It Is Grievous To See The
Remnants Of An Ancient Race In Such A Degraded State; The More So As I
Believe That There Is No Intellectual Inferiority As An Obstacle To Their
Improvement.
I saw some drawings by an Indian youth which evinced
considerable talent:
One in particular, a likeness of Lord Elgin, was
admirably executed.
I have understood that there is scarcely a greater difference between
these half-breeds and the warlike tribes of Central America, than between
them and the Christian Indians of the Red River settlements. There are
about fourteen thousand Indians in Canada, few of them in a state of great
poverty, for they possess annuities arising from the sale of their lands.
They have no incentives to exertion, and spend their time in shooting,
fishing, and drinking spirits in taverns, where they speedily acquire the
vices of the white men without their habits of industry and enterprise.
They have no idols, and seldom enter into hostile opposition to
Christianity, readily exchanging the worship of the Great Spirit for its
tenets, as far as convenient. It is very difficult, however, to arouse
them to a sense of sin, or to any idea of the importance of the world to
come; but at the same time, in no part of the world have missionary
labours been more blessed than at the Red River settlements. Great changes
have passed before their eyes. Year, as it succeeds year, sees them driven
farther west, as their hunting-grounds are absorbed by the insatiate white
races. The twang of the Indian bow, and the sharp report of the Indian
rifle, are exchanged for the clink of the lumberer's axe and the "g'lang"
of the sturdy settler. The corn waves in luxuriant crops over land once
covered with the forest haunts of the moose, and the waters of the lakes
over which the red man paddled in his bark canoe are now ploughed by
crowded steamers. Where the bark dwellings of his fathers stood, the
locomotive darts away on its iron road, and the helpless Indian looks on
aghast at the power and resources of the pale-faced invaders of his soil.
The boat by which I was to leave Quebec was to sail on the afternoon of
the day on which I visited Lorette, but was detained till the evening by
the postmaster-general, when a heavy fog came on, which prevented its
departure till the next morning. The small-pox had broken out in the city,
and rumours of cholera had reached and alarmed the gay inhabitants of St.
Louis. I never saw terror so unrestrainedly developed as among some ladies
on hearing of the return of the pestilence. One of them went into
hysterics, and became so seriously ill that it was considered necessary
for her to leave Quebec the same evening. In consequence of the delay of
the boat, it was on a Sunday morning that I bade adieu to Quebec. I had
never travelled on a Sunday before, and should not have done so on this
occasion had it not been a matter of necessity.
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