The Boy Preacher.
I will never forget the bright, pleading little face that looked up into mine one sunny morning in the year 1864, and prayed to be received into my home and heart.
“My father and mother are bad. They don’t want me to be good and go to school; they would rather have me painted up and tattooed and learn to dance and hunt and fight and go in the old way; but I want to do as you say and be good, so I think if I live with you I will be good,” said the dear boy.
My missionary heart was touched by his entreaties, and David Sallosalton, whose heathen name was then Sa-ta-na, was received into the mission house, and there trained for the work which in the providence of God was to result in so great a harvest for the blessed Master.
He applied himself to learn, and became a devoted Christian. On his reception into the church he was baptized under the Christian name of David. Shortly after he was put on the plan as an exhorter, and faithfully and most successfully he assisted in the work of the mission.
For a time he labored in his own native village, and then was appointed as lay helper at Chilliwack. Later on he became assistant missionary to the Songees Indians at Victoria, under the Chairman, Rev. William Pollard.
He was most enthusiastic in his interest in the camp-meetings, which had become such an institution in our mission work both among Indians and whites. His zeal and devotion and his eloquent and fervent appeals contributed in no small measure to the success of these gatherings.
A spirit of utter self-forgetfulness marked the lad. Through storm and sunshine he plodded on, daring dangers innumerable, and facing death in many forms. He was tireless in laboring for the salvation of his people, going from band to band, and seizing every opportunity to preach unto them Jesus. Hundreds were impressed by his fervent words, his native eloquence, and his pure and Christlike spirit, and were led to give themselves to God.
David became of great value also in interpreting for the missionaries who might not know the language of the Indians. He was for a time a class-leader at Skowkale, in the Chilliwack Valley, and he had another class at the head of Sumas Lake, twenty miles away, and a third class at Squi-a-la camp, which were the blessed fruit of one of the camp-meetings. Probably it was in his work through this valley that David contracted the cold which was destined to end his earthly career. It was often necessary for him to swim rivers and ford creeks and sloughs and rushing torrents, in order to carry the glad tidings of salvation to his benighted brethren. Once on such a journey he nearly lost his life. He was miles away from any dwelling, and was attempting to cross a slough at the head of Sumas Lake. The ice, being weak, gave way, and down he went.
He says, in telling of his mishap: “I plunged and broke the ice again and again as I tried to climb out upon it. The water was so cold that I was becoming chilled and weak, and I thought, ‘Now, David go to heaven, and nobody will know where David has gone’; so I got my Bible with my name in it, and threw it right up on the shore, so that I think when somebody find it they will say, ‘Oh, David has gone to heaven on the lake’; but just then, while among the breaking ice, my feet caught on a sand-bar, and by this means I struggled to the shore. I found my Bible, and went on my way rejoicing again to be allowed to preach to my people.” Who will say that Providence did not interfere to save one so useful and so devoted to the cause of Christ?
David’s preaching was very earnest, very forceful and original, and full of illustrations from nature. One of his sermons was called his “Steamboat Whistle Sermon.” We had the pleasure of hearing this wonderful sermon at one of the Chilliwack camp-meetings, which he delivered in his broken English to a crowd of white people gathered at the meeting, and which we doubt not was the means of leading some to the Saviour.
