Citation
The Lonely dove of the Hurons

Material Information

Title:
The Lonely dove of the Hurons
Creator:
Religious Tract Society (Great Britain) ( Publisher )
Unwin Brothers ( Printer )
Gresham Press ( Printer )
Place of Publication:
London
Manchester
Brighton
Publisher:
Religious Tract Society
Manufacturer:
Gresham Press ; Unwin Brothers
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
95, 16 p., [1] leaf of plates : col. ill. ; 15 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Conversion -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Death -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Frontier and pioneer life -- Juvenile fiction -- Canada ( lcsh )
Indians of North America -- Juvenile fiction -- Canada ( lcsh )
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Juvenile fiction -- Canada ( lcsh )
Publishers' catalogues -- 1873 ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1873
Genre:
Publishers' catalogues ( rbgenr )
short stories ( aat )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
England -- Manchester
England -- Brighton
England -- Chilworth
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

Restriction:
FOR USE IN OSBORNE COLLECTION ONLY. NOT AVAILABLE FOR INTERLOAN.
General Note:
Undated. Date from BLC.
General Note:
Illustrated with a frontispiece printed in colour.
General Note:
Publisher's catalogue follows text.
General Note:
Baldwin Library copy 2 publisher's advertisements follow text.
Funding:
Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026723164 ( ALEPH )
ALG7929 ( NOTIS )
63091613 ( OCLC )

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THE LONELY DOVE.



THE LONELY DOVE

OF

THE HURONS,



Hondo t
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY,
56, PATERNOSTER ROW; 65, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD }
. AND 164, PICCADILLY:

100, CORPORATION STREET, MANCHESTER 3
31, WESTERN ROAD, BRIGHTON.



The Gresham Press,
UNWIN BROTHERS, CHILWORTH AND LONDON,





CONTENTS.

iL

‘HOME IN THE. NEW SETTLEMENT...

IL,

THE HURON CHIEF AND HIS DAUGHTER

ITI.

THE DEPARTURE ee vse ee eve

TV.

THE LAST RESTING: PLACK ue an

ans

26

52

4





THE LONELY DOVE

OF

THE - HURONS.

I,

HOME IN THE NEW SETTLEMENT.

ME years ago there lived in



Kingston, Upper Canada, an
old lady, whose father had been one
of the earliest settlers in the west-
ern part of that province. She was
a woman of good sense and sincere
piety, and being blessed with the
retention of her faculties in complete



6 THE LONELY DOVE

preservation to the close of her long
life, her conversation was both edifying
and entertaining to the wiser part of
the young generation round her. The
changes of times and ways in that new
world of the west, within the memory
of its aged inhabitants, are greater than
could be well imagined in our old
Europe. She had seen hunters go
out in pursuit of the elk and the bear,
to districts now covered with farm
fields and orchards, and the giant trees
of a primeval forest growing where
busy towns and thriving villages now
~ stand, full of the life and labours of civil-
ized man. The old lady’s memory was
strong and clear, and could take a back-
ward journey of seventy years. She
had come to the time of remembering



OF THE HURONS. 7

.as people do when they sit down in
the late and quiet evening of life.

It was pleasant to her to relate the
experiences, and return to the scenes
of her youth, which time had'so altered
and effaced. Manya tale of those old
adventurous days, when the first hardy
settlers cleft their way westward
through the ancient pine forests, did
her young Kingston friends gather
round to hear; but more especially she
took pleasure in recounting to them the
wonderful works of Him in whom her
trust was placed—how His providence
_had preserved those that were ready..
to perish, and made the light of
Christian faith and hope to shine on
the dark places of the land. One most
_ striking, though simple, illustration of



8 THE LONELY DOVE

this providential care she was accus-
tomed to tell in the following man-
ner :—

It is now sixty years since I was
a young girl in my father’s house on
the banks of St. Clair’s river, as they
call that part of the great St. Lawrence
which flows from Lake Huron to Lake
St. Clair. The district is all farms and
villages now, with law-courts and mar-
ket-places, schools and churches; but
at the time of which I speak it was
one wide forest, without highway or
hamlet, but with solitary clearings few
and far apart, with rudely-fenced and
half-reclaimed fields surrounding the
low log-houses of the earliest settlers,
who lived partly by farming and Bae
by hunting.



OF THE HURONS. 9

My father was one of them, though
_ neither farmer nor hunter by calling
_ and education, but a minister of the
Church of Scotland. While yet young
and unsettled in kirk or manse, he had
cast in his lot with a company ef ad-
_ venturous emigrants—old friends and

neighbours going from his native high-
land parish, to cultivate farms for
themselves in the forest-land of Upper
Canada, which the government was
giving in freehold at a nominal value,
by way of encouraging emigration to
the province, which its armies had kept
with such difficulty in the American
war, then just come to a close,

The settlement of St. Clair’s river
began with a great promise of in-
crease and prosperity,—trade was to



Io THE LONELY DOVE

come, and capital to flow into it; but
those brilliant expectations were not
to be realised in the lifetime of its first
inhabitants. The trade did not come,
the capital did not flow; the report
of the wild land and its stern winters
stopped and turned away the stream
of emigration for many a year. The
hardy highlandmen built their homes,
nevertheless, cleared away the forest-
trees around them, cultivated such
crops as the forest-soil would yield,
reared sheep and cattle as hardy as
themselves, and increased their winter
stock of provisions by hunting the
bear, the elk, and the bison.

Most of the settlers had brought
young families with them; sons and
daughters grew up in the wild; the



OF THE HURONS. II

old neighbours formed new relation-
ships by their weddings. My father
got related in that way toan old friend
of his family, whose eldest daughter
he married,.and she was my good
mother. His small congregation one
and all assisted in building for him the
largest log-house in the whole commu-
nity. One end of it was fitted up as
a plain and primitive Presbyterian
church, the other was his manse, or
dwelling; and the fabric stood on the
highest point of a gentle slope, which
his own hands had cleared, in the form
of a semicircle, open to the river and
the south, and on all other sides shut
in by some of the tallest trees of the
mighty forest. |

My father was one of the highland



12 THE LONELY DOVE

Frazers, and they called the place, in
his honour, Frazer’s Clearing, by which
name it is still known, though now a
populous and thriving township. Few
have left behind them in this world
a fairer name than his; for he was a
true Christian and a faithful minister.
His church in the wilderness’ was

lessed with the spirit of devotion and
of concord, not always to be found in
larger communities. He and they
had known each other from childhood;
their memories went back to the same
far highland hills and homesteads; the
trials and hardships of life in the track-
less woods had bound them to each
other. My father regarded his flock
as his larger household; and, next to
the Preserver of men, the highland



OF THE HURONS. 13

settlers looked up to, and confided in,
their minister.

My mother was of one mind with
him in all things, a true and loving
helpmate. They had five children,
of whom I was the eldest; and both
were as kindly careful and considerate
parents as children ever had. An old
but sturdy couple, who had left their
native highlands out of pure attach-
ment to my father, lived with them as
servants, or rather as helpful and
trusty friends; and while I was yet
very young, my mother’s parents, find-
ing themselves too far advanced in
years for farming, left their land to a
married son, and came to live with
them too.

So our family was large, but there



14 THE LONELY DOVE

was plenty of room in the log-house,
and plenty of bread for all. . My
father’s land was considered the best
in the forest. He tilled his fields and
gathered in his harvests with our good
man Robin Ross, and some help from
the men of the settlement; saying that
since the Apostle Paul became a tent-
maker, and Peter and John were fisher-
men, a minister of the Scotch kirk
might well follow husbandry, and there-
by the better understand the meaning
of the parables concerning the sower
that went forth to sow, and the tares
that grew among the wheat.

From the oldest to the youngest in
our house, every hand found employ-
ment. Far from markets and shops
as we were, almost everything had to



OF THE HURONS. 15

be made at home: the clothes we wore,
the candles we burned, the sugar from
the maple-tree, and the salt from the
forest spring. All the Canadian sum-
mer we were busy, in the shade or in
the sun; all the rigorous winter we
were equally busy within fast-closed
doors, and by the blazing hearth, for
stoves were not yet introduced into
the St. Clair settlement; and every
Sunday, summer and winter, found my
father’s flock and family assembled in
the small church which formed one
end of his dwelling, to sing the Scot-
tish psalms which the men of the
Covenant had sung on field and scaf-
fold, and hear the gospel preached
as it had been from Reformation times
in the distant lands of their fathers.



16 THE LONELY DOVE

You may think it was an out-of-the-
world place, and a dull life; but my
happiest years were spent in that
forest home. I see it still in my
dreams, as it looked in the bright
spring days, when the frosts and storms
of winter were fairly gone, and leaf
and blossom, bird and bee, were com-
ing forth to the brilliant sunshine, and
the soft, sweet breeze—the long, low
house, covered with flowering creepers;
the garden, where, among many more
useful plants, my mother cultivated
the blue-bells of Scotland, and my
father a patch of heather; the green
fields lying round, and the carefully
fenced one through which a path led
to the church door, with two or three
grassy mounds and rudely-sculptured



OF THE HURONS. 17

head-stones on either side, showing,
as my father said, where the emigrants
had laid down their sleepers.

It is all changed long ago, and a
large school has been built over a spot
especially dear to my recollection. It
was a mossy bank at the foot of a
great old oak, which my father had
spared in his clearing time, on account
of its size and beauty, where our
largest meadow almost met the forest,
—a place of wild flowers and birds
only to be seen in the American woods,
—of softened shade and floating fra-
grance, where we saw the first tokens
of spring and the latest lingerings of

summer.
It was a favourite haunt with me,

my younger sister, and our three little
2



18 THE LONELY DOVE

brothers. All the genial season of the
year our playtime was spent there.
There we sat to learn our lessons for
my father’s home-school, which he
kept every week-day evening, and our
catechism for the one he kept on Sun-
day. There, too, we used to sit when
I, the oldest, and best reader, was
_trusted with one of the few books in
my father’s very small library which
came within the understanding of the
young,—the “Scotch Worthies,” the
“Pilgrim’s Progress,” “Some Account
of Remarkable Providences,” and,
chief of all, our family Bible, to read
to my little brothers as they sat round
me on that mossy bank, when the old
people were absent, or did not want
us at home.



OF THE HURONS. 19

We were sitting there one Sunday
evening in early spring-time; the day
had been bright and warm; it was a
pleasure for us to be out in the open
fields after the long shutting up winter.
Our father and mother had gone to
see a family on whom the affliction of
sickness —a rare one in the forest
land — had fallen; the old people were
within doors at their own books or talk,
and 1 was reading to my brothers the
story of Moses in the ark of bulrushes,
when Colin, the youngest, who was re-
markably keen of ear and eye, whis-
pered to me, “Look behind you, Jessie.”

I turned my head as he spoke, and
saw within a few steps of us, leaning
against the old oak, and seemingly as

fixed and silent as itself, a girl about
2%



20 THE LONELY DOVE

my own age, which was then thirteen.
She appeared to be taller and much
more slender than I was; her com-
plexion was brown, or rather a light
bronze colour; her face looked strange
to us, like one of a foreign race, yet it
was singularly handsome. Her eyes
were not wild; but their glance was swift
and shy, like that of the forest-bird.
Her long black hair was bound with
a wreath or fillet of bright-coloured
.feathers. She wore buskins of a shape
we had never seen, ornamented with
beads and buttons, a short skirt of
scarlet cloth, and a mantle of velvet-
like fur, the skin of the American fawn;
and round her neck a large necklace,
composed of bright shells, brilliant
stones, and gold and silver coins,



OF THE HURONS. 21

We looked at her in silent astonish-
ment for a minute or two. She looked
at us as if not sure of our intentions
towards her, and then said, slowly,
“Indian daughter want to hear what
the book say to you.”

The tone was strange to our ears,
but the words were plain enough.
Our unexpected visitor was an Indian
girl, We had never seen one of her
race before; but many a tale regarding
them we had heard from our elders.
Years before the St. Clair settlement
was formed the native tribes who then
occupied the forest-land on both sides
of the river had taken part in the
American war, and fought out their
own ancient feuds under cover of
English and American interests.



22 THE LONELY DOVE

A tribe of Hurons had held as part
of their hunting-ground the district in
which our settlement was planted, and
made fierce war for the United States,
by way of avenging themselves on
their old enemies, the Iroquois, who
had taken part with the British. Both
parties committed fearful deeds; but
when peace came at last between
England and America, this Huron
tribe were included in the treaty.
Their territory on St. Clair’s river was
purchased from them in the usual way,
with rifles and blankets, and they re-
tired, first to the United States side of
it, and then far west, to be out of the
reach of white men and their laws,
some of the tribe having good reason
for avoiding both.



OF THE HURONS. 23

Well, we had heard of the Indians,
and not so as to make us wish for
their company; but the young girl,
besides being alone, looked so modest
and gentle, that though we wondered
at her appearance, it did not frighten
us.

“Come and sit down here,” I said,
making room for her on the bank be-
side myself, “and you will hear what
the book says.”

She looked at all our faces for
another minute, as if to be certain that
_we were honestly friendly, and then
came with a step as light and free as
a forest fawn, and took her seat by my
side. 1 suppose it was done in a sim-
ple and childish way, but I explained
to the Indian girl as well as I could



24 THE LONELY DOVE

at the time what book we were read-
ing, and began the story of Moses
again, that she might hear it all.
While I read, her face and figure
remained without motion, in that state
of fixed attention peculiar to the red
race; yet when I had finished, it was
evident she understood the tale better
than she could express in English, for
her words were few and broken. But
we gathered from them that she knew
it was “the white man’s great book”
we were reading; that she had heard
of it from the elders of her tribe, who
had once met with a missionary in their
wanderings; from the fur traders who
often visited her people; and in the
frontier towns and villages of the
United States, to which her father had



_OF THE HURONS. 25

taken her with him when he went to
buy gunpowder and knives, and where .
she learned so much of the white man’s
tongue. We also gathered that her
father was the chief of his tribe, and
she was his only daughter; that she
had six elder brothers, but her mother
was dead; and her own name was
Lanoma, which, as we afterwards
learned, signified in the language of
her people “the Lonely Dove.”







