There was at this time an elderly man who sought admission to the church at Lac-qui-parle, Left Hand by name. This man was Mr. Renville’s brother-in-law. We could not say he was not a true believer—he seemed to be one. But he had two wives, and they both had been received into church fellowship. They had been admitted on the ground, partly, that it could not be decided which, if either, was the lawful wife, and partly on the ground that Dakota women heretofore could not be held responsible for polygamy. And now Left Hand claimed for himself that he had lived with these women for a quarter of a century, and had a family by each; that he had entered into this relation in the days of ignorance, and that the Bible recognized the rightfulness of such relations under certain circumstances, since David and Jacob had more than one wife. Mr. Renville, who was a ruling elder in the church, took this position, and the members of the mission were not a unit against it. So the question was referred to the Ripley Presbytery. The result was that our native church was saved from sanctioning polygamy. We had the two wives of Left Hand, and two women also in another case. But the husband’s dying has long since left them widows, and some of them also have gone to the eternal world. The loose condition of the marriage relation is still that, in the social state of the Dakotas, which gives us the most trouble.
The fifth winter in our “little chamber” was one full of work. In the early part of it, Mary was still in the school. In the latter part our third child was born. She was named “Martha Taylor,” for the grandmother in Massachusetts. During the years previous, I had undertaken to translate a good portion of the New Testament, the Acts, and Paul’s Epistles, and the Revelation. This winter the corrected copy had to be made. Of necessity I learned to do my best work surrounded by children. My study and workshop was our sitting-room, and dining-room, and kitchen, and nursery, and ladies’ parlor. It was often half filled with Indians. Besides my own translations, I copied for the press the Gospel of John and some of the Psalms. A part of the latter were my own translation, and a part were secured, as the Gospel was, through Mr. Renville. There was also a hymn-book to edit, and some school-books to be prepared. So the winter was filled with work and service. The remembrance of it is only pleasant. Of course, the ordinary family trials were experienced. A bucket of water was spilled and was leaking down on Mrs. Williamson’s bed below, or one of the children fell down the stairs, or our little Bella crawled out of the window and sat on the little shelf where the milk was set to cool in the morning, giving us a good scare, etc.
MARY TO HER BROTHER ALFRED.
“Lac-qui-parle, April 28, 1841.
“Your letter presented to my ‘mind’s eye’ our mountain home. I entered the lower gate, passed up the lane between the elms, maples, and cherries, and saw once more our mountain home embowered by the fir-trees and shrubbery I loved so well. How many times have I watched the first buddings of those rose-bushes and lilacs, and with what care and delight have I nursed those snowballs, half dreaming they were sister spirits, telling by their delicate purity of that Eden where flowers never fade and leaves never wither. Perhaps I was too passionately fond of flowers; if so, that fondness is sufficiently blunted, if not subdued. Not a solitary shrub, tree, or flower rears its head near our dwelling, excepting those of nature’s planting at no great distance on the opposite side of the St. Peter’s, and a copse of plums in a dell on the left, and of scrub-oak on the right. Back of us is the river hill which shelters us from the furious wind of the high prairie beyond. Until last season we have had no enclosure, and now we have but a poor defence against the depredations of beasts, and still more lawless and savage men. On reading descriptions of the situation of our missionary brethren and sisters in Beirut, Jerusalem, and elsewhere, the thought has arisen, ‘That is such a place as I should like to call home.’ But the remembrance of earthquakes, war, and the plague, by which those countries are so often scourged, hushed each murmuring thought. When I also recollected the mysterious providences which have written the Persian missionaries childless, how could I long or wish to possess more earthly comforts, while my husband and our two ‘olive plants’ are spared to sit around our table. Little Bella already creeps to her father, and, if granted a seat on his knee, holds her little hands, although, as Alfred says, ‘she does not wait till papa says amen.’ While we are surrounded by so many blessings, I would not, like God’s ancient people, provoke him by murmuring, as I fear I have done, and if he should deprive us of any of the comforts we now possess, may he give us grace to feel as did Habakkuk, ‘Although the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vine, etc., yet I will rejoice in the Lord and joy in the God of my Salvation.’
