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Missionary Life Among the Dakota Indians
By Mrs. J.F. Cross
It is hard to get the most interesting
experiences of a missionary's life, because
they belong to the daily routine and so are
often unmentioned. But here is a description
of life and travel among the Indians, by the
wife of a missionary just going to the
Dakotas:
The land of the Dakotas—what a distance! How
long the miles seemed from my home! How
frightful the land seemed to me, from the
tales of blizzards and cyclones! How strange
to go to live among the Sioux Indians, known
to me principally for the Minnesota, Fort
Fetterman and Custer massacres; to be a
friend to Sitting Bull, Brave Bull, Gall,
Grass, Swift Bear, Red Cloud and many others
with names no less picturesque! With such
impressions I left my home to accompany my
husband to his home and work at Rosebud
Agency, South Dakota.
I was soon relieved of the idea of the
distance, for only a few hours took us
across Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin
and Minnesota to the border of Dakota. Here
we left the railroad to attend the general
conference of the Dakota Mission at
Flandreau. How quickly all the impressions
of years can be changed, when the
impressions are wrong and we see the true
state of affairs. In this case, seeing
hundreds of bronzed faces, lighted up with
joy, as they sung "I hear Thy welcome voice"
in their own tongue, there was enough to
change all my former opinions of Indians in
general and of the Dakota Indians in
particular. It was like coming into a new
world. That is, it was finding those whom I
thought belonged to another, lower, baser
life, living the same life with myself;
rejoicing in that which is my greatest
joy—childhood with God the Father. And after
meeting Ehnamani, Grey Cloud, John Wakeman,
Spotted Bear, and many others; after hearing
them discuss living topics—living topics to
them because they belong to the change from
heathen to Christian life; after hearing
them pray—though I could not understand a
word, yet from their earnestness I could
understand the spirit of their prayer; after
all this, I could scarcely believe that
these men had ever been Indians in paint,
feathers, dances and on the war path. Thus I
spent my first four days among Indians. And
even if preaching, prayers, discussions were
in an unknown tongue, I perhaps, understood
as much as I would at many a Presbytery or
Conference meeting. And I got as much good
from the Dakota sermon as I have from many
an English sermon.
Not the least pleasing of my new impressions
were those made by the missionaries present.
Rev. John P. Williamson, of Yankton Agency;
Rev. A.L. Riggs, D.D., of Santee Mission and
Normal School; Rev. T.L. Riggs of Oahe, or
rather the apostle to the Tetons, were the
life of the meetings whether in English or
Dakota. They came from and returned to the
work to which their lives are given. I did
not meet these men with the greetings of a
certain minister there, who asked, "How many
years have you been in the Indian work."
"About twenty," was the reply. Then the
minister said: "Well, you have been in the
work so long that you would not be much good
anywhere else." My impression was that such
men would be now, as they always have been,
successful in any field of labor. But I must
leave Flandreau with its citizen Indians,
ready to vote for prohibition in the
Constitution of South Dakota, for this is
not our field of labor.
The next scene is one which I shall long
remember—our reception at a mission home.
Other homes may be happy and other people
may welcome me to their homes; but few—none
that I have met—can welcome one so cordially
as Mrs. Riggs welcomed us to her home at
Oahe. This is a long-to-be-remembered
experience. And after spending a week at
Oahe, meeting the teachers and pupils of the
school, and the citizen Indians there we
started for our own home and work, Park
Street Church Station. This place has been
the home of my husband for a year.
Crossing the Missouri is one of the first of
our experiences. The team and wagon are
loaded on the boat, the men row a few rods,
then the boat stops. "Bar," remarks Mr.
Cross, "got to tow;" when, horrors! "Is this
a missionary I see?" Mr. Cross is in the
water, sometimes to his knees, sometimes to
his waist. Thus they tow the boat a half
mile. From the way they hold their breath
the water must be cold. Well, it is October
10, in blizzard-swept Dakota. But after two
hours of work we are safely landed on the
west side of the river and soon we are
toiling slowly out of the breaks of the
river. After a ride of a few hours we come
to a creek with no water but plenty of wood.
Here dinner is announced. This is [pg 16]
camping in earnest. This is not play.
Camping in the East is generally within
sound of the cackle of the hen and the low
of the cow. But here you must live off of
the land or out of your mess-chest. We
combine the two. Many hotels and families
could learn a good lesson from an
experienced traveler and camper. In less
than thirty minutes from the time we stop,
horses are unharnessed, fire built, prairie
chicken dressed and cooked, coffee made,
table spread, blessing asked and we busy
with the tender and juicy chicken. This is
the same order at each meal.
At night we sleep on the earth and under the
sky, with but little between us and either
sky or earth. This is a new and somewhat
larger bedroom than I have been used to. But
with no house within twenty miles we are
unmolested. What a place! I listen. "All the
air a solemn stillness holds." I look. "So
lonesome it is that God himself scarce seems
to be there." But the clear air and quiet
night soon lull me into unbroken slumber.
Thus we travel until we reach Park St.
Church Station, where we find our
comfortable log house of one room ready to
receive us. Though we reach the house at
eleven o'clock at night, a full half dozen
come to greet us, saying, "Catka, winyau
waste luha, lila caute ma waste." "Left
Hand, (Mr. Cross) you have a good woman, so
I am happy." Sunday comes; at eleven o'clock
we go to the neat little room, chapel and
schoolroom. Here fifty men and women with
children of all ages, listen with eagerness
and attention to Mr. Cross as he tells them
of the wise men who came to seek Jesus. Some
of the faces are dirty, and so is much of
the clothing. But all listen as if they
perhaps might see this same Jesus. This is
Dakota, our field, our people to save.
New Church
at Fort Yates, North Dakota
Rev. T.L. Riggs
On Sunday, the 8th, we took steps here in
the organization of a new church. By
invitation, two of our Oahe Church, Solomon
Bear Ear and David Lee, were present from
the Cheyenne River Agency, and it was judged
wise to organize. The Apostles' Creed and a
short Covenant were offered as Articles of
Faith and the pledge. The nine members of
our Oahe church whose homes are at Grand
River and Fort Yates will become members
here on dismission at Oahe, and the native
workers and other missionaries will also
transfer their connection, so that if all do
so, the new church will have a membership of
eighteen or twenty.
In connection with these services the new
chapel was dedicated to the Master's service
by public expression; it has already been so
consecrated. I doubt not, in the heart of
the giver of the funds, as well as by the
prayers of all who have been interested in
it. Is is a bright, pleasant room within,
and has a snug appearance from without. I
think Mr. Reed has made a very creditable
success in this his first building.
This site includes some historical
materials that may imply negative stereotypes reflecting the culture or
language of a particular period or place. These items are presented as
part of the historical record and should not be interpreted to mean that
the WebMasters in any way endorse the stereotypes implied
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American Missionary Association, 1888-1895
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