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Among the An-ko-me-nums or Flathead tribes of Indians of the Pacific coast Crosby, Thomas, 1840-1914 1907

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Array      THOMAS   CROSBY.
From a photo taken in  1874 Among the
Or Flathead Tribes of Indians
of the Pacific Coast,
Missionary to the Indians of British
1907 JEntered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year
one thousand nine hundred and seven, by
William Briggs,
at the Department of Agriculture.
/$t> mi
I have been requested to write a few words of
introduction to this deeply interesting volume, and
I gladly comply, although the task may seem to be
quite superfluous. Thomas Crosby, or anything he
may write, needs no introduction, at least in Methodist circles. For a generation his name has been
a household word, and from time to time brief
accounts of his heroic labors have found their way
through the press into many homes. But these
accounts were fragmentary and incomplete. They
presented some striking incidents, but no connected
story of the man and his work. Such a story
Crosby alone could supply, and many will be glad
that he has been induced to begin it; and the hope
will be general that other volumes may follow,
covering what is by far the most interesting period
of his life.
It is but seldom that men who lay the foundations
of empire get credit for the achievement. Their
work, for the most part, is done underground and
out of sight. They are content to take up the work
that lies nearest, leaving results with God, and are
more concerned about doing their work faithfully
than claiming credit for themselves. And yet all
the while they are laying the only foundations on INTRODUCTION.
which an enduring civilization can rest, and are
better entitled to the name and fame of empire-
builders than some who have claimed the credit
without doing the work. If it be true that he is a
benefactor of his race who makes two blades of
grass grow where one grew before, much more is
he a benefactor whose spiritual husbandry transforms a savage into a citizen—a pagan into a saint.
A conflict like that in which Thomas Crosby
spent his life was no mere holiday parade. It was
a grapple to the death with the powers of evil, in
which no quarter was asked or given. He gave his
life for the redemption of a people for whose
souls no man cared, and fought—sometimes almost
single-handed—a life-long battle against superstition, immorality, and godlessness of every kind.
No marvel, therefore, if he incurred the bitter
enmity of the witch-doctor, the whiskey-trader, and
the libertine, and by " lewd fellows of the baser
sort " was the best-hated man in British Columbia.
But he has his reward. By the converting grace
of God some bitter foes were transformed into
ardent friends; and as he searched society's rubbish-heaps for lost jewels, here and there he found
a pearl of great price that more than compensated
for all his toil. Many will join in the prayer that
years of useful service may still be his, and that his
declining years may be brightened by further displays of saving power among the Red Men of the
Pacific Coast.
Toronto, February, 1907. CONTENTS.
I. The Flatheads and the " Book of Heaven"       .       9
II.   The Call from Macedonia 21
III. Westward, Ho ! 30
IV. At Nanaimo—The School.....      41
V. Heathen Street vs. Christian Street   ...      48
VI. Difficulties with the Language  .        .        .        «52
VII. A Slavery worse than Death      .        .                       60
VIII.   Feuds and Bloodshed 67
IX. Houses, Clothing, Cruel Customs      ...      79
X. Courtship and Marriage    .....     88
XI. Foods, Feasts and Follies .....     99
XII. Native Worship and Superstitions     .        .        .    112
XIII. Struggles with Whiskey, and the Ravages of
Fire-water .        .        .        .        .        .126
XIV. Some Perilous Canoe Trips       ....    141
XV. Varied Experiences   .       .       .       .       .            159
XVI. How the Gospel came to Chilliwack .       .       .169
XVII. More of the Chilliwack Revival—Camp-meetings    183
XVIII. The Bunch Grass Country         ....    195
XIX. Marvels of Grace       ......    206
XX. Lay Agencies—Salvation in a Victoria Bar-room   233
XXI.   British Columbia—Its Interests and Resources
XXII.   The Missionary Progress of the Years—Home
Portrait of Author Frontispiece
Flathead Woman and Child 8
Early Native Types 18
Indian Church and Mission House at Nanaimo   .        .      42
Indian Houses, with Group of Heathen Natives  .        .      48
11 could see two wild, savage-looking men," etc. .        .      74
"The great big fellow danced up and down," etc.        .      78
Two Flathead Centenarians    ......      86
1 One day I slipped in and found the old fellow rattling
over him" .        .        .        .        •        •        •        .122
Witch  Doctor and his Wife—-"Coal Tyee" —Crosby
teaching Indian Chief      .        .        .        •        •        .128
"We were bailing out as hard as we could" .        .146
First Protestant Church in the Chilliwack Valley .        .172
Coqualeetza Indian Institute 192
Group of Students, Coqualeetza Institute       .        .        .198
Amos Cushan—Sarah Shee-at-ston — David Sallosalton
— Captain John Su-a-lis 208
Skowkale Church — Skowkale Mission People       .        .    232
The Transformed Bar room, Victoria     ....    236  iBii\
(Showing method in use among these Indians for flattening the heads of the
infant children.)  AMONG THE AN-KO-ME-NUMS.
"They may not want you, but they need you."
"Far,  far away,  in heathen darkness  dwelling,
Millions of souls forever may be lost.
Who, who will go, Salvation's story telling,
Looking to Jesus, counting not the cost?"
The An-ko-me-nums, as they call themselves, are
a branch of the great Salish or Flathead family of
Indians, whose territory is that part of the Pacific
Coast now known as Northern Oregon, Washington, and Southern British Columbia.
The Flatheads derive the name from their custom of compressing the skull in childhood until the
whole front of the head is flattened and broadened.
They live along the great arteries of travel, the
Columbia River in the south, the Fraser River in
the north, and their tributaries, as well as on the
shores of those inland waters of the West known
as Puget Sound and the Gulf of Georgia.
Unlike the great nations of the East and of the AMONG THE AN-KO-ME-NUMS
plains, who possess something of national unity,
they are composed of a number of branches, speaking languages bearing scarcely any resemblance to
each other—the Chinooks, the Cayuses and the
Sinahomish in the south; the Shuswaps and the
Okanagans in the interior of British Columbia ; and
the An-ko-me-nums, known under such names as
the Cowichans—after tribes on Vancouver Island,
which some believe to be the parent stock—and
the Stawlo, which literally means the River
These last inhabit the valley of the Fraser River,
from Yale to its mouth, and the east coast of
Vancouver Island, from Comox to Esquimault, and
include the Nan-ni-moohs, Cowichans, Songees,
Skwamish, Sumats, Chil-way-uks, and numerous
other rival tribes, possessed of the same manners
and customs, but speaking varying dialects of the
same language, and, in earlier days, engaging in
the fiercest conflicts with one another.
The Coast Indians are spoken of, generally, as
Siwashes, a term which the more intelligent resent,
and which is taken from the word for | Indian "
in the Chinook or trade jargon.
There is some doubt, however, as to the origin
of the word " Siwash." By some it is thought to
be a corruption of the French word | Sauvage If
(barbarian), as applied by the Nor'westers to the
Indians generally. But in all probability it is a
corruption of the generic term " Salish," which is
given by ethnologists to the whole family, and as
such is improperly applied to the Northern tribes.
The Indians of British Columbia.
There are some six distinct races among the
Indians of British Columbia. The Hydah-Kling-get,
on Queen Charlotte Islands and the lower Alaskan
coast; the Tsimpshean, in the region of the lower
Skeena and Naas River; the Kwa-kualth, from
Kitamaat to Cape Mudge on the mainland and
north-east coast of Vancouver Island; the Salish,
of which the An-ko-me-nums are a division, in the
south; the Kootenai and the Dene or Tinne, in the
interior. The At nation, which occupies the west
coast of Vancouver Island, it would appear, is
still another race, though some ethnologists identify
them with the Kwa-kualths.
The origin of these various people is much in
doubt. The Tinne possibly came by way of the
Aleutian Islands from Asia. The Northern Coast
tribes, Hydahs and Tsimpsheans, may be related to
the Filipinos and the Japanese. Some years ago,
when the first Japanese fishermen came to the
Skeena, the Indians immediately claimed them as
their " tilikum " (friends). When the difference
in language was pointed out, they replied, " That
does not matter, the Indians speak different languages. Just look at their hair and their eyes and
the color of their skin, is it not the same as ours?
They are surely of our race." The resemblance so
noted is certainly remarkable.
As for the Salish and Kwa-kualths, the similarity
between certain of their words and those of the
Polynesian Islanders has led some to give them an
Oceanic origin. n AMONG THE AN-KO-ME-NUMS
The various sources from which they possibly
sprang will sufficiently explain the difference in
their languages.
Early Traders.
Very early in the last century the trading ships
of various nations were visiting the coast and bartering their cargoes of firearms, rum and useless
trinkets—beads, bits of iron and brass—for the
valuable furs of the natives.
The first depot on Vancouver Island was established at Nootka, on the West Coast, and, a little
later, a second, on the mainland near the mouth
of the Columbia. Thus early the Indians were
debauched by the whiskey and vices of the white
man, and from that time to the present have been
wretched sufferers.
The great fur companies, the North-west, the
Hudson's Bay and the Astor, were soon in active
competition for the trade of the Pacific slope. In
1818 the first fort was built on the Columbia at the
mouth of the Walla Walla, and about six years
later, in 1824-5, Fort Vancouver was built, where
the waters of the Willamette join the great
In 1804-6 the intrepid explorers, Clark and
Lewis, made their then difficult and dangerous
journey from the trading post at St. Louis across
the mountains and down the Columbia River to
the land of the Cayuse and Chinooks. Clark
seems to have left a deep and favorable impres-
sion upon the mind of the Indians, as will later be
Among these early traders were men of sterling
character, who, while they might not be termed
religious, had, nevertheless, a deep reverence for
God and for His wondrous law, some little knowledge of which they imparted to the native peoples
with whom they were engaged in traffic.
We cannot but wonder at the slowness of the
Church in not seeing and seizing her opportunity.
She should have been first on the ground, but was
not. The trader preceded her. And finally it was
the eager longing of the heathen themselves, awakened by the Spirit of God, which aroused the
slumbering Church.
In Search of the " Book of Heaven."
In 1832 the Flatheads at the headwaters of the
Colurnbia River met in council, not painted for
war or armed for the chase, but with a look of
earnestness on their faces. They were talking over
a strange story which some wandering trappers
had brought to their camps—the story of the white
man's worship, and the Book that told of God and
immortality, and the presence and power of the
" Great Spirit." They had more than once held
such a council, and they finally concluded that if
there was such a treasure as the Book of Heaven
they would try and find it.
They selected one of the old " seams " (chiefs) and
a strong-minded brave of full years, also two young
and daring men. These four were sent off across
the mountains in search of the news of the white
man's God, or the book that would tell of His love.
Leaving their western homes or 1 lalums," they
turned their faces to the east, and for many a week
they travelled mountain and plain in the search.
They reached St. Louis, then a mere hamlet, known
as the far frontier, a resort of hunters and trappers.
One day these four strange Indians were walking
down the street, looking everywhere as if for hidden treasure. Finally they met Gen. Wm. Clark,
whose name the two older had heard of years
before, up in their far away western home, as he
and others were making their way to the western
To him they made known the object of their
search. They were kindly received and well treated,
but neither General Clark nor anyone in that
Roman Catholic town helped them to what their
hearts longed for. They waited till they became
weary; two of their number sickened and died, and
now the remaining two prepared to go back to the
people with a tale of disappointment. General
Clark, knowing the Indians' love of ceremony, had
a leave-taking in his town. One of the poor Indians,
as they said good-by, made the following touching
speech :
I We came to you over a trail of many moons
from the setting sun. You were the friend of our
fathers who have all gone the long way. We came,
with our eyes partly opened, for more light for our
people who sit in darkness. We go back with our
eyes closed. How can we go back blind to our
blind people? We made our way to you with
strong arms, through many enemies and strange
lands, that we might carry back much to our
people. We go back with empty and broken arms.
The two fathers who came with us, the braves of
many winters and wars, we leave here always by
your great wigwams. They were tired in their journey of many moons, and their moccasins were worn
out. Our people sent us to get the white man's
Book of Heaven. You took us where they worship
the Great Spirit with candles, but the Book was
not there. You showed us images of good spirits
and pictures of the good land beyond, but the Book
was not among them to tell us the way. You made
our feet heavy with burdens and gifts, and our
moccasins will grow old with carrying them, but
the Book is not among them. We are going back
the long, sad trail to our people. When we tell
them, after one more snow, in the big council, that
we did not bring the Book, no word will be spoken
by our old men, nor by our young braves. One
by one they will rise up and go out in silence. Our
people will die in darkness and they will go on the
long path to other hunting grounds. No white
man will go with them, and no Book of Heaven
to make the way plain. We have no more to say."*
Only one lived to reach his people, and with a
sad heart he told the story. Word of this strange
visit got into the papers of the East, among others
into the New York Christian Advocate.    Soon the
* Dr. Hinds' Life of Jason Lee.
whole American church was aroused, and with
such men as Nathan Bangs and Dr. Wilbur Fisk
leading the way, it was not long before the Board
of Missions of the Methodist Episcopal Church had
the money and were ready to establish " A mission
among the Indians west of the Rocky Mountains."
When the question was asked, " Who will go
for us?" Dr. Fisk said, "I know but one man,
Jason Lee." Mr. Lee was a Canadian, born in
Stanstead, Que. He was converted at twenty-three
years of age. A splendid man, six feet three
inches in height, and in every particular the type
of man needed for this new enterprise.
In July, 1833, he was chosen leader of this great
missionary adventure; and in the spring of the
following year he, with his brother Daniel and two
laymen, " mounted their horses and followed the
Oregon trail."
On September 17th, 1834, Lee and his party
reached Fort Vancouver, on the Columbia River,
and at once began to do all the many kinds of work
which men must do in starting a mission among a
wild, savage people.
Lee and his associates were the first missionaries
to the Pacific Coast, the first to the great Salish
family of Indians ; others followed.*
Lee and his co-laborers planted their mission in
the beautiful Willamette Valley and from the first
had wonderful success.     A boarding school was
* Some  years  later  two  Roman   Catholic  priests,  one  of
whom was Father Demers, found their way to the Columbia
River, and still later Demers journeyed into the Okanagan
Valley, and commenced work among the Shuswaps.
established for the benefit of the Indian children,
on the site of which now stands the Willamette
Jason Lee was a preacher of marvellous power,
and was the means, in God's hands, of the conversion of scores, both among whites and Indians.
He preached the word at Fort Vancouver, and
nineteen were baptized, one being Lady McLaughlin. Dr. John McLaughlin, the Chiei Factor of
the Hudson's Bay Company at this point, paid a
fine tribute to his work when he said to Mr. Lee:
" Before you came into the country we could not
send a boat past the Dalles without an armed
guard of sixty men. Now we go up singly, and no
one is robbed."
At a great camp-meeting, held in October, 1841,
twelve hundred Indians attended and about five
hundred were converted.
It is a remarkable fact that between the years
1839-41 a great spiritual awakening, which marvellously affected even heathen tribes, spread across
the whole continent.
Commencing with the great revival under Jason
Lee among the Chinooks of the Columbia, we may
follow the route pursued by the Hudson's Bay
Company's men, up the Columbia and through the
Okanagan Valley and on to the upper waters of
the Fraser River, and then across the mountains
through the land of the Crées to Hudson's Bay.
In 1839, in the Okanagan Valley, where Father
Demers was laboring among the Shuswaps, a great
many natives turned from their heathenism and
united with the Roman Catholic Church, and a
strong mission was established. Farther on among
the Crées, at Norway House and other points, a
blessed work of grace was begun about the same
time under, the leadership of James Evans, Mason,
and Rundle, with their young native associates,
Henry B. Steinhauer and Peter Jacobs.
As this spiritual influence spread—and it did
spread—from nation to nation and from tribe to
tribe, even those far removed from direct contact
with the Truth seemed to be affected by it. These
remarkable revivals were manifestly the result of
the heroic work of Jason Lee and his associates.
Where missionaries were sent to direct and lead
the poor people, great and good results followed,
for hundreds were savingly converted to God. But
in other cases, where the natives were left to themselves, the old (Shaman) conjurers made use of it
to their own advantage. The people would fast and
pray and dance for weeks—not their old heathen
dances; they danced and prayed to the Sun god,
or the stars, or the storm, for help and deliverance.
This went on for a long time amidst great excitement. It was the groping of the human heart after
God, " if haply they might find him."
At the time of the great revival on the North
Coast, in 1875, when the people became so aroused
that they did not eat or sleep for days, the old men
would say, " Oh, I saw this when I was a boy many
years ago. A man came down the Skeena and
spoke to the people, and they began to cry and pray,
and this is the same. Long before this, a man came
down from Alaska and told the people that the
Ta-kus had travelled far away, for a month or more,
in the mountains, and they had met with people who
prayed to the Good Spirit. When they took their
food they would read from a strange book, and
when the people heard this they got much excited."
It is possible that these Indians to whom the old
men referred had travelled on the Peace or Mackenzie River, and had come across some of James
Evans' converts, who could read in the Crée syllabic
There is no doubt that a great revival spread
across the continent at about the time before mentioned, filling the minds of the natives with expectation ; and had the home Church used men and means
at that day thousands and thousands of poor people
might have been saved who went down in darkness.
The incident, before mentioned, of the early
planting of the Gospel among the Flathead people
in Oregon, though somewhat removed from that
section of this great nation with which we will have
more to do, makes it clear that when God wants a
man to do a special work for Him it does not take
long to find him. It also shows that God by His
Spirit will sometimes arouse a tribe or nation, so
that they are ready for the Gospel light before the
Church is prepared to carry the blessed truth. It
does look at times as if His Kingdom were advanced
through means all His own ; and yet when the
Macedonian cry, " Come over and help us," is
raised, the Church should be ready to enter every
If the Church were only awake to her privilege,
and the responsibility which God has thrown upon
her by the wealth He has placed in her hands, and,
as a faithful steward, would return a tithe of what
He has given for the spread of His Kingdom, we
should soon have enough to carry the Gospel to
every creature.
20 ■
" I will send a Prophet to you,
A Deliverer of the Nations—
Who  shall guide you and shall teach you,
Who shall toil and suffer with you.
If you listen to his counsels,
You  will multiply and prosper;
If his warnings pass unheeded,
You will fade away and perish!"
Longfellow's " Hiawatha."
On the Columbia River, and farther north, on
the shores of Puget Sound and the lower part of
Vancouver Island, where the Hudson's Bay Company had established one of their most important
posts—Fort Victoria or Camosun—small settlements gradually sprang up. But these were of little
consequence until, in the year 1858, the discovery
of gold on the bars of the Fraser, and later in
Cariboo, drew attention to British Columbia and
led to a wild rush from all parts of the world to the
new i diggings."
Almost immediately the Methodist Church
embraced the opportunity, and sent out the first
band of missionaries to the Pacific Coast, in the
persons of Revs. Ephraim Evans, D.D., Edward
White, Ebenezer Robson and Arthur Browning.
These brethren were speedily at work, at Victoria
and Nanaimo on Vancouver Island, and at New
Westminster and Hope on the Fraser River.
While the hearts of these faithful missionaries
were much engaged with the needs of the white
inhabitants, their souls were stirred with the scenes
of degradation and misery constantly presented to
them by the wild native population, and their liveliest sympathies were aroused with a desire to help
them. Brother Robson, especially, endeavored, as
the circumstances of his own work permitted, to
reach the Indians, both at Hope and Nanaimo. But
the pressure of the ever-widening field among the
whites made it impossible to do a great deal, and
led him, with the others, to pray and plead that
someone might be raised up whose mission would
be the salvation of the Indians.
In 1859, Rev. Dr. Evans, in the Missionary
Notices for the year, wrote : " The scenes which
meet our eye daily might well paralyze the hopes
of any mere philanthropist, unacquainted with the
constitution and past triumphs of the Mediatorial
economy. The degradation of these poor savages
must be seen to be at all understood. Then there is
a large amount of prejudice and contempt arrayed
against them. The collisions occurring between
them and the miners, and the difficulties likely to
arise about the alienation of their lands and the
settlement of the colonies, present additional
obstacles. Nothing less than the exertion of the
Divine energy, promised to the Church in her evangelistic struggles, can bring about the desired civilization of these wretched fellow-men. Great will
be the immortal honor, and glorious the reward,
of the man who shall first throw himself effectually THE CALL FROM MACEDONIA
into this vast and long-deferred Christian enterprise. Oh! that while I write the blessed Spirit
may influence some heart with the requisite zeal and
tenderness and self-denial, and thrust its possessor
into the field of conflict and conquest before thousands more shall pass away unreached by the
remedy so richly provided."
Rev. A. Browning wrote, February, 1859: " I
was a witness yesterday to the torture and death
dance of the Indians over a captive. How sad it
made me feel. I was under the protection of a
gentleman well known to them, or I should hardly
have felt safe. Oh! sir, I hope you and the dear
friends at home will do something for these poor
souls. Our hands are full, and will be, in laboring
for our own race. Will not God raise up some
young men especially for this work?"
In 1861, at the close of a very interesting description of the effort he was making to reach the
Indians, Rev. E. Robson said : " They all seem ripe
for the Gospel. I have often witnessed scenes of
thrilling interest among them—crowds of almost
breathless listeners, falling tears, shouts of gladness, entreaties to come again, shaking hands with
hundreds—but I cannot enter into all the details.
What is wanted is earnest, self-denying, heaven-
baptized men and women to devote themselves to
this work, and a great and glorious harvest will be
The same year, Rev. Edward White wrote several letters to the Christian Guardian, urging the
importance of Christian young men coming out to
the West to labor for the salvation of souls, class-
leaders, local preachers and other workers, who
would avail themselves of the opportunity afforded
by the needs of the native peoples, and by the thousands who were pressing into the country in search
of gold.
These letters left a very deep impression upon my
mind, but newly awakened by the Spirit of God to
a sense of my privilege and responsibility, and
created a deep longing to be used of God in a special
manner for His glory.
Some five years before this time, in the year 1856,
I had come from England with my parents, and had
settled near Woodstock, Upper Canada.
Very early in life in the old town of Pickering,
Yorkshire—where I was born in 1840—I was the
subject of deep religious impressions. But it was
not until some time later that I was savingly converted to God.
About the time of my leaving school, a very pious
young man, by the name of George Piercy, belonging to my native town, desired to go as a missionary
to China. His friends gave him no encouragement.
But, overcoming all difficulties, he finally did go.
I shall never forget the effect it had upon my heart.
I admired his piety and zeal, even though I had not
as yet made definite decision for Christ, and
thought that if he could leave a comfortable home
and influential friends there must be an inspiring
motive. Later on, when the call came to my own
heart, I understood what the inspiring motive was.
There were two or three circumstances which
were strangely used by the Spirit of God leading up
to my conversion.
When crossing the Atlantic Ocean we encountered terrible storms and were in great danger of
shipwreck among the icebergs. The goodness and
mercy of God in preserving us and bringing the
ship safely to land moved me to gratitude and
thanksgiving. Later on I suffered from sunstroke,
which resulted in a long illness, and while recovering I had leisure for more serious thoughts concerning the future. Some time after this, while wrestling with some companions, I was thrown violently
to the floor, breaking my leg. The month in bed
which followed the accident gave me another season
for reflection, and led me to resolve to live a Christian life. But, like many a sick-bed resolution, this
was only made to be broken. During the autumn a
camp-meeting was held near Woodstock, and
though at first I made light of it all, I attended, and
my conscience was still further aroused.
The Methodist church in the town had just
passed through a most blessed season of revival.
Some of the young men had united in a praying
band, and they invited me to go with them to their
meetings. Such a spirit of trifling worldliness and
carelessness had taken possession of me that I
would rather have kept out of their way. But I
was so struck by their earnestness and devotion that
I consented to go.
On the way up the street, while others were discussing the results of the elections which had just
taken place, the leader, and one of the most devout
25 F
among them, Mr. A. Peers,* breaking in upon the
conversation, said : " Here we are, fellow-travellers
to eternity." "Eternity! Eternity!" I thought,
" I am not prepared for eternity." The words
haunted me like a refrain. Conscience repeated
them in my ears. The meeting from beginning to
end seemed especially for my benefit. The prayers,
the testimonies, the songs were all the voice of God
to my heart.
Two weeks of terrible struggle followed this
awakening. I often spent most of the night in
prayer, beseeching God to have mercy upon me. At
last, one evening, while on my knees, the answer
came, and I was enabled to believe that God, for
Christ's sake, had pardoned all my sins.
A flood of joy filled my soul. My happiness was
so great I felt constrained to give it out to others.
A burning desire to be useful and helpful to others
took possession of me. I immediately identified
myself with the church and the Sunday School,
joined the Tract Society, and with the praying band
assisted in cottage prayer-meetings and visited the
sick and the prisoners in the jail. Later on I was
placed on the plan as a local preacher, and in con-
* Alex. Peers, a devoted young classmate of the author,
in Woodstock, Ont., who spent some time in Victoria College with a view to the ministry, in 1863 made his way to
British Columbia, and took up land at Chilliwack. He was
married to Miss Wells, sister of Mr. A. C. Wells, and after
spending some time in the mission school at Nanaimo, finally
settled in New Westminster, where he was very useful as
a local preacher and class-leader, and secured the respect
and esteem of all who knew him. Here the author again
nection with our services had the joy of seeing
souls saved.
I now felt more than ever that every moment
must be improved in storing my mind with useful
knowledge. I purchased additional books, mostly
of a devotional character, and spent my evenings,
until late into the night, in study.
I never failed to avail myself of the privileges
offered by any services of a special character, and
while in attendance at a notable camp-meeting, held
near Ingersoll, Ontario, at which the Rev. Wm.
Taylor (then known as " California " Taylor)
preached a wonderful sermon on sanctification, my
heart was set on fire of love, and a stronger desire
than ever to glorify God took possession of my soul.
About this time my attention was drawn to the
fervent appeals of the pioneer missionaries to British Columbia, published in the Christian Guardian,
and previously referred to. Again the flame of
missionary zeal, which had been first lighted in my
boyhood days by the influence of the saintly George
Piercy, began to burn with renewed intensity.
One day a friend handed me a copy of the paper
with the letter from Bro. White in it, and said:
" Crosby, you ought to go there." I took the paper
into my room and read it on my knees, and there
and then promised God if the way should open and
the money should be forthcoming I would go. But
where the money was to come from I did not know.
Presently some of my friends noticed that something was troubling me, and asked me what was the
matter. I hesitated a little, and then told them I felt
I ought to obey the call in my heart to go and
preach the Gospel to the heathen of British Columbia, but I had not the money. The reply was : " We
will lend you enough to go, and if you are never
able to pay it back it will be all right anyway."
This was a very serious moment, for I did not
expect the answer to come so soon. The thought of
what it meant to leave home and friends and go to
a land of which little was known, suddenly presented itself to me. I excused myself from my
friends and went away to my room, and there
pleaded with God to help me to do what He had
now clearly called me to do. When my decision
was made to obey God at whatever cost, the way
seemed all bright and clear.
Now, however, a new difficulty presented itself.
I must get the consent of my mother.
I rode out one night to the farm. My father met
me, fearing ill tidings, and as we stood by the
house I told him how the Lord had called me and
that my way was open, but I felt I would like his
consent and my mother's. The window was open
and mother had overheard, and when we went in I
found her in tears. Sobbing, she said I must not
go, she could not spare me. Who can tell the depth
of a mother's love ? Though she had fourteen children she felt she could not spare one. I told her
how the call had come and the way had been
opened, and that I felt it my duty to go, and
further that I feared if I disobeyed the voice of God
I would lose my soul. Then, resting her hand upon
my shoulder, the tears streaming down her cheeks, THE CALL FROM MACEDONIA
she said, " If that is so, then go! my boy, go! and
God bless you."
Many a time in after years when discouragements
and difficulties beset me, my mother's words came
to me as a benediction. Often when on stormy seas,
the winds howling, the waves sweeping over us, and
when to all human appearance it was impossible to
reach shore, I would seem to hear my mother's loved
voice and her " God bless you."
When, night after night in my lonely cabin or
camped on the beach, studying a strange language
and perplexing myself as to how to get my tongue
around the difficult words or sounds, the farewell
words of my mother came again to comfort me.
When standing all night long between savage
parties who were clubbing and butchering one
another, when I did not know but any moment I
should be knocked down by some enraged warrior
with his club, the remembrance of mother's benediction proved an encouragement and an inspiration.
And now came hasty preparations for departure,
which were .finally completed. The day at last
arrived to bid farewell to Sunday School and classmates and friends. One by one they filed past the
door, on that never-to-be-forgotten Sunday, and
grasping my hand they lovingly gave me their
heart-felt " God-speed." The sweet-faced, tear-
bedewed eyes of my little scholars ever remain a
precious memory. CHAPTER III.
" I'll go where you want me to go, dear Lord,
Over mountain, or plain or sea;
I'll say what you want me to say, dear Lord;
I'll be what you want me to be."
—M. Brown.
The only route to British Columbia then travelled, except the terrible overland journey, attempting to make which so many perished, was that via
New York, by sea to the Isthmus of Panama,
thence to San Francisco, and on to Victoria.
After bidding adieu to home, friends and
acquaintances, I left Woodstock on February 25th,
1862. The journey in some respects was a sad one.
It was at the time of the American Civil War, and
at every station, after crossing the Niagara River,
hundreds of men came on board going to " the
front," leaving behind on the platform their
mothers, sisters, sweethearts and wives, many never
to meet again. These scenes revived in my own
heart the pain of my recent parting with loved ones.
That winter was a terrible one, marked by many
heavy snowfalls. In New York State the train
passed between high banks of heaped up snow.
From New York we took passage on board the
old S.S. Champion. She was crowded with five
hundred men, most of whom were bound for the
Fraser River or Cariboo gold mines, and some of
them the roughest class we ever met, armed with
bowie knives and six-shooters. The language used
by many of these men was so vile that I could not
sleep below, and to escape such offensive atmosphere
I took my blankets and went on deck. We had a
very rough passage, and it was terribly cold, so I
chose a spot close to the smokestack, and rolling
myself up, lay down to rest. One night, during a
great storm, the waves swept over the deck, drenching me thoroughly, and the officer of the watch
came along and roused me with the words, " My
boy, if you don't get out of this you will be washed
overboard." I picked up my dripping blankets,
shook myself, and sought a more sheltered spot.
The food supply for the passengers was not all
that was needed—I got one potato in the trip. Fortunately my friends had provided me with a well-
filled lunch-basket, which afforded me good service.
The hungry men at times were rough and selfish.
As the stewards would pass the food on to the table
these hoggish men would grab it off the plates with
their hands, so that if any one happened to be a little
more modest he could not get anything. On one
occasion a tall, good-natured Irishman thought he
had struck it when he seized a long potato, but as
he was drawing it to himself two other fellows
made a grab, one at each end, and poor Pat was left
with just the middle. One day the men stood by the
swinging tables and swept the whole of the food off
into the sea. Then, rushing to the captain, they
declared that if he did not give them something
31 r
better than " that dead horse " they would use their
We were delighted to reach the Isthmus, and
crossed over by moonlight on the narrow-gauge
railway. It was pleasant to have a night crossing,
for it was very hot weather, and the temperature in
the middle of the day was almost unbearable.
We saw the picturesque thatched huts of the
natives here and there along the way, and called to
mind the stories of the terrible mortality among
these people while the little railroad was being built.
My heart was touched by the sight of so many of
these poor people in their apparent heathen simplicity, and I wondered if they had a missionary
among them.
At Panama we embarked on the fine double-
decked passenger steamer Golden Age. At this
point crowds joined us who had come by ships from
England, and we were told we had fifteen hundred
aboard. Our fine-looking ship was evidently not
built to stand much stormy weather, but they
pushed along up the coast of Mexico, meeting no
difficulties, and presently we put into the harbor of
Acapulco to coal.
As the ship lay at anchor crowds of natives surrounded the vessel with their little canoes. The
passengers threw five and ten-cent pieces into the
sea, and the natives, heedless of the sharks that were
swimming about, would jump out of the canoes and
dive like fish for the money, bringing the pieces up
in their teeth, shaking their heads and still beckoning for more, as they were ready for another dive.
One of the brethren who followed me tells the
story that while his ship was coaling in this sam ^
harbor the sharks were so numerous that the passengers became alarmed for the safety of the little
chaps, who as usual were diving for the money.
Rushing to the side of the vessel, in great excitement, some of  them cried out:
"My! my! That shark is going to have that
" Naw," drawled a gruff old tar, | he won't touch
" Why not? Look! Look! He's just going to
catch him now."
" Naw," said the sailor, looking on without concern. " He stinks too much of tobacco. He'll never
touch him."
Soon we sighted the Golden Gate, and latei
entered it in our ship the Golden Age. One could
not but think there was much that was golden in
those days of gold hunting, and yet many a poor
fellow found out to his own sorrow that " it is not
all gold that glitters."
Thousands of men filled the streets of 'Frisco,
nearly all bound for the Fraser River or Cariboo, as
British Columbia was called in those days.
The steamboats, some of them not very seaworthy, were all overcrowded, bound north. A
short time before the old steamer Republic, with
eight hundred passengers, and the old Sierra
Nevada, with nine hundred, had gone " up." And
now another old coffin, the Brother Jonathan, which
had passed the Customs to carry only two hundred AMONG THE AN-KO-ME-NUMS
and fifty, took on eleven hundred men and was still
selling tickets.
Some of our acquaintances. who went north on
board of her state that " they were stowed away like
pigs, two in a bunk," and they did not dare to leave
their bunks for fear they would lose them. They
were eight days on the trip, and hundreds of them
never saw daylight but once, when they put in to
Astoria for a few hours.
I, with a small party of Canadians, shipped on
board the trim little barquentine W. B. Scranton,
and had a lovely trip of ten days. On Sabbath we
held religious services, the first we had had during
our long journey.
As we passed through the Straits of Juan de
Fuca,. on the last night, and in sight of the lights of
Victoria, a storm caught us. So severe was it that
Captain Cathcart and his men were on deck all
night, and were obliged to put about ship continually to keep her driving between the three lights of
Victoria, Dungeness and Race Rocks.
