Chapter 3

A few feet away stretched the long tent where the ceremony of the dance was to take place. They had taken their places and were ready for the ceremony--mostly men, a few women, a little girl of nine years, a young mother of twenty whose baby two weeks old was held by an aged grandmother, who crouched at the end.

All were dressed in beaded finery. All wore moccasins--some men had long beaded stoles--others wonderful beaded waistcoats. The women wore long beaded hair ornaments reaching almost to the ground, as well as strings of beads and other ornaments.

The faces of nearly all were marked with spots of bright red or long streaks of yellow and red. The same color was used in the parting of the hair.

They sat on the ground in two long rows, facing each other; back of each, attached to the wood trellis of the tent, hung fur pouches of various shapes and sizes, ornamented with beads and containing the "medicine," which was some trifling article--a bit of bone, stone, seed, or whatever, through some special circumstance, had come to be accepted by them as their charm, or "medicine," to ward off sickness and evil--to bring them the good offices and protection of the good spirits.

The four or more medicine chiefs, wearing wonderfully ornamented, apron-like front pieces, stand together at one end for a few moments while one and then another addresses the audience. The medicine men then, with drum and rattle, keeping step, lead in the dance down the length of the tent and back. One by one the audience, from their crouching positions on the ground, as they are summoned or moved, join in the dance, swaying while they keep step back and forth for hours at a time, to the sound of drum and rattle. Those being initiated, as were the young mother and the little girl, were expected not to give up, if possible, until the end.

The dance is maintained for parts of four days and nights, almost incessantly, except for the interruption of the feast given by some members. The close is marked by the utter exhaustion of many of the dancers, and sad immorality accompanies its progress.

Can the Gospel of Christ lift such as these, with a thousand generations of savagery back of them?

Let another picture answer.

* * * * *

Almost half a mile from the Medicine Lodge camp, on a rise of ground, stands a little Christian church--plain but beautiful. From it seem to flow visibly those purifying and redeeming forces that are destined to transform the darkened lives of these Indian children of the great All-father.

It is prayer-meeting night. The bell is rung and the audience begins to gather. A number of alert, intelligent-looking, English-speaking young men come in together.

One of these, an earnest Christian, will interpret, sentence by sentence, the Scripture reading and the message of the speaker.

Some older men and women come next, heavy of feature and step. One is blind and feels his way to his accustomed seat.

Old women come wrapped in blankets, their faces seamed with toil and showing the hardness of heathen customs, when sickness and death, unrelieved by faith, wear the heart and waste the body.

Mothers come with bright-eyed babies tucked in their blankets, or leading children of various sizes--also some young women, beautiful and intelligent--and a few white employees from the Agency--and the workers from the Mission--until the room is nearly filled.

The meeting is opened with prayer, and a quiet fills the room as all are brought into the very presence of the loving Father.

And then follows the singing, "My faith looks up to Thee," "Lovingly, tenderly, Jesus is calling, calling to you and to me." Did ever the words seem so fraught with meaning, so filled with the yearning love of the Master?

The message that follows is one of passionate earnestness, as the missionary seeks to make clear to them the meaning of purity of life--of faith in God, of His saving, keeping power.

At its close an Indian elder, using his own soft, Indian language, pleads in prayer for the presence of the Holy Spirit to lead his people.

Another rises and says through the interpreter: "When I was away at school I learned about Christianity, but when I came back to the reservation and the old Indian life called me, there was none to help, and I went back. I did not work; I gambled, I drank; liquor, I went to the medicine dance--I was very bad. Then came the Mission and it got hold of me. The missionary brought me to Christ. Now I cut off those bad ways. I am happy. I have a Christian home with my wife and my child."

This testimony was true. All there knew him to be an industrious, upright, manly Indian, one of the two hundred members of this church, all of whom had, in a few years, been led from the old life of degradation to the pleasant, wholesome peace of the Jesus Road.

* * * * *

"Missionary work begins with evangelism. It does not end there. The people must hear the good news of salvation. So we have spent much time 'to make the message plain.' It has taken years of labor to put the gist of the Gospel into several Indian languages having no literature, that the people might get the word of God. One had to work to get a clue to a word through a crude interpreter; or by making signs or motions where, as often, no interpreter was at hand, and then guessing between several possible meanings. In this way one would in time get a knowledge of the commonplace things in a language. Then there must follow the task of finding equivalents for Christian terms in the speech of a people without Christian ideas.

