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By A. L. O. E.
DAYBREAK IS BRITAIN, is.
HA HA L.i, THE .1 E 11 IS II S L A YE.

\ .Story o» Kaily

Published at 5O, Paternoster Row, London.
And Sold by all Booksellers.

CANADA

ARCHIVES

ex lihris

'IIIK RIGHT KKV. JOHN IIORI>i:\, lilSllOl' OF MOOSONF,!-,

«1%^

FORTV-TWO YEARS

AMi'NGSl THE

INDIANS AND FSkiMO

. ■ ".\ fcu>M' -»»•/* *:•>'''- •'.^'X

I'V

]U',ATRICE BAT'lY

■A*.

^ LONTrON

THE RtLlGfOUS T«, :., T SOCtETV

ii^^

•^^■*-

\' ■;

r-'Tn- i^Kv, lOHN nour>nv, tii^HOP ui wo'jfv-.'^i.t

! /

5>Af^':

rORT\'-'rWO Yl'ARS

.\Mr>N(i>r riiK

INDIANS AND KSKIMO

riCrUKKS FROM Till. i.HK Ol"

THE RIGHT REVEREND JOHN HORDEN

1TK>T IHSIIUP OF .MOOSHNKE

liV

rn^ATRICE BATrV

LONDON
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY

56 Pateknostek Row and 65 Sr Fail's C::;.r'ciiYAi<u

rRINTFn IlY

SPOTTISWOODE ANIJ CO., NKW-STREKT SQU/VRF

LONDON

!• R E F A C E

Till-: ccjiilciils of the present volume are in a lari^e
measure the outeomc of a K)nL;-eonlinued per.-onal
eorrespondencc with the late l^ishop of Moosonee.

As ICditor of the O^nr/ Mdoaziiic I received from
him many appeals for aid in the various dei)artments
of his work. I asked for L^raphic descriptions of the
surroundings ; and I did not ask in vain. Ouestitjiis
concerning the daily life of himself antl those about
him, the food and habits of the people, modes of
travel, dress, climate, products, seasons, and special
incidents were duly answered and full)- entered into.
The bishop had the pen of a ready writer, and all
that he wrote was graphic in the extreme. He was,
however, modestly unaware of his talent in this
respect, until his eyes were opened to the fact by the
well-deserved appreciation of the letters and papers

rKlU'ACE

wliich came more frequently and more rej^ularly
increasinc:^ in interest as time wore on.

The bulk of this book is made up of extracts
from this correspondence, with just enougli informa-
tion supplied to give the reader a clear idea of the
bishop's life and work. The journal of his fir^t
voyage to the distant sphere of his future labours he
sent to me in quite recent years, with the expressed
hope that it might be published. The various papers
and letters afford not only a vivid picture of life
amoncrst the Indians and Khkimo, but a valuable
example of what may be accomplished, even under
the most untoward circumstances, by indomitable
perseverance, unwavering fortitude, and cheerful self-
denial, accompanied always by prayer and a firm
reliance upon God. 'I can do all things through
Christ who strengtheneth me ' was the bishop's watch-
word. His motto— ' The happiest man is he who is
most diligently employed about his Master's business.
Should the pictures of life and work offered in
the accompan)ing volume lead others to follow in
Bishop llorden's footsteps, their purpose will have
been indeed fulfilled.

CONTIiNTS

cJiAiii-.i;

I. The Voyage On

II. A( 'JlIKIMi llli: LANUr.MiE

III. l.AKI V Lll'E

IV. WlMER Al MOU^E luKl .

V. A Visir TO THE E^kim" at Whale

\l. School Work ...-••

VII. FiRsr Retirn to Englam-

VIII. Again ai Work , . . .

IX. Days of Lai;our . . • •

X. The iiibHoi'Ric of Mchkvinee .

XI. A I'lCNlC AND AN InDLVN DaNlE

XII. Organlsation and Travel .

XIII. York Eaciory . . . •

XIV. The Return to Moose .

XV. Trying Times ....

Kl\ Ll:

I'AMi

so
56
60
70
76

83
92

105
116

132

CONTEXTS

I IIA1 Tl-.R

X\'I. ClIRI^-lMAS AMI Xf,\V ^'l•:AU^^ DaV at Al.IlANV

X\'II. TiiK I'ACKi:i Mu.Mii

X\III. CllUKCIIIl:!. AM) MaIAWAKIMMA

XIX. A Uav ai 1;i.>ii(jI'"s C'.'I i;i ....

XX. Cl.O.Sl.Ni; LAIKiUli:^

XXI. Las I Daws

lAC.l,

150

160

J/ 9

A LOc; HUT

LIST OP ILLUSTRATIONS

rA(,K
Till-: Rir.iiT RF.vEKKNn John lInKhF.N, iJisiior or
MOOSONEF, ...... Fi(Vitis/ii\c

A l,o(, II UT 9

Map (U- MoosoM'.i: 12

A Trader's Siori; },G

A Groui' of Eskimo 46

Shooting a Rai'Id 99

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

lAGK

CaNADIAN TiMliF.R

Moose Factory

A I'ACK OK THE CRI:K ' TiLCKIM'S I'ROCKE.Sb '

A Doc; Sledce

AiHANV, Hudson's 15ay

Ax Indian ikavki.i.inc, on .Sno\v-siu)K.-, ,
The Ciukch at Fort George .
CiirRcuii.i. IN Summer ....
On Tin: Churchill River ....
A Large Canoe shooting a Raimd

. 119

. 124

. 145

• 151

. 156

. 161

. 169

. 173

. 177

. IS9

SiunJ'iirU's Oe,xU:^:ulii London
MAr or MOOSONEIi (scale, 400 MILKS TO THE INXIl).

FORTY-TWO YEARS

AMOXC.ST TIIK

INDIANS AND ESKIMO

cnArTp:R i

TIIK VoVAC.K OUT

In the year 1670, a few English gentlemen, 'the
Governor and Compan}' of Adventurers of luigland
trading to Hudson's Bay,' obtained a charter from
King Charles II. The company consisted of but
nine or ten merchants. They made large profits by
bartering English goods with the Indians of those
wild, and almost unknown, regions for furs of the fox,
otter, beaver, bear, lynx, musk, minx, and ermine.

The company established forts, and garrisoned
them with Highlanders and Norwegians. The
clijiiate was too cold and the food too coarse to
attract Englishmen to the service. The forts, or
posts, were about a hundred and fifty or two hundred

THE VOYAGE OUT

miles apart, and to them the Iiuh'ans resorted in the
spriiiiT of the year witli the furs obtained by huntiiiL;,
snaring, and otlicr modes of capture. In return for
these tiicy obtained .c^uns, pouxbr anrl shot, traps,
kettles, axes, cloth, and blankets. The standard of
value for cver}'thini; was a l)eavcr skin. Two w hite
foxes were worth one beaver skin, two silver foxes
were worth eii^ht beaver skins, one pocket-hand-
kerchief was worth one beaver skin, one )ard of blue
cloth was wortli one-and-a-half beaver skins, a fr)'in<.j-
pan was worth two beaver skins. As time went on,
and the value of furs in the market rose or fell, the
prices of certain things altered, l^ut this is a sample
of what they were when the hero of our tale first went
out to Hudson's Ba\' in 1S51.

Let us accompany the young missionary on his
voyage to Aloose Fort, the chief of the company's
trading posts. * We, that is, m\' dear wife and myself,'
he writes, 'went on board ship at Gravesend on June 6,
1 85 I. Our ship was strongly built, double through-
out ; it was armed wM"th thick blocks of timber, called
ice chocks, at the bows, to enable it to do battle with
the ice it would have to encounter. At Stromness
we remained a fortnight, taking in a portion of our
cargo and a number of men who were ooino- to
Hudson's \\i\y in the service of i-he company. It was
a solitary voyage. All the v • wc saw but one
vessel. On a Saturday- afternoon wc entered the
Straits.

* Tlie weather had been very io^^^y ; but the fog
rose, the sun shone out, and a most beautiful spectacle

77/ A' /'(M '.;(;/; OUT 15

presented itself. The waiter was as smootli as a fish-
pond, and in it were lying blocks of ice of all sizes
and shapes, some of them resembling chi'.rches, others
castles, and others hulls of shii^s, while a'; a con-
siderable distance, on either side, rose the wild apd
drear)' lantl a land of tlesolation and death, without
a tree or a blade of grass, but high and mountainous,
with masses of snow lying in all the hollows. The
captain and mates became very anxious. The dangers
of the voyage had commenced. An ice-stage, raised
eight or nine feet above the deck, was erected, and
on this continually walked up and down one or two
of the ship's officers. A man, too, was constantly at
the bow on the look out, and }-et the blows we
received were very heavy, setting the bells a-ringing,
and causing a sensation of fear.

' When we had got about half-way through the
Straits, we saw some of the inhabitants of this dreary
land. " The Eskimo are coming," said a sailor.

' By-and-by, I heard the word Chiuio frequently
repeated, which means " Welcome," and presently we
saw a number of beautiful little canoes coming towards
us, each containing a man. These were soon followed
by a large boat containing several women and children.
They all came alongside, bringing with them seal-
skins, blubber, fox-skins, whalebone, and ivory. These
they freely parted with in exchange for pieces of iron,
needles, nails, saws, &c., they setting a very o-reat
value on anything made of iron. Now these people,
who were very, very dirty, were not dressed like
English people, but both men and women wore coats

THE VOYAGE OUT

made of seal-skins, breeches of Horr.skins, and i.oots
of well-dressed seal-skins, the r)nly difference between
a man's and a woinan's dress bcini^^ that the woman
had a lon[_,^ tail to her coat, reachinL( almost to the
ground, and an immense hood, in which she carried
her little naked !)aby, which was perched on her
shoulders.

' Ar^ain hoistincf our sails, in two or three da\'s wc
cleared the Straits and entered Hudson's \\\\\.
Danii^er was not over. Our difficulties had scarcely
ccMiimenced. ^Ahead, stretching as far as the e}-e
could reach, is ice — ice ; now we are in it. More and
more difficult becomes the navicration. We are at a
standstill. Wc g(j to the mast-head -ice ! rugged ice
in every direction ! One day passes b)-— two, three,
four. The cold is intense. ()ur hnpes sinlv lo\\cr
and lower ; a week passes. The sailors are allowed
to get out and have a game at football ; the days pass
on ; for nearly three wecKS we are imprisoned. Then
there is a movement in the ice. It is opening. The
ship is clear ! Every man is on deck. Up with the
sails in all speed ! Crack, crack, go the blows from the
ice through which wc are passing ; but wc shall now
soon be free, and in the open sea. Ah ! no prisoner
ever left his prison with greater joy than we left
ours.

' A few days afterwards, as evening was closing in,
there was a great commotion on board : heav)' chains
were got on deck ; we were nearing the place of
our destination ; in the midnight darkness the roar
of our guns announced the joyful intelligence that we

i.i'

rni-: vovagi-: out

were anchored at the Second lUio)', only twenty-
five miles from Moose VoxV

Lookinn^ at the map of North America, a little
inland from the coast of Labrador, you will find
Hudson's l?ay, and in the south-west corner, at the
mouth of the IMoose River, Moose h'ort. Here is the
residence of the deinit)- c^overnor and his subordinate
officers; a number of people are anxiouslv Inokinir
out ; they are expectin;; the one ship that comes to
them in the course of the year. A small vessel lyin^L^
a little \va\- out to sea has raised the loncf-looked-for
signal, and rejoicing is the order of the day.

El*

\mt

LilAl'lKK II
ACQriKIN(. Tin: LANC.UAr.K

OUK travellers wxM-c deli-hted with the appearance of
Moose lu)rt and its inimediate surroundin-s. The
little church, the line of neat cotta-es with their
gardens in front, and the new factory buildin-s, lying
irregularly along the banks of the river, gave the
plac^'e almost the air of an English village. Towering
picturesquely above all, was the old fort, strongly
built and Icjopholed, now serving the purpose of a
salesroom, but once needed as a place of defence from
attacks of the Indians. Poplars, pines, and juniper
formed a green background, and the place bore a
smiling and pleasant aspect, altogether surprising to
those who had expected to arrive on a barren and

desolate shore.

Mr. Ilorden was received with unmistakable joy
by the people, who had long been left without a
teacher, his predecessor in the office having quitted
Moose Fort the year before. He was at once at
home amongst the Indians, and immediately set about
learning their difficult language.

Greek and Latin he declared to be tame affairs
' in comparison with Sakehao and Ketemakalemao,
with tlieir animate and inanimate forms, their direct

ACOUIRING THE LA XG CAGE

I';

I ■

and inverse, their recii)rocal and rcllectivc, their absci-
lute and relative, their want of an infinitive mood,
and their two first persons phn-al. This I found
very troublesome f<^r a Ioulj time ; to use kclauanou
for we, when I meant / and iv// ; and UiliVian, when
I wished to express / and he. If mereK' the extra
pronoun \\.A required to be learnt, I shoukl not have
minded, but I did mind very much when I found
in the verb the pronoun inseparabl}' mixed up with
the verb, and that in porti(jns of it the whole of the
personal pronouns were expressed by different in flec-
tions of the verb. Ikit I had the very stron^c^est of
motives to ur^^e me forward : the desire to s[)eak t(j
the Indian in his own langua^^e the life-<3nving words
of the Gospel.

* I had been at my new home hut a lew days
before I set to work in earnest. The plan 1 adopted
was this : every week, with the assistance of an
interpreter, I translated a small portion of the service
of the English Church. This I read over and over
again, until I had nearly committed it to memory,
and was able to read it on Sunday. The Lord's
Prayer and a few hymns I found already translated,
and I soon added a few ]i)'mns more. Chapters of
the l^iblc and sermons were rendered by the inter-
preter sentence by sentence. Rather tedious, but we
improved fast, and I shall no^ soon forget the expres-
sion of surprise an \ joy on the countenances of my
congregation, when, after a few months, I made my
first address to them without p" interpreter — but I
am anticipating.

B 2

\ \

yl O ) U I RING THE /.. I Xu UACE

\ k

' My plan was thrccHjld. I provided m^-sclf witli
two books and a living instructor ; the hitler a young'
Indian witli a smattering of iMiglish. The first of
thetwt) books was a small one to carry in my pocket ;
in it 1 wrote a few (juestions w ith the aid of the
interpreter. Having learnt them, I went into an
Indian tent, sat down among its inmates, drew out
book and pencil, and put one of my questions. One
of those present would at once give me an answer,
entering generally into a long explanation, of which
I did not understand a word. However, they,
knowing my aim, talked on, and I listened, Vv'ondering
what it was all about. Getting gradually bewildered,
1 returned home. I repeated the process again and
again, and after a few days light began to shine out
of darkness, the jumble divided itself into words, the
book and pencil no longer lay idle, every word that I
could separate from the others was at once jotted
down, all were copied out, translated as far as possible,
and committed to memory ; and presently I got not
only to catch up the words, but likewise to understand
a good deal of \\ hat was said.

'The second ^ook was a much larger one, and
ruled. Having this and pen and ink by my side, I
would call an Indian, and he would take his seat
opposite ; I then made him understand that I wished
him to talk about something, and that I wished
to write down what he said. He would begin to
speak, but too fast ; I shook my head, and said,
Pakack\ piikack — "slowly, slowly," and at a more
r'^asonable rate he would recommence. As he spoke,

ACQUIRING THI-: LAXGCAGK

♦

so I wrote, w ritinc^ on ever}' otiicr line. \Vc sat tluis
until I could bear no more. Then, with the inter-
preter's assistance, I wrote the transhition of each
word directly under it, thus making an interline. The
work was a little tr}'ing, but by it I gained words, I
gained words in combination, I gained the inflections
of words, I gained the idiom of the language, I
gained a knowledge of the mind of the Indian, the
channel in which his ideas ran, I gained a knowledge
of his mode of life, the trials and privations to which
he was subjected.

* Now as to the Indian lad. I began by drilling
him in the powers of an hjiglish verb, and after a
few da}'s we said a lesson to each other, he saying — ■
1^^'rst person singular, I love ; second person singular,
thou lovest, (Sic. Then I going on with mine, thus :

A\' saki/iou .

A'd sakehoK .

Sake/ii!(>

A\' siikcliaihim

Kc sakchaiwu

Ke sakclia-iVcu

Sak'jJiawiih

Then the inverse form

Ne sakehik .

Ke sakehik .

Sakekiko

A^e sakilukoiiati .

Ke sakeJtikonau .

Ke sakekiko:v(Ut .

Sakekikowiik

I lo\"c him.
Thou lo\cst him.
He loves him.
W'o love him.
We love him.
Vou 1()V(' him.
They lo\e him.

AFe loves he.

Thee loves he.

He is loved by him.

Us loves he.

You loves he.

They are loved by him.

o-. ACnUIRING THE LANGUAGE

And so on and on. The sul.junctivc mood, with its
iks and nks and nks and r////r/'S was tcrnbl)' for-
midable, still the march was onward, exery week the
drud<^ery became less and the pleasure ^n-eater, and
every week I was able to enter more and more mto
conversation with those who fcn-med my spn-itual

char'^c.

'hi my talk I made mistakes enou-h. Once I
had a class of N'oun- men sittin- around me, and was
t(qiin- tliem of the creation of Adam and hAC. M
went well until I came to speak of ICvc's creatu.n ; I
<r<.t as far as " (nnl created ICve out of one ot

Adam's ," when scmethin- more than a snule

broke forth from my companions. Instead of saym^i;,
<« out of one of Adam's ribs," I had said, " out of one
of Adam's pipes." Ospikaknn is "his rib," and

vsh7.u-(kiiii, " his pipe."

' After ei-ht months I never used an mterpreter
in my public ministrations, and I had been in the
country but a few da)s more than a twelvemonth,
when, standin- by the side of -ood P,ishop Anderson,
I interpreted liis sermon to a con-re-ation of Albany
Indians. I say this with deep thankfulness to God
for assistin- me in my formidable undertaking.'

II :

CHAPTER III

I'Aia^V lAVV)

Mr. IT()RI)i:n liad not only a wonderful power of
acquirint^ lans^uagcs, l)ut a wonderful power of
adaptinc( himself to all thint^s, people, and circum-
stances. This stood him in L^ood stead throui^hout
liis career, l^orn in ICxeter, January 20, 182S, in
humble circumstances, sim[)ly educated, apprenticed
to a trade in early boyhood, he lixed to attain a high
position. All difficulties were ovcrcomebyliis daunt-
less energy of purpose and unwavcrin<^ perseverance,
lie wished to study, but his father put him to a
smithy, lie desired to become a missionar)', but his
relatives discouraged the idea. He did not rebel, he
did not kick against authority, but he neglected no
opportunity to further his purpose. He read and
thought, he attended evening Hible readings, he taught
in the Sunday school, and when his indentures were
out he left the anvil for the desk, lie obtained the
post of usher in a boys' school. i\nd now being
independent, he offered himself to the Church
Missionary Society, with a view to going to India as
a lay agent, and he was accepted with the under-

EARLY LIFE

standing that he would await a suitable opening,
which might perhaps not occur for two f^\- three
years.

He was willing to wait, but his patience was not
to be tried. The society learnt that the Wesleyans
had withdrawn from Hudson's Bay, and that there
was great need of a teacher at Moose Fort. Here
was an opening for a young man such as John
Horden appeared to be. Hastily he was telegraphed
for — Hudson's Bay was not India! But he was
willing to go. It were better he should take a wife
with him. The lady was ready, like-minded with
himself. They must start in three weeks. They
agreed to do it. He went home, got married, and
returned to London. The needful outfit was hastily
prepared, and the}- started, as we have seen. Such
in short is the story of our hero's earlier life.

Large and varied were to be his experiences in his
later years. The society at home hearing of his success
with the Indians, his great progress in learning the
language, and his read}' adaptability to all the require-
ments of the post, had determined to send him to the
r)ishop of Rupert's Land for ordination. ' But,' saitl
the bishop, * this plan was formed in ignorance of the
distance and difficulties of travelling in this part of
the country, and I did not wish to expose Mr. Horden
with wife and bab}- to it.' Bishop Anderson chose
rather to traverse his huge diocese and ordain the
young missionary at Moose.

On the morning of June 28, in the year 1852,
the start was made from St. Andrews, Red River, in a

EARLY LIFE

'■S

canoe decorated by one of the bishop's scliolars with
a mitre and the Union flag at the stern, and at tlie
bow a rose and duck. Voy the latter ' I mii^ht have
substituted the dove with the oh've branch, had I
known of it in time,' says the bishop, ' but it was
done to surprise me, and the more familiar object was
naturally enough selected.' The provisions consisted
largely of flour and pemmican, the clothing, of the
bishop's robes and a few necessaries, the bedding, of
a pillow vv'ith a buffalo robe and blankets. The
journey lasted six weeks. Throughout it the bishop
confirmed, married, and baptized as he passed from
post to post, and on arriving at Moose J-'ort the work
was repeated. He found the Indians full of love and
regard for their teacher. ' He has their liearts and
affections,' he wrote, * and their e)'es turn to liim at
once. This is his best testimonial for holy orders.'

Careful examination of the candidate still further
convinced the bishop of his suitability, and when the
annual ship arrived bringing an English clergyman,
the Rev. E. A. Watkins, destined for Eort George, he
no longer delayed, but ordained Air. Ilorden both
deacon and priest, Mr. Watkins presenting. The
bishop and Air. Watkins had then to hasten on their
several ways, lest earl}- winter might overtake them
ere they reached their destinations. And so the
ardent, earnest young catechist was left at Moose,
pastor as well as teacher of his flock, known to and
esteemed by every man, v.'oman and child of the In-
dian families who resorted thither during the summer
season, and supremely happy in his work and position.

EARLY LIFE

The home in which he and his wife dwelt was of
the simplest, its walls were of plain pine wood ; but
within it was enlivened by the baby prattle of their
first-born child, baptized by the bishop, Elizabeth
Anderson. Without, it was surrounded b)'a garden,
in which some hardy flowers grew side by side with
potatoes, turnips, peas, and barley. Moose is not by
any means bare of wild flowers, and in mosses it is
very rich, whilst goodly clumps of trees waved their
branches in the breeze on an island only five minutes'
walk from the house. During the winter the mis-
sionary and his famil}', together with the three or four
gentlemen of the Hudson's Bay Compan}', with their
servants, and a few sick and af^cd Indians and
children, were the sole inhabitants of the settle-
ment. Then Mr. Horden gave himself up to his little
school, to his translation work, and to such building
operations as in course of time became necessary — a
school-house, a church, a new dwelling-house. After
dinner he was occupied with hammer, chisel, saw^ and
plane until dark. In the evening he gave instruction
to a few young men.

One such, whom he employed for a time as a
school assistant in later years, he had the pleasure of
sending in due course for ordination by the Bishop of
Rupert's Land, who appointed him to the charge of
Albany station, one hundred miles north of Moose,
an important outpost, at which eighty families of
Indians congregated during the summer. Ifamiah
Bay, another post, fifty miles east of Moose, was
resorted to by fifty families ; Rupert's House, one

EARLY LIFE

hundred miles cast, was frequented by sixty fami-
lies ; and Kevoogoonisse, 430 miles south, by thirty
families. All these places were to be visited by
iMr. Ilorden, as well as Martin's Falls, three hundred
miles from Alban}', and Osnaburi^, two hundred miles
further on ; also Flying Post, one hundred from Ke-
voogoonisse, and New Brunswick, one hundred from
laying Post.

This was sufficient to appal the mind and daunt
the courage of one still }'oung and inexperienced.
It did not daunt John Ilorden. He longed only to
teach all who were thus placed under his ministerial
charge. The journeys must be made at particular
seasons, as throughout the greater part of the year no
Indians were at the trading-posts.

CHAPTER IV
WINTER AT MOOSE EORT

The four seasons arc called in the Indian toncriie,
Sckwun, Nepin, Tukwaiikin, and Pepooa. Sprin[^
begins about the middle or end of May, wlicn the ice
in the river breaks up. Vegetation proceeds rapid!}-.
In a few da}'s the bushes look green, and within a
fortnight the grass and trees appear in summer garb.
Sometimes the 'breaking-up' is attended with danger,
often with inconvenience.

In the spring of i860 the little settlement was
visited with a disastrous flood. The ground all
around is low, not a hill within seventy miles. Mr.
Ilordcn was occupied in building his new church —
the frame already rested on the foundations. One
Sunday morning it floated off and took an excursion
of nearly a quarter of a mile, and with the aid of
ropes, poles, and other implements it had to be
dragged back to its former position and strongly
secured. * The ice,' said Mr. Horden, ' made much
more havoc than it did in '57. A few days after
the water had subsided I found my garden thickly
planted with ice blocks of a considerable size ; but our
gardening operations were not impeded, we were able

» .,

U7.\tj:a' at .uoosj^ fort

I ii

to raise .'i lai'i:,^c quantity of potatoes of very f^ood
quality. The effects of a flood arc not always evident
at once ; it is after the lapse of months that they
become apparent, when the poor Indian on arriving
at his winter hunting-grounds finds that the water
has been there, and destroyed nearly the whole of the
rabbits. Me is reduced to great straits, and the
energies of the whole family are required to keep
them from starvation.'

Rabbits are the staple food of the Indians in the
season. The skins, being of little value for barter,
are used by them as blankets, the women sewing them
very neatly together.

In iS6i ]\Ir. Ilorden writes : * In May we were
again threatened with a flood. On returning from
church one Sunday evening the river presented an
awful appearance. The strength of the current had
broken up the ice, and formed it into a conical shape,
\vhich rose as high as the tops of the trees on the
high bank of the river. We abandoned our house,
having first taken every precaution to guard against
the fury of the waters, but, although the threat was
so formidable, we experienced no flood, and after
spending a few pleasant days at the establishment of
the Hudson's Bay Company we returned, and at once
began our gardening. The children look upon a flood
as a rare treat. To them it is something of a pleasant,
exciting nature, after the dull monotony of a seven or
eight months' winter. It drives us from our house,
but we take shelter in one equally good, where we
ourselves enjoy pleasant company, and where the

WINTER AT MOOSE EORT

cliildrcn have a lari^c number of playmates. What
we look upon as our c^rcatest trial are the privati(jns
and sufferini^s to which the Indians are subjected.'

Nepin is very changeable, sometimes excessively
warm, with plenty of mosquitoes and sand-flies,
which are very troublesome ; sometimes quite cold,
and the transition is very rapid. It may be hot in the
morning, and in the evening so cold that an overcoat
may be worn with comfort.

'This is the busy season,' writes Mr. Ilorden,
'when I lake my journeys. Brigades of canoes from
the various posts arrive, bringing the furs collected
during the preceding winter ; in fact, ever)' person
appears to have plenty to do.' Just as summer is
ending, the ship arrives, and it is very anxiously
looked for, for on it almost everything depends — flour,
tea, clothing, books, ever}'thing.

' Tukwaukin is generally very boisterous, with
occasional hail and snow storms. Then the Indians
hunt geese, which are salted and put into barrels for
our use, although they are not quite so good as a
corned round of beef. Before the arrival of Pepooa,
all of the Indians are gone off to their winter grounds,
from which most of them do not return until the
arrival o{ spring.'

Each point of Mr. liorden's vast parish had to
be reached by an arduous journey. Arduous is
indeed but a mild expression for the troubles, trials,
privations, and tremendous difficulties attendant on
travel through the immense, trackless wastes lying
between many of the posts — wastes intersected with

WINTER AT MOOSE FORT

rivers and rapids, varied only by tracts of pathless
forest, swept by severe storms. ' Last autumn,' he
writes, ' I took a journey to Kcvoogoonisse ; it is
430 miles distant, and durin^:^ the whole way I saw
no tent or liouse, not even a human beinc^, until I
arrived within a short distance of the post. I
appeared to be passinjr throuj.;h a fori^otten land ;
I saw trees by tens of thousands, living, decayini^, and
deaci ; I saw majestic waterfalls, and passed throui^h
feaiiul rapids; I walked over long and difficult
places, and day after day struck my little tent, and felt
grieved at seeing no new faces, none to whom I might
impart some spiritual blessing. In the whole space
of country over which I travelled, pcrh ips a dozen
Indian families hunt diu'ing the winter. Sometimes
even this tract is insufficient to supply their wants ;
animals become scarce, the lands are burnt by the
forest fires, and they arc reduced to the greatest
distress. I have seen terrible cases of this kind. I
have seen a man with an emaciated countenance, who
in one winter lost six children, all he had ; and,
horrible to relate, nearly every one of them was killed
for the purpose of satisf)-ing the cravings of hunger.
At the post to which he was attached, Kevoogoonisse,
out of about 120 Indians, twenty died through star-
vation in one winter.'

The country may be said to be one vast forest,
with very extensive plains, watered by large rivers
and numerous lakes, inhabited by a few roving Indians,
who are engaged in hunting wild animals to procure
furs for the use of civilized man.

WBP

'mrm

]vl\ti:r at moosk i'(>/rr

Sometimes sad thin_L,^s tocjk place diiriiv.^ llic
absence of the misslon.-iry on liis journc)'inj:js to visit
outlyinLj stations. Durinj^ the slmrt summer of 1S5S,
lie set out with his wife and their little children to
visit Whale River, in the country of the Eskimo.
It was not his first journey to that post. ' \'ou will
have need of all )'our courap^e,' said he to his wife.
Tempestuous seas, shelterless nii;]its, and stormy days
were vivid to his own memory, but wife and cliildren
were glad to see anythinc^ new, after the monotonous
days and nii^hts of the lont^ JMoosc winter.

The family had not lonj^becn L;onc,\\ hen whooping-
couj^h broke out at JNToose. Younj:^, old, and middle-
aged were attacked alike, and numbers died. So
terrible was the sickness that at one time there was
but one man able to work, and his work was to make
two coffins. The missionary returned to a sorrowing
people. Out of five European families four had lost
each a child, and ' the sight of the grave-yard and the
mothers weeping there is one I never shall forget.
In ordinary years the average mortality was two.
This year it was thirty-two.' .Amongst the children
taken was dear little Susan, the orphan child of a
heathen Indian, whom they had cared for from infancy,
and whose little fingers had just before lier illness
traced upon a sampler the text : ' Remember now thy
Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days '

Here the words had ceased — she was taken from

all evil, and the evil days would not draw nigli her, the
needle remained in the sampler at that spot. Amongst
the aged taken were blind Koote, old blind /\dam,

t?''>'',=y

WINTI.R AT MOOSE FORT

'St

and old blind I fannah, all c)f whom arc specially
mentioned in Mr. Jlorden's account of the previous
Christmas Day services.

