but it was a moment too late--the dear boy had breathed his last. His hands were clasped on his breast, his eyes lifted to heaven, a smile just fading on his lips, and thus he had left the earth and gone to meet his Saviour. Three boys only were with him when he died--Wigwaus, Benjamin, and Davidans. We knelt together, and I offered up prayer, humbly commending the soul of the dear brother departed into the hands of Almighty G.o.d, as into the hands of a faithful Creator and most merciful Saviour.

A feeling of awe seemed to pervade the whole household when, at early dawn, the tolling of the school-bell told only too plainly that the beloved spirit had departed. Never was a boy more loved by his play- mates or more honoured and respected by his teachers. As he lived he died, trusting in the merits of an Almighty Saviour for his salvation.

On the evening of his death his dear form was laid by loving hands in the coffin, and some white flowers placed on his breast; the lid was drawn back a little, and on it were placed his Prayer-book, his Bible (open at I John iv.), a photograph of him in a frame, and a single wax taper. Then the folding doors leading into the back school-room were opened and the boys gathered around and sang the hymn he loved, "Safe in the arms of Jesus." Scarcely an eye was dry, and many a sigh was heaved, and many a sob broke the silence of the apartment as they came up one by one to look on the marble face of their dead companion, and to imprint a kiss on his cold brow. Many of the boys would not be satisfied with coming once; they came again and again, and some laid their faces down on his and sobbed. Several hymns were sung: "Here we suffer grief and pain," "There is a happy land," and "My G.o.d, my Father, while I stray," and prayer also was offered.

The funeral was on Thursday, Ascension day, at nine o'clock in the morning. The coffin was brought into the school-room by six boys, who had been appointed pall-bearers, and I read the opening sentences of the burial service and special psalms and lessons; then, after a hymn, was the sermon, from I John iii. 2, "We know that when He shall appear, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is," and I read some extracts from William's diary, which he had commenced keeping four years before; they show what the boy's thoughts were and how near he lived to his Saviour.

_Jan_. 27, 1878.--"O Lord Jesus Christ, I have given my heart to Thee. I belong to Thee, and I want to work for Thee as long as I live.

Give me Thy Holy Spirit in mine heart. May I not get cold and careless, but may I always be full of love to Thee. May I not be a dead branch, but may I bear much fruit to the glory of Thy name. Amen."

_March_ 5.--"O Lord Jesus Christ, give me Thy Holy Spirit that I may be able to fight the temptations of the world, the flesh, and the devil."

_Oct_. 1.--"O G.o.d, I give my body unto Thee, and wherever you want me to go, I will go, and whatever you want me to do as long as I live, I shall do this for the name of Christ."

_March_ 21, 1879.--"O Lord. I am trying to work for Thee. Am I trying to walk in the light every day? Am I going to serve G.o.d or serve the devil? Let me not think too much of the things of this world. Let me more think about the things of heaven. This is all,--for Christ's sake."

After another hymn had been sung, a procession was formed to the cemetery, and the dear boy's body was laid in the grave, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of a glorious resurrection to eternal life.

There was one more duty to be performed on the return of the funeral party to the school-room, and that was to distribute some of the dear boy's books and treasures to those who would specially value them. I took for my share the Bible which I had given him four years before, and an ancient arrow head, which he had dug up while making the road to the cemetery, and had laughingly remarked that he would keep it till he died. The rest of the things were packed in a box and sent home to his aunt.

Who shall estimate the amount of good done by this earnest whole-souled Indian boy during his short career? He sowed good seed, and we trust there may be an abundant harvest in the hearts and lives of the other boys. When asked how many of them had received special benefit by their intercourse with William, twenty boys rose to their feet. Many testified that they had been spoken to by him of the Saviour, others that they had been checked by him in doing something sinful, others, that he had talked or read or offered prayer with them. What a blessed testimony, that in a school of fifty-four boys, twenty should have been benefited by the example and teaching of one boy who loved the Saviour! May G.o.d the Holy Spirit bless this simple recital to the hearts of those who read it, and may other boys, whether white or Indian, be stirred in their souls to follow the example of this young soldier of the cross, and let their light s.h.i.+ne before men as did this young Indian boy-- Wahsashkung--s.h.i.+ning light--William Sahgucheway.

CHAPTER XL.

OUR INDIAN HOMES.

