THE
Dying Indian’s
DREAM.
A POEM.
