can say? Formerly they were Unitarians, with the very beautiful theory of spiritual intercession added; now they profess with equal sincerity Christianity or Methodism, as you prefer. Whether this result should be attributed to the Rev. John McDougall, or the inaccessibility of their homes and hunting grounds I cannot say. I have not had the honor of meeting this missionary and he is therefore not among the failures alluded to above. Honor to whom honor is due. I have met with Mountain Stonies both at Morley and Lac Ste. Anne, and I would trust one in all matters implicitly, relying on his good principles that I should never regret it.
The forms and ceremonies connected with this religion are really few in number, but as they have been so frequently described and even witnessed both by those who understood and by those ignorant of their meaning, perhaps it is scarcely necessary to describe them fully. It will not be in any sense relevant to the question at issue, which is simply this — why are the Indians of the late North-West Territories called “Pagan”?
If I accomplish anything by what I have said which may awaken a train of thought in the minds of my superiors tending towards the removal of the stigma “Pagan,” I hope at all events to see the day dawn when the official name of “Pagan” may be altered to some word more applicable, more true. Call them, I suggest, instead of Christian worshipers, worshipers of God-in-Nature. Jehovah and Manitou, Jew and Indian, not I beg of you, Christian or Pagan, Protestant or Roman Catholic, or Christian and any name except Pagan. Jehovah of the Jews and Manitou of the pure-blood Indian resemble, and in fact, probably mean, one and the same conception of God. Let them then, and that soon, be styled Pagan no more.
Much cultural lore and many of the spiritual traditions of the Ojibwa people, which would otherwise have been lost in time, were preserved in written form by Peter Jones. One of his books which is particularly valuable for the light it sheds on the Native belief system is titled History of the Ojibway Indians with Especial Reference to their Conversion to Christianity ... With a Brief Memoir of the Writer and Introductory Notice by the Rev. G. Osborn, D.D., Secr. of the Wesleyan Methodist Missionary Society (1861, 1970).
A Mississauga Indian learned in his people’s traditions, Jones was a convert to Christianity. He was converted by Methodist missionaries and, ordained a minister, he preached the social gospel among his own people. He found more comfort in the monotheism of Christianity than in the pantheism and polytheism of his Native religion. “In all my fastings I never had any vision or dream,” he confessed, “and, consequently, obtained no familiar god, nor a spirit of the rank of a pow-wow. What a mercy it is to know that neither our happiness nor success depends upon the supposed possession of these imaginary gods, but that there is one only true and living God, whose assistance none ever did, or even can, seek in vain!”
Here is a passage from Jones’s book which documents or dramatizes the Native notion of the afterlife, what the white man calls “the happy hunting grounds.”
He Came to Life Again
The following story, which was communicated to me by an Indian named Netahgawineneh, will serve to illustrate the source whence they derive their absurd ideas of a future state: —
In the Indian country far west an Indian once fell into a trance, and when he came to life again, he gave the following account of his journey to the world of spirits.
“I started,” said he, “my soul or spirit in company with a number of Indians who were travelling to the same spirit land. We directed our footsteps towards the sun-setting. On our journey we passed through a beautiful country, and on each side of our trail saw strawberries as large as a man’s head. We ate some of them, and found them very sweet; but one of our party, who kept loitering behind, came up to us and demanded, ‘Why were we eating a ball of fire?’ We tried to persuade him to the contrary, but the foolish fellow would not listen to our words, and so went on his way hungry. We travelled on until we came to a dark, swollen, and rapid river, over which was laid a log vibrating in a constant wavering motion. On this log we ventured to cross, and having arrived at the further end of it, we found that it did not reach the shore; this obliged us to spring with all our might to the land. As soon as we had done this, we perceived that the supposed log on which we had crossed was a large serpent, waving and playing with his huge body over the river. The foolish man behind was tossed about until he fell off, but he at length succeeded in swimming to shore. No sooner was he on land than a fierce and famished pack of wolves fell on him and began to tear him to pieces, and we saw him no more. We journeyed on, and by and by came within sight of the town of spirits. As soon as we made our appearance there was a great shout heard, and all our relatives ran to meet us and to welcome us to their happy country. My mother made a feast for me, and prepared everything that was pleasant to eat and to look upon; here we saw all our forefathers; and game and corn in abundance; all were happy and contented.
“After staying a short time, the Great Spirit of the place told me that I must go back to the country I had left, as the time had not yet arrived for me to dwell there. I accordingly made ready to return; and as I was leaving, my mother reproached me by all manner of foolish names for wishing to leave so lovely and beautiful a place. I took my departure, and soon found myself in the body and in the world I had left.”
Creation myths and “just so” stories abound in the oral traditions of the Native peoples of Canada. “A Lake Superior Legend” appeared in The Nor’Wester (Winnipeg, Red River Settlement), August 24, 1869.
A Lake Superior Legend
In the summer of 1864, while in the Lake Superior country, I took a notion one day to have a swim. So, donning a light bathing dress, I dropped into the water. The plunge almost took my breath away. I had anticipated coldness, but I had not anticipated such icy coldness as this. The Lake Superior Indians never bathe; the reason they assign is, that the water of the lake is never warm.
A great many years ago the waters of the mighty lake were warm in the summer season. The Indians were the sole inhabitants of the land in those days. Manabozho was a great manitou (good spirit), and the Lake Superior tribes were his favourite children. But sometimes Manabozho used to put on his Seven League Boots, and stride away over the mountains on a visit to his mighty brother of the setting sun. He had gone on such a journey one melting day in July, and the Indians lay in their forests, dreaming dreams about the fairy lands of the East.
There was a bad spirit who hated the Indians fiercely. This bad spirit was a monstrous snake. He was very much afraid of the good manitou, Manabozho, and when Manabozho was at home the bad spirit stayed in his fiery lake, away back into the forest.
But now Manabozho was gone on a journey, so the bad spirit resolved to take advantage of his absence to destroy the tribes whom he hated. He had a large number of demons in his service, who were ready for any work he might set them. He dispatched an army of these demons to annihilate the Indians. For his part he set himself to watch for Manabozho, in case that good manitou should return unexpectedly.
The Indians saw the army of demons coming, and knowing that in the absence of their chief they were powerless to fight against them, they gathered their women and children together, and paddled away in their canoes across the lake. The demons could not swim, and had taken a great dislike to the water, and when they saw the Indians paddling away, they howled in their rage, and belched forth great clouds of flame and smoke.
But as soon as the Indians had safely reached an island, a thick covering of ice suddenly overspread the lake, and the demons yelling with joy rushed upon it. When