Come and visit our Indian Homes now, this summer of 1884. No longer are we in the midst of bush and swamp, as we were ten years ago. The land has been cleared up and a good part of it brought under cultivation, fences have been put up, and several new buildings added. Let us visit the s.h.i.+ngwauk Home first. We may go by water, and land at the s.h.i.+ngwauk dock; there is the boat-house, with our new boat, _The Missionary_, given to us by the children of St. James's Sunday-school, Toronto, floating gently on the dark water within. We have no need to walk up to the Inst.i.tution. There is an excellent tramway, which has just been completed, and visitors are requested to take their seats in the tramcar, and some of the Indian boys will push them up to the Home. We can already see the Inst.i.tution over the brow of the hill, and a little to the right the Memorial Chapel, and nearer to us the Factory, and off to the left the boot shop and carpenter's cottage. We note that there are neat stone walls round some of the fields, and a white picket fence inclosing the Inst.i.tution; the old-fas.h.i.+oned lych-gate in front of the Chapel also strikes us, with the hops clambering over it; but we must hasten on and enter the Home. As we walk up the central drive we notice that the Inst.i.tution is a substantial stone building, the bareness of the walk relieved by a pretty trellis-work, up which hops and other creeping plants are climbing; to our right is a cottage-wing, which is the princ.i.p.al's residence, and to our left the entrance hall, with an ornamental belfry over it; a little further to our left is another small stone building--the dairy. We enter the hall, and, having written our names in the Visitors' book, we ascend the oak staircase and visit the school-room. Here the boys are all busy at work with their slates and books, and Mr. Wotton, the master, is instructing a cla.s.s by the black- board. The school-room is nicely fitted up with modern desks and other appliances; on the walls are large maps and pictures, which give it a cheerful look; the ceiling is panelled in woods of two shades. Opening into the school-room is a smaller room, a cla.s.s-room separated from it by three folding-doors. Ascending the staircase, we visit the dormitories. The east dormitory for the senior boys is fitted with English iron bedsteads, the junior dormitory has wooden bedsteads painted blue, and wide enough for two little fellows to sleep in each; the front dormitory, which is the largest of them all, is hung with hammocks,--there is sleeping accommodation altogether for about sixty- five boys. Descending once more, we pa.s.s through the lavatory and the matron's sitting-room down to the dining-hall, and we note as we go along every here and there a shelf with three white pails full of water and an ominous F painted on them. Evidently experience has taught caution. The dining-hall is a fine large room, the ceiling panelled like the school-room. It has five long tables, at each of which twelve or fourteen boys can sit comfortably. One side of the room we notice is railed off--this is called the pen, and here the boys have to wait in patience while the tables are prepared for meals. Adjoining the dining- hall are the kitchen on one side, the work-room on the other. Every thing looks clean and tidy and well kept--the matron takes pride in having her department all in good order. In the work-room we find the Indian servant, Eliza, working at the sewing-machine making garments for the boys. Pa.s.sing on through the other doorway, we cross a pa.s.sage, and enter the cla.s.s-room where John Esquimau is sitting at his studies, reading theology and studying Latin and Greek, with a view to entering the ministry. Adjoining this room is the office and dispensary.

And now we must leave the Inst.i.tution building and visit the Chapel (see Frontispiece), a little winding path under the trees leads us to it. The building is of stone, set in a frame-work of wood, which, painted dark, gives a most picturesque appearance. There is a deep porch at the western entrance with stained gla.s.s window; within are heavy oak doors with ornamental mountings, and these, being opened, give us a view of the interior of the Chapel, and a very pretty view it is. In front of us are pillars supporting the chancel arch, and on either side a smaller arch, one enclosing the vestry, the other the organ-chamber; the s.p.a.ce between the top of these arches and the roof being filled with fretwork. The windows are stained gla.s.s. The pulpit and prayer-desk and all the seats are of oak, and nicely carved. Under the chancel window is an oak reredos, on which are inscribed the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Commandments in Indian. The altar-cloth is a very handsome one, given by a lady in England, and the stone font was presented by relatives of the late Bishop. Service is held in the Chapel twice every Sunday, the pupils from both Homes attending; and on Wednesday evenings there is a short service and catechizing.

Crossing to the other side of the road after leaving the Chapel, we enter the sash and door factory, and are immediately deafened by the din of the various machines in motion. Three Indian boys are at work here under the foreman, making doors, window-sash mouldings, and turned work of all descriptions. The boys are old pupils who have pa.s.sed through the Inst.i.tution, and now receive wages for their work, but they attend school every evening, which is a great advantage to them. One or two of the younger boys are also commencing to learn carpenter work at the factory. Crossing to the other cottage to the left of the Inst.i.tution, we enter the boot shop; here we find another old pupil at work,--Harry Nahwaquageezhik,--and a very good boot maker he is. He does all the work for the Inst.i.tutions, both mending and making, and has one or two younger boys under his instruction. When not required at the boot shop, Harry goes to garden or farm work.

