Farnham's Travels in the Great Western Prairies, etc., part 2, October 21-December 4, 1839 / and De Smet's Oregon Missions and Travels over the Rocky Mountains, 1845-1846

Our barge was in great danger in the Dalle, some miles above Colville.[274] I had left it, to go on foot, to avoid the dangerous passage. The young boatman, notwithstanding my remonstrances, thought they could pass in safety. A whirlpool suddenly arrested their course, and threatened to bury them beneath its angry waters. Their redoubled efforts proved ineffectual—I saw them borne on with an irresistible force to the engulfing centre—the bow of the boat descended already into the abyss and filled! I was on my knees upon the rock which overhung this frightful spectacle, surrounded by several Indians—we implored the aid of Heaven in favor of our poor comrades—they seemed to be evidently lost—when the whirlpool filled, and threw them from its bosom, as it reluctantly yielded up the prey which it had so tenaciously held. We all gave heartfelt thanks to Almighty God for having delivered them from a danger so imminent.

From the outlet of the Lower Lake of the Columbia to Fort Colville, the aspect of the {220} country is highly picturesque and interesting. The whole section, on both sides of the river, is well supplied with rivulets and streams. The soil is rather light, but it affords fine grazing; the mountains are not high—the forests are open—the bottom lands present here and there beautiful groves—the surface of the soil yields an abundant and luxuriant grass.

Towards the end of the month of May I arrived at Fort Colville. I found the nation of Shuyelphi or Kettle Fall already baptized by the Rev. Father Hoecken, who had continued to instruct them after my departure in the month of August of last year. They had built, to my great surprise, a small frame church, so much the more beautiful and agreeable to my eyes, as being their first attempt at architecture, and the exclusive work of the Indians. With a laudable pride they conducted me, as in triumph, to the humble and new temple of the Lord, and in favor of that good people, and for their perseverance in the faith, I there offered the august Sacrifice of the Altar.

The arrival of the good Father Nobili at Colville filled us with great joy and consolation. He had made missionary excursions over the greatest portion of New Caledonia. Everywhere {221} the Indian tribes received him with open arms, and took great care to bring their little children to be baptized. I add to this an extract from his letter, which will give you an outline of his journey and the number of baptisms he performed. Having made a retreat of eight days in the Reduction of St. Ignatius, and after a month of repose and preparation for a second expedition, he returned with renewed zeal and fervor to his dear Caledonians, accompanied by several laborers, and supplied with a dozen horses, loaded with implements of agriculture and carpentry.

As a token of my sincere gratitude, and to let you know that we have friends and benefactors in Oregon, I must here state to your Reverence, that Father Nobili and myself were most hospitably entertained during our stay at Fort Colville. The kindness of the Honorable Mr. Lewes and family I shall never forget.[275] The attention shown Father Nobili, in the trading posts of New Caledonia is beyond all praise. Truly and deservedly has Commodore Wilkes stated,[276] “That the liberality and hospitality of all the gentlemen of the Honorable Hudson Bay Company are proverbial.” Indeed, we experience this and participate of it on all occasions.

{222} I remain, with profound respect and esteem, Very Rev. and dear Father, your humble and obedient servant,

P. J. De Smet, S. J.

No. XVIII
A. M. D. G.
Extract from Father Nobili’s Letter

Fort Colville, June 1st, 1846.

Rev. Father,—While I remained at Fort Vancouver, I baptized upwards of sixty persons, during a dangerous sickness which raged in the country. The majority of those who received baptism, died with all the marks of sincere conversion. On the 27th of July, I baptized nine children at Fort Okinagane[277]—the children of the chief of the Sioushwaps were of the number. He appeared full of joy at seeing a Black-gown direct his course towards their country. On the 29th I left Okinagane, and followed the company. Every night I prayed with the whites and Indians. On the road three old men came to me, and earnestly begged me to “take pity on them, and prepare them for heaven!” Having instructed them in the duties and principles of religion, and the necessity of baptism, I administered to them, and to forty-six {224} children of the same tribe, what seemed to be the height of their desires, the holy Sacrament of regeneration.

On the 11th of August, a tribe of Indians, residing about the Upper Lake on Thompson’s River, came to meet me.[278] They exhibited towards me all the marks of sincere and filial attachment. They followed me several days to hear my instructions, and only departed after having exacted a promise that I would return in the course of the following autumn or winter, and make known to them the glad tidings of salvation.

At the Fort of the Sioushwaps, I received a visit from all the chiefs, who congratulated me on my happy arrival amongst them.[279] They raised a great cabin to serve as a church, and as a place to teach them during my stay. I baptized twelve of their children. I was obliged, when the Salmon fishing commenced, to separate for some months from these dear Indians, and continue my route to New Caledonia.

I arrived at Fort Alexandria on the 25th.[280] All the tribes I met manifested towards me the same emotions of joy and friendship. To my surprise I found at the Fort a frame church. I returned in the fall and remained there a month, {225} engaged in all the exercises of our holy ministry. The Canadians performed their religious duties—I joined several in marriage, and administered to many the Holy Communion. Twenty-four children and forty-seven adults received baptism.

On the 2d of September, I ascended the river Frazer, and after a dangerous trip, arrived, on the 12th, at Fort George;[281] where the same joy and affection on the part of the Indians attended me. Fifty Indians had come down from the Rocky Mountains, and patiently awaited my arrival for nineteen days, in order to have the consolation of witnessing the ceremony of baptism. I baptized twelve of their children, and twenty-seven others, of whom six were adults advanced in age. I performed there the ceremonies of the planting of the Cross.

On the 14th, the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, I ascended the river Nesqually, and on the 24th, arrived at the Fort of Lake Stuart.[282] I spent eleven days in giving instructions to the Indians, and had the happiness of abolishing the custom of burning the dead, and that of inflicting torments upon the bodies of the surviving wives or husbands. They solemnly renounced all their juggling and idolatries. {226} Their great medicine-hall, where they used to practise their superstitious rites, was changed into a church. It was blessed and dedicated to God under the patronage of St. Francis Xavier.[283] The planting of the Cross was solemnly performed with all the ceremonies proper to such occasions. Sixteen children and five old men received baptism.

The 24th Oct., I visited the village of the Chilcotins.[284] This mission lasted twelve days, during which time I baptized eighteen children and twenty-four adults, and performed eight marriages. I blessed here the first cemetery, and buried, with all the ceremonies of the ritual, an Indian woman, the first converted to Christianity. I next visited two other villages of the same tribe—in the first I baptized twenty persons, of whom three were adults. In the second, two chiefs with thirty of their nation received baptism, and two were united in matrimony. Polygamy prevailed everywhere, and everywhere I succeeded in abolishing it. In a neighboring tribe I baptized fifty-seven persons, of whom thirty-one were adults. I also celebrated nine marriages.

