Among the An-ko-me-nums, or Flathead Tribes of Indians of the Pacific Coast

Transcriber’s Notes:

Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).

Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end.

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[Illustration: THOMAS CROSBY. From a photo taken in 1874]

Among the An-ko-me-nums

Or Flathead Tribes of Indians of the Pacific Coast,

By Rev. Thomas Crosby

Missionary to the Indians of British Columbia.

[Illustration]

Toronto William Briggs 1907

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Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand nine hundred and seven, by WILLIAM BRIGGS, at the Department of Agriculture.

Introduction.

I have been requested to write a few words of introduction to this deeply interesting volume, and I gladly comply, although the task may seem to be quite superfluous. Thomas Crosby, or anything he may write, needs no introduction, at least in Methodist circles. For a generation his name has been a household word, and from time to time brief accounts of his heroic labors have found their way through the press into many homes. But these accounts were fragmentary and incomplete. They presented some striking incidents, but no connected story of the man and his work. Such a story Crosby alone could supply, and many will be glad that he has been induced to begin it; and the hope will be general that other volumes may follow, covering what is by far the most interesting period of his life.

It is but seldom that men who lay the foundations of empire get credit for the achievement. Their work, for the most part, is done underground and out of sight. They are content to take up the work that lies nearest, leaving results with God, and are more concerned about doing their work faithfully than claiming credit for themselves. And yet all the while they are laying the only foundations on which an enduring civilization can rest, and are better entitled to the name and fame of empire-builders than some who have claimed the credit without doing the work. If it be true that he is a benefactor of his race who makes two blades of grass grow where one grew before, much more is he a benefactor whose spiritual husbandry transforms a savage into a citizen--a pagan into a saint.

A conflict like that in which Thomas Crosby spent his life was no mere holiday parade. It was a grapple to the death with the powers of evil, in which no quarter was asked or given. He gave his life for the redemption of a people for whose souls no man cared, and fought--sometimes almost single-handed--a life-long battle against superstition, immorality, and godlessness of every kind. No marvel, therefore, if he incurred the bitter enmity of the witch-doctor, the whiskey-trader, and the libertine, and by “lewd fellows of the baser sort” was the best-hated man in British Columbia. But he has his reward. By the converting grace of God some bitter foes were transformed into ardent friends; and as he searched society’s rubbish-heaps for lost jewels, here and there he found a pearl of great price that more than compensated for all his toil. Many will join in the prayer that years of useful service may still be his, and that his declining years may be brightened by further displays of saving power among the Red Men of the Pacific Coast.

A. SUTHERLAND. TORONTO, February, 1907.

Contents.

Page

I. The Flatheads and the “Book of Heaven” 9

II. The Call from Macedonia 21

III. Westward, Ho! 30

IV. At Nanaimo--The School 41

V. Heathen Street _vs._ Christian Street 48

VI. Difficulties with the Language 52

VII. A Slavery worse than Death 60

VIII. Feuds and Bloodshed 67

IX. Houses, Clothing, Cruel Customs 79

X. Courtship and Marriage 88

XI. Foods, Feasts and Follies 99

XII. Native Worship and Superstitions 112

XIII. Struggles with Whiskey, and the Ravages of Fire-water 126

XIV. Some Perilous Canoe Trips 141

XV. Varied Experiences 159

XVI. How the Gospel came to Chilliwack 169

XVII. More of the Chilliwack Revival--Camp-meetings 183

XVIII. The Bunch Grass Country 195

XIX. Marvels of Grace 206

XX. Lay Agencies--Salvation in a Victoria Bar-room 233

XXI. British Columbia--Its Interests and Resources 237

XXII. The Missionary Progress of the Years--Home Again 241

Illustrations.

Page

Portrait of Author _Frontispiece_

Flathead Woman and Child 8

Early Native Types 18

Indian Church and Mission House at Nanaimo 42

Indian Houses, with Group of Heathen Natives 48

“I could see two wild, savage-looking men,” etc. 74

“The great big fellow danced up and down,” etc. 78

Two Flathead Centenarians 86

“One day I slipped in and found the old fellow rattling over him” 122

Witch Doctor and his Wife--“Coal Tyee”--Crosby teaching Indian Chief 128

“We were bailing out as hard as we could” 146

First Protestant Church in the Chilliwack Valley 172

Coqualeetza Indian Institute 192

Group of Students, Coqualeetza Institute 198

Amos Cushan--Sarah Shee-at-ston--David Sallosalton--Captain John Su-a-lis 208

Skowkale Church--Skowkale Mission People 232

The Transformed Bar-room, Victoria 236

[Illustration: FLATHEAD WOMAN AND CHILD (Showing method in use among these Indians for flattening the heads of the infant children.)]

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Among The An-Ko-Me-Nums.

Chapter I. _The Flatheads And The “Book Of Heaven.”_

“They may not want you, but they need you.”

“Far, far away, in heathen darkness dwelling, Millions of souls forever may be lost. Who, who will go, Salvation’s story telling, Looking to Jesus, counting not the cost?”

The An-ko-me-nums, as they call themselves, are a branch of the great Salish or Flathead family of Indians, whose territory is that part of the Pacific Coast now known as Northern Oregon, Washington, and Southern British Columbia.

The Flatheads derive the name from their custom of compressing the skull in childhood until the whole front of the head is flattened and broadened.

They live along the great arteries of travel, the Columbia River in the south, the Fraser River in the north, and their tributaries, as well as on the shores of those inland waters of the West known as Puget Sound and the Gulf of Georgia.

Unlike the great nations of the East and of the plains, who possess something of national unity, they are composed of a number of branches, speaking languages bearing scarcely any resemblance to each other--the Chinooks, the Cayuses and the Sinahomish in the south; the Shuswaps and the Okanagans in the interior of British Columbia; and the An-ko-me-nums, known under such names as the Cowichans--after tribes on Vancouver Island, which some believe to be the parent stock--and the Stawlo, which literally means the River Indians.

These last inhabit the valley of the Fraser River, from Yale to its mouth, and the east coast of Vancouver Island, from Comox to Esquimault, and include the Nan-ni-moohs, Cowichans, Songees, Skwamish, Sumats, Chil-way-uks, and numerous other rival tribes, possessed of the same manners and customs, but speaking varying dialects of the same language, and, in earlier days, engaging in the fiercest conflicts with one another.

The Coast Indians are spoken of, generally, as Siwashes, a term which the more intelligent resent, and which is taken from the word for “Indian” in the Chinook or trade jargon.

There is some doubt, however, as to the origin of the word “Siwash.” By some it is thought to be a corruption of the French word “Sauvage” (barbarian), as applied by the Nor’westers to the Indians generally. But in all probability it is a corruption of the generic term “Salish,” which is given by ethnologists to the whole family, and as such is improperly applied to the Northern tribes.

The Indians Of British Columbia.

There are some six distinct races among the Indians of British Columbia. The Hydah-Kling-get, on Queen Charlotte Islands and the lower Alaskan coast; the Tsimpshean, in the region of the lower Skeena and Naas River; the Kwa-kualth, from Kitamaat to Cape Mudge on the mainland and north-east coast of Vancouver Island; the Salish, of which the An-ko-me-nums are a division, in the south; the Kootenai and the Déné or Tinne, in the interior. The At nation, which occupies the west coast of Vancouver Island, it would appear, is still another race, though some ethnologists identify them with the Kwa-kualths.

The origin of these various people is much in doubt. The Tinne possibly came by way of the Aleutian Islands from Asia. The Northern Coast tribes, Hydahs and Tsimpsheans, may be related to the Filipinos and the Japanese. Some years ago, when the first Japanese fishermen came to the Skeena, the Indians immediately claimed them as their “tilikum” (friends). When the difference in language was pointed out, they replied, “That does not matter, the Indians speak different languages. Just look at their hair and their eyes and the color of their skin, is it not the same as ours? They are surely of our race.” The resemblance so noted is certainly remarkable.

As for the Salish and Kwa-kualths, the similarity between certain of their words and those of the Polynesian Islanders has led some to give them an Oceanic origin.

The various sources from which they possibly sprang will sufficiently explain the difference in their languages.

Early Traders.

Very early in the last century the trading ships of various nations were visiting the coast and bartering their cargoes of firearms, rum and useless trinkets--beads, bits of iron and brass--for the valuable furs of the natives.

The first depôt on Vancouver Island was established at Nootka, on the West Coast, and, a little later, a second, on the mainland near the mouth of the Columbia. Thus early the Indians were debauched by the whiskey and vices of the white man, and from that time to the present have been wretched sufferers.

The great fur companies, the North-west, the Hudson’s Bay and the Astor, were soon in active competition for the trade of the Pacific slope. In 1818 the first fort was built on the Columbia at the mouth of the Walla Walla, and about six years later, in 1824-5, Fort Vancouver was built, where the waters of the Willamette join the great Columbia.

In 1804-6 the intrepid explorers, Clark and Lewis, made their then difficult and dangerous journey from the trading post at St. Louis across the mountains and down the Columbia River to the land of the Cayuse and Chinooks. Clark seems to have left a deep and favorable impression upon the mind of the Indians, as will later be seen.

Among these early traders were men of sterling character, who, while they might not be termed religious, had, nevertheless, a deep reverence for God and for His wondrous law, some little knowledge of which they imparted to the native peoples with whom they were engaged in traffic.

We cannot but wonder at the slowness of the Church in not seeing and seizing her opportunity. She should have been first on the ground, but was not. The trader preceded her. And finally it was the eager longing of the heathen themselves, awakened by the Spirit of God, which aroused the slumbering Church.

In Search Of The “Book Of Heaven.”

In 1832 the Flatheads at the headwaters of the Columbia River met in council, not painted for war or armed for the chase, but with a look of earnestness on their faces. They were talking over a strange story which some wandering trappers had brought to their camps--the story of the white man’s worship, and the Book that told of God and immortality, and the presence and power of the “Great Spirit.” They had more than once held such a council, and they finally concluded that if there was such a treasure as the Book of Heaven they would try and find it.

They selected one of the old “seams” (chiefs) and a strong-minded brave of full years, also two young and daring men. These four were sent off across the mountains in search of the news of the white man’s God, or the book that would tell of His love.

Leaving their western homes or “lalums,” they turned their faces to the east, and for many a week they travelled mountain and plain in the search. They reached St. Louis, then a mere hamlet, known as the far frontier, a resort of hunters and trappers. One day these four strange Indians were walking down the street, looking everywhere as if for hidden treasure. Finally they met Gen. Wm. Clark, whose name the two older had heard of years before, up in their far away western home, as he and others were making their way to the western sea.

To him they made known the object of their search. They were kindly received and well treated, but neither General Clark nor anyone in that Roman Catholic town helped them to what their hearts longed for. They waited till they became weary; two of their number sickened and died, and now the remaining two prepared to go back to the people with a tale of disappointment. General Clark, knowing the Indians’ love of ceremony, had a leave-taking in his town. One of the poor Indians, as they said good-by, made the following touching speech:

“We came to you over a trail of many moons from the setting sun. You were the friend of our fathers who have all gone the long way. We came, with our eyes partly opened, for more light for our people who sit in darkness. We go back with our eyes closed. How can we go back blind to our blind people? We made our way to you with strong arms, through many enemies and strange lands, that we might carry back much to our people. We go back with empty and broken arms. The two fathers who came with us, the braves of many winters and wars, we leave here always by your great wigwams. They were tired in their journey of many moons, and their moccasins were worn out. Our people sent us to get the white man’s Book of Heaven. You took us where they worship the Great Spirit with candles, but the Book was not there. You showed us images of good spirits and pictures of the good land beyond, but the Book was not among them to tell us the way. You made our feet heavy with burdens and gifts, and our moccasins will grow old with carrying them, but the Book is not among them. We are going back the long, sad trail to our people. When we tell them, after one more snow, in the big council, that we did not bring the Book, no word will be spoken by our old men, nor by our young braves. One by one they will rise up and go out in silence. Our people will die in darkness and they will go on the long path to other hunting grounds. No white man will go with them, and no Book of Heaven to make the way plain. We have no more to say.”[1]

Only one lived to reach his people, and with a sad heart he told the story. Word of this strange visit got into the papers of the East, among others into the New York _Christian Advocate_. Soon the whole American church was aroused, and with such men as Nathan Bangs and Dr. Wilbur Fisk leading the way, it was not long before the Board of Missions of the Methodist Episcopal Church had the money and were ready to establish “A mission among the Indians west of the Rocky Mountains.”

When the question was asked, “Who will go for us?” Dr. Fisk said, “I know but one man, Jason Lee.” Mr. Lee was a Canadian, born in Stanstead, Que. He was converted at twenty-three years of age. A splendid man, six feet three inches in height, and in every particular the type of man needed for this new enterprise.

In July, 1833, he was chosen leader of this great missionary adventure; and in the spring of the following year he, with his brother Daniel and two laymen, “mounted their horses and followed the Oregon trail.”

On September 17th, 1834, Lee and his party reached Fort Vancouver, on the Columbia River, and at once began to do all the many kinds of work which men must do in starting a mission among a wild, savage people.

Lee and his associates were the first missionaries to the Pacific Coast, the first to the great Salish family of Indians; others followed.[2]

Lee and his co-laborers planted their mission in the beautiful Willamette Valley and from the first had wonderful success. A boarding school was established for the benefit of the Indian children, on the site of which now stands the Willamette University.

Jason Lee was a preacher of marvellous power, and was the means, in God’s hands, of the conversion of scores, both among whites and Indians. He preached the word at Fort Vancouver, and nineteen were baptized, one being Lady McLaughlin. Dr. John McLaughlin, the Chief Factor of the Hudson’s Bay Company at this point, paid a fine tribute to his work when he said to Mr. Lee: “Before you came into the country we could not send a boat past the Dalles without an armed guard of sixty men. Now we go up singly, and no one is robbed.”