And now we must drive out to the Wawanosh Home and pay it a visit also. It is upwards of two miles from s.h.i.+ngwauk, up the northern road and away from the river. As we drive up the road bordered with fields of grain or gra.s.s on either side, or shaded by birch and fir trees, we catch sight of the stone building to our right, in a nest of green foliage; and on the left white garments flapping in the breeze bespeak the presence of the laundry, with the laundress' cottage close beside.

A number of the girls are on the verandah, or amusing themselves on the gra.s.s, for it is play-time and school is over. Miss Cunningham, the lady Superintendent, meets us at the door, and conducts us through the building; on the left as we enter are the school-room and work-room with folding doors between, and on the right Miss Cunningham's little sitting-room, and the girls' dining-room; then at the back are the kitchen and wash-house, and overhead the girls' dormitories and lavatory and other bed-rooms. All is kept very clean and neat, and does credit to those who are in charge.

Such are our buildings and our work, and such the efforts that we are making for the evangelization and training of these poor Ojebway Indians.

And now perhaps the question will be asked:--

DO THESE INDIAN HOMES SEEM LIKELY TO PROVE A SUCCESS?

Have we reason to expect that we shall, in due time, achieve our object, and raise the Indian to a position equal to that of his white brethren? Is this idea of inducing them to exchange the bow and arrow for the carpenter's bench, the war-club for the blacksmith's hammer, the net and canoe for the plough, a mere visionary one, or is it a scheme that we have a good prospect of seeing carried into effect? The following questions suggest themselves and we are prepared with the answers:--

1. Are the Indians willing to make the change? Yes, for the most part, they desire it.

2. Are their sons capable of receiving education and acquiring a knowledge of the various trades sufficient to make a livelihood? We refer to the appended letters from the masters of the various trades that our boys are learning: and as to education, our own experience is that Indian boys can learn as fast as white boys, and many of them will _retain_ what they have learnt a good deal better. They read distinctly, without any foreign accent, write a capital hand, and are very fair arithmeticians.

3. Will they stick to their work? Yes. We were doubtful about this at first, but now we can say yes. Our apprentice boys work ten hours a day, six days a week, and very rarely ask for a holiday. Having once become accustomed to regular work, they like it, and will stick to it as well as any white man.

4. Will their love for a wild life ever be eradicated? Perhaps not. Why should it? Our boys, all of them, thoroughly enjoy a "camp out," such as we have sometimes in the summer, but scarcely one of them would wish to go back and spend his whole life in this manner. They know that a life depending on hunting and fis.h.i.+ng means poverty, dirt, and ignorance; and they don't mean to go back to this. We don't wish to un-Indianize them altogether, we would not overcurb their free spirit; we would not pluck the feather from their cap or the sash from their waist or the moccasin from their foot. They are a proud, grand nation in their way. An Indian was never a slave any more than a Briton. An Indian has no words of profanity in his language. An Indian is noted for his loyalty to the British Crown. Let them hand down their n.o.ble and good qualities to their children. But in the matter of procuring a livelihood let us, for their own good, induce them to lay aside the bow and fish-spear, and, in lieu thereof, put their hand to the plough, or make them wield the tool of the mechanic.

We hope to see the day, if it please G.o.d, when these Indian Homes shall be three times their size, and the number of the pupils deriving benefit from them shall be three-fold increased.

The tailor to whom one boy was apprenticed writes as follows:--

"DEAR SIR,--Aubee has all the necessary qualifications to make a good tailor. I think it would be better for him to come every week, instead of every second week, as at present.

Yours &c.,

W. VAUGHAN."

_From the Printer_.

"The Indian boys who are employed in the s.h.i.+ngwauk Printing Office--in charge of which I have been for the past eighteen months--have, during that time, made very considerable progress. I have found them, as a rule, apt, obedient, steady and clever, and do not doubt, that in course of time and with proper education, they will make excellent printers.

S. REID."

_From the Tinsmith_.

"DEAR SIR,--I think that you have not a boy in the Home better deserving of praise than Pedahjewun. He will make a first-cla.s.s tinsmith. He has been with me two years and I never knew him to tell me a lie in that time.

H. P. PIM."

_From the Carpenter and Builder_.