Broadcloth and pemmican seldom met together in the far West during the old buffalo days. Occasionally, though, a "sky pilot" dressed in prairie garb found his way to the trading posts or the mining camps of the old-timers, where he was hospitably entertained and sometimes handsomely remunerated. There were few attractions for men of culture and refinement in such a life; only that to be found in a free and easy life on the western plains, strengthened by the desire to do good and the assurance of success which always accompanies every earnest toiler who obeys the behests of his Master.
Parson Morris was a Methodist preacher of the old school, with few tastes, yet withal a man of culture and sterling worth. He had not only seen the inside of a college, but he was a good classical scholar. Few could handle the Greek Testament better than he, or were better versed in the standards of Methodist theology. When a lad he had found peace at the ancient "penitent bench," and the first prayer that fell from his lips was the simple but very expressive sentence, "Lord, make me a missionary!" This missionary zeal had been fed by reading the life of John Hunt of Fiji and current missionary literature.
During his college course the keen eye of one of the church leaders recognized the fitness of the young man for the mission field, and a messenger was sent to request his consent to go into the work of bringing the heathen to Christ. His heart had been set upon going to Japan, but the voice of destiny sent him to the western plains of Canada, where under the shadow of the majestic mountains he unfurled the banner of the Prince of Peace.
Parson Morris must, like all wise men, take a partner with him to his western home, one with whom to share his toil and his joy; for, although there were many who sought to deter him from engaging in such a fruitless task as striving to lead Indians or frontiersmen to the feet of Christ, he anticipated success, and his heart was therefore full of joy. It would have been needless for him to have gone forth upon his mission if he had not been buoyant in spirit and deeply impressed with the great work he had undertaken.
The friends of the young missionary and his wife felt their departure keenly, and some kind-hearted souls deeply sympathized with them, and spoke to them as if they had been banished by some edict of the Almighty to dwell in lone banishment in some desert wilderness. The young parson received a handsome gift from his ministerial friends, and Nancy, the parson's bride, was made the recipient of several valuable presents from her college friends.
While attending the session of Conference the Rev. John Boswell offered his congratulations to the missionary, adding: "It does seem a pity that a man possessed of such good talents as you should become a missionary to the Indians. You would do well on the best fields of the East."
The simple answer was, "I feel that I ought to go!"
Two days before starting upon the missionary journey an interesting though scarcely encouraging missive was received offering good-will, and containing a newspaper clipping detailing the hanging of a Cree Indian for the inhuman act of murdering, cooking and eating his own family!
Some of these kind friends who sent this letter were numbered amongst the most generous contributors to the missionary cause, and prayed most earnestly for its success.
The solemn moment of parting came, and many tears were shed, many words of regret spoken. The parson felt depressed when thus surrounded by so many gloomy countenances, but he naturally turned aside in search of one or two kindred spirits, and as he stood upon the railroad station platform there came a vision before his eyes, one which filled them with tears. It was that of the heathen waiting in thousands with outstretched arms calling for help, while not a soul appeared to hear the cry which ascended to heaven and arrested the angels in their mission of mercy and love. The great responsibility of helping men toward a nobler life rested heavily upon the heart of Parson Morris, and as he talked to his friends, hearing and answering their questions, his heart was far away on those distant plains.