After my return to the Sioushwaps, I baptized forty-one persons, of whom eleven were adults. I visited five more villages among the {227} neighboring tribes, amongst whom I baptized about two hundred persons. I performed the ceremony of the planting of the Cross, in eight different places, and founded four frame churches which were constructed by the savages.

On an average, each village or tribe consists of about two hundred souls.

Population on Thompson’s river, or on the land of the Sioushwaps or Atnass.[286]

I remain, reverend Father, yours, &c.,

J. Nobili, S. J.

No. XIX
A. M. D. G.

Fort Walla-Walla, July 18th, 1846.

Very Rev. and Dear Father Provincial,—I accepted the kind offer of Mr. Lewes, and took my seat in one of the barges of the Hudson Bay Company, on its way to Fort Vancouver. We stopped at Fort Okinagane, where I administered baptism to forty-three persons, chiefly children. Our passage was very pleasant and agreeable. I have little to add to what I have already stated in my preceding letters of last year, respecting our residence at Saint Francis Xavier’s, and the other Catholic establishments in the Willamette Valley and vicinity. St. James’ Church at Vancouver, St. John’s in Oregon City, St. Mary’s at the Convent, and St. Francis Xavier’s chapel have all been opened for divine service. The new church among the Canadians, and Cathedral, were fast progressing. The number of children in the Sisters’ school {229} had greatly increased, and a change for the better already taken place among the little metis girls confided to their care. Sister Loyola, the Superior, appeared delighted with their present conduct. Two Protestant families, among the most respectable in Oregon, Dr. Long and lady and Judge Burnet and family, were received into the bosom of the Catholic Church, in Oregon City.[287] Archbishop Blanchet and companions were anxiously expected; may the Lord speed them, and grant them a happy passage on the boisterous ocean—a route which, it appears, they have selected in order to reach their destined new homes. O, how large is the vineyard!—the Island of Vancouver alone contains upwards of twenty thousand Indians, ready to receive our missionaries—and an extensive field awaits the laborers, among the numerous nations of the north-west coast. The visits paid to these various tribes, by the Black-gowns, and the affection and kindness with which they are received by the Indians, leave little doubt of the ultimate success of their holy enterprise.

In order to return to the upper Missions, I started in the beginning of July, from Fort Vancouver, two days after the brigade of the Hudson Bay Company had left it. An accident {230} by the way, fortunately not attended with more serious consequences, here occurred to me. A powder-horn exploded near me accidentally, scorching me severely, and completely stripping the skin from my nose, cheeks and lips—leaving me to all appearance, after all my travels, a raw-faced mountaineer. I procured an Indian canoe, well-mounted, and soon found myself during a thunder storm, in the great gap of the Cascade Mountains, through which the mighty Columbia winds its way. The sublime and the romantic appear to have made a grand effort for a magnificent display in this spot. On both sides of the stream perpendicular walls of rock rise in majestic boldness—small rills and rivulets, innumerable crystalline streams pursue their way; murmuring down on the steep declivities, they rush and leap from cascade to cascade, after a thousand gambols, adding, at last, their foaming tribute to the turbulent and powerful stream. The imposing mass of waters has here forced its way between a chain of volcanic, towering mountains, advancing headlong with an irresistible impetuosity, over rocky reefs, and prostrate ruins, for a distance of about four miles; forming the dangerous, and indeed the last remarkable obstruction—the {231} great cascades of the Columbia. There is an interesting, and very plausible Indian account of the formation of these far-famed cascades, on which so much has been said and written, so many conjectures regarding earth-slides, sinks, or swells, caused by subterraneous volcanic agents. “Our grandfathers,” said an Indian to me, “remember the time when the waters passed here quietly, and without obstruction, under a long range of towering and projecting rocks, which, unable to bear their weight any longer, crumbled down, thus stopping up and raising the bed of the river; here it overflowed the great forests of cedar and pine, which are still to be seen above the cascades.” Indeed, the traveller beholds with astonishment, a great number of huge trunks of trees, still standing upright in water about twenty feet deep. No person, in my opinion, can form a just idea of the cause that produced these remarkable changes, without admitting the Indian narrative.

My baggage was soon conveyed to the upper end of the portage. The distance from the cascades to the dalles is about forty-five miles, and is without any obstacle. The mountain scenery on both sides of the river, with its {232} clusters of shrubs, cedars and pines, is truly delightful, heightened occasionally by the sight of the snow-capped Mounts Hood and St. Helena. A favorable breeze made us unfurl two blankets for the want of sails, and as we were gliding rapidly up the stream, we observed several islands of volcanic formation, where the Indians deposit their dead on scaffolds, or in little huts made of pieces of split cedar, frequently covered with mats and boards; great care is taken to hinder birds of prey, or the rapacious wolves, with their hyena stomachs and plundering propensities, from breaking in upon the abode of the dead.

The third day we arrived at the great dalles. Indians flock thither from different quarters of the interior, to attend, at this season of the year, to the salmon fisheries. This is their glorious time for rejoicing, gambling, and feasting; the long lent is passed; they have at last assembled in the midst of abundance—all that the eye can see, or the nose smell, is fish, and nothing but fish. Piles of them are lying everywhere on the rocks, the Indian huts abound with them, and the dogs are dragging and fighting over the offal in all directions. Not less than eight hundred Indians were present on this occasion. {233} One who has seen them five years ago, poor and almost naked, and who beholds them now, discovers with a peculiar feeling of humor and delight, the entire change in their external appearance, a complete metamorphosis, as Ovid would say. Their dresses are of the most grotesque character, regardless alike of their appropriateness to sex or condition of life. A masquerade character, as we understand it, will at least exhibit unity of design; but this Indian masquerade sets all unities at defiance. A stout, swarthy Indian, steps proudly by you, apparently conscious of the dignity conferred on him by his new acquisitions—a roundabout much too small for him, a pair of tights with straps, with an intervening space showing the absence of linen, form his body dress, while an old fashioned lady’s night-cap with large frills, and if he be rich enough, a sailor’s glazed cap carefully balanced above it, constitute his head dress; a pair, and sometimes half a pair of brogans, complete the ludicrous appearance of this Indian dandy. Some appear parading thro’ the camp in the full dress of a wagoner, others in a mixture composed of the sailor’s, the wagoner’s, and the lawyer’s, arranged according to fancy; but the favorite article of ornamental {234} dress appears to be the night-cap with its large frills; some again with only one article of dress. I have seen an old Indian showing off a pair of boots to the best advantage, as they formed the only article of his wardrobe then on his person. Indian squaws are seen attired in long calico gowns, little improved by the copious addition of fish oil, with which the taste or negligence of the present owners besmeared them; occasionally, if they can afford it, to this is superadded a vest, a flannel or great-coat. The dalles at present, form a kind of masquerading thoroughfare, where emigrants and Indians meet, it appears, for the purpose of affording mutual aid. When the Oregon emigrants arrive here, they are generally in want of provisions, horses, canoes, and guides—these wants the Indians supply, receiving in exchange the old travelling clothes of the doctors, lawyers, farmers, Germans, Frenchmen, Spaniards, &c., that pass through the dalles on their westward route. Hence the motley collection of pants, coats, boots, of every form and size, comforters, caps and hats of every fashion.

