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110

KLATSASSAN.

first favourable opportunity that might offer to destroy
the whites, and gain possession of their stores.

On the evening of May 21st, Macdonald’s party reached
the shore of Lake Nicootlem, and prepared to camp there
that night. They had had a long day of it, and were
glad enough, we may be sure, to reach the place of
bivouac. No one can realize, who has not felt it, the
delight to the worn-out miner or packer of gaining the
nightly resting-place. Greatly is this pleasure enhanced,
when, as is so frequently the case in British Columbia,
where the loveliest and most idyllic spots alternate with
scenes of the wildest and most savage grandeur, the
place of resting is a choice and enchanting scene. Such
was the camp by Lake Nicootlem. Sweet indeed is rest
after labour by so fair a lake, on a fine May evening, ina

land where the air is so clear that all the colours of |

earth and sky stand out in striking brightness. The
packers hasten to relieve their mules of their loads;
the aparejos! and the goods are carefully arranged in
order; the liberated beasts roll themselves in the
grass. Meanwhile the miners have lighted a goodly
fire, having felled in the wood a magnificent back-log of
sufficient proportions to see them through the night, and
again do duty at the morning meal. Presently the sauce-
pan, with its mess of Californian beans, which, haying’
boiled all last night, may be supposed to want only
a small amount of additional cooking, is placed on the
fire, from which also the coftee-pot, supplied with water
from the stream which joins the lake hard by, and the
frying-pan—inseparable wade mecwm of miners—may
be heard discoursing music grateful to the ears of hungry
men.

In giving above the names of Macdonald’s party, one
person was omitted from the list. When I say that the
person in question was a young Indian woman, who was
in fact the squaw of one of the packers, the reader will
perhaps consider an apology due for her introduction
here. The truth of my narration, however, compels the
mention of this woman. It is a very sad thing to think
that packers and other dwellers wltra flammantia
menia mundi should disgrace themselves by concubinage
with native women, but so it is. Perhaps, indeed, it is
little matter of surprise to the reflecting mind, however it

| may be a cause of grief to the philanthropist and the

Christian, that white men who have lived long beyond
the pale of civilization, should do openly what thousands
of other white men living in the very heart of Christen-
dom do secretly, namely, live in unholy union with
persons far beneath them in rank, capacities, and educa-
tion. The really strange thing is this, that we who con-
demn and contemn the packer or miner with his squayw,
smile so graciously upon my lord and fast young man
about town, and are harder in our judgment on the rough
man with his one sin, than on the fine gentleman whose
fault is not redeemed as his in part is, by much hard and
useful toil. Strange, yet manifestly true. As society goes,
Some pleasant vices are blandly winked at. There are,
indeed, among us those who carry out the divine idea of
sin-hatred, and view with a bitter and undying antipathy
all that is unclean, wherever it exists, and by whomsoever
itis done; but of multitudes, evenin the Christian Church,
is it fearfully and fatally true, that this godlike view of

1 Aparejo, the padding used by Mexican packers instead of
a pack-saddle. It is easier for the animal, but requires more
skill in fixing the packs than a common pack-saddle.

| left the Indian camp to be his favoured slave.

“ Neither abhorreth he,” saith the
Scripture, “the thing thatis evil.” At thesame time one
cannot excuse the miner or backwoodsman. Indeed, he
does not wish to excuse himself. ‘I know it is wrong,
sir,” was the general admission when, in the course of my
colonial work, I found fault with men for leading this
forbidden mode of life. The acknowledgment did not
mend matters. This concubinage is an entangling vice ;
hard it is to break the net of wire in which its victim is
encaged. Yet broken it must be, if there is to bea return
to virtue and salvation. In vain, alas ! our missionaries
preach to men who persist in keeping squaws, at home or
abroad.

Marriage with the Church’s blessing is the law of the
Supreme; here is peace and quietness, because here is
obedience. Induce your lawless men, whether roughly
or refinedly lawless, whether lawless in belts and re-
volvers or lawless with patent boots and perfumes, to cease
to do evil and learn to do well, to marry the unfortunate
one, whose ruin they are contriving ; then preach to them.
Till then your task will be fruitless.

I say one cannot excuse the miner or backwoodsman.
Indeed his conduct is heartless in the extreme. He goes
to an Indian rancherie, and there he sees some unhappy
child, and presently trades for her with her parents.
Perhaps the father and mother are very necessitous; the
take of salmon has been insufficient, the winter has been
unusually severe. Their daughter will get a comfortable,
nay, to their way of thinking, a luxurious home in the
white man’s warm wooden cabin; she will have capital
food, and perhaps fine clothes. She will be the better off,
they think, and they no worse off; they will get perhaps
fifty dollars now for their daughter, money down; and in
the coming winter, when, in the extremity of hunger and
need, they will always be able to go to their quasi son-in-
law’s house, and make him either supply them with food,
or else give up their daughter.

Thus has it happened with Klymtedza, the squaw of
whom I speak. Months before, in a distant part of the
country, the packer had found her in her parents’ tent.
Her father was at once needy and greedy, and easily gave
ear to the packer’s nefarious proposals. Klymtedza had
The
packer was kind, and Klymtedza was happy. She had |
good food and fine clothes. She was attached to her |
master, and she knew not, poor child—how should she 2—
no one had ever let her know, that she did wrong. She
sinned in ignorance; but, alas! such sins too have their
punishment.

Klymtedza’s parents were of the Nicootlem tribe, and
at the moment of her arrival with the train on the
one side of the lake, her relatives were encamped on the
other. Accordingly, as night fell, she stole away from
the whites, to go to see her people. She was eagerly
welcomed by her friends, who praised her improved
appearance, and wondered at her apparel. When she
approached, the Indians were sitting in council, and
Klatsassan was giving a harangue upon the duty of
exterminating the whites. The arrival of Klymtedza
furnished a new argument. “Chilhowhoaz,” said he,
“see, your daughter. You ought to haye shame for
letting her leave you—not good Indian, you; far
worse, those pale devils who have taken her. For do
you not know it, Klymtedza is lost. You think not. I
tell you she is. It is true she is fat and well-looking—

iniquity is not theirs.