At daybreak the wind subsided, and the morning
found us in a dead calm away outside the Royal
The beauty of the sight which met our eyes as
the day brightened can never be forgotten. The
grand snow-capped Olympian Range lay to the
south, and away to the east the rising sun cast rays
of crimson light on old Mount Baker, as it nestled
back from the great Coast Range of hills, while
the glaciers seemed to shoot back light to the snow
on its lofty peak.
To the north was that most beautiful and natural
park, Beacon Hill. Victoria, we were told, nestled
just behind it, though not much of the town could
be seen from where our ship lay.
About noon of the same day, April nth, we were
landed by a small boat on the rocks near where the
outer wharf has since been built.
First Impressions.
The natural beauty of its situation entitled Victoria, then as now, to the name of Queen City of the
Pacific Coast.
The town was not large, but the first Parliament
buildings and several good-sized churches gave it
importance and helped to enhance the effect of its
appearance. The place was crowded with men, the
chief stir of business being where the " Cheap
Johns " had stores for outfitting the miners—you
could hear one on each side of the street auctioneering their goods almost night and day. The Hudson's Bay Company's store and wharf, with their
little boats, the Enterprise and Otter, were rushing
business to the port of Queensborough (now New
Westminster), on the Fraser River, where the goods
were transferred to river steamers and rushed on
up to the diggings.
Besides those who took passage on the steamers,
hundreds were venturing in small boats and canoes,
many of which were wrecked or lost on the Gulf of
Georgia and the treacherous river. And some of
those who escaped shipwreck were murdered by the
savages before they reached the mines.
New Westminster was then a growing village,
situated on Mary Hill, which was still partly covered with immense timber. To the east, looking up
the Fraser River, nature presented another grand
panorama of glorious mountains, upon whose lofty
peaks the snow lay all the year round.
From here the stern-wheel steamers carried
freight and passengers to Yale, then the terminus of
steamboat navigation, nearly one hundred miles up
the Fraser. Thence the miner carried his goods
on his back, or had them carried on the backs of
pack animals or in ox-waggons, nearly four hundred miles farther. About this time the great waggon road was completed to Cariboo, and the treacherous trails over I Jackass " (a difficult ascent
behind Yale) and other mountains were abandoned.
In addition to the river route, hundreds of men
came in overland from California, by way of Whatcom and Sumas, or by the Columbia and through
the Okanagan Valley.
The winter of 1861-2 was one of unusual length
and severity, and the great " rush " to the mines set
in too early, with the result that many endured
untold hardships and suffering, and many others
who came into the country were never heard of
Long before the summer was over hundreds
returned—some from the mines and some, indeed,
who had never reached the mines—poorer and wiser
than when they came. Many who were cursing the
country and leaving it were advised to take up land
and settle in the lovely valleys on the Lower Fraser
—Chilliwack, Sumas, and Langley, or the Delta
lands near the mouth. They derided the idea of
these lands being any good. But the few who did
remain and take up land are now prosperous and
wealthy farmers, and have lived to see this once
despised district become the " Garden of British
The government of the country was then colonial,
under a Governor appointed by the Home Government and a small Council. James (afterwards Sir
James) Douglas, the first Governor, had been a
Chief Factor in the Hudson's Bay Company and
Governor of Vancouver Island. He was much
respected and beloved by all who knew him well,
but especially by the natives of the country. He
was a wise, upright and impartial Governor over
the two colonies, Vancouver Island and British Columbia, which, though nominally distinct, were for
purposes of government practically one.
About this time, when the rush to the mines
produced a more or less lawless condition of
affairs, Matthew (afterwards Sir Matthew) Begbie, an English barrister, was appointed to
the bench. He dispensed justice in the colonies with so firm a hand that for years he
was a terror to evil-doers. Many stories are told
of him, but the following will serve to show the
fearless character of the man. A fellow was being
tried before him, charged with sand-bagging a
miner and obtaining his gold. There was hardly
any doubt that he had committed the crime. The
evidence given was so convincing that a verdict of
" guilty " appeared the only possible one. But the
jury found him not guilty. " Prisoner at the bar,"
said his lordship, " the jury have found you not
guilty. I discharge you, and now I recommend you
to go and sand-bag the jurymen."
Besides the Methodist Church, the Episcopalian,
Presbyterian, Congregational and Roman Catholic
Churches were all doing good work among the
white colonists. I shall never forget the unspeakable delight with which, after nearly six weeks'
deprivation, I had the privilege again of attending
love feast and sacrament. I was admitted by ticket
from the Rev. Dr. Evans, pastor of the church in
Victoria. I was like a bird let out of a cage, and
entered with joy into the spirit of the meeting. It
was afterwards asked by some of the brethren:
" Who was that strange boy in home-spun clothes
who had the audacity to disturb the quiet of the
church by his • Amen,' ' Hallelujah,' and * Praise
the Lord \ ?"
As the spring advanced the lovely climate became
apparent. The genial warmth of the beautiful
spring and summer days was followed by cool
nights, when anyone in health might enjoy refreshing sleep.
The extensive timber areas, one of the most valuable assets of the country, were already attracting
capital. A number of sawmills and spar-camps
began shipping spars and lumber to many parts of
the world. No one could go through the primeval
forests of those days without being impressed with
their natural greatness. Tall firs abounded, many
of them from two hundred to three hundred feet in
height, standing straight, their stems unbroken by
a single branch until they reached the bushy, spreading tops. Equally tall and gigantic cedars grew side
by side with hemlock, spruce and the smaller vine
maple, the shady, broad-leafed soft maple, ash,
birch, cottonwood, apple, cherry and alder. Such
a wealth of foliage caused one to exclaim, " Lo !
God is here !   Let us adore."
These were some of the first impressions of the
land which was to be my home for so many years.
The following eleven months were spent in hard
manual labor, by which I earned sufficient to return
the money, with interest, which had been so generously loaned to defray the expenses of my journey.
This gave me excellent opportunities to gain an
insight into the life and needs of the country and its
people—a knowledge which could not well have
been gained otherwise. I was employed on the
wharf, at work in the woods, clearing land, and on
the roads being built by the Government, as well as
on rough carpentering work in putting up buildings.
All this, in a measure, prepared me for canoe and
camp life, and for superintending the erection of
church and mission buildings, and for assisting the
natives in building their houses—indeed, for all
the practical mission work which lay before me.
It was while working on the Government road
that fall that I first saw the large dog salmon jumping and floundering up a stream so narrow that we
could jump over it. So crowded were they, and so
great was their number, that their fins and tails
were, many of them, worn off in the struggle. It
was not an uncommon thing to see black bears, in
such a field, fishing for themselves, and eagles by the
score, as well as ravens, carrying off their supply of
food. We saw elk and deer in great numbers, and
water fowl in clouds. And the conviction grew
upon one that a land of such mountains and rivers,
seas and forests, teeming with life, such coal and
gold fields and such a magnificent climate, was
destined to become a great and grand country.
All this time my mind and sympathies were
excited by the condition of the poor Indians, as it
was for their temporal and spiritual welfare I had
left my home and friends. When I saw the thousands from the far north coast, as well as from the
interior, crowding into and about the towns, being
more and more debauched and degraded by the
white man's diseases and fire-water; when I saw
how little human life was respected by them, and
realized how little was being done to stem the tide
of evil among them, it made my heart burn within
At Victoria these people were so crowded
together, and in such great numbers, that the
natives from the north came into violent collision
with those from the south, and bloodshed was the
result. To put a stop to this, the citizens petitioned
the Government to send the northerners away to
their homes.
All this, and much more that we saw among these
people, would tend to grieve the hardest heart, and
to inspire one to make a decided and determined
effort for their salvation and civilization. And daily
I was hoping and praying that the way might soon
open for me to commence work among them.
" O, teach me, Lord, that I may teach
The precious things Thou dost impart,
And wing my words that they may reach
The hidden depths of many a heart."
—Frances Ridley H aver gal.
In March, 1863, I was asked by the Rev.
Ephraim Evans, D.D., Superintendent of Missions
in British Columbia, to go to Nanaimo to teach an
Indian school.
I said, " Doctor, I should like to go, but I do not
know the language."
He said, in a very decided tone of voice, ï Go
and learn the language. My brother James learned
two or three Indian languages." [He alluded to
Rev. James Evans, the heroic missionary to Norway House, and inventor of the wonderful Crée
syllabic characters.]
The very commanding way in which that statesmanlike man put it helped to inspire me to make the
effort. I said to myself, | If your brother James
could learn two or three languages, so can I, by the
help of God."
I was off from Victoria by the first conveyance,
the little sloop Alarm, taking with us Her Majesty's
mail—there were no steamboats to Nanaimo in
those days. We made the trip, some seventy-five
miles from Victoria, in eight days.
41 F
Nanaimo was a small town, almost entirely built
of logs, situated on a hillside facing the harbor, with
a large Indian village a mile away along the shore.
We were met and cordially welcomed by Bro.
Bryant—afterwards the Rev. Cornelius Bryant—at
that time the oldest Methodist in British Columbia.
I was soon at work in the Indian camp, in the little
shell of a building built by Rev. E. Robson, which
served both as a school-house and church. Brother
Robson had commenced the work among the
Indians, holding school for a time, until the pressure
of his many other duties as pastor to the people of
the neighboring town compelled him to give it up.
My pupils were a wild-looking lot of little folk,
with painted and dirt-begrimed faces and long,
uncombed hair. Some of them were clothed in
little print shirts, others had a small piece of blanket
pinned around them, while some had no clothing at
One of the first difficulties was my ignorance of
their language. Hence I had to use the language of
signs. Beckoning and pointing to the school-house,
I sought to persuade them to come into school.
They would look at me, laugh at my efforts, and
make a bolt for the bushes near by. Sometimes I
made an attempt to capture them, but they would
run like wild hares, and I could not get near them.
I had always a love for children, and prided
myself on my ability to win them; but these, I was
afraid, were going to outdo me.
Finally I took an Indian with me to the woods
and secured two stout poles or posts, with which we
42 *sf   x    \   i      *-'iri; #*   ^^^^^^*
fixed up a swing at the back of the school-house.
Then I started again with my sign language, and
at last succeeded in getting one of them into the
swing. As I swung the little fellow to and fro I
noticed the others peeping out curiously from
among the bushes. Pointing to the swing and then
to the school-house, I beckoned to them, as much as
to say, " If you come here and have a swing you
will have to go to school." By this means I got
acquainted with them and won their confidence.
As I saw the difficulty of reaching them, my
struggle to secure a knowledge of their language
became intense. Often in the night I would be
found on my knees praying to God to help me to get
my tongue around the difficult gutteral tones.
One who has never tried it cannot fully realize
the difficulty of securing a language without grammar or printed vocabulary. I had to make my own
dictionary little by little. First I got a small book
and put down English words on the one side, and
when I learned their Indian equivalents put them
down on the other. Day by day I got fresh words,
and when walking about visiting the sick or looking
after my pupils I would be pronouncing the words
I had secured.
Finally I got my first sentence together and
started through the village one morning shouting as
hard as I could shout, and making the sounds as
much like an old Indian as possible : " Muck-stow-
ay-wilth May-tla ta school "—" All children come
to school," repeating this again and again as I went
The old people ran out of their houses to see what
old Indian was passing. Putting their hands to
their ears they said : | Listen to him! He speaks it
just like an Indian," and then they laughed.
A lot of the little folk followed me, and I went
from house to house arousing others, getting them
out from under their dirty blankets, washing their
faces, and then taking them along to school.
This method I followed for a while. Sometimes
there was nothing near at hand with which to wash
them, and they would run off without it. To overcome this difficulty we got a big barrel, and sawing
it in two, filled the two halves with fresh water and
placed them on either side of the school-house door.
Then we got one or two big barley sacks and cut
them up into strips for towels, and supplied some
bits of soap and a couple of big combs. And now
everybody had to do his toilet before he came into
It was an amusing sight indeed to see those little
fellows at it. They would dash and splash the
water over them, and the principal part of the dirt
would be left on the towel. But by perseverance
we got them to use it in the right way.
The most trying condition of things, however,
was the need of clothes for the children. Some of
them had the scantiest dress, and some no dress at
all. So I wrote to certain lady friends in Victoria,
explaining to them the condition and appearance of
my pupils, and asking if they would gather up some
cast-off clothing and send to me. The kind ladies
very soon responded to the appeal and promised
to send a box. This was my first " Supply Committee."
Some weeks passed and the gift came, and I
shall never forget the exciting time we had when
the great box was opened in the school-house. The
sparkling eyes and eager faces of the dusky little
mortals was a picture indeed.
Of course, many of the clothes were much too
large and had to be " fixed up," but what did that
matter ?
Like white children, they wanted to " try on."
One little girl was soon inside of a dress about twice
too long for her, and holding up the front, with the
long train following, she went prancing up and
down in it, looking very proud.
The excitement became great. One little boy was
trying on a coat much too big for him. Another
little fellow got hold of a little pair of pants which
he thought were the thing for him, and was buttoning up the waist, when the others burst into loud
laughter and told him he had got into them the
wrong side first.
Some Indian women, directed by Mrs. Raybold, a
good lady from town, were soon busy with needle
and thread, while the missionary plied the shears.
And so we worked and sewed and cut and fixed up,
until we had the children fairly well dressed.
The old people, in the meantime, showed very
little appreciation, often, indeed, taking the children
away with the most silly excuses.
On their hunting and fishing trips they carried
nearly all their household effects, children, dogs,
cats, chickens, etc. Hence we often had to follow
them and teach school on the beach, or under a
shady tree on the bank of the river.
After I had been some time at this work, spending my whole energy for the benefit of their children, some of the parents asked me how long they
had to let their children go to school before I would
pay them. I replied, | Oh, I couldn't pay you. In
our country the people pay the teacher." " Oh,
well," they said, " we cannot let them go much
longer unless you pay us."
But by and by the swing, our singing and kindness won the hearts of the little ones, and they came
of their own accord when the hand-bell was rung.
Sometimes, on a fine day in the summer, they
would take a notion to run off and keep away from
school. What boy or girl likes to attend school on
a hot day? When I started to round them up they
made for the beach, and when I drew near they
would slip off their blanket or simple dress and
make a bolt for the salt water. In they would go,
the tide being up, diving and swimming away out
of reach of everybody. For a little you would lose
sight of them, then away in the distance you would
see two or three little fellows pop up, shake their
heads, rub their hands over their faces, and cry out,
"Ha!  ha!  ha!"
In spite of all the difficulties in the way of rapid
progress, many who were naturally bright made considerable advancement. It was from this school
that little Satana (afterwards David Sallosalton)
came to me and gave himself up to God and the
work of evangelizing his people.
It was while I was engaged in my work at
Nanaimo that I had the pleasure of a visit from
Wm. Duncan, of the Church Missionary Society,
who had spent several years among the Tsimpseans
at Metlakatlah, and who afterwards was instrumental in founding the model missionary community at that place. The pleasurable acquaintance
thus made was years afterwards renewed when I
went north to undertake missionary work among
the people of the same nation. Wm. Duncan was
one of the most successful of missionaries, earnest,
devoted, resourceful, a man the influence of whose
life and labors will always be felt among the people
for whom his life was given.
47 r
" O fill me with Thy fullness, Lord,
Until my very heart o'erflow
In kindling thought and glowing word,
Thy love to tell, Thy praise to show."
The work of evangelization went on side by side
with that of the teaching of the children. From the
first we established regular religious services,
preaching and prayer-meeting, and, in time, class-
Alternately with Rev. Edward White,* superintendent of the Mission, I visited the different points
on the east coast of Vancouver Island, from Comox
to Victoria, calling at Chemainus, Salt Spring
Island, Cowichan, Saanich, and many other points.
Numbers of the poor heathen were little by little
led to give heed to the message of truth and abandon their old ways of superstition and sin.    Still
* Rev. Edward White was one of our first missionaries
to the Pacific Coast, and during my earlier years at Nanaimo
was my superintendent. His son, the Rev. Dr. J. H. White,
now local Superintendent of Missions for British Columbia,
is a worthy successor of a noble father. I still gratefully
recall the many kindnesses shown me by our brother and
his good wife while an inmate of the parsonage, before the
little mission house was built in the Indian village. Brother
White's words of counsel and encouragement were always
an inspiration to me.
48 £■
lït II
_,-._• * À'.**!-* '-'iiV- *  HEATHEN STREET VS. CHRISTIAN STREET
we felt that the education of these people would not
be complete unless they were taught habits of order
and industry. Their old houses and their surroundings were wretchedly filthy and disorderly, and little
calculated to help them in their efforts to rise.
We must set them the example in improving the
surroundings of the little church and the mission
house, which had been built adjoining the church.
Hence we commenced to clear off the stumps and
roots from the church lot, and made it ready for
cultivation. I took the boys and men and went to
the woods and got out posts and rails and pickets,
and thus showed them how to fence and cultivate a
The old heathen house, from its very character,
was the hot-bed of vice. Fancy a great barn-like
building, sometimes one hundred feet long by thirty
wide, made of split cedar boards fastened together
with poles and withes and strips of strong bark, and
occupied by as many as a dozen families, only separated from each other by low partitions.
Picture such a building, with no floor other than
the ground, no entrance for light except the door,
when open, and the cracks in the walls and the roof.
Around the inside of such a building were ranged
the beds, built up on rude platforms. In the corners
were piles of mats and fishing-tackle and rubbish.
Each family had their own fire, and these were built
all along through the house, the smoke circulating
generally through the building and finally finding
its way out as best it could by cracks and other openings. Under the bunks and overhead and hanging
from the poles were the family stores of dried fish
and berries. In the midst were many miserable
dogs and cats, and, later, chickens as well. This
picture multiplied a dozen or more times, according
to the population, went to make up the " rancharee,"
as the Indian village was sometimes called.
Is it any wonder that disease and vice flourished
under such favorable surroundings?
With the example of the little mission-house and
its garden before them, a number were inspired to
have individual plots marked out for themselves.
They cleared off their lots and had their houses
built and neatly whitewashed, their gardens planted
with fruit trees and bordered with shade trees, thus
presenting a striking contrast to the heathen houses
which they had left.
In time a street was cleared and graded in front
of these houses, and the contrast with the heathen
village which faced the beach was complete.
In a speech before the English Conference made
after his visit to British Columbia, Dr. Wm. Morley
Punshon said " that he had seen the powerful influences of the Gospel far away on the Pacific Coast,
near Nanaimo, on the east coast of Vancouver
Island, where he saw the heathen street and the
Christian street side by side. As the people became
converted they moved to the Christian street."
Later on I followed up this work of education
among the tribes on the Nanaimo and Fraser
Rivers, teaching them not only how to improve
their homes, but to till their ground and plant their
orchards, and in every way take their places among
their white brethren. To-day the Indians of these
districts have their little farms, cultivate their own
grain and hay and roots, and raise their own cattle.
To show the influence of this early teaching,
more than one of our young men, who had earned
considerable money and were urged by their friends
to throw it away in the potlatch, chose rather to
purchase cattle and horses with which to stock their
little farms.
But not only did we teach them the gospel of self-
help. They were encouraged to undertake the local
improvements on their own church and school-
house, and to help spread the Gospel of the blessed
Christ by contributing to the funds of the Missionary Society.
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"Jesus, ta skwish tseetsel  tomuk
Ta tlee-tlup  tomuk  shnays,
Lee-zas ta mes-tay-oh wa-tlats
Ta lee-am see-see nam tla-o."
(In An-ko-me-num.)
I Jesus, the name high over all,
In hell or earth or sky;
Angels and men before it fall
And devils fear and fly."
The number and varied dialects of the Indian
languages of the Coast were such that very few
white men ever tried to learn them. Of the An-ko-
me-num language alone there are at present at least
five or six different dialects.
The Chinook jargon, or Oregon trade language,
as it is sometimes called, is really not a language,
but is a composite of several languages.
The first trading posts on the Coast were at
Nootka, on the west coast of Vancouver Island, and
among the Chinook Indians on the Columbia River.
Among the first traders were the servants of the
great fur companies, the Hudson's Bay, the Nor'-
West, and the Astor.
To the At words, learned by the traders at
Nootka, were added many others from the language
of the Chinooks, as well as English and French, the
languages of the traders themselves. Some few
words were taken from the An-ko-me-num and
some were formed from the sound. The Chinook
words predominating gave the name to the jargon.
It was in use as early as 1804, and in 1863 a
dictionary of the jargon was published by the
Smithsonian Institute, containing some 500 words.
Of these 221 were Chinook, 18 At or Nootka, 94
French, 67 English, and 21 were credited to various
branches of the Salish or Flathead family of
In early years a trading knowledge of Chinook
was necessary in order to do business, as is a like
knowledge of French on the borders of the Province of Quebec. It is now rapidly falling into disuse, the result of the training in English which some
of the later generations have received in the school.
At the best it is but a wretched means of communication, poor in expression and almost destitute
of grammatical forms.
" Klah-how-yah," the term of salutation, bears
such a striking resemblance to " How are you?"
that one is disposed to accept its derivation from the
oft-repeated enquiries of the friends of the intrepid
explorer Clark after his health, " Clak-how-yah ?"
" Tum-tum " is a sound word for heart, and is
used as well to express will, purpose, desire. " Lip-
lip " (to boil) is another such word, imitating boiling water. " Hee-hee " indicates laughter, hence
any kind of amusement. " Kol-sick-waum-sick " is
very expressive of fever and ague.
" Mamook " (to make) can be used with any
noun to indicate some form of activity.
"Illa-hee" (ground) is linked with different
words to convey a more extended idea. " Saghalie
illahee " means literally " highlands," but also suggests " a mountain," and finally " heaven." " Boston illahee," the United States, etc.
" Saghàlie tyee," which literally means " the
chief above," is the word used for God.
The poverty of expression may be gathered from
the fact that " tikke," meaning " to wish, to desire,"
is the only way to express the cardinal virtue
" love." " Happiness," " joy," as well as " good
health," are simply "klosh tumtum," which literally means a " good heart."
" Skookum tumtum " (a strong heart) conveys
the idea of " courage." " Chako " (come) and
! chee I (new) are combined in an expression with
which most Westerners are familiar, | chee-chako "
(newcomer) or " tenderfoot."
An amusing story is told of a certain dignitary of
the Church, which very fully illustrates the powers
and limitations of Chinook. Addressing, among
other audiences, a band of Coast Indians, he began
with the flowery and high-sounding sentence,
I Children of the forest." The interpreter translated it into good Chinook, but the Indians naturally
enough were indignant, and only a few remained to
hear him out. " Children of the forest " literally
translated was " Tenas man kopa hyas stik," which
means simply " Little man among big stick," and
they resented being called " little men,"  or even
children, and they did not live in the woods.
No Chinook for Me.
From the first I refused to have anything to do
with Chinook, and when the people would meet me
on the road and commence to talk in it, I made
them understand by signs that I wished them to
speak their own language, in order that I might
learn it.
So intense was my anxiety to get their language
that I found myself, when asleep, dreaming in it,
and dreaming that I was preaching to hundreds of
people in their own tongue.
I attended the great feasts and heathen councils,
and sat by the hour listening to the old chiefs and
orators relating the stories of the chase, or recounting the tales of the bloody deeds of other days,
when they went out on great war expeditions and
returned with many scalps.
How the old orators would rise with the enthusiasm of the occasion and seem to make the ground
tremble under their feet as they rejoicingly told of
the names and deeds of their fathers, to fire the
ambitions of the young princes and young men of
rank—for it was only the high-caste who were permitted to sit in these councils. It was at these
gatherings we got the proper sound of many words.
The children also were a great help to me in the
study of the language. As I gave them the English
name for the objects around them I would have
them repeat it in their own tongue, and by earnest
perseverance and the help of God I soon had the
unspeakable joy of being able to preach to them in
their own language the unsearchable riches of
In all my work since then I have experienced that
in no way can one properly preach the truth to a
people except in their own language. This knowledge of the language opened up my way to other
tribes and bands of the same nationality.
On my first visit to the Fraser River, some years
later, I came to a village early one morning, and,
stepping out of my canoe, shouted out at the top of
my voice in An-ko-me-num, " Why are all the chiefs
sleeping like children so late this morning?" The
old men rushed out to see the big Indian. I again
shouted out the same words, and they cried out,
"Listen to him! Where has he come from? We
heard no white man speak like this. Has he come
from above?"
On one of my canoe trips years ago around
Burrard Inlet, when there was only one sawmill
where now a beautiful city (Vancouver) and a
number of thriving villages are situated, a white
man, who had made me welcome to his home and
treated me to dinner, said, as I was getting into my
canoe, while a number of white men stood by, " Do
you know what I was thinking, Mr. Crosby ? That
if you would put a blanket on and get into the canoe
and commence to talk, nobody would know you
from an Indian."
I said, " I beg your pardon, sir ; I didn't know
that I looked so much like an Indian."
"Oh!" he replied, "I didn't mean that; I meant
to say, you speak the language so well that we could
not tell you from an Indian speaking."
Amusing Mistakes.
There are amusing sides to this matter of acquiring a language. In my early efforts in the use of
the native tongue, while I was preaching one Sunday on the riches that are in Christ, and the poverty
and misery which sin brings, I noticed when I spoke
of poverty that a group of young men on one side
could not contain themselves for laughter. They
tried to straighten up, for they were usually very
respectful in the services.
After repeating the word again and seeing the
same behaviour, I concluded I must have made some
mistake, and turning to the young men I said,
" Now, young men, I see by your actions that I said
something which has caused you amusement; perhaps some word of yours which I do not know very
well.   Tell me what it is."
They hung their heads with shame. But I
pressed them for reply, saying : "If you were
endeavoring to speak English you would wish to be
corrected if you had made a mistake."
So pressed, young Quin-nom, one of their number, said : " Yes, Mr. Crosby, you speak our language very well, almost as well as an Indian, but
to-day you made a mistake. Our word for poor is
• sel-la-wa,' and when you were speaking of sin
making us poor you said ' sel-la-we-a,' which is a
woman's name who lives away  down the Coast
about sixty miles, and so we could not help laughing."
Thus our readers may see some of the difficulties
we labored under, when only a slight change in the
tone of voice might change the meaning of a whole
sentence—difficulties, however, that every ^student
of a new and unwritten language has to contend
No Swearing in Indian.
Speaking of the peculiarities of the language, it
may be remarked that the Indian languages have
no words properly to express abstract qualities, no
words to express the ideas of love, peace, pardon,
repentance, etc., as we understand them. So that
one of our first tasks was to explain to them as best
we could by illustration and otherwise the meaning
of such words.
On the other hand it should also be said that there
are no " swear words " in the Indian languages.
Yes, it is a fact, the poor Indian must go to his
white brother to learn to swear or take the name of
God in vain. In the An-ko-me-num, the worst that
can be said is, " Kai ! kai ! kai ! tanowa squimag,"
which interpreted means, "Die! die! die! you dog."
This, in an angry tone, is the worst they can say.
Of course, the tone and the look have a good deal to
do with it.
Once I heard a little boy swear loudly in the presence of other boys. I stopped the play and said to
him, calling him by name, " Johnny, where did you
learn to say those awful words and to use the name
of Jesus in that way?" " Oh," he said, " is it bad?
I heard a white man speak like that at the cannery
where I was fishing, but if you say it is wrong I will
not do it any more." " Yes," I said, "it is very
wrong, you must not call that dear name in that
way any more."
How thoroughly ashamed I have been again and
again, when I have heard an Indian swearing, at the
thought that he must have learned it from one of
my race and people.
The Lord's Prayer in Chinook.
Nesika papa, mitlite kopa saghalie, klosh spose
konaway tilikum mamook praise mika nem; klosh
spose konaway tilikum mamook tyee mika; klaska
spose konaway tilikum kopa okook illahie mamook
mika tumtum, kaw-kwa klaska mamook kopa sag-
halie-illahie. Okook sun, pe konaway-sun potlatch
nesika muk-amuk ; pe klosh mika mash okook ma-sa-
tchie nesika mamook kopa mika, kaw-kwa nesika
mash okook ma-sa-tchie hul-oi-ma tilikum mamook
kopa nesika; pe klosh mika mamook help nesika,
spose halo-ikta tolo nesika kopa ma-sa-tchie; pe
klosbe mika mamook haul nesika spose halo nesika
chako kla-kow-yu.
Klosh spose kawkwa.
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"All  evil  thoughts  and  deeds,
Anger, and lust, and pride
The foulest, rankest weeds
That choke Life's growing tide!"
There were difficulties in the way of the evangelization and education of these poor people other
than that of their heathen customs and peculiar language. Low, wicked white men were constantly
hanging around the different camps, smuggling
whiskey among the people, and using every wicked
means to lead the women and children astray.
It was not an uncommon thing for these poor
blind heathen parents and relatives to sell their little
daughters to the white men for the basest of purposes. We went to the magistrates and asked if it
was allowable to sell slaves in this country. The
magistrate replied, "Oh, no; why certainly not."
But when we explained to them the nature of the
slavery, they would stammer a little and with
feigned indifference they would claim that it was an
Indian custom and form of marriage which they
would not interfere with.
Referring to slavery, it is true that from earliest
times the Indians kept slaves. In all their wars the
men and boys were either scalped or taken as slaves.
When women were taken it was usually to increase
the number of slaves or wives of the chief.
Years ago, Governor Simpson, visiting Fort
Stickine, Alaska, says : " We met here fully four or
five thousand people. One-third of the population
were slaves. Many who were born slaves were
treated in the most cruel way."
Chiefs from the far north, to keep up this cruel
system, would travel away to the south in their
large war canoes, and for the most trivial thing
would pick a quarrel with a tribe, fight, take away
many slaves, and, going back to the north, sell them
to enrich themselves, or would keep some of them
as their own servants or slaves.
No value was put upon the life of a slave. They
would shoot them down at a moment's notice. In
the dreadful incantations of the sorcerers or medicine men, the accusation of witchcraft was easily
fixed upon a slave, and he was sacrificed without
mercy. In the north, when raising the large houses
of the chiefs, it is said that every large post had a
slave buried under it to hold the post in place, and
often at the great potlatches a chief would slaughter
a number of slaves to show how rich a man he was.
In time, of course, some were incorporated into
the tribe, and, forgetting their own language,
remained among their one-time captors. In some
cases, after years of absence, the instinctive longing
for home and friends would lead them to take all
chances of recapture, and after enduring great hardships to find their way back to their native village,
where they were welcomed as from the dead.
Much of the old-time slavery was passing away
when the missionary came, but a slavery in a new
and more horrible form was being established. The
advent of thousands of white men, miners and lumbermen, many of whom were vicious and depraved,
brought temptation to their doors. The Indian's
love of display, and his ambition to be considered
of importance, which found expression in his giving
of great feasts and potlatches, led him to seize any
ready and easy means of gain.
At one time among the Indians, as among all
heathen people, the girls were counted of little
value. If they grew up they were to become the
burden-bearers of their masters of the other sex.
An Indian mother has been known to take her little
baby girl out into the woods and stuff its mouth
with grass and leaves and leave it to die. And
when asked why she did so, she would say, " I did
not want her to grow up and suffer as I have suffered."
But heathenism crushes out a mother's love and
turns the heart to stone and changes a father into
a foul, indifferent fiend. And so when the miners
came the natives willingly sold their daughters,
ranging from ten to eighteen years of age, for a
few blankets or a little gold, into a slavery which
was worse than death.
For years these wretched, deluded people have
visited our towns, our mining and lumbering and
fishing camps, bringing their bright-eyed, happy
little girls with them, and after having made a lot
of money in this foul method, have returned to
make a great potlatch and ostentatiously give away
hundreds of dollars of their ill-gotten gains.
One child that we knew of refused to go with her
parents for this purpose. When they tried to compel her, she said, " You can go. I will not go if you
kill me," and then she ran to the woods. After they
had left she made her way to the missionary and
sought protection.
Another child of about twelve years of age, who
refused at first to follow a life of sin, was visited by
a great rough fellow who, with his hand full of
money and with promises of fine clothes and
trinkets and sweets, coaxed her and finally prevailed
upon her to come and live with him.
A large number of girls were sold in this way
from one of our mission schools by their cruel
heathen parents and friends, at prices ranging from
fifty to one hundred dollars each. Some of these
poor children came to the mission-house at midnight, almost broken-hearted, and said to the missionary, " Please will you not take me in. They
are going to sell me as a slave, and I don't want to
We reasoned with their parents and heathen relatives, but our efforts were vain. We went to the
cabins of the white men and expostulated with
them, and were driven out with fiendish curses and
told that it was none of our business.
" Poor Little Quee-lawt !"
On one occasion I found three poor women by
the roadside near the sawmill at Nanaimo, all help-
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lessly drunk. It seemed of daily occurrence in those
days to see women drunk. With these poor creatures was a little girl, Quee-lawt by name. She was
one of the brightest and most attractive of our little
scholars. When she first came to school, like some
others of the children, she was very scantily clad,
but by the kindness of some good ladies this little
maid was neatly clothed, and because her forehead
had not been flattened as much as some others, she
was pleasing in appearance. She learned to read
nicely and could sing very sweetly, and we had
great hopes of a bright future for her.
But alas! poor Quee-lawt had been led astray by
these sinful women, and by some low, degraded
white men had been robbed of her purity, made
drunken and defiled. And here we saw her, all
besmeared with dirt and filth—drunk, drunk.
Poor Quee-lawt! the terrible drink and the vile
treatment she had received were too much for her.
She was carried home to the old chief's house and
died that night. Oh, what a sad, sad, pitiful sight
it was ! Poor little Quee-lawt ! Will not a just God
lay at the door of those wretched white men the
murder of this child?
We could only wish that this vile blot upon the
character of our fair province were wiped away.
But still it continues. Some of the finest tribes on
the Coast have for years been following this awful
practice, until whole bands have been practically
wiped out, and their only monument is a forest of
totem poles raised in many cases with the money
secured from this dreadful slavery.
Recently the provincial press has drawn attention
to what they term the " slave traffic in girls " among
the Kwa-kwulths of Cape Mudge and surrounding
From the reports thus circulated we gather that
these people have been making the practice of selling their girls to white men and others for immoral
purposes. At a recent potlatch, held in January,
1906, a number of girls were sold at prices ranging
from $300 to $1,200. The latter figure was paid
by an Indian for a particularly attractive girl whom
he planned to take with him to the various lumber
camps for the purpose of gain. " It is proverbially
true," says one writer, " that the Indians have no
convictions or sentiments that cannot be easily overcome by greed of gain or power. Their chief and
only object—that is, the men's—is to become great
and powerful amongst their own people, and as the
possession of money is the quickest road to power
and the assumption of pride, some of these men to
secure money, and secure it easily, have for years
been selling their women."