Here I overtook Messrs. Lewes and Manson,[288] who kindly offered me a place in one of the barges of the Company, which I gladly accepted—the transportation of their boats and goods {235} had taken up a whole day. From the great dalles to the upper sources of the Columbia, great care and attention are to be had in its navigation, for it presents a constant succession of rapids, falls, cascades, and dalles. Men of great experience, are here employed as pilots, and notwithstanding their skill and precaution, no river probably on the globe, frequented as much, could tell of more disastrous accidents.

At the dalles you enter a barren region, where drift wood is brought into every encampment by the Indians, for which they gladly receive a piece of tobacco in return. In the absence of the savages, the tombs of the dead are sometimes shamefully pillaged by civilized Christian travellers, taking away the very boards that cover the dead bodies, and thus leave them the prey of vultures and crows.

Indians linger on the Columbia as long as a salmon can be caught. Unconscious of the approaching winter, they do not lay in sufficient stock of provisions, and till late in the fall they may be seen picking up the dead and dying fishes which float in great numbers on the surface. In the immediate neighborhood of a camp the air is infected with the scent of {236} salmon in a state of putrefaction; they are suspended on trees, or on scaffolds, and to this unwholesome and detestable food has the improvident Indian recourse, when the days of his long lent commence.

You can scarcely form an idea of the deplorable condition of the poor petty tribes, scattered along the banks of the Columbia, of which the numbers visibly diminish from year to year. Imagine their dwellings, a few poor huts, constructed of rush, bark, bushes, or of pine branches, sometimes covered with skins or rags—around these miserable habitations lie scattered in profusion the bones of animals, and the offal of fishes of every tribe, amidst accumulated filth of every description. In the interior, you find roots piled up in a corner, skins hanging from cross poles, and fish boiling over the fire, a few dying embers; an axe to cut wood being seldom found among them. The whole stock of kitchen utensils, drinking vessels, dishes, etc., are comprised in something like a fish-kettle, made of osier, and besmeared with gum—to boil this kettle stones are heated red hot and thrown into it. But the mess cooked in this way, can you guess what it is? No, not in twenty trials—it is impossible to divine what {237} the ingredients are that compose this outlandish soup!

But to pass from the material to the personal; what strange figures! faces thickly covered with grease and dirt—heads that have never felt a comb—hands! but such hands! a veritable pair of “jack of all trades,” fulfilling in rapid succession, the varied functions of the comb, the pocket-handkerchief, the knife, fork, and spoon—while eating, the process is loudly indicated by the crackling and discordant sounds that issue from the nose, mouth, throat, etc., a sight, the bare recollection of which is enough to sicken any person. Thus you can form some idea of their personal miseries—miseries, alas! that faintly image another species infinitely more saddening; for what shall I say in attempting to describe their moral condition? There prevails among the greater part of them, a kind of superstitious idolatry, (called medicine or juggling), that pays homage to the vilest animals; a degeneracy of morals which knows no stronger tie in conjugal obligations, than the caprice of the moment—a vehement, inordinate passion for gambling, that is prolonged to the time of repose—a laziness which nothing can induce them to shake off but the love of play, {238} or the pressing claim of hunger—they are in fine, addicted to the vilest habits of gluttony, dissimulation, etc. Such is the wretched condition of the poor savage tribes, along the Columbia. But amidst all this misery, there is fortunately one redeeming feature, a constant desire to discover some power superior to man; this disposition renders them attentive to the least word that seems to convey the slightest knowledge of a Supreme Being, and hence the facility with which they believe anything that at all resembles the Word of God.

Very reverend and dear Father, your humble and obedient servant,

P. J. De Smet, S. J.

No. XX
A. M. D. G.

St. Ignatius, near the Kalispel Bay, July 26th, 1846.

Very Rev. and Dear Father Provincial,—The eighth day after my departure from Fort Vancouver, I landed safely at Walla Walla, with the goods destined for the different missions. In a few days all was ready, and having thanked the good and kind-hearted Mr. McBride,[289] the Superintendent of the Fort, who had rendered me every assistance in his power, we soon found ourselves on the way to the mountains leading a band of pack mules and horses over a sandy dry plain, covered with bunch grass and wormwood. We made about sixteen miles and encamped for the night, in a beautiful little meadow, watered by the Walla Walla river, where we found abundance of grass for our animals—these were soon unloaded and left free to graze {240} at leisure; we next made a fire, put on the camp-kettle, stretched the bed, consisting of a buffalo-robe, and smoked together the friendly Indian pipe, whilst supper was preparing. We found ourselves at home and perfectly at ease in less than a quarter of an hour. The evening was clear and beautiful—not a cloud—our sleep, sound and refreshing, prepared us for an early start at dawn of day. We had a day’s march, with pack animals, over an undulating plain, before we could reach the crossing of the Nez-percé or Lewis fork,[290] whose source is in the angle of the Rocky and Snowy Mountains, between the 42d and 44th degrees, near the sources of the western Rio Colorado, the Platte, the Yellow Stone, and the Missouri rivers: its western course till it reaches the Blue Mountains, and hence its northern direction till it joins the Columbia, together with its principal tributaries, are sufficiently known to you, and have been amply described already.

We found about a dozen Indian lodges called the Palooses, a portion of the Sapetan or Nez-percé tribe.[291] We procured from the Indians here some fresh salmon, for which we made them ample return in powder and lead. But as the grass was withered and scanty, and the {241} pilfering dispositions of these Indians rather doubtful, we resolved on proceeding eight or ten miles farther, and encamped late in the evening on the Pavilion river.[292] The Nez-percé and Spokane plain is at least a thousand feet elevated above the bed of the river. It is dry, stony, undulating, covered with bunch and nutritious grass, with prickly pear and wormwood. The basaltic and volcanic formations which extend through the whole of this region, are really wonderful. We frequently passed ponds and small lakes embedded between walls of basaltic rocks—immense ranges of dark shining pillars, as if forced from the bosom of the plain, extend for some miles, resembling, not unfrequently, forts and ancient ruined cities and castles. We encamped several times near small but beautiful lakes, where ducks and geese, with their young broods, were swimming in great numbers. The Indians frequent these regions in search of the bitter and camash roots, very abundant here. In every one of their old encampments we observed great quantities of prairie-turtle shells, a proof of their being numerous and serving as food for the savages. Pheasants or quails were very abundant—we daily killed what we wanted for our meals.

