1837-1839.—The Language.—Its Growth.—System of Notation.—After Changes.—What We Had to Put into the Language.—Teaching English and Teaching Dakota.—Mary’s Letter.—Fort Renville.—Translating the Bible.—The Gospels of Mark and John.—“Good Bird” Born.—Dakota Names.—The Lessons We Learned.—Dakota Washing.—Extracts from Letters.—Dakota Tents.—A Marriage.—Visiting the Village.—Girls, Boys, and Dogs.—G. H. Pond’s Indian Hunt.—Three Families Killed.—The Village Wail.—The Power of a Name.—Post-Office Far Away.—The Coming of the Mail.—S. W. Pond Comes Up.—My Visit to Snelling.—Lost my Horse.—Dr. Williamson Goes to Ohio.—The Spirit’s Presence.—Prayer.—Mary’s Reports.

To learn an unwritten language, and to reduce it to a form that can be seen as well as heard, is confessedly a work of no small magnitude. Hitherto it has seemed to exist only in sound. But it has been, all through the past ages, worked out and up by the forges of human hearts. It has been made to express the lightest thoughts as well as the heart-throbs of men and women and children in their generations. The human mind, in its most untutored state, is God’s creation. It may not stamp purity nor even goodness on its language, but it always, I think, stamps it with the deepest philosophy. So far, at least, language is of divine origin. The unlearned Dakota may not be able to give any definition for any single word that he has been using all his life-time,—he may say, “It means that, and can’t mean any thing else,”—yet, all the while, in the mental workshop of the people, unconsciously and very slowly it may be, but no less very surely, these words of air are newly coined. No angle can turn up, but by and by it will be worn off by use. No ungrammatical expression can come in that will not be rejected by the best thinkers and speakers. New words will be coined to meet the mind’s wants; and new forms of expression, which at the first are bungling descriptions only, will be pared down and tucked up so as to come into harmony with the living language.

But it was no part of our business to make the Dakota language. It was simply the missionary’s work to report it faithfully. The system of notation had in the main been settled upon before Mary and I joined the mission. It was, of course, to be phonetic, as nearly as possible. The English alphabet was to be used as far as it could be. These were the principles that guided and controlled the writing of Dakota. In their application it was soon found that only five pure vowel sounds were used. So far the work was easy. Then it was found that x and v and r and g and j and f and c, with their English powers, were not needed. But there were four clicks and two gutturals and a nasal that must in some way be expressed. It was then, even more than now, a matter of pecuniary importance that the language to be printed should require as few new characters as possible. And so n was taken to represent the nasal; q represented one of the clicks; g and r represented the gutturals; and c and j and x were used to represent ch, zh, and sh. The other clicks were represented by marked letters. Since that time, some changes have been made: x and r have been discarded from the purely Dakota alphabet. In the Dakota grammar and dictionary, which was published fifteen years afterward, an effort was made to make the notation philosophical, and accordant with itself. The changes which have since been adopted have all been in the line of the dictionary.

When we missionaries had gathered and expressed and arranged the words of this language, what had we to put into it, and what great gifts had we for the Dakota people? What will you give me? has always been their cry. We brought to them the Word of Life, the Gospel of Salvation through faith in Jesus Christ our Lord, as contained in the Bible. Not to preach Christ to them only, that they might have life, but to engraft his living words into their living thoughts, so that they might grow into his spirit more and more, was the object of our coming. The labor of writing the language was undertaken as a means to a greater end. To put God’s thoughts into their speech, and to teach them to read in their own tongue the wonderful works of God, was what brought us to the land of the Dakotas. But they could not appreciate this. Ever and anon came the question, What will you give me? And so, when we would proclaim the “old, old story” to those proud Dakota men at Lac-qui-parle, we had to begin with kettles of boiled pumpkins, turnips, and potatoes. The bread that perisheth could be appreciated—the Bread of Life was still beyond their comprehension. But by and by it was to find its proper nesting-place.

