Number 5. Little Noshohkon.
THE STORY I have to tell you today, is of a little Indian boy, who lived more than 250 years ago.
There were not many white men in North America at that time, but there were great numbers of Indians, who lived in the forests, and on the plains; wandering about from place to place. They supported themselves by hunting and fishing, sometimes, too, they would remain long enough in one place to grow a, little Indian corn, out of which they made a kind of bread. Under the shadow of the forest trees, or beside some rapid stream, or sparkling lake, they pitched their little tents or wigwams, in which they lived alike in the bright warm summer, or the sold stormy winter.
The men, or warriors as they loved to call themselves, were often away for weeks together, on hunting expeditions, or perhaps fighting their enemies. In their absence the women spent their time in caring for their children, weaving baskets, or making clothing of deer skins. I am afraid the inside of these wigwams was not very comfortable; there were no chairs or tables; the beds were made of heaps of spruce boughs. covered over with skins of bears, wolves or deer. As they had no stove, the fire was made in the middle of the wigwam, and the only chimney being a hole in the top, so that the tent was always full of smoke, which made the eyes of those who lived in it very sore, indeed sometimes, they went quite blind.
In a wigwam like this little Noshohkon was born, so many years ago. When you were a little baby, I expect you had a nice cradle or a cozy bed on a pillow in the big rocking chair, but Noshohkon did not have a bed at all like that. His mother took a large strong piece of birch bark; it looked something like a tiny boat, and filled it with soft, dry moss, and the little fellow was laid in it, covered with more moss, and then a piece of skin was strapped over the top. When his mother went out, she carried the funny little bed on her back, and when she was at home, she stood it up against a tree, or hung it to one of the branches. It must have looked very curious, just to see the little brown head, with its bright black eyes, sticking out of the top. But Noshohkon grew and grew until he was too big to be strapped up any longer, and by and by like other wee boys, he learned to walk and talk.
His mother made him a little basket to put stones in, or flowers, or chips, or anything else he liked; she also made him a little wooden tray, and a spoon to eat with, and when the cold weather game, she had a little coat of deer skin ready for him, worked with porcupine quills, colored blue, red or yellow.
But I must tell you of a good man called John Elliot, who came out from England a short time before little Noshohkon was born. I do not know what made him leave England, but I do know that he was a man who loved God and knew that his sins were washed away by the blood of the Lord Jesus Christ. He felt very sad when he saw all the Poor Indians around him, and felt that not one among there knew anything about God, or His dear Son, Jesus Christ. He wanted to go at once and tell them the “good news” he had received for himself, but first of all he had to learn their language, which is a hard thing to do. As soon as he could make himself understood, he went about from place to place preaching and teaching, and nearly everywhere the Indians received him gladly.
At last he came to the camp where the father and mother of little Noshohkon lived. The warriors and squaws and the little papooses gathered around him, as he sat under the shade of the trees, and listened eagerly to what John Elliot had to tell them. First he spoke of the one great and almighty God, who has made the world, the sun and moon, the green trees, and the pretty birds and merry squirrels who live in them. Then he told them that this same great God had made them, and that He loved them and wanted them to live with Him, in His own beautiful home forever. But how could they get into a home where sin cannot come, for were they not all sinners; had they not told lies and stolen, and done many other wicked things? Then came the glad tidings of the One, even God’s own Son, who left that glorious home to come down into a sinful world, and to bear upon the cross the punishment of sin, so that all Indians or white men —who believe the wonderful story, are “forgiven all trespasses,” and made ready to enter into the “many mansions” the Lord Jesus has gone to prepare. These dear Indians listened to the story, so new to them, with deep interest; some covering their faces with their rugs, silently wept; some asked if this great God could understand Indian, if they prayed to Him, and one old man said he had been a sinner all his life, and he was too bad for Jesus to save. You know that was a mistake, for the Lord Jesus is willing to save ALL who come to Him for salvation, and the Bible says, “The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin.” This poor old man soon found he could be saved, too, and with many others, became a rejoicing believer in the Lord Jesus.
And what about our little Noshohkon He perhaps was too young to understand much of what was said, but his parents received the gospel gladly, and although his poor mother did not live very long, his father taught him as best he could about Jesus, and the home above. The little boy listened and believed, and when he, too, was taken very sick, his desire was to go to that home where all is joy and happiness. He could not understand much, he was only a little Indian boy 3 years old, but in his pain he would call upon God, “O God and Jesus Christ, bless me,” and when to divert him from his suffering, they brought him his toys, he handed them back to his father, saying, “I do not need my basket, I am going to God,” “I do not need my spoon or tray, I am going to God.” So this little child passed away, and if you, dear children, accept the same offer of salvation which these poor heathen Indians, of 250 years ago, accepted, you will someday meet that little Indian boy in the “Happy Land,” which after all is not so very far away.
ML 08/12/1906