“I suppose you have hardly yet found how much of romance is mingled with your ideas of a married state. You will find real life much the same that you have ever found, and with additional joys, additional cares and sorrows. I have realized as much happiness as I anticipated, though many of my bright visions have not been realized, and others have been much changed in outline and finishing. For instance, our still winter evenings are seldom enlivened by reading, while I am engaged lulling our little ones or plying my needle. Although I should greatly enjoy such a treat occasionally, I can not, in our situation, expect it, while it is often almost the only time husband can secure for close and uninterrupted study. You know the time of a missionary is not his own.”
“Thursday, May 19, 1841.
“Perhaps the scene that would amuse you most would be ‘the babies’ morning ride.’ The little wagon in which Isabella and my namesake, Mary Ann Huggins, are drawn by the older children, even Alfred ambitious to assist, would be in complete contrast with ‘the royal princess’ cradle’; yet I doubt not it affords them as much pleasure as a more elegant one would. Alfred’s was made by his father, and Hetta, an Indian girl living at Mr. Huggins’, constructed a canopy, which gives it a tasteful, though somewhat rude appearance. Mrs. Williamson’s son John draws his sister in a wagon of his own, so that the whole troop of ten little ones, with their carriages, form a miniature pleasure party.”
“Lac-qui-parle, Feb. 26, 1842.
“We are grateful for the expression of kindness for us and for our children, and we hope that our duty to those whom God has committed to our care will be made plain. Before your letter reached us, containing the remark of ‘Mother Clark’ about taking the little girl, we had another little daughter added to our family, and had concluded to leave Isabella with Miss Fanny Huggins, as it is probable we shall return to this region, instead of ascending the Missouri. Our little Martha we shall of course not leave behind if our lives are spared and we are permitted to go East; and Alfred we intend taking with us as far as Ohio.”
Of the next year—from the spring of 1842—little need be said in this connection. The preparations were all made. Mary and I took with us the little boy, now in his fifth year, and the baby, while the little girl between was left in the care of Miss Fanny Huggins. It was a year of enjoyment. Mary visited the old home on Hawley hills. The old grandfather was still there, and the younger members of the family had grown up. Here, during the summer, the little boy born in Dakota land gathered strawberries in the meadows of Massachusetts. Our school-books and hymn-book were printed in Boston, and in the autumn we came to Ohio. During the winter months the Bible-printing was done in Cincinnati.
When we were ready to start back, in the spring of 1843, we had secured as fellow-laborers, at the new station which we were instructed to form, Robert Hopkins and his young wife Agnes, and Miss Julia Kephart, all from Ripley, Ohio. The intercourse with so many sympathizing Christian hearts, which had been much interested in the Dakota mission from its commencement, was refreshing. We found, too, that we had both been forgetting our mother tongue somewhat, in the efforts made to learn Dakota. This must be guarded against in the future. In our desire to be Dakotas we must not cease to be English.
The bottoms of the Lower Minnesota were putting on their richest robes of green, and the great wild-rose gardens were coming into full perfection of beauty, when, in the month of June, our barge, laden with mission supplies, was making its way up to Traverse des Sioux. At what was known as “The Little Rapids” was a village of Wahpaton Dakotas, the old home of the people at Lac-qui-parle. There were certain reasons why we thought that might be the point for the new station. We made a halt there of half a day, and called the chief men. But they were found to be too much under the influence of the Treaty Indians below to give us any encouragement. In fact, they did not want missionaries.
We passed by, and landed our boats at the Traverse. The day before reaching this point, Mrs. Hopkins and Mary had made arrangements to have some light bread,—they were tired eating the heavy cakes of the voyage. They succeeded to their satisfaction, and placed the warm bread away, in a safe place, as they supposed, within the tent, ready for the morning. But when the breakfast was ready, the bread was not there. During the night an Indian hand had taken it.