At a great camp-meeting, held in October, 1841, twelve hundred Indians attended and about five hundred were converted.

It is a remarkable fact that between the years 1839-41 a great spiritual awakening, which marvellously affected even heathen tribes, spread across the whole continent.

Commencing with the great revival under Jason Lee among the Chinooks of the Columbia, we may follow the route pursued by the Hudson’s Bay Company’s men, up the Columbia and through the Okanagan Valley and on to the upper waters of the Fraser River, and then across the mountains through the land of the Crees to Hudson’s Bay.

In 1839, in the Okanagan Valley, where Father Demers was laboring among the Shuswaps, a great many natives turned from their heathenism and united with the Roman Catholic Church, and a strong mission was established. Farther on among the Crees, at Norway House and other points, a blessed work of grace was begun about the same time under the leadership of James Evans, Mason, and Rundle, with their young native associates, Henry B. Steinhauer and Peter Jacobs.

As this spiritual influence spread--and it did spread--from nation to nation and from tribe to tribe, even those far removed from direct contact with the Truth seemed to be affected by it. These remarkable revivals were manifestly the result of the heroic work of Jason Lee and his associates. Where missionaries were sent to direct and lead the poor people, great and good results followed, for hundreds were savingly converted to God. But in other cases, where the natives were left to themselves, the old (Shaman) conjurers made use of it to their own advantage. The people would fast and pray and dance for weeks--not their old heathen dances; they danced and prayed to the Sun god, or the stars, or the storm, for help and deliverance. This went on for a long time amidst great excitement. It was the groping of the human heart after God, “if haply they might find him.”

[Illustration: EARLY NATIVE TYPES.]

At the time of the great revival on the North Coast, in 1875, when the people became so aroused that they did not eat or sleep for days, the old men would say, “Oh, I saw this when I was a boy many years ago. A man came down the Skeena and spoke to the people, and they began to cry and pray, and this is the same. Long before this, a man came down from Alaska and told the people that the Ta-kus had travelled far away, for a month or more, in the mountains, and they had met with people who prayed to the Good Spirit. When they took their food they would read from a strange book, and when the people heard this they got much excited.”

It is possible that these Indians to whom the old men referred had travelled on the Peace or Mackenzie River, and had come across some of James Evans’ converts, who could read in the Cree syllabic characters.

There is no doubt that a great revival spread across the continent at about the time before mentioned, filling the minds of the natives with expectation; and had the home Church used men and means at that day thousands and thousands of poor people might have been saved who went down in darkness.

The incident, before mentioned, of the early planting of the Gospel among the Flathead people in Oregon, though somewhat removed from that section of this great nation with which we will have more to do, makes it clear that when God wants a man to do a special work for Him it does not take long to find him. It also shows that God by His Spirit will sometimes arouse a tribe or nation, so that they are ready for the Gospel light before the Church is prepared to carry the blessed truth. It does look at times as if His Kingdom were advanced through means all His own; and yet when the Macedonian cry, “Come over and help us,” is raised, the Church should be ready to enter every field.

If the Church were only awake to her privilege, and the responsibility which God has thrown upon her by the wealth He has placed in her hands, and, as a faithful steward, would return a tithe of what He has given for the spread of His Kingdom, we should soon have enough to carry the Gospel to every creature.

Footnotes:

[1] Dr. Hinds’ Life of Jason Lee.

[2] Some years later two Roman Catholic priests, one of whom was Father Demers, found their way to the Columbia River, and still later Demers journeyed into the Okanagan Valley, and commenced work among the Shuswaps.

Chapter II. _The Call From Macedonia._

“I will send a Prophet to you, A Deliverer of the Nations-- Who shall guide you and shall teach you, Who shall toil and suffer with you. If you listen to his counsels, You will multiply and prosper; If his warnings pass unheeded, You will fade away and perish!” _Longfellow’s “Hiawatha.”_

On the Columbia River, and farther north, on the shores of Puget Sound and the lower part of Vancouver Island, where the Hudson’s Bay Company had established one of their most important posts--Fort Victoria or Camosun--small settlements gradually sprang up. But these were of little consequence until, in the year 1858, the discovery of gold on the bars of the Fraser, and later in Cariboo, drew attention to British Columbia and led to a wild rush from all parts of the world to the new “diggings.”

Almost immediately the Methodist Church embraced the opportunity, and sent out the first band of missionaries to the Pacific Coast, in the persons of Revs. Ephraim Evans, D.D., Edward White, Ebenezer Robson and Arthur Browning. These brethren were speedily at work, at Victoria and Nanaimo on Vancouver Island, and at New Westminster and Hope on the Fraser River.

While the hearts of these faithful missionaries were much engaged with the needs of the white inhabitants, their souls were stirred with the scenes of degradation and misery constantly presented to them by the wild native population, and their liveliest sympathies were aroused with a desire to help them. Brother Robson, especially, endeavored, as the circumstances of his own work permitted, to reach the Indians, both at Hope and Nanaimo. But the pressure of the ever-widening field among the whites made it impossible to do a great deal, and led him, with the others, to pray and plead that someone might be raised up whose mission would be the salvation of the Indians.

In 1859, Rev. Dr. Evans, in the Missionary Notices for the year, wrote: “The scenes which meet our eye daily might well paralyze the hopes of any mere philanthropist, unacquainted with the constitution and past triumphs of the Mediatorial economy. The degradation of these poor savages must be seen to be at all understood. Then there is a large amount of prejudice and contempt arrayed against them. The collisions occurring between them and the miners, and the difficulties likely to arise about the alienation of their lands and the settlement of the colonies, present additional obstacles. Nothing less than the exertion of the Divine energy, promised to the Church in her evangelistic struggles, can bring about the desired civilization of these wretched fellow-men. Great will be the immortal honor, and glorious the reward, of the man who shall first throw himself effectually into this vast and long-deferred Christian enterprise. Oh! that while I write the blessed Spirit may influence some heart with the requisite zeal and tenderness and self-denial, and thrust its possessor into the field of conflict and conquest before thousands more shall pass away unreached by the remedy so richly provided.”

Rev. A. Browning wrote, February, 1859: “I was a witness yesterday to the torture and death dance of the Indians over a captive. How sad it made me feel. I was under the protection of a gentleman well known to them, or I should hardly have felt safe. Oh! sir, I hope you and the dear friends at home will do something for these poor souls. Our hands are full, and will be, in laboring for our own race. Will not God raise up some young men especially for this work?”

In 1861, at the close of a very interesting description of the effort he was making to reach the Indians, Rev. E. Robson said: “They all seem ripe for the Gospel. I have often witnessed scenes of thrilling interest among them--crowds of almost breathless listeners, falling tears, shouts of gladness, entreaties to come again, shaking hands with hundreds--but I cannot enter into all the details. What is wanted is earnest, self-denying, heaven-baptized men and women to devote themselves to this work, and a great and glorious harvest will be gathered.”

The same year, Rev. Edward White wrote several letters to the _Christian Guardian_, urging the importance of Christian young men coming out to the West to labor for the salvation of souls, class-leaders, local preachers and other workers, who would avail themselves of the opportunity afforded by the needs of the native peoples, and by the thousands who were pressing into the country in search of gold.

These letters left a very deep impression upon my mind, but newly awakened by the Spirit of God to a sense of my privilege and responsibility, and created a deep longing to be used of God in a special manner for His glory.

Some five years before this time, in the year 1856, I had come from England with my parents, and had settled near Woodstock, Upper Canada.

Very early in life in the old town of Pickering, Yorkshire--where I was born in 1840--I was the subject of deep religious impressions. But it was not until some time later that I was savingly converted to God.

About the time of my leaving school, a very pious young man, by the name of George Piercy, belonging to my native town, desired to go as a missionary to China. His friends gave him no encouragement. But, overcoming all difficulties, he finally did go. I shall never forget the effect it had upon my heart. I admired his piety and zeal, even though I had not as yet made definite decision for Christ, and thought that if he could leave a comfortable home and influential friends there must be an inspiring motive. Later on, when the call came to my own heart, I understood what the inspiring motive was.

There were two or three circumstances which were strangely used by the Spirit of God leading up to my conversion.

When crossing the Atlantic Ocean we encountered terrible storms and were in great danger of shipwreck among the icebergs. The goodness and mercy of God in preserving us and bringing the ship safely to land moved me to gratitude and thanksgiving. Later on I suffered from sunstroke, which resulted in a long illness, and while recovering I had leisure for more serious thoughts concerning the future. Some time after this, while wrestling with some companions, I was thrown violently to the floor, breaking my leg. The month in bed which followed the accident gave me another season for reflection, and led me to resolve to live a Christian life. But, like many a sick-bed resolution, this was only made to be broken. During the autumn a camp-meeting was held near Woodstock, and though at first I made light of it all, I attended, and my conscience was still further aroused.

The Methodist church in the town had just passed through a most blessed season of revival. Some of the young men had united in a praying band, and they invited me to go with them to their meetings. Such a spirit of trifling worldliness and carelessness had taken possession of me that I would rather have kept out of their way. But I was so struck by their earnestness and devotion that I consented to go.

On the way up the street, while others were discussing the results of the elections which had just taken place, the leader, and one of the most devout among them, Mr. A. Peers,[3] breaking in upon the conversation, said: “Here we are, fellow-travellers to eternity.” “Eternity! Eternity!” I thought, “I am not prepared for eternity.” The words haunted me like a refrain. Conscience repeated them in my ears. The meeting from beginning to end seemed especially for my benefit. The prayers, the testimonies, the songs were all the voice of God to my heart.

Two weeks of terrible struggle followed this awakening. I often spent most of the night in prayer, beseeching God to have mercy upon me. At last, one evening, while on my knees, the answer came, and I was enabled to believe that God, for Christ’s sake, had pardoned all my sins.

A flood of joy filled my soul. My happiness was so great I felt constrained to give it out to others. A burning desire to be useful and helpful to others took possession of me. I immediately identified myself with the church and the Sunday School, joined the Tract Society, and with the praying band assisted in cottage prayer-meetings and visited the sick and the prisoners in the jail. Later on I was placed on the plan as a local preacher, and in connection with our services had the joy of seeing souls saved.

I now felt more than ever that every moment must be improved in storing my mind with useful knowledge. I purchased additional books, mostly of a devotional character, and spent my evenings, until late into the night, in study.

I never failed to avail myself of the privileges offered by any services of a special character, and while in attendance at a notable camp-meeting, held near Ingersoll, Ontario, at which the Rev. Wm. Taylor (then known as “California” Taylor) preached a wonderful sermon on sanctification, my heart was set on fire of love, and a stronger desire than ever to glorify God took possession of my soul.

About this time my attention was drawn to the fervent appeals of the pioneer missionaries to British Columbia, published in the _Christian Guardian_, and previously referred to. Again the flame of missionary zeal, which had been first lighted in my boyhood days by the influence of the saintly George Piercy, began to burn with renewed intensity.

One day a friend handed me a copy of the paper with the letter from Bro. White in it, and said: “Crosby, you ought to go there.” I took the paper into my room and read it on my knees, and there and then promised God if the way should open and the money should be forthcoming I would go. But where the money was to come from I did not know.

Presently some of my friends noticed that something was troubling me, and asked me what was the matter. I hesitated a little, and then told them I felt I ought to obey the call in my heart to go and preach the Gospel to the heathen of British Columbia, but I had not the money. The reply was: “We will lend you enough to go, and if you are never able to pay it back it will be all right anyway.” This was a very serious moment, for I did not expect the answer to come so soon. The thought of what it meant to leave home and friends and go to a land of which little was known, suddenly presented itself to me. I excused myself from my friends and went away to my room, and there pleaded with God to help me to do what He had now clearly called me to do. When my decision was made to obey God at whatever cost, the way seemed all bright and clear.

Now, however, a new difficulty presented itself. I must get the consent of my mother.

I rode out one night to the farm. My father met me, fearing ill tidings, and as we stood by the house I told him how the Lord had called me and that my way was open, but I felt I would like his consent and my mother’s. The window was open and mother had overheard, and when we went in I found her in tears. Sobbing, she said I must not go, she could not spare me. Who can tell the depth of a mother’s love? Though she had fourteen children she felt she could not spare one. I told her how the call had come and the way had been opened, and that I felt it my duty to go, and further that I feared if I disobeyed the voice of God I would lose my soul. Then, resting her hand upon my shoulder, the tears streaming down her cheeks, she said, “If that is so, then go! my boy, go! and God bless you.”

Many a time in after years when discouragements and difficulties beset me, my mother’s words came to me as a benediction. Often when on stormy seas, the winds howling, the waves sweeping over us, and when to all human appearance it was impossible to reach shore, I would seem to hear my mother’s loved voice and her “God bless you.”

When, night after night in my lonely cabin or camped on the beach, studying a strange language and perplexing myself as to how to get my tongue around the difficult words or sounds, the farewell words of my mother came again to comfort me.

When standing all night long between savage parties who were clubbing and butchering one another, when I did not know but any moment I should be knocked down by some enraged warrior with his club, the remembrance of mother’s benediction proved an encouragement and an inspiration.

And now came hasty preparations for departure, which were finally completed. The day at last arrived to bid farewell to Sunday School and classmates and friends. One by one they filed past the door, on that never-to-be-forgotten Sunday, and grasping my hand they lovingly gave me their heart-felt “God-speed.” The sweet-faced, tear-bedewed eyes of my little scholars ever remain a precious memory.