"Difficult as all this work was, it is only a beginning, only elementary. The message must be applied to all phases of life. A constant educational process must be kept up to incorporate Christian ideals into the daily thinking of the people. This is to be done by the reiterated daily teachings of the schools, and the living example of the missionary, and of those he can educate to lead the people. A bare message unrelated to life is like seed scattered on the road or on a rock. After sowing one must harrow and cultivate and fight insect pests all the season to get a crop. So a constant process of education, moral, industrial, hygienic, must go on, or there will be no regenerated, fruitful characters.

"The old Indian linked his hunting and corn planting and simple arts to religion. He lived by the help of his gods. We are trying not to destroy this faith, but to transfer it to the living God, and to make it 'work by love,' instead of by selfishness. Our little girls in the Home are learning to keep house and sew and cook, because it is the work of a child of God to do these things well. We are trying to teach our neighbors by word and example to farm and build and make homes in a way that will be becoming to a redeemed man. They must understand that the Gospel means diligence in business, honesty, carefulness, co-operation, skill, cleanness of heart and body, health and prosperity, and any other virtue that makes life worth living now and always. We think our example in raising seventy bushels of oats or two hundred bushels of potatoes to the acre, garden vegetables, improved cattle and hogs, well-kept horses, small fruits and sheltering trees and pretty shrubs, in what is classed as a semi-arid land, is a part of the Gospel of Christ, who came to make all 'deserts blossom as the rose.'

"When our former Mission school boys are found taking hold of agricultural work according to present-day methods and earning a support for their growing families, building their meeting-place, and making some contributions to the church work abroad, we feel that the foundation of a Christian community is being laid.

"The clouds return sometimes. There comes a recrudescence of heathenism. Yet faith sees still the leaven at work. An old man's daughter went away to our Santee School and returned a believer in the Christian way. She taught her father what she had learned, and prayed for him. He yielded to her faith and threw away his fetishes after a hard struggle with all the past and present environment that bound him. Then at once his instinct was to make a better home for his family. He must get away from the heathen village, with its squalor, and impurity, and idolatry. It is true that environment does not regenerate the soul, but the renewed soul transforms the environment. Better conditions are evidence of the new life. On the contrary, when some fall back to heathenism, they fall into slovenly attire, ill-kept homes, and neglected fields." [Footnote: Rev. C. L. Hall, D.D., American Missionary Association.]

Alaska is a post which beyond any other in the American church demands courage and endurance, both physical and moral.

"The natives of Anvik invited the missionary to visit their village, 450 miles by water from St. Michael.

"These natives were Ingiliks, partly Indian and partly Eskimo. They lived in underground houses and were superstitious, dirty, ignorant, and degraded. Rude buildings were erected for a mission house and the schoolhouse. In 1894 the first church was erected, the money for it being a part of the first United Offering of the Women's Auxiliary. Little by little the people came out of their holes in the earth and built themselves houses. The community has been physically and morally transformed. A saw-mill, the gift of a generous Eastern layman, has been a most practical means of evangelising, not only furnishing lumber for houses, but healthful occupations for the men. This transformation has been wrought, not by legislation or civilization as such, but by the consistent teaching and example of a devoted Christian man and his splendid helpers. 'Through these long years, in the loneliness of this far-away station, the missionary has remained the kind, wise, spiritual shepherd of these native souls in the wilderness. The mission has pursued high ideals, and has ministered spiritually and helpfully to a vast region.'

"A gold strike was made at Nome, and with the first rush of eager prospectors went in a missionary, who aided with his own hands in the building of the church. Though the saloon men were bidding for the only available lumber, the bishop got it first to build a clubhouse for the men, the only competitor of fourteen saloons.

"So he goes back and forth across his great district, up and down its rivers in the short summer time--formerly by boat or canoe, but now in a launch, the 'Pelican.' In the winter he is away across the trackless wilderness, a thousand miles or more, behind his dogs, cheerily facing hardships and making light of dangers, carrying his life in his hand as he goes about his daily work.

"Particularly is he interested in the preservation and betterment of the native races, the Eskimos and the Indians, endangered by their contact with the white man and their own lack of knowledge. Everywhere his hand is raised and his voice is heard in their behalf.

