Fifty Years In The Northwest

In 1847, when I visited Pokegama, Jeremiah Russell, an Indian farmer, had a very pretty farm on a point of land on the southwest side of the lake, and between the lake and the river. A Frenchman, Jarvis, lived a short distance from Russell. Across the lake from Russell's were the neat and tasteful log buildings and gardens of the Presbyterian mission. The mission was established in the spring of 1836, by Rev. Frederic Ayer and his associates, under the auspicies of the American Board of Foreign Missions. Mr. Ayer had been laboring at Yellow Lake mission, but, owing to the growing unfriendliness of the Indians, had been removed to Pokegama. Much pertaining to the mission work, both at Pokegama and elsewhere, will be found in the biographies of the principal missionaries. We mention here only such incidents as may be of more general interest. For many of these incidents we are indebted to Mrs. Elisabeth J. Ayer, of Belle Prairie, the widow of Rev. Frederic Ayer, for a long time missionary to the Ojibways. This estimable lady has passed her eighty-fifth year, but her mind is still clear and her hand steady, her manuscript having the appearance of the work of a precise young schoolmistress. She mentions an old Canadian, who had been in the country sixty years, and for seven or eight years had been entirely blind. He was known as Mushk-de-winini (The-old-blind-prairie-man), also the old trader, Thomas Conner, the remains of whose mud chimney and foundation of the old trading house may still be seen on the southern shore of the lake.

Franklin Steele was the first white man to visit the mission. In the spring of 1837 the mission aided three or four families in building. February, 1837, Rev. Mr. Hall, of the La Pointe mission, visited Pokegama, and organized a church of seven members, – three of whom were natives, – administered the ordinance of baptism to eight persons, and solemnized two marriages, probably the first in the valley of the St. Croix. Revs. Boutwell and Ely came to the mission in 1837. A school had been opened, some Indian houses built, and gardens enlarged, and the future of the mission seemed assured. Mrs. Ayer relates the following account of the

BATTLE OF POKEGAMA

In 1811 the Sioux selected this settlement as the place to avenge the wrongs of the Ojibways – some of recent date; the principal of which was the killing of two sons of Little Crow (done in self defense) between Pokegama and the falls of the St. Croix. The Sioux arrived at Pokegama in the night, and stopped on the opposite side of the lake, two miles from the mission. The main body went to the main settlement, and, after examining the ground where they intended to operate, hid among the trees and brush back of the Indian gardens, with orders that all keep quiet on both sides of the lake till a given signal, when the Indians were busy in their gardens, and then make quick work. But their plans failed. Most of the Ojibways of the settlement had, from fear of the Sioux, slept on an island half a mile out in the lake (I mean the women and children), and were late to their gardens. In the meantime a loaded canoe was nearing the opposite shore and the few Sioux who had remained there to dispatch any who, in time of battle, might attempt to escape by crossing over, fired prematurely. This gave the alarm, and saved the Ojibways. The chief ran to Mr. Ayer's door and said, expressively: "The Sioux are upon us," and was off. The Indians seemed at once to understand that the main body of the enemy was at hand. The missionaries stepped out of the door and had just time to see a great splashing of water across the lake when bullets came whizzing about their ears, and they went in. The Sioux had left their hiding place and the battle commenced in earnest. Most of the women and children of the settlement were yet on the island. The house of the chief was well barricaded and most of the men gathered in there. The remainder took refuge in a house more exposed, at the other end of the village. The enemy drew up very near and fired in at the window. One gun was made useless, being indented by a ball. The owner retired to a corner and spent the time in prayer. The mother of the house, with her small children, was on her way to the island under a shower of bullets, calling aloud on God for help.

