By Canoe And Dog-Train Part 10

With a laugh he replied, "That may have been it," and then the conversation changed.

Mr Evans was ever anxious that the Indian converts should at once be made to understand all the duties and responsibilities of the new life on which they were entering, he was a fearless man, and boldly declared unto them the whole counsel of G.o.d. Knowing the blighting, destroying influences of the "fire water" upon the poor Indian race, he made the Church a total abstinence society, and, as all missionaries should, he set them the example of his own life. Then, as regards the keeping of the Sabbath, he took his stand on the Word of G.o.d, and preached the absolute necessity of the one day's rest in seven. In after years we saw the good results of the scriptural lessons which he and his worthy successors taught in reference to the holy day.

Many and severe were the trials, and mysterious some of the persecutions, which this glorious man had to bear. Because of his unswerving loyalty to truth, and his conscientious and fearless teaching of all the commandments of G.o.d's Word, some in high authority, who at first were supposed to be friendly, turned against him, and became his unprincipled foes. The trouble first seemed to begin when Mr Evans taught the Indians to "Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy." At his request, they, when hunting or fishing or tripping in the months of open water, rested on the Lord's day. Short-sighted employers, unconscious of the fact, so often demonstrated, that they who rest the one day in seven can do more work in the other six, opposed this teaching, and, when they could not stop it, a.s.sailed the Missionary in a way that must have caused a jubilee in h.e.l.l. I shall not go into particulars. Most of the princ.i.p.al actors are in the presence of the Judge of all the earth. He Who suffered for a time the name of this devoted servant of His to be so shamefully clouded has cleared all the mists away; and like the silver refined by the furnace, so has it been in this case.

But persecutions, and even these bitter a.s.saults upon his character, could not turn him from the most intense activity in his blessed life- work. Like an Apostle Paul in primitive times, or like a c.o.ke or Asbury in the early years of this century, so travelled James Evans. When we say he travelled thousands of miles each year on his almost semi- continental journeys, we must remember that these were not performed by coach or railroad, or even with horse and carriage, or in the saddle or sailing vessel, but by canoe and dog-train. How much of hardship and suffering that means, we are thankful but few of our readers will ever know. There are a few of us who do know something of these things, and this fellowship of his suffering knits our hearts in loving memory to him who excelled us all, and the fragrance of whose name and unselfish devotion to his work met us almost everywhere, although years had pa.s.sed away since James Evans had entered into his rest. "He being dead yet speaketh." To write about him and his work is a labour of love. Would that the pen of some ready writer might give us a biography of this Missionary of such versatility of gifts, and such marvellous success in his work!

Room only have I here, in addition to what has already been written, to give some account of the sad event of his life, the accidental shooting of his interpreter, Joseph Ha.s.selton, and the after consequences.

Word reached Mr Evans one year, that the priests were endeavouring to crowd up into the Athabasca and Mackenzie River country, and get a foothold among some very interesting Indians whom Mr Evans had visited and found very anxious for the truth. Desirous that they should not be led away from the simplicity of the Gospel, he felt that the best plan was for him to hurry up by light canoe and get into that country and among his Indians before the priests arrived. They had gone the usual route up the Saskatchewan, and from thence were to go over the height of land, and then by boat down the streams which from those regions run towards the Arctic Ocean.

Mr Evans' plan was to take what is called "the back route," that was, to go partly down the Nelson River, and then, turning westward through an almost endless succession of lakes and rivers and portages, arrive before the other parties, although several weeks of severest toil would be pa.s.sed in making the long journey. With his beloved interpreter, who was one of the most remarkable Indians of his day, a man who could talk almost every Indian language spoken by the natives of the land, and, what was better, a devoted Christian, full of zeal and enthusiasm for the work, and with another reliable native from whom I received my information as to what occurred, the long journey was commenced. For several days they made good progress, and were rejoicing at the prospect of success. One morning, very early, while they were paddling along in the great Nelson River, Ha.s.selton, the interpreter, who was in the front of the canoe, said, "I see some ducks in those reeds near the sh.o.r.e.

