MOST, if not quite all, of the boys and girls I know have pleasant memories of country or seaside holidays, and enjoy talking about the long rides by railway train, or, perhaps better still, when the sun shone brightly and the blue waters danced and sparkled in its beams, the trip by steamer that enabled them to reach the place where some happy days or weeks were to be spent.
But to-day I want to tell you something about the travels of a missionary in a land where railway trains and steamboats were not then known, and yet, without their aid, he and his fellow-workers have, by means of canoe and dog-trains, been enabled to take journeys lasting sometimes from six to eight weeks, and covering distances of many hundreds of miles.
We are going (in thought) to take a peep at the Red Indians of North America, who are the people who live on the shores of the great lakes of that country, and get a living, though often a very poor one, by hunting or fishing. They are divided into many tribes, and do not live in towns, but in widely scattered villages. These villages are often only a few, perhaps from ten to twenty, small, round-topped huts, called wigwams. During the summer months they often leave their wigwams and camp in the great forests, where they know that the fur-bearing animals are to be snared or shot.
Many of their villages and camping-grounds are so far from each other that the missionary is not able to visit them more than once or twice a year. At the beginning of the last century the Cree Indians were all heathen, savage, dark and cruel, living in constant fear of wicked spirits, and also very much afraid of conjurors, or medicine men, who pretended to have the power of keeping these evil spirits, with the sickness and death they were supposed to bring, from the persons and houses of those who, by making them presents, paid them well for their trouble in using their charms and spells, which we know were quite useless. Rather more than eighty years ago the Lord reminded some of His servants, in both England and America, of His desire that the gospel should be preached to every creature under heaven. They almost seemed to hear the voice of their absent Lord bidding them—
“Go, gather the harvest in.”
Constrained by the love of Christ, several were willing to offer themselves as His messengers to carry the glad tidings of the love of God in the gift of His Son to those who had never heard the gospel.
At first the Red Indians were angry with the white strangers who had come from across the sea to take away their lands, as they thought. They had no written language, and so, of course, no books. These early missionaries needed great patience, as well as very simple faith in God. Though learning the Indian language without books or teachers was, we may be sure, slow work, they kept steadily on, and when, after months of plodding, they were able to speak to the Indians about the one true God, and His Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, it must have been very discouraging to be told by those poor, ignorant people that they did not wish to change their religion, but would live and die as their fathers had done.
Did the missionaries give up and return to their pleasant homes and friends? No, they kept faithfully on, preaching the gospel. Larger numbers came to listen to "the old, old story," and among the many who heard, some believed and confessed Christ, and soon showed by their changed lives that the work of God in their souls had been very real and deep.
And though many of the young converts were often left for quite a long time without the visit of a missionary or any Christian friend, they did not forget what they had been taught. Not only on the Lord's day, but often when their day's work was done, they loved to get together and would sing the hymns they had been taught, pray, and tell each other as much as they could remember of what they had heard from the missionary.
A band of Indians, many of whom had been converted, had been left for some months without a missionary. At last one, hearing of their need, made up his mind to visit and, if the way was made plain, to live among them. After a long and trying journey he found he was only a short distance from their village, but it was almost dark, and besides it was time to camp for the night. But having come so far, and being only a mile or two from the village, he determined to go on; so leaving his Indian companions to follow with the dogs and sleds, he walked on through the deepening twilight to the spot where, in the distance, he saw the faint outline of an Indian wigwam. What was his surprise on reaching it not only to hear the sound of singing, but to find the people inside were singing a Christian hymn to a well-known tune.
When the singing ceased one of the Indians engaged in prayer. At first the prayer seemed to be all thanksgiving, but the Indian went on, "Lord, please send us another missionary to teach us out of Thy great book. We want to know more about Thyself and Thy Son Jesus Christ. Please, Lord, do send a missionary soon, or we poor Indians may forget what we have been taught." With a glad and praise-filled heart the missionary entered and told the praying company that he had come to live and labor among them. Great indeed was their joy as they crowded around him. Some kissed him, some shouted their welcome or shed tears of joy.