FROM THE JOURNAL OF EMMA BAYLIS
Many of the women who travelled to the frontier went as missionaries to the settlers or to the Indians. J. Raleigh Nelson’s novel Lady Unafraid (1952) describes his mother’s work at the Native mission on L′Anse Bay in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, but it is a fictionalized account written after the fact by a worshipful son. Emma Baylis’s diary is altogether different, and hardly so sanguine. Baylis was a missionary for the Canadian Congregational Indian Missionary Society who spent her summers from 1870 to 1884 running a school and offering church services at Spanish River on the Ontario shore north of Manitoulin Island. She came and left her post by steamboat, usually alone in the early 1870s; later other single women joined her to help provide companionship.
When Baylis describes it, Spanish River was a summer mill settlement, set up at the mouth of the river to process the logs that were floated down in the spring drives. Logs that had been cut in the north in winter were driven down the river, and the Native men followed the drives south and set up bark tepees for their families while they worked in the mill during summer. When summer was over, the Indian families moved back into the forest for another season.
Baylis ran a daily school for the children of the Indian and white mill workers, initiated a temperance society, held four services on Sundays, and visited the various Native encampments by canoe and sailboat during the week. She contended vociferously with the Catholic priest for souls, supplied clothing to her young pupils so they could come to school, and after she returned to Montreal for the winter, raised money tirelessly for the Indian missionary efforts.
The bureaucracy of the Congregational Church was sometimes as great a hurdle for her as the poverty of her students and her own inability to speak (or learn) their language. The Canadian Congregational Indian Missionary Society had begun in 1860 because the supervising Congregational Missionary Society in London, England, refused to provide monies for missionary work to “non-heathen” peoples such as North American Native peoples. As a result, the Indian Missionary Society was left on its own to raise funds to support missionaries in the field. Baylis yearly canvassed churches between Toronto and Montreal, one year producing and selling an “autograph” quilt for fifty dollars.
Baylis’s journal, which is now in the United Church Archives in Toronto, is a record only of her summer work, which lasted until 1884 when her journal abruptly ends. In that year the Congregational Church disbanded the Indian Missionary Society and left the field to the Jesuits who, in later years, founded a school for Indian children at Spanish River. (Basil Johnston, the noted Canadian Native ethnographer, describes his education there in Indian School Days [1988]). When the Congregational Church later founded a Woman’s Missionary Society, Baylis’s name is conspicuously absent, as are any activities among the Canadian Native peoples by other missionaries.
Her journal was obviously intended to be a public document, much as the log books of lighthouse keepers. Yet like those log books, what is provocative is not only the day-to-day recording of her activities, but the irruptions of her emotions into the text she prepared for the church elders. At one point she notes stridently that women should not be sent alone to missions like Spanish River, a recognition that what she was doing taxed her courage and abilities. Another year she inserts a note about the ordination of a Native man as a minister, certainly her comment on the prejudice of the church governing board she must have experienced when trying to garner more funds for her work. Her description of being “chased” by a threatening priest in the woods was clearly calculated to raise denominational emotions among the Protestant community in Montreal.
Emma Baylis’s record, and our lack of knowledge about who she was and why she labored as she did, are emblematic of many women’s lives on the frontier. The biographies of male ministers in the same places are often recorded in detail; of Emma, we know only what she left in a small, leather-bound book, written in a crabbed hand when she was tired, in order to satisfy the men who determined whether or not she would once again, next summer, be able to continue her work.
Spanish River Indian Mission
1872
May: I am again in the Mission. All my last summer’s journal was burnt at [the] Marchmont fire. I have nothing left on record of my work. I now commence a new journal. After spending a week in Owen Sound, yesterday and today I have been occupied cleaning my schoolroom and arranging my books and scripture texts ‘round the room. After I had finished, twelve little Indians and French children gathered in. I played some music for them and they sang some hymns which I was glad to hear they had not forgotten, “Happy Lands” especially, which is a great favorite with them and “Come to Jesus.” An Indian girl called Lin-Lin had been looking for me ever since the boats began to run. They told me she would go down every time the boat came and when she found I was not there would say “Baylis Bah! Bah!”
I received a hearty welcome back. Those who shook hands with me said they were glad to see me back. A white woman asked me if I would have a Mother’s prayer meeting again.
