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THE LONELY DOVE or THE HURONS. __^ .m THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIEtY, 56^ PATERNOSTER ROW ; 6%, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD S AND 16^, rieCADllJUY, > « r' I' t 1 ' 7 >> ■> Ci.2SG iMAy - 1 \m lOME IN 1 " i« •' * Ck 6as|)um Jlrtss, ONWIN SROTUEKS^ CUILWOKTH AND LONDON. i]^H -' ' " . I . - :* CONTENTS. I. lOME IN THE NEW SETTLEMENT ... • •• ••• •«• ••• iUE HURON CHIEF AND HIS DAUGHTER 2$ III. riE DEPARTURE •t* flf« t«« ••• ••• •«• ••• •• 52 IV. LAST R£SIIKG*i*LACE «. ,.. «.• ««. 74. ho; )ld la )f th€ [ern p a woi [piety, Iretent THE LONELY DOVE OF THE HURONS. I. HOME IN THE NEW SETTLEMENT. OME years ago there lived in Kingston, Upper Canada, an )ld lady, whose father had been one >f the earliest settlers in the west- |ern part of that province. She was I a woman of good sense and sincere ^ piety, and being blessed with the retentaon of her faculties in complete THE LONELY DOVE preservation to the close of her long life, her conversation was both edifying and entertaining to the wiser part of the young generation round her. The changes of times and ways in that new world of the west, within the memory of its aged inhabitants, are greater than could be well imagined in our old Europe. She had seen hunters go out in pursuit of the elk and the bear, to districts now covered with farm fields and orchards, and the giant trees of a primeval forest growing where busy towns and thriving villages now stand, full of the life and labours of civil- ized man. The old lady s memory was strong and clear, and could take a back- ward journey of seventy years. She had coine to the time of remembering OF THE IIURONS. LS people do when they sit clown in :he late and quiet evening of life. It was pleasant to her to relate the experiences, and return to the scenes ►f her youth, which time had so altered ind effaced. Many a tale ofr those old idventurous days, when the first hardy lettlers cleft their way westward through the ancient pine forests, did ler young Kingston friends gather •ound to hear; but more especially she took pleasure in recounting to them the ^wonderful works of Him in whom her trust was placed — how His providence had preserved those that were ready to perish, and made the light of Christian faith and hope to shine on the dark places of the land. One most striking, though simple, illustration of 8 THE LONELY DOVE this providential care she was accus- tomed to tell in the following man- ner: — It IS now sixty years since I was a young girl in my father s house on tljc bank^of St. Clair s river, as they call that part of the great St. Lawrence which flows from Lake Huron to Lake St. Clair. The district is all farms and villages now, with law-courts and mar- ket-places, schools and churches; but at the time of which I speak it was one wide forest, without highway or hamlet, but with solitary clearings few and far apart, with rudely-fenced and half-reclaimed fields surrounding the low log-houses of the earliest settlers, who lived partly by farming and partly by hunting. OF THE HURONS. as acciis- ng man- ce I was louse on as they »awrence to Lake irms and md mar- les; but : it was iway or ngs few :ed and. mg the settlers, i partly My father was one of them, though leither farmer nor hunter by calHng tnd education, but a minister of the !hurch of Scotland. While yet young md unsettled in kirk or manse, he had :ast in his lot with a compsfty of g^- ^enturous emigra^^old friends arid Neighbours going'Crom his native high- land parish, to cultivate farms for themselves in the forest-land of Upper iCanada, which the government was giving in freehold at a nominal value, 'by way of encouraging emigration to ^the province, which its armies had kept with such difficulty in the American war, then just come to a close. The settlement of St. Clair's river began with a- great promise of in- crease and prosperity, — trader was to 10 THE I.ONEL^? jDOVE come, and capital to flow into it; but those brilliant expectations were not to be realised in the lifetime of its first inhabitants. The trade did not come, the capital d'd not flow; the report of the wHd land and its stern winters stopped and turned away the stream of emigration for many a year. The hardy highlandmen built their homes, nevertheless, cleared away the forest- trees around them, cultivated such crops as the forest-soil would yield, reared sheep and cattle as hardy as themselves, and increased their winter stock of provisions by hunting the bear, the elk, and the bison. Most of the settlers had brought young famHies with them; sons and daughters grew up in the wild; the >f E OF THE HUROXS. ft tUo It; but 5 were not 2 cf Its first I not come, the report -rn winters ;he stream ear. The eir homes, the forest- ited such uld yield, hardy as eir winter nting the I. brought sons and vild; the )ld neighbours formed new relation- jhips by their weddings. My father ^ot related in that way to an old friend ►f his family, whose eldest daughter le married, and she was my good [Other. His small congregation oqe md all assisted in building for him the largest log-house in the whole commu- lity. One end of it was fitted up as plain and primitive Presbyterian :hurch, the other was his manse, or 1 welling; and the fabric stood on the . lighest point of a gentle slope, which lis own hands had cleared, in the form >f a semicircle, open to the river and the south, and on all other sides shut in by some of the tallest trees of the lighty forest. My father was one of the highland tl TItE. LONELV dove Frazers, and they called the place, in his honour, Frazer's Clearing, by which name it is still known, though now a populous and thriving township. Few have left behind them in this world a fairer name than his; for he was a true Christian and a faithful minister. His church in the wilderness was blessed with the spirit of devotion and of concord, not always to be found in larger communities. He and they , had known each other from childhood; their memories went back to the same far highland hills and homesteads; the trials and hardships of life in the track- less woods had bound them to each other. My father regarded his flock as his larger household; and, next to the Preserver of men, the highland OF THE HURONS. 13 iettlers looked up to, and confided in, Iheir minister. ' My mother was of one mind with lim in all things, a true and loving lelpmate. They had five children, >f whom I was the eldest; and both ^ere as kindly careful and considerate parents as children ever had. An old lut sturdy couple, who had left their lative highlands out of pure attach- lent to my father, lived with them as iervants, or rather as helpful and trusty friends; and while I was yet i^ery young, my mother's parents, find- ing themselves too far advanced in ^^ears for farming, left their land to a narried son, and came to live with diem too. So our family was large, but ther^ >*K 14 THE LONELY DOVE I was plenty of room in the log-house, and plenty of bread for all My father s land was considered the best in the forest. He tilled his fields and gathered in his harvests with our good man Robin Ross, and some help from the men of the settlement; saying that since the Apostle Paul became a tent- maker, and Peter and John \v ere fisher- men, a minister of the Scotch kirk might well follow husbandry, and there- by the better understand the meaning of the parables .concerning the sower that went forth to sow, and the tares that grew among the wheat. From the oldest to the youngest in our house, every hand found employ- ment. Far from markets and shop3 as we were, almost everything had to OF THE HURONS. 