On the 28th I retired to the summit of a neighboring mountain, to read the vespers of St. Michael. The atmosphere was unusually serene; not a sound disturbed the silence of nature. I gazed on the quiet beauty of the scene, hushed, as it were, in the presence of God, and my heart dilated at the thought of the thousands of unconverted Indians, buried in the darkness of idolatry. Full of these thoughts, I raised my eyes, and, excited as my imagination was, it seemed to me that I beheld the archangel, Michael, standing on the opposite mountain, exclaiming, “Deluded nations! Who is {387} like unto God?” The voice resounded through the forests—it was echoed by the deep ravines. I fancied it was heard and understood by the wild children of the woods; their responding shouts rung in my ear. Yielding to the enthusiasm of my feelings, I hastily quitted my elevated position, and erected a wooden cross on the summit of a neighboring eminence. Some days after, a hunter discovered, near the half-consumed embers of an extinguished fire, a similar cross, to which a banner was attached. My first thought was, that it had been planted there by some Catholic, who had lost his way in the forest, and been devoured by the wolves. The Flat-Heads, however, well acquainted with the practices of their ancient foes, the Black-Feet, informed me that it was a custom among them to erect these crosses to the moon, in order to render her favorable to the robbery or chase, in which they were about to engage. This information dispelled the pleasing fancies in which I had indulged; and painfully reminded me that the God-Saviour is yet far from being adored in these wild abodes. May we not hope that the time will yet come, when the banner of the true cross will wave triumphant o’er this benighted land!
{388} The obstacles which have hitherto prevented the missionaries from penetrating into the Black-Feet territory are now beginning to disappear, and there is every prospect of our soon being able to commence the glorious work of their conversion.
The next day we entered a mountain pass, where the foot of man had seldom trodden, as was proved by the fact, that fifteen beavers were taken in one night by three hunters. After following for some time the circuitous windings of the ravine, we came to an ascent so slippery, that at every instant I was in anticipation of some sad catastrophe. Presently a sumpter-horse missed his footing and fell, rolling down the precipice. Who, that had seen him fall from rock to rock, would ever have thought, that in a few minutes he would be journeying on, laden as before! Without uttering a single word, the guide made her way through the deep snow to the spot where the poor animal lay, unloaded him, raised him from the ground, replaced his burden, and brought him back to the rear of the troop.
We continued our route until sunset, along the mountain’s summit; at length, after a forced march of ten hours, we pitched our tents on a {389} beautiful island, where we enjoyed both security and repose. Surrounded by the waters of the Missouri, and abounding in rich pastures, this charming spot seems, as it were, destined by nature as a place of rest for the wearied traveller.
It would have been impossible to contemplate without admiring the loveliness of the landscape. From the southern coast of the river arose a ridge of mountains, whose varied colors of blue, red, green, and yellow, gave them a striking appearance; the effect of which was heightened by a small stream, leaping from rock to rock, in the form of a cascade, cooling the parched ground, insinuating itself into the crevices of the rocks, and giving birth to an infinite variety of creeping plants, and flowering shrubs.—The island itself is beautiful beyond description. The scenery is diversified by groups of the majestic buttonball, which, in this country, is the giant of the vegetable kingdom. It was under the shade of one of these noble trees that our hunters prepared to celebrate the feast of the Maternity. The sun’s last rays had long disappeared beneath the horizon, ere all was ready for the evening prayer. After which, notwithstanding the fatigues of the day, a large {390} fire was kindled before my tent, and the greater part of the night consecrated by these fervent children of the woods, to the reconciliation of their souls with God. The following day the Holy Sacrifice was celebrated with as much solemnity as the circumstances would permit. Of the ninety persons who then approached the table of the Lord, there was not one, who, since the departure from St. Mary’s, had not communicated every month. Several had enjoyed that happiness each week. During the evening office nothing particular occurred. The eve of my departure the mothers brought their young children to receive my blessing; and the chiefs erected a cross in token of their gratitude for the favors received during the hunting season. To this latter circumstance the island is indebted for the beautiful name of St. Croix.
The following day I bade farewell to my dear neophytes; and, after joining in prayer with them for the last time, I set out on my return to St. Mary’s.
N. Point, S. J.
No. XXVIII
“Henceforward the Prayer of the Flat-Heads shall be Ours”
BY REV. P. N. POINT