{242} On the fifth day of our departure from Walla Walla, we reached the Spokane river,[293] and found a good fording for our animals. You will see with pleasure the chart I have made of the head waters of this river, which, though beautiful and interesting, is yet, like all the other rivers in Oregon, almost an unbroken succession of rapids, falls, and cascades, and of course ill-adapted in its present condition to the purposes of navigation. The two upper valleys of the Cœur d’Alene are beautiful, and of a rich mould; they are watered by two deep forks, running into the Cœur d’Alene lake, a fine sheet of water, of about thirty miles in length by four or five broad, from which the river Spokane derives its source. I called the two upper forks the St. Joseph’s and the St. Ignatius. They are formed by innumerable torrents, descending from the Pointed-Heart mountains, a chain of the Rocky Mountains.[294] The two upper valleys are about sixty or eighty miles long, and four or eight miles broad. I counted upwards of forty little lakes in them. The whole neighborhood of the Spokane river affords very abundant grazing, and in many sections is tolerably well timbered with pines of different species.

{243} On leaving the river we ascended by a steep Indian path. A few miles’ ride across a pine forest brings you to a beautiful valley, leading to Colville, agreeably diversified by plains and forests, hemmed in by high wooded mountains, and by huge picturesque rocks towering their lofty heads over all the rest. Fountains and rivulets are here very numerous. After about thirty miles, we arrived at the foot of the Kalispel Mountain, in the neighborhood of St. Francis Regis, where already about seventy metis or half-breeds have collected to settle permanently. Several of them accompanied me across the mountain, the height of which is about five thousand feet above the level of the plain. Its access is very easy on the western side; on the eastern, the narrow path winds its snake-like course through a steep and dense forest.—After a march of about eight hours we arrived at the beautiful Kalispel Bay, on the margin of lake De Boey, almost in sight of the Reduction of St. Ignatius.—My letter to Mrs. P.,[295] which I insert here will make you acquainted with the whole history of that mission.

I remain, with the profoundest respect and {244} esteem, Very Rev. Father Provincial, your humble and obedient servant,

P. J. De Smet, S. J.

A. M. D. G.

St. Ignatius, July 25th, 1846.

Madam,—I am, indeed, ashamed at not having been able sooner to answer the letters which you had the kindness to write me on the 2d of September and the 7th of December, 1844. They reached the Rocky Mountains only the year after, while I was engaged in a distant mission among the Indians, so that I received them only in the month of July, 1846. If it had been in my power to forward you an answer before this moment, my heart assures me that I would have done it without delay, for I must tell you here, that the debt of gratitude which my poor Indians and myself owe you is very great; and I felt impatient to inform you, that we have already begun to pray for you, for your dear and amiable children, and for your intentions. I have given directions to the Indians of these different tribes, viz., the Flat-Heads, the Pends {245} d’Oreilles, and the Cœur d’Alenes, to recite, every week, the Rosary for one of their great benefactresses, meaning yourself. Now, you cannot but be aware, that, among the Indians, the beads are recited in each family, so that I am already assured, and I have the consolation of saying to you, that many thousand pairs of beads have already been offered up to God and his august mother for you. Those good Indians—those children of the forest—so dear to my heart, will continue to display their gratitude till I tell them to cease, and that will not be very soon. What confidence have I not in the prayers of those Indians, whose merit is known only to God! Oh! if it is true that the prayer of him who possesses the innocence, the simplicity, and the faith of a child, pierces the clouds—is all-powerful, and is certainly heard—then be assured that in these new missions, in which the finger of God has been so visibly manifested, these virtues reign preeminently, and that the prayer of the Indian will also be heard in your behalf! How happy should I be, my dear, excellent Madam, could I give you to understand how great, how sweet, how enrapturing is their devotion to the august mother of God! The name of Mary, which {246} pronounced in the Indian language, is something so sweet and endearing, delights and charms them. The hearts of these good children of the forest melt, and seem to overflow, when they sing the praises of her whom they, as well as we, call their mother. Oh! I feel confident, knowing, as I do, their dispositions, that they have a distinguished place in the heart of that Holy Virgin; and that, through the intercession of Mary, invoked by so many fervent souls, you will obtain from God whatever you ask; for I am too well acquainted with your piety to think that you would ask anything that was not calculated to promote the glory of God, the sanctification of your own soul, and that of your children.

Permit me, now, to say a few words concerning the Indians and myself, since the time I had the honor of conversing with you in B—, in the spring of 1843. On the 6th of November of the following year, the Rev. Father A. Hoecken came to meet me, accompanied by several Indians of the tribe of Pends d’Oreilles of the Bay, among whom I had determined, two years before, to open a mission. They displayed every mark of friendship and joy at my return among them; they conducted me in triumph to their camp, {247} and received me there amidst volleys of musketry and the sounding of trumpets. It would be impossible to describe the feelings of my heart at thus meeting with the first band of my dear neophytes and children in God, and to represent to you the real joy which animated them on this occasion. How much had we not to communicate to each other! I gave them some little and to them interesting details of the vast countries through which I had travelled in order to promote the interest and welfare of the Indians, since I bade them farewell, that is, within fifteen months. I had crossed the great American desert, and passed through so many warlike, nomadical nations, extending from the Pacific Ocean to the frontier of the State of Missouri. I had travelled over the United States from New Orleans to Boston—crossed the Atlantic—seen a great part of Ireland and England—the whole of Belgium, Holland and France. From Marseilles I had passed by Genoa, the city of palaces, Leghorn, and Civitta Vecchia, to visit the Capital of the Christian world. From Rome I had gone to Anvers, and then, sailing round Cape Horn, touching at Chili and Peru, and having twice crossed the Equator, I had at length disembarked {248} at Fort Vancouver, on the Columbia, and had the happiness to embrace, on the 6th of November, my dear neophytes, who had prayed so fervently for me, that, during all these long voyages, by sea and land, passing through so many different climates, and at all seasons of the year, I had not been troubled either by sickness or any untoward accident. Glory to God for so special a protection, and a thousand thanks to the good Indians who, from the moment of my departure until my return, had not ceased to invoke, morning and evening, the blessing and assistance of Heaven on its unworthy servant.