15 ^e made at home : the clothes we wore, [he candles we burned, the sugar from [he maple-tree, and the salt from the forest spring. All the Canadian sum- ler we were busy, in the shade or in le sun; all the rigorous winter we rere equally busy within fast-closed loors, and by the blazing hearth, for (toves were not yet introduced into te St. Clair settlement; and every unday, summer and winter, found my father's flock and family assembled in the small church which formed one jnd of his dwelling, to sing the Scot- ash psalms which the men of the Covenant had sung on .field and scaf- fold, and hear the gospel preached LS it had beeii from Reformation times [in the distant lands of their fathers. i6 THE LONELY DOVE You may think it was an out-of-the- world place, and a dull life; but my happiest years were spent in that forest home. I see it still in my dreams, as it looked in the bright spring days, when the frosts and storms of winter were fairly gone, and leaf and blossom, bird and bee, were com- ing forth to the brilliant sunshine, and the soft, sweet breeze — the long, low house, covered with flowering creepers; the garden, where, among many more useful plants, my mother cultivated the blue-bells of Scotland, and my father a patch of heather; the green fields lying round, and the carefully fenced one through which a path led to the church door, with two or three grassy mounds and rudely-sculptu|-^d OF THE HURONS. t? OLit-of-the- -; but my t in that ill in my he bright nd storms and leaf ^ere com- bine, and ong, low creepers; my more Liltivated and my e green -arefully | >ath led )r three ilptu^gd head-stones on either side, showing, as my father said, where the emigrants had laid down their sleepers. It is all changed long ago, and a large school has been built over a spot especially dear to my recollection.- It was a mossy bank at the foot of a great old oak, which my father had spared in his clearing time, on account of its size and beauty, where our largest meadow almost met the forest, — a place of wild flowers and birds only to be seen in the American woods, — of softened shade and floating fra- grance, where we saw the first tokens of spring and the latest lingerings of summer. It was a favourite haunt with me, my younger sister, and our three little L f t8 tHE LONELY DOVE brothers. All the genial season of the year our playtime was spent there. There we sat to learn our lessons for my father's home-school, which he kept every week-day evening, and our catechism for the one he kept on Sun- day. There, too, we used to sit when I, the oldest, and best reader, was trusted with one of the few books in my father s very small library which came within the understanding of the young, — the "Scotch Worthies," the ^'Pilgrim's Progress," "Some Account of Remarkable Providences," and, chief of all, our family Bible, to read to my little brothers as they sat round me on that mossy bank, when the old people were absent, or did not want us at home. OF THE irUKONS.; ^9 ►n of the : there. Jons for ich he md our m Sun- t when ■r, was ►oks in which of the J," the ccount and, read round e old want ' We were sitting there one Sunday evening in early spring-time ; the day had been bright and warm ; it was a pleasure for us to be out in the open fields after the long shutting up winter. Our father and mother had gone to see a family on whom the affliction of sickness — a rare one in the forest land — had fallen; the old people were within doors at their own books or talk, and I was reading to my brothers the story of Moses in the ark of bulrushes, when Colin, the youngest, who was re- markably keen of ear and eye, whis- pered to me, "Look behind you, Jessie." I turned my head as he spoke, and saw within a few steps of us, leaning against the old oak, and seemingly as fixed and silent as itself, a girl about 20 THE LONELY DOVE my own age, which was then thirteen. She appeared to be taller and much more slender than I was; her com* plexion was brown, or rather a light bronze colour; her face looked strange to us, like one of a foreign race, yet it was singularly handsome. Her eyes were not wild ; but their glance was swift and shy, like that of the forest-bird* Her long black hair was bound with a wreath or fillet of bright-coloured feathers. She wore buskins of a shape we had never seen, ornamented with beads and buttons, a short skirt of scarlet cloth, and a mantle of velvet- like fur, the skin of the American fawn ; and round her neck a large necklace, composed of bright shells, brilliant stones, and gold and silver coins. . OF THE HURONS. 21 rteeil. much com* light ange yet it eyes swift bird, with Lired lape vith : of /et- vn; ce, mt We looked at her in silent astonish- ment for a minute or two. She looked at us as if not sure of our intentions towards her, and then said, slowly, "Indian daughter want to hear what the book say to you." The tone was strange to our ears, but the words were plain enough. Our unexpected visitor was an Indian girl. We had never seen one of her race before ; but many a tale regarding them we had heard from our elders. Years before the St. Clair settlement was formed the native tribes who then occupied the forest-land on both sides of the river had taken part in the American war, and fought out their own ancient feuds under cover of English and American interests. 21 THE LONELY DOVE A tribe of Hurons had held as part of their hunting-ground the district in which our settlement was planted, and made fierce war for the United States, by way of avenging themselves on their old enemies, the Iroquois, who had taken part with the British. Both parties committed fearful deeds; but when peace came at last, between England and America, this Huron tri^e were included in the treaty, Their territory on St. Clair s river was purchased from them in the usual way, with rifles and blankets, and they re- tired, first to the United States side of it, and then far west, to be out of the reach of white men and their laws, some of the tribe having good reason for avoiding both. . OF THE HURONS. part net in I and tates, s on who Both ; but ^veen uron eaty, was ivay, ' re- e of the ws, son Well, we had heard of the Indians, and not so as to make us wish for their company; but the young girl, besides being alone, looked so modest and gentle, that though we wondered at her appearance, it did not frighten us. "Come and sit down here," I said, making room for her on the bank he^ side myself, " and you will hear what the book says." She looked at all our faces for another minute, as if to be certain that we were honestly friendly, and then came with a step as light and free as a forest fawn, and took her seat by my side. I suppose it was done in a sim- ple and childish way, but I explained to the Indian girl as well as I could 24 THE LONELY DOVE at the time what book we were read- ing, and began the story of Moses again, that she might hear it all. While I read, her face and figure remained without motion, in that state of fixed attention peculiar to the red yet when I had finished, it was race evident she understood the tale better than she could express in English, for her words were few and broken. But we gathered from them that she knew it was " the white man's great book " we were reading ; that she had heard of it from the elders of her tribe, who had once met with a missionary in their wanderings ; from the fur traders who often visited her people ; and in the frontier towns and villages of th<5 United States, to which her father had OF THE HURONS. 25 read- closes 1. figure state e red t was )etter 1, for But cnew )ok" eard who ^ :heir who the the had taken her with him when he went to buy gunpowder and knives, and where she learned so much of the white man's tongue. We also gathered that her father was the chief of his tribe, and she was his only daughter; that she had six elder brothers, but her mother was dead; and her own name was Lanoma, which, as we afterwards learned, signified in the language of her people " the Lonely Dove." i S3 fi II. THE HURON CHIEF AND HIS DAUGHTER. |hile we were yet talking with the Indian girl, our father and mother came home. They were greatly astonished to see her with us, and came at once to inquire how and whence she came : but the only answer they could get was a motion of her hand in the direction of the river, and the words, ''from far side." My good mother invited her into the house to take siippei' with us ; but she shook THE LONELY DOVE 27 her head, with " Indian daughter go home, for night come." , '.. , ** I will go with the child/' said my father, *' and see her safe to her people. It is getting dark in the forest already." "Let us go with you," said we five in a breath. This woods were no terror to us, especially with our father, and we were curious to see the Indian girl's home. '* Come along," he said; and along we went in a body, Lanoma Walking on before so rapidly, that my father him- self could scarcely keep up with her, and we were all left behind. She took