• Vesterda)',' he writes, speakini]^ of Christmas
I S57, ' was a dcepl)' intcn-estin^i^ one to me. As usual,
I met the Indians at seven, the Enirlish-speakini,^
congrcL^ation at eleven, and Indians ai^ain a't three.
Amonc^ the communicants present were no less than
three blind persons. Old i\dam, over whose head
have, I should think, [lassed a hundred winters. Old
Koote, alwa)'s at church, led with a string b)' a little
bo)',and poor old lame Ilamiah, whose seat is seldom
empt)", be the weather what it ma)-. The day
previous to our communion wc had a meeting of the
communicants. Old blind Koote said, "I thank God
for having preserved me to this da}', (iod is good !
I pra)' to Ilim ever)- night and morning. That docs
good to ni)' soul. I think a great deal about heaven,
I ask Jesus to wash away all my sins, and to take me
there." '

An)' of the Indians who can come in to celebrate
the Christmas and New Year's festivals eagerl)- seize
the opportunity, l^ut this is not possible for the
greater number, whose hunting-grounds lie at con-
siderable distances from the fort. In their far-away
tents they have no means of Christian communion or
instruction, except b}- intercourse w'th one another,
and by the study of the portions of Scipture, pra}'ers,
and h}'mns which they gladly and thankfully carry
away witli them to their lonely homes in the wilder-
ness.

^^mmmmmmgs

■BIM

WINTER AT MOOSE FORT

The society had sent out a prhiting-press t(^
Moose Fort, to fjicilitate the supply of books t(j the
Indians. Mr. Horden had hoped to receive by the
ship cpies of his translations ready printed, instead
of which, to his dismay, blank sheets arrived with the
press, lie was no printer, although his father had
been, and now his energy, courage, and power to over-
come difficulties pre-eminently showed themselves,
lie shut himself up in his room for several days,
resolved to master the putting together of the press ;
a very complicated business. But he accomplished it,
and great was his joy and triumph when he found that
the machinery would work. From this press issued,
in one winter, no less than sixteen hundred books in
three Indian dialects.

The winter over and gone, the snow nearly
disappeared, day after day the geese and wavies are
seen fl}'ing overhead. The mighty river, which has
been for many months locked up, with a giant's
strength has burst its bonds asunder, and rushes
impetuously towards the sea ; a few birds appear in
the trees, the frogs have commenced their croaking,
fish find their way to the well-laid nets ; and the
busy mosquito has begun its unwelcome buzz. The
Indians collect their furs, tie them in bundles, and
place them in the canoes, and with their dogs and
household stuff they make their way down stream to
the trader's residence. They run a few rapids,
carry their canoe and baggage over many portages,
sail the frail bark over one or two lakes, and are
at the end of their journey. Down come the

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.. nil I ilfif^'

WINTER AT MOOSE FORT

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trader's servants to help to carry the packs to the
store.

Let us look around. The store contains every-
thing' tliat an Indian needs, whether for business or
comfort. Here a rack full of guns, there a pile of
thick blankets, a bale of blanket coats, and an almost
unlimited supply of blue and red cloth ; axes and
knives, matches and kettles, beads and braid, deer-
skin and moose-skin, powder and shot, twine for
nets and snares, tea and sugar, flour and oatmeal,
pork and pease ; and some good books too, which
tell the Indian of God and heaven, and which he
can read.

The trader approaches, his face beaming with
delight as he eyes the packs, for they are large and
valuable. He soon begins work. The first bale
contains nothing but beaver skins. Eighty-five
examined are said to be worth a hundred and
twenty beaver according to the standard value. The
next contains forty marten, ten otter, a hundred
and fifty rat. These arc adjudged worth a hundred
beaver ; the third bale is composed of five hundred
rabbit skins, worth twenty-five beaver. " Consider a
beaver equal to two shillings and sixpence, and you
will see the value of the hunt in sterling money.
We have now — bale one value one hundred and
twenty beaver ; bale two value one hundred beaver ;
and bale three value twenty-five beaver ; altogether
two-hundred-and-forty-five beaver. Last summer
yonder Indian took out a debt in goods of one
hundred and fifty beaver, this he pays, and then he

IVIXTER AT MOOSE FORT

has ninety- five beaver with which to trade. Ninety-
five quills are given to him, and his trading begins.
Tlic trader, like an l^iglish shopnrian, stands behind
a counter, and the Indian outside. Native-like, he
consults long before the purchase of each article.
Having decided, he calls out, 'A gun;' a gun is
delivered, and he pays over ten of his quills ; then
three yards of cloth, for which he pays two quills ;
two books, and for them he pays one quill ; and so on
he goes, A\q. heap of goods increasing and the supply
of quills decreasing gradually. xAs he approaches
the end, the consultation becomes very anxious ; he
is making quite sure that he is laying out his money
to the best advantage. But the end comes at last,
and, satisfied with his bargains, he gathers all up
into one of the purchased blankets, and retires to his
tent, where he examines and admires, and admires
again, article after article.

Shall we take a peep into an Indian's tent when
encamped in the forest on a trapping expedition ? A
fire burns in the centre, but through the large open-
ing overhead we see the snow lyiug thick on the
branches of the trees. The day has just broken, but the
Christian Indian has already engaged in worship and
taken his morning meal. Then on with his snow-
shoes, for there is no moving without them. The
blanket which forms the tent door is raised, and
he steps outside. How cold ! and how drear the
scene ! how still and death-like ! no birds, no sound,
save the wind whistling through the forest. Now he
is at a marten trap, a very simple contrivance, com-

» I

WINTER AT MOOSE EORT

posed of a framework of sticks, in the middle of
which a bait is placed, which being meddled with,
causes the descent of a log, which crushes the
intruder. Here is a beautiful dark marten, quite a
l)rize. He takes it out and fastens it to a sledge,
re-baits the trap, and on he goes to another. Ah !
he sees tracks, but the marten has not entered the
trap ; on to another. What is this ? He looks
dismayed ; a wolverine has been here, and has
robbed the trap. He resets it and goes on to the
next ; the wolverine has been there too ; to another
and another, with the same result. I le is dis-
heartened, but it cannot be helped. So he trudges
on over a round of thirty traps, taking altogether six
fine martens ; not a bad day's hunt, all things con-
sidered. Evening is drawing on. He returns to the
tent, and there awaits him a glorious repast, per-
haps of beaver meat. He feels quite refreshed, and
recounts all the vicissitudes of the day, the gains and
disappointments.

On the morrow he takes the martens and skins
them ; and what is he to do with the bodies ? Our
Indian friends arc not fastidious. He cats them.
The skins he turns inside out, and stitches them up.
In the spring he brings them to the fur-trading post,
and there exchanges them, as wc have seen, for all
the requisites of Indian life. An Indian cannot
afford to cast away anything ; all he kills is to him
' beef,' sometimes good, sometimes not a little bad.
' In my own experience,' Mr. Flordcn says, ' I have
eaten white bear, black bear, wild cat, while for a

WINTER AT MOOSE EORT

week or ten days toj^ether I have had nothing but
beaver, and glad indeed I have been to get it.'

When the Indians have come into the post the
work of instruction at once commences. Amid school-
work, services, visiting and talking with individuals,
the missionary found his time fully occupied. Little
leisure remained for his dearly- loved translation work
— yet this progressed. In 1859 Mr. Horden had
already the prayer and hymn book and the four Gospels
printed in the syllabic character. The prayer and
hymn book were printed in England. The Gospels
he had himself printed at Moose. ' The performance
of this labour,' he writes, * was almost too much for me,
as, since last winter, although not incapacitated for
work, I have felt that even a very strong constitution
has limits, which it may not pass with impunity ; I
have occasionally suffered from weakness of the chest.
I need not say with what delight the Indians received
the books prepared for them. I did not think it right
to provide them all gratis, I therefore charged two
shillings each, a little less than one beaver skin, and
with the money thus raised I am able to purchase a
year's consumption of paper. Our services are now
conducted In a manner very similar to what they are
at home. Our meetings for prayer are extremely
refreshing, and my spirit is often revived by joining
with my brethern around the throne of grace.'

It must be remembered that Mr. Horden had not
only the Indians under his ministry, but the Europeans
of the Hudson's Bay Company ; thus he had English
as well as Indian services to hold, and as there were

PWBS

WINTER AT MOOSE l-'ORT

some Norwegians amongst the company's servants
who did not readily follow either the English or the
Indian, he set himself to learn for their sake sufficient
Norwegian to read the service and to preach to them
in their own tongue.

To these languages he added Eskimo and OJib-
beway — the latter being the speech of the people
of the Kevoogoonisse district, the former that of
the natives of Whale River.

How could all this be crowded into the busy day
of this father of his flock? Mow but by rising in the
small hours of the morning, when by the light of a
lamp in his little study he read, and wrote, and trans-
lated, and in addition to all else taught himself
Hebrew.

■9^i!

-i^BJ"

mm- '^j

CHAPTER V

A VISIT TO THE ESKIMO AT WHALE RIVER

In February iS6i, M--\ Ilordcn writes, ' My hands are
quite full ; I find it impossible to do all that I should
wish to do. On Sundays I hold three full services,
and attend school twice, and every morning except
Saturday I conduct school. On Tuesday afternoon
and Wednesday evening I hold a service. These
matters, with my house and sick visiting, leave me
very little leisure. But as myself and my family
enjoy good health, I can say that happiness is to be
found as well among the primeval forests of Moosoncc
as in the more sunny land of our birth.'

Vnr his Eskimo children the bishop always had a
very special affection. Very early in his missionary
career he managed, as we have seen, to pay them a
visit. He then could not converse with them, nor
could he do so without the aid of an interpreter when
he paid a summer visit to Whale River about the year
1862. We give his own graphic account of this.

' Let our thoughts for a while be transferred to a
land more bleak and desolate than Moose, to the land
where snow never entirely disappears, to the land of
barren rock and howling storm, to the country of the

•m^

A VISIT TO THE ESKIMO

white bear and tlic hardy Eskimo, where I spent
some time last summer. I remained with the ICskimo
only eight days, yet those eight days were indeed
blessed ones, and will not soon be forgotten by me,
for they were amongst the most successful missionary
days I have had since I have been in the country.

' The Eskimo appeared to me to be kind, cheerful,
docile, persevering, and honest. Nothing could exceed
the desire they professed for instruction, nothing the
exertions they made to learn to read, nothing the
attention with which they listened to the Word of
God. I was most fortunate (but should 1 not use
another word } ) in obtaining the services of a young
Eskimo as my interpreter, who had received instruc-
tion from missionaries (Moravians) while living on the
coast of Labrador. He spoke English but imperfectly ;
but knew some hymns and texts exceedingly well, and
showed himself most willing to assist me to the fullest
extent of his powder. I could not have done half the
work I did, had I not had him as my assistant.
Accompany mc for a day, commencing with the early

mornmg.

' Soon after six we had a service with the Eskimo;
about twenty-five were present. Some of the men
were dressed very much like working men in England.
1 hey purchase their clothing from the store of the
Hudson's Bay Company. Others were dressed in
the comfortable native style, composed of a loose
seal-skin jacket coming to th'"^ waist, seal-skin
breeches, and seal-skin boots. One of the women
had on an English gown, of which she seemed not a

emm

A VISIT TO Till'. liSKTMO

little proud ; the others were attired in a dress some-
what similar to the men, with the addition of an
immense hood to their jackets, in which they deposit
their little babies.

'The service was commenced by singing a hymn ;
reading followed, then prayer, the Lord's Prayer
being repeated aloud by all ; singing again ; then a
long lesson on the "Syllabariam," i.e. the system of
reading by syllables, without the labour of spelling.
They were then instructed in Watt's First Catechism,
and another hymn completed the service. After
having taken my breakfast, I assembled the Indians,
who were nearly twice the number of the Eskimo,
but no'c half as painstaking. My service with them
was somewhat less simple than that with the Eskimo,
as they had received more instruction, and a few
could use their prayer books intelligently ; but I
noticed an apathy among them which rather dis-
heartened me.

' I then took a lesson from my Eskimo interpreter,
writing questions and obtaining his assistance in
translating a portion of the baptismal and marriage
services ; I then went to the Eskimo tents until
dinner-time. They are made of seal-skins in the
shape of a common marquee. Some of them are
speicious and not very dirty. In the centre is a fire,
over which is suspended a large kettle full of cray-
fish. An old woman was sewing very industriously
at a pair of seal-skin short boots, which she presented
to me. Her husband was equally industrious, making
models of Eskimo implements. I instantly trans-

A GROUP OF ESKIMO

A vrsrr to riir: kskimo

fcrrcd t«i [)apcr tlic few words of conversation llicy
liail with inc. I\I)' next visit was to a tent wlierc
)'oun!:;er people were assembled. I asked a few
cjuestions, which they readily answered. I was pleased
at this, as showing that they could understand me. I
then dined, .Jid UxA^. a short stroll aloni:^ the river
towards the sea, to see what pros[)Cct there was for
the whale fishermen. The fishers were there, waitini^
patientl)', but with the look of disappointment on
their countenances. They could see hundreds of
whales outside the bar of the river, but while they
remained there not one could be caught, and there
seemed no chance of any coming inside the bar.
Leaving them, I went to hold a second service with
m)' Eskimo, then another with my Indians. It was
then tea-time. I spent an hour with my Ivskimo
Miterpreter, after which I held an English service with
the master and mistress, the only English-speaking
woman for hundreds of miles, and the European
servants of the company. ITaK an hour's social chat
at length closed the day, and with feelings of thank-
fulness at having been placed as a labourer in the
vineyard of the Lord, I retired to rest.

' i was so deeply impressed with the conduct of
the Eskimo, their anxiety to learn, and their love
f'jr the truths of Christianit}', that I could not forbid
water that some of them should be baptized. Three
of them could read well ; these received the rite of
baptism at an evening service, all the Europeans
being present, for all appeared to take a deep interest
in the proceedings. All <^hree were young, neat, tidy,

A VISIT TO THE ESKIMO

and dressed in Juir()})can costume. They answered
my in([uiries very intelligently, receiving severally
the natnes of John Ilorden, Tliomas Henry, and
l^li/.abeth Oke. John and l^li/.abeth were afterwards
married. IMalikto, the fLitiier of the bridegroom,
stood np at the conclusion of the service, and said
that he hr)ped they would not forget the instruction
they liad received, aP " I left them. It was a
delightful but solemn service.'

The ILskimo formed a large part of Mr. 1 lorden's
charge, and he was mucin attracted by their gentle
contentment amidst their drear)- surroundings, and
l)y their teachableness. * Whatsliould we have been,
had we, like them,' he said, ' liad no Ih'ble to direct
us to God ? '

Tims speaks the iLskimo, the man who considers
himself preeminently the 'man,' and who lias not
been taught that God made him, the sun, and the
moon, and the stars also:

'Long, long ago, not long after the creation of the
world, there lived a mighty ]*lskimo, who was a great
conjurer; nothing was im[)ossible to him; no other
of his profession coidd stand before him. He found
the world too small and insignificant for his ])owers,
so, taking with him his sister and a small fire, he
raised himself up into the heaxens. Heaping im-
mense quantities of fuel on the Hre, he formed the
sun, which has continued burning ever since. Vox a
while he and his sister li\ed together in perfect
harmony, but after a time he began to ill-treat her,
and his conduct towards her became worse and worse

A VISIT TO Til?: ESKIMO

until c»nc day he scorched her face, which was
exquisitely beautiful. This was not to be borne, she
therefore fled from him, and formed the moon. Ilcr
brother is still in chase of her, but although he some-
times gets near her, he will never overtake lier.
When it is new moon the burnt side of her face is
towards us ; when full moon the reverse is the case.
The stars are the spirits of the dead liLskimo that
have fixed themselves in the heavens, and meteors
and the aurora are these spirits moving from one
place to another wliilst visiting their friends.'

mimmiimimfEl

CHAPTER VI

SCHOOL WORK

In school work and teaching Mr. Horden took from
first to last the kccnr *^ interest. After he became
bishop he still visited the Moose School daily, when-
ever he was in residence. In earlier years he had
fur a time the able assistance of a native master, Mr.
Vincent. A small boarding-school had been com-
menced in 1855 with two children, who were supported
through the Coral Missionary Fund.' The following
year, two more children were taken, and in 1857 the
number on the list amounted to eight ; ■ o these others
were yearly added, supported by friends of the Coral
Fund.

Little Susan was one of these. Her unfinished
sampler with the needle in it was sent to England.
The children's histories were many of them very sad
and pathetic. Some were orphans. The parents of
others were disabled, or too sick and sufferincf to work.
One little girl was described as having so wild a look
that a portrait of her scarcely resembled that of a

' At the instance of llic then e(hiui.-i <>f tlie Com/ Missionary
Magaiinc.

SCHOOL WORK

: from
ecame
when-
le had
cr, INIr.
1 com-
3portcd
llowing
557 the
c others
ic Coral

ifintshed
Lncrland.
very sad
irents of
to work,
id a look
;hat of a

Missionary

human being. Another, after remaining for a time
in the school, fell ill with the strange Indian sickness
called ' long thinking,' a gypsy-like yearning for the
\vilcl life of the forest, and she had to be sent back to
her widowed father. One boy died early of decline,
a complaint to which the Indian is very subject.
Another was the child of a father who lay sick and
bed-ridden in a most deplorable condition— parts of
hii^ body actually rotten. ' He might have been the
Lazarus of the parable/ wrote r^klr. Ilorden. ' He
gets little rest night or da}', but, like Lazarus, liis
mind is sta}-ed on God.'

A few children liaving thus been gathered together
with the certainty of support, Mr. Ilorden commenced
buildincr a school-house. He had from the first
assembled the children for daily instruction, but to
board and clothe them was impossible without some
friendly help, all necessaries at Moose being nearly
double the price of the same articles at home. At
one time it was quite double. From this we may
gather with what delight was hailed, as the season
came round, the arrival of the annual ship, bringing
to the missionary and his family the stores needed
for themselves and their charges for the year to
come.

In 1864 very especially, Mr. and Mrs. Hordcn
awaited in eager expectation the ship's appearance,
for not only did they long to know that the wants of
the school children and the poor who depended upon
them would be supplied, but the\' were hoping them-
selves to return in her with their little famil}- for a

1' 2

SCHOOL WORK

well-earned rest and change in England, from which
country they had then been absent thirteen long
years. The three elder children were of an age to
need an English education. The little son, a boy of
nine or ten, whose principal amusement was to go to
the woods with an axe over his shoulder to cut fire-
wood, must, ere it was too late, be weaned from the
free life in the forest, and begin to measure his powers
of mind and body with other lads of his age atid
class at home. The wife and mother yearned to see
the relatives parted from long ago ; the hard-worked
man hoped for stimulus and help in the society and
sympathy of his brethren and fellow-labourers.

These hopes and yearnings were doomed to dis-
appointment. * You know,' wrote Mr. Horden on
January 25, 1865, 'that it was my intention to be at
home this year, and I had expected to have reached
England in October or the beginning of November.
But August passed and the ship did not arrive, and
anxiety increased daily. The 23rd came, the latest
day on which the ship had ever been known to appear,
and then we began to despond and to say, '* No ship
this year ! " The schooner still remained outside,
hoping against hope, until October y, That same
night, in the midst of a most fearful storm, we heard
the report of large guns at sea ; our excitement was
extreme, our hopes revived, and from mouth to mouth
passed the joyful exclamation, " The ship's come ! the
ship's come ! " We lay down to rest, lightened of a
great weight of anxiety, dreaming of absent friends,
with a strange pleasant confusion of boxes, storms,

SCHOOL WORK

ice, guns, and the many other etceteras of the saih'ng,
arrival, and unloading of our ship.

'Morning dawned, the storm had subsided, a boat
was despatched for letters, the schooner was again
ordered to sea, all hearts beat high, and by ten o'clock
our illusions were dispelled. The guns had been
fired by the York schooner, which had been de -patched
to Moose to acquaint us with our misfortune, and to
bring the little that had been saved from the wreck.
It was very little, }'et sufficient to remove anxiety as
to our living for this winter, as wc thus became
possessed of flour and tea, \\1"' i we can only obtain
by the ship, for in oiv wintry land no fields of wheat
wave their golden heads, and no sound of the reapers
ever falls upon the ear. Of the many packages sent
me, the Coral Fund box was the only one which
came to hand, all the rest are at the bottom of the
sea : and of the contents of )'our box, e\er}'thing
was much damaged, except the service book, now
lying on the communion table at Moose. The
packet-box was saved, which accounts for my receiv-
ing your letter,

' The Moose ship left England in company with
the Hudson's Ba}- Company's ship, bound for York
Factory, which is a post about seven hundred miles
north of Moose, and came across the Atlantic and
nearly through Hudson's Straits without any mishaps.
On August 1 ,^ the two ships were together, a few
miles to the east of Mansfield Island ; the captains
visited and congratulated each other upon having
passed the most dangerous portion of the voyage.

SCHOOL WORK

and expected that witliin a week tlie one would be at
York and the other at Moose. But how blind is
man ! W^ithin a few hours both of them were ashore
on Mansfield Island, about twelve miles distant from
each other. The York ship had a very lart^e number
of men on board, and by almost incredible exertions
she was got off, but not until she had sustained such
damages as necessitated the constant use of the
pumps. The Moose ship could not be got off, and
still lies with nearly all her valuable cargo on the
rocks. The York ship came to her and took all the
crew on board, together with what had been saved,
and proceeded to York Factory. There she was
examined, and then it appeared how near all had
been to death ; the wonder was how she could possibly
have kept afloat. To return to England in her would
have been madness, so she still lies at York. Happily
a second vessel had gone to York, which took home
nearly the whole of the crews of the two disabled
ships.

* When I last wrote I asked for the service book
for my new church ; that edifice has now, I am happy
to say, been opened ; the interesting ceremony took
place on Whit-Sunday, May 15, 1864. The ice had
entirely disappeared from the river ; the sun shone
forth brilliantly, all Nature smiled. A large congre-
gation assembled at our usual hour for service, and all
seemed impressed with the solemnity of the occasion.
The subject of the sermon was the dedication of
Solomon's temple. At its close the collection
amounted to upwards of 4/., and after that a number

:am

SCHOOL WORK

of Europeans, natives, and Indians, assembled round
tlic table of the Lord. It was the first time I ever
administered a c;"cneral communion, many of the
Indians not understandinL,^ Enp^lish ; but on this
occasion I wished them to see that, in spite of
diversity of language, God is alike the God of the
white man and the red. Altogether it was a most
interesting and happy da}-. It is literally a church
in the wilderness. I hope it will not be long before
others rise in this part of the countr)'.

* I have lately heard of ni)' poor Eskimo brethren
in the far-off desert ; that infant church has been
much tried. Just one half of its members have been
carried off by death ; there were but four, two of
whom are gone, and both somewhat suddenl}'. One
of them was the young Eskimo interpreter, who
when I was last with them was of such ver}' great
service to me. Late in the fall he went off in his
kayak to set a fox trap. He did so, but as he was
getting into the canoe to return home it upset with
him, and the coldness of the water prevented him
from swimming. Mis body was not discovered until
the evening of the following da)-. The other was the
only baptized woman, her name was Elizabeth
Horden. These trials must be necessary, or they
would not be sent.'

CHAPTER VII

FIRST RETURN TO ENGLAND

In 1865 Mr. Horden and his family came home ; the
journey was a long and very anxious one. 'Among
the many dangerous voyages which our bold sailors
undertake,' he writes, 'there is none more dangerous,
or attended with more anxiety, than the one to or
from Moose Factory. Hudson's Straits are dangerous,
Hudson's Bay fearfully so, James's Bay worst of all.
It is full of sunken rocks and shoals ; it is noted for
its fogs.

' When the ship came, it was in a somewhat dis-
abled condition, so severely had she been handled by
the ice. However, we repaired her at Moose, and al-
though it was very late in the season we determined,
putting ourselves in God's hands, to trust ourselves in
her. We left Moose with a fair wind, which took us
in safety over our long, crooked, and dangerous bar ;
but we had not proceeded above half a day's sail
before a heavy storm came upon us. Dangers were
around us, the dread of all coming to Moose Fac-
tory, the Gasket Shoal, was ahead ; the charts were
frequently consulted ; the captain was anxious, sleep
departed from his eyes. We are at the commence-

FIRST RETURN TO ENGLAND

mcnt of the straits ; wc sec land, hiL,^h, rugycd, barren
hills ; snow is l)-ing in the valleys, stern winter is
already come ; it seems a home scarcely fit for the
white bear and the walrus. What are these solitary
giants, raising their heads so high, and appearing so
formidable ? They are immense icebergs which have
come from regions still farther north, and are now
being carried by the current through Hudson's Straits
into the Atlantic Ocean. The glass speaks of coming
bad weather, the top-sails are reefed, reefs are put to
the main-sail ; and now it is on us, the wind roars
through the rigging, the ship plunges and creaks.
Nidit comes over the scene, there is no cessation of
the tempest ; it howls and roars, it is a fearful night !
One of the boats is nearly swept away, and is sa\ed
with difficulty ; we have lost some of our rigging ; one
man is washed overboard, and washed back again.
The sea breaks over the vessel, and dashes into the
cabin ; but One mightier has said, '' Hitherto shalt
thou come, and no farther." By the morning, the
morning of the Sabbath, the wind had abated.' .

Dreary weeks followed ; the time for arrival in
England had long since passed, and our travellers
were still beating about in the Atlantic. Luxuries
had vanished, comforts had departed, necessaries were
becoming very scarce, and they began to ask each
other, ' Is England ever to be reached?' Then the
children saw a steamer for the first time in their
lives, and their surprise was great ; and now they
pass vessel after vessel. They are running up the
English Channel, a pilot comes on board, and on they

pi^ . %Pf ' I TFkMK^

F//?ST RFTURIV TO ENGLAND

go, till they arc safely moored in the "West India
Docks. Now to a railway station and into a railway
carriage, out of that and into a cab through the busiest
part of London ; the shops are brilliantly lighted up ;
the children are at the windows, their exclamations
of surprise are incessant, a new world is opened to
their view — a world of bustle, a world of life.

Mr. Ilorden spent a busy year in England,
travelling, as he expressed it, ' from Dan to Beersheba,'
speaking on behalf of * his beloved people ' and his
work ; everywhere eliciting sympathy and interest
In his absence from the station Mr. Vincent of Albany
had gone to Moose, to provide for the spiritual wants
of the flock and to keep the school going. The
children were examined before the Christmas holidays
in Scripture and Catechism and arithmetic, after which
they were rewarded with little presents sent in the
bales from England. He reported the mission as
presenting a cheering aspect. ' From every quarter,'
he writes, ' the heathen are being gradually brought
under the influence of the Gospel ; we have much
cause for encouragement, but we also meet with
opposition. I visited an outpost in the Rupert's
River district last summer, about five hundred and
fifty miles distant from this station, called Mistasinnee.
Both there and on the way I had frequent oppor-
tunities of preaching the Gospel to anxious inquirers,
and before leaving that post I had forty-eight baptisms,
half the number being adults ; the trip occupied
about two months. We are having a very mild winter,
but not a favourable one for living, as rabbits and

FIRST RETURIV TO EXGLAXP

partridges arc very scarce. Sometimes \vc have a
diftlculty in making up somctliing for dinner. I hope,
however, as the season advances, we sliall do better,
for partridges then will be returning to the northward,
and we may get a few in passing.'

CHAPTER VIII

AGAIN AT \V(3KK

I'M

, I >

At the end of the year Mr. Ilorden returned to
Moose with his wife and two youngest children, and
that same year the liomeward-bound sliip was c^nce
more in imminent peril. And now our hero bec^an
a scries of loni;- journeys, the loni^^est he had made
— one occup}MnfT three months and covcrini^ nearly
two tliousand miles -— amongst people of various
languages. lie thus vividly describes it :

* I left Moose I^actoryfor Brunswick House in the
afternoon of May 20, 18C8. The weather was very
cold, and on the following morning we left our
encampment amidst a fall of snow. All along the
river banks the ice lay piled up in heaps, occasion-
ally forming a wall twenty feet high. This ice was
very detrimental to our progress ; it prevented the
Indians from tracking the canoe, so that they were
forced to use the paddle or pole, which is harder work
and does not permit of such rapid progress. We got
on pretty well until we came to where the river rushes
with awful rapidity between high and almost perpen-
dicular rocks : it certainly appeared like travelling to
destruction. We had to cross the river several times,

AGAIN AT IVORK

so as to get where the current was weakest. We had
crossed twice, and bad enou|:;h it was each time ; wc
were to cross the third time ; our guide demurred.
It could not be done with safety ; wc should be driven
down a foaming rapid and destroyed.

* But it was now just as dangerous to go backward
as forward, so, after a little persuading, the old man
was induced to try. I took a paddle, and we got out
into the middle of the stream, paddling for our lives ;
wc were carried a considerable way down, but the
other side was reached in safet)\ Then we poled, or
tracked, on, as we best coukl, very slowly, until wc
had to cross again, and so on imtil the first [)ortage
was reached. Over this we plod, and again our
canoe floats into the river ; then pole, paddle, or track
until a majestic fall or a roaring rapid warned us to
make another [)ortage ; and so on, again and again,
day after day.

' As we went towards the south we actually saw
some trees beginning to bud. On the \ery last day
of Ma}', in the afternoon, I reached Brunswick Mouse.
It is situated on a beautiful lake, the whole establish-
ment consisting of about five or six houses ; it is a
fur-trading post. The Indians speak the Saulteaux
language ; there are about a hundred and fifty of them
here ; they are quiet and teachable, but given to
pilfering and very superstitious. To comfort they
seem to be strangers, lying about anywhere at night,
their principal resort being the platforms near the
tradinc^-house. I believe that God's blessing rested
on my labours among these Indians. This was their

ti£ti^i^SSailM^----!'^':) .--'"-^-"t™"^'-

HMHiilil

AGAIN AT WORK

S f-

ill

first introduction to the Christian rch'gion, and I trust
that crc long many will be numbered amon^c^ Christ's
disciples.

* After remaining with them nine days, I was
obliged to hurry northward. Our progress was rapid,
the water was in good order. A few days at Aloose,
and I went to the sea-coast to Rupert's House. I
found between three and four hundred Indians
assembled there, under the guidance of their teacl^er,
Matamashkum. Our joy was great and mutual ; they
have been heathens, many of them ha\'e committed
horrible crimes, but those days have passed away,
and now they rejoice in the merits of a Crucified
Saviour. Twice every day we had service, almost
out of doors, for there was no available room at the
place capable of containing all. During the day I
had examinations, and baptisms, and weddings, and
consultations ; and one afternoon we had a grand
feast, for the Indians had made a good hunt, and the
fur-traders, delighted with what they had done, pro-
vided the feast for them. There was nothinjj of
dissipation. L'.ating and drinking was quite a serious
matter with them, and it was astonishing to see the
quantities of pea-soup, pork, geese, bread, biscuit,
tobacco, tea and sugar, they consumed ; the providing
a body of Indians v/ith a good feast is no light
matter.