The details which the young missionary gave me respecting their present dispositions, are too interesting to be here omitted; and I give them in proof of the divine grace over the hearts of this well-disposed people. All that I had recommended to them in the visits I paid them in 1841-42, had been strictly complied with. “The first thing,” says Father Adrien Hoecken in a letter home, “which struck me on my arrival among them, was a truly brotherly love and perfect union, which animated the whole tribe, and seemed to make {249} them but one family. They manifest great love, obedience and respect for their chiefs, and what is still more admirable, they all, as the chiefs themselves declare, speak and desire but one and the same thing. These chiefs are as much the real fathers of their people as is a good Superior the father of a religious community. The chiefs among the Kalispels speak calmly, but never in vain; the instant they intimate their wish to one of their followers, he sets to work to accomplish it. Is any one involved in difficulties—is he in want or sickness,—or does he wish to undertake a journey, whether long or short—he consults his chief, and shapes his conduct in accordance with the advice he receives. Even with regard to marriage, the Indians consult their chiefs, who sanction, or postpone it, or disapprove of it, according as they deem it conducive, or otherwise, to the happiness of the parties. The chief, in quality of father, endeavors to provide for the support of his people. It is he, consequently, who regulates hunting, fishing, and the gathering of roots and fruit. All the game and fish are brought to his lodge, and divided into as many shares as there are families. The distribution is made with rigid impartiality. The old, the infirm, the {250} widow, all receive their share equally with the hunter. Is not this something like the return of the golden age—those happy times when every thing was held in common and all had, as the apostle informs us, but one heart and one soul? Complaints, murmurings and backbiting are here unknown; blasphemy has never been uttered by an Indian: there are not even words in his language to express it.” On the arrival of the Black-gown, the great chiefs explained to him, with patriarchal simplicity, their manner of life. “We are ignorant,” he added, “but now that we have the happiness to have a Black-gown among us, we will listen to his voice and obey it; whatever changes he may deem necessary to make, we will cheerfully submit.”

The Black-gown confirmed and approved all the good practices and customs he found established in this little corner of the world, where, notwithstanding their poverty, the Indians all seemed contented and happy. It is really affecting to hear them speak of the darkness in which they had been buried; and to see them now exulting in the light of the gospel, and the knowledge of the Christian virtues, which they cherish, and by which their hearts seem to be inflamed. Their whole ambition consists in listening {251} with docility to the word of God, and in being able thoroughly to understand and recite their prayers. Piety is what a young man seeks in her who is to be his future wife—and what a young woman desires to find in him who is to become her husband. In their leisure hours they surround, and, if I may be allowed the expression, besiege their missionary. To the day they would add the night, if he could bear the fatigue, in speaking of heavenly things. Pride and human respect, are absolutely unknown to them. How often have we not seen gray-headed old men and even chiefs, sit down by the side of children ten or eleven years old, who would teach them their prayers, and explain to them the figures of the Catholic Ladder, with all the gravity becoming a teacher; and give to the explanation, for one or two hours, all the attention of obedient pupils. In seasons of scarcity, when the fishing or hunting has failed, or in other misfortunes, they manifest no signs of impatience. They are quiet and resigned receiving them as punishments for their sins; while their success they attribute to the bounty of God, and render to Him all the glory of it.

The usual place of residence of the Kalispels—that in which the Reduction of St. Ignatius is {252} now established—is an extensive prairie, called the Bay of the Kalispels, thirty or forty miles above the mouth of Clark or Flat-Head River. A beautiful grotto exists in the neighborhood of the mission, which I have named the grotto of Manresa, in honor of our Holy Founder. It is very large, and might, at a small expense, be fitted up for a church. May the Indians gather in crowds into this new Manresa, and after the example of their patron, St. Ignatius, be penetrated with a feeling sense of heavenly things, and inflamed with the love of God!

I shall always remember with pleasure the winter of 1844-45, which I had the happiness of spending among these good Indians. The place for wintering was well chosen, picturesque, agreeable, and convenient. The camp was placed near a beautiful waterfall, caused by Clark river’s being blocked up by an immense rock, through which the waters, forcing narrow passages, precipitate themselves. A dense and interminable forest protected us from the north winds, and a countless number of dead trees standing on all sides, furnished us with abundant fuel for our fires during the inclement season. We were encircled by ranges of lofty mountains, whose snow-clad summits reflected {253} in the sun, their brightness on all the surrounding country.

The place for wintering being determined, the first care of the Indians was to erect the house of prayer. While the men cut down saplings, the women brought bark and mats to cover them. In two days this humble house of the Lord was completed—humble and poor indeed, but truly the house of prayer, to which pure, simple, innocent souls repaired, to offer to the Great Spirit their vows, and the tribute of their affections. Here the missionaries continued with care and diligence, their instructions preparatory to baptism. How consoling was it to see ourselves surrounded by this fervent band, who had renounced the chase of the buffalo—a pleasure so attracting to an Indian—and had come from various parts of the country to place themselves under our direction, in the well-founded hope of being speedily regenerated in the saving waters of baptism. They had already learned their prayers, and all those things which it was necessary they should practise. They applied with ardor to become acquainted with the nature and obligations of the Sacrament of regeneration, and the dispositions required for its worthy reception.

{254} The great festival of Christmas, the day on which the little band was to be added to the number of the true children of God, will never be effaced from the memory of our good Indians. The manner in which we celebrated midnight mass, may give you an idea of our festival. The signal for rising, which was to be given a few minutes before midnight, was the firing of a pistol, announcing to the Indians that the house of prayer would soon be open. This was followed by a general discharge of guns, in honor of the birth of the Infant Saviour, and three hundred voices rose spontaneously from the midst of the forest, and entoned in the language of the Pends d’Oreilles, the beautiful canticle: “Du Dieu puissant tout annonce la gloire.”—“The Almighty’s glory all things proclaim.” In a moment a multitude of adorers were seen wending their way to the humble temple of the Lord—resembling indeed, the manger in which the Messiah was born. On that night, which all at once became bright as day, they experienced, I know not what, that which made them exclaim aloud, “Oh God! I give Thee my heart.” Oh! I trust that the happy impression which this unwonted spectacle made upon their hearts, will never be effaced. Of {255} what was our little church of the wilderness constructed? I have already told you—of posts fresh cut in the woods, covered over with mats and bark; these were its only materials. On the eve, the church was embellished with garlands and wreaths of green boughs; forming, as it were, a frame for the images which represent the affecting mysteries of Christmas night. The interior was ornamented with pine branches. The altar was neatly decorated, bespangled with stars of various brightness, and covered with a profusion of ribbons—things exceedingly attractive to the eye of an Indian. At midnight I celebrated a solemn Mass, the Indians sang several canticles suitable to the occasion. That peace announced in the first verse of the Angelic hymn—“The Gloria,—Peace on earth to men of good will,” was, I venture to say, literally fulfilled to the Indians of the forest. A grand banquet, according to Indian custom, followed the first Mass. Some choice pieces of the animals slain in the chase had been set apart for the occasion. I ordered half a sack of flour, and a large boiler of sweetened coffee to be added. The union, the contentment, the joy, and charity, which pervaded {256} the whole assembly, might well be compared to the agape of the primitive Christians.