May 31: Commenced school today. Ten Indian and French children. I questioned them to ascertain how much they remembered from last summer and found they had remembered quite a number of texts and part [of the] hymns “Happy Lands” and “Jesus Loves Me.” I asked a half-Indian boy for a text and he gave me “God is love.” A French child said “God sees me”; another “I am the good shepherd… .” This afternoon I went across the Bay and called on the Indian families and invited them to the school.
Saturday. Invited the people to come to a Bible reading on Sunday morning, and also to Sunday School. One young man who I asked to come said he would thankfully have attended a Sunday School in the States, but not since he came to Canada.
Sabbath Morning. I had ten present at my Bible reading—grown people. Sunday School—twenty-two men, women, and children, Indian, French, English. I revived the School and last summer’s lessons—the children remembered a number of verses and some hymns.... After Sunday School three of the men asked me if I would not have some reading in the evening for them. I consented and fourteen came. Took for my reading parable of “lost sheep.” Read the “old story.” The meeting was great and solemn. I had singing and prayer. Thus passed my first Sabbath this season. I hope profitable to all.
Wednesday, June 12: School as usual. Eighteen yesterday, mostly Indians and French children. I had a long conversation with a half-Indian woman today. They tell me a good deal of the manners and customs of the Indians. She said they camp far inland in the winter, walking three or four hundred miles, moving frequently about from place to place, carrying their birch-bark tent with them, also blankets and provisions, little children walking with them. When children get tired they camp for a few days to rest. They are a very improvident people, wasting a great deal. One Indian had about $1,000 for food. He spent it in provisions visiting the camp of Indians to feast with him. In this way they become poor. She said they tear up their blankets and leave them behind. They sometimes bury their provisions in the ground for some future use. When one of their members dies, they are put in a coffin, a very large one, with all the clothes they possess. They also put in a small canoe and cooking utensils for them to use in Indian Spirit Land, also guns and powder. When shut in the coffin their friends make three large holes in the coffin, then fire a gun three times in the air, they say to make the spirit depart quickly away and not return to annoy them. They say the spirit has to cross a river walking over a narrow plank. If it looks back it falls into the hell. By firing the gun they say it passes quickly over safely. Poor deluded people, how much [they] need to have the gospel preached to them.
Saturday, June 15: Yesterday I commenced a prayer meeting for women. Had three: two Protestant, one Catholic. After meeting I went and visited two Indian families. Spoke to one of the way of salvation. Three were Catholic. In the evening went twenty-two miles in the “Tug” to the “Light house.”
June 17: Yesterday Sabbath. I had morning meeting, eight present. Sunday School, twenty-three. Evening meeting, nineteen. Today school, twelve [in the] morning. Sewing class [this] afternoon, seven.
Tuesday evening Reverend Mr. Hurlburt made me a visit, had a meeting of the women. I commenced [the] same afternoon a reading class for the women. School the rest of [the] week. Been sick for two days with [a] sore throat.
Saturday, June 29: I returned late last night from “Sha-She-Wasining”; been away two days—first night had to camp—arrived at “Sha” seven o’clock in the morning. Reverend Mr. Clark and Mr. Robinson had service from nine to eleven. The Chief then made a very interesting speech... [ended] by asking for a missionary. It was then decided that I should go for one month this summer. We took our departure and visited another Indian place but did not find any Indians. I am very much bitten by mosquitos and black flies. My face, hands, and eyes are all swollen.
July 1:Yesterday Sabbath. Reverend W. Clarke preached in [the] morning, twenty present. Afternoon, Reverend Robinson [preached] to the Indians through Mr. Walker. Eight Indians present. [In the] Evening Mr. R. preached in English, thirty-two present. I have had school today: twelve present. The school door has been repaired by Mr. Robinson and Walker. Mr. Clarke has been quite ill since he has been here. They all left this morning for “La-Cloche”. . . In honour of Dominion Day I hoisted an addition to the mission flag: the British.
Some of the children who attended school last summer don’t come this, I think through the influence of the priest.
July 6: School every day—small—I visit the Indians almost daily. Yesterday Sabbath, small meeting: eight [in the] morning—Sunday School eight—evening meeting, four. I thought the evening meeting interesting. They do not seem to take as much interest in the meetings as last summer. A different class of men. Today after school I went across the Bay to see the Indians, two of my schoolboys accompanying me. Invited them to come to the school and meetings. Had a conversation this morning with an Indian—he said he knew something about the Savior—but when I asked him where he would [go] to after death he said he did not know—.
