CANADA NATIONAL LIBRARY BIBLIOTHEQUE NATIONALE KLATSASSAN, AND OTHER llEMINISCENCES OF MISSlONAitY LIFE IN BlUTISII COLUMBIA. LONDON : GIT.r.r.ET AND KIVIXOTON, nUNTERS, ST. JOHN'S SQrAKE. KLATSASSAN, AXJ) OTIIEU KEMIXISCKNCKS OF JIISSIONAUY LIFK IN BPtlTISH COLUMBIA. BY TlIK Kev. 11. C. LUNDIN liROWN, M.A. VICAll OF LYNEAL-CUM-COLMEKT:, SALOP. riiiLisnED i:.vi)!:;u thk diuectiox of tiir tuvct committer. LONDOX: SOCIKTV FOR PROMOTK a CHRISTIAN KXOWLEIXJK; SOLD AT THE DEPOSITORIES : 77, GREAT QUEEK STREET, LINCOLN'S INN Fir.LDS; 4, ROIAL EXCHANGE; 48, PICCADILLY J AND UV Al.l. HOOKSKLLEKS. 1873. 1 Jlpprinfed from the Peopli:'s Magazixi:, Leisure Hour, and other Periodicals. CONTENTS. § 1. Ouii First Meeting. A Sunday at Fort Alexander . Klatsassan and his Tribe . Sign of tlio true Shepherd § 2. A Night by the Hojiathco. " You oAvo us Broad " . . ' A foolish Word .... A Night of Blood The Murder of Brewster . § 3. Macdoxald's Party. Departure from the Coast . Bomantic Scenery Klymtedza the Squaw Klatsassan' s Speech . The Whites threatened The Whites entrench themselves The Attack .... A dead Warrior Indian Treatment of Lunacy . Death of Klymtedza . Lessons from her Fate § 1 The Stouy oi' William Maxxixg. The Indians conspire to kill Mauuin Indian KutHanism Feeling against the Whites PAGE 3 5 7 9 11 13 15 17 19 21 23 25 27 29 81 33 35 37 39 41 43 VI (.'ONTENTS. § 5. GOVEIJNMENT ExrEDITlONS IN i'URSUIT OF Ckimi.vals, The Colonial Govornmont takes Action Gold-Commissiuner Cox . A BtifT He in in a tight Hand Mr. Cox's Pai'ty leave Alexandria They encamp at Puntzcen Reappearance of Klatsassan lie sends away the Women and Children The Volunteers enjoying themselves § 6. Arrival or the Governor. Bunch-grass of British Columbia A Stampede ..... Advance to the Ilomathco A Chase ...... THE § Death of Maclaixe, The Avenger of Blood Maclaine shot by the Indians . Grief at his Death .... An interrupted Conversation . § 8. Eetl'rx to Puxtzeen. Governor Seymour goes on to Cariboo § 9. Klatsassan in the White Man's Camp. The Indiaus try to make Terms lu Captivity .... Indian Manner of Life The Salmon of British Columbia TooVaewoot .... Indian Babies .... Klatsassan taken to Qucsnelmouth § 10. Tried and Sentenced. Chief Justice Bogbio rA(i. 45 47 49 51 53 55 57 (51 03 G5 G7 71 73 75 79 81 83 85 87 89 91 93 95 CONTENTS. Vll § 11. PiusoNEiis OF Hope. Tho Five Condemned Men First Visit to tho Frisoncrg Instruction .... Baptism ..... " God bo merciful to mo a Sinner " Hours of Darkness . § 12. The Last XrcnT. Arrival of tlio Death-warrant . Preparations for the Holy Connnunion Conversation about the Future The Divine Purpose for the Land § 13. The Last Mokmxg. Holy Communion .... Tho Message from the Gallows DOWN THE RIVER. American Humour Pandemonium The Start . A Narrow Escape Fine River Scenery Fate of our Boat FROM NEW WESTMINSTER TO LILLOOET. Gigantic Pines Taking the Mails up the Harrison .... The Fraser Lillooet • . . . . KENADQUA. The Flower by the " Flower of Waters " . Sold to a White Scoundrel .... J- AGS 97 1)9 101 105 107 109 111 113 115 117 119 121 123 125 127 129 131 133 137 139 111 113 117 119 Vlll CONTENTS. Kedcmption Obedicnco . Deliverance FAQE 151 153 155 THE CRY TO THE UNKNOWN GOD. A friglitful Scone The unknown God declared A Small-pox Visitation The Living in the Arms of the Dead •* The Eyes of the Blind shall see " LIGHT IN DARKNESS . MY MAN CHENTA AN INDIAN MEDICINE.MAN A SUNDAY IN CARIBOO An Uncivil Greeting . Sunday Services . No Congregation . A Gospel Sermon The Valley in Fla-nies . The Illuminated . "Faithful among the Faithless" Looking-up a Congregation . Monday Morning , 157 159 161 1G3 165 107 171 . 177 . 181 . 183 . 185 . 187 . 189 . 191 . 193 . 195 . 197 . 199 KLATSASSAN. I. OUR FIKST MEETING. On a lovely autumn day in 18G1, I was riding through the ^' forest primcvar'' which extends along the left bank of the Upper Fraser River^ in British Columbia. My destination was Fort Alexander, where I was to hold service next day, which was Sunday. In the morning I had left William's Lake — that region of ideal loveliness, with its glorious pastures, its superb trout-streams and — its never-to-be-forgotten mosquitoes; and now, having travelled more than forty miles, and seeing no signs of any white men^s habitation, I began to feel curious as to where I should pass the night, for dark- ness was coming on apace. Presently, at some distance off the trail, I noticed a light flittering amongst the trees. Towards this I proceeded, and found it to be the night-fire of an Indian encampment. Two stalwart Indians were sit- ting by it, who sprang to their feet as I KLATSASSAN. approached ; tlie rest of tlio band were asleep ill their tents. I expLained who I was, and how I came to be there, and then asked them for something to eat. "^Phey were uncommonly grnff and dis*- agreeable, but still had enough of humanity to produce what food they possessed, consisting of some rather dirty dried service-berries. Of these I partook but sparingly, and then, per- ceiving that my hosts were not much disposed for conversation, I said good-night, and lay down by the camp-fire to sleep. Naturally, I took care to keep half au eye 02)en, not know- in o- what the Indians mio-ht take it into their heads to do ; although, in general, I felt tolerably safe amongst Indians. Many a solitary traveller, indeed, has been cut off by them for the sake of his blankets or what coin ho might have on him, or to avenge some Eedskin. But they rarely touch any one who is known in the country, and whose death would be noticed and avenged ; least of all a clergy- man, for, like all men, they have a veneration for the office : call it superstition or call it natural religion, tlie fact is undeniable. Next morning I reached Fort Alexander. The canoe in which I was paddled across the Fraser Eiver was of the tiniest, and I was A SUNDAY AT FORT ALEXANDER. commanded to sit riglit hi the bottom^to prevent her capsizmg". The horse was towed bchmd^ and right gallantly did he breast the powerful cnrrent. We landed close under the fort. Fort Alexander is the chief post of the Hud- son Bay Company in that district. Without doubt the place has improved in the course of these ten years, but when 1 saw it, it was a very uniinposing edifice indeed, built of logs, and surrounded by a stockade. The agent received mo with the hospitality which invariably characterizes the Company^s servants in those outlying parts. On the morrow he gathered together for service the whites and half-breeds, every one in short who could understand Eng- lish or French. After service, the agent told me of a tribe of Indians who were camping in the neighbourhood, and promised after dinner to take me to them. Tliey were the Nicootlem Indians, a branch of the Cliilcoatens, a power- ful tribe (although, Hke nil the British Co- lumbian Indians, in a state of decadence), whose fishing-grounds extended over the vast tract of country which lies between the north- ern part of the Fraser Eiver and the Gulf of Georgia. We found them encamped on a hili-side, not far from the fort, commanding a lovely view of u2 4 KLATSASSAN. the windings of the river. It is worth men- tioning, as showing how the love of scenery exists even in savage breasts, where there may be little else that is noble in sentiment or refined in taste, that the Indians always choose the most romantic spots in the country for their camping-grounds. Assuredly the ap- pearance of those Chilcoatcn Indians was little in keeping with the beauty of the scene. A set of men and women more squalid and re- pulsive I have rarely beheld. Dark faces, with big mouths, high cheek-bones, ferocious black eyes, narrow foreheads, long tangled hair black as night; their thin and sinewy frames with little on them save dirt and a piece of blanket or a deer-skin : no, their appearance was not prepossessing. And yet wherever there is a human face, however disfigured by sin, is there not a human mind which can apprehend God's truth, and a human heart which is in need of it? And as those Indians, when my com- panion explained to them who I was, were willing to hear me, I proceeded to speak to them the message of salvation. My words had to pass through more tlian one medium before reaching their ears. Spoken in French, they were first translated into Chinook, which is, as the reader is probably aware, the jargon KLA.TSASSAN AND HIS TRIBE. used on both sides of the Rocky Mountains for communication between whites and Indians ; then, finally, they were given in the vernacular of the Chilcoatens. The savages were gathered round me in that attitude of deep attention which marks an Indian audience. One ap- peared more attentive even than the rest. Sitting a little in front of the group, his knees drawn up, his elbows resting on his knees^ and his cliin socketed on his l.iands, this Indian kept his eyes fixed upon me. His was a striking face ; the great under-jaw betokened strong power of will ; the eyes, which were not black, like most Indians^, but of a very dark blue, and full of a strange, it might be a dangerous, light, were keen and searching. He never took them off the speaker, but seemed to be perusing with them my inmost soul, as if ho meant to ascertain not only whether I spoko true, but whether I believed in my heart what I said. When the service was over, this man came up to me, and without a word proceeded to fumble in my breast. I hardly relished this, but I merely asked what he wanted. Upon this he pulled out of his bosom a crucifix, which was tied round his neck. He said ho wanted to sec whether I wore one. He wanted in fact to see whether I had what he had been 6 KLATSASSAN. taught to recognize as the mark of tlio true priest. For I was not, it appeared, the first to preach Christianity to his tribe. Some twenty years previously, certain Eoman Catholic mis- sionaries had crossed over from Canada into British Columbia, nnd with their wonted zeal had preached to the natives. Probably from want of time, they did not teach them very much of religion, but what they did teach had been received with ardour and retained with amazing fidelity. They had baptized many Indians of all tribes, had taught them some- tliing about Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary, had also given them a notion of the sacraments. They had given them a form of prayer to be used night and morning : and so faithfully had the Indians adhered to this, that go where you would in British Columbia, you would find Indian tribes assemble, daily, to say their mathis and their evensong, herein putting to the blush the presumedly civilized and Chris- tian miners wlio could live without worship, not oidy on weekdays but on Sundays too. Those missionaries had, it appeared, given the Indians as a token whereby they should dis- tinguish the true shepherd, the Koman priest, from the devouring wolf, him of the Anglican ■;~i:.i>.s;-.4.> %^ KLATSASSAN.— CHILHOSELTZ, A CUIEF, SIGN OF THE TRUE SHEPHERD. faith, this sign, the wearing of a crucifix. This is what the Indian was in quest of when ho thus unceremoniously fingorecl my waistcoat. I had no crucifix, I was accordingly in danger of rejection as a false priest. I told him, however, that I was a "King George ^^ or English priest, not exactly like those he knew about : and that the King George priest wore no crucifix about his neck, but carried it insido his heart. I need hardly say that by this answer I did not intend to teach that tho Roman priest had not the cross in his heart as well as in his bosom. The Roman missionary may have the crucifix in his heart as much as we Anglicans. In self-crucifixion and self- abnegation he often excels us : pity ^tis that he is so prone at the same time to self-glorifi- cation, and flaunts his sacrifices before our eyes ! Such at least is my experience of him. The Indian seemed satisfied with my answer. We shook hands and parted. I inquired who he was. His name was Klatsassan. He was a great man amongst the Indians. Indeed, although not hereditary chieftain, he was looked upon as their chief by all the Chilcoatens. His physical strength, his power of will, his courage, his unscrupulousness, had won him this pre-eminence. He was the terror of tho 8 KLATSASSAN. foes of his triboj aud by Lis clansmen^ too, rather dreaded than loved. The Httlo cliildren would peep in through the holes in his tent, to catch a sight of the terrible chief, and run away crying with fright. Such was Klat- sassan : and such tho occasion of our first meeting. 11. A NIGHT BY THE HOMATHCO. It was on the 5th of May, 1864, that news reached Victoria, Vancouver Island, of a fear- ful massacre perpetrated on tbe mainland — the coast of British Columbia — by Indians of the Chilcoatcn tribe. The bearer of this distress- ing and alarming intelligence was Mr. Frede- rick Wliympcr, an artist whose account of his travels, since published, has interested and delighted the public. The victims of Indian ferocity were a party of road-makers who had gone over from the island to construct a wag- gon-road from the coast, at Bute Inlet, to tho interior. There were seventeen of them, and of this number fourteen had been killed, two of the survivors being wounded, and one alono escaping unhurt. Among the killed was Brewster, the foreman of tho party. The scene of this disaster was the Homathco River, '''you owe us bt?ead.-'^ 9 about forty miles from Bute Inlet. The fol- lowing were the circumstances which led to it. In the autumn of the preceding year, a party who had gone to Bute Inlet to survey for the new Toadj left there on their departure some twenty-five sacks of llour in a log-house in charge of an Indian named Chesuss, one of the Chilcoaten tribe. Chesuss, however, ap- pears to have left the neighbourhood, and, during his absence, another tribe passing that way, had broken into the log-house and stolen the flour. When, in the spring of 1864, our people returned to Bute Inlet, finding their flour gone, and no Indian near the place, they naturally caused inquiry to be made far and near. At last they got hold of some Chil- coaten Indians, and asked them what had become of the flour. Ilie Indians were surly, and would say nothing'. At length one of them said, " You are in our country ; you owe us bread.'' On this the man in charge (it is needless to mention his name, he did not act with wisdom), began to take down, from the mouth of the interpreter, the names of all the Indians present. When ho had finished, he asked if they knew what he had done. They said, '' No.'' " I have taken down your names," 10 KLATSASSAN. he told tlicm, '' because you would not tell mo who stole the flour." At this the Indians looked frightened, and he went on: "All the Chilcoatens are goiug to die. We shall send sickness into the country, which will kill them all." A foolish word, lightly spoken, but one which was to be dearly expiated. The Indians were much alarmed and dis- tressed by these proceedings. They have, be it observed, a very sj)ecial horror of having their names written down. They look upon paper as a very awful thing, they tremble to see the working of a pen. W]'iting is, they imagine, a dread mystery. By it the mighty whites seem to carry on intercourse with un- seen powers. When they are writing, there's no telling what they may be doing. They may be bidding a pestilence come over the land, or ordering the rain to stay in the west, or giving directions for the salmon to remain in the ocean. Especially is the Indian appalled when he sees his own namo put on paper. To him the name is not distinct from the person who owns it. If his name is written down, he is written down : if his name is passed over to the demons which people his hierarchy, he is sure to be bewitched and given as a prey into the teeth of his invisible foes. So when those A FOOLISH WORD. 11 Cliilcoatens saw their names taken down and heard themselves threatened with disease, they were only too ready to l^elievo the threat. They talked about it a great deal among themselves. They recollected that something of the same sort had been said by another white man two years before, at a place called Puntzeen, in the interior ; ho had said small- pox was coming, and in the winter of 1862-63 it had come — ay, and carried off' the best part of whole tribes. Had not the Shuschwaps lost many of tiieir warriors ? and the Indians who lived away at Lillooet, on the great river, as many as two-thirds of their whole tribe ? It was only too likely that those awful whites would fulfil their threat, and send the foulest of all the diseases which ever cinnc forth from the jaws of hell, to sweep their tribes away into everltisting night. It was not long before the news of this threat reached the ears of Klatsassan. On hearing it the chief at once formed his re- solution. He would kill off" the whites before they should have time to carry their threat into execution, or send small-pox to destroy the Indians. He accordingly called a council of the Cliilcoatens, to consult as to the best way of exterminating the whites. They simply ] 2 KLATSASSAN. agreed to kill all tliey could lay tlieir hands on. They were to begin with the party of men engaged on the new road. Accordingly, on the night appointed_, the Indians met near the white men's tents. First Klatsassan gave out to his comrades, that whatever Indians were in the tents of the whites must be called homo. One of them was Chiddeki or George, long a faithful servant of the whites. This George was asleep in the teut of some of the road- party, whose servant he was. Thither his father-in-law, Taloot, was sent to fetch him. Taloot quietly raising the tent-door, looked in, and seeing George lying there, awoke him, and said in a whisper, ^^Why sleep you so long, Chiddeki ? Rise up, Klatsassan wants you." On this George got up, and putting on only a blanket, for he thought something wrong was afoot, went after Taloot. As soon as he was brought into Klatsassan's tent, the chief caught hold of him, and made him sit beside him. '^ Have you a good heart towards the whites," he -^sked him, " or the contrary ? " " My heart is good towards the whites," said George ; " they have given me money and food these three years." Klatsas- san looked hard at him, and said, ^' I am going to kill all the whites. You know they have A NiailT OP BLOOD. 13 killed most of our men with small-pox, and tlicy liavo taken our names on paper to kill us next. Will you join us against the enemies of Owlialmewlia ? Will you help us to wipe them out of the land V Chiddoki sat for some time in silence. The chief then said, '' If you will not go with us, go back to your masters, and wo shall do to you as we do to them/' Then Chiddeki was frightened, and engaged to do whatever Klatsassan desired. Every thing being now ready, the chief proposed they should say their morning prayer. This they did, but sotto voce, lest they should awaken their victims. (The history of civilized nations acquaints us, I believe, with similar conse- crations of deeds of butchery.) Matins ended, they sallied forth, innocent of apparel and black with war-paint, on their blood-thirsty enterprise. Armed with guns and axes, they stealthily approached to where the road-makers' tents, to the number of seven, stood silent and white in the grey of the morning. Close beside flowed the dark stream of the Homathco, and the only sound that broke the stillness was the noise of its waters, as they strove with the rocks and boulders which obstructed their course. The whites, two or three in a tent, were still sleeping the heavy sleep of hard-working men : 14 ' KLATSASSAN. for indeed road-making in a rough now country is no light work. But their hour was come. In an instant their tent-poles were cut down with axes ; the tents fell on them ; and as the unhappy men^ in the confusion of waking*, feebly endeavoured to discntnnglo thenlselves from the folds of the canvas, they were brutally butchered. Some were killed by blows on the head with axes, others, who contrived to escape from the tent-folds, were shot down as they ran. The surprise was so complete that resistance was impossible. And besides, even if there had been time to use them, weapons there were none ; there was but one rifle and one revolver in the whole camp. Unhappily, the foreman Brewster had refused arms for his company when, at Victoria; Mr. Waddington — the originator of this Bute Inlet scheme — had pressed him to take them. No : there was nothing, he thought, to fear from the Indians. The poor foreman paid dearly for his too great confidence, or too great contempt. The death of Brewster was attended by circumstances of signal atrocity. While the work of murder was going on, Chiddeki had stood aloof, — he alone of all the Indians taking no part in it. When all wan over, Klat«assan THE MURDER OF BREWSTER. 15 camo up to him. His countenance, marked by that singular wilclness and ferocity which characterize the shedders of blood, miglit well strike terror into the young Indian as Klat- sassan, holding his tomahawk over his head, inquired in a voice of thunder why he had not done anything ? George, however, nothing daunted, replied that he was there to prevent any one escaping. Klatsassan appeared only half satisfied by this reply : he did not, however, strike the lad, he commanded him to follow him, and went off accompanied by Chesuss, in search of Brewster, whose tent was some Avay farther on. Having gone some distance, they came within siglit of the tent, and then con- cealed themselves in the brush near the trail by which they expected him to jiass. When he came to within three or four yards of them, one of them fired, but the gun missed fire. Brewster saw it, and with Anglo-Saxon cool- ness, turning to tlie place in the brush from which the report camo, asked into the bushes why anybody wanted to kill him. To this Chesuss answered from his ambush, "We have killed all the rest, and we will kill you." Hearing this, Brewster ran to a hill close by, and got behind a large rock ; the ruffians made after him, fired, and wounded him. Then he 16 KLATSASSAN. Silt duwu quietly, and asked tlicm to put an end to him at once. Cliesnss tlicn shot him dead. The murderers first stripped tlicir victim ; then they cut open his hody, and took out his heart, and — oh, horrible to relate ! — one of them ate it. This was Chesuss : pro- bably he thought he would make himself very brave. The other, Klatsassan, declined to share this infernal repast, lluffian as ho was, he was not quite so bad as that. Besides, his fcn'ocious courage needed no such stimulant, III. MACDOXALD'S PAKTY. Scarcely had the good people of Victoria got over the excitement of the tidings brought by ]\Ir. Whymper of these wholesale murders, than more intelligence reached them of fresh crimes committed by the same Indians in a more distant part of the continent. This time it was a party of miners and packers who were the victims. They had started from Bentinck Arm on the north-west coast of British Columbia, for the gold mines of Cariboo, which they sought to reach by traversing a rough and i;nkuown country, where as yet there was no road, but at the best only a trail or bridle-path. The leader, or captain of +ho DEPARTURE FROM THE COAST. 17 2);irty, was Alexander Macdoiialtl, a well-kuowii packer. The names of the others were Mal- cohn Macleod, Peter Macdoiig'all, Barney John- son, packers ; the rest, Charles Farquharson, Clifford Higgins, John Grant, and Frederick Harrison, were miners bent on fortmie-hunting in the gold-fields of William's Creek. The party had forty -tv»'o pack-animals, twenty-eight of which were laden with pro- visions for the mines, valued at about lOOU/. Tliey left New Aberdeen at the head of Bentinck Arm, on the 17tli of May, 1861. For two or three days they proceeded without adventure. The scenery was romantic and varied to a wonderful extent. Perhaps it is hardly to be expected that adventurers in a new country will care much for the beauties of nature. Their life is too much a struggle for existence, and the labours and anxieties of each day are too absorljiug. Otherwise, these Travellers would have found much to charm them. Now they would cross a line upland plateau, where the famous bunch-grass of the colony waved in all its luxuriance of verdure, and whence a glorious panorama lay at their feet, of vast undulating plains, and silvery streams, and grand snow-capped mountains closing in the view. Then descending by a 18 KLATSASSAN. steep and tortuous path — (alas, in those rough down-hill rushes, for the poor mules, with their backs torn by the heavy burdens of three hundredweight !) — they would find at the bottom a dc^licious vjilley rich in flowers and shrubs, fragrant with the cotton-wood, and watered by a cool bright mountain- stream. Then the long train would wend upwards, passing round some steej) ^^ slide ^' or mountain- slip, where, ages ago, the rocky mountain had been rent asunder, and part of it had slipped away into the valley beneath : while the remain- ing rock had gone on crumbling away, under the influence of summer rains and winter frosts, until its fragments now flowed round the moun- tain like a great mantle of sand, dun-coloured, relieved only by one or two flowers, foxgloves or such like, dotted over the ample garment. Across this slippery sand-mantle, the long mule-train, preceded by the jingling bells of the leader, and stimulated by the shouts and threats of the drivers, would take its weary way, and woe betide the hapless animal who on this elevated and uncertain trail should slip : — its fate was to roll and roll down the pre- cipitous slope, till it was dashed to pieces on the rocky bed of yon river far below. Nicootlem is a lake seventy -live miles inland KOMANTIC SCENERY. 19 from Bentinck Arm, where this branch of the Chilcoateu Indians had their head-quarters. The chief of the Nicootlcms was Anahim, ono of the greatest and most dangerous of the enemies of the whites, — but ono who unluckily has never been brought to justice. Kkitsassan, however, as already stated, was looked upon as chief over all the Chilcoaten Indians ; he had certainly most power and influence among them. Now Klatsassan had reached Nicootlem only a day or two before Macdonald^s party. He had come expressly to look out for Mac- donald, and to stir up the Indians to attack him. His success at the Homathco, miserable and dastardly as it was, had convinced him that the whites were vulnerable, and confirmed him in the delusion that their expulsion from the country might be practicable. On his arrival at Nicootlem, he told Anahim and the rest, of the prize that would so soon b'^ within their reach. Their greed was easily excited by his account of the endless supplies of flour and bacon which would attend a successful raid on MacdonakVs train, and they all agreed to seize the first opportunity to destroy the whites, and gain possession of their stores. On the evening of May 21st, MacdonakVs party reached the shore of Lake Nicootlem, c 2 20 KLATSASSAJT. and prepared to camp tliero that niglit. They had h{id a long day of itj and were glad Gnoiigh, wc may bo sure, to reach the place of l)ivouac. No one can realize, who has not felt it, the delight to the worn-out miner or packer of gaining tlie nightly resting-place. Greatly is this pleasure enhanced, when — as is so fre- quently the case in British Columbia, where the loveliest and most idyllic spots alternate with scenes of the wildest and most savage grandeur — the place of resting is a choice and enchanting scene. Such was the camp by Lake Nicootlem. Sweet indeed is rest after labour, by so fair a lake, on a fine May evening, in a land where the air is so clear that all the C(jlours of earth and sky stand out in striking brightness. The packers hasten to relieve their mules of their loads ; the aparejos ^ and the goods are carefully arranged in order ; the liberated beasts roll themselves in the grass. Meanwhile the miners have lighted a goodly fire, having felled in the wood a magnificent back-log of suilicient proportions to see them through the night, and again do duty at the morning meal. Presently the saucepan, with its ' Apiivt'jo, the piddliif^ nsod by Moxiofin ]iiU'lvor!? inst(>;i(l of a pack-siiddlc. It is oasier Ifir tlio uniinal, but rociuin's move skill in fixing tlio piicks tlum fi connuon pack-saddJe. KLYMTEDZA THE SQUAW. 