The missionaries seeing from their windows quantities of bloody flesh upon stumps in the battle field, thought surely that several of their friends had fallen. It proved to be a cow and calf of an Ojibway. The mission children were much frightened and asked many questions, and for apparent safety went up stairs and were put behind some well filled barrels. In the heat of battle two Ojibways came from the island and landed in front of Mr. Ayer's house. They drew their canoe ashore and secreted themselves as well as the surroundings would permit. Not long after three Sioux ran down the hill and toward the canoe. They were fired upon and one fell dead. The other two ran for help but before they could return the Ojibways were on the way back to the island. Not having time to take the scalp of their enemy, they hastily cut the powder horn strap from his breast, dripping with blood, as a trophy of victory. The Sioux drew the dead body up the hill and back to the place of fighting. The noise ceased. The battle was over. The missionaries soon heard the joyful words, quietly spoken: "We still live." Not a warrior had fallen. The two school girls who were in the canoe at the first firing in the morning were the only ones killed, though half the men and boys in the fight were wounded. The Sioux women and boys who had come with their warriors to carry away the spoils had the chagrin of returning as empty as they came.

The Ojibways were careful that no canoe should be left within reach of the Sioux. From necessity they took a canoe, made by Mr. Ely, and removed their dead two miles up the river, dressed them (seemingly) in the best the party could furnish, with each a double barreled gun, a tomahawk and scalping knife, set them up against some large trees and went on their way. Some of these articles, including their head-dresses, were sent to the museum of the American board, in Boston.

In the closing scene the missionaries had the opportunity of seeing the difference between those Indians who had listened to instruction and those who had not. The second day after the battle the pagan party brought back to the island the dead bodies of their enemies, cut in pieces, and distributed parts to such Ojibways as had at any time lost friends by the hands of the Sioux. One woman, whose daughter was killed and mutilated on that memorable morning, when she saw the canoes coming, with a head raised high in the air on a long pole, waded out into the water, grabbed it like a hungry dog and dashed it repeatedly on the stones with savage fierceness. Others of the pagans conducted themselves in a similar manner. They even cooked some of the flesh that night in their kettles of rice. Eunice (as she was named at her baptism) was offered an arm. At first she hesitated; but for reasons, sufficient in her own mind, thought best to take it. Her daughter-in-law, widow of her son who had recently been killed and chopped into pieces by the Sioux, took another, and they went into their lodge. Eunice said: "My daughter, we must not do as some of our friends are doing. We have been taught better," and taking some white cloths from her sack they wrapped the arms in them, offered a prayer, and gave them a decent burial. About this time a Mr. Kirkland was sent from Quincy, Illinois, by a party who wished to plant a colony not far from the mission station. He arrived at Pokegama very soon after the battle. Notwithstanding what had happened he selected a location on Cross lake, just where a railroad has now been in operation for some years. He worked vigorously for two or three weeks, and then went to consult the Indian agent and the military at Fort Snelling. They gave him no encouragement that the two tribes would ever live in peace; and he went home. The Ojibways lived in constant fear, and the place was soon deserted. This was a great trial to the missionaries; but they did not urge them to stay. They separated into small parties and went where they could get a living for the present and be out of danger. The teachers remained at their post, occasionally visiting the Indians in their retreat, hoping they might soon think it safe to return to their homes. In this they were disappointed. These visits were not always very safe. On one of these trips Mr. Ayer was lost, and from cold and hunger came near perishing. Not finding the party he sought, he wandered about for a day or two. In the meantime the weather became much colder. Not expecting to camp out he took only one blanket and food enough for one meal. In crossing Kettle river on a self-made conveyance, and there being ice on the opposite shore, he got wet. The Indians, anticipating his visit, had sent a young man to the mission station to guide him to, their new locality. He returned in haste, fell on Mr. Ayer's track, and a light sprinkle of snow enabled him to follow it until he was found.

Mrs. Ayer relates several incidents illustrative of Indian character. As her husband had been stationed at Yellow Lake, and afterward at Red Lake, these incidents are not necessarily located at Pokegama:

A NOBLE CHIEF

The Red Lake Indians were a noble band – they had a noble chief. In civilization he led the way, in religion he did not oppose. He shouldered a heavy axe, and could be seen chopping on one side of a large tree, in perspiration, while his wife was on the other side, helping all she could with her hatchet. This chief was also an advocate of temperance. Not that he didn't love whisky, but he hated the effect of it on his band. He dictated a letter to the president, begging him not to let the white faces bring any more firewater to his people, giving as one reason that they had teachers among them who must be protected, and if they had whisky he did not know what might happen.

