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 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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BOARD OF COMMISSIONERS 
 
 I rOBEIGN MISSIONS. 
 
 sIO\ %K V PAPKR 
 
 N VII. 
 
 
 
 BOS1 OIS 
 

 • 
 
 MISSIONARY PAPER, NO 
 
 NOTICE OP CHIPPEWA'S < on 7ERT8. 
 
 r ■ hich the 
 
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 ibition 
 
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 .in . 
 
 Indian 
 
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 Led upon bj 
 Christian 
 
 I f tilt' I i 1 1 ! 
 
 I, 111(1 
 
 o!' t!i. 
 conni 
 
 light w hich baa daw ned on 
 the mind. 
 
 I 
 
2 Eliza, an Indian Woman. 
 
 Such narratives also bring before the mind in a striking 
 manner the contrast between those who are without the 
 gospel, and those who enjoy its light and embrace it. 
 The effects of the change on individuals and neighbor- 
 hoods, for this life and the future, cannot be estimated. 
 The missionary and his patrons see in these converts 
 living proofs, that their work is feasible, and that God 
 approves of their labors and is co-operating with them. 
 They also see the greatness of their work, which is to 
 effect a similar change in the whole heathen population 
 of the globe. 
 
 [These narratives were furnished by the Rev. W. M. Ferry, missionary 
 at Mackinaw, and may be relied upon as being authentic. The variou* 
 individuals mentioned are members of the mission family.] 
 
 ELIZA, AN INDIAN WOMAN. 
 
 Her Life, before Conversion. 
 
 The Indian name of Eliza was O-dah-be-tuh-ghe-zhe- 
 go-quai, signifying in English the Mid-way-sky-woman, or 
 the place of the sun at noon. She was born near the 
 Aunee, about 300 miles up the south shore of Lake 
 Superior ; and is by descent of the Chippeway, or more 
 properly, O-jib-e-way tribe. She does not know her age, 
 but is probably not far from 45 years old. 
 
 Being of influential connections, (her uncle a principal 
 chief,) she was selected to become an interpreter of dreams. 
 This took place when she was probably about 16 or 17 
 years old. Her merits for this rank or honor must, ac- 
 cording to their superstition, be decided by her living ten 
 days in a separate lodge, without any other nourishment 
 than a little water each night. She faithfully observed 
 the prescribed abstinence, although it nearly cost her her 
 life. Her bodily strength was almost exhausted ; and on 
 being brought out of the lodge, probably from being too 
 plentifully fed, she fell sick, and did not recover for several 
 moons. And yet, of her own accord, soon after she got 
 well, she fasted nine days more. From this time she was 
 considered an extraordinary being. The clan would not 
 permit her to work, but provided for her a wigwam of 
 
Eliza, an Indian Woman. 3 
 
 distinction, and constant!} supplied hei with the best ot 
 their every thing, both food and clothing. 
 
 also furnished with a large otter skin, or med- 
 i stored u ith i article, ( ither for 
 
 ,1 cure oi ting dreams. This 
 
 which b! 
 honor ; and in all their medi< 
 
 amon ' proof of which was taking the lead 
 
 in drinking w hi key. in this w ay Bhe l» c 
 
 I intemperate, that in one of I 31 her 
 
 This was during the last war, at the commencement 
 of which Bhe came from Lake Superior, and resided on the 
 in l i it land west of Mackinaw. Another sack was pro 
 her; but this Bh< k< pi oni] N< • tins 
 
 time Bhe I her children, which, together w ith tho 
 
 ■ ikI sack, and the neglect "t" the India] 
 dispirited her, that Bhe abandoned herself vice. 
 
 \ other child, the third of 
 
 four. Then for a \\ hile, Bhe list* ned to adi ice, and Btopp* d 
 drmk i'. Bui re she was allured 
 
 awaj into the woods bj an Indian man and woman, where 
 whiskej had be< d previously carried, and there those two 
 persuaded her to drink with th< m. In this drunken frolic, 
 through i' alou but \\ itbout any just 
 
 .Him fell upon her, and cut of! h^r 
 nose. This was I 
 
 that she could possibl} Buffer. And t.. r a long time her 
 t'rn nds had t" watch her t<> k« ;> her from d< 3 troy in 
 
 tried to ban It another time, 
 
 returning from Mackinaw, where she with other Indians 
 had been for w he threw herw It' into the lake, but 
 
 the Indian in the BU mi Caught h< i b) tin- hair, and drew 
 
 her again into the cai \ • tin- she began to think 
 
 that the unknown Indian, who, a- Bhe supposed, had the 
 
 of her life, was unwilling that >h<- Bhould kill herself, 
 
 and she gave up all further attempts t-> < il'« el it Having 
 
 but "n<- child h it. -h<' im.u Btaid som< times on the island 
 
 of Mackinaw, and sometimes on the main land, with no 
 
 fixed object but to get whiskey by every possible means. 
 
 Th.- tir-t knowledge I had of her was in the tall <.t' I -jrj. 
 