II.

THE HURON CHIEF AND HIS DAUGHTER.

HILE we were yet talking with
the Indian girl, our father and
mother came home. They were



greatly astonished to see her with us,
and came at once to inquire how and
whence she came: but the only answer
they could get was a motion of her
hand in the direction of the river, and
the words, “from far side.” My good
mother invited her into the house to
take supper with us; but she shook



THE LONELY DOVE 27

her head, with “Indian daughter go
home, for night come.”

“T will go with the child,” said my
father, ‘and see her safe to her people.
It is getting dark in the forest already.”

“Let us go with you,” said we five
in a breath, The woods were no
terror to us, especially with our father,
and we were curious to see the Indian
girl’s home.

“Come along,” he said; and along
we went in a body, Lanoma walking on
before so rapidly, that my father him-
self could scarcely keep up with her,
and we were allleft behind. She took
a track which seemed to lead into the
thickest of the forest, and my father

stopped her to inquire how she could
reach the river that way; when out of



28 THE LONELY DOVE

the dense underwood stepped six tall
red Indians, with robes of buffalo
skin, hair stiffened with gum, and
stuck full of eagles’ feathers, and every
one armed with a rifle, a hatchet, and
a long sharp knife.

My father, brave though he was as
any man of highland blood, stepped
back at the sight, while we cowered
behind him; but Lanoma ran to the
Indians, as if glad to see them; and
when she had spoken with them for a
few minutes, they all made us a sort
of bow, and went away through the
forest, while we went back to our
house, knowing that the girl would
now get safe home, but somewhat
troubled at seeing armed Indians
within the bounds of the settlement.



OF THE HURONS, 29

Next morning, when we were sitting
at breakfast, with doors and windows
open to let in the breath of the sweet
spring day, an old Indian stepped in
before we were aware of his coming,
and laid down, almost at my father’s
feet, a basket woven of porcupines’
quills and fine osiers dyed of different
colours, lined with bark, and filled with
valuable furs. Then he stood up and
made a speech in very good English,
though it was spoken in the Indian
manner.

-I do not remember his words, but
their purport was that the basket of
furs was a present, in token of peace,
from the chief of the Huron tribe,
whose name signified the Great Bear -
among the red men, on account of



30 THE LONELY DOVE

the camps he had surprised and the
villages he had laid waste, when out
on the war-path for George Washing-
ton; that having grown old, and wish-
ing to see the hunting-ground of his
fathers once more, the chief had re-
turned with all his Hurons from the
lands of the setting sun, and was now
encamped some miles up the river on
the American side; but that he in-
tended to keep peace and friendship
with the St. Clair’s settlement, pro-
vided its people kept the same with
him and his; and he had sent the
present to my father particularly, be-
cause he and his children had behaved
kindly to the chief’s only daughter,
who was, as the Indian expressed it,
her father’s heart.



OF THE HURONS, 31

Next he took occasion to warn the
whole settlement, through his hearers,
what a terrible enemy the chief would
be to all who offended him or showed
despite to his child; how he had six
sons, all renowned in his wars with the
- western tribes for taking scalps and
the like, and known by such Indian
titles of honour as the Ravening Wolf
and the Rending Vulture; that the
number of his warriors was like that
of the forest trees, and he had made
such sacrifices to the spirit of evil, that
no misfortune could happen to him.

My father replied by thanking the
chief for his presents, assuring the
messenger that he neither expected
nor deserved anything of the kind;
that the chief’s daughter or any of the



32 THE LONELY DOVE

Hurons were free to come and go by
his house and lands; and that being
himself a servant of the Christian’s
God, and a teacher of peace, he would
do all in his power to preserve friend-
ship and good-will between the settlers
and the tribe. After that the Indian
pulled out and lighted his pipe of
peace, which my father smoked, by
way of ratifying the treaty—a custom
indispensable in all Indian alliances,
and one by which the use of tobacco
was first made known to the men of
the old world.

My mother made him accept of a
good breakfast, and both she and my
father would have sent a return of
presents to the Huron chief; but he
solemnly assured them that the Great



OF THE HURONS. . 33

Bear was far above receiving anything
from people who tilled the ground;
and after condescending in a manner
to take a bright red handkerchief and
a good hunting-knife for himself, he
said, “ Let no enemy come near this
house,” and set off over the fields and
through the forest with the speed of a
£06,

As soon as the Indian was gone, my
father set out on a circuit of the settle-
ment. From clearing to clearing, from
house to house he went, apprising the
inhabitants of what new and not very
desirable neighbours they had got,
and counselling them, for the sake of
their safety, and still more for the sake |
of the gospel of peace which they pro-
fessed, to give no cause of offence to

3



34 ' THE LONELY DOVE

the fierce tribe, who still regarded the
St. Clair territory as the hunting-
ground of their fathers. The settlers
as usual took their minister’s advice:
it was the most prudent as well as the
most Christian course, and they found
no difficulty in following it. »

The Huron chief kept his promise ;
neither he nor his people trespassed
on the lands of the white men; and
the latter, having a natural distrust and
dread of the tribe whose former doings
were but too well remembered in the
province, kept so safe a distance from
their track by wood and river, that the
hunting and fishing parties on either
side never came in contact.

Ours was the nearest house to the
Indian camp. From a rising ground



OF THE HURONS. 35

in the forest, but a little way from my
father’s meadow and that favourite
bank of ours, we could see the smoe of
its fires rising out of a sort of natural
clearing open to the river, at a spot
where it could be easily crossed by the
fearless forest race: for great boulder
stones and trunks of submerged trees
stood in a line from bank to bank,
The Indians often crossed in pursuit
of game, but none of them ever came
near our clearing except the chief's
daughter. Day after day we found
her waiting for'us in the shade of the
old oak, or looking out for our ap-
proach from the nearest of the forest
thickets. Shy and gentle in mind and
in manner, the Lonely Dove of the
Hurons seemed to find no companions

ae



36 THE LONELY DOVE

among the young of her own wild
people, and therefore sought associa-
tion with the children of a more refined,
though foreign race. She would join
our sports, if invited, she would help
us to gather forest flowers and plants
for our garden, and she would sit
quietly listening while we learned our
lessons or read our books on the mossy
bank. By-and-by she got well enough
acquainted to come into our house.
All the elders there were kind and
considerate to the motherless Indian
girl Our father and mother, our
grandfather and grandmother, our man
Robin Ross and his good wife Janet—
all made her welcome to our home-
stead and our company, showed her
the ways of civilized life, and helped



OF THE HURONS. 37

to teach her the English tongue, which
they spoke well, though come from a
highland parish.

Lanoma did not learn rapidly. I
think she was more sound of under-
standing than quick of comprehension.
Like all the red race, she was grave
and quiet to a remarkable degree for
one so young, and learned to think
sooner than she learned to speak.
Her first appearance among us had
been while we read the Bible in the
shadow of the old oak; her first words
had been that she wanted to hear what
the Book said to us; and as her know-
ledge of our language and life in-
creased, that simple but earnest wish
was more plainly spoken.

She asked us if it were true that



e

38 THE LONELY DOVE

the white man’s Book could tell the
surest way to the happy hunting-
ground, which her father and the wise
men of the tribe, whose heads were
grey, spoke of at times beside their
council-fire. Her mother had gone
there long ago; but the way she went
must have been hard and long, for
they kept fires burning nine nights
beside her grave to give her light on
the journey. This talk showed even
to us children the gross darkness that
covered her people, and we tried to
teach the Indian girl what we had
learned from the blessed volume,—
which she emphatically called the
white man’s Book, — of the Way, the
Truth, and the Life. We spoke to
her of the love of Jesus, who came to



OF THE HURONS. 39

seek and to save those that were lost—
who lived, and laboured, and died on
the cross, that through faith in His
precious blood our sins might be for-
given. We told her of the grace of
the Holy Spirit, which could renew
and sanctify the human heart.

The elders of the family took a still
deeper interest in Lanoma’s instruction.
Her gentle, quiet, thoughtful ways had
won their hearts; and from the fires
which superstition had lighted beside
her mother’s grave, they tried to lead
her mind to the true light and only
guide to that promised land, of which
the darkened nations in all times have
so dimly dreamt.

My father in particular took every
Opportunity to teach our young and



40 THE LONELY DOVE

interesting visitor the truths of revealed
religion. She had, in common with
all the natives of the American forests,
a sort of natural faith in the Great
Spirit, by whom all good things were
given, and a slavish dread of the evil
power, to whom homage must be paid
and sacrifices offered, to ward off his
malice; but of the Christian’s Saviour
and the Christian’s hope Lanoma knew
nothing. To that hope and to that
Saviour my father endeavoured to
direct the Indian chief’s daughter.
He said it was his commission to
preach the gospel to every creature;
and here was the child of a heathen
tribe sent, he doubted not, bya special
providence, to his house and home in
the wilderness, may be to carry back



OF THE HURONS. 41

the light of Christian faith to the ut-
most bound of her people’s wanderings. -

Missionary enterprise was not so
active and extensive in those days as
it is now; and partly owing to their
roving so far from the dwellings of
civilized men, partly to their known
ferocity and readiness to take offence,
the Hurons had never been visited by
any preacher of the gospel. But my
father’s hopes of sending them the
knowledge of salvation through the
girl that had taken so kindly to his
family seemed to have little prospect ~
of fulfilment. Lanoma listened, after
the manner of her race, patiently and
gravely to all that was told her; but,
between her imperfect knowledge of
English, her Indian mode of thinking,



1f2 THE LONELY DOVE

and his inability to express anything
in the Indian tongue, it seemed scarcely
possible that the truths he taught could
reach the girl’s understanding.

Yet I believe that the power and
promise of the gospel found their way
to her heart at length through a simple
story. Among the graves in the little
churchyard lying in the midst of our
fields there was one planted with
flowers, and marked by a rustic head-
stone, on which my grandfather’s own
hand had cut the name and age of his
youngest daughter, my mother’s only
sister, who had been called from this
world in her fifteenth year. Her
death had happened long before I
was born. It was the: first in the
settlement, and hers was the first



OF THE HURONS. 43

Christian burial, as far as we knew,
ever made in that forest soil.

The girl had been beautiful, her
parents and friends had set their affec-
tions on her beyond the common; but
her own were set on things above. And
well for her that it was so. Though
none had a fairer prospect of long life
and good health, to human eyes, sud-
denly in the leaf-fall of the year she
was seized by that form of rapid con-
sumption which some think is breathed
out of the Canadian woods at that
season, and died almost before her
family could believe that she was going
from them, but died in the blessedness
of those that die in the Lord. Her brief
but blameless life, her happy death,
and the sore sorrow with which that



44 THE LONELY DOVE

first and fairest of the emigrant com-
pany was laid in the alien earth, were
still remembered and talked of in the
settlement. To my mother and her
parents the remembrance was always
green. Time had mellowed their grief,
and faith had taught them to look for
a joyful meeting with her, — not lost,
but early gone before them; and it was
one of their quiet pleasures to train
and trim the flowers upon her grave,
and clear away the moss that might
obscure and cover the inscription on
her head-stone.

Lanoma observed this loving care
of theirs, and in her broken English
asked why they took such pains about
the flowers and the stone, and who was
laid below. Her question was ad-



OF THE HURONS, 45

dressed to my grandmother, with whom
she had become an especial favourite.
Maybe there was something about the
Indian girl which, in spite of the dif-
ference of race and manners, reminded
her of the daughter so sorely missed
and mourned. At any rate, my grand-
mother particularly liked Lanoma; and
taking the opportunity to teach her
something of the Christian doctrine
concerning death and the life to come,
she made the girl sit down by her on
the grass in the soft decline of the
summer day, and told her slowly and
simply, as calm and thoughtful age can
speak to the untaught young, the story
of her own long-departed daughter;
how beautiful she had been, how much
beloved, how wise for her years, how



46 THE LONELY DOVE

good for all time, how active and vigo-
rous she had seemed among her people;
yet sickness and death came upon her.
But the young girl did not fear to die,
because her trust was in the Lord, who
had died for all mankind, that they
might come to a better life beyond the
grave, and He had saved her from all
evil, and taken her home to Himself.
“ Would the Lord save poor Indian
girl, and take her home too? Maybe
He die only for white people?” said
Lanoma, in her broken English. But
my grandmother understood her mean-
ing, and patiently and plainly explained
and made clear to the red man’s child,
accustomed and brought up to believe
in the fixed distinction of tribe and
race, the fulness and freedom of the



OF THE HURONS., 47

great salvation which knows no limit
of colour or clime, people or language.
She made Lanoma understand that
the Lord, of whom she spoke, could
hear the prayers of those who sought
Him in Indian camps, or under the
forest trees, as well as in the white
man’s church, and earnestly counselled
her to seck Him now in the days of
her youth.

Lanoma had always shown peculiar
deference to my grandmother. It is
one of the creditable characteristics of
the Indian tribes, that they respect
and reverence old age; but from that.
time the girl seemed to become at-
tached to her, either out of gratitude
for the truth she had learned from her
beside that early grave, or because the



45 THE LONELY DOVE

memory of her own mother taught the
Lonely Dove of the Hurons to sympa-
thise with one who had lost a daughter
about her own age. With refinement
of feeling scarcely to be expected from
a daughter of the rude and barbarous
hunters of the wild, she would bring
garlands of forest flowers and wreathe
them round the head-stone when no-
body was near to see, and when the
old people went to sit by the grave,
as they often did in summer Sunday
evenings, Lanoma would steal away
from us young folks and sit there too.
We also thought that the girl began
to understand better what she heard
_ us read in the Bible—what my father
preached about in the church—where
she often went with us, and always sat



OF THE HURONS. 49

quiet and attentive—and what was
said at our family worship, where she
frequently knelt among us.