July 10: School as usual. This afternoon at mothers’ meeting only two. The reading class for women seems to be a failure. This evening I visited a poor sick Indian who I think will soon die. He said he does not know anything about the future. Through my interpreter I talked to him about Jesus and we even had a short prayer—Afterwards talked with Indian and his wife—read a portion of Scripture and gave the woman part of the New Testament and promised her one in Indian.
July 11: School all day after visiting the Indians. Went to see the man who is suffering with lameness in his leg. Same that I visited last summer—has been lying ever since. He was glad to see me. I read the Scriptures to him through my interpreter; he said he hoped I would come often. He remembered what I had said to him last summer. He is a pagan. Took him some biscuits. I read to him Matt. 11, [verses] 28 to 30—and prayed and sang “Come to Jesus.”
July 15: Yesterday Sabbath. Rev. Hurlburt preached morning and evening in English.... I enjoyed the sermons very much. It is quite a rest for me to have some one take the Sabbath sermons off of me and I think the change is appreciated.
July 17: School in the morning. Afternoon visiting the Indians [and] found that some of them could read. One of them had been taught by Mr. Ketchin. I gave away an Indian Testament to someone who could read. That evening read and talked to the sick man through my interpreter—spoke of Christ’s willingness to save him, taught him a short prayer. He seemed sad and depressed [to] know he will die “Forsaken his state of nature is.” He has had no instruction. I pray that the Lord will enlighten his mind. I do not think I am doing any good here. I cannot talk to them myself and cannot always get my interpreter when I need him. I feel isolated and alone and trials to bear—
July 18: Today in school I promised a prize to the boy who would make the best figures—also to the one that learned to read the soonest and also to the one who gave me the least trouble....
July 29: Today I have been visiting the Indians. Had a long talk with [a] reading and prayer and singing with the man who has the lameness. He said he would like to have me come often and read with him, that he was beginning to understand religion better. I read Christ healing the sick of the palsy.
August 7: Returned from a visit of a few days from La Cloche. Sunday went to church at The Current [and] heard Reverend Mr. Hill. Went in a sail boat . . . going and coming. Monday visited Indian Burying ground. Odd looking graves—in some of the children’s graves were the play things which they had used during life—in one was a tin “patty pan jews harp,” bottle stopper, piece of tin, bow and arrow—in another, a doll, a wooden sword . . . . The graves are covered with bark in the shape of Pyramids. At the top is a table to place the offerings on and a small fire is sometimes kept burning for the accommodation of the spirit when it comes to the grave—
“An Indian Story” as I heard it from an eye witness: About twenty-five years ago there lived in one of the Bay’s families an Indian girl. One day an Indian visited the family and asked this girl to be his wife. She refused; he said she would be sorry before sundown. The girl had an old mother living outside the “fort” in a tent alone. The girl used to carry food to her daily. That evening the family was aroused by the loud barking of the dogs outside. The men rushed out, taking their guns with them. On reaching the tent of the old woman, they found her murdered—literally cut to pieces—lying in a pool of blood from where her hands had been cut off. It was in this way that the Indian showed his revenge on the girl for refusing to marry him.
Yesterday while at La Cloche I saw two squaws dressed alike—the wives of one man. One was old, the other young—he had a short time since sent another old one away. I hear that they are some times cruel to the old people; they sometimes leave them to starve, or shift for themselves. I heard of an old woman being left in a tent alone. When women passed by she would cry out to them and say, “Daughter, bring me a little water.”
August 14, Wednesday: School every day. The priest has been influencing the people against me—telling the children they must not take any more books from me, though they still come to the school. Mrs. Cameron’s baby died last night. It is to be buried tomorrow at the “Current.” I gave it some medicine but could not save it....
August 17: Yesterday I gave the children the “Christmas Tree”: twenty children present, three absent. I cannot do much with the Indians at their camp—I have no interpreter. The children were greatly delighted with their “tree” and presents. Today my interpreter told me the priest had forbade her to interpret for me, giving her a good scolding for doing so. As she is a Roman Catholic, my work with the Indians seems to be at an end. Today gave material to make dresses for two little girls to come to school.
August 19, Monday: Saturday evening. I was told the sick Indian was dying. I went to see him and was told that the priest had told them not to let me come near them nor believe anything I said. A Catholic woman was kneeling over him chanting, but I took my place beside him and sang “Come to Jesus.” The Catholic woman went out of the tent. The priest said I was telling them lies and that if they believed me they would go to the bad place.