' Having spent two Sundays at Rupert's House, I
took canoe and went to Fort George, northwards
along the sea-coast. For a portion of the way I had
company, as many Indians were also going north.

AGAIN AT WORK

This was the most pleasant of all the journeys ; the
weather fine, the scenery often grand, the wind fair.
Two hundred miles were made in four days and a
half. At Fort George I met a good body of Christian
Indians with their teacher, William Keshkumash,

* A few days here, and I embarked on board a
schooner, to go yet further north, to Great Whale
River. Soon after getting out to sea we were among
the ice ; however, on we go. It is the sea, but there
is no water ! We are in an Arctic scene ; we cannot
go through, so we turn our head for Fort George
again, and wait there for nearly another week, and
then try once more. We get half way, then, as the
vessel cannot move forward, I leave it, and accom-
panied by two native sailors proceed in a small boat.
Two days bring us to an encampment of Indians. I
now leave my boat and enter a canoe, having with
me Keshkumash, his wife, and their young son ; two
other canoes, each containing a man and his wife,
keep us company. We have to work in earnest.
Sometimes we got along fast, then we were in the
midst of ice and could not move at all, again we were
chopping a passage for the canoe with our axes ; and
then, when we could do nothing else, we carried it
over the rocks and set it down where the ice was not
so closely packed.

' After two days and a half of this we came to a
standstill, and I determined to go on foot. 1 took one
Indian with me, and ^"'- set off. Our walk was over
high bare hills ; rivers ran through several of the valleys,
these wc waded. About ten o'clock that night I sat

AGAIN AT WORK

down once more in <i liousc, vcr)', very tired, and
very, very thankful. I spent several days with the
India as of this place ; they are a large tribe of Crees,
but speak somewhat differently from those of Moose.
Most of them believed the w^ords that were spoken,
but some cared for none of those things, being filled
with their own superstitions.

' By-and-by the schooner h"ox made her appear-
ance, and I embarked once more, to endeavour to get
to the last inhabited spot, Little Whale River. We
went half way, and then the ice sent a hole through
the I'ox's side ; this we covered with a sheet of lead.
I now again deserted the Fox, and took to the canoe,
in which, in somewhat less than two days, I got at
last to my journey's end. And that journey's end is
a dreary, dreary place, with scarcely any summer. It
was August, and the ice was lying thick at the mouth
of X^^r- river. But my work was not dreary. I here
met Ivskimo, the most teachable of people. They were
\er) ready for school or service, and although their
attainments were not high, so much was I impressed
with their sincerity and perseverance, that I admitted
four families into the Christian Church. This re-
warded me for all my toil. I can address them now
as brothers and sisters ; and I am sure that all my
friends will rejoice with me for the blessing with
which God crowned my labour.

* I had my difficulties in getting back again ; ice
still disputed our progress, but on August 30, late in
the evening, the trusty Fox, battered and bruised,
came to anclior at Moose Factory, and 1 had the

AGAIN AT WORK

happiness of once more meeting my family, and of
finding that all had been quite well during the whole
of my absence.'

About this time ^Ir. I [orden began to plead for
help to train up one of the most promising of his
school-boys as a catechist. I^^-iends of the Coral Fund
took up the lad, and the money expended upon his
education was not in vain, for that boy is now a native
pastor in charge of Rupert's House. Of him and of
his ordination we shall have more to relate by-and-by.
The school children in whom Mr. ITorden had first
taken an interest were growing up. Some were
already earning their living, some were married ; one
Gfirl had cfone with her husband to the Red River
settlement, and was, wrote Mr. Horden, in 1869, in as
respectable a spnerc of life as any Christian farmer's
wife in England could be. Another had married a
fine young Aloose Fort hunter, an excellent voyager.
iVfter an absence of several months, they with their
little child came back to the place, stayed a few days,
and again departed. In j\Iay, at the breaking-up of
the river, the Indians came in. One canoe Mr. I lorden
felt sure was that of Amelia and her husband, and he
at once went to see them.

' I saw,' he says, ' first a fair little boy, plump and
hearty, showing that great care had been taken of
him. I then cast my eye on a woman sitting near,
whom I took to be a stranger ; but another look
showod me that the [joor emaciated creature was
indeed none other than Amelia, who had been
brought to the brink of the grave b)' starvation. She

-rr^' . ' ;at.uj>ii]a . .^ir -- ^jt

AuAfN AT IVORK

) i

l\ael lost her husband, l)ut in all her privations she
liad taken care tliat her baby son should not want.
The tale of her suffcrinc^ was very distrcssinc^^ After
leavinL;" Moose in the end of March, the}' by them-
selves had gone to their hunting-grounds, hoping to
get a few furs to pay off the debt they had contracted
with the fur-trader ; for in the early part of the
winter they had been very unfortunate, a ^volverine
having dcstro)'ed nearly all the martens they had
trapped. Amelia's husband was soon attacked by
sickness, which entirely laid him b)- ; food was very
scarce, and the little the forest might yield he could
not seek, lie gradually became worse and worse,
his sufferings aggravated by want, his only source of
consolation was his religion ; both expected to lay their
bones, as well as those of the child, where they were.
He wrote a letter, and got Amelia to go and hang it
up where some Indians might pass in the summer,
stating their joint deaths and the cause, and requesting
burial. The end came, the once strong )'oung man
lay a corpse ; but Amelia had something to live for —
for her little son she would struggle on. Unable to
dig a grave, for she had no strength and the ground
was frozen as hard as a stone, she coxercd the body
with moss, and set off to the Main INIoosc River,
hoping there to fall in with Indians. She was not
disappointed. After a while she fell in with Isaac
IMekawatch, a Moose Indian, who took care of her
and her child, and brought them in safety to the fort.
Such incidents as this arc amongst the sad experi-
ences of life in Moosonee.'

AGAIN AT IVORK

In 1870 I\Ir. Ilortlcii wrote : ' I liavc this suniincr
travelled about thirteen hundred miles, and durini^ a
part of this time I experienced a consitlerablc dec^ree
of hardship, which broui,dit me down L^n-catly. I am
now, however, well as ever I have been in my life.
It was a very louL,^ journey, and occu[)icd many weeks,
yet I did not travel oat of my parish all the time.
When I was at Matawakumma, five hundred miles
south of AJjosc, I was U[)wards of eleven hundred
miles from Little Whale River.

'I left Moose on June 13, and overtook a boat
eoin"- to the \j^\vj l'(jrtaL'"e, with c^oods for the supply
of New l^runswick, and I went forward in it. Travel-
ling by boat is very monotonous work indeed. At
breakfast-time, dinner-time, and when the day's work
was done, we endeavoured to catch a few fish, (jur
rod a lon<^ rou<^h stick cut from the woods, a piece
of strong cord for a line, to which we attached a large
hook baited with salt pork ; with this we would
occasionally draw out a perch, a trout, a pike from
six to twelve pounds in weight. At the Long Portage
I changed my mode of travelling, my companions
now usitig the canoe. With my new friends I got on
extremely well, taking advantage of every opportunity
to instruct them in divine things. 'Most of them
received the instruction gladix', but a few held back ;
they love their old superstitions, their conjurations,
dreams, spirits, and all the r.ther things which so
sadly debase the Indian mind. \\\ due time New
Brunswick was reached, and I at once began my
work.

E 2

AGALX A'J' U'OKK

'The Indians here, before they had ever seen a
missionar}', used to meet for pra)-cr and exhortation,
havincr learnt a httle from an Indian who had seen

IT?

one. Desirous of knowing how they conducted their
service, about whicli I had licard a great deal, I
arranged one evening to be present as a spectator.
They showed no shyness, but consented at once.

' At the time appointed, all being assembled, one
crave out the verse of a hymn, which was sung by
all ; another then repeated a text of Scripture, then
a second verse of the hymn was sung, followed by a
second text ; all then knelt down, I by the side of
the old chief, and about six began to pray aloud at
the same time, each in his own words. Ojibway's
prayer was very simple, of course, but it was a cry to
Jesus for mercy; and can we doubt that his prayer
was heard ? Kneeling by his side was one sent by
God to show him the way of salvation.

' One of those who opposed the Gospel said : " I
would not give up my children to you for baptism
on any account. My eldest child has been twice so
ill that I thought she would die, but an Indian, by
his charms, saved her ; and recently a spirit appeared
to me, telling me to take heed and never give up my
children, for if T did, he would no longer take care of
them, and they would die."

' I remained at Brunswick until the Indians de-
parted to Michipicoton for supplies of flour. I went
with them a little way, and then on to IHying Post
by a road untrodden by any save the Indian on his
hunting expeditions. I found it a terrible route— the

AGAIN AT WORK

worst I have ever travelled—but havinj^ no one to
think of but myself, I did not mind it— I was about
my Master's business. In due time we reached
Flying Post. Our last portac,^e was eii^ht miles of
truly horrible walkini^ ; it cost us man}' weary hours.

'The Indians of Flyini;- Post evinced a great
desire for instruction. This was m)- first visit ; I
baptized seventeen persons. From Flying Post I
went on to Matawakunnua. At Alatawakumma the
Indians arc decreasing, as at Flying I'ost. The
decay of a people brings sad retlections, and the
Indians seem doomed to extinction. I found a church
partly built under the guidance of their trader, Mr.
Richards, who takes a deep interest in his Indians'
welfare. A bell and a set of communion plate 1 liopc
to get out next ship time ; the little church in the
wilderness will then be tolerably well furnished.

* I here made the largest comparative collection
1 have ever made in my life, no less than 8/. 2^-. 8^/.
The poor people were truh' liberal in their povert\',
and some of these poor sheep for the first time
approached the table of the Lord. Some of them
are very intelligent, can read well, and thoroughly
understand their Christian responsibilities and ap-
preciate their privileges. And now, my work done,
I turn my canoe-head Mooseward, and pass over
grand lakes, down a large river, run the rapids, admire
the falls, carry over the portages, hurr)ing towards
the sea, and after an absence of between eight and
nine weeks I found myself <jnce more in the bosom
of my family.'

CHAPTER IX

DAYS OF LA];OUR

I ^

Nothing perhaps could give a better idea of Mr.
Horden's i^igantic labours than an account of a day's
work at different times. A Sunday in the winter of
1 87 1 is thus spent by him.

' While it was yet dark,' he says, ' at half-past six
o'clock the church bells summoned us to the house of
prayer ; the cold was severe, but I found a tolerable
con^reo-ation awaitincr me, and the service was very
cnjoyal^lc. The couL^rec^ation dismissed, I returned
home to breakfast, and soon afterwards went to the
church aL;ain for our JMii^lish service. This is con-
ducted precisely as in a church at home ; the full
service is read, and we use one prayer which you do
not, for the Governor-General of Canada and the
Lieutenant-Governor of the Hudson's l^ay Territories.
The conL,n-ei;ation is composed of the deputy-
governor, his family and his staff of clerks, and the
doctor — not one of whom is ever absent, and all but
one are communicants -my own family, and the
servants European and native of the Hudson's Bay
Compan^ After the sermon a general offertory was
made, and then the communicants met around the

DAYS OF LABOUR

Lord's tabic, there to renew their vows, and to partake
of that spiritual food which was ordained tf) strenc;thcn
them in their heavenly course.

'At a quarter to two the bell was rune;- f(M- school,
and a few minutes after I was with the scholars, on
my knees seeking a blessino- on our meeting together.
School over, our second Indian service commenced
with a larger congregation than in the early morning,
for young children can be brought out now. There is
again a de[)arture from the church, yet some remain,
and those, as their luiglish-speaking brethren had
done in the morning, commemorate their dying
Saviour's love. In all thirty have communicated.
The shades of evening are falling as I leave the church,
after a fatiguing, but blessed day's work.'

The necessity was laid upon Mr. Ilorden of being
like St. I'aul, ' in journe>-ings oft,' and the day's work
we have now to speak of was one of journeying.

' Last summer,' he says, * I ^vas on my way to
Rupert's House. A large boat just built was going
there, and I took a passage in it. It was loaded with
a miscellaneous cargo of bricks, potatoes, a stove,
bags of flour, and bales of goods. The crew was com-
posed of Rupert's House Indians, fine manly fellows,
and all Christians. Leaving Moose somewhat late in
the da)', we went but a short distance and encamped
on an island, eight miles off, called Ship-sands.
Herew^e set up our tent and cooked our supper ; then
we gathered together, and joined our voices in a hymn
of praise. I read a portion of Scripture, and we all
knelt in prayer to the God of heaven and earth, and

1. 1

PAYS OF LA no U A'

m \

I ■;>

not lonj^ after lay down to rest. At midnii;lit tlierc
was an arrival, and I was aroused from sleep by my
i^iiide, with the cry of " Musenahekun ! Miisenahe-
kun ! " A packet ! a packet ! I'hese are ma^c^ic
words. I s^tarted to my feet in an instant, for not
since February had I seen a letter from home, and it
was now June 17. It was, howevf ^^ut a poor affair,
containinc,^ no private letters froi .inland, and but

little public news. The real packet I welcomed at
Rupert's House nearly a month later.

' In the early morn we spread our sails to the wind
and went jo)'Ously forward. The east point of
Hannah Bay is reached, and it now seems that further
proc;ress is impossible ; there is ice, ice ; block after
block is pushed aside ; hoisting sail, back we '^o, to
round a projcctini;- point. We are in a narrow,
crooked lane of water, throuc^h which we move very
carefull}', with poles in hand, read)- to do battle with
any piece of ice which lies in our way, and so hour
after hour slips by, and all hopes of reachinp^ Ivupert's
House are at an end ; but towards evening- our labours
are crowned with success, and the clear sea stretches
before us. There is no place to land. We set our
best man at the helm, and taking reefs in our sails,
trust to the protection of the Almighty. I think it
was the most uncomfortable night I have ever spent.

' In the early morning the wind abated. We once
more set sail, and traversed beautiful Rupert's Bay,
with its varied scenery of hill and valley, wooded
headlands and bare rocks, Gheiles Mount, the highest
eminence in this part of the country, rising majesti-

DAVS OF LABOUR

cally above .'ill. By and by, the North Point is
reached, and we enter Rupert's River. We have been
seen at Rupert's House, the flacj is wavint^^ in tlic
brce/c ; the few houses form a pretty picture in the
mornini:^- h\L^ht ; and just before seven o'clock I am
heartily welcomed by a crowd of Europeans and
natives, who come down to the river's bank to meet
me, as I get out of the boat.'

Rupert's House is an important post of the
Hudson's l^)ay Company, and the centre of their fur
trade in a \ery extensixc district. The business is
managed by a trader high in the Hudson's l^ay
service, assisted by a clerk, a storekeeper, and a staff
of tradesmen and servants ; the buildings consist of
the master's residence, houses for the servants, large
and substantially built stores, and last, though not
least, a capacious church. * That church,' sa)'s Mr.
Horden, ' how long I had sighed for it ; how hard I
had laboured one summer getting logs brought to the
place from distant woods, and sawn into boards for
the commencement of the building ! And now I see
a stream of worshippers flowing from tents and
marquees, gradually filling it, until there is scarcely
room for another human being. What joy and grati-
tude did I feel ! This is the fifth church in my
district since Moose became my home ; my next
must be four hundred miles from Rupert's House,
for the Saulteaux Indians oi Aqw Brunswick.

' There goes the bell ! it is just six o'clock. I
had service every morning at Rupert's House, but
this morning there is an innovation, I am one of the

r^yr

■I

DA YS 01' LABOUR

!' I

assembly, nr^t tlic leader ; I liavc deputed an Indian
to conduct the service, and riL;ht well he performs his
duty. The Litany is very impressively rendered, and
a chapter of St. Matthew well read. The numerous
voices minL;lc in their translation of "lie dies, the
friend of sinners dies "-A^*/**"//, //w/v?- /.v?- .sv^/'^'/^r^/ to
Luther's hjnnn ; then I take the Testament and once
more read the chaj)tcr and explain it, enforcini.^ its
lessons on ni)' hearers ; the h)'mn, " Lord, dismiss us
with 'l"hy blessing'," is suni^, and the congregation
sei)arates.

' It is time for breakfast. I take mine with my
kind host, the trader, who is not onl}- an luiglish
gentleman, but a Churchman and communicant. At
nine o'clock* I am in m\' vestr\% and around me are
the serx'ants' children. I am in a small English
school, reading the English Testament, tenching
luiglish liymns, till elexen, when m\' Indians come
to me famil)' by famil)'.

* Ilere is Jacob JMatamashkum.
' " Well, Jacob, how did }'ou get on last winter?"
'" Part of it very badly, part tolerably well. It
was a poor season for furs, martens entirely failed,
and none of the other animals matle up for the
deficiency ; manv- of the Indians will be quite unable
to pay their debts to the trader. We had our prayers
every day, and we kept the Sabbath, but once now
and then wc were obliged to look for some food on
Sunday when we had nothing. We love our religion
more and more, and are very glad indeed we have
the church to assemble in."

{

VAVS OF LABOUR

' Then I L;avc ni}' instructions, assured that, as far
as possible, they would be attended to. And so the
hours passed by. At four o'clock I had a very
solemn service ; ^'vo (gentlemen, one more than seventy
years of ai^e, anu the other in middle life, both from
far in the interior (jf the countr)', knelt toj^cther for
the first time in their lives at thc> Lord's table ; the
elder had not seen a clerL;"}'man for upwards of a
(juarter of a centur}'. At six o'clock it is dinc^-donij^,
dinc,^-doni(, a_L(ain, and aL';ain the \oice of praise is
raised, prayer offered, the ])ible read and explained,
and the con^^re<.;ation then separated to their frai^ile
and temporary dwellinc^'s. Yet once more the bell
calls to pra}'er ; the master, the i^entlemen from the
interior, the serx'ants, their wives and children obey
the summons, and 1 hold an hjiglish scr\'ice, enjoy-
able and enjo)'cd. At its termination I take a short
walk, rcdcctint^ on the day's events, offcrinii" up a
silent pra}'cr that (lod would vouchsafe His blcssincr
thereon abundanlU'.'

■\ I'

fill

CHAPTER X

It
!• 1:1

THE i;isnopRic of moosonef;

TllK summer of 1872 passed. On September 13 of
tliat year Mr. Hordcn wrote to the present \vritcr :
' Your much prized letter reached me a day or two
before I set out on one of my longest and most trying
journeys, from which I have but just returned. I
took your letter witli me, and indulged myself with
an occasional perusal of it ; it lias been to many of
the posts of the country, has journeyed over some of
our terrible portages, and lias sailed over many a
lake through the " forgotten land," as it may well be
called, for it is waiting, and will long wait, to be taken
possession of TJie Indians cannot be said to hold
possession, they are so few in number, and the country
is so vast, that one unacquainted with it can J.j'-e no
conception of its extent, h^ancy travelling a whole
fortnight, and during that time not seeing one hundred
persons. A feeling of great sadness sometimes crept
over me as my solitary canoe glided over the bosom
of some beautiful sea-like lake ; myself and canoe-
men were alone in the wilderness. I shall (D.V.)
write you again in h'ebruary, when I hope to send
you as usual a " little budget.'"

ii f i 3

THE BISHOPRIC OF MOOSONEE

Little did the hero of our liistory imai:,n'nc wlicn
he wrote tliosc last lines that a new era was even
then about to open in his eventful life. Our readers,
who have thus far followed his steps with interest,
will learn, we feel assured, with heartfelt sympathy,
that the well-tried and devoted niissionar)', the faith-
ful friend and pastor of his llock durinc,^ so many
years, was now to become the missionar)- bishop of
the newly-formed diocese of Moosonee, forinerly a
portion of the enormous diocese of Rupertsland.
At short notice he started for iMiL-iand, leaving'- wife
and children at Moose, for he was not to be lone;-
absent. He was consecrated at Westminster Abbey
on December 15, 1872.

In the few short months which he spent at home
the new bishop pleaded hard, and not without
response, for assistance to carry out his plans for
advancing and consolidating his former worl: in what
was henceforth to be his diocese, stretching 1,500
miles from east to west and north to south, inhabited
by Crees, ()jibbewa}-s and ]\skimo, together with
some Europeans and half-castes. As a missionary
he had the joy of witnessino- the conversicjn of the
greater part of those children of the wilderness, and
now, as a missionary bishop, his heart was set on the
raising up of a native ministry, supported as far as
possible by native resources.

In this some progress had already been made.
His plan was to divide the diocese into five districts,
each of them sifperintended by a fully ([ualified
pastor, who would be assisted by two or tlirec other

Till-: lUSHOPRIC OF MOOSONEE

Indian clcri^^ynicn, whose trainin,':^- would be conllned
to a thoroui^h kno\vled;^^c of their Bibles and Prayer-
books in their own lanc]jua,q-e. Tliese nien would
accompany the members of their own tribes to their
hunting-^c^rounds, and as the\' woultl be able in a
great measure to support themselves, they would
reijuire but a comparatively small allowance O^r their
maintenance. This was his purpose, and what he
purposed he had with the l)i\ine assistance, which he
ever sought, never yet failed to carry out.

All pniise to Thee, my Father and my (lod.
Thus far Thy love hi.is hi ought me on life's road ;
Day after day Thy mercy was renewed,
Night after night my safety i)ecn secured.

More like to Jesus I would daily grow.
Through whom redemption, love, and merry llow ;
TsEore loving, holy, generous, resigned,
Thougluless of self, tlie friend of all mankind.

Thus was the newly consecrated bishop moved to
sing.

At home in Moose again, with his dear wife and
children, Ih'shoi) I Forden hastened to buckle to his
beloved work ; but he found time to write a graphic
account of his homeward journey, in which he had as
his companion his second daughter, who had just left
school ; the eldest was already at Moose. They
travelled via New York to iMichipicoton, and thence
the remainder of the long, long journey by canoe,
' encamping,' wrote the bishop, ' in woods under a
canvas marquee, waited on by Indians, travelling

THE lUSIIOPRlC 01'- MOOSOXE/,

throu;4h perfect solitudes for days without sccini^ any
human bcini^- other than our crew. It was on the
morninc^- of Tuesday, July 8, that we stepped into our
canoe, havin;;- four Indian companions. We went up
the river slowly against the stream. Then came a
long- portai^e, where we carried everything, and this
detained us many hours ; then on and on till night.
Then we put ashore, lit our fire, erected our tent, fried
our pancakes, boiled our kettles, made our beds, and
having partaken of a good supper, we assembled our
men around us, and they knelt in pra>-er to the
Father in iieaven ; tlicn, shutting the tent's frail
door, we la)- down to rest.

'The feeling was strange: so many months liad
elapsed since the ground had been my bed. Sleei)
did not come at once, and thoughts were busy on the
past and the future. Presently I slept soundly until
the early morn, when we were awakened to pursue
our way. We were off by five o'clock, and during the
day travelled mostl>' among large lakes. IMicre were
no birds, no creatures of any kind visible, except
when we were crossing the portages, and here we saw
(piite enough of the dreaded moscjuito. On the third
day we came upon two men engaged in erecting a
house, which was to be a trading post in opposition
to the great traders of the country, the Hudson's Jiay
Company. (,)n our fifth night, when we were not very
far from New Brunswick, we were so troubled by mos-
quitoes that we could get no sleep, and we were not
at all sorry when the light of the early morn allowed
us to pursue our way over a bare and swcunpy portage.

TFIE IIISHOPRIC OF MOO SON EK

'This ended, \vc once more got into our canoe, and
in a few hours fcnnid cnirselves at tlie little post of
New l^runswick. Ilerc were some Indians, but not
very many, and with them I spent the day, praying
with and teaching them. They are as )-et mere
infants in the faith, knowing but little ; but I would
fain hope that much good has been alread)- effected
by the preaching of the Gospel. They were very low,
but some among them have already been baptized,
and are walking consistentU'. The new trader they
ha\'e among them is an old friend, who takes deep
interest in the spiritual welfare of those who come to
him for the purposes of trade.

'Work done, we once more entered our canoe,
passed through Ikunswick Lake out into the broad
Brunswick branch of the Moose River, and here our
real troubles began. It rained heavily for several
days. It was bad enough in the canoe, but it was
much worse on the portages. Fancy a narrow rough
path through the woods, with thick bushes on either
side, and the path deep in mud and water. I was
much afraid my dear daughter Chrissie would suffer
from such exposure, but she bore up cheerfull}', and
proved herself an expert traveller.

* When the portages were passed we had 1 50
miles further to go ; but the wind became fair, and
we almost flew over the water. On Tuesday morning,
July 22, we rounded tlie head of Moose Island, and
our home stood before us. There was a great running
and calling, and a hoisting of Ikigs. IMie guns gave
their loud welcome, and the dear ones who had been

THE BISHOPRIC OF MOOSONEE

left behind came out to greet us ; and there was joy
— deep, oh, how deep and t^ratcful ! for God had
indeed dealt very graciously with us. Our first even-
ing passed. It has left the ini[)ression of a pleasant
dream. I cannot record our sayinij-s and doines— our
exclamations, our tones of joy and sorrow as we
spoke of this friend's success, or that one's distress :
of this one being born, and that one dying ; it was an
evening unique in our history. We had no ''pemmican,"
for we are not in the land of the buffalo ; it is an
article of food unknown here. Neither had we '' salt
goose," a viand which takes the place of the pcnunican ;
we had somethinr^ better for that e\'eninsj' !

' I at once set to work ; life is too short and
precious to waste much of it ; and since then every
day has been crowded. I sometimes scarcely know
what to do first, and }-et I find time to sit down
and write a line or two to a friend. The way
I manage it is this. I get my work of translation
forward by devoting to it a {iiw extra hours daily,
knowing that a packet time will come, and that it
is necessary that every hour of packet week must
be given up to writing ; the bonds of Christian friend-
ship must not be lightly broken. The translation
work is very heavy and trying. This is what I
have accomplished since I returned in July : I have
revised our Indian hymn-btjok, adding to it a large
number of new hymns. I have translated all the first
lessons between the tenth Sunday after Trinity and
the first Sunday in Lent, as well as some for many of
the holy days. What I wish to accomplish is the

82 THE BISHOPRIC OF MOO SO NEE

Psalter, the first lessons, and the Xew Testament, to
be bound up in one voliiuie. If I c:jo on as I have
done, I ma}' get the whole ready in twelve months
from this time. I shall give myself no rest until my
people have the whole of the Word of God in their
liands.'

Thus the good bishop worked on, happy in the
conviction that if things were not hurrying onward to
perfection, they were at least moving slowly in the
right direction " his exertions being helped by his
Heavenly l^^ather, to whom he attributed all progress.

!■■' ^

o
c

c
o
c

CHAPTER XI

A PICNIC AND AN INDIAN DANCK

Till-: year 1874 was an eventful one at Moose ; the
brcakiniT,--iip of the ice broiii,Hit with it a flood, and
tlie bishop and his family had to be fetched in a
canoe to the house of the deput}'-governor for safety.
The moving ice masses tore up the river bank, broke
down the fences, snapped trees as if the}- had been
reeds ; w^--' ■*- an incessant roar was kept up as the
mile-wide .1 lushed madly on towards the sea.
Crops were backward and sparse that season.

In July the bishop started on his sunmier visita-
tion tour to Rupert's House, East Main, and Fort
George. Everywhere he was received with open
arms ; everywhere the services were well attended ;
at each of the posts visited many were baptized and
confirmed.

By September the bishop was back again, busy
amongst his Indians and with the European sailors
who had spent perforce a whole year in the vicinity,
the ship of 1873 having been ice-bound off Charlton
Island ; there was no place ncare-r at hand at which
she could winter in safety. IJut the captain, mate,
and some of the men had visited Moose during the

V 2

r-^

I'h

;h^

I'f!

A PICNIC AND AN INDIAN DANCE

summer, and every opportunlt}- (>f communication
had been taken advantage of. Now tlie)' were
occupied in cleaninc^ the ship and makin^^ ready for
a fresh start homewards. Late one nii^lit, just before
she set sail, the bishop and his wiA) accom[)anied
their newl)'-married daut^liter on boartl, tlicir cklest
-the chikl wliom liisliop Anderson liad baptized.
All hands \\ere inxited aft ; a last solcnni and affeet-
ini^ farewell service was hel.\

The annual ship came and went, and the i;ood
folks at Moose be^^ai. to feel at once that winter was
at the door. The weather, thouL;h still warm, could
not be long depended upon. ' We begin,' wrote the
bishop, * to take up our potatoes ; that done, we look
well to our buildings, to prevent as far as possible the
entrance of frost ; then we endca\our to ki}^ in a
stock of fish for the winter, some of which are salted
while others are frozen - in which state the\' keep
good almost all the A\'inter ; after that, pigs and
cattle are killed, and cut up, and allowed to freeze.
Then the great labour of the season begins — the
cutting and hauling of firewood, for we have no coals
here. We send men armed with large axes into the
thick woods, and there they chop down tree after
tree, strip off the branches, cut them into billets
about three feet long, split them and pile them into
a " cord." A cord is a pile of billets eight feet long
and four feet high, one and a half of such being
considered a fair day's work for a man. Then other
men come with horses and oxen, harnessed to sledges,
and haul the wood to our respective houses, near

III >i

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yl PICNIC AM) AN INDIAN DANCE

whicli it is rcpilcd. Then the men arc sent further
off to ^Qt loL,^s for building purposes, which are rafted
down the river on the breakini]^-up of the ice.

' My youni;- son J^ertie dch'ghts in choppin;:^, and
in winter both Bertie and Beatrice deh'i^ht in tobog-
ganing, which gives them capital exercise, A piece
of wood about six feet long, ten inches broad, and
a (quarter ()f an inch thick, is turned up a little in
front, and is then called a sled ; this is brought to the
C(\i:i,Q. of the river's bank, which is in some [)laces very
steep. Hertie sits down in front, armed with a short
stick to guide the sled ; his sister sits down behind
him, and down they rush with ama/ing speed, the
impetus carrying them far out on the frozen river ;
then thc)^ trudge up tlie bank, bringing the sled with
them, and the process is repeated again and again.
As this sort of exercise is a little too violent for a
person of middle age, 1 don't engage in it now.
Then there is the fishing. Walking out two or three
miles in snow-shoes, a gipsy tent is made in the
woods ; holes are cut in the thick ice, a pile of pine
brush is brought from the woods ; and then ccunes
the sitting and shivering at the hole, bobbing a baited
hook up and down, perhaps the pleasure of catching
a fish, then the pleasure of cooking it, and then the
pleasure of eating it.'