21 mess of Californlan beans, wliicli, having boiled all last uiglitj may bo supposed to want only a small amount of additional cooking, is placed on tho fire, from which also the coffee-pot, sQjiplied with water from the stream which joins the lake hard by, and the frying pan- inseparable vade-mecum of miners — m;iy be heard discoursing music grateful to tho ears of hungry men. In o-iviiio- above tho names of Macdonald'd party, one person was omitted from the list. When I say that the person in question was a young Indian woman, who was in fact tho squaw of one of the packers, tho reader will perliaps consider an apology due for her intro- duction here. Tho truth of my narration, however, compels the mention of this woman. Months before, in a distant part of the country, tho packer had found her in her 2)arents' tent. Her father was at once needy and greedy, and easily gave ear to the packer's nefarious proposals. Klymtedza had left tho Indian camp to be his favoured slave. Tho packer was kind, and Klymtedza was happy. ►She had good food and fine clothes. She was attached to her master, and she knew not, poor child — how should she ? no one had evei? let lier know — that she did wrong. SliQ 22 KLATSASSAN. sinned in iguoraiico ; but, alas ! such sins too lijivo their punislnnent. Klyniteclza's parents were of the Nicootlem tribe, and at the moment of her arrival with the train on the one side of the lake, her rela- tives were encamped on the other. Accordingly, as night fell, she stole away from the whites, to go to see her people. She was eagerly wel- comed by her friends, who praised her improved appearance and wondered at her apparel. When she arrived the men were sitting in council, and Klatsassan was delivering himself of a harangue on the duty of exterminating the whites. The coming of Klymtcdza furnished a new argu- ment. " Chilhowhoaz,^^ said he, " see, your daughter. You ought to liavo shame for letting her leave you — not good Indian, you ! far worse, those palo devils who have taken her; for — do you not know it? — Klymtedza is lost. You think not. I tell you she is. It is true she is fat and well-looking — more than if she had stayed with you. She wears a gown now, instead of, as before, a blanket or a deer- skin ; she has on shoes instead of mocassins, her hair is combed and well greased. But, chief, she is no longer (jood — not as a Eed man's wife is good. The Great Father's heart is against the white men. The whites are bad. klatsassan's spefx'h. 23 Indian women should not live witli f.lioni. Attond to ]no ! A few yciirs from now_, ilio man slio lives with will leave lier^ and tlicn what will become of her ? 81ie can nev(^r 1)0 an Indian/s wife afterwards. No ; she will become a bad thing, or, perhaps (best tiling she can do), will use rope (i.e. hang herself). This is what hnppcns to all white men/s squaws. They die. Our families consume away. We jire all dying off together. ^I'he whites want to destroy us. They have ruined our families. They have taken our country from us. They have built their stone houses and towns, lliey have put their fire-vomiting steamboats on our lakes and rivers, and frightened away the salmon. They have set their vile ploughs in our sacred soil. They are going to take every thing, and destroy us. Yes, chiefs, believe me, these palefaces want to kill every redskin in the land. Shall we let them ? No ; we must kill them off first. And let us begin with those over yonder." So saying, he pointed across the lake to where Macdonald's camp-fire shone forth in the now ftxst-falling darkness. Klymtedza was not long in dis- covering that the Indians had determined to capture the mule-train. Indians can never keep a secret from one of their own tribe, else 24 KLATSASSAN. prudence would have suggested to the Nicoot- Icms to keep tlieir own counsel. But no ; it all came out. Tlioir plan was to attack tlio whites the very next day. As soon as she ascertained this, Kljantedza was anxious to get back to Macdonald's camp, and took an early opportunity of saying good night. As she was leaving, the probability of her making known their plan flashed on Klatsassan\s mind. He took her by the arm, and fixing on her a look which made her tremble, said, " Have a care, daughter; see you don^t betray us to the palefaces. If you give them a single hint of our intentions, and they change their course in consequence, they shall die all the same, and you with them." The girl eagerly promised to say nothing, and so left. I3ut on reaching the packers' camp, the first thing she did was to divulge the whole. ^' The Indians," she said, " had gone on the war-trail against the King George- men, and wanted to kill every white man in the land." They might lay their account with being attacked next day. She advised them to abandon their train and provisions, and to make their escape on horseback to the coast. On hearing this, the men were divided. Some thought the whole a vain alarm. The idea of THE AViriTES TTTREATENEP. 2 J.-) Indians attacking a party of cij^lit white men ! feucli a tiling was inconcciv^ablc. ^^hcsc men urged tlieir comrades not to allow tliemsclves to bo influenced by the fears of a weak girl, but hold on tlieir course. The rest of the party thought the danger more serious. They recalled the recent news from Bute Inlet_, and could not but feel that there miglit bo ground for aUrm. '^ These Indians, living in this remote place, must (thought they) be in total ignorance of tho power of the whites, and mny actually imagine that they can make war with us. Their success at Bute Inlet has filled them with the notion that they can cut us off; and from what the girl says they seem determined to try. And it is by no means so certain that if they were to attack us wo might not get the worst of it. Were they to fire on us as we defiled through a wood, or skirted some hill- side, they might knock us off our saddles be- fore we could return a shot." '' I guess," said one of them, who had been in California, " I guess iu this fix, discretion would ap]^ear to bo the better part of valour. WeM better do as tho girl says, and ))ia]iC tracing for the coast, and look for better luck next time.^^ But in vain did thia miner, and cue or two more who took this vieW; endeavour to argue 20 KIATSASSAN. the others over to their opinion. The packers, espcciully, "svere nnwilling* to leave their j)ro- visions in the hands of their enemies without tlie least attempt to save them. At knigth a mid(lk) course was agreed upon. Thcj resolved to move to a hill commanding' the neighbour- hood. Hero they dug a pit breast-deep, in which they placed their goods and aparcjos, and then occupied it. Klymtedza seemed pleased with this arrangement. She said, " Klosh (good) ; if wo stop hero wo are safe.^^ Hero they remained accordingly for two days, the Indians the meanwhile watching them closely from their camp. It was no slight trial for men of energy to continue for two days in voluntary imprisonment, and on the third day MacdonahFs patience became fairly exhausted. Calling an Indian to the foot of the knoll, ho asked him what they wanted ? The Indian replied, with the most nonchalant air, " We want nothing. You can go on.''^ Macdonald himself was very anxious to go forward, but he vainly endeavoured to persuade the opposite party. Yet all were anxious to take some steps, feeling very tired of their rifle-pit, in which they were wretchedly cramped and uncomfortable. So it was pro- THE WHITES ENTRENCH THEMSELVES. 27 posed tluit tlioy sliould rctiini to Nicootlom, {lud tjiko lip tlicir quarters in an Indian stuckiidcj wliieli was near tlic lake. TliiH ])lan was strongly opposed by the S(piaw. '' Ko ! ^^ Baid slie, ^Hliat plan is bad;' it' yon go from here at all, go on horseback, and straight to tlie coast. Don^t move a step witli the train. If yon do, yon will certainly bo shot. Never- theless/^ she added, '' if yon go, I go also ; you will die, I die with 3'On.^^ At last they determined to make straight for tho coast. One thing*, however, they wonld not consent to do, viz. leave their train. All Klymtedza^s eloquence conld not prevail on them to do that. Unlnckily this nnwilliiig- ncss to part with their property was to cost some of them their Jives. As they were now proceeding to get ready, they found that two of the pack-animals were missing, and the two bell-boys were sent out in quest of them, to one of whom a gun was given. These boys searched far and near, but saw no traces of the animals ; and as they were trying to find their way back, the Indians caught them. They were brought beforo Klatsassan. Now, one of these, Tom by name (whose evidence subsequently was of import- ance in the trial), belonged to Klatsassan, 28 KLATSASSAN. having been taken by him in a fight with a neighbouring tribe. That he was working with the whites was only by sufferance of KlatsassaUj who, it was reported, pocketed all the earnings of his slave. When the boys came, the chief told them that he was going to kill all the whites. Tom. and his companion were plucky enough to express disapproval oC this. TJie whites had been good to him, Tom said ; he didn^t see why they should be killed. Upon this Klatsassan drew a revolver (no doubt part of the Bute Inlet booty), and pointing it at Tom, threatened to shoot him, unless he agreed to go along with them. Tom promised to go, and so did the other lad, but with the full determination to slip away on the first opportunity. No opportunity, however, was to occur. Klatsassan then gave orders to two Indians to keep their eyes on the lads, and if they tried to run away they were to shoot them on the spot. Tills done, the whole band of Indians moved on to th(3 vicinity of the white men's camp, and concealed themselves near the trail by which the returning train must pass ; foi* the boys had inadvertently disclosed to them the decision of the party to return to tho coast, THE ATTACK. 29 ]3y tliis time Macdomild and liIs pa.rty, despairing of tlic return of tlic bell-boys, had finislicd up tlieir packing-, and set off without them. Instead of taking the squawks excellent advice, and '^ making tracks'^ as fast as they could without tlieir packages for the coast, they took everything with them, and moved slowly and noisily, with their great pack-train, towards the s^^ot where their deadly enemies lay concealed. As they approached, they wore met with a volley from both sides of the trail. Instantly one fell dead, Clifford Higgins by name. Macdougidl, the packer, also fell mortally wounded; Klatsassan, rushing from his am- bush, shot him dead. As for Macdonald, his horse was shot under him ; he quickly mounted another, but this also was shot. Then he got up and ran for his life with two Indians (Klatsassan and another named Yahoonklis) in pursuit. Yahoonkhs, being swift of foot, gained on ^lacdunald. lie fired, and Mjic- donald fell wounded ; then Yahoonklis ran up to finish him. But the wounded man drew his revolver, and shot the Indian through the heart. The next moment Macdonahl himself lay dead, shot by another of the assailants. Of the parly five esca^)ed. One of them, • e 'M) KLATSASSAN. being hotly pursued, ran a long way till lio came to a lake surrounded by tall brusli-wood. Finding himself for a moment out of sight of his pursuers, he took off his wide-awake, and flung it on the water, whilst he plunged into the thickest of the brush. The Indian coming' up and seeing the hat floating there, concluded that this man w^as drowned, and gave up the pursuit. On the scene of the fray lay the body of Yahoonklis. Eigid in death was the tall sinewy frame : soiled with dust were the hawk's feathers around his head. His dusky face, rendered more hideous by the black war- paint, looked stern and grim in the grip of death. A large brass ring hung from his nose. Thus he was found by his two brothers < A2:)proaching the body with a mournful dirge, they carefully wrapt the warrior in his blanket, and buried him in the sand close by. But Yahoonklis' remains were not suffered to repose iu peace. White men travelling there a fe^v weeks later came upon a ghastly and revoltiig spectacle. In the middle of the trail sat a dusky corpse^ as of some powerful Indian. The head was surmounted with a wa*eatli of soiled hawk's feathers. From the nose depended a huge brass ring ; and in tlio A DEAD WARRIOR. 31 mouth — oli^ ruthless mockery! — had been stuck a clay pipe. It was the remains of poor Yahoonklis. The outrage happened in this way. In the first instance the grave had been probably disturbed by wolves, which had dragged the corpse as far as the trail. They seem to have been interrupted in their proceedhigs, for they left the body there. It was found by an Indian of the Bella Coola tribe sitting on the road, in the sam(? squatting attitude it had been ac- customed to when alive. The Bella Coolas are deadly foes of the Chilcoatens ; and, so fierce is the animosity of the savage breast, that deatli itself does not terminate their hate. Instead of decently burying his enemy, this ]]ella Coolan barbarian thought that he would insult him, and make contemi^tible, being dead, him whom living he would probably Lave trembled to meet. And so the scoundrel placed the pipe between the dead man's teeth, and left him there, surely as hideous a sight as any traveller in desert places ever chanced upon. Tliis incident will serve to illustrate tlio darker side of savage nature. Is it too much to say, that such a deed could hardly have been done by a civilized man, however low he might have fallen? There are somo things 32 KLATSASSAN. with regard to which civilization leaves a resi- duum of feeling, even in those who have lost many traces of lier influence, and one of these is reverence for the dead. A man must have become ^^ rough ^^ indeed to have lost this feel- ing. I have known men who could treat the remains of tlieir fellow-creatures with neglect, but hardly can I conceive any one but a savage manifesting such an utter wantonness of in- solence towards the body of his deadliest foe, as that Bella Coolan brute showed to the dust of the Nicootlom warrior. The fate of the two brothers of Yahoonklis is not without interest as illustrating other phases of Indian character. The younger of them, Niko, had been long an enemy of the whites, and had often urged upon his tribe the necessity of exterminating them. He had ac- cordingly lent a willing ear to Klatsassan when he came to Nicootlem to instigate the tribe to attack the nmle-train, and aided his efforts. The elder brother, whose name was Chinanihim, grieved at heart for the misery occasioned to their homo by the death of its liead (for the dead warrior was the eldest of the three), now severely censured Niko for his bad advice, loading him with reproaches, as the occasion of the ruin that had come on INDIAN TREATMENT OP LUNACY. 33 tliem. Finally, lie said that as lie had caused his brother^s death, he must die too ; so say- ing, he shot him dead ou the spot. And now Chinanihim, become the sole survivor of his family, was seized with remorse at what he had done. The loss of his two brothers, and the reflection that he had with his own hand killed one of them, whose fault, now that he was no more, appeared more venial, and whose bad counsel was now felt to have at least been dictated by good and patriotic motives — these thoughts so weighed on his mind that he lost his reason. He would go by day and by night howling through the forest, till the trees and rocks re-echoed his wild complaints; or sometimes he would rave furiously about the Indians' camp, exclaiming with alternate sobs and execrations that Red Indianism was for ever destroyed, and that the whites would come to avenge the murdered men, and kill their wives and their little ones. Ho had a sister in the camp, and she, seeing his con- dition, asked her husband to put an end to his life. ^' For,'' said she, " do you not see how he is making the hearts of the warriors little with his dark forebodings, and terrifying the children with his frightful cries? Besides," she added, " ho has lost his head ; he is not fit ^ 84 KLATSASSAN. to live." The Indian, who knew of no better treatment for lunacy than that which his wife suggested, complied with her request, and slow his brother-in-law. There was thus an end of all the brothers. All this took place on the day following the attack. The reader will wish to know what became of Klymtcdza, the poor Indian girl who had been so faithful to those who had proved but poor friends to her. She died a violent death. This is all the narrative tells us. The probability is that the Indians discovered that she had betrayed them, and simply put her to death for it. On the other hand it is quite possible she may have put an end to her own life. For with the Red Indians suicide is no rare occurrence, and the number of young women, especially, who put an end to their life by hanging themselves is incredible. The occasion is often contemptibly trivial. The following case came under my observation. The scene is an Indian camp near the Eraser River. An Indian squaw, Avho had been to all appearance well and happy all day, wakes up in the dead of night, and her mother, on waking, finds her weeping ; she asks her why she weeps, but receives no answer. Presently the girl rises, and leaves the tent, and goes out DEATH OF KLYMTEDZA. 35 into tlio pitch-dark night ; father and mother follow ; they call to her to come back ; no answer; they search for her everywhere — in vain : at length dny breaks, and then tlio hideous truth is discovered ; their daughter has hanged herself. At a tree quite near, with a rope round her neck, tied to a low branch, her feet on the ground, there sho stands, leaning against the tree, cold and dead. And what had made her do so desperate a deed ? Simply this : her husband had gone to a feast the day before, and had refused to let her go. She had hung herself in a pet! It would, then, be nothing surprising if Klymtedza^s death had come from her own hand. The fact that she had lost, by the hand of her own people, the man she had looked upon as her husband, was trying enough, and the feeling that she was cast out by her owm tribe, wdiom she had betrayed, and forsaken by all the whites, a stranger in her own land, would be sufficiently depressing to account for any deed of madness which an uninstructed, undisciplined, savage child, wlio believed in Destiny and in the Devil, but knew nothing of a Father, might take it into her brain to per- petrate. But whether she actually did this p 2 V * 36 KLATSASSAN. *-«>, tiling, or wlietlier sho died by tlio Imiid of others, I cannot say. Enough, sho died, and this sad and dark history of the swift extinction of a life which either might have blessed an honest Indian's tent, or, if taken betimes and educated in sound Christian knowledge, might have proved a blessing and a civilizing in- fluence to many of her people, may well teach a lesson to all men, whether white their skin or red, who reading backwards the Christian law — se//'-sacrifice, sacrifice others for them- selves. The Christian Church, too, ought surely to be more active in its efforts and more bounteous in its offerings to reclaim those daughters of the borderlands of the world, and save them for Christ and for the Future, ere all be swept away through the advance of a Christ- less civilization, or through the evil passions of unscrupulous men, or through '^ their own carnal will or frailty .'' IV. THE STORY OF WILLIAM MANNING. The next victim of the Indians was a settler at Puntzeen named William Manning. Punt- zeen is the name of a lake situated at tho junction of three trails, one coming from the coast at Bentinck Arm, one from the coast at THE STORY OF WILLIAM MANNING. 37 Buto luletj and one from tlie Fraser River. It lies in lat. 52° 12' 10'', long. 120° 2', 1 lU miles from Bentinck Arm, 130 from Buto Inlet, and 90 from Fort Alexander on the Fraser River. It is a lovely spot, and was for ages a favourite Indian camping-ground. Its lake and streams were full of fish and the sur- rounding forest of game. Between tlio woods and the water, was an extensive space of clear land, inviting to the settler. Passing by this way eastward from tho coast, some years before, Manning had cast his eyes upon tho spot, and considered that, as the land was a goodly land, he would take up his abode there. So he pitched his tent and enclosed a bit of garden along by the bright clear lake ; the ground was found to yield an abundant crop, and as years rolled on. Manning replaced his tent by a good substantial log-house; he extended his garden, and cleared more land ; he procured a plough, and turned up the rich virgin soil, and the yellow corn waved by tho bank of that far-off lake. Manning had always been on good terms with the Chilcoatcn Indians. They readily worked for him and he liberally rewarded them. He frequently ma''''^ them presents of bread or of vegetables, and ono winter, when they were excessively 38 KLATSASSAN. hard up^ aud well-nigh starving, he almost entirely supported them. But notwithstanding all this, the Indians now determined to destroy poor Manning. They had always felt a certain grudge against him for having settled in Puntzeen, and taken from them so old and favourite a camping- ground. Such a crime, they thought, nothing could atone for. To their minds it vitiated all his actions; his kindness appeared mere selfishness, and all his generosity only a bribe to induce them to part uumurmuringly with the immemorial inheritance of their fathers. It was Anahim, this time, not Klatsassan, who planned the deed of blood. Anahim was, however, too great a coward to do the work himself. He accordingly seized on one of his tribe named Tapeet, and ordered him to kill poor Manning. Tapeet was very averse to this (if his own account of the matter is to bo believed), but he could not help himself. As for Manning, he was about his work on his farm, suspecting nothing. He had, indeed, had his fears, after hearing of the other murders, and had done what he could to prepare himself against an attack. But the Indians, who were afraid of the man, had resorted to stratagem to put him off his guard. THE INDIANS CONSPIRE TO KILL MANNING. 39 They sent a squaw to fetch a woman known as Nancy, who stayed in Manning^s house, and sent word bp'.k by her that they were all going away to Alexandria to trade, and Manning need not be afraid. The man was thus thrown off his guard. Meanwhile Nancy took his arms and hid them, and then went off to tell the Indians they might venture to attack him. It was the general opinion that but for this woman the Indians would never have killed poor Manning. One morning in May, Anahim and Tapeet came up to Manning's together. ^J^hey met him in his garden, and said, ^' Kiahowya, — how are you,'' shaking hands, and after a brief conversation. Manning turned to go in. Then Tapeet shot him in the back, and he fell, quite dead. Tapeet then sat down, and covering his face with his blanket wept long and loud. Manning had been a good friend to him, he sobbed out, and it was a shame to make him shoot him. Shame or not, he was to die for it, whilst the other greater villain unfortunately escaped. Tapeet, I believe, never entered tho house, nor did he take apenny worth of the spoil. Anahim then, calling the other Indians, proceeded to loot the dead man's house. They appropriated all the flour and other edibles 40 KLATSASSAN, tlioy could find, and destroyed everything else; after wliicli tlicy burnt the house. They then proceeded to devastate the garden and field — the plough and other implements of agriculture they wantonly destroyed. Then, returning to where the dead man lay, they proceeded to indulge their natural ferocity by outraging his remains, battering in the head and cutting the body in a horrible manner; finally, they flung it, or as much of it as still hung together, into the bed of a small stream, and then threw on it, for concealment, roots of trees — roots which had been dug out by the hand of the murdered man as he had cleared his land for the plough. This was the last of the crimes committed by the Chilcoatens at this time. On the evening of the murder, Klatsassan, who, for some reason or other, had not taken part in this affair, again appeared, and made his men take up a position on an adjoining hill. The hill was thickly wooded, and the Indians, them- selves unseen, could from it keep an out-look on the three trails converging at Puntzeen. There was great rejoicing among them that night at the death of the man they feared, and little regret for the man who had given them flour and potatoes. There was also much INDIAN RUFFIANISM. 41 feasting* on the spoil tliey had stolen. As luckily no pirc-cliuck (whisky) was found on the white man's premises, they had not an opportunity of making themselves mad — for the effect of strong waters upon the savage mind is simply maddening. They quietly smoked their pipes around the camp-fire, and indulged themselves only in strong harangues full of laudations of themselves and of then* ancestors, and of denunciations of the whites. In discussing the event of the day, one Indian, more sagacious than the rest, was bold enough to express his disapproval of part of the proceedings. He did not see why Manning's plough need have been destroyed. He had looked on it with admiration almost amounting to adoration, as, moving in the rear of four stout oxen, this wondrous thing had cut its slow but certain way through the most tangled roots and the most closely packed of sod, and prepared, in the primeval soil, a bed for the bread-bearing seed. So he thought they might have spared the instrument and learned to use it themselves. This shrewd Indian, however, was ahead of his ago, and no one in the camp agreed with him. The chief, though he had not been present when the plough was hacked to pieces, quite approved of the deed. 42 KLATSASSAN. He spoke on this occasion somewhat as fol- lows : — " Keoochtan has spoken. The Eye-of- day has declared tlie Kcdskins ought to have kept the white man^s plough. Not so think Owhalmewha (all men, i.e. all Indians). My children, ye did well to destroy it ! '^ '' Well spoken, chief/^ murmured his hearers. Klat- sassan continued. " We do not want the white man's machines, nor do we want to till the soil or sow chappelell (wheat). Our fisheries and hunting-grounds are vcr^ good for us. Our way of life, very good for us. It was good for our fathers, it is good for us. We are not better than our fathers, and have no wish to live differently. We want to be let alone to enjoy our country, and our fishing-streams, and hunting-grounds. We don't want these paleskins or their ways. They have no business here. Accursed sons of dogs, why come they to thrust themselves upon our land ? They choose our fairest spots — they fence them off — they plough up our sacred soil. We won't have them here, nor their implements, nor anything that belongs to them." " Their bread, nevertheless, is good, and their bacon not amiss, and I wish we had only a little of their rum, or even their coffee/' FEELING AGAINST THE WHITES. 43 said tliG other, after tlie excitement produced by the last speech had somewhat abated. ^^ Yes, their bread is good, I allow/^ said the chief, " aud so is their coffee, but their hogs are foul beasts, aud as to their whisky, it makes our people as mad as devils. You know that no Indian ever killed another tribesman or ran away with his squaw, till the fire-water came. Yes, this is one of their deviFs actions, the bringing it among us. Indeed, I don^t know anything but ill they have brought us. Now they are going to send small-pox to kill us all. We must be beforehand with them. Let us all keep a sharp look-out from here. We can sec all the white men that pass this way from the Grreat Sea, or from the Homathco, or from the Sitatqua (Fraser River) ; whichever way they come we can see them approaching, and we can shoot them from the trees before they even know tho;t wc arc here. If every Indian does his duty, in my opinion the land will soon bo purged of these wretches. ^^ Leaving Klatsassan and his men in their cyrio at Puntzeen, enjoying the fruits of their deeds of butchery, and glorying in the vain dream of exterminating the colonists, wc must now follow the steps taken by the Government to apprehend aud briug the-n to justice. 4i KLATSASSAN. V. GOVERNMENT EXPEDITIONS IN PURSUIT OF THE CRIMINALS. TnK Governor of British Columbia, wliicli was then an independent English colony, the great scheme of Canadian Confederation not having as yet seen the light, was the late Mr. Frede- rick Seymour, C.B. As soon as news of the outrages described above reached New West- minster, then the seat of Government, it was determined that prompt means should be used to bring the offenders to justice and restore security to the colony. Whether the means used were the wisest, the most practical, may be questioned; when I mention that two expeditions were sent out, that only one ac- complished anything, that all it did accom- plish was to take half a dozen prisoners, and that these modest results were obtained more by stratagem than anything else, readers may bo amused at the Brobdignagian preparations and the Liliputian achievements. It was thought that the best way to catch the Chilcoaten murderers was to send after thera two costly expeditions, which, entering the country at different points, should search for the Indian through the impcnetrublo forest, THE COLONIAL GOVERNMENT TAKES ACTION. 