Hand me the gun." In these small canoes the guns are generally kept in the stern with the muzzles pointing back, so as to prevent accidents.

The man who was in the stern quickly picked up the gun, and foolishly drew back the trigger. With the muzzle pointing forward he pa.s.sed the gun to Mr Evans, who did not turn his head, as he was earnestly looking if he also could see the ducks. As Mr Evans took the gun pa.s.sed to him he unfortunately let the trigger, which had no guard around it, strike against the thaft of the canoe. Instantly it went off, and the contents were discharged into the head of the poor man in front. He turned his dying eyes upon Mr Evans, and then fell over, a corpse. It was an awful accident, and doubly painful on account of the unfortunate surroundings. Here the two survivors were, about two hundred miles from any habitation. They could not take the body back with them. For days they would meet none to whom they could tell their story. They went ash.o.r.e, and, when their first paroxysm of grief was over, they had to dig, as best they could, a grave in the wilderness, and there bury their dead.

They turned their faces homeward, and very sorrowful indeed was the journey. Great was the grief at the village, and greater still the consternation when it was discovered what Mr Evans had resolved to do.

His interpreter was the only Christian among his relatives. The rest of them were wild pagans with bad records. Life for life was their motto, and many had been their deeds of cruelty and bloodshed in seeking that revenge which occupies so large a place in the savage Indian's heart.

They lived several hundred miles away, and Mr Evans resolved to go and surrender himself to them, tell them what he had done, and take all the consequences. Many friends, knowing how quick the Indian is to act when aroused by the news of the death of a relative--for often before he hears all the circ.u.mstances does he strike the fatal blow--urged him not to go himself, but to send a mediator.

To this suggestion he turned a deaf ear, and, having made his will and left all instructions as to the work if he should never return, and bidden farewell to his stricken family, who never expected to see him alive again, he started off on his strange and perilous journey.

Reaching the distant village, he walked into the tent of the parents of his interpreter, and told them that his heart was broken, and why.

Angry words were uttered, and tomahawks and guns were freely handled, while he described the tragic scene. Feeling so utterly miserable that he little cared whether they killed him or let him live, there he sat down on the ground in their midst, and awaited their decision. Some of the hot-headed spirits were for killing him at once; but wiser counsels prevailed, and it was decided that he must be adopted into the family from which he had shot the son, and be all to them, as far as possible, that their son had been. This had been a good deal. Becoming a Christian had made him kind and loving, and so all that he could spare of his wages, earned while interpreting for Mr Evans, had been faithfully sent to his parents. The ceremony of adoption lasted several days. Mr Evans a.s.sumed as his Indian name that of this family, and a good son indeed they found in him.

When he left to return to his Mission they kissed him, and acted towards him with as much affection as such people can show. Many were the gifts which were sent them by their adopted son, who took good care of them as long as he lived.

But while this difficulty was thus tided over, the memory of it never faded away from Mr Evans. He was never the same man after. Yet he did not allow it to deter him from the most vigorous prosecution of his work: indeed, it seemed to his people as though he tried to bury his sorrow in incessant toil, and labours so abundant, that but few even of the Indians "in journeyings oft" could equal him.

To aid the further prosecution of his labours, and to excite greater interest in the well-being of the Red Indians of British North America, Mr Evans went to England to speak about his work and its needs. His story of marvellous incidents and varied experiences in this land of which so little was known, produced a deep impression, and great crowds came out to hear him, and insisted on his continuing at great length his wonderful descriptions of travelling by canoe and dog-train, and the longing desire there was in the hearts of the Indians for the Gospel.

On November 23rd, 1846, after having spoken at Keelby in Lincolnshire, he returned with his wife, who was in every respect a devoted helpmate for such a work, to the home of the gentleman and lady with whom they were stopping. While chatting on various subjects, Mrs Evans turned to her husband, who was comfortably seated in a large arm-chair, and said, "My dear, I have had such a strange presentiment--that we shall never see Norway House and our faithful Indians again." He turned to her and said, with something of his old enthusiasm, "Why should that thought trouble you, my dear? Heaven is just as near from England as from America."