 . .i!i< r mil school was opened t<> receive children, I one 
 
 • net her boy, and on ascertaining uh<> he was, I went 
 
 with an interpreter to the lodge of the mother. A wretch- 
 
4 Eliza, an Indian Woman. 
 
 edly destitute and miserable scene we witnessed. At that 
 time no persuasion could induce her to let me have her 
 son. But going the second time, and the boy himself be- 
 ing willing, she at length reluctantly gave her consent. 
 However, in a few days he ran away, and though I obtained 
 him again, yet through the winter the mother watched for 
 opportunities to get him. The following spring, more out 
 of pity than for our convenience, I employed her, first in 
 the kitchen, and afterwards at the sugar camp on Bois 
 Blanc, a neighboring island, on condition that she would 
 drink no whiskey and conduct herself properly. By much 
 counsel and care, she did so much better than my 
 fears, that I finally told her, that, provided she would be 
 steady, and do such work as she was able, she might have 
 a home with us. From that time, I believe, she never had 
 but three or four seasons of intoxication. 
 
 First Religious Impressions. 
 
 It is now about three years since her serious attention 
 to religion commenced, the amount of which for some 
 length of time was very fluctuating. While under the sound 
 of instruction she would be more or less affected, sometimes 
 to tears. For several years, during the hours of Sabbath 
 school, we have had a separate school (or Indian women 
 and others, mostly under the care of Mrs. F., for the pur- 
 pose of reading and explaining the Scriptures, tracts, &,c. 
 It was at these meetings that Eliza was often affected ; 
 though afterwards, as she says, she would throw the sub* 
 ject off, and become in a measure indifferent. Again, per- 
 haps, impressed with the idea that there could be no mercy 
 for such a creature as she was, and the thought of her re- 
 ligious state making her unhappy, she would avoid being 
 present at these meetings. Under this same impression, 
 she could not think it right for her to come with us to family 
 worship, or to the evening meetings of the females. Yet, 
 she says, she often felt so strong a desire to hear the sound 
 of prayer and singing, that she has gone to the door of the 
 room, and remained there as long as she thought she could, 
 without being discovered — sometimes till nearly frozen. 
 Most of that winter passed with such uneasiness of mind, 
 that, when not daring to look to God herself for mercy, be- 
 cause she was such a sinner, she would feel it a kind of re« 
 
Eliza, an Indian Woman. 5 
 
 rheai the worship of< I - if God might 
 
 bl v hear their prayers, though sh inworthy to be 
 
 tit. 
 During the spring,whil< 
 
 greatly distressed during the * V igatb- 
 
 < . had feelings tike th< Be — II' re I am, 
 
 going the same round daily from I 
 
 no relief — I must al ■ this w icked heart, and vt hen 
 
 I die be misei Lble forever. 1 — The pious Indian woman who 
 1 1 ; t * i charge of the sugar camp, us< d t<» talk some with her; 
 and after seasons of prayer, would ; k her ifsrn 
 
 ii-. t feel the importance ofjoining in heart u nli li» r S 
 she did And thoug her mind n<> , 
 
 • would, . 
 and feel strong desires i"r mercy. After her return, 
 thought, a must look upon her con- 
 
 dition as a bop !■ — om 
 
 au ,i\ from thought h< rself unfit to be 
 
 there. M i at M the farm, 
 
 w here at i 
 
 read ful state, and with i t she would go 
 
 off from the house, and praj and wei p much alone: but t«»r 
 the Hi"-' part sh« indul :> d ii h ithout i • 
 
 I t fall we had unusual sickness in tin- family, and 
 
 I and her 
 
 thrt e weeks, I I I ■! probably 
 
 suffer f nursing, I e were 
 
 aware "t" it, and i ould bring them homi In n 
 this tun. . • i k « -ii m< '.. 
 
 thought with herself, t d (bund do relief t 
 
 mind in owru>ay,nu iningtl I as, and that she 
 
 would again trj her old way of medicim ad that she 
 
 spent th< i ral eights in songs and her 
 
 former Indian mummi rj Iftei 
 
 she discontinued this; but she tl t n< rlv all 
 
 anxi< tj oul, and qo feeling 
 
 further than Foseph, h< r si • died. 
 
 II*- talked with ber considerably, but she said she did not 
 f< < l u much; that she \\ as tike one \\ bo had lost 
 and nothing seemed to move her feelings. A few days be- 
 fore Joseph's death, he had a long conversation with her 
 told her that he should die soon, and that he wanted !.< r to 
 promise him d< rei to drink any mure whiskey: to remain 
 •i 
 
6 Eliza, an Indian Woman. 
 
 with the mission family; listen to their instructions; and 
 pray every day to God: then, when she died, she would go 
 to God with him. At first she told him that if he died she 
 would die too. But Joseph said that was wrong; that it 
 would not be as she said when to die; but that God only 
 had a right to have her die when he wished. At length 
 she promised him that she would remember and do as he 
 had requested. 
 
 During the whole scene attending Joseph's death and 
 funeral, her behavior was singularly calm and solemn: so 
 much so, that it was noticed by all. Many a professing 
 Christian mother might have received from her in that 
 afflictive scene, a silent, though awful reproof, for immod- 
 erate grief. When she perceived that his spirit was really 
 gone, the tears rolled, and she exclaimed, 'My son! my 
 son!' in Indian: but farther than this, not a complaint nor 
 groan was heard to escape her lips. 
 