45 and scour the endless tracts of an imkuowu couutry, in quest of men very swift of foot, no- wise capturable either by force or fleetness. One expedition, under the leadership of the late Mr. Brew, police-magistrate of the colony, was to enter the country from the sea-coast at Bcntinck Sound, by the way that Macdonald^s hapless train had taken. The other was to start from the Fraser River and pursue a course w. and s.w. This expe- dition we propose to follow, guided by informa- tion derived from no second-hand source. Its history will furnish some interesting notices of colonial and Indian life. Early in June, Mr. Cox, stipendiary ma- gistrate and gold-commissioner of Quesncl- mouth, a flourishing little town on the Upper Fraser, and the principal depot for the mines of Cariboo (situated about sixty miles distant in a N.E. direction), received instructions to get together a party of volunteers, and go after Klatsassan and his accomplices. No Juan could have been better selected for the com- mand of such an expedition. Together with great experience of frontier life, he possessed much knowledge of Indian character. Person- ally endowed with a rare combination of affa- bility and firmness, ho was peculiarly well fitted 46 KLATSASSAN. to comraaud tlio body of strong-willod and un- disciplined miners and backwoodsmen who con- sented to place tbemselves under his authority. A man of infinite humour, his very presence made men smile with honest delight, not only from the genial mirth which twinkled in his eye, but in anticipation of the fun which tlioy knew was ready to break from his lips. Ho possessed the rare power of noting and appropriating the ludicrous phenomena whereof this grave world is full, and pouring them forth deliciously on all who came about him by look and tone and smile, as well as in what he actualty said. Such a quality would, of course, make him very popu- lar with his men, and indeed it went far to keep them good-humoured and obedient amid the difficulties* and hardships of the expedition. The instructions Mr. Cox received were to enter the Chilcoaten territory at Alexandria, and travel on until he should meet Mr. Brew's party coming from the coast. He was directed to use every possible means to catch and bring in the murderers. He was to avoid cominor into collision with the Indians, who were to be made to understand that the object of the Government was not to make war on them, but simply and solely to apprehend and punish the offenders. GOLD-COMMISSIONER COX. 47 Mr. Cox assembled his men, to the number of fifty, at Alexandria. They consisted chiefly of miners and gold-seekers, out of all nations. A few others there were, who belonged to tho estate of gentlemen : retired officers of the army and navy, who had stumbled upon a colony little suited to them. Attracted by the Government grants of land by which a grateful country rewarded their services, they had found the boon a questionable one. For it necessitated their settling amid the solitudes of an immense country, where, with flour sometimes from two shillings to a dollar a pound, and labour from 1/. to 2/. a day, they had to toil like common labourers at clearing the forest, and making themselves some rude kind of home, for years before they could look for any returns. Tho recompense would bo great, no doubt, when it came, but meanwhile the work was almost more than any man could endure, excepting those accustomed to hard manual labour from their youth. Chances were, long before tho harvest of their hopes, they would break down or starve, and selling out at much loss, leave the fruit of their arduous toil for other hands to gather. A hard lot surely, almost unbearable. A few of those officer-farmers had found their way to Alexandria, and joined tho ex- 48 KIATSASSAN. podition. I am sorry to say, and this was ono of the evils of their mistake, the company they had come to join was not select. They were roughs — '^ It is a rough country, and the men in it are rougher yet/' was a remark I often heard in British Columbia, and never was truer thing said. Such, then, were some of the general cha- racteristics of the sort of men who joined Mr. Cox's party. Plainly to such men discipline was no welcome thought, if indeed it was an intelligible one; and yet unless their captain could contrive to teach it them, his labour must perforce be in vain. He accordingly determined to show them that, with all his genial kindness, he yet knew how to hold a stiff rein in a tight hand, and so made known to them his first order of the day, which was, that the first man who promoted a quarrel should be discharged, no matter where they were. This decree was likely to ensure peace and quietness, first condition of success and progress in that, as indeed most enterprises. The prospect of being turned out of the camp, perhaps hundreds of miles from a white habi- tation, into the wilderness to starve, was sure to have a salutary and deterrent influence. Before they had got well clear of Alexandria, A STIFF HKIN IN A TIGHT HAND. 49 this law had to bo put in force. One ovoniiig one of the men (who liad formerly been a con- stable in Cariboo) came into camp intoxicatetl, and drew a revolver and a knife on his com- rades. The captain^ hearing the noise, came out, and as he stiw the swaggering and blatant ruffian brandishing his weapons and threaten- ing to shoot all present, he determined to make an example of him. He bade him decamp that instant, and as the man, already more than half sobered, stood staring at him, the further order was given, that if he did not leave the camp within ten minutes, the men might do whatever they liked to him, and ho, Captain Cox, would bear the responsibility. The words had the anticipated effect. The man jumped up and ran off, leaving his blankets in liis haste. After this, not an angry word was heard amongst the men during the whole expedition. The men were armed with the Lancaster rifle, — very unwisely, as it turned out. Of course breech-loaders were hardly in use then, but even the common fowling-piece would have proved a more handy weapon. In Indian war- fare quick firing is half the battle, and it happened not unfrequently, that while tho rilleman was enl>*^^'ed in adiustino; tho sight 50 KLATSASSAN. for the spot where the enemy was first espied, the nimble Indian had materially increased the distance, or even had entirely disappeared. Thus armed the party set out. They left Alexandria on the 6th of June, taking a westerly direction. They took along with them a pack-train with a month^s provisions. On the 10th they gained the river Chilco, sixty-six miles from Alexandria. For the first four days they travelled through a wooded and hilly country. They found an Indian trail, but it was often encumbered with fallen timber. Two axemen had therefore to go in front of the party and clear a path through the logs. Part of the way lay through a burnt forest. Some great fire had swept across the country and turned its greenness into desolation. Nothing could be seen for miles on either hand of the path, but the charred trunks, standing in melancholy crowds — sable ghosts of the monarchs of the wood. Amongst them the wind made a most mournful creaking and clattering with many weird and curious sounds. It was with no small feeling of relief that our party emerged from this forest of the dead, and gained the Chilco river.^ Nothing could - This river gives itsuauieto tlie tribe, Chilco-atin, — people of the Chilco. MR. cox's TARTY LEAVE ALEXANDRIA. 51 exceed the beauty of the scene that lay before them, as they descended upon the valley of the Chilco. The clear bright stream gleamed on them, as in joyous welcome. Along its banks stretched meadows clothed with luxuriant herbage, and richly adorned with those count- less varieties of wild flowers which form so attractive a feature of the colony, ^rhe Chilco was a favourite camping-ground of the Indians ; a branch of the Chilcoatens, under a chief named Alexis, had their usual head-quarters there. When our party arrived, however, there was not one to be seen. The Indians, as was afterwards ascertained, had taken fright, and fled. They had heard of the gathering of armed men at Alexandria, and a rumour had arisen that the object of the expedition was the extermination of the natives. So they had all left their homes, and vanished, no one knew whither. This was a great disappointment, for the chief, Alexis, was known to be friendly, and our party had hoped to have had his help in apprehending the men they were in quest of. Accordingly, finding the Chilco camp de- serted, Mr. Cox pushed on to Puntzeen, which he reached in ten days. Here they found the marks of Indian ferocity in the devastation of £ 2 52 KLAT8ASSAX. tlie liouso and property of the unfortuniito Manning. After some soarcli thoy discovered his remains in the bed of the stream where they had been concealed. Mr. Cox held an inqnest, when tlie body was identified by one of the men, after which it was decently buried. Mr. Maclainc (a late factor of the Hudson Bay Company, who had joined the expedition as a volunteer) read the Burial Service. Mr. Cox had now advanced a considerable distance, upwards of ninety miles, into this terra ii)cog}ufa, and he seemed as far from his object as ever. After the funeral of poor Manning, he and Maclaine, and one or two others, discussed by their camp-fire at Punt- zeen Lake, the important question of what was to be done next. The natural thing was to follow up the Indians, but how and whither ? Which of all the numerous trails diverging from Puntzeen would lead to their camp ? '^ Even if we knew where to go, even if we tracked them to their hiding-place, what," they asked each other, '^ can we do with them ? We cannot attack them, for we are distinctly forbidden to make war on them. Our orders are solely to arrest the murderers, and who is there to point out to us who of any natives we may capture are the murderers?" The only THEY ENCAMP AT PUNTZEEN. 53 way out of these clifRculties appeared to bo to procure an Indian guide, who might both show the way, and point out the criminals. Mr. Cox accordingly determined to make an effort to ascertain where Alexis was, and if i^ossible obtain his assistance. For that purpose Mac- lainc started, June 13th, with a small party, for the forks of Chilco river, where it is joined by the Chesco, a point about forty-fivo miles to the s.w. This being a great rendezvous of the Chilcoatens, it was hoped that Alexis would be found there. Mr. Cox was to await their return at Punt'^een. The afternoon of the day Maclaine left, the party at Puntzeen became aware of the vicinity of the Indians. When last wo saw Klatsassan, it will be remembered that ho was encamped on the summit of a wooded hill, on the look- out for any unfortunate whites who might pass that way. His position commanded a view of tho converging trails, so that, though himself unseen, he could see all who approached. We may imagine the astonishment with which he witnessed the arrival of our party. In his ignorance, he was absolutely unprepared for such a demonstration of power on the part of the whites. His courage did not fail him, but it was, to say the least of it, an anxious hour 54 KLATSASSAN. for him, as ho saw our men defiling round the foot of his hill, and within so short dis- tance of him that he could hoar their voices. No eye could better mark the points of a man, and he could easily see that in the matter of p/njsi'qiie those men were very different from his fellow-countrymen. His eye fell on lithe and stalwart frames, on countenances full of intelligence and self-reliance. A type of character so unlike the Indian, who alone is nothing, however brave he may be at times in company with others, could not fail to strike our chief. He felt they belonged to a race which was destined, wherever they went, to have dominion. '' Each man as a king and the son of a king.^' No, his people never could stand against such as these. All he could do against them he would do, but sooner or later the Redskin (who in fact had been degenerating for generations before the whites came near them) must go down. " Yes, the sun of the Indian race is near its settmg. The days of Owhalmewha soon shall pass into eternal night." So thought Klatsassan, and im- parted his apprehensions to his tribe, in whose anxious faces, however, he sought in vain — " What reinforcement he might gain from hope, If not, what resolution from despair." I?E-APPEA1^ANCE OF KLATSASPAN. 55 Tlio manucr in wliicli Mr. Cox^s men wore made aware of the nearness of the Indians was simply tliis : two of tliem saw one of their dogs in the wood. On their reporting this to the captain, he sent eight men to the hill, with orders to seize and bring to him any Indians they could catch. Following the tracks of the dog, the men went iip towards the Indian camp, when suddenly they were fired upon from amongst the trees. Indians, to the number of six, presently appeared in the wood, and got fired at by our men, though with no particular result in loss of life or limb to any of them. The Indians had dodged behind trees, and reloading, they fired a second time ; this time wounding one of the whites. They then darted off, passing swiftly from tree to tree, and were soon lost sight of. Klatsassan, the men said, was of the party. Very probably, we should think. Meanwhile Mr. Cox, hearing the firing, had come out with twenty more men. These dispersing in all directions ranged hither and thither, but did not so much as catch sight of their nimble foes. Some of them passed quite close beneath the Indian camp, as the Indians afterwards declared. For a distance of four miles our men continued the pursuit, but at length they had to return to camp without success. 56 KLATSASSAN. Klatsassan, now back in liis eyrie, saw our men wending homewards ; and not without a sense of exultation, for his side had certainly had the best of it. In truth he now felt that the Paleskins were not so dangerous as they had appeared the day before. They were not half so quick as the Indians, and their big rifles seemed far less manageable than the old Hudson Bay muskets his men were armed with, and their bullets hit very wide of the mark. Those big men coming crushing through the bush, could, ho thought, easily be evaded by the agile Redskins, with eyes like hawks, and eavs like hares, slipping quietly from, troc to tree, and ready ever to lire and to flee. 80 for himself and his men, the chief now felt con- fident there was no ground for anxiety : and thanks to the trivial success of this first encounter, his apprehensions of the previous day gave way to hope and confidence. At the isame time, when he thought of his wives and family — he had two wives and six children — and of the other women and children of the camp — he did confess to himself that the affliir had been too close to be altogether pleasant. He was devoted to his fiimily, as indeed Indians invariably are, and knowing nothing of the whiteSj he could not anticipate what SENDS AWAY THE WOMEN AND CHILDREN. 57 treatment they would receive at tlie hands of his enemies. (He need not, of course, ho,ve been apprehensive on that score, for the captain of the expedition, who had now absohite control over his men, was the most chivalrous and kind- hearted of mortals.) In any case to let such hostages fall into their enemy^s hand, wou^d have been suicidal policy — and Klatsassan was wise in resolving as he did. He determined to abandon his camp, and move to a remote spot where the whites could never find them. Accordingly, very early next day they struck their tents, and prepared to depart. Having rolled up the tents, together with their skins and blankets, having also packed up what rude utensils they possessed, the provisions they had plundered at Manning^s, and their own salmon and berries, to those of the squaws who had no babies to carry, they assigned to each her '' pack.'^ These bundles were fixed by a strap to the forehead of the bearer, and in the same way the cradled infants were carried by their mothers. The men, i)rcu,c cJievaJiers, for the most part bore no other burden than their muskets and their huntiug- knives. The chief, however, sallied forth with a child perched on each shoulder. And so they defiled in the grey of dawn from their 58 KLATSASSAN. liill-camp, and passing noiselessly tlirougli the wood, went on their way, journeying towards the setting sun. Klatsassan did not, however, accompany his people to their new and distant quarters. When they were fairly out of danger, he left them to pursue the journey, and returned with a few followers to the neighbourhood of his old camp, to keep watch on the ^' King George men." Late in tlie afternoon of the day of their flight, he and his comrades appeared on a hill within sight of the whites, fired a volley of defiance, and then vanished into the wood. Our men wished to give chase, but it w^as thought better not. Their leader, being in absolute ignorance of the number of the enemy, imagined this a device to lure our men into the wood, where they might be surrounded and shot from behind trees, without a chance to return the fire. He deemed it, accordingly, more prudent to abstain for the time from active hostilities until the arrival of Maclaine with more intelligence of the Indians and possibly with the much-needed guides. The party were detained at Puntzeen from one cause and another far longer than tliey anticipated. Indeed, they do not appear to have ^.liruck their tents and moved on before THE VOLUNTEERS ENJOYING THEMSELVES. 59 the 7fcli of July. For men of energy it was no small trial to remain inactive so long*. A few, indeed, little heeded what they did or did not do, so long as they had food and good wages and light work. But the majority chafed at the delay. Not that they were altogether without occupation or amusement. On the contrary, scouting parties were sent out every day to scour the country round, always re- turning, however, without having seen or heard any Indians. Wherever they saw signs of Indian industry, they destroyed them, with, a view to forcing the Indians to surrender. Thus they destroyed their fishing- apparatus on the lakes and rivers, and likewise whatever caches of provisions they fell in with. At other times, when not engaged on those excursions, the men found plenty of sport in the streams and woods; those teemed with the loveliest trout, and these abounded in blue grouse, and to men whose rations were beans and bacon and flour, fish and game were no contemptible addition to the mess. In those fine summer evenings when the sun went down, they would sit round the log fire (for even in warm weather there is a sharpness about the air in that country at night which makes a fire leasant) and smoke and enteitain each other 60 KLATSASSAN. with yams out of tlicir previous not uneventful histories; while the sentries posted on the margin of the wood w^erc on tlic look-out to guard against surprise, VI. ARRIVAL OF THE GOVERNOR. Owing to the detention at Puntzoen^ the stock of provisions now became exhausted, and a pack-train was accordingly despatched to Alex- andria for a fresh supply. A packer known as Missouri Dick was sent in charge of the train. NoWj thi« Dick w^as by nature a coward ; he had, moreover, a very special dread of Indians. His thouglits by night and by day were of mounted Chilcoatens suddenly appearing, or of reports of musketry from the brush. An escort of tort men liad been told off to accompany the nmle-train as far as the Chilco river. When they left to return to Puntzcen, the men, awaro of Dick's weakness,' discharged their rifles within ear-shot of him. The packer thought it was the Indians at last. He put spurs to his horse ; with vigorous blows he urged on his mules; all set off at a gallop, and never stopped for more thjm an hour till they reached BUNCH-GRASS OF BRITISH COLUMBIA. Gl tlicir destination. Yet tliose animals performed this journey of sixty miles on no other pro- vender than the grass of the country. Doubt- less fear can inspire man, and, through man, beast, to perform prodigies ; but the fact that these animals could have done so much on such feed, illustrates in a curious way the admirable properties of the bunch- grass of British Columbia. It is well known to botanists and to formers in North America, that the bunch-grass {rji/ntus con den sat us) of tlie plateaux in this and adjacent countries has a marvellously nutritious virtue. Pack- animals will work on it better than on oats. On the IGth of June Maclainc returned from his journey in quest of Alexis. He reported having fallen in with the Indians eighteen miles from Puntzeeu. At first the Indians seemed inclined to show fight ; but on Maclainc intimating that it was peace, they became quite friendly. They said Alexis was not at home, he was out hunting on the mountains, and promised to send for him. He would bo with them in two days, they said. Two days passed, and still no signs of him. In fact, he did not turn up at all at that time. He pro- bably felt that although Klatsassan was hia 62 KLATSASSAN. enemy, still he was an Indian, and it would never do to betray liim to the palefaces, whom he no doubt in his heart considered the natural enemies of his race. One day, July 6th, news reached our friends of a large party of white men having been seen on the trail from the coast. This proved to be the other force under Mr. Brew. This party was formed at New Westminster, and came to the nortt west coast in H.M.S. '^Sutlej.'^ They were landed at the head of navigation, at Bentinck Arm. The first few days they made but little progress, for they had the greatest difficulty in bringing their pack-train into subjection. This consisted of wild half -broken native horses which gave in- cessant trouble. Indeed, on the fourth or fifth day after they left the coast, the whole cavalcade " stampeded,'^ resulting in what one of the party ^ describes as ^' a Bull Run on a small scale; pack-saddles here, ropes there, flour, blankets, bacon, beans, buckets, and a heterogeneous mass of fixins, scattered along the trail in the most delectable confusion, all caused by starting before we were ready, and stopping before we wanted to.'' The pack- 3 " Diary of a Volunteer,'* in the British Colonist, Oct. 18, 1864. A STAMPEDE. 03 horses, this writer goes on to say, were loaded with about three hundred pounds, instead of abcnt one hundred and fifty, and con- sequently would occasionally endeavour to lighten their grievances as well as their loads by kicking till everything went flying. On the 28th of June this party arrived at the foot of the Great Slide. A rather startling incident occurred at this point. As the packers were toilsomely wending their way up the steep, they were astonished by the sudden appearance of a stalwart savage, painted and plumed, who, springing up from behind a clump of firs, fiercely shouted, '' Kar miha chal'o?^' (^^ Why come you? ^^) After glaring on them for a few seconds, the " brave " sunk down behind the bushes, to the great relief of the packers. The same trick was tried by the Indian on Lieutenant Stewart of H.M.S. " Sutlej/' who happened to be some distance behind the train, but the officer brought his revolver to bear on him, and marched him off" a prisoner to head-quarters. Without further adventure, this party pro- ceeded till they reached Puntzeen, where our friends were encamped. Among the party was his Excellency the 'Governor, who had been anxious to explore this portion of the Gi KLATSASSAN. vast territory committed to liis charge, and had been ghad to avail himself of the oppor- tunity afforded by this expedition. The force under Mr. Brew consisted of forty-five men, most of whom belonged to the Royal Engineers stationed at New West- minster; well disciplined men, presenting rather a contrast to the rougher followers of Captain Cox. Let it be noted, however, that these last gave spontaneously three cheers for the Gover- nor on his arrival in their camp. It was a singular meeting. Representative of Majest}^, soldiers of the old country far away, magis- trates or gold-commissioners of the new colony; roughs, the pioneers who had scented out its gold and been the occasion of its becoming a colony at all — here met and fraternized round their respective camp-fires on the shore of this far-away lake as they discussed with hearty appetites the rudest fare, beans and bacon. Tlie day after the Governor's arrival, July 7th, Mr. Cox and his party struck their tents and packed their mules and marched aw\ay towards Bute Inlet. As they travelled, they sent out scouting parties in all directions in quest of Indians. None, however, were to be ADVANCE TO THE IIOMATIICO. 61 seen. One day a party camo upon a new trail, where they noticed innumerable horse-tracks : these they followed up a distance of thirty miles (the marks becoming fresher as they proceeded), through a thickly- wooded and liilly country. But all the tracks ended in a village of deserted Indian lodges. Here they found a cache containing flour, bacon, saddles, cScc, sure evidence of a robbery. These, as they afterwards discovered, were the spoil of the Macdonald affair. On the 12th of July they reached the head- waters of the Homathco, which flows into Bute Inlet, where they remained a few days, still scouring the country as well as they could for Indians, much as one miu'lit search for needles in a mountain of straw. All the while they were searching for them far afield, Klatsassan and his friends were hovering close by, laugh- ing, I dare say, in their sleeves, or at least in their blankets, at their futile attempts to catch them. By July IGtli provisions had again run short. What was to be done ? Stay where they were, wdiilst they sent back for fresh supplies? Ijiit cut bono? This sort of thing might last for months, and their object be as far from gained as ever. In the summer time the Indians could easily elude their pursuers CO KLATSASSAX. in the tliick foliage of their woods ; they couhl find mca-ns of life in the service-berries and many other kinds of berries which all these months J one kind after another, in rich variety and thick profusion, clustered in the trees and bushes, or amid the grass. Winter, Mr. Cox accordingly concluded, must be the time to catch them, if they were ever to be caught. So he determined to give it up for the present and return to Puntzecn. Our friends accordingly packed up their traps, rather crestfallen, wo may suppose, at the complete, and, in some respects, ridiculous failure of their expedition, so far at least. Still, like pioneers and others who have been pretty well knocked about by circumstances, they resolved to make the best of things, and departed on their home journey. On the day of their leaving tho Homathco, one of the men having occasion to return to the place whero they had camped, found several Indians sitting complacently smoking the calumet of peace by their late camp-fire. On his reporting this, some of our men were sent back to catch them, if they could. As soon as the Indians saw them they bolted; our lads fired, and gave chase. For three liours they ran them through and through, the wood; and smart ir. < ■n -I INDIAN AUDACITY — A CHASE. (37 fellows tliey must have been to keep sig-ht of any of tlicm .so long'. At last they could SCO ])nt one : — the rest had vanished no one knew whither. The Indian was tall and well Iniilt, very muscular as well as very sw4ft of foot. Nevertheless, he appeared to bo getting exhausted, and the pursuers Averc gaining' on Inm. They (ired at him two or three shots, but did not succeed in hitting him. At last he ran forth from the forest, and, crossing' a plain, reached a lagoon. Crack went a rifle, and a bullet went hissing' over his liead. In a moment he had thrown away his blanket, and pluno-cd into the water. The whites, reaching the water, saw only the ripples which indicated the plunge. A minute or two later Klatsassan, for it was he, was rei^lenish- ing his lungs among the reeds under the op- posite bank. As for our unsuccessful volunteers,, they hastened to make the best of their way after their party, whom they found already encamped for the night in an open space on the margin of the forest. In front, beyond a lovely stream, rose a stately mountain, steep, and covered with the sombre pine. Near the summit was a single bare space, the rest being densely wooded. A rugged ravine intersected the mountain^ down p 2 6S KLATSA3SAN. wliiclij liardly discernible for the trceSj a noisy stream hastened to join that other which, less impetuous an-l. less jubilantj -wandered by the white men\s tents. It was whilst camping liere that the only casualty of the expedition worthy of the name took place. VII. DEATH OF MACLAINE. In the death of Maclaine the colony lost n valuable man, and one of its oldest immigrants. A native of the Isle of Mull, he possessed the true Highland fire and dash ; perhaps, indeed, rather a. dash tou much of it. Early in life h9 joined the Hudson Bay Company, and became in time one of their most successful agents. In the course of a life full of adventure he had had many dealings with Indians of various tribes, and not always of a friendly nature. In fact, he seems to have made it his business to be among them a kind of incarnation of wdld justice, and to avenge, by swift and sum- mary retribution, crimes which had otherwise gone unpunished, and bred fresh deeds of violence. For instance, he it was who slew tlie treacherous knave who murdered Black, the Hudson Bay agent at Fort Kandoops ; the THE AVENGER OF liLOOD. 