Footnote:

[3] Alex. Peers, a devoted young classmate of the author, in Woodstock, Ont., who spent some time in Victoria College with a view to the ministry, in 1863 made his way to British Columbia, and took up land at Chilliwack. He was married to Miss Wells, sister of Mr. A. C. Wells, and after spending some time in the mission school at Nanaimo, finally settled in New Westminster, where he was very useful as a local preacher and class-leader, and secured the respect and esteem of all who knew him. Here the author again met him.

Chapter III. _Westward, Ho!_

“I’ll go where you want me to go, dear Lord, Over mountain, or plain or sea; I’ll say what you want me to say, dear Lord; I’ll be what you want me to be.” --_M. Brown._

The only route to British Columbia then travelled, except the terrible overland journey, attempting to make which so many perished, was that _via_ New York, by sea to the Isthmus of Panama, thence to San Francisco, and on to Victoria.

After bidding adieu to home, friends and acquaintances, I left Woodstock on February 25th, 1862. The journey in some respects was a sad one. It was at the time of the American Civil War, and at every station, after crossing the Niagara River, hundreds of men came on board going to “the front,” leaving behind on the platform their mothers, sisters, sweethearts and wives, many never to meet again. These scenes revived in my own heart the pain of my recent parting with loved ones.

That winter was a terrible one, marked by many heavy snowfalls. In New York State the train passed between high banks of heaped up snow.

From New York we took passage on board the old S.S. _Champion_. She was crowded with five hundred men, most of whom were bound for the Fraser River or Cariboo gold mines, and some of them the roughest class we ever met, armed with bowie knives and six-shooters. The language used by many of these men was so vile that I could not sleep below, and to escape such offensive atmosphere I took my blankets and went on deck. We had a very rough passage, and it was terribly cold, so I chose a spot close to the smokestack, and rolling myself up, lay down to rest. One night, during a great storm, the waves swept over the deck, drenching me thoroughly, and the officer of the watch came along and roused me with the words, “My boy, if you don’t get out of this you will be washed overboard.” I picked up my dripping blankets, shook myself, and sought a more sheltered spot.

The food supply for the passengers was not all that was needed--I got one potato in the trip. Fortunately my friends had provided me with a well-filled lunch-basket, which afforded me good service. The hungry men at times were rough and selfish. As the stewards would pass the food on to the table these hoggish men would grab it off the plates with their hands, so that if any one happened to be a little more modest he could not get anything. On one occasion a tall, good-natured Irishman thought he had struck it when he seized a long potato, but as he was drawing it to himself two other fellows made a grab, one at each end, and poor Pat was left with just the middle. One day the men stood by the swinging tables and swept the whole of the food off into the sea. Then, rushing to the captain, they declared that if he did not give them something better than “that dead horse” they would use their six-shooters.

We were delighted to reach the Isthmus, and crossed over by moonlight on the narrow-gauge railway. It was pleasant to have a night crossing, for it was very hot weather, and the temperature in the middle of the day was almost unbearable.

We saw the picturesque thatched huts of the natives here and there along the way, and called to mind the stories of the terrible mortality among these people while the little railroad was being built. My heart was touched by the sight of so many of these poor people in their apparent heathen simplicity, and I wondered if they had a missionary among them.

At Panama we embarked on the fine double-decked passenger steamer _Golden Age_. At this point crowds joined us who had come by ships from England, and we were told we had fifteen hundred aboard. Our fine-looking ship was evidently not built to stand much stormy weather, but they pushed along up the coast of Mexico, meeting no difficulties, and presently we put into the harbor of Acapulco to coal.

As the ship lay at anchor crowds of natives surrounded the vessel with their little canoes. The passengers threw five and ten-cent pieces into the sea, and the natives, heedless of the sharks that were swimming about, would jump out of the canoes and dive like fish for the money, bringing the pieces up in their teeth, shaking their heads and still beckoning for more, as they were ready for another dive.

One of the brethren who followed me tells the story that while his ship was coaling in this same harbor the sharks were so numerous that the passengers became alarmed for the safety of the little chaps, who as usual were diving for the money. Rushing to the side of the vessel, in great excitement, some of them cried out:

“My! my! That shark is going to have that fellow.”

“Naw,” drawled a gruff old tar, “he won’t touch him.”

“Why not? Look! Look! He’s just going to catch him now.”

“Naw,” said the sailor, looking on without concern. “He stinks too much of tobacco. He’ll never touch him.”

Soon we sighted the Golden Gate, and later entered it in our ship the _Golden Age_. One could not but think there was much that was golden in those days of gold hunting, and yet many a poor fellow found out to his own sorrow that “it is not all gold that glitters.”

Thousands of men filled the streets of ’Frisco, nearly all bound for the Fraser River or Cariboo, as British Columbia was called in those days.

The steamboats, some of them not very seaworthy, were all overcrowded, bound north. A short time before the old steamer _Republic_, with eight hundred passengers, and the old _Sierra Nevada_, with nine hundred, had gone “up.” And now another old coffin, the _Brother Jonathan_, which had passed the Customs to carry only two hundred and fifty, took on eleven hundred men and was still selling tickets.

Some of our acquaintances who went north on board of her state that “they were stowed away like pigs, two in a bunk,” and they did not dare to leave their bunks for fear they would lose them. They were eight days on the trip, and hundreds of them never saw daylight but once, when they put in to Astoria for a few hours.

I, with a small party of Canadians, shipped on board the trim little barquentine _W. B. Scranton_, and had a lovely trip of ten days. On Sabbath we held religious services, the first we had had during our long journey.

As we passed through the Straits of Juan de Fuca, on the last night, and in sight of the lights of Victoria, a storm caught us. So severe was it that Captain Cathcart and his men were on deck all night, and were obliged to put about ship continually to keep her driving between the three lights of Victoria, Dungeness and Race Rocks.

At daybreak the wind subsided, and the morning found us in a dead calm away outside the Royal Roads.

The beauty of the sight which met our eyes as the day brightened can never be forgotten. The grand snow-capped Olympian Range lay to the south, and away to the east the rising sun cast rays of crimson light on old Mount Baker, as it nestled back from the great Coast Range of hills, while the glaciers seemed to shoot back light to the snow on its lofty peak.

To the north was that most beautiful and natural park, Beacon Hill. Victoria, we were told, nestled just behind it, though not much of the town could be seen from where our ship lay.

About noon of the same day, April 11th, we were landed by a small boat on the rocks near where the outer wharf has since been built.

First Impressions.

The natural beauty of its situation entitled Victoria, then as now, to the name of Queen City of the Pacific Coast.

The town was not large, but the first Parliament buildings and several good-sized churches gave it importance and helped to enhance the effect of its appearance. The place was crowded with men, the chief stir of business being where the “Cheap Johns” had stores for outfitting the miners--you could hear one on each side of the street auctioneering their goods almost night and day. The Hudson’s Bay Company’s store and wharf, with their little boats, the _Enterprise_ and _Otter_, were rushing business to the port of Queensborough (now New Westminster), on the Fraser River, where the goods were transferred to river steamers and rushed on up to the diggings.

Besides those who took passage on the steamers, hundreds were venturing in small boats and canoes, many of which were wrecked or lost on the Gulf of Georgia and the treacherous river. And some of those who escaped shipwreck were murdered by the savages before they reached the mines.

New Westminster was then a growing village, situated on Mary Hill, which was still partly covered with immense timber. To the east, looking up the Fraser River, nature presented another grand panorama of glorious mountains, upon whose lofty peaks the snow lay all the year round.

From here the stern-wheel steamers carried freight and passengers to Yale, then the terminus of steamboat navigation, nearly one hundred miles up the Fraser. Thence the miner carried his goods on his back, or had them carried on the backs of pack animals or in ox-waggons, nearly four hundred miles farther. About this time the great waggon road was completed to Cariboo, and the treacherous trails over “Jackass” (a difficult ascent behind Yale) and other mountains were abandoned.

In addition to the river route, hundreds of men came in overland from California, by way of Whatcom and Sumas, or by the Columbia and through the Okanagan Valley.

The winter of 1861-2 was one of unusual length and severity, and the great “rush” to the mines set in too early, with the result that many endured untold hardships and suffering, and many others who came into the country were never heard of again.

Long before the summer was over hundreds returned--some from the mines and some, indeed, who had never reached the mines--poorer and wiser than when they came. Many who were cursing the country and leaving it were advised to take up land and settle in the lovely valleys on the Lower Fraser--Chilliwack, Sumas, and Langley, or the Delta lands near the mouth. They derided the idea of these lands being any good. But the few who did remain and take up land are now prosperous and wealthy farmers, and have lived to see this once despised district become the “Garden of British Columbia.”

The government of the country was then colonial, under a Governor appointed by the Home Government and a small Council. James (afterwards Sir James) Douglas, the first Governor, had been a Chief Factor in the Hudson’s Bay Company and Governor of Vancouver Island. He was much respected and beloved by all who knew him well, but especially by the natives of the country. He was a wise, upright and impartial Governor over the two colonies, Vancouver Island and British Columbia, which, though nominally distinct, were for purposes of government practically one.

About this time, when the rush to the mines produced a more or less lawless condition of affairs, Matthew (afterwards Sir Matthew) Begbie, an English barrister, was appointed to the bench. He dispensed justice in the colonies with so firm a hand that for years he was a terror to evil-doers. Many stories are told of him, but the following will serve to show the fearless character of the man. A fellow was being tried before him, charged with sand-bagging a miner and obtaining his gold. There was hardly any doubt that he had committed the crime. The evidence given was so convincing that a verdict of “guilty” appeared the only possible one. But the jury found him not guilty. “Prisoner at the bar,” said his lordship, “the jury have found you not guilty. I discharge you, and now I recommend you to go and sand-bag the jurymen.”

Besides the Methodist Church, the Episcopalian, Presbyterian, Congregational and Roman Catholic Churches were all doing good work among the white colonists. I shall never forget the unspeakable delight with which, after nearly six weeks’ deprivation, I had the privilege again of attending love feast and sacrament. I was admitted by ticket from the Rev. Dr. Evans, pastor of the church in Victoria. I was like a bird let out of a cage, and entered with joy into the spirit of the meeting. It was afterwards asked by some of the brethren: “Who was that strange boy in home-spun clothes who had the audacity to disturb the quiet of the church by his ‘Amen,’ ‘Hallelujah,’ and ‘Praise the Lord’?”

As the spring advanced the lovely climate became apparent. The genial warmth of the beautiful spring and summer days was followed by cool nights, when anyone in health might enjoy refreshing sleep.

The extensive timber areas, one of the most valuable assets of the country, were already attracting capital. A number of sawmills and spar-camps began shipping spars and lumber to many parts of the world. No one could go through the primeval forests of those days without being impressed with their natural greatness. Tall firs abounded, many of them from two hundred to three hundred feet in height, standing straight, their stems unbroken by a single branch until they reached the bushy, spreading tops. Equally tall and gigantic cedars grew side by side with hemlock, spruce and the smaller vine maple, the shady, broad-leafed soft maple, ash, birch, cottonwood, apple, cherry and alder. Such a wealth of foliage caused one to exclaim, “Lo! God is here! Let us adore.”

These were some of the first impressions of the land which was to be my home for so many years.

The following eleven months were spent in hard manual labor, by which I earned sufficient to return the money, with interest, which had been so generously loaned to defray the expenses of my journey. This gave me excellent opportunities to gain an insight into the life and needs of the country and its people--a knowledge which could not well have been gained otherwise. I was employed on the wharf, at work in the woods, clearing land, and on the roads being built by the Government, as well as on rough carpentering work in putting up buildings. All this, in a measure, prepared me for canoe and camp life, and for superintending the erection of church and mission buildings, and for assisting the natives in building their houses--indeed, for all the practical mission work which lay before me.

It was while working on the Government road that fall that I first saw the large dog salmon jumping and floundering up a stream so narrow that we could jump over it. So crowded were they, and so great was their number, that their fins and tails were, many of them, worn off in the struggle. It was not an uncommon thing to see black bears, in such a field, fishing for themselves, and eagles by the score, as well as ravens, carrying off their supply of food. We saw elk and deer in great numbers, and water fowl in clouds. And the conviction grew upon one that a land of such mountains and rivers, seas and forests, teeming with life, such coal and gold fields and such a magnificent climate, was destined to become a great and grand country.

All this time my mind and sympathies were excited by the condition of the poor Indians, as it was for their temporal and spiritual welfare I had left my home and friends. When I saw the thousands from the far north coast, as well as from the interior, crowding into and about the towns, being more and more debauched and degraded by the white man’s diseases and fire-water; when I saw how little human life was respected by them, and realized how little was being done to stem the tide of evil among them, it made my heart burn within me.

At Victoria these people were so crowded together, and in such great numbers, that the natives from the north came into violent collision with those from the south, and bloodshed was the result. To put a stop to this, the citizens petitioned the Government to send the northerners away to their homes.

All this, and much more that we saw among these people, would tend to grieve the hardest heart, and to inspire one to make a decided and determined effort for their salvation and civilization. And daily I was hoping and praying that the way might soon open for me to commence work among them.

Chapter IV. _At Nanaimo--The School._

“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.

Chapter V. _Heathen Street Vs. Christian Street._

“O fill me with Thy fullness, Lord, Until my very heart o’erflow In kindling thought and glowing word, Thy love to tell, Thy praise to show.” --_Havergal._

The work of evangelization went on side by side with that of the teaching of the children. From the first we established regular religious services, preaching and prayer-meeting, and, in time, class-meeting.

Alternately with Rev. Edward White,[4] superintendent of the Mission, I visited the different points on the east coast of Vancouver Island, from Comox to Victoria, calling at Chemainus, Salt Spring Island, Cowichan, Saanich, and many other points.

[Illustration: INDIAN HOUSES, WITH GROUP OF HEATHEN NATIVES.]