Her goings and comings between
our house and the Indian camp were
free and unchecked as those of her
namesake, the forest dove, might be,
but they were not unguarded. The
chief’s only daughter, said to be her
father’s heart, and with six warrior
brothers, had watchers over her safety
in the continual visits she chose to
make to the nearest of the white set-
tlers. At any hour of the day, but
especially towards evening, those of
our household whose walks or work
happened to bring them nearest to the
forest, would perceive sometimes an
Indian hunter, sometimes a wrinkled

4



50 THE LONELY DOVE .

old squaw, moving about in the shadow,
and keeping a keen eye on our pre-
mises and people. They saw that La-
noma was well and kindly received,
and had neither risk nor hindrance in
her comings to us. I believe the whole
tribe thought we had some extraordi-
nary attraction for her, and this, or it
might be the girl’s talk in our favour,
at length induced her father to send
mine a present of tobacco, together
with a lighted pipe, and word that if
the time were convenient for the wise
man of the white faces, the Great Bear
of the Hurons would come and smoke
with him on the following day. Coming
to smoke, in Indian parlance signifies
a friendly visit, and my father-was
well pleased at the offer: he thought



OF THE HURONS. 51

it might be the beginning of friendly
intercourse between us and the In-
dians, and an opening for gospel light
to shine upon the heathen darkness
of the tribe. He accordingly sent a
friendly and respectful answer, and
my mother put our house in order for
receiving the remarkable visitor. “The
chief is a prince among his people,”
she said, “ and it is but just and right
that we should honour his dignity.”

he





III.

THE DEPARTURE

T the appointed time the Huron
i] chief came, attended by his
six sons, and leading his daughter
by the hand, which I believe was a
peculiar mark of affection for an Indian
chief to show, every trace of the gentler
feelings being considered undignified
and debasing to the red warrior. He
was a noble specimen of his race,—
tall, muscular, and erect as one of his
kindred pines, though at the time
above seventy: there was something





THE LONELY DOVE, 53

majestic in the stately freedom of his
bearing, and the chief’s character was
equally honourable to the forest peo-
ple: he was known to be just and
generous, according to Indian ideas:
his courage was beyond a doubt, and
his faith to promise or treaty could
not be questioned.

His sons were as stalwart men as
himself, but, according to Indian cus-
tom, subdued and silent in the presence
of their father. Fortunately for our
nerves, none of them thought it neces-
sary to appear in their war paint, which
is a fearful sight indeed; but their bus-
kins, especially those of the chief, were
ornamented with everything, from
panthers’ teeth to English guineas.
Each of the sons wore, by way of



54 THE LONELY DOVE

mantle, a scarlet blanket, and a com-
plete assortment of knives and hatchets
stuck in his belt; while the chief, as
became his title, had a cloak of rich
black bear-skin, and a pair of silver-
mounted pistols.

My father and grandfather, as the
chiefs of our house, went out to meet
and welcome them; my mother and
grandmother received them at the door
with all the honours they could think
of, being aware that the Indians are
much given to ceremony, and would
not think themselves respectfully
treated without it. For all their
strange attire and straige appearance,
there was positively something well-
bred about the Huron chief and his
sons: they were of course the gentle-



OF THE HURONS. 55

men of their tribe, and the grave
courtesy with which they entered our
house, and took the chairs set for them
in our best room, would not have dis-
graced the gentlemen of any country.

The chief spoke for all, and to our
great surprise he did so in far better
English than his daughter had yet
learned; probably his frequent inter-
course with American officers and
agents during the war, and his exten-
sive acquaintance with English traders,
might account for this. At any rate,
he expressed his good wishes for my
father and his family, his thanks for
the kindness his daughter had met
with, and his hope that the peace
and friendship which then existed
between the Huron tribe and the



56 THE LONELY DOVE

people of the St. Clair settlement
would be as lasting as the flow of the
river and the coming and fall of leaves.
My father responded in as suitable
terms as he could remember, and
evidently to the chief’s satisfaction.
They conversed for some time con-
cerning the ancient boundaries of the
Huron lands, the probabilities of trade
visiting the settlement, and the service
it would be to the Indians as well as
to the white men, for the hunters could
_then bring their furs to St. Clair, rather
than to the American markets, which
of late were not exactly to their minds.

The chief was a man of great
natural intelligence, and the experience
of his long and roving life had made
his knowledge of men and things con-



OF THE HURONS. 57

siderable. My father observed this,
and having much of the missionary
spirit, as became a preacher of the
gospel, he took the opportunity to point
out that there was something better
than trade to be found in the St. Clair
settlement: poor and remote though
it was, the light of Christianity was
there, and what an everlasting gain it
would be to the Hurons if that light
shone upon them also. “ Your daugh-
ter,’ he said, glancing at Lanoma,
where she sat among us young people
in the background, “ knows something
of the Book and Him who came to save
the red as well as the white man.”
“Tanoma,” said the Indian, without
looking at her, “is the daughter of a
great chief, and will be some great



58 THE LONELY DOVE

chief’s squaw; but she is only a woman,
and Huron warriors are not accus-
tomed to notice the notions of. women
and children. I have heard of this Book
before, and I know what the teachers
of it would make my people—tillers of
the ground and grinders of corn; they
say you must not be ready to go out
on the war-path; you must not seek re-
venge on your enemies ; you must not
take scalps—it is a sin. Do they sup-
pose that Huron warriors are going
to become women at their bidding?
do they think that a mighty chief, the
soundof whose name makes the western
tribes tremble, will lay by the hatchet
and take up the hoe? Wise man of
the white faces, I am the good friend
of you and your people, but the Great



OF THE HURONS. 59

Bear of the Hurons will live as his
fathers lived, and die as his fathers
died, without change and without fear,
singing his death-song, though it should
be in the midst of his enemies.”

As the chief uttered those last words.
in a high, fierce tone, he rose, and so
did his sons, as if to cut short the
interview. My father, fearing to en-
danger the friendly relations between
them and himself, made no reply.
The chief shook hands with all the
elders of our house, including even my
mother and grandmother—I believe it
was an honour which the white women
were expected never to forget—and
took his daughter by the hand once
more. The girl had heard all that
passed, but, Indian like; she gave no



60 THE LONELY DOVE

sign of its effect on her mind; and the
whole party left our house and clearing
exactly as they came.

Weall stood at the door to see them
go, and my father said, with a sigh,
“T had hoped better from the intelli-
gence and understanding of that old
chief; but his barbarous pride stands
in the way of the gospel, as the pride
of man, whether savage or civilised,
is apt to do. It isa pity that so fine
a specimen of the red race should
live and die in the thick darkness
and evil practices of heathenism, on
the very borders of Christian settle-
ments. Had he not been in so fierce
a humour, I should have tried to
reason with him: but it may be that
Providence will grant a better op-



OF ‘THE HURONS. 61

portunity. As he has come to visit
us this time, he may come again, ana
get better acquainted with us and our
ways.”

My father’s expectations in this.
respect were not to be fulfilled.
' Whether the Great Bear of the
Hurons was displeased at the mere
supposition that he might be induced
to accept the white man’s faith, or
jealous of its gaining ground among
his tribe, we could not discover; but
our house and clearing were never
again visited by him, or any of his
people, except Lanoma. Her affection
for us appeared to have undergone no
change, yet she did not come so often
nor stay so long as formerly; and
though she did not say so, we sus-



62 THE LONELY DOVE

pected that her comings were rather
discouraged in the tent at home.

While things were in this state, our
Canadian summer came to its end
with the usual storms of wind and
rain, which bring down the first of the
leaves; and then came that season
of mellowed light and fading woods,
of breezeless days and soft star-lit
nights, known as the Indian summer,
the time when the elk and bison are
found in the greatest plenty and best
condition on the western prairies, and
the red hunters go out to collect
provisions for the winter.

All at once the Huron camp began
to move, the fires were allowed to go
out, the tents were taken down; but
we got the first intelligence of their



OF THE HURONS. 63

going from the chief’s daughter. She
came one morning earlier than usual,
with a perfect package of presents for
every one in our house;—for the men,
snuff-boxes and pipes, curiously made
and ornamented by Indian art; for
the women, work-baskets and pockets,
equally embellished, and neither of
them to be despised in the matter of
beauty or usefulness; and for the
boys and girls, toys, both pretty and
skilfully made.

All these she presented, as she said,
“to keep Indian girl in our minds;”
and then told us that her tribe were
going far away to the hunting-grounds
of the sunset, and she was sorry to
go, and see us no more, nor hear the
Book speak; but may be we would



64 THE LONELY DOVE



not forget Lanoma, and pray the
white man’s Lord not to forget her
€00.

We were sorry to part with the
amiable, gentle girl who had come to
us a stranger, and yet taken such hold
on all our hearts. Unexpected as
her going was, every one of us found
something to give Lanoma by way
of keepsake. She had to be per-
suaded to take every present, except
a small pocket-book from my grand-
mother; and when she had taken
leave of us all, the girl came back
to bid her farewell a second time,
and went away weeping silently and
sore. She left no dry eyes in our
house. My grandmother said, through
her tears, that the good girl had taken



OF THE HURONS. 65

that last farewell of the grey head
which she might not see when another
spring brought her tribe back to the
banks of St. Clair’s river. We all
believed that was Lanoma’s meaning
at the time ; and when she was gone,
we also noticed that a garland, woven
of the last of the forest flowers, was
wreathed about the head-stone which
marked that first grave in our church-
yard.

We missed the Indian girl for many
a day; but days, weeks, and months
passed away, and brought the usual
changes of season, and work, and
play. The stern Canadian winter
went by, with its snows and storms;
the genial spring, the warm summer,
and the busy harvest came and went ;

2



66 THE LONELY DOVE

but there was no return of the
Hurons. Many a time we young peo-
ple went up to the rising ground in
the forest, and strained our eyes in the
direction where their camp had been,
in hopes of seeing the smoke of their
fires ascend once more; but there was
nothing except the dense woods and
the mighty river to be seen.

Many a time we talked of Lanoma
on the mossy bank at the foot of the
great oak, where we had seen her first,
and by the fireside, where she had sat
with us so often. Many a time we
wondered if, according to her father’s
views, she had become a great chief’s
squaw, and taken to the hard work
and unattractive habits of the Indian
women; if she had forgotten all that



OF THE HURONS. | 67

she had learned among us, and sunk
into the superstition and barbarism of
her people; or if some remnant of
that better learning still kept place in
her mind, like a faint light shining in
deep darkness.

My father often lamented that we
had not been able to teach the truths
of Christianity more fully to the
daughter of the Huron chief. He
feared the knowledge she had re-
ceived was too vague and slight to
be of any use or duration. But my
grandmother said, “Let us trust for
her, as we trust for ourselves, in Him
who can make the smallest light
sufficient to guide a sinner to His
cross.”

We had heard nothing of Lanoma,
sn eee



68 THE LONELY DOVE

but we had not forgotten her, when
the quiet current of life in the St.
Clair settlement was troubled by news
of the breaking out of the second
American war. It was terrible in-
telligence for us, living as we were on
the very borders of the enemy’s terri-
tory. Who could tell that an invading
force might not cross the river, and
require us to quit the land or become
citizens of the United States? or, what
was still more to be dreaded in that
back-wood country, might not some
Indian tribe on the American side
choose to possess themselves of lands
and goods by exterminating the British
emigrants, as they had done in former
times to many a settlement stronger
and more populous than ours?



OF THE HURONS. 69

The provincial government could
“spare no troops to protect us, there.
were no defences which our own men
could hold, and the advice of. the
military authorities was that, on the
first approach of either Indians or
Americans, the settlers should at once
pack up and retire with their goods
and families to Kingston, which was
then the nearest garrison. Some of
our people were for taking that step
directly, without running the risk of
a surprise,—a thing to be expected
from the enemies we had to fear;
but others hesitated to leave their
homes and holdings while there was
no actual danger, and for our own
family it was scarcely practicable,

The winter had commenced, and



70 THE LONELY DOVE

with more than usual severity that
year; the sudden and rigorous frost
had brought sickness to our house,
prostrating alike the aged and the
young. Old grandfather and grand-
mother were so ill that they thought
their time was come; and my two
little brothers could only creep out of
bed and sit by the fires How were
they to travel in the only conveyance
we had, a rough waggon, all the way
to Kingston, through miles and miles
of a wild forest track, where there
wasno surface fit for the more easy
and rapid sleigh ?

“ Go, all you that think it best to do
so,” said my father to the men of the
settlement assembled in our little
church, the only town-hall or council



OF THE HURONS. 7.

room they had. “I advise no man to
stay; for the enemy may be nearer
than we think. But, with my helpless
sick, it would be folly to move, except
we were driven out. I have clearky
a call from Providence to remain, and
put my trust in Him who can make
all things work together for good to
them that love Him.”

“We will not leave you, minister,”
cried all the men ina breath. “If it
is needful for you to stay, as it clearly
is, we will stay too. We have come
from Scotland together, and we will
live or die together, as the Disposer
of lots may determine.” From that
resolution they could not be moved,
though my father advised them to
consider chiefly their own and their



72 THE LONELY DOVE

families’ safety, and leave him and his
to the Hand that protected Daniel in
the lions’ den, and Moses in the ark
of bulrushes on the great river of
Egypt.

They were hardy and determined
men, accustomed to the perils of the
wilderness and that practical reliance
on the everlasting arm which the man
left alone with nature and Providence
is most apt to realise. Moreover, they
were sincerely attached to their min-
ister; he was old friend, as well as
pastor to them all. Go he could not,
and go without him they would not;
and when he and they had sung a psalm
and prayed together, like their Cove-
nanted ancestors in old and perilous
times, it was agreed that all should



OF THE HURONS. . 73

remain, and every man take his turn of
acting as scout for the settlement, to
give warning of the first approach of
the enemy, that it might not be fallen
upon unawares, but minister and flock
have time to take what measures they
could for parley or flight, according
as the invader happened to be Indian
or American.

wy





IV.

THE LAST RESTING-PLACE.



ELL I remember the long nights
and dreary days of that fearful
winter, — how our scouts went out
through cold and storm, and my father
among the rest; for he would take
his turn, being as brave a backwoods-
man as any in the settlement. Robin
Ross generally went with him. It
was thought best that no scout should
go far out alone, as a single man might
be easily surprised and cut off by the
wily Indians ; and when they were both



THE LONELY DOVE. 75

gone, we at home would startle at the
blast howling through the forest trees,
and think we heard the sound of coming
hoofs or the war-cry of the red men
mingling with it.