69 Inditiii also wlio, in cold blood, did to death a Canadian at tliat river of doom, known in conscqnencG as Deadman^s Creek {Uiviero des Defunfs), fell by his hand. In consequence of these exploits, Maclainc had become to several tribes an object of hate and terror indescribable ; among these he was known as the Fierce Chief (Kiischte te^Kukkpe). Often they tried to wreak their vengeance on him, but he seemed to lead a charmed life : and instead of falling into the hands of his enemies he slew them on each occasion, even as the bravo wild men of Jewish history were wont to do in days in yore, or like the stout and unscrupulous chieftains of his own Scottish mountains. He had stories to tell which would stir men^s blood and make their flesh creep. And the listener, whilst enthralled by the horror of his tales, was hardly less horrified to tliink that the principal actor in such scenes, even though of necessary retribution, should bo able, with flashing eye and impassioned look, with his own lips to relate them. It was said, although this was probably an exaggera- tion, that in the course of a tolerably long career as many as nineteen Indians had by his hand met their doom, and some thouglrt that an occasion might arise for completing the 70 KLATSASSAN. score. I doubt the accuracy of the statomentj but if it was true, tlio talc remained unfulfilled : for tliat twcntietli time it ^Yas himself who fell. It iippears orders had been g'iven for no one to leave the camp without permission. But ^laclainc, who chafed at the delays and ill- success of the expedition, so great a contrast to his previous raids against Indians, where, being his own master, he had known how to strike swift and sure, grew impatient^ and determined to try if he could not do something himself. lie invited an Indian lad, a camp- servant, to go with liim up the hill in front of them. He said ho was sure there were Indians there. Jack said it was dangerous to go there. "Are you afraid?^' said the Highlander. Indian Jack said, " Ko, he was not afraid, but he had no particular wish to be shot." " Oh," said ]\Iaclaine, '' there^s no danger, come along." So the lad went with liim. Leavino- the camp, they went up the trail in front of them which led up the hill by the ravine. On either side of the trail the trees and brush were very thick. 'SSee,^' said Jack, '•fresh tracks on the path ; men and women both, I thiidv." Then when tliey had gone a. bttle farther: ''Look MACLAINE SHOT BY THE INDIANS. 71 out_, Mr. Maclaipc^ tlicso tracks quite fresli ; Indians not far away." ^' No, no," said Mac- laino, " no Indians licrc, tlicyVo run away over the hill. WoMl go up on tlio liill, and try and find their canip.''^ Jack asked him not to speak so loud. " If Indians on the hill, they hear us, and shoot us." So they went on up the hill. Presently Maclaine caught sight of a slight screen of fir boughs piled against the trunk of a tall tree, and command- ing the approach. " Ho at once threw f» >r- ward his rifle, and prepared to fire, but for once Indian cunning proved too much even for his thorough knowledge of Indian tactics. The screen of boughs was merely a blind, and while Maclaine's eagle eye was fixed on the spot, expecting to see the muzzle of a musket protruded, the sharp click of a gun-lock was heard from a clump of willows on the opposite side of the trail." ^ Jack heard it, and hastily threw himself down. But Maclaine was not so quick. Another second and ho fell pierced through the heart by a bullet. Jack, over whose prostrate body a second bullet passed harmlessly, now sprang to his feet, and raising a loud war-whooi), hastened back to the camp "• Letter from a Voluutocr, iu tlio Br'd'ish Colonist, Oct. 18, 1861. rl KLATSASSAN. with his sad intelligence. Meanwhile, the isliots had been hcoi'd in the camp below, ;ind the smoke seen rising from among the trees. Then the Indian's shout w^as heard. Captain Cox at once inquired who was missing. Prc- sentl}'- Maclainc was found to be absent, and the boy Jack. The Captain, who well knew Maclaine's disposition, saw how it Avas, and surmised the worst. He ordered a party of twenty men out in pursuit. The men seized their arms, and hurried up the ravine; as they went, the ground being rough and the trail narrow, one of them acci- dentally discharged his rifle, and the ball passed through his leg. Those in front in- stantly wheeled round, for some one cried, " They're behind us I " The man whose gun had gone off, cocked it, to have a shot at the Indians supposed to be in the rear; he, too, turned round and said, ^' Where are they ? '' The others, however, noticed that he was bleeding and saw he had shot himself. The unfortunate man was taken back to the camp. The rest went on up the trail till they came upon the body of Maclainc. He was lying on his face quite dead. 'Jliey tenderly lifted liim up and boro him down to the camp. Great was the consternation anion u* the GRIEF AT ITTS DEATH. 7o iiion wlicn tlio boily of Maclaiiio was brought in. The deceased liad been immensely popular for liis kindliness, liis unwear3nng' energy, and the g'ood will with wliicli he undertook any work that wanted doinnf. Besides the regret at losing a comrade, there was the humiliating reflection that, without having struck a blow, or caught a single Indian, the Captain had lost the bravest, most experienced, and most available man of his party. Anxious as he was to avenge his death, he yet liardly knew how. Of what avail to attempt to find their ene- mies in so dense a network of brush as that which covered the mountain side ? As ho stood considering, and thinking what to CD ' CD do, his lieutenant, Mr. Fitzgerald, standing beside him, was scanning with a o'lass the mountain opposite. Near its summit there was, as alreiidy observed, a bare space amid the dark surrounding mass of forest, and on that Fitzgerald descried live Indians. One of them, a man of imposing height, was standing in au attitude of defiance, with a red blanket depending from his right arm. His right hand grasped the muzzle of a gun, the stock of which rested on the ground : liis left hand was doubled under his h>f't shoulder. Thus stood Klatsassan, like a veritable sou of the 74 KLATSASSAN. inoimtaiii, sccmiDg* moiiarcli of all lie .sur- veyed. Ilis face was turned in the direction of tlio wliito man's cainp, as indicated by tlio blue smoke curling- up^vards in t o still evening* air. Mlio four other Indians were sitting* grouped round this central iigurCj evidently engaged in close conversation. Their subject was undoubtedly the great event of the evening — to wit^ the death of their great enemVj the Kiischte Kukkpe. One of those four sitting* round was ChcsusSj of whom vre have heard before^ and shall hear agcain ; another was< Taloot ; a third was Shili- lika^ the man who fired the fatal shot. "You have done good work to-day^ Shili- lika,'' said the Chief; " the Kiischte Kukkpe will never send a Hedskiu more to the land of night." " Ay/' said Taloot,, " that was a brave shotj and man^ a warrior's spirit will gain entrance to-night to the hunting-fields of the blessed." " How, who is he ? " asked Shililika. " Whatj the man you shot ? — not know him, Shililika? AVhy, man, it's Mr. Maclainc, of I'asilqua. The place they call Buonaparte." " Surely I have heard of him," said the other. " Heard ! who has not lieard of him ? He AN INTERRUPTED CONVERSATION. 75 was the terror of all Tlakalmoocli (the Indians) in tlie south and east. He was cleverer than a thousand Bostons (Americans) or King George men (English) cither. These don^t know us or our countiy. TJicy can^t track us or catch us, not they. But Mr. jNTaclaine was different; ho was sharp as a weasel, and stealthy as a panther, and brave as a grizzly bear. It^s a good job ; we^^e little to fear, I fancy, from the rest of them, now that hc^s gone.''^ '' Hist ! " said Klatsassan, '^ sec that smoke ! ^' and half a dozen bullets came whistling above his head, and lodged themselves in the trees behind where ho stood. The Indifins did not wait to give our friends below aji o])portunity to imjDrovo their aim. In a twinkling, Klat- sassan, dropping the heroic, swung his red blanket round him and was off. The rest fol- lowed, and the bare spot on the mountain's brow was empty and silent as before. It is hardly necessary to add that a party was instantly sent off after them, but they only got a flying shot at tho savages as they ran. Cox then ordered the hill to bo sur- rounded ; this Avas done on three sides — ^^on the fourth was a deep lagoon about sixty yards wide. The Indians plunged in, and got safe 70 KLATSASSAN. to tlic other side, tliongli again fired at. On proceeding to the spot wlierc tlic Indians Lad been seen as described, tlie men found the marks of their bullets in the trees live feet above where Klatsassan had stood. That evening the body of poor Maclainewas consigned to the earth, ono of the party read- ing the Burial Service. A great fii-e was made over the grave and for yards round it. This was done with a view to conceal the place of burial, lest the Indians should dishonour the remains of ono whom they had so feared and hated. VIII. IlETUKN TO PUNTZEEX. THE FIRST GOVERNORS OF BRITISH COLUMBIA. On July 20tli the party regained Puntzeen. Mr. Browns force was still there, haviug been occupied in exploring all the surrounding country. The Governor was also still with them. Mr. Cox made his report to his Excel- lency, and stated his opinion that it was impossible to catch the Indians, and that, unless they could bo induced to give them- selves up, they must be let alone till winter, HETURN to rUNTZEEN. 77 wlicii another expedition could be sent after tliem. This, however^ was not to become necessary. "The Indians, ^vho had k(^pt aloof at first/' writes Lieut. Cooper, in a Government Des- patch, published by j\Ii'. Birch, then Colonial Secretary, in the Guhnidilan of Aug'. 5, 18G 1, " began to familiarize themselves with the pre- sence of the white force in the centre of the country. Women first came into the camp to trade, and finally Alexis was induced to present himself to the Governor. He came on horse- back %vith a considerable retinue. There was great embarrassment and some alarm in his manner at first, but by degrees both disap- peared, and ho agreed to take active steps for the apprehension of the murderers. For several days ho professed to consider tliG whole affair as a war in which it was his duty to remain neutral. The supply of provisions having become exceedingly low, it was a matter of regret to the G overnor, that the reception given to Alexis and his party was not of a liberal nature. Indeed, but for the indefatig- able exertions of the Bella Coola Indians in fishing, the New Westminster party would have been reduced to considerable straits for want of food. The scale of rations was cut 78 KLATSASSA^. down very low ; but the Yolunteers and others bore their privations without a murmur, and the most perfect order prevailed in camp/^ Nothing definite appears to have been nr- rangcd with Alexis at this time ; but it seemed that matters were in train for brino-inc^ tlie business to a close, and getting possession of the prisoners. The Governor accordingly de- termined to carry out his intention of visiting the gold-diggings of Cariboo ; and, indeed, his presence was much desired there. The miners felt that the representative of the Queen would do well to come and see the most important part of his whole dominion, its treasure-liouse, and, in summer, its most peopled district. Thus, when his Excellency, leaving Puntzeen, and performing successfully the arduous jour- ney, appeared at Richfield, he w^as received with much enthusiasm. The miners took him over their claims, and loaded him with ^' speci- mens.''^ They gave him a "big^^ dinner, in the course of which, I recollect, the room wax- ing close, and air being wanted in — an honest miner simply pushed his elbow through the window, as the most expeditious means of ventilation. They bestowed on him. every mark of their rough but honest regard. Among such men^ a spirit of enterprise and an HIS EXCELLENCY GOES ON TO CARIP.OO. 79 affable maiiuor go far to make a great man popular, and Governor Seymour possessed these qualities in a liigli degree. Indeed, lie was a man liked by all classes of the com- munity, and when, three years later, his life came to an abrupt end, there were many to regret the sudden and untimely close of his career. Mr. Seymour was the second Governor of the colony. The first was Sir James Douglas, K.C.B., a man to whom the colony owes much ; more, probably, than it will fully acknowledge while ho lives. One who could raise himself through slieer force of character, from a clerk- ship in a Iludson^s Bay Company^s ofHco, to be chief factor of that Company, west of the Rocky mountains, and then to become a Gover- nor of one of England's colonies, and who, after his elevation, had skill and patience to preside over the colony's early struggles and laborious development, and finally had wisdom, when his work was done, to retire from the Governorship, and leave it to men better versed in liberal institutions, and more able to form a constitution such as a British colony requires ; surely such a man deserves the admiration and gratitude of his fellow-countrymen — above all, of the colonists themselves. And if he was 80 KLATSASSAI^. ii])t to rulo tliem somewliat arbitrarily, was not such mode of govcrmncnt, indeed, tlie best suited for men engaged with the struggle for existence which marks the early years of a colony, and, consequently, with little leisure to bestow upon politics ? IX. KLATSASSAN IN THE WHITE MAN'S CAMP. August 5tli, an Indian, nnmed Joe, arrived from Klatsassan^scamp. He insisted on being taken at once to the white chiefs tent. The captain received him with his wonted courtesy, and motioned him to a bearskin. He said ho had come from his chief with a aiessnge for the whites who had been at Tatla, the place where Maclainc was shot. He was to say that the Indians wished for peace, but if the Avhites dared to come into that country again, they should be shot — every one of them. A plucky thing surely, for an Indian to venture into a camp of whites with such a message ! On hearing it, the captain, astounded, as he might well be, at such audacity, was yet more de- lighted at the man^s courage. However, ho expressed no astonishment, still less admiration, but quietly bade the Indian go back, and say THE 1NJJIAN8 THY TU AlAKH TKKMS. 81 to Ills cliicf that the men who had killed the King George men, at Homathco and else- where, must all be given up ; that he should give the Indians no rest until they were given up. This was the work which his chief had bade him do, and he Avould do it if it took him twenty years. 'Jlien came a second message from Klatsassan, inquiring wliat Cap- tain Cox would do to the men who killed the whites in the event of their being given up, and whether he would kill them. The Indian who came with the message brought some money, about twenty-two dollars, whether as a token of the chiefs humility and willingness to treat, or as a sort of ransom-money, I cannot say. The answer to this was that Captain Cox would not destroy them, he had no power to injure them, he should only keep them, till the great chief came down country (Judge Begbie), and then pass them on to him to be tried. If they did not give theiiiselvcs up within four days, he added, war should be waged against all Indians indiscriminately. This message was unfortunately misunder- stood. Klatsassan supposed it to mean, that if they gave themselves up, their lives should Ijc s ' «red. I am not prepared to say that any one is to blame for this, ])ut it is i\ lliiug to be (i ■■ 82 KLATSASlSAN. regretted. Under tlio false impression, then, that they slionhl not he killed^ those Indifins (who niiglit, nnquestionably, have kept their enemies at bay for an indefinite period^ nay_, might, liad they judiciously watched their opportunity, have shot them down, one by one, just as they had Maclaine) came in and gave themselves up on the IGtli of August. They were in number seven, Klatsassan, Taloot, IVipeet, Chesuss, Pierre, Georges, Chaloot. They carao into camp unarmed, save with knives. They looked very fearless and defiant. TJie idea of having come there to be killed was evidently the farthest from those fierce and fearless fices. ^rhey were ordered to give up their knives. As soon as the order was under- stood, an expression of hesitancy and alarm came over them. As for Klatsassan, he re- fused "point blank to give up his. " Take it from liim,^^ vv^as the stern command. Instantly two stout Californians came forward to seize the chief. He shook them off him, and rush- in ^ aside, drew the knife, and dashed it on the floor. Irons were then brought, and their hands and ancles fettered. With no slight astonishment and disgust did these Red Indians, who all their lives had been free as the winds, now find themselves manacled IN CAPTIVITY. 83 and fast bound in misery and iron. They had fancied that they would have been allowed to retain their liberty, and come and go about the camp as they pleased, until the chief arrived who was to try them. They now found out what a terrible mistake they had made ! But, most of all, Klatsassan seemed to feel his downfall. He was plunged in misery. He tried to lay violent hands on himself. Foiled in this attempt by the vigilance of his guard, he next sought to bribe the Captain. He offered him two thousand dollars^ worth of furs if he would let him go. He promised him his daughter if he would restore him his liberty. Her attractions, as he explained to the Captain, were of no common order, and she would be no unsuitable mate for even so great a Warrior. She was very tall, he stated, and graceful as a deer. She had hands and feet of surprisiiig smallness and beauty. Her gifts were many and rare. She could run with a wondrous swiftness ; and (crowning tccomplishment !) she could eviscerate salmon with twice the celerity of any other woman. But no ! Justice was not to be seduced, even by such fascinating attributes. The chief was told he must remain a prisoner, and bo taken to the white man^s town on the Sitbtqua, r •'> 84 KLATSASSAN. namely, Quesnelmoutli, on the Frascr River, and there remain till the arrival of the great judge, before whom he and his compeers must be brought. Then Klatsassan resigned him- self to his fate with true Indian stoicism. By degrees ho found his bondage grow less irksome than at first. There was much to excite his interest and curiosity in the ways and manners of the whites, to him so novel. Then, the fare of the camp was anything but ungrateful to a man who had been living for the last two months on dried berries or roots^ or even sometimes on the bark of trees. And here a word on the food of these Indians may not be without its interest. The huutin^j Indians — and Klatsassan^s tribe belonged to this division — are very different from thof-iliiw/ Indians of the coast in many respects, amongst others in their food ; for as the ono subsist maiidy on fish, the other have considerably greater variety in their fare. In the winter months there were different kinds of game. Deer abounded in all parts of the country. There was also, in the Chilcoaten district, the Cu iboo, the British Columbian reindeer, often met with on his way from the woods which cover the slopes of the Rocky Mountains to the valleys nrnr the sen, or on his return INDIAN .MANNKK Or LirK, 85 jcmrnoy. Or, agaiu, tlicro were plenty of inountiiiii-slieep, or moimtaiu-goats, occupyiug tlio higli lands. Then there was the bear, grizzly (more rarely met witli), black, or brown, which would furnish an excellent steak (of ^vhich the present writer can vouch that there might be worse fare for a hungry man). These and other quarry would reward the cun- ning huntsman. The Indians are naturally indolent, and when all their supplies are ex- hausted, it takes a day or two of starvation to move them to go forth on the chase. They are also somewhat voracious, and when the Ininter has returned with his deer or sheep, they often eat thereof more than is seemly. Falling on the half-cooked venison or mutton, the huntsuicn, with their squaws and papooses, devour it ravenously; when they have had enough they sleep, and on waking seek it yet again, until all is consumed. The more pru- dent or less gluttonous, dry and preserve what is not required for immediate use. The next article of Indian consumption is the roots, which are very abundant in that country. The squaws dig them up with long pointed sticks. In April come the salmon, which, till Septem- ber, continue to ascend the streams. They come shoal upon shoal of varying degrees of SG KLATSASSAN. excellence. Those tliat appear in June are tlie finest. They are a good size, averaging from twenty to thirty-five pounds : some have been caught much heavier,, sometimes reaching the extraordinary weight of seventy pounds. By the Fraser and other rivers and their tributaries, these creatures pass up into the interior all over the country in search of their spawning ground, which they find sometimes only in the streams which rise in the Rocky Mountains, after a weary journey of well-nigh a thousand miles. Some idea of the rate at which they travel may be formed from the fact that in the year 1862 they appeared off Lillooet, on the Fraser River, ten days after they had been seen at the mouth of the river, 250 miles distant. They come in such crowds that they crush one another to death, and thousands are seen dead along the river's bank. The Indians catch them in large numbers : one way is by spearing them, a picturesque sight. In the bow of the cane j is the flaring pitch-pine, which both attracts the fish and gives light for their capture. The Indian stands with his two-headed spear ready to impale his victim, flashing to and fro in the dark stream beneath. Around vire the grand old rocks. No sound is lioard save the cease- THE SALM(JN OF BRITISH COLUMBIA. 8V less roar of tlio not distant rapids^ or the gentle plash of the paddle, as the Indian in the stern koejis tlic tiny craft in her place. The Indians smoke and dry the salmon (at least the more provident of them do), and stow them away in caches for winter nse. Yet in a severe winter the supply will sometimes fall short, and. then they have nothing left to live on (unless, indeed, there chance to he a white settlement near, where they can beg or pilfer flom') save and. except their stock of dried fruits or berries. These grow in great pro- fusion and variety. 'J^hey arc vastly superior to the v» ild fruits of Europe, often attaining a size and flavour such as only cultivation can impart in England. The most serviceable of these berries is the ^*' service-berry," perhaps so called for this reason. It is twice the size of a black currant. The other principal berries are the sollal, the huckle-berry or blue-berry, the wortle-berry, salmon-berry, cranberry, raspbcny, strawberry, Oregon grape, goose- berry, and currant. More need not be said to show that, in ordi- nary times, the active Indian hunter need never be at a loss for means of life, particu- larly if his squaW' do her part in the matter of roots and berries, and in drvino* the salmon 88 KLATSASSAN. and the venison her lord bringn Lome. But of late our friend Klatsassan liad been on very sliort commons. Indeed; ever since tlie wliites' occupation of liis country Lc and liis people had been lialf starved. Their Cliches and fishiug. gear in the lakes and streams had been destroyed^ and they hai'dly dared fire a shot for fear of wasting their ammunition, or of attracting the attention of their foes. It was accordingly a welcome circumstance, and no slight solacement of their imprisonment, that the captives had now plenty of good plain food. True, beans and bacon may not rank as luxuries ; but then all things go by com- parison, and victuals at which many persons might be pleased to turn up their noses, may seem as the food of gods to a Chilcoaten savage, who for weeks has had to sustain his strength on a diet of bark and berries. The prisoners were allowed to have their families, or part of them, with them ; Klatsas- san had one of his two squaws, and some of his younger children ; the fair daughter, how- ever, does not appear to have been of the number. Toowaewoot, the squaw, was at least twenty years younger than Klatsassan. She was well featured, with black eyes, and jet black liair^ and but for the manifest absence TUE WEDDING OF KLATSASSAX. Page 89. TOOWAEVVOOT. H\) of soap, Would liavo pus.scd lor ])rotty. Hor liistory was this : slio was the daug-litci' of Sliopcadz, liead of a tribo lying north of Chil- coatciHloivi. Shopoadz liad given offeneo to his neighbours by jioachiiig on their liuntiiig- gronnds and streams. So Klatsassan liad put on the bhiek paint and tlirown baek the cagh.^s' feathers, and gone on the war-trail. His people had defeated their enemies, and slain several of their warriors. Tho ehicf had escaped, but his eamp and his housohold gods had fallen into the hands of the Chileoatens. Among these, In's daugliter, Toowaowoot, whom Klatsassan took to himself to wife; he had a squaw alreadv, but their chiefs arc allowed more than one. The marriage ceremony was of the sim- plest. The couple rei)aired to a runniug stream, narrow enough for them to shake hands over it. They joined hands, and swore to be man and wife together. The water flowing beneath symbolized that henceforth the currents of their two lives should flow together in one stream, even until they reached the ocean, death. Toowaewoot had brought two children iuto the white men's camp; the younger was a baby, not "in OTms" exactly, but in cradle. This was a very narrow basket, hardly big enough to hold the little creature. The place 00 ICLATSASSAN. for its head was paddc^d on either side, the narrowest space conceivable l3eing allowed for it. The reason for this was, that as the child was a girl, it would be her fate to bear burdens, should she grow to woman\s estate. The burden would have to be fastened by a broad strap to her ibrehead, for which pur- pose a high forehead would be most service- able. It is sad, the nioralizer might here put in, thus to see, amongst so romantic a people, too, the merest Utilitarianism so prevail over all considerations of taste, health, and beauty. Nevertheless, the future squaw might some day rejoice to find the pack of skins or salmon which she should have to carry for her lord, or indeed the cradle with her own papoos in it, ride so easily upon her lofty brow, in- stead of for ever slipping off over her head or down upon her eyes. The phrenologist, too, if disciples of Gall still exist, would incline to think that this treatment of the inftint cranium, while in the cradle, must be injurious, chang- ing the mental structure and conditions of the subject. It is not, however, found that in those tribes where such liberties are taken with the skulls, the minds of the women are less vigo- rous or apt than in others where no such bar- barous x^i^'^^ctice obtains. The heads of the INDIAN BABIES. 91 male infants are never so compressed^ because tlie men do not carry the packs ; but the boys* cradles are also very narrow, and it is curious to see how tightly the babies of both sexes arc sw\itlied and tied up, before they are fixed into them. The object of this peculiar treatment is to make the small savage grow up " straight- lim])ed and tall."