During the cold of this year's winter the bishop
allowed himself a rare holiday — the only one, indeed,
with the exception of those connected with Christmas-
tree doings, ever recorded by him in his many letters
to us. Availing himself of an unusually fine warm

A riCMC AM) AN INDIAN DANCE

\\^

day ill I'^cbruar)', he licKl a i^rand picnic witli his
nunily and fiicnds, (hi\in;.:^ out fuur or five miles in
doer and horse slcir>hs, takin;.'- dinner in a larjjc com-
fortabic tent, witli a fine Hrc in the centre, and then
p:oiniT down t(; the river and fishinij^ throucrh holes
cut in the ice. ' l^obbini,^ our hooks, baited with either
a piece of fat [)ork or rabbit, until a lunun)- trout
macje a dart at it, we generally succeeded,' he says,
' in drawini;" it throui^h tiic thick ice on to the .snow,
wlicrc in a short time lie became frozen hard ; f(;r
when I say that we had a A\arm da\', I mean the
thermometer stood but a little below ze.o.' Yes,
there sat the bishop and his children and fiiends on
[)ine brush on the ice, quite enjo)'inL;" themselves !

' \Vc got home very nicel}- in the e\ening, but the
cold was then becoming severe, and as the wind was
liigh we sliould have been very uncomfortable indeed
had we been out much later. With all the draw-
backs, I am very ha[)[)y liere at Moose. I have no
time for kiishkalctniiiouui^ or " thinkin!>- long." Were
the day thirty hours instead of twenty-four, I should
still fmd it too sliort. Each }'ear finds me busier
than its predecessor, and so I suppose it will continue
to the end. The happiest man is he who is most
diligently employed about his Master's business. 1
have before me for next summer a most extensive
journey ; I go to Red River to attend the first
meeting of our provincial synod, and then to York
Factory, travelling over four thousand miles.'

The school, under the bishop's own immediate
superintendence, was going on well, the scholars

A PICNIC AND AN INDIAN DANCE

in.'ikiiij^ cjood progress. One boy, out (^f school
hours, \\-as cm[)lo}'cd in choppiiiL^ wood for the school
fn-c. Another had accompaiu'ed the bisho[) in all his
last summer journe\'ini;s, behaving- in .an exemplary
manner. A third, lulward Richards, was already
ver)^ useful, assistini;" as a master in the school. The
Indians are very fond of their children, and perhaps
a little ovcr-indulL(ent. The s[)oilt children arc some-
times disobedient. The bishop gives an amusing
description of [)arental admonition on one occasion
at a distant camp. ' I had been,' he says,' awa}' from
home for some time, and hoped befcM'e ni^ht to arri\e
at East Main. I had reached a part of the coast
opposite the large island Wepechenite, "the Walrus,"
when I observed a body of Indians standing on a
rock, watching us. Here was an op[)ortunity not to
be missed ; those Indians might not hear the Gospel
again for }ears. I at once directed my men to look
out for a good landing-place, and I got ashore. My
men also came ashore, and- began collecting wood for
the purpose o'i cooking breakfast. In the meantime
the Indians, seeing our movements, got their canoes
into the water ; they did not come empty-handed, but
brought a large number of fine white fish, called by
them Atikamakwuk— " deer of the sea," some dried,
others fresh, just taken from the nets. I collected all
our visitors to a service, at which many children were
to be baptized. The deepest attention was paid.
The morning hymn was heartily sung, for these
Indians are all Christians. The discourse is beincr
delivered when there is a great stir among the

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A PICNIC AM) A A INDIAN DANCE

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congrci^ation ; faces look excited, voices are raised,
apparently in anger. J-'or a moment I was at a
loss to account for this ; then I saw that it w as my
address that was taking effect, although not (|uite in
the way I had intended. I was speaking to the
young people, telling them their duty to their parents.
The mothers thought this an opportunity not to be
passed over, so, raising their voices, they cried out to
their daughters, "Do you hear? Isn't this what we
are always telling you?" Then, rusliing at them^
the)' brought them to the front, saying, " Come licre,
that he may sec you ; let him see how ashamed y(ju
look, you disobedient children!" Turning to me
they said, " Ves, the}- are disobedient, the}' will not
listen ; perhaps now they have heard you they will
behave better." The )oung people promised better
conduct for the future. The service o\er, we once
more took to our canoe, and [)addled on under the
hottest sun, I think, I have ever experienced.'

It was during this summer trip that the bishop
witnessed an Indian dance.

' I had travelled far,' he sa}'s. ' I had visited the
stations on the Ivast IMain coast, and had been some
time at Little Whale River. It is a dreary place, and
the mighty, frow ning. rocky portals of the river seem
fitted for the entrance to other regions, to another
world. I had spent much time preaching the Gospel
to Europeans, half-castes, Indians, and Eskimo, and
I was intending almost immediately to turn the bow
of my canoe southwards, and speed back as fast as
possible to my home at Moose Factory.

A PICNIC AM) AN INDIAN DANCE

' Walkinix out one cvcntim witli the ^entleinan in
cliari;e of the post, we were somewhat startled by a
f^reat noise procecdini^ from an encampment of
Indians a quarter of a mile distant, on the top of a
high hill. *' A conjuring, a conjuring extraordinary ! "
said we. We ascended the hill quietly, and quite un-
observed. Having attained the summit, we walked
ra[)idly towards a large tent from which the noise was
proceeding, and looked in, but at first could make
out nothing distinctly. W'e entered, and found six or
seven men standing as closely together as possible
around a very small fire, dancing, or rather shufiling
up and down, without in the least changing their
position ; the women and children were sitting around,
admiring and applauding spectators of the doings of
their lords and masters. There was music, too, both
vocal and instrumental. The player was likewise the
vocalist ; he was an old man, who sat among the women
and children ; his instrument an old kettle, over
which a piece of deer-skin had been tightly drawn,
and this he beat with a stick, accompanying with his
cracked voice, raised to its highest pitch. The dancing
and music continued for some hours, but about every
five minutes there was a momentary cessation, when
all in the tent joined in a prolonged howl. All seemed
to thoroughly enjoy the sport, and I was myself glad
to sec it, for it was no conjuring after all, only a little
simple amusement, and it was the first sign of ani-
mation I had witnessed among those Indians, who arc
not of a very high type of humanity. They are now all
Christians, but the standard of Christianity is low —

A PJCMC AM) AN INDIAN DANCE

l£ *

how can it be otlicrwisc ? I .im the nearest cleri^ry.
man to them, antl I am six hundred miles (h'stant.
The difficiiUy of reaching; them is very i^reat, for the
sea in their \icinity is o^jen but fur a short time in
the whole )ear. This summer I had hoped to see a
hdjourer stationed amoncr them and the teachable
Eskimo, but for the present I have been disappointed.'

The bishop's thouj^hts were much (Kcu[)ied with
the need for more churches and schools, more pastors
and teachers, in his extensive di(Kese. In 1S75 he
writes: ' At present there are three clergymen in th.e
di(jcesc besides myself, and the work we have to do is
very great and onerous. I liave given, God's grace
enabling me to do so, more than twenty years of my
life to the cause which is so close to my heart, and I
long to sec the whole of the country under my charge
not only free from superstition, but likewise entirel)'
under the sway of Christ, that there shall not be a
tribe, either among the Crces, Ojibbewax , or F.skimo,
which has not its well-instructed and fully-acCredited
teacher. Many of the tribes do not sec a minister's
face for years.'

Hishop I lorden had now been actively engaged
in the mission field nearly a quarter of a century.
On January 6, 1876, he writes: 'During the whole
of that time I have not been laid up with any serious
illness whatever, and I am thankful to add that I still
feel us strong in body and as capable of work as
when I first landed here ; truly God has surrounded
me with loving-kindness and tender mercy ; but in the
course of last year He taught me, in a manner not to

A PICMC AND AN INDIAN DANCE

be misunderstood, that the threads of my life arc held
in His hand, for He pkicked me from the very jaws of

death.

' With a large number of fellow-passengers I was
on board the steamship Manitoba, on Lake Superior,
on my way to Michipicoton, when late in the evening
we came into collision with the American steamship
the Comet, a vessel more than twice the size of our
own, laden with a heavy cargo of silver ore and [)ig-
iron. That we escaped without material injury seemed
quite miraculous, for the Comet sank immediately,
and with her, I am grieved to add, eleven of her
crew of twenty-one men. I trust that this nearness
to death, showing me how uncertain is life, is causing
mc to value it more highly, and to labour more
earnestly in the vineyard before the night cometh in
which no man can work.'

JuJ

CIIAPTKR XII

III

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ORGANISATION AM) TRAVEL

Till-: marked feature of tlie }'ear 1S75 w.i.s the
organisation of the four dioceses, into which the oKl
diocese of Rupertsland was divided, into an eccle-
siastical province, the first synod of which was held
in the be^innini^ of August. This necessitated the
bishop's going to Winnipeg, Red River, a journey of
fifteen hundred miles. ' In going I visited the stations
of New Brunswick, Misenabe, and Michipicoton.
At New 15runswick much progress is being made ;
most of the Indians are now baptized, and as the
present agent of the Hudson's Hay Company there is
a great friend of missions, and one who will do all in
his power for the spiritual benefit of those attached
to his trading post, I hope it will not be long before
heathenism will have taken its entire departure,
and Christianity be the professed religion of that
important portion of my charge. From all the
stations 1 receive good reports, but before that
advance can be made for which we so deeply long,
we must have more labourers. We are so few, and
the field is so large. In the autumn the mission was
strengthened by the arrival of the Rev. J. II. Keen

ORGANISATION AXn TRAVEL

from lMii:^land, and a valuable ^\^\. he is provinc^^ him-
self to be. I trust another man e([ually good will
be sent next autumn.

' In May I hope to set apart Mr. Saunders, a native
of the country, for the work of the ministry among
his countrymen (the Ojibbcways). Thus I shall be
enabled to occupy three most important posts, so
that, should 1 further carry out my plans, 1 .hall con-
sider that I have the diocese tolerably well in hand.
The places I hope to occupy are Rupert's House, to
which an immense extent of country looks as its
head ; Matawakumma, which will guard the frontier
from Roman Catholic encroachment ; and Whale
River, opening up communication with the interest-
ing but much neglected Eskimo of the north-eastern
coast of Hudson's Hay. Another place, I'Mying I'ost,
I had likewise hoped to supply with a permanent
competent teacher, but the man intended for it, a
pure Indian, will not be ready this year.'

The Rev. J. II. Keen had been assisting the bishop
at Moose, but the people at Rupert's I louse were still
without a missionary, so at Christmas he was given up
to them, and the bishop took the work at Moose
Fort alone. The Christmas Day services began ere
the stars had disappeared from the firmament, and
continued till late in the afternoon. ' After this,' he
writes, * I felt considerably fatigued, but a cup of tea
revived me, and I spent a quietly happy evening with
my wife and youngest children.'

In the following summer the bishop joined Mr.
Keen at Rupert's House. 'Among those who came

ORGANISATION AND TRAVEL

i!
I

down to meet me,' he says, ' were our old friends
Matam.'ishkiun, W'apunawcshkum, Snuffers, and many
others. Our joy was mutual.

' Soon arriveil the brigades from Mistasinncc, W'as-
wanepe, and Xitchekwun, hundreds of miles up the
Rupert's River. We were busy morning, noon, and
night. Every moment was employed, Rn* these chil-
dren of our^- would have but a few days' intercourse
with their father, and then would again return to
their distant homes. We had marriages to perform,
many children to bapti/c, candidates for confirmation
to prepare, communicants to instruct, the disobedient
to rebuke. There was not much of this, however,
and the days ran rapidly and happily on. The
Psalter, beautifully printed from my translation, had
come to us thj previous ship time, and the Indians
were delighted. After a little while it was most
cheering to heai li< w well they read together their
appointed portions. They gave me a very good col-
lection, a good number of beaver ; that is to say, they
did not give me a large pile of beaver skins, but our
native teacher, Jacob Matamashkum, had made a list
of all the Indians, and after each name he had written
down the man's contribution in beaver. When the
list was completed it w^as given to the resident trader,
who credited me with three shillings for each beaver.
Altogether it amounted to a considerable sum.'

Some time after this the bishop made a voyage in
the Mink to Big River and Great Whale River, both
on the eastern coast of Hudson's Bay. At Great
Whale River the work was of a varied character,

ORGANISATION AND TRAVEL

amongst Indians, Eskimo, and En^irlish. The '"^-
kimo were assembled in some numbers for the whale
fishery. lUit it was not a success that season. The
whales, or rather porpoises, remained outside the
river, and would not come in. * A whale fishery when
the whales are numerous is a very excitini^ si^^ht. I
myself,' sa}'s the bishop, ' have engai^ed in a fishery
in which a thousand were killed, but that was many
years ago. The Eskimo gave much cause for en-
couragement ; no matter what they were about, when
summoned to school or service the work was dropped
instantly, their little books were taken up, and off
they trotted, singing, listening, praying ; they showed
that they were thoroughly in earnest.'

' How grieved was my heart that I lind no one to
leave behind who might take the Itskimo as his
special charge ! ' says the bishop. Hut the man de-
sired was even then approaching Moose Eort in the
annual ship. It was Mr. Peck, a layman, who had
spent some of the earlier years of his life as a sailor.
' It was by searching the Scriptures in my mess on
board one of H.M.'s vessels that the light shone into
my darkened soul ; it was then I knew its truth,' he
says. The bishop was much pleased with the earnest-
ness and evident fitness for the work of the young
missionary. After remaining at Moose only a week,
the latter set out in a boat with three or four Indians
for his distant and lonely home. After a few months
he returned to Moose to be ordain^ ■ ..

* The two events of the winter,' writes the bishop,
February 1878, 'have been the children's school-treat

\s\

ORGANISATIOX AND TRAVEL

}' ■':

I .)

' ■« I

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and the ordination cjf Mr. I'cck. The treat was a
i:^reat success, l^'ifty-six partook of our liospitah'ty.
Wc divided them into two parties on two successive
eveninc;s ; I never saw cliikh'cn enjoy themselves
more. We had man)- frames to amuse them, finishinii^
each evening with a reh'L^ious service. luhvard
Richards, one of the Coral inuid protrj^rs, is with us,
assisting generally in the mission. 1 le has done
good work this winter in giving instruction to Mr.
Peck in the Indian language. My son is spending
the winter with us, cheering us much, and assisting
in the work. In the summer he takes his mother,
]5eatrice, and Bertie to England, the two latter to go
to school. I am afraid I shall find a bachelor's life
here rather hard.'

On May lo, 1878, the bishop, with heartfelt
thanksgiving, ordained Mr. Peck deacon and priest,
'lie left us,' writes Mr. Horden on June 18, 'with
our deepest sympathy and our most eari'iest prayers.
He left us well prepared for his work, and with a
good insight into the two difficult native languages
he will be in constant contact with, the Cree and
the Eskimo. He is full of zeal — zeal tempered
with prudence, and I think that, should his life be
spared, a noble career is before him. The surround-
ings of his home are very desolate, and he needs all
the help and sympathy we can give him.'

This summer was spent as usual in almost con-
stant travel by the bishop, who still had not been from
end to end of his vast diocese. The station next in
importance to Moose at that time was York Factory,

•

ORCAIV/SATIOX A\/> /AV/ZTTA

■

hut he had never yet seen it, owincj to the Ljreat (hs-
tance. This suminer he visited Alhan)-. Althouijh
it was tlic end of June, ice was still l>'in^ on the coast
when lie set out in a latLje canoe, accompanied by six
Indians. The way lay alon^^ the western shore of
James' Ray. The scenery is very drear)-, the coast low
and flat, not a hill to be seen. At the end n^ three
days he found himself 'at a vcr\' sm.iU villaije, con-
sisting of the resid'ince of the fur trader, a nice church,
a good parsonage, a few well-built liouses, and a
number of Indian tents.'

* I was most heartily welcomed,' he writes. * It was
late !.i the evening when I got out of the canoe, and
the next morning early I entered the church for ser-
vice. The Rev. Thomas Vincent, who has built botli
his house and church, principally with his own hands,
is most indefatigable. I saw no heathen Indians
here, I heard no Indian drums, I beheld no super-
stitious rites, but I heard liymns of praise rising to
heaven. A large number had been prepared for con-
firmation, and many knelt at the Lord's table.'

After a stay of a fortnight's duration the bishop
returned to Moose, and started for Matawakumma,
500 miles distant, where the Rev. John Saunders, a
native, like Mr. Vincent, of Albany, was now located.
Matawakumma means, ' the lake of the meeting of the
waters.' It is a large lake, irregular in outline, sur-
rounded by woods. The first thing which strikes tlie
visitor on approaching the station is the ne-'^t little
church perched on a rising ground, like a beacon set on
a hill, the rall)-ing point for the little band of Ojibbeway

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Indiiiiis (»r tin.' iicii'liliMiirhofid. 'I'lvn the rosiMcncc
of tli(; fiir-tradcr coincs in siL;ht, {he. >l<>r(' and oilier
biiilditiLr^, and tlic modest [)arsona;j[o-]v)Us(', with its
L^ardcii and accessories. The whole ua\' iVoni Moose
the bishop saw not nir)re than a do/en i)eo[)lc. The
journe)' took rather more than a rortni;.;ht. The road
was a broad ri\er, impelled in its conrse 1)\- man\-
r.i[)ids antl shoals, and I)\- numerous wat falls, some
ftf u hich are ver)- beautiful.

' \^arious portai^es had been made, and we were
cjoini^^ on, as wc thoui^dit, safely,' writes the l)isl-...p,
' when suddenly there is a heavy crash, and the w.ater
comes rushinc^ into the canoe. We had come with
force ui)on a rock', wlu'ch had made a c^rcat hole in
the bark. W'e paddle to the shore as fast as possible,
take ever)'thin:^ out of the canoe and be^^in repairini:^
it. One i^oes to a birch tree and cuts off a lar^e
piece of bark', another di^js u[) some rocts and splits
them, a third prepares some pitch, and in the course
of an hour or two th.e baik is sewn into the bott(^m
of the canoe, the seanis are coxenxl with pitch, and
wc are once more loading; our little vessel.

'At the end of our second week we come to an
encampment of Indians. It is Sunda}-. and we sta\'
and spend the da)' with them. Thc\' are old friends,
llenr\' Mart\n antl his wife and others. Indians who
are Christians, bapti/.ed and communicants. Indians
who can gi\e a reason Un- the hope which is in them.
Indians wh(") can read their books and write their
letters, and who ma\' be depended upon tjuite as
much as any luiroi^eans.

H
V.

G 2

W '

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ORG AN ISA TION AXD TRA I I'J.

lOI

'V.wxXy on Monday moriiini; \vc arc once more in
our canoe, and soon get into Matawakuninia Lake, in
which we paddle for five hours in ver}- heavy rain.
Soaked quite throui;h, we feel not a little L;lad to step
ashore on the friendly beach, and hnd ourselves once
more w ith civilisetl man.'

And ere Ioul,^ the time came for the bishop's sore
trial of parting; with wife and children. 'Ihe two
youngest must f;o to an English school. lUit'who
was to take thein ? ' he writes, 'There was no one
but their dear mother, and although it was hard to
part with her in this drcar\- and solitar\- land, it was
absolutely necessary ; and they were to be accom-
panied by m}- eldest son, Dr. Iforden, who had spent
the winter with us. Our annual ship came e<irly, ami
the party was to start in her on her return voyage. I
spent one night on board. Next morning, at an early
hour, the ship's guns told us th.it the vcyage liad
commenced. I remained until after breakfast, and
then, after a sorrowful farewell, I left in a boat, and
in a few minutes found myself on the deck of the
schooner bound for Fort Gcor^'e.

' Now the way to Fort George is, in part, the way
to England, and so the two vessels started in com-
l)any. The day was beautiful, the wind was fair, and
we made good progress ; but the great ship, spreading
more canvas, gradually got ahead— late in the evening
she was about twelve miles distant, and I thought we
had seen the last of her. That night and the next
day the weather was very wild and disagreeable, but
the day, after all, was once more prosperous, and soon

I02

ORGANISATIOX AND TRAVEL

\% ^

iiftcr brcaklaht \vc csi)iccl our huge companion a few
miles to the west of us. She drew towards us, and
when we saw the hist of lier, as night came (»n, she
was about ten miles aliead.

' The foHowing day wc sliould eahil\' ha\e reached
our destination had tlie weather been clear ; as it was,
we could not venture near the dani'ercnis coast. On
Sunday the weather cleared up, the high land of
Wastekan Island came in sight, and by-and-b\' the
low and dangerous lead islands. Then the wild and
uninviting land all around showed we were at the
mouth of Big River, the tortuous channel of which
wc carcfull)' threaded, and at four o'clock wc dropped
anchor in front of the little village, c(jnsisting only of
six or eicrht houses.

' I was agreeably suri)rised to find a large number
of my red friends assembled on the beach to greet
me. I at once collected them together, anil we had
a most interesting service. Later in the evening we
had the English-speaking people and the crew of our
vessel, making altogether quite a respectable congre-
gation. On I'^riday morning we had to say good-b}-e,
and once more go on board. The next day was dark
and dismal, the wind blowing a hurricane, while the
sea ran mountains high. At noon we caught a
momentary sight of land, but we were obliged to
stand out, as wc could not see our wa)' through the
tortuous course to Moose. No one on board slept a
moment that night. The storm abated in the morn-
ing, and at daybreak we were once more sailing in
the ri. ht direction ; in the afternoon the wind was

II if

()/a;A\/SA 7 /( KV AAP TKAVFl.

lo;

very li.Ljht, ami a little after six o'clock we landed at
Moose. I made in\- way to my own house; the loved
ones, who were accustomed to greet me with such joy
on my return, were far awa\-, battling with the great
Atlantic waves. . . . They were gone, and it ill
became me to sit down antl mope ; so I set to work-
to drive melancholy away. More work came upon
me than I had calculated upon.

' This was the only winter that Mr. Saunders, the
Ojibbcvvay clergyman, could be at Moose for a long time,
and I could not translate into the CJjibbeway tongue
without his assistance. We first attacked the Moo-
sonee hymn-book. This finished, we commenced the
Prayer-book, and having finished the morning praj'crs
we put it aside to get one of the Gospels done. The
great diversity of languages in the diocese vastly
increases our labour -Cree, Ojibbcway, Chipwyan,
and Eskimo — and there must be separate translations
for each. The English school, too, I manage myself,
with over thirty scholars. They are a happy lot, very
well behaved, with a great love for their school— as a
proof of which I need only say that there has been
scarcely an absentee for the winter. All this,
with sermons, visiting my people, correspondence,
which grows instead of diminishing, keeps me
thoroughly employed every day from morning to
nio-ht. The winter hitherto has been a very mild
one. When it stands at or a little above zero, we
consider it decidedly warm.

' Of all 1 received last ship time nothing gladdened
my eyes more than the sight of a box of Eskimo

I04

0/U;yli\JSAJ J()\ JA7) il^AlKL

liiM

books in tlic s}llabic character, printed from manu-
script sent liome the previous year. 1 can fancy with
what deh'^Hit Mr. Peck pounced on them, and witli
wliat c^ratification the Eskimo beheld the raisinc^
of the h'd wln'ch exi)osed to view so much spiritual
food. Our native library is becominc,^ extensive,
new books bein<^ added every year. ^Ihere is no
languai^e without literature. It is blessed work sup-
plying the aborigines of any country with the Word
of Life ; that Word which reveals to them Jesus, and
raises them in spiritual things to a level with the
most polished and civilised nations on earth.'

fi i

!o:

CHATTKR XIII

YOKK FA( TOk\'

Leaving the station in cliargc of the Rev. J. Keen,
the bishop started, in June 1879, on the loni,^ con-
tcinplated visit to York ]<"actory, in the northern part
of his diocese. ' I left Moose,' he says, 'on June 30,
having made every necessary arrangement for tlie
management of the mission during my absence. At
Michipicoton, close to the mighty Lake Superior,
kind friends were my hosts for four days, deiys full of
work, and then a steamer carried me to Sault St.
Marie, a long way out of my course, where I was
obliged to remain a week, during which I was the
guest of another missionary bishop, the Ih'shop of
Algoma, whose diocese is rapidly filling up from
England and the well-peopled parts of Canada.

' I went through Lake Superior. Four-and-twenty
hours of railroad followed, and fourteen hours more
of steamer, and the second stage was completed. A
month was spent with my kind friend the Hishop ol
Rupertsland. I was in the centre of the civilisation
of the country, in the neighbourhood of Winnipeg,
only a (c\v years ago a waste, now a populous town,
with splendid schools, churches, banks, colleges, town

■■■

IP >'('

!(/)

YORK FACTOR]

I I

hall, &c. I was Cvonstantly at work, preaching in the
various cluirclics, sometimes in Cree, sometimes in
ICnL^lisli, added to whicii to m\' lot fell the dutj,' of
prcachini;- the sermon at the openini;" of the s)nod,
at which the clcri^y were collected from various parts
(jf the country. I need not sa)^ liow thorouj^hly this
month was enjoyed ; it i^ave me the lari^X'st aminmt of
Christian intercourse I ha\e had for several )ears.

' When the steamer which was to convey mc
throuy,h Lake \Vinnii)eg was ready to start I went
on board, and in her had a journey of three hundreci
miles to Old Fort, from which I was conveyed to
Norfolk House by boat. I was far enough away
from civilisation now, and had before me five hundred
miles of dreary and desolate country. There wore
some immense lakes to cross, and some rough rapids
to descend ; but we saw no bold falls, such as I
have been accustomed to find in other parts of the
country. i

* On September 19 I found myself at my
journey's end, at York Factory, a spot I had longed
to visit for many, many years, a spot at which several
devoted missionaries have laboured, where Christ has
been faithfully preached, and where many precious
souls have been gathered into His garner.'

The Rev. J. Winter had arrived at the station to
take the place of Archdeacon Kirkby, who had quitted
York by the annual ship just a week before. Mr.
Winter had heard the archdeacon's farewell sermon.
The latter had faithfully toiled there for twenty-seven
years, and there was scarcely a dry eye. The inter-

]Y)/v'A' /:/r7v>A')

107

prctcr was the first to break down, tlien followed
the .ucluieaeoii liiniself, to^^ethcr with the C( .nL;rei;a-
tioii. l\)V a ^^:\v laumeiits tliere was a i)ausc ; it was
with diniciilty that he finislied his diseourse. ' I had
wi.^lied,' wrote the bisho[), 'to express to him per-
sonally ni\' sense of the praiseworth\- niamier in
which he had, sinL;le-handed, ni. mailed this lar^c
district, it needs more labourers --one at Churchill,
and another at Trout Lake. One "-reat diflicultv is
the number of lan;^uaj;es sp«;ken. At ^^)rk and
Severn, Cree; at Trout Lake, a mixture of Cree and
Saultcaux; and at Churchill, Chipwyan and ICskimo,
which have no resemblance cither to each other or to
the Cree or Saultcaux. I have been busy ever since
comiuL,^ here, for besides the Lidian there is a some-
what lapj^e lui^iish con^^res^ation, \'<)rk havini;- ever
been a place of i;reat importance in the ccjuntry,
although it is now much less so than formerly, 1
conduct an English school daily, give lessons in Cree
to Air. Winter, and twice a week I ijive lessons to the
luiropean and native servants of the 1 ludson's 15ay
Compan)-. Altogether 1 am as full}- employed as I
have ever been at Moose ; but I cannot but know-
that with me the sun has passed the meridian, and
that it behoves one to work while it is called to-da\-.

' In January I go northward two hundred miles to
Churchill, the most northerl\' inhabited spot in the
diocese of Moosonee. It is a very drear\' place.
The wife of tlie gentleman in charge there, the sister
of one of our missionaries, is often }'e-MS without
seeing the face of a civilised woman, while the

ill

loS

IVVi'A' FACTOh']

intensity of the cold there is as great ahiiost a.-^ in
any s[)ot u\\ tlie eartli's surface, Vou nia)* conceive
with what joy a visitor is received. What a
wekonie J may expect on my arrival ! I'he Indians
there will be (luite strange to nie ; with their language
I am not at all ac(|uainted. I had never seen one
until 1 came here, and lierc onl}- one a poor girl,
now a hapi))', comfortable. Christian lassie, with an
ICnglish tongue, but who was cast out as an en-
cumbrance by her unnatural relatives. In June I go
on a tour to Trout Lake and Severn ; this will
occu[)y me nearly two months, and in August I once
more set off for I'jigland.'

The voyage from York I^ictory in the autumn of
l8So was tlic most tedious and stormv on record,
occupying ten weeks instead of five. It was the
middle of November ere Bishop Ilordcn reached
England, when once more he had the joy of greeting
his wife and children. And now followed a continual
round of preaching, speaking, and travelling, with
very heavy daily corres]:)ondencc. At many a meet-
ing the bishop held his audience in rapt attention
w^ith the story of the rise and progress of the Moose
mission, with graphic descriptions of parts of the
Moose diocese, with accounts of the work in the six
several districts into which it was ,iovv divided, each
under the care of an ordained clei -man. Charters
had been granted to two companies for the con-
struction of railways from the corn-growing provinces
of Manitoba and Saskatchewan to the shores of
Hudson's Bay, one or both of which would run for

ii!i

JVVv'A' FACTOR \

Foo

the i^rcatcr part llirnup^h the Moo-(jnce diocese. The
bishop pleaded for help, therefore, for a cluirch
extension fund. He would often close his address
with an Indian's account of the condition c.f his
people when in a state of heathenism, i^iving it in
the native Crcc, with a literal translation.

Naspich nc ke miuhepimalisin waskiich minia kakwaii
\ <.'ry I was l)a<l lormL'rly not aiiythi.it;

nc kiskaletan piko Muchemuneto ishpish ka priniatiscyan ;

I know it only tlu; ilcvil as lonrr ^s I Hvcil

misew a ililcwuk ne kc wapuniowuk inosluik a muchei)iina.

all the Indians I saw llK-ni always they heini;

lisilchik, a notcnittochik, a kcshk\va[)arhik,

wiekeil when they light with each other when they getdnuik
a mukoshachik, a mitawitchik, a kosapatutik,

when they feast when they conjure when they [irelend to prophesy

a kclaskitchik ; muskumao wewa, niitopowiik,

when they lie he takes from him by force his wife they ask for lifiuor
iiaspich, saketowiik, iitawawiik, kimotaskawuk

much they like it they buy it they rob (other) people's lands

kisewahao wcche ililewa, naspich tapwa
lie angers them his fellow Indians, very truly

ke niuhej)imati.sewuk.
they were wicked.