a track which seemed to lead into the thickest of the forest, and. my father stopped her to inquire how she could reach the river that way; :wh^n out of 2i THE LONELY DOVE i the dense underwood stepped six tall red Indians, with robes of buffalo skin, hair stiffened with gum, and stuck full of eagles' feathers, and every one armed with a rifle, a hatchet, and a long sharp knife. My father, brave though he was as any man of highland blood, stepped back at the sight, while we cowered behind him; but Lanoma ran to the Indians, as if glad to see them; and when she had spoken with them for a few minutes, they all made us a sort of bow, and went away through the forest, while we went back to our house, knowing that the girl would now get safe home, but somewhat troubled at seeing armed Indians within the bounds of the settlement. ^e: at bre| open sprinj befon and 1< feet, quills colouj valua made thouc manr I their furs from who amc bP THE HUROi^S. 29 Next morning, when we were sitting at breakfast, with doors and windows open to let in the breath of the sweet spring day, an old Indian stepped in before we were aware of his coming, and laid down, almost at my father s feet, a basket woven of porcupines' quills and fine osiers dyed of different colours, lined with bark, and filled with valuable furs. Then he stood up and made a speech in very good English, though k was spoken in the Indian manner. I do not remember his words, but their purport was that the basket of furs was a present, in token of peace, from the chief of the Huron tribe, whose name signified the Great Bear among the red men, on account of 30 THE LONELY DOVE the eanipsv he had surprised and the villages he had laid waste, when out on the war-path for George Washing- ton ; that having grown old, and wish- ing to see the hunting-ground of his fathers once more, the chief had re- turned with all his Hurons from the lands of the setting sun, and was now encamped some miles up the river on the American side ; but that he in- tended to keep peace and friendship with the St. Clair s settlement, pro- vided its people kept the same with him and his; and he had sent the present to my father particularly, be- cause he and his children had behaved kindly to the chief's only daughter, who was, as the Indian expressed it, her fathers heart. Ne5 whole what c be to despit sons, weste the li titles and numt of tV such no rr M chiei mes nor that I iNMMiHMltoHMIMiMCMliMfe ■ -.-.■.-.^.-^.— . 1^^^,.^ ■rT'Tiiii . Oli' THE HURONS. V Next he took occasion to warn the whole settlement, through his hearers, what a terrible enemy the chief would be to all who offended him or showed despite to his child; how he had six sons, all renowned in his wars with the western tribes for taking scalps and tlie like, and known by such Indian titles of honour as the Ravening Wolf and the Rending Vulture; that the number of his warriors was; like that of the forest trees, and he had made such sacrifices to the spirit of evil, that no misfortune could happen to him./ My father replied by thanking the chief for his presents, assuring the messenger that he neither expected nor deserved anything of the kind; that the chief/s daughter or any of the 3^ THE LONELV DOVE Hurons were free to come and go by his house and lands; and that being himself a servant of the Christian's God, and a teacher of peace, he would do all in his power to preserve friend- ship and good-will between the settlers and the tribe. After that the Indian pulled out and lighted his pipe of peace, which my father smoked, by way of ratifying the treaty — a custom indispensable in all Indian alliances, and one by which the use of tobacco was first made known to the men of the old world. ^ - My mother made him accept of a good break/ast, and both she and my father would have sent a return of presents to the Huron chief; but he solemnly assured them that the Great w Ot* THE HURONS, 33 Bear was far above receiving anything from people who tilled tlu; ground ; and after condescending in a manner to take a bright red handkerchief and a good hunting-knife for Jiimself, he said, " Let no enemy come near this house," and set off over the fields and through the foret^t with the speed of a roe. As soon as the Indian was gone, m^ father set out on a circuit of the settle- ment. From clearing to clearing, from house to house he went, apprising the inhabitants of what new and not very desirable neighbours they had got, and counselling them, for^the sake of their safety, and still more for the sake of the gospel of peace which they pro- fessed, to give no cause of offence to * 34 THE LONZLY DOV!E the fierce tribe, who still regarded the St, Clair territory as the hunting- ground of their fathers. The settlers as usual took their ministers advice: it was the most prudent as well as the most Christian coursq, and they found no difficulty in following it. The Huron chief kept his promise; neither he nor his people trespassed on the lands of the white men ; and the latter, having a natural distrust and dread of the tribe whose former doings were but too well remembered; in the province, kept so safe a distance from their track by wood and river, that the hunting and fishing parties on either side never came in contact. Ours was the nearest house to the Indian camp. From a rising, ground «•»• 01? THE HURONS. 35 in the forest, but a little way from my fathers meadow and tha: favourite bank of ours, we could see the smoke of its fires rising out of a sort of natural clearing open to the river, at a spot where it could be easily crossed by the fearless forest race : for great boulder stones and trunks of submerged trees stood In a line from bank to bank. The Indians often crossed in pursuit of game, but none of them ever came near our clearing except the chiefs daughter. Day after day we found her waiting for us in the shade of the old oak, or looking out for our ap- proach from the nearest of the forest thickets. Shy and gentle in mind and in manner, the Lonely Dove of the Hurons seemed to find no companions .•:^ m^M 36 TitE LONELY DOVE among the young of her own wild people, and therefore sought associa- tion with the children of a more refined, though foreign race. She would join our sports, if invited, she would help us to gather forest flowers and plants for our garden, and she would sit quietly listening while we learned our lessons or read our books on the mossy bank. By-and-by she got well enough acquainted to come into our house. All the elders there were kind and considerate to the motherless Indian girl. Our father and mother, our grandfather and grandmother, our man Robin Ross and his good wife Janet — all made her welcome to our home- stead and our company, showed her the ways of civilized life, and helped OF THE KURONS, 37 wild ssocia- sfined, d join 1 help plants Id sit id our mossy noupfh liouse. 1 and ndian , our rman net — lome- i her elped 1 to teach her the English tongue, which they spoke well, though come from a highland parish. Lanoma did not learn rapidly. I think she Tvas more sound of under- standing than quick of comprehension. Like all the red race, she was grave and quiet to a remarkable degree for one so young, and learned to think sooner than she learned to speak. Her first appearance among us had been while we read the Bible in the shadow of the old oak; her first words had been that she wanted to hear what the Book said to us ; and as her know- ledge of our language and life in- creased, that simple but earnest wish was more plainly spoken. She asked us if it were true that I 38 THE LONELY DOVE the white man's Book could tell the surest way to the happy hunting- ground, which her father and the wise men of the tribe, whose heads were gr :iy, spoke of at times beside their CO mcil-fire. Her mother had gone there long ago; but the way she went must have been hard and long, for they kept fires burning nine nights beside her grave to give her light on the journey. This talk showed even to us children the gross darkness that covered her people^ and we tried to teach the Indian girl what we had learned fror: the blessed volume, — which she emphatically called the white man's Book, — of the Way, the Truth, and the Life. We spoke to her of the love of Jesus, who came to Ob* THE HURONS. 