After the second High Mass, all the adults, with the chiefs at their head, presented themselves in the church to receive baptism, the fulfilment of their longing desires. The old man and woman whom I baptized two years before, were sponsors for all. The men were placed on the one side, according to the custom of Paraguay, and the women on the other. I was assisted during the ceremony, by Father Hoecken, their worthy and zealous missionary. Everything was done in order and with propriety. Permit me to repeat here that I should be delighted could I but communicate to the zealous and fervent, those pleasurable feelings—that overflowing of the heart, which one experiences on such occasions. Here, indeed, the Indian missionary enjoys his greatest consolations: here he obtains his strength, his courage, his zeal to labor to bring men to the knowledge of the true God, in spite of the poverty, the privations of every description, and the dangers with which he has to contend. Yes, surely, even in this life is the promise of the Saviour fulfilled with regard to him, “Ye shall receive {257} a hundred fold.” The trifling things of the world he abandons, are nothing to be compared with the blessings he finds in the wilderness. The priest does not address in vain to the Indians, those beautiful words of the Roman ritual; “Receive this white garment, etc.,” “Receive this burning taper, etc.” He may be certain that the greater number of his catechumens will wear that spotless garment—will preserve their baptismal innocence, to the hour of their death. When I have afterwards asked them, if they have not offended God? if their conscience does not reproach them with some fault? how often have I received this touching and consoling answer: “Oh, Father! in baptism I renounced sin, I try to avoid sin, the very thought of offending God, frightens me!” The ceremonies of baptism were closed by a second instruction, and by the distribution of beads which the Indians are accustomed to say every evening in public.

About 3 o’clock in the afternoon, the solemn benediction of the blessed sacrament was given for the first time, immediately after which, upwards of fifty couples, many of whom were eighty years old, came forward to renew before the Church, their marriage promises. I could not {258} help shedding tears of joy at witnessing this truly primitive simplicity, and the love and affection with which they pledged again their faith to each other. The last instruction was then given, and thanks were returned to God for all the blessings he had vouchsafed to shower upon them, on this ever-memorable day. The recitation of prayers and the chanting of hymns were heard in all the lodges of the camp, till the night was far advanced.

Fathers Mengarini and Serbinati, (the last-mentioned Father has since died), had the consolation to see the whole tribe of the Flat-Heads, among whom they had been laboring, approach the Holy Table on this day. Twelve young Indians, taught by Father Mengarini, performed with accuracy, several pieces of music during the midnight Mass. Fathers Point and Joset had, also, the consolation of admitting for the first time, nearly the entire tribe of the Cœur d’Alenes, on this auspicious day, to the Holy Communion. Father Point has given the particulars of this first communion in a letter, which has been published, and which you have, no doubt, read with pleasure. The Christmas of 1844 was, therefore, a great and glorious day in the Rocky Mountains.

{259} I will close this already lengthy letter with a few words more concerning the Pends d’Oreilles of the Bay. Early in the spring of 1845, began to build upon the spot selected for the Reduction of St. Ignatius, and to open fields. On Ascension day of the same year, Father Hoecken administered baptism to upwards of a hundred adults. At my last visit, which I paid them in July last, they had already put up fourteen log houses, besides a large barn, had the timber prepared for a church, and had upwards of three hundred acres in grain, enclosed by a substantial fence. The whole village, men, women, and children, had worked most cheerfully. I counted thirty head of horned cattle—the squaws had learned to milk the cows and to churn; they had a few hogs and some domestic fowls. The number of Christians had doubled since Christmas, 1844.

A flour and saw mill, a few more ploughs, with other agricultural implements, and carpenter’s tools, were much wanted in the village of St. Ignatius. All is to be commenced among these poor, good Indians, and to us they look for means and supplies, which we readily grant as far as we are able. Already was an appeal made to the generous and charitable {260} Christians, and it is consoling for me to say, that appeal found an echo in the hearts of the friends of the Indians, which enabled us to enlarge our missionary operations, and I may add, that the grateful prayer of the Indians is daily ascending to the throne of the Almighty, to implore the blessings of Heaven on their benefactors. In 1845 and ’46, several stations were formed, and the extensive mission of New Caledonia was commenced.

I remain, with profound respect and esteem, madam, your very humble and obedient servant,

P. J. De Smet, S. J.

No. XXI
A. M. D. G.

Valley of St. Mary’s, Aug. 10, 1846.

Very Rev. and Dear Father Provincial,—On the 27th July, I bade farewell to Father Hoecken and his interesting little flock, consisting of about five hundred Indians. I was accompanied by two Kalispels, and some of the Cœur d’Alenes, who came to meet me. We had beautiful weather, and a path remarkably free from those obstructions so annoying to travellers in the mountains. Towards the middle of our day’s journey, we reached a beautiful lake surrounded by hills, and a thick forest of larch. I have named it the Lake de Nef, as a token of gratitude towards one of the greatest benefactors of the mission. It discharges itself through a narrow passage, forming a beautiful rapid, called the Tournhout-torrent,[296] at the termination {262} of which it joins its limpid waters to those of the river Spokane.

Next day the sun rose majestically, and everything gave promise of an agreeable day, but these fine appearances were gradually lost behind a thick bank of ominous clouds, which, shortly after overspreading the sky, poured down such torrents of rain, that everything on us was drenched as completely as if we had waded through a river. At the foot of the great rapids, we crossed the river Spokane,[297] and continued our route over an extensive plain, agreeably interspersed with thick groves of pine, when towards sunset we encamped close by a refreshing fountain.