It was a weary and an anxious time,
yet good came out of its evil: their
common danger drew the settlers
more closely together. There had
been always good neighbourhood and
good feeling in the little colony; but
the fears and the duties of the time
made them and their families meet
more frequently, and know each other
better. Their common danger had
also the effect of deepening on all
their minds the serious impressions of
their Scottish teaching.

A sort of religious revival came ove?



76 THE LONELY DOVE

the St. Clair settlement,—not with the
fervid and temporary excitement which
too often passes for the like in towns
and populous places, but with a calm
and earnest lifting up of hearts and
hopes to the things unseen and eternal,
and to Him who is a very present help
in times of trouble. Besides our Sun-
day services, we had prayer-meetings
for protection against the threatened
peril; and the small congregation
prayed in our rustic church with watch-
men and watchfires on all the heights
around.
These precautions were prudent and
natural under the circumstances; but as
the winter wore on they appeared to
be unnecessary,—our scouts discovered
no sign of either Indian or American



OF THE HURONS, ve

invaders. The little news we got of
the war proved that its scenes were
far south of our borders; and as
the heavy snow-falls became more
frequent, and the frost increased in
rigour, our harassed men willingly gave
up their watchings and wanderings in
the forest for the occupations and com-
forts of their own firesides. Sometimes
the hardiest or most anxious would go
out on clear days for what they called
along prospect in the woods, or towards
the inhabited country about Kingston,
to learn the news ; but all the prospects
and all the news they got being of a
satisfactory character, the outgoings
and inquiries slackened, and some-
thing like the old feeling of quiet and
security returned to the settlement,



78 THE LONELY DOVE

Thus the Christmas time, the new
year,and the stormy Candlemas passed.
We were looking forward to the spring,
for which people in the backwoods have
a warmer welcome than the dwellers in
towns and cities. My little brothers
had grown strong and well again, old
grandfather and grandmother were
able to take their accustomed seats
at our warm fireside, my father and
mother were looking less anxious,
my sister and myself were no longer
frightened by every moan of the wind,
and our home was cheerful and thrifty
as of old.

It was a beautiful evening for the
season of the year. A light snowfall
on the preceding day had whitened
the ground and sprinkled the forest



OF THE HURONS, 79

trees; the river in front of our clear-
ing was still one sheet of ice; but the
air was calm and soft, and a clear,
cloudless sky made the lengthening
day last still longer, till its fading
twilight met and mingled with the
radiance of a bright full moon. Our
outer door was on the latch, and we
had not shut the windows, when we
all sat down to supper by the light of
our evening fire; my father was lifting
up his hands to ask a blessing on the
meal; but suddenly he paused, and
stood as if listening. We all listened
too. There was a sound of mingled
voices and cries on the air, but indis-
tinct and wild as those of the swan and
other water-fowls, in their annual migra-
tions to and from the great lakes.



80 THE LONELY DOVE

“They seldom fly so late; but I'll
see what it is,’ said Robin Ross;
and he stepped out at once. We sat
for a minute or two in silence. The
sounds seemed to come nearer, and
- Robin rushed in with a face as white
as a sheet, exclaiming, “It’s the
Indians, and they are coming down
the clearing right upon the house!”

“May God have mercy upon us!”
said my father, as he ran to the door.
Before or since I never felt anything
like the fear of that moment. I was
young and weak-hearted; but I think
the same feeling paralysed us all, for
not one spoke except my grand-
mother, whom I heard praying for
us in a low tone. In a few minutes
my father came back, and there was



OF THE HURONS. 81

relief in his look. “Children,” he
said, “it is the Hurons, and I think
they mean us no harm. They are
coming on slowly, and their women
are with them, carrying something
covered on a sort of litter, which
they are wailing over with those
mournful cries you hear. Perhaps
it is some superstitious ceremony they
are coming to perform in this their
ancient land, and we had better keep
out of sight.”

As he spake, there came a sound
of steps outside, and then a long low
knocking at our door. My father
opened it without a word, for he knew
that defence would be impossible, and
into the light of our blazing fire
stepped Lanoma’s father, the dreaded

6



82 THE LONELY DOVE

chief of the Hurons. One glance,
even in the midst of our fears, served
to show us how far the Indian was
changed since we saw him last. His
tall figure was bowed as if with the
burden of age or sickness, his step
had lost its pride and its freedom,
and a. more sorrow-stricken face I
never saw.

“Wise man of the. white faces,”
he said, addressing my father, “I have
come to ask you for a grave wherein
to lay my daughter; my Lonely
Dove has gone from me, and the
light of my life has gone with her.
I know not if it were He that called
her in spite of all our medicine men,
but she believed in the God of whom
you told her, and in that Lord of



OF THE HURONS, 83

whom you said that He died upon the
cross for all people. So because she
had learned of them from you and
your house, she wished to be laid
among your people by the grave of
flowers, where the grey heads sit in
the summer time: it was her last
request, and I have brought her from
beyond the lake of the woods. Wise
man of the white faces, will you give
her a grave ?”

My father took the old chief by the
hand before he had done speaking,
and led him to a seat; the tears were
in his own eyes, and most of us were
weeping outright; it was a strange
and sudden transition from terror to
grief, but the death of poor Lanoma,
our forest friend, our household

6 *



84 THE LONELY DOVE

visitor, unexpected as it was, and
the sorrow of her bereaved father,
smote on all our hearts. The Indian
saw that we were grieving for his
daughter, and the sight overcame the
rigid nature of his race. He turned
away from the light, bowed his head
upon his hands, and swayed to and
_ fro like an oak driven by the tempest,
while his whole tribe stopped at our
door, laid down the bier, and the wild
wail of the women rose more shrill
and piercing on the calm and moonlit
night.

‘Blessed are the dead who die in
the Lord,” said my father, as soon as
he recovered himself; “she believed
in Him of whom she had heard so
faintly, and He is able to redeem



OF THE HURONS. 85

out of every kindred, and tongue, and
people, and nation, and language.
Chief, we will lay your daughter
beside the child of our own kindred—
who also remembered her Creator in
the days of her youth, and was early
summoned to the better land—in the
grave which she so often decked with
flowers, and sat by in summer even-
ings. We know that the Lord in
whom she trusted has taken her to
Himself in lovingkindness, but we
grieve because she can come to us
no more, and for you, because you
have lost your child.”

“Wise man, I thank you,” said the
chief; “when the daylight returns we
will make a Christian funeral for my
daughter. She wished to be laid



86 THE LONELY DOVE

dewn among the white people, and in
their manner. I promised it, and our
men made a cedar coffin for her, that
she might go to the grave in as good
a fashion as any of them. Will you
send and tell your people to come
and show respect, as they do at their
own burials ?”

My father directly sent off Robin
Ross to apprise the settlers of what
had happened, and summon them all
to the funeral next morning. It was
a natural and proper tribute to the
feelings and affection of the. poor old
chief; he knew how Christian funerals
were attended, and he wished to see
the same respectful attention to the
burial of his only daughter. We
could not persuade him to remain



OF THE HURONS. 87

in our house for the night, though
we offered him and his sons every
accommodation we could afford: they
went out to a tent which the tribe had
pitched over Lanoma’s bier. They
sat in its shadow the greater part
of the night: my father, my mother,
and our old people sat with them;
the rest of the tribe pitched other
tents, lighted fires, unpacked their
baggage, and held a sort of funeral
feast, but it was held with great
gravity and almost in silence, except
when the mourning women who sat
behind the bier raised that wild wail
of theirs, as it seemed, at appointed
intervals throughout the night.

Early in the morning the settlers
assembled. Young and old came in



88 THE LONELY DOVE

a body to our clearing, and a touching
sight it was to see the red and the
white people alike: gathered round
poor Lanoma’s coffin, while my father
read an appropriate chapter in the
Bible, prayed for the mourners, and
delivered a short address on the un-
certainty of this life, and the import-
ance of preparing for the life to come.
Then the six brothers took up the
cedar coffin and laid it in the grave,
which a sturdy old settler, who acted
as our sexton, had opened overnight.
Every brother and nearly all the tribe
uttered some words in their own
language over it, which we believed
to be a form of farewell to the dead.
The old chief spoke last, and though
we could not guess the meaning of



OF THE HURONS. 89

his words, his voice told us that they
came from a broken heart. The
mourning women raised their wild
wail once more; the sexton heaped
the earth above the dead, replaced
the flower-covered turf and the simple
headstone, on which they soon after
inscribed her name; and Lanoma
rested with the young girl of a differ-
ent race whose story had first opened
to her mind a knowledge of the way
of salvation through faith in Christ
Jesus.

My father preached her funeral
sermon in the churchyard, for our
small church could not contain the
congregation of settlers and Indians.
Few of the latter understood a single
word of it, but they listened in the



go THE LONELY DOVE

grave and silent manner of their race,
and were pleased at the respect shown
to their chief’s daughter. The gentle,
patient girl was evidently as much
missed by the rude tribe as she had
been by ourselves.

When all the solemnities were over,
the chief announced his intention of
encamping on the old ground beside
the river, in order to protect the
settlement from any hostile incursion
which might be attempted during the
war. He said his heart was now laid
in the white man’s land, and no enemy
should set foot upon it. He and his
people encamped accordingly, and to
the knowledge of their presence and
friendship for the settlers our safety
was probably owing. Fortunately,



OF THE TURONS. gI

the war did not last long; it began
and ended within two years. May
we never see another between Eng-
Jand and America; may peace ever
unite the two countries !

But to return tomy story. The tribe
encamped on their old ground on the
American side of St. Clair river, and
by the very same ford which Lanoma
used to cross, the old chief came
every day to sit beside her grave.

There we found him in nearly all
weathers, seated on the grass with his
head bowed upon his hands, and there
our, old people at length began to
speak to him as they had spoken to
his daughter; but she that was dead
yet spake in his memory. The Indian
girl, whom we thought so imperfectly



g2 THE LONELY DOVE

instructed, had been able to impart
to her father in her dying days the
saving truths of Christianity, on which
her own faith had taken hold. The
Huron leader was a man of singular
intelligence: his great loss made him
think as probably he had never thought
before. Old prejudices were broken
down by the new sorrow ; the recollec-
tion of ‘his child’s dying words pre-
pared his mind to receive the teaching
by which she had learned, and at last
the proud barbarian became a humble
Christian, and then a member of my
father’s church in the wilderness. He |
did much to spread the knowledge of
the gospel among his own tribe, and
some of them, especially his sons,
seemed to profit by the old chief's



OF THE HURONS, 93

exhortations, for they gave up many
of their heathenish and barbarous cus-
toms, and promised to go on the war-
path no more if they could help it.
When peace was fully restored, and
the usual time had come for the
Hurons to go westward on _ their
hunting expeditions, the chief took
a kindly and solemn farewell of all
our family, saying we had been the
best friends he ever knew, but he
should see our faces no more till the
meeting time in our Father’s house
above. We hoped better, but his
prediction was fulfilled. When his
tribe returned in the following spring
to St. Clair’s river, they brought with
them his coffin, as they had brought
that of his daughter; and in com-



94 THE LONELY DOVE

pliance with his last request, made
known to us by his sons, the once
dreaded chief of the Hurons was laid
beside his much beloved and lamented
Lanoma. A simple gravestone marks
their resting-place; it is covered with
names now—my aged grandfather
and grandmother, my own honoured
father and mother, Robin Ross and
his good Janet sleep there. There
is an inscription which testifies of
Him who is the Resurrection and the
Life, and who has promised that
because He lives His people shall live
also. The small churchyard has now
become a large cemetery; a hand-
some country church occupies the
site of the log-house wuere my young
days were spent; the sister and



OF THE HURONS. 95

brothers who shared that home with
me are old people like myself, and
looking forward to the passing over
Jordan and entering on the promised
land; but when we meet together and
talk of old times and places, there still
returns to us, fresh and sweet as the
breath of forest flowers, some memory *
of the Indian’s daughter.



UNWIN BROTHERS, PRINTERS, CHILWORTH AND LONBON.



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THE LONELY DOVE.
THE LONELY DOVE

OF

THE HURONS,



Hondo t
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY,
56, PATERNOSTER ROW; 65, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD }
. AND 164, PICCADILLY:

100, CORPORATION STREET, MANCHESTER 3
31, WESTERN ROAD, BRIGHTON.
The Gresham Press,
UNWIN BROTHERS, CHILWORTH AND LONDON,


CONTENTS.

iL

‘HOME IN THE. NEW SETTLEMENT...

IL,

THE HURON CHIEF AND HIS DAUGHTER

ITI.

THE DEPARTURE ee vse ee eve

TV.

THE LAST RESTING: PLACK ue an

ans

26

52

4


THE LONELY DOVE

OF

THE - HURONS.

I,

HOME IN THE NEW SETTLEMENT.

ME years ago there lived in



Kingston, Upper Canada, an
old lady, whose father had been one
of the earliest settlers in the west-
ern part of that province. She was
a woman of good sense and sincere
piety, and being blessed with the
retention of her faculties in complete
6 THE LONELY DOVE

preservation to the close of her long
life, her conversation was both edifying
and entertaining to the wiser part of
the young generation round her. The
changes of times and ways in that new
world of the west, within the memory
of its aged inhabitants, are greater than
could be well imagined in our old
Europe. She had seen hunters go
out in pursuit of the elk and the bear,
to districts now covered with farm
fields and orchards, and the giant trees
of a primeval forest growing where
busy towns and thriving villages now
~ stand, full of the life and labours of civil-
ized man. The old lady’s memory was
strong and clear, and could take a back-
ward journey of seventy years. She
had come to the time of remembering
OF THE HURONS. 7

.as people do when they sit down in
the late and quiet evening of life.