 After the funeral, I sat down with her, and had a long 
 conversation. Among other things, I asked her, why it was 
 that she appeared as she had done: whether it had been so 
 at the death of her other children? To this last she said, 
 no; and gave some account of her feelings and conduct — 
 how she had, as is common among the Indians, wailed and 
 mangled her own body in self-affliction. In answer to the 
 former part, she said, 'I have no such feelings now — God 
 is good, and I feel that what he has done must be right.' 
 Although she expressed no consciousness of the love of God 
 in her soul; yet she furnished comfortable evidence to my 
 mindjthather feelings were under the sanctifying influence 
 of the Holy Spirit. On the following night, as she now 
 relates, while fixing her bed, all which had passed between 
 her and Joseph, a few days before his death, rushed upon 
 her mind like a torrent, awakening at the same time an 
 impression that there was no hope for her soul: but in a 
 moment, she determined with herself to pray once more that 
 God would have mercy. For the purpose of greater retire- 
 ment, she started to goto the cellar; and while descending 
 the stairs, as if she could go no further,she settled down, and 
 began to pour out her desires. This is the last distinct 
 recollection she has of any thing that took place then. How 
 or when she got back she has no knowledge. Between 11 
 and 12 o'clock, I heard a distressed noise, and lighting a 
 candle immediately, I went to her and found her apparently 
 
/ '/, an Indian Women. 7 
 
 p; ami ujx.n awakil [ was sick? 
 
 N [ wenl The first I 
 
 og me \\ n!i a candle in my hi od. She after- 
 
 d was 
 
 :i the Io?e 
 
 I i filled v. ith 
 
 family, t] 
 
 ■i children 
 e felt 
 . • 
 
 her mind 
 
 • "\\ D 
 
 ! I in a 
 
 about 
 
 •I . ay, and 1 
 
 \ . 
 
 * 'Oh i 
 
 I 
 
 1 l'u fi/. 
 
 V. <] { n 
 
 said, '1 G 
 
 i I I 
 
 I to love 
 
 linn. 
 
 i i -l 
 
 I 
 
 I □ had for 
 
 I rch, or w] 
 
 i.. think o Dot lov< ; 
 
 'l •! 
 
 ■oul, 
 
 i will soon 
 take hi r oul of il.« worli • thua 
 
 I 5 ■ . 
 •I t that t - '" I e m 
 
 tins world, and briii 5 bbath n< arer the time 
 
 m b< ii I i ill be witi I 
 
 M. M being particularly questioned, she re] 
 
 when for a time hex mind waa troubled. A 
 
8 Eliza, an Indian Woman. 
 
 year ago she was reduced quite low, and one evening, word 
 was brought us that she was dying. On going to her room, 
 she was found to be very languid, but after some time re- 
 vived, so as to be able to converse. She was questioned 
 relative to her views and feelings, to which she gave an- 
 swers expressive of joy in the prospect of being soon with 
 God. She answered one of the sisters to this effect, 'I 
 long to be gone, I want to have the time come.' After- 
 wards she felt that she had expressed impatience, and it 
 grieved her exceedingly; so that she had several seasons of 
 weeping between that and the following Sabbath morning. 
 Another time to which she referred, she had gone to bed, 
 and, as she supposes, had not slept long, when she awoke 
 and felt a desire to pray. She arose and knelt down, but 
 had been engaged but a few moments before she drowsed. 
 This occurred again; but awaking the second time, she was 
 alarmed at herself, and feared that her love to God was 
 all dying; and so great was her distress that it banished 
 every sleepy feeling. With fears and a burdened heart, 
 she set about prayer in earnest; nor did she leave off until 
 her tears of sorrow were turned into tears of joy. Then 
 her soul was so full that she could not sleep, and the remain- 
 der of the night was spent in prayer, and joy that God was 
 with her. 
 
 The other instance was on an occasion when the girls 
 had made some remarks to her, from which she thought, 
 that, as she was always sick, they and the rest of the family 
 considered her as burdensome, and wished her away. This 
 made her feel unhappy for a few hours, but before night, 
 she obtained that relief in prayer which restored peace to 
 her soul. 
 
 I afterwards put several questions to her, which follow, 
 together with her answers. 
 