August 26: School all week as usual. Saturday the sick Indian died, a Catholic as they suppose. A coffin was made and he was put in with the small crucifix placed in it and the bottle of holy water. They took him away to a native burying ground. Poor man, I saw him a short time before he died. I asked him if he believed in Jesus. He said, “Kah” and showed me the crucifix. I think if the priest had not interfered he might have become an enlightened man.
I feel discouraged and grieved. Yesterday Sabbath and scarcely anyone attended the meetings, nearly all were Sabbath-breaking. Morning meeting, three white men, ten Indians. Sunday School, ten. Evening, four, two white men and two squaws. What could have possessed them I cannot tell. It has grieved and pained me very much since I lost my interpreter. I go to the tents myself and read to the Indians as well as I can.
August 31, Saturday: School all the week. I have visited a poor old squaw several times, given her some clothes and food—she is very sick. Yesterday an Indian came and asked me to go and see his sick child. I went, and gave it some medicine and prayed with the family and those in the tent. Going now to see it.
The child died at four o’clock this afternoon. It looked very nice dressed in a little white dress, tied with ribbons. Three deaths during the last few weeks. The parents of the baby are Protestants. The father speaks English. I had a long talk with him about his children. Told him to think of his child in heaven.
September 9: Indian families nearly all left. The school is very small. Yesterday I had readings after the morning meeting, four. Sunday school, five. They have fallen off of late from coming to the meetings. I do not know the reason. There appears to be some evil influence at work somewhere. Yesterday [on the] Sabbath a vessel arrived for [?]. Saturday eve before she arrived two of the sailors were drowned—fell from the rigging.
September 23: I closed my school on Friday... I closed the school with a general examination of the summer lessons. I gave a book as a prize to a little English girl for repeating and remembering hymns and Bible verses. I gave a parting advice to all present and [the] classes left singing “Here we meet to part again. In heaven we part no more. . . .” Today I have been packing away books.
1873
Toronto, May: Why art thou cast down, oh my soul, and why so dispirited? I do indeed feel sad. I do not feel joyous about going this summer. I know not why. However the big cloud which I seem to see in the distance may possibly burst with blessings on my work. God only knows. Perhaps the Lord may take me away this summer. Oh that he would take me to himself forever. I long to be with him and see him. Oh that I may be permitted to see his face in glory. If he should spare my life I shall labor for him. I leave all things in his hands.
August 22: School morning. Feeling quite indisposed. Yesterday morning Mr. and Mrs. Robinson arrived on their way to “Sha Wasaning.” They only stayed a few hours. I think the people are disappointed and think it strange that Mr. Robinson does not stop and preach. Ministers of other denominations come and preach, which makes it awkward for me.
August 23, Saturday: This afternoon I visited all the Indian camps. Read hymns and invited the Indians to come tomorrow morning to meeting. They said they would engage in interpreter, a man. I have just been selecting tomorrow’s readings.
I feel tired. I had to climb and walk over the rocks and through the brush-woods. On my return an Indian brought me across the water in his bark canoe. I then visited all the Indians in the settlement. I returned to the Mission House through the woods and over the rocks. When about half-way home I turned round and looked back and saw an old “priest” about twelve yards behind me, walking very stealthily with his eyes fixed on me with not a very pleased look. I took no notice of him, but hurried home, which I thought was wise. He had evidently seem me going about among the Indians and had followed me into that lonely place with some intent of “ill.” I think it must have been his intention to come up slowly behind and strike me down. No one would have been the wiser of who had done the deed. He left at night by steamer for the “Sault.” I was thankful when I heard he had left. He was only here one day. The Lord has delivered me out of many dangers this far—
August 24: Sabbath. Last night my dreams were altogether of the priest and then Indians. Today I am alone in my little sitting room. It is pouring rain. Well would I like to have a peep [of] home or at some dear familiar face . . . .
August 25 : I had school [this] morning. First I went around to the camps and tried to find the Indian children, but could not get them to come to school. Some of them were going away. I feel almost hopeless about getting the Indian children into the school this summer....