I Surely the Government," continues this same
writer, " will not allow this state of affairs to exist
any longer. By means of these women diseases are
spread amongst our young men, and disasters too
terrible to speak of must follow this indiscriminate
dealing in the bodies and souls of these Indian
With this whole matter are involved the questions of Indian barter marriages and the potlatch,
customs which, the missionaries know, are linked
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with heathenism, and which present some of the
greatest difficulties to be met with in Christianizing
and civilizing the Indian tribes of the Coast.
In our judgment, if a law were enacted similar to
one which was put in force in the State of Washington some years ago, compelling any white men living with Indian girls or women to marry them, or
else the women must leave and return to their own
people, we would to a large extent clear the country,
as they did on the other side of the line, of this
dreadful evil.
The Indians, as well, should be compelled to give
up their " barter marriages " and conform, as every
one else must, to our Canadian marriage laws, and
thus the greatest difficulty in the way of the suppressing of this evil would be removed.
On account of the prevalence of this traffic in
Indian girls, many of the early missionaries were
led to establish " Girls' Homes "for the rescue and
further protection of these poor victims of this
awful system.
" I am weary of your quarrels,
Weary of your war and bloodshed,
Weary of your  prayers  for vengeance,
Of your wrangling and dissensions ;
All your strength is in your union,
All your danger is in discord;
Therefore be at peace henceforward,
And as brothers live together."
—| Hiawatha."
The natives of the Pacific Coast are represented
by some historians as a fierce, savage, warlike race.
At one time they were a numerous people, but their
own bloody and ferocious wars were the means in
years gone by of greatly reducing their numbers,
and the ravages of the white man's diseases and
fire-water have so far completed the work that some
tribes have become almost extinct.
In very early days the white traders had several
encounters with the natives, and the account is preserved of the Indians of the west coast of Vancouver Island surrounding and capturing two vessels, one the Boston, at Nootka, and the other the
Tonquin, at Clayoquot. The latter was afterwards
blown up, it is thought, by some imprisoned members of the crew, and hundreds of the captors who
swarmed her decks were killed. Another vessel,
the Atahualpa, was also taken by the Indians of
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Millbank Sound, and four of the crew, including
the captain, were killed. The vessel was, however,
recaptured by the remaining members of the crew,
who sailed away in safety.
Their tales of war among themselves are thrilling and often very exciting. They boast of sweeping out whole tribes at once ; of wading ankle deep
in blood! of taking many slaves and killing and
scalping the rest. Chiefs from the north would
sweep down south in their great war-canoes and
pick a quarrel with a southern tribe over some
trifling matter, then enter into bloody conflict with
them, take many slaves, and hasten back to the far
north to sell them, and thus enrich themselves.
The southern people fought among themselves,
or, headed by some vicious chiefs, would make trips
up the Fraser River or into Puget Sound, returning
after a successful foray with the slaves taken in the
fight, or more likely kidnapped at their fishing or
berry-picking grounds.
The northerners were not always successful in
making the trip home with their booty. The
Cowichans would gather at Dodds' Narrows and
Active Pass, or at Cowichan Gap, and set upon the
victors, often turning their victory into defeat. If
they escaped the Cowichans they still had to run the
gauntlet of the Yu-kwul-toes, the most to be
dreaded of the whole coast tribes, and many a
Tsimpshean, Hydah or Kling-get war party has
found its death trap at Seymour Narrows or the
Yu-kwul-toe Rapids.
On one occasion a party of northerners, on their FEUDS AND BLOODSHED
way home through Dodds' Narrows, about seven
miles south of Nanaimo, had a battle with some
Nanaimos, whom they defeated, killing eleven warriors. Striking off the heads of their slain enemies
they took them with them, leaving the bodies, which
were afterwards discovered by their friends. A
short time after, in retaliation for the deed, on the
south side of Salt Spring Island a canoe load of
seven northern people were all butchered in a most
shocking manner; stones were tied to their necks
and they were sunk in the sea. Not reaching Victoria at the time expected, their friends instituted a
search along the coast. I was then living at
Nanaimo, and in the course of my work made frequent visits to Chemainus and Salt Spring Island,
Cowichan and Saanich. On my next trip down the
coast I was asked by the authorities to make
inquiries regarding the lost ones.
After preaching to the Indians at Chemainus I
referred to the murder, and warned them, if they
knew who the murderers were, not to conceal them,
as sooner or later they would be found out.
Several days after, on returning from Salt Spring
Island, I met young chief Lis-tcheem, of the Chemainus tribe, who had come out some three or four
miles in a canoe to meet me. Approaching in that
cautious, suspicious manner which only an Indian
will manifest, he came alongside and, speaking in
an undertone, said : " Missionary, I want to say
something that I don't want my people to know.
You told us the other day that we must not hide the
murderers. Now, a party of our people have just
5 69 r
returned from Victoria with a great deal of new
property, and they seem to have money. We don't
know where they got all this money. I suspect they
are the party who murdered the people you spoke
of. They are now camped on the Chemainus River.
But don't tell the people that I told you."
I immediately returned to Nanaimo and
acquainted the magistrate with the facts. A party
of ten special constables were sent down to the
river, and the murderers were captured, brought to
Nanaimo, given a preliminary hearing, and sent
down to Victoria to stand their trial at the next
Some time after, amid the busy rush of the missionary's life, this young chief met me at my home
in the Nanaimo camp, and said he had been down
to the place where they heard the murder had been
committed, some forty miles away, and had found
their goods, clothing of all kinds, strewn upon the
beach, particularly the clothes of a little child
belonging to the party. This was the child of a
white man from Nanaimo, whose Indian wife was
on her way to take the steamer at Victoria to make
a visit to her friends in the north. Among the
other things he found a bunch of little papers, rolled
up and stuck in the fork of a tree. This roll, which
he handed to me, I found contained eighty-five
dollars in bills.
I took him to the magistrate, to whom he told his
story   and   handed   over   the   bills.    The official
praised him for his honesty and faithfulness, and as
a reward gave him a note of recommendation say-
ing what a good, honest chief he was. This document, signed and sealed with a large red seal and
placed in an official envelope, pleased the chief very
Some weeks after he was in Victoria and happened to show this paper, of which he was very
proud, to a police officer, who at once put him in
jail, where he was held as a witness for over two
months. During this time his family were left to
starve, and nothing was done to help them. Is it
any wonder that the Indians were enraged at this
high-handed piece of injustice, and that when the
young chief finally was released he declared that if
all the Indians and whites in the place were murdered he would never again tell anything that he
had discovered about the matter.
Speaking of the Indian's love of " a big paper,"
as they called an official certificate, I recall the
amusing circumstance of a chief who was given
" a paper " by a certain sea captain, which, not
being able to read, he supposed was highly complimentary. The Indian went about, proudly showing
to everyone a document which stated, " Look out
for this fellow ; he is the greatest old rascal and biggest thief I have ever met with."
In those early days, when hundreds and thousands came from the north, it was not an uncommon
thing to see a body floating in the harbor. It is the
nature of an Indian always to keep in mind an old
feud. Where blood has been shed they seek retaliation, and with them it is always " a life for a life."
An Awful Night.
Tsil-ka-mut, a chief of the old school of the
An-ko-me-nums, nephew of Squin-es-ton, a chief of
the Nanaimos, was the most influential man in the
tribe. Squin-es-ton was recognized as the head, but
Tsil-ka-mut, his nephew, led the way in all matters
of business or council with other tribes.
This younger chief in his youth was a great
heathen, having been trained up in all heathen
secrets from a child. He would often go away up
the mountains and bathe in the mountain streams,
where he said he had communion with the spirits
and received power.
He was a fine, stalwart, muscular fellow, with a
foot very large and almost as hard and tough as a
horse's hoof. He was a great hunter, and could
fight, too, when it came in his way, and would keep
one by the hour at his camp-fire telling of the bloody
wars of former days. But he used to say that he
would rather live in peace at any time than amidst
war and trouble.
Tsil-ka-mut exerted a great and good influence
over the people, and his authority was respected.
He seldom made speeches at their heathen feasts or
councils, but when he did speak they would, in the
most trying time, submit to what seemed to be his
superior judgment.
He was a man of peace, and tried, in his way, to
preserve harmony in the tribes and encourage the
young people to attend church, though he did not
attend very regularly himself.
At one notable Christmas gathering, which, of
course, all attended, he made a speech and said:
" I want to say a few words. I am glad, very glad,
that the missionaries are in our land to preach to
us. It makes me feel very solemn to be here to-day.
I say to the young people, never to laugh and play
in God's house ; it is not like out-of-doors. Do not
listen to the old people, who are not wise in good
things, but hear the missionary, who is our friend.
Young men, it is very good for you to show an
example to the children. You must always go to
God's house and the children to school. I hope you,
my children, will all become very wise. We older
men cannot easily change our ways, we will soon
be gone, but you young men will be with the children who are growing up; to you God's word has
come. You must believe it and do God's will; this
will be best for you."
I shall never forget Tsil-ka-mut and that awful
night when, after I had preached to the white people
in town and had returned to my cabin home in the
Indian village, about half past ten o'clock, our
native local preacher, Amos Cushan, came to my
door, rapped quickly, and in an excited tone of voice
said, " Did you not hear the war-whoop ? I think
there is going to be trouble to-night."
" I heard a noise.   What is it?" I replied.
II think a big fight to-night, sir !" said he.
" Two chiefs with a number of their men have gone
down towards Qual-la-kup's house, and I think a
big fight, sir !"
These two chiefs had for some time held a grudge
against Chief Qual-la-kup, because of a quarrel
between the two factions, which had resulted to the
advantage of Qual-la-kup's clan.
Immediately I sprang out of my house, and with
my friend ran down through the woods, the shortest
way to the house, and rushed in. The building was
all in darkness, except for a few embers of a fire.
In the dim darkness I could see two wild, savage-
looking men, mercilessly assaulting the old man,
Qual-la-kup, whom they had dragged out of bed.
A number of others were standing around with
clubs, looking wild enough and ready to knock a
man down at any moment.
I rushed towards the group, and with what
seemed to me supernatural strength I flung myself
upon them, sending one one way and another
another. With that the old man seized his advantage, and getting up, all bruised and bleeding, he
hid himself behind me, spreading my overcoat tails
to hide him from his pursuers.
At the same time the old chief stood dancing in
front of me with fiendish yells, his knife in his
hand, ready to strike the old man when the opportunity came.
" Don't you strike Qual-la-kup," I said to him.
" You have injured him enough. Strike me if you
must strike."
Now the friends of both parties rushed in from
74 "^
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all sides of the village, and in a few moments the
great Indian house, some seventy feet long by thirty
broad, was filled with a quarrelling multitude. Fortunately some torches were lighted, which enabled us
to take in the scene, and for hours and hours Amos
Cushan and I were rushing between quarrelling
parties to stop their fighting. One would be struck
with a club here, another with some sharp instrument there, and blood flowed freely. Amidst it all
continued the awful din of rushing feet and the
howls and screams of hellish rage.
Suddenly Quin-num, the son of old Qual-la-kup,
dashed in. He had just heard of the trouble, away
at the other end of the village, and jumping out of
bed and tucking his blanket around him, he seized
the first weapon to hand, a claw-hammer, and hurried to the rescue of his father.
I saw him rush in, trembling with anger, and I
said, I Quin-num, be good!   Don't fight!"
I Oh," he said, and his voice was wild with rage,
"I could listen to what you say, but look at the
blood of my father!"
And with that he let out an awful yell, and wheeling around, struck with the hammer the old chief
who had clubbed his father, cutting his eye nearly
Then the fighting commenced with renewed vigor
and continued until four in the morning. We were
nearly exhausted trying to get these savage men
reconciled. It was evident that the old chief and his
nephew had urged on the young men, and perhaps
had given them whiskey to get them to undertake
this dark deed. It was an old quarrel, and jealousy
and pride were at the bottom of it. Qual-la-kup
was a quiet old man and his people were generally
respected. His son, Quin-num, had married into
Squin-es-ton's tribe and seemed likely to secure a
ruling position, which moved the other chief and
his people to jealousy.
While we were in the midst of this excitement,
and hardly knowing who would be the next to fall,
there came a lull in the storm, and we lifted up our
hearts to God for help and direction.
Just then Tsil-ka-mut arrived on the scene from
the other end of the village, all painted and with his
blanket tucked around his waist. The great big
fellow did not touch anything or anybody, but just
danced about, up and down, crying out, " My children, my children, don't be like little boys!" And
you could feel the contempt in his tone. " Our
fathers used to fight, but they would go and fight
like men till they were wading in blood, and take
many scalps. They would never go and take a man
out of his bed unexpectedly in the night. Oh, you
are like little boys! like little boys!" And on he
danced up and down through the long house,
repeating these simple words, " Like little boys, like
little boys. Oh! you are like little boys!" until
these savage men dropped their clubs, hid their
knives behind their blankets, looking dreadfully
ashamed, and one by one walked out.
After we had washed the wounds and dressed
some fearful looking gashes, we offered a prayer of
thanks to God and got away to rest, too much
excited to sleep.
Early the next day Tsil-ka-mut and others came
to the mission house to thank me for being there
that night, for they said : " O missionary, if you
hadn't been there perhaps six or twelve men dead
this morning. Then there would be such a savage,
angry feeling in all our hearts, which would not
leave us for many moons."
"Were you not afraid?" "Did you not get
hurt?" my friends have asked me.
No, thank God, we were not hurt, and as for
fear, we didn't think of it until it was all over, when
we wondered we hadn't been knocked down.
Surely " the angel of the Lord encampeth round
about them that fear him, and delivereth them."
We had the comfort of seeing Qual-la-kup and
some of his friends come into the enjoyment of the
blessed light. Qual-la-kup's brother, the uncle of
David Sallosalton, and many others of his clan,
became devoted Christians.
Alas ! for the other poor old chief and his family ;
some of them did not live out half their days.
Poor, proud, jealous Quee-es-ton, the man who
once knocked the missionary down and afterwards
expressed his sorrow for having done so, was killed
in a quarrel with some white men about whiskey.
Whiskey was his great enemy, as well as that of his
wife, Stah-cel-wet. They would have a supply of
fire-water as often as they could get the money. I
have more than once stood between them in their
quarrelling, taking their whiskey away and getting
them sobered up. At the time of my encounter with
him, before mentioned, I pointed him to the Saviour
of sinners and urged him to prepare to meet his
God. He appeared repentant and seemed for a time
to reform, but alas ! for poor, weak human nature,
he fell again. Chief Louis Good and family, of
Nanaimo, now attend the services and profess
Christianity. We trust they may lead lives of usefulness. He is related to the family of chiefs.
As for Tsil-ka-mut, we shall hear of him later.
I Thou, whose Almighty word
Chaos  and darkness heard,
And took their flight,
Hear us, we humbly pray,
And where the  Gospel day
Sheds not its glorious ray
Let there be light."
Reference has been made to the old type of
heathen house, built of split cedar boards bound
together with poles and withes or ropes made of
cedar bark. The roof was formed of slabs of cedar,
held down by large stones or by poles extending
from one end to the other. Later on the roofs were
made of rafters, on which were laid " shakes "—
large split shingles—after the manner of the early
settlers' barns.
Under this roof, and immediately over the beds,
were great sheets of cedar bark or large rush mats,
placed thus better to protect the beds if the roof
should leak, which it often did. There was no window, no door, except a board propped up against
the entrance ; no chimney, the smoke finding its way
out through the cracks in the sides and roof; no
floor except the hard beaten earth.
These houses, which varied in size from buildings as large as a huge barn to a small shack, were
usually placed near the sea-shore or on the bank of
a river. The larger ones usually accommodated a
number of families, sometimes as many as eight or
ten, and the building was divided by low partitions
into sections for each family.
Besides this type of house they constructed for
winter use an underground hut, usually spoken of
as a I keekwillie house "—" keekwillie " being
Chinook for deep or underground. A deep pit was
dug in the ground and stout poles were placed leaning together like a tepee, with a hole at the centre.
The earth was heaped up around and upon the top,
very much as eastern farmers cover their potato
pits. The hole in the top was the only doorway,
the only passageway for light, and the only opening
for the smoke to escape.
A notched pole was placed up the side of the roof
and another protruded from the interior through
the opening in the top. By these two poles the occupants passed in and out of this dwelling. You had
to be careful, if your clothing was made of any
inflammable material, in passing through the opening in the top, so close was it to the fire built below.
In olden days whole villages lived in these keekwillie or sweat houses during the winter, which
were united by underground passages. In times of
war they were thus able to find shelter from an
enemy by passing from one to another.
In the summer camps the people lived under shelters made of large rush-mats, open on one side. In
front of this opening the camp-fire was built. Of
course, now many of them live in canvas tents or HOUSES, CLOTHING,  CRUEL CUSTOMS
" sail-houses," as they call them, " sail " being the
Chinook equivalent for cloth of any kind. Many
others of them live in small frame houses.
Speaking of the mats, these were very skilfully
made by the women from the large bulrushes which
line the river banks. These were dried and then
woven together with a native twine made from the
inner bark of the cedar, or wild wiry grass. These
mats were a very useful commodity, for besides
being used to form a shelter, they were sometimes
laid in several thicknesses and made a very comfortable bed.
In olden times the An-ko-me-nums had tools for
all purposes peculiar to themselves.   The Stone Age
came down to later times among this people.   Trees
were felled and split and canoes were shaped by
means of axes which were made of stone, carved
into shape and notched. Around this notch was
fastened a rawhide thong or cedar withe, attached
to a handle. To assist in splitting the cedar logs
wedges of wood, horn or bone were used. And in
order to prevent the wooden wedge from splitting,
withes from cedar boughs were firmly tied around
its top. Planks from two to five feet wide were split
out of large trees by means of these stone hammers
and wedges.
Their boards were planed, as were their canoes,
with chisels and adzes made of jade, a beautiful
dark green stone, of a nature similar to flint, which
was found in large boulders in the bed of the Fraser
and other rivers. Later these adzes were made
from old files provided by the trading companies.
Hammers made of stone and shaped something
like a pestle, and stone mortars for crushing berries
and mixing food, were among their implements.
They had paint pots of stone, pipes made of slate
or wood, needles of various sizes made of wood or
bone, knives of slate and granite, besides spear-
points and arrow-heads of flint and quartz.
Clothing and Ornaments.
In early days, on some parts of the Coast, the
clothing of the people was made from cedar bark.
This was prepared by taking the inner bark of the
great cedar, soaking it in fresh water until it was
completely soft, and then beating it on a plank with
an instrument made of bone or very hard wood hav- HOUSES, CLOTHING,  CRUEL CUSTOMS
ing grooves and ridges. It was then separated, the
soft parts being parcelled out into threads or skeins.
These were laid in the sun to bleach, or were dyed
black or red, as suited their taste, the natural color
being pale yellow.
These threads were woven into rough cloth,
which was made up for women into a long, rough
garment, without sleeves, tight around the neck and
tied sometimes with a string of the same material
around the waist. *For men they made a cape with
a hole in it for the head; it would come down and
protect the breast and shoulders. The same material
was used for towels or for packing the baby's bed.
The ordinary breech-clout was made out of this
cedar cloth.
Later the hair of the dog and mountain goat's
wool were spun together and woven into blankets
on simple native looms. Some of these blankets
were very beautiful, with patterns all their own,
representing, as in the case of the northern tribes,
the totems of the wearers. Of course, in later years
the common garment was the " Indian blanket,"
sold by the Hudson's Bay Company.
Chiefs and people of high rank wore the skins
of animals, some of which were dressed and tanned
by native methods. Some were clothed in the most
beautiful furs—the priceless sea-otter, the bear, and
other animals—and were thus recognized as great
chiefs or great hunters.
All were fond of ornaments, such as ear-rings,
necklaces, bracelets, finger rings, ankle bangles and
nose jewels. Some wore large rings in their noses,
while slaves often had a long stick through the hole
in their noses. There was also the remarkable lip
button or labret, worn by perforating the lower lips
of the females, which insertion was enlarged with
increasing age, from one to three and a half inches
long and from one-quarter to one and a half inches
wide. These latter were only worn by people of
high rank.
Long shells like goose quills, called toothpick
shells, about three inches long, taken from the salt
water, were much used as ornaments. They were
strung together and sold by the fathom, five
fathoms being reckoned the price of a slave.
The men of nearly all the Coast tribes had the
lobe of the ear perforated, this being done in early
childhood, and frequently in olden times you would
see them with large rings or large pieces of abalone
shell hanging to their noses.
Ear-rings were worn in a series of perforations
in the lobe of the ear. We have seen them with
three and four smaller pieces of abalone shell at
the upper part of the ear, or a very large one at the
lower part of the ear. At a more recent date these
were replaced by ear-rings of silver and gold of
various designs, like their white friends.
Painting and Tattooing.
Tattooings were sometimes observed on their
wrists and arms and breasts, but the custom was
not so general as with the northern tribes.
They, however, in common with other Indian
peoples, were accustomed to the use of paints in
decorating the body. They had their own native
paints, some made from ground stone, others from
a certain kind of clay. They had also very strong
dyes from sundry kinds of roots and bark ; also an
oily substance from salmon roe, as well as several
kinds of gum from trees.
In dressing they painted the eyebrows black, like
a half moon, the face sometimes checked in small
red squares, arms and legs and part of the body red.
Sometimes but half the face was painted red in
squares, and sometimes black. At other times the
whole face was as black as tar. Some also covered
the face with a quantity of bear's grease, almost an
eighth of an inch thick, or laid it on in ridges like
beads in a joiner's work and then painted the ridge
They often told us that on a hot day this was to
keep the sun from burning the face, and in the winter they claimed it kept the cold, sharp wind from
cutting or chapping the skin.
Chiefs and people of rank used a kind of mineral
or black shining powder, glistening in the sun like
silver, taken from the rocks.
The picture of a fierce warrior, almost nude,
painted up with these striking colors, and brandishing a knife, stone axe or war-club, and in later years
armed with a flint-lock musket, was enough to
terrify the beholder.
As for the ornamental effect of painting the person, of course that is a matter of taste with the
Indian, as with other people. These colors were
85 r
not easily removed in washing, and often had to
wear off.
Strange and Cruel Customs.
At one time the Indians were very fond of bathing, entering the water once a day or oftener. In
the early morning they would arouse the children
and drive them into the water for their morning
bath. Even when the ice had formed on the river,
they were compelled to break the ice and plunge in.
The little chaps naturally shrank from this rigorous
treatment, and their parents, with what seemed little
feeling, would take the needle-covered branches of
the spruce and whip them until they obeyed. It is
safe to say that only the hardier ones survived.
Flattening the Head.
Many of the southern tribes of the British Columbia Coast were in the habit of deforming the heads
of their children. This custom resembles that of
foot-binding among the Chinese, and other similar
barbarous practices common to most heathen
peoples. The Flatheads compressed the foreheads
of their little ones by means of boards or a hard
cushion, or even a flat stone. The child was laid in
its little basket cradle or placed upon a narrow piece
of board, to one end of which another board was
attached with thongs. The upper board was pulled
tight down over the child's forehead, and thus the
head was pressed gradually out of shape and the
forehead flattened back.
In the northern part of Vancouver Island they
use a circular bandage, whereby the skull acquires   HOUSES, CLOTHING,  CRUEL CUSTOMS
an extraordinary length and forms what is called
the sugar-loaf head. Some of the natives of the
west coast of the island placed a bandage over the
forehead of the child and then laid a flat stone upon
this, thus securing the necessary deformation.
The effect of this pressure was to stupefy the
senses and to crush out the intellect. Many of the
children died under this cruel practice.
Again and again I have expostulated with them,
and often have whipped out my knife and cut the
cords which bound the little sufferer, only to incur
the anger of the parents, who themselves were
bound by inexorable custom.
Other Cruel Practices.
The heathen were neglectful and even cruel to
their old people. They have been known to leave
them on islands to starve to death, and when sick
they were often left in places where one would
hardly leave a dog.
When a woman became a mother, and needed the
most tender care, she was put outside in a cold,
wretched place, all alone, and there had to remain
for weeks.
Oh, cruel, cruel heathenism, how much shame
and misery and suffering must be laid at thy door !
But, thank God ! the power of the everlasting Gospel
has wrought a marvellous change in many of these
particulars, and now something of the love and
sympathy which marks other Christian lives is
expressed in the dealings of the people with one
" Thus it is our daughters leave us,
Those we love, and those who love us !
Just when they have learned to help us,
When we are old and lean upon them,
Comes a youth with flaunting feathers,
With his flute of reeds, a stranger
Wanders piping through the village,
Beckons to the fairest maiden,
And she follows where he leads her,
Leaving all things for the stranger!"
—Longfellow's " Hiawatha.'
An An-ko-me-num courtship, and the marriage
which followed, differed entirely from that with
which we are most familiar. One heathen wedding,
which I witnessed early in my stay at Nanaimo,
very perfectly illustrates the difference between
their customs and ours.
Chief Tsil-ka-mut lived in a large old heathen
house about 150 feet long by 40 feet wide. Tsil-la-
meah, his eldest daughter,' by his eldest wife—for
he had two wives—was a modest Indian maiden,
who had been strictly kept, as a chief's daughter,
according to heathen law.
On one occasion, when one of H. M. ships of war
was anchored in the harbor, a number of bluejackets
were allowed out on leave. They filled up with
liquor in the town, and then marched down through COURTSHIP AND  MARRIAGE
the woods, over a mile, to the Indian village, cutting
clubs as they went. When they reached the village
they shouted and swore and acted like demons, and
began to drive the people out of their houses and
insult their young women.
Among them were two professedly petty officers,
who made their way into Tsil-ka-mut's big house,
where his daughter, Tsil-la-meah, was busy with
her needle, while her mother sat near her on the
floor working at a mat. These rough men sat
down, one on each side of the innocent maid, and
began to push her. The child, for she was little
more than that at the time, became afraid of them,
and the anxious mother cried, " Klata-wah ! klata-
wah!" ("Go away! go away!"). They paid no
attention and still persisted in their insults, until
finally the mother, in her own language, called out
for the chief, who was at the other end of the long
house, taking a meal with some of his clan. Leaping over the floor Tsil-ka-mut dashed around the
corner of the partition which enclosed his family
room, and in a trice was facing these ruffians.
Immediately he shouted, pointing to the door,
" Klata-wah ! klata-wah !" which in this tone of
voice meant " Get out, and hurry about it."
" Oh, no ! oh, no !" said the poor fools, grinning
like gaping idiots as they spoke.
With that he seized a paddle and smashed it over
their heads, repeating in a towering voice, " Klata-
wah! klata-wah!"
Then these big fellows, who had been sent out
with others from the Home Land to help keep peace
89 M
among the Indians, scampered out of the house and
away without further ceremony.
It was well that a paddle was the only weapon
to hand. For had Tsil-ka-mut used his old musket,
or something heavier, they might have paid the
penalty- with their lives. And then the cry would
have gone forth, " Those desperate, savage Indians,
they should all of them be shot." Unfortunately,
many of them have been shot for more paltry
reasons than that.
It is of the courtship and marriage of this same
Tsil-la-meah, at that time a pupil in our school, that
I now propose to write.
A young chief who lived some distance to the
south made his way overland to her village, and
began what seemed to be an old-fashioned heathen
courtship. No one knew of his arrival till he was
found one morning in the great long house, sitting
by a post on the cold earthen floor with a blanket
around him.
On my rounds to gather up the children for
school I noticed this stranger, a slender young man,
sitting there, looking very lonely. I asked who he
was, and they told me he was a young prince from
Qua-mit-son, some fifty miles away, and that he
had come to see if he would be accepted as a suitor
for Chief Tsil-ka-mut's daughter. He had to
remain there three days and three nights, according
to custom, and if during that time he was invited to
partake of food with the family of the young princess his way was all clear ; if not, he could go about
his business.
However, during the last day he was invited to
eat with the family. We do not know that he had
anything to say to the young maiden regarding the
state of his affections, or whether he ever saw her
during his stay there, but as soon as he had proved
himself welcome to the family he was off overland
to his home.
Some months after this we heard that a whole
tribe of people were to arrive early one morning
from the south, and that Chief Tsil-ka-mut's
daughter was going to be married to the young
chief who had been there courting. The whole village was in excitement, when presently some thirty
canoes were sighted rounding a point about two
miles away, and a great cracking of musketry
announced the coming of the strangers. On they
came, beating their drums and singing the marriage
song as they drew near the village.
In the lead came a band of the principal chiefs,
old warriors and musicians, gorgeously painted and
feathered up, standing upon a platform which was
built on top of two large canoes lashed together.
In their midst was the young man himself, well
dressed in European style. The singing continued
till they got to the beach. By this time the crowd
of villagers were all thronged around the canoes.
The young man and the painted warriors stepped
out and quietly walked to the chief's house, all the
rest following. The villagers busied themselves
packing up the visitors' goods and hauling their
canoes high up on the beach. The day was then
spent in resting and feasting.
In the evening a great reception was given, when
all the great dancers of the Nanaimos, by their
dancing and song, welcomed the strangers. Feasting and dancing were now the order for several
Finally the day of departure arrived. Early in
the morning the whole village was astir, and we
were told that now Tsil-la-meah was to be married.
We were curious to see the ceremony, and made
our way to the chief's house. Drawn up high on the
bank in front of the house was a very large and
beautiful new canoe, gaily painted with their old
Indian paints, the bow and stern carved and ornamented in colors with animal and bird-like designs.
Inside the house we found crowds of people, all
painted up, dancing and scrambling for goods. A
great number of mountain goat skins were gathered at one end of the house. Busy hands tied them
together in a long string, and when all was ready
some of the young men took hold of one end and
rushed the long string of robes down through the
middle of the house. Immediately an excited
scramble followed, visitors and villagers each striving for a share. Sometimes half a dozen men, getting hold of a skin, would tear it in pieces, eager to
get their part of the prize. At other times, when
several were good-humoredly struggling together
to secure a skin, a quaint-looking old man came
along and, brandishing a large knife, would cut
right between their arms and each man got his part.
Then followed blankets, calico and other goods,
which were dealt with in the same way, and thus
went on this scene of pleasure and potlatch.
Then came another part of the ceremony. The
Cowichans, the friends of the young man, made
ready their canoes for departure, and some by the
side of the canoes and some already seated in them
joined in singing one of their marriage songs, which
recounted the great deeds and wealth of the ancestors of the young man, as well as his own wealth
and good qualities.
During this time a number of old women attendants were preparing the young bride for the occasion. They put on her a number of calico dresses
and a new bright red blanket, and painted her face in
the most grotesque-looking manner. Her long flowing black hair was plaited, and hung away below her
waist. Attached by a head-strap to her forehead
and hanging down her back—the way they carry
their burdens—was a piece of wood, the token that
her friends never wanted her, as a chief's daughter,
to carry her own wood.
All being ready, she was led out by one of the
women, the others, to the number of six or eight,
following in single file. Each had a new red blanket
hanging over her shoulders, the other end held by
the one behind. And thus they marched out of the
house towards the new canoe amidst the singing
and shouting of the Nanaimos. Men piled their
loads of new blankets into the canoe, and then the
bride was helped in and seated a little astern of
mid-ships. And still they piled in blankets all
around her, until her head was just in sight.   Thus AMONG THE AN-KO-ME-NUMS
several hundred blankets were sent off with her as
a kind of dowry.
By this time a great array of canoes were strung
along the shore, all ready to leave, and hundreds
of people were crowded in front of the house
between it and the beach. And now the Nanaimos
beat their drums and sang their songs, and great
orations were made by both parties.
The first orator, who represented the older chief,
the father of the bride, in loud and boastful tone
spoke on this wise : " Let all the people in this great
country know, you people from the south and the
people from the north, that this young woman is a
daughter of a great chief; she and her people have
been in the line of chiefs for generations. They
were a great people. All the tribes feared before
them. And now her father is giving her into the
hands of you people of the south. Let all the
Cowichans, the Saanich, the Songees and all the
people to the south know that this day the young
chief takes her for his wife. We charge you to
take great care of her, and warn you that if anything should happen to her, any of the wild people
from the north should come and take her, we shall
look to you, or require her at your hands."
At once a rough, wild-looking old fellow jumped
up in one of the canoes which stood out in the
water and said : " O great chief, we hear what you
say, but you must remember it is not only the
Nanaimos who are a great people. Our people, the
father of this young prince, is a great chief among
his people. We will try to do> as you say. We will
take care of the young princess whom he has taken
for his wife. She shall be one with us, and we will
come and see you again."
Then for a time the most exciting scene
occurred. Several beautiful new muskets, one after
another, were thrown ashore, and in a very proud,
haughty fashion a short speech was made after
each present, as much as to say, " We'll show you
Nanaimo people we are not the poor people you
This aroused the Nanaimos, who ran in turn to
their different houses, bringing out muskets and
blankets and either throwing them down towards
the canoes or handing them to individuals—the
whole accompanied by a running fire of boastful
speeches and wild and frantic oratory.
This ended, the bridegroom called his young men
to him, and rushing up to the large canoe where
the young bride sat almost covered with blankets,
they seized the canoe and with a merry shout gave
it a heave, when it bounded off the bank into the
water, some of them holding it back for fear it
should launch out too far.
As a parting gift the young man took off his coat
and hat and gave them to Tsil-ka-mut, who was
clothed in a blanket only. The gift, it seemed,
could be of little value, as the young fellow was
quite slender, while the old chief looked as large
This done the young man sprang into the canoe
by the side of his bride, and they were man and
wife.   In a moment some ten of his braves followed '
him, and seizing their paddles swung the big canoe
out into the bay and the party was off. We on the
beach shouted and waved our good-byes until they
rounded the point.
The Sad State of Heathen Womanhood.
Polygamy, with all its dreadful misery and
degradation, was prevalent in former days all along
the coast. Chee-at-luk, the old king of the Songees,
commonly known as King Free-zee, it is said had
fifteen wives. In the interior, also, I met a chief
who claimed to have fourteen wives. One or two
of these were the chief or permanent wives, while
all the rest were treated like slaves, and possibly
were slaves, purchased and often held as such.