The two ladies said, "Good night!" and retired, leaving Mr Evans and the gentleman of the house to chat together a little longer. Shortly after, the gentleman said something to Mr Evans, and, receiving no answer, he turned from the fire and looked at him. At first he thought he had fallen asleep, but this was only for an instant. Springing up and going to him, he found that the immortal spirit had so quietly and gently flitted away, that there had not been the slightest sob or cry.

The n.o.ble Indian Missionary was dead. The eloquent tongue was hushed for ever. For his return hundreds of anxious weeping Indians in those northern wilds would long and wait, but wait in vain. He had been conveyed by angel bands to that innumerable company of redeemed, blood- washed saints around the throne of G.o.d, which even then had received many happy converted Indians, who, brought to G.o.d by his instrumentality, had finished their course with joy, and before him had entered in through the gates into the city, and were there to welcome him.

Hundreds, since then, of his spiritual children have had the "abundant entrance ministered unto" them, and they have joined him in that rapidly increasing throng. And although many years have pa.s.sed away since he preached to them his last sermon, at many a camp-fire, and in many a wigwam, still linger old men, and women too, whose eyes glisten, and then become bedimmed with tears, as they think of him who so long ago went on before. But while they weep, they also rejoice that that salvation, which, as the result of his preaching, they accepted, is still their solace and their joy, and, clinging to it and its great Author, they shall by-and-by meet their Missionary and loved ones who have finished their course and gained the eternal sh.o.r.es.

On the previous page are the Syllabic Characters, as invented by Mr Evans; and on this we give the Lord's Prayer in Cree, as printed in them.

Perhaps the following explanations will help the student who may have a wish to master this wonderful invention.

In the Alphabet the first line of characters, the equilateral triangle in four positions, reads as follows, a e oo ah.

The addition of the little dot, as seen in the second line, adds to any character after which it is placed the sound of w. So this second line reads wa, we, woo, wah.

The following lines read thus: pa pe poo pah; ta te too tah; ka ke koo kah; cha che choo chah; ma mee moo mah; na ne noo nah; sa se soo sah; ya ye yoo yah.

With a little patience the Lord's Prayer can be read even without a teacher.

I have gone to a pagan band far away in the northern wilderness, and after they have become willing to receive the truth, I have commenced to teach them to read the Word of G.o.d. Very limited indeed were our appliances, for we were hundreds of miles from the nearest school house.

But from the camp-fire, where we had cooked our bear's meat or beaver, I would take a burnt stick, and with it make these Syllabic Characters on the side of a rock, and then patiently repeat them over and over again with my school of often three generations of Indians together, until they had some idea of them. Then I would give them the copies of the Bible I had brought, and at the first verse of Genesis we would begin. It paid for the hardships of the trip a thousandfold to see the looks of joy and delight on their faces as they themselves were able to read that wonderful verse.

By Canoe and Dog-Train--by Egerton Ryerson Young

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

SOWING AND REAPING--BEAUTIFUL INCIDENT--"HELP ME TO BE A CHRISTIAN!"-- THIRTY YEARS BETWEEN THE SOWING AND THE REAPING--SORROWING, YET STUBBORN, INDIANS INDUCED TO YIELD BY THE EXPRESSION, "I KNOW WHERE YOUR CHILDREN ARE!"

While in our every-day missionary life there were dark hours, and times when our faith was severely tried, there was, on the other hand, much to encourage us to persevere in the blessed work among these Cree Indians.

An incident that occurred to us brought up very forcibly to our minds the couplet:

"Whate'er may die and be forgot, Work done for G.o.d, it dieth not."

I was sitting, one pleasant day in June, in my study at Norway House, absorbed in my work, when I was startled by a loud "Ahem!" behind me. I quickly sprang up, and, turning round, discovered that the man who had thus suddenly interrupted me in my thoughts was a big, stalwart Indian.

He had come into the room in that catlike way in which nearly all of the Indians move. Their moccasined feet make no sound, and so it is quite possible for even scores of them to come into the house unheard. Then, as Indians have a great dislike to knocking, they generally omit it altogether, and unceremoniously enter, as this man had done, and as quietly as possible.