 You have said that before you found peace in Christ, you 
 did for a long time — for many months — feel yourself miser- 
 ably wretched, and that you often prayed; was it for the 
 sake of these prayers that God gave you peace? or was 
 there any good in them? 'No: it was because of Christ's 
 pity to my soul; because he died for poor sinners; and it 
 was of God's mercy that missionaries were sent to teach 
 me.' — Do you mean to have me understand from all you 
 have said, that you never had any fears that you were de- 
 ceived; no time in which you have doubted whether you had 
 
Eliza, an Indian Woman. 9 
 
 a part in the Savior or not? 'I have always felt sure that 
 G has had mercy od my soul; and the more I have 
 thought of my old wicked life, it has been like one pushing 
 me n< ! rod: it has I more huml 
 
 : and a : ; -r l:iin.' — But 
 
 should God tal l 
 
 j ou ! 
 I that 
 
 ( Spirit fr< i 
 
 — "W Min what I ird of his 
 
 | that trust in him; and 1 1 i 
 
 he i- faithful to hia vn 
 
 There i n in youi 
 
 low, and have had reason to thin) 
 would live hut a few hours <>r da} g; have | 
 I ii iiuw illing <>r afraid to 
 
 | Iwaye felt, that it' il • ill. it \>. < .» ; I* 1 
 
 privilege to die, and you would \»- glad to I 
 coin, f 'Yes; I 1 - l Bick 
 
 ud f< It I 
 i tt< r «.r take i I \\ ill» 
 
 i lad I should I 
 
 might be \\ ith God.' — \ • 
 
 ■ 
 
 dinancesl 'Afl [ understood i Christ 
 
 | had command* d th< I 
 
 - 
 Blent; nor ia then anj thing in ll i- world that I ha 
 
 ; I I 
 
 i and pron mnlj to I I . l« It 
 
 i I the 
 
 Lord I 
 
 happi( • . I 
 
 with the i God in mj I • 
 
 w mi'. I ; ankful en 
 
 • 
 should coi it that tin next time, I should 
 
 I \ i I).' 'S ■ ■ I : - lli-t 
 
 been as you thi J ommuned sev< ral I 
 
 ha\ »• 1 1 < -•• ,d\\ ays 1 «•< n pn lo your 
 
 them.' — Have thej been as pr< i 
 
 as thr In as 1 have heard more of tho 
 
10 Eliza, an Indian Woman. 
 
 Savior, and have learnt more of his love from the Bible, I 
 have felt each time, if possible, more and more near, and 
 happy in him.' — What good do you think that baptism or 
 the sacrament could do you, without a heart to love the 
 Savior? 'None. There would be no joy to my soul in 
 them.' — Could you have this joy and peace of which you 
 have told me, if you did not, as far as you know, strive to 
 obey God in all things? 'No; I could not. Though un- 
 able to do any thing with my hands to help the family and 
 to labor for God, it is my sincere desire daily to have my 
 heart much in prayer for them and for the salvation of their 
 souls; and because God lets me live, I believe he wishes 
 me to be devoted in spirit to this.' — Do you think you love 
 God and souls as much as you ought? 'No: I try to love, 
 but do not feel so much as I ought.' — When do you ex- 
 pect to have perfect love to God and souls? At first she 
 answered, 'Never;' thinking I meant while in the body. 
 Afterwards she said, 'When I get to heaven.' 
 
 Respecting the foregoing narrative, Mr. Ferry remarks — 
 
 I have written it as taken from the woman through an 
 interpreter, and as having in part fallen under my own ob- 
 servation. I have scrupulously avoided any thing like a 
 more favorable coloring than facts would justify. The 
 statements have been read by those who have had most 
 knowledge of the subject of them, and of her exercises, and 
 they believe that the impression which will naturally be left 
 on the mind of the reader will be less striking than the 
 reality. In respect to uninterrupted peace and spirituality 
 of mind, the case of this woman is unlike any other which 
 I ever knew. Aware that some will at once set it down 
 as untrue, or a delusion, I have faithfully tried, but in vain, 
 to draw from her something which would warrant me in 
 truth to cloud some part of her Christian life with doubt; 
 but you might as well attempt to make her disbelieve her 
 existence, as to convince her that she has been left to go 
 mourning the hiding of God's countenance from her soul. 
 She is indeed a favored child, ripening fast for glory: sick 
 or well, in pain or at ease, she always meets us with a 
 placid, and most commonly with a smiling, countenance. 
 She is afflicted with consumptive complaints, and for many 
 
Early Life and Conversion of C. W. R. 11 
 
 month? has raised blood freely: we expected that before 
 tin- Bhe would have been at rest 
 
 uas sparcl to remain before tlie mission family a monument of 
 i ;>le of patience and ripening holiness till November 
 
 At the time of her d< die exhibited, Bays Mr. 
 
 1 , the character of the believer triumphing in death. 
 For many months she had been almost daily looking for 
 iter departure. Though suffering much in body, jret she 
 
 miformlj patient and happy. Sh< dlj said on 
 
 tin- day of her death, 'I think I shall go to-day.' At night 
 she Bhook hands with some of the members of the mission 
 family, and u ith a smile Bpol m< But 
 
 i minutes before her death, in allusion to David's 
 \\«>ni d Bhe feared no evil. Surely no unbeli 
 
 rving hei course down tin- valley, could any 1 
 doubt the re ility <<f r« the importarj 
 
 ing tli< tidings oft! 
 
 EARL1 LI1 KKD I AVERSION OP C. W. kfBER 
 
 OP THE MISSION C fAW. 
 