A few words descriptive of our encampments during wet weather, may not be out of place. The tent erected in haste—saddles, bridles, baggage, etc., thrown into some sheltered spot—large heaps of larch branches or brushwood are cut down, and spread over the spot of ground destined for our repose—provision of as much dry wood as can be collected is now brought forth for the whole night; on this occasion we made a fire large enough to roast an ox. These preparations completed, our meal (dinner and supper the same time) consisting of flour, camash {263} roots, and some buffalo tallow, is thrown into a large kettle nearly filled with water. The great heat obliging the cook to stand at a respectable distance from the fire, a long pole serves as a ladle to stir about the contents until the mixture has acquired the proper density, when a vigorous attack is made upon it after a singular fashion indeed. On the present occasion we were six in number, trusting to a single spoon, but necessity soon supplied the deficiency. Two of the company used pieces of bark; two others, strips of leather; and the fifth, a small turtle-shell. Grace being said, a circle is formed round the kettle, and the instruments plunge and replunge into it with as much regularity and address, as a number of smiths’ hammers plying at the anvils—a few moments, and the contents of the large kettle are gone, leaving not a vestige behind. We found this repast delicious, thanks to our keen appetites. Making due allowance for the tastes of others, “de gustibus enim nil disputandum,” I confess I have never enjoyed a feast more heartily, than such as I have now described, prepared in the open air, after the Indian fashion. All the refined inventions of the art culinary, as sauces, pickles, preserves, pies, etc., designed to quicken {264} or restore weak appetites, are here utterly useless. Loss of appetite, which among the wealthy forms the reigning complaint, furnishing abundant employment to apothecaries and doctors, is here unheard of. If these patients would have the courage to abandon for a time their high living, and traverse the wilds of this region on horseback, breakfasting at day-break, and dining at sunset, after a ride of forty miles, I venture to predict that they will not need any refined incitements to relish as I did a simple dish prepared by the Indians. Having dried our blankets and said night prayers, our repose was not less sound for having fared so simply, or lain upon a rough couch of brushwood. We started early the next morning, and about mid-day arrived at the mission of the Sacred Heart, where I was received with the greatest cordiality by Fathers Joset and Point, with B. B. Magri and Lyons.[298] All the Cœur d’Alenes of the neighborhood came to welcome me. The fervor and piety of these poor Indians filled me with great joy and consolation, especially when I considered how great the change wrought in them since their conversion to Christianity. The details of this conversion have, I believe, been published by Father Point, and {265} by the way, I may remark here, that some incidents connected with my previous mission to this country, are inserted in this letter. To these details I may add, that these Indians previous to their conversion, were shunned by the other tribes, on account, it is said, of their great power in juggling and other idolatrous practices. Indeed, they were addicted to superstitions the most absurd, blindly offering adoration to the vilest beasts, and the most common objects. Now, they are the first to scoff at these ridiculous practices, adding at the same time, with much feeling and veneration, “God has had pity on us—He has opened our eyes—He is infinitely good to us.” A single instance will serve to give you some idea of the objects of their worship, and the facility with which they adopt their manitous or divinities. They related to me, that the first white man they saw in their country, wore a calico shirt spotted all over with black and white, which to them appeared like the smallpox, he also wore a white coverlet. The Cœur d’Alenes imagined that the spotted shirt was the great manitou himself—the great master of that alarming disease, the smallpox—and that the white coverlet was the great manitou of the snow; that if they {266} could obtain possession of these, and pay them divine honors, their nation would never afterwards be visited by that dreadful scourge; and their winter hunts be rendered successful by an abundant fall of snow. They accordingly offered him in exchange for these, several of their best horses. The bargain was eagerly closed by the white man. The spotted shirt and the white coverlet became thenceforward, objects of great veneration for many years. On grand solemnities, the two manitous were carried in procession to a lofty eminence, usually consecrated to the performance of their superstitious rites. They were then respectfully spread on the grass: the great medicine-pipe offered to them, with as much veneration, as it is customary with the Indians, in presenting it to the sun, the fire, the earth, and the water. The whole band of jugglers, or medicine-men, then entoned canticles of adoration to them. The service was generally terminated with a grand dance, in which the performers exhibited the most hideous contortions and extravagant gestures, accompanied with a most unearthly howling.

The term medicine is commonly employed by the whites, to express whatever regards the {267} juggling, idolatrous practices of the savages; probably, because the Indian feeling his ignorance of the proper remedies in sickness, and almost wholly dependent upon chance for his subsistence, merely demands of his manitous some relief in these distressing situations. This something that the Indians call Power, is at times limited, say they, to the procuring of only one object, as the cure of some disease. Some other Power, again, is not so limited, it extends to many objects, as success in hunting, fishing, waging war, and avenging injuries. All this, however, varies according to the degree of confidence reposed in it by the individual, the number of his passions or the intensity of his malice. Some of the Powers are looked upon even by the savages themselves, as wicked in the extreme, the sole object of such Powers is to do evil. Moreover it is not at all times granted, even when those professing to be most powerful medicine-men, earnestly desire it. It comes only during sleep, in a fainting fit, during a loud clap of thunder, or in the delirious excitement of some passion; but never without some definite purpose, as to foment dissensions, or exasperate to deeds of violence, or to obtain some corporal advantage; favors which are always {268} purchased at the expense of the soul. Much exaggeration is, of course, clearly characteristic of those misnamed effects of preternatural power. Most of those that came under my notice, and which the Indians attributed to preternatural agency, were the effects of causes purely natural. Notwithstanding these deplorable disorders of the soul, it is my greatest consolation to reflect, that these superstitious practices, in consequence of the many palpable contradictions they admit, become a spiritual malady, the least difficult to cure.

On the 5th of August, I left the Mission of the “Sacred Heart of Jesus,” accompanied by the Rev. Father Point. Three Indian families, desirous of visiting St. Mary’s, served us for guides. Our journey for some days, lay along the serpentine course of the river St. Ignatius, in the valley of the North. The soil of this valley is for the most part rich, and well adapted to cultivation, but subject to frequent inundations. Grain and potatos are here cultivated by the Indians with great success. Father Joset, assisted by the savages, has already enclosed and prepared for cultivation, a large field, capable of affording sustenance to several Indian families. Our hopes, then, of seeing {269} these poor Indians furnished with a plentiful supply of provisions, and their wandering habits thereby checked, will with the blessing of God, be realized at no very distant day. To attain the desirable object of uniting them in villages, and thus forming them to habits of industry, we need, however, more means than we possess at present—we are very much in want of seeds of various kinds, and of agricultural implements.

Before arriving at the snow-capped chain of mountains, which separates the Cœur d’Alenes from the Flat-Heads, we wound our way for two days, through forests almost impenetrable and over immense beds of rock, always following the course of the river, except where its tortuous windings would lead us too circuitous a route.[299] So tortuous indeed is its course here, that in less than eight hours, we crossed it no less than forty-four times. The majestic cedars that shade the gorge at this point are truly prodigious, most of them measure from twenty to thirty feet in circumference, with a proportionate height, and so numerous, that as the rays of the sun cannot penetrate the dense mass, perpetual night may be said, without exaggeration, to reign here. I doubt whether the {270} owl could have selected a more fitting abode, certainly none so majestic or mysterious. The death-like silence of this glen, broken only by the passing breeze, the occasional visit of some wild animal, or the constant murmuring of the rills from the rocky banks, impress the beholder with feelings of a most unearthly yet pleasing nature.

With much difficulty and fatigue we forced a passage through this dense mass of forest, stooping half the time upon the neck of the horse, to avoid the low thorny branches, so thickly crossed together, that one is inclined at first sight, to abandon all hope of wedging his way through them. Its termination brought us to the foot of the great chain of mountains. It occupied us nearly another day to ascend this by a narrow winding path, which is shaded by one of the finest forests in Oregon. Towards sunset we reached the top, where we pitched our camp, within a few paces of one of those immense snow masses, that perpetually shroud this lofty chain. Here we enjoyed a most magnificent view—the horizon for some hundred miles around presented a spectacle of surpassing grandeur: as far as the eye could reach, a long succession of mountains, towering cliffs, {271} and lofty pinnacles, exhibited their dazzling snow-capped summits to our astonished vision. The very silence of this vast wilderness strikes the beholder with feelings of deep sublimity; not even a breeze stirred to break the charm of this enchanting view. I shall never forget the splendor of the scene we witnessed, as the last rays of the setting sun were throwing their full lustre upon the myriads of pinnacles that ranged far away towards the distant horizon.