My first glance at him told me that he was an entire stranger, although I had by this time become acquainted with some hundreds of the natives.

I shook hands with him and said a few commonplace things to him, to which I thought he paid but little heed.

I pointed to a chair, and asked him to be seated; but, instead of doing so, he came up close to me and said with great earnestness: "Missionary, will you help me to be a Christian?"

Surprised and pleased by this abrupt question, I replied, "Certainly I will; that is my business here."

"Will you help my wife and children also to become Christians?" he added with equal emphasis.

"Of course I will," I answered again. "It was for just such work as that my good wife and I came from our far-away home to live in this land."

Naturally I had already become very much interested in this big, bronzed Indian; and so I said to him, "Tell me who you are, and from what place you have come."

I made him sit down before me, and he told me the following remarkable story. I wish I could put into the narrative his pathos and his dramatic action. He did not keep his seat very long after he began talking, but moved around, and at times was very much excited. He said,--

"Many years ago, when I was a little boy, I was kindly cared for by the first Missionary, Mr Evans. I was a poor orphan. My father and mother had died, leaving none to care for me; so the good Missionary took me to his own house and was very kind to me. 'Tis true I had some relatives, but they were not Christians and so there was not much love in their hearts towards a poor orphan boy. So Mr Evans took me to his house, and was very kind to me. He gave me clothes and food, and a home. He taught me to read the new letters he had made for our people, and told me much about the Great Spirit and His Son Jesus. He taught me and other children to pray to G.o.d, and he often talked to us about Him, and how kind and good He was. He kept me with him two or three years, and I was very well off indeed in having such a home and such a friend, if I had only known it.

"One summer, among the many Indians who came to trade their furs at the Company's store, was one family who lived very far away. They seemed to take a liking to me, and often would talk to me. They had no little boy, they said, in their wigwam, and they told me a lot of foolish stuff about how much happier I would be, if I lived with them, than I was here, where I had to obey the white man. Like the foolish child that I was, I listened to this nonsense, and one night, when they had got everything ready to start, I slipped quietly out of the house and joined them. We paddled hard most of the night, for we felt that we had done wrong, and did not know but we should be followed.

"After travelling many days we reached their hunting grounds and wigwams. I did not find it as pleasant as they had told me it would be.

Often they were very cruel to me, and sometimes we did not have much to eat. But I dared not run away, for there was no place to which I could go, except to other wicked Indians; and they would only make things worse. They were all very bad Indians, and very much afraid of the medicine men. All the worship they did was to the bad spirit. They were afraid of him, and so they worshipped him, so that he might not do them much harm. I became as bad as any of them. I tried to forget all that the good Missionary had told me. I tried to wipe all his teachings and prayers from my memory. All he had told me about the Good Spirit and His Son I tried to forget.

"I grew up to be a man. I had become a wicked pagan; but I was a good hunter, and one of the men sold me one of his daughters to be my wife.

We have quite a family. Because I had seen, when I was a little boy, how Christian Indian men treat the women better than the pagan Indians treat theirs, I treated my wife and children well. I was never cruel to them. I love my wife and children.

"Last winter, you remember, the snow was very deep. I had taken my family and gone out into the region of deer and other animals, and there had made my hunting lodge for the winter. There we set our traps for the fur-bearing animals. We took a good many of the smaller animals that have got furs, but the larger ones, that are good for food, were very few. We had a hard time, as food was very scarce. I could not find any deer to shoot, and we had come far from the great lakes and rivers, and so had no fish.

"At length it seemed as though we must starve. I tried hard to get something, but I seemed to fail every time. Sometimes, when I did manage to get within range of the moose or reindeer, and I fired, my gun, which is only a flintlock, would only flash the powder in the pan, and so the charge would not go off. The noise, however, had so frightened the deer that he had rushed away before I could get ready to fire again.

"At length it got so bad with us that I became completely discouraged, and I said, 'I will only try once more; and if I do not succeed in shooting a deer, I will shoot myself.' So I took up my gun and hurried into the forest away from my half-starved family. I cautiously tramped along on my snowshoes all the first day, and did not see even a track.