 I ■ Indian :. I 
 
 is hall Indian, thou 
 
 she was a full i far in 
 
 tin intei ior, south or jouthi VI len I slai 
 
 Her home, 
 >n family, it two days 
 
 march distant Trout \\ hat is called I I 
 u ith hi aunt, and belon distincti 
 
 lonies, know n as M I timer that 
 
 she left home, i lull 
 
 Sh< the pre- 
 
 \ ioufl mummer} . and w as tli i 
 
 finishing scent ; wh< n an un< l< . who had given her h< r 
 nam.', and h< i. 'I h< r, arrived 
 
 said he h id been told in ust not b< i 
 
 one of tl Thi _h. All her former 
 
 plan of life was in consequ< nee al andoned, and betook her 
 She was also, that Bummer, while with hei uncle, 
 fthe part) in the Indian dance around th< 
 
12 Early Life and Conversion of C. W. R. 
 
 some whites, murdered by those Indians who were after- 
 wards imprisoned at Mackinaw. She came down with the 
 traders, and was received into the family in July, 1825. 
 She understood only the O-jib-e-way language, and was 
 probably between fourteen and fifteen years old. 
 
 At my request, says Mr. Ferry, she gave the account, 
 (which in substance had been given to us all before,) with 
 this solemn injunction, that she would give what she knew 
 to be truth, and no more nor less. — It will be seen that 
 there is something of sameness in the narrative, because 
 I have only felt at liberty, while following her track, to 
 shape her own ideas into the most intelligible English. 
 From her hopeful conversion to the present time, she has 
 generally enjoyed much peace of mind. She says she has 
 seasons, when conscious of little spirituality, she has been 
 much distressed for fear she should be deceived, because it 
 was not with her as in days past: but never, she says, has 
 she been conscious of such a state of feeling, that she could 
 not say from the heart, I am ready and willing to live and 
 die for Christ. And her whole deportment has been strik- 
 ingly characteristic of such a state of mind. She was re- 
 ceived into church fellowship, with two other girls, at our 
 communion season in April, 1828: and I presume I speak 
 but the feelings of the family, when I say, that there has 
 been no more faithful missionary to her friends and others, 
 among us than she. The following is her account. 
 
 'Two years ago the present summer, [1828] I began 
 first to have serious thoughts about my soul. When hearing 
 the Scriptures interpreted, what God says in them respect- 
 ing the wicked, and especially, when hearing M. [a pious 
 girl of the family,] praying in the native language, for the 
 salvation of the poor ignorant Indians, I first began to think, 
 'Perhaps I am one of those ignorant wicked ones.' And I 
 began to use some Catholic prayers, which I had in part 
 learnt, thinking these would do me good. But M. told me 
 these were only prayers of the mouth, and not right with 
 God; that God knew all our hearts; and that we must pray 
 from our hearts as we felt, if we hoped to have God hear 
 us. With this said to me, which I supposed to be true, 
 I used to try to pray. Sometimes I could only use a few 
 words, and did not know what was the matter with me; 
 but often, in meeting and at other times, I was distressed 
 with the thought,that I might be sent away with the wicked. 
 
/.' •'/ /. ■ >n of C. TI r . K. 13 
 
 I cm now see, that I had then no sense of the wicked- 
 
 i I ard tlie word of God ex- 
 
 plained, and was q ._ r it, and informed 
 
 that not only our actions were bad in God's sight, but our 
 
 rhts and feel ill ispleasing and wicked before 
 
 him, the more . i : at my life, and at particu- 
 
 inga which I had done; and from this review, to 
 
 think more of my heart, that there thing \< ry bad, 
 
 and n iich I 1 ls wicked, in my thoughts and 
 
 " Pi i of communion, after mj 
 
 tile helping to prepare the table 
 
 i told thai none but those who loved <J<»d had 
 
 an) right or privilege at hia table. I then felt as if I 
 
 I n ••> . r be permitted to < ■ I . new noth- 
 
 G *d. All the night following] lay awake, distress- 
 
 tion in which 1 began t<> see myself; and 
 
 lit. aa I had lived so long w ithoul thinking of God, or 
 
 !i a glorious Being in the 
 
 i. thing i' » do with 
 
 i •. e linn think up >u nr help me. 
 
 i'\i d r, I I had interpreted to the 
 
 I !hri M instituted the 
 
 i of the 
 
 the church around 
 
 the table, u ith n mj eyes, I had 
 
 I 
 h id not had \ n I not i >nly was my mind more 
 
 i many around 
 le, i \\ ho I 
 ist be in t I ind dangerou 
 
 in lesci i- 
 
 bible. On leaving le in my ro >m, the 
 
 in came I I be so distressed ? 
 
 - I do : perhaps it 
 
 when I bee >me 
 
 i and ii may 
 
 I 
 
 •• \ lily w« re gii ing me and 
 
 the oth< r girls I ofl m to think, ' I wont 
 
 i ■ -i» much.' And if at any time I 
 
 : m. mind con ted,] would immediately 
 
 ■ check and do awaj ; as it were, saying 
 
 2 
 
14 Early Life and Conversion of C. W. JR. 
 
 to myself, ' It is enough for me to learn little by little : I 
 won't be such a fool : by and by I shall do well enough, 
 when I come to know more.' With this impression I al- 
 most neglected prayer. To such a degree did I give my- 
 self up to this feeling, that for a long time it was but sel- 
 dom that I would attempt to pray, lest my mind should be 
 too much frightened or distressed. 
 