It was very fortunate for the work of education among the Dakotas that it had such a staunch and influential friend as Joseph Renville, Sr., of Lac-qui-parle. It was never certainly known whether Mr. Renville could read his French Bible or not. But he had seen so much of the advantages of education among the white people, that he greatly desired his own children should learn to read and write, both in Dakota and English, and through his whole life gave his influence in favor of Dakota education. Sarah Poage, afterward Mrs. G. H. Pond, had come as a teacher, and had, from their first arrival at Lac-qui-parle, been so employed. Mr. Renville had four daughters, all of them young women, who had, with some other half-breeds, made an English class. They had learned to read the language, but understood very little of it, and were not willing to speak even what they understood. All through these years the teaching of English, commenced at the beginning of our mission work, although found to be very difficult and not producing much apparent fruit, has never been abandoned. But for the purposes of civilization, and especially of Christianization, we have found culture in the native tongue indispensable.

To teach the classes in English was in Mary’s line of life. She at once relieved Miss Poage of this part of her work, and continued in it, with some intervals, for several years. Often she was greatly tried, not by the inability of her Dakota young lady scholars, but by their unwillingness to make such efforts as to gain the mastery of English.

Teaching in Dakota was a different thing. It was their own language. The lessons, printed with open type and a brush on old newspapers, and hung round the walls of the school-room, were words that had a meaning even to a Dakota child. It was not difficult. A young man has sometimes come in, proud and unwilling to be taught, but, by sitting there and looking and listening to others, he has started up with the announcement, “I am able.” Some small books had already been printed. Others were afterward provided. But the work of works, which in some sense took precedence of all others, was then commencing, and has not yet been quite completed—that of putting the Bible into the language of the Dakotas.[3]

“Nov. 18, 1837.

“I make very slow progress in learning Dakota, and could you hear the odd combinations of it with English which we allow ourselves, you would doubtless be somewhat amused, if not puzzled to guess our meaning, though our speech would betray us, for the little Dakota we can use we can not speak like the Indians. The peculiar tone and ease are wanting, and several sounds I have been entirely unable to make; so that, in my case at least, there would be ‘shibboleths’ not a few. And these cause the Dakota pupils to laugh very frequently when I am trying to explain, or lead them to understand some of the most simple things about arithmetic. Perhaps you will think them impolite, and so should I if they had been educated in a civilized land, but now I am willing to bear with them, if I can teach them any thing in the hour which is allotted for this purpose.

“As yet I have devoted no time to any except those who are attempting to learn English, and my class will probably consist of five girls and two or three boys. Two of the boys, who, we hope, will learn English, are full Dakotas, and, if their hearts were renewed, might be very useful as preachers of the Gospel to their own degraded people.”

Fort Renville, as it was sometimes called, was a stockade, made for defence in case of an invasion by the Ojibwas, who had been from time immemorial at war with the Sioux. Inside of this stockade stood Mr. Renville’s hewed-log house, consisting of a store-house and two dwellings. Mr. Renville’s reception-room was of good size, with a large open fireplace, in which his Frenchmen, or “French-boys,” as they were called by the Indians, piled up an enormous quantity of wood of a cold day, setting it up on end, and thus making a fire to be felt as well as seen. Here the chief Indian men of the village gathered to smoke and talk. A bench ran almost around the entire room, on which they sat or reclined. Mr. Renville usually sat on a chair in the middle of the room. He was a small man with rather a long face and head developed upward. A favorite position of his was to sit with his feet crossed under him like a tailor. This room was the place of Bible translating. Dr. Williamson and Mr. G. H. Pond had both learned to read French. The former usually talked with Mr. Renville in French, and, in the work of translating, read from the French Bible, verse by verse. Mr. Renville’s memory had been specially cultivated by having been much employed as interpreter between the Dakotas and the French. It seldom happened that he needed to have the verse re-read to him. But it often happened that we, who wrote the Dakota from his lips, needed to have it repeated in order that we should get it exactly and fully. When the verse or sentence was finished, the Dakota was read by one of the company. We were all only beginners in writing the Dakota language, and I more than the others. Sometimes Mr. Renville showed, by the twinkle of his eye, his conscious superiority to us, when he repeated a long and difficult sentence and found that we had forgotten the beginning. But ordinarily he was patient with us, and ready to repeat. By this process, continued from week to week during that first winter of ours at Lac-qui-parle, a pretty good translation of the Gospel of Mark was completed, besides some fugitive chapters from other parts. In the two following winters the Gospel of John was translated in the same way.