^ Thus wx'dged into its bas- ket, the child is easily carried. The whole is slung round the mother\s back, the strap being adjusted on her forehead. The cradle is studded with brass nails for ornament, and has attached to it one or two small bells, which tingle the babe to sleep as the mother trudges elong. Should she sto]) to gather berries or dig for roots, she will hang the cradle to a tree lest some snake should approach to hurt, or some wild creature bear the precious thing away. While they wore in camp there were ever a pair of watchful eyes on the prisoners, lest they should attempt escape. So it happened that some of their peculiar customs were noted. For instance, in the middle of the night, the Indian mothers, Toowaewoot among the rest, would rise, remove their infants from their baskets, and unbind them. Then taking water into their mouths (probably to take off the chill) they would proceed to squirt it forth 1)2 KLATSASSAK. over tlio pa})()Os, and so wasli it from head to foot. Next tliey would pour a whole basketful of water over it, tlieii dry it, aud ])ut it hack in its cradle. This was done at midnight. ITow they g-uessed the time of night nobody tould imagine, but it was observed that the ceremony was performed never much before or after twelve o'clock. The object of the expedition seemed now gained, at least as far as could be lioped. ^j^'ue, all the criminals had by no means been c;ip- tnred, yet most of the ringleaders were pri- soners. Anahim, who was thought by some to be the worst of all, was still at large, and the whole tribe might justly be held responsible for crimes which they all had aided and abetted. But evidently nothing was to bo gained by remaining longer in Chilcoaten territory. It was plain that the Indians could cot be caught, and it was not likely that any more would freely surrender themselves, now that they knew that their comrades, victims of their own simplicity, were held in strict cap)- tivity, manacled and guarded and reserved for the great judge — a sound which seemed to imply some fearful prospect, and perhaps might turn out to mean death by rope. Accordingly Mr. Cox broke up his camp on the 2nd of Septem- KfiATSASSAN 18 TAKEN TO QUKSXKI-MOL 1 H. *J'-] hvv, and jounioyod by easy marches to Alex- andria. Hero lie disbanded liis furce, retaininc: only a sufficient number to guard the prisoners, with whom ho proceeded Ijy the " Enterprise '^ steamer to Quesnehiiontli. Hero he remained awaiting tlio arrival of the judge from Cariboo, where lie had boon holding his assize during the summer. X. TlUKl) AND SEXTENCKD. TiiK judge who was to try Klatsassan Jind his accomplices was Matthew B. Begbie, first Chief Justice of British Columbia; a man to wliom the colony owes so much, that we can liarclly pass over his name without more notice. Other border-lands and new mining countries have been notorious for lawlessness and violence, but J^ritish Cohunbia has had the foundation of its social structure laid in comparative peace and quietness, and this blessing is due in great measure to the wisdom ;ind integrity with which Judge l^egbie has held the scales of justice. He has been emphatically a terror to evil-doers, and has not borne the sword in vain. A man at once of strict justice and un- bounded benevolence, his was a sympathy extended to all living things, and not least 91' KLATSASSAN. to the uiilia])py MTotclies whom it was lils duty to condemn. Year by year since 1858, he has gone on his vast and ever widening circuit — a circuit which, at tiic time wo are writing of, reached from Victoria to ^Similliameen and from Cariboo to the coast — a district 800 or 400 miles long and nearly as many in breadth — travelling often through the roughest of countries ; at times where a path would have to be cut for him through the densest brush, or corduroys extemporized over bottomless SAvamps — over mountains 5000 feet in height and crowned with snow, through valleys thick with undergrowth and infested with clouds of mosquitoes, numerous as midges but more mischievous. Sometimes, in these distant un- known places, ho and his train, now no longer laden with stores, have missed their way and been lost ; and then they have had to depend for daily food upon the judgo^s gun and what game might chance to appear. One day no game whatever could be found, and the only food to be procured was a musk rat, which formed the dinner of the strongest digestion of the party. His lordship, we believe, on that occasion preferred to do penance and fast ; doubtless deeming it hardly consistent with the dignity of the Bench to dine on rat. THE CIIJKF JUSTK'E. 95 Judge Begbic renclicd Qucsuelinoutli, Sep- tember 27th; on tlie day foliowing the trial began, and was conchided the next day. The evidence against the prisoners was unmistak- ably clear. And as the law was equally unmistakable^ the judge had no option but to condemn tlio prisoners to death, Avith the exception of Chiddeki or George — against whom there was not sufficient evidence. There were five sentenced : — Klatsaasan, for the murder of a man named Smith, at Homathco ; of Macdougal, the packer, (kc. Taloof, for the murder of several whites at Uomathco, and stabbing Buckley. Taped, for the murder of Manning. Chc.suss, for that of Brewster, and of one Jim Gaudet, at Homathco. And lastly, Ficrre, for aiding and abetting in the murders. XI. PRISONERS OF HOPE. QuESNELMOUTii is a thriving settlement, at the head of navigation on the Upper Fraser. The features of the country here are very different from those of the lower part of the river. There the banks are steep and precipitous. 06 KliATSxVSSAX. oftou tlic stream lias to force its way tlirouyli canj^'oiis or mountain gorges ; often it flows or rushes past wlierc on eitlier side is an elevated ridge. The towns on the Lower Fraser are built on ])lains of limited extent, and are fenced in on all sides by lofty hills. Such are Lillooetj Lytton, Yale. At Quesnelmouth, on the contrary, there arc no bills to be seen, except in tlic far distance. The plain on which tlio town is built is extensive. The river banks arc low, and the stream, much wider here than it aftcr',vards becomes, flows quietly along, aflbrding little indication of the headstrong fury of its current farther on its course, where it dashes and foams over in its I'iffles, or roai's like muffled thunder through its canyons. I arrived at Quesnelmouth on the 2ud October, on my way down South from the mining district. The place, though very recent in its origin, had an air of comfort and civilization which, after the rude life of the gold-diggings, was most grateful. The little town was alive with home-returning miners. As I entered I observed the stately form of the ^'Enterprise" steamer, moored by the quay, with her steam up. Hurrying on, I reached the boat in time to exchange a word with the judge, who having now fim'shod liis assize had THE riYE CONDEMNED MEN. 97 embarked to retaru to New Westminster. IIo told me of the ludiaus, and I said I would stay and instruct tliem. Ho promised to use liis influence at Lead-quarters to ensure sufficient time before tlie execution of tlie sentence ; then the " Euterj^rise ^' blew her last whistle and moved away. Here, then, was I left with five Indians to instruct. Five criminals to prepare for death ! Hero was a definite piece of work,, work more practicable, seemingly, than promiscuous preaching to gold diggers. But how to instruct them ? for their Ijinguago was abso- lutely unknown to me. The Chilcoaten dialect is as dissimilar from Lillooet or Shushwap as French is from Spanish or Italian. I was accordingly obliged to look for an interpreter. Through the kindness of the stipendiary magistrate, I found one in a half-caste named Baptiste, the only man in the place who knew a word of the language. We went together to the prison, Baptiste and I, and found it to bo no regular gaol but an imjDrovised affair, a mere log house, with part partitioned off" for a cell. Hero were the unhappy prisoners, sitting squatting on the floor as wretched as could be. To add to their misery, they were all heavily shackled ; the insecurity of the build- H 98 KLATSASS^N. ing scomiiigly rendering tliis precaution neces- sary. No doubt tlio gaoler (wlio by tlio way liad once lield H.M. commission in the Navy — sucli arc tlic reverses of fortune, now a coloni.'d turnkey ! ) was as kind to them as tlie nature of tlic case admitted, but tlien that was not nuich. For men hitherto exulting in liberty to be kept in durance vile was of itself an awful fate, with the terrible prospect of death, too, at the end. Still they bore up wonderfully. First they fixncied themselves martyrs for thoir country, and this thought sustained their courage, but afterwards, as they came to understand more of the real state of the case, they discovered, in the faith and hope of the Gospel, better grounds of consolation and of strength. The prisoners struck mo as fine powerful men, much superior in size and appearance to the Indians of the Lower Fraser and its tributaries. There was no mistaking the chief. He sat opposite us as we entered the cell. His strong frame, piercing dark blue eye, aquiline nose, and very powerful under-jaw, proclaimed the man of intelligence, ambition, strong force of will. On the other hand, the very dark complexion ; the face, narrow at the forehead, wide at the centre j and the high cheekbones. FIRST VISIT TO THE TRISONEKS. 99 indicated the cliamcteristics of tlic North American savage. Yet wlicn lie spoke one could scarcely believe that this was a man charged with murder. His expression eager and animated, liis voice low and plaintive, his gentle manner; could these characterize a brigand and a murderer? One fancied, to hear him speak, that ho was rather liko a child who had committed some trivial pecca- dillo, and had been consigned to the dark closet till he should learn better manners, than a ruffian steeped in crimes and l)lood. Next to Klatsassan sat Tapeet, by no means a bad-looking Indian, strong, well-built, and in the prime of life. Then came Taloot, a man of great authority with his tribe. Then Pierre, a mere innocent-looking boy of eighteen. And lastly, Chesuss, who quite made up for any failings in badness of expression that the others might have been chargeable with. Ho looked every whit the villani he was. He had the countenance of a fiend. The prisoners received us well, and after some preliminary conversation, we set about our proper task. I spoke now Chinook, now French, and Baptiste interpreted in Chilcoaten. We spoke of Law and of Sin, and of wrath consequent upon Sin. They received all this II 2 100 KLATSASSAN. qniotly, but Avlion, iu our next visit, I applic^d tlio subject, and, spojiking of the law against murdor, said tlicy liad broken it, and incurred tJie Divine displeasure, they resented tliis. They had only killed the white men, they said, because otherwise the whites would have destroyed them (alluding to the small-pox story), and they could not sec that they had done wrong. I said wo were all in one way or other sinners, needing salvation ; for all, whites and Indians alike, had broken one or other of God^s commandments. Supposing, for a moment, the Indians hfid not committed murder in what they had done, had they not sinned in other ways ? Allowing that they were acting iu more self-defence in killing off the whites, yet, what could justify them in falling upon them so treacherously, and then brutally mangling their remains ? Even sup- posing they were justified in murdering the foreman, Brewster, was it becoming to eat his heart ? But, indeed, they were not justified in destroying those men. The law was, " Thou shalt not kill/' They said, " They meant war, not murder .'' But, I put it to them, was it war to fall upon a man who was at peace with you, to massacre him in his house, in the night, to cut down his tent-pole, and break his head ? INSTRUCTION. 101 — tliat was mni'clcr, surely, not war. No; they could not justify tliemselves in any way. The feelings and passions tlicy had shown, — cowardice, treachery, hate, revenge, and a fiendish tliirst for the blood of tlioir fellow- creatures, were not such as their Great Father liked to see in the breasts of Indians. Tho whites were His children, too, and their behaviour to them was displeasing to tho Great Father. And this was not all their sin. Had they not often behaved ill to their own countrymen? God^s law was, ''Do to others as you would have others do to you." D'd they not know that law ? Yes ; they knew it, for though they had no book like the whites, and no teachers to explain it, still that law was written in their hearts — they knew it. Well, they had often disobeyed it ; had mal- treated their slaves, stolen from Indians of other tribes, taken their neighbours^ wives, told lies, broken their promises, put Indians to death . D'iij after day, and visit after visit, tho reality of Divino Law, and tho offence of breaking it, were set before them, together with tho stern f\\cts of Divine displeasure on tho disobedient^ and punishment of tho im- penitent. 102 KLATSASSAN. 'J^hero was not timo to impart to them full instructions in religion ; I had to confino myself to what was essential. St. i^ull had enjoined repentance towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ : and I felt that if they were only induced to acknowledge and regret their misdoings, and if they could bo taught enough about our Lord to accept Him in- telligently as their Saviour, they might then honestly bo baptized. Of ono of them I had good hope from tho first. Perhaps it may seem strange that it should have been the deepest-dyed of all those ruffians and ringleader in all their crimes, who interested mo most. Yet, so it was. Ono could hardlv look at Klatsassan without feelinj? that there was about tho man at once some- thing awful, and something winning, — in fact, something (jreat. Hero was a man, one felt, for whom, if one conld do anything for his salvation, it would not be thrown away, but prove amply worth any trouble taken. By degrees, finding how deeply interested he was in all that was said, and how ready to take it all in, I began to feel a strong and growing sympathy for him (not, indeed, for his old bad self, but for tho new man that was taking a beginning within his soul), and sincere was my HEROIC ELEMENT IN KLATSASSAnVs CIIAKACTEK. 103 desiro tliiit it slioiild bo well with liiiii at tlio last. Indeed^ tlio iiiiiio-o of this man used to haunt mo by night and day. 1 had ibrgotton his crimes, and thought only of his inevitable doom. The tones of his voice, as he repeated the Lovd^s Prayer, in the touching cadences of his liquid and musical language, were ever present to my ear, and frequent were my supplications that it would please the Great Dispenser of all grace to vouchsafe to him the blessing of a true penitent heart. AVhon after several visits I came at length to the main question, and asked if they were sorry for their evil deeds, impressing upon them how indispensable this was to their regaining the favour of the Great Father and entering into life, Xlatsassan, to my great joy, said ho was sorry. I asked if, supposing ho wero free and had the chance, ho would repeat these deeds and act contrary to the will of the Great Father ? He said, '' i>[o, ho would not.'' '^ What did ho now feel towards the wliito men?" '^Ilis heart was good," he said. '^Did he see now how the whites must punish them, not in revenge, but in justice ? " '^ Yes," he said, ^^ it was all just and right." I asked if the rest felt like this ? ■J 04 KLATSAS.'^AN. " Ycs/^ the chief said, " they were all sorry. They hoped the Great Father would ceaso anger and be friends. They never ceased praying, as Baptiste put it in his Canadian French, "Toiijours/' said ho, " Us 110 lachaientijas laiiricrG.^' The expression struck nie ; it seemed to mean, they never let go their hold on prayer, but " prayed without ceasing." I told them that if they were truly sorry there was full forgiveness for them. They must look to Jesus Christ who hung upon the Cross. They said, " Their heart was good towards Jesus Christ." It then seemed to mo they had what was required — repentance and faith — what then was there to hinder their being baptized ? I spoke accordingly of the blessings of Baptism, and prepared them to receive that holv Sacrament. We got on much faster than I expected. They knew more than I thought they did. One of them had been pretty fully instructed by a Eoman Catholic priest, and he had im- parted what he knew to the others. " They are disposed" (I wrote in my diary at this time) ^' to look on me with suspicion as being not a right priest, but say nothing, thank mo for my visits, and for my promise to be with them to the last. But they seem to notice PREPAEATION FOR P.Al'TISM. 105 how little I say about the Blessed Virgin, and from the omission tlicy seem to suspect me. But all has gone well hitherto, and I hope will to the end; though I rejoice with trembliuGf.''^ One Saturday we had a long interview and instruction on baptism. At last Klatsassan and Taloot expressed a desire to be baptized. I urged them to make a clean breast of their sins ; which they did. Now in the crimes for which they were condemned there were certain extenuating circumstances. Those murders were perpetrated by savages, savages threat- ened with extinction and eaofcr to strike tho first blow, savages who w^ere under the im- pression that they were making war with tho whites ; some persons in the colony, accordingly, were of opinion that they ought not to have been condemned to death. Let mo tell such persons that for other offences the prisoners amply deserved their doom. Without saying more I may state this much. In a word, they professed such earnestness in their desire to be baptized, and such sincere penitence and faith, that I next morning bap- tized Klatsassan and Taloot, giving the former my own name, and calling the latter after Bnptiste. I^heir d(Mneanour was grave and 10() KLATSASSAN. impressed^ and convinced mc still more of the sincerity of tlieir repentance. As for the others^ two of them, Pierre and Tapeet, liad been baptized previously : they also seemed quite penitent. Georges, who was not condemned to death, said ho would wait. One alone remained unchristencd. It Avas Chesuss, who proved to be quite as hardened as his condact would have led one to expect. When asked if he was sorry for his infernal treatment of poor Brewster's remains, ho laughed like a fiend, and said he didn't care. Ho said he wasn't in the least afraid of God, and again laughed in a way to make one's flesh creep. I told him his conduct was like a son of the devil ; his heart was a stone. But the Gocd Spirit could make it soft : and would yet, before his time came to die. After this, the instruction of the prisoners went on for a time with little interruption, until one day, when the gaoler sent me a mes- sage to say that I need not call any more : the prisoners didn't wish to see me ngain. Encouraging, was it not ? after staying thero so long on purpose to teach them, getting up as much as I could of a language that could never be of any use to mo again ; and above all, after the success that seemed to have been '^GOD BE MERCIFUL TO ME A SINNER/' 107 vouchsafed me ! Had tliey not the very day before said they hoped I ■would come every dny and bo with them to the hist ? After much consideration, I thought I discovered the cause of their disaffection. In the course of our last interview, I had dwelt on the Parable of the Publican and the Pharisee, who went up to the Temple to pray, and told them that the Great Father had mado known to us that Ho looks with favour on tho humble and poor in spirit, but with displeasure on tho sclf-conccit^d and proud. I taught them all to repeat tho words, " God bo merci- ful to me a sinner/' Those I said who are for ever glorifying themselves, and saying, " I am a very fine Indian, I don't steal, I don't drink fire-water, I don't lie, I don't carry away my neighbour's wife," such, I said, arc persons with whom the Great Father is not pleased, He likes to see men humble. A doctrine this, little palatable to them, I suspect. Self- righteousness is the bosom sin of the Indian (indeed, perhaps, of most of us !) and I have little doubt that it was my remarks on that Divine but ungenial teaching that stirred tho devil in them, and roused them for a moment to rebellion agamst the Truth. Only for a Lioment, however; I gnvc them 108 KLATSASSAN. a (lay to recover themselves, and on my next visit tlioy received me with great cordiality. They gave as their reason for refusing mo admittance that I was no true priest, because I did not wear a crucifix : but I told them what I believed to bo the true reason of their momentary opposition, and endeavoured to reconcile them to the Divine law of humilitv and lowliness of mind. It seemed they had all agreed to exclude me, though now on my return they all seemed glad enough to see me. Klatsassan, when reproached for his unfaith- fulness, said his heart was bad at my not coming, although, for the moment he had joined the rest. He now declared that nothing should turn him n gainst me any more. The others, ho declared, might call themselves Frenchman Catholics if they chose (the lloman Catholic priests who had visited the country had been French Canadians, hence the name), but as for him, he was my son, and a King George Catholic, and he was resolved to cast in his lot with me and my religion. I said his words were good. My heart had been water when they had refused to receive me, but now it was strong again. It would be sad for them if they had no priest to cheer them. They had a, dark trail to follow, but as the HOURS OF DARKNESS. 109 iriliiistcr of Jesus Clirist, I sliould accompany tliem a loDg way dowu it, and show them the light from lieavcn on it. And this would make their hearts strong. They said, " Very good, chief; you stay with us, and make our hearts strong.'^ "God alone can do that," I replied, " but He certainly will do it, if you listen humbly to what I have to teach. Bo strong and He will strengthen your hearts.'' It was, indeed, little to be wondered at that such moments of darkness and misgiving sliould come over them, and that they should at times feel inclined to rebel against the Truth. That the new-risen sun in their heavens should always shine unobscurcd by "earth-born clouds '' was hardly to be expected. Poor fellows, how I pitied them ! Immured in that dull prison-cell — with so many in so small a place — (for in a new town like Quosnelmouth, the government had to use what kind of prison it could get, and was necessarily compelled to think more of the security of the prisoners than of their comfort), the air foul and heavy, for the weather at this time was wet : living, too, without exercise; men who, all their life long, had been free as the air, or the birds that fly in it, now lying manacled and bound ; knowing, too, that each day brought nearer 110 KLAT^USSAN. tlio inevitable hour, when they should be cut off by a sudden and violent stroke from the land of the living, and die a death whoso horrors were increased by their ignorance of its nature : in such circumstances, it was not strange that there were times with them when hope seemed to die, the Saviour seemed away, and the Enemy of Souls re-asserted his power, filling them with misery and despair. I took occasion also to explain to them about the crucifix, and showed them that it was by no means necessanj to wear one; the important thing, I said, was to believe in Jesus Christ, i. e. to have a good heart to Ilim, and to think of Him as dying on the Cross for us. I sought then to prei^arc them to receive the Holy Com- munion, and to ensure their having those conditions of the Church which are required of those who come to the Supper of the Lord. xn. THE LAST NIGHT. About this time, October 24th, there came' dospa-tches from the Government, with the death-warrant of the prisoners. The executive, il appeared, thought not of mercy; all five were to be hanged ; and in two or three days. ARRIVAL OP THE DEATH-WARRANT. Ill Fearful doom ! Just, no doubt, perfectly just. But — all five ! Could tlioy not bo contented with one or two of the number ? At all events, might not young Pierre have been spared ? — Pierre, a handsome lad of eighteen, who had a wife and child at home, — Pierre, who, in what he had done, had only acted in obedience to the chief, whom ho believed himself bound by all laws, human and divine, to obey. But no ! Justice must take its course. Ignorance in the eyes of the law is no excuse. Terror must be struck into all the Indian tribes. All five must die. On the eve of their execution, I once more questioned them as to their state of heart. Knowing that, above all things, it is necessary that the sinner be penitent, before he dare appear before God, I again sounded them with regard to this. Again, Klatsassan tried to jus- tify himself. " He would never have killed the whites, if they had not killed his people first, by sending small-pox, and had threatened to kill more of them by sending it again." Once more he was calmed when I told him he was mistaken ; small-pox was not sent by the whites. It was God's visitation. He said yes, he nnderstood that now, but he had not done so before : and the white man had said he would send small-pox 112 KLATSASSAN. and destroy tlicm. I put it to him if lie had not been unjust in killing men who had not injured him, and ungrateful in putting to death those who had been kind to the Indians? Ivlatsassan admitted this. And had he not other crimes to answer for, which he had owned to me, one of which deserved death ? Yes, he admitted it. Well, he must acknow- ledge all this to God, else he could not bo forgiven. He really must humble himself and pray for pardon and a new heart. I said much the same to all the rest. But oh, it was uphill work to make them really feel they had done wrong ! As a cartwheel will readily slip from off the level road to which (not with- out difficulty) you have raised it, into the deep muddy rut which through years of attrition it has worn, so would their mind fall easily back into the habit of self-complacency and self-excusing in which all their lives long it had travelled. But every time it became less difficult to lift it out of that old habit, and there was a better hope of its keeping out of it. They were soon brought to acknowledge again the sinful, lost, and disobedient state of their souls by nature ; how adverse to God's law; how continually breaking it, and bring- ing themselves under its penalties. They all. rilKrAKATiON J'OK IIULY CUMMUNION. 113 one after the otlior, said tlioy had siuuod, and wislicd to bo forgiven. They were always thinking of Jesus Christ, they said. They had done with earthly things and they desired to think only of the Great Father. Did they forgive their enemies? J asked; and those who had given evidence against them, the whites, and Indians of other tribes ? Tliey said they forgave them all. There seemed, accordingly, nothing to prevent their admis- sion to the Sacrament. It is vain to expect in Red Indian savages that amount of preparation that wo have to look fur in educated Christians. Less is re- quired, we are taught, of them to whom less is given. The dying thief was accepted mainly on the strength of his confession of the justice of his sentence, and of his faith in the crucified King. The gaoler at Philippi was baptized with his house, because, when conscience-stricken, ho did what he was commanded, and, at the word of I\iul and Silas, believed in the Lord Jesus Clirist. The grace of God is great, and it is enougli that the sinner should repent and believe in Christ as well as he can, and in the Church, as presenting Christ to him^ if ho understand this much. This I believe my Indians did, and therefore there was hope in I ll'i KLATSASSAN. their death. 'I^licy had k'arnt by heart, in their owu hiuguagc, not only the verso " I will arisie/' Sec, but also that other, '^ 1'his my son was dead and is alive again, was lost and is found,^^ and they never ceased to repeat these in their prayers — together with others of the sacred words which they had been taught ; and thus, without dwelling more npon their re- peated assurances of penitence, i promised to come and administer the Holy Communion to them in the morning. We conversed long together in a friendly way about many things on that same last sad evening. One principal subject of conversa- tion, I remember, was the Future. After the present race of whites had passed aw^ay, I said, there would come a better generation. Indian children would be educated and taught to understand the mysteries of reading and writing. They would also learn trades. Their people would bo raised above the low and sensual life they now led, and learn to find pleasure in useful work. They would no longer live an unsettled and roving life, a life in which virtue and religion were alike impossible. They would build good houses and till the soil, and wear respectable clothing ; each having his own separate dwelling, being each the head of his CONVERSATION AIJUlT TIIK FlTUnE. 