"Alaska is the land of one great river, without which it could scarcely have been explored--much less occupied and inhabited. The Yukon is the great highway. Over its waters in the brief summer, and upon its frozen surface in the winter, go travelers by boat and sled, and among them the representatives of the church. Familiar to the dwellers along its banks is the little 'Pelican' bearing the missionaries, with a half-breed engineer and the faithful dogs. Everywhere along the river in the summer time may be found the temporary camps of the Indians, to whom the short fishing season means food through the long winter for themselves and their dogs. Here a stop is made at a native camp to baptize a baby--there a marriage ceremony is performed; a communion service is held or a call made at a fishing camp to pick up some boys and take them to a far-away boarding school. The work is as varied as it is far-reaching. Not a mission point along the river is neglected, and places which formerly could never be visited by the hand-paddled canoe now look forward once a year to the coming of the 'Pelican,' and wait to hear the familiar throbbing of her motor, as does the New Yorker for his morning mail, or the farmer for the postman's whistle.

"Fairbanks, the metropolis of central Alaska, was a new mining camp when the missionary Bishop secured an early entrance for the church. The log building which was a chapel on Sunday became a reading-room on week-days for the rough-clad miners. A hospital was built and it ministered to the sick through the range of a wide territory. Missions both to white men and to Indians have spread along the valley of the river on either hand, and now Fairbanks is the center of what is known as the Tanana Valley Mission, with half a score of workers, schools and missions, hospitals and reading rooms, distributing tons of literature in lonely mining camps, and carrying everywhere the message of the Master.

"Over on the coast, at Cordova, may be found the unique settlement work called 'The Red Dragon,' a clubhouse for men which on Sundays is converted into a place of worship. Missions in Alaska minister to human need as a preliminary to and accompaniment of an effective preaching of the Gospel." [Footnote: Board of Missions of the Protestant Episcopal Church.]

These pictures of the power of Home Missions to restore--to give capacity--are merely typical, and stand for the thousands of others unrecorded except as the lives of the reclaimed individuals and communities make their indelible imprint upon our national life.

Surely through the demonstration of such reclaiming power the consciousness must grow that ignorance, degradation, vice, crime, and bitter poverty need not be the inevitable accompaniment of a great civilization, but that these diseased spots in the social fabric are abnormal and curable, if to their removing is directed first the power of Christ in the inner life, and for the outer a social regeneration which will substitute physical conditions that do not menace, but make for righteousness.

"In haunts of wretchedness and need On shadowed thresholds dark with fears, From paths where hide the lures of greed We catch the vision of Christ's tears.

"The cup of water given for Thee Still holds the freshness of Thy grace; Yet long these multitudes to see The sweet compassion of Thy face."

III

AN EDUCATIVE FORCE

"My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge."

"After all, it is the children who are the important factors of our nation, and every one of them neglected is a reproach to every Christian, man or woman, in the churches who has a dollar or a voice. When the Spartans were demanded to give fifty children as hostages, they wisely replied, 'We would rather give one hundred of our most distinguished men.'

"It is an irrefutable fact that the work with the children pays the best dividends to the state and nation. There is a Doric oracle which says, 'If the Athenians want good citizens let them put whatever is beautiful into the ears of their sons.' If we Americanize this oracle it would read, 'If the Americans want good citizens let them put whatever is beautiful and useful into the ears of their sons and daughters.'"

* * * * *

It is instructive to note the inter-relation and interaction of forces and influences that have been powerful factors in national development, and to consider their sources.

The American passion for education had its roots far back in Holland, in the period when that country was the world's great intellectual center, as well as the world's leader in commerce and manufacturing. The most powerful single factor in shaping Colonial thought and character was the Bible. It was from Holland that England received its first Bible printed in the English tongue.

It is said that under the persecution of Phillip II and the Duke of Alva, fully one hundred thousand Hollanders crossed the channel to find homes in England.

Industrious, self-supporting, self-respecting men, and women they were, refugees for freedom and for conscience' sake--among them were scholars, bankers, merchants, and intelligent, plain people. They came from a land of free schools and universities.

The counties in England in which the Hollanders settled sent the Pilgrims and the Puritans to America. These counties also gave birth to the University of Cambridge; the Puritan movement in England was largely under the leadership of men who had studied in Cambridge, and it was that educational center of broad culture, thought, and inspiring ideals which furnished America the first scholars and leaders of New England.

The first free school of America was opened by the Hollanders in Manhattan in 1633. It was known as the Collegiate School, and though it has changed somewhat in character, it is still one of the leading preparatory schools of New York City.

Regard for education thus came to this country with the colonists, though not all the colonies attached the same importance to it.

In the Home countries of the colonists, the schools had been an adjunct to the churches. It was natural, therefore, that the impetus for the establishment of schools in this country should come from the church.

"One of the first provisions made by the Virginia company in their settlement of Jamestown was to set aside land for the use of a college to 'teach Indian children the rudiments of religion and the Latin language,' and money was collected in England to establish a school which should prepare children for this college. The failure of the company a few years later defeated these plans."