Besides giving these portions of the Word of God to the Dakotas sooner than it could have been done by the missionaries alone, these translations were invaluable to us as a means of studying the structure of the language, and as determining, in advance of our own efforts in this line, the forms or moulds of many new ideas which the Word contains. In after years we always felt safe in referring to Mr. Renville as authority in regard to the form of a Dakota expression.

During this first year that Mary and I spent in the Dakota country, there were coming to us continually new experiences. One of the most common, and yet one of the most thrilling and abiding, was in the birth of our first-born. In motherhood and fatherhood are found large lessons in life. The mother called her first-born child Alfred Longley, naming him for a very dear brother of hers. The Dakotas named this baby boy of ours Good Bird (Zitkadan Washtay). They said that it was a good name. In those days it was a habit with them to give names to the white people who came among them. Dr. Williamson they called Payjehoota Wechasta—Medicine man, or, more literally, Grass-root man—that is, Doctor. To Mr. G. H. Pond they gave the name Matohota, Grizzly-bear. Mr. S. W. Pond was Wamdedoota, Red-eagle. To me they gave the name of Tamakoche, His country. They said some good Dakota long ago had borne that name. To Mary they gave the name of Payuha. At first they gutturalized the h, which made it mean Curly-head—her black hair did curl a good deal; but afterward they naturalized the h, and said it meant Having-a-head.

The winter as it passed by had other lessons for us. For me it was quite a chore to cut and carry up wood enough to keep our somewhat open upper room cosey and comfortable. Mary had more ambition than I had to get native help. She had not been accustomed to do a day’s washing. It came hard to her. The other women of the mission preferred to wash for themselves rather than train natives to do it. And indeed, at the beginning, that was found to be no easy task. For, in the first place, Dakota women did not wash. Usually they put on a garment and wore it until it rotted off. This was pretty much the rule. No good, decent woman could be found willing to do for white people what they did not do for themselves. We could hire all the first women of the village to hoe corn or dig potatoes, but not one would take hold of the wash-tub. And so it was that Mary’s first washer-women were of the lowest class, and not very reputable characters. But she persevered and conquered. Only a few years had passed when the wash-women of the mission were of the best women of the village. And the effort proved a great public benefaction. The gospel of soap was indeed a necessary adjunct and outgrowth of the Gospel of Salvation.

“Dec. 13.

“My first use of the pen since the peculiar manifestation of God’s loving kindness we have so recently experienced shall be for you, my dear parents. That you will with us bless the Lord, as did the Psalmist in one of my favorite Psalms, the 103d, we do not doubt; for I am sure you will regard my being able so soon to write as a proof of God’s tender mercy. I have been very comfortable most of the time during the past week. As our little one cries, and I am now his chief nurse, I must lay aside my pen and paper and attend to his wants, for Mr. Riggs is absent, procuring, with Dr. W. and Mr. Pond, the translation of Mark, from Mr. Renville.”

“Dec. 28.

“Yesterday our dear little babe was three weeks old. I washed with as little fatigue as I could expect; still, I should have thought it right to have employed some one, was there any one to be employed who could be trusted. But the Dakota women, besides not knowing how to wash, need constant and vigilant watching. Poor creatures, thieves from habit, and from a kind of necessity, though one of their own creating!”

“Jan. 10.

“The Dakota tent is formed of buffalo-skins, stretched on long poles placed on the ground in a circle, and meeting at the top, where a hole is left from which the smoke of the fire in the centre issues. Others are made of bark tied to the poles placed in a similar manner. A small place is left for a door of skin stretched on sticks and hinged with strings at the top, so that the person entering raises it from the bottom and crawls in. At this season of the year the door is protected by a covered passage formed by stakes driven into the ground several feet apart, and thatched with grass. Here they keep their wood, which the women cut this cold weather, the thermometer at eighteen to twenty degrees below zero. And should you lift the little door, you would find a cold, smoky lodge about twelve feet in diameter, a mother and her child, a blanket or two, or a skin, a kettle, and possibly in some of them a sack of corn.”