These sentences will illustrate the peculiar structure
of the Indian tongue, which, with its ' sesquipedalian
compounds,' as Professor Max Miiller calls them,
might deter almost any student from the attempt to
master it. Bishop Horden, with great patience, perse-
verance, and thoroughness, compiled a grammar of
the Cree language, which appeared about this time,
and in which we arc, step by step, introduced to a

g-ii

I fo

iVVv'A' /'AC'/O/n'

'" ,i

^^!

system (:()ni[)lctc in the nicchanism of rill its pnrts.
Words that sccni all confusion L^raduall)- assume
their pr<i[)er forms. Around the verb, which is the
most important factor in the formation of those
polysyllabic words, cluster all the other ideas. They
are tjjlued on to it, so to speak. That which w ith us
would be a whole sentence is accumulated in the
Crce into a lon.L;' com[)ound wortl ; ai^ent, actiopi,
object, with adverbial expletives, are all combined.

The bishop, in the midst of all his hard work when
in ICnc^land, now speakini^^ for the Church Missionary
Society, now pleading for his own diocese, in the
midst of cnciaiiemcnts and travel, in the midst even
of his very journeyint^s to and fro, found time to
write some of his i^raphic descriptive papers. \Vc
i;"i\e the foUowint^ true story of one of the former
Coral School children, written by him in the waitinc^-
room of a railway station, • hilst expecting a tr.iin.

' Amelia Davey was original!)' named Amelia
Ward, and was one of the children of the Coral
Inmd. She got on with her learning very well, could
read and write English creditabl}', and spoke English
as well as if she had been an English girl, instead of
a Crec. At the age of about nineteen she married a
young Indian named James Okune Shesh ; and,
after about three years of married life, lost him
through disease and starvation, she herself narrowly
escaping death.

* Some time afterwards she married another
Indian, named Solomon Davey, a good steady man,
who was to her an excellent husband. Last autumn

lV)A7v' /A(-n^R]

I I

they left Moose I^'actory with their chilchcti, accom-
panied h)' Davey's old father and mother, for their
winter huntin;.,^-!:,n"onnd.s. Ium* a time all went well, fish
and rabbits suppl^-inc^ the dail)- needs of the family ;
the food ^c^radiially, however, failed, until scarcely an)'
was obtainable. Day after day Solomon went off to
seek supplies ; eveninc,^ after evenini,^ he returned
brinij^ini^ little or nothing. The party now deter-
mined to make their wa}- to Moose ; there they
knew their wants would be relieved, but Solomon's
strcnj^^th entirel}' broke down, and the}' were oblii^ctl
to place him on a sledi^e, which was hauled b)' his
mother ; thu< they moved painfull)- forward. The
poor fellow was covered up as well as possible. He
seemed very quiet ; his mother went to him to assure
herself that all was ric;ht ; but the spirit had fled.
The brave L;ood Indian, who had done his best to
suppl)' the wants of those dependent on him, had
perished in the attempt. Fresh trouble came ;
Amelia's time had come for the arrival of another
bab)' ; camp was made, and a little unsuspecting;-
mortal was ushered into the world.

' How they lived I know not ; but two days after
the child's birth, Amelia, tyinij up her little one, and
placing it on her back, and putting her snow-shoes
on her feet, essayed to walk to Moose, still eighteen
miles distant. Bravely she stepped out ; her own life
as well as the lives of those she left behind depended
on her reaching it. She slept once ; the bitter cold
seemed anxious to make her its victim, but the
morning still beheld the thin spare form alive, and,

(, n

1 1

]-(>A'k' I'ACTORY

asking (iod to ^ivc her the stren^lh slic so sorely
needed, she strucri'lcd on a'^'iin.

• Presently the liouses of Moo-.o make their
appearan ', but the}- are far, far off. Can they be
readied ? It seems scarcely possible, but the effort
is made, the ncccssar}- streniL^th is supplied, and slie
finds licrself in a liousc, with Christian hands and
Christian liearts to ministc" to her necessities.

' JUit can this poor wrinkled old woman, ap-
parently sixt)' \ears of ai;e, be the brii;]it, well-
favoured, cheerful Amelia of thirty? The very same.
What you see lias been produced by the cold and
want ; and how about the babe? Well, the dear little
baby was well and strong ; the Christian mother had
preserved it with the greatest imaginable care, and it
was to her, doubtless, all the more dear from the
terrible circumstances under which it was born.

* Parties were at once sent off to those left behind,
with food and other necessaries, and all were brought
to Moose, where they v.'ere kindly and abundantl}-
cared for. The last thing Solomon did last autumn
was to go to the Rev. J. II. Keen, r .1 purchase for
himself a Crcc New Testament to take with him to
his hunting-grounds.'

Other stoiies the bishop told or wrote, too many
for the size of the present volume. There was David
Anderson, one of the many lambs of the Bishop of
Kupertsland's flock, whose arm was shattered by
an accidental gunshot, and for whom a false arm was
sent out from England. This arm for a time he
would not use, because he thought it w

\CT

I'rVv'A- /■-.ten)/:)'

1 1

suppluincul a liml) of wliicli 'God liatl socti 111 to
deprive him ! ' Ihorc was the ilcvotcd wife of the
d>in;^^ hunter (Jacob Matamashkuni i, who saved him
in the last pnn^s (jf starvation by cii)plyin^' his h"[)s
tn her own breast. There was the a'/etl in'andmotiicv
(^ood old W'idiiw C"harlotle;, who took tlie ilead
daughter's bab-j .md nourishetl it at her bosom thirt)'
)'ears after her own last child had been born. There
w.is Kicharil, son of tlu: \\ idow Charlotte, who was
'a f.imous fi.sherwoman ' even after she had become a
p^rcat ^grandmother. The son was a delicate youni;"
man, who had largely de[)en(.lcd on her for sulxsist-
cnce. lie married and fell ill. 'J'he poor wife on the
morniiiL;" before he died ruptured a blood-vessel in
driving; in a tent-pe;^^ and was carried to the i^rave
ju^t a month after him. There were the starvin^i,^
parents, who, havingj lost their two youngest children
from hunger, set off with the remaining two for the
nearest station, a hundred miles away, to get food.
The wife drew the sledge on which the children lay,
while the husband walked in front to break a road in
the snow for her, till at last his strength failed, and
he could go no further. She, however, set up a little
tent for him, and hastened on. She might yet get
help in time to save him. She reached xMbany, and
sank unconscious. But friend;- were at iiand — tiie
children, scarcely alive, were taken from the sledge.
The mother rcc(jvered o say where her husband lay.
\ party went in search of him ; he was dead, and the
body was hard frozen.

]\Ian\- of the school-children wrote to the bishop

114

YORK rACTO/n-

ii H

ii . I

n\:

)

whilst he was in ICnf^dand letters, that nii^^ht favour-
ably compare with tliose of children possessin^^ far
greater advantages than the}'. All spoke of deepest
attachment to him, all longed for his return amongst
them. ' We shall be so happ}- to see you again,' was
the refrain of every letter. The elder sister of one of
the girls had become the wife of the Rev. J. Saunders,
native pastor of Matawakumma. 1 ler letter c'lddressed
to ]\Irs. Horden is full of interest. It is dated August
13, tS8i. vShe says :

' W^e are pretty dull up here, but we enjoy good
health, and we must feel thankful to Him who gives
us health and life. Of course you know that we spent
the first winter you were away at IMoosc, and 1 must
say your absence was very much felt, and \\ hen the
bishop went away the following summer, Moose was
quite deserted,

' I think the people at Moose will be very glad to
see you back again. Sometimes I wish to see Moose
and my friends living there, but, knowing the difficulty
and expense of travelling, I put the subject out of
my mind, and try to feel contented. If this place
was not such a poor one for living I should certainly
feel more settled. In the winter we do very well in
the way of food, but my husband is obliged to occupy
a good deal of his time in hunting ; but in the summer
wc depend altogether on our nets, and if fish fails,
then there is nothing at all ; but ! am glad to say
that it is only sometimes that we get onl)- enough for
breakfast. I feel happy to say that our Heavenly
Father never allows us to be without food altogether,

IVVi'A' J'JCJVR]'

' »

and we bless the l-)OuiUeuus llam.1 wliicli can <jive us
food even in this bleak and lonely wilderness. IVFany
times while I was at Moose I thoucrht it would be im-
possible to exist on fish alone, but experience teaches
me that we can exist on fish, and fish alone. Many
times I think how nice and helpful it would be if we
had a cow.

' I feel rather surprised that my husband did not
arrange with the bishop before this to have a cow ;
to my mind that should have been considered before
now. The other missionaries have cattle, and I
think we could keep a cow very nicely here. I am
afraid I shall be tirin^^ you, so 1 must conclude my
letter, wishing )ou and yours every ble.^hing.
' I remain }'ours very gratefully,

' Frances Saundkrs.'

The bishop did not return to Moose in the summer
of 1 88 1. He found much to do in England, and so
the annual ship by which he was expected arrived
without him. I'hc Rev. Thomas Vincent visited
Moose, taking the place of the Rev. J. Keen, in the
course of the winter, which was a mild one. The
summer had been dry, and there had been many
forest fires— hundreds of young rabbits and partridges
must have been roasted alive. A sad loss for the
Indians, who largely depend on these for food.

II 2

■>l-i

ii6

CHAPTER XIV

THE RETURN TO MOOSF

III

I i

III

r 1
f i.

I' i

f i

ii Ir:^

In the sprin^^ of 1882, the good folk at Moose
became more and more pressing for their beloved
bishop's return. They were looking eagerly forward
to his presence amongst them again ; and he went,
but he went alone, Mrs. Horden remaining in Eng-
land with their children. A fortnight after his arrival
in Moose he wrote :

* My canoe journey occupied eighteen da)s, and
was rather arduous. The heat, against which there
could never be the slightest protection, was terrible,
sometimes rising as high as no'' in the shade, which
was aggravated by the rocky and difficult character
of many of our portages. These things were nothing
to me some years ago, but it is different now. I cannot
bear fatigue as I could when I came by the same
route fifteen years ago ; then it was physically a
pleasure, now it is a labour.'

The bishop had travelled I'/d New York, Montreal
and Matawa. ' We alighted at the station,' he writes,
* and a mile ride on a very rough road brought us to
the thriving young town. Fifteen years ago, with
wife and two young children, I had found the reaching

VHII

THE RirrVRX TO .]n^os/-.

1 1

Matawa a difficult journey by canoe, and when 1 had
readied it, it consisted of three liouses ; now its
population is about five hundred, while the number
of people passing through is very large. It has fine
shops, man}' hotels, a broad street, and an English
church and parsonage are being built for a very
energetic resident clergyman. It is the seat of the
lumber trade in the Upper Ottawa ; hence its im-
portance. Ikit where are the Indians, who not long
since were numerous here ? This place knows them
no more ! I saw scarcely an}- ; as a race the}- have
passed away ; maiiy have died, for they cannot stand
the diseases Europeans bring with them measles,
whooping-cough, diphtheria, make short work of
them. Many, too, have gone to work on the railways,
while the women have married Erench Canadians,
and so the Indian becomes swallowed up by the
advancing whites.

* I travelled on by rail as far as the railroad went
— forty miles from Matawa. The country is rocky
and uninteresting, with a good spot for farming here
and there. This railroad forms part of the Great
Canadian Pacific, which is being carried forward with
extraordinary rapidity, and will be accomplished
years before it was expected to be, the part causing
most difficulty being that north of Lake Superior.
At Matawa I remained four days, the guest of Mr.
and Mrs. Bliss, spending a Sunday there, which I
much enjo}'ed. I preached both morning and evening,
and in the afternoon gave an address to the children.
I never spend an idle Sunday. I should hope no one

ii8

Tin: ni'/ri'RN to M(h)SF.

r . ! f

■ 1

i f

' i

i
\

, '1
■1 •'

^ . .

ever (If)ns ; !)iit a Siindax- nc\ci' [)asse^; withniit ni)'
sa)in';- snmothin.r^ for tlic Master in a pul)lic mannnr.
I feel that I must work ; the truth fmncs hr)inc to me
more .and more fni-eihly e\er\' da\- that "the time is
short," that it beho\-es us to work v.'hile it is called
to-da\'.

'On Tuesda}', Aupjust l, \ had done with rail\\a)'S
and telei^rams, almost with letters, and was once more
in my birch-bark canoe up the Ottawa. There lies
the bedding, tied up in an oil-cloth to prevent its
c^ettinr^ wet ; tlicre the provisions, and the kettles
and frying-pan, and tent and paddles ; and here are
m)' companions -four Tcmiscamingue Indians, fine
strong fellows, who with alacrity place the canoe in
the water, and then evcr}'thing in it in a very orderl}'
manner ; then one of them with a respectful touch of his
cap says, " Aslii iicii Jic posctoiiau kckiiiow " (" ^Already
we have embarked ever\thing "). I step into the
canoe ; a nice seat has ])een [)repared for me, and v;c
are off. The sound of the i)addlcs is familiar ; 1 could
almost forget that I had not heard it for two )-ears.
Through the whole course of our journc)- I did iKjt
sec a dozen farms. But what is this I see ? Logs,
logs, logs ; tens, hundreds, thousands, all formed into
a raft, on their way to build houses, churches, palaces,
cottages, in the civilised world. And here we are at
the foot of a great rapid ; \\e arc obliged to get out
of our canoe, whicli, with all the baggage, has to be
carried over a long portage, \\v\t there comes a
curious-looking structure, square in shape, and on it a
couple of small houses and four men. It is composed

T^i-.;i9^-"/

11 !

m r'

{ 4-

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^mmm

77//: Av;rrAvv vo moosf.

121

of a larr^c number of squared loc^s formed into a
small raft called a " crib " ; the men look resolute and
determined, .and haiulle immense oars called sweeps.
The}' come ow towards the rai)id, s1owl\' at first, then
the s[)eed increases, and down the)- f;<), coxered with
water, down, down, down, until (juieter waters arc
reached. A few more strokes of the oar send it out
into mid-stream, where it will wait until all the other
cribs have descended, when they will be acjain joined
toc^ether, and so <^o on until the next rapid is reached.
As wc sit, crib after crib descends without accident ;
but it is dangerous work', and the Ottawa frequently
secures its victims.

' W'c have a good deal of portaging, and very hot
it is. On this portage there is an abundance of blue-
berries ; wc gather and eat them, and capitally they
quench our thirst, almost making us forget the ficr}'
sun above us. At the head of the Long Sault our
difficulties are over, we are on the placid waters of the
great Lake Temiscaminguc. Some time after it has
become quite dark, one of my companions exclaims,
" Ma ! " (" Listen "; " kagat iskota cheniau " (" truly the
fire-boat" — the steamer); and in the distance I hear
the puffing of the giant, who has now invaded these
hitherto quiet waters. At midnight we put up our
tent and seek repose ; we set off again early, and
about four P.M. reach Temiscaminguc.

' Five days beyond Temiscaminguc we found our-
selves on the broad waters of the Abbitibbe Lake, a
grand expanse, dotted with islands, which make it
in places very picturesque. And there stands the

121

TlIJi RI-:'IUR\ TO MOOSE

It ;

Hudson's 15.1)' Cnm[).'iny establishment, wlicrc I <'im
sure i^{ a welcome.'

A few cla)'s later the bishop landed at L<^n[^
l*ortac(e House, a small and lonely establishment.
All are friends here, and preparations are at once
made for a service, which all c^rcatly enjoy. ' And
there is a beautiful little balj}' to baptize,' continues
the child-loving bishop, and there arc several who are
anxious to receive the sacrament of the Lord's
Supper.

' I wished to get to Moose before the ship, so
before six o'clock we arc in our canoe and ]iurr}'ing
forwards ; clown we plunge over our last great rapid,
and are in the Moose River. \\'e are soon nearing
Moose, and already come upon some of its people.
Here is Widow Charlotte in her canoe, fishing ; her
face brightens as she grasps m}' hand and tells me
how thankful she is to see me once more ; she looks
well, but the last three }'ears have told greath- upon
her. A little further on we meet stirrinf Widow
Harriet, engaged in the same occu[)ation. At break-
fast-time we meet a large canoe on its way to Abbi-
tibbe, containing a family returning to Canada ; we
breakfast and have prayers together, and I learn that
the ship arrived safely from luigland two days ago,
and that all were well. We paddle on, pass the l^ill
of Portland, and the Mill, and the winter fishing-
place at the mouth of Maidman's Creek, and we cross
the broad river, and sweep round the head of Charles
Island. Here is Sawpit Island, and there, directl}' in
front of us, is Moose Island, but showing no signs of

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bciii<^r inhabited. W^c travel aloiv^- it, wc rouiul its lieacl ,
and a new world lies before us -for it seems indeed
nothin<^ less, coming as one does on the large thriving
establishinont after days of travel in the wilderness.'

Moose at this time and at this season presented an
even still more pleasant aspect than when, some thirty
years bef(;re, the Bisho[)of Rupertsland had described
it as the [)rettiest sp(jt in the country. Since then it
has somewhat increased in im[)ortance, and the con-
dition of the buildings and their surround inirs crive
it a charming appearance.

The grazing cattle first attract attention, then the
neat residence of the bishop and the other mission
buildings, the adjoining cottages with their .\ell-kept
gardens, and a number of Indian tents and maripiees
in the foreground, the church with its metal co\ereel
spire glistening in the sun's rays a little distance off
Near the landing-place are the Hudson's J^ay Company
buildings, the substantial residence of the company's
representative and that of his subordinate officers.
The large handsome store, and a good garden, with the
steward's house adjoining, with a group of workshops
— carpenter's, joiner's, cooper's, and the blacksmith's
forge behind, cow-houses and stables for cattle, horses,
pigs, and sheep. In the foreground is the graveyard
neatly fenced round ; then a field of waving barley,
another of potatoes, and a large hay- meadow, with
again a group of cottages, gardens, and tents.

The ship had come in, and people were hurryin^-
about everywhere. The Mink was receiving car^-o,
the Marten too, as well as a barge with sails set.

126

rilE Nh'.I'l'RX TO Ah)iKSK

Tlicsc transferred their contents to Inrj^c tldt-bottoniecl
boats, which conveyed theni to a store by the river-
side. Along tlie banks were moored many smaller
craft, full of grass, brought from the salt marshes, to be
turned int^o ha)- for the cattle during the long winter.
In the midst of all the bustle the advent of the bishop
in his canoe is observed. The white mission Hag is
hastily run up. The red Hag of the Hudson's Hay
Company is hoisted. The mission part}', which in-
cludes Archdeacon Vincent from iVlbany and Mr. Peck
from r'ort Georije, as well as two vouncr missionaries,
the Rev. II. Nevitt and Rev. J. Lotlhouse, who had
come by the ship, and Mrs. Saunders from Mata-
wakumma, hasten to the landing-stage. The bishop's
daughter Chrissie, with her husband, Mr. J^roughton,
and their three boys, Kelk, I^'red and Arthur, are
there alread)', and the first greetings are not given
before the chief members of the station are all collected
about the bishop. All are anxious to welcome him and
to give him the news he longs to hear, of the welfare of
themselves and the various members of his flock in
the dii'jrent parts of his diocese. Then the bell from
the church tower sends forth its summons, and the
Indians hurr\' to respond to it, and soon the church
is filled from end to end b}* an eager and interested
congregation. lie to w hcnii the}' all look as a father
lias come back, and having gi\en then- greeting and
received his blessing, they depart again to their several
cKcupations.

The bishop was speedily immersed in work.
Only a few days after his return he confirmed forty-

/'///•; h'/rrchw yo MOi^sji

1.7

li\c )uiiiil; JiKliiuis, men nnd women who had been
carefull\- |)icparetl b)- Mr. X'iiiccni. Later on" he
contlrmeil all the lMii;iish-spcakiii<; )'ouni:^ people,
both half-caste and Indian. Mis licart was cheered by
the prof^ress made in the mission during his absence.
'I'iie clunxh was not large enough to contain the
congregation. The winter came and passed.

The spring-tide (jf 1X8:5 was not a cheerful one,
and the bishop felt the contrast between tlic .scene in
his out-of-the-world liomc and the surroundings in
which he had passed the preceding year. ' Misf^oor,
}iiispoo}\ inispoor' ' Snow, snow, snow,' he wrote on
May 2, 'ever\thing white, the ground all covered, the
river all dead and still the ice-co\ering four feet
tliick. ... I turned to m\- table and found comfort
from reading a portion of the Jk)ok of but)ks, (Icjil's
great gift to mankind, until I was called to prayers.
P^amily pra)'ers they were, and yet no uK/mbcr of my
family knelt with me ; the nearest is a hundred miles
distant, the rest thousands.'

Not until May 21 did the ice begin to break.
' On Trinit)' Sunday I looked (jut at three o'clock —
all was still, and I lay down again. At five I once
more looked tnit— the operation of breaking-up had
commenced. In the evening the river, which for so
many months liad shown no si:nis of life, was rollin"-
on in a vast Hood.'

In the summer of this year whooping-cough once
more broke out at Moose and Alban)-. At the latter
place fort}'-four died of it ; amongst the number
the bishop's infant grandson. At Moose, the illness

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THE RI'/rCRX TO MOOSE

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raL(ed almost as fiercely. Day after day funerals arc
recorded by the bishop, who was much depressed by
the mourning and sadness around him. ' Could I,'
he says, ' when the service is over, come back to a
cheerful home it would be different, but I come back
to the once joyous, but now solitary house, to hear my
own footsteps, and to feed upon my own thoughts.'

On /Xucrust 22 a terrible storm broke over i\bjcse.
The morning dawned brightly, and e\crything be-
tokened a beautiful summer day. The sun shone
out, the air was warm, and the wind blew from tlie
south-east. yVfter breakfast the wind grew stronger
and yet stronger, unti' it became a perfect liurricane.
Forest trees bent like wands, some were torn up by
the roots, others snapped in two. The river was
like a tempest-tossed sea. The great flagstaff of
the Hudson's l^ay Company came down with a mighty
crash. The mis.sion flagstaff sw.^yed to and fro,
threatening every instant to fall. The houses suffered
little, being built of solid logs, strongly bolted together
with iron bolts. That Wednesday night was a fearful
one, the next day not quite so bad. The weather con-
tinued dull and raining. The ship was expected, and
a load of anxiety would be removed by its arrival.
J)Ut September dawned, and there was no ship !

' It is now September 5, and one of the gloonn'est
days I have known for a very long time. Ihe hay-
cocks are lying in the fields, thoroughly drenched,
anci turning black from their long exposure to the
daily downpour. The potatoes are cut down by the
heavy frost of last Saturday, and the barley lies

THE RETURN TO MOOSE

1 29

■

prostrate. ^\11 this \vc could bear, but this year there
is a fear that we may have to depend more on what
our fields may give than is generally the case, for as
yet there is no ship. We have had a vessel lying at
the river's mouth for nearly a month waiting for her,
and every face begins to look serious. There is good
cause, for there are not sufficient supplies here for
another year. Of wine there is none. Of medicine,
scarcely any. A restriction has been put on the sale
of food and clothing ; the supply is scanty, and the
look-out is really very dark indeed. What adds so
much to our gloom is the saddening fact that death
is still amongst us, carrying off our little ones amid
!7rcat sufferincf.'

The 7th of September passed, but the joyful
cry of ' The ship is come ! ' had not been raised. The
hearts of the watchers began to grow sick with hope
deferred, and all sorts of conjectures were formed as
to the cause of the delay. On September lo the
bishop wrote, ' Our gloom deepens as day succeeds
day, and we get no tidings of our ship. There are
parties here from distant stations all waiting, but in
a couple of days all nmst leave, so as to burden us no
longer for the provisions they require. September i 5.
Our ship has not come, and I am afraid now it will
not come. You can have no idea of our state of
anxiety. She may come }'et, and I trust she may ;
but it is now so late that we are beginning to give
up hope. And here we are, with no medicine or
wine for the sick, scarcely any candles, a very limited
supply of tea and sugar, a very scanty supply of

i;.o

THE RETl'RN TO MOOSE

mn- ?

clothing, only half a crop of potatoes, and no hope of
improvement for nearly twelve montlis. I feel that
we must not run these risks in future. It is absolutely
necessary that we should have at Moose a full year's
supply for all our missions in this quarter. It must
be done} and I shall require 500/., which will be
expended in the purchase of flour, tea, sugar, salt
pork, bacon, preserved Australian beef, &c. We shall
then always have a j-ear's stock of necessaries on
hand, and so be independent for one year of the
ship's arrival.'

At last, when all hope had fled from the breasts
of those who so long had watched, and watched in
vain, on the morning of September 21 the cry was
raised, * The ship's come ! ' * Magic words,' the bishop
wrote, * which entirely changed the current of our
thoughts.'

The flag was hoisted to announce the event, and
everyone was full of grateful joy, ever}^one busy with
a helping hand, for the weather was already winterly,
with snow falling every day, and the ship must start
quickly on her return voyage. The danger was that
she might not reach home again in safety so late in
the season. She had been delayed for weeks in the
ice in coming out, and the return voyage was indeed
a terrible one. The water in the ship's tanks froze
some inches thick, and heavy gales and blinding
snow-storms accompanied her until she reached
England late in November.

Moosonee has two ports. Moose Factory and York

' It was done by the Coral Fund.

THE RETURN TO MOOSE ,31

l-actory, and the York ship that year could not return
to iMiM-land at all. She had arrived at York when the
people were almost in despair, and had then set out
for Churchill, where she was weather-bound This
place ,s so small and out of the world, that as soon
as possible the crew was transferred to York Factory
where there was better accommodation for them, the'
men having to walk thither two hundred miles on
snow-shoes.

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CHAPTER XV

TRYING TIMES

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The summer of .884 was again a sickly one ; a severe
influenza cold attacked almost everyone. The bishop
had accomplished two visitation tours, when a cry of
distress came from Albany. The sickness was there ;
many in the prime of life were dying. Archdeacon
Vincent was himself ill. The bishop went. Morning,
noon and night he was by the bedside of the sufferers,
or making up medicines for them, till at length a
change took place ; and after a stay of four or five
weeks he was able to return to INIoose, taking with
him Mr. Vincent and his eldest daughter.

It was September, and he was at once plunged in
a whirl of business, for the battered old ship had
come again, and it had brought so many fine packages
of eatables and necessaries that every spare foot of the
mission premises was filled with them.

The ship was again nearly a month behind her
time. For a thousand miles she had contended with
ice, and had been very severely handled. After she
had sailed on her return voyage the various autumn
works were rapidly proceeded with : garden produce
was taken up ; the cattle and byres were made snug

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7'R YING TIMES

133

•4

and taut ; and for house and school 120 cords of wood
were cut. Then the Indians, who had spent three or
four months at the station, bei^an to disperse, to shoot
the geese and ducks so plentiful at that season, and
to hunt the fur-bearing animals, which had by this
time donned their \'aluable winter coats.

All are anxious to get to their winter quarters
whilst the river is available for the canoes. They
assemble for a last Sunday service at the station ;
family after family come to receive the bishop's part-
ing words of counsel and advice ; then the farewell
is spoken. ' Farewell,' they say ; ' we will not forget.'
The last shake of the hand is given, and they go to
their homes in the wilderness, not to return until the
spring, unless some adverse or untoward circumstance
compels them to come in.

Winter came. It set in severely, and much earlier
than usual, preventing the fall fishery, much de-
pended upon for the supply of winter food. All
the more thankful was the bishop for the founding of
the Moose store.

In January he wrote : ' It is a very great relief to
know that the food is here. As to tlie store being
put up, that must bide its time. Every person has
as much as he can do, myself included. Just now
wood and fire take precedence of evcr}'thing else.
Day after day chopping and hauling are going on,
while the disappearance of our immense piles of wood
tells pretty plainly of the difficulty we have in keeping
up the necessary warmth in our houses.'

The past year had been a very chequered one,

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TRVLYG TIMES

outwardly full of trouble, bad seasons, unprecedented
storms, fatal epidemics, cases of starvation, much to
discourage and depress. Yet the bishop could write
thankfully that he had been enabled to labour so
continuousl}' in this inclement and isolated land, he
and his faithful band of assistants having visited
nearly the whole of the great diocese in the course of
the }'ear. Everywhere the Gospel was received with
readiness. ' We have now no active opposition,' he
says ; ' indeed, there are very few persons in the
diocese, except those in the far north, who have not
been baptized, by far the greater part into our own
beloved Church. For those on the north-western
part of the bay a man admirably adapted for the
work has been appointed in the person of the Rev.
J. Lofthouse, who longs, with God's blessing, to gather
into Christ's fold the Eskimo of that region, as the
Rev. E. J. Peck has done on the eastern side of the
bay.

' For the present winter Mr. Lofthouse is at York
Factory, in the place of Mr. Winter, who is in Eng-
land on account of his wife's health ; but I expect
them back in the summer, when Mr. Lofthouse will
go to his more northern home.'

The Rev. E. J. Peck visited Fort George and
Great Whale River, and started from Little Whale
River for the distant station of Ungava, at the en-
trance of the Hudson's Straits, to see the Indians and
Eskimo of that quarter. He was then to embark on
board the Hudson's l^ay Company's steamer for
Quebec, whence he was to proceed to England,

TK YING TIMES

'35

* The Rev. II. Ncvitt remained at Moose all the
summer, conducting services and school, and attend-
ing to the numerous needs of our large summer
population.

* As soon as the river broke up, I set off for Long
Portage House, a station one hundred and twenty
miles distant, on the way to Canada. The Indians
there are Ojibbeways, and as yet have not made
much progress in the religious life ; but they received
my message with attention, and I trust will yet become
emancipated from the superstitions which oppress
them. Returning from Long Portage House, I
remained a short time at Moose, and, making all
necessary arrangements, went in my mission boat to
Rupert's House, which I formerly visited yearly, and
where I have long wished to see a missionary per-
manently settled, and for which I had too fondly
hoped to see one arrive from England last autumn.

* Sad troubles have come upon my much loved
people there during the last few years, numbers of
them having died of starvation from the failure of
deer, which w^ere formerly very numerous in their
hunting-grounds. I trust that such stories of misery
and death as I was constrained to listen to will never
fall on my ears again. My mission was very success-
ful, for I was enabled not only to minister to all the
Rupert's House Indians and residents, but likewise
to the Indians of the far interior, who came in the
different trading brigades from Mistasinnee, Was-
wanepe, Machiskun, and Nitchekwun. These are all
Christians, many of them communicants, and the

11,6

7Vn7XG TIMES

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fjreater part of them read and write the s}-llabic
characters very well. Rui)ert's House is a c^rcat
centre of trade, hence tlie vital necessity of the
estabh'shment of a stronc^ mission there.'