A great number of white people and Indians had gathered at the camp-meeting. An English service was first held, followed by a service for the Indians. Amos Cushan, the old local preacher, who was a friend of David’s, had preached to them his famous sermon on the judgment, when, in response to his invitation, the whole congregation rushed forward to the rude altar of prayer, and then scores of people with one voice sent up their cries and petitions to heaven for salvation. After a season of prayer and wonderful blessing a change was made in the exercises. By this time crowds of white people were standing round the camp and at the doors of their tents, looking on with amazement, and many of them with their eyes filled with tears at seeing so many of the red men anxious for pardon. David, seeing them, seized the opportunity to preach, and springing to his feet he began in his broken English a marvellous and soul-stirring address to them:
“My dear white friends,” said he, “you look at our Indian people here, you hear them cry very much, and you say, ‘What they make all that noise for, what make them feel so bad?’ Well, I tell you. My dear people just heard about Jesus now, and they all want to find Him and love Him. You heard long time ago, some of you; you find Jesus long time; you love Him. It all same as steamboat on this river.” (The camp was on the banks of the old Fraser, and many had come by steamer.) “When she going to start she whistle one whistle, then she whistle another, and if you don’t get your things very quick and run, she whistles last time” (boats whistle three times before leaving), “and she go off and leave you behind, and you very sorry because you too late. Now Jesus like that. He whistle, He call. He whistle and whistle, and if you don’t get on board Jesus’ salvation ship, you too late. I think some my people get on board before some of you, because they not afraid to repent and come on board. Now, my white friends, you hurry up, have all your things packed up, be quick and get on board or you be too late. I think some of this poor Indian people go into heaven and you left out. Oh, come on board quick, come on board, come to Jesus now! This a very good ship, room for all you people, and Indian people too, black and white; come now, all come.”
No one could help being moved at the speaker’s strong, earnest appeal, a message from a heart burning with love for souls. Oh, how anxious he seemed; how he pleaded for the people to come to Jesus; how he sought to show them the need of doing so, and of doing it right then.
We looked around when he had finished and saw a number of the most hardened sinners in tears and broken down by the earnest, loving, living message of the young Indian preacher. Who can measure the results of that strong and sympathetic appeal? Never can it fade from my memory or its effect be effaced from the heart. We feel that the Great Shepherd alone can tell how many of His sheep were found by the call given in that “Steamboat Whistle Sermon” by His young servant on the old camp-ground on the banks of the Fraser. One man was saved that day who became well known as a faithful worker among the Indians in after days. This was old Captain Tsit-see-mit-ston, who lived at the head of Sumas Lake.
David knew nothing of fear in the prosecution of his work for the Master. Many a time, in the midst of circumstances most trying, would he declare his allegiance to Christ. Never was he ashamed of his Saviour, and his young heart was so full of love for Him that the influence was felt by all who came near to his warm and faithful life. Although his opportunities were few and his advantages limited, owing to a lack of an English education, he was a living demonstration of the fact that “God often chooses the weak things of the world to confound the things that are mighty.”
On one occasion he was accompanying me on a missionary trip which included a visit to a sick Indian who lived up the Chilliwack River. When we arrived at Skowkale, on the east bank of the river, a priest came to the opposite side. He seemed desirous of crossing the river (it was before the river had changed its course at Vedder Crossing), and as there was no bridge, and no canoe or boat on his side, he called to the Indians on our side to come over and fetch him. I told them to go for the man, but they said, “Oh, no, we don’t want that teacher any more.”
“But,” said I, “it is only politeness to row the man over if he wishes it; you do not need to listen to him or follow his teaching, but you ought to be kind and help any man when you can.”
At last they were persuaded, and rowed across after the man, bringing him to our side. When the priest arrived on the bank of the river I said:
“Good-morning, sir, you seem to be travelling.”
“Yes,” said he, “I am going up to see a sick man at the village above.”
“Oh, indeed,” said I; “my little friend and I were just going to the same place.”
“Then,” said the man, in a mixture of French and English, “you better not go, he is my convert.”
“Yes,” said I, “but I have been to see the sick man before, and I thought of going again.”
“Then,” said he, “you people are all in the wrong way; it is no good you go.”
“Well,” said I, “which way are you in? Here is my chart,” holding up the Bible. At this he got angry, and said, “That book is no good.”
All this time David stood quietly by without saying a word, but when he saw the man getting angry he stepped up and said, “Mr. Crosby, I think you gentlemen speak too much your own words. Very good, I read some out of God’s Word.” So he read some striking verse out of his little Testament. This made the priest very angry, and he tried to snatch the book out of the boy’s hand, saying, “He can’t read; he is only a little Siwash” (Chinook for Indian). “It is only something he had committed to memory, the little Siwash.”