Numbers of the poor heathen were little by little led to give heed to the message of truth and abandon their old ways of superstition and sin. Still we felt that the education of these people would not be complete unless they were taught habits of order and industry. Their old houses and their surroundings were wretchedly filthy and disorderly, and little calculated to help them in their efforts to rise.

We must set them the example in improving the surroundings of the little church and the mission house, which had been built adjoining the church. Hence we commenced to clear off the stumps and roots from the church lot, and made it ready for cultivation. I took the boys and men and went to the woods and got out posts and rails and pickets, and thus showed them how to fence and cultivate a garden.

The old heathen house, from its very character, was the hot-bed of vice. Fancy a great barn-like building, sometimes one hundred feet long by thirty wide, made of split cedar boards fastened together with poles and withes and strips of strong bark, and occupied by as many as a dozen families, only separated from each other by low partitions.

Picture such a building, with no floor other than the ground, no entrance for light except the door, when open, and the cracks in the walls and the roof. Around the inside of such a building were ranged the beds, built up on rude platforms. In the corners were piles of mats and fishing-tackle and rubbish. Each family had their own fire, and these were built all along through the house, the smoke circulating generally through the building and finally finding its way out as best it could by cracks and other openings. Under the bunks and overhead and hanging from the poles were the family stores of dried fish and berries. In the midst were many miserable dogs and cats, and, later, chickens as well. This picture multiplied a dozen or more times, according to the population, went to make up the “rancheree,” as the Indian village was sometimes called.

Is it any wonder that disease and vice flourished under such favorable surroundings?

With the example of the little mission-house and its garden before them, a number were inspired to have individual plots marked out for themselves. They cleared off their lots and had their houses built and neatly whitewashed, their gardens planted with fruit trees and bordered with shade trees, thus presenting a striking contrast to the heathen houses which they had left.

In time a street was cleared and graded in front of these houses, and the contrast with the heathen village which faced the beach was complete.

In a speech before the English Conference made after his visit to British Columbia, Dr. Wm. Morley Punshon said “that he had seen the powerful influences of the Gospel far away on the Pacific Coast, near Nanaimo, on the east coast of Vancouver Island, where he saw the heathen street and the Christian street side by side. As the people became converted they moved to the Christian street.”

Later on I followed up this work of education among the tribes on the Nanaimo and Fraser Rivers, teaching them not only how to improve their homes, but to till their ground and plant their orchards, and in every way take their places among their white brethren. To-day the Indians of these districts have their little farms, cultivate their own grain and hay and roots, and raise their own cattle.

To show the influence of this early teaching, more than one of our young men, who had earned considerable money and were urged by their friends to throw it away in the potlatch, chose rather to purchase cattle and horses with which to stock their little farms.

But not only did we teach them the gospel of self-help. They were encouraged to undertake the local improvements on their own church and school-house, and to help spread the Gospel of the blessed Christ by contributing to the funds of the Missionary Society.

Footnote:

[4] Rev. Edward White was one of our first missionaries to the Pacific Coast, and during my earlier years at Nanaimo was my superintendent. His son, the Rev. Dr. J. H. White, now local Superintendent of Missions for British Columbia, is a worthy successor of a noble father. I still gratefully recall the many kindnesses shown me by our brother and his good wife while an inmate of the parsonage, before the little mission house was built in the Indian village. Brother White’s words of counsel and encouragement were always an inspiration to me.

Chapter VI. _Difficulties With The Language._

“Jesus, ta skwish tseetsel tomuk Ta tlee-tlup tomuk shnays, Lee-zas ta mes-tay-oh wa-tlats Ta lee-am see-see nam tla-o.” (_In An-ko-me-num._)

“Jesus, the name high over all, In hell or earth or sky; Angels and men before it fall And devils fear and fly.”

The number and varied dialects of the Indian languages of the Coast were such that very few white men ever tried to learn them. Of the An-ko-me-num language alone there are at present at least five or six different dialects.

The Chinook jargon, or Oregon trade language, as it is sometimes called, is really not a language, but is a composite of several languages.

The first trading posts on the Coast were at Nootka, on the west coast of Vancouver Island, and among the Chinook Indians on the Columbia River. Among the first traders were the servants of the great fur companies, the Hudson’s Bay, the Nor’West, and the Astor.

To the At words, learned by the traders at Nootka, were added many others from the language of the Chinooks, as well as English and French, the languages of the traders themselves. Some few words were taken from the An-ko-me-num and some were formed from the sound. The Chinook words predominating gave the name to the jargon.

It was in use as early as 1804, and in 1863 a dictionary of the jargon was published by the Smithsonian Institute, containing some 500 words. Of these 221 were Chinook, 18 At or Nootka, 94 French, 67 English, and 21 were credited to various branches of the Salish or Flathead family of Indians.

In early years a trading knowledge of Chinook was necessary in order to do business, as is a like knowledge of French on the borders of the Province of Quebec. It is now rapidly falling into disuse, the result of the training in English which some of the later generations have received in the school. At the best it is but a wretched means of communication, poor in expression and almost destitute of grammatical forms.

“Klah-how-yah,” the term of salutation, bears such a striking resemblance to “How are you?” that one is disposed to accept its derivation from the oft-repeated enquiries of the friends of the intrepid explorer Clark after his health, “Clak-how-yah?”

“Tum-tum” is a sound word for heart, and is used as well to express will, purpose, desire. “Lip-lip” (to boil) is another such word, imitating boiling water. “Hee-hee” indicates laughter, hence any kind of amusement. “Kol-sick-waum-sick” is very expressive of fever and ague.

“Mamook” (to make) can be used with any noun to indicate some form of activity.

“Illa-hee” (ground) is linked with different words to convey a more extended idea. “Saghalie illahee” means literally “highlands,” but also suggests “a mountain,” and finally “heaven.” “Boston illahee,” the United States, etc.

“Saghalie tyee,” which literally means “the chief above,” is the word used for God.

The poverty of expression may be gathered from the fact that “tikke,” meaning “to wish, to desire,” is the only way to express the cardinal virtue “love.” “Happiness,” “joy,” as well as “good health,” are simply “klosh tumtum,” which literally means a “good heart.”

“Skookum tumtum” (a strong heart) conveys the idea of “courage.” “Chako” (come) and “chee” (new) are combined in an expression with which most Westerners are familiar, “chee-chako” (newcomer) or “tenderfoot.”

An amusing story is told of a certain dignitary of the Church, which very fully illustrates the powers and limitations of Chinook. Addressing, among other audiences, a band of Coast Indians, he began with the flowery and high-sounding sentence, “Children of the forest.” The interpreter translated it into good Chinook, but the Indians naturally enough were indignant, and only a few remained to hear him out. “Children of the forest” literally translated was “Tenas man kopa hyas stik,” which means simply “Little man among big stick,” and they resented being called “little men,” or even children, and they did not live in the woods.

No Chinook For Me.

From the first I refused to have anything to do with Chinook, and when the people would meet me on the road and commence to talk in it, I made them understand by signs that I wished them to speak their own language, in order that I might learn it.

So intense was my anxiety to get their language that I found myself, when asleep, dreaming in it, and dreaming that I was preaching to hundreds of people in their own tongue.

I attended the great feasts and heathen councils, and sat by the hour listening to the old chiefs and orators relating the stories of the chase, or recounting the tales of the bloody deeds of other days, when they went out on great war expeditions and returned with many scalps.

How the old orators would rise with the enthusiasm of the occasion and seem to make the ground tremble under their feet as they rejoicingly told of the names and deeds of their fathers, to fire the ambitions of the young princes and young men of rank--for it was only the high-caste who were permitted to sit in these councils. It was at these gatherings we got the proper sound of many words.

The children also were a great help to me in the study of the language. As I gave them the English name for the objects around them I would have them repeat it in their own tongue, and by earnest perseverance and the help of God I soon had the unspeakable joy of being able to preach to them in their own language the unsearchable riches of Christ.

In all my work since then I have experienced that in no way can one properly preach the truth to a people except in their own language. This knowledge of the language opened up my way to other tribes and bands of the same nationality.

On my first visit to the Fraser River, some years later, I came to a village early one morning, and, stepping out of my canoe, shouted out at the top of my voice in An-ko-me-num, “Why are all the chiefs sleeping like children so late this morning?” The old men rushed out to see the big Indian. I again shouted out the same words, and they cried out, “Listen to him! Where has he come from? We heard no white man speak like this. Has he come from above?”

On one of my canoe trips years ago around Burrard Inlet, when there was only one sawmill where now a beautiful city (Vancouver) and a number of thriving villages are situated, a white man, who had made me welcome to his home and treated me to dinner, said, as I was getting into my canoe, while a number of white men stood by, “Do you know what I was thinking, Mr. Crosby? That if you would put a blanket on and get into the canoe and commence to talk, nobody would know you from an Indian.”

I said, “I beg your pardon, sir; I didn’t know that I looked so much like an Indian.”

“Oh!” he replied, “I didn’t mean that; I meant to say, you speak the language so well that we could not tell you from an Indian speaking.”

Amusing Mistakes.

There are amusing sides to this matter of acquiring a language. In my early efforts in the use of the native tongue, while I was preaching one Sunday on the riches that are in Christ, and the poverty and misery which sin brings, I noticed when I spoke of poverty that a group of young men on one side could not contain themselves for laughter. They tried to straighten up, for they were usually very respectful in the services.

After repeating the word again and seeing the same behaviour, I concluded I must have made some mistake, and turning to the young men I said, “Now, young men, I see by your actions that I said something which has caused you amusement; perhaps some word of yours which I do not know very well. Tell me what it is.”

They hung their heads with shame. But I pressed them for reply, saying: “If you were endeavoring to speak English you would wish to be corrected if you had made a mistake.”

So pressed, young Quin-nom, one of their number, said: “Yes, Mr. Crosby, you speak our language very well, almost as well as an Indian, but to-day you made a mistake. Our word for poor is ‘sel-la-wa,’ and when you were speaking of sin making us poor you said ‘sel-la-we-a,’ which is a woman’s name who lives away down the Coast about sixty miles, and so we could not help laughing.”

Thus our readers may see some of the difficulties we labored under, when only a slight change in the tone of voice might change the meaning of a whole sentence--difficulties, however, that every student of a new and unwritten language has to contend with.

No Swearing In Indian.

Speaking of the peculiarities of the language, it may be remarked that the Indian languages have no words properly to express abstract qualities, no words to express the ideas of love, peace, pardon, repentance, etc., as we understand them. So that one of our first tasks was to explain to them as best we could by illustration and otherwise the meaning of such words.

On the other hand it should also be said that there are no “swear words” in the Indian languages. Yes, it is a fact, the poor Indian must go to his white brother to learn to swear or take the name of God in vain. In the An-ko-me-num, the worst that can be said is, “Kai! kai! kai! tanowa squimag,” which interpreted means, “Die! die! die! you dog.” This, in an angry tone, is the worst they can say. Of course, the tone and the look have a good deal to do with it.

Once I heard a little boy swear loudly in the presence of other boys. I stopped the play and said to him, calling him by name, “Johnny, where did you learn to say those awful words and to use the name of Jesus in that way?” “Oh,” he said, “is it bad? I heard a white man speak like that at the cannery where I was fishing, but if you say it is wrong I will not do it any more.” “Yes,” I said, “it is very wrong, you must not call that dear name in that way any more.”

How thoroughly ashamed I have been again and again, when I have heard an Indian swearing, at the thought that he must have learned it from one of my race and people.

The Lord’S Prayer In Chinook.

_Nesika papa_, mitlite kopa saghalie, klosh spose konaway tilikum mamook praise mika nem; klosh spose konaway tilikum mamook tyee mika; klaska spose konaway tilikum kopa okook illahie mamook mika tumtum, kaw-kwa klaska mamook kopa saghalie-illahie. Okook sun, pe konaway-sun potlatch nesika muk-amuk; pe klosh mika mash okook ma-sa-tchie nesika mamook kopa mika, kaw-kwa nesika mash okook ma-sa-tchie hul-oi-ma tilikum mamook kopa nesika; pe klosh mika mamook help nesika, spose halo-ikta tolo nesika kopa ma-sa-tchie; pe klosbe mika mamook haul nesika spose halo nesika chako kla-kow-yu.

Klosh spose kawkwa.

Chapter VII. _A Slavery Worse Than Death._

“All evil thoughts and deeds, Anger, and lust, and pride The foulest, rankest weeds That choke Life’s growing tide!” --_Longfellow._

There were difficulties in the way of the evangelization and education of these poor people other than that of their heathen customs and peculiar language. Low, wicked white men were constantly hanging around the different camps, smuggling whiskey among the people, and using every wicked means to lead the women and children astray.

It was not an uncommon thing for these poor blind heathen parents and relatives to sell their little daughters to the white men for the basest of purposes. We went to the magistrates and asked if it was allowable to sell slaves in this country. The magistrate replied, “Oh, no; why certainly not.” But when we explained to them the nature of the slavery, they would stammer a little and with feigned indifference they would claim that it was an Indian custom and form of marriage which they would not interfere with.

Referring to slavery, it is true that from earliest times the Indians kept slaves. In all their wars the men and boys were either scalped or taken as slaves. When women were taken it was usually to increase the number of slaves or wives of the chief.

Years ago, Governor Simpson, visiting Fort Stickine, Alaska, says: “We met here fully four or five thousand people. One-third of the population were slaves. Many who were born slaves were treated in the most cruel way.”

Chiefs from the far north, to keep up this cruel system, would travel away to the south in their large war canoes, and for the most trivial thing would pick a quarrel with a tribe, fight, take away many slaves, and, going back to the north, sell them to enrich themselves, or would keep some of them as their own servants or slaves.