 " The next thing that troubled me was the parable of the 
 sower, which I heard read to me, and upon which I was 
 requested to meditate, and give my opinion, when I sup- 
 posed I understood the meaning. This troubled me much ; 
 because, after fixing on what I supposed the way-side and 
 the stony ground meant, T thought they both represented 
 much of my heart : nor could I resist the anxiety which the 
 thought produced. This state of mind remained and grew 
 worse for some time, until I was arrested with this thought, 
 that it might bring me to sickness, or derangement, or a 
 worse evil : and I determined that I would try to do as far 
 as possible what was right for God, and in the mean time 
 would avoid indulging in anxiety." 
 
 Here she related a train of feelings, for several months, 
 amounting to nothing essentially more favorable. The nar- 
 ration exhibited a fluctuating, unhappy state ; sometimes 
 awaked to anxious distress under instruction, and again en- 
 deavoring to settle into indifference or ease of mind. At 
 one time this struggle was severe, occasioned by the death 
 of a little boy in the family. At another, on the arrival of 
 her relatives last summer, Miss O. asked her why she did 
 not talk with and instruct them ? Here her mind was again 
 aroused. She says she felt in keen distress for a time, 
 shuddering at the thought of showing others what to do, 
 when this condemned herself. This she thought would be 
 to look after a mote in their eye, with a beam in her own. 
 At length, when Miss M. was lying very sick, and her 
 death daily expected, she came into the room, and among 
 other things Miss M. said to her, ' I suppose you are not 
 willing to have me die ; but if you only had a good hope in 
 the Savior, it would not be long before we should meet 
 again in heaven, and be forever happy together.' 
 
 " This," said she, " came home to my heart. It was 
 more than I could well endure ; and I resolve; 1 that I would 
 pray for mercy as long as I had life. From that time I 
 was much in prayer ; and often able to get little or no rest 
 
E I ' C. TJ" R. 15 
 
 igh the night When M s M. and Mr. F. were about 
 
 fall, my mind 
 cted and distr< ssed. [1 b< ught it would be right 
 i, w ho had b ad him h< 
 
 instruct u his life : 
 
 .'Hid that I. \\ 11 ed in 
 
 < How can 1 endure tho 
 
 [ will try, 1 though i 
 
 don't i i 
 
 ! When i Baw t he 
 
 I qi stly thai 
 
 God would pn serve 1 I could 
 
 - 
 
 I ! .ini inclination 
 
 : i ! 
 
 1 1 1 not t.. do I d promise ; ild lie 
 
 to limi ; and ' • "ii iik'. 1 
 
 \ I mind w as 
 d was 
 
 often i I up and -< - Iv nli< f in 
 
 Mi C fell 
 
 in M nli in' I . I had 
 
 a long talk w it Ii m< t< i her 
 
 I w as 
 
 I I 
 
 soul : you 
 me alone, 
 
 and it 
 
 the feelings 1 ; than 
 
 thing 
 i 
 ami i [, I am lost 
 
 " The followin 
 
 I iii.nl. re- 
 
 i 
 
 so much : from 
 
 their conduct ly, if th< . they 
 
 would have given I ■■ now.' 
 
 This « as like a knife to mj I What c m I do ' 1 1 
 
 • Mil H ith M. and ( '., w ho \\<r<: 
 
16 Early Life and Conversion of C. W. R. 
 
 also distressed, we tried to pray together. But I found 
 this was no place for me ; and the whole night I spent 
 alone ; now and then only awakened to keener agony from 
 hearing the sobs of M. in the opposite room. Sabbath 
 morning, leaving my room a little after day-light, I saw 
 M. standing by her bed, and with a smile on her counte- 
 nance, look at her little girl. The thought rushed upon 
 me, that she must have found a Savior ; for I had never 
 seen a smile on her countenance before. [Meaning, since 
 her anxiety.] Now she is going to begin a new, a happy 
 Sabbath, and I am left with this wicked heart to profane 
 the day ! For a moment, as I heard one of the girls ex- 
 claim, ' M. has found the Savior,' I felt disposed to envy 
 her. But no — I thought — this is making me more wicked ; 
 I will try to follow her : and I left the house for the cedars, 
 designing, at the time, to spend the day there, though I 
 did not. I can give no just account of my mind through 
 the Sabbath and Monday : I can only say, I had, as it 
 seemed to me, every wicked feeling : my heart was so hard 
 I could not weep; I could not shed a tear: it seemed a 
 perfect combat. 
 