It was pleasant to her to relate the
experiences, and return to the scenes
of her youth, which time had'so altered
and effaced. Manya tale of those old
adventurous days, when the first hardy
settlers cleft their way westward
through the ancient pine forests, did
her young Kingston friends gather
round to hear; but more especially she
took pleasure in recounting to them the
wonderful works of Him in whom her
trust was placed—how His providence
_had preserved those that were ready..
to perish, and made the light of
Christian faith and hope to shine on
the dark places of the land. One most
_ striking, though simple, illustration of
8 THE LONELY DOVE

this providential care she was accus-
tomed to tell in the following man-
ner :—

It is now sixty years since I was
a young girl in my father’s house on
the banks of St. Clair’s river, as they
call that part of the great St. Lawrence
which flows from Lake Huron to Lake
St. Clair. The district is all farms and
villages now, with law-courts and mar-
ket-places, schools and churches; but
at the time of which I speak it was
one wide forest, without highway or
hamlet, but with solitary clearings few
and far apart, with rudely-fenced and
half-reclaimed fields surrounding the
low log-houses of the earliest settlers,
who lived partly by farming and Bae
by hunting.
OF THE HURONS. 9

My father was one of them, though
_ neither farmer nor hunter by calling
_ and education, but a minister of the
Church of Scotland. While yet young
and unsettled in kirk or manse, he had
cast in his lot with a company ef ad-
_ venturous emigrants—old friends and

neighbours going from his native high-
land parish, to cultivate farms for
themselves in the forest-land of Upper
Canada, which the government was
giving in freehold at a nominal value,
by way of encouraging emigration to
the province, which its armies had kept
with such difficulty in the American
war, then just come to a close,

The settlement of St. Clair’s river
began with a great promise of in-
crease and prosperity,—trade was to
Io THE LONELY DOVE

come, and capital to flow into it; but
those brilliant expectations were not
to be realised in the lifetime of its first
inhabitants. The trade did not come,
the capital did not flow; the report
of the wild land and its stern winters
stopped and turned away the stream
of emigration for many a year. The
hardy highlandmen built their homes,
nevertheless, cleared away the forest-
trees around them, cultivated such
crops as the forest-soil would yield,
reared sheep and cattle as hardy as
themselves, and increased their winter
stock of provisions by hunting the
bear, the elk, and the bison.

Most of the settlers had brought
young families with them; sons and
daughters grew up in the wild; the
OF THE HURONS. II

old neighbours formed new relation-
ships by their weddings. My father
got related in that way toan old friend
of his family, whose eldest daughter
he married,.and she was my good
mother. His small congregation one
and all assisted in building for him the
largest log-house in the whole commu-
nity. One end of it was fitted up as
a plain and primitive Presbyterian
church, the other was his manse, or
dwelling; and the fabric stood on the
highest point of a gentle slope, which
his own hands had cleared, in the form
of a semicircle, open to the river and
the south, and on all other sides shut
in by some of the tallest trees of the
mighty forest. |

My father was one of the highland
12 THE LONELY DOVE

Frazers, and they called the place, in
his honour, Frazer’s Clearing, by which
name it is still known, though now a
populous and thriving township. Few
have left behind them in this world
a fairer name than his; for he was a
true Christian and a faithful minister.
His church in the wilderness’ was

lessed with the spirit of devotion and
of concord, not always to be found in
larger communities. He and they
had known each other from childhood;
their memories went back to the same
far highland hills and homesteads; the
trials and hardships of life in the track-
less woods had bound them to each
other. My father regarded his flock
as his larger household; and, next to
the Preserver of men, the highland
OF THE HURONS. 13

settlers looked up to, and confided in,
their minister.

My mother was of one mind with
him in all things, a true and loving
helpmate. They had five children,
of whom I was the eldest; and both
were as kindly careful and considerate
parents as children ever had. An old
but sturdy couple, who had left their
native highlands out of pure attach-
ment to my father, lived with them as
servants, or rather as helpful and
trusty friends; and while I was yet
very young, my mother’s parents, find-
ing themselves too far advanced in
years for farming, left their land to a
married son, and came to live with
them too.

So our family was large, but there
14 THE LONELY DOVE

was plenty of room in the log-house,
and plenty of bread for all. . My
father’s land was considered the best
in the forest. He tilled his fields and
gathered in his harvests with our good
man Robin Ross, and some help from
the men of the settlement; saying that
since the Apostle Paul became a tent-
maker, and Peter and John were fisher-
men, a minister of the Scotch kirk
might well follow husbandry, and there-
by the better understand the meaning
of the parables concerning the sower
that went forth to sow, and the tares
that grew among the wheat.

From the oldest to the youngest in
our house, every hand found employ-
ment. Far from markets and shops
as we were, almost everything had to
OF THE HURONS. 15

be made at home: the clothes we wore,
the candles we burned, the sugar from
the maple-tree, and the salt from the
forest spring. All the Canadian sum-
mer we were busy, in the shade or in
the sun; all the rigorous winter we
were equally busy within fast-closed
doors, and by the blazing hearth, for
stoves were not yet introduced into
the St. Clair settlement; and every
Sunday, summer and winter, found my
father’s flock and family assembled in
the small church which formed one
end of his dwelling, to sing the Scot-
tish psalms which the men of the
Covenant had sung on field and scaf-
fold, and hear the gospel preached
as it had been from Reformation times
in the distant lands of their fathers.
16 THE LONELY DOVE

You may think it was an out-of-the-
world place, and a dull life; but my
happiest years were spent in that
forest home. I see it still in my
dreams, as it looked in the bright
spring days, when the frosts and storms
of winter were fairly gone, and leaf
and blossom, bird and bee, were com-
ing forth to the brilliant sunshine, and
the soft, sweet breeze—the long, low
house, covered with flowering creepers;
the garden, where, among many more
useful plants, my mother cultivated
the blue-bells of Scotland, and my
father a patch of heather; the green
fields lying round, and the carefully
fenced one through which a path led
to the church door, with two or three
grassy mounds and rudely-sculptured
OF THE HURONS. 17

head-stones on either side, showing,
as my father said, where the emigrants
had laid down their sleepers.

It is all changed long ago, and a
large school has been built over a spot
especially dear to my recollection. It
was a mossy bank at the foot of a
great old oak, which my father had
spared in his clearing time, on account
of its size and beauty, where our
largest meadow almost met the forest,
—a place of wild flowers and birds
only to be seen in the American woods,
—of softened shade and floating fra-
grance, where we saw the first tokens
of spring and the latest lingerings of

summer.
It was a favourite haunt with me,

my younger sister, and our three little
2
18 THE LONELY DOVE

brothers. All the genial season of the
year our playtime was spent there.
There we sat to learn our lessons for
my father’s home-school, which he
kept every week-day evening, and our
catechism for the one he kept on Sun-
day. There, too, we used to sit when
I, the oldest, and best reader, was
_trusted with one of the few books in
my father’s very small library which
came within the understanding of the
young,—the “Scotch Worthies,” the
“Pilgrim’s Progress,” “Some Account
of Remarkable Providences,” and,
chief of all, our family Bible, to read
to my little brothers as they sat round
me on that mossy bank, when the old
people were absent, or did not want
us at home.
OF THE HURONS. 19

We were sitting there one Sunday
evening in early spring-time; the day
had been bright and warm; it was a
pleasure for us to be out in the open
fields after the long shutting up winter.
Our father and mother had gone to
see a family on whom the affliction of
sickness —a rare one in the forest
land — had fallen; the old people were
within doors at their own books or talk,
and 1 was reading to my brothers the
story of Moses in the ark of bulrushes,
when Colin, the youngest, who was re-
markably keen of ear and eye, whis-
pered to me, “Look behind you, Jessie.”

I turned my head as he spoke, and
saw within a few steps of us, leaning
against the old oak, and seemingly as

fixed and silent as itself, a girl about
2%
20 THE LONELY DOVE

my own age, which was then thirteen.
She appeared to be taller and much
more slender than I was; her com-
plexion was brown, or rather a light
bronze colour; her face looked strange
to us, like one of a foreign race, yet it
was singularly handsome. Her eyes
were not wild; but their glance was swift
and shy, like that of the forest-bird.
Her long black hair was bound with
a wreath or fillet of bright-coloured
.feathers. She wore buskins of a shape
we had never seen, ornamented with
beads and buttons, a short skirt of
scarlet cloth, and a mantle of velvet-
like fur, the skin of the American fawn;
and round her neck a large necklace,
composed of bright shells, brilliant
stones, and gold and silver coins,
OF THE HURONS. 21

We looked at her in silent astonish-
ment for a minute or two. She looked
at us as if not sure of our intentions
towards her, and then said, slowly,
“Indian daughter want to hear what
the book say to you.”

The tone was strange to our ears,
but the words were plain enough.
Our unexpected visitor was an Indian
girl, We had never seen one of her
race before; but many a tale regarding
them we had heard from our elders.
Years before the St. Clair settlement
was formed the native tribes who then
occupied the forest-land on both sides
of the river had taken part in the
American war, and fought out their
own ancient feuds under cover of
English and American interests.
22 THE LONELY DOVE

A tribe of Hurons had held as part
of their hunting-ground the district in
which our settlement was planted, and
made fierce war for the United States,
by way of avenging themselves on
their old enemies, the Iroquois, who
had taken part with the British. Both
parties committed fearful deeds; but
when peace came at last between
England and America, this Huron
tribe were included in the treaty.
Their territory on St. Clair’s river was
purchased from them in the usual way,
with rifles and blankets, and they re-
tired, first to the United States side of
it, and then far west, to be out of the
reach of white men and their laws,
some of the tribe having good reason
for avoiding both.
OF THE HURONS. 23

Well, we had heard of the Indians,
and not so as to make us wish for
their company; but the young girl,
besides being alone, looked so modest
and gentle, that though we wondered
at her appearance, it did not frighten
us.

“Come and sit down here,” I said,
making room for her on the bank be-
side myself, “and you will hear what
the book says.”

She looked at all our faces for
another minute, as if to be certain that
_we were honestly friendly, and then
came with a step as light and free as
a forest fawn, and took her seat by my
side. 1 suppose it was done in a sim-
ple and childish way, but I explained
to the Indian girl as well as I could
24 THE LONELY DOVE

at the time what book we were read-
ing, and began the story of Moses
again, that she might hear it all.
While I read, her face and figure
remained without motion, in that state
of fixed attention peculiar to the red
race; yet when I had finished, it was
evident she understood the tale better
than she could express in English, for
her words were few and broken. But
we gathered from them that she knew
it was “the white man’s great book”
we were reading; that she had heard
of it from the elders of her tribe, who
had once met with a missionary in their
wanderings; from the fur traders who
often visited her people; and in the
frontier towns and villages of the
United States, to which her father had
_OF THE HURONS. 25

taken her with him when he went to
buy gunpowder and knives, and where .
she learned so much of the white man’s
tongue. We also gathered that her
father was the chief of his tribe, and
she was his only daughter; that she
had six elder brothers, but her mother
was dead; and her own name was
Lanoma, which, as we afterwards
learned, signified in the language of
her people “the Lonely Dove.”




II.

THE HURON CHIEF AND HIS DAUGHTER.

HILE we were yet talking with
the Indian girl, our father and
mother came home. They were



greatly astonished to see her with us,
and came at once to inquire how and
whence she came: but the only answer
they could get was a motion of her
hand in the direction of the river, and
the words, “from far side.” My good
mother invited her into the house to
take supper with us; but she shook
THE LONELY DOVE 27

her head, with “Indian daughter go
home, for night come.”

“T will go with the child,” said my
father, ‘and see her safe to her people.
It is getting dark in the forest already.”

“Let us go with you,” said we five
in a breath, The woods were no
terror to us, especially with our father,
and we were curious to see the Indian
girl’s home.

“Come along,” he said; and along
we went in a body, Lanoma walking on
before so rapidly, that my father him-
self could scarcely keep up with her,
and we were allleft behind. She took
a track which seemed to lead into the
thickest of the forest, and my father

stopped her to inquire how she could
reach the river that way; when out of
28 THE LONELY DOVE

the dense underwood stepped six tall
red Indians, with robes of buffalo
skin, hair stiffened with gum, and
stuck full of eagles’ feathers, and every
one armed with a rifle, a hatchet, and
a long sharp knife.

My father, brave though he was as
any man of highland blood, stepped
back at the sight, while we cowered
behind him; but Lanoma ran to the
Indians, as if glad to see them; and
when she had spoken with them for a
few minutes, they all made us a sort
of bow, and went away through the
forest, while we went back to our
house, knowing that the girl would
now get safe home, but somewhat
troubled at seeing armed Indians
within the bounds of the settlement.
OF THE HURONS, 29

Next morning, when we were sitting
at breakfast, with doors and windows
open to let in the breath of the sweet
spring day, an old Indian stepped in
before we were aware of his coming,
and laid down, almost at my father’s
feet, a basket woven of porcupines’
quills and fine osiers dyed of different
colours, lined with bark, and filled with
valuable furs. Then he stood up and
made a speech in very good English,
though it was spoken in the Indian
manner.

-I do not remember his words, but
their purport was that the basket of
furs was a present, in token of peace,
from the chief of the Huron tribe,
whose name signified the Great Bear -
among the red men, on account of
30 THE LONELY DOVE

the camps he had surprised and the
villages he had laid waste, when out
on the war-path for George Washing-
ton; that having grown old, and wish-
ing to see the hunting-ground of his
fathers once more, the chief had re-
turned with all his Hurons from the
lands of the setting sun, and was now
encamped some miles up the river on
the American side; but that he in-
tended to keep peace and friendship
with the St. Clair’s settlement, pro-
vided its people kept the same with
him and his; and he had sent the
present to my father particularly, be-
cause he and his children had behaved
kindly to the chief’s only daughter,
who was, as the Indian expressed it,
her father’s heart.
OF THE HURONS, 31

Next he took occasion to warn the
whole settlement, through his hearers,
what a terrible enemy the chief would
be to all who offended him or showed
despite to his child; how he had six
sons, all renowned in his wars with the
- western tribes for taking scalps and
the like, and known by such Indian
titles of honour as the Ravening Wolf
and the Rending Vulture; that the
number of his warriors was like that
of the forest trees, and he had made
such sacrifices to the spirit of evil, that
no misfortune could happen to him.