"Twenty years after the landing at Plymouth, the Massachusetts Colony ordained by law that every child should be taught to read and write and understand the principles of religion and the capital laws of the country. A little later in the same section, every township, when it numbered fifty householders, was required to support a teacher, and towns numbering a hundred householders, to establish a school to teach Latin. These were rude pioneer experiments, for the conditions which surrounded them were rude; their importance lay in the fact that they gave education a first place in public interest and accustomed people to think of education as a function of the community." [Footnote: American Ideals, Character and Life--Hamilton Wright Mabie.]

From these feeble beginnings has come that greatest bulwark of the Republic--the free school.

It lies at the very foundation of our national life. It makes possible our democracy. A helpful government by the people is not possible if the people are ignorant and superstitious.

It is the greatest institution for citizenship. "Through it come knowledge of the meaning of our institutions, the interpretation of our national past, and a reverence for the national symbol--the flag."

It is a fusing force whereby children of many nationalities, differing in feelings, sympathies, purposes, and class, become Americans.

The forty-eight States in the year 1912 spent $450,000,000 on the public schools of the country. The nation's tobacco bill for the same period was nearly three times as great, and it spent five times as much for liquor.

Even with this large expenditure, the provision for the school population of the country is, in places, fearfully inadequate. In our large cities, if the truant and labor laws were properly enforced, the lack of school provision would be still more apparent. In New York City alone more than 100,000 children are attending school but half the time.

As we turn to study the need for Mission Schools, and their place as an educative force, it is well that we should seek to realize something of the splendid achievements of our public schools as well as where they seriously fail.

Their efficiency differs with the vision and effectiveness with which they are administered by the different states.

Many states have added incalculably to the usefulness of the schools by relating the curriculum to life through industrial and vocational training, but much remains to be accomplished in attaining a proper balance in the adjustment of the cultural and the practical in the public school courses.

The state of Ohio affords an interesting illustration of the wider relation of the public schools to the life of the school population.

"In the winter of 1914, nearly one thousand boys and girls of Ohio, in five special trains, were sent on a tour which embraced the cities of Washington, Philadelphia, and New York, as a reward for their efficiency in agriculture and domestic science. The people of Ohio have found that it pays to encourage thrift and industry in their children, for since these "corn tours," as they are termed, were started, the annual value of the corn crop of Ohio has become almost twenty million dollars _more_ than it formerly was." [Footnote: Outlook, Dec. 16, 1914.]

Public School, No. 23, of Mulberry Bend, New York, stands in the heart of an Italian district of more than 100,000 souls, and draws also from the great Chinese section. Various other nationalities in less degree contribute their quota, so that the school ministers to the children of twenty-nine different nationalities.

This school is fortunate in having a teacher of unusual ability and magnetism for its new students in English. A visit to her room on the top floor well repays the effort of exploration in a very foreign quarter of America's greatest city, and the long climb up the winding cement stairs of the school building.

As you enter, the class is asked to bid you "Good morning," and the familiar greeting comes to you in the soft Italian accent, mingled with the higher-keyed voices of the Japanese and Chinese.

The group of ten Chinese young men impress you by their alertness, neatness of appearance, and evident eagerness to learn. An Italian boy who had been set at a trade when very young is now having a belated chance to learn to read. A number of girls of various sizes help to make up the class, with little Italian Mary, ten years old, quite new to America, beautiful and winning in spite of her unkempt appearance and poor clothing.

With the exception of two who had acquired a little English, the class entered school three months before with no knowledge of English. All are able to write their names and addresses and simple sentences in English on the blackboard.

They can go through the transaction of buying a newspaper, explaining each action involved, and making correct payment or exacting correct change.

When questioned, they give quickly and correctly the names of the President of the United States, the Governor of New York, the Mayor of New York City, and answer other questions on civic affairs.

It was deeply stirring to see a little Italian whose patois English was scarcely intelligible, step forward, with conscious pride, to be the standard-bearer and hold the flag while the class, with eager enthusiasm, saluted, touching foreheads and extending arms at full length as they repeated, the foreign tongues giving queer twists to the words:

"I pledge allegiance to my flag and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indissoluble, with liberty and justice for all."

Many night classes likewise afford opportunity for new Americans to learn English. Public School No. 95, located on Clarkson Street in the old Greenwich Village of New York, where now many Italians, Irish and a few Jews find homes, carries forward a remarkable service to its neighborhood.