FRANK CONFESSIONS

In the church there was much childish simplicity. Once when Mr. Ayer was lecturing on the eighth commandment, he paused, and without expecting an answer, said: "Now who is there among you who has not stolen?" One woman began to confess – another followed, then another. One thought she had stolen about seven times. Another entered more into particulars, mentioning the things she had stolen, till the scene was quite amusing. Another rose to confess, but was cut short by her husband, who said: "Who knows how many times he has stolen? We are a nation of thieves." And with a few remarks the meeting closed.

A COWARDLY DEED

After a medicine dance, according to Indian custom, they proposed a feast, but there was nothing on which to feast. There was a large company and all were hungry. Mr. Ayer's cow was in the barnyard near. Three daring fellows sitting by themselves began to taunt each other in regard to their comparative prowess. After an excitement was created, one of them, to show his bravery, shot the cow. Mr. Ayer was in his garden and witnessed the performance. Two or three of the leading men in this pagan party came immediately to Mr. Ayer to learn whether he would take the cow for his own use. While they were talking (perhaps twenty minutes) the cow was cut in pieces, and in the Indians' kettles preparatory to a good time. After the Indians had sold their land they paid for the cow.

AN UNJUST ACCUSATION

Indians are said to be revengeful. They are. So are white men. They fight for their rights. So do white men. They are thieves and liars. So are white men. Quarrelsome, envious, jealous. So are white men. Experience teaches that according to their knowledge they compare favorably with Anglo-Saxons. Sin is none the better, nor less mischievous, for being civilized.

A missionary, a good man, too, he was, accused an innocent woman of stealing his shirts that were laid out on the snow to whiten. His wife, not remembering that she had brought them in early in the morning, asked him to go out and get them. But they were not to be found! "Who has been here this morning?" was asked. "Ekwazans; I don't remember any other." "Well, she shan't have those shirts. I'll overtake her before she gets home." He followed her four miles, determined to have his shirts. The woman declared her innocence, and told him to search the wigwam. He did so, but said himself that it was done rather roughly. In the meantime the wife espied the shirts just where she had put them. This affair was ever after a source of regret to them.

Some of the Indians laughed heartily; others made remarks rather sarcastic. The woman herself felt disgraced by the accusation, but never manifested signs of wanting to "pay back," or in any way to avenge the wrong.

INDIAN MAGNANIMITY

An employe of the American Fur Company, a "green hand," was crossing a portage. The load on his back was topped off with a bag of flour. The hill was steep and long. Steps were cut in it like a flight of stairs. As he reached the top a mischievous Indian touched the bag, and it went tumbling to the foot of the hill. The Frenchman immediately sent the Indian tumbling after it. Some of the company advised the Frenchman to run away, for the Indian might kill him. He told them boldly that he would not run away. The Indian gathered himself up, came to the top of the hill, told the Frenchman he had done just right, offered his hand and they were firm friends. Magnanimous had it been a white man.

Rev. Frederic Ayer was born in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, in 1803. When he was two years old the family moved to Central New York. His father was a Presbyterian minister, and they intended that their son should follow the same profession; but before he was prepared his health failed and he turned his attention to other business.

He commenced his labors for the Indians in 1829, by teaching the mission school at Mackinaw, under the superintendency of Rev. M. Ferry. The pupils of this school were not all Ojibways but were from many different tribes, and spoke different languages. Mackinaw was then a general depot of the North American fur traders. They brought not only their own children to the school but such others as parents among whom they were trading wished to send. They were gathered from Lake Winnipeg, British America north, to Prairie du Chien and the head of Lake Michigan south. They were taught in English only.

In the summer of 1830 Mr. Ayer went to La Pointe, Lake Superior, with Mr. Warren, opened a school and commenced the study of the Ojibway language. In 1831 he met at Mackinaw, Revs. Hall and Boutwell, who were sent out by the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions to the Indians, and he returned with Mr. and Mrs. Hall and their interpreter to spend another winter at La Pointe.

The next year, 1832, Mr. Ayer wintered with another trader at Sandy Lake. He opened a school there and completed a little Ojibway spelling book which was commenced at La Pointe. In the spring of 1833 he left Sandy Lake for Utica, New York, to get the book printed. Mr. Aitkin, with whom he had wintered, gave him eighty dollars, and with a pack on his back and an experienced guide, he started on his journey. Before they reached Sault Ste. Marie the ice on Lake Superior was so weak that Mr. Ayer broke through and was saved only by carrying horizontally in his hands a long pole to prevent his sinking.

