"Last Thursday was all that could be desired. Cool breezes tempered the hot sunbeams, and a brilliant blue sky was reflected in the still, flowing river. Such a lovely spot, too, is the 'Home' Bush! A partially cleared space near the river was chosen for the tables and seats; nearby a log-fire was kindled, on which huge kettles of water were boiled. One thing only marred our hopes for the day. Miss Macpherson herself was almost prostrate through a sharp attack of rheumatism, and oar hearts sank as we feared she would be unable to be among us. However, in the 'prayer of faith' we laid her deep need before the Lord, and He graciously gave her the faith to trust Him, and the courage to attempt, even in great pain, to rise from bed, and walk down to the Bush. The needed strength was marvellously given, and she was able to remain with us until sunset. Truly the Lord doeth wondrous things!
"At four o'clock our guests began to arrive. One visitor was the centre of attraction—a chief of the Six Nation Indians, from the reserve near Brantford, who arrived earlier in the day with Mr. B. Needham, the missionary. Chief Jonathan, now a Christian, was dressed in the native costume, now worn only on high days and holidays. Most picturesque it was to see him seated on the green slope near the river, leaning against a tall maple tree. His coat and trousers of yellow buckskin were fringed at the edges. An embroidered scarlet sash was loosely tied around his waist. Then his head-gear was most striking. Long thin black hair hung over his shoulders,—not his own, but from the scalp of some poor Indian slain in warfare! This was surmounted by a turban cap of scarlet, and white beads, a row of feathers all round it, and in front three or four very long bright feathers standing erect. He was able to talk with us in English, and told us how his grandfathers owned all the land along the 'Grand River.' It is very pitiful to think how the poor Indians have been pushed further and further into little corners of their once proud territory, to make way for the white man, who, alas! brought to them the terrible 'fire-water' which has gone so far to prove their ruin and increase their desolation. Thank God that now they have earnest men of God, whom His own love and zeal for souls has so filled as to enable them to give up all for His glory, and go and live among these dark, despised ones, and take to them the glad tidings of a free salvation.
"During our tea-hour great interest was taken by all our friends in the group of little ones enjoying their cake and tea, and Miss Macpherson told how good the Lord had been to the mission, in opening up homes for nearly all the sixty rescued children we brought out three weeks ago. After tea, our forty younger ones seated themselves in a ring upon the green grass, under the shade of the maple and hickory trees. They sang sweet hymns of Jesus, and repeated many precious texts for Mr. Needham to take as their messages of love to the Indian children in his Sunday-school. Little Bobbie gave as his text, 'God requireth that which is past.' Joey then stood up and repeated, 'Suffer little children to come unto Me.' Johnnie and Georgie gave, 'The eyes of the Lord are in every place,' and 'When my father and mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.'
"A few questions followed from Miss Macpherson,—'How can any one get into heaven?' 'They must love God,' was the first answer. 'They must have their hearts changed,' said another. Then Bobbie's clear voice was heard, again, 'By being washed in the blood of Jesus!' Beautiful answer! wondrous truth!
"The Indian chief stood gazing in calm wonder at this circle of happy English children. Presently Mr. Needham rose and said: 'The Chief tells me he is very anxious to say a few words to the "Queen" (i.e., Miss Macpherson), to the friends, and to the children. He understands English, but his thoughts flow more freely in his native tongue, and he has asked me to be his interpreter. He says that many years ago his fathers kindled the fire and smoked 'the pipe of peace' at such a gathering, and he thanks God for such a sight as this. He has never been so touched as this afternoon by the children's texts and answers. One hymn especially has struck him—
'There's a home for little children,
Above the bright, blue sky.'
'His fathers looked for the home of the spirits, but knew nothing of the Christian's heaven. There are still, in his nation, 700 pagans who sacrifice the white dog to the spirits, and are ever travelling towards the land of the setting sun. He hopes the pagan children will be taught about Jesus. He is so touched by the care taken of these little ones and by the work of the Christian lady who saves them. The Chief says he is very thankful I brought him here to-day. The circle on the grass reminds him of how the Indian children sit to sacrifice the white dog. He is going back to tell the children of his people all these blessed things.'
"During Mr. Needham's interpretation the Chief stood by him, his usually impassive face quite lit up with animated interest. After a while he played to us on his cornet, his favourite tune being 'God save the Queen.' Mr. Needham told us a few deeply interesting details of his work among the Indians, and how the Lord is giving His blessing in conversions, and also in the temperance work just begun among them. He told us of an Indian mother who would walk eight miles to hear the Gospel, with one baby slung over her back, in its curious mummy-like cradle, and another slung on her arm! The poor Indians are beginning really to value the care and labour bestowed on them by the missionary whom God has so evidently prepared for and led into this work. And surely such a mission as this has a deep and solemn claim on the help and sympathy of those who have now possession of the land of the Red Indian, and enjoy the blessings he has lost. Let the white man, who brought him the 'fire-water,'—dire instrument of death!—seek now, though, alas! so late, to carry to him with all speed the blessed 'water of life,' that he may drink and live for ever.
"As the shadows on the grass grew longer, and the west began to glow with the sunset crimson, the little ones, tired yet happy, were taken home to bed, and our kind friends bade as all farewell. When we look back on our happy picnic in the Bush, and raise our earnest prayers for the dear children God has rescued and shall yet rescue, let us not forget to plead for the mission to the Six Nation Indians, and to ask that the light of the glorious Gospel may speedily bring hope and gladness to many a poor dark heart."
Miss Macpherson's next letter tells of many varied interests:—