I had a very warm reception from the W. family, behind whose house I stored the caravan until I had time to clean it. The first thing to do was to clean myself and my wardrobe. I looked more like a mechanic than a Sunday School "expert." I found oil on most of my clothes, and without Mrs. W. should never have got them clean again. It was very nice not to have to turn out in the morning and cook breakfast over a bad-tempered Primus. Mrs. W.'s meals were not easily forgotten, and now they seemed extra good. The Canadian breakfast is a dream: you begin with grape fruit, and then come "cereals," followed by eggs and bacon, and sometimes griddle cakes with maple syrup, or johnnie cakes.
When I went to church on Sunday morning I had another kind reception, and the vicar insisted that I should give an address to the whole Sunday School in church that afternoon.
Next day I went to see Archdeacon Dobie and Archdeacon Knowles, and had a long talk with them, the gist of which I append later. I told them that I wished to present the caravan to the diocese, that this work might be carried on. Archdeacon Knowles offered to take charge of the van and its equipment during the winter, promising that it should be stored in the Synod garage.
The caravan had covered at least 3,000 miles in just over three months. We started from Regina on May 21 and got back on August 21. We visited ten existing Sunday Schools and started four new ones; we also visited twelve day schools and enrolled sixty children in the Sunday School by Post. Besides this we gave many Bible picture talks to children and addresses to parents and teachers, held a good many services in church, and did a lot of visiting.
CHAPTER XVIII
AN INDIAN RESERVE
I felt that I could not leave Canada without seeing an Indian Reserve. I had met Miss A., the headmistress of the Christian boarding school at Punnichy, so I wrote to her asking if I might pay a flying visit to the Reserve, and received a warm invitation. I left Regina at 9.30 p.m. and did not arrive at Punnichy till next morning at 6.30. I travelled with a large number of Doukhobors, extraordinary people who talk a most curious language. They come from southern Russia, and are a religious sect. They live in communities, having everything in common, even wives. The women wear picturesque clothes—a coloured handkerchief over their heads and another over their shoulders, with a very full short skirt. I noticed that the train inspector seemed uneasy at my being in their compartment, and soon moved me to another one. But I had to remain an hour with them in the waiting-room at Saskatchewan, and they seemed quite harmless and were interesting to watch.
I was met by a Mrs. T., who drove me in her own car up to the Reserve. I found that she had nursed in France during the War, had had shell shock, and had received the Royal Red Cross. Her husband was the headmaster of the day school on the Reserve. She had found that the Indians were without a nurse of any kind, and so she was giving her services in that capacity and had her hands full. She had even bought a car in order to get round the Reserve. There was a great deal of sickness, the Indians being very tubercular now, and there was much infant mortality. Mrs. T. said that she badly needed another nurse to help her. She was then on her way to the school to help the doctor operate on a good many children for adenoids and tonsils, but it would be a case of "first catch your hare," as the patients always fled into the bush on these occasions.
Miss A. and her father, the chaplain on the Reserve, received me very kindly. After breakfast I was asked to give the children a Scripture lesson. They were bright, attractive children, but not nearly so quick as the British children. They knew a great deal, however, having been well taught. It seemed very sad that our British children had been so neglected that they knew less about the Bible than these Indian children did. I bought some of the beautiful moccasins and bead chains which they make on the Reserve. The mother of one of the pupils had made the Bishop's mitre all out of beads.
Outside the school-house there was a poor little boy lying on a mattress, the other children entertaining him with picture books. I asked what was the matter with him, and was told that he had broken his leg and the witch-doctors had essayed to cure it, doing him great harm. But he was now getting well under proper supervision. We had meals with the Indian children, in a nice family way. They talked good English, of course, having been in the school for several years. The raison d'être of the boarding school is to give the children a good standard of living. When they attend a day school they have to live at home in the dirty hovels, which undoes much of the civilising influence they have received. When they are old enough the boys are trained to work on the school farm, under the management of Mr. A. I was shown the beautiful little church, but was saddened to see the many little wooden crosses marking the babies' graves. We saw some fine Indian men, looking quaint with their long braided hair and big shady hats. They are being trained to farm work, at which they prove most efficient. I should have liked to have seen the Indian warriors in war paint, but this is seldom allowed by the Government now as it is found to have such an exciting effect on them. There had been a display of the Hudson Bay Company at Winnipeg in the May of that year, but I was not able to go.