“Thursday Eve., Jan. 11.

“Quite unexpectedly, this afternoon we received an invitation to a wedding at Mr. Renville’s, one of his daughters marrying a Frenchman. We gladly availed ourselves of an ox-sled, the only vehicle we could command, and a little before three o’clock we were in the guest-chamber. Mr. Renville, who is part Dakota, received us with French politeness, and soon after the rest of the family entered. These, with several Dakota men and women seated on benches, or on the floor around the room, formed not an uninteresting group. The marriage ceremony was in French and Dakota, and was soon over. Then the bridegroom rose, shook hands with his wife’s relations, and kissed her mother, and the bride also kissed all her father’s family.

“When supper was announced as ready, we repaired to a table amply supplied with beef and mutton, potatoes, bread, and tea. Though some of them were not prepared as they would have been in the States, they did not seem so singular as a dish that I was unable to determine what it could be, until an additional supply of blood was offered me. I do not know how it was cooked, though it might have been fried with pepper and onions, and I am told it is esteemed as very good. The poor Indians throw nothing away, whether of beast or bird, but consider both inside and outside delicious broiled on the coals.”

“April 5.

“Yesterday afternoon Mrs. Pond and myself walked to ‘the lodges.’ As the St. Peter’s now covers a large part of the bottom, we wound our way in the narrow Indian path on the side of the hill. An Indian woman, with her babe fastened upon its board at her back, walked before us, and as the grass on each side of the foot-path made it uncomfortable walking side by side, we conformed to Dakota custom, one following the other. For a few moments we kept pace with our guide, but she, soon outstripping us, turned a corner and was out of sight. As we wished for a view of the lake and river, we climbed the hill. There we saw the St. Peter’s, which in the summer is a narrow and shallow stream, extending over miles of land, with here and there a higher spot peeping out as an island in the midst of the sea. The haze prevented our having a good view of the lake.

“After counting thirty lodges stretched along below us, we descended and entered one, where we found a sick woman, who said she had not sat up for a long time, lying on a little bundle of hay. Another lodge we found full of corn, the owners having subsisted on deer and other game while absent during the winter.

“When we had called at Mr. Renville’s, which was a little beyond, we returned through the heart of the village, attended by such a retinue as I have never before seen, and such strange intermingling of laughing and shouting of children and barking of dogs as I never heard. Amazed, and almost deafened by the clamor, I turned to gaze upon the unique group. Some of the older girls were close upon our heels, but as we stopped they also halted, and those behind slackened their pace. Boys and girls of from four to twelve years of age, some wrapped in their blankets, more without, and quite a number of boys almost or entirely destitute of clothing, with a large number of dogs of various sizes and colors, presented themselves in an irregular line. As all of the Indians here have pitched their lodges together, I suppose there might have been thirty or forty children in our train. When we reached home, I found little Alfred happy and quiet, in the same place on the bed I had left him more than two hours previous, his father having been busy studying Dakota.

“This evening two Indian women came and sat a little while in our happy home. One of them had a babe about the age of Alfred. You would have smiled to see the plump, undressed child peeping out from its warm blanket like a little unfledged bird from its mossy nest.”

Mr. Pond had long been yearning to see inside of an Indian. He had been wanting to be an Indian, if only for half an hour, that he might know how an Indian felt and by what motives he could be moved. And so when the early spring of 1838 came, and the ducks began to come northward, a half-dozen families started out from Lac-qui-parle to hunt and trap on the upper part of the Chippewa River, in the neighborhood of where is now the town of Benson, in Minnesota. Mr. Pond went with them, and was gone two weeks. It was in the first of April, and the streams were flooded, and the water was cold. There should have been enough of game easily obtained to feed the party well. So the Indians thought. But it did not prove so. A cold spell came on, the ducks disappeared, and Mr. Pond and his Indian hunters were reduced to scanty fare, and sometimes to nothing, for a whole day. But Mr. Pond was seeing inside of Indians, and was quite willing to starve a good deal in the process. However, his stay with them, and their hunt for that time as well, was suddenly terminated.

