Very Rev. and Dear Father Provincial,—You are already acquainted with our determination to accompany the Black-Feet in returning to their country. In the sequel of this letter you will learn, with pleasure, how far Almighty God has blessed our humble efforts in carrying this resolution into effect. After the battle, described in my letter from the Yellow-Stone camp, the Crows, it appears, fled to the Wind River Mountains, determined, however, to avenge themselves on the Black-Feet, whom they now designed to follow into their own country.[313] The latter, probably through fear of this assault, resolved to remain with the Flat-Head camp, until it reached the head waters of the Muscle-shell River. In leaving the Yellow-Stone our direction lay towards the north, {312} through a broken and undulating, dry and woodless country, destitute of any water fit to drink—stagnant pools of brackish water being the only kind found here to satiate the thirst.[314] Only a few straggling bulls were seen or killed, scarcely sufficient, indeed, to supply the wants of our numerous camp. The great variety of matter incidental to this journey with the united Indian camp, will appear, perhaps, more satisfactory if given in the same order in which it was entered in my diary; I therefore present you with an extract from it:—
8th Sept., 1846. The elements of discord existing between the Nez-Percés and Black-Feet, there is every appearance of an open rupture. The Nez-Percés being evidently in the wrong, the Flat-Heads, following our example, endeavor to convince them of the impropriety of their conduct; but to no purpose, the principal men among them refusing, for the second time, to smoke the calumet of peace.
9th. Towards night a touching incident occurred in our lodge. A Nez-Percé chief, who declares himself our friend, entered, accompanied by three Black-Feet, a warrior, an interpreter, and a young man about twenty years of age. This youth, when about one year old, lost {313} both his parents; his mother, a captive among the Black-Feet, died the first days of her captivity; his father, whose country is far distant from the Black-Feet, is altogether lost to him. The poor orphan became the adopted child of a Black-Foot woman, who brought him up as she would her own offspring. The adopted son grew up, imbibing all the notions and customs of his new friends, knowing no other relations than those around him. To-day, the woman whom he believed to be his real mother, declared to him that she was not; and that his father, whom he had not seen since he was one year old, was now sitting beside him. “Who is my father?” he anxiously enquired. “There,” said the woman, pointing to the Nez-Percé chief, who entered the lodge with him. The doubts of the father were soon removed, as he hastily stripped the youth’s garments from his back, and there discovered the mark of a burn received in the parental lodge while yet an infant. The sudden burst of feeling elicited from these children of nature at this unexpected meeting, can be better imagined than described. The chief has no grown children, he is therefore the more eloquent in endeavoring to persuade his son to return to his native country, presenting him, at {314} the same time, with one of the best and most beautiful of his steeds. I joined to the entreaties of the father, the strongest motives I could urge. The son, whose heart is divided between nature and grace, begged to be allowed to bid farewell to the companions and friends of his youth, who were now absent—he could not, he declared, thus abruptly leave her who, with motherly care and anxiety, had watched over him so many years, and whom he had always so tenderly loved, and looked upon as his mother. “Now that the Black-gowns are with us,” he said, “I desire to be of the happy number of those who are about to introduce them to my friends, and to listen to the words of the Great Spirit, whom they have come to announce. After that, but not before, shall I follow my father.”
10th. The Nez-Percés announce their determination of leaving the united camp. The Flat-Heads, who dread more the presence of a friend capable of injuring their souls, than that of an enemy who can only hurt the body, are excessively rejoiced at this announcement. The Black-Feet also are highly pleased to see them go. The separation took place about 8 o’clock; but they had gone only a short distance from the {315} camp, when, fearing an attack from the Crows, they rejoined the main body, determined to remain as long as the great hunt shall last. To avoid the outbreak, evidently threatened by the ill-will of the Nez-Percé, the Black-Feet have resolved to leave the camp on the morrow. This day I baptized a Nez-Percé, who had been shot in the late battle with the Crows—he cannot survive much longer.
11th. Farewell to the Flat-Heads. All came to shake hands with us, the grief of their hearts was depicted in their countenances; we all perceived how deeply they felt the separation. A great number of their cavaliers accompany us for a considerable distance; six go as far as our encampment, not less than twenty-five miles.
Our course lay through an extensive level plain, at the very base of the Muscle-shell mountains.[315] These rise abruptly from the plain around, resembling broken, elevated islands in the midst of the ocean, and their tops tufted with a heavy growth of cedar and pine. While admiring the singular appearance of the scenery, my attention is called off to a very distressing accident. An old Indian is seen falling from his horse, receiving in the fall a severe wound between his eyes; he remains senseless, all efforts {316} to revive him are fruitless. It was the old Black-Foot chief, Nicholas, whom I baptized five years ago; he acted, ever since, the part of a most effective missionary, in preparing the way for the introduction of the gospel among his tribe.[316] To-day he entered what he called his own country, chanting hymns of praise and thanksgiving in the happy anticipation of soon presenting us to his brethren. He dies! not even a sigh escapes him. Oh, how profound are the designs of God. Happily he leaves a son worthy of so excellent a sire. His attachment to religion equals that of his father. Having resided several years among the Flat-Heads, he has acquired a perfect knowledge of their language—acting in the capacity of interpreter, he has already rendered me considerable assistance. Notwithstanding his great grief, he performs the last sad offices near the tomb of his father with the composure and firmness of a Christian. It is customary among the Black-Feet to express their grief by wailings and lacerations of the body, calculated only to afflict those around, though intended by them as a mark of respect towards the lamented dead. The son of Nicholas, himself a chief and a great brave, knowing the Christian practice, {317} passes the night in prayer, with his wife and children, near the funeral couch of his father. His friends and brother, Pegans[317] (pagan in name and in fact), would now and then gather around him, kneeling beside the mourner, pour forth, Christian-like, many a pious ejaculation on behalf of their deceased chieftain. The remains of the venerable chief were placed in the grave by the hands of his own son, and over his tomb the emblem of salvation was raised—the cross of the Saviour, whose words were now for the first time announced to the lonely tribes of this long-benighted wilderness. At the very moment the last prayers of the funeral service were uttered, “May he rest in peace,” a busy stir breaks the death-like silence of the surrounding crowd of Indians. A Flat-Head approached in full gallop, announcing the pleasing intelligence that two Black-Feet had reached their camp, and informed them that the tribe of Nicholas was within two days march of us.
Announcement of the Discovery of Buffalos