My father replied by thanking the
chief for his presents, assuring the
messenger that he neither expected
nor deserved anything of the kind;
that the chief’s daughter or any of the
32 THE LONELY DOVE

Hurons were free to come and go by
his house and lands; and that being
himself a servant of the Christian’s
God, and a teacher of peace, he would
do all in his power to preserve friend-
ship and good-will between the settlers
and the tribe. After that the Indian
pulled out and lighted his pipe of
peace, which my father smoked, by
way of ratifying the treaty—a custom
indispensable in all Indian alliances,
and one by which the use of tobacco
was first made known to the men of
the old world.

My mother made him accept of a
good breakfast, and both she and my
father would have sent a return of
presents to the Huron chief; but he
solemnly assured them that the Great
OF THE HURONS. . 33

Bear was far above receiving anything
from people who tilled the ground;
and after condescending in a manner
to take a bright red handkerchief and
a good hunting-knife for himself, he
said, “ Let no enemy come near this
house,” and set off over the fields and
through the forest with the speed of a
£06,

As soon as the Indian was gone, my
father set out on a circuit of the settle-
ment. From clearing to clearing, from
house to house he went, apprising the
inhabitants of what new and not very
desirable neighbours they had got,
and counselling them, for the sake of
their safety, and still more for the sake |
of the gospel of peace which they pro-
fessed, to give no cause of offence to

3
34 ' THE LONELY DOVE

the fierce tribe, who still regarded the
St. Clair territory as the hunting-
ground of their fathers. The settlers
as usual took their minister’s advice:
it was the most prudent as well as the
most Christian course, and they found
no difficulty in following it. »

The Huron chief kept his promise ;
neither he nor his people trespassed
on the lands of the white men; and
the latter, having a natural distrust and
dread of the tribe whose former doings
were but too well remembered in the
province, kept so safe a distance from
their track by wood and river, that the
hunting and fishing parties on either
side never came in contact.

Ours was the nearest house to the
Indian camp. From a rising ground
OF THE HURONS. 35

in the forest, but a little way from my
father’s meadow and that favourite
bank of ours, we could see the smoe of
its fires rising out of a sort of natural
clearing open to the river, at a spot
where it could be easily crossed by the
fearless forest race: for great boulder
stones and trunks of submerged trees
stood in a line from bank to bank,
The Indians often crossed in pursuit
of game, but none of them ever came
near our clearing except the chief's
daughter. Day after day we found
her waiting for'us in the shade of the
old oak, or looking out for our ap-
proach from the nearest of the forest
thickets. Shy and gentle in mind and
in manner, the Lonely Dove of the
Hurons seemed to find no companions

ae
36 THE LONELY DOVE

among the young of her own wild
people, and therefore sought associa-
tion with the children of a more refined,
though foreign race. She would join
our sports, if invited, she would help
us to gather forest flowers and plants
for our garden, and she would sit
quietly listening while we learned our
lessons or read our books on the mossy
bank. By-and-by she got well enough
acquainted to come into our house.
All the elders there were kind and
considerate to the motherless Indian
girl Our father and mother, our
grandfather and grandmother, our man
Robin Ross and his good wife Janet—
all made her welcome to our home-
stead and our company, showed her
the ways of civilized life, and helped
OF THE HURONS. 37

to teach her the English tongue, which
they spoke well, though come from a
highland parish.

Lanoma did not learn rapidly. I
think she was more sound of under-
standing than quick of comprehension.
Like all the red race, she was grave
and quiet to a remarkable degree for
one so young, and learned to think
sooner than she learned to speak.
Her first appearance among us had
been while we read the Bible in the
shadow of the old oak; her first words
had been that she wanted to hear what
the Book said to us; and as her know-
ledge of our language and life in-
creased, that simple but earnest wish
was more plainly spoken.

She asked us if it were true that
e

38 THE LONELY DOVE

the white man’s Book could tell the
surest way to the happy hunting-
ground, which her father and the wise
men of the tribe, whose heads were
grey, spoke of at times beside their
council-fire. Her mother had gone
there long ago; but the way she went
must have been hard and long, for
they kept fires burning nine nights
beside her grave to give her light on
the journey. This talk showed even
to us children the gross darkness that
covered her people, and we tried to
teach the Indian girl what we had
learned from the blessed volume,—
which she emphatically called the
white man’s Book, — of the Way, the
Truth, and the Life. We spoke to
her of the love of Jesus, who came to
OF THE HURONS. 39

seek and to save those that were lost—
who lived, and laboured, and died on
the cross, that through faith in His
precious blood our sins might be for-
given. We told her of the grace of
the Holy Spirit, which could renew
and sanctify the human heart.

The elders of the family took a still
deeper interest in Lanoma’s instruction.
Her gentle, quiet, thoughtful ways had
won their hearts; and from the fires
which superstition had lighted beside
her mother’s grave, they tried to lead
her mind to the true light and only
guide to that promised land, of which
the darkened nations in all times have
so dimly dreamt.

My father in particular took every
Opportunity to teach our young and
40 THE LONELY DOVE

interesting visitor the truths of revealed
religion. She had, in common with
all the natives of the American forests,
a sort of natural faith in the Great
Spirit, by whom all good things were
given, and a slavish dread of the evil
power, to whom homage must be paid
and sacrifices offered, to ward off his
malice; but of the Christian’s Saviour
and the Christian’s hope Lanoma knew
nothing. To that hope and to that
Saviour my father endeavoured to
direct the Indian chief’s daughter.
He said it was his commission to
preach the gospel to every creature;
and here was the child of a heathen
tribe sent, he doubted not, bya special
providence, to his house and home in
the wilderness, may be to carry back
OF THE HURONS. 41

the light of Christian faith to the ut-
most bound of her people’s wanderings. -

Missionary enterprise was not so
active and extensive in those days as
it is now; and partly owing to their
roving so far from the dwellings of
civilized men, partly to their known
ferocity and readiness to take offence,
the Hurons had never been visited by
any preacher of the gospel. But my
father’s hopes of sending them the
knowledge of salvation through the
girl that had taken so kindly to his
family seemed to have little prospect ~
of fulfilment. Lanoma listened, after
the manner of her race, patiently and
gravely to all that was told her; but,
between her imperfect knowledge of
English, her Indian mode of thinking,
1f2 THE LONELY DOVE

and his inability to express anything
in the Indian tongue, it seemed scarcely
possible that the truths he taught could
reach the girl’s understanding.

Yet I believe that the power and
promise of the gospel found their way
to her heart at length through a simple
story. Among the graves in the little
churchyard lying in the midst of our
fields there was one planted with
flowers, and marked by a rustic head-
stone, on which my grandfather’s own
hand had cut the name and age of his
youngest daughter, my mother’s only
sister, who had been called from this
world in her fifteenth year. Her
death had happened long before I
was born. It was the: first in the
settlement, and hers was the first
OF THE HURONS. 43

Christian burial, as far as we knew,
ever made in that forest soil.

The girl had been beautiful, her
parents and friends had set their affec-
tions on her beyond the common; but
her own were set on things above. And
well for her that it was so. Though
none had a fairer prospect of long life
and good health, to human eyes, sud-
denly in the leaf-fall of the year she
was seized by that form of rapid con-
sumption which some think is breathed
out of the Canadian woods at that
season, and died almost before her
family could believe that she was going
from them, but died in the blessedness
of those that die in the Lord. Her brief
but blameless life, her happy death,
and the sore sorrow with which that
44 THE LONELY DOVE

first and fairest of the emigrant com-
pany was laid in the alien earth, were
still remembered and talked of in the
settlement. To my mother and her
parents the remembrance was always
green. Time had mellowed their grief,
and faith had taught them to look for
a joyful meeting with her, — not lost,
but early gone before them; and it was
one of their quiet pleasures to train
and trim the flowers upon her grave,
and clear away the moss that might
obscure and cover the inscription on
her head-stone.

Lanoma observed this loving care
of theirs, and in her broken English
asked why they took such pains about
the flowers and the stone, and who was
laid below. Her question was ad-
OF THE HURONS, 45

dressed to my grandmother, with whom
she had become an especial favourite.
Maybe there was something about the
Indian girl which, in spite of the dif-
ference of race and manners, reminded
her of the daughter so sorely missed
and mourned. At any rate, my grand-
mother particularly liked Lanoma; and
taking the opportunity to teach her
something of the Christian doctrine
concerning death and the life to come,
she made the girl sit down by her on
the grass in the soft decline of the
summer day, and told her slowly and
simply, as calm and thoughtful age can
speak to the untaught young, the story
of her own long-departed daughter;
how beautiful she had been, how much
beloved, how wise for her years, how
46 THE LONELY DOVE

good for all time, how active and vigo-
rous she had seemed among her people;
yet sickness and death came upon her.
But the young girl did not fear to die,
because her trust was in the Lord, who
had died for all mankind, that they
might come to a better life beyond the
grave, and He had saved her from all
evil, and taken her home to Himself.
“ Would the Lord save poor Indian
girl, and take her home too? Maybe
He die only for white people?” said
Lanoma, in her broken English. But
my grandmother understood her mean-
ing, and patiently and plainly explained
and made clear to the red man’s child,
accustomed and brought up to believe
in the fixed distinction of tribe and
race, the fulness and freedom of the
OF THE HURONS., 47

great salvation which knows no limit
of colour or clime, people or language.
She made Lanoma understand that
the Lord, of whom she spoke, could
hear the prayers of those who sought
Him in Indian camps, or under the
forest trees, as well as in the white
man’s church, and earnestly counselled
her to seck Him now in the days of
her youth.

Lanoma had always shown peculiar
deference to my grandmother. It is
one of the creditable characteristics of
the Indian tribes, that they respect
and reverence old age; but from that.
time the girl seemed to become at-
tached to her, either out of gratitude
for the truth she had learned from her
beside that early grave, or because the
45 THE LONELY DOVE

memory of her own mother taught the
Lonely Dove of the Hurons to sympa-
thise with one who had lost a daughter
about her own age. With refinement
of feeling scarcely to be expected from
a daughter of the rude and barbarous
hunters of the wild, she would bring
garlands of forest flowers and wreathe
them round the head-stone when no-
body was near to see, and when the
old people went to sit by the grave,
as they often did in summer Sunday
evenings, Lanoma would steal away
from us young folks and sit there too.
We also thought that the girl began
to understand better what she heard
_ us read in the Bible—what my father
preached about in the church—where
she often went with us, and always sat
OF THE HURONS. 49

quiet and attentive—and what was
said at our family worship, where she
frequently knelt among us.

Her goings and comings between
our house and the Indian camp were
free and unchecked as those of her
namesake, the forest dove, might be,
but they were not unguarded. The
chief’s only daughter, said to be her
father’s heart, and with six warrior
brothers, had watchers over her safety
in the continual visits she chose to
make to the nearest of the white set-
tlers. At any hour of the day, but
especially towards evening, those of
our household whose walks or work
happened to bring them nearest to the
forest, would perceive sometimes an
Indian hunter, sometimes a wrinkled

4
50 THE LONELY DOVE .

old squaw, moving about in the shadow,
and keeping a keen eye on our pre-
mises and people. They saw that La-
noma was well and kindly received,
and had neither risk nor hindrance in
her comings to us. I believe the whole
tribe thought we had some extraordi-
nary attraction for her, and this, or it
might be the girl’s talk in our favour,
at length induced her father to send
mine a present of tobacco, together
with a lighted pipe, and word that if
the time were convenient for the wise
man of the white faces, the Great Bear
of the Hurons would come and smoke
with him on the following day. Coming
to smoke, in Indian parlance signifies
a friendly visit, and my father-was
well pleased at the offer: he thought
OF THE HURONS. 51

it might be the beginning of friendly
intercourse between us and the In-
dians, and an opening for gospel light
to shine upon the heathen darkness
of the tribe. He accordingly sent a
friendly and respectful answer, and
my mother put our house in order for
receiving the remarkable visitor. “The
chief is a prince among his people,”
she said, “ and it is but just and right
that we should honour his dignity.”

he


III.

THE DEPARTURE

T the appointed time the Huron
i] chief came, attended by his
six sons, and leading his daughter
by the hand, which I believe was a
peculiar mark of affection for an Indian
chief to show, every trace of the gentler
feelings being considered undignified
and debasing to the red warrior. He
was a noble specimen of his race,—
tall, muscular, and erect as one of his
kindred pines, though at the time
above seventy: there was something


THE LONELY DOVE, 53

majestic in the stately freedom of his
bearing, and the chief’s character was
equally honourable to the forest peo-
ple: he was known to be just and
generous, according to Indian ideas:
his courage was beyond a doubt, and
his faith to promise or treaty could
not be questioned.

His sons were as stalwart men as
himself, but, according to Indian cus-
tom, subdued and silent in the presence
of their father. Fortunately for our
nerves, none of them thought it neces-
sary to appear in their war paint, which
is a fearful sight indeed; but their bus-
kins, especially those of the chief, were
ornamented with everything, from
panthers’ teeth to English guineas.
Each of the sons wore, by way of
54 THE LONELY DOVE

mantle, a scarlet blanket, and a com-
plete assortment of knives and hatchets
stuck in his belt; while the chief, as
became his title, had a cloak of rich
black bear-skin, and a pair of silver-
mounted pistols.

My father and grandfather, as the
chiefs of our house, went out to meet
and welcome them; my mother and
grandmother received them at the door
with all the honours they could think
of, being aware that the Indians are
much given to ceremony, and would
not think themselves respectfully
treated without it. For all their
strange attire and straige appearance,
there was positively something well-
bred about the Huron chief and his
sons: they were of course the gentle-
OF THE HURONS. 55

men of their tribe, and the grave
courtesy with which they entered our
house, and took the chairs set for them
in our best room, would not have dis-
graced the gentlemen of any country.