115 own f'umily, liaving l)ut one wife, as tlio Lord liiul ordaiiuMl. A race of TiuHaii priosts slioukl Ijc trained up wlio should uiidci-stand as well as tlie wliite priests tlie knowledge' of tlio Highest, and proclnim it in the Jndian lan- guage to the Indian tribes. Then tlu'y would no longer he at const.'int war with other Indians. Whites and Indians, too, would live together in peace and righteousness. For the wdiitcs would not leave the land. No, they had been sent here by the Great Lord f)f all ! Up till now, that goodly land had been turned to small account. Its inhabitants had been but a liandful. Yi\^t regions had been given up to the fox and the wolf, the beaver and the bear. The Hudson Bay Company whites had done nothing in it but trap animals for the sake of their furs. But the Highest, the Maker of all, had other purposes for the land. Thousands of snows ago. He had commanded that men should replenish the whole earth and use it. This command was obeyed by a land like theirs being peopled and developed. No doubt, it was painful for them to see it in the hands of strangers, but it was for the good of mankind, and for the greater glory of the land itself. Above all, it was the Avill of the Highest. He, who had made so goodly a land and stored its T 2 lin KLATSASSAN. rocks with untold gold and silver, intended their treasures to be du;»- out for the advantage of the world. 'IMiis would in fact be done. Many King George men would comcNind work, and bring gold and silver out of the mountains, and other metals, such as iron and lead. 'I'hey would cultivate the soil. They would explore unknown regions. They would search out all its lakes and rivers, and put steamboats on them. They would stretch a mighty trail of iron across the land, even from the coast of the mighty water (the Pacific) to the great ]\ocky ^fountains, and through them away far, far beyond into the east, and men would travel along this road in moving houses fast as the eagle flies ; night and day for ten suns they would travel towards the rising sun till they reached the great ocean, the Atlantic. There, I said, are great steamboats, each hold- ing more people than all the Chilcoatcn tribes together ; floating cities ; which, sailing farther east ten days, go to England, the mother-land, where dwells the great Mother Queen, avIio rules over all King George men in all the world, ruling in the name of the one universal King, the Great Father. Yes, the land would one day become a nation, consisting of Indians, their descendants, and of whites, living to- Tllf] DIVIN'R I'UUl'USK I'OIf. TIIKIU LAND. 117 gother liappy and conteiitotl. And tlius the will of the ^lost 11 ig'li would bo acconiplishod. For tlicni, tlioy were not to sec this. No, tlicy mast <^o elsewhere. This again was the will of the ^lost irfj-h. For it was lie, and not the King George men, Who was driving them hence, in punishment for their criiues. But He was merciful as well as just. He would forgive, He Jiad forgiven; He would receive them from the hands of death into the place of the lilessed; because they had owned their faults — because they had believed in the name of the Son of God — because they had hoped in His mercy. They listened with rapt attention. For the Future is a subject full of charm to the living, even when doomed to be soon numbered with the dead. Indeed, the interest man takes in what is to come after him is almost an evidence of his own immortality. Of all the prisoners, Klatsassan seemed most fully to enter into this contemplation. He sat motionless with his great eyes fixed on me. As the conver- sation went on, a light came into them : it was the light of hope for his country. For himself there was nothing more here on earth. The world was over and done with. To-morrow he must bid it a long farewx^ll. Bnt he was resigned to this necessity, for faith had made 118 KLATSASSAN. him strong. And to licar of glad tidings for the land ho loved so dearly, and for those Avho should com(; after liini, ^vaK most consoling. His spirit grew stronger to meet his doom as he listened to what Cod would do unto his people in the latter days. Xlll. THE LAST MORNING. The morning of October 2Gth broke bright and frosty. With that feeling of heart-sick- ness which those know who have had to ap- proach the King of Terrors_, and stand by when, with all its fearful ceremonial, the Law puts forth its hand deliberately and violently to take away life, I rose and hastened to tlie prison. The Indians were already at their prayers. I stood waiting outside the cell listening to their plaintive notes of supplication. The wailing pathos of their language seemetl to come out in those last prayers as in a mono- tone they poured their plaint before the only Friend of the dying. The voice of the chief was heard above the rest in its deep, subdued tones. Never more (I thought) shall he pray those prayers on eartli. Soon — within two brief hours — he shall have gone lionce — gone HOLY COMMUNIOX. 119 to join the penitent thief, and the Magdalene, and all the innumerable company of souls, who, having sinned much, have also been for- given much.' I then entered the cell, and asked if they were ready to receive the Holy Communion ? They said they were most desirous. In cele- brating, I said the principal parts of tho service in their language ; the rest in English. This, of course, they did not understand ; but they knew the general meaning. They wore very devout in receiving, and seemed cheered and encouraged by the Sacrament. After the service the prisoners took break- fast, and then the gaoler called them out, one by one, to be pinioned. As they went I shook hands with each one, bidding them farewell. First went young Pierre, who wept a little, thinking, no doubt, of his young wife and child at home. Then there was Chesuss, now a changed man, his face no longer fiendishly hideous as at first, but softened and beautified by tlie touch of Faith. The rest followed. Klatsassan was the last to leave. Ho grasped mo warmly by tho hand, and thanked me. I said he was my son, and I should ever remember him ; and that we should meet again in a place where we 120 KLATSASSAIs. should uiidtTstaud eacli otlier better, and need no interpreter. I encouraged him to keep a stout heart, and think of Christ, and lean on Him, and soon the worst would be over; then I gave him the blessing of the Church, and let him go. I forget what happened immediately after this, but I suppose I w^as talking to one of them outside the cell; however, the next thing I noticed was some one offering Klatsassan drink, and his refusing. I don^t think he saw 1,-3 looking, or that he refused the liquor from any notion save a sense of the improiiriety of the tiling'^ and a heroic kind of feeliug, as if ho thought it nobler to meet the worst with all his faculties about him, and fjico death man- fully. They pressed him to take somethiug, but there I felt I must interpose. They must not press him, I said. The prisoners were then led on to the scaf- fold. There was a large crowd of Indians and white men round, but perfect silence and decorum reigned throughout ; prayers were then said in Chilcoaten ; very short, of couvsnd in tlio river) *' tlio waters arc very strong, and tliat canoo will 1)0 smashed, and you will bo drowned, and I am very sorry, for yon, leplate^' (wliicli, being- interpreted, means clergyman, being a corruption of lo 2}ri''f I'c) , " are good friend to mankind" (by which he meant Indian mankind) . This was rather n sinister start for me, but I had determined to go down country by tho river simply because I did not fancy walking some two hundred miles with my blankets and "iixins^^ strapped across my back, and the boat which my friend condemned chanced to be tho only one available. Ho I bade tho kind-hearted Indian ch(>er up, and told him that the Great Father would look after leplate, and went on my way. Yet let me confess to a slight sensation of anxiety stirred by this doleful address. Ah^it onum, thought 1. But it was impossible to be disturbed by forebodings of evil on such a glorious morning. How bright was the fresh sun- shine gleaming on the mighty river ! How keen and bracing the mountain air ! How stu- pendous the grand old mountains, sttmding round with the green of their pines and bright yellow 128 DOWN TIIK IMVKR. of tlicir doclduorid trees. Soon wc were all on board. '^J^licre were about twenty passengers, men of various nationalities, Yanks and British- ers, ]\Iexicans and Norwegians. The skipper, a " gentleman of colour/^ managed the rudd(M*, which consisted of a huge oar, and four stout '^ white men^^ plied the oars. Presently wo started down stream, and at a rattling pace. For about an hour the waters, though swift, were smooth and safe. Then, however, we descried in the distance the white and broken current, which proclaimed a riffle or rapid. This being the first, we rather ^' funked ^^ it, and all thought we should like to get out and walk past the piece of bad water. Accordingly Ave landed, and had the pleasure of seeing our craft dropped over the place of danger by means of a rope, with none but the steersman on board. Then we re-embarked, and shot ahead again. Every five minutes the interest of the trip varied and increased. Every turn in the river revealed some new kind of scenery, of wliicli nothing was commonplace or tame, but, on the contrary, all was romantic, fantastic, or sub- lime. Occasionally, the banks on either side would slope gently u^) wards, adorned witli graceful trees and shrubs. More frequently they would rise up sheer from the water\s A NAUllOW ESCAl'K. 12D edge, forming lofty ranges of rock topped witli Sii])]o pines. Now wc would enter one of those glorious canons, or gorges, for vvliicli, like the Coluinbia and other western rivers, t]i(^ Fraser is remarkable. In these canons the water is eom})ressed into a narrow channel of unknown depth, and flows peaceably, as though in its great strength it were asleep, or only awake enough to play with its count- less eddies, llie great brown rocks on either hand towered like massive walls to a height of 1000 feet. The silence in passing down between those walls, with nothing but the d(^ptlis of brown water below, and the expanse of blue sky above, was something perfectly appalling. We dared not converse then ; the only sound heard was the splash of our oars. Presently, however, as we approach the ex- tremity of the defile, we hear the distant roar. The stream, it would appear, has been gathering up its strength in that interlude of slumbering silence. For lo ! in the distance '•^the white horses'' are charging the rocks, and we are being quickly borne into the heart of the fray. It is where the stream is seeking a lower level that these conflicts occur. It then goes raging over the mighty boulders which cn- 130 DOWN TUE laVEK. cumber its bed. There is a twofold danger in such places. There is the risk of your boat having her bow turned by the back movement of the waves striking on those boulders, and there is, of course, the risk of collision with those rough-looking monsters themselves. It is essential to put on all possible headway in running those ^^riflics/^ because if your boat were once turned so as to present her side to the current, she would in a moment bo swamped or knocked into shivers. And then a long farewell ! No swimming in that whirling tide ! None ! The victim falls into the hands of a hundred contending currents, and, torn to pieces, or battered into jelly, he is hurled along, never to be seen by mortal more. But given a well-steered boat with plenty of way on, there is no danger; the craft will then dash down over those rough places, on the back of those fierce white horses, at a rate of little less than twenty miles an hour. We had, however, one awkward experience. We had halted at noon for lunch. Hastily gathering some of the timber strewn along the bank, we had made a fire and boiled water for tea, that indispensable ally of the pioneer. Recruited with this, not without adjuncts of bread and bacon, we had re-embarked, and HNE UIVER 8CENKRY. Mil were niovlnf^ swiftly tlironj^-li tlio water. Pre- sently, on a sudden bend, we saw right ahead tho forniidablo waters of what is ealled tho Chalcoaten liifHc, and as soon as we saw wo were in it, '' Now, boys, look to your oars,^^ shouted tho darkey at tho helm ; '' give her way, my lads ; that\s it ; push her through ; throw your weight into her! " Encouraged by these and similar appeals, wo tore away re- gardless of the fierce violence and deafening roar of the raging stream. But — ha ! wliat^s this ? has the steersman, missed the channel, or is the w^ater shallower than ho thought ? I can't tell, but this I know (nor am I likely to forget it!), just where the river was narrowest and wildest, we came bump on a rock in mid- stream, a cross-beam was stovo in, and — well, *' the boat was a wreck, and wo were all in tho water ? '^ Not so, or I should never have sur- vived to tell it ; but what clid happen was this. After a moment of intense curiosity to know what was to come next, a moment which seemed to last an hour, tho good boat did tho most sensible thing it could do; it jumped from off its boulder full six feet into the seeth- ing caldron beneath, and, oh joy ! we were saved. Hereupon the men showed their sense of K 2 132 DOWN THE RIVEK. relief by profane ejaculations after the manner of gold-diggers. To some wlio irreverently used the name of tlie Saviour in speaking of their lucky escape^ I remember observing that to Him and to none other they owed a deliver- ance equally miraculous and unmerited. And so we bowled along at fifty miles a day, and our trip never lost in interest. Now we would hurry past some ugly boulder lurking in our way, almost touching him. Another time we would mistake the channel and come broadside on to a grim-looking rock in the middle of the river; but just when on the point of being destroyed, we were borne swiftly past it by the mighty current, and taken down a steep and winding way to a still reach of water below. In such a case oars or rudder could do nothing, but pro- videntially the current carried us safe away from the danger. The excitement of these perils was varied by the charm of the ever-shifting landscape. Countless were the hues of the rocks on either hand ; now brown, now grey ; here of a bright vermilion, which to miners' eyes betrayed the presence of copper; now black, indicating coal. And oh ! with what delight did we gaze on the fantastic or sublime forms those FATE OF OUR BOAT. 133 rocks assumed ! Here was a fairy castle like the Eheinstcin — that " thing of beauty and joy for ever" to all travellers am Tthcln — here again a fortress like Ehrenbreitstein — that thing of massive strength. This was a vast pile of rocks many miles in length, and towering to a great height. The precipitous sides had been marvellously wrought by nature into stately columns — quite regular too they were, and, what is still more singular, elaborately carved, such as no architect on earth might carve them. The whole was a perfect picture of massive strength and ethereal grace. I would other travellers might see this giant for- tress, but few I fear ever will, for it is only visible from the river, and, unless the river becomes mo:e civilized and less headstrong, few mil care to trust themselves on its broad but treacherous back. To describe all this is a sheer impossibility. Suffice it to sa.y, the whole trip was completed without loss of life or limb. Only the good boat came to grief; this, however, within bub a few miles of our destination, and after wo had left her, wijh our effects. It was at a very bad and dangerous riffle, where the water was unusually shallow. The bark was being let down over the place by means of a ropo 134 DOWN T>IE RIVER. attached to it; but unluckily tlio stream got the better of licr aud took the liberty of rudely driving her upon a rock, where, in a moment, she went to pieces like a box of matches. I'ltOM NEW WESTMINSTER TO LILLOOET. -♦- No ono sailing from the green island of Van- couvcr, can have crossed on a fine day tli3 Gulf of Georgia, which separates it from the mainland, without admiring the beauty of the scenery. The waters sheltered by Vancouver Island are generally tranquil. The islands around present a picturesque appearance of rock and dense wood. The snow-cajipcd coast range of British Columbia lift up their bold jagged peaks. The scene is enlivened by numberless w^aterfowl of many species. A mile or so to the east of Plumper Pass — the narrow channel between Galiano and Mayne Islands, — the vessel passes suddenly into a stream, turbid and clay-coloured, in which arc seen floating masses of driftwood. This is tlio volume of water which the noble Fraser pours into the Gulf of Georgia. The sand banks caused by the deposit of the stream, extend some five miles to the westward of the entrance. There is no formidable bar to cross loG YllOn Ni:W WESTMINSTEK TO LILLOOET. as in tho case of the Columbia, and so many other rivers ; a narrow channel having been forced through tho shoals by the struggles of tho rivor. With an entrance sheltered from storms, and a depth of water sufficient for any vessels save of the very largest class, the Fraser seems intended to be a gate through which the wants of a great country may bo supplied, and its riches distributed to all lauds. Proceeding onward we soon leave the low and marshy lands at the mouth of the river, and come to where the forest bristles along each bank. Ab'^ve the brush rise the maple, the alder, and tho cottonwood trees — yet higher are tho cedars, and above them all tower the mighty pines, truly the giants of the forest. Viewed from a distance, however, their extreme height is not apparent. Tho truth is that all being so tall, and everything in sight being on so large a scale, tho eyo finds nothing with which to compare them. It is only when, standing beneath them, we measure their trunks, or compare them with a building, or pace the length of one that is fallen, that we perceive how vast they really are. The majority of the pines exceed 200 feet, and many of them are over 300 feet; GIGANTIC riNES. 137 tlic cedars, tliougli less in lieiglit, arc often of amazing girth. Turning a bend in the river, fifteen miles from the mouth, wo .ome in sight of Now Westminster. But a few years ago all here was densest forest, but by dint of marvellous energy a beautiful town has been constructed. We pass up-stream in one of the river steamers, and, sixteen miles beyond Now Westminster Fort Langley, an ancicTit Hudson Bay outpost, is reached. Would wo explore the wonders of the "forest primeval," wo must endeavour to get ashore somewhere. It is a strange sight, especially for a traveller fresh from the Old World, to see the exuber- ance of the vegetation on this humid soil. He enters the wood by the trail or path which has been cut through the dense bush, and gazes silently at the wonders of the forest. The damp soil deprived of the sun is covered with moss, ground creepers, and a rich growth of ferns of various species, and of rare luxuriance. Mingled with them are the berry bushes, the salall, the salmonberry, the raspberry, the huckleberry, loaded with their luscious and many-coloured fruits. Above the bushes rise the hazel and the maple, their light green leaves relieved by the mass of darker foliage. 138 FKOM NEW WESTMINSTER TO LILLOOET. Verdant pendants of moss hang from tlie lower branches of the forest trecs^ wliich, stretching upwards, tower far above all things else, per- mitting glimpses, and but glimpses, of tho bluo sky overhead. Thirty-fivo miles above Langley, the Fraser receives tho waters of Harrison lliver, so named after tho Ven. Archdeacon of Maid- stone. Hero is tho first divergence in tho route to the Cariboo mines ; — one road going by way of Harrison River, Douglas, the lakes, and Lillooet — tho other by way of tho Fraser, Hope, Yale, and Lytton. As our destination was Lillooet, to which tho Bishop of Columbia had ajopointed us, our way was by the former route. Wo started in a canoe, taking the mail along with us. Wo paddled incessantly all day long up the Harri- son liiver till wc reached the lake of that name. Tho banks of the Harrison as you approach tho lake are bold and rocky, thickly covered Avith pines. As we paddled along, wo heard strains of lamentation from the opposite bank. Pre- sently there emerged from the shadow of the rock an Indian canoe, in which sat a solitary woman paddling, and with her paddle keeping time to a melancholy dirge she was singing. She passed us by unheeding, absorbed in her TAKINO IT.M. MAILS Ul' THE IfAKKLSON. loO sorrow. Our Indian told us slic was mourning Bomo relation, probably a child. The Indians, like Eastern nations, make more a business of mourning tLan wo do, and consider it duo to the departed to bemoan him for a certain number of days. Some tribes, liko the Digger Indians, hold a general mourning once a year ; till the day comes round the bereaved must postpone their grief. And so on we paddled till we came into the glorious waters of lovely Lake Harrison, where we camped at night in a delicious little bay, close by the clear and pebbly waters, and within sound of the sweet lullaby of its gentle ripple. At the head of Harrison Lake is Douglas ; then follow thirty miles of road, after whicli you come to another large lake, then a second long portage, at the end of which are Lakes Ander- son and Seton. But, let me pause a moment : half way to Lake Anderson, just as you cross tho watershed of the cascade range, there is yet another little lake, called Tenass Lake. Ah ! well I remember itj for it was a tragic scene I saw there. It was a lovely summer morning, June '62, and we had ridden out there from Lillooet, Mr. Elliott, the magistrate, Phlynn, the constable, and I, and what should we find at that Lake of doom but three bodies 1 10 rUOM NEW WESTMINSTER TO J,I1,I/JUET. floating under tho bank ! They were evidently white men, and liad been dead for a consider- able time. An inquest was held, and wo buried them : though unknown to us, their Maker knew them. Two years later, tho murder came out. A man on the gallows at tho Dalles Oregon for some other crime, con- fessed that he and others had fallen upon thoso three men as they lay in their tents by that lone lake, and killed them as they slept. They w^ere miners, but I know not what names they bore. And I sometimes think that even now there may be some loving hearts in a land far, far from where they sleep, who are wondering where they are and why they don't como homo ; and who arc listening, perchance, every night as tho darkness falls, for the well- known footstep outside their cottage door — a footstep which, ah ! they never more shall Lear. Next wo reach, as I have said. Lake Ander- son. Tlic name is not romantic, but few scenes in nature can surpass its beauty, at once sublime and tender, especially as seen in the freshness of a spring morning as the sun crests the mountain peaks, ere his rays descend upon tho calm waters of the Lake. Its length is sixteen miles, direction nearly n. and s. Lake I'llfc FKASEU. 1 1 1 Soton, the last in the series, is fourteen miles long/ general direction w. and k. ; it is wind- ing, ragged and picturesque. ProLaLly this lake will be connected with liake Anderson by a canal some future day ; they are only a mile and a half apart. Anew steamer was building on Lake Seton. Four miles farther on is tho town of Lillooet. Hitherto our way from Douglas has been up a defile or pass hemmed in by stupendous mountains, but as wo approach Lillooet the hills recede on either hand, and the eye rests once more on an open expanse. A valley lies before us, forming an irregular circle with a diameter of from three to four miles, bounded by lofty mountains. Through this valley or basin the Eraser winds, — tho river bed being 200 feet below the plain. A series of benches rise terrace-like, regular and level, and according to the season, snow-clad, grassy, or gi'ey. These singular benches remind us of the parallel roads of Glenroy, and suggest the idea that the whole valley was once a lake, whose waters gradually fell as some obstruction that barr- c"!. their egress was removed. On one of th. -.- benches stands Lillooet, right bank of tiie river, latitude 50° 41' N., and close upon the 122nd parallel of 142 FROM KKW WKSTMINSTKR TO LILLOOKT. west loDgitudo ; its altitude is 103G feet. The situation is romantic. From the flat iinnicdiately beliiud the town the spectator has as line a view of highland scenery as ho could desire. Westward, to the right, St. Mary\s Mount lifts its pine-clad peaks far into the clear blue sky. Farther south stands Mount Brew, a noble mountain (3000 ft.). During most of the year ho is crowned with snow ; but his mantle, changing with the seasons, is light green in spring, and in autumn of various tints, conspicuous among which is the bright yellow of the deciduous trees and shrubs. Eastward, to the left, also, are mountains stretching down the basin through which the I'raser River, filling the whole scene with his sullen but majestic roar, rolls on. Before us is the village. It consists of a fine broad street, the houses mainly built of wood ; a few being of brick. At one end is the court- house, at the other the church. Unfortunately, it now stands empty and deserted, for there is no longer hero a resident clergyman. The pretty little parsonage close by it is also unoccupied. Let us hope that the time will soon come when these buildings w411 be in use once more, and this place no longer left desti- tute of the greatest of the means of grace. LILLOOET. IJ n Beyond tlic town, the eye rests wltli pleasure on a series of terraces or benches, the fickls enclosed and cultivated, blossoming and garden- like. Far away, that blue smoke among the dark trees betokens an Indian camping-ground. Farther still, yonder silvery lino marks the winding of the river as it disappears among the distant hills. Lillooet is still in its infancy, but has had a largo share in the business of forwarding goods to the interior. Agriculturally considered, it is in the centre of a fertile, if a limited, district. The best of crops are raised, and flour mills also have recently been erected. The soil is most productive. Melons, tomatoes, maize, everything in fact that has been tried, reaches maturity in the open air. Lillooet is also an agreeable place of residence. The climate is fine, the air clear ; the winters indeed are severe, and the summers warm ; but the cold weather is bright and sunny, and the heat of summer is refreshed by mountain breezes. Lillooet m-ay shortly become a town of no small importance, for it seems likely that it will be a station on the new G. W. R. or " Great Way Round" (the world). The great scheme of a British North American Railway does indeed appear to be in a fair way of Hi' FI{()M NEW WESTMINSTEU TO LILLOOET. progress. Its probable course would bo : from Lake Superior to lied i?ivcr; tlieiice up tlio beautiful and extensive valley of the Great Saskatchewan River, a country ripe for settle- ment, to Edmonton. Tlienco to Jasper House in tlic Rocky Mountains. There is a valuable coal-field here ; and emigrants going West by this route build their nightly camp-fires of coal instead of logs. The gorge through which the Railway would thus enter British Columbia is that known to Hudson Bay traders as the New Caledonian or Jasper Pass. It is described as a natural roadway through the mountains which rise on either side liko stupendous walls. From Jasper House to Fete Jaune Cache, there is a valley through which a railroad could bo carried. Thence tho lino will probably make for Cariboo ; next to Quesnelmouth ; thence by Lillooet to Victoria. KENADQUA : A STORY OF SAVAGE LIFE. It is well known to all who take an interest in tlio progress of civilization and Christianity in the earth that many savage races are rapidly diminishing and disappearing. This is specially true of the Ked Indian tribes of British North America. Nor is this depopulation to be as- cribed wholly to contact with other races more advanced in intellect or degraded by depravity. Long before tho whites had penetrated into British Columbia (to give one instance), the savage population of that country had begun to decrease. Only a few years after it had become a colony, and in a district not fre- quented by settlers, we traced in one place indications of what had once been a populous camping-ground, where scarcely a dozen of the tribe remained, and one wretched tent sufficed to contain all that was left of a people whoso warriors and hunters once filled a score of I. 14G KENADQUA : A STORY OF SAVAGE LIFE. earth-houses^ the outlines of which were still visible on the plain. At the same time it cannot be questioned that the presence of the whites has done much to precipitate the ruin of those tribes^ and this in various ways. In a book lately published on the Red Indians (by Mr. Gilbert Sproat, now agent for the British Columbian Government in London), this baneful influence is ascribed in part to '' the despondency and discouragement produced on the minds of the Indians by the presence of a superior raco.''