39 ill the intins'- c wise were their gone i went g, for nights jht on even s that ed to t had ne, — . the ^, the ^e to lie to I &6elc and to save thos6 that were lost — who lived) and laboured, and died on the cross, that through faith in His precious blood our sins might be for- given. We told her of the grace of the Holy Spirit, which could renew and sanctify the human heart. The elders of the family took a still deeper interest in Lanoma's instruction. Her gentle, quiet, thoughtful ways had won their hearts; and from the fires which superstition had lighted beside her mother's grave, they tried to lead her mind to the true light and only guide to that promised land, of which th^ darkened nations in all times have so dimly dreamt. My fathef in particular took every opportunity to teach our young and 'Hi a V 40 THE LONELY DOVE interesting visitor the truths of revealed religion. She had, in common with all the natives of the American forests, a sort of natural faith in the Great Spirit, by whom all good things were given, and a slavish dread of the evil power, to whom homage must be paid and sacrifices offered, to ward off his malice; but of the Christians Saviour and the Christian s hope Lanoma knew nothing. To that hope and to that Saviour my father endeavoured to direct the Indian chiefs daughter. He said it was his commission to preach the gospel to every creature; and here was 4he child of a heathen tribe sent, he doubted not, by a special providence, to his house and home in the wilderness, may be to carry back OF TKE HURONS. 41 sealed with )rests, Great were evil ; paid ff his viour knew > that d to fhter. )n to ture ; Lthen ecial le in back the light of Christian faith to the ut- most bound of her people's wanderings. Missionary enterprise was not so active and extensive in those days as it is now; and partly owing to their roving so far from the dwellings of civilized men, partly to their known ferocity and readiness to take offence, the Hurons had never been visited by any preacher of the gospel. But my fathers hopes of sending them the knowledge of salvation through the girl that had taken so kindly to his family seemed to have little prospect of fulfilment. Lanoma listened, after the manner of her race, patiently and gravely to all that was told her ; but, between her imperfect knowledge of English, her Indian mode of thinking, I r 42 THE LONELY DOVE and his inability to express anything in the Indian tongue, it seemed scarcely possible that the truths he taught could reach the girVs understanding. Yet I believe that the power and promise of the gospel found their way to her heart at length through a simple story. Among the graves in the little churchyard lying in the midst of our fields there was one planted with flowers, and marked by a rustic head- stone, on which my grandfather's own hand had cut the name and age of his youngest daughter, my mother s only sister, who had been called from this world in her fifteenth year. Her death had happened long before I was born. It was the first in the settlement, and hers was the first OF THE IIURONS. 43 :> ^thing arcely could ' and r way imple little f our with head- ; own )f his only I this Her re I I the first Christian burial, as far as we knew, ever made in that forest soil. The girl had been beautiful, her parents and friends had set their affec- tions on her beyond the common ; but her own were set on things above. And well for her that it was so. Though none had a fairer prospect of long life and good health, to human eyes, sud- denly in the leaf-fall of the year she was seized by that form of rapid con- sumption which some think is breathed out of the Canadian woods at that season, and died almost before her family could believe that she was going from them, but died in the blessedness of those that die in the Lord. Her brief but blameless life, her happy death, and th^ 3Qre sorrow with which that s» 1 44 THE LONELY DOVE 'first and fairest of the emigrant com- pany was laid in the alien earth, were still remembered and talked of in the settlement. To my mother and her parents the remembrance was always green. Time had mellowed their grief, and faith had taught them to look for a joyful meeting with her, — not lost, but early gone before them; and it was one of their quiet pleasures to train and trim the flowers upon her grave, and clear away the moss that might obscure and cover the inscription on her head-stone. Lanoma observed this loving care of theirs, and in her broken English asked why they took such pains about the flowers and the stone, and who was l^id below. Her cjuestion was ad- OF THE HURONS. AS ; corn- were in the d her Iways ■ grief, ^k for t lost, it was train jrave, flight >n on care glish ibout > was ad- dressed to my grandmother, with whom she had become an especial favourite. Maybe there was something about the Indian girl which, in spite of the dif- ference of race and manners, reminded her of the daughter so sorely missed and mourned. At any rate, my grand- mother particularly liked Lanoma ; and taking the opportunity to teach her something of the Christian doctrine concerning death and the life to come, she made the girl sit down by her on the grass in the soft decline of the summer day, and told her slowly and simply, as calm and thoughtful age can speak to the untaught young, the story of her own long-departed daughter; how beautiful she had been, how much beloved, how wise for her years, how k ■ u -' *1 fi 46 THE LONELY t)OVU good for all time, how active and vigo- rous she had seemed among her people; yet Sickness and death came upon her. But the young girl did not fear to die, because her trust was in the Lord, who had died for all mankind, that they might come to a better life beyond the grave, and He had saved her from all evil, and taken her home to Himself. *' Would the Lord save poor Indian girl, and take her home too ? Maybe He die only for white people ? " said Lanoma, in her broken English. But my grandmother understood her mean- ing, and patiently and plainly explained and made clear to the red man's child, accustomed and brought up to believe in the fixed distinction of tribe and race, the fulness and freedom of the great of col She the L hear Him forest mans her t< her y( Lai defen one o the ] and r time tache for t\ besid OF THE HURONS. 47 I vigo- eople; in her. to die, J, who they id the )m all iself. ndian laybe said But nean- ained child, ilieve : and f the great salvation which knows no limit of colour or clime, people or language. She made Lanoma understand that the Lord, of whom she spoke, could hear the prayers of those who sought Him in Indian camps, or under the forest trees, as well as in the white man s church, and earnestly counselled her to seek Him now in the days of her youth. Lanoma had always shown peculiar deference to my grandmother. It is one of the creditable characteristics of the Indian tribes, that they respect and reverence old age ; but from that time the girl seemed to become at- tached to her, either out of gratitude for the truth she had learned from her beside that early grave, or because the :" , ,4 '''<* ^i> 4» THE LONELY t)OVE memory of her own mother taught the Lonely Dove of the Hurons to sympa- thise with one who had lost a daughter about her own age. With refinement of feeling scarcely to be expected from a daughter of the rude and barbarous hunters of the wild, she would bring garlands of forest flowers and wreathe them round the head-stone when no- body was near to see, and when the old people went to sit by the grave, as they often did in summer Sunday evenings, Lanoma would steal away from us young folks and sit there too. We also thought that the girl began to understand better what she heard us read in the Bible — what my father preached about in the church — where she often went with us, and always sat OF THE HURONS. 