“Yes,” said David, “that’s so; me little Siwash, but this book tell me if I love Jesus and work for him, when I die I go up to heaven, and I live with Jesus up there. Me little Siwash, but me love Jesus; Jesus my friend, Jesus my King; Jesus save me and help me to be good and not get angry. Cannot I read?” and taking out his Bible he turned to passage after passage, as if God had inspired and told him just where to turn the leaves, and read:
“Therefore, being justified by faith we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” “There is one mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus.” And again, “The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, cleanseth us from all sin.” “He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved, but he that believeth not shall be damned.” And so he went on, reading passage after passage, slyly hitting, without apparently knowing it, one after another of the errors of the priest’s own Church, until the countenance of the latter was a study. It changed to purple, and from purple to livid, in a very short time, until his indignation mastered him, and he made off up the river bank; not, however, before our young Indian, turning over the leaves of his Bible, repeated, very significantly, the passage, “The wicked flee when no man pursueth, but the righteous are bold as a lion.” This courageous action on the part of David fired the zeal and enthusiasm of all the Indians, and gathering together they commenced to sing a part of one of Wesley’s hymns, which they had learned at the camp:
“Jesus, the name high over all,
In hell or earth or sky;
Angels and men before it fall,
And devils fear and fly.”
And just as the priest, with the wind blowing strongly against him, hurried rapidly up the bank of the river, with his long coat-tails flying in the breeze, the last line of the verse was ringing out on the air, which is a translation from the Indian language in which it was sung, “The devil gets afraid and runs.”
We are informed by a lady who often entertained Sallosalton that one day he was going to visit the Indians who lived across the Chilliwack River. Having arrived at the bank of the river he saw an Indian on the other side, and called to him to come across and row him over with his canoe. The man, being a Roman Catholic, refused to do so, so David took off his clothes, tied them in a bundle, placed the bundle on the top of his head, plunged into the river and was soon on the other shore. He then dressed himself, and went on his way rejoicing that he was able to carry the blessed light to his heathen people. Nothing could daunt our young hero, nothing discourage his young heart. He was wholly given up to his work for the Master.
On the occasion of one of his visits to the head of Sumas Lake he met a white man whom he had known in Nanaimo. This man was one who had known the grace of God but had wandered from the fold, and he thought to cause David some discomfort by his talk.
“David,” said he, “what are you doing here, so far away from your home? We don’t see you in Nanaimo any more. What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing,” said David, “I am simply preaching to my people.”
“Oh, you’re preaching, are you? Preaching for the Methodists, I suppose? How much do they pay you? You know some of these preachers get good pay; how much do you get?”
“Oh,” said David, “you think me work for nothing? You think me get no pay? By-and-bye me get great pay. Me get great crown up in heaven. Jesus pay me. Me be a king up there. Oh, yes, me get pay by-and-bye, me get great pay.” This set this poor old backslider thinking, and we hope it was the means of leading him back to Jesus Christ, from whom, by his worldliness and selling of whiskey, he had wandered so far. David was not in the least disturbed by the man’s remarks, but marched on, singing, “There is a happy land, far, far away.”
None could have a higher motive than this for his life’s work. To David in all his work came the glorious hope of the heavenly welcome, which, beaming brightly on his earthly way, chased away many shadows that might otherwise have lingered there. Sunshine and joy seemed ever present with him, and made him a most desirable companion, while his deep religious convictions gave the influence of holy thought and motive as an additional claim to the fellowship which others were privileged to have with him.
The Rev. Morley Punshon, D.D., before the British Conference of 1873, gave a good description of this incident, and of Sallosalton’s work. He says, in speaking of him:
“In British Columbia I met an Indian, one of the most eloquent men I ever heard. If I had not met Sciarelli (a Hindu), I should have said he is the most eloquent man who ever stood before an audience. He was only seventeen years of age, but a youth of very great promise, who rejoiced our heart with the prospect of long-continued usefulness, but whom God loved so much that He took him out of the world after a short time of most earnest and successful labor upon the Fraser River. This young man, David Sallosalton, wrought a great work among his countrymen.”