Years ago, it is said, a man's own sister, or, worse
still, even his daughter or mother, might be among
his wives. The more wives he had, the less work
he would have to do. A great chief is reported to
have said, " Women are made to labor; one of them
can haul as much as two men ; they pitch our tents,
carry our wood, mend our clothes, and cook our
Woman was always the slave or burden-bearer
until the Gospel came and lifted her into her true
social position.
It was a common thing, in those first days of my
work among them, to see a man with his blanket
on, painted up in great style, walking along the
road as if the whole creation belonged to him, while
a poor woman, with a heavy load of fish or food of
some kind in a basket on her back, trudged along,
hardly able to bear up under the load, and perhaps
carrying a baby besides. If you said to the man,
as I have said again and again, "Take the baby.
Why don't you help her?" she would say, "Oh,
let him alone, sir; he is the chief," as much as to
say, " I am his slave."
It was very common for men to have from two
to four wives, and there was often a great deal of
jealousy and quarrelling among them. This custom worked great injury to many of the young men,
who could not get wives, and often led them to live
reckless lives; while many a young woman has
gone off to ruin for fear she would have to go and
live with some ill-natured, dirty, lame old fellow
whom she could never like.
It is wonderful, when the Gospel light came in
and the Spirit of God took hold of the people, how
they themselves commenced to see the evils of this
custom and immediately endeavored to rectify it.
It was a matter that could not have been forced
upon them, but gradually they arranged it. The
oldest one, perhaps, was put away with an ample
dowry. Another, who had no family ties, married
another man who had no wife, and, growing out
of this system of polygamy, who never had a
chance to have one. The one whose growing
family of little ones laid heavy responsibilities upon
her was usually retained. And thus, by the blessing of God, this most difficult problem was solved,
and polygamy was almost entirely done away with.
First Christian Marriage.
Very interesting to me was the first marriage I
performed among this people. It took place in the
year 1871, on the Songees reserve, the territory of
the noted old King Free-zee, opposite Victoria, in
the home of Amos Shee-hats-ton (our first convert
in that tribe), which had been used for prayer and
class-meetings. The couple had been waiting till
I should, be ordained, so as to have it in their own
language. There were present about twenty of the
natives, including their teachers. The weather was
warm and the door wide open, and the contracting
parties stood with their backs to the door.
As it was the first marriage I had performed, I
was a little nervous, and had to keep a close look
at the book. Just when I reached the point of asking the bride, " Wilt thou have this man to be thy
wedded husband?" I glanced up, and lo! she was
just slipping out of the door.
Taking in the situation, and seeing that the
crowd were looking very serious, I started up singing, " Shall we gather at the river," a hymn with
which they were familiar.
We had nearly sung it through when she came
peeping in at the door, as if she had a lingering
desire to have the thing finished up. So I got hold
of her hand and drew her towards him, placed her
hand in his, laid my hand over them both, and held
on until I had finished the ceremony.
With this memory before me I have married
many hundreds since, and never failed to place my
hand upon theirs, and hold on until the ceremony
was completed. 98 CHAPTER  XL
''Those who attempt to reason us out of our follies begin
at the wrong end, since the attempt naturally presupposes
us capable of reason."—Goldsmith.
Nature made bounteous provision for the wants
of the aboriginal inhabitants of British Columbia.
The seas and rivers were teeming with fish—salmon
of several kinds, halibut, cod, and sturgeon, and
among smaller fish, herring, oolachan, smelts, and
trout; the beaches and shallows afforded large sea
crabs, clams, cockles, and oysters. The plains, valleys and mountains abounded in wild animals of
many kinds—elk, moose, cariboo, deer, mountain
sheep and goats, bears of different colors, and numerous smaller fur-bearing creatures. The forests,
the sky and the lakes and streams were alive with
members of the feathered tribe—swans, geese, ducks
of several varieties, and, besides all these, the
Indians were not averse to eating eagles and gulls,
if necessity demanded.
Besides laying in large stores of dried meats and
fish, the natives gathered large quantities of wild
berries, of which there were several varieties, and
dried them for their winter supplies. There were
many other kinds of food, such as the inner bark of
the spruce tree, many kinds of roots, wild potatoes,
wild   onions,   wild   rice,   sea-weed,   fish,   eggs   or
spawn, crab apples and nuts.
Methods of Cooking.
The people had three common ways of cooking
their food: by boiling, steaming, and broiling
before the fire.
To cook a quantity of provisions in one of their
big tubs or boxes—for they had no pots in those
days—they poured in water sufficient to cook the
quantity needed, and then red hot stones, lifted
with a pair of wooden tongs, were dropped in to
make it boil. When salmon or other fish were to
be cooked, they usually cut off the heads and tails,
and kept up the boiling process until all was reduced
to a broth, when it was ladled out into dishes or
long troughs and set before the people. Think of
seven hundred salmon cooked in this way for a
single feast !
To prepare food by steaming, a large fire was
first kindled on a bed of cobble stones. When the
wood had burned out, the stones being very hot,
layers of green grass or sea-weed were laid on the
top of the stones and kept damp with water. The
clams, mussels, or other shell fish—if salmon, cod,
halibut or sturgeon, usually only the heads and tails
were thus prepared—whatever they wished to cook,
were placed upon the grass, a little water was
poured upon the top, and the whole was closely
covered with mats, leaves, or boughs to keep in the
steam. This is much the best means of cooking
clams or other shell fish.    They are delicious when
cooked after this fashion.
When it was desired to broil the salmon, birds,
venison or other wild meats, a stick the size of a
broom handle, about four feet long, was split part
way down, and the meat or fish was put into the
split, while little sticks were placed crossways to
keep the food spread. The stick was then tied at
the split end, while the other end, already sharpened, was driven into the ground by the hot camp-
fire, the flat side being kept towards the fire. The
oil or gravy was caught in a clam shell or other
dish and poured back upon the meat while cooking.
Salmon never tastes better than when cooked in
this manner. Often when travelling by canoe have
we had deer, bear or mountain-goat meat, ducks
or geese, and even porcupine, eagle or gulls, cooked
in this way. The latter is quite palatable when you
are worn with travelling and the larder has become
nearly exhausted.
It has been said, " It is always a feast or a famine
with a native."
Whether that is true or not, certain it is that the
natives of the Pacific Coast have a great variety of
feasts. Indians, wherever you find them, are very
hospitable to strangers—the travellers and miners
of this vast country would all testify to this. They
are most generous, even reckless, with their food.
If you are invited to a feast among them the food
is piled up before you, and after having satisfied
your appetite you are expected to take away all you
cannot eat. If the visitor is a chief or important
person, what he has left is sent home by messenger
to his family. If he be any ordinary guest, he
sweeps off what remains—which is usually much
more than he has eaten—into a corner of his
blanket or his shirt, and carries it away. If the
feast be of whale's blubber, porpoise, fish of similar
kind, or venison, bear or mountain goat, it is cut
up into slices and strung on a sharp stick, or carried
in his hand to the rest of his family.
At a big feast there are always several masters
of ceremonies and a number of waiters in attendance. These never sit down while the eating is
going on, though often a feast will last for six or
seven hours, having as many courses. There are
numerous small, every-day feasts where neighbors
call upon each other in a happy, social way.
One of the greatest offences to an Indian is to
refuse to accept an invitation which he has given
you to eat with him and his friends.
Music and Dancing.
With most feasting is usually associated dancing
and other merriment.
The readiness with which the Indians pick up our
beautiful hymn tunes and learn to play our musical
instruments has been remarked. Indeed, these
people are naturally very musical, and in their
heathen state were passionately fond of singing
their own native melodies. Of songs they had a
great variety : war songs, marriage songs, songs for
feasts and public gatherings, mourning songs for
the dead, songs when the fish came, dancing songs,
canoe songs, and many others. When we asked
the old dance-song maker where they got their
music, he replied :
" We get it from the wind in the trees, from the
waves on the sea-shore, from the rippling stream,
from the mountain side, from the birds, and from
the wild animals.
As for musical instruments, we are all familiar
with the simple Indian drum, made by stretching a
deerskin tightly over a hoop. Besides this they
used as a drum a big square box, painted in different colors, with figures of birds and animals
upon it.
When the drummer was at work crowds would
accompany him, beating time with sticks upon
boards. The sound was weird in the extreme, if
heard at the dead of night, coupled with the shouts
of the heathen dancers.
Besides the drums were rattles of various shapes,
used by the chiefs and conjurers, and pipe whistles—
indeed, whistles of many kinds, imitating birds and
animals—some of which were used by the hunters
in pursuit of game.
With much of their music is associated their
pagan dancing. There are professional dancers
among the tribes, who as a rule are identified with
the clans of the medicine men. The heathen dances
are very fascinating to the heathen mind, and in
nothing is the " backsliding " of the Indian more
noticeable than in his return to the dance.
At the dancing season certain persons become
possessed, or as the An-ko-me-nums say, " the
you-an, or dance-spirit, is on them." They dream
dreams and see visions, and move about in a hypnotic state, unable, or at least declining, to work,
and roaring out at intervals a sort of mournful
sobbing, " Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh." Then they go from
house to house, hunting up every kind of food they
can get hold of, and gorging themselves many times
a~day. At night these dancers, all daubed and plastered with grease and paint, would gather in the
large houses, where the people were assembled, and
work themselves up into a frenzy, prancing up and
down and round about, performing numerous contortions. Then they would break out in song, or in
monotonous recitation relate their dreams and
visions and tell many weird tales. Then round and
round, and up and down again, they would prance,
until they dropped from sheer exhaustion, or fell,
perhaps, into the fire, and another took their place.
All this time the onlookers watched and listened to
the chanting and the story, or screamed and
pounded in frantic accompaniment to the dancing.
The heathen dance is certainly demoralizing, and,
like everything of heathenism, is of the devil.
White Man's Dance vs. Indian Dance.
Early in my stay at Nanaimo four or five of the
leading chiefs came to me with the proposition that
if I would allow them to go on with their potlatch-
ing and wild dancing every day in the week, they
would come to church and rest on Sunday.
" No; you had better stop all your heathenism,"
was my answer.
Nothing daunted, they came back again later.
Now they would all be good on Sabbath and stand
by me if they could dance. It was not very bad,
and they had to keep up a little of what their
fathers told them. And if I would not speak
against it or pray against it they would all be good
soon and would have all their children go to school.
" No, I cannot have anything to do with the old
way, the dance, the potlatch, etc., it is all bad," I
Then they whispered to each other, " Oh, he is
like a post ; you cannot move him."
To give an idea of the scenes witnessed on these
dancing occasions : Old Sna-kwe-multh, a man who
had been taken a slave by some northern tribe, but
who had found his way home, wished to demonstrate his bravery. At a great feast he came rushing in half naked and danced before the people.
As -his frenzy increased he slashed at his thighs
with some kind of sharp instrument, and then with
both hands caught up his own blood and drank it,
to prove himself a brave.
A number of white men, who had been witnesses
of the shameful scene, ran out and cried, " The
devil is in the man."
I denounced the custom and pleaded with them
to give it up. Speaking to the old Chief Squen-es-
ton, I said, " You must stop it.   It is of the devil."
" Oh," said he, " the white man's dance worse
than the Indian's dance."
" How do you make that out?" I said.
" Oh, Indian man, alone, dance all round the
house and sit down. And then Indian woman she
dance all round and she sit down. But white man
take another man's wife and hug her all round the
What could I say to the argument ? What would
you have said?
Of the many evils of heathenism, with the exception of witchcraft, the potlatch is the worst, and
one of the most difficult to root out.
At one time its demoralizing influence was so
manifest that the Government passed a law prohibiting it, but this excellent law was seldom properly enforced.
" Potlatch "—the word is from the Chinook and
means " to give." Literally the idea is the giving
away of everything a man possesses to his friends.
In return he gets nothing except a little flattery, a
reputation for generosity, and poverty.
I Tlaa-nuk " is the An-ko-me-num word, and it
suggests something more than " a giving," or a
feast, or an entertainment, or a ceremony, for it is
all of these and more. It is a system of tribal government which enforces its tyrannical rule upon all,
and overrides all other laws of the nation or the
Its outward manifestation of the heathen feast
and dance, with the giving of gifts to all present, is
bad enough, but this is as nothing to the unseen
influence behind it all.
The potlatch relates to all the life of the people,
such as the giving of names, the raising into social
position, their marriages, deaths and burials.
A man desires, or thinks himself entitled to, some
coveted position, property or distinction, and for
years, perhaps, makes preparation to secure it. This
can only be done by the law of " tlaa-nuk " (potlatch), and so when ready he calls together from
far and near his friends and relatives, when, after
much feasting and dancing and speech-making, he
gets up on a high platform and proceeds to give
away all that he possesses.
The ambition of an Indian to be thought greater,
richer and more influential than any of his neighbors leads him not only to give away a large part
of his goods—which, as a matter of fact, he expects
returned with interest on some future occasion, at
another such gathering—but wantonly to destroy
very much in such a manner that it can never be
restored. For instance, think of a man taking a
fine large canoe, valued at, perhaps, one hundred
and fifty dollars, and smashing it into pieces ; or of
another seizing a number of beautiful new guns or
rifles and bending and breaking them so that they
would be utterly useless; or of another setting fire
to piles of food and of goods. Some few years ago,
at one such gathering, the poor, foolish creatures
took rolls of new bills, the product of their summer's work, and threw them into the fire.
I knew a man at Nanaimo who, together with his
wives and children, worked for years saving and
getting together much property; and then a great
potlatch was given, and everything went, to the last
stitch of clothing, and he and his family were left
practically naked to face the winter, without any
provisions. His children nearly starved, while he
contracted a cold which led to consumption, from
which he died.
Some time ago it was rumored that the law
against the potlatch was to be repealed. This drew
a strong protest from several quarters, among them
from some of the Indians themselves.
About that time the following letter, which
explains itself, appeared in the local press, signed
by an Indian whose identity was vouched for by a
gentleman who knew him well :
" Having heard that in the last session of the
provincial parliament a resolution was passed asking Dominion Government to reconsider the potlatch question with a view to repealing section 114,
and that there is to be an inquiry as to the evils
of the potlatch, we should like to tell the public
what the potlatch is.
" Really and truly it is destruction to life and
property, as we shall show. The first is that the
women go from home to other places for immoral
purposes, to get money or blankets to give away,
or potlatch, as people call it. The second is that
they sell their daughters to other men as soon as
possible, sometimes twelve or thirteen years old,
marriage they call it; the people do not care so long
as they get blankets to potlatch with. And the
third is that they hate each other so much because
of their trying to get one above the other in rank,
as it is according to how many times they potlatch
that they get the rank, and keep it, too. If they
could they would even poison one another. Even
now they think they kill one another by witchcraft,
with intent to kill, and they believe that they do
kill. A man does not care for any relatives when
the potlatch is in question. The potlatch is their
Igod; they will sacrifice everything to it—life, property, relatives, children, or anything, must go for
him to be a jj tyee ' (chief) in the potlatch.
| A man after giving a potlatch will sit down,
his children, too, without knowing where he is
going to get his food and clothes, as he has given
away everything, and he has borrowed half of it,
for which he has to pay back double. And another
thing is, when they are mad with one another they
will break canoes or tear blankets or break a valuable copper, to shame their opponent. The potlatch is one fight, with quarrelling and hating one
I And another is the desecration of the dead.
The hamatsa, or medicine man, when he first
comes from the woods, carries a dead body in his
arms, professing to have lived on such things when
in the woods, and as soon as the hamatsa comes in
the house the other hamatsas all get up and go and
tear the body to pieces among them like dogs;
besides all this they bite the arms of one another;
and the other thing is that when a man gets ill he
thinks he is witchcrafted, and then his relatives will
go and take the dead body that they think he is fixed
with : they cut and mutilate it to undo the work
that they think has been done to him. We have
just heard of such a case from Kurtsis, of a
woman's dead body having been taken out and
cut, to undo the work that they think has been
done to a certain man. All these things are
pure facts, and we are prepared to prove them if
need be, and could tell other evils, but we are afraid
of tiring the public."
The Indians are passionately fond of gambling.
In olden times they gambled, not with cards, but
usually with round wooden pins about three inches
long, or with shells and pebbles.
The gamblers would sit opposite each other on
the grass or in the large houses, and a great crowd
would gather on both sides, making a rattling noise
with short sticks on boards, and singing to work
themselves up for luck, or " power," as they called
it. The gambling would go on night and day,
almost week in and week out, until they had not a
shred of clothes left. Money, muskets, canoes,
horses, and sometimes the houses over their heads,
they would stake on a chance.
The story is told of one old man among the Kling-
gets who gambled away everything he had. Then,
with the hope that he would have a lucky day some
time, he put himself down and gambled away for
days, still losing, until his wife, seeing that he was
" going," persuaded him to stop. She had to pay
two hundred blankets to buy him back.
The gambling passion still lives with them, and
now some of them have adopted the methods of
their white brothers—they were always fond of
imitating him, even to their own hurt—and are
♦going deeper and deeper into sin.
" Ye whose hearts are fresh and simple,
Who have faith in God and Nature,
Who believe, that in all ages
Every  human  heart  is  human,
That in even savage bosoms
There   are   longings,   yearnings,   strivings,
For the good they comprehend not,
That the feeble hands and helpless,
Groping blindly in the darkness,
Touch God's right hand in that darkness
And are lifted up and strengthened.    .    .    ."
—1 Hiawatha."
The An-ko-me-nums, like most of the Indians of
British Columbia, were spirit worshippers. First
of all, they believed in a great Chief Spirit, who
created all things and was all-wise and all-powerful,
and ruled over them for good, but who was not
actively concerned for them, and whom they never
called upon except in cases of great difficulty or
Then they believed in a multitude of lesser spirits,
who were in most cases evilly disposed towards
them. These inhabited certain mountains and headlands and rocky, dangerous points, around which
the waves raged and tossed their frail canoes, and
sometimes upset them. A swirling eddy, a dangerous rapid, a lonely lake in the mountains, a steep
precipice where perhaps at some time or other one
of their people had met with disaster and possibly
death, was the abode of a " Stlaw-la-kum," or evil
They prayed a great deal to the sun, to the
moon, to the Great Being who gave them all the
fish and food, or to the spirit whom they believed
might be responsible for any impending danger.
They were often found in the woods praying.
Hunters would pray and fast for days in the mountains, bathing themselves and performing certain
exercises, in order to be successful hunters. They
would pray, while fishing, for a successful catch.
And for weeks before going on a war expedition
they would fast and pray and bathe and paint themselves in preparation for the undertaking.
Food and drink were often thrown on the fire
as an offering to the unknown Divinity, while the
ascending smoke bore the prayers of the poor blind
worshippers onward to the Great Chief above.
Speaking of this, one of our native preachers
says : " My grandmother in the early morning used
to kindle a fire as she sat on the river bank. When
it was a clear, quiet morning and the smoke would
ascend, as it seemed, straight up to the land above,
she would say, as she prayed for more food or for
protection from sickness or trouble, ' Now our
prayers will be answered.' But if the wind blew
the smoke about, she would say it was no use praying, as such prayers were useless."
Out on the water, with the tempest threatening,
they were accustomed to turn around and whistle
and wave their hands to the wind, to keep it away,
113 m
and when it grew stormy they would pray to the
mighty wind. Crossing the Gulf of Georgia on one
occasion in a big storm, the old heathen captain and
his wife, with whom we voyaged, prayed most
appealingly, " Oh, you big storm, don't you drown
us; you are so strong and we are so weak; don't
you make such a rough sea. Why should we go
down? We are all dirty, our clothes are dirty, we
are very dirty; if you take us down we shall dirty
your clear waters, they are so clear and blue. Don't
have us dirty your beautiful waters."
The south men, as well as the north, would throw
out food and even clothes as a sacrifice to appease
the storm.
When becalmed on a fair day the conjurer or
" windmaker " would volunteer to raise the wind.
He would begin by whistling and waving the hand,
and then praying to the Spirit of the locality.
Should a light breeze spring up they would shout
and hurrah because they had brought the wind.
Of their traditions we have not much to say. In
common with many other peoples, they had legends
of the creation and of the deluge. Their stories of
the flood are very local, in coloring, and usually
gather around a certain mountain peak, the highest
in their immediate vicinity. The legend of the thunder bird is one which is repeated in varied forms
all up and down the coast. The Nanaimos told
how the thunder was made up between two mountains. Between two large rocks, near the shores of
a little mountain lake, some great birds which made
the thunder had their nest. Then the little thunders
all came out, and they with the big thunders clapped
their wings; then the roll and roar of the thunder
could be heard echoing through the hills.
Death and Burial.
The An-ko-me-nums believed in a future existence,
and placed upon the graves the toys and trinkets of
the children, the weapons and belongings of their
braves, the canoe or horse of the chief, which they
thought would be of service to the former owner in
the land to which he had gone.
They buried their dead in various ways. There
are evidences that in times long past they put many
of them in rocky tombs and hid them from their
enemies. During times of war they buried them in
large pits, which were covered with ashes, and huge
mounds of shells were heaped on the top. At
Comox, on Vancouver Island; Musqueam, near
Eburne, at the mouth of the Fraser; at Port
Hammond, and other places, where these mounds
existed and have been opened, human skulls and
bones have been found in large numbers.
Fifty years ago they enclosed the bodies of the
dead in boxes and placed them upon a scaffold, some
ten or twelve feet high, to keep them out of the way
of animals. In still later times they placed them on
the ground and built little houses over them.
To-day they are buried in the earth, after the Christian fashion.
Such fear had they of death that the dead were
not kept very long, but were placed in a box and
hurried out of the way as soon as possible. They
were particularly cruel and indifferent to their old
people, even placing them in their boxes before they
were quite dead.
I recall the case of a poor old man at Nanaimo
who had been sick for some time. I called one day
at the house and did not find him on the miserably
dirty old cot. I then asked his son, a heathen, a
chief, and past middle age himself, where the old
man was. " He is in that box," he replied, at the
same time pointing to a native cedar box, about
eighteen inches square and two feet deep, made
without a nail, and bound with cedar withes.
I went to the box, and opening it I found the poor
fellow, where they had placed him, according to
custom, crowded in and doubled up, his head
between his knees, but still alive. I had him taken
out at once, but he died the next day.
Some time ago, on the west coast, a man who had
been very sick, and whom they expected to die, was
thus buried alive. His legs were broken and his
poor body was jammed into a box, and it was put
away on an island. A woman picking berries heard
the man groan, and with considerable grit for an
Indian woman went and opened the box and let him
out. He is still living, though as a result of his horrible experience he is compelled to make his way
about as best he may on all fours.
Did Not Know He Was Dead.
Several years ago smallpox raged along the coast
and swept off many of the Indians as well as the
whites.     The   city   and   government   at   Victoria
appointed certain white grave-diggers to bury the
numerous corpses found upon the beach, among the
trees, in huts and in canoes.
In many cases the grave-diggers found poor creatures almost, but not altogether, dead; they knew
they would be fit for burial soon, and did not care
to spend time waiting for the last gasp. It is said
they were taking one poor fellow off to the grave,
but he objected on the very proper ground that he
was not dead yet. He was told to shut up, as he
was dead, but too delirious to comprehend the fact.
So they carefully placed him under the sod to await
the resurrection morn.
Rising from the Grave,
The coal company at Nanaimo were building a
wharf from a point in the harbor, and paid for the
removal of a number of Indian bodies which had
been buried near the spot. New graves were dug
on a little side hill, and to these the remains were
transferred. The holes, however, were quite shallow, owing to the presence of a clay hard-pan underneath. Next day a great outcry was made in the
camp, and intense excitement prevailed, for most of
the boxes had risen up and had come out of the
graves. We went down to discover the cause of
the disturbance, and what had seemed to the poor
people so strange and uncanny had been caused by
the heavy rain of the night before filling the shallow
graves and floating out what they contained. It
took some time to quiet the fears of the people.
The men who do anything in any way in the digging of the grave or the handling of the body are
paid excessively for their services. This may be
due, in part, to their horrible fear of the dead.
Mourning for the Dead.
The Indian mother grieves for her children with
the same intensity of feeling that characterizes her
white sister. After the burial she will return to the
grave in the early morning and weep bitterly. She
often continues this for days at a time. She wails
and calls up the looks of the little one, its acts and
words. She will carry the clothes and playthings
to the little grave, and cry and talk away to her lost
darling, and pathetically plead for its return.
There is, however, a kind of professionalism
about a great deal of their mourning for the dead.
When a chief or leading person had passed away
women were accustomed to rush into the house
from all parts of the village. Perhaps on their way
there they might be chatting and laughing about
trifles, but as soon as they got near the house where
the dead lay, they would commence rubbing their
hands down their faces, and really seem to pump up
their tears, for before they were fairly seated the
tears were flowing, while they wailed and told all
the good qualities of the dead.
After this had gone on for some time, someone
belonging to the house would hand around a dish
or basket containing water. The crying then ceased,
and dipping their fingers in the water they bathed
faces and hands, and received the strips of calico
or clothes of the deceased, which was their reward
for their weeping.
The Witch-Doctor.
The medicine-man, or witch-doctor, that demon
among heathen peoples, held sway among the
An-ko-me-nums when I first went to the Coast.
The shaman, or medicine-man, is the representative of the grossest features of paganism. He has
wielded, and still wields to some extent, a marvellous influence over the people, because of the supernatural powers which they believe him to possess.
He professes to have acquired his power by long
months of retirement in the mountains or beside
some lonely lake, where he fasted and prayed and
held converse with the spirits and with nature.
Returning, he practises certain magical rites, and
by this means is able, so he claims, to heal the sick
and raise the dead and look into the future, and
even cause the death of many who may oppose his
magical powers.
The tyranny of this wretched despot and the
awful absurdity of his miserable pretensions,
together with his fiendishly bitter opposition to
everything that is good, leads him to be feared and
Their method of treating disease was not by
means of medicine. It was left to the old women of
the tribe really to administer such simple remedies
as they might be acquaintd with—poultices, lotions,
emetics, purgatives, and such-like. The witch-doctor
preyed upon the superstitions of the people, and by
his conjurer's rites deceived and beguiled them.
When called in, in case of sickness, he would
shake his rattle and work himself up to a frenzy,
scream and howl, and if it was a case of fever he
would rattle away for hours. If there was some
fixed pain, he would grab hold of the chest or forehead or place where the pain was said to be, and
then get down and suck and squeeze and suck away
until the blood came through the skin. Then repeatedly spitting the blood into his* hands, he would
shout for his attendants to rattle harder and sing
louder, " It was coming." Finally he would jump
and scream or cheer and say he had got it out, and
then proceed to show a piece of shell, glass, pebble,
or a nail, which he claimed he had taken from the
body, and which was the cause of the trouble.
A cousin of Sallosalton's, a bright youth who had
attended our school, in whom I had become very
much interested, was taken very sick with a fever,
and the conjurer (witch-doctor) was called in. I
visited him, and saw that the old conjurer's rattling
and the additional noise of the people beating time
to his rattle or drum and boards, together with the
yelling and singing for hours, was only distracting
the poor boy and making him very much worse.
I went to the town and consulted the only doctor
there. He came to see my young friend, and said
he felt sure that if the medicine were administered
properly, and we could keep the old conjurer away,
there was good hope of his recovery. So I told the
people that we did not want the conjurer there any
more, and that they must help me to keep the lad
quiet. Night after night I sat up in order to administer the medicine and keep the old imposter away,
and thus give him the necessary quiet. But I found
that secretly during the day, while I was resting,
they would call in the conjurer again, as his friends
had more faith in him than in our medicine and
Several days passed before I discovered their
doings. But one day I slipped into the house unexpectedly and found the old fellow rattling over him,
with a number of his friends keeping time with
sticks on a board, to assist the old imposter, as he
said, " to get the power." I rushed in and ordered
him to stop and leave. A day or two after I found
him again at the same thing, all painted up and
nearly naked, and partly stretched out upon the body
of the sick man, howling and rattling away. My
indignation was aroused, and I said to him, " IH
you don't stop you'll kill that boy. Leave at once!
and if you don't I'll bundle you out of the house."
He saw that I was making for him, when he got
up and crawled out, saying that he was there by
invitation. Of course, the father, mother and
friends, who were responsible, were very much disgusted at my action.
I continued my watch by the poor boy for several
nights, and had the joy of knowing that he was
trusting in Jesus. However, I was suddenly called
away to the Fraser River, and, much to my regret,
had to leave the sick one. After I left they got the
conjurer back, and finished their work, for the boy
died soon afterwards.
" You Don't Understand My Sick."
It is lamentable to behold the superstitious dread
of these people of the power of the witch-doctor to
do them harm.
During my stay at Nanaimo a bright, intelligent
young man, about nineteen years of age, by the
name of Charlie, attended our school. I missed him
for some days, and on inquiry learned that he was
sick. I made my way to the old heathen house
where he lived, and there found him lying on a
wretched cot, covered with his old dirty blanket.
I said, " Charlie, what's the matter?"
" I am sick, sir," he replied.
I felt his pulse, made general inquiry, but could
discover very little the matter with him. Giving
him some medicine, I told him to " have a strong
heart," as he would soon be well.
Two or three days afterwards, on a beautiful
sunny spring morning, I visited him again, and
found he was still lying in the same place. I got
him up and out of the old house into the sunlight,
but he seemed to grow worse rather than better.
Finally I said to him one day, " Charlie, what's
the matter with you?   You are not sick!"
" Oh, you cannot understand my sickness," he
" Where are you sick? What is the matter?" I
122 'One day I slipped in and found the old fellow rattling over him."
" Oh," he said, looking very serious, " white man
don't understand my sickness."
" Tell me where your sickness is?" I urged.
Pulling down his dirty blanket, and putting his
hand upon his stomach he said, " It is here. An old
conjurer has made me sick. He has blown something into my inside."
" Oh, nonsense, Charlie!" said I. " It is no such
thing.   No man has power to do that."
But he shook his head and replied, " Oh, I told
you, you don't understand my sick. The Indian has
power, and he is using it on me, and I shall die."
Day by day I visited the poor boy and tried in
every way to get him to arouse himself and to go
out with the rest of the boys. But no, he lay there
and sickened, and in about six weeks he died.
I do not believe anything was the matter, except
his superstitious fear that the old witch-doctor had
put his spell upon him and was killing him.
Retaliation for a Supposed Insult.
If there is a class that deserves severe treatment
among the Indians it is these miserable reprobates,
who still are busy preying upon the credulity of the
people and working incalculable mischief.
At the present time there are several of these
imposters among the bands in the Lower Fraser
Valley. They have been for years a nuisance, the
priests of paganism and the prophets of evil.
Their miserable pretensions we have ignored, and
have left them out, as far as possible, in our social
gatherings among the people.
Several years ago invitations to the wedding of
two of our young people were sent to many of the
Indians of the community, these witch doctors alone
being purposely left out.
This enraged them so much that they announced
that they would kill three persons who were at the
gathering before a year was gone.
Shortly after one of the little pupils at the Institute, who had been ill for some time, died, and they
immediately claimed credit for the child's death. A
little later a woman who attended was taken sick
and also died, and according to the statements- of
the conjurers she was victim number two.
During the following summer a number of our
Indians, as usual, went down to the salmon fishing
at the mouth of the river, among whom was a
middle-aged chief, one of our most intelligent
Indians, and, we considered, one of our truest
Typhoid was epidemic that year at Steveston, and
this chief was taken down with the fever.
Dr. Large, our energetic and successful medical
missionary at Bella Bella, was then at the Fraser
River for the summer season, and visited and gave
the chief medical attention. He appeared to improve
under treatment and bade fair speedily to recover,
but in an unexplainable manner to the medical man
the recovery was delayed. He found, on inquiry,
that the chief was not taking the medicine prescribed, and had said that he did not think he would
ever get well. When pressed for his reasons, he
confessed the belief that he was the third victim of
the witch-doctors' rage, and that he could not live.
The missionary reasoned with him, pleaded with
him, prayed with him, but without avail, and finally
the poor fellow died, the victim of his own superstitious fears, upon which the conjurers had worked
all too successfully.
We were grieved beyond measure that such a
noble life had been thus cut short, and that the
power of superstition and ignorance was still so
This power of the medicine-man is coupled with
the Indian's belief in witchcraft. No heathen Indian
ever dies a natural death, for every sickness or accident is due, according to their superstitious view, to
the evil eye or malign spell of someone who is
evilly disposed towards them. When calamity or
sickness comes they immediately apply to the witchdoctor to perform his incantations and discover the
witch. Sometimes it is an old woman of the tribe,
whose term of life is now necessarily short; sometimes it is a slave or a bright girl or boy, and sometimes a whole family are pointed out as the " guilty
ones " and doomed to death. The atrocities committed by the natives, moved by this dreadful superstition, are numberless and in many cases too dreadful to relate. How fervently we pray that the
enlightening influence of the Holy Spirit may penetrate the gloom of heathen darkness and forever
drive out all the nameless horrors which belong to
125 1
" Mourn  for  the  lost,—but pray,
Pray to our God above,
To break the fell destroyer's sway,
And show His saving love."
For hundreds of years the natives of the Pacific
Coast of British Columbia have been exposed to the
temptations of the white man's whiskey. The
traders on ships in those early years thought it to
their advantage to take a good supply of rum with
them in the traffic for furs, and the poor people
became so infatuated with it that while it lasted they
would not even go out after the pelts. Whether
it was the awful effects of the whiskey traffic upon
the natives, or the risk that the Company's servants
ran in dealing with drunken Indians, or the loss to
the Company's business due to the condition of the
natives, we cannot say—perhaps it was all of these
-—but finally Sir George Simpson, the Governor of
the Hudson's Bay Company, forbade the sale of
liquor at any of the trading posts.
Strong drink has been the greatest enemy to the
Indians of the Coast and one of the greatest difficulties in the way of Christianizing and civilizing
At our first mission station, history has it, a coal
mine was sold for a bottle of rum. We are not sure
just how this occurred, but it is stated that an old
Indian who made discovery of the first vein of coal
was promised a bottle of rum and repairs to his old
flint-lock musket if he would bring to Victoria,
seventy-five miles away, a sample of the mineral, and
afterwards show where the vein was located. The
old man loaded his canoe with coal and paddled
away for days until he reached the place, and delivered it to the party, who gave him the bottle of
rum as agreed. The Indian was always afterwards
known as " Coal Tyee.'*
In our first work among the natives hardly a day
passed but they had liquor, procured either from
the miners or sailors, or from those contemptible
characters who spent their time in vending the
accursed " fire-water " among these deluded people.