The chief spoke for all, and to our
great surprise he did so in far better
English than his daughter had yet
learned; probably his frequent inter-
course with American officers and
agents during the war, and his exten-
sive acquaintance with English traders,
might account for this. At any rate,
he expressed his good wishes for my
father and his family, his thanks for
the kindness his daughter had met
with, and his hope that the peace
and friendship which then existed
between the Huron tribe and the
56 THE LONELY DOVE

people of the St. Clair settlement
would be as lasting as the flow of the
river and the coming and fall of leaves.
My father responded in as suitable
terms as he could remember, and
evidently to the chief’s satisfaction.
They conversed for some time con-
cerning the ancient boundaries of the
Huron lands, the probabilities of trade
visiting the settlement, and the service
it would be to the Indians as well as
to the white men, for the hunters could
_then bring their furs to St. Clair, rather
than to the American markets, which
of late were not exactly to their minds.

The chief was a man of great
natural intelligence, and the experience
of his long and roving life had made
his knowledge of men and things con-
OF THE HURONS. 57

siderable. My father observed this,
and having much of the missionary
spirit, as became a preacher of the
gospel, he took the opportunity to point
out that there was something better
than trade to be found in the St. Clair
settlement: poor and remote though
it was, the light of Christianity was
there, and what an everlasting gain it
would be to the Hurons if that light
shone upon them also. “ Your daugh-
ter,’ he said, glancing at Lanoma,
where she sat among us young people
in the background, “ knows something
of the Book and Him who came to save
the red as well as the white man.”
“Tanoma,” said the Indian, without
looking at her, “is the daughter of a
great chief, and will be some great
58 THE LONELY DOVE

chief’s squaw; but she is only a woman,
and Huron warriors are not accus-
tomed to notice the notions of. women
and children. I have heard of this Book
before, and I know what the teachers
of it would make my people—tillers of
the ground and grinders of corn; they
say you must not be ready to go out
on the war-path; you must not seek re-
venge on your enemies ; you must not
take scalps—it is a sin. Do they sup-
pose that Huron warriors are going
to become women at their bidding?
do they think that a mighty chief, the
soundof whose name makes the western
tribes tremble, will lay by the hatchet
and take up the hoe? Wise man of
the white faces, I am the good friend
of you and your people, but the Great
OF THE HURONS. 59

Bear of the Hurons will live as his
fathers lived, and die as his fathers
died, without change and without fear,
singing his death-song, though it should
be in the midst of his enemies.”

As the chief uttered those last words.
in a high, fierce tone, he rose, and so
did his sons, as if to cut short the
interview. My father, fearing to en-
danger the friendly relations between
them and himself, made no reply.
The chief shook hands with all the
elders of our house, including even my
mother and grandmother—I believe it
was an honour which the white women
were expected never to forget—and
took his daughter by the hand once
more. The girl had heard all that
passed, but, Indian like; she gave no
60 THE LONELY DOVE

sign of its effect on her mind; and the
whole party left our house and clearing
exactly as they came.

Weall stood at the door to see them
go, and my father said, with a sigh,
“T had hoped better from the intelli-
gence and understanding of that old
chief; but his barbarous pride stands
in the way of the gospel, as the pride
of man, whether savage or civilised,
is apt to do. It isa pity that so fine
a specimen of the red race should
live and die in the thick darkness
and evil practices of heathenism, on
the very borders of Christian settle-
ments. Had he not been in so fierce
a humour, I should have tried to
reason with him: but it may be that
Providence will grant a better op-
OF ‘THE HURONS. 61

portunity. As he has come to visit
us this time, he may come again, ana
get better acquainted with us and our
ways.”

My father’s expectations in this.
respect were not to be fulfilled.
' Whether the Great Bear of the
Hurons was displeased at the mere
supposition that he might be induced
to accept the white man’s faith, or
jealous of its gaining ground among
his tribe, we could not discover; but
our house and clearing were never
again visited by him, or any of his
people, except Lanoma. Her affection
for us appeared to have undergone no
change, yet she did not come so often
nor stay so long as formerly; and
though she did not say so, we sus-
62 THE LONELY DOVE

pected that her comings were rather
discouraged in the tent at home.

While things were in this state, our
Canadian summer came to its end
with the usual storms of wind and
rain, which bring down the first of the
leaves; and then came that season
of mellowed light and fading woods,
of breezeless days and soft star-lit
nights, known as the Indian summer,
the time when the elk and bison are
found in the greatest plenty and best
condition on the western prairies, and
the red hunters go out to collect
provisions for the winter.

All at once the Huron camp began
to move, the fires were allowed to go
out, the tents were taken down; but
we got the first intelligence of their
OF THE HURONS. 63

going from the chief’s daughter. She
came one morning earlier than usual,
with a perfect package of presents for
every one in our house;—for the men,
snuff-boxes and pipes, curiously made
and ornamented by Indian art; for
the women, work-baskets and pockets,
equally embellished, and neither of
them to be despised in the matter of
beauty or usefulness; and for the
boys and girls, toys, both pretty and
skilfully made.

All these she presented, as she said,
“to keep Indian girl in our minds;”
and then told us that her tribe were
going far away to the hunting-grounds
of the sunset, and she was sorry to
go, and see us no more, nor hear the
Book speak; but may be we would
64 THE LONELY DOVE



not forget Lanoma, and pray the
white man’s Lord not to forget her
€00.

We were sorry to part with the
amiable, gentle girl who had come to
us a stranger, and yet taken such hold
on all our hearts. Unexpected as
her going was, every one of us found
something to give Lanoma by way
of keepsake. She had to be per-
suaded to take every present, except
a small pocket-book from my grand-
mother; and when she had taken
leave of us all, the girl came back
to bid her farewell a second time,
and went away weeping silently and
sore. She left no dry eyes in our
house. My grandmother said, through
her tears, that the good girl had taken
OF THE HURONS. 65

that last farewell of the grey head
which she might not see when another
spring brought her tribe back to the
banks of St. Clair’s river. We all
believed that was Lanoma’s meaning
at the time ; and when she was gone,
we also noticed that a garland, woven
of the last of the forest flowers, was
wreathed about the head-stone which
marked that first grave in our church-
yard.

We missed the Indian girl for many
a day; but days, weeks, and months
passed away, and brought the usual
changes of season, and work, and
play. The stern Canadian winter
went by, with its snows and storms;
the genial spring, the warm summer,
and the busy harvest came and went ;

2
66 THE LONELY DOVE

but there was no return of the
Hurons. Many a time we young peo-
ple went up to the rising ground in
the forest, and strained our eyes in the
direction where their camp had been,
in hopes of seeing the smoke of their
fires ascend once more; but there was
nothing except the dense woods and
the mighty river to be seen.

Many a time we talked of Lanoma
on the mossy bank at the foot of the
great oak, where we had seen her first,
and by the fireside, where she had sat
with us so often. Many a time we
wondered if, according to her father’s
views, she had become a great chief’s
squaw, and taken to the hard work
and unattractive habits of the Indian
women; if she had forgotten all that
OF THE HURONS. | 67

she had learned among us, and sunk
into the superstition and barbarism of
her people; or if some remnant of
that better learning still kept place in
her mind, like a faint light shining in
deep darkness.

My father often lamented that we
had not been able to teach the truths
of Christianity more fully to the
daughter of the Huron chief. He
feared the knowledge she had re-
ceived was too vague and slight to
be of any use or duration. But my
grandmother said, “Let us trust for
her, as we trust for ourselves, in Him
who can make the smallest light
sufficient to guide a sinner to His
cross.”

We had heard nothing of Lanoma,
sn eee
68 THE LONELY DOVE

but we had not forgotten her, when
the quiet current of life in the St.
Clair settlement was troubled by news
of the breaking out of the second
American war. It was terrible in-
telligence for us, living as we were on
the very borders of the enemy’s terri-
tory. Who could tell that an invading
force might not cross the river, and
require us to quit the land or become
citizens of the United States? or, what
was still more to be dreaded in that
back-wood country, might not some
Indian tribe on the American side
choose to possess themselves of lands
and goods by exterminating the British
emigrants, as they had done in former
times to many a settlement stronger
and more populous than ours?
OF THE HURONS. 69

The provincial government could
“spare no troops to protect us, there.
were no defences which our own men
could hold, and the advice of. the
military authorities was that, on the
first approach of either Indians or
Americans, the settlers should at once
pack up and retire with their goods
and families to Kingston, which was
then the nearest garrison. Some of
our people were for taking that step
directly, without running the risk of
a surprise,—a thing to be expected
from the enemies we had to fear;
but others hesitated to leave their
homes and holdings while there was
no actual danger, and for our own
family it was scarcely practicable,

The winter had commenced, and
70 THE LONELY DOVE

with more than usual severity that
year; the sudden and rigorous frost
had brought sickness to our house,
prostrating alike the aged and the
young. Old grandfather and grand-
mother were so ill that they thought
their time was come; and my two
little brothers could only creep out of
bed and sit by the fires How were
they to travel in the only conveyance
we had, a rough waggon, all the way
to Kingston, through miles and miles
of a wild forest track, where there
wasno surface fit for the more easy
and rapid sleigh ?

“ Go, all you that think it best to do
so,” said my father to the men of the
settlement assembled in our little
church, the only town-hall or council
OF THE HURONS. 7.

room they had. “I advise no man to
stay; for the enemy may be nearer
than we think. But, with my helpless
sick, it would be folly to move, except
we were driven out. I have clearky
a call from Providence to remain, and
put my trust in Him who can make
all things work together for good to
them that love Him.”

“We will not leave you, minister,”
cried all the men ina breath. “If it
is needful for you to stay, as it clearly
is, we will stay too. We have come
from Scotland together, and we will
live or die together, as the Disposer
of lots may determine.” From that
resolution they could not be moved,
though my father advised them to
consider chiefly their own and their
72 THE LONELY DOVE

families’ safety, and leave him and his
to the Hand that protected Daniel in
the lions’ den, and Moses in the ark
of bulrushes on the great river of
Egypt.

They were hardy and determined
men, accustomed to the perils of the
wilderness and that practical reliance
on the everlasting arm which the man
left alone with nature and Providence
is most apt to realise. Moreover, they
were sincerely attached to their min-
ister; he was old friend, as well as
pastor to them all. Go he could not,
and go without him they would not;
and when he and they had sung a psalm
and prayed together, like their Cove-
nanted ancestors in old and perilous
times, it was agreed that all should
OF THE HURONS. . 73

remain, and every man take his turn of
acting as scout for the settlement, to
give warning of the first approach of
the enemy, that it might not be fallen
upon unawares, but minister and flock
have time to take what measures they
could for parley or flight, according
as the invader happened to be Indian
or American.

wy


IV.

THE LAST RESTING-PLACE.



ELL I remember the long nights
and dreary days of that fearful
winter, — how our scouts went out
through cold and storm, and my father
among the rest; for he would take
his turn, being as brave a backwoods-
man as any in the settlement. Robin
Ross generally went with him. It
was thought best that no scout should
go far out alone, as a single man might
be easily surprised and cut off by the
wily Indians ; and when they were both
THE LONELY DOVE. 75

gone, we at home would startle at the
blast howling through the forest trees,
and think we heard the sound of coming
hoofs or the war-cry of the red men
mingling with it.

It was a weary and an anxious time,
yet good came out of its evil: their
common danger drew the settlers
more closely together. There had
been always good neighbourhood and
good feeling in the little colony; but
the fears and the duties of the time
made them and their families meet
more frequently, and know each other
better. Their common danger had
also the effect of deepening on all
their minds the serious impressions of
their Scottish teaching.

A sort of religious revival came ove?
76 THE LONELY DOVE

the St. Clair settlement,—not with the
fervid and temporary excitement which
too often passes for the like in towns
and populous places, but with a calm
and earnest lifting up of hearts and
hopes to the things unseen and eternal,
and to Him who is a very present help
in times of trouble. Besides our Sun-
day services, we had prayer-meetings
for protection against the threatened
peril; and the small congregation
prayed in our rustic church with watch-
men and watchfires on all the heights
around.
These precautions were prudent and
natural under the circumstances; but as
the winter wore on they appeared to
be unnecessary,—our scouts discovered
no sign of either Indian or American
OF THE HURONS, ve

invaders. The little news we got of
the war proved that its scenes were
far south of our borders; and as
the heavy snow-falls became more
frequent, and the frost increased in
rigour, our harassed men willingly gave
up their watchings and wanderings in
the forest for the occupations and com-
forts of their own firesides. Sometimes
the hardiest or most anxious would go
out on clear days for what they called
along prospect in the woods, or towards
the inhabited country about Kingston,
to learn the news ; but all the prospects
and all the news they got being of a
satisfactory character, the outgoings
and inquiries slackened, and some-
thing like the old feeling of quiet and
security returned to the settlement,
78 THE LONELY DOVE

Thus the Christmas time, the new
year,and the stormy Candlemas passed.
We were looking forward to the spring,
for which people in the backwoods have
a warmer welcome than the dwellers in
towns and cities. My little brothers
had grown strong and well again, old
grandfather and grandmother were
able to take their accustomed seats
at our warm fireside, my father and
mother were looking less anxious,
my sister and myself were no longer
frightened by every moan of the wind,
and our home was cheerful and thrifty
as of old.

It was a beautiful evening for the
season of the year. A light snowfall
on the preceding day had whitened
the ground and sprinkled the forest
OF THE HURONS, 79

trees; the river in front of our clear-
ing was still one sheet of ice; but the
air was calm and soft, and a clear,
cloudless sky made the lengthening
day last still longer, till its fading
twilight met and mingled with the
radiance of a bright full moon. Our
outer door was on the latch, and we
had not shut the windows, when we
all sat down to supper by the light of
our evening fire; my father was lifting
up his hands to ask a blessing on the
meal; but suddenly he paused, and
stood as if listening. We all listened
too. There was a sound of mingled
voices and cries on the air, but indis-
tinct and wild as those of the swan and
other water-fowls, in their annual migra-
tions to and from the great lakes.
80 THE LONELY DOVE

“They seldom fly so late; but I'll
see what it is,’ said Robin Ross;
and he stepped out at once. We sat
for a minute or two in silence. The
sounds seemed to come nearer, and
- Robin rushed in with a face as white
as a sheet, exclaiming, “It’s the
Indians, and they are coming down
the clearing right upon the house!”