Mr. Ayer hastened on to complete the object of his journey, that he might return to Mackinaw in time to go up Lake Superior with the traders. Mr. Ayer, hitherto an independent worker, now put himself under the direction of the "American Board," and was sent to Yellow Lake, within the present bounds of Burnett county, Wisconsin. Miss Delia Cooke, whose name should never be forgotten among the early missionaries of the American board to the Indians, and Miss Hester Crooks, a girl educated at Mackinaw, and who had some experience in teaching, were among the number who coasted up Lake Superior in a Mackinaw boat; the former to La Pointe mission, the latter to Yellow Lake with Mr. and Mrs. Ayer. They wintered in Dr. Borup's family. Mrs. Borup also had, for some years, been a pupil at Mackinaw. The next year Miss Crooks married Rev. Mr. Boutwell and went to Leech lake, and J. L. Seymour and Miss Sabrian Stevens, also Henry Blatchford, an interpreter from Mackinaw, were added to Yellow Lake mission. When Mr. Ayer told the Indians his object in coming among them, they gave him a welcome. But six months later, seeing two or three log houses in process of building, they were much troubled, and met in a body to request him to go away. A Menomonie from the region of Green Bay had stirred them up, not against the missionaries, but against the general government.

The speaker said: "It makes the Indians sad to see the white man's house go up on their land. We don't want you to stay; you must go." Further on he said: "You shall go!" Mr. Ayer answered him. The party left at midnight, and the missionaries went to bed with heavy hearts, thinking they might be thurst out almost immediately. But before sunrise the next morning about two-thirds of the same party returned, and said they had come to take back what they said the night before. The war chief was speaker, but his words were mild. "Why," said he, "should we turn these teachers away before they have done us any harm?" They would like to have us stay, he said, but added that they did not want any more to come, for the result might be the loss of their lands. We might use whatever their country afforded, but they would not give us any land, or sell us any. "For," said the speaker, "if we should sell our land where would our children play?"

Mr. Ayer finished his school house, and went on with his work as though nothing had happened. But evidently things were not as they should be. The chief seemed to "sit on the fence," ready to jump either way. The war chief was always friendly, but he had not so much control over what concerned us. He did what he could without giving offense, and was anxious that his daughter of fourteen years should be taken into the mission family. Mr. Ayer remained two years longer at Yellow Lake. In the meantime the chief of the Snake River band sent messages inviting the teachers to come and live among them. Accordingly in the spring of 1836 the mission was removed to Pokegama lake, eighteen miles up the river. The chief did all he had promised, and showed himself a man. Nothing was said here to remind the missionaries that they were using the Indians' wood, water and fish. On the contrary, when they sold their land, it was urged that the teachers' children should be enrolled for annual payment, the same as their own. The chief said that as they were born on the land it was no more than right, and he wished it might be done.

In 1842 Mr. Ayer went with his family to the States; and in Oberlin was ordained preacher to the Ojibways. He soon returned to the Indian country, and David Brainard Spencer, an Oberlin student, with him. They spent the winter of 1842-3 in traveling from one trading post to another, selecting locations for missionary labor. For their own field they chose Red Lake. When Mrs. Ayer, with her two little boys, six and eight years old, went to join her husband at the new station, Alonzo Barnard and wife and S. G. Wright, all of Oberlin College, went with her. Other missionaries soon followed, and that station was for many years supplied with efficient laborers. More recently the work there was assigned to Bishop Whipple, and is still carried on.

Mr. and Mrs. Ayer, in 1865, offered their services to the freed-men of the South and were employed at Atlanta, Georgia.

Mr. Ayer organized a Congregational church and a baptistry connected with the house of worship, that he might baptise by immersion or otherwise, according to the wishes of the candidate. He also formed a temperance society, which some months before his death numbered more than six hundred members.