49 ght the sympa- lughter lement :d from •barous I bring wreathe en no- en the grave, lunday away re too. began heard father where ys sat quiet and attentive — and what was said at our family worship, where she frequently knelt among us. Her goings and comings between our house and the Indian camp were J free and unchecked as those of her namesake, the forest dove, might be, but they were not unguarded. The chief's only daughter, said to be her father's heart, and with six warrior brothers, had watchers over her safety in the continual visits she chose to make to the nearest of the white set- tlers. At any hour of the day, but especially towards evenirrg,{ those of our household whose walks or work happened to bring them nearest to the forest, would percei»/e sometimes a^ Indian hunter, sometimes a wrinkled .1 : ' . Ml. ..'A so THE LONELY DOVE old squaw, moving about in the shadow, and keeping a keen eye on our pre- mises and people. They saw that La- noma was well and kindly received, and had neither risk nor hindrance in her comings to us. I believe the whole tribe thought we had some extraordi- nary attraction for her, and this, or it might be the girl's talk in our favour, at length induced her father to send mine a present of tobacco, together with a lighted pipe, and word that if the time were convenient for the wise man of the white faces, the Great Bear of the 'Hi'TCiPs would come and smoke with him on the. following day. Coming to smoke, in Indian parlance signifies aif friendly visit, and my father was iw^ell pleased at the offer: he thought ladow, r pre- at La- :eived, nee in whole 'aordi- , or it avoiir, send jet her hat if I wise : Bear moke )ming fnifies was DUght » OF THE HURONS. 5t it might be the beginning of friendly intercourse between us and the In« dians, and an opening for gospel light to shine upon the heathen darkness of the tribe. He accordingly sent a friendly and respectful answer, and my mother put bur house in order for receiving the remarkable visitor. ** The chief is a prince among his people/* she said, " and it is but just and right that we should honour his dignity.'"^ 4* ffl i! • ' III. I THE DEPARTURE. [t the appointed time the Huron chief came, attended by his six sons, and leading his daughter by the hand, which I believe was a peculiar mark of affection for an Indian chief to 5how, every trace of the gentler feelings being considered undignified and debasing to the red warrior. He was a noble specimen of his race, — tall, muscular, and erect as one of his kindred pines, though at the time above seventy : there was something THE LONELY DOVE. 53 luron y his ghter vras a idian mtler lifted He ce, — f his time ;hing majestic in the stately freedom of his bearing, and the chiefs character was . equally honourable to the forest peo- ple : he was known to^ be just and generous, according to Indian ideas : his courage was beyond a doubt, and his faith to promise or treaty could not be questioned. His sons were as stalwart men as himself, but, according to Indian cus- tom, subdued and silent in the presence of their father. Fortunately for our nerves, none of them thought it neces- sary to appear in their war paint, which is a fearful sight indeed ; but their bus kins, especially those of the chief, were ornamented with everything, from panthers' teeth to English- guineas. Each of the sons wore, by way of i ^ ill 111 54 THE LONELY DOVt) mantle, a scarlet blanket, anc[ a com- plete assortment of knives and hatchets stuck in his belt; while the chief, as became his title, had a cloak of rich black bear-skin, and a pair of silver- mounted pistols. My father and grandfather, as the chiefs of our house; went out to meet and welcome them ; my mother and grandmother received them at the door with all the honours they could think of, being aware that the Indians are much given to ceremony, and would not think themselves respectfully treated without it. For all their strange attire and strange appearance, there was positively something well- bred about the Huron chief and his sons : they were of course the gentle- mei coil hoij in OF THE HURONS. 55 . com- tchets lef, as f rich >ilver- is the meet ' and I door think 3 are /^ould fully their ancej well- 1 his ntle- men of their tribe, and the grave courtesy with which they entered our house, and took the chairs set for them in our best room, would not have dis- graced the gentlemen of any country. The chief spoke for all, and to our great surprise he did so in far better English than his daughter had yet learned ; probably his frequent inter- course with American officers and agents during the. war, and his exten- sive acquaintance with English traders, might account for this. At any rate, he expressed his good wishes for my father and his family, his thanks for the kindness his daughter had met with, and his hope that the peace and friendship which then existed between the Huron tribe and the m r- 56 THE LONELY DOVE people of the St. Clair settlement would be as lasting as the flow )^ the river and the coming and fall of leaves. My father responded in as suitable terms as he could lemember, and evidently to the chief s satisfaction. They conversed for some time con- cerning the ancient boundaries of the Huron lands, the probabilities of trade visiting the settlement, and the service it would be to the Indians as well as to the white men, for the hunters could then bring their furs to St. Clair, rather than to the American markets, which of late were not exactly to their minds. The chief was a man ot great natural intelligence, and the experience of his long and roving life had made his knowle^ ge of men and things con- OF THE HURONS. 57 ement >^ the eaves, litable , and ction, : con- )f the trade Tvice ell as :ouId ither hich nds. [•reat snce lade :on- siderable. My father observed this, and having much of the misraonary spirit, as became a preacher of the gospel, he took the oppoi tunity to point out that there was something better than trade to be found in the St. Clair settlement : poor and remote though it was, the light of Christianity was there, and what an everlasting gain it would be to the* Hurons if that light shone upon them also. " Your daugh- ter,'* he said, glancing at Lanoma, where she sat among us young people in the background, " knows something of the Book and Him who came to save the red as well as the white man." " Lanoma," said the Indian, without looking at her, " is the daughter of a great chief, and will be some great II 58 THE LONELY DOVE chiefs squav;; but she is only a woman, and Huron warriors are not accus- tomed to notice the notions of women and children. I have heard of this Book before, and I know what the teachers of it would make my people — tillers of the ground and grinders of corn ; they say you must not be ready to go out on the war-path ; you must not seek re- venge on your enemies ; you must not take scalps — it is a sin. Do they sup- pose that Huron warriors are going to become women at their biddinof? do they think that a mighty chief, the sound of v/hose name makes the western tribes tremble, will lay by the hatchet and take up the hoe ? Wise man of the white faces, I am the good friend of you and your people, but the Great Bear fathe died, I singii be in in a did 1 inter> dang( them The eldef moth was ; were took more pass Oi' TitE ttURONS. 5^ ^oman, accus- vomen ;Book achers lers of ; they :o out ek re- st not r sup- joino- iinor? f, the stern tchet m of ■iend reat Bear of the Hurons will live as his fathers lived, and die as his fathers died, without change and without fear, singing his death-song, though it should be in the midst of his enemies." As the chief uttered those last words in a high, fierce tone, he rose, and so did his sons, as if to cut short the interview. My father, fearing to en- danger the friendly relations between them and himself, made no reply. The chief shook hands with ^11 th^ elders of our house, including even my mother and grandmother— I believe it was an honour which the white women were expected never to forget — and took his daughter by the hand once rnore. The girl had heard all that passed, but, Indian like, she gave no 1 % P m 6o THE LONELY DOVE sign of Its effect on her mind ; and the whole party left our house and clearing exactly as they came. We all stood at the door to see them go, and my father said, with a sigh, " I had hoped better from the intelli- gence and understanding of that pld chief; but his barbarous pride stands in the way of the gospel, as the pride of man, whether savage or civilised, is apt to do. It is a pity that so fine a specimen of the red race should live and die in the thick darkness and evil practices of heathenism, on the very borders of Christian settle- ments. Had he not been in so fierce a humour, I should have tried to reason with him : but it may be that Providence will grant a better op- porl us get wayi OF THE HURONS. 