No value was put upon the life of a slave. They would shoot them down at a moment’s notice. In the dreadful incantations of the sorcerers or medicine men, the accusation of witchcraft was easily fixed upon a slave, and he was sacrificed without mercy. In the north, when raising the large houses of the chiefs, it is said that every large post had a slave buried under it to hold the post in place, and often at the great potlatches a chief would slaughter a number of slaves to show how rich a man he was.

In time, of course, some were incorporated into the tribe, and, forgetting their own language, remained among their one-time captors. In some cases, after years of absence, the instinctive longing for home and friends would lead them to take all chances of recapture, and after enduring great hardships to find their way back to their native village, where they were welcomed as from the dead.

Much of the old-time slavery was passing away when the missionary came, but a slavery in a new and more horrible form was being established. The advent of thousands of white men, miners and lumbermen, many of whom were vicious and depraved, brought temptation to their doors. The Indian’s love of display, and his ambition to be considered of importance, which found expression in his giving of great feasts and potlatches, led him to seize any ready and easy means of gain.

At one time among the Indians, as among all heathen people, the girls were counted of little value. If they grew up they were to become the burden-bearers of their masters of the other sex. An Indian mother has been known to take her little baby girl out into the woods and stuff its mouth with grass and leaves and leave it to die. And when asked why she did so, she would say, “I did not want her to grow up and suffer as I have suffered.”

But heathenism crushes out a mother’s love and turns the heart to stone and changes a father into a foul, indifferent fiend. And so when the miners came the natives willingly sold their daughters, ranging from ten to eighteen years of age, for a few blankets or a little gold, into a slavery which was worse than death.

For years these wretched, deluded people have visited our towns, our mining and lumbering and fishing camps, bringing their bright-eyed, happy little girls with them, and after having made a lot of money in this foul method, have returned to make a great potlatch and ostentatiously give away hundreds of dollars of their ill-gotten gains.

One child that we knew of refused to go with her parents for this purpose. When they tried to compel her, she said, “You can go. I will not go if you kill me,” and then she ran to the woods. After they had left she made her way to the missionary and sought protection.

Another child of about twelve years of age, who refused at first to follow a life of sin, was visited by a great rough fellow who, with his hand full of money and with promises of fine clothes and trinkets and sweets, coaxed her and finally prevailed upon her to come and live with him.

A large number of girls were sold in this way from one of our mission schools by their cruel heathen parents and friends, at prices ranging from fifty to one hundred dollars each. Some of these poor children came to the mission-house at midnight, almost broken-hearted, and said to the missionary, “Please will you not take me in. They are going to sell me as a slave, and I don’t want to go.”

We reasoned with their parents and heathen relatives, but our efforts were vain. We went to the cabins of the white men and expostulated with them, and were driven out with fiendish curses and told that it was none of our business.

“Poor Little Quee-Lawt!”

On one occasion I found three poor women by the roadside near the sawmill at Nanaimo, all helplessly drunk. It seemed of daily occurrence in those days to see women drunk. With these poor creatures was a little girl, Quee-lawt by name. She was one of the brightest and most attractive of our little scholars. When she first came to school, like some others of the children, she was very scantily clad, but by the kindness of some good ladies this little maid was neatly clothed, and because her forehead had not been flattened as much as some others, she was pleasing in appearance. She learned to read nicely and could sing very sweetly, and we had great hopes of a bright future for her.

But alas! poor Quee-lawt had been led astray by these sinful women, and by some low, degraded white men had been robbed of her purity, made drunken and defiled. And here we saw her, all besmeared with dirt and filth--drunk, drunk.

Poor Quee-lawt! the terrible drink and the vile treatment she had received were too much for her. She was carried home to the old chief’s house and died that night. Oh, what a sad, sad, pitiful sight it was! Poor little Quee-lawt! Will not a just God lay at the door of those wretched white men the murder of this child?

We could only wish that this vile blot upon the character of our fair province were wiped away. But still it continues. Some of the finest tribes on the Coast have for years been following this awful practice, until whole bands have been practically wiped out, and their only monument is a forest of totem poles raised in many cases with the money secured from this dreadful slavery.

Recently the provincial press has drawn attention to what they term the “slave traffic in girls” among the Kwa-kwulths of Cape Mudge and surrounding country.

From the reports thus circulated we gather that these people have been making the practice of selling their girls to white men and others for immoral purposes. At a recent potlatch, held in January, 1906, a number of girls were sold at prices ranging from $300 to $1,200. The latter figure was paid by an Indian for a particularly attractive girl whom he planned to take with him to the various lumber camps for the purpose of gain. “It is proverbially true,” says one writer, “that the Indians have no convictions or sentiments that cannot be easily overcome by greed of gain or power. Their chief and only object--that is, the men’s--is to become great and powerful amongst their own people, and as the possession of money is the quickest road to power and the assumption of pride, some of these men to secure money, and secure it easily, have for years been selling their women.”

“Surely the Government,” continues this same writer, “will not allow this state of affairs to exist any longer. By means of these women diseases are spread amongst our young men, and disasters too terrible to speak of must follow this indiscriminate dealing in the bodies and souls of these Indian women.”

With this whole matter are involved the questions of Indian barter marriages and the potlatch, customs which, the missionaries know, are linked with heathenism, and which present some of the greatest difficulties to be met with in Christianizing and civilizing the Indian tribes of the Coast.

In our judgment, if a law were enacted similar to one which was put in force in the State of Washington some years ago, compelling any white men living with Indian girls or women to marry them, or else the women must leave and return to their own people, we would to a large extent clear the country, as they did on the other side of the line, of this dreadful evil.

The Indians, as well, should be compelled to give up their “barter marriages” and conform, as every one else must, to our Canadian marriage laws, and thus the greatest difficulty in the way of the suppressing of this evil would be removed.

On account of the prevalence of this traffic in Indian girls, many of the early missionaries were led to establish “Girls’ Homes” for the rescue and further protection of these poor victims of this awful system.

Chapter VIII. _Feuds And Bloodshed._

“I am weary of your quarrels, Weary of your war and bloodshed, Weary of your prayers for vengeance, Of your wrangling and dissensions; All your strength is in your union, All your danger is in discord; Therefore be at peace henceforward, And as brothers live together.” --“_Hiawatha._”

The natives of the Pacific Coast are represented by some historians as a fierce, savage, warlike race. At one time they were a numerous people, but their own bloody and ferocious wars were the means in years gone by of greatly reducing their numbers, and the ravages of the white man’s diseases and fire-water have so far completed the work that some tribes have become almost extinct.

In very early days the white traders had several encounters with the natives, and the account is preserved of the Indians of the west coast of Vancouver Island surrounding and capturing two vessels, one the _Boston_, at Nootka, and the other the _Tonquin_, at Clayoquot. The latter was afterwards blown up, it is thought, by some imprisoned members of the crew, and hundreds of the captors who swarmed her decks were killed. Another vessel, the _Atahualpa_, was also taken by the Indians of Millbank Sound, and four of the crew, including the captain, were killed. The vessel was, however, recaptured by the remaining members of the crew, who sailed away in safety.

Their tales of war among themselves are thrilling and often very exciting. They boast of sweeping out whole tribes at once; of wading ankle deep in blood! of taking many slaves and killing and scalping the rest. Chiefs from the north would sweep down south in their great war-canoes and pick a quarrel with a southern tribe over some trifling matter, then enter into bloody conflict with them, take many slaves, and hasten back to the far north to sell them, and thus enrich themselves.

The southern people fought among themselves, or, headed by some vicious chiefs, would make trips up the Fraser River or into Puget Sound, returning after a successful foray with the slaves taken in the fight, or more likely kidnapped at their fishing or berry-picking grounds.

The northerners were not always successful in making the trip home with their booty. The Cowichans would gather at Dodds’ Narrows and Active Pass, or at Cowichan Gap, and set upon the victors, often turning their victory into defeat. If they escaped the Cowichans they still had to run the gauntlet of the Yu-kwul-toes, the most to be dreaded of the whole coast tribes, and many a Tsimpshean, Hydah or Kling-get war party has found its death trap at Seymour Narrows or the Yu-kwul-toe Rapids.

On one occasion a party of northerners, on their way home through Dodds’ Narrows, about seven miles south of Nanaimo, had a battle with some Nanaimos, whom they defeated, killing eleven warriors. Striking off the heads of their slain enemies they took them with them, leaving the bodies, which were afterwards discovered by their friends. A short time after, in retaliation for the deed, on the south side of Salt Spring Island a canoe load of seven northern people were all butchered in a most shocking manner; stones were tied to their necks and they were sunk in the sea. Not reaching Victoria at the time expected, their friends instituted a search along the coast. I was then living at Nanaimo, and in the course of my work made frequent visits to Chemainus and Salt Spring Island, Cowichan and Saanich. On my next trip down the coast I was asked by the authorities to make inquiries regarding the lost ones.

After preaching to the Indians at Chemainus I referred to the murder, and warned them, if they knew who the murderers were, not to conceal them, as sooner or later they would be found out.

Several days after, on returning from Salt Spring Island, I met young chief Lis-tcheem, of the Chemainus tribe, who had come out some three or four miles in a canoe to meet me. Approaching in that cautious, suspicious manner which only an Indian will manifest, he came alongside and, speaking in an undertone, said: “Missionary, I want to say something that I don’t want my people to know. You told us the other day that we must not hide the murderers. Now, a party of our people have just returned from Victoria with a great deal of new property, and they seem to have money. We don’t know where they got all this money. I suspect they are the party who murdered the people you spoke of. They are now camped on the Chemainus River. But don’t tell the people that I told you.”

I immediately returned to Nanaimo and acquainted the magistrate with the facts. A party of ten special constables were sent down to the river, and the murderers were captured, brought to Nanaimo, given a preliminary hearing, and sent down to Victoria to stand their trial at the next assizes.

Some time after, amid the busy rush of the missionary’s life, this young chief met me at my home in the Nanaimo camp, and said he had been down to the place where they heard the murder had been committed, some forty miles away, and had found their goods, clothing of all kinds, strewn upon the beach, particularly the clothes of a little child belonging to the party. This was the child of a white man from Nanaimo, whose Indian wife was on her way to take the steamer at Victoria to make a visit to her friends in the north. Among the other things he found a bunch of little papers, rolled up and stuck in the fork of a tree. This roll, which he handed to me, I found contained eighty-five dollars in bills.

I took him to the magistrate, to whom he told his story and handed over the bills. The official praised him for his honesty and faithfulness, and as a reward gave him a note of recommendation saying what a good, honest chief he was. This document, signed and sealed with a large red seal and placed in an official envelope, pleased the chief very much.

Some weeks after he was in Victoria and happened to show this paper, of which he was very proud, to a police officer, who at once put him in jail, where he was held as a witness for over two months. During this time his family were left to starve, and nothing was done to help them. Is it any wonder that the Indians were enraged at this high-handed piece of injustice, and that when the young chief finally was released he declared that if all the Indians and whites in the place were murdered he would never again tell anything that he had discovered about the matter.

Speaking of the Indian’s love of “a big paper,” as they called an official certificate, I recall the amusing circumstance of a chief who was given “a paper” by a certain sea captain, which, not being able to read, he supposed was highly complimentary. The Indian went about, proudly showing to everyone a document which stated, “Look out for this fellow; he is the greatest old rascal and biggest thief I have ever met with.”

In those early days, when hundreds and thousands came from the north, it was not an uncommon thing to see a body floating in the harbor. It is the nature of an Indian always to keep in mind an old feud. Where blood has been shed they seek retaliation, and with them it is always “a life for a life.”

An Awful Night.

Tsil-ka-mut, a chief of the old school of the An-ko-me-nums, nephew of Squin-es-ton, a chief of the Nanaimos, was the most influential man in the tribe. Squin-es-ton was recognized as the head, but Tsil-ka-mut, his nephew, led the way in all matters of business or council with other tribes.

This younger chief in his youth was a great heathen, having been trained up in all heathen secrets from a child. He would often go away up the mountains and bathe in the mountain streams, where he said he had communion with the spirits and received power.

He was a fine, stalwart, muscular fellow, with a foot very large and almost as hard and tough as a horse’s hoof. He was a great hunter, and could fight, too, when it came in his way, and would keep one by the hour at his camp-fire telling of the bloody wars of former days. But he used to say that he would rather live in peace at any time than amidst war and trouble.

Tsil-ka-mut exerted a great and good influence over the people, and his authority was respected. He seldom made speeches at their heathen feasts or councils, but when he did speak they would, in the most trying time, submit to what seemed to be his superior judgment.

He was a man of peace, and tried, in his way, to preserve harmony in the tribes and encourage the young people to attend church, though he did not attend very regularly himself.

At one notable Christmas gathering, which, of course, all attended, he made a speech and said: “I want to say a few words. I am glad, very glad, that the missionaries are in our land to preach to us. It makes me feel very solemn to be here to-day. I say to the young people, never to laugh and play in God’s house; it is not like out-of-doors. Do not listen to the old people, who are not wise in good things, but hear the missionary, who is our friend. Young men, it is very good for you to show an example to the children. You must always go to God’s house and the children to school. I hope you, my children, will all become very wise. We older men cannot easily change our ways, we will soon be gone, but you young men will be with the children who are growing up; to you God’s word has come. You must believe it and do God’s will; this will be best for you.”

I shall never forget Tsil-ka-mut and that awful night when, after I had preached to the white people in town and had returned to my cabin home in the Indian village, about half past ten o’clock, our native local preacher, Amos Cushan, came to my door, rapped quickly, and in an excited tone of voice said, “Did you not hear the war-whoop? I think there is going to be trouble to-night.”

“I heard a noise. What is it?” I replied.

“I think a big fight to-night, sir!” said he. “Two chiefs with a number of their men have gone down towards Qual-la-kup’s house, and I think a big fight, sir!”