 " Tuesday morning after breakfast, Mr. II. came to my 
 room, and talked with me a good deal : he told me this 
 might perhaps be the last day the Lord would give me ; 
 and why will you not submit? He explained to me many 
 verses of the Bible ; and during this time my heart got 
 some feeling : it seemed to melt ; and I could weep. The 
 whole of this day I hardly knew where or what I was. 
 Sometimes I apprehended that I must lose my senses; and 
 seeing the other girls so different from myself, for a moment 
 I would half resolve to endeavor to be like them ; supposing 
 that otherwise I must soon be crazy. But a reacting thought 
 and feeling would bring me back to all the keenness of my 
 agony. Before supper I was in the girls' sewing room, 
 where Miss O. read from the Bible and talked with the girls. 
 I staid till I dare stay no longer, lest I should break out 
 in something dreadful before them, through derangement. 
 I got to my bed-room ; and throwing myself on the bed, I 
 lay for some time unconscious of any thing but the fire with- 
 in : nor durst I even shut my eyes, for fear I should find 
 myself in death, actually sinking into the flames of hell. 
 
 " After a time, how long I don't know, becoming more 
 conscious of my state, and collected in mind, these were 
 
Early Life and Conversion of C. W. R. 17 
 
 my feelings: ' I have tried every way, and all in vain: I 
 
 cannot help myself: neither ; nor anxiety do any 
 
 they lead to do relief. It is right, it is just in God 
 
 to destroy me: I ought to perish. 11<- may do what he 
 
 - : if he b< ads me to ht II, <• t him do it : and if lie 
 
 y, well : - with me.' 
 
 1 as m a i. i had such a kind of one, or wholi 
 
 view of myself, and a w to be in God's hands, 
 
 that I could li< 
 
 and throw in\ self for the last time at the fe< t of the S lv- 
 i<»r. and solemnly beg of him I would \\ ith me. 
 
 Just at tin- time Eliza [an Indian pious woman in the 
 family, w ho is the subji cl of the pn ■ ding narrative,] came 
 and talked a L r >".l de; I to m< ; <1 me how easy it 
 
 to beli< ve in th< if I would : and after talking 
 
 some time Baid, ' We will praj togeth< i H I lost all 
 my burden: I felt light: a strange feeling that 1 cannot 
 
 ribe. — I had no thought that I lov< » t, but I was 
 happy; and yet afraid to be happy; was afraid to give in- 
 dulgence to these feelings : for it would di idful, aflei 
 all, it appeared to mi to hell with no feelings of dis- 
 
 iboul it R •■"in our kne< s, i w as conscii 
 
 a Bmile mi m\ count) nance, w hich I design dij concealed 
 with my handkerchief, lest Eliza should observe it. I 
 
 he ro 'in. died me to her f»< idroora to eat 
 
 Borne supper prepared for me. I went, but could not eat. 
 M O, ud Miss C. urged me, and asked why I reft 
 to which I made no nswer. W hen they saw that 
 
 I either could not <>r would not eat, they proposi <l uniting 
 in prayer, in which the] each led in succession. Here I 
 w as filled w ith that happini ss w hich I hopi d to enji 
 heaven. I d<> ik.i know but that my enjoyment w 
 great as it was possible for i to have, arising from 
 
 a \irw of the 1<>\<\ the nearness, and tl »fthe Sav- 
 
 ior. I se< med i" Bee it, to I ■■•! it all, in a fulness of joy 
 ion. At the close of praj er my mind run 
 on tin- h\ inn. ' Alas, and did mj Sn ior bh ed !" and w ith- 
 out ' thewish I had to hear this hymn sung, Miss 
 
 ('. in a few moments commenced singing it. The whole 
 hymn possessed mj soul in mingled joy, and wonder, and 
 love. Especially the last eerses, so that I was here as 
 much lost to myself in the bliss of joy, as 1 had been 
 before in the anguish of despair. Perhaps my counte- 
 
18 Early Life and Conversion of 31. A. TV. 
 
 nance told my feelings ; and Miss O. asked me if I could 
 now love that Savior. I answered, I hope I do. This 
 was the first intimation I had dared to give of the peace 
 of my soul. But my joy had swallowed up all fear, and I 
 could not resist the answer. Now I had such a love for all 
 around, as well as for the Savior, that I could have folded 
 them to my bosom. For two days following, night and 
 day, there was little or no abatement of this happiness. I 
 appeared to be in a new world : every thing led me to 
 God : not an object did I see but seemed to say, ' how 
 glorious and lovely is the great God." ' 
 
 EARLY LIFE AND CONVERSION OF M. A. W. 
 
 M. is a half Indian woman of the O-jib-e-way nation. 
 She does not know her age, but she is probably between 
 twenty-two and twenty-five years old. She was born at 
 Fort William, or what is called the Grand Portage, on the 
 northern shore of Lake Superior, where she lived till about 
 four years ago. Her father was a Frenchman, and clerk 
 to one of the Hudson Bay traders. He left her mother 
 when M. was about four years old, and has never been 
 seen by her since. About ten years afterwards her mother 
 married another man, and removed with him towards the 
 Rocky mountains. M. has not seen her since. She, with 
 her brother, was left in the family of a trader, where she 
 was required to go to a priest daily to learn the Catholic 
 prayers and catechism, for the purpose of preparing to re- 
 ceive baptism. This course she continued, with more or 
 less regularity, for three years. 
 