6l and the clearing ee them a sigh, i intelli- hat pld stands e pride vih'sed, so fine should rkness Jm, on settle- fierce ^d to s that r op- portunity. As he has come to visit us this time, he may come again, and get better acquainted with us and our ways." My fathers expectations in this respect were not to be fulfilled^ Whether the Great Bear of the Hurons was displeased at the mere .opposition that he might be induced to accept the white man's faith, or jealous of its gaining ground among his tribe, we could not discover ; but our house and clearing were never again visited by him, or any of his people, except Lanoma. Her affection for us appeared to have undergone no change, yet she did not come so often nor stay so long as formerly; and though she did not say so, we sus- Mi ) ill Mi^r 6i THE LONELY DOVE pected that her comings were rather discouraged in the tent at home. While things were in this state, our Canadian summer came to its end with the usual storms of wind and rain, which bring down the first of the leaves; and then came that season of mellowed light and fading woods, of breezeless days and soft star-lit nights, known as the Indian summer, the time when the elk and bison are found in the greatest plenty and best condition on the western prairies, and the red hunters go out to collect provisions for the winter. All at once the Huron camp began to move, the fires were allowed to go out, the tents were taken down ; but wfe gdt the first intelligence df their gom| cam< withl even snul and the \ equa them beaut boys skilfi Al ** to and goini of t go, 2 Boo: OF THE HURONS. 63 rather • te, our s end d and of the season voods, star-lit fciimer, n are I best 5, and ollect |)egan :ogo but their going from the chief's daughter. She came one morning earher than usual, with a perfect package of presents for every one in our house; — for the men, snuff-boxes and pipes, curiously made and ornamented by Indian art ; for the women, work-baskets and pockets, equally embellished, and neither of them to be despised in the matter of beauty or usefulness ; and for the boys and girls, toys, both pretty and skilfully made. * All these she presented, as she said, ** to keep Indian girl in our minds;" and then told us that her tribe were going far away to the hunting-grounds of the sunset, and she was sorry to go, and see u^ no more, nor hear the Book speak ; but may be we would 64 THE LONELY DOVE not forget Lanoma, and pray the white man's Lord not to forget her too. We were sorry to part with the amiable, gentle girl who had come to us a stranger, and yet taken such hold on all our hearts. Unexpected as her going was, every one of us found something to give Lanoma by way of keepsake. She had to be per- suaded to take every present, except a small pocket-book from my grand- mother ; and when she had taken leave of us all, the girl came back to bid her farewell a second time, and went away weeping silently and sore. She left no dry eyes in our house. My grandmother said, through her tears, that the good girl had taken that whici sprii bank! belie at th we al of thi wreat marki yard. W< a da^ passe chanj play. went the j andi OF THE HURONS. 65 ly the ^et her th the )me to h hold ed as found y way I per- ixcept rand- aken back :ime, and our )ugh iken that last farewell of the grey head which she might not see when another spring brought her tribe back to the banks of St. Clair s river. We all believed that was Lanoma s meaning at the time ; and when she was gone, we also noticed that a garland, woven of the last of the forest flowers, was wreathed about the head-stone* which marked that first grave in our church- yard. We missed the Indian girl for many a day ; but days, weeks, and months passed away, and brought the usual changes of season, and work, and play. Th:; stern Canadian winter went by, with its snows and storms ; the genial spring, the warm summer, and the busy harvest came and went ; I i 66 TilE LONELY DOVE but there was no return of the Hurons. Many a time we young peo- ple went up to the rising ground in the forest, and strained our eyes in the direction where their camp had been, in hopes of seeing the smoke of their fires ascend once more ; but there was nothing except the dense woods and the mighty river to be seen. Many a time we talked of Lanoma on the mossy bank at the foot of the great oak, where we had seen her first, and by the fireside, where she had sat with us so often. Many a time we wondered if, according to her father's views, she had become a great chief's sqiiaw, and taken to the hard work and unattractive habits of the Indian women ; if she had forgotten all that OF THE HURONS. 67 the ipeo- Id in the >een, :heir was and loma ' the first, i sat J we ler's iefs mrk iian that she had learned among us, and sunk into the superstition and barbarism of her people ; or if some remnant of that better learning still kept place in her mind, like a faint light shining in deep dairkness. My father often lamented that we hid not been able to teach the truths of Ghrlstiahity mbre fully to the daughter of the Huron chief. He feared the knowledge she had re- ceived was too vague and slight to be' Bf any use or duration. But my grandmother said, *' Let us trust for her, as we trust for ourselves, in Hjm vjhb can make the smallest light sufficient to guide a sinner to His We had heaM nothing of Lanoma, ■" ' ii 68 THE LONELY DOVE but we had not forgotten her, when the quiet current of Hfe in the St. Clair settlement was troubled by news of the breaking out of the second American war. It was terrible in- telligence for us, living as we were on the very borders of the enemy's terri- tory. Who could tell that an invading force might not cross the river, and require us to quit the land or become citizens of the United States? or, what was still more to be dreaded in that back-wood country, might not some .Indian tribe on the American side choose to possess themselves of lands and goods by exterminating the British emigrants, as they had done in former times to many a settlement stronger and more populous than ours ? th spare were could milit< first -Ame pack and then our dire a si fror but hoi no far OF THE HURONS. 69 1^ The provincial government could spare no troops to protect us, there were no defences which our own men could hold, and the advice of the military authorities was that, on the first approach of either Indians or .Americans, the settlers should at once pack up and retire with their goods and families to Kingston, which was then the nearest garrison. Some of our people were for taking that step directly, without running the risk of a surprise, — a thing to be expected from the enemies we had to fear ; but others hesitated to leave their homes and holdings while there was no actual danger, and for our own family it was scarcely practicable. The winter ha^l commenced, and THE LONELY DOVE with more than usual severity that year; the sudden and rigorous frost had brought sickness to our house, prostrating alike the aged and the young. Old gsandfather and grand- mother were so ill that tliey thought their time was come ; and rny two little brothers could only creep out of bed; and sit by the ifira How were they to travel in the only conveyance we had, a rough Ayaggon, all the way to Kingston, through miles and miles of a wild forest tfaick, where there was no surface fit for tho more easy and rapid sleigh ? " ; ''V " Go, ail you that think it best to do so," said my father to the men of the settlement assembled in our little church, the only town-hall or council room stay ; than sick, • we AA a call put all t^ then criec is n( is, \ fror live of res the 001 ;i ?1 OF THE HURONS. 