mostly Yarmouth men, going up in a body like
a great school, to hear their former rector. His
old servant headed the procession, marching
before them to show them the way; by no
means an unnecessary precaution over roads with
mud above the ankle. The church is now put
up and is full to overflowing; so full, that the
funds for another are being raised by subscription.
The bishop has got nearly a thousand pounds
towards it, including Mr. Quong-Hing's fifteen:
by no means an unpromising beginning, even
for a more settled society. We shall next
hear of the Indians subscribing—if, indeed,
they have not done so already—under the gentle
persuasion of their white fathers. Dr. Hills
is sanguine about the Indians, and other authors
speak of them as useful servants, sometimes
honest (only to their employer), and
always serviceable and ingenious. They are
hospitable when at home, and teachable when
dwelling among the whites, courageous and
intelligent, good-looking, with fine aquiline
features, and, as guides, huntsmen, and fishermen,
invaluable. They are notorious for their great
power of locality: give an Indian a pencil and
a sheet of paper and he will draw you a map
of any country he may have passed through.
Great gamblers, they are also great traders,
and not easily taken in. In fact, they have all
kinds of capabilities for civilisation, not omitting
their love of strong drinks and finery— round
hats and voluminous crinoline being common
adjuncts now to red ochre and wampum— while
other kindred vices, such as swearing and the
like, attest their aptness of imitation, and their
delight in the white man's ways. The men are
universally employed, and get from ten to twelve
shillings a week.

In a more recent letter of the bishop, he
gives some very interesting particulars of a
visit to an Indian village where Ilcochan, a
chief known for his magnificent voice, took
immense interest in what was said, and afterwards
repeated it again to the people; the bishop
hearing his loud clear voice explaining to the
listening tribe all that their Father had told them
in the morning. In the evening there was another
meeting, which Dr. Hills must give in his own
words: "Towards dusk, Indians began again
to assemble. My two companions were gone to
some distance, and I was alone with the Indians,
who came up one after the other unobserved, except
now and then when a greater glare from the
fire revealed more faces. The Indian is stealthy
in his movements. Amongst others who had
come and taken a more prominent place, but
wrapped this time in a blanket, was Ilcochan. I
took my seat on a fallen tree in front of him;
there was now a large gathering. I stood up
and commenced devotions. Our talk was long;
the evening grew darker; the fire blazed brighter.
Ilcochan became very excited. He stood up,
and with great vehemence and gesticulation,
reiterated my words in Quayome. The scene
was striking; my companions returned. As they
approached they felt a slight alarm; they thought
there was trouble, and were much relieved to
see me sitting in the midst of the circle watching
Ilcochan. I was deeply interested, indeed,
affected, to see the evident impression on these
poor Indians. I was also eager to note the
pantomime of gesture with which Ilcochan
sought to move the spirits of his people."

During this visit the bishop asked how many
children there were in the tribe. Two young
men consulted together, then started off on
the errand, Dr. Hills supposed, of counting
the children; but presently, after a little more
hesitation and consulting and evident perplexity,
they returned, bringing back with them a crowd
of Indians, each of whom held a child. The poor
little dusky naked creatures had been dragged
up out of bed to show themselves to the
White Father who cared so much about them.
What a picturesque, what a strange, presentation!
When the bishop went away, every
man and woman shook hands with him, and
even the little copper-coloured papooses were
brought to him to tender their tiny hands.

The bishop's latest expedition was to Barclay
Sound, on the west coast, a bay of about twelve
miles in width and twelve in depth, studded
with several small islands; at the head of Barclay
is a canal extending twenty miles; at the
head of this canal is another bay about two
miles in diameter. A London firm, James
Thompson and Co., have already established a
new settlement here for getting spars and
timber out of the forest. This colony consists
of forty persons, among whom are two " ladies"
— all women here, the bishop remarks, claiming
that title. Near the bay is the river Cleestachuitt.
The banks of this river are lined with
trees, rich grass, plants, &c. Noble trees cover
the banks— Douglas pines from one to
two hundred and fifty feet in height. The river
swarms with all kinds of wild-fowl, ducks,
geese, and salmon. A great many salmon are
killed by the Indians for winter use; they stand
up in the canoe, and either knock the fish on the
head, or spear them. The Indians are a fine
race. The women make oil, and cook, and make
mats. Instead of boiling their food over the
fire, they get square wooden boxes, in which
they put the articles to be cooked; then they
add water, which is made to boil by dropping
red-hot stones into it. The lake Cleecot is five
or six miles wide, and twenty-five miles in
length. An Indian who had committed some
crime was taken on board the Grappler, which
happened to be cruising off the coast, and ordered
to be flogged. His friends, who were on board,
drew their knives, and seemed to meditate a
rescue; and the wife of the captured Indian
began to upbraid her husband for want of spirit,
"Why don't you fight? Fight for the honour
of your race and be a man! Die rather than
be disgraced!" The aggrieved white man at last
begged the Indian off; three chiefs then came
forward with seal-skins as an atonement for the
injury committed by their countryman. The
tribes near Barclay Sound are almost the only
tribes that have not imitated the vices of Europeans.
Drunkenness is unknown here.