 Having passed through various scenes, she was brought 
 into the mission family in August, 1S2G ; sometime in the 
 following spring was the first of her being disposed to listen 
 at all to any thing said to her on the subject of religion. 
 She had been often told that prayers which were merely 
 repeated, but do not come from the heart, were good for 
 nothing : and when she now heard Mrs. L. and another 
 Indian woman speaking of their views and feelings, she 
 felt that she had never had any sorrow for the sinfulness of 
 her heart. When questioned, she had heretofore said that 
 she never sinned against God, and she thought that we 
 
 t> n 1 a k/rt/? 
 
Early Life and Conversion of M. A. W. 19 
 
 most be eery wicked when talking so much about a sinful 
 heart. This, together with what she heard from the word 
 I . made her <1 >ubt if she might not be wrong, and in 
 this way sfa until she became con- 
 
 vinced, and gave up her Catholic pra] 
 
 own mind at length I- > distress! I with a 
 
 :' herself, how she had lived, how she had fought, as 
 it were, againsl the truth, and the astonishin a of 
 
 • i bringing h< r I (len, dur- 
 
 ing that Bummer, she felt aa it" she knew not how to go 
 about her work, or where she was. " Being at the farm, I 
 • so bad in my own \ iew, that 1 * ould 
 le with the family ; I often felt o 
 bo unworthy that I could not eat, and had to leave the 
 table. Aboul this time .Mr. II - id rj little to me, and 
 1 thought : upon me as a lost soul, and that my 
 
 conduct had been so wicked in resisting the light that 
 there \\ is no hope for me. This, though dreadful, I felt to 
 i true, and thought I could not have too mean a 
 
 place, ii ticed by every body. Soon after, there ■ 
 
 two days in particular, that I was unable t<> do any thing, 
 1 fell i cond night I could 
 
 i all, but spent the night in weeping and 
 r. It ap i nit' that the Savior was near, but 
 
 still I could nol L r <> t'» him, could not give myself to him, 
 and fin I p 
 
 "After I t) aboul my soul ; and when 
 
 I praye I. I h id n i f elin :. I continued in this state with 
 
 i • . nil at a meeting for religious i on- 
 
 tion, I v med whether 1 meant to lead the 
 
 I give up all for < 'lire 1 : tin n. as in 
 
 if all those former !<•< lings \\ hich 
 
 hid been m) agony, rushed upon my mind ; and unable to 
 
 ansvi er a v. ird, ! I remain* d -mum- time, 
 
 after all had left the room, in great distress. There 1 
 
 prayed, that if the Lord had not entirely L r i\en me up, he 
 
 would Bhow me more and hum-.' of my heart, ami give me 
 
 no peace mini I should find it in the Savior. It \\;i- th< o 
 
 that I re olved that I would seek until I found merry. 
 
 I »n the folli iimir, after going to my 
 
 room, I la) down, hut could not remain in bed : I spent the 
 time in prayer, and seemed to myself like on.' on a preci- 
 pice, just ready to fall, and sometimes bewildered as tfloa- 
 
20 Early Life and Conversion of M. A. W. 
 
 ing my reason. In the morning I threw myself on the bed, 
 with a willingness to have God do with me what he would 
 ■ — to save or destroy me. I saw that as 1 had resisted so 
 much ; I had no fault to find, if he now refused to show 
 mercy. But just as if some one had laid hold of me, I got 
 up in a few moments and unconsciously knelt by the bed, 
 where, attempting to pray, I could only thank God. He 
 appeared so good, he seemed so near and so precious, that 
 I could not have words fast enough. I felt in a new world. 
 Can this be that change of which they have told me? I 
 dared not to think I had found it ; but I was happy. I 
 felt that I was so beyond expression. On going to the win- 
 dow, words cannot express how good and lovely every thing 
 appeared to me, as if full of God. I then concluded that 
 I would take a walk for prayer. I came down and started ; 
 but often had to stop in surprise, admiring every thing 
 around me as if it were new. I could hardly believe I was 
 in the same world, and such a season of worship was given 
 me alone as I never knew till then. 
 
 " When I came back, I awoke the girl who slept with 
 me, and told her I hoped I had found the Savior. She got 
 up, and we united in prayer. My heart was full : every 
 word came from my soul. I can say that I felt it. We 
 then went to the room where the females of the mission 
 family were. Never did they appear so to me before. I 
 could not help loving them ; because, as I thought, they 
 loved Christ, and I could not refrain from embracing them, 
 and telling them that this was the first Sabbath I had ever 
 seen. They sung a hymn, and although I did not know 
 how to join with them in voice, yet I did in spirit. The 
 whole of the Sabbath I enjoyed very much, my mind mostly 
 filled with an inexpressible view of God's goodness ; and, 
 being asked by some one if I could ever sin against so 
 good a God, I answered, as I then felt, that I could not. 
 But that answer afterwards caused me sorrow. I felt that 
 I had said too much." 
 
 The amount of her subsequent exercises shows the 
 Christian with his clouds as well as sunshine. Yet, on 
 the whole, her life manifests the growing Christian, and 
 savors much of one that Jives in the spirit of prayer. She 
 was received into the church in the winter of 1828. 
 

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