Many a score of bottles of whiskey had to be
destroyed in those days. Sometimes, of course, the
owners became terribly exasperated at our action,
and we were always, while living right among them,
exposed to danger from wild, drunken men. Two
men followed me one night for some distance, and
said they were determined to break my head with a
bottle. Sometimes for whole nights together it
would seem as if all of the people of the village were
intoxicated, and often I have been called up at the
midnight hour to settle some trouble, or possibly to
prevent bloodshed, due to the presence of whiskey.
On a trip along the coast, near where Ladysmith
now stands, a young man under the frenzy of whiskey had shot down his own father.    A council of
127 m
the chiefs and people was being held, and I was
called in to witness and hear the speeches and the
talk of vengeance on the white man who had given
them the liquor. One after another spoke, and finally one chief directed a most appealing address to
" Oh, Missionary," he said, " you bring us good
words, the Book tells of good things, but look at
that dead chief. Are you not ashamed of your
white brother? Why don't you convert him? He
has the Book, why don't he stop making and selling
whiskey? Why don't you convert the man who
gave the liquor to that man who shot his own
father?" And as the old orator poured forth his
eloquent address in his own language, I felt, for
the first time, ashamed that I was a white man.
The Law in Our Own Hands.
More than once, realizing the awful effect of this
dread traffic upon the natives, the Missionary felt
impelled to take the law into' his own hands in dealing with this illicit trade.
One fine day in Victoria, another preacher and
myself, crossing the bay on the old ferry boat, saw
a canoe coming from under a wharf with boxes in
it. I said to my friend, " That looks like whiskey."
We hurried the ferryman up, watching at the same
time where this canoe would land. Leaving my
friend, I ran over the hill, shouting as I passed the
chief's house, in his own tongue, " Give me an axe,
an axe I must have." Jim, the chief, successor to
old King, ran out of his house with an axe
P-   irg p.  127
in his hand. Seizing it I ran towards the canoe, and
just as the men landed their cases of " tangleleg,"
as it was called at that time, I smashed them open
with the axe, sending the blade through the five-
gallen coal oil cans full of this terrible stuff. Much
of the liquor then sold to the Indians was a vile
combination of camphene, coal oil and other fiery
material, which seemed to set the natives wild when
they drank it. The men by this time had run away,
one up the hillside and the other some distance
down the beach, looking back to see what would be
done. I do not know whether they thought I was
an officer of the law or not, but at any rate we got
rid of that much of the abominable stuff—"chain
lightning" it was sometimes called—which might
have caused much trouble and loss of life in the
" Oh, Let Me Have Just a Little, Sir !"
On a journey down the east coast of Vancouver
Island my Indian boy, Charlie, and I, having travelled about twenty-five miles in a small canoe,
touched at a little village on a beautiful island where
I had often visited and preached before.
Just as our canoe struck the beach, on the north
point of the island, a young man by the name of
Jacob, who was already " half seas over," called
out, " Mr. Crosby, whiskey, whiskey!"
I jumped out and ran across the point of land,
and here was a big fellow, named Comox Tom,
with a large canoe, just pushing off.
Too late to reach them, as they paddled away as
129 f
quickly as possible, I turned around through the
village and found they had had a " whiskey feast."
And, oh! what a sight! nearly all drunk—men,
women and children.
Seeing that I could do them no good, I turned
and said to my boy Charlie, " Will you go with me,
and we will overhaul that canoe, or they will do the
same bad work at another place?"
"Yes, I'll go, sir!" he replied.
Just then Jacob, the man who had called to me,
came forward and jumped into the canoe, saying
that he would go too.
Off we went, following the big canoe, which was
now well over towards the other island, some three
miles away. Our little craft, with three good
paddles and plenty of elbow grease, fairly leaped
over the water, and it was soon evident that we
were catching up to them with their heavy canoe.
As we got near I saw the old man at the bow set
his musket by his side and the man at the stern get
his ready also, while the two women, who sat in
midships, each armed herself with an axe. It
looked as if they were getting everything ready for
a fight.
I stopped paddling and called to the big fellow,
Tom, who was steering the large canoe, to stop and
listen to what I had to say.
" Tom, we have not come to fight," I said, " but
I must have the liquor." And then to my helpers,
"Pull up alongside, boys!"
As soon as we were alongside of their big canoe
I seized hold of a five-gallon can of whiskey and
began pouring it out. While I was doing this my
boys in the bow of the canoe hauled on board a case
of " Old Tom." The big Indian, in the meanwhile,
got hold of the can as I was pouring it out and
claimed it as his own.
" Well, Tom, pour it out yourself," I said.
" Pour it out, I tell you !" I shouted.
Tom held it over the side, just near to me, and
poured away until it was nearly all gone; then he
stopped, and in a pleading voice said, " Oh! let me
have just a little, sir!" But I kicked it out of his
hand overboard and warned him not to sell liquor
among the people along the coast any more.
I asked if we had got all the liquor, and Tom,
feeling bad at losing his, nodded to me, pointing
to the boxes on which the women sat, as much as to
say, " There is more liquor there." But try as we
could, the women remained firm, sitting like statues,
and we could not remove them.
Turning to Tom I said, " I might have had you
put in the jskookum-house'" (as they call the jail),
" but I want you to do better. Will you be a better
Indian and stop this business?"
He readily promised. Then I called to the boys
in my canoe to hand me the case of liquor, and taking the bottles two by two, I smashed them
together until they were all destroyed. Just as the
last two were going the young fellow, Jacob, who
had worked so well and had evidently come with us
in expectation of being able to secure a little more,
reached to me and said, " Oh, do let us have a little,
sir!" Poor fellows, how feebly they seemed to
realize the awful effects upon themselves of strong
Up to My Neck in the Sea.
A few days after this I had been preaching to
settlers on Salt Spring Island, and while visiting a
settler on the east side, a young Indian came rushing into the house crying out, " Mr. Crosby, Mr.
Crosby, whiskey, whiskey!" and pointed to the
beach, where he said there were some northern
Indians selling liquor.
We started down to the shore. I ran some distance above where he said the canoe was, and got
down on the beach, where I could now see them
bartering away whiskey from their big canoe to
parties camped on the shore. I made one straight
bolt for them, jumped on board the canoe, and
began throwing out their coal oil cans of whiskey.
While I was doing this, four big fellows were pushing off their canoe from the shore and carrying me
with them out to sea. In a moment I made a plunge
for the shore, coming up to my neck in the water,
and got to land. We destroyed the whiskey and
shouted after the savages that they must stop their
unlawful deeds.
My readers may wonder why the missionary took
the risks he did, and interfered in matters that may
seem to be outside of his regular evangelistic work.
It was because he recognized this terrible traffic as
the greatest enemy to the work in which he was
engaged, and firmly believed that in fighting it he
was taking the most practical method of preaching
the Gospel to a people who were being destroyed,
soul and body, by this trade in strong drink.
The Whiskey Synagogue.
At Departure Bay, near Nanaimo, there was a
notorious resort, properly licensed, of course, but
kept by a wretched fellow who made no pretence
at keeping the law.
This place went by the name of " The Synagogue," and was suspected of being the quarter
from which many of the Indians, on their way
north, secured their supply of liquor. Besides this,
on an island near by, a quarry had been opened by
a gentlemanly American, getting out stone for the
new Mint Building in San Francisco. The nearness
of this liquor joint resulted in continued drunkenness among the workmen at the quarry, and consequently the neglect of their work.
When it came time for renewing the licenses, I
circulated a petition, in which I was strongly supported by the proprietor of the quarry, and which
was signed by most of the respectable and leading
men of the town, and presented it to the magistrate,
praying that the license for " The Synagogue "
should not be renewed, as we believed that liquor
was sold to Indians at that place.
On the day appointed, when the case was under
consideration, the magistrate read out my petition
and said, " I can't renew this license to-day."
Nevertheless, after a few days we learned that the
license had been given.
It was in the afternoon of the same day that I
met the proprietor of " The Synagogue," with some
others, on the street, and he swore he would slap
my face, though he did not get at it.
Later on, emboldened by securing his license, he
went to Victoria and got out summonses for twelve
of the leading men of the town, whose names were
on the petitions. He didn't include Crosby, as he
said, " He isn't worth the powder and shot; he has
no money!"
We met and engaged one of the best lawyers in
the country to look after the case. He told us it
would be wise for us to get evidence that this house
had sold whiskey to Indians.
So one evening, shortly afterwards, I took two
Indians in a small canoe, and we went up to " The
Synagogue." And while I stood in the dusk by
the canoe, where I could see what went on, they
purchased each a bottle of whiskey and brought it
back to the canoe, and all the evidence needed was
at hand.
Our friend, the proprietor of the house, soon
discovered what had happened, and did not press
the cases against the petitioners. The summonses
all remained in the hands of the parties until the
next spring, when our lawyer forced them to bring
the matter into court. The fellow was fined, his
license taken from him, and it cost him some two
or three hundred dollars. He treated the poor
Indian missionary as politely as a French dancing
master after that.
In a Tight Box.
Those were wild times, and I had more than one
unpleasant experience, among whites as well as
On my way to camp one evening, a party, composed of a big Indian and two women, all drunk,
rushed out of the bush and seized me. I liberated
myself from them by pushing one one way and the
other another, smashed the whiskey bottle that the
man held in his hand, and then ran as hard as I
On one occasion I was kindly invited to stay at a
logging camp back of Oyster Bay. After supper I
preached to the boys," and was listened to with
respect and attention. When it came time to rest,
they put me up in the top bunk in the bunk-house.
And glad I was before morning that I was up aloft,
for later on some of the boys came in the worse of
liquor, passed around their bottles and had a most
hilarious time. I don't know how it commenced,
but very soon a fight ensued ; and, oh, how they did
batter each other, while I lay in my blankets praying that God would, in some way, stop the quarrel.
I did not get much rest that night, I assure you.
Next morning some of the poor fellows came and
humbly apologized, and years afterwards one of
them met me and asked if I recalled that night and
its scene of turmoil and revelry.
" Indian Pray One Eye Open and One Eye
On one of my trips, very early in my missionary
experience, we came to an Indian camp where a
number of men and women were drinking whiskey
in one of the large houses. The house having been
pointed out to me, I rushed in1 without ceremony.
The man who had been serving the liquor to his
friends around the fire, having heard my footsteps,
was just in the act of putting a bottle away in a box.
I rushed towards him, and seizing the bottle from
him, I poured the contents upon the fire. The vile
stuff blazed up with a blue blaze as if it had been
coal oil.
I told the people I was not angry with them, and
invited them to the service. The little bell was now
ringing, and there gathered into a large house about
thirty or forty persons, who sat around the fire,
some on boxes and some on beds and mats.
We had sung in the native language, and were
now singing in English, " There is a happy land,
far, far away," when in came a man crazed with the
drink, all painted up, with only a blanket on, waving a scalping-knife in his hand and shouting at the
top of his voice, " I'll fix the white man! I don't
care for the white man !"
He jumped on a bed behind where Cushan, my
assistant, and I were just in the act of kneeling
down to prayer. Cushan, the interpreter, prayed,
and I prayed, for the first time publicly in the Indian
language, for God to have mercy upon the poor
people, and especially upon the poor man who had
the knife and was so angry. I had not prayed very
long before he stepped down as stealthily and
quietly as possible and walked out of the house.
After the service was over Cushan said to me,
" Mr. Crosby, that man very angry. You not know
Indian. He want to kill us. All the time when I
pray I shut my eyes when I pray, but this time I
shut one eye and open the other. I watch and
The episode was over, and the missionary smiled
at the native shrewdness of his helper.
Poor Cushan himself had been a slave to the
drink. In his early years, when a servant of the
Company, he had acquired a taste for it, but becoming a Christian, he gave up the habit. There were
those, though, who knew his old weakness, and
were not pleased at the change in him. Some time
after the incident above narrated, one night in
Nanaimo, passing by a log cabin, he was entrapped.
Two white men who knew him—shall I call them
men? demons in human form—invited the poor
fellow in, locked the door, and tried in every way
to persuade him to drink. Failing this, one held
him and the other poured into him the accursed
stuff. Then, alas! poor fellow, the old desire was
awakened, and he drank. It took him a long time
to get over this. But by the grace of God he did
finally overcome the enemy, and lived a good Christian life.
Murder and Reprisals.
Oh, the horrors of the drink traffic ! How many
awful tragedies may be laid at its door !
The whole village of Nanaimo was aroused and
terrified one morning when a canoe came round the
point with the bodies of two dead chiefs who had
been murdered about thirty miles to the north.   Old
Chief Quee-es-ton and a number of his party, who
had been hunting on the island, were visited by
some white men in a sloop laden with grog. Fired
by the influence of what he had drunk, the chief
demanded more. A quarrel ensued, and the white
men shot the chiefs dead, put up their sails and
sailed away, and were never heard of after.
The bodies of these poor victims were brought
home to their people, which set the whole tribe in
an uproar, and they swore vengeance on those who
had murdered their friends, or any other white men.
In consequence, not long after this a white man
by the name of John Brown, at Cowichan, was
murdered, and poor innocent Robinson, a colored
man, was shot in his cabin on Salt Spring Island,
and about the same time Hamilton, another white
man, was killed near Nanaimo.
In connection with the latter crime, Jim and
Quin-num, Indian names with which we are already
familiar, were arrested and put in jail.
Quin-num turned Queen's evidence, and implicated poor Jim, who was afterwards hanged. I
visited him in the prison, and was with him all night
before his execution, and finally stood beside him on
the scaffold.
I believe he was soundly converted while in
prison. On the sad day of execution he said to the
hundreds of spectators :
" I was with Quin-num when he shot the man.   I
did not do the deed.    I go to the Great Judge who
will do right.    But I say to the young men, keep
out of bad company.   If I had not been drunk and
gone with Quin-num, I should not have been here."
Little wonder that the missionary acted at times
the part of a detective, smashed up the barrels and
coal oil cans and bottles, or brought to justice those
unprincipled men who took advantage of the weakness of the natives.
" A Life for a Bottle of Whiskey."
About the time of these thrilling experiences the
Victoria papers reported a very sad incident, under
the heading, " A Life for a Bottle of Whiskey,"
which goes to show that the missionary's concern
for his people, and his hatred of the traffic in " firewater," were amply justified.
" The coroner's inquest has decided," so reads
the report, " that William Bailey, the Songees
Indian, who. was shot on the reservation, came to
his death by the discharge of S— L—'s revolver.
The whole trouble arose, as do most troubles with
savage people, out of whiskey. In defiance of the
law, someone had supplied the liquor, having no
regard for the consequences of his unlawful act. A
life for a bottle of whiskey, that is the total of the
lamentable affair. Almost every day some serious
trouble is reported from one or other of the reservations. In every case the trouble is directly traceable
to whiskey."
On one occasion, two white men were brought
before the Honorable Chief Justice of the Colony,
charged with assaulting each other.
The trial was completed, and his Honor was
about to pronounce sentence. Turning to one of
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the men, who had lost his nose in the fray of the
night before, he said, " For twenty-five years I have
sat on the bench of this colony, and I have invariably found liquor to be the chief cause of all trouble
and serious infringement of the law. If an Indian
shoots a white man, it's been whiskey that has done
it. If a white man shoots an Indian, whiskey is at
the bottom of it. You, my friend, have lost your
nose; your brother white man became a cannibal
under the influence of whiskey and bit off your
nose." And, giving his sentence, " You will have
to bear the penalty, and in the future I advise you
to let the whiskey alone."
Don't wonder if the missionary, above every
other man, should be a strong total abstainer and
hate the very sight of liquor or its trade.
"When passing through the watery deep,
I ask in faith His promised aid;
The waves an awful distance keep,
And shrink from my devoted head.
Fearless, their violence I dare,
They cannot harm—for God is there."
—C. Wesley.
Soon after I got the language of the people, other
teachers took the school work, and I went out
travelling from place to place, literally " paddling
my own canoe."
There were few steamers in those days, and none
between Nanaimo, the centre of our work, and New
Westminster and the Fraser River, where I was
often called in my labors among the natives.
These trips were invariably made by canoe, except
for the chance of catching the river steamer which
journeyed from New Westminster to Yale.
The canoes of the Pacific Coast are of the type
usually called " dug-outs," that is to say, they are
mostly cut out of a cedar log. In the south, the
large ones were spoken of as " Chinook " canoes,
with rather a stub or short stern and a very high
bôw or neck. There were a great variety of smaller
canoes used for hunting and fishing, as well as what
they called a " spoon canoe," flat-bottomed and
nearly straight, with hardly any bow or stern, which
was used for travelling on very shallow rivers.
These latter were often made of cottonwood, while
the other types were always made of cedar.
The largest canoes were made in the north. The
great war-canoes, with a very heavy bow and stern,
and capable of carrying easily fifty or sixty people,
were so shaped that, when properly managed, they
would sail over almost any sea. The Hydahs of
Queen Charlotte Islands made the largest and best
canoes ; they had larger cedar trees on their islands
than could be found on the mainland opposite.
These canoes were often from thirty to forty feet
long and five or six feet beam, a beautiful model,
with gracefully shaped bow and stern, that would in
English phraseology be called a " clipper " for sailing. One of the largest of these canoes, seventy
feet in length by eight feet beam, was presented to
Lord Lome when he visited British Columbia during his term of administration as Governor-General
of Canada.
The medium-sized canoe was the best. With two
large sails and well manned, one of these northern
canoes would safely ride almost any sea. It was
by means of these smaller craft that I made many a
toilsome journey up and down the east coast of
Vancouver Island, among the beautiful islands
which lie along that coast, across the Gulf of
Georgia, up the Fraser River, down into Puget
Sound, and in and out of the many inlets which
pierce the coast of the mainland. In one year I
made four trips across the Gulf of Georgia and up
the Fraser River and back. Twice I travelled the
distance from Nanaimo to Yale and return, a round
trip of about 340 miles, paddling the whole way.
In journeying to and fro I travelled over two
thousand miles a year in all kinds of weather, braving the dangers of stormy seas and the eddies and
swift currents of treacherous rivers, and enduring
the discomforts of the wild, open life in a new
country. In it all I see the good hand of God
saving me from manifold dangers.
In time one becomes used to such toils and difficulties, and, after all, they were only the common,
every-day experiences of the miner or the frontiersman of those early days.
A Dangerous Trip.
In the days when steamboats were few, and only
one plying between Victoria and New Westminster,
we were summoned to the latter place by the Chairman of the District, from Nanaimo, to attend
District Meeting.   This was in March, 1865.
A little iron steamer had just been brought out
from England by the coal company, by which we
had hoped to cross to New Westminster, but, unfortunately for us, she ran upon the rocks on Protection Island, in front of the harbor of Nanaimo,
the night before we had to start. Disappointed by
this, Rev. E. White and I went to the Indian village and engaged the largest Chinook canoe we
could find. A man accustomed to travel by canoe,
when he saw it, said, " I would just as soon go in
that craft as the steamer Enterprise/'
We started with a crew of three Indian men and
one woman, Chilk, the captain, an old heathen, having his wife with him. A Dutchman joined us, who
said he had been a sailor for fifteen years, and thus
there were seven of us in the party. It was a glorious day, and with provisions, paddles, sails, and all
things necessary for the journey, we were soon
away down south among the beautiful islands of
the coast. We made a good run and camped for the
night. In the evening one of our party shot a fine
deer, which we added to our stock of provisions,
and after a bountiful supper we enjoyed the sweet
rest of an open-air camp.
We aroused the men about three o'clock next
morning, as we were anxious to secure an early
start. After a good breakfast, in which venison
was the chief feature, we gathered for prayers, and
then were ready to commence our journey across
the Gulf.
It was one of those cold, grey mornings in March
which promise almost anything, and the Indians
were unwilling to start out so soon, thinking that
the weather was uncertain. We felt, however, that
we must press on or be too late for District Meeting.
When we got out some distance from shore we
found a strong north-west breeze after us, which,
in a very little while, blew a gale of wind. We now
tried in vain to get back to shore ; the wind blew so
hard that we could see the branches of the trees
breaking off on the island behind us. There was
nothing left for us but to go before the wind, keeping our course as well as we could straight for the
main channel of the Fraser River.
As the sea began to dash over us, the Dutch sailor
shouted out, " Take down the sail ! Take down the
sail !"
I told him to mind his own business and bail the
water out. But again he shouted frantically, " Take
down the sail!"
" If you don't stop you'll have to go overboard,"
I shouted at him. " Let the Indians alone, they
know more about managing a canoe than you do."
It was clear to anyone that had the sail been taken
down—we had furled more than half of it—we
would have been swamped in a very little while, as
it was the only thing that gave her headway.
As the great sea swept over us, three of us were
kept bailing out, while the other men managed the
canoe. Every few minutes old Chilk would shout,
" Hold on ! There is another great wave coming."
We would grasp the side of the canoe and hold on
for fear of being swept out, and then to our bailing
again every chance we had. Thus we dashed on
over the mighty, angry waves until we came to the
sand heads at the mouth of the Fraser, and were in
danger of foundering on the bars.
It seemed as if that awful trip would never end,
and yet every moment we were busy, so busy that
our exertions kept us warm, in spite of the bleak
March weather. At one time a tremendous wave
broke over us, followed by another, and still
another, close after, and the canoe dipped into the
water as if she were going down nose first. The
water seemed to rush forward for a final plunge,
while all held their breath, expecting every moment
145 f
to be submerged ; then, all at once, she made a lurch
up with her bow and the water rushed back. When
the old captain saw hope he shouted, " Tlil-a-sit !
tlil-a-sit! tlil-a-sit!" ("Bail out! bail out!") The
very shout sent a thrill through everyone on board,
and we were bailing out as hard as we could to get
the water down. It all seemed done in less time
than it takes to tell it.
As we neared the mouth of the river the reason
for this awful sea was made clear. The waves
raised by the gale met the mighty current of the
river, and the awful tide-rip at the sand heads was
the worst we had to pass through.
In two hours and a half we reached the mouth of
the Fraser River, all drenched to the skin, but
thankful to a kind Providence which had brought
us safely through.
" I did not hear you ministers pray at all in the
storm," said the old heathen captain, after we had
We told him we prayed in our hearts while we
were working. But there was no doubt about his
prayers, for we could hear him and his wife shouting back at the great waves, " Don't drown us !
Don't take us down! for the missionaries are on
board. Oh, you great big angry waves, don't be so
angry, and we will be good if you don't drown us."
And then all the Indians would join in the cry,
" Don't take us ! Don't drown us !" True to their
custom, I think they would have liked some food
or property to give as a sacrifice to the angry waves.
I told the old captain I was glad to hear him pray,
146 il
as I had never heard him pray before, but he should
give his heart to God and become a Christian, and
he might be useful in leading others to Jesus. He
was a strong, daring fellow, a great dancer, a confirmed gambler, and, poor fellow! he was a terror
when drunk.
On one occasion I found poor old Chilk standing
at bay, with a pile of cobble-stones beside him, with
which he was defending himself against anyone
who might come near. He was dangerous when
drunk, and two policemen were vainly endeavoring
to get close enough to arrest him. When I came
along the police appealed to me.
" Oh, Chilk, you should not do that. Go home
and be a good man," I said to him as I passed.
"Don't talk to me! Don't talk to me!" he
I did not stop to argue with him, but, passing on,
I immediately wheeled around, and while his attention was again being taken by the policeman, I ran
back and grabbed him by his long hair and pulled
him over backwards. He commenced to kick and
bite, but the policemen seized their opportunity, and
before he could do any harm they had him bound
hand and foot, and shortly afterwards landed him
in jail.
The next day, sober and in his right mind, and
liberated, Chilk came to me and thanked me most
earnestly for the part I had played. Nor was there
any sarcasm in his action, for, he said, " I am so
glad for what you did, for I might have killed somebody and been now in jail."
Canoe Better than Steamboat.
Just as we entered the Fraser River we were surprised to see the little steamer Enterprise coming
down, and as we passed her the chairman, Dr.
Evans, and his colleague, Rev. Arthur Browning,
bowed to us. District Meeting was over, and they
were going home to Victoria !
Next morning, when we were down at the wharf
at Westminster, there came in the Hudson's Bay
Company's steamer Labouchere, and the Union
Pacific Navigation Company's steamer, Shoebrick—
the latter carrying supplies for the overland telegraph line, which was to unite the continents by
way of Alaska, which enterprise was broken up by
the successful laying of the Atlantic cable. The
men on the wharf wanted to know from the captains of the ships why they had not come yesterday.
" Oh!" they said, " it was blowing a terrific gale
on the Gulf, and we couldn't cross."
" Ha, ha, ha !" taunted the bystanders, " Parson
White and his crew crossed in a canoe, and youl
couldn't come over with your large steamships."
But they little knew what a trip we had had.
And now our old Dutch sailor had to have his
say. He went boasting about the town that he had
had his eye on Parson White's gold watch—a present to him as he left New Westminster some time
before—and that if we had upset he was going for
that. Poor, miserable fellow, he was the greatest
coward in the crowd.
This was one of the many terrible canoe trips we
had to take while at our work, when to all human
appearances there was every possibility that we
would never reach shore. Once after I made the
journey in the opposite direction in a small canoe,
with a single Indian as my companion, and again
we were nearly swamped before reaching the shore.
To-day, as always, I sympathize with the hundreds of fishermen who go out to the mouth of the
river and venture into the Gulf, braving the awful
storms which so often sweep down across this
treacherous arm of the sea. Nearly every year
reports have reached us of those who have risked
their lives, and of some who have lost them, on this
part of the coast.
" Spul-queet-sa!" ("A Ghost! A Ghost!")
We usually travelled in a much smaller canoe
than the one in which we made the trip narrated
above. On several occasions, when on my missionary tours, I took Her Majesty's mail to Victoria
from Nanaimo.
On one occasion Dr. Evans and I made a trip
along the east coast to look out ground for an
industrial school, where we might educate our
young native men, with the hope of preparing them
for teachers or missionaries. This was in 1868.
We selected a fine place, on an island, but the Missionary Society could not see its way clear to undertake this work. Strangely enough, this was the
very spot where afterwards the Dominion Government built Kuyper Island Industrial School. As the
Methodist Church did not see its way to undertake
this charge, the Government placed the school under
the direction of the Roman Catholic Church.
One fine day on that trip a very amusing incident occurred, which illustrates the Indian's superstitious dread of anything which seems unnatural.
As we were paddling along the Doctor was relating
a joke about a miner and an Indian woman on the
streets of Victoria. In order to appreciate the story,
one must be told that the Indians lived to a considerable extent upon clams, which fact was made the
butt of continual jokes, while the miners, in those
days, subsisted largely on bacon and beans. The
Doctor said : " An Indian woman was passing a
group of miners on the street, when one of them
drawled out, * Cla-ms !' in a mocking tone of voice.
The woman at once turned around very sharply
and, much to the amusement of the crowd, retorted,
1 B-b-beans !' "
As the Doctor, in relating the story, was attempting to imitate the Indian woman's way of saying
" beans," his set of false teeth fell out and very
nearly went overboard. The Indian in the stern,
seeing the teeth fly out, threw up both hands and
very nearly went overboard himself.
" Ah-na ! ah-na-na ! this man has come from the
grave!" he cried. "Spul-queet-sa! Spul-queet-sa!
I can't go on. This man is not a living man, he is
a spirit," he told his friend in the bow.
The other man refused to believe that a man
could handle his teeth, as it was said the Doctor had
done. They commenced to wrangle over the matter
and were losing time.
B Doctor, you will have to show the other fellow
your teeth," I said. In an instant the Doctor pulled
them out and held them before the man's face.
With that he threw up his hands and screeched and
screamed till we thought he would fall overboard.
Then they got a little quieted down and paddled on,
but every once in a while they would stop to discuss
the thing, whether this was really a living man or
a ghost from the grave. They watched him, especially when we went ashore to camp for the night.
When they saw that he could eat and laugh and talk
like the rest of us they could not understand it.
This reminds me of a trader's wife, a devoted
Christian, living up the coast, who had a native servant. The girl had been with her for some time
and had become very much attached to her mistress.
She used to go home to the camp every night and
return to her work early in the morning. One
morning, as the lady, whose name was Viona, was
busy with her toilet, and was in the act of brushing
her teeth, the Indian maid, returning, chanced to
look in at the door. Seeing her mistress putting her
teeth in her mouth, she cried out, "Oh, Viona!
Viona!" and ran away as hard as she could run.
She told her friends that the lady was a ghost and
had come from the grave, and she could not be persuaded to return for many a day.
Some More Exciting Experiences.
I had been preaching down the coast and was
returning when, at the north end of Salt Spring
Island, I fell in with old Chief Chil-qua-lum, from
Nanaimo. He, too, was returning home from a
hunting and fishing expedition, and had with him
his two wives and their families, and their " iktahs "
(belongings)—dogs, cats, fish traps, and a load of
fish, dried meat, clams and other Indian eatables.
He allowed me to get on board on condition that
I would work my passage by helping him manage
the big canoe. With hard paddling we got along
very well until we reached Dodds' Narrows, seven or
eight miles from Nanaimo. Through this passage,
at certain stages, the tide rushes at about ten miles
an hour, forming whirlpools that would at times
engulf any small craft whose misfortune it might
be to be caught in them.
At first it was a question whether we should venture through or not with such a load of freight and
human beings, but as the tide seemed fair and
the old man wished to push on, it was a great
In going through it was difficult to keep the
heavily-laden canoe straight in the centre of the
passage, and, veering a little to one side, we were
caught in one of the whirlpool-like eddies. We
were tossed about like a chip on the current, round
and round, whirling like a top, two or three times,
until it seemed as if we would surely be sucked
down into the vortex that yawned before us. The
old women jumped to their paddles, the children
screamed, and the most intense excitement prevailed. But it was only for a few moments; soon
the exertions of all told, and we were out and on
our way again, safe and sound.
Now it was the old wives' turn, and they gave the
chief a good tongue-lashing for his foolhardiness.
They discussed what would have been the result had
the missionary been drowned, and turning to the
little children they told them that God had saved
them from going down to the " Stla-la-kum " (evil
spirits) in the water because the missionary was on
Abraham and Sarah.
Missionary meetings were being held at Nanaimo,
and Rev. A. E. Russ, then of Victoria, was the
deputation. When he was about to return home, he
learned that I was going down the coast to visit the
different tribes, and wished to take the trip with me.
We called at Chemainus, where he preached, and
there baptized Abraham and Sarah, two Indian children. The romance of it impressed him, and he
spoke on the subject of the old patriarch and his
It was a very fine day, and going on further, the
lazy Indians ran the canoe upon some rocks which
were covered with barnacles. I told them to get out
and pull her off, but they sat, one in the bow and the
other in the stern, and tried to push off with their
paddles. It was my own little craft, which I had
painted and fixed up, and of which I took the
utmost care. I could see the twisting of the canoe,
and knew that it was in danger of splitting from
end to end, so I jumped into the water, clambered
up on the rock, seized the canoe and gave her a
shoot backwards, springing into the bow as she
My friend Russ said, " Crosby, you will kill
yourself; you are a strange fellow."
" Never fear !" I replied ; " but I will show those
lazy fellows how to do it."
We reached Cowichan in safety, where Brother
Russ took the steamer for Victoria.
Here and There.
In our missionary journeyings we visited the
west coast of the mainland, preaching to the Sea-
schelts, Squamish, and other tribes as far north as
Cape Mudge. On Vancouver Island our work
extended from Cape Mudge, on the north, to Race
Rocks, near Victoria, a distance of 160 miles.
In making a visit to the former place, with a
party of three men, we were again in imminent
danger of being lost. We had camped for the night
above Qual-a-kum and got an early start in the
morning, when a south-easter blew up. It was a
stiff breeze, but all was well until we got near to the
south end of Denman Island, where the lighthouse
now stands, when our sail, mast and all, broke away
from the socket, and it was a miracle that we were
not upset.
Some of our experiences were humorous as well
as trying. I took passage one day with Chief Tsil-
ka-mut, who with his wives and children was on his
way to the Fraser River, where the Indians congregated to pick and dry berries, and to fish and dry
salmon. The trip across was uneventful until in the
fog and darkness we lost our way at the mouth of
the river.
The chief put his pole down in the mud and
anchored his canoe, as he supposed, and we went to
sleep on board the craft. Next morning we found
we were high and dry in the mud on a bar that
seemed to be miles away from any water. Oh, the
mud, mud! There is nothing that compares with
the mud of the Fraser for slimy stickiness when the
tide is out. It was near noon the next day before
the tide again reached us, and there we were all
those hours in the scorching sun, a disconsolate
crowd indeed.
At that time there was no white man to be found
settled on the Delta lands of the Fraser. Soon
after this the Ladner brothers took up land on
the south bank of the river and gave their name to
the place. Then followed Ferris on Lulu Island,
. and Boyd and Kilgour on Sea Island, and others at
different points, every one of whom was voted a
fool for "taking up" these swamps with cat-tails
and bulrushes and frog-ponds. Now these districts
are covered with some of the most beautiful and
productive farms to be found in any part of the
world. The shores are lined with large canneries
for the packing of salmon, and thousands of people
occupy these old-time mud-banks.
An Old Croaker in a Canoe.
It is the easiest thing in the world to find fault
with people of whose conditions and circumstances
we know nothing. And sometimes a little taste of
the trials and toils which others have to endure is
the best cure for such unfair complainings. We had
155 r
an old friend, a Yorkshireman, on that coast, who
was very apt to find fault with others, and especially
with the ministers.
I Thoo knoa thease preeachers have good teams
wi' theeir fat salaries," he would say. And then,
seeing the gleam in my eye, he would hasten on :
" Ah dean't mean you, thoo knoas. Ah mean thease
men 'at ez t' big fat salaries ; they can sit roond an'
dea vary little."
Stop your noise," I would say to him. " I am
a preacher, and don't like to hear you find fault with
the ministers."