71 room they had. " I advise no man to stay ; for the enemy may be nearer than we think. But, with my helpless sick, it would be folly to move, except we were driven out. I have clearly a call from Providence to remain, and put my trust in Him who can niake all things work together for good to them that Jove Him." "We will not leave you, minister,'* cried all the men in a breath. '"If it is needful for you to stay, as it clearly IS, we will stay too. We have come from Scotland together, and we will live or die together, as the Disposer of lots may determine." From that resolution they could not be moved, though my father advised them to consider chiefly their own and their ^l THE LONELY DOVE families' safety, and leave him and his to the Hand that protected Daniel in the lions den, and Moses in the ark of bulrushes on the great river of Egypt. They were hardy and determined men, accustomed to the perils of the wilderness and that practical reliance on the everlasting arm which the man left alone with nature and Providence is most apt to realise. Moreover, they were sincerely attached to their iiiin- ister; he was old friend, as well as pastor to them all. Go he could not, and go without him they would not ; and when he and they had sung a psalm and prayed together, like their Cove- nanted ancestors in old and perilous times, it was agreed that all should rema acting give the e upon have coulc as ti- er /i olp THE litlkoNS. ?3 his ilin ark of remain, and every man take his turn of acting as scout for the settlement, to give warning of the first approach of the enemy, that it might not be fallen upon unawares, but minister and flock have time to take what measures they could for parley or flight, according as the invader happened to be Indian or American. ( ^ IV. THE LAST RESTING-PLACE. tLL I remember the long nights and dreary days of that fearful winter, — how our scouts went out through cold and storm, and my father among the rest; for he would take his turn, being as brave a backwoods- man as any in the settlement. Robin Ross generally went with him. It was thought best that no scout should go far out alone, as a single man might be easily surprised and cut off by the wily Indians ; and when they were both gone, blast and t hoofs ming It yet ! comi more beer gooc the mad moi bett alsc the the m THE LONELY DOVE. 75 ^U gone, we at home would startle at the blast howling through the forest trees, and think we heard the sound of coming hoofs or the war-cry of the red men mingling with it. It was a weary and an anxious time, yet good came out of its evil : their common danger drew the settlers more closely together. There had been always good neighbourhood and good feeling in the little colony; but the fears arid the Juties of the time made them and their families meet more frequently, and know ea;ch other better. Their common danger had also the effect of deepening on all their minds the serious impressions of their Scottish teaching. A sort of religious revival came over fn 1 1 76 THE LONELY DOVfi the St. Clair settlement, — not with the fervid and temporary excitement which too often passes for the like in towns and populous places, but with a calm and earnest lifting up of hearts and hopes to the things unseen and eternal, and to Him who is a very present help in times of trouble. Besides our Sun- day services, we had prayer-meetings for protection against the threatened peril ; and the small congregation prayed in our rustic church with watch- men and watchfires on all the heights around. These precautions were prudent and natural under the circumstances; but as the winter wore on they appeared to be unnecessary, — our scouts discovered no si^n of either Indian or American invade the w; far sc the y frequ€ rigoui up th the fc forts theV out ( a lor the tole and sati anc thi sec OF THE HURONS. 77 invaders. The little news we got of L war proved that its -enes were far south of our borders ; and as he heavy snow-falls became mo e freauent and the frost increased m rgTuur harassed men willing^ gave p th ir watchings and wanderings m theforestfor the occupations and com- et of their ownfiresides. Sometimes the hardiest or most anxious would go out on clear days for what they c^^d alongprospectinthewoodsorowa^^^^^^ the inhabited country about Kingston o lam the news; but all the pi^ets .nd all the news they got being of ^ tlfectory character, the outgomgs atfC^ies slackened, and some. thing like the old feeling of quiet and. Sity returned to the settlement. m 7"^ THE LON£LY DOVE Thus the Christmas time, the new year, and the stormy Candlemas passed. We were looking forward to the spring, for which people in the backwoods have a warmer welcome than the dwellers in towns and cities. My little brothers had grown strong and well again, old grandfather and grandmother were able to take their accustomed seats at our warm fireside, my father and mother were looking less anxious, my sister and myself were no longer frightened by every moan of the wind, and our home was cheerful and thrifty as of old. It was a beautiful evening for the season of the year. A light snowfall on the preceding day had whitened the ground arid sprinkled the fotest trees : ing w; air w; cloud! day 1 twilig radia outer had all S5 our up 1 mea stoc too. vol tin otl tid OF THE HURONS, 79 trees : the river in front of our clear- ing was still one sheet of ice ; but the air was calm and soft, and a clear, cloudless sky made the lengthening day last still longer, till its fading twilight met and mingled with the radiance of a bright full moon. Our outer door was on the latch, and we had not shut the windows, when we all sat down to supper by the light of our evening fire ; my father was lifting up his hands to ask a blessing on the meal ; but suddenly -he paused, and stood as if listening. We all listened too. There was a sound of mingled voices and cries on the air, but indis- tinct and wild as those of the swan and btherwater- fowls, in their annual migra- tidris fo and from the ^reat lakes. •.ij 8o THE LONELY DOVE "They seldom fly so late; but TU see what it is/' said Robin Ross; and he stepped out at once. We sat for a minute or two in silence. The sounds seemed to come nearer, and Robin rushed in with a face as white as a sheet, exclaiming, '* It*s the Indians, and they are coming down the clearing right upon the house !*' **May God have mercy upon us!'* said my father, as he ran to the door. Before or since I never felt anything like the fear of .that moment. I was young and weak-hearted ; but I think the same feeling paralysed us all, for not one spoke except my grand- mother, whom I heard praying for us in a low tone. In a few minutes jny father came back, and there was relief said, they comiii are coveii they mour it is I arc ( ancic out f A of si knoc oper that into , step \ OF THE HURONS. 8i |rii oss; sat The and hite the own i%> relief in his look. "Children," he said, '*it is the Hurons, and I think they mean us no harm. They are coming on slowly, and their women are with them, carrying something covered on a sort of litter, which they are wailing over with those mournful cries you hear. Perhaps it is some superstitious ceremony they are coming to perform in this their ancient land, and we had better keep out of sight." • . As he spake, there came a sound of steps outside, and then a long low knocking at our door. My father opened it without a word, for he knew that defence would be impossible, and into the light of our blazing fire stepped Lanoma's father, the dreaded 6 'I 82 TPIE LONELY DOVE chief of the Hurons. One glance, even in the midst of our fears, served to show us how far the Indian waj changed since we saw him last. His tall figure was bowed as if with the burden of age or sickness, his step had lost its pride and its freedom, and a more sorrow-stricken face I never saw. **Wise man of the white faces," he said, addressing my father, " I have come to ask you for a grave wherein to lay my daughter ; my Lonely Dove has gone from me, and the light of my life has gone with her. I know not if it were He that called her in spite of all our medicine men^ but she believed in the God of whom you told her, and in that Lord of OF THE HURONS. 83 tf whom you said that He died upon the cross for all people. So because she had learned of them from you and your house, she wished to be laid among your people by the grave of flowers, where the grey heads sit in -the summer time ; it was her last request, and I have brought her from beyond the lake of the woods. Wise man of the white faces, will you give her a grave ?** My father took the old chief by the hand before he had done speaking, and led him to a seat ; the tears were in his own eyes, and most of us were weeping outright; it was a strange and sudden transition from terror to grief, but the death of poor Lanoma, our forest friend, our household $. 