In returning from Rupert's House on a former
occasion, somewhat late in the cold season, the bishop
very nearly lost his life. He set off in a cariole, with
a train of doji^s, accompanied by two young Indians,
travelling by night, to escape the danger of snow
blindness from the glare of the sun on the snow.
They crossed Rupert's Bay, and at Cabbages Willows
took breakfast with an Indian woman whose husband
was goose-hunting. After resting some hours they
went on to the east point of Hannah l^ay, intending
to cross that night, but the air had become warm, and
rain indicated a possible breaking up of the ice, so they
reluctantly turned into the woods and encamped. In
the morning the weather was again cold with a strong
wind, so on they went. When they had reached the
middle of the bay, about ten miles from the nearest
land, the guide suddenly exclaimed :

* What is this ! the tide is coming in, and the ice
is breaking up.'

They looked seaward, and saw mass after mass
rise up on end and fall again. The guide had a small
stick in his hand ; he struck the ice on which they
were standing, and it went through ; clearly there was
but a step between them and death.

* Get into the cariole at once ! ' cried he, ' and let
us hurry back. We may be saved yet ! '

The bishop did so, and almost instantly the hinder

TRYINC; TIMES

137

part of Ihc cariolo went through the ice into the sea.
J^'accs blanchc^d a little, but happily the dogs seemed
aware of the danger and made no halt, but hurried
onward as fast as they could go ; there was no stop-
page for a moment.

Running b}' the side of the cariole, one of In's
compani(Mis said to the bishop :

' Perhaps God is not pleased at }'our leaving the
Indians so soon. Should \vc get back safely, the
Indians w ill be very glad to see you again, for the}-
are not tired of the teaching you gave them.'

In the afternoon they came to the Indian luit
before alluded to. It was full now ; several hunters
were there, and geese were abundant. They were
macie very welcome, and sitting round the fire, all
listened with wrapt attention to the guide as he
narrated the incidents of the day. When he had
finished they expressed their wonder and joy at the
escape.

* Not long afterwards/ says the bishop, * I went
out to have a look at our surroundings. I soon came
upon a curious sight : a high cross-like erection with
lines attached to it covered with bones of animals
and birds, and pieces of red and blue cloth and other
things. I had never seen anything of the kind
before, and had no idea what it was intended for. I
called Wiskechan, the proprietor of the tent, and said,
" What is this ? "

* " Oh," said he, " this is my niistikoKan (conjuring
pole), which I shake in this way when I do my con-
juring."

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TA' V/\\V TIMES

' Lookinrr solcmnl)' at hiin, I replied, " I have come
to tell you of better things, of God's willingness to
give you all things through Jesus Christ, Mis Son.
If you wish to accept the message I have brought,
)'ou must give up this."

' Without a moment's hesitation he called for his
axe, and instantly chopped the pole down. What a
glorious end to a day of danger ! My thanksgivings
that night were very hearty. I slept in peace, sur-
rounded by my red-skin brethren, and a little after
the next noontide was again at Rupert's House.'

Rupert's House, which is called after Prince
Rupert, cousin of King Charles II., to whom and a
band of associates the king granted a charter, giving
them exclusive rights to trade with the inhabitants of
Hudson's Bay, is situated near the mouth of Rupert's
River, which empties itself into the beautiful Hudson's
Bay, studded with picturesque islands. It lies one
hundred miles east of Moose, from which it is reached
by a sea voyage in summer along the southern shore
of Hudson's Bay, and by a snow-shoe or cariolc
journey in winter.

As a fur-trading post it is of considerable
importance, being the head-quarters of a large
district.

The posts dependent on it are East Main, Mis-
tasinnee, Waswanepe, Nitchekwun, and Machiskun ;
and every summer large canoes come from each ot
those places, bringing all the furs collected during
the previous twelve months, and taking back with
them full loads of bags of flour, chests of tea, casks of

TR YIXG TIMES

' 30

suirar, bales of cloth, kegs of ^runpowdcr, shot, cases
of guns, and all the other etceteras which comprise an
Indian's wants. The furs are examined, counted and
sorted, made up intolarcje bales, shipped on board the
Moose schooner, and taken to Aloose, where they
remain until they are put on board tlie yearly ship,
to be transported to England.

At Rupert's House the number of residents in the
service of the Hudson's liay Company was about fift)- ;
these were all half-castes, but speaking I'jiglish as
well as if born in England. They were ver)- well
conducted, several of them were communicants ; * and
although there is not yet, I am sorr)- to sa)-,' \vrote
the bishop at that time, ' a resident clergyman among
them, all are punctual in their attendance at an
English service held for them by their trader every
Sunday.

' The Indians did number somewhat over three
hundred, but for the last few years they have suffered
greatly from a failure of food. And niany of them
have been starved to death. All cire now Christians,
but when 1 first w^ent to them they were in a sad state
of heathenism ; their minds were very dark, and their
deeds corresponded thereto. They were devoted to
conjuring, having the most superstitious dread of the
conjurer's power. Their sick they never burdened
themselves with for any length of time ; there was
the unfailing remedy of relief, the bo.vstring ; fin-
death required no attention save the burying of the
body. Parents, as soon as they became dependent on
their children, were subjected to the same operation.

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TNV/Ni, T/MKS

Miirtlcr for c^.'iin was rife; indeed, I could hardly
point to any place better adapted to illustrate tlio
text, '' The dark [)laccs of the earth are full of the
habitations of cruelt)," than Rui^ert's House. But
of man}' of the Indians it might now be said, " Ikit
yc arc washed, but ye are sanctified." All are bap-
tized.

' In consequence of the immcnsit}- of ni)- charge,
I am not able to visit Rupert's I louse as I ditl formerly
ever)' summer. When my canoe was seen approach-
in*^, every man, woman, and chikl wouKl leave their
tents, and come and stand on the river's bank to sec
their "father," as they called me, and, if possible, to
c^ct a shake of his hand. For some years wc had no
church, but assembled in a lari;e upper room kindl)'
placed at our disposal. Within a short time of my
arrival, it was always packed as full as it could hold,
and so it would be two or three times cvcr\' day of
my stay. And then every family came to me privatel}',
and we talked over the events of the previous winter :
how they had been off for food ; whether furs had
been plentiful ov not : '' had been sick, and who
liad died ; how th" j followed their relii^nous

duties ; what inst .n they had given their chil-

dren. The whole family history of the year was gone
through, and reprcjof, commendation, or encourage-
ment given, as the case required.

• I low full of work was ever}' day, and every
minute of every da\' ! l^^'om six o'clock in the
morning until nearly nine at night, except at meal
times, it was work. work, work : but what blessed

rRV/XG 77J//-;.V

141

Work I Ihnv the people responded to e\ei)' call!
It was work which made me bless God for calliiicr
me to enjoy s(j liigh a privilege. And many see
things now with a much clearer eye than when they
were ministered to by His servant. He directed them
to the Master, and into the Master's presence they
have entered.'

The bishop was more and more desirous to be
able to place a missionary permanently at Ivupert's
House. The Rev. H. Nevitt, who had already made
accjuaintancc with the station, would ha\e liked to
be located there, but he could not be spared from
Moose until someone came to take his place. I'hc
' some^jne ' expected had not come out in the last
year's ship, and was still anxiously looked for.

In July the bishop visited Martin's Falls, a canoe
voyage of three hundred miles from Albany. The
Indians here he found not very satisfactory, being
steeped much more deepl}- in heathenism than any
others in the diocese, not very accessible, remaining
at the station no longer than was necessary for their
trading purposes. He determined to place a resident
catechist there. He then went on two hundred and
fifty miles further, by a most difficult route, to Osna-
burgh, situated on a large and beautiful lake. Here,
morning, noon, and night, the teaching went on.
The bishop's heart was gladdened to sec that God
was blessing the work, and he made up his mind to
appoint one of his divinity students as pastor at the
post ; Ml the meantime he left a trusty native agent,
himself an Osnaburgh Indian, in charge.

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TRYLXG TIMES

111 1 886 this man writes as follows :

' I wish to tell you I am doinc; the work you

wanted me to do. Only some of the Osnaburgh

Indians listen to me. I am always going about.

Last fall I went very far to see the Cranes ; they are

good people, and say prayers morning and evening.

I wish you would let Queen Victoria know that I am

teaching her people to serve. ...d fear God and to love

Jesus.

'James Umbasl'

In July the Rev. J. Peck returned from his visit
to England, bringing with him a wife. They re-
mained for the time with the bishop. The Moose
Church, or Cathedral, had been enlarged by means
of a new chancel ; the hundred scats thereby gained
were z. great comfort to the congregation. * It is a
long time,' says the bishop, * since I felt happier than
on the dedication day.'

Ship time was again approaching, not quite so
anxious a time, now that a year's provision in advance
was safely stored on the mission premises. The poor
would not want, and the missionary would be fed,
Ikit how little did any think how greatly those stores
would be needed this year !

The ship, the Princess Royal, came ; she dis-
charged her precious cargo, consisting of all the
necessaries for all the inhabitants of South Moosonee ;
and then she reloaded with bales of furs, huge bags
of feathers, and hogsheads of oil. She left her
anchoracrc

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bar at the mouth of the river. She was then
assailed by a terrible storm cT three days' duration,
which drove her back over the bar again, and ashore
on an extensive sand-bank. Here she was fiercely
buffeted by the sea, and threatened to part asunder.
The life-boat was lowered, and into it got the pilot,
the second mate, and ten of the crew, ^\ho succeeded
in reaching the schooner IMartin, which lay at
anchor in the river.

The captain and remainder of the crew were to
follow in the pinnace, but the risk for the pinnace
was greater than that for the life-boat, therefore they
decided on remaining by the ship. The vessel was
half full of water, and after a night of anxious
watching they were taken ashore by the Martin.
The vessel lay a total wreck about fourteen miles
from Moose.

All was done that could be done for the ship-
wrecked mariners. The men were taken into the
employ of the Hudson's Bay Company, one of the
carpenter's shops being fitted up for their accommo-
dation. Their own cook prepared their meals. Mr.
Peck was appointed chaplain to them, his sailor ex-
periences especially fitting him for the service. The
bishop and his divinity students held night-school for
them twice a week, teaching navigation, reading,
writing, and arithmetic, closing always with singing
and study of the Scriptures and prayer.

All behaved well ; the captain set his men an
excellent example, never being absent from his place
in church as long as he remained at the station.

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TRYING TIMES

In the midst of all this, the bisho}) was still
occupied in his important translation work. He had
in the summer examined and revised an edition
of the Pilgrim's Progress into Cree, by the Rev.
J. Vincent.

He hoped to be able to send the work home by
the next ship, to be printed. The names of some of
the characters in this work are remarkable for their
length in the Cree dress. Christian is the same
as in English, but Hopeful is Opuhosalems ; I'^aith-
ful is Atapwawinewen ; Little h\aith, Tapwayaletu-
mowineshish ; Evangelist is ]\Iilc ^hemowililcw; Save-
all is Misewamunachetovv ; Money-love is Sakeskoo-
Icanas ; Worldly Wisdom is Uskewekutatawaletu-
mowililcu ! ' I think,' says the bishop, commenting
on the translation, ' that the Indians of Moosonee
will be as well able to appreciate and enjoy this
wondrous book as the generality of their English
brethren.' The work was printed with the help and
through the agenc}- of the Religious Tract Society
(the friend and helper of all evangelical workers) ;
and we give a specimen of it, that our readers may
see what the printed page is like.

In March 1885, the bishop had at last been able
to commence the erection of a new and large build-
ing in which to place the winter stores.

' We have been logging,' he wrote ; ' I have two
men and a boy cutting logs, and sawing them with
large pit saws. They are working at Maid man
Island, three miles distant. We shall not be able
to get our boards home until open water, but when

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the sawing is completed we shall get on with the
frame.'

April brought with it a second epidemic of in-
fluenza ; the packetcrs returning from Abbitibbe with
the letters conveyed it to Moose. Everyone, dxcept
a few Europeans, was attacked, and work was at a
standstill. Many deaths resulted, and the bishop's
heart was sad. The poor folks at Moose had been
disappointed too by the failure of grey geese and
wavies, as well as the beautiful snow-buntings, which
generally come in clouds, just before the geese.
The bishop greatly feared that when the Indians
came in from their hunting-grounds they would all
take the dreaded influenza, and that their tents would
become the scene of disease and misery.

On May 8 the great guns, the break-up signal,
were fired. The Indians follow the ice down, and so
as soon as the passage was practicable canoe after
canoe appeared opposite Bishop's Court, and the bank
was alive with men, women, children, and dogs.
'There they were,' says the bishop, 'just as well as
when they went in the autumn. We soon entered
the house of prayer to thank our Heavenly Father
for the loving care Me had exercised towards those
who for so many months had had their home amongst
the gloomy forests of Moosonee. Each family was
then seen apart, and I was made acquainted with the
whole history of the winter.

* In June a dispersion took place, when most of
the men manned the boats which take the supplies
to the stations in the interior, and most of their wives

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148

TRYING TIMES

and families going off to the fishing-stations, only
to come in on Saturday to take part in the Sunday
services. The morning of departure presented a
busy scene — from the store issued the men, carrying
bags (jf flcmr, kegs of pork and gunpowder, bales of
cloth, calico, and leather, cases of guns, chests of tea,
and all the things mentioned in a trader's inventory.
All is snugly packed in the boats, the signal given, and
they push off from the launch. It is a pretty sight,
the men are all standing up, and their long iron-
clad poles for a time rise together as thc}- force their
respective boats forward, bending to the work, and
putting forth their strength.

' Two of the boats were under the guidance of
Jacob Mekwatch, "our prince of hunters." The other
three boats were under the charge of James Gideon,
another excellent Indian and good hunter, who had
several men amoncf his crews who could conduct a
service and deliver a very good address— for all of
the most intelligent Indians arc trained to do this, so
that when there is no clergyman at the place one ot
them may be able to lead his fellow Indians in
worship. All looked well, no one complained. But
many days had not elapsed before influenza attacked
the boats' crews ; one after the other of the poor men
succumbed, and was brought back to be under
medical care. James Gideon became so ill that it
was feared he would die, and many of his crew were
but little better. It was a sad time, for many were
taken ill so far up the river that it was judged best
for them to remain with thc boats. Happily, though

7m'I\G 7IMES

149
It

there was so much sickness, there were no deaths,
was a sad, sad time.'

]3ut brighter days dawned at last. iLntrusting the
station to Mr. Nevitt's care, the bishop started on a
\o\\^ visitation tour, from which he did not return till
late in the autumn.

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CHAPTER XVI

CHRISTMAS AND NKW VEAR'S DAV AT ALHAXV

The bishop was very busy durini^ tlic early part
of the winter of 1885, fulfillinf^ the duties of the
doctor (who was absent at Albany) in addition to his
own. But he felt well and strong, and happ)' in the

DroG!:ress of all his work. lie

was revismcr

and

correcting his translation, with a view to a new
edition being printed, of the Book of Common Prayer,
and the hymn-book, which he had compiled many
years before. The first editions of both he had him-
self printed at Moose, and bound too. In earlier
days the Indians liad carried their few pages of
neatly written-out texts, and hymns, and Gospel por-
tions between strips of bark fastened together with
thongs of deer-skin. The first bound books were a
strange novelty to them.

December found him once more settincr out for
Albany. The archdeacon having gone to luigland to
see hi«i J^i/grii^i's Proj^'rcss through the press, the bishop
had arranged to spend Christmas at that station. On
Deeembcr 18 he walked down to the starting-point.
The sk^dgc was already on the ice, and presently the
dogs, each held by its own trace, were brought down

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CHRISTMAS AM) AKir VJ^AK'S DA)

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and fastened to it— it bcinL^r stronL^ly moored the wliile,
lest they should run uff with it, so ea^^er were they
to go.

' All being ready, I got into my sledge and looked
at my team. It was composed of twelve splendid
creatures, perfectly clean, and in the best of order, with
t;ars erect and their fine tails gracefully turned up over
their backs ; they were jumping and howling, en-
deavouring to move the sledge. I said good-bye to
the numerous friends around me ; I waved adieu to
many others standing nn the river's bank ; the binding
rope was cast off, and then not a sound was heard,
save the soft movement of the sledge over the snow,
and the tinkling of th(> musical bells attached to the
dogs' necks. We sped down the river at a great rate ;
the houses were soon left behind, and we were in the
wilderness. At the over's mouth the ice became
quite smooth, with the smallest sprinkling of snow on
its surface— its best possible condition. There was
no cold in the air, I needed no wrapping up ; it was
the perfection of travelling. At about fcjurteen miles
from Moose we saw the ill-fated Princess Royal,
standing with her masts erect ; a icw miles further on,
at the North IMuff J^eacon, we remained for half an
hour to give the dogs a rest, and to take a little
refreshment. Then on and on ; the dogs, requiring
no whip to urge them, either galloped or went at a
fast trot the whole wa}- to Piskwamisk, " The place
of the stone heaps," where we encamped. We had
gone nearly forty miles in six hours. We soon made
ourselves comfortable ; a fire was lit in the tent, the

154 CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR'S DAY

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njbcs spread, and in a little while a c^nod cup of coffee
was ready, which, with a biscuit, was enough until tiie
evening's substantial meal.

' The good dogs were then attended to, the harness
taken off, a collar with a chain attached was placed
around each dog's neck, and, to prevent their indulging
in the much-desired fight, each was fastened to a
separate tree stump, close to which was strew!i some
fine l)rush for a bed. All were then served with a
g(nnl supper of fish, and after hooking round to see
that no more was forthcoming, the), coiled themselves
u[), with their tails over their heads, and nothing was
heard (A them until next morning. The whole of the
next day we were obliged to rem.ain in camp, the
weather being very rough, and the atmosphere so thick
that we could scarce!)- see fifty yards out to sea. It
was still somewhat thick on the morning of the third
day, but as meat for the dogs failed we were obliged
to proceed. It cleared soon after starting, and four
hours brought us to our next encampment. Cock
Toint. We were now forty miles from Albany, and
this we accomplished in little more than six hours on
the day following.

' I found all well : )'oung Kelk and his brothers
quite as ready for a romp as ever, and as ready as
ever to run a snow-shoe race, or join in the glorious
£,"ame of " tobogganing." lUit work was to occupy
most of m)' attention. I visited all the people, by
whom I was most warmly received, and I invited
them to our Christmas services- not that services
had been neglected, for Sunday after Sunda)-, Mr.

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CHRISTMAS A XI) XEIV YEAR'S DAY 157

Broughton, Chrissic's husband, had conducted an
ICng^lish service ; while young Mr. Vincent, the arch-
deacon's son, conducted an Indian one.

' Christmas Day dawned bright and clear. IkTorc
it was light the church was nearly filled with Indians,
many having come in from their distant hunting-
grounds to join in the festival. The singing was
hearty, and the attention throughout very deep. As
I read and spoke of the love of Christ, the manger of
Bethlehem, the joy of the angels, the adoration of the
shepherds, and the blessings Christ is willing to
dispense to all who believe on Him, we all, I think,
felt that Christ was with us of a truth. At four
o'clock another congregation assembled. There were
only two or three persons present who had ever seen
England, yet the English language is well spoken by
nearly everyone, and this service was as enjoyable as
its predecessor had been. In the afternoon we had
our third service, in Indian, and after the sermon
twenty-eight of us knelt around the Lord's table.

' On New Year's Day, pt five o'clock, I was
serenaded by the " Albany Band." It consists of a
drum, a violin, and a triangle, and on these three
instruments our New Year's morning music was
discoursed. Two hours and a half later there was a
good congregation in the church, in which we met
to return thanks for the mercies of the past year, and
to ask a continuance of them during that so lately
begun. I preached on 'Nalm xc. 12, ".So teach us
to number our days, that we may apply our hearts
unto wisdom." Directly after breakfast we began

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158 CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR'S DAY

to prepare for visitors, the entire population of
Albany. Vox their consumption a large quantity of
currant wine, cakes, and tea was provided, together
with an abundance of sweets, intended mostly for the
little ones. About ten o'clock all the men-servants
of the establishment came in, dressed in their best,
and, after wishing us a " Happy New Year," all sat
around the room, and a lively conversation began.
But what a difference now from the old days ! Then,
nearly all were Europeans, for very ^cw natives were
fit for the service in any capacity ; now, all are
natives. Shop-master, blacksmith, cooper, carpenters,
storekeeper — not one of them has ever seen more than
five hundred people at one time, and now all would
be able to take their places in the workshops of
England, speaking and reading English as if born in
England. The oldest present I married four-and-
thirty years ago, and he and his wife have now a
goodly number of grandchildren. All are very well
conducted, nearly all are communicants. What
would the state of things have been had there been
no mission in the country !

' The men and lads having departed, after an
interval the wives, daughters, and young children
came in, and a goodly number they were, healthy
and strong ; while in colour they were of all shades,
from pure white to dark brown. All spoke English
well quite as good, nay, very much better English
than is spoken by many of the working-classes in
England ; while all above the age of seven years
can read fairly. This was a very enjoyable party,

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CHRISTMAS AND NFAV YEAR'S DAY 159

the enjoyment culminating in a grand scramble for
sweets.

' After our dinner the Indians all came In acfain.
There was a little speech-making, and a great deal of
cake-eating and tea-drinking ; after which grand-
father, and daughter, and son-in-law, and the four
young grandsons, had the evening to themselves, and
a very pleasant one they liad.

' New Year's Day was over. A few days more
passed, and then on the morning of January 5 the
sledge and dogs — now thirteen — were once more on the
ice. We started. The cold was terrible, thirty-five
degrees below zero, and a strong wind blowing. Six
hours afterwards we were in our tent, making a fire,
over which a kettle of good coffee was soon boiling.
The next day, and still the next day, the wind was
equally strong, the temperature nearly as low, and
the atmosphere filled with fine particles of snow.
The third day was our last out, and at three o'clock
in the afternoon I was once more in my old quarters.
I found all w^ell, and at once fell into the old routine
of work.'

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CHAPTER XVII

THE PACKET MONTH

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* r^i;i!RUARV is the most interesting;- month ofthej-car
U) us ; it is tlic " Packet Month,'' the month in which
we have our one communication with the outer world
during the dreary months of our loni^ winter. On
the third day of the month, 18S6, we had two
arrivals — Mr. Broughton and Mr. Vincent, the agents
from Rupert's House and Albany — each bringing the
" packet " of his respective district. The news was
generally good, but from the smallest post of all —
English River— came the saddest possible. Three
children of the only resident there, the whole of whom
were in robust health in the autumn, were cut off
by diphtheria in the course of eleven days, in the
beginning of winter.

' On the 5th, a little after breakfast, the "packeters "
were espied crossing the river, in snow-shoes.
Directly they arrived their precious load was trans-
ferred to the Hudson's Bay Company offices ; there
hammers and chisels, seized by willing hands, soon
knocked the covers from the boxes, and the work ot
distribution commenced. All my letters are thrown

AX INDIAN TRAVELLING ON SNOW-SHOES

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THE PACKET MONTI!

163

upon the tabic ; the eye travels along them somewhat
nervously, brighteningasthisand that well-known hand
is seen, looking with sad inquiry at such as arc black-
edged, and disappointedly anxious if those expected
most are not forthcoming. The receiving of letters is
good ; the answering of them, when they are many
in number, is great drudgery. Telephones have not
come our way yet, and the nearest telegraph office is
about four hundred miles distant.

'On the 7th the break-up of our party com-
menced. Mr. Broughton started for Albany. In the
evening the packet was closed, and the next morning
the " packeters " once more turned their faces south-
wards, and set out on their three hundred miles' tramp
to Abbitibbec ; thence the packet will be forwarded
to Temiscamingue and Matawa, and twelve days
more will take it to England.'

In March Mr. Nevitt left Moose Fort for Rupert's
House, with the purpose of at length establishing a
permanent mission at that station. ' For many years
I had longed, with a most earnesc longing, to see a
missionary established there, until the heart was
beginning to grow sick, and at last I determined to
give up all help here at Moose, rather than allow my
dear hungering people to remain longer without a
shepherd to watch over them. I therefore told Mr.
Nevitt to prepare for departure. This was neither
unexpected nor disagreeable to him. A train of dogs
and a sledge arrived from Rupert's House, which,
after a few days' stay here, were to return thither
with supplies of various kinds. Here was an op-

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154

THE PACKET MONTH

portunity not to be neglected. A few necesseirles
were collected and placed in the sledge, and, after
having been commended to God's providential care,
he set out for his new home, accompanied by two
members of his future flock. One of them, Richard
Swanson, was educated at our mission school at
Moose ; the other, Samuel Wesley, at the school at
Albany.'

This spring there was a flood of a somewhat
serious character at Moose. At three o'clock one
morning in April, a heavy crash awoke all the in-
habitants of the fort. An immense field of ice was
borne in on the land, the water rose several feet at
once, and everyone was on the alert. Nothing
serious happened during the day, and Mrs. Peck, who
was staying at Moose on account of her health, and
the servant retired to bed about half-past nine.

At eleven the alarm bell was rung ; almost everyone
fled to the factory ; the bishop took Mrs. Peck to
one of the mission buildings further from the river,
he himself remaining up to watch. Early the next
morning they went to the company's establishment,
where the bishop spent the day in bed, for he had
passed the greater part of two nights without
removing his clothes. Had the water risen only
a little higher, the results would have been very
disastrous. As it was, the scene all around was
desolate in the extreme. However, Easter Sunday
dawned bright and fair, the ice yielded to the
current, and tl 2 water found again its proper channel.

When May came that year the snow had dis-

THE PACKET MONTH

165

appeared, the grass was becoming green, the air was
mild and genial, and the birds were sincfin^ in the
woods, despite the huge ice blocks whic'^ still were
lying there. June, 1886, was the finest month the
bishop had ever known in Hudson's l^ay. Generally
at that time winter has scarcely departed, and the
trees show no appearance of life ; but now the poplars
were bursting into leaf, the ^villows were alrcad)'
clothed with the first fresh Hush of green, birds
hopped among the branches, the cattle bells told
that the cows were grazing near at hand, and the
meadows formed one superb carpet. The hearts of
all in that sterile land rejoiced, but Moose was com-
paratively empty, for the season being so advanced
the Indian brigades had left early.

* Before starting they came to me, mostly one by-
one, each to give me his little confidence. One said :
" I have not yet given my subscription to the church,
and will give it now, but I am not able to do as
much as I did last year ; then I made a good fur
hunt, this year but a very poor one ; but I know we
must not appear before God empty, so I will do what
I can." Another said : '* Pray for me while I am
away. I know I have given you a great deal of
trouble, and I am very sad at heart at thinking how
wickedly and foolishly I have acted, but I hope I
shall be very different in future." Another : " My wife
has been taken ill ; I shall be glad if you will go
to her, and read and pray by her." Another and
another and yet another required a book, some
two, a Prayer and hymn-book ; then all descend to

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their boats, wliich speedily make from the sliore,
and, im[)elled l)y hca\y oars, they commence their
journey.'

On Jul)' I, i<SiS6, the bishop wrote: * It is hot ;
we are being literal I \' baked, and from the heat there
is scarcely any shelter, for the houses, all made of
wood, retain the heat \\\ sueli a man i' that the)'
are like ovens. JUit we are L-etti. ,actl\' the

weather we need, with a pr(jspcct of \er)' fair crops
of potatoes and turm'ps, and, what is better, of beini;-
free from the terrible epidemics which have caused so
much sorrow during the last few years. The [)acket,
or rather the first instalment of it, reached us late in
the evening of Sunday, June 20 the first news from
the outer world since the beginning of February ;
and then for a da)' or two wc were deep in letters
and newspapers. lUit the 23rd was the great da)' of
arrivals, for we had no less than three. In the early
morning, soon after getting up, we saw a large boat
coming up the river ; the boat from Rupert's I louse,
coming for supplies for the nn'ssion. Presentl)' we
saw a large canoe, and from the shape of it we knew
it must be from l^^ort George, and that our dear
friend and earnest worker, Mr. Peck, must be in it ;
and very soon I had the pleasure of grasping by the
hand a sunburnt, weather-beaten son of toil, who,
after more than four months of hard and continuous
work — of travel by snow-shoe, dog-slcdgc, and canoe
— returned to his wife, to find her as well as she had
ever been in her life, and hoping to see a steam-
launch, which had been sent out for his use, ready for

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167

sea, that lie iniyht at once leave a^^aiii for his
northern liomc. Puit in tin's he was disappointed, H a*
the job of pnttinc^ the \arious parts to^jether was more
dinicult than we had anticipated. 1 )urin;; the w hole
month the hammers were :'.ivin;; fnrth their iii -i- 1;
rom four o'clock in the inotin'n|_^- until ni|.;ht. All
the mission staff, settin[;' aside their woik-, spent
da}' after day in steamint^ pla;il:s, nailin^^ them
(jn, in sawini^^ wood, in caulkini;-, ami paintinL,^ ami
putt)-inL,^ On the same da}- came the rcnnainder of
the packet.

' Throughout the first days of July all were still
occupied with I\Ir. keek's boat. Idie hammcrini;
went on ; nail after nail was driven, and the caulkini^
went on incessantly ; the air was filled with the odour
of burniuL;" tar. On the 9th the craft was ready
to be launclied. In the evening- almost ever)-one hi
the place was at the mission, either as a spectator or
a helper. We liail a l<»np; way to dra;.;- the l)oat, and
this occupied nearly two liours. 'flien we had the
pleasure of secini^^ it descend ciuietl}' into the water,
in which, I trust, it will make man}' vo}-ai;es for the
extension of the kini^clom of our Lord amon!:f: the
Indians and Eskimo of the wide district of luist
INIain.

'All now were bus}- in prcparatic^n for departure,
for the sooner our friends arrived at their place of
destination the better. Saturda^^ was so emplo}'ed,
and so w^as Alonda}' ; while on Sunda}- we held
three delightful services, at two of which .Mr. I'eck
preached,

168

Till: I'ACKh.l Mih\TII

• On Tuesday thf^^^ boat w.'i-i loaded witli casks of
flour, cans nf Wd and salt pork, c best ^^ nf tea, and
all the othcM' etceteras needful to housekeeping^, for
at i''ort (le(ir;.;e tlic nearest shop is th.ree hundred
niiles away, Ahoultwo o'clock in the afternoon it
went down the ri\'ei*. An hour afterwards, Mr. au'l
Mrs. Peck and our kind doctcu- entered a canoo
and, ann'd the klessinj.'; and pra)-ers of a laria.'
number of people asscml)led on the bank' of the
river, the)' s(.'t off. Canoe and boat w(-nt on to
ShijVs Sands, an island eif.dit nn"le-, ddw n the ri\cr.
J hjre th('y par.seil the ni<;-ht. The nc-xt da)- Mr.
I'ecl-: w(}nt r)n be)ard hi', boat, while Mrs. I'eck
continued lui- \'o\a;';e in the <:anoe. In a few da\'s
J^ast Main was reached ; herij Mrs. I'eck' rested
for a niyht. ICast Main was ftjrnierl)' the prin-
cipal Hudson's ]^a\- Compan)-'s station in James'
Ba\', but the ri\'er siltini^ u[) and [)re\entin;'; the
annual shi[) from i^ettinr^ near enouc^h for protection
from the open sea. Moose became the hicadquarters
of the fur trade. .A hundred and fift\- miles had
)'et to be travelled, which would occupy five or
six days. At last l'\irt GeorL^e, a few miles up
the ]A)rt Geori^^e River, was reached, the home of
the faitliful missionar)- and his brave and faithful
wife.