September 15: Yesterday Sabbath. Indians did not come; they are nearly all gone.... This morning only five white children in school. The work is now looking discouraging. It is also cold, rainy, and bleak. The time seems long that I am all alone. I do not think I should like to undertake another summer under the same circumstances. Last Friday night the people were very much frightened by a man frantic with drink, running about bursting open their doors and smashing windows. The watchman found him at my house; he had been trying my door. If I had been sleeping in the house I have no doubt the fright would have made me very ill. I think only married missionaries should undertake mission work. They are protection and company for each other, especially in a place like this. It is a den of wickedness. Some of the white people here are very wicked. Liquor is the cause of it all.
1874
Arrived, May 29: Received a hearty welcome from all. The Indians have not come yet. The weather has been very cold. Saturday morning found a student has come with the intention of preaching on Sabbath. Immediately after my arrival I had the boards taking down from the windows, swept out the school room, and I had two services on Sabbath. This week I have been occupied unpacking and getting the house cleaned.
June 19 : School as usual. Thirteen scholars. Indians engaged an interpreter for Sunday. I told him to invite the Indians to come Sunday morning. Fitted out four girls with clothes for school. They have just been in to see me with their old clothes on. They take the new clothes off when they go home so as to keep them clean for school.
1875
July 6: Since I last wrote I have been away four days, boat travelling, visiting pagan Indians, and selecting suitable places for schools. We have engaged Mr. Nawagesheick from Serpent River and we have another place in view. We had some very interesting meetings with the Indians. On Sabbath we had three camp meetings in different places.... They listened to the gospel proclaimed to them through an interpreter. I visited all the women and gave them a little present each. We invited the Chief to tea. He came—we gave some tea to his wife, who is blind. We had our tea as usual spread on the ground. I slept in the boat at night alone. [ed. note: “alone” is crossed through here] We returned yesterday and had a meeting with the Indians and white people in the evening.
September 20: Received for teaching the white children $2.85. Used it for mission expenses.
October 6: Closed up the Mission House and left for this season. Went as far as Little Current and spent ten days with Mrs. Absey. Arrived in Toronto October 19th. While at Little Current I saw a number of Indians. Made inquiries about a school for them. I think there will be an opening for part of the summer at “Sucker Creek,” a place where Mr. Walker once taught. The women would like a teacher to come again.
Remarks: I feel somewhat discouraged in regard of the work this summer. Very few Indians settled at Spanish River this summer. One interesting feature of the work is Mr. Nawagesheick offering himself for the Mission work and being accepted by the Board. It has pleased and gratified me very much. I pray and trust that the Lord will make him faithful and bless him abundantly in his work.
Toronto
October 20, 1875
Emma Baylis
1876
August 8: School all week [but] few Indian children in the place. The people are busy picking berries. They take the children with them to help bring the berries back and sell them at the store. It is their harvest now. They come to see me after they have disposed of the berries. I have my room generally [filled] every day with squaws and Indians. I show them scripture pictures and read and sing Indian hymns so they generally remain over a Sabbath. I have had very large gatherings every Sunday morning. Mr. Nawagesheick is here sometimes but often I am alone. We occupy the time in singing hymns and prayer. Yesterday he did not come. Twenty-five Indians came in. They stayed quietly for an hour.
August 14: School all the week, though few Indian children. The work is very discouraging. The people do not care for religion.
I have passed through a severe trial. My interpreter has asked to go on a pleasure trip on a Sabbath afternoon instead of coming to Sunday School. When I was expecting him, [the] poor man yielded and went, but I think repented sincerely. I talked to him very kindly, but faithfully.
1877
July 11: Sabbath morning. I have been very ill for two or three days and passed through severe trials with two of the people... Mr. Dyke and Mr. Forest, Catholics. Mr. Forest came into my house yesterday and said I had to shut down this school and go away and that if I did not the people would make me, that they did not want me here because I was teaching religion in school and that the children were not learning any thing from me, and that I made a fool of myself in school in having prayer in school and reading the Bible which was not allowed. I told him it was allowed in our school as it was not a government school, but a Mission school. He got into a great rage and said I would have to quit the place as they intended to have a government school in the place and that he would go ‘round to the people and get them to drive me out. I made inquiries of the people and they said, most of them, they did want me there and that the children were learning well and they would send them to my school and that the man had told me a lie. The Lord has instructed me and given me the strength and fortitude under the trials, all glory be to his name....
I am glad they accuse me of [teaching religion]. It was for that I came. In the evening I walked amongst the Indian camp and found some of the pagan women making a bark canoe. Told them it was now Sabbath and that God would be angry and so put it away and work on the morrow.
(1872-1884)