84 THE LONELY DOVE visitor, unexpected as* it was, and the sorrow of her bereaved father, smote on all our hearts. The Indian saw that we were grieving for his daughter, and the sight overcame the rigid nature of his race. He turned away from the light, bowed his head upon his hands, and swayed to and fro like an oak driven by the tempest, while his whole tribe stopped at our door, laid down the bier, and the wild wail of the women rose more shrill and piercing on the calm and moonlit night. **Bhss'^d are the dead v^ho die in the Lore, said my father, as soon as he recovered himself; *'she believed in Him of whom she had heard so faintly, and He is able to redeem OF THE HURONS. 85 and out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation, and language. Chief, we will lay your daughter beside the child of our own kindred — who also remembered her Creator in the days of her you':h, and was early summoned to the better land — in the grave which she so often decked with flov/ers, and sat by in summer even- ings. We know that the Lord in whom she trusted has taken her to Himself in lovingkindness, but we grieve because she can come to us no more, and for you, because you have lost your child." *' Wise man, I thank you," said the chief; ''when the daylight returns we will make a Christian funeral for my daughter. She wished tg be laid 86 THE LONELY DOVE down among the white people, and in their manner. I promised it, and our men made a cedar coffin for her, that she might go to the grave in as good a fashion as any of them. Will you send and tell your people to come and show respect, as they do at their own burials ?" My father directly sent off Robin Ross to apprise the settlers of what had happened, and summon them all to the funeral next morning. It was a natural and proper tribute to thci feelings and affection of the poor eld chief; he knew how Christian funerals were attended, and he wished to see the same respectful attention to the burial of his only daughter. We could not persuade him to remain OF THE HURONS. 87 in in our house for the night, though we offered him and his sons every accommodation we could afford : they went out to a tent which the tribe had pitched over Lanoma's bier. They sat in its shadow the greater part of the night : my father, my mother, and our old people sat with them; the rest of the tribe pitched other tents, lighted fires, unpacked their baggage, and held a sort of funeral feast, but it was held with great gravity and almost in silence, except when the mourning women who sat behind the bier raised that wild wail of theirs, as it seemed, at appointed intervals, throughout the night. Early in the morning the settlers assembled. Young and old came in 88 THE LONELY DOVE a body to our clearing, and a touching sight It was to see the red and the white people alike gathered round poor Lanoma*s cofifin, while my father read an appropriate chapter in the Bible, prayed for the mourners, and delivered a short address on the un- certainty of this life, and the import- ance of preparing for the life to come. Then the six brothers took up the cedar coffin and laid it in the grave, which a sturdy old settler, who acted as our sexton, had opened overnight. Every brother and nearly all the tribe uttered some words in their own language over it, which we believed to be a form of farewell to the dead. The old chief spoke last, and though we could not guess the meaning of : OF THE HURONS. 89 H his words, his voice told us that they came from a broken heart. The mourning women raised their wild wail once more; the sexton heaped the earth above the dead, replaced the flower-covered turf and the simple headstone, on which they soon after inscribed her name ; and Lanoma rested with the young girl of a differ- ent race whose story had first opened to her mind a knowledge of the way of salvation through faith in Christ Jesus. My father preached her funeral sermon in the churchyard, for our small church could not contain the congregation of settlers and Indians. Few of the latter understood a single word of it, but they listened in the 90 THE LONFXY DOVE grave and silent manner of their race, and were pleased at the respect shown to their chiefs daughter. The gentle, patient girl was evidently as much missed by the rude tribe as she had been by ourselves. When all the solemnities were over, the chief announced his intention of encamping on the old ground beside the river, in order to protect the settlement from any hostile incursion which might be attempted during the war. He said his heart was now laid in the white man s land, and no enemy should set foot upon it. He and his people encamped accordingly, and to the knowledge of their presence arid friendship for the settlers our safety was probably owing. Fortunately, the w and ( we n( land unite Bui encan Amer by th( used every Th^ weath head 1 our speak his dc yet sp girl, w OF THE IIURONS. 01 the war did not last long; it began and ended within two years. May we never see another between Eng- land and America ; may peace ever unite the two countries ! But to return to my story. The tribe encamped on their old ground on the American side of St. Clair river, and by the very same ford which Lanoma used to cross, the old chief came every day to sit beside her grave. There we found him in nearly all w^eathers, seated on the grass with his head bowed upon his hands, and there our old people at length began to speak to him as they had spoken to his daughter; but she that was dead yet spake in his memory. The Indian girl, whom we thought so imperfectly IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 !Si^iii^ I.I 1.25 1^ 1^ 12.2 1^ 2.0 1.8 U ill 1.6 6" VI Va ^m /: m. ^> ? .<.. "-/A 7 Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 % 92 THE LONELY DOVE ;*%•' instructed, had been able to impart to her father in her dying days the saving truths of Christianity, on which her own faith had taken hold. The Huron leader was a man of singular intelligence: his great loss made him think as probably he had never thought before. Old prejudices were broken down by the new sorrow ; the recollec- tion of his child's dying words pre- pared his mind to receive the teaching by which she had learned, and at last the proud barbarian became a humble Christian, and then a member of my father s church in the wilderness. He did much to spread the knowledge of the gospel among his own tribe, and some of them, especially his sons, seemed to prcfit by the old chiefs OP tilE HtJRONS. 93 mpart the which The igular 2 him ought roken :olIec- 5 pre- iching It last umble of my He dge of i, and sons, :hiefs exhortations, for they gave up many of their heathenish and barbarous cus- toms, and promised to go on the war- path no more if they could help it. When peace was fully restored, and the usual time had come for the Hurons to go westward on their hunting expeditions, the chief took a kindly and solemn farewell of all our family, saying we had been the best friends he ever knew, but he should see our faces no more till the meeting time in our Fathers house above. We hoped better, but his prediction was fulfilled. When his tribe returned in the following spring to St. Clair s river, they brought with them his coffin, as they had brought that of his daughter; and in com- 94 THE LONELV DOVE pliance with his last request, made known to us by his sons, the once dreaded chief of the Hurons was laid beside his much beloved and lamented Lanoma, A simple gravestone marks their resting-place ; it is covered with names now — my aged grandfather and grandmother, my own honoured father and mother, Robin Ross and his good Janet sleep there. There is an inscription which testifies of Him who is the Resurrection and the Life, and who has promised that because He lives His people shall live also. The small churchyard has now become a large cemetery ; a hand- some country church occupies the site of the log-house where my young- days were spent ; the sister and OF THE HURONS. 95 made 3 once as laid nented marks 1 with Ifather loured ;s and There ies of id the ["that ill live LS now hand- s the young and brothers who shared that home with me are old people like •'jnyself, and looking forward to the passing over Jordan and entering on the promised land ; but when we meet together and talk of old times and places, there still returns to us, fresh and sweet as the breath of forest flowers, some memory of the Indian's daughter. !^ tTNWIN BROTHERS; PRINTERS, CHILWORTH AtTD LONSOlt,