There was great grief at his death amongst all classes. An aged man, who had lost a small fortune in his devotion to the Confederacy, embraced the corpse, and said: "If he had not holpen me, I should have before gone him." Many others, in word or action, expressed a similar feeling. All classes of people were represented at his funeral. His remains were buried in the Atlanta cemetery, Oct. 1, 1867. Thus passed away one who had spent a life for the benefit of others.

Mr. and Mrs. Ayer in some instances taught three generations of Ojibway blood, and North and South, they were, in the course of their labors, associated for a longer or shorter time, with more than eighty different missionaries, – a noble band, – with few exceptions worthy the name they bore. Most of them have passed away, and their graves are scattered here and there from British America to Georgia.

Rev. William T. Boutwell, who figures so prominently in the history of the early missions in the St. Croix valley, was born in Hillsborough county, New Hampshire, Feb. 4, 1803. He was educated at Dartmouth and Andover colleges, and in 1831, the year of his graduation at Andover, he came to the Northwest as a Presbyterian missionary. He spent one year at Mackinaw, learning the Chippewa language, under the instruction of Rev. W. M. Ferry, father of Senator Ferry, of Michigan.

In 1832 our government sent an embassy of thirty men, under the control of the Indian agent at Ste. Marie, Henry R. Schoolcraft, to tranquilize the tribes and effect some advantageous treaties. The embassy was accompanied by an outfit of soldiers under the command of Lieut. Allen, Dr. Houghton, physician, George Johnson, interpreter, and Mr. Boutwell. The embassy had a liberal outfit of provisions, equipages and trinkets for the Indians, and was conveyed in a large bateau of several tons capacity, and some birch canoes, the largest of which was thirty feet long, and capable of containing nine persons. On arriving at Fond du Lac, the head of navigation on the St. Louis river, Mr. Boutwell wrote as follows to the missionary board:

"On arriving here I was not a little surprised to find four hundred souls, half-breeds and white men. The scene at our landing was such as I never before witnessed, and enough to fill one, unaccustomed to the like as myself, with wonder, if not with fear. The yelling of Indians, barking of dogs, crying of children, running of the multitude, discharge of musketry, and flourish of flags, was noise in the extreme. At ten o'clock I preached to about forty in English, the first sermon ever preached here, and at 4 p. m. I addressed, through Mr. Johnson, more than twice that number of French, half-breeds and Indians; many of the latter of whom for the first time listened to the word of Life. All listened with attention and interest. My interpreter sat on my right, while a chief occupied a seat at my left. Around and below me, on the floor, sat his men, women and children, in a state of almost entire nudity, many of whom had no more than a cloth about the loins, and a blanket, but some of the children not even a blanket, – all with their pipes and tobacco pouches, painted with all the variety of figures that can be imagined."

From Fond du Lac he proceeded with the expedition up the St. Louis river, crossing the falls by a portage, and ascending to the point nearest Sandy lake, which was reached by a portage. The expedition proceeded up the Mississippi to Leech lake. Learning from the Indians at this point that Cass lake, the reputed source of the Mississippi, was not the real source, the expedition proceeded, under the guidance of a chief and a number of his tribe, to ascend the river further. When they reached the lake, now known as Itasca, five of the party, Lieut. Allen, Schoolcraft, Houghton, Johnson, and Boutwell, were sent in canoes with Indian guides to explore the shores of the lake. No inlet being found the party came to the conclusion that this was, as the Indians claimed, the true source of the Mississippi river. Mr. Schoolcraft being satisfied as to the correctness of the observations, landed his party on an island near the middle of the lake.

He was puzzled to know what name to give the lake, and asked Mr. Boutwell if he knew of any word that would express the term "true head of the river." Mr. Boutwell said he could think of no single word that would express it, but there were two Latin words that would answer the purpose, and those were veritas– true, and caput– head. Mr. Schoolcraft immediately wrote on a piece of paper the two words, and then erasing the first syllable of the first word and the last syllable of the latter, joined the remaining syllables. He then planted the stars and stripes on a little eminence, and formally christened the lake "Itasca." They then proceeded to descend the Mississippi. "As we were passing through the outlet of the lake," said Mr. Boutwell, "I stopped my canoe on the shore and jumped across the Mississippi. I considered that a great thing to relate in after years."