^ This is a subtle reflection, and unquestionably has its truth; but despondency seldom kills, and the Indians die before the whites. Doubtless to the vices and diseases introduced among those natives by Europeans, much of this exterminating work is due ; fire-water has slain its thousands, and disease its tens of thousands. The following history will illustrate another fatal consequence of the white man^s presence, while at the same time it will be useful as manifesting the power of religion, when the seed of truth is sown iu an '^honest and good heart. ^^ Kenadqua, daughter of Shilsileedza, was a beautiful girl, after a type of beauty rarely seen amongst the copper-coloured aborigines of British North America. Features so perfect, THE FLOWER BY TTTH "FLOWER OF WATERS.'^ 147 an expression so pensive and refined, arc usually met witli only in civilized races, and Kenadqua rather resembled a maid of Greece or Spain than a daughter of the Redskin ; and yet thero was withal about her a simplicity and grace in every gesture, such as bespoke the artless child of nature. At the time wlien this narrative begins (in the month of November, 18G1), she was dwell- ing with her tribe by the Lillooet stream, the fairest flower by that " flower of waters,'* for such is the meaning of its name. Kenadqua numbered some sixteen snows ; an orphan, having lost her father two years before. Shil- sileedza had been the chief of that tribe. A powerful Indian, with a free and kingly bear- ing, this warrior was one of the few specimens of his race whose physique could bear compari- son with those stately savages whom Cooper and other romancers so grandly depict ; for the majority of the aborigines, at least to the west of the Eocky Mountains, are slight and chotif in appearance. Shilsileedza died a warrior's death. When the whites came up into that country in search, of gold, this chief had stirred up his tribe to resist these pale-faced invaders of their hunting-grounds. But the poor half- armed savages were no match for Californian L 2 148 KENADQrA : A STORY OF SAVAGE LIFE. pioneers, brave and reckless ; tliese, armed with rifles and revolvers, dealt destruction upon their assailants, and, after a brief and bloody- warfare, in which Shilsileedza and half his tribe were slain, Indian resistance was at an end. With loud wailings and lamentations, as is the custom of her people, Kenadqua mourned for her brave ftither. As her mother too was dead, she now fell to the care of a mean and sordid uncle, and his two dusky squaws. She went to live with them in one of the under- ground earth-houses in which these people pass their winter montlis. Here Kenadqua dwelt contented, knowing as yet no other manner of life. She would occupy herself witli making mats or baskets, or, Avhen the ground was not frozen too hard, she would go up into the hills to dig for roots for the family meal. It was about this time — perhaps in one of tliose excursions, perhaps intruded upon in her own dwelling — that this poor child of nature first came under the eye of a white man who lived in a cabin by the river not ftir distant. He was a miner, wikl and unycrupulous, fearing neither God nor devil, and caring as little for the soul of another as lie did for his own. A few days afterwards the wretch camo SOLD TO A WHITE SCOUNDREL. 140 and proposed to the Indians to sell this poor girl to him ! Such, indeed, is tlio wuy in which some of our countrymen are not ashamed to treat these unhappy savages. Alas ! instead of teaching Christianity to them, they make them more degraded far than they were before. This man, false to his faith, forgetful of the Lord Who is the Father of the whole human family, goes and buys this daughter of the heathen, to make her, so far as he can, a child of hell. Not that, however, — not that ! For although those rascally Indians sold her to him, yet before she had lived long in his cabin she was, by God's mercy^ rescued, even as '' a brand plucked out of the fire.'' On a Sunday afternoon, not long after this miserable transaction, we were preaching amongst the Indians, and chanced to visit tho earth-house where Kenadqua's parents dwelt. The reader will be able to form some idea of this style of habitation, if I say that the appearance it presents as you ajiproach it is not unlike a huge bowl turned upside down. You climb up the outside of this bowl, and, reaching the top, you find an aperture, which is door, chimney, and window all in one. Through this a polo rises from the floor be- neath. In order to get into the plaoc you 150 KEXADQUA : A STORY OP SAVAGE LIFE. must clamber down tlic notcliocl side of tliis pole ; niid as the five-placc is immediately below, yoii descend amoiig'st tlie savages in a cloud of smoke, not uidike some beatlien deity. You now find yourself in a tolerably largo circular earthen cliamber, round wLicli are ranged men/ women, and children, wliose keen eyes and dark faces arc at once con- centrated upon you, expressing either welcome or alarm. " Leplate,'' however, be he Au- glican or Roman, is ever welcome, because they know his heart is good towards the Indian. Having intimated our desire to preach, an interpreter had to be appointed, — one who should know Chinook, tlie only channel of communication then open to us. Now it chanced that Kenadqua was present that Sun- day on a visit to her people, and {is she alone understood Chinook, the chief bade her in- terpret. Seated on the ground, Indian fashion, we began; clause by clause, as we spoke, Kenadqua repeated our words in the dialect of the tribe; clause by clause, as she uttered them, they wTro reiterated by an Indian who stood in the middle of the house, and gave forth each dictum with vehement gesticu- hxtion. >vT'!DEMPTION. lol Now in our sermon wo spoke of the gospel message of niorcy (svliicli tlie savage is glad enongli to receive), and tlicn proceeded to insist upon tlic obedience of life wliicli all wlio really believed that gospel message would show; a part of the truth which he is not quite so ready to accept. The Indian, wo said, whoso heart was good towards the Great Father, and towards His Son, the great chief Jesus Christ, would do what He says, and give up what He hates. So on we went, led we scarce knew whither, until we found ourself denouncing the prevailing social evil (concubinage of their women with the whites), as a thing accursed, and quite against the will of the Father, — sure to lead to degradation, misery, and death in this, world, and the punishment of fire in the world to come. If any white man wanted honestly to wed with an Indian girl, that, wo said, was another thing ; they should be married; ^^leplate" would make them join hands, and give them God^« blessing; they should then be no longer two but one, and live together as man and wife for ever till they died. But, as for those temporary and un- hallowed coinexions, they were thoroughly bad. Indians must steer clear of them, or their canoe would be smaslunl among the rocks ; 152 KENADQUA : A STORY OF SAVAGE LIFE. and if any girl tlicre was already entangled in such a connexion, so degrading, so offensive to the Groat Spirit, so deadly, — she must not hesitate, but do at once what God required of her, — she must break it off. It was the truth, and we spoke it plainly, lest souls should perish through our silence. Yet we scarcely realized what we said, or rather were made to say. Our spirit was but an instrument through which the Eternal Spirit spoke, a liarji on which He played what strains Ho pleased. We knew nothing of the special circumstances of the poor girl who was interpreting for us. How cruelly our every word must have torn her heart ! But, mercifully, she did not harden herself against the message thus painfully brought home to her. No ! for the Lord opened her heart to receive His word. This was the very first occasion on which her duty was made known to her ; for, although probably baptized in her childhood by a Roman Catholic priest on his way through the country, she had never before understood anything about the religion of Jesus. Now for the first time she learnt the sinfulness of her manner of life ; and for the first time heard that the duty of every sinful child of man is repentance towards God, and OHEDIENCE. 153 faith in our Lord Jesus Christy Avitli immediate amcndmo?it of life. As soon as she heard this, she determined to obey. Shall wc err in believing that this ready faith and obedience on her part was a proof that Kenadqua was indeed one of those who have been " given by the Father to the Son " ? " He tliat is of God lieareth God^s words/' The service ended, she came and told us of her circumstances and he;* life. " Ought she/' she inquired, " to leave the man at once ? " " Tell him he must marry you/' we replied ; " the priest must make you one to live together till you die. If he says no, then you must leave him.'' " At once ? " she inquired. " Give him a little time to make up his mind." " How long?" she asked; '' t\\\ the great Sunday ? " meaning Christmas, then a few weeks distant. " Yes, that w ould do." The man refused to marry Kenadqua, and so in a very short time she left him, and came back to live in that Indian earth- house. The man was furious, swearing he would shoot the "meddling preacher." One day, either thoughtlessly or in spite, he wrote Kenadqua's name on a slip of paper and then threw the paper into the fire. Now the girl's brother was present when 154 KENADQUA: A STORY OF SAVAGE LIFE. tliis occurred. What oLjoct that brother had in rcturuiiif^ to the white mau^s house, after all the evil he had done to his faini1\^ ^\o cannot say ; all wo know is, ho was there when tho paper was burnt on which was written tho name of his sister. Now Indians, as wo have already shown, have a superstitious terror of paper; looking* as they do upon writing as a means by which the whites hokl communion with tho unseen powers, nay, with the Great Spirit Himself. Besides, to them the name means the person bearing that name. So Kenadqua, when she heard that this paper with her name upon it had been burnt, imagined herself doomed. She, poor child, thought that tho destruction of her name was a presage of her own destruction ; and, there being much sickness in that part of the country to which Avith her people she had removed, she too fell sick in the early spring, and died. She died, — may we not believe that she fell asleep in Jesus, to awake among the tried and faithful ones in Paradise ? Was it not as a reward for her great act of obedience that she was thus early taken from the evil to come ? She had heard the voice of God, and, forsaking all, had followed it. Leaving the comfort and abundance of the DELIVERANCE. 15 00 wliito inan\s cabin, slio liad followed tlic miglity call of that still small Voice Divine back into tlie cold and dismal dwellings of her people, — into destitution and wretchedness, — yes, and even into sickness and early death. Therefore the Lord was pleased to take her from a scene of misery and temptation to the peace of His heavenly kingdom. Rest, fair child of the forest, in thine early grave, where the d.^rk pines wave on the lonely mountain ! Ignorant and untutored as tliou wert, thou hast been willing to receive the truth, and strong to obey it : the reward of life is thine. When I think of the dangers amid which the daughters of thy people are placed, and of the men, heartless as wolves, who prowl around the fok1, I feel indeed that it is mercy that has removed thee hence, and that in mercy the Good Shepherd has taken His lamb to His bosom. THE CKY TO THE UNKNOWN GOD. Bleak and dreary beyond description is tlio plain aronnd Lille )oet on one of tlioso keen winter days of Avhicli fortunately there are in any year but few, wlien tlie thermometer is say 25° below zero, and the cutting wind, blowing straight from out the icy gates of the north, drives this intense cold in the traveller's face, menacing his nose and ears with the deadly frost-bite. The scene is grand in the extreme, could one on such a day tarry to contemplate scenery. On either side the Fraser, and at some distance from the river, rise lofty mountain-ranges, stately and majestic in their robe of snow. The mighty Fraser, whose channel is some two hundred feet below the plain, flows in silence beneath its frost- bound surface. But far away its liberated waters may bo seen, the only black thing in a landscape of snow, wandering in many a ser- pentine bend, till they lose themselves among the distant mountains. A FRiailTFUL SCENE. 157 On ono such clay in tho winter of 18C3 wo wcro out in tho ueighbourliood of Lillooot, beating up against tho " Schwoo'oocht/^ as tho Indians exprossivoly call tliat dreadful north wind. The hour was noon; and although the sky was clear, no glad sunshine cheered the wintry scene. In truth, the sun was per- forming his diurnal eclipse ; for ever at that period of the year an envious mountain to the south raised his unwelcome head between him and the region below, shutting out his cheerful light. Striking was it, on such a day, to mark tho change produced by the sun^s noon-day dis- appearance. So long as ho shone, tho cold was not so keen ; the bitter wind might pain, but it could not depress : so bright was tho snowy scene around, and so clear the sky .ubovc you. But when tho gloomy shadow began to steal over the landscape, as tho beneficent luminary withdrew himself, what a change ! Then all nature mourned ; tho north wind raged with ten-fold acerbity jind fury ; it was as though its good genius had left the place, and abandoned it to the malignant powers of winter. Such is the Christian in the winter of tho world, when some mountain of sin, un- confessed and unforgivcn, conceals for a time 158 TIIR CRY TO THE UNKNO\yN COD. tlio Sun of IHglitcoiisnoHS from his soul. Thou fclicro comoH over his Hfo a deep niul dreary shadow. Tlien tlic ills of existence, which indeed were there before, and had power to pain, but not to depress, are felt with over- whelming force. Ilis good genius has departed : iincheered and alone he must encounter tho fierceness of tho blast. But to conic to our story. As wo went across the plain, suddenly a cry fell upon our car — a cry loud and mournful ; a cry of f^np- plication of some poor Indian in distress. The sound proceeded fi'om a small tent half con- cealed in the snow. Approaching tho wretched dwelling, wo raised the fold which covered the entrance, and crept in. What a scene of misery ! On one side of a poor fire sat tho Indian we had heard. On tho other side lay, huddled in a blanket, his squaw, ill with a malignant type of small-pox, foulest of dis- eases. Poor tiling ! she looked like nothing human ! — a frightful object— a living death. Next to her was her child,' evidently sickening from tlio same fearful malady. And so this poor Indian, encompassed thus with misery in its most revolting and most overwhelming form, threatened with the loss of all that he held dear, was there pouring out his soul in TflH UNKNOWN CiOn DKCLAnED, 150 cries and gruanings, which could not bo uttered, because no hinguago might adefjuatoly ex2")rcss them. There was something heart-rending in the scene — the surrounding woe, and tlie poor savage in the midst, the picture of despair, with his dark face, liis long black hair, and his hands crossed upon his naked bosom, wailing out in mournful cadences his prayer to an unknown God ! Yet in thoso plaintive tones there seemed, one could not but think, some faint element of hope, as if he felt that his cries could not be really thrown away upon tlie wild and idle wind, but must be heard by the '^ Great Spirit," althougli what that Great Spirit was, and AVho, Jie knew not, nor yet what He meant in being apparently so cruel to him. And indeed the prayers of this "poor destitute" had not been thrown away. They had entered into the ears of the Lord God of Sabaoth. They had come up " as a memorial before God." He AVlio heareth the young ravens when they cry, was not inattentive to the supplication of one in whom were traces of His own Divine image. For, undoubtedly, it was not chance, but Providence, which sent us to that poor man in the very moment of his need. After first assuring him that his most press- IGO THE CRY TO THE UNKNOWN GOD. ing wants would be immediately supplied (for tlicro was mucli small-pox about the settle- mentj and tlio miners were very generous in relieving its victims), we sought to let in the light of Eevelation upon the darkness of his condition. We taught him the nature of that Great Spirit in Whose hands were the destinies of him and his, as our Saviour Christ has made Him known. God was no cruel or vin- dictive tyrant, who took pleasure in afflicting crcat;ires, but a merciful and loving Father, Who punished His children in order that they might repent and turn to Him, and become fit for that good countr} to which He meant to take them when they died. He had only, wo told him, to believe that God is good, and to have a ^^good heart" towards His Son Jesus Chiist, and all would be well. His past bad deeds would be all forgiven ; the blood of Jesus sprinkled upon his heart would make it clean; the Good Spirit Himself would come down into his heart to make him good, and to teach him to do what is right. As for his poor wife and child, they were in the Father's hands, Wbo loved them a great deal better even than he did. He could recover them, if Ho thought propel : perhaps He would. Let him ask God, for His great mercy's sake, to SCENE AFTER A SMALL-l'OX VISITATION. iGl restore them. But if otherwise — if* He was pleased to take those loved ones from liiiii — whatever He did, let him understand it woW, that was well done which Ho did. Only he must have a good heart towards Him, for the Great Father loved him well. Was it not clear that He loved him well ? Would He else have sent us to him that very hour to speak these good words to him, and make his heart great, which was before so small — so very small ? And then we left. And again the sufferer prayed — but now no longer in despair; no longer to an unknown God. Now, with intf 1- ligence and faith, he called upon the Great vSinrit as Father, and committed himself and his poor family to Him as to a faithful Creator. And not many days after both wife and child were brought back to him as from the very jaws of death. Many other cases not less affecting occurred^ we need not say, when this horrible epidemic was raging in that neighbourhood. To the Indians of North America small-pox has been a fearful scourge. It is computed that, since its first introduction by tlie whites, as m_any as three millions of tliem have fallen victims to this disease. Amongst the Lillooet Indians M 162 THE CRY TO THE UNKNOWN GOD. it raudo fearful ravages, notwitlistandiiig all tlic efforts made to arrest its progress. It came upon tlicin crowded together in tlieir close winter-liouses uudei'ground, and in one case struck down twenty in a single niglit. It found them, too, in their miserable tents un- protected from the cold ; and when its feverish touch was upon them, the cold winds of winter blew on them, and they perished. Their old camping-grounds became a desolation. Each spot there had its tale of soirow, its monument of death. Here a chief, the only brave man among a multitude of cowards, breathed his last ; here perished a faithful servant of the whites; and here again is a ruined earth-house, which but a little while ago was the scene of savage mirth and harm- less enjoyment, but is now the tomb of its former inmates. Where their camp-fires had blazed — where the sounds of their rude wor- ship had resounded — nothing remained save graves of the dead ; nothing was heard save, perhaps, from some wretched habitation, the groan of the solitary sufferer, calling in the forsakenness of his dying agony on the Friend of the friendless. Much was done to relieve the sufferers. Government came generously forward to assist THE LIVING IN THE ARMS OF THE DEAD. 103 private benevolence. A deserted mincr^s cabin was converted into a temporary liospital. When tlie patient conld not be removed^ blankets, tea and sugar, souji, &c., were conveyed to liini wliere lie dwelt. A few recovered, thanks to vaccination ; and the last hours of those who perished were cheered by this kindness. Above all, the message of mercy, coming though late, and understood but darkly, enlightened theu^ parting moments, and made them close their eyes in hope. Sweet is it to minister to a fellow-immortal those heavenly consolations which rob death of its sting ; sweet to speak of a Father^s and a Saviour^s love to eager souls who, as the hart desireth the water- brooks, are athirst for the living God ! On one of those days of piercing cold in February, 1803, we went to visit an Indian camp on Lake Seton, some four miles to tho west of Lillooet. The trail to the lake leads up a narrow defile, through which the clear waters of the Lillooet stream pursue their impetuous course to the Fraser. The scenery is of no common order. Right in front of you, beyond the broad expanse of Lake Seton, rises a snow- capped mountain range; to your left, as you advance up the gorge, towers the great Mount Brew ; while to the right is St. Mary^s Mount, M 2 1G4 THE CRY TO THE UNKNOWN GOD. lovely and majestic, with its seven jagged peaks in all their irregular beauty, rising sheer and sharp into the clear blue sky. The Indians we found encamped near the lake in a small thicket of cotton-wood, a spot well sheltered from the wind. Entering one of the miserable brush-tents they were living in, we exchanged greetings with the inmates, who sat, each wrapt in his bhmket, crouching over the small fire of wood which burnt in tho centre, and was doing its best to send the per- verse smoke straight up through the hole in the roof intended for it. We learnt that there were but few cases of sickness in the camp, for by this time the disease had considerably abated throughout the district. Passing on a little farther, wo came to a sort of booth wdiicli looked even drearier than the rest, for no smoke could be seen ascending from it, nor were there about it any signs of habitation. We stooped and looked in. Silence was there : it was the silence of death. A figure lay rolled up in a corner. Presently from this there came a feeble cry as of a little child. Approaching, we re- moved the covering", and found, to our intense horror, a dead Indian with a living child in his arms ! Disengaging the poor little creature from tho cold grasp of its father, for such ho '^TIIL: EYE8 or TJIE ULINL) i>llAuu SHe/^ 1G5 was, svo found liini to l)o ;i cliild of some tliroo or ibiir years old; but alas! wlicii avc looked into liis face, tlio eye-balls staring vacantly told to plainly tliat lie was stone-blind. The Indians, to whom wo tlien took liini, told us tluit the child had lain in that dreadfvd embrace for twenty-four hours. The heartless ruffians had actually suffered it to remain all that time in the arms of a corpse ! Now the Indians are not usually wanting in kindness to those of their own tribe; on the contrary, they are wont to regard their own tribesmen as brothers and sisters. On this occasion they excused themselves for their brutal conduct by saying that they were very much afraid of the small-pox : more ; they were greatly afraid of that child ; its eyes, they said, terrified them. In fact, they seemed to fancy that the poor little creature, with its blank rolling eye-balls, was in some way or other ^' possessed.^' There was evidently nothing for it but to have the child brought into the hospital near the town. But at first the Indians absolutely refused to carry it in; and it was only after much icaw-wdw (parley), and sundry threats of the skookkum-house (gaol) and corporal castigation, that one of them was got to lOG THE CllY TU TIIH UNKNOWN GOD. undertake to carry liiin. So, wrapt in a blan- ket, tlio cliild was? packed on tlii« Indian's back, and wo sot out for tlie town. So bitter cold was tlio wind we had to face, tliat I scarcely expected the little creature to survive the jour- ney. But it did ; and in the course of time we reached the hospital in safety. Placed before the fire, the poor blind child revived; it called for its dead father, and began to eat. But its little frame had been too sorely tried ; and the next morning at day-break it went its way to the Land where sorrows cease, and where ^' the eyes of the blind shall see." LIGHT IN DARKNESS. It was Good Friday, in tbo year of grace I860. Calm and bright was the day sacred to holiest memories, and fuli of the pro- mise of the Spring. Bnt, alas ! for our white popnlation snch days have but little interest. There is no chance (jf a congre- gation till the evening. Let us, then, go and visit the Indians at the Fountain, eight miles up the River; for well we know that, if they are at home, they will be glad to hear the marvellous tidings of this wondrous day. Chilhoseltz, Fountain chief, received us with a hearty welcome. He was one of the best of Indians ; not ferocious and treacherous like so many of them, but with much about him that was chivalrous and noble. In fact he was one of nature^s gentlemen. On one occasion some time before, we had gone with the magistrate of the district to visit this chief, who was sick — so ill, indeed, that his life was des^Daired of. As we entered his cabin, he was lying on the '108 hKJHT IN OARKNKSH, ground, wrapped in his furs; but no sooner did ho sec the white chiefs come in, than, despite his great weakness, ho rose to his feet, and, puHing off liis furry cap, advanced and greeted us with a dignity such as many a lord might envy. Gladly, then, on this Good Friday, did the chief receive us, and at once set about the necessary arrangements for service. In the rough log -house wdiich those Indians had built expressly for Divine worship we were presently assembled, tlie Indians sitting on the ground in a semicircle, we standing in the middle. With that rapt attention which characterizes tlic Red Indian did they listen, as we ex- plained to them the meaning of the day, and endeavoured to set forth before them the scene of Calvary. They are susceptible of religious impressions, and were touched (as might bo expected) by the story of what the mighty Chief, the Lord of heaven and earth, had endured for love of them. Again was fulfilled the word, " I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto Me.^^ The love dis- played on the Cross drew those simple hearts to Jesus. But when we went on to unfold to them the nieaniug of that sacrifice, and its effect upon I'KACK TIIHOJail TIIK WuKl). 1 GO tlio HouLs of moil, it seemed as if we wore tuking them deeper tLan they could follow. In vain wo cndeavom'od to make tliem see what sin yvns, that it necessitated a sacrifice, and that the death of Christ took it away. At length wo determined to abide by the simple words of Scripture, trnstiiig to the Divino S})irit to explain it to their sonls. So, translating tlio words, " The blood of Jesus Christ cleansoth us from all sin,*^ we kept repeating them until they all could say tlicm : ^' Meetkoa Jesus Christ ^ntzowoom howheito to^ kiischtes." And there was one of them at least to whoso heart the Divine Spirit interpreted these words. She was a very old squaw indeed, very ugly and very dirty, and her eyes were almost totally sealed in blindness. But as she heard the message of salvation, her old face was lighted up with a beam of gladness, as she kept repeating again and again, '' ]\Ia ! howlicitG to' kiischtcs^^ — yes, from all sin. It seemed that the Lord had opened her eyes, and shown lior what most she required to know — that slio was a sinner, and that Jesus was her Saviour. Hero was the very message she needed, tho message of pardon and peace. " Justified freely by His grace, she had peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.^' ^Pluis may the simple 170 LTonr in ijAkkness. message of the gospel, — because it is tlio '' power of God/^ — even when spoken in broken language to a throng of savages in a barbarous tongue, bring peace to the heart. MY ]\LVN CIIllNTA/ OncEj wlioii liviiio' at Lillooot^ I liad a Rctl Indian as my servant^ wlioso name was Clionta. In siicli regions one takes Avliat service one can get, and is glad of it ; else Clienta liad scavcely been my choice. A savage wild from Lis native woods ; fierce and cunning of aspect ; face painted fiery red ; niano flowing in coarse tangled mazes to Ids shoulders — altogether not an attractive-looking specimen of hnmanity. What gave his countenance a peculiarly dark and sinister look was this, that ho had bat one eye, and the look that it cast was lurid, though v iercing — somew^hat dangerous and furtive, too — in a word, ''no canny." And, indeed, his antecedents were not much in his favour. He was said to be a notorious thief; indeed he was sajiposed to have sinned against the sixth conmiandment as well as the ^ Koprintcd from CatfeJI's Mariaxino, with tlio liiiul per- inii=pion of tlio Editor. 