'When the Pecks had left, an influenza cold attacked
almost ever)'one at Moos-^, persistentl)- clin;.n'n^f^ to
the sufferers ; but is it an)- wonder that we have colds
here, when sometimes there is a difference of over
fift)- degrees between the temperature of the morning

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and evening? In the morning \vc maybe almost
roasting : before evening the wind may liavc suddenly
chopped round to the nc)rth, and, sweeping over the
frozen bay, may render fires and warm coats desirable,
if not necessary.'

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172

CHArTl'.R XVIII

cm 'Km ILL AXl) .MA'I'AWAKIIM.MA

In 1.SS6 1I1C bi.slK)[) \\rf)lc witli much lliankfiilncss of
II1C location of the Rev. J. Lofthouse at (Jhnrchill--
' the last house in the worM,' as he called it, for there
is no other between it and the North I'ole. Churchill
jjoasts, liowever, of fjuite a little colon)- of luit^lisli
and half-caste Chipwyans, I^skiino, and Crees. The
Chipwyans are difficult to trade with, and apt to avoid
a statif)n for years if their demands arc not complied
with. The)' are cruel to their w ives and tlieir do!-;s,
and are terribh; tJiieves, but thc)^ stand in !.(reat fear
of the I^skimo. The l''skimo of Churchill are not
so bloodthirsty as their brethren in the west, wlio
come in with their faces marked with red (jchre, to
indicate that they have committed a nuirder durinj(
tlie winter, a mark in which they cdory, for in their
opinion there is more lionour in killinij^ a lium.an
beinj:^ than in killinj^'- a walrus or white bear.

Out of the world as it seems, Churchill is a busy
place with the comini;" and goin^^ of Crees, Eskimo,
and Chipwyans. The annual ship goes tliither
from York I'^actory, and boats have to be built for
the loading and unloading of the cargo, as well as

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CHURCHILL AND MATAJVAKU.UALl 175

or carryinc^ on tlic trade further north with :\Iable
Island. Food is very dear, and is obtained with toil
and difficulty. In summer, porpoises are hunted ; in
winter, bears, wolves, and foxes are shot. The cold
is intense, and quantities of wood must be hewn, and
hauled home on sledges drawn b)- the Eskimo dog.
The short summer will scarcely allow any garden
produce to come to perfection. A \c\\' very poor and
puny potatoes are grown, which are highly prized by
the Europeans, and carefully eked out. A very little
hay is made for the winter fodder of the cows ; which,
however, gladly eat the nourishing w^hite moss, which
is the food of the reindeer.

* I must tell you,' says the bishop, with a spice of
humour, ' about the Churchill cows, for they are— or
were— a curious lot. There were three of them.
About one there was nothing very particular, except
that it was somewhat of a dwarf. The second went
about harnessed, for, Churchill pasture not making
her particularly fat, she was so supple that she re-
quired no milkmaid to milk her ; she did it herself,
and seemed to enjoy the exercise. The harness
supported a bag, which enclosed the udder, and
which prevented her from indulginc: in a draught of
new milk. The third had an artificial tail. The poor
brute had been off at a little distance from the place,
when she was set upon by some wolves; she bellowed,
and at once made for home, where she arrived almost
frightened to death, and without a tail. What was
to be done now } The flies were in myriads, and, if
she had no protection against them, they would put

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i76

CJIURCIIILI. AXn MATAWAKCMMA

Iicr to ;i much more cruel dcat!"^ than that threatened
by the wolves. A happy thoui^lit struck one of the
colony of fifty. They had a dead cow's tail lying in
the store ! Why not use that? The suggestion was at
once acted upon ; the tail was attached to the stump
by means of some twine, and over it was tied some
canvas, well saturated with Stockholm tar. It was a
great success, and the creature was again able to do
battle with her diminutive but persevering foes.'

In undertaking the distant station of Churchill,
in the midst of a dreary waste, I\Tr. Lofthouse had a
life of self-denial bcfcn'c him, as well as very serious
work, not the least of which was the necessity for
learning three languages, neither (jf them bearing any
resemblance to the other. For example, the phrase
'It is good' is in Chipwyaii iiazo, in Crce j/u7:cas/iiit,
and in I'Lskimo /(;^j'('/{7/;/////r.

l\'ir away from Moose, five hundred miles distant,
very difficult to reach —the journey to it occupying
about twenty days - is the station of Matawakumma.
Long and dangerous rapids have to be ascended, long
and disagreeable portages to be crossed, one of which
is four miles in length. One long lake — -Kinokum-
misse, meaning * long lake' — must be traversed, and
another — Matawakumma, 'The meeting of the waters'
— must be gone over.

The station is very prettily situated ^w a long point
of land which runs almost across the lake. There are a
few lujuses representing the fur trading establishment.
At a short distance is the modest parsonage-house
and neat church, both of which have been almost

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CHURCHILL A XI) .^FATAWAKUMMA 179

entirely erected by the Rev. J. Saunders' own hnnds.
It was the most isolated station in Moosonee, but it
is so no longer, as at only two days' journey distant
runs the great Canadian i'acific railroad, by which all
supplies are now introduced into that part of the
country.

There is at present no danger of starvation here,
but formerly, when all supi)Hcs were got u[) from
Moose, and were consequently limited, great privation
was frequently experienced. If the rabbits failed,
famine stared the inhabitants in the face. The worst
year ever known was the one the bishop first spent
in the country, when a fourth of the entire i)opulation
died, some from actual starvation, the rest Ijeing
killed and eaten by their friends ! The tales of that
terrible winter are heartrending in the extreme. The
most painful case was that of a man and his wife
who lost their whole family of six children.

Among the Indians of Matawakumma was one
named Arthur Martin.

• I forget his Indian name,' sa}'s the bishop. ' 1
give the name he received at his baptism. At the
time referred to he was a young man, and was not
subjected to as great privations as some of his
countrymen. I received him into the Church in 1852,
and in 1854 I received his wife, on my first visit to
INIatawakumma, where I married them. Many of the
Indians there clung very closely to their old super-
stitions, and the drum and the conjuring tents were
in constant requisition. Some of them still hold
back, not having yet taken the Saviour to their hearts.

i.'^'m (liris'Cmi.l AM) MATAWAKl'MMA

* I'll! this was not ihc case willi Artlmr and liis
wile; wlicii once llicy Iiad put lluir Ii.iikI tn fhc
1 >lt »ii',',I), tlic)' lodkcd iiol hack a;.siiii. 'I litir S.iviniir
was their all in all. Ilicy IjdiIi learnt l'» re.id, and
inaije thenr.i'lvcs W(dl ae(|uainled widi the linok-, as
ihc)' canic I lilt in the ( )jil)l)('\\ a\ lan;nia '<■, 1 he unly
one the) knew, and the)' did their I)e,i lo hain then
( hildren in the wa)--, of tin: L'M-d. 1 Ik ir ( Ide '^t .on,
Louis, one o( the most intelligent Indian. I ha\ce\er
kno\\ii, hillowcd in his lather's steps, and e\entuall\
l)ee;inie a \alual)le ( at('( hi-.t in the minion. I lis
letters were excellent, \\hil(_: to i\lr. Saunders he was
in\alua1)le, assistin;; him in e\(r)'I hin;,; ; loi^ he
handled hammei-, axe, and paddle with e<|ual lac ilit)-,
and he was his c;onstant coini)anion in his journe)'s
thi-ou;.di the countr)-. I had hope^, that excntuah)' I
mii^ht ordain liini, and thus increase hoth hi- inlluence
and usefulness amon<^ his countr) men ; but this was
not to l)c. lie went witli Mr. Saunders to their
railway station, .l')iscotasinL( ; in ^L;ettin<^ int(j a
cari'ia;,;e while in motion, lie (c'll and injui'ed his lee".
It re(]uired amputation ; the opei-ation was performed,
and it was hoi)ed that all would _l;o well ; h\\\. a lew
days after mortification s,et in, and the end soon came.
I Ic seemed necessary for our work ; it ncx'cr (xcuricd
to us tliat we mioht 1)0 obliged t(; do without him.

Truly

(led moves in a ni)s1erif)ns way.

'The death of this son was a hea\\' blow to his
father, now inowini'" old ; l)ut he was soon resiinied to

(lirRCIIII.I. /l.\n MA rAlWlk'l'MMA i;-;i

tlu' will el (i()(l, ,111(1 Vv(iil (111 l)Is ('Ini li.iii (()iir,c.
I .il-.f j» il> 1 'I old, In ■ w.is lri( .1 hy [»( r:.( )ii,il siiHriiir,' ; in
tli.il. 1"", III' l.illli rem. lined lirm ;iiid ^cidlasl. A
iiii'-t .md dail.iicss (Mimc (Acr him bliiidnc , , looL-
l)().s.';c:.:-,!()ii (.rholh liis (■)•(■;. It wa:, di«.ii;:lil lliat liis
.si;;lil iiii'dit \)c \\'\A')\k\\ \\y an ( -j )ci ,ili: >ii, and he w a .
^.riit d* )\\ii to I\I()( )sc lor that [)iii |ti isc. I h' w a:. (|ihlc
-doll"', ha\iii;'; no idalivc- with him, but he wa . tahcn
;.',oo(l (_;ui\ ol l)\- a ( liii.stian woman, who triK^'d him
w itli sist( rl)' d(:\ ot ion.

' h'or awhile he \:c\)\ well, was nc\cr ah. (Mil from
the house ofCicjd; thdi wcalvin.v, altaclscd him in
tlie le;',:;, and he eould no lon;.;ei- attend the services,
>'et not .a woi'd of eoniiilaint Irll (Voni him. lie
l('n;_n'd lor news from home, and ihi.s h^- !■(■( cived ;
his wile was vei-y unwell, hut h()|)t'(l soon to see him
Ijai k- with her a;.;ain. Innammation of tlie Inni;s set
in, and in three oi' four da)--, he had |»as,ed aw aw
Clod was with him in his trial, and supported him.
]|e maile all his hed in hi.s si( Ixiiess. J saw him (jii
the day ol his de.ith, .'m pi em her I..', hetween the
moi-nin;,', and allrrnoon .services. r)lind and >j)ee(h-
less, he la\- in In:, lent surrounded h\- a lew ( hiisti.m
friend:, who .aid that he was (|uite in .ensihle. | |(.>
re_L',aiiied t • .nseiousness as I .poke to him of jesus
and liis V)\v. When I asked him whether lie felt
Jesus nc-ar, a jonous, assuring;- smile came oxer his
countenance, mcjrc ex[)ressi\e than the uK^st elo(jucnt
of s])ecchcs.

' lie was waitini; in peace the Master's call, and it
was not k^ni;- in c(jmin'r. I commended him to God

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i82 CHURCHILL AND MATAWAKUMMA

in prayer, and, shaking him warmly by the hand,
hurried off to church to conduct service. Soon after-
wards the messenger arrived to summon him to the
Master's presence. With the Lord he went through
the dark valley ; with Him he crossed the dividing
river, and then entered the joy of his Lord.'

i83

CHAPTER XIX

A DAY AT BISHOr'S COURT

The bishop was now contemplating a visit to
England. He had not seen his wife or children for
six years, and looked forward to meeting them in the
fatherland once more. He hoped to leave Moose in
June 1888, to be in time for the Lambeth Conference
in July. He intended the summer following to visit
York and Churchill, in North Moosonee, which could
be more conveniently done in starting from England.
' To visit them from Moose,' he said, * would involve a
very, very long and expensive journey, and a winter's
stay, which is now quite unnecessary, seeing that both
stations are well occupied, and I can do much more
for the missions in England than I could there.'

In February 'the packet' came, and friends from
all the surrounding stations gathered together to bring
and receive letters, and to wish him God speed on his
proposed journey.

May-day came, and a depth of snow lay upon the
ground. The river was still ice-bound. All Nature
was hushed, not even the 'goose call ' was heard, for
the weather was so severe that the geese kept close.
One of the mission party went off early, and sat for

1 84

A DAY AT BISHOP'S COURT

1 I

many hours in his goose-stand with his decoy geese
professionally arranged, but he returned unsuccessful.
The bishop too was up early. ' I always am,' he
wrote, 'wishing to have an hour of perfect quiet before
the duties of the day begin. I generally read a
chapter of the Hebrew Bible every morning. I was
never taught to read it. I never heard a word of it
read, except what is contained in the English Bible ;
yet I have read the Hebrew Bible right through, care-
fully and grammatically. Hebrew is a very difficult
language, but it is not insurmountable, and the word
impossible must never find its way into the vocabulary
of one who intends to devote himself to mission work.
A man who is daunted by difficulties, who thinks there
is a possibility of his not acquiring the language of
the people to whom he may be sent, had far better
never put his foot on ship-board for foreign work.
He will in the end prove a bitter disappointment,
both to himself and those who are associated with
him. " I can do all things through Christ, who
strengtheneth me," must be the watchword of every
one who enters the diocese of Moosonce. And now
look at the 84th Psalm in the Revised Version ;
observe the beauty of the sixth verse. It is super-
latively sweet and consolatory : " Passing through the
valley of weeping, they make it a place of springs ;
yea, the early rain covereth it with blessings." Then
I read the third chapter of St. Paul's Epistle to the
Ephesians, in Greek ; what beauty, too, there is in
this chapter, especially in verses fourteen to nineteen.
' Before I had completed the second chapter my

A DAY AT BISHOP'S COURT

i8i

three young grandsons, Fred, Arthur, and Sydney
Broughton, had come into my sitting-room to wish
me good-morning, when the two elder ones remained
to receive a lesson from me, which they do every day.
Family prayers were held at eight o'clock punctually,
for I am a very punctual man, never keeping anyone
waiting, and we then discussed our frugal breakfast.
There was myself and my daughter Chrissie — her
husband having some time before gone to the
Hudson's Bay Company's establishment to preside at
breakfast there ; my two grandsons, and the Rev. E.
Richards, my much beloved native helper ; Arthur
and his beautiful little mischievous sister, Gertrude,
taking their breakfast with their nurse in another
room. We had one rabbit, the last, I am afraid, for
the season, a little imported bacon, and some good
bread to eat, while to drink we had excellent coffee.

' A little after ten o'clock I should have had the
first class of our school in my room, but thinking the
shooting of a goose or duck as necessary an accom-
plishment in Moosonee as writing a letter, I had
given the bigger boys a week's holiday to go goose-
hunting, and had moreover promised a prize to the
most successful hunter. Then our doctor came in,
and we discussed the various cases under his care. I
take a deep interest in his work, and always assist
him when he requires help. I am extremely sorry
to find that the condition of a good young man,
married, with one child, is very critical. Consump-
tion will, I fear, at no distant day make him its
victim. For dinner we had a little cold beef, a part

1 86

A DAY AT BISHOP'S COURT

of the store laid by last autumn, when the whole
beef of the year was killed ; it was still quite fresh and
good ; some mashed potatoes, and afterwards a nice
raspberry tart. We drink spruce beer at dinner, a
most wholesome non-intoxicating drink, refreshing
and an excellent digestive. After dinner much of
my time was spent with two of my sick folk, who
delight in hearing the Word of God read to them.'

The rest of the bishop's day was filled up with
study with his divinity students, the ever continuing
work of translation, and lessons to an evening class
of young men of the Hudson's Bay Company. He
never permitted himself an idle moment. ' He had,'
he said, * no desire to rust out' And there seemed
little danger of it.

On May 31, 1888, the bishop left Moose Fort for
England. It was his fourth visit in the course of
thirty-seven years of missionary life in the Great Lone
Land.

' What a day,' he writes, * was my last Sunday at
Moose ! How fully were all the services attended !
What a large number of communicants, and how
solemn was our ordination service, when the Rev. E.
Richards was made priest ! How painful were the
partings of the succeeding week, for every one at
Moose is to me as a son or a daughter. As the hour
of departure approached a crowd assembled at the
head of the island, where I was to embark. At four
o'clock I stepped into my canoe, and standing up, the
people being on the high bank, I gave them my
fatherly blessing. I had two companions to go with

A DAY AT BISHOP'S COURT

1 8?

me to Canada— a young grandson, eight years of age,
and a most loved young friend, who was to stay with
her uncle in Montreal. My daughter and her children
accompanied me, to remain for the night, and the
evening was one of cheerful sadness. Our encamp-
ment seemed like a small canvas village, so many had
come off in their canoes. After the tents were all
erected, we soon had a good fire roaring in the forest,
by which we cooked our meal ; then we had a very
solemn service, and by half-past nine the fires were
out, the tents were closed, and all was quiet.

' We were astir in the early morning, when we
again bent the knee together in prayer, after which
the last farewells were uttered, the last kiss given —
my last to my sweet little granddaughter, Gertrude,
who was too young to understand the nature of
" Good-bye," and who would for many a day wonder
why grandpapa did not come and have a romp
with her, and take his accustomed place at table.
Then we descended to our respective canoes ; they to
return to Moose, we to pursue our solitary way up
the mighty river, until we came to the great sign of
modern civilisation, the iron road of the steam-engine
at Missenabie, a station of the Canadian Pacific Rail-
way. I had five Indians with me, all good fellows.
Christians, in whom I had the fullest confidence, and
who, I knew, would do their very best to bring us in
safety to the place of our destination. They divided
themselves into two bodies, and took turn and turn
about at the tracking. A long line was attached to
the canoe ; to this one party harnessed itself, for in

188

A DAY AT BISHOP'S COURT

i 1:1

i.. !

going against the stream the paddle is but Httle
used, the principal work being done by the tracking
line and pole — the latter a powerful instrument of
propulsion about nine feet long, and shod with iron,
wonderfully useful among the rapids.

' At breakfast time we all went ashore ; a fire was
kindled, tlic kettle boiled, a little meat cooked, and,
sitting on boxes or stones, the meal was consumed ;
after which we continued our way until dinner-time,
when there was another halt. Then we went on
again until eight o'clock, when we put up for the
night. This was quite a business, for we could not
encamp everywhere. We went up into the woods ;
axes were brought into requisition, and a large space
was cLared; the marquees were put up, and every-
thing was made as comfortable as possible, so that
presently we were quite at home ; supper, conversa-
tion, and service finished the day, when we lay down,
grateful for continued mercies.

' In the morning, during the breakfast hour, all
met near the fire ; we first had a hymn, after which I
read a portion of Scripture, and prayers from the
Praj'cr Book. Prayer-time was to us a season of
great refreshment. We had sometimes heavy rains ;
this caused us much trouble, greatly increasing the
difficulty and danger of the rapids. Frequently we
were all obliged to get ashore, and make our way as
best we could through the pathless woods, where
the fallen trees were lying about in every direction.
This was intensely hard work.

* On one occasion we had ascended a terrible and

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A DAY AT BIS HOP'S COURT

191

long rapid, and had got by the easiest side of the
stream just opposite the foot of our longest portage,
but between us and it ran the swollen and fiercely-
flowing river. We all grasped a paddle firmly, and
bending with our full strength dashed out into the
stream ; we could get no further, and were swept
down like lightning into the boiling rapid. The
sight was the most dangerous I had ever witnessed,
but the men were equal to the emergency. Turning
round in the canoe, the bow became the stern, and
we were kept clear of the rocks which threatened our
destruction.

' Then on we went again to face fresh dangers, to
meet with new difficulties ; still ever onwards, till on
Saturday morning we came into the smooth waters
of the Missenabie Lake. Missenabie was a small
and inconsiderable post which up to this time had
been buried deep in the wilderness, but which by the
carrying of the Canadian Pacific Railway through the
country, had been brought to the very confines of
the civilised world, being only fifty miles from a
railway station.'

After spending Sunday at Missenabie, a day's
journey brought the travellers to Missenabie station.
The Indians heard for the first time the voice of the
' steam giant.' Paddling with some difficulty under
the wooden bridge which is the path of the ' fire-
sledge,' the station was presently reached. It was
a dreary spot — a tent or two, a couple of tumble-
down stores, a house or two for the railway
officials, and multitudes of mosquitoes. A railway

!. f

192

A DAY AT niS HOP'S COURT

truck was the bishop's parlour ; in the booking-office
he held services in three languages, Cree, Ojibbeway,
and English. Very early in the morning the train
came in from the West, and carried the party away.
To the little grandson, aged eight, all things were new
and strange. A lad passed through the cars with
oranges and apples for sale ; the child had never seen
cither an apple or an orange in hi life, and when one
of each was handed to him, he asked, * Grandpapa,
which is which ? '

At Ottawa, Montreal, and the grand old town of
Quebec, our travellers had some few days' rest. At
the latter place. Master Fred saw a Punch and Judy
show for the first time, and enjoyed it ; and the bishop
enjoyed it * almost as much as he.' Grandfather and
grandson visited the site of the battle which gave
Quebec to England, and the monuments erected to
the memory of the brave Generals Montcalm and
Wolfe. Twelve days later they were in England.
* But,' says the bishop, * the heart was still far away
across the water, amid the secluded forests of Moo-
sonee.'

: I

193

chaptp:r XX

CLOSING LABOURS

Blshop Horden did not spend a very great many
months in England. He left again on May 22, 1889,
the parting from wife and family being softened by
the hope of shortly returning to them. Taking
steamer direct for Quebec, he went on from thence
to Montreal — 'one of the most beautifully situated
cities in the world, containing fine shops, a noble
quay, many grand houses, and a large number of
very fine churches.'

The following evening he took his place in the
train going west, to spend three days and two nights
in it. The car was crowded, and each day he —
indefatigable man that he was— gave a much appre-
ciated lecture to the occupants packed closely together
around him. After passing through hundreds of miles
of wilderness he at last landed at Winnipeg, the capital
of the West. Two or three hours later he was sitting
in the Parliament House, witnessing the conferring
of university degrees by the Metropolitan, amongst
the students being Miss Holmes, the first lady who
had taken a degree in Manitoba. On Sunday there

N ^ .

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194

CLOSING LABOURS

was an ordination and confirmation, and in the
evening Bishop Horden preached in the cathedral,
although he was suffering from a severe cold con-
tracted during his long railway journey. The follow-
ing day he started by rail and steamer for Norway
House, which he reached on June 14.

There used to be stirring times at Norway House.
Here the great council was held. Here in olden time
the Governor of the Hudson's Bay Compai /, who
possessed more real power than the most arbitrary of
sovereigns, held his court annually, and to it flocked
the principal officers of the company. The affairs of the
country were discussed, and everything was arrange .
for another year. During the whole summer the
{j^reatest activity prevailed. Boats were continually
arriving and departing ; now an immense brigade
from York Factory, then another from the Saskat-
chewan or the Mackenzie River district. The dwell-
ing-houses were crowded, and the great stores were
constantly recci\'ing or giving out supplies.

But the railway and steamers have changed all
this, and among other results have brought about the
downfall of Norway House. Goods for the interior
are no longer sent to York Factory, and thence by
boat to the various stations. They are forwarded to the
Saskatchewan by rail and steamer, and thence onward
to the interior. Now Norway House supplies only
two or three trading posts in its immediate district.
Very few officers and few men are required for the
business. The stores lie empty, and the great square
is almost deserted.

CLOSING LABOURS

195

the

:dral,

con-

(llow-

)rvvay

louse.
1 time
', who
ary of
iocked
; of the
range
er the
inually
jrigade
>askat-
dwell-
js were

ged all
lOut the
interior
ence by
;d to the
onward
ies only

district.

for the
t square

Bishop Horden spent two Sundays here, waiting
for the boats to Oxford House, whence he journeyed
on to York Factory. Then he set off for Churchill,
another journey of two hundred miles.

A peaceful voyage of nine days in a schooner, the
first that for twenty years had visited York Factory,
brought the bishop to Moose Fort. It was quite
dark when he landed, but a great crowd had gathered
on the beach to welcome him, chief amongst them
his daughter, Mrs. Broughton, and her husband, and
their three youngest children, and Archdeacon Vin-
cent, who had been in charge at Bishop's Court.

* I was really at home, and felt so overjoyed and
so thankful ; I was happy, and so seemed all around
me. Monday was devoted to the affairs of the
mission, and it gratified me to find that things had
gone on so well during my absence. I visited all the
people in their houses, for they are very dear to me,
and found all well.'

But his own house was lonely, and would be
lonelier still in the winter, for the Broughtons were to
be now stationed at Rupert's House. He had not been
expected to return so soon to Moose ; the ar^-hdeacon
had the work there well in hand, whilst at Albany
Mr. and Mrs. Nevitt were fully installed. He himself
needed some little quiet and rest. He decided, there-
fore, to go with his daughter and grandchildren to
Rupert's House for the next months.

The Moose ship. Lady Head, had already arrived.
The season was advanced, a parting service was held,
and once more the bishop went on board the Mink,

N 2

196

CLOSING LABOURS

! ^ '\

and sailed with bis dear ones for Rupert's House.
Here he came in contact with Indians from various
stations, bringing in furs for barter at the factory.
The Rev. E. Richards assisted him in all his ministra-
tions. A cheerful Christmas was followed by quiet
work, and then a busy and a happy Eastertide, not-
withstanding the 'snow which lay several feet deep on
the ground, biting winds, and the death-like appear-
ance of all Nature.'

The spring was very dreary. There was nothing
for the geese to feed upon, and the hunters came home
evening after evening having shot nothing. When
the Indians from the surrounding districts came in,
there was amongst them one very sad and reduced
party. Where were the rest ? All, to the number of
eighteen, had perished from starvation.

As the summer approached, the bishop went
northward to East Main River — now a small out-
post, but once the most important place in the bay.
About one hundred Indians had met together there,
and every moment was made the most of, for they
seldom saw a clergyman.

The bishop thence went in a boat to Fort George.
This is almost the most interesting bit of travel in the
country. High and rocky islands, some of them well
wooded, others majestically rugged, rise in constant
succession.

A week was spent at the Fort, and then, with
Mr. Peck as his companion, the bishop pushed on to
the dreary storm-beaten land of Great W^hale River
— a hard and difficult journey along an inhospitable

CLOSING LABOURS

197

use.

ious

ory.

^tra-

juiet

not-

pon

Dear-
thing
home
A'hen
le in,
iuced
ber of

went
il out-
e bay.

there,
r they

jeorge.
[ in the
:m well
Dnstant

n, with
i on to
2 River
spitable

and dangerous coast. Sometimes they met a few
Indians on the way, and the desert was made to rejoice
with * some of the songs of Zion.'

One morning they put ashore among a bod}- of
Eskimo, who had their books with them. Tiie
bishop heard them all read ; for one woman, who
could not read as well as the rest, they made the
apology that she had but just recently joined them
from the north, and could not be expected to do very
well yet ; but she was getting in, for they taught her
every day. The next day, and half of the following,
was spent here, then the travellers proceeded, the
canoe flying before a threatened storm. Just before
midnight they reached the mouth of the river, and two
or three hours afterwards the storm broke with terrible
violence, lasting without intermission for a couple of
days.

' Three days of intense work (I wish it could have
been three weeks), and the schooner was ready for sea ;
so, leaving Mr. Peck to continue his labours, I took a
passage kindly granted me, and bidding farewell to
all, I set off on my way south.'

The bishop was much gratified with the progress
made by the Eskimo, their earnestness was so
evident, their attention so fixed ; his heart was lifted
in gratitude to God. After another week spent at
Fort George, his mission completed, his face was
once more turned homewards, and he reached Moose
just about ship time. ' In all this journey God's
hand has been on me for good.'

Soon after the bishop had returned to Moose, Mr.

' i

1 1

* 1

■

; I

i J
' i

198

CL OSLVG J. A no URS

and Mrs. Ncvitt went to take charge of Rupert's House,
the Rev. E. Richards and his wife coming to assist
the bishop at Moose. Great preparations were made
for the Christmas 01 1890. The old mission ox
brought home several loads of pine and cedar-brush
from the woods for the church decorations. On
Christmas Eve a high tea was provided at Bishop's
Court for the joyous band of workers, a dish of
splendid trout gracing the hospitable board. Christ-
mas morning dawned not too cold for enjoyment,
and hearty, cheery services followed throughout the
day. A feast had been planned for the school-
children. Cakes were made by * the Rev. E. Richards
and his wife ; ' a large heap of biscuits were provided
from the bishop's own store ; huge kettles were sus-
pended in the school-yard ; tea, sugar, and milk were
there in abundance, and one afternoon in the Christ-
mas week the scholars all assembled and enjoyed a
substantial meal.

A Christmas-tree followed, which Mr. and Mrs.
Richards had decorated with artificial flowers and
ornaments, lights and gifts. The children's parents
were there, and the European residents and all
stood round the tree, and sang ' God save the

Queen.'

Muncto pinache Kicheake-maskwas,
O Pimache ; Melche puskilakat,
Kitche milwaletuk Kinwaish
Pimatesit, O Pimache.

Other gatherings there were that joyous Christ-
mastide spent by the bishop amongst his own especial

CLOSING LA HOURS

199

flock ; and doubtless, as he said, for many days to
come the pleasures and wonders of those happy
evenings were subjects of comment in every
house.

The bishop had brought with him from York
Factory a very promising youth, Isaiah Squirrel by
name, whom he hoped to train under his own eye for
the Christian ministry. He was now at Moose,
* learning all sorts of things, and showing himself
very teachable.'

At the beginning of the year 1891 the bishop
announced with thankful joy, * I have now ready
for the press the Pentateuch, Isaiah, Jeremiah, the
Lamentations, Ezekiel, and Daniel ; the Psalms and
New Testament have been in print some years. The
whole Bible will, I trust, form the crown of my mission-
ary life. I take the deepest delight in this translation
work, which has always engaged very much of my
time and attention.'