It appears that during the winter some rumors of peace visits from the Ojibwas had reached the Dakotas, so that this hunting party were somewhat prepared to meet Ojibwas who should come with this announced purpose. The half-dozen teepees had divided. Mr. Pond was with Round Wind, who had removed from the three teepees that remained. On Thursday evening there came Hole-in-the-day, an Ojibwa chief, with ten men. They had come to smoke the peace-pipe, they said. The three Dakota tents contained but three men and ten or eleven women and children. But, while starving themselves, they would entertain their visitors in the most royal style. Two dogs were killed and they were feasted, and then all lay down to rest. But the Ojibwas were false. They arose at midnight and killed their Dakota hosts. In the morning but one woman and a boy remained alive of the fourteen in the three teepees the night before, and the boy was badly wounded. It was a cowardly act of the Ojibwas, and one that was terribly avenged afterward. When Mr. Pond had helped to bury the dead and mangled remains of these three families, he started for home, and was the first to bring the sad news to their friends at Lac-qui-parle. To him quite an experience was bound up in those two weeks, and the marvel was, why he was not then among the slain. To Mary and me it opened a whole store-house of instruction, as we listened to the wail of the whole village, and especially when the old women came with dishevelled heads and ragged clothes, and cried and sang around our house, and begged in the name of our first-born. We discovered all at once the power of a name. And if an earthly name has such power, much more the Name that is above every name—much more the Name of the Only Begotten of the heavenly Father.

Lac-qui-parle was in those days much shut out from the great world. We were two hundred miles away from our post-office at Fort Snelling. We seldom received a letter from Massachusetts or Ohio in less than three months after it was written. Often it was much longer, for there were several times during our stay at Lac-qui-parle when we passed three months, and once five months, without a mail. We used to pray that the mail would not come in the evening. If it did, good-by sleep! If it came in the early part of the day, we could look it over and become quieted by night. Our communication with the post-office was generally through the men engaged in the fur-trade. Some of them had no sympathy with us as missionaries, but they were ever willing to do us a favor as men and Americans. Sometimes we sent and received our mail by Indians. That was a very costly way. The postage charged by the government—although it was then twenty-five cents on a letter—was no compensation for a Dakota in those days. It is fortunate for them that they have learned better the value of work.

Once a year, at least, it seemed best that one of ourselves should go down to the mouth of the Minnesota. Our annual supplies were to be brought up, and various matters of business transacted. I was sent down in the spring of 1838, and I considered myself fortunate in having the company of Rev. S. W. Pond. This was Mr. Pond’s second visit to Lac-qui-parle on foot. The first was made over two years before, in midwinter. That was a fearful journey. What with ignorance of the country, and deep snows, and starvation, and an ugly Indian for his guide, Mr. Pond came near reaching the spirit land before he came to Lac-qui-parle.

This second time he came under better auspices, and, having spent several weeks with us, during which many questions of interest with regard to the language and the mission work were discussed, he and I made a part of Mr. Renville’s caravan to the fur depot of the American Fur Company at Mendota, in charge of H. H. Sibley, a manly man, since that time occupying a prominent position in Minnesota.

To make this trip I was furnished by the mission with a valuable young horse, gentle and kind, but not possessed of much endurance. At any rate, he took sick while I was away, and never reached home. The result may have been owing a good deal to my want of skill in taking care of horses, and in travelling through the bogs and quagmires of this new country. I could not but be profoundly sorry when obliged to leave him, as it entailed upon me other hardships for which I was not well prepared. Reaching the Traverse des Sioux on foot, I found Joseph R. Brown, even then an old Indian trader, coming up with some led horses. He kindly gave me the use of two with which to bring up my loaded cart. That was a really Good Samaritan work, which I have always remembered with gratitude.