172 MY MAN C'llENTA. ciglitli. But tliis was, no doubt, a ]i])el. All I can say is lie never stole from me — at least that I knew of — nor did lie make any attempt to murder mo, and that I probably i^lnnihl have known of. Ho was very useful in doing* the rough work about the house — chopjiing firewood, drawing water, and so forth. For this sort of work these Indians are extremoiy valuable to colonists. They arc not, however, always to be trusted with what may be termed the more delicate and refined portions of house- hold service, such as, for instance, the washing- up of dishes. My friend hard by, Roskyn, the gaoler and sheriff of tlio place, told me once of his con- sternation when, one evening, sitting smoking his post-prandial pipe, whilst his Indian was washing up in the corner of the room, he looked up and witnessed the proceedings. The Indian first filled his mouth with water, then squirted the contents of his month on to the plate in his hand, which, having thus washed, he next proceeded to dry, by applying to it his dark r^nd flowing locks. The vast difference between races may be show-i in the washing of a plate. Primeval and savage man might adopt tlio mode de- scribed, and think it natural and becoming; MY MAN CHENTA: 173 but to inau civilized tlic process seems un- natural, because abominable. If I was some- times tempted to forget tlie liiatus wliicli lay between me and the noble savage, an incident sucli as the above would remind mc of tliat gulf. Chenta was, of course, fully aware of tlie dis- tinction of being servant to the priest, i.e. the chief and great medicine -man of the whites — • him who worked in paper, and kept a sort of telegraphic office for messages to and fro between the Unseen and the Seen. So Chenta did his best to maintain my dignity. Question- able were the means he sometimes used. One day an Indian woman came to the door to sell *' gleece-stick " — that is, resinous pine-sticks for kindling fires. Having no loose cash at the moment, I directed Chenta to dismiss her. To this she replied she would take bread in payment. Now, it chanced that there was no bread in the house. Chenta, how- ever, did not like to tell her so, not wishing to expose the poverty of the family. Ho said, — " Oh, the priest never eats ; he is always saying his prayers, and doing paper '' (that is, holding intercourse with the Unseen) ; " ho has no time for eating.^' Then, in corrobo- 171' MY MAN CHENTA. ration : " Don't you sec how thin he is ? he's not fat like other white men/^ I Avas amused^ but mustered gravity enough to rebuke the knave for his mendacity. Chenta had, of course, a host of brothers and dearest friends in his tribe whoso tents « were pitched close by the white settlement. To these ho used generously to make over the various articles of apparel I gave him for Lis own adornment. He would come to me next morning minus some very essential piece of dress, or wearing some shabby substitute for my gift. Exhibiting his tattered attire, ho would say that before he left the Indian camp the natives were all out looking at him with the most vivid astonishment depicted on their faces, everybody exclaiming, "Look at Chenta's coat ! See, Chenta has no shirt ! Chenta, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! You, the chief's man, to be w^earing such a pair of trousers V By this artful dodge the villain would endeavour to extort f n me a new change of raiment. I remember once promising him the coat I was wearing. Shortly after I was taken ill. Said Chenta to me, in a lachrymose tone, — Chief, you very ill ; hope you not die.'^ t( MY MAN LllENTA. 175 O " Why, Chcnta V' said I, touclicd. '' Would you bo very sorry V '' Oil, chief, very sorry Chenta, ^sposo you die, 'cause then mc not get that coat ! '^ And yet might he not have entered my cabin on any night — the door was never locked — and, assisted perhaps by a brother Indian or two, despatched me in my sleep, and then freely helped himself to my wardrobe and t/ther " fixins ' ' ? His conscience would have quieted itself with the recollection of the last Indian whom Justice had done to death in the colony, and whose death would be avenged by mine. But he did not. Chenta, when I think of it, I feel grateful. Yes. Long be thy life spared, as thou sparedst mine ! AN INDIAN MEDICINE-MAN. The Chief of tlie tribe of Indians in tlie Valley of Pasilqiia was old Clatumnadza, who was also quiaclox, that is^ medicine-man. Although chief, it can hardly be said that he was remark- able for personal beauty or dignity. His face was tanned and wrinkled with the blasts of seventy snows. His long hair floating over his shoulders was no longer white, for smoke and dirt and exposure had dyed it green. He bore some resemblance to the green-haired genius of the River, who used to flourish in the pages of Funch under the name of Father Thames. This ancient personage told me something about the history of his tribe; and among other things, a tradition of the first visit paid it by white men. To judge from his description, it must have been in the days of his great grandfather, and his tribe were living on the bank of a great river, when, much to their astonishment, there RELIGIOUS DANCING AND POLYGAMY. 177 camo down-stream a boat full of palefaces, the first of tlio race they had ever seen. They had come, he understood, across the Rocky Moimtams, from Canada, and were doubtless French Canadians, for the name of one which had been handed down in the tribe was Chapcllc. Well, those men, eight in number, were most hospitably received by the Indians, with whom they stayed two days. They appear to have shown their appreciation of this kind- ness in a somewhat equivocal way, for they taught the simple savages certain strange things. First, they taught them to dance in their religious exercises, and then that the more they danced, and the more vehemently, the better pleased the Great Spirit would be. I have accordingly known them spend a whole night from dusk to dawn in wild jumping and dancing in their earth-houses. They also taught them that it was a bad thing to have only one wife — two at least every good Indian ought to have — a gospel which the savages highly appreciated, and practised. It was difficult for one to believe that the old man was not "romancing^' in all this; still I hardly think his ingenuity would have been equal to the effort. It appeared from what he further told mo, N 178 AN INDIAN MEDICINE-MAN. that tlio practice of these strangers was as slippci'y as tlieir creed ; f(jr having completed their instructions^ they bade the Indians gather their furs, the black and silver grey fox, the martin, the beaver, they were going, they said, to carry them to the top of the opposite mountain, and there present them to the Great Spirit : pleased. He should call the Indians good, and send them in due season rain and plenty of salmon. Thus exhorted, the Indians collected their choicest furs, and gave them to the whites. Jhit instead of taking the skins to the mountains, the scoundrels took them down to their boat, and made off with them as fast as they could down the river. My aged friend was, as I have said, the medicine-man of the tribe. This functionary, who is doctor, miigiciau, and high-priest all in one, is held in great veneration. Natu- rally, a position o^' such distinction requires certain qualifications. It must not be sup- posed that their ]\I.D.''s, any more than ours, become so without passing their examinations. Above all, they must prove themselves men, as the savage undei'si amis it. Ooui-age is the sine qua non of an Indian doctor. The following is the ordeal by which his courage is proved : — In a large Indian earth-house are assembled 1;XAM1NATI0J^ OF CANDli>ATE>S FOll !\r.D. 170 tlio candidates for a doctor's diploma iuuocoiit of apparel. Presently several dogs arc tossed into the arena. These the candidates rush at with their teeth. Each seizes his do^. Heedless of the yells and bites of tho poor animal J he holds him tight, tears him liml) from limb, and ends by actu;U1y devouring him. Should any candidate fail in this trial, not only is ho " plucked,^' but for ever alter he is looked upon as white-livered, and a woman. Those who perform successfully this truly fiendish work, have next to pass through a season of retirement. They live for a year in the woods alone, engaged in the contemph-.tion of natural objects, and the study of medicinal herbs. This second probation ended, they are duly installed in their office as medicine- men. It was a sight to see the old man operating upon a patient. One day, passing near a tent, I heard loud and reiterated shouts and vociferations. Lifting the flap which formed tho door I looked in, and found that all this noise proceeded from old Clatumnadza. Before him lay his patient, a middle-aged woman. Covered with a buffalo robe (I suppose to make him look the more awful), the medicine- man was doing his best to frighten away the N 2 180 AN INDIAN MEDICINE-MAN. demon out of his unliappy patient : ho would snort, and blow, and spit water on his victim to drive that evil spirit forth. Then, if the creature declined to go, he would roar at him as loud as he could bellow, and stamp furiously on the ground; and he must, indeed, have been a strong-minded demon who could hold out and hold on through all that storm. I need hardly add that I heard of more cases of kill than of cure under this treatment; and there can be no doubt that the medioine-mau is a prodigious impostor, who makes his living chiefly by working on the superstitious fears of those benighted savages. Still I do not deny that he sometimes succeeds in relieving pain, or even in eftecting cures, through his know- ledge of medicinal herbs, as well as by tho vapour baths which he recommends largely to those much-exposed and rheumatically-afflicted sons of the desert. A SUNDAY IN CAEIBOO. Wk now give a few reminiscences of tlic famous gold-diggings of Cariboo. The country in this remote and inaccessible region is wild, moun- tainous, and bristling with forest. So rou-^li and unattractive is it, that one can well imagine that nothing short of gold could have drawn men into it : but gold is a potent magnet, for it represents all the good things put together that this poor world can bestow. Alas for the Eiches, imperishable but invisible : what chance for them in a country where the bright seductive nuggets glitter in the brook ? One fine morning in June, '01, we set out from the Forks of Quesnel for Antler Creek, then the centre of the gold-field. In miners' costume, i. e. coatless, in woollen shirt, belt, and top-boots, with blankets for the night and other indispensable '' fixins '' strapped across our shoulders, and a stout stick in our hands, wo set forth. Heavy walking it was, we remember well. A stout Californian who accompanied [ 182 A SUNDAY IN CARIUOO. growled lit the ronglmcss of tlio irail, and observed that ''Jordan was a hard road to travel.'^ It was ind(HMl. j^^irst wc had to go np a stiff nionntaiu thickly covered with brush; next wo reached a ''dismal swamp ^^ in a valley on the other side^ through which wo went nearly knoc-deep in mud. Then camo a second most respectable liill known as the Bald Monntain, from its treeless crown — from whoso summit bold and bare^ cold and snow-spotted^ ^YQ caught a far-oif glimpse of the Rocky Mountains themselves. At length after two days' wxary travel wc came upon a secluded valley, whence broke the joyous sounds of labour, and presently was disclosed to view the row of white w^ooden cottages and dark log-huts which rejoiced in the high- sounding designation of Antler Cit^. And so we were in the gold-mines at last. We were not, however, the first to preach the Gospel in Cariboo. This honour belongs to the Eev. Christopher Knipe, now vicar of St. Clement's, Terrington. \¥e found him there on our arrival, dwelling in a tent, living on little else than beans and bacon, and roughing it thoroughly. Let it not, however, be sup- posed that the miners cared very much whether we were there or not. In modern days the offence AN UNCIVII, (UlEETIXO. lH') of tliG Cross lifiH not coased, but it shows itself inoro in indifference, less in violence. In '0 j< Antler Creek was novJiorr ari a gold- field, and William's Creek had becomo the centre of atti'action. When firstin'Gl we visitedthe g'len nowgrown so famous, it was nothing but a scarcely pene- trable mass of forest and brushwood with a rude miner's hut here and there on the bank, and an occasional miner's wheel in the stream. Our first service was in a half-built store, where the auditors were but seven in number, and where swarms of most blood-thirsty mos- quitoes tried their temper, and disturbed our eloquence. But this year a far different scene meets the eye, as descending the steep flank of the Bald Mountain wo approach the valley now proved the richest gold-pocket in the world. Since our last visit, a great fire has cleared the hill-sides of their luxuriant vegeta- tion, and the hills of their stately pines, leaving them bare and black with charred stumps. There are noAV three miners' towns : the first Richfield, with substantial buildings, court- house, church, jail, &c., w^hile an elrgant little white cottage on the hillside indicates the residence of Judge J^egbie, who spends Iiis summer in this remote and drearv den fc • the / 184 A SUNDAY IN CARIBOO. sake of keeping the Queen's peace among tlio somewhat excitable guld-seekers. There, too, is the Government -house, abode of Mr. O'Reilly, Gold Commissioner, and so to speak satrap of Cariboo. Government agent, with unlimited authority, and wisdom and benevolence to match, O'Reilly, honoured and beloved among men, who that has known thee can ever cease to remember with regard ! Beyond Richfield, a mile farther down the valley, is the second embryo town of Barker- ville, and half-a-mile beyond that is Cameron- town, the busiest place on William's Creek. Here we have our abode, having purchased with fifty dollars a humble mansion, which stands close by the Creek, too close one would think to be comfortable, for this gold-brook has an awkward knack of deviating from its proj^er course when its channel becomes dammed by stuff brought up from the mines. Our dwelling is six feet by eight, built of logs; with an open fire-place at one end; a door opposite; no window ; Hoor consisting of a few loose planks ; furniture, a three-legged stool, and a table nailed on to the wall. We now give some recollections of a Sunday in Cariboo. But before proceeding, we would express our thanks to Dr. Macaulay, the learned SUNDAY SERVICES. 185 Editor 01 tlic SiuiaIuij at llotue, for permission to use and here reproduce, not unrevised, a paper published some years back in that admirable and useful Magazine. It is needless to dilate upon tlie various domestic duties which on rising one must discharge, — duties of a nature not fitted par- ticularly to brace the spirit for the work of the day, but still indispensable, e. g. such as the lighting of the fire, fetching water from the spring, preparing breakfast, not to speak of sweeping the floor with an improvised broom, and sundry other little jobs, or '^ chaws" as they call them : (liaving imported from Canada this corruption of an old Sliak- spearean word ^^ chares" or perchance of the French cjioscs). ' But to our work. There is first the service at the jail at Richfield. There you have a congregation, if a small and select one : will they iul they, they must attend. Next comes the regular eleven o'clock service in the church — for a church has actually been built here by the exertions of the Eev. J. Sheepshanks, Rector of New Westminster, in 'G2. Here, too, there is sure to be a congregation. The officials resident on the Creek will invariably bo present. Unlike many of our countrymen in ]8(J A SUNDAY IN CATJflJOO. distant lauds, those in antliority at Cariboo, from tlio Gold Commissioner to tlie Con- stables, were faithful in these reli^-ious duties. This was all tlio more exemplary, because our Richfield service "was, it must be admitted, somewhat cold ; there was scarcely any music to enliven it; nor were there any of those sweet accompaniments of worship which in other more favoured lands help to raise the thoughts to Heaven. Notice had been given of service at Barker- ville in the afternoon. This place was at that time the worst in the mines, — a place where gambling, drinking, swearing, and other vices reigned unchecked. On the Sunday wo speak of, service was to be held at a half-built wooden house, for as yet no church had been built. As the hour drew near there seemed little hope of success : for the billiard saloons were more than usually full, and the streets more densely crowded with mule-trains un- loading, and miners coming in, their pjicks on their backs, .from the adjacent creeks. These meeting their acquaintances, would hail them with the strange mode of recognition of oaths and curses ! These sounds, combined Avitli the shouting of the muleteers, and the jingling of the nude-bells, with an occasional yell from NO CONGREGATION. 187 one of tlie saloons, iiiado a general uproar not very encouraging to one seeking to hold a service. Borrowing from a neighbouring restaurant a triangle (the substitute used for a bell to call the miners to their meals), wo sounded from the door of the place of meeting a summons to worship. Long we rang, but in vain. The men in the street looked on in unconcern, not to say contempt. Passers-by would cast a glance into the building, and hasten on, as if Divine service w^as no concern of theirs. Presently a solitary man came in ; but, findiMg no one else there, he went away. Laying aside our triangle, we paced the empty room in bitterness of spirit. " Can it be," we thought, ^^that the gosjDcl had been amongst men for nineteen centuries, and yet among a multitude of white men — of Anglo-Saxons — of nominal Christians — there are not found so much as two or three willing to devote a brief half-hour of the Lord^s day to God's w^orshijo ? At all events,^' we said, '^ they shall hear of their wickedness. '' Then, taking up an empty box, we went out into the street, and placing our box at the corner of the Jidjoining billiard saloon, w^e stood upon it, and began to address the groups who wore lounging about. With- 188 A SUNDAY IN CARIBOO. out any preliiniuaries wo pluu^'cd ut once into our subject, and charged lionic upon tlicm their sin of indifference to Divine things. *' How conhl they dare/^ we said (or words to that effect), ^^to treat tlio Almighty as they did ? Hero was His worship brought to their very door, and they would not take the trouble to walk two yards to do Him homage. He had como near to them in the fulness of His lovo and mercy, and they wuuld not so much as listen to His voice. Coukl it be that they despised the riches of His grace and long- suflering ? Was it that tliey judged them- selves unworthy of eternal life ? Perhaps, indeed, they were. It miglit be that such a cursing, blaspheming, whisky- drinking, cheat- ing, card-playing crowd were not fit to a2')pcar in the presence of the Lord, or to receive any of the blessings He has promised. lYnkaps there was to be no salvation for men like them who so distinctly })referred living in their sins, and who had so little desire after a better life, and cared so little for tlieir God, that they would not move a hand or a foot to gain the way of salvation. And perhaps I did wrong,^' we said, ^' in coming out there to speak to them. It might be the will of God that they should perisli in their sins, and lu ar no more A GOSPEL SERMON. 189 of tlio ofFer of mc^C3^ I liacl come out, however, and had spoken, — because I couldn^t help it/' Thus abruptly we concluded. There was no visible effect produced. Their foces wore tho same nonchalant aspect as before. Perhaps there was an expression of wonder superadded, as if they would say, "Why, what is 'the preacher' in such a rage about ? " Now to be frank, '' the preacher" had some misgiving himself about this harangue ; in fact, if the truth were told, he was a little ashamed of it; he had spoken harshly, and not with the persuasive '^ gentle- ness of Christ." Yet there are occasions when open and careless sinners must hear the sterner messages of the Truth ; when they must bo warned, and exhorted to flee from the wrath to come. This sermon, as we heard long after- wards, had taken hold on some of them, and set them thinking. May some indeed have been led to flee from the judgment which they had provoked to the Redeemer IVliom they had despised, Who is the only '^ covert from the tempest!'' On the Sunday afternoon, when tliere was no service at Barkerville, we would cross the ridge over into Lowliee Creek, some four miles distant. The trail from WiUiam's Creek leads up a rugged ravine into the thick forest : soon 100 A SUNDAY IN CA]{IU(m). WO pass buyoud tlio sights .'iiicl sounds of Sunday labour and revelry. In this green forest, on this rugged trail, under the shadow of these lordly pines, there is a peaceful con- trast to the scenes we have left. Nature, at least, is in harmony with her Maker, if man is not j and through her the Lord of Nature speaks to the troubled spirit in accents of peace. Lowliec Creek, though a not unimportant mining ground — for it has already prodnced a vast amount of gold — is still much smaller than William^s Creek, and less thickly peopled. On the Sunday of which we speak, the valley, usually so quiet and so leafy, is a scene of desolation. One of those great conflagrations, so common in tho forest primeval, is now raging here. There has been no rain for many weeks ; and when this is the case, tho pine- trees, which are full of resinous substance, and have quantities of dry moss (the food of tho Cariboo deer in the winter time) depending from their boughs, are easily set ablaze. Often from tho embers of a miner's camp-fire a flame will creep stealthily along the ground, seize upon a giant of tho wood, and ere long cover a whole country-side with the destroying element. Such a fire we now witnessed on THE \'\\.\a:y in fiames. 101 floscendiiig* upon the valley of Lowlice. The raouutaiii side opposite was one mass of flame. As the lire went roaring* up the valley, a flame would be seen to burst forth from the main column of attack, and, seizing upon a monarch of the forest, Avould rush madly up his side, Icapiug from branch to branch, until it ilared forth from the top like a fiery streamer, then would come on the main body, completiug the work of destruction; and the valley, which a few hours Ijcfore rejoiced in its verdure, .and gloried in its graceful and stately trees, has now bccouie a black scene of desolation. Descending into the bottom of the glen, we made our way over smoking stumps, deadly to shoo leather, to that lower portion of the valley where were the principal mining huts, and entered the public house, Avhere we found a few miners playing cards. Accosting the '' barkeep',^^ whom we knew, we said we had come over to hold service, and asked what chance there was of a congregation. He said, '' Wall, the most of the boys had gone over to William's, and there wei'o very few of them there ; and he guessed it was hardly worth while." - Having ascertained that at least he had no objections to our holding service there, we 102 A SUNDAY IN CARIBOO. proceeded to look up the miucrs iu the neigh- bourhood, and succeeded in inducing a few to join. Our sorvico was short and simple, beginning with the general confession and the Lord^s prayer ; a lesson from the New Testament fol- lowed, and after that a short practical sermon on the parable of the Prodigal Son, concluding with one or two collects and an extempore prayer. They were attentive, and seemingly impressed. No doubt the gospel came before some of tliem as something new; for reckless living and bad habits soon make men unlearn the religion of their early days. Yet some of those whom one meets in gold- diggings, such as Cariboo, have probably never learnt much about religion. Some had not indeed the faintest notion what it meant. The only idea they connected with it being that it was something very unpleasant. A friend one Sunday overheard two miners con- versing. Said one, " I have been to hear the parson to-day, but," he added, " I reckon ho didn't do vie much good; he didn't convert mo " (with Yankee nasal emphasis on the me) . To which the other rejoined, '^ Wall, I once was caught by a parson, and that was on (some creek or other in California), when one THE ILLUMINATED ONES. 193 came U) preach in a public-house, and then I was fifteen years okl. But tliey have never caught mo since. Now/' he added, " I never see a parson but I laugh.'' Once on our inviting a man to church he declined, and said it was a thin^ CARIBOO. Six o'clock, or tlicrcabouts, finds us back in Williiiiii's Crcok and at Caniorontown. The bell is ringing at tlio *' rcstanrant," and miners are rushing in to supper. We join tlieni ; no time to-day to cook our own bcaf-steak, — our usual practice, for .nltliough meals at two dollars and a half (ten shillings) may not inconvenience diggers who arc shovelling out their nuggets, and count their gold by pounds and ounces, those prices arc hardly within the compass of a parson^s purse. The meal is not so bad as it miglit be, and does not, as in former years, consist of beans and bacon, — far less of "beans straight," which is beans without bacon. Wo have beef which has been driven all the way from Oregon, wo have also potatoes grown not very far from the mines, and wo have "pumpkin" pics or peach pies — a "Yankee notion, '^ and not a bad one either. It would be rude to criticize our messmates, else we should observe that Dickens' well- known description in his " American Notes " is hardly an exaggeration after all. The "boys" bolt their food with w^ondrous rapidity, eat with their hats on, and can hardly out of deference to the parson ;'efrain from the usual seasoning of oaths, though they try to, let us own with gratitude, and follow up the evil LOOKINO-Ul' A C(^\aiiK(lATI()N. 107 expletive witli an ;ipolo', he sug'g'csted that perhaps the '* boys^^ might not know what the riugiug was for. Wo accordingly went to gather a congregation. Among other places, wo entered a small public-house, which was crowded with miners, standing round small tables on which were piles of twenty-dollar pieces, engaged in that deadly sin and snare of mining-life, gambling. " Gentlemen,^' we sang out, ^^ perhaps you can^t hear it for the noise, ])ut there^s a bell ringing outside.^^ Dead silence followed this announce- ment ; the majority did not know our voice, else they would not have listened further, anticipat- ino* what was comino*. ^•' Gentlemen," we re- sumed, " let me tell you what that bell is ringing for ; it is to invite you to worship. We are going to liave service at Mr. Barrv^s new^ saloon." These last words, however, Avere drowned in a 198 A SUNDAY IN CARIBOO. Babel of uproar, oaths, yells, and execrations, whicli broke forth from every corner of the room. Some bade us go, we won't say whither ; others somewhat less discourteously, '^ Take a drink." And yet for all that, the service, was held, and no doubt blest to some of them ; and even from that very company of votaries of sin and blasphemers, there came to it two or three stragglers. One Sunday night, on going home to our humble cabin after our labours, to court tired Nature's sweet restorer, what was our dismay to find our habitation surrounded with water. Wading to the door we entered, and with some difficulty struck a light, which disclosed to us a most melancholy scene. The tiny place was flooded with the dirty water of the Creek, and the planks of our floor and cutty- stool, and other worldly possessions, were swimming complacently about. The water was half way up the legs of our bed, and to judge from the cause, which was evidently the accumulation of tailings (material from the mines) in the bed of the brook, it migho as readily as not increase, until it carried away the whole establishment. Accordingly, seizing our blankets we beat a retreat, and were fain MONDAY MOliNINO. ]C)() to stretch ourselves upon the softest plauk of a neighbour's kindly floor. So much for the Sunday; and now to con- dude, we add a reminiscence of Monday morniug, wliich we extract from our Diary of July 20, 1864:— '^Monday pouring. Buried tlie youno- man who died yesterday. (His name, John Curnow, from Canstown, Ludgoan, Penzance, Cornwall! He died of typhus after a yery short illness, typhus induced by privations and hardships.) We had a tramp of a mile and a half through deep mud and rain. I walk before, and wonder at the remnant of civilization and' love m these rough hearts that follow with their burden— over the knees in mud— up tho steep braes— through the searching raiu— to the lonesome grave among the stumps— where they lay the mortal remains of this fine Cornish lad of twenty-one.'' THE END. GIT.TIEKT AND Un-INGTOV, ^Kl^■T^.l:^•, ST. John's squauk, AND 2^, \V11ITJ:1'11IA1J3 STUEKT, CI IV.