“May God have mercy upon us!”
said my father, as he ran to the door.
Before or since I never felt anything
like the fear of that moment. I was
young and weak-hearted; but I think
the same feeling paralysed us all, for
not one spoke except my grand-
mother, whom I heard praying for
us in a low tone. In a few minutes
my father came back, and there was
OF THE HURONS. 81

relief in his look. “Children,” he
said, “it is the Hurons, and I think
they mean us no harm. They are
coming on slowly, and their women
are with them, carrying something
covered on a sort of litter, which
they are wailing over with those
mournful cries you hear. Perhaps
it is some superstitious ceremony they
are coming to perform in this their
ancient land, and we had better keep
out of sight.”

As he spake, there came a sound
of steps outside, and then a long low
knocking at our door. My father
opened it without a word, for he knew
that defence would be impossible, and
into the light of our blazing fire
stepped Lanoma’s father, the dreaded

6
82 THE LONELY DOVE

chief of the Hurons. One glance,
even in the midst of our fears, served
to show us how far the Indian was
changed since we saw him last. His
tall figure was bowed as if with the
burden of age or sickness, his step
had lost its pride and its freedom,
and a. more sorrow-stricken face I
never saw.

“Wise man of the. white faces,”
he said, addressing my father, “I have
come to ask you for a grave wherein
to lay my daughter; my Lonely
Dove has gone from me, and the
light of my life has gone with her.
I know not if it were He that called
her in spite of all our medicine men,
but she believed in the God of whom
you told her, and in that Lord of
OF THE HURONS, 83

whom you said that He died upon the
cross for all people. So because she
had learned of them from you and
your house, she wished to be laid
among your people by the grave of
flowers, where the grey heads sit in
the summer time: it was her last
request, and I have brought her from
beyond the lake of the woods. Wise
man of the white faces, will you give
her a grave ?”

My father took the old chief by the
hand before he had done speaking,
and led him to a seat; the tears were
in his own eyes, and most of us were
weeping outright; it was a strange
and sudden transition from terror to
grief, but the death of poor Lanoma,
our forest friend, our household

6 *
84 THE LONELY DOVE

visitor, unexpected as it was, and
the sorrow of her bereaved father,
smote on all our hearts. The Indian
saw that we were grieving for his
daughter, and the sight overcame the
rigid nature of his race. He turned
away from the light, bowed his head
upon his hands, and swayed to and
_ fro like an oak driven by the tempest,
while his whole tribe stopped at our
door, laid down the bier, and the wild
wail of the women rose more shrill
and piercing on the calm and moonlit
night.

‘Blessed are the dead who die in
the Lord,” said my father, as soon as
he recovered himself; “she believed
in Him of whom she had heard so
faintly, and He is able to redeem
OF THE HURONS. 85

out of every kindred, and tongue, and
people, and nation, and language.
Chief, we will lay your daughter
beside the child of our own kindred—
who also remembered her Creator in
the days of her youth, and was early
summoned to the better land—in the
grave which she so often decked with
flowers, and sat by in summer even-
ings. We know that the Lord in
whom she trusted has taken her to
Himself in lovingkindness, but we
grieve because she can come to us
no more, and for you, because you
have lost your child.”

“Wise man, I thank you,” said the
chief; “when the daylight returns we
will make a Christian funeral for my
daughter. She wished to be laid
86 THE LONELY DOVE

dewn among the white people, and in
their manner. I promised it, and our
men made a cedar coffin for her, that
she might go to the grave in as good
a fashion as any of them. Will you
send and tell your people to come
and show respect, as they do at their
own burials ?”

My father directly sent off Robin
Ross to apprise the settlers of what
had happened, and summon them all
to the funeral next morning. It was
a natural and proper tribute to the
feelings and affection of the. poor old
chief; he knew how Christian funerals
were attended, and he wished to see
the same respectful attention to the
burial of his only daughter. We
could not persuade him to remain
OF THE HURONS. 87

in our house for the night, though
we offered him and his sons every
accommodation we could afford: they
went out to a tent which the tribe had
pitched over Lanoma’s bier. They
sat in its shadow the greater part
of the night: my father, my mother,
and our old people sat with them;
the rest of the tribe pitched other
tents, lighted fires, unpacked their
baggage, and held a sort of funeral
feast, but it was held with great
gravity and almost in silence, except
when the mourning women who sat
behind the bier raised that wild wail
of theirs, as it seemed, at appointed
intervals throughout the night.

Early in the morning the settlers
assembled. Young and old came in
88 THE LONELY DOVE

a body to our clearing, and a touching
sight it was to see the red and the
white people alike: gathered round
poor Lanoma’s coffin, while my father
read an appropriate chapter in the
Bible, prayed for the mourners, and
delivered a short address on the un-
certainty of this life, and the import-
ance of preparing for the life to come.
Then the six brothers took up the
cedar coffin and laid it in the grave,
which a sturdy old settler, who acted
as our sexton, had opened overnight.
Every brother and nearly all the tribe
uttered some words in their own
language over it, which we believed
to be a form of farewell to the dead.
The old chief spoke last, and though
we could not guess the meaning of
OF THE HURONS. 89

his words, his voice told us that they
came from a broken heart. The
mourning women raised their wild
wail once more; the sexton heaped
the earth above the dead, replaced
the flower-covered turf and the simple
headstone, on which they soon after
inscribed her name; and Lanoma
rested with the young girl of a differ-
ent race whose story had first opened
to her mind a knowledge of the way
of salvation through faith in Christ
Jesus.

My father preached her funeral
sermon in the churchyard, for our
small church could not contain the
congregation of settlers and Indians.
Few of the latter understood a single
word of it, but they listened in the
go THE LONELY DOVE

grave and silent manner of their race,
and were pleased at the respect shown
to their chief’s daughter. The gentle,
patient girl was evidently as much
missed by the rude tribe as she had
been by ourselves.

When all the solemnities were over,
the chief announced his intention of
encamping on the old ground beside
the river, in order to protect the
settlement from any hostile incursion
which might be attempted during the
war. He said his heart was now laid
in the white man’s land, and no enemy
should set foot upon it. He and his
people encamped accordingly, and to
the knowledge of their presence and
friendship for the settlers our safety
was probably owing. Fortunately,
OF THE TURONS. gI

the war did not last long; it began
and ended within two years. May
we never see another between Eng-
Jand and America; may peace ever
unite the two countries !

But to return tomy story. The tribe
encamped on their old ground on the
American side of St. Clair river, and
by the very same ford which Lanoma
used to cross, the old chief came
every day to sit beside her grave.

There we found him in nearly all
weathers, seated on the grass with his
head bowed upon his hands, and there
our, old people at length began to
speak to him as they had spoken to
his daughter; but she that was dead
yet spake in his memory. The Indian
girl, whom we thought so imperfectly
g2 THE LONELY DOVE

instructed, had been able to impart
to her father in her dying days the
saving truths of Christianity, on which
her own faith had taken hold. The
Huron leader was a man of singular
intelligence: his great loss made him
think as probably he had never thought
before. Old prejudices were broken
down by the new sorrow ; the recollec-
tion of ‘his child’s dying words pre-
pared his mind to receive the teaching
by which she had learned, and at last
the proud barbarian became a humble
Christian, and then a member of my
father’s church in the wilderness. He |
did much to spread the knowledge of
the gospel among his own tribe, and
some of them, especially his sons,
seemed to profit by the old chief's
OF THE HURONS, 93

exhortations, for they gave up many
of their heathenish and barbarous cus-
toms, and promised to go on the war-
path no more if they could help it.
When peace was fully restored, and
the usual time had come for the
Hurons to go westward on _ their
hunting expeditions, the chief took
a kindly and solemn farewell of all
our family, saying we had been the
best friends he ever knew, but he
should see our faces no more till the
meeting time in our Father’s house
above. We hoped better, but his
prediction was fulfilled. When his
tribe returned in the following spring
to St. Clair’s river, they brought with
them his coffin, as they had brought
that of his daughter; and in com-
94 THE LONELY DOVE

pliance with his last request, made
known to us by his sons, the once
dreaded chief of the Hurons was laid
beside his much beloved and lamented
Lanoma. A simple gravestone marks
their resting-place; it is covered with
names now—my aged grandfather
and grandmother, my own honoured
father and mother, Robin Ross and
his good Janet sleep there. There
is an inscription which testifies of
Him who is the Resurrection and the
Life, and who has promised that
because He lives His people shall live
also. The small churchyard has now
become a large cemetery; a hand-
some country church occupies the
site of the log-house wuere my young
days were spent; the sister and
OF THE HURONS. 95

brothers who shared that home with
me are old people like myself, and
looking forward to the passing over
Jordan and entering on the promised
land; but when we meet together and
talk of old times and places, there still
returns to us, fresh and sweet as the
breath of forest flowers, some memory *
of the Indian’s daughter.



UNWIN BROTHERS, PRINTERS, CHILWORTH AND LONBON.
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SELECTIONS FROM THE CATALOGUE |

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PUBLISHED BY THE

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Max Kromer.

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Louis Michaud.

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Lifes Morning.
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Look up; or, Girls and Flowers.

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young persons in service, particularly those that
arise from self-will, the love of dress, bad com-
panions, and the habit of prying.

Quality Fogg’s Old Ledger.
By Mrs. PRossEr.

Inculcating the duties of truthfulness, honesty,
and industry.

Stories of School-boys.

2vols. First and Second Series.
The lights and shadows of school-boy life : on the
one hand, envy, covetousness, extravagance, and
moral cowardice, are portrayed; so, on the
brighter side, will be found magnanimity and
forgiveness, moral courage, and sincere piety.

Stories for Village Lads.
Rural life and village characters are described in a
graphic manner; and morals are drawn which

are suited to the classes for whom the work is
designed.

The Wood Carvers.

An account of the way in which a fretful, envious,
and impatient boy became meek, loving, and
resigned to the will of God.
The Religious Tract Society. 13



Three Months Under the Snow.

The record of the hopes, fears, resources, and
contrivances of a shepherd of the Jura Mountains
and his grandson, whose hut was covered by a
succession of snowstorms from November to the
spring of the succeeding year.

Tom Tracy of Brier Fill.
The story of a truthful and honest boy, but of
high and passionate spirit, who labours to correct
his faults by the formation, under good teaching,
of Christian principles.

Trades Described.

It describes the processes of the builder, Bae
maker, carpenter, shoemaker, tailor, cabinet-
maker, hatter, paper-maker, printer, type-
founder, ropemaker, watchmaker, etc., etc.

While they are With Us.
Illustrating right and kindly conduct, from
Christian motives, in some difficult circumstances
of life.

OLD HUMPHREY’S
WORKS.

Few writers of works of home life, or for the young,
have obtained a wider popularity, or have exercised
a more useful and wholesome influence than OLD
Humpurey. He wrote for nearly all classes of per-
gons, under different assumed names, but chiefly the
14 Books for the Woung.



one now mentioned. His papers are varied in subject
and style, being descriptive and didactic, light-hearted
and grave, in prose and in verse. Some of his pieces
are marked by much tenderness of feeling or a racy
quaintness, others by energy, and all by practical
wisdom. ‘They are designed to promote the interests
of peace, temperance, humanity, the cultivation of
the minor morals of life, and of evangelical piety. In
sentiment, spirit, and aim they are highly Christian.

Small royal, ts, 6d. boards ; 25. extra
boards.

Old Humphrey’s Addresses.

x Observations.

PP Thoughts for the ‘Thoughtful.
3 Country Strolls,

5 Pithy Papers.

5 Half-Hours.

35 Friendly Appeals.

+5 Calls of Usefulness.

+3 Country Pictures.

- Learning to Think.

A Learning to Feel.

3 Learning to Act.

m3 Learning to Converse.

Small royal. s. boards.
Old Humphrey’s Present in Prose.

3 Pleasant Tales.

an Tales in Rhyme, for Girls.

35 Tales in Rhyme, for Boys.

oo Tales for Young Thinkers.

a Lessons worth Learning, Boys.
ve Lessons worth Learning, Girls.
55 Country Tales for the Young.

s Budget for Little Girls.
The Religious Tract Socicty.. 15

Old: Humphrey’s Aunt Upton.
Alan Grey.
Footprints of Popery.
Play Hours.

. Chapters for Children.

”
”
”

1670. 25. Od. boards.

Old Humphrey’s Loiterings among the Lakes of
Westmoreland and Cumberland. °

16710. 35. 6a. beards,
Old Humphrey—The Old Sea Captain,

Memoir of Old Humphrey ; with Glean-
ings from his Portfolio, in Prose and
Verse.

Portrait. 1s. 6d. boards; 2s. extra boards,
gilt edges; as, 6d. half-bd. ; 5s. morocco.

Steps to the Throne of Grace.
Prayers and Hymns for the Young. By Mrs.
BICKERSTETH-CooK. . In large type.
Square 16mo. 2s. cloth boards.

Steps to the Throne of Grace.
Prayers and Hymns for Little Children. By
Mis. BICKERSTETH-Coox. In large type.
Square 16mo. 1s. 6d, cloth boards,
16 Banks for the Boung.



NEW STORY BOOKS,

. NINEPENCE EACH,

Neatly Printed and Bound, and Illustrated with
Coloured Frontispieces.

A Flower from «a London Court; and
other Stories.
The principal tale is a touching narrative of
children in a ragged school, showing the in-

fluence of the love of Christ in the hearts of the
youngest and lowliest.

Little Gretchen the Peacemaker.
Describing the happy results in a family through
the peace-loving spirit of a young daughter,

Nobody's Own.

The story of an outcast boy, who is Pi Sahhe
through the Christian teaching of a poor woman,
to the knowledge of the Saviour.

Susie Bell.
Showing the power, in a family group, of a quiet,
self-denying, and loving temper.

The Little Acrobat.

A narrative of a German boy, who is in the
service of a troupe of travelling gymnasts, his
adventures, hardships, and subsequent deliverance
from an evil course of life.

Uncle Fohn’'s Farm.
An account of a visit of two London children to’
a country farm, with what they saw there ;
alike interesting and instructive, :





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