On one occasion he came to me and asked when
I was going to New Westminster. When I told
him and"inquired why he wanted to know, he said:
" Ah would like to gang wi' you."
i You can go with one understanding," I replied.
" Weel, what is that?"
" That you work your passage. I never take
deadheads with me."
" Weel, Ah thinks Ah can paddle a little bit," he
So the day came and off we started in our little
canoe, down among the lovely islands which dot the
west side of the Gulf, and then across. I was steering, an Indian sitting at the bow paddling, and our
old friend amidships. He was making a great
effort " to work his passage," but not being used to
that kind of thing, he seemed to work his whole
body in the effort of paddling, and soon became
very tired.
The day was quiet and warm, and we were mak-
ing straight for Point Grey, near the north arm of
the Fraser River. After he had pulled awhile, my
friend looked round, and said:
" Ah say! do you knoa wot Ah thinks? 'At point
deean't seeam to get onny nearer."
" Yes," I replied, " it gets nearer every stroke.
Pull away!  Preachers get used to this kind of life."
Then he pitched in again and made a great effort,
while we were quietly keeping stroke. We had not
gone far, however, before he turned again and said :
" Now, Ah can tell ye what it is, 'at point deean't
get onny nearer."
" Of course it does," I said; " every stroke brings
us nearer. We must push on to get in before it is
too dark." And we pulled on and on until nine
o'clock at night.
A little easterly wind was blowing out of the
mouth of the river, accompanied by a fine rain.
The tide was out, and it was difficult to find the
channel, as it was getting dark. We would run into
a sand-bank here and a mud-bank there, until finally
we got up the channel some distance and could see
the high dry shore of the river. After some considerable effort we got up the mud-bank with our
camping outfit, and on to a dry knoll, where we
started to make a fire. Gathering together some
blocks of cedar and other dry wood, we soon had
supper going.
All this time my friend was standing in the midst
of the rain, his hands in his pockets, shrugging and
shaking his shoulders, and remarking at intervals :
" Ah say, this is a nasty neet."
" The night is all right," I replied to him ; " stir
yourself and let us get something to eat."
Supper and prayers over, we lay down under our
tent, and, weary with the toil of the day, were soon
fast asleep. It was about one or two o'clock in the
morning when my old friend aroused me by shouting, " Ah say, t' water is comin' doon t' back o' me
neck." It seems that he had got his head close up
to the wall of the tent, on the weather side, and the
water was running right over his head and down
his back.
" Oh, stop your noise !" I said, I am afraid a little
impatiently, " and let me sleep. Preachers get used
to this kind of thing."
" Man, Ah can't sleep," he groaned, " t' water is
coomin' doon t' back o' me neck."
Next morning we were around bright and early
and off up the river. Sixteen or eighteen miles up
the old Fraser against the current required the
strength of every muscle, and all the elbow grease
we could put into it, to make headway at all, but
finally we reached Queensborough (now New Westminster) in safety.
A few days after I met our old friend and said,
" When will you be ready to return?"
" Ah'11 nivver gang back wi' you," he replied.
" Ah'll pay t' last dollar t' steamboat, an' gang roon
by Victoria.   Ah'll nivver gang wi' you."
It was an excellent lesson he had learned, for I
never heard him croak about the preachers having
a nice time after that.
158 " Who love the Lord aright,
No soul of man can useless find;
All will be precious in His sight,
Since Christ on all hath shined."
Many and varied were my experiences among
this people, some painful and distressing, some trying and toilsome, some bright and humorous, some
hopeful and encouraging.
The kindness of the Indians as well as the whites,
and their evident desire to do all they could for my
comfort, helped to lighten many a burden and make,
smoother many a rough pathway.
I was " in journeyings oft " ; sometimes on
foot, overland, or on the back of an Indian
" cayuse " (pony) ; more frequently by canoe, and,
occasionally, on the deck of a steamer. At one time
I was acquainted with nearly every settler within
the bounds of my large field—about 160 miles wide
by as many long.
After travelling some thirty miles and preaching
at different points on the journey, I arrived one
evening at an island where I had often preached
before. As the day had been stormy and I had
worked all the way, I was very wet. The old chief
and his wife, both of whom were very kind and
hospitable, made me welcome in their home. Piling
up wood, they built a big fire, and I hung my wet
blankets around the fire on poles to dry.
" How glad we are the * laplate ' (missionary)
has come," the old wife commenced to say, in an
undertone, as if to herself. " It is a long time since
he was here before. We forget many of the good
words he has said to us. Why don't you come
oftener, missionary, and tell us more of the good
story, that wonderful thing you tell us, about the
Great Chief on High who gave His Son?" And
then, as if recollecting the needs of her guest, she
said : " Oh, I must get some supper for him."
By this time she had a small basket that would
hold water, threw in some potatoes, gave them a
roll around in the water, and then put them into a
pot on the fire. Reaching down a dried salmon
from a pile which was stored on a platform over the
bed, where the cats and rats and other animals ran
over them, she gave it a big slap against the post to
knock the thickest of the dirt off, and then held it up
before the fire to warm and heat it, so that the skin
would peel off.
Very soon the potatoes were boiled and rolled out
in a little trough-like dish about two feet long, the
salmon was broken in pieces and laid on top of the
potatoes, and the whole was set before the Indian
boy and myself.
All this time she was talking away to herself:
" How good it is for the missionary to come. He
has come through all the storm, and we must be
kind to him."
Having washed our hands, I asked a blessing
upon the food, and were soon at our supper of
salmon and potatoes. We were sure that one side of
the salmon was fairly clean, for the skin had been
torn off it, and as for the potatoes, they had their
jackets on, but we had to eat without a bit of salt.
As we were working away quietly at the supper,
the old man was stirring up the fire, keeping away
the dogs, and doing everything he could to make
things agreeable. All at once the old woman came
and crouched down by my side, saying : " Oh, the
good missionary, we are so glad you have come. I
will help you to peel your potatoes," And suiting
the action to the word she seized hold of one out of
the dish, and with about two scratches of her long
finger-nails she tore off the jacket of one potato, and
then handed it to me, saying, " Oh, it is so good of
you to bring us the blessed light. I'll help you, I
will, to get your supper." We would very much
rather have peeled our own potatoes, and had her a
little at a distance, with her wretchedly dirty-looking
Suddenly she sprang up, as if a bright idea had
occurred to her, and exclaimed, " Oh, I had nearly
forgot. I kept it for the missionary when he should
come." Out of a big old box she brought something tied up in a piece of dirty looking rag.
" I have kept this till the missionary would come,"
she said, as she opened out before us a little flour—
possibly the only flour they had had for months, as
the people did not see much flour in those days. " I
will make them a cake, I will."
We were too busy to notice very closely what she
was doing, but we found in a few moments that she
had the little flour in the same basket in which she
had just washed the potatoes. We saw her give her
hands a little rinse in the water, but we were never
sure whether she threw this out or whether it was
the same into which she put the flour. Soon, however, it was worked up into a paste, and taking it out
in her hands she pressed it into a kind of cake. I
had a chance then to notice her arms, bare from the
shoulders, looking on the outside very black and
dirty, and on the inside, where her cooking had removed some of the dirt, a little less dark. No wonder the cake was such a piebald looking thing!
This black and white cake was thrown into a hole,
which she had scratched among the ashes, to bake,
while our hostess got some hot water and made a
kind of tea from certain herbs which they used, and
which went under the name of " Indian tea." In a
few minutes, the cake, now quite baked, was poked
out with a stick, broken in pieces and laid on a dish
before us. With this and the tea, as dessert, we
finished our supper.
Some have asked, "Did you eat it?" Certainly,
we ate it, with all the relish we could, and would
never have thought of refusing it after all the kindness shown by the dear old people of the house. It
is true that these people were dirty beyond description, but out of a warm heart they did their best for
us, and endeavored to make us comfortable, and we
would have been meanly ungrateful if we had not
appreciated it.
After a little religious service we retired to rest,
not on the feather-bed that was offered us by the
old chief, but with our own blankets, now warm and
steaming, laid on some smooth rush mats; and
though the dogs crowded around and seemed to
quarrel as to which should be the nearest to us, and
the fleas swarmed in such numbers as to drive sleep
far away from one who was not used to them, we
managed to rest very comfortably.
Millions of Mosquitoes.
In the Fraser Valley, besides the fleas, we were
besieged by myriads of mosquitoes, that bred in the
swales and sloughs and low marshy places, particularly after high water. They literally swarfnecf?
and in some places rose in clouds as one passed^
millions of them.
I noticed in my journeys on horseback that my
little pony, otherwise gentle and manageable, would
jump and run at times in an unaccountable fashion,
At such times the mosquitoes would strike my face
and forehead like a storm of hail. Then it occurred
to me that the intelligent little beast only ran when
passing through the spots where these insects
mostly swarmed, and henceforward I let him gallop.
The settlers tell of dogs and calves being killed by
the mosquitoes, and one reputable gentleman maintains that he had in his possession at one time a cow
whose tail had been so bitten by these venomous
pests that it dropped off.
An amusing incident took place at Langley on one
of my visits to the river.   The high water was just AMONG THE AN-KO-ME-NUMS
going down, and the mosquitoes were very bad. I
was invited to stop over night at the home of a
settler, who had just built a little log house of two
rooms on a ridge in front of a great swale. The
father and mother slept in a little room partitioned
off, and as the son-in-law was away, their daughter
occupied the room with her parents and left to me
the bed the young people had. The room was open
to the shingles, and the hot day and cooling evening
had brought in the little pests in swarms.
Our friends told me they had no mosquito-netting,
but mother and daughter had invented something
that they thought would enable the missionary to
have a good night's rest. They had taken a crinoline dress, spread like a full moon, all starched up
and ready to use, and tying a rope to the waist, they
hung it up over where my head and face were to be,
and tacked it to the clothes and round the pillow.
After prayer and good-nights I was given a candle
and told to be careful in getting into bed, and to
keep this thing tucked well around.
I did as I was told, dragged my weary limbs in
under carefully, tucked the skirt around and was
soon off in a doze. But, oh, the merry noise overhead, up and down and round and round, until
finally they found their way, in some manner, inside
my shield. They commenced to bore into my forehead. I stood the torture for a while, thinking it was
but a few stragglers who, when they had had their
fill, would leave. They, however, loaded up, and
spread their wings with a whirring buzzing, as if
to call others to the feast.   It seemed as if hundreds
accepted the invitation. I tried to keep still, but all
to no purpose. About two o'clock I thought if I
could get the candle lighted and inside I could burn
them out and no others would get in, and I might
have the coveted rest. I lit the candle, got it safely
inside, and commenced the work of slaughter. The
candle was soon black with the dead insects.
The first thing I knew, the dress was ablaze all
around me. In my half sleepy condition I had got
too near the light starched material, and it caught
like tinder. I jumped up and dashed it out with my
hands, burning my fingers ; but, oh, the poor dress !
I fought the mosquitoes in the dark the balance of
the night.
Next morning the old lady asked me how I had
slept, and the whole thing came out. They laughed
uproariously at my expense, and I—well, I made
the best of the joke.
It was on this river that I met two " tenderfoot "
Englishmen who were out looking for land. It was
in the height of the mosquito season, and, unheeding
the advice given them to take the steamer, they
started off in a canoe, as they said, " to prospect and
see the country." Some days after I met them in
Chilliwack, and the sight they presented was, to say
the least, ludicrous. They had evidently been in the
water, for the legs of their pants had shrunken until
there was quite four inches between the ends and the
tops of their socks. The mosquitoes had been getting in their work, for their necks and legs and
wrists were red and swollen. It was like perpetual
motion, for while there were few mosquitoes
around them, their hands were kept going scratching the bitten parts and making dashes at imaginary
" A Parson after His Bitters."
The comical appearance of these " new-comers "
after their trip up the forest-lined banks of the
Fraser reminds me of an occasion when I, too, must
have presented a spectacle worthy to be laughed at.
I was making my way one evening from North
Saanich to Victoria, about twenty-one miles, over a
trail, poor enough at the best, but rendered all the
more difficult by the presence of a dense fog. The
little bit of daylight was soon gone, and the darkness which followed was impenetrable. I groped
my way along, part of the time on hands and knees,
to find the road.
Presently I came to a burning log heap a little off
the trail, and as the night was very cold I warmed
myself by the fire. Doubtful of my ability to go
much farther in the darkness, I lay down beside the
fire and slept—slept and dreamed that it was a fine
day and I was having a delightful trip. Suddenly
awakening, I felt that I must press on if I would
catch the Enterprise at eight o'clock that morning
and proceed on my proposed visit to the mainland.
Daylight opening through the fog enabled me
now to see my way, and on I sped, until finally
I reached the outskirts of the city. I met many men
going out to work, who would look at me strangely
and nudge each other. When this was repeated
several times I felt sure that it was something in my
personal appearance which was attracting their
Coming to the bridge tavern I stepped in. Just as
I entered the door I overheard a girl say to her
mother, " There's a parson come in to have his bitters." Nothing daunted, I refused the proprietor's
offer of a drink, and asked for a chance to wash.
I soon discovered the cause of the merriment of
the passers-by. My face was black with the dust of
the road and the smut of the brush-fire; my collar
was dirty and wilted with perspiration; my necktie was awry, and all looked as if I might have been
on a spree.
But my exertions were all for naught, for the boat
I had hoped would leave at eight a.m. did not get
off for a week, so dense were the fog and smoke.
Indians Respect the Sabbath.
Very early in our work among the Indians we
were encouraged by a circumstance which gave us
to see that our teaching of the commandments was
having its effect upon them.
An exploring party, sent out by the Government,
was preparing to start from Nanaimo across the
Island. They hired a number of Indians as packers
and guides. After having engaged these natives
they hung around the town for some days doing
nothing. When the week came to a close they immediately became active, and wanted to make a start
on Sunday morning, but the Indians refused to go.
The first intimation we had of the difficulty was
through a letter, written by the head of the party
and published in the Daily Chronicle, in which he
stated : " Thanks to Brother Crosby, the Indians
would not travel on Sunday, so we were detained
another day."
The fidelity of the Indians in keeping sacred the
Lord's Day was, until recent years, a source of great
joy and satisfaction to us. Sometimes, it is true,
they were not able to keep an accurate record of the
days. But their sincerity of purpose is shown by
the means some of them took to be sure of which day
was the Sabbath.
Py-uke, the old chief of the Penelkuts, started
soon after the missionary came to tie a knot on a
string for each day in the week, and a double knot
for Sunday. This he kept up for years, until he had
a great ball of this native twine wound together as
his time-keeper. This he kept, and if any members
of the tribes around were in doubt about the day of
the week, they would refer it to old Py-uke.
We have in later years been grieved to see thousands of fishermen at the mouth of the Fraser fishing
on Sunday. The law in the case has had its damaging influence upon the Indians as Well as the whites.
There is no excuse for a law which permits fishing
after six o'clock Sunday evening except that of commercial greed and indifference.
" Still Thy love, O Christ, arisen,
Yearns to reach all souls in prison;
Down beneath the shame and loss
Sinks the plummet of Thy cross;
Never yet abyss was found
Deeper than that cross could sound."
—J. G.  Whittier.
After repeated invitations from the Indians of
the Fraser River, who spoke the same language as
the Nanaimos, and who had heard, through Bros.
Robson and White, of my ability to speak to them
in their own tongue, I made my way in a canoe
across the Gulf of Georgia and up the river to New
Westminster, where I found thousands of natives
gathered for the celebration of the Queen's birthday.
This gave me the privilege of preaching to hundreds who would not have heard otherwise. One
evening fully a thousand people were gathered on
a square where two streets crossed, listening eagerly
to the message of life, many for the first time, in
their own language.
On this occasion I went up the river as far as
Mission, calling at Kat-sey, Langley and Whon-
nock, preaching to the people, who everywhere
received me gladly.
The joy of these poor people in hearing the grand
169 m
old Gospel story, and their earnest pleading for
more out of " the Good Book," fully repaid me for
the toils of the trip, and led me to seek an early
opportunity to return.
My next visit was made during the time when
the country was suffering from a scourge of smallpox. The disease had been brought from 'Frisco,
and was rapidly spreading among the Indians.
Everyone felt interested in stamping it out. The
Government supplied me with a stock of vaccine,
and I passed down the coast of Vancouver Island,
vaccinating all whom I could reach. Near Saanich
I came across a very bad case ; one had died, and his
body was left on the beach covered with brush,
while another poor fellow, a mass of disease, was
still alive and sitting on the bank beside a little fire
of bark. We asked him how he got along for food
and drink. Near him was a little canoe fastened by
a long rope, and he told me that when the tide was
up his friends would come from their village, about
five miles away, and put food in the little canoe and
push it towards him. Here the poor fellow stayed
until he finally recovered.
The Indians dreaded the smallpox, and not without reason. On one occasion, it is said, there came
a thousand Hydahs in their large canoes from
Queen Charlotte Islands, and camped in and about
Victoria. The smallpox got among these people
and spread with great rapidity. Alarmed for the
safety of the citizens, the city council met and
ordered the northerners to leave immediately. The
next day they started up the coast, carrying their
dead and dying with them. At Nanaimo they were
forbidden to land, and on and on went that awful
funeral procession. At every camping place some
would die, and they piled up wood and burned them,
and then went on. One canoe was found floating in
the Gulf, a veritable funeral barge, for everyone
was dead on board. Out of that one thousand members of a fine race only one man reached Queen
Charlotte Islands alive.
A Medical Missionary.
On my mission of mercy I passed up the Fraser
River and vaccinated hundreds of people. Some
came to my preaching who might not have done so
but for the purpose of being vaccinated. And thus
even the smallpox, in some measure, opened the way
for the Gospel.
On this trip we went as far as Sumas and Chilliwack. At the latter place, while preaching to a
small band of Indians and telling them the old
story in their own tongue, the chief Atche-la-lah
stepped forward and laid down a dollar and a half.
" Missionary," said the old man, " we want you
to build a church here. You have opened our ears.
No one ever told us the good word in our own language before; the other laplates " (priests) " did not
talk to us like this."
This was really the first subscription to the first
Protestant church in the Chilliwack Valley, where
now there are six Methodist churches for the whites
and four for the Indians.
Others came with their donations, until $12.50
171 r
lay on the table, and this of their own free will,
for I had not talked to them about church building.
During the week which followed I went from village to village throughout the valley, visiting and
vaccinating all who needed it. At every opportunity I preached to the people and told what the
old chief and his " see-ay a " (friends) had done
towards a church, until the donations increased to
nearly $100.
The following Sunday afternoon, after having
preached to both whites and Indians in another part
of the valley, I came to Squi-ala, a village at the
mouth of the Chilliwack.
Big Jim, an Indian, met me in his canoe, to take
me across the river. I took the saddle off my horse,
put it in the canoe, and the intelligent little beast
swam behind us over to the other side.
" Me think not many come to-day, Mr. Crosby.
Priest he come." The priest, having heard I had
made this appointment, had evidently intended to
be there at the same time.
" Well, Jim," I replied, " suppose you and I and
Jesus, we will have a good time.   Ring your bell !"
He rang his little hand bell, and nearly everybody
crowded into the big house where we were going
to have service. Among those present I found a
number of white men who had come, some of them,
a long distance, bringing their half-breed families
to be vaccinated. As soon as the service was over
I said to the people, " I am going away to-morrow,
and if any wish to be vaccinated, now is the time."
Numbers came forward, and uncovering the arms
172 ■
of themselves and their children, I went to work,
scratching and putting on the vaccine. While thus
engaged, a knock was heard on the door, and presently it opened and someone, very abruptly and in
broken English, said, " Is Mr. Crosby here?"
" That is my name, sir," I replied.
" I would like to speak to you," said the priest,
for it was he.
" When I get through my duty I shall be glad to
speak to you, sir," and I went on with my work.
This complete, I bade the people good-bye, warning them not to listen to what the devil might say
when I was gone. He would very likely say that
I had taken their money. I expected to be back in
three months, and would then see about building a
church. In the meantime I would leave the subscription list with Mr. A. C. Wells, a respected
settler  whom they all knew.
Going to the door, I met my brother the priest.
" You wish to speak to me, sir," I said.
" Yes, I want to say that you take all my converts away."
" I beg your pardon ! I didn't do anything to
your converts."
" But," he persisted, " these are all my converts
that are here."
" Well, sir, I only preach the Gospel to them, as I
do wherever I go," I replied.
" I don't care about your Gospel; it's no good,"
and the eyes of the little priest flashed as he continued, " You compel one man to give money to
help build your church."
" Now, sir, I would like very much to see that
man," and I continued, " I am in a hurry, but if you
let me see that man I will be very much pleased."
So he called up a happy-looking lame man, named
" Now, Tom," I said, " you speak in Chinook,
for this ' father ' won't understand you if you speak
in your own language; and speak the truth, Tom."
" Nawitka " (yes), Tom assented. "Spose nika
halo delate wawaw, Saghalie Tyee solleks kopa
nika" ("If I do not speak the truth, God will be
angry with me ").
" That is right, speak all the truth, Tom."
" Well, you came to my house this last week, and
you say to me, ' Tom, what you think about building this new church ?' I say to you, {I am a Catholic' You say, ' Oh, very well, Tom, suppose you
not give anything, all right.' But you asked me
where my brother is. I tell you my brother is very
sick in the house. You go in and talk very kind
to my brother about Jesus, in our own language,
and sing, oh, so nicely, and then you say, ' Let us
pray,' and you kneel down and pray in my own language, and you pray and pray ; by and by my heart
get very warm, when you pray; and when we get
up, I tell you I give $2.50 to help build your
Turning to the priest I said, " Now, did I compel
the man to give money to my church?" and jumping
on my horse, I bade him good-bye, leaving all thé
white  men  and  the   Indians,   who   had  crowded
around to see what was going to be done by the two
priests, to judge for themselves.
I rode on to my evening appointment, where I
had promised to preach to the white people. On the
way, whether it was the excitement of my interview, or something else, I do not know, but I forgot
both my sermon and text. I expected to preach to
a number of settlers, some of whom had families by
native women, to whom they were not married.
By the time I reached the farm-house my mind
was directed to the text, 1 No man cared for my
soul." And if ever the Almighty helped a poor
mortal to preach He did it that night. Thoughts
seemed to come right down from heaven, pouring
through my soul to the people around me. I spoke
of the judgment day, when the cry would come
from these dishonored mothers and children, " You
sinned with us and dragged us down, but you never
cared for our souls." God helped me fearlessly to
preach the truth, and then applied it with convicting
power to their hearts.
At the close of the service I spoke of how the
Indians had started a subscription to build a church,
and said that if anyone there would like to help they
were at liberty to do so.
" Well, I think I can give you five dollars after
that heat," said an old man, whom some thought the
worst in the crowd. Several followed his example
and gave five dollars each. Thus the first church in
Chilliwack was subscribed for by Indians and
whites alike, and for a time served the purpose for
Early next morning I left for the coast of Vancouver Island.
The Beginning of the Revival.
In January following, 1868, I left my home and
work at Nanaimo, attended some rousing missionary meetings in Victoria, crossed the Gulf, took a
canoe manned by Indians, and went with them up
the river.
We pushed on up the Fraser as fast as we could,
for it was getting very cold. A biting north-east
wind was blowing right down the river, and before
we reached Sumas one of our men had his fingers
frozen, and they all begged of me to stop. We
spent one night at Sumas Landing, and now the
weather moderated a little.
" Where are you going?" said a friend, just as I
was leaving on a preaching tour through the valley.
" I am off to Nah-nates, fourteen miles away, at
the head of Sumas Lake, to preach to the Indians;
then back to Tso-wallie (Cultus Lake) ; then to
Skowkale, and on to Squi-ala, all Indian camps, and
back to Sumas."
"All right! Go and see the Indians," said my
friend, "but be sure and do not go to the Upper
Settlement, as the men have declared they will do
you some bodily  harm.    You know that fellow
Harry , he is the leader of the party.    They
declare that they will fix you on account of the sermon you preached to them the last time you were
up there."
" Good-bye ! Pray for me !" I replied, and off I
went across the prairie as happy as mortal could
Continuing on my way, who should I see ahead
of me but this very Harry  , travelling alone.
As I drew near to him I lifted up my heart to God
that He would give me wisdom to deal with the
man in the best way.
When I met him I threw out my hand and got
his in mine. Shaking hands with him I said,
" Praise the Lord, Harry, you and I are not in hell.
We might have been there long ago but for the
loving Saviour. Oh, how He has loved us." And
still holding him by the hand, and looking him in
the eyes, I continued, " Harry, do you love the
Saviour? You ought to love Him. He died for
you."    By this time his eyes began to moisten.
" How are the boys in the Upper Settlement?" I
went on.
" They are all jolly and well, sir," he replied.
" Tell them that next Sabbath, if all is well, I
w^nt to preach to them, and I hope they will all
" They will be glad to see you, Mr. Crosby," said
the now thoroughly subdued Harry.
Bidding him good-day, I continued on my journey, praising the Lord that I had had such a good
opportunity of meeting Harry alone.
These were the days of no roads, only blind trails
and no bridges, so that if you could not ford the
streams and sloughs you might swim. Woe betide
the man or horse that got into a miry hole. I made
my first trip through to Chilliwack from Sumas
over what was called the trail. Poles had been laid
lengthwise over the sloughs to enable one to cross,
and it was really amusing to see the little horses
walk the poles. But, oh, dear, if you had a horse
that could not walk the poles !
After visiting the Indian camps as I had planned,
I got back to the Lower Settlement Friday night,
where we had a prayer-meeting. On Saturday
night we had a never-to-be-forgotten service at a
bachelor's house near Miller's Landing. The old
man seldom swept his house, and to save the trouble
of washing dishes, when he had used them on the
one side for a time, he turned them over and made
use of the other side. We had to sit on boxes
around the fire, which was built, like any Indian
camp, in the centre of the floor, the smoke finding
its way out through the cracks. I trust the dear
Lord blessed the poor man. He died soon afterwards.
Sunday morning I preached to the white people
of Sumas from the text, 1 Thy word is truth." At
the close of the service I asked all who wished to
talk about religion to stay behind. Several
remained, who showed by their conduct and conversation that the Lord was at work upon their hearts.
During the afternoon I went on to Chilliwack,
and at night preached to a crowd which filled to
overflowing the two rooms in the private house
where we held our service. The Spirit of God was
present in mighty, awakening power, and the whole
neighborhood was moved. Not an unkind word
was said to me, in spite of all the threats I had
heard of.    For six weeks the work of grace continued, until nearly all the people were converted.
The interest awakened led to a desire to improve the means of communication between the
two settlements. Early the following week " a
bee " was called to make a road, with pole bridges
over the sloughs, between Sumas and Chilliwack,
which was really the first road in the settlement.
In the midst of all this I was taken with congestion of my left lung, and had to be kept in the house
and treated with a steam bath of hot water and
cedar boughs and mustard plasters for several days.
However, the next Sabbath I took four services,
and for weeks following preached night after night,
and have never had anything the matter with my
lungs since.
The awakening was so general that, far and near,
nearly everyone was affected. A man came four
miles one morning, while I was ill, to tell me that
though he had taken his horses out that morning to
work, he was so troubled in his soul that he couldn't
work, and then and there gave his heart to God,
At once he became so happy that, as he said, " the
mountains looked brighter, the birds sang sweeter,
and all nature seemed to be praising the Lord," and
he thought he must come and let me know of his
new-found joy. On the way he called at the cabin
of a neighbor and found him on his knees praying.
Another man came several miles after midnight
to beg me to get up and go home with him, for, as
he said, he could neither sleep nor eat, and he feared
that he would die if a change did not soon come.
179 r
" Praise the Lord !" I shouted.
"Man, don't talk to me like that; I shall die."
" There is no use in my going with you all that
distance," I replied. " I have heavy work to do.
But I am glad the Lord is troubling you." (He had
a native woman and several children. I was not
ordained at the time, and could not legally marry
He still begged me to go with him and talk with
the poor woman as well.
| Will you promise to be the legal father of those
children the first chance you get?" I urged.
I Yes, I will do anything," he said, and there was
agony in his voice, " for I shall die in this state and
be lost."
" Then the Lord will convert you on credit," I
said. The poor man was made happy right there.
A short time after, when an ordained minister came
up, he married five such couples.
We had some wonderful testimonies during these
One night a man got up and said : " I came here
with my neighbor to scoff. But as the meeting went
on he said to me, ' Jim, let's get out of this ; it is
too hot.' l No,' I said, ' let's stick it out.' And now,
friends," he continued, " I wish you would pray for
me; I want to find this religion you speak about."
Another old man testified and said : " I was a
soldier in the Russian war, and one time was called
up to be court-martialled for being drunk and disorderly. All I had done was to sing a little ditty
in the presence of my chief officer, and he thought
I was drunk. When the investigation was held, my
character in the past was examined. They looked
up the records and said, ' Sergeant H— has a clean
sheet, he has never been before the court in the
past, let him go free.' My friends, when this
revival commenced I felt that I was very wicked,
and the sins of my life came before me. But now,
bless God, I have got a clean sheet ; Sergeant H— is
forgiven through the blood of the Lamb."
Another poor man, who had been an Independent
in England, said : " When these meetings commenced I thought, ' What are these people making
so much fuss about? I am a member of an Independent church, and I am good enough.' But the
Spirit of God showed me how far I had wandered,
and now I am at the feet of Jesus and trusting in
God alone for salvation."
A quaint Roman Catholic Irishman attended the
meetings and used to give his testimony : " Be
jabbers ! you are the best praste that ivver came to
these rayjans," he would say. " No praste ivver
blessed the paypul like you have. I wish the dear
man would stay wid us and get some young gurrls
to come here, and then mesilf and some others of
the poor b'ys might get a wife." (He was a
bachelor, and remained one.)
One day during the revival a fellow came to the
door and asked the kind lady of the house for
Crosby. She said, " Come in." " No," said he, " I
want to see Crosby out here." I was called to the
outer door, where I met a man who, like many of
his neighbors, was living a wicked life, and thus
181 r
setting a very bad example to the poor dark pagan
I Come out here. I want you. I'd like to thrash
you," he cried out.
" Come in, come in," said I.
" No, I want you to come out here. I'll thrash
you if you said so-and-so about some of my brothers
and neighbors."
"Well, isn't it true?" I replied. "If it is true,
what are you mad about ? You know it is true, and
God will judge you for such conduct. If you do
not repent you will have a hot place in hell. So you
had better get at the confession of your sins to God.
If you do it sincerely He will help you."
The poor fellow went away in a changed mood
without thrashing the preacher. He was afterwards converted and became one of my fast friends.
After the meetings had been continued about
three weeks, Rev. Arthur Browning came to our
assistance, and some memorable services were held.
The glorious work of grace, having thus begun
by the good hand of the Lord, continued until the
whole valley was aroused, and many of the most
hardened sinners were awakened and converted.
When I left, shortly after, to attend the District
meeting, there was a class of thirty-one members,
nearly all the white people in the valley.
Looking back upon this marvellous work of God,
so unexpected by human foresight, of which I had
been a favored witness, I am led with adoring gratitude to exclaim, " What hath God wrought ! Not
unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto Thy name
give glory." 182 CHAPTER XVII.
" Oh, it is great, and there is no other greatness, to make
some nook of God's creation a little fruitfuller, better, more
worthy of God; to make some human hearts a little wiser,
manfuller, happier,—more blessed, less accursed ! It is a
work for God."—Thomas Carlyle.
One of the most beautiful districts in Canada is
that which is bounded on the west by the Sumas
River, on the south and east by a spur of the Coast
range of mountains, whose easternmost peak, Mt.
Cheam, rises in majestic grandeur 8,500 feet, its
summit crowned with perpetual snow, and on the
north by the Fraser River, and known as the Chilliwack Valley. The district is divided into two parts,
that through which the old Chil-way-uk River flows
being properly Chilliwack; the western portion,
along whose edge the Sumas River flows, being
called Sumas. To the south-east another smaller
valley is situated, divided from the main section by
a low range of hills, through which the Chil-way-uk
finds its way by a narrow pass at Vedder Crossing.
The united valleys contain upwards of 80,000
square acres of the richest soil to be found anywhere
in the world. A yield of sixty bushels of wheat,
or of sixty bushels of oats to the acre is quite
common, and some idea may be had of the marvellous fertility of the soil when a meadow has
183 r
been known to produce for twenty-five consecutive
years an average of three and a half tons of hay to
the acre, and that without having been re-seeded or
fertilized otherwise than by the pasturing of cattle.
On the levels and along the foothills an ever-increasing acreage of orchards—apples, pears, plums,
prunes, peaches and cherries—may be seen, and
vegetables of all kinds are grown in rich abundance.
This garden spot, beautiful for situation, the joy
of all those whose good fortune it is to live there,
was at one time the home of great bands of Indians
belonging to the Flathead nation. Where to-day
there are eight small villages, there were thousands
of people governed by certain great chiefs, whose
authority was respected to a great extent throughout the whole valley. Their numbers have been
reduced by disease and by their terrible tribal wars.
The Indians from Cowichan and the coast made
periodical incursions, massacring the people and
burning their property. Their enemies were not
always successful, for on one occasion, when the
young men of the valley had gone down to work at
Langley and Victoria, and had secured their pay in
blankets, as was then the custom, the Cowichans
became enraged at this interference with what they
considered their labor market, and, gathering a
large war party, they went up the old Chil-way-uk,
prepared for the work of murder and destruction.
They were met, however, with a stout resistance,
their canoes were all captured and destroyed, and
those who were not killed were forced to make their
way home again stealthily and on foot.
The Indians still have traditions of the visit of
the first white man to the river, and of how the
Gospel first came to the ChilliwTack.
We have in this valley what many call a model
settlement, whose people are law-abiding, and whose
business is carried on prosperously without any
liquor licenses. Not one was ever granted, and the
people do not want one to-day.
In 1808, when Simon Fraser made his way down
the great river which now bears his name, he landed
opposite Chilliwack, at the mouth of what is now
known as the Harrison River. Here he was received
by hundreds of the natives, who thought, as they
said, that " he was the pure white child of the sun."
The chiefs carried him upon their backs and set him
down on mats in the place of honor, and then
danced to the sun-god for days in token of their
appreciation of the visit of his son. It was not long
after that they discovered, when rum and disease
followed in his train, that the white man was not the
pure child of the sun they had imagined.