The descent on the eastern side of this mountain is less abrupt, presenting slopes of rich verdure, adorned with a great variety of plants and flowers. This descent also occupied us an entire day. We next arrived at a forest, a twin-sister, if I may be allowed the expression, of the one I have just described. Here the river St. Francis Regis meanders through innumerable hoary cedars, pine trees, and an impenetrable thicket of bushes of every species. With the happiest recollections, we finally encamped on the banks of the St. Mary’s river, in the Flat-Head valley—the nursery of our first missionary operations in the Far West.[300]

In my next, I propose giving you some details of the present condition of our first children in God, the good and deserving Flat-Heads. {272} I recommend myself to God in your prayers.

I remain, with profound respect and esteem, reverend and dear Father, your very humble servant, and brother in Christ,

P. J. De Smet, S. J.

No. XXII
Letter of the Rev. Father Point, S. J., Missionary in Oregon

Village of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, —, 1845.

I learn by letters from Europe, that you take a lively interest in our dear missions. From this, I conclude that you will be very glad to learn some of those things which are passing amongst us. I take the more pleasure, because I can detail what my own eyes have witnessed, and because I can give a new proof of a truth, which you love to extend, viz., that it is to their devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, that the pastors of souls are indebted for the consolations they enjoy: this will explain the wonders of mercy of which they are witnesses.

You know already the history of the Flat-Heads; truly their conversion is the result of a wonderful outflowing of the riches of grace; but I do not hesitate to say, that the conversion {274} of the Pointed-Hearts is a still more striking indication of God’s love to man. What were these savages less than a quarter of a century ago? They had hearts so hard, that if their first visitors have undertaken to give a true description of them, they could not find an expression more just, than is the singular name which they bear to this day. Their knowledge was so limited, that, giving themselves up to the worship of animals they had no idea of the true God nor of their soul, much less of a future life; finally they were a race of men, so degenerate that they had barely two or three notions of the whole natural law, and almost all were strangers to it in practice.

What a different aspect they now present! I will not say that they are perfect: that would be an exaggeration even in the eyes of persons little versed in the knowledge of the human heart. Everybody knows, that people who are converted, always retain something of their primitive character, and that the defects of education are not corrected except by a long course of years; but I say to the glory of Him, who can change the hardest rocks into children of Abraham, that, at this day, our Pointed-Hearts are true believers.

{275} It is only two years since the cross was planted on their soil, and all, with a very few exceptions, have made their first communion.

About fifteen years ago, several missionaries begged to be employed among the savages. A new doctrine was soon spread among the Pointed-Hearts, telling them that there is but one God, who has, beyond the earth we see, two things which we do not see:—a place for the good, and a place for the bad; that the Son of God, in all respects like his Father, seeing all men running in the bad road, came down from Heaven to put them in the right way; but that in order to effect this, it was necessary for him to die upon a cross. One evening, all the families, who were dispersed in different directions, for fishing, for hunting, and gathering roots, assembled upon the ground of an old chief called Ignatius,[301] to see the author of this news. Regardless of fatigue, they prolonged their sitting to the silence of the night, and listened to all the details of the glorious message.

God is great—Jesus Christ is good:—two truths the admission of which seemed to be the result of the first sitting: was this, indeed, the case? Not so much, perhaps, as would have been desirable: for before the families separated, {276} Heaven sent a scourge, which struck with death a great number of them. At the moment it raged with the greatest violence, one of the dying—since named Stephen—heard a voice from above, which said: “Cast down thy idols; adore Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be cured.” The dying man believed the word, and was cured. He went about the camp and related what had taken place: all the sick who heard him imitated his example, and recovered their health. I have this fact from the mouth of the savage who heard the voice from heaven, and the same has been confirmed by eye-witnesses, who could say, “I, myself, have been the object of that wonder, and my eyes have seen the mountain at the foot of which the idols were cast down.”

The savage takes little notice of an event which does not strike him in a sensible manner; but what I have related was marked by two such peculiar characters, that it left traces in the memory of all. However, neither constancy nor reflection is to be found in the savage. After some years of fidelity to the impressions received, the greater part returned to their former idolatry. This retrograde movement was accelerated by the medicine-men—a kind {277} of charlatans, who set themselves up for physicians and prophets, and pretend to perform wonderful things, especially, to cure the sick by their skill and supernatural power. At the word of one of the chiefs, who, probably, had not ceased to be an idolater, the men convoked an assembly of those who were called believers, in which it was resolved to return to their ancient practices; and, from that moment, the animals of the country, now become again divine, re-entered into possession of their ancient honors. The mass of the tribe, had, indeed, no confidence in them; but, either through fear of the medicine-men, or by natural curiosity, they took part, at least by their presence, in the sacrilegious worship paid to them. Happily, choice souls were always among them to intercede with Heaven for their deluded brethren; I know many, who, from the time in which God was pleased to manifest himself among them, have not the least faults upon their consciences, with which to reproach themselves.

Such was pretty nearly the condition of the people when Providence sent among them the Rev. Father De Smet. His visit, the circumstances of which have been related elsewhere, {278} disposed them so much in favor of the Black-gowns, that it was determined I should be sent to their aid. Three months after, that is, at the close of the hunting expeditions of the autumn of 1842, I left St. Mary’s to place the new converts under the protection of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

The same day I entered their territory, the first Friday of November, I made with three chiefs who came to seek me, the promised consecration, and on the first Friday of December, in the midst of chants and prayers, the cross was raised on the borders of a lake, where the poor savages had united for fishing. Thanks be to God, we can say, that the miraculous draught of St. Peter was spiritually renewed. For they spoke no more of their assemblies of impostors, their diabolical visions, nor superstitious ceremonies, which had before been so common; and most important of all, gambling, which had always occupied a great portion of their time, was two weeks afterwards, abandoned; the conjugal bond, which for centuries, perhaps, had known among them neither unity nor indissolubility, was brought back to its primitive character. A beautiful sight was presented by the medicine-men themselves, {279} who with their own hands, did justice to the wretched instruments hell had used to deceive them. During the long nights of that period, it will not be necessary to tell how many sacrifices were made of feathers, wolves’ tails, stags’ feet, deer’s hoofs, wooden images, &c.

Scarcely was the bad tree cut down and thrown into the fire, than a blessing on their temporal affairs was united to that of their spiritual. In one day three hundred deer became the prey of the hunters.

The first days of spring, the reunion of the people at the place agreed on for the construction of a village was more numerous than the first. It was formed upon the ancient plans in Paraguay, and each one, according to his strength and industry, contributed towards its construction. Trees were felled, roads opened, a church erected, and the public fields were sown; and, thanks to the piety of our savages, Holy Week, Easter, Ascension, and Pentecost were celebrated with becoming solemnity. In truth, things went so well, that the enemy of men, perceiving his prey escape him, redoubled his efforts. We experienced some loss in consequence of a storm; but after a partial destruction, {280} the storm only resulted in purifying the atmosphere.