When the first snows were beginning to fall in the coming winter, and not till then, Dr. Williamson was ready to make his trip to Ohio. The Gospel of Mark and some smaller portions of the Bible he had prepared for the press. The journey was undertaken a few weeks too late, and so it proved a very hard one. They thought to go down the Mississippi in a Mackinaw boat, but were frozen in before they reached Lake Pepin. From that point the entire journey to Ohio was made by land in the rigors of winter.

The leaving of Dr. Williamson entailed upon me the responsibility of taking care of the Sabbath service. Mr. G. H. Pond was not then a minister of the Gospel, but his superior knowledge of the Dakota fitted him the best to communicate religious instruction. But it was well for me to have the responsibility, as it helped me in the use of the native tongue. I was often conscious of making mistakes, and doubtless made many that I knew not of. Mr. Pond and Mr. Renville were ever ready to help me out, and, moreover, we had with us that winter Rev. Daniel Gavan, one of the Swiss missionaries, who had settled on the Mississippi River, at Red Wing and Wabashaw’s villages. Mr. G. came up to avail himself of the better advantages in learning the language, and so for the winter he was a valuable helper.

It pleased God to make this winter one of fruitfulness. Mr. Renville was active in persuading those under his influence to attend the religious meetings, the school-room was crowded on Sabbaths, and the Word, imperfectly as it was spoken, was used by the Spirit upon those dark minds. There was evidently a quickening of the church. They were interested in prayer. What is prayer?—and how shall we pray? became questions of interest with them. One woman who had received at her baptism the name of Catherine, and who still lives a believing life at the end of forty years, was then troubled to know how prayer could reach God. I told her in this we were all little children. God recognized our condition in this respect, and had told us that, as earthly fathers and mothers were willing, and desirous of giving good gifts to their children, he was more willing to give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him. Besides, he made the ear, and shall he not hear? He made, in a large sense, all language, and shall he not be able to understand Dakota words? The very word for “pray” in the Dakota language was “to cry to”—chakiya. Prayer was now, as through all ages it had been, the child’s cry in the ear of the Great Father. So there appeared to be a working upward of many hearts. Early in February Mr. Pond, Mr. Renville, and Mr. Huggins, Mr. Gavan and myself, after due examination and instruction, agreed to receive ten Dakotas into the church—all women. I baptized them and their children—twenty-eight in all—on one Sabbath morning. It was to us a day of cheer. To these Dakota Gentiles also God had indeed opened the door of faith. Blessed be his name for ever and ever.

“Dec. 6, 1838.

“This is our little Alfred’s natal day. He of course has received no birthday sugar or earthen toys, and his only gift of such a kind has been a very small bow and arrow, from an Indian man, who is a frequent visitor. The bow is about three-eighths of a yard long and quite neatly made, but Alfred uses it as he would any other little stick. I do not feel desirous that he should prize a bow or a gun as do these sons of the prairie. My prayer is that he may early become a lamb of the Good Shepherd’s fold, that while he lives he may be kept from the fierce wolf and hungry lion, and at length be taken home to the green pastures and still waters above.”

“Feb. 9, 1839.

“We mentioned in our last encouraging prospects here. The forenoon schools, which are for misses and children, have some days been crowded during the few past weeks, and a Sabbath-school recently opened has been so well attended as to encourage our hopes of blessed results. Last Lord’s day we had a larger assembly than have ever before met for divine worship in this heathen land. More than eighty were present.”

As Mr. Gavan was a native Frenchman and a scholar, we expected much from his presence with us, during the winter, in the way of obtaining translations. He and Mr. Renville could communicate fully and freely through that language, and we believed he would be able to explain such words as were not well understood by the other. And so we commenced the translation of the Gospel of John from the French. But it soon became apparent that the perfection of knowledge, of which they both supposed themselves possessed, was a great bar to progress. And by the time we had reached the end of the seventh chapter, the relations of the two Frenchmen were such as to entirely stop our work. We were quite disappointed. But this event induced us the sooner to gird ourselves for the work of translating the Bible from the original tongues, and so was, in the end, a blessing.

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