The  Visit  of  the  First  Gospel  Messenger.
The Indians of Chilliwack have their own story
of how the Gospel first came to their beautiful valley. Not long after I commenced my labors
among them and began to teach them the translations we had made of some of our hymns, sung to
those grand old tunes which have been used for
scores of years, they told me they had heard those
tunes before. Many years before there were any
settlers in that part of the country, or any white
missionary, a visitor came to them from the big
river, away to the south.
Sna-ah-kul—for that was the visitor's name—told
them that some years before a white man had come
among his people to the south and had taught them
out of a great book the words of God. His message
had been a great blessing to the people, who in large
numbers turned from their old ways to God's way.
Following him a few years after, another man came,
dressed in a garment reaching to his feet, " just like
a woman," who taught the people to worship with
candles lighted in the day-time.
Sna-ah-kul remained a little while, telling them
about God and His great love, and cheering their
hearts by the singing of some beautiful hymns, and
then he returned to the south once more. Before
leaving he said : " The man dressed like a woman
will some day come to you, but do not listen to him.
Wait a while until a man with a short coat comes
among you who will teach you out of the Book."
And so numbers of the Indians, when I came
among them reading from the Book and preaching
unto them in their own tongue, claimed me as the
one whom Sna-ah-kul years before had told them
would come.
In all probability this Indian messenger was one
of the converts of the Rev. Jason Lee, the pioneer
missionary to the Flathead nation, who had been
sent out by the Methodist Episcopal Church, and
had established himself among the Chinooks on the
Columbia as early as 1833. The influence of his
work was felt all along the Puget Sound country,
and some of his native helpers might easily have
found their way from Nisqually, through Sumas to
the Chilliwack.
The first visits to the Indians of the Fraser were
made by Revs. Ebenezer Robson and Edward
White, the former of whom commenced school
work among them while stationed at Hope, some
forty miles above Chilliwack. These brethren both
visited the Chilliwack before I came there, and told
them that a missionary speaking their own language
would soon be sent among them.
The revival which proved such a blessing to the
white settlers of the valley left a similar influence
upon the Indians. They saw the wonderful change
which had taken place among the white men, and
many of them became strangely aroused and were
savingly converted. Chief Hal-lal-ton, of Skowkale tribe, was a notable instance of the power of
Divine grace. He was a chief of the old school, and
when he was converted he brought his whole tribe
with him. Big Jim, the brawny canoeman, who
more than once ferried me across to his own village
of Squi-ala, " Captain John " Sua-lis, of Tsowallie
(Cultus Lake), and others, were among those who
were brought to accept Christ and to become His
faithful followers.
Sua-lis (Capt. John) was a hereditary chief, and
at the time of my coming was one of the most
influential chiefs in the valley. His conversion had
a great influence upon others. When I first knew
him he was a poor victim of the white man's firewater,  but  the  power  of   God  transformed  this
187 f
drunken, gambling, semi-heathen chief into a devout
follower of Jesus and a diligent, persevering
worker for Him.
He delights to tell of his early experiences and of
what Christ had done for him. In the old days he
had charge of a crew of Indians, freighting for the
Hudson's Bay Company, and hence his name,
" Capt. John." In the days of the great stampede
to the Fraser and Cariboo gold mines he carried the
miners in his canoe across the river, and accumulated thereby upwards of $2,000. But, on an unfortunate day for him, he learned the taste of strong
drink, and it did not take long for him to lose the
whole of his savings. He began to fear that he
would lose his power as a chief if he did not stop,
so going to the priest who had preceded us, he
told him his troubles. The priest gave him a crucifix, and told him to hang it about his neck and to
look at it when the temptation to drink came on, and
it would help him. But the young chief found no
peace from that quarter. He heard of the coming
of a missionary who could speak to him in his own
language, and on his arrival Sua-lis came to hear
him. Immediately he received bitter opposition
from the priest, but he paid no attention to him and
went again to hear the messenger. Finally he
attended a camp-meeting at Maple Bay, and there
gave himself up fully to Christ.
The conversion of so many prominent men led to
the  most  bitter  persecution   on  the  part  of  the
Roman   Catholic  priests, who   laid   claim to   this
whole district.    The character of the persecution
was illustrated by a picture, about twelve by twenty-
four inches in size, which they had painted and
scattered among the people. At the upper corner
of this picture was the representation of a beautiful
place labelled " Heaven," with the Catholics ascending to it with wings, and in the lower corner the
lurid flames of hell-fire, and Crosby and his friends
going head-first into it. Still the work spread, and
scores of these poor people were led into the pure
light of the Gospel, and many of them still live
devoted and exemplary lives.
First Camp-Meeting.
At the District Meeting held in the spring of 1869
it was agreed that I should leave Nanaimo and take
up the work at Chilliwack, which the recent revival
had opened up. Consequently I left my bachelor
quarters adjoining the little Coal City, and taking
my books and trunks by canoe, and crossing the
Gulf of Georgia, made my way up the Fraser River
to Chilliwack, there to take charge of the Indian
work, and the white work as well, until a missionary could be secured for the latter.
It was warm weather in April, and the hot days
were followed by cool nights, when going up the old
Chil-way-uk River, after a week's trip, there came
on a pelting hail-storm, and I was drenched to the
skin. When I reached my destination I was shaking with fever and ague, and for nearly six weeks
I lay upon my bed, sometimes in a delirious state.
No doctor could be reached short of Yale, and his
answer to our telegram was to " give a blue pill
every four hours," until he could come down.
When he arrived he found me prostrate from the
effect of too strong medicine. He looked at me and
left, and sent in his bill for fifty dollars. For some
seven or eight days following they did not think I
could live, but the careful nursing of my dear
friends, Bro. and Sister Wells, and others, finally
won, and I recovered. The fever, however, settled
in my leg, and I had to go with crutch and stick all
When I was getting about the chairman, Rev. E.
White, accompanied by David Sallosalton and
Amos Cushan, came up and held a field meeting on
the ridge over the Achelitz River, on May 24th and
25th, and I assisted them as best I could.
Camp-meetings have been among the most successful means of reaching the Indians and bringing
them to the light. In June of that same summer the
first camp-meeting ever held in British Columbia
took place, on what afterwards became historic
ground, at Maple Bay, some miles below Nanaimo.
Lumber had been brought from Saanich Mills with
which to build a church, and this lumber was used
to make " tents " for this first camp-meeting.
The steamer Enterprise brought numbers from
Victoria and New Westminster to the camp, and
Indians from Chilliwack, Sumas, etc., as well as
from Nanaimo, gathered in large numbers. It was
at this camp-meeting that " Capt. John " SuaTs
was converted. Following this meeting we had a
mighty spiritual upheaval at Nanaimo, which gave
us great encouragement after the toils of the years.
The second camp-meeting at Maple Bay took
place in July, 1870, and in September of the same
year the first camp-meeting was held in Chilliwack,
on the banks of the Fraser River, where the old
Chil-way-uk joins the larger stream. In the midst
of preparations for the gathering, clearing off the
ground, etc., a heavy rain came on. We had got
the loan of a great raft of lumber which was to be
floated down the river to the Sumas to build barns ;
but the raft got past us, and we feared we should
lose it. We stood up to our waists in water to hold
it, and then, after finally anchoring it, had to pack
the whole 22,000 feet back to place.
It was a grand camp-meeting, however, the forerunner of many blessed seasons of grace which the
people of the valley have enjoyed. The steamboats
chartered for the occasion brought large numbers
of whites from Victoria and New Westminster,
while Indians from the north and from the island,
as well as a great many from the locality, were
there in large numbers. It was a time long to be
remembered. Here " Old Capt." from the head of
Sumas Lake was converted, and David Sallosalton
preached his steamboat sermon, and Amos Cushan
his never-to-be-forgotten sermon on the final judgment. These two native helpers were mightily used
of God in touching the hearts of and arousing their
own people.
Education of the Children.
Early in our work at Chilliwack we realized the
importance of reaching and educating the children.
But as they were scattered at such distances, and
so few children in any one place, the only real
teaching we could do was when we got them all
together in a big rough house, put up for that purpose, near the Achelitz church, and here we gave
them instructions every Sabbath. It became evident
to all concerned that we must have an industrial or
boarding school.
At the District Meeting held in the spring of
1872 the matter of establishing an industrial school
was discussed, and a resolution setting forth the
needs was placed on record in the minutes. Growing out of this discussion the following resolution
was submitted and passed, and forwarded to the
Mission Rooms :
" In view of the foregoing resolution, and the
responsibility of establishing an industrial school on
the Chilliwack, and believing that a sum of not less
than $1,000 is requisite for the erection of mission
" Resolved, That this meeting desires hereby
strongly to recommend the Missionary Committee
to make a grant of $500 for the above object, and
at the same time to obtain a similar amount by
This recommendation, however, was not adopted,
and it was not until some years later that anything
practical was accomplished, when Rev. C. M. Tate,
who was appointed my successor, seeing the necessity of getting some of the children at school, gathered a number into his own home and then enlisted
the  aid  of our  Woman's  Missionary  Society in
building a boarding school at Sardis.
The first building was destroyed by fire, but Bro.
and Sister Tate persevered in their work, and to-day
we have the well-equipped and beautifully-situated
Coqualeetza Industrial Institute, the product of
their consecrated zeal and enthusiasm.
The Visit of Dr. Punshon.
In 1871 we had the joy of a visit to the Pacific
Coast by the President of the Wesleyan Methodist
Conference in Canada, the Rev. Wm. Morley
Punshon, D.D. His sermons and lectures are still
talked of by those who had the pleasure of hearing
him. Broad-minded, warm-hearted man that he
was, he soon captured the affections of all who met
him. One evening, after lecturing to the people of
Nanaimo on " Daniel in Babylon," he startled me
by saying, "Bro. Crosby, you are to be ordained
next Sabbath in Victoria."
I went home to the little cabin, but did not sleep
that night. Next day we were to take the party
in a large canoe to one of those beautiful islands
that abound on the coast, for an outing, and there I
had a chance to talk with the President. I told him
I had not slept that night, and that I did not wish
to be ordained.
When pressed for my reasons, I told him, in the
first place, that I had hoped to go to college for a
time, as the brethren had agreed, and in the second
place, I wished to pay a visit to mother and friends
at home; and furthermore, I did not feel myself to
be good enough to take such solemn vows, and
would prefer to continue as a lay worker.
" Well," said the good man, " I am pleased,
brother, to hear you speak so frankly. Now, as to
your going to college, I can appreciate your feelings, and we would like to see it, if it could be.
But if you should go for one year you would want
to go for four, and many of these poor souls will
be gone by that time. You have the language of
this people, which is more than a college can do for
you, and we believe it better that you should go on
in your effort to save and help them. We will
see that you get a chance to go home; and as to
your feeling an unfitness, that might be one of our
strongest reasons for urging you on to ordination.
You had better leave the matter to God and His
Church."    I had no more to say.
Next Sabbath came, and the old Pandora Street
Church was crowded to the doors with an enthusiastic audience, who listened attentively to a marvellous sermon by Dr. Punshon from the text, " And
ye shall receive power." At the close I experienced
one of the most solemn moments of my life, when
in the presence of the large audience I stood alone
and gave myself in solemn vow to God and His
work, and was ordained by the laying on of hands
of the gifted President of the Conference and other
ministers.    This was in April, 1871.
" As laborers  in Thy vineyard
Still faithful may we be,
Content to bear the burden
Of every day for Thee.
We  ask no  other  wages,
When Thou shalt call us home,
But to have shared the travail
Which makes Thy kingdom come."
Under instructions from the District Meeting, in
October, 1872, I left by steamer Onward for a
journey to the vast interior, parts of which had never
been visited by a Methodist missionary. Along the
Thompson River and through the Nicola valley
were large bands of Indians, mostly heathen, who,
while speaking a different language, were nevertheless of the same stock as those among whom I had so
long labored.
I took with me, as interpreter, a young man, a
native of the Thompson, who had lived on the Chilliwack since he was a boy, and hence spoke the An-ko-
me-num language as well as his native tongue. We
were each provided with a little Indian " cayuse " or
pony, which we shipped by steamer as far as Yale.
In two weeks and three days we travelled 482 miles,
* The   Bunch   Grass   Country  was   named   from   a   very
nutritious grass abounding in that section, which grows in
tufts, and on which cattle live and thrive all winter.
preaching twelve times in English and fifteen times
to Indians. The kindness of the people and their
eagerness to hear the truth were remarkable. One
Indian chief and some of his friends followed us
fifteen miles to hear me preach again. We preached
in court-houses, hotels, stores, log cabins, Indian
shacks, and by the wayside, and everywhere the
people " heard us gladly."
At Yale I met Sandford Fleming, Principal
Grant and their party, just newly arrived from
their arduous overland trip across the continent.
The story of this trip is found in Principal Grant's
famous book, " Ocean to Ocean."
The journey up the old historic Cariboo road was
exciting and romantic. We had several narrow
escapes from having our horses go over the bluffs.
Had they gone over they must have fallen in some
places a thousand feet or more into the rushing
waters of the Fraser River below. The road hugged
the precipice, and in many places was not wide
enough to permit two waggons to pass. The great
stage coaches, which used to convey passengers to
and fro over the 400 miles into Cariboo, would rush
by with break-neck speed, while our little ponies
stood aside on rocky ledges to permit them to pass.
Here and there we met the large ox teams, of five or
six yokes, returning with empty waggons from the
interior, their huge flapping canvas covers frightening our little animals until it seemed as if we should
not be able to get them by.
The first Sunday I preached in the Court House
at Lytton to a mixed  crowd of white men and
Indians. The latter seemed eager to hear the truth,
and right gladly did I tell them of Jesus.
At Cook's Ferry, near the outlet of Nicola valley,
we found the paymaster of the C.P.R. survey, a kind
gentleman and an acquaintance of mine from Victoria, who called out and asked me to take dinner
with him. After our horses were attended to, I
gladly joined my friend. Passing through the barroom, where crowds of men sat gambling, with
whiskey barrels for their tables, I said, " Gentlemen,
as soon as I am through dinner I would like to
preach to you."
" All right, parson, we'll be ready and glad to
come," they replied.
Dinner over, I walked out, when the men cleared
away their cards and set an empty barrel at one end
of the room for a pulpit, where I preached to them.
I was greatly blessed in delivering my message, and
as soon as I had finished they came forward and left
their collection of bills and silver on top of the
" The Genuine Article."
Next morning we rode to what was called Oregon
Jack's, some fourteen miles distant, a wayside inn
on the road to Cariboo. We tied our horses to the
post outside, and, as we walked in, the man behind
his little bar said :
" Good morning, Bishop, you'll take a glass of
brandy, won't you ?"
" No, thank you ; I don't take anything stronger
than milk or tea," I replied.
" You don't?" said he, with an oath. " You are
the first parson who has come to these regions that
didn't take his bitters."
Ignoring his remarks, which I took for what they
were worth, I said to him, " I will have my horses
taken in and fed, if you will."
" All right. Take the Bishop's horses and fix
them," he called out to a little fellow named Jim.
Dinner was soon ready, and my Indian and I sat
down, one at each end of the little table, and Oregon
Jack sat about midway on the side. While we enjoyed the bacon and beans, he kept up a running fire
of questions.
" By the way, Bishop, I know you. You are the
man that set the country on fire down there some
time ago."
"Country on fire?" We had great bush fires on
the Lower Fraser in those days, and thousands o£
acres of magnificent timber were destroyed, and I
thought Jack was about to fix one of those fires on
me. " I set no country on fire," I said. " What do
you mean?"
" Oh, I mean what you Methodists call a revival.
You had a revival in Chilliwack not long ago; we
heard all about it. The young fellow who was at the
telegraph line used to be blessing the Lord every
night that such a sinner was converted, and told us
all the news along the line about your revival."
" By the way," he continued, " is that old fellow
that had a bald head, who used to swear so that we
thought the heavens would come down on us when
he drove his ox team up here, has he got it?"
" Yes," I replied, " he is converted, and very
" You don't mean to say so!" said he. " Does it
stick ?"
" Yes," said I.
" Well, that other fellow who stuttered so that he
could hardly get it out, has he got what you call
" Yes, he is very happy."
" And how does he tell it ?"
" Why, strange to say," I remarked, " when he
tells his experience in class-meeting, or prays, he
never stutters a bit."
At that Jack opened his eyes wide, and with an
even more pronounced and deliberate drawl and
nasal twang, he said :
" You don't mean to say so ! Why, now that must
be the genuine article."
By this time Jim, the little Scotch hostler, who
had stood in the doorway an attentive listener to the
conversation, was moved by the story, and began to
brush the tears from his eyes.
Dinner being over, I said to Jack, " Now, after
partaking of this good dinner I would like to pray
to God, from whom all blessings come."
" Certainly," he said ; " you will pray, your reverence."   And he knelt down with the rest of us.
As soon as prayer was over he shouted out
" Amen !" as if he had been a clerk in a church, and
then jumping up, said :
" Now, you will have a glass of brandy, Bishop,
won't you ?"
" No, thank you !" I replied ; " I will have to be
going now."
When we went to get our horses we found they
had about a peck of hard barley in the trough. The
little fellows did not know what it was, and it was
well that they did not eat it.
When we had got started the little Scotchman
who had helped with them shouted after us and
waved his hand. I turned back, when he handed me
a five-dollar bill, saying he was sure I needed some
money, and he wished it was ten.
Who knows but some memory of early boyhood
days had been awakened in his heart which would
lead him back again to the God of his fathers? It
is thus our bread is cast upon the waters to be
gathered after many days.
The Fruit of Missions.
I had hoped to spend the next night at the home
of my friend  S , but next  day I met him  and
others going to the Ashcroft races. He expressed
his regret at not being home to receive me, but
begged me to stay at his place that night.
I preached at Cache Creek, and arrived at my
friend's ranch about evening. His Chinese servant
met us, and I said to him :
" John, I met your master to-day, and he told me
to stay here all night. You are to feed my horses,
and I am to stay here until morning."
He seemed doubtful as to my honesty, and in a
somewhat  peremptory  tone of  voice   said, " You
savee Mr. S ?   You savee Mr. S ?"
" Yes," I said, " and he told me to stop here tonight."
" You savee Mr. S ? You savee Mr. S ?"
he repeated, each time growing louder and more
" Yes," I replied, in a strong and decided voice,
" I know Mr. S , your master, and I want you
to get my supper, for I am going to remain here
Finally convinced, he took the horses and put
them in the stable, and returning to the house, very
soon had a fine supper for us, of boiled chicken and
other delicacies.
After supper I said to him, " John, do you know
Jesus? Have you ever heard about Jesus?"
" Me savee little bit," he said.
" Then let us pray to God, who has given us all
this good food and all good things," said I.
We knelt down; I prayed, and my Indian friend
prayed in his own language; then, to our surprise,
" John," the Chinaman, at once began to pray in
Chinese, and, as I should think from the earnestness
of his utterances, made a marvellous prayer. Under
the blessed influence of grace we had a shouting,
happy time.
As soon as we got through, John looked at me
very earnestly, and, in an excited tone of voice, said,
" Me savee Mr. Piercy, Canton, China, allée same
you. Canton, China, one man, allée same you. Mr.
Piercy, tell me about Jesus. Mr. Piercy, Canton,
China, allée same you." And as he spoke he grew
more excited with his effort to convey to me the fact
that in Canton, his native city in China, he had been
led to know Jesus through the instrumentality of
Mr. Piercy, a missionary like myself.
Suddenly it dawned upon me that the Mr. Piercy
referred to was the same George Piercy who, many
years before, had left my native village in England
and had gone as a missionary to China. His consecrated devotion had left a deep impression on my
boyish mind, and I had ever since held him in the
highest esteem as a missionary of the Cross.
How little we know of the far-reaching character
of our influence. Here in the interior of British
Columbia, thousands of miles from the scene of his
labors, I met the gracious results of the work of this
saintly servant of Christ.
" And they shall come from the east and from
the west and from the north and from the south, and
shall sit down in the Kingdom of God."
A Service at  Kamloops.
Next day we continued our journey, by way of
Savano's Ferry, on the north side of the lake, visiting and preaching until about opposite Kamloops,
where we had to swim our horses to reach the other
On the bank of the river I met two old friends,
members of Parliament, who invited me to take dinner with them. I told them that I would gladly
accept their invitation as soon as I had stabled my
horses and had found out where I was to preach
that night.
Kamloops  was  then a very small place.    I met
with a Mr. McKenzie, a local store-keeper, who said
I might preach in his kitchen. I then went back to
the restaurant to take dinner with my friends. After
a good repast I walked to the billiard room and
called out:
" Gentlemen, we are going to have preaching in
Mr. McKenzie's kitchen at eight o'clock, and I want
you all to come."
" All right, we'll be there, parson," they answered.
A lively chap, with a big overcoat on, followed me
out of the door. He was about three sheets in the
wind, and was trying to put a bottle of whiskey into
his big outside pocket as he staggered along, the
whiskey bottle slipping past his pocket every time he
"I know—(hie)—who you are. (hie) You are a
Methodist parson (hie) I can tell by the cut of your
jib," said he, in a maudlin voice.
" You have struck it.   Who are you?" I replied.
" My name is Bill H ," said he.
" You sinner, you ought to be away home with
your family. I visited them to-day, and they are expecting you."
" You're right, I ought," he replied.
Having called at other places, we were soon at
Mr. McKenzie's house, and I said to my drunken
companion, " This is the place for preaching."
" I will go to church with you," said he, and
staggered in. Some man pulled his coat tail, as he
was going to the front of the room, and bade him
sit down.
There were about twenty intelligent looking men
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in the congregation. After the sermon, which was
listened to with respectful attention, I began to give
out that beautiful hymn :
" Praise ye the Lord, 'tis good to raise
Your hearts and voices in His praise."
when Bill jumped up and, with an oath on his lips,
" I'll give this parson five dollars ; how much will
you give, Jack?"
They said, " Sit down, you fool, the parson is not
through yet," and pulled him down by the tail of his
Just as the service closed, another man jumped up,
took his hat, knocking in the crown, and said,
" Now, Bill, where is your five dollars ? Down with
your dust, every one of you, and let us give this
parson a good send-off."
A few minutes after, the storekeeper came with
his two hands full of bills and silver, and handed it
to " the parson " as the collection, while another
man seized the bottle of whiskey out of Bill's pocket
and said, " Look here, parson, this is the fellow that
was so anxious to give you a collection, and see what
he had in his pocket."
Bill turned around, and declared by all that made
him that it was not his bottle, but that the other man
had put it in his pocket. The collection was $22.50,
a token of the hearty generosity of those rough-
mannered but large-hearted men of the West, who
respected religion though they were not in the enjoyment of it themselves.
In the Nicola Valley.
Next morning we were off down the Nicola
valley, through a most beautiful country. I
preached to the Indians and settlers that night, and
next day met a band of Indians with their chief, and
preached Christ to them while sitting on horseback.
They seemed delighted to hear the story of love, and
for years they kept up the request that we send them
a teacher.
With the visit to Nicola our missionary tour was
at an end, and we made our way home again as
quickly as possible. In all we had travelled nearly
500 miles, at an expense of $59.50, and without
asking anyone for a cent, we had met the expense,
and had fifty cents to the good.
My report to the Chairman of District recommended the establishing of a mission both among the
white settlers of the Nicola valley and the Indians
of that district. Shortly afterwards a missionary
was sent to the settlers of the Nicola, but though the
poor natives made fervent appeals for help, next to
nothing has been done for them.
On my return my soul was stirred within me by
the news that my dear friend and son in the Gospel,
David Sallosalton, had during my absence taken ill
and passed away to the better land. During his last
moments he had asked for me repeatedly, and expressed the wish that he might see me before he went
to heaven. We were not to meet here again, but
some day we shall greet each other where they never
say good-bye.
i Thou  wast  their  Rock,  their  Fortress,  and their might ;
Thou, Lord, their Captain in the well-fought fight;
Thou in the darkness drear their one true Light.
—W. W. How.
Among the crowning glories of all missionary
endeavor are the living and dying testimonies of
men and women who have been reclaimed from vice
and heathenism by the power of Divine grace.
Among the An-ko-me-nums were many who witnessed a good confession and passed triumphantly
home ; too many, indeed, for any extended reference
within the limits of one short chapter.
There are some, however, whose character and
service caused them to stand forth as mountain
peaks, to whom we must refer. Among these were
Amos Cushan, our first convert and native missionary ; David Sallosalton, " the Boy Missionary," and
Amos Shee-at-ston, our first class-leader among the
Songees; old Captain Tsit-see-mit-ston, of Sumas
Lake, Snak-wee-multh, Thit-sa-mut, Shee-ah-tluk,
August Jackson, and several others.
Amos Cushan.
Kook-shin (or Kicking-foot) was our first convert to Christianity, and for many years a most
valuable assistant in the work among his people.
He was a youth of some twenty-five years of age
when first I took up my work at Nanaimo. As a
lad Kook-shin was trained in heathenism, and later
when a young man learned to love the white man's
" fire-water."
As a servant in the employ of the Hudson's Bay
Company he had acquired a little knowledge of
English, and for some time served us in the capacity
of interpreter.
His conversion was very clear, and so real to him
that in after years he always referred to it with
delight. When the enemy came to tempt him as to
his conversion, to use his own words, " I pointed
him to that place in the mission-house garden on
the spring morning when I was working, where
God spoke peace to my soul and made me, oh, so
happy. For a long time before this I had had two
hearts, but now Jesus became chief in my heart.
Only one chief now.   Jesus is my great Chief."
When he was baptized he was named " Amos
Cushan," and almost immediately became a local
preacher, and to the end of his life was always concerned for the salvation of his people.
No one who has not known the awful power of
the drink habit can fully appreciate the struggle he
had with this demon. More than once he was overcome, but finally he prevailed over his enemy and
triumphed over every foe.
As an agent of the Missionary Society he spent
many years in evangelistic labors among his own
people on the east coast of Vancouver Island and up
the Fraser River, and later visited the west coast of
207 F
the island, the first Protestant missionary to carry
the Gospel to Alberni and the country of the Ats.
He made many long and trying trips, preaching in
the open air and sleeping where he could, which
finally, after many years of toil, brought on consumption, to which fell disease he finally succumbed.
Notwithstanding the fact that he lingered long, and
the poor body was racked with pain and suffering,
yet his spirit was always bright ; he was never heard
to murmur. " In fact," says one who visited him
during his last sickness, 1 it was a great comfort to
be with him, he was constantly praising God."
It was Cushan who stood by the missionary in
the great battle in Qual-la-kup's house, and where,
it is said, they saved the lives of half-a-dozen people.
At camp-meetings and on other occasions he often
preached with great power on the terrors of the law,
from such texts as, " In hell he lifted up his eyes,"
and " These shall go away into everlasting punishment." He was an earnest advocate of missions,
and was in demand at the various missionary meetings held in the district.
During his last illness a big potlatch was held at
his native village, which brought many hundreds of
heathen together. And here he never lost an opportunity to urge all to give their hearts to Jesus. Just
before his death he called all his children to his side,
bade them good-bye, and urged them to be good and
serve God. " All, all is peace. Jesus is very
precious," were among the final words of this
devoted servant of Jesus Christ.
He was generally respected, and a large number
p.  206
p.  20c
p.   22Ç
attended his funeral. Some of the hardest hearts
were softened as he was laid away until the resurrection morn.
" Servant of God well done,
Thy glorious warfare's past,
The battle's fought, the race is won,
And thou art crowned at last."
The Boy Preacher.
I will never forget the bright, pleading little face
that looked up into mine one sunny morning in the
year 1864, and prayed to be received into my home
and heart.
" My father and mother are bad. They don't
want me to be good and go to school; they would
rather have me painted up and tattooed and learn to
dance and hunt and fight and go in the old way ; but
I want to do as you say and be good, so I think
if I live with you I will be good," said the dear boy.
My missionary heart was touched by his entreaties,
and David Sallosalton, whose heathen name was
then Sa-ta-na, was received into the mission house,
and there trained for the work which in the providence of God was to result in so great a harvest for
the blessed Master.
He applied himself to learn, and became a devoted
Christian. On his reception into the church he was
baptized under the Christian name of David.
Shortly after he was put on the plan as an exhorter,
and faithfully and most successfully he assisted in
the work of the mission.
For a time he labored in his own native village,
and then was appointed as lay helper at Chilliwack.
Later on he became assistant missionary to the
Songees Indians at Victoria, under the Chairman,
Rev. William Pollard.
He was most enthusiastic in his interest in the
camp-meetings, which had become such an institution in our mission work both among Indians and
whites. His zeal and devotion and his eloquent and
fervent, appeals contributed in no small measure to
the success of these gatherings.
A spirit of utter self-forgetfulness marked the lad.
Through storm and sunshine he plodded on, daring
dangers innumerable, and facing death in many
forms. He was tireless in laboring for the salvation of his people, going from band to band, and
seizing every opportunity to preach unto them Jesus.
Hundreds were impressed by his fervent words, his
native eloquence, and his pure and Christlike spirit,
and were led to give themselves to God.
David became of great value also in interpreting
for the missionaries who might not know the language of the Indians. He was for a time a class-
leader at Skowkale, in the Chilliwack Valley, and
he had another class at the head of Sumas Lake,
twenty miles away, and a third class at Squi-a-la
camp, which were the blessed fruit of one of the
camp-meetings. Probably it was in his work
through this valley that David contracted the cold
which was destined to end his earthly career. It
was often necessary for him to swim rivers and
ford creeks and sloughs and rushing torrents, in
order to carry the glad tidings of salvation to his
benighted brethren. Once on such a journey he
nearly lost his life. He was miles away from any
dwelling, and was attempting to cross a slough at
the head of Sumas Lake. The ice, being weak, gave
way, and down he went.
He says, in telling of his mishap : " I plunged and
broke the ice again and again as I tried to climb out
upon it. The water was so cold that I was becoming
chilled and weak, and I thought, ' Now, David go
to heaven, and nobody will know where David has
gone ' ; so I got my Bible with my name in it, and
threw it right up on the shore, so that I think when
somebody find it they will say, * Oh, David has gone
to heaven on the lake ' ; but just then, while among
the breaking ice, my feet caught on a sand-bar, and
by this means I struggled to the shore. I found my
Bible, and went on my way rejoicing again to be
allowed to preach to my people." Who will say that
Providence did not interfere to save one so useful
and so devoted to the cause of Christ?
David's preaching was very earnest, very forceful and original, and full of illustrations from
nature. One of his sermons was called his " Steamboat Whistle Sermon." We had the pleasure of
hearing this wonderful sermon at one of the Chilliwack camp-meetings, which he delivered in his
broken English to a crowd of white people gathered
at the meeting, and which we doubt not was the
means of leading some to the. Saviour.
A great number of white people and Indians had
gathered at the camp-meeting. An English service
was first held, followed by a service for the Indians.
Amos Cushan, the old local preacher, who was a
friend of David's, had preached to them his famous
sermon on the judgment, when, in response to his
invitation, the whole congregation rushed forward
to the rude altar of prayer, and then scores of people
with one voice sent up their cries and petitions to
heaven for salvation. After a season of prayer and
wonderful blessing a change was made in the exercises. By this time crowds of white people were
standing round the camp and at the doors of their
tents, looking on with amazement, and many of
them with their eyes filled with tears at seeing so
many of the red men anxious for pardon. David,
seeing them, seized the opportunity to preach, and
springing to his feet he began in his broken English
a marvellous and soul-stirring address to them :
" My dear white friends," said he, " you look at
our Indian people here, you hear them cry very
much, and you say, * What they make all that noise.
for, what make them feel so bad ?' Well, I tell you.
My dear people just heard about Jesus now, and
they all want to find Him and love Him. You heard
long time ago, some of you; you find Jesus long
time; you love Him. It all same as steamboat on
this river." (The camp was on the banks of the old
Fraser, and many had come by steamer.) "When
she going to start she whistle one whistle, then she
whistle another, and if you don't get your things
very quick and run, she whistles last time " (boats
whistle three times before leaving), " and she go off
and leave you behind, and you very sorry because
you too late. Now Jesus like that. He whistle, He
call, He whistle and whistle, and if you don't get
on board Jesus' salvation ship, you too late. I think
some my people get on board before some of you,
because they not afraid to repent and come oh
board. Now, my white friends, you hurry up, have
all your things packed up, be quick and get on board
or you be too late. I think some of this poor Indian
people go into heaven and you left out. Oh, come
on board quick, come on board, come to Jesus now !
This a very good ship, room for all you people, and
Indian people too, black and white; come now, all
No one could help being moved at the speaker's
strong, earnest appeal, a message from a heart burning with love for souls. Oh, how anxious he
seemed; how he pleaded for the people to come to
Jesus; how he sought to show them the need of
doing so, and of doing it right then.
We looked around when he had finished and saw
a number of the most hardened sinners in tears and
broken down by the earnest, loving, living message
of the young Indian preacher. Who can measure
the results of that strong and sympathetic appeal?
Never can it fade from my memory or its effect be
effaced from the heart. We feel that the Great
Shepherd alone can tell how many of His sheep
were found by the call given in that I Steamboat
Whistle Sermon " by His young servant on the old
camp-ground on the banks of the Fraser. One man
was saved that day who became well known as a
faithful worker among the Indians in after days.
This was old Captain Tsit-see-mit-ston, who lived
at the head of Sumas Lake.
David knew nothing of fear in the prosecution of
his work for the Master. Many a time, in the midst
of circumstances most trying, would he declare his
allegiance to Christ. Never was he ashamed of his
Saviour, and his young heart was so full of love
for Him that the influence was felt by all who came
near to his warm and faithful life. Although his
opportunities were few and his advantages limited,
owing to a lack of an English education, he was a
living demonstration of the fact that " God often
chooses the weak things of the world to confound
the things that are mighty."
On one occasion he was accompanying me on a
missionary trip which included a visit to a sick
Indian who lived up the Chilliwack River. When
we arrived at Skowkale, on the east bank of the
river, a priest came to the opposite side. He seemed
desirous of crossing the river (it was before the
river had changed its course at Vedder Crossing),
and as there was no bridge, and no canoe or boat on
his side, he called to the Indians on our side to come
over and fetch him. I told them to go for the man,
but they said, " Oh, no, we don't want that teacher
any more."