These two chiefs had for some time held a grudge against Chief Qual-la-kup, because of a quarrel between the two factions, which had resulted to the advantage of Qual-la-kup’s clan.

Immediately I sprang out of my house, and with my friend ran down through the woods, the shortest way to the house, and rushed in. The building was all in darkness, except for a few embers of a fire. In the dim darkness I could see two wild, savage-looking men, mercilessly assaulting the old man, Qual-la-kup, whom they had dragged out of bed. A number of others were standing around with clubs, looking wild enough and ready to knock a man down at any moment.

[Illustration: “I could see two wild, savage-looking men mercilessly assaulting the old man.” _p. 74_]

I rushed towards the group, and with what seemed to me supernatural strength I flung myself upon them, sending one one way and another another. With that the old man seized his advantage, and getting up, all bruised and bleeding, he hid himself behind me, spreading my overcoat tails to hide him from his pursuers.

At the same time the old chief stood dancing in front of me with fiendish yells, his knife in his hand, ready to strike the old man when the opportunity came.

“Don’t you strike Qual-la-kup,” I said to him. “You have injured him enough. Strike me if you must strike.”

Now the friends of both parties rushed in from all sides of the village, and in a few moments the great Indian house, some seventy feet long by thirty broad, was filled with a quarrelling multitude. Fortunately some torches were lighted, which enabled us to take in the scene, and for hours and hours Amos Cushan and I were rushing between quarrelling parties to stop their fighting. One would be struck with a club here, another with some sharp instrument there, and blood flowed freely. Amidst it all continued the awful din of rushing feet and the howls and screams of hellish rage.

Suddenly Quin-num, the son of old Qual-la-kup, dashed in. He had just heard of the trouble, away at the other end of the village, and jumping out of bed and tucking his blanket around him, he seized the first weapon to hand, a claw-hammer, and hurried to the rescue of his father.

I saw him rush in, trembling with anger, and I said, “Quin-num, be good! Don’t fight!”

“Oh,” he said, and his voice was wild with rage, “I could listen to what you say, but look at the blood of my father!”

And with that he let out an awful yell, and wheeling around, struck with the hammer the old chief who had clubbed his father, cutting his eye nearly out.

Then the fighting commenced with renewed vigor and continued until four in the morning. We were nearly exhausted trying to get these savage men reconciled. It was evident that the old chief and his nephew had urged on the young men, and perhaps had given them whiskey to get them to undertake this dark deed. It was an old quarrel, and jealousy and pride were at the bottom of it. Qual-la-kup was a quiet old man and his people were generally respected. His son, Quin-num, had married into Squin-es-ton’s tribe and seemed likely to secure a ruling position, which moved the other chief and his people to jealousy.

While we were in the midst of this excitement, and hardly knowing who would be the next to fall, there came a lull in the storm, and we lifted up our hearts to God for help and direction.

Just then Tsil-ka-mut arrived on the scene from the other end of the village, all painted and with his blanket tucked around his waist. The great big fellow did not touch anything or anybody, but just danced about, up and down, crying out, “My children, my children, don’t be like little boys!” And you could feel the contempt in his tone. “Our fathers used to fight, but they would go and fight like men till they were wading in blood, and take many scalps. They would never go and take a man out of his bed unexpectedly in the night. Oh, you are like little boys! like little boys!” And on he danced up and down through the long house, repeating these simple words, “Like little boys, like little boys. Oh! you are like little boys!” until these savage men dropped their clubs, hid their knives behind their blankets, looking dreadfully ashamed, and one by one walked out.

[Illustration: “The great big fellow just danced up and down, crying, ‘My children, my children, don’t be like little boys!’” _p. 76_]

After we had washed the wounds and dressed some fearful looking gashes, we offered a prayer of thanks to God and got away to rest, too much excited to sleep.

Early the next day Tsil-ka-mut and others came to the mission house to thank me for being there that night, for they said: “O missionary, if you hadn’t been there perhaps six or twelve men dead this morning. Then there would be such a savage, angry feeling in all our hearts, which would not leave us for many moons.”

“Were you not afraid?” “Did you not get hurt?” my friends have asked me.

No, thank God, we were not hurt, and as for fear, we didn’t think of it until it was all over, when we wondered we hadn’t been knocked down. Surely “the angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear him, and delivereth them.”

We had the comfort of seeing Qual-la-kup and some of his friends come into the enjoyment of the blessed light. Qual-la-kup’s brother, the uncle of David Sallosalton, and many others of his clan, became devoted Christians.

Alas! for the other poor old chief and his family; some of them did not live out half their days.

Poor, proud, jealous Quee-es-ton, the man who once knocked the missionary down and afterwards expressed his sorrow for having done so, was killed in a quarrel with some white men about whiskey. Whiskey was his great enemy, as well as that of his wife, Stah-cel-wet. They would have a supply of fire-water as often as they could get the money. I have more than once stood between them in their quarrelling, taking their whiskey away and getting them sobered up. At the time of my encounter with him, before mentioned, I pointed him to the Saviour of sinners and urged him to prepare to meet his God. He appeared repentant and seemed for a time to reform, but alas! for poor, weak human nature, he fell again. Chief Louis Good and family, of Nanaimo, now attend the services and profess Christianity. We trust they may lead lives of usefulness. He is related to the family of chiefs.

As for Tsil-ka-mut, we shall hear of him later.

Chapter IX. _Houses, Clothing, Cruel Customs._

“Thou, whose Almighty word Chaos and darkness heard, And took their flight, Hear us, we humbly pray, And where the Gospel day Sheds not its glorious ray Let there be light.” --_Marriott._

Reference has been made to the old type of heathen house, built of split cedar boards bound together with poles and withes or ropes made of cedar bark. The roof was formed of slabs of cedar, held down by large stones or by poles extending from one end to the other. Later on the roofs were made of rafters, on which were laid “shakes”--large split shingles--after the manner of the early settlers’ barns.

Under this roof, and immediately over the beds, were great sheets of cedar bark or large rush mats, placed thus better to protect the beds if the roof should leak, which it often did. There was no window, no door, except a board propped up against the entrance; no chimney, the smoke finding its way out through the cracks in the sides and roof; no floor except the hard beaten earth.

These houses, which varied in size from buildings as large as a huge barn to a small shack, were usually placed near the sea-shore or on the bank of a river. The larger ones usually accommodated a number of families, sometimes as many as eight or ten, and the building was divided by low partitions into sections for each family.

Besides this type of house they constructed for winter use an underground hut, usually spoken of as a “keekwillie house”--“keekwillie” being Chinook for deep or underground. A deep pit was dug in the ground and stout poles were placed leaning together like a tepee, with a hole at the centre. The earth was heaped up around and upon the top, very much as eastern farmers cover their potato pits. The hole in the top was the only doorway, the only passageway for light, and the only opening for the smoke to escape.

A notched pole was placed up the side of the roof and another protruded from the interior through the opening in the top. By these two poles the occupants passed in and out of this dwelling. You had to be careful, if your clothing was made of any inflammable material, in passing through the opening in the top, so close was it to the fire built below.

In olden days whole villages lived in these keekwillie or sweat houses during the winter, which were united by underground passages. In times of war they were thus able to find shelter from an enemy by passing from one to another.

In the summer camps the people lived under shelters made of large rush-mats, open on one side. In front of this opening the camp-fire was built. Of course, now many of them live in canvas tents or “sail-houses,” as they call them, “sail” being the Chinook equivalent for cloth of any kind. Many others of them live in small frame houses.

Speaking of the mats, these were very skilfully made by the women from the large bulrushes which line the river banks. These were dried and then woven together with a native twine made from the inner bark of the cedar, or wild wiry grass. These mats were a very useful commodity, for besides being used to form a shelter, they were sometimes laid in several thicknesses and made a very comfortable bed.

Tools.

In olden times the An-ko-me-nums had tools for all purposes peculiar to themselves. The Stone Age came down to later times among this people. Trees were felled and split and canoes were shaped by means of axes which were made of stone, carved into shape and notched. Around this notch was fastened a rawhide thong or cedar withe, attached to a handle. To assist in splitting the cedar logs wedges of wood, horn or bone were used. And in order to prevent the wooden wedge from splitting, withes from cedar boughs were firmly tied around its top. Planks from two to five feet wide were split out of large trees by means of these stone hammers and wedges.

[Illustration]

Their boards were planed, as were their canoes, with chisels and adzes made of jade, a beautiful dark green stone, of a nature similar to flint, which was found in large boulders in the bed of the Fraser and other rivers. Later these adzes were made from old files provided by the trading companies.

Hammers made of stone and shaped something like a pestle, and stone mortars for crushing berries and mixing food, were among their implements.

They had paint pots of stone, pipes made of slate or wood, needles of various sizes made of wood or bone, knives of slate and granite, besides spear-points and arrow-heads of flint and quartz.

Clothing And Ornaments.

In early days, on some parts of the Coast, the clothing of the people was made from cedar bark. This was prepared by taking the inner bark of the great cedar, soaking it in fresh water until it was completely soft, and then beating it on a plank with an instrument made of bone or very hard wood having grooves and ridges. It was then separated, the soft parts being parcelled out into threads or skeins. These were laid in the sun to bleach, or were dyed black or red, as suited their taste, the natural color being pale yellow.

These threads were woven into rough cloth, which was made up for women into a long, rough garment, without sleeves, tight around the neck and tied sometimes with a string of the same material around the waist. For men they made a cape with a hole in it for the head; it would come down and protect the breast and shoulders. The same material was used for towels or for packing the baby’s bed. The ordinary breech-clout was made out of this cedar cloth.

Later the hair of the dog and mountain goat’s wool were spun together and woven into blankets on simple native looms. Some of these blankets were very beautiful, with patterns all their own, representing, as in the case of the northern tribes, the totems of the wearers. Of course, in later years the common garment was the “Indian blanket,” sold by the Hudson’s Bay Company.

Chiefs and people of high rank wore the skins of animals, some of which were dressed and tanned by native methods. Some were clothed in the most beautiful furs--the priceless sea-otter, the bear, and other animals--and were thus recognized as great chiefs or great hunters.

All were fond of ornaments, such as ear-rings, necklaces, bracelets, finger rings, ankle bangles and nose jewels. Some wore large rings in their noses, while slaves often had a long stick through the hole in their noses. There was also the remarkable lip button or labret, worn by perforating the lower lips of the females, which insertion was enlarged with increasing age, from one to three and a half inches long and from one-quarter to one and a half inches wide. These latter were only worn by people of high rank.

Long shells like goose quills, called toothpick shells, about three inches long, taken from the salt water, were much used as ornaments. They were strung together and sold by the fathom, five fathoms being reckoned the price of a slave.

The men of nearly all the Coast tribes had the lobe of the ear perforated, this being done in early childhood, and frequently in olden times you would see them with large rings or large pieces of abalone shell hanging to their noses.

Ear-rings were worn in a series of perforations in the lobe of the ear. We have seen them with three and four smaller pieces of abalone shell at the upper part of the ear, or a very large one at the lower part of the ear. At a more recent date these were replaced by ear-rings of silver and gold of various designs, like their white friends.

Painting And Tattooing.

Tattooings were sometimes observed on their wrists and arms and breasts, but the custom was not so general as with the northern tribes.

They, however, in common with other Indian peoples, were accustomed to the use of paints in decorating the body. They had their own native paints, some made from ground stone, others from a certain kind of clay. They had also very strong dyes from sundry kinds of roots and bark; also an oily substance from salmon roe, as well as several kinds of gum from trees.

In dressing they painted the eyebrows black, like a half moon, the face sometimes checked in small red squares, arms and legs and part of the body red. Sometimes but half the face was painted red in squares, and sometimes black. At other times the whole face was as black as tar. Some also covered the face with a quantity of bear’s grease, almost an eighth of an inch thick, or laid it on in ridges like beads in a joiner’s work and then painted the ridge red.

They often told us that on a hot day this was to keep the sun from burning the face, and in the winter they claimed it kept the cold, sharp wind from cutting or chapping the skin.

Chiefs and people of rank used a kind of mineral or black shining powder, glistening in the sun like silver, taken from the rocks.

The picture of a fierce warrior, almost nude, painted up with these striking colors, and brandishing a knife, stone axe or war-club, and in later years armed with a flint-lock musket, was enough to terrify the beholder.

As for the ornamental effect of painting the person, of course that is a matter of taste with the Indian, as with other people. These colors were not easily removed in washing, and often had to wear off.

Strange And Cruel Customs.

At one time the Indians were very fond of bathing, entering the water once a day or oftener. In the early morning they would arouse the children and drive them into the water for their morning bath. Even when the ice had formed on the river, they were compelled to break the ice and plunge in. The little chaps naturally shrank from this rigorous treatment, and their parents, with what seemed little feeling, would take the needle-covered branches of the spruce and whip them until they obeyed. It is safe to say that only the hardier ones survived.

Flattening The Head.

Many of the southern tribes of the British Columbia Coast were in the habit of deforming the heads of their children. This custom resembles that of foot-binding among the Chinese, and other similar barbarous practices common to most heathen peoples. The Flatheads compressed the foreheads, of their little ones by means of boards or a hard cushion, or even a flat stone. The child was laid in its little basket cradle or placed upon a narrow piece of board, to one end of which another board was attached with thongs. The upper board was pulled tight down over the child’s forehead, and thus the head was pressed gradually out of shape and the forehead flattened back.

[Illustration: TWO FLATHEAD CENTENARIANS.]

In the northern part of Vancouver Island they use a circular bandage, whereby the skull acquires an extraordinary length and forms what is called the sugar-loaf head. Some of the natives of the west coast of the island placed a bandage over the forehead of the child and then laid a flat stone upon this, thus securing the necessary deformation.