May was cold and damp this year ; snow and ice
abounded, and the ground was still almost bare of
pasture. Flocks of snowbirds were about, which
were pursued by the boys with bows and arrows, and
a few American robins sang among the leafless trees ;
but the geese, like everything else, failed. Day after
day the Indian went forth to his goose-stand in the
marsh, arranged his decoys, loaded his guns, and sat
and called, hoping that a flight of geese would be
enticed by the friendly voice to come and visit his
flock of dummies. But no geese came, and the
hunter returned each evening disconsolate and supper-

200

CLOSING LABOURS

1:1 ■

less to his tent. When the kettle on the fire is well
filled with mechim (food), there is joy in the camp,
and the Indian does net heed the weather — storm
rain, and snow are to him of no account ; bi't with
wife and children hungering around him things are
sad indeed ; and thus they were in the month of
May.

The summer proved a sickly one in all the
district. In June the bishop went to Rupert's
House, and whilst working there from morning till
night amongst the great body of Indians congregated
for the season, the influenza broke out, and he be-
came at once doctor and nurse, until he was himself
attacked. He was for some time very unwell, and
his voice went. Mr. and Mrs. Nevitt had left to go
home by the annual ship, Mr. Nevitt's health having
failed, and Mr. Richards was at Moose, so he could
not, and would not, give in, except for a day or two.
Happily, he was in the house of his dear daughter
Chrissie, where every possible ^tttention was given
him. ' The voice returned, but strength was slow in
coming.' Then his much loved little granddaughter
was attacked very severely, and it was a sore trial to
have to leave her, still hovering between life and
death, when he was obliged to return to Moose. A
long time elapsed before he could hear from Rupert's
House. Then at last came a little letter from the
child herself to tell of her recovery.

In August, 1 89 1, an event happened which was
destined to be of very great importance to the diocese
of Moosonee. This was the arrival at Fort Moose of

CLOSING LABOURS

!OI

the Rev. J. A. Newnham. The bishop had met and
conversed v/ith Mr. Newnham on his visit to Montreal
in the previous year, and hnding how his heart was
yearning for the mission cause in Moosonee, he had
invited him to join him there.

* I was charmed,' wrote Mr. Newnham, * with my
first acquaintance with Moose. My room in the
bishop's house looks over a small encampment of
about forty tents and sixty dogs. Just now is the
busy season ; the hay is being carried, and the ship
unloaded, but quite a congregation gathers every
evening at 6*30 for a short service. I attended it my
first evening on shore, and was much struck with the
hearty responses, and the clear and true singing of
our well-known hymn tunes.'

After the service Mr. Newnham was introduced
to the Indians, who greeted him with ' What cheer } '
their form of ' How do you do ? ' As he sat in his
study later, he could see them constantly coming to
the house. The bishop never locked his door ; even
in the night it was left unfastened, and anyone
might come to him at any hour for assistance or
advice.

The bishop spent nearly the whole of this year at
Moose, devoting all his leisure to the translation of
the Cree Bible. He hoped to have the whole of
the Old Testament ready for the press by mid-
summer 1892. The revision of the New Testament,
which had been printed many years before, would
occupy him, he said, during the following winter.
Again he wrote, ' and this will be the crowning work

202

C/. OS/NG LA no URS

of my life, which will give spiritual food to my people
for generations after my decease.' In less than a year
after these words were penned, the earnest worker
and writer lay in his grave, his work on earth
done.

Towards the close of the year 1 891, Archdeacon
Vincent lost his wife, who had long been in a de-
clining state. He brought her to Moose for burial.
On December 20 the bishop preached the funeral
sermon from the words, ' It is well.' These had been
almost her last words before her death. Returning
with the archdeacon to Albany, Bishop Horden there
spent Christmas and New Year's Day. It was his last
winter trip to Albany. 'The last,' he wrote, 'that
I shall in all probability ever undertake. My first
winter trip to Albany took place long, long ago, forty
years ago this very month ! I was then young and
active, and thought nothing a hardship ; I could sleep
in the open, bivouac with the cold bright sky over-
head, with the thermometer 40° below zero. I had
no back, nor legs, nor shoulders ; at least I had them
as well as now, and much better ; I merely did not
know of their existence from any pain or inconvenience
they caused me. But forty years make a difference.
I know now that I have s'^veral members of my body,
and these tell me in the most unmistakable manner
that there must be no more getting over the rough
snow and ice, and that the discomforts of a cold
smoky tent must be no longer endured, unless there
be absolute necessity. They tell me that, for the
future, winter travelling must not be indulged in. And

CL OSTNG LA HOURS

203

we must bow to the inevitable ; we cannot be always
young ; the halting step and the grey head will
come, and why should we dread their approach, when
we know that " if the earthly house of our tabernacle
be dissolved, we have a building from God, a house
not made with hands, eternal in the heavens " ?

' I am not, however, writing a sermon. I was
about to speak of my last winter journey to Albany.
I wished to go there, because there was very little
hope of my going next summer. At seven o'clock
on the morning of December 21, I was sitting in my
sledge, and ten beautiful dogs in excellent condition
were being harnessed thereto, each having its own
single trace, by which it was attached to the sledge.
The archdeacon occupied a second sledge. When
all were harnessed, there was a great howling, and
jumping, and tugging, for the dogs were anxious to
be off, but the sledge was too firmly moored for their
united strength until all was ready ; then the binding
rope was cast off, howling ceased in a moment, each
dog hauled with all his might, and we were away at the
rate of ten miles an hour. The fine tails of the dogs
were curled up over their backs, they were overjoyed
to be once more on the road. The great pace was
not long kept up, but settled into between five and
six miles an hour, and so it continued throughout the
day. To the music of our dog-bells we rushed down
the river, soon losing sight of Moose, on past
Middleborough Island, through Hay Creek, and then
over a rough uncomfortable sort of plain at North
Bluff, where stands the great beacon erected to attract

204

CL OSING LA BO URS

1 1

the attention of our annual ship, and to tell her that
she is nearing the place of her destination.

' Near the beacon we brought up for awhile, to
give the dogs a rest. We had accomplished half of
our day's work, and had come about ei^^hteen miles.
We are soon off again ; the air is very comfortable,
and all our sensations are pleasurable as we run
across North Bay, past Jarvis Bluff and Little Pisk-
wamisk on to Biskwamisk, where our first " hotel "
is situated- a small circular erection, gradually
getting smaller towards the top, where a number of
poles meet together; the whole is covered with snow,
the doorway is blocked up with snow - as comfortless
looking a place as can well be imagined. This is our
hotel, and we at once set about making it as habit-
able as we can. The snow is dug away from the
entrance with ou*- snow-shoes, as well as from the
sides, that there may be no dripping from its melting
as the evening advances. Wood is carried in and
a fire lit, and when a good beaf- steak has been fried
and a strong cup of tea made and partaken of, we
almost fall in love with our smoky hotel, and at any
rate think it far preferable to the open bivouac in the
heaven- covered forest.

' On the second day the weather was very warm,
and much rain fell in the early part, but we con-
tinued on our way, having but twenty-five miles to
travel, which brought us to our second hotel at
Keshepinakok.

* On the third day we had forty miles of travel.
The weather was colder and our dogs trotted on with-

CL OSING I. A no URS

205

that

out much fatigue. About four o'clock in the after-
noon we saw the settlement in the distance, and then
the dogs, knowing that they were nearly home, put on
extra speed, and we were soon in front of the factory.
A steep bank had to be ascended, but there was no
difficulty, for a number of men and boys ran down
and gave their ready help, and I was soon in the
middle of a large yard, receiving the warm welcome
of all who had congregated there. One day at
Albany, and then came Christmas Day, when I
preached two sermons, one in English, the other in
Indian ; afterwards I had the examination of the
candidates for confirmation belonging to the two
congregations, Indian and English, with whom I was
very well pleased ; and the examination of the
scholars in the school, who quite satisfied me, and I
visited all the families in their respective houses. I
also gave a feast to the Indians and another to the
school children, and inspected some beautiful fox-
skins. Quite a number of the silver fox came in
during my visit. They are black, but the tips are
white. They are too heavy for English wear, but
are exported mostly to China. The late King
George the Fourth had new coronation robes made
for him, which were lined with the choicest parts
of the silver fox skins, and for each skin forty
guineas were paid ; rather expensive robes, I should
think.

' I found time to correct the proofs of two of my
Indian books, which are printing in England. The
days were well filled up and fled swiftly, and it

206

CLOHJNG LAIiOURS

■' \

f ^ 1 '

I
1

r 'i-

S j J

1 1 ):

1 i

1 ''

llfi 1

i' ;' 1

Iwj 1

seemed but a short time before I was compelled to
say good-bye to Albany, and on the third day after
'e once more ran up Moose River, and received the
congratulations of all my people, who had lined the
banks to sec me as I passed.'

The end of February, 1892, came before the
' packet ' of that year arrived. All hope of its coming
had died away, and many who had travelled hundreds
of miles to meet it had been forced to travel back
again without getting a letter to tell of those far away,
or even a paper. * Cruel, cruel ! ' said the sympathising
bishop, and yet he was sometimes inclined to feel
grateful for the very absence of news himself. 'Our
outer door is opened,' he wrote, * but twice or
three times a year, and then we have a deluge of
papers and a great number of letters, and we find the
deluge almost as bad as the previous dearth.'

Moose was enjoying a mild winter, and food was
plentiful, rabbits never more abundant, of pheasants
there was no scarcity, and there was no sickness ; the
Moose doctor was enjoyin " quite a sinecure. Far
otherwise was it with Rupert's House. The weather
there also had been very mild, but rain had fallen in
torrents, and the swamps around were giving forth
miasma, which brought disease and death to the little
settlement. Influenza and dysentery attacked almost
every individual.

When the Rupert's House dogs brought the budget
for the ' packet,' the bishop's share of news was a sad
and gloomy one. Mr. Broughton wrote that the
Indians were dying out from disease, and his own

67. OSING LA HO URS

207

little daughter had afjain been attacked with influenza.
Saddest tidings of all, four children had been frozen
to death, almost close to the station. The father of
those children was VVeyavvastum ; he had died,
as did also his wife, some years ago. The grand-
mother and her husbarid took the children under their
care, she being a kind old body, and speaking very
good English. They were spending the winter at
Pontax Creek, about seven miles distant from the
station, coming in occasionally for provisions, which
were never denied them. At New Year the husband,
named Huskey, came in to spend a few days at the
place, and was there attacked by the prevailing
disease, so severely as to be unable to return home.
His wife and the children remained at Pontax Creek,
no one feeling the least anxiety about them. They
had a good tent and a sufficiency of provisions, and
should those be consumed more would be given them.
But one morning, someone walking down the river
during a terribly cold spell of weather came upon a
child lying dead, and hard frozen, only a mile from
the establishment. And still farther on lay another,
and yet another, and still another was found in the
same condition. The tent was entered, but it was
cold and silent, and there lay the dead body of
kind old Betsy, the faithful grandmother. All were
taken to Rupert's House, and buried in one grave.
It must have b xn a terribly solemn event in that
little settlement — five coffins entering the church
in procession, four young Hv passing away in such
a manner. The full particulars will never be known,

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208

CLOSING LABOURS

but it is supposed that while the grandmother was
with the children in the tent she was suddenly
taken ill, or being ill had become delirious, and the
children being afraid, or wishing to obtain help for
the old woman, had set off to get to the settlement,
but the cold was too severe for them, and so all had
perished.

If the winter at Moose had been late in coming,
and mild when it came, it lasted long into the year
1892. On May 6 the bishop wrote : —

* Day succeeds day, and there is the same cold
biting air, the same dark leaden sky and heavy snow-
flakes, v/hich have lately again and again thrown us
back into apparent midwinter. I should be glad to
write more cheerfully, but I must write what I see
and know, and not give a picture from the imagina-
tion ; what I write must be truth, and not romance.
You can't conceive how anxiously we are longing for
spring ; to see our noble river rushing by, carrying on
its bosom the laden boat, the beautiful canoe, the
majestic vessel. But it is still blocked up, heavily
fettered with its icy chains. The surface is still white,
and an oppressive silence hangs over it ; the fluttering
haze has not yet appeared into which the mighty
magician of long ago changed himself, appearing
yearly in the spring, just before the breaking-up of
the river, that he may meet his beautiful sister, the
lovely American robin. She has already come, and
it was with joy which can be felt, but not described,
that I heard her singing her sweet song this morning,
as if she would thus hasten the steps of her loitering

• was
denly
d the
p for
ment,
I had

)ming,
e year

3 cold
snow-
)wn us
;lad to
; I see
lagina-
mance.
ing for
ing on
oe, the
heavily
1 white,
ittering
mighty
pearing
g-up of
iter, the
me, and
:scribed,
norning,
oitering

CLOSING LABOURS

209

brother, and bring him to cheer both her own heart
and the hearts of all others who are anxiously await-
ing his arrival. Whilst you enjoy sweet May weather,
feel deeply thankful for it, and think of those in this
wild lone land who are fighting the great Christian
battle as your substitutes ; pray for them, that their
spirits droop not on account of the hardness of their
surroundings, and show your sympathy practically by
making greater and yet greater exertions in supporting
the missionary cause.

' Now, looking out of my window, what can I see?
Besides the cathedral and adjacent houses, I see the
frozen surface of the river, dotted here and there with
goose-stands, for this is the time for geese, and each
goose-stand should be supplied with one or two smart
hunters, whose decoy geese and their perfect imitation
of the goose's call generally succeed in alluring the
silly birds to their destruction. But the stands are
unoccupied, the decoy geese are lying in heaps, the
weather is so unpropitious that no birds are flying.
They are delaying their journey to the sea coast, and
are feeding in the plains in the interior ; and when
they come they will make but a short stay, and hurry
forward to where they lay their eggs and bring up
their families.

* But something exquisitely beautiful seems to
enjoy the dreary waste — flocks of the snow bunting
are constantly flitting by, alighting on the garden,
the plain, and the dust heaps. When they first came
they were white, but now they have begun to assume
their summer garb, and clothe themselves in russet

2IO

CLOSING LABOURS

'fei'

! .

brown. They are not allowed to feed in peace. The
fierce hawk hovers about, and occasionally swoops
down and makes a capture ; big boys and men arc
out with their guns, small boys are out with their
bows and arrows, girls are out with their bird nets —
all intent on business, for food is scarce, and those
pretty birds are plump and fat, and said to be very
good eating. And this is really all I can see from
my window, except the dark distant pines, which fill
up but do not enliven the landscape.

* You must not think that because I have such
surroundings 1 am therefore dull and melancholy ;
such is by no means the case. God has blessed me
with a sanguine temperament, and a great capacity
for love of work, and this being the case, hope for
better days and their speedy appearance causes mc
to look, in dark days, more to the future than the
present ; it gives no time for lepining, or, as the
people here say, thinking long.

* Well, thank God ! I have written the last word
of my Cree translation of the Bible. I had hoped to
get it done by the time the river broke up, that I
might then put my work aside for another winter,
and devote myself to the Indians who will be com.ing
in from the far interior ; that I might take my long
journeys to those distant centres of the mission
whence the Indians cannot come ; that Cree and
Ojibbeway and Eskimo might again hear from my
lips of the wondrous love of God in the gift to the
world of His well-beloved Son ; and my hope has
been realised. The last word of the New Testament

CLOSING LABOURS

211

The
oops
\ are
their
ets —
those

very

from
chfill

; such

:holy ;
-d me
pacity
.pe for
?es me
an the
as the

st word
oped to
, that I
winter,
coming
my long
mission
Iree and
rom my
"t to the
lope has
estament

was written many years ago, but all will probably be
re-written ; all will at any rate be revised, if God
permit, next winter, so as to bring it into accord with
the Revised Version. It is, I think, a very good
translation of the Authorised Version, and I could
make but little improvement in it. My first work
next winter will be to go through very carefully, with
my most valued assistant from Rupert's House, all I
have written this winter. Every word will be
examined, and wherever an improvement can be made
it will be made ; and then the New Testament will
come under review, and then I trust one of the prin-
cipal works of my life will be accomplished, my most
cherished hope realised — my people will have the
Word of God in a form they can thoroughly under-
stand.'

In June, 1892, the bishop visited Rupert's House,
and, still full of energy and indefatigable in his work,
had scarcely returned when he prepared to start off
on a much longer trip to Whale River and Fort
George.

On the eve of setting off he wrote, alluding to the
arrival of a ' packet ' with letters and papers :

' Just think of seven months of reviews and
missionary publications, as well as other periodicals,
coming at one time, and that the busiest time of the
year, when every minute must be utilised for work.
The consequence is that many papers are never opened
at all. It is sometimes a question with me as to
whether this is a gain or a loss ; it certainly keeps
my mind fixed on my work, of which there is always

o 2

212

CLOSING LABOURS

" !

a great deal more to be done than can be well got
through. You good people at home cai.iiot at all
realise our position ; we are in another world, and you
have the same difficulty in endeavouring to realise it
as you would have in realising the condition of life in
the planet Mars.

* On Saturday last I returned from Rupert's House,
having with me my daughter, Mrs. Broughton, her
husband, and family. They will now live at Moose,
Mr. Broughton having been appointed to the charge
of the whole southern department. At present they
are staying with me, but next week they go to
the Factory, five minutes' walk from my house, which
will then be vacated by its present occupants, who are
returning to Canada. To-morrow I set off for Fort
George and Whale River, Mr. Peck's district. I shall
be absent about a month, and trust that in that time
I may be able to do much for the Master. We are
passing through the hottest summer known here for
many years ; the heat is sometimes almost unbearable,
while the mosquitoes are most venomous and annoying.
Our gardens look well so far, and we hope to have
good crops by-and-by.'

In August the bishop was back at Moose Fort.
* I am once more in the old house,' he writes, * home
from my long summer journeyings, and I don't think
I shall leave it again this year, but employ myself in
my usual educational and translation duties. I first
went to Whale River, which receives its name from
the large number of porpoises found there : there was
formerly a great trade in the oil produced from them

CLOSING LABOURS

213

as well as in their skins. I started from Moose
in the Mink schooner on July 15. We had foul
winds, and the cold became severe, and many ice-
bergs were about, which occasionally gave our vessel
some heavy blows. Then we passed the Twins, two
large islands of equal size, on which grows neither
tree nor shrub ; then we caught sight of Cape Jones,
which divides James' Bay from Hudson's Bay, and
Bear Island, a large, high rock of most forbidding
aspect ; and then we ran along Long Island, which
has a very bad repute as the centre of the abode of
storms, and as we pass it the great tors on the main-
land rise one after the other in their majesty of
desolation ; and there is more ice, and more islands,
and an abundance of fog, hiding everything from view.
And here, at last, is the south point of the river, and
presently we come to anchor, for the wind will not
allow us to proceed up to the Hudson's Bay Company's
establishment ; but a canoe is soon alongside, and in
that I am taken ashore, and am presently among
those who have been eagerly looking for me, and who
receive me with a warm welcome. There is much
work to do, and I am alone.

* Our first service on Sunday commences at half-
past six in the morning : all the Indians at the place
are present, and all seem to enjoy it ; some among the
congregation I have not seen for years. They had
wandered off to Ungava, many hundreds of miles
distant, and had long remained there ; they now say
that they intend to make Whale River their per-
manent trading post. We take breakfast, and then

214

CLOSING LABOURS

: £

' II- ^'

for our Eskimo service. You see before you a goodly
number of clean, intelligent-looking people, short and
stout ; you see that they have books in their hands,
and notice that they readily find out the places
required ; they sing very nicely, having greatly
improved since my last visit to them. Thank God
for the blessing He has vouchsafed to the missionaries'
labour. And now we attend the English service.
One young person is confirmed, and three partake of
the Lord's Supper. After this we have dinner ; this
finished, it will soon be time for our second Indian
service, so let us walk quietly to the house we use as
a church. It is already crowded with young and old ;
all sing the sweet Indian hymns, and use the Church
prayers in their Indian dress. I baptize twelve
children and perform four marriages. The Indians
retire, and soon the interesting Eskimo flock in and
take their places ; two people arc confirmed, and four
partake of the sacrament. We are all a little tired
now, the more so from the atmosphere being very
close in the church ; so we go up to the top of the
extensive plain on which are pitched the Indian and
Eskimo tents, and take a brisk walk among the heather,
which gives us an appetite for tea. On the table is
tea, preserved milk, sugar, bread, and marrow fat.
Our last service is afterwards held ; the old familiar
English one. We have had a busy day, and yet not
quite so busy as it would have been at Churchill, on
the western side of the bay, where, in addition to the
three languages spoken here, we should have had the
Chipwyan. We have a little conversation and then

\\\\'-.

CLOSING LABOURS

215

go to bed, for we must be early astir to-morrow

morning.

* Yes, in the morning there was a great stir : all
hands were up at four o'clock, loading the schooner,
which had taken everything in by six o'clock, when I
held my last service, the last in all probability I shall
ever hold at Whale River. I then had breakfast,
after which, having said good-bye to and shaken
hands with every one— English, half-caste, Indian
and Eskimo— I hastened on board. The anchor was
at once raised, and we began to descend the river
amidst volley after volley of musketry, the Indians
wishing to testify their appreciation of what had been
attempted for their good.

'After we had left the river we bent our way
southward, and went as fast as the baffling winds would
allow us. We had the high rocky coast on our left,
on which side lay Long Island ; then we passed Bear
Island and Cape Jones, and Lucker Creek and
Wastekan Island, the highest land between Cape
Jones and Fort George, and Governor's Island, and
Horse Island, and others, and so came to the mouth
of Fort George River. Wx were seen at the fort,
when instantly the flag was run up. On and on we
went until we arrived opposite the landing-place,
when the anchor was dropped and a boat took
me ashore. I was directly in the midst of old and
warm friends, who gave me the heartiest of wel-
comes.

• I was eight days at Fort George, and they were
all busy ones. I kept school twice a day, devoting

I .. t

I'i!'

2l6

CLOSING LABOURS

the mornings to the Indian children and the after-
noons to those speaking English. I held likewise
two services each day, one in each language, and
for the few days that some Eskimo were at the
place, one for them as well. The principal Eskimo
here is called Nero, and he is really a fine fellow,
about the size of a big English boy, although I
think the English boy would have but little chance
with him in a wrestling match. I got him to assist
me in one of the services, and what he did he did
well.

* The Indians are all busy haymaking. They go
up the river some distance, and there find abundance
of grass, and bring it down in boats, spreading it on
a large field, where they make it into hay. There are
stables for the cattle, but there are no horses. There
are four or five houses for the workpeople, and on a
large plain are some Indian tents — and the gardens
are looking well — the potatoes and turnips look as if
good crops would be secured, a matter for congratu-
lation, as this is by no means always the case. Day
follows day, and the last arrived, when I gave a treat
to all the children.

* Our farewell service is held, and it is a very
solemn one, for every one at Fort George is very dear
to me. I wish all and everyone good-bye, for I
start early on the morrow ; but early as it is, every-
one is on the river's bank to see me as I step into a
large canoe, which is to take me seven miles to
the Mink, lying in Stromness harbour. Several fare-
well volleys are fired, and I am speedily out of sight

\\\

]

CLOSING LABOURS

217

of my hospitable friends and on my way to the old
house at Moose.'

To the bishop's great joy and thankfulness a young
missionary, Mr. Walton, arrived by the ship in the
autumn of 1892. He was destined for the distant
post of Ungava. The bishop was much pleased with
him, and, after due examination, ordained him, and
sent him on to Fort George to fill meanwhile the
place of Mr. Peck, who was by doctor's advice to
take his wife and children to England by the ship
homeward bound.

Mr. Peck would, the bishop hoped, return in the
following May, to proceed to Ungava with the Rev.
W. Walton.

The journey to Ungava is toilsome and very
difficult. Mr. Peck had visited the post in 1885,
having been driven back three times before he suc-
ceeded in crossing the Labrador peninsula, eight
hundred miles. He was repaid at length by meeting
with many Eskimo anxious for the message of sal-
vation. The thought of the pressing need for a
missionary to this far-off spot had ever since lain
'heavy on the heart of the bishop.' Pie said, ' If we
go to the North Pole, we shall be still in the diocese
of Moosonee.' The ice-bound regions visited by Sir
John Franklin, Admiral McClintock, Captain Parry,
and ^ other Arctic explorers, are nearly all in this
diocese.

The bishop worked on, assisted by the Rev.
J. A. Newnham, who had returned from a visit to
Montreal, bringing with him a wife, who took the

2l8

CLOSING LABOURS

deepest interest in the women and girls, and proved
a great addition to the mission party. The native
pastor, the Rev. E. Richards, was also staying at
Moose at this time, especially to help in the revision
of the Bible translations.

roved
native
ng at
:vision

219

CHAPTER XXI

LAST DAYS

Towards the end of November the bishop was
taken suddenly ill. We have the account of his
attack in his own words, written on January 2, 1893,
by his daughter Chrissie from his dictation. ' Three-
and-fifty years ago Christmas was spent by me in
bed ; my life was almost given up. I was suffering
from typhus fever, and my doctor said that, had I
not had a constitution of lead, I must have suc-
cumbed to the virulence of the disease. God raised
me up again, and eventually sent me to the land of
snow, and I am now spending my forty-second
Christmas in connection with it. And how very
joyous every Christmas has been up to the present
one ! How wonderfully good my health has always
been, how I could always join the frolic and fun of
the youngsters ! I felt as one of them ; the difference
in our age was as nothing. We were all children.
This year, too, the church has been beautifully
decorated ; the splendid trees have been laden with
their precious fruits, faces have brightened with joy
as of yore : but I have seen nothing of them ; the
mingled voices of childhood have been unheard.

230

LAST DAYS

K: 'I

' It has bcci. God's will that I should spend this
Christmas in a sick room, and amid much and severe
suffering. lie has brought down my strength in
my journey; but amidst it all He has kept me in
perfect peace. On November 20 I was very well. I
preached at both English and Indian services, and
took my class in ihc Indian school, spending the
evening with my dear daughter and her family. I was
in bed by ten, and arose on Monday, November 211
before it was daylight, according to custom, for I
had a great work on hand, and about a quarter after
seven, when the light had become sufficiently strong,
I went on with my revision of the New Testament in
the Cree language. I commenced the twelfth chapter
of St. Luke, and worked on steadily for a quarter of an
hour, when I suddenly felt as if I had received a very
heavy blow in the lower portion of my back. I knew
it was a stroke of rheumatism, but rheumatism was a
companion of many years' standing — not a pleasant
one by any means, but it had never materially in-
terfered with my work. So, thinking that this was
merely a twinge of a rather more severe character
than usual, I continued my labour ; but soon stroke
after stroke succeeded of a more and more violent
nature. I sat up until a'"ter prayers and breakfast,
and then was conducted to bed, which I reached with
great difficulty ; severe torturing pains, the nature of
which I had hitherto no conception of, came on with
every movement.

• For a week I could do nothing, although my
general health had not much suffered. I then,

LAST DAYS

9!i%

id this
severe
gth in
me in
^ell. I
is, and
^g the
I was
ber 2l>
, for I
:r after
strong,
ncnt in
:hapter
ir of an
a very
I knew
I was a
leasant
illy in-
lis was
aracter
stroke
violent
sakfast,
ed with
Lture of
on with

igh my
I then,

however, resumed the revision of my last winter's
work on the Crce Old Testament, devoting some
hours to it every day, assisted by my most valuable
helper, the Rev. E. Richards. In a few days more 1
trust that the whole of the Old Testament will be fit
for the printer's hands ; I shall then go on with the
New Testament, and, God helping me, I hope to see it
completed in the summer. Picture me in my work.
I am lying on my back in my bed ; Mr. Richards is
sitting at a table by my side ; I have my English
Bible, the Revised Version, in my hand ; Mr.
Richards has my translation before him, which he is
reading to me slowly and distinctly. Every sentence
is very carefully weighed, and all errors are corrected.
This is a glorious occupation, and I cannot feel too
thankful that I am able to follow it in these days of
my weakness.

' I am much better than I was, and I trust it will
not be long before I shall be able to be about as
usual. But it was almost worth while to be visited
with this affliction, to experience the loving and
anxious care of everyone by whom I am surrounded.
Everyone does his and her best to alleviate my
sufferings. Our medical man has done his very
utmost ; a kind and loving daughter, and her equally
kind husband and children, Mr. and Mrs. Newnham,
Mr. and Mrs. Richards, and all my :.ndian and native
friends, have vied with each other in administering
to my comfort.'

The end of February, the date at which the bishop
expected his budget of news from the outer world,

"fl

22-i

LAST DAYS

brought to his friends in England the sad tidings that
he had died suddenly on January 12. The telegram
had been carried four hundred miles to Matawa, the
nearest post-office. In due course letters followed.
The end had come very unexpectedly to those about
him.

The Rev. J. A. Newnham wrote: ' Our dear bishop
has entered into rest — a more perfect rest than that
which he expected to enjoy later in the year. It
seems to have been failure of the heart which caused
his death. . . . The people of Moosonee, and of
Moose Factory especially, have lost a father, a loving
friend, and are plunged in grief. . . . The remains,
clad in episcopal robes, and laid in the coffin, were
placed in the church awaiting the funeral, and the
people, young and old, all came to take a last fare-
well of the face so dear to them, and of one who had
been in and out of their houses, cottages, and wigwams
for over forty years, as a missionary, pastor, friend,
and bishop. . . . Archdeacon Vincent arrived on the
evening of the 20th. On the 21st, Saturday, the
coffin was closed in the presence of four clergymen —
the Rev. W. G. Walton having arrived with the dogs
from Fort George— and of the gentlemen of the
Honourable Hudson's Bay Company from Fort
George, Rupert's House, and Albany, as well as
Moose Fort.

* At three P.M. the burial service was read, and the
body of the first Bishop of Moosonee was reverently
committed to the grave. It was a beautiful afternoon,
almost spring-like, and the whole adult population

LAST DAYS

123

gs that
legram
iva, the
11 owed.
I about

bishop
in that
;ar. It
caused
md of

loving
smains,
n, were
ind the
St fare-
'ho had
igwams

friend,

on the
ay, the
>^men —
he dogs

of the
n Fort
well as

was present in the church and at the grave. Thus
our bishop, amid the tears of his bereaved people,
was laid to rest, as he had said he would have wished,
in the midst of his flock.'

At the time of his death Bishop Horden had just
attained the age of sixty-five. He had been forty-
two years in the field. He had laboured in the
apostolic spirit with a large measure of apostolic
success. He had laid well and deeply, building upon
the Rock which is Christ, the foundation of the work
in that vast district. This is being continued by
men trained under his influence, and fired by his
example. Denied the brief season of earthly rest to
which he had looked forward, he has entered th^
sooner into the perfect rest above. He has ceased '"
from his labours, and for us it is to strive and pray
that the flock which he so long and faithfully shep-
herded in Moosonce shall at length be brought to
join him in the heavenly fold above.

and the
/erently
:ernoon,
Dulation

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