" But," said I, " it is only politeness to row the
man over if he wishes it; you do not need to listen
to him or follow his teaching, but you ought to be
kind and help any man when you can."
At last they were persuaded, and rowed across
after the man, bringing him to our side. When the
priest arrived on the bank of the river I said :
" Good-morning, sir, you seem to be travelling."
" Yes," said he, " I am going up to see a sick
man at the village above."
"Oh, indeed," said I; "my little friend and I
were just going to the same place."
" Then," said the man, in a mixture of French
and English, " you better not go, he is my convert."
" Yes," said I, " but I have been to see the sick
man before, and I thought of going again."
" Then," said he, " you people are all in the
wrong way; it is no good you go."
"Well," said I, "which way are you in? Here
is my chart," holding up the Bible. At this he got
angry, and said, " That book is no good."
All this time David stood quietly by without saying a word, but when he saw the man getting angry
he stepped up and said, "Mr. Crosby, I think you
gentlemen speak too much your own words. Very
good, I read some out of God's Word." So he read
some striking verse out of his little Testament.
This made the priest very angry, and he tried to
snatch the book out of the boy's hand, saying, " He
can't read; he is only a little Siwash " (Chinook for
Indian). " It is only something he had committed
to memory, the little Siwash."
" Yes," said David, " that's so ; me little Siwash,
but this book tell me if I love Jesus and work for
him, when I die I go up to heaven, and I live with
Jesus up there. Me little Siwash, but me love
Jesus; Jesus my friend, Jesus my King; Jesus save
me and help me to be good and not get angry. Cannot I read?" and taking out his Bible he turned to
passage after passage, as if God had inspired and
told him just where to turn the leaves, and read :
" Therefore, being justified by faith we have
peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ."
" There is one mediator between God and man, the
man Christ Jesus." And again, " The blood of
Jesus Christ, God's Son, cleanseth us from all sin."
" He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved,
but he that believeth not shall be damned." And so
he went on, reading passage after passage, slyly
hitting, without apparently knowing it, one after
another of the errors of the priest's own Church,
until the countenance of the latter was a study. It
changed to purple, and from purple to livid, in a
very short time, until his indignation mastered him,
and he made off up the river bank; not, however,
before our young Indian, turning over the leaves of
his Bible, repeated, very significantly, the passage,
" The wicked flee when no man pursueth, but the
righteous are bold as a lion." This courageous
action on the part of David fired the zeal and
enthusiasm of all the Indians, and gathering
together they commenced to sing a part of one of
Wesley's hymns, which they had learned at the
"Jesus, the name high over all,
In hell or earth or sky;
Angels and men before it fall,
And devils fear and fly."
And just as the priest, with the wind blowing
strongly against him, hurried rapidly up the bank
of the river, with his long coat-tails flying in the
breeze, the last line of the verse was ringing out on
the air, which is a translation from the Indian language in which it was sung, " The devil gets afraid
and runs."
We are informed by a lady who often entertained
Sallosalton that one day he was going to visit the
Indians who lived across the Chilliwack River.
Having arrived at the bank of the river he saw an
Indian on the other side, and called to him to come
across and row him over with his canoe. The man,
being a Roman Catholic, refused to do so, so David
took off his clothes, tied them in a bundle, placed the
bundle on the top of his head, plunged into the river
and was soon on the other shore. He then dressed
himself, and went on his way rejoicing that he was
able to carry the blessed light to his heathen people.
Nothing could daunt our young hero, nothing discourage his young heart. He was wholly given up
to his work for the Master.
On the occasion of one of his visits to the head of
Sumas Lake he met a white man whom he had
known in Nanaimo. This man was one who had
known the grace of God but had wandered from the
fold, and he thought to cause David some discomfort by his talk.
" David," said he, " what are you doing here, so
far away from your home? We don't see you in
Nanaimo any more.   What's the matter with you?"
" Nothing," said David, " I am simply preaching
to my people."
" Oh, you're preaching, are you ? Preaching for
the Methodists, I suppose ? How much do they pay
you ? You know some of these preachers get good
pay; how much do you get?"
" Oh," said David, " you think me work for nothing ? You think me get no pay ? By-and-bye me get
great pay. Me get great crown up in heaven. Jesus
pay me. Me be a king up there. Oh, yes, me get
pay by-and-bye, me get great pay." This set this
poor old backslider thinking, and we hope it was
the means of leading him back to Jesus Christ, from
whom, by his worldliness and selling of whiskey, he
had wandered so far. David was not in the least
disturbed by the man's remarks, but marched on,
singing, " There is a happy land, far, far away."
None could have a higher motive than this for
his life's work. To David in all his work came the
glorious hope of the heavenly welcome, which,
beaming brightly on his earthly way, chased away
many shadows that might otherwise have lingered
there. Sunshine and joy seemed ever present with
him, and made him a most desirable companion,
while his deep religious convictions gave the influence of holy thought and motive as an additional
claim to the fellowship which others were privileged
to have with him.
The Rev. Morley Punshon, D.D., before the
British Conference of 1873, gave a good description
of this incident, and of Sallosalton's work. He says,
in speaking of him :
" In British Columbia I met an Indian, one
of the most eloquent men I ever heard. If I had
not met Sciarelli (a Hindu), I should have said he
is the most eloquent man who ever stood before an
audience. He was only seventeen years of age, but
a youth of very great promise, who rejoiced our
heart with the prospect of long-continued usefulness, but whom God loved so much that He took
him out of the world after a short time of most
earnest and successful labor upon the Fraser River.
This young man, David Sallosalton, wrought a
great work among his countrymen."
The End Came All Too Soon.
At the last camp-meeting David attended he was
feeling quite poorly. For some time he had been
sick, for the hard trips he had taken through storm
and tempest were having serious effects upon his
frail constitution, and yet his zeal had brought him,
even under distressing difficulties, to his last camp-
meeting. He had fought hard for the Master during these years, and now he was seen to be breaking
down in health. One arm had been rendered
powerless by a stroke of paralysis. At this camp-
meeting of which we have spoken David, as usual,
seized an opportunity to tell his experience. A
great crowd of Indians and white people were
standing near, and David said :
" My friends, you see that little tree," pointing to
a little maple standing near by. " Well, when I first
came to camp long ago that tree was a very small
tree; now you see how it has grown; it is a strong
tree now. It is all the same with David's heart, it
grow every day, it get strong like the tree, but the
devil he try me when I come to this camp-meeting;
he say, * Now, look, you foolish boy, you go among
these Indians, you preach and travel around in ice
and cold, and do what the missionary want you to
do, and you get sick, and be no great man. Now,
if you had not done that, if you had stayed
home among your people, you had been a chief, a
great man, by this time. Now you go away from
your people, you preach; you say your people
wrong, your people all dark ; and now the old medicine men on the Fraser River not like you preach
so strong, and they make you sick and poor like
you be now.' But I tell the devil, ! You go away ;
Jesus is my Captain, He lead me all right; by-and-
bye I not be sick any more ; by-and-bye I be in heaven
with Jesus; no witch-doctors do me any harm.'"
Thus he went on addressing the people, and the
power of the blessed Spirit seemed to accompany
his words in great measure, and his face shone as
with a light from heaven, and he said, " Oh, my
friends, me think by-and-bye me not sick; by-and»-
bye me get to heaven ; no sickness up in heaven." Up
went both arms, one of which, through his paralysis,
he had not used for a long time, and he shouted
out with all his strength, " By-and-bye I shall have
wings ; I shall fly !" There were shouts of " Praise
the Lord," and " Hallelujah," all over the camp,
and many of the people shed tears of joy. All were
touched and deeply moved at this wondrously passionate appeal, and this bright hope for the future,
as also the miraculous movement of David's paralyzed arm. No doubt of his fitness for the glory
land, or his bright prospects of reaching it. Indeed,
he seemed to all to be living just on the border. The
camp-meeting broke up under a holy influence, for
one and all felt the power of one who was soon to
bid farewell to earth and pass over into the kingdom eternal. After this camp-meeting was over
David spent some days visiting his friends in the
Chilliwack valley, where he was always welcome,
and whose homes he brightened and blessed by his
happy experience. Then he returned to Victoria,
where he was employed as a native assistant. He
gradually grew worse, getting weaker all the time,'
and finally his spirit fled to the heaven to which he
had tried to point the way.
The Chairman, the now sainted Wm. Pollard, was
his superintendent, and watched over him to the
last. He said David's death was the most triumphant he had ever witnessed. In a letter dated
January 14th, 1873, he said: "The death of David
Sallosalton was a sad blow to this mission and to
the Indian work in general. He was deservedly
popular, and he was pious, eloquent and useful. He
was universally beloved and almost idolized by the
The late Rev. Cornelius Bryant, then missionary
at Sumas, who had known David from his childhood, in referring to his death, paid this tribute to
the worth of Indian Missions : " If no other had
been saved than David Sallosalton, our Indian
brother, whose glowing experience I heard in the
church a few months ago, and who is doubtless now
221 41
a glorified inhabitant of the skies, we had been well
rewarded for all missionary effort."
Mr. Pollard wrote the following obituary of him :
" The subject of this notice belonged to the
Nanaimo tribe of Indians, and he was born in
Nanaimo camp about 1853. His parents were
pagan, and David's early education was pagan.
About i860 our missionaries visited Nanaimo, and
the Gospel was introduced among the Indians; this
was a new era in David's history. He when a little
boy welcomed the messengers of mercy, and as far
as he could comprehend the light he walked in it,
but it was not until he was eleven years of age that
he was converted. He attended the mission school
then conducted by the Rev. T. Crosby, and was
the fruit of his pious and earnest ministrations.
This zealous missionary discovered in his pupil
piety and gifts of more than ordinary promise, and
spared no pains to train him to future usefulness.
David from the time of his conversion maintained
an unblemished character, and labored earnestly and
continuously to teach his countrymen the way of
life. In September, 1871, he came to Victoria to
attend the English school and act as assistant missionary to the Songees Indians. He made great
progress in his work, often preaching to them every
evening in the week, besides twice on the Sabbath,
and the Lord gave him great favor with both the
whites and the Indians. Great hopes were entertained that he might long be spared as a missionary
to his people. He was not only remarkable for his
piety, but had extraordinary natural qualifications
for public speaking in his own language. The Rev.
Dr. Punshon, who heard him when on a visit to
this country, pronounced him one of the greatest
natural orators he had ever heard. Last spring his
health began to fail, and though everything was
done to prolong his valuable life, yet it was evident
that consumption was undermining his constitution.
The only desire that he seemed to have was to live
that he might preach Christ. During his illness he
often spoke of heaven, especially as a place where
there would be no temptation, no whiskey, no devil.
Shortly before his death, when asked what portion
of Scripture he wished to have read, he said : I Read
to me the death of Christ. A few minutes before
he died a friend quoted the first part of the fourteenth chapter of John. He expressed great joy
that Christ had gone to heaven to prepare mansions
for his children, and said : ' In a very short time I
shall be in my Father's house.' He then closed his
eyes, folded his hands, as if intending to pray, and
thus fell asleep without a pain or a doubt, on the
29th of October, in the nineteenth year of his age,
David Sallosalton, the most perfect Christian we
ever knew."
The Old Captain of Sumas Lake.
Tsit-see-mit-ston, the old warrior chief of the
Sumas, whose home was at Nah-nates, round the
head of Sumas Lake, was a convert of our first
camp-meeting at Chilliwack in 1870. I remember
well the tall, rather fierce-looking man, who
impressed one by his stalwart, athletic form and
223 9Ê
proud bearing that he might have been a great hunter and a fierce fighter in his day. We learned
afterwards that he had been in many terrible scenes
of bloodshed. Years gone by, when the Coast
Indians came up the Fraser River on their slave-
taking expeditions, many a slave-seeker found his
death at the hands of this stalwart warrior. He
had a powerful frame and unflinching nerve, and
was alert and agile to the very end.
His curiosity was aroused when he heard the
people were camping in the bush, and so he, with
some of his people, came to attend the camp-meeting. As the blessed Spirit came in power upon the
Indians in that place, " Old Cap." (as he was called
by the whites) said: "I felt so miserable I did not
know what to do ; and when asked to speak my body
trembled and shook. It was not fear, for I had
never been afraid of anything. But what could I
say? I could not utter a word. And when the
good people saw how I was, they commenced to
pray for me, and led me to the foot of the cross,
where I laid down my burden of sin, and God gave
me a new heart. My difficulty in speaking was soo a
gone, and I felt that I wanted to talk all the time
in telling of the joy that had come into my soul."
The great old warrior would shout and talk, and
seemed never to tire of telling of the love of God
in his soul. He became a missionary to his own
people, and by precept and example pointed them
to the Saviour of men. He had the unspeakable joy
of seeing every adult member of his band make
public profession of conversion ere he passed to the
land of light and glory. We often stayed all night
at his camp, and night and morning he would call
all his people in to prayers, and it was then we had
times of refreshing coming from the Lord.
The old man was wonderfully energetic, and in
order to have all his people at church on Sunday—
for they had to journey a distance of fifteen miles
or more—he bought a number more horses, so
that he might have one each for them to ride.
These horses he kept on the prairie during the summer, and in the fall he had a lot of his young men
cut enough wild hay to keep them through the winter. It was remarked again and again that no matter how stormy the day, " Old Captain " and his
people would be seen at church.
Finally age told upon him, and one day he I fell
on sleep," and died happy in the Lord. Years have
gone by since he passed away, and we still see the
effect of his life upon his people. What a change the
Gospel makes from a savage to a saint.
The Redeemed Slave.
Snak-wee-multh, or Old Sam, was a native of
Vancouver Island, though in his boyhood he had
been seized in one of the many slave raids and carried away to the far north, where he remained for
years, until he had forgotten his own language, but
never lost his love or longing for the old home of
his youth. Long after middle life he found his way
back to his own tribe, but never recovered the fluent
use of his own tongue.
In youth he was trained in heathenism, and after-
wards acquired a knowledge of the still more savage
customs and heathen practices of the north people.
He was first in all dark deeds and in the heathen
dance among his people; and as he had many new
tricks of savage life to show them, which he had
learned while a slave, the dancers looked upon him
as a kind of demi-god, for, as they said, " he had
so much power, he could do more wonderful feats
than any one of them."
Sam kept on this way until he became very sick,
and as he lay on his sick bed I visited him, and had
the joy of pointing him to Jesus.
During this sickness he several times begged me
to give him some medicine to make him sleep. He
said he wanted it so strong that he would not wake
up again. He said he had heard the white man had
this medicine, and if he could only take some it
would be so good of me to give it to him. Again
and again did he beg for a sleeping-powder.
I told him I could not give him that kind of medicine, but if he would only give his heart to Jesus
he would then be happy all the time. I kept up my
visits regularly, carrying him simple foods from
day to day. Finally the light came in upon his dark
mind, and oh, what a change ! How he would
thank me and praise God for the comfort he had
in his heart!
For years he had been very fond of tobacco, and,
like most of the Indians, had used so much of it that
no one could come near him without noticing the
dreadful effects of it. Everything seemed to be
saturated with the smell of tobacco, and he would
use it the last thing before going to bed and the
first thing in the morning. After he was converted
he had a dream. He dreamed that One grand and
pure sat by his side and said, " You would have
been lost if it had not been for your wife "—she
had helped him to the light—and the pure One went
on to say, " You will have to stop the use of tobacco,
for if you get up to the shining gate, and the great
and pure One smells any tobacco on you, He will
send you away, as no one can go into that happy
place who smells of that stuff ; it is not so much different to rum and whiskey, so stop it or else you will
be lost."
Poor Sam had a great struggle, but he got the
victory. And finally, after months of sickness,
when he was sinking rapidly, he told us that " with
a clean mouth, and not with the smell of dirty
tobacco, he was going home to heaven, washed in
the blood of the Lamb, and had no doubt of a welcome in the skies."
And so, from that heathen house, with an earthen
floor, a poor cot, and heathen surroundings, the
scene of many a weird heathen dance and much
bloodshed, Old Sam passed away to the mansions
above. Oh, the power of the blood of Jesus! A
slave, a poor dark pagan, sa ved—a saint, a king !
An Indian Class-Leader.
Shee-at-ston was a native of the Songees tribe
of Indians, who lived opposite the City of Victoria,
B.C.   He was born about the year 1855.   He was a
high caste Indian, in the line of succession from
Chee-at-luk (old King Free-zee), the hereditary
chief of that district.
In his early life he was doubtless introduced to
all the abominations of paganism, and was, when I
first knew him, still carrying out the practices of a
real heathen life. He, with others of his people,
had become victims of the white man's fire-water,
being so close to a town where so many were ruined
by it.
He must have long desired a better life, for on
several occasions he found his way into the old
Pandora Street Methodist Church, Victoria, and
was asked by the kind usher to take a seat. About
this time the attention of a number of Christian
workers of that church had been directed to the
depraved condition of the Indians, not only at their
camps, but of the numbers who were wandering
about the towns in dissipation and shame, and they
were moved to take up work among the Songees
Shee-at-ston was one of the first to come to the
little Sunday-school which these Christians were
conducting. There he heard the word of life, and
after awhile gave his heart to God and was baptized, i Amos Shee-at-ston."
As soon as he became a Christian he built himself a neat little house, and moved out of the old
lodge with its associations of heathenism. Some
fourteen of the Songees Indians were converted and
formed into a class, which met in Amos's house, and
of which he became the leader.
His conversion to God created great excitement
and aroused a good deal of persecution from his
heathen people. Many a time evilly disposed ones,
who may have been put up to it by wicked white
men, would bring their bottle of the accursed firewater to tempt him again to drink, but by the grace
of God  he was kept faithful.
Amos was a great help to the workers after they
hired the old bar-room in town for evangelistic
purposes. He was always in his place at the time of
religious service, and ready to give his testimony to
the power of grace, either in the Chinook or in his
own language. Thus saved from heathenism and a
life of degradation and drunkenness, he was the
means of helping many of his friends to the true
light. His wife became converted, and her sister as
well. They afterwards lived happy Christian lives,
and then went triumphantly home to the skies. The
wife of Amos was christened " Sarah."
When the summons came to devoted Amos Shee-
at-ston, though sudden, he was ready to obey the
call. That terrible disease, the smallpox, had spread
among his friends in the | rancheree," and finally
seized our faithful and devoted class-leader, and in
a short time he exchanged the garments of earth
for the robes of heaven.
How gladly would we make extended reference
to many others who witnessed a good confession
and went triumphantly home, but our space will not
permit. There was true-hearted Charley Thit-sa-
mut, the chief who succeeded " Old Captain " at
Sumas Lake, who for twenty years lived such a
faithful life that whites and Indians alike bore testimony to his worth of character; and "Big Jim"
Shee-ah-tluk, of Squi-a-la, who also was one of the
converts of our first camp-meeting, an earnest-
hearted Christian, who always delighted to have
the missionary come to his house, and was ever
ready in the olden times to ferry the preacher across
slough or river in his canoe; and Chief Dick, of
Achelitz, quiet, conscientious and devoted; and
Thomas Sallosalton, the brother of David, who lived
a happy life among his own people till God said,
" Come up higher " ; and his sweet-spirited sister,
Mrs. Sunneah, who, when she was passing over the
river, called her friends to see the white-winged
angels who had come to take her home.
Then there was August Jackson, of our Victoria
Mission, who was converted to God in his youth
and became a most devoted assistant to the missionary. Besides his work in the church, he was a council-man in the Songees tribe, and much respected by
all who knew him. I know Brother Tate hoped he
would be called into the work as an agent of the
church. He married a bright girl from Coqualeetza
Institute, at Chilliwack, and all seemed to promise
fair, when, by an accident in the saw-mill in which
he worked, he received a wound from which he
never recovered. He died July, 1903, at the early
age of thirty-three years. Bro. Tate, his pastor,
speaking of him, said, " He was, without doubt, one
of the best men I ever knew."
And, finally, we must mention poor old Annie
Lay-why-eton, who died of smallpox after success-
fully nursing her son through that awful disease.
She was a sincere member of the Church for many
years, and in her eagerness to hear the Word used
to trudge in feebleness from Kultus Lake, on the
Upper Chilliwack, to the church at Skowkale, a distance of about five miles, and back. She was blind,
and had to cross the river on a single log. The
very last time she attended church she spoke at the
class-meeting, and told how she thought that morning she could not get to church, but she felt such
a longing desire to have her soul fed once more that
she made the attempt. Coming to the log she
feared she could not get across, but looking up to
God for help, she got down on her hands and knees
and crawled over. What a rebuke to the careless
indifference of many professed Christians to the
privileges of religious worship.
We rejoice as well in the faith and devotion of
many who are still with us, among whom are Capt.
John Sua-lis, who for thirty-five years or more
has been our faithful native assistant at Chilliwack,
and Chief Wm. Sapass, our devoted class-leader at
Skowkale. When the " roll is called up yonder,"
we are persuaded many will answer to their names
who went up to the glory-land from the various
bands and tribes, of the An-ko-me-num people.
Before leaving Chilliwack and Sumas, the kind
friends of that valley gathered to bid farewell, and
presented me with the following address, which I
have treasured in loving memory of the precious
years spent with them and among the Indians of the
Fraser River. I insert this letter because I believe
my readers will sympathize with me in my declaration of the exceeding comfort and encouragement
which it gave me in the prosecution of the work to
which I had devoted my life.
Sumas and Chilliwack,
September 22nd, 1873.
To Rev. Thos. Crosby,—
We wish to take the opportunity of your leaving
this district for Ontario to express our hearty
admiration of the untiring efforts you have put
forth in the work of evangelizing the natives of this
land, a work in which you have been eminently
blessed by God. But as you have materially helped
the work of God amongst our own race by preaching to the scattered settlers in various parts of this
province, and especially so on this mission, which
you were mainly instrumental in founding, we beg
to assure you of our sincere sympathy and love as
you. leave us on a visit to the mother churches of
old Canada, and to your friends and relatives living
there. At the same time we tender you the accompanying purse as a small expression of our affectionate regard, hoping that after you have fully
accomplished your mission East we shall have the
pleasure of welcoming your return. We subscribe
ourselves, on the part of the lay-official members
and friends of the Wesleyan Methodist Church on
this mission,
D. McGillivary. A. C. Wells.
Geo. W. Chadsey. D. W. Miller.
" Work for the good that is nighest,
Dream not of greatness afar;
That glory is ever the highest
Which shines upon men as they are."
—W. Morley Punshon.
It was in the fall of '69 that a few Christian
friends in the City of Victoria undertook the organization of a Sunday-school and other services
among the Indians who lived in and about the city,
as well as the Songees people on the reservation
opposite. In February of the following year, Amos
Sa-hat-son, a Songees chief, and two others of the
same tribe, experienced the converting grace of God
through the instrumentality of these services.
In many cases it was native or lay agents who
first commenced practical mission work and so prepared the way for the regular missionary. The
efforts of our brethren and sisters in the various
centres where the Indians congregated is worthy of
all praise. It is my joy to speak kind words of appreciation of the help given by Brothers Bryant, Ray-
bold, Raper, Brinn, Tate, Green, and others in
Nanaimo; by Father McKay, Sister Russ, Brothers
J. Bullan, J. E. McMillan, and others in Victoria,
At New Westminster, too, Brothers Dawson, D. S.
Curtis, R. Wintemute, and other young men,
assisted by the pastor's wife (Mrs. A. E. Russ),
held meetings and carried on a Sunday-school on
behalf of the hundreds of Indians who lived near that
point. After the revival referred to at Chilliwack,
Brothers A. C. Wells and J. Whitfield commenced a
Sunday-school at Atchelitz, and carried it on successfully.
These Sunday-schools and locally conducted services were a great blessing, not only to the natives,
for whose benefit they were held, but also to the
teachers themselves. There is nothing like some
form of Christian activity to keep the spiritual life
strong and healthy.
As we look about us on the many lines of missionary need—Chinese, Japanese, Hindu and Indian—
we cannot help feeling that our young people and
Leaguers are missing an opportunity, which God has
placed at their door, if they do not endeavor to reach
out for these " strangers within our gates." An
opportunity, too, which, if made use of, brings its
own reward—the joy of unselfish and successful
service on behalf of others.
In all our mission fields we should make a more
general use of the talents of our native converts.
What matter if they are not educated. When their
hearts are filled with love and zeal get them to work
—as class-leaders, exhorters, local preachers, visiting
the sick, in evangelistic efforts of every kind—and
out of a full, happy heart they will tell, as did the
early Methodists, what the Saviour has done for
them, and what He will do for others. When Amos
Cushan, our first native preacher at Nanaimo, went
out he could not read, but he could tell of the disease
and the cure. When Sallosalton commenced his
work on the Coast the people marvelled and asked,
" Where did he get this wisdom ?" Unsaved, hardened men melted before his burning words and
loving heart, and his Christian friends were led to
rejoice as they listened to him. Many others of our
native brethren, like Capt. John Sua-lis and August
Jackson, have been mightily used of God in spreading the Gospel among their people.
Salvation in a Bar-room.
The services at Victoria were first held on the
reservation, and then transferred to a building in the
city which had been used as a bar-room. In this
building, still bearing the sign of its earlier occupancy, a work of saving grace was begun and carried
on, the results of which eternity alone will reveal. It
was a service held in this " old bar-room " which
was instrumental in opening the way for the Methodist Church to enter those great fields among the
Indians of the North—Tsimpsheans, Kit-eks-yens,
and Hydahs on Queen Charlotte Islands, Hylt-
chuks and the Kling-gets in Alaska, and others—
where, in the providence of God, I was afterwards to
On a Sabbath morning in October, 'j2, Elizabeth
Deex, a chieftess of the Tsimpshean nation, who had
left her home at Port Simpson, wandered into the
I old bar-room," and there by the preaching of the
Word was brought under deep conviction for sin.
At a prayer-meeting held later in her own house she
was savingly converted to God, and immediately
entered into the work of bringing others to Christ.
That meeting proved to be the beginning of a revival which lasted continuously for nine weeks and
resulted in the conversion of upwards of forty
natives, among whom were a number of northern
It was our great privilege to be with the dear
friends for some time in that blessed revival, and
when the people were starting north we bade them
good-bye, urging them to stand up as witnesses for
Jesus, and promising them that, if possible, we
would visit them some day.
This was in the month of September, 1873, when,
by a strange providence, the way was opened for a
visit to my friends at home. And now as they
started northward I started eastward, little imagining that I should so soon follow them to their
northern home, and remain with them so long—for
about the next quarter of a century, indeed.
Rejoice with trembling,' may we think of this,
When life's full cup is with Thy bounty crowned,
That so we be not blinded by our bliss,
Or fall asleep upon ' enchanted ground.' "
It seems appropriate, in closing this record of my
first twelve years of missionary labor, that something
should be said concerning the progress made in the
Indian work in British Columbia, as well as in the
settlement and development of this one-time colony,
but now the richest and most wonderful province,
from the standpoint of natural resources and marvellous possibilities, in the Dominion of Canada.
It is only a short time since British Columbia was
described as " a sea of mountains," uninhabited and
uninhabitable except at long distances ; covered with
forests, a great part of which were inaccessible; its
rivers filled with fish, and its river beds streaked
with gold.
The marvellous resources of the country were little
dreamed of by Canadians—as the inhabitants of Ontario and Quebec were alone called—when I reached
home on this first visit. Speaking to large audiences
in the leading cities and towns in the East, of the
great cedars and firs, which attain immense proportions, " sometimes towering three hundred feet in
m ■I
the air, and having a base circumference of from
thirty to fifty feet "—of whole forests of these magnificent trees that would average one hundred and
fifty feet clear of limbs, and five to six feet in diameter—the people appeared incredulous. And when
I turned to the subject of fish and told them I had
seen in a small stream flowing into the Fraser River
the large salmon so numerous that in forcing their
way up the stream they had rubbed off their fins and
tails, my audience looked at one another. When I
went on and told them of having seen a wave come
in at Departure Bay, on the east coast of Vancouver
Island, and deposit bushels of herring on the shore,
the preachers on the platform pulled my coat and
said, " Oh, Crosby, that is an awful fish story!" But
when I went on and spoke of crossing a little stream
in the upper Chilliwack Valley, and of my little pony
stepping on some of the beautiful silver salmon that
lay thick in the stream, and that they jumped about
so violently as to nearly knock the animal off his
feet, the people laughed outright, " Oh ! Oh ! Oh !"
and I knew they did not believe me.
To-day, however, the eyes of the financial world
are turned towards the profitable investments in
British Columbia. An ever-increasing number of
companies are establishing great saw-mills, and shipping lumber to all parts of the world. Whereas
once the Indian bands alone congregated at the
mouths of the great rivers during the fishing season,
to gather for their own consumption, now scores of
large and magnificently equipped canneries, employing large numbers of men, line the river banks, and
are engaged in packing salmon of different varieties
as well as other kinds of fish. The mountains in all
directions are being prospected for minerals, and
fresh discoveries are being made almost every day.
Agriculture has advanced with the general advancement of the country, and it is now known that there
are millions of acres of land suitable for cultivation which have not yet been settled upon. In the
raising of fruit, particularly, the opportunity is
almost unlimited, and some day the hillsides and
benches which were thought to be worthless will be
planted with orchards. In a recent interview, the
Hon. R. G. Tatlow, Minister of Finance in the local
Government, a gentleman of wide experience and of
twenty-six years' residence in the province, expressed
himself as follows :
" I am satisfied that every industry in British
Columbia is only in its infancy. We have forests
illimitable for lumber, land in millions of acres for
agriculture, and the seven thousand miles of shore
line are washed by seas teeming with fish.
I The total production of the province for the year
ending June, 1906, was over $50,000,000.
I Details of this production should be of public interest. Taking, first, the lumber industry, the value
of the lumber cut reached over $6,500,000. The
mineral output of the province was $22,461,325,
with eleven smelters in operation. Agriculture also
advanced in common with other lines of work during the year. The product of provincial farms and
orchards reached the sum of $6,500,000.
i There are splendid opportunities for mixed
farming in many sections of the province. The best
evidence of this is the fact that we exported butter,
eggs, poultry and cheese to the value of nearly
I Horticulture is rapidly coming to the front. It
is becoming one of our most important industries.
In 1891 the acreage under fruit was 6,500; ten
years later it had only reached 7,500, but advancement has since been phenomenal. A year ago there
were 22,000 acres cultivated by orchardists and
fruit-growers, and I fully believe that by the end of
1906 there will be 40,000 acres used in this manner.
I Fishing, of course, has long been an important
item in the commerce of the province, but even this
industry shows signs of great expansion. The total
values from our fisheries amounted to $7,500,000.
" When one considers these facts, can there be the
slightest doubt that the present prosperity will be
maintained ?"
The future for British Columbia looks very bright,
with four transcontinental railways seeking entrance
through her unopened valleys and stretches of upland to ports on her magnificent shore line ; with a
climate unexcelled for variety, from the clear, bracing, dry climate of the interior to the mild, humid
climate of the coast ; with her abundant resources of
timber, minerals, fish, farm and orchard; with the
ever-widening market of the Orient, as well as in the
great North-West Provinces, for her products, she
must speedily take her place as the imperial province
of our great Dominion.
" For the road leads home,
Sweet, sweet home!
Oh, who would mind the journey,
When the road leads home?"
It is less than a short lifetime since, in the year
1864, we received into church membership, at our
Nanaimo Mission, Kook-shin (Kicking Foot) and
his wife—our first Indian converts. Since then
thousands have heard the Gospel, vast numbers of
whom have received the truth, and many have lived
devoted lives for years, while some have passed
away, leaving a bright testimony of a blessed hope
of everlasting life.
Many hundreds still live, and prove by their sincerity and devotion, and the zeal with which some of
them endeavor to bring others into the light, the
reality of their Christian profession.
A glance at their villages will show the change
which has taken place, for there is a marked contrast
between the old heathen lodges and their new and
neat Christian homes.
In 1872-3 we reported 108 Indian members in
British Columbia, of whom 18 were at Victoria, 36
at Nanaimo, 4 at New Westminster and 50 at Chilliwack.    To-day we  have, in our  Indian  work, 32 AMONG THE AN-KO-ME-NUMS
churches, 24 mission houses, 12 schools and 4 hospitals. There are 43 workers in the field, evangelists,
doctors, nurses, teachers and other agents; and 1,645
members, among some six different nations, speaking numerous dialects. The total missionary givings
of these recent converts from heathenism and their
workers amounted in 1905-6 to $1,245.60. Out of a
total Indian population of 25,000 in British Columbia, we are teaching by the Word about 7,000
What has been accomplished is nothing to what
might have been accomplished had the Church
always been alive to its duty and privilege, and
made haste to enter every open door.
To-day there is urgent need for more laborers in
this department of missionary effort. Shall we listen
to every other call, and close our ears to the cry of
our Indian brothers and sisters, who appeal to us in
the name of a common Saviour to help them into a
noble Christian manhood and womanhood? Shall
A few closing personal references will be permitted. I have written of my promised furlough,
and of the road leading me to " Home, sweet
home." Those who have spent years away from
home and loved ones will understand the joy with
which, after the twelve years of toils and triumphs
which I have striven to describe, I once more turned
my face to the East. I well knew the greetings
which awaited me. But I found more than my
beloved mother and brothers and sisters on my
return to Ontario. It was during this visit, in the
early months of 1874, that I found the faithful wife
who did not hesitate to turn her back upon home
and friends and the comfortable conditions to which
she had been accustomed, and undertake with me
the hardships and privations of a pioneer missionary life among the benighted Tsimpshean and other
tribes of the far northern regions of our Pacific
coast. She is the youngest daughter of the late
Rev. John Douse, formerly a well-known figure in
Canadian Methodism, and who, more than twenty
years ago, went to his reward in the better land.
During the next twenty-five years, in which I
labored among the Indians, with headquarters at
Port Simpson, she was a self-denying sharer in the
toils and discouragements and the loneliness of that
protracted period of missionary effort, and a
delighted witness of the triumphs of the Gospel,
as these poor benighted peoples gradually emerged
from the darkness of heathenism and became
sharers in the blessings of civilization and Christian
hope. Of these trials and triumphs, and the wonderful experiences connected with that marvellous
work, I hope to have the privilege of writing in
another book.
243    m.


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