The effect of this pressure was to stupefy the senses and to crush out the intellect. Many of the children died under this cruel practice.

Again and again I have expostulated with them, and often have whipped out my knife and cut the cords which bound the little sufferer, only to incur the anger of the parents, who themselves were bound by inexorable custom.

Other Cruel Practices.

The heathen were neglectful and even cruel to their old people. They have been known to leave them on islands to starve to death, and when sick they were often left in places where one would hardly leave a dog.

When a woman became a mother, and needed the most tender care, she was put outside in a cold, wretched place, all alone, and there had to remain for weeks.

Oh, cruel, cruel heathenism, how much shame and misery and suffering must be laid at thy door! But, thank God! the power of the everlasting Gospel has wrought a marvellous change in many of these particulars, and now something of the love and sympathy which marks other Christian lives is expressed in the dealings of the people with one another.

Chapter X. _Courtship And Marriage._

“Thus it is our daughters leave us, Those we love, and those who love us! Just when they have learned to help us, When we are old and lean upon them, Comes a youth with flaunting feathers, With his flute of reeds, a stranger Wanders piping through the village, Beckons to the fairest maiden, And she follows where he leads her, Leaving all things for the stranger!” --_Longfellow’s “Hiawatha.”_

An An-ko-me-num courtship, and the marriage which followed, differed entirely from that with which we are most familiar. One heathen wedding, which I witnessed early in my stay at Nanaimo, very perfectly illustrates the difference between their customs and ours.

Chief Tsil-ka-mut lived in a large old heathen house about 150 feet long by 40 feet wide. Tsil-la-meah, his eldest daughter, by his eldest wife--for he had two wives--was a modest Indian maiden, who had been strictly kept, as a chief’s daughter, according to heathen law.

On one occasion, when one of H. M. ships of war was anchored in the harbor, a number of bluejackets were allowed out on leave. They filled up with liquor in the town, and then marched down through the woods, over a mile, to the Indian village, cutting clubs as they went. When they reached the village they shouted and swore and acted like demons, and began to drive the people out of their houses and insult their young women.

Among them were two professedly petty officers, who made their way into Tsil-ka-mut’s big house, where his daughter, Tsil-la-meah, was busy with her needle, while her mother sat near her on the floor working at a mat. These rough men sat down, one on each side of the innocent maid, and began to push her. The child, for she was little more than that at the time, became afraid of them, and the anxious mother cried, “Klata-wah! klata-wah!” (“Go away! go away!”). They paid no attention and still persisted in their insults, until finally the mother, in her own language, called out for the chief, who was at the other end of the long house, taking a meal with some of his clan. Leaping over the floor Tsil-ka-mut dashed around the corner of the partition which enclosed his family room, and in a trice was facing these ruffians. Immediately he shouted, pointing to the door, “Klata-wah! klata-wah!” which in this tone of voice meant “Get out, and hurry about it.”

“Oh, no! oh, no!” said the poor fools, grinning like gaping idiots as they spoke.

With that he seized a paddle and smashed it over their heads, repeating in a towering voice, “Klata-wah! klata-wah!”

Then these big fellows, who had been sent out with others from the Home Land to help keep peace among the Indians, scampered out of the house and away without further ceremony.

It was well that a paddle was the only weapon to hand. For had Tsil-ka-mut used his old musket, or something heavier, they might have paid the penalty with their lives. And then the cry would have gone forth, “Those desperate, savage Indians, they should all of them be shot.” Unfortunately, many of them have been shot for more paltry reasons than that.

It is of the courtship and marriage of this same Tsil-la-meah, at that time a pupil in our school, that I now propose to write.

A young chief who lived some distance to the south made his way overland to her village, and began what seemed to be an old-fashioned heathen courtship. No one knew of his arrival till he was found one morning in the great long house, sitting by a post on the cold earthen floor with a blanket around him.

On my rounds to gather up the children for school I noticed this stranger, a slender young man, sitting there, looking very lonely. I asked who he was, and they told me he was a young prince from Qua-mit-son, some fifty miles away, and that he had come to see if he would be accepted as a suitor for Chief Tsil-ka-mut’s daughter. He had to remain there three days and three nights, according to custom, and if during that time he was invited to partake of food with the family of the young princess his way was all clear; if not, he could go about his business.

However, during the last day he was invited to eat with the family. We do not know that he had anything to say to the young maiden regarding the state of his affections, or whether he ever saw her during his stay there, but as soon as he had proved himself welcome to the family he was off overland to his home.

Some months after this we heard that a whole tribe of people were to arrive early one morning from the south, and that Chief Tsil-ka-mut’s daughter was going to be married to the young chief who had been there courting. The whole village was in excitement, when presently some thirty canoes were sighted rounding a point about two miles away, and a great cracking of musketry announced the coming of the strangers. On they came, beating their drums and singing the marriage song as they drew near the village.

In the lead came a band of the principal chiefs, old warriors and musicians, gorgeously painted and feathered up, standing upon a platform which was built on top of two large canoes lashed together. In their midst was the young man himself, well dressed in European style. The singing continued till they got to the beach. By this time the crowd of villagers were all thronged around the canoes. The young man and the painted warriors stepped out and quietly walked to the chief’s house, all the rest following. The villagers busied themselves packing up the visitors’ goods and hauling their canoes high up on the beach. The day was then spent in resting and feasting.

In the evening a great reception was given, when all the great dancers of the Nanaimos, by their dancing and song, welcomed the strangers. Feasting and dancing were now the order for several days.

Finally the day of departure arrived. Early in the morning the whole village was astir, and we were told that now Tsil-la-meah was to be married. We were curious to see the ceremony, and made our way to the chief’s house. Drawn up high on the bank in front of the house was a very large and beautiful new canoe, gaily painted with their old Indian paints, the bow and stern carved and ornamented in colors with animal and bird-like designs.

Inside the house we found crowds of people, all painted up, dancing and scrambling for goods. A great number of mountain goat skins were gathered at one end of the house. Busy hands tied them together in a long string, and when all was ready some of the young men took hold of one end and rushed the long string of robes down through the middle of the house. Immediately an excited scramble followed, visitors and villagers each striving for a share. Sometimes half a dozen men, getting hold of a skin, would tear it in pieces, eager to get their part of the prize. At other times, when several were good-humoredly struggling together to secure a skin, a quaint-looking old man came along and, brandishing a large knife, would cut right between their arms and each man got his part. Then followed blankets, calico and other goods, which were dealt with in the same way, and thus went on this scene of pleasure and potlatch.

Then came another part of the ceremony. The Cowichans, the friends of the young man, made ready their canoes for departure, and some by the side of the canoes and some already seated in them joined in singing one of their marriage songs, which recounted the great deeds and wealth of the ancestors of the young man, as well as his own wealth and good qualities.

During this time a number of old women attendants were preparing the young bride for the occasion. They put on her a number of calico dresses and a new bright red blanket, and painted her face in the most grotesque-looking manner. Her long flowing black hair was plaited, and hung away below her waist. Attached by a head-strap to her forehead and hanging down her back--the way they carry their burdens--was a piece of wood, the token that her friends never wanted her, as a chief’s daughter, to carry her own wood.

All being ready, she was led out by one of the women, the others, to the number of six or eight, following in single file. Each had a new red blanket hanging over her shoulders, the other end held by the one behind. And thus they marched out of the house towards the new canoe amidst the singing and shouting of the Nanaimos. Men piled their loads of new blankets into the canoe, and then the bride was helped in and seated a little astern of mid-ships. And still they piled in blankets all around her, until her head was just in sight. Thus several hundred blankets were sent off with her as a kind of dowry.

By this time a great array of canoes were strung along the shore, all ready to leave, and hundreds of people were crowded in front of the house between it and the beach. And now the Nanaimos beat their drums and sang their songs, and great orations were made by both parties.

The first orator, who represented the older chief, the father of the bride, in loud and boastful tone spoke on this wise: “Let all the people in this great country know, you people from the south and the people from the north, that this young woman is a daughter of a great chief; she and her people have been in the line of chiefs for generations. They were a great people. All the tribes feared before them. And now her father is giving her into the hands of you people of the south. Let all the Cowichans, the Saanich, the Songees and all the people to the south know that this day the young chief takes her for his wife. We charge you to take great care of her, and warn you that if anything should happen to her, any of the wild people from the north should come and take her, we shall look to you, or require her at your hands.”

At once a rough, wild-looking old fellow jumped up in one of the canoes which stood out in the water and said: “O great chief, we hear what you say, but you must remember it is not only the Nanaimos who are a great people. Our people, the father of this young prince, is a great chief among his people. We will try to do as you say. We will take care of the young princess whom he has taken for his wife. She shall be one with us, and we will come and see you again.”

Then for a time the most exciting scene occurred. Several beautiful new muskets, one after another, were thrown ashore, and in a very proud, haughty fashion a short speech was made after each present, as much as to say, “We’ll show you Nanaimo people we are not the poor people you imagine.”

This aroused the Nanaimos, who ran in turn to their different houses, bringing out muskets and blankets and either throwing them down towards the canoes or handing them to individuals--the whole accompanied by a running fire of boastful speeches and wild and frantic oratory.

This ended, the bridegroom called his young men to him, and rushing up to the large canoe where the young bride sat almost covered with blankets, they seized the canoe and with a merry shout gave it a heave, when it bounded off the bank into the water, some of them holding it back for fear it should launch out too far.

As a parting gift the young man took off his coat and hat and gave them to Tsil-ka-mut, who was clothed in a blanket only. The gift, it seemed, could be of little value, as the young fellow was quite slender, while the old chief looked as large again.

This done the young man sprang into the canoe by the side of his bride, and they were man and wife. In a moment some ten of his braves followed him, and seizing their paddles swung the big canoe out into the bay and the party was off. We on the beach shouted and waved our good-byes until they rounded the point.

The Sad State Of Heathen Womanhood.

Polygamy, with all its dreadful misery and degradation, was prevalent in former days all along the coast. Chee-at-luk, the old king of the Songees, commonly known as King Free-zee, it is said had fifteen wives. In the interior, also, I met a chief who claimed to have fourteen wives. One or two of these were the chief or permanent wives, while all the rest were treated like slaves, and possibly were slaves, purchased and often held as such.

Years ago, it is said, a man’s own sister, or, worse still, even his daughter or mother, might be among his wives. The more wives he had, the less work he would have to do. A great chief is reported to have said, “Women are made to labor; one of them can haul as much as two men; they pitch our tents, carry our wood, mend our clothes, and cook our food.”

Woman was always the slave or burden-bearer until the Gospel came and lifted her into her true social position.

It was a common thing, in those first days of my work among them, to see a man with his blanket on, painted up in great style, walking along the road as if the whole creation belonged to him, while a poor woman, with a heavy load of fish or food of some kind in a basket on her back, trudged along, hardly able to bear up under the load, and perhaps carrying a baby besides. If you said to the man, as I have said again and again, “Take the baby. Why don’t you help her?” she would say, “Oh, let him alone, sir; he is the chief,” as much as to say, “I am his slave.”

It was very common for men to have from two to four wives, and there was often a great deal of jealousy and quarrelling among them. This custom worked great injury to many of the young men, who could not get wives, and often led them to live reckless lives; while many a young woman has gone off to ruin for fear she would have to go and live with some ill-natured, dirty, lame old fellow whom she could never like.

It is wonderful, when the Gospel light came in and the Spirit of God took hold of the people, how they themselves commenced to see the evils of this custom and immediately endeavored to rectify it. It was a matter that could not have been forced upon them, but gradually they arranged it. The oldest one, perhaps, was put away with an ample dowry. Another, who had no family ties, married another man who had no wife, and, growing out of this system of polygamy, who never had a chance to have one. The one whose growing family of little ones laid heavy responsibilities upon her was usually retained. And thus, by the blessing of God, this most difficult problem was solved, and polygamy was almost entirely done away with.

First Christian Marriage.

Very interesting to me was the first marriage I performed among this people. It took place in the year 1871, on the Songees reserve, the territory of the noted old King Free-zee, opposite Victoria, in the home of Amos Shee-hats-ton (our first convert in that tribe), which had been used for prayer and class-meetings. The couple had been waiting till I should be ordained, so as to have it in their own language. There were present about twenty of the natives, including their teachers. The weather was warm and the door wide open, and the contracting parties stood with their backs to the door.

As it was the first marriage I had performed, I was a little nervous, and had to keep a close look at the book. Just when I reached the point of asking the bride, “Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband?” I glanced up, and lo! she was just slipping out of the door.

Taking in the situation, and seeing that the crowd were looking very serious, I started up singing, “Shall we gather at the river,” a hymn with which they were familiar.

We had nearly sung it through when she came peeping in at the door, as if she had a lingering desire to have the thing finished up. So I got hold of her hand and drew her towards him, placed her hand in his, laid my hand over them both, and held on until I had finished the ceremony.

With this memory before me I have married many hundreds since, and never failed to place my hand upon theirs, and hold on until the ceremony was completed.

Chapter XI. _Foods, Feasts And Follies._

“Those who attempt to reason us out of our follies begin at the wrong end, since the attempt naturally presupposes us capable of reason.”--_Goldsmith._

Nature made bounteous provision for the wants of the aboriginal inhabitants of British Columbia. The seas and rivers were teeming with fish--salmon of several kinds, halibut, cod, and sturgeon, and among smaller fish, herring, oolachan, smelts, and trout; the beaches and shallows afforded large sea crabs, clams, cockles, and oysters. The plains, valleys and mountains abounded in wild animals of many kinds--elk, moose, cariboo, deer, mountain sheep and goats, bears of different colors, and numerous smaller fur-bearing creatures. The forests, the sky and the lakes and streams were alive with members of the feathered tribe--swans, geese, ducks of several varieties, and, besides all these, the Indians were not averse to eating eagles and gulls, if necessity demanded.

Besides laying in large stores of dried meats and fish, the natives gathered large quantities of wild berries, of which there were several varieties, and dried them for their winter supplies. There were many other kinds of food, such as the inner bark of the spruce tree, many kinds of roots, wild potatoes, wild onions, wild rice, sea-weed, fish, eggs or spawn, crab apples and nuts.

Methods Of Cooking.

The people had three common ways of cooking their food: by boiling, steaming, and broiling before the fire.

To cook a quantity of provisions in one of their big tubs or boxes--for they had no pots in those days--they poured in water sufficient to cook the quantity needed, and then red hot stones, lifted with a pair of wooden tongs, were dropped in to make it boil. When salmon or other fish were to be cooked, they usually cut off the heads and tails, and kept up the boiling process until all was reduced to a broth, when it was ladled out into dishes or long troughs and set before the people. Think of seven hundred salmon cooked in this way for a single feast!

To prepare food by steaming, a large fire was first kindled on a bed of cobble stones. When the wood had burned out, the stones being very hot, layers of green grass or sea-weed were laid on the top of the stones and kept damp with water. The clams, mussels, or other shell fish--if salmon, cod, halibut or sturgeon, usually only the heads and tails were thus prepared--whatever they wished to cook, were placed upon the grass, a little water was poured upon the top, and the whole was closely covered with mats, leaves, or boughs to keep in the steam. This is much the best means of cooking clams or other shell fish. They are delicious when cooked after this fashion.

When it was desired to broil the salmon, birds, venison or other wild meats, a stick the size of a broom handle, about four feet long, was split part way down, and the meat or fish was put into the split, while little sticks were placed crossways to keep the food spread. The stick was then tied at the split end, while the other end, already sharpened, was driven into the ground by the hot camp-fire, the flat side being kept towards the fire. The oil or gravy was caught in a clam shell or other dish and poured back upon the meat while cooking. Salmon never tastes better than when cooked in this manner. Often when travelling by canoe have we had deer, bear or mountain-goat meat, ducks or geese, and even porcupine, eagle or gulls, cooked in this way. The latter is quite palatable when you are worn with travelling and the larder has become nearly exhausted.

Feasts.

It has been said, “It is always a feast or a famine with a native.”

Whether that is true or not, certain it is that the natives of the Pacific Coast have a great variety of feasts. Indians, wherever you find them, are very hospitable to strangers--the travellers and miners of this vast country would all testify to this. They are most generous, even reckless, with their food. If you are invited to a feast among them the food is piled up before you, and after having satisfied your appetite you are expected to take away all you cannot eat. If the visitor is a chief or important person, what he has left is sent home by messenger to his family. If he be any ordinary guest, he sweeps off what remains--which is usually much more than he has eaten--into a corner of his blanket or his shirt, and carries it away. If the feast be of whale’s blubber, porpoise, fish of similar kind, or venison, bear or mountain goat, it is cut up into slices and strung on a sharp stick, or carried in his hand to the rest of his family.

At a big feast there are always several masters of ceremonies and a number of waiters in attendance. These never sit down while the eating is going on, though often a feast will last for six or seven hours, having as many courses. There are numerous small, every-day feasts where neighbors call upon each other in a happy, social way.

One of the greatest offences to an Indian is to refuse to accept an invitation which he has given you to eat with him and his friends.

Music And Dancing.

With most feasting is usually associated dancing and other merriment.

The readiness with which the Indians pick up our beautiful hymn tunes and learn to play our musical instruments has been remarked. Indeed, these people are naturally very musical, and in their heathen state were passionately fond of singing their own native melodies. Of songs they had a great variety: war songs, marriage songs, songs for feasts and public gatherings, mourning songs for the dead, songs when the fish came, dancing songs, canoe songs, and many others. When we asked the old dance-song maker where they got their music, he replied:

“We get it from the wind in the trees, from the waves on the sea-shore, from the rippling stream, from the mountain side, from the birds, and from the wild animals.”

As for musical instruments, we are all familiar with the simple Indian drum, made by stretching a deerskin tightly over a hoop. Besides this they used as a drum a big square box, painted in different colors, with figures of birds and animals upon it.

When the drummer was at work crowds would, accompany him, beating time with sticks upon boards. The sound was weird in the extreme, if heard at the dead of night, coupled with the shouts of the heathen dancers.

Besides the drums were rattles of various shapes, used by the chiefs and conjurers, and pipe whistles--indeed, whistles of many kinds, imitating birds and animals--some of which were used by the hunters in pursuit of game.

With much of their music is associated their pagan dancing. There are professional dancers among the tribes, who as a rule are identified with the clans of the medicine men. The heathen dances are very fascinating to the heathen mind, and in nothing is the “backsliding” of the Indian more noticeable than in his return to the dance.

At the dancing season certain persons become possessed, or as the An-ko-me-nums say, “the you-an, or dance-spirit, is on them.” They dream dreams and see visions, and move about in a hypnotic state, unable, or at least declining, to work, and roaring out at intervals a sort of mournful sobbing, “Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh.” Then they go from house to house, hunting up every kind of food they can get hold of, and gorging themselves many times a day. At night these dancers, all daubed and plastered with grease and paint, would gather in the large houses, where the people were assembled, and work themselves up into a frenzy, prancing up and down and round about, performing numerous contortions. Then they would break out in song, or in monotonous recitation relate their dreams and visions and tell many weird tales. Then round and round, and up and down again, they would prance, until they dropped from sheer exhaustion, or fell, perhaps, into the fire, and another took their place. All this time the onlookers watched and listened to the chanting and the story, or screamed and pounded in frantic accompaniment to the dancing.

The heathen dance is certainly demoralizing, and, like everything of heathenism, is of the devil.

White Man’S Dance Vs. Indian Dance.

Early in my stay at Nanaimo four or five of the leading chiefs came to me with the proposition that if I would allow them to go on with their potlatching and wild dancing every day in the week, they would come to church and rest on Sunday.

“No; you had better stop all your heathenism,” was my answer.

Nothing daunted, they came back again later. Now they would all be good on Sabbath and stand by me if they could dance. It was not very bad, and they had to keep up a little of what their fathers told them. And if I would not speak against it or pray against it they would all be good soon and would have all their children go to school.

“No, I cannot have anything to do with the old way, the dance, the potlatch, etc., it is all bad,” I said.

Then they whispered to each other, “Oh, he is like a post; you cannot move him.”

To give an idea of the scenes witnessed on these dancing occasions: Old Sna-kwe-multh, a man who had been taken a slave by some northern tribe, but who had found his way home, wished to demonstrate his bravery. At a great feast he came rushing in half naked and danced before the people. As his frenzy increased he slashed at his thighs with some kind of sharp instrument, and then with both hands caught up his own blood and drank it, to prove himself a brave.

A number of white men, who had been witnesses of the shameful scene, ran out and cried, “The devil is in the man.”

I denounced the custom and pleaded with them to give it up. Speaking to the old Chief Squen-es-ton, I said, “You must stop it. It is of the devil.”

“Oh,” said he, “the white man’s dance worse than the Indian’s dance.”

“How do you make that out?” I said.

“Oh, Indian man, alone, dance all round the house and sit down. And then Indian woman she dance all round and she sit down. But white man take another man’s wife and hug her all round the house.”

What could I say to the argument? What would you have said?

Potlatching.

Of the many evils of heathenism, with the exception of witchcraft, the potlatch is the worst, and one of the most difficult to root out.

At one time its demoralizing influence was so manifest that the Government passed a law prohibiting it, but this excellent law was seldom properly enforced.

“Potlatch”--the word is from the Chinook and means “to give.” Literally the idea is the giving away of everything a man possesses to his friends. In return he gets nothing except a little flattery, a reputation for generosity, and poverty.

“Tlaa-nuk” is the An-ko-me-num word, and it suggests something more than “a giving,” or a feast, or an entertainment, or a ceremony, for it is all of these and more. It is a system of tribal government which enforces its tyrannical rule upon all, and overrides all other laws of the nation or the individual.

Its outward manifestation of the heathen feast and dance, with the giving of gifts to all present, is bad enough, but this is as nothing to the unseen influence behind it all.

The potlatch relates to all the life of the people, such as the giving of names, the raising into social position, their marriages, deaths and burials.

A man desires, or thinks himself entitled to, some coveted position, property or distinction, and for years, perhaps, makes preparation to secure it. This can only be done by the law of “tlaa-nuk” (potlatch), and so when ready he calls together from far and near his friends and relatives, when, after much feasting and dancing and speech-making, he gets up on a high platform and proceeds to give away all that he possesses.

The ambition of an Indian to be thought greater, richer and more influential than any of his neighbors leads him not only to give away a large part of his goods--which, as a matter of fact, he expects returned with interest on some future occasion, at another such gathering--but wantonly to destroy very much in such a manner that it can never be restored. For instance, think of a man taking a fine large canoe, valued at, perhaps, one hundred and fifty dollars, and smashing it into pieces; or of another seizing a number of beautiful new guns or rifles and bending and breaking them so that they would be utterly useless; or of another setting fire to piles of food and of goods. Some few years ago, at one such gathering, the poor, foolish creatures took rolls of new bills, the product of their summer’s work, and threw them into the fire.

I knew a man at Nanaimo who, together with his wives and children, worked for years saving and getting together much property; and then a great potlatch was given, and everything went, to the last stitch of clothing, and he and his family were left practically naked to face the winter, without any provisions. His children nearly starved, while he contracted a cold which led to consumption, from which he died.

Some time ago it was rumored that the law against the potlatch was to be repealed. This drew a strong protest from several quarters, among them from some of the Indians themselves.

About that time the following letter, which explains itself, appeared in the local press, signed by an Indian whose identity was vouched for by a gentleman who knew him well:

“Having heard that in the last session of the provincial parliament a resolution was passed asking Dominion Government to reconsider the potlatch question with a view to repealing section 114, and that there is to be an inquiry as to the evils of the potlatch, we should like to tell the public what the potlatch is.

“Really and truly it is destruction to life and property, as we shall show. The first is that the women go from home to other places for immoral purposes, to get money or blankets to give away, or potlatch, as people call it. The second is that they sell their daughters to other men as soon as possible, sometimes twelve or thirteen years old, marriage they call it; the people do not care so long as they get blankets to potlatch with. And the third is that they hate each other so much because of their trying to get one above the other in rank, as it is according to how many times they potlatch that they get the rank, and keep it, too. If they could they would even poison one another. Even now they think they kill one another by witchcraft, with intent to kill, and they believe that they do kill. A man does not care for any relatives when the potlatch is in question. The potlatch is their god; they will sacrifice everything to it--life, property, relatives, children, or anything, must go for him to be a ‘tyee’ (chief) in the potlatch.

“A man after giving a potlatch will sit down, his children, too, without knowing where he is going to get his food and clothes, as he has given away everything, and he has borrowed half of it, for which he has to pay back double. And another thing is, when they are mad with one another they will break canoes or tear blankets or break a valuable copper, to shame their opponent. The potlatch is one fight, with quarrelling and hating one another.

“And another is the desecration of the dead. The hamatsa, or medicine man, when he first comes from the woods, carries a dead body in his arms, professing to have lived on such things when in the woods, and as soon as the hamatsa comes in the house the other hamatsas all get up and go and tear the body to pieces among them like dogs; besides all this they bite the arms of one another; and the other thing is that when a man gets ill he thinks he is witchcrafted, and then his relatives will go and take the dead body that they think he is fixed with: they cut and mutilate it to undo the work that they think has been done to him. We have just heard of such a case from Kurtsis, of a woman’s dead body having been taken out and cut, to undo the work that they think has been done to a certain man. All these things are pure facts, and we are prepared to prove them if need be, and could tell other evils, but we are afraid of tiring the public.”

Gambling.

The Indians are passionately fond of gambling. In olden times they gambled, not with cards, but usually with round wooden pins about three inches long, or with shells and pebbles.

The gamblers would sit opposite each other on the grass or in the large houses, and a great crowd would gather on both sides, making a rattling noise with short sticks on boards, and singing to work themselves up for luck, or “power,” as they called it. The gambling would go on night and day, almost week in and week out, until they had not a shred of clothes left. Money, muskets, canoes, horses, and sometimes the houses over their heads, they would stake on a chance.

The story is told of one old man among the Kling-gets who gambled away everything he had. Then, with the hope that he would have a lucky day some time, he put himself down and gambled away for days, still losing, until his wife, seeing that he was “going,” persuaded him to stop. She had to pay two hundred blankets to buy him back.

The gambling passion still lives with them, and now some of them have adopted the methods of their white brothers--they were always fond of imitating him, even to their own hurt--and are going deeper and deeper into sin.

Chapter XII. _Native Worship And Superstitions._

“Ye whose hearts are fresh and simple, Who have faith in God and Nature, Who believe, that in all ages Every human heart is human, That in even savage bosoms There are longings, yearnings, strivings, For the good they comprehend not, That the feeble hands and helpless, Groping blindly in the darkness, Touch God’s right hand in that darkness And are lifted up and strengthened....” --“_Hiawatha._”

The An-ko-me-nums, like most of the Indians of British Columbia, were spirit worshippers. First of all, they believed in a great Chief Spirit, who created all things and was all-wise and all-powerful, and ruled over them for good, but who was not actively concerned for them, and whom they never called upon except in cases of great difficulty or distress.

Then they believed in a multitude of lesser spirits, who were in most cases evilly disposed towards them. These inhabited certain mountains and headlands and rocky, dangerous points, around which the waves raged and tossed their frail canoes, and sometimes upset them. A swirling eddy, a dangerous rapid, a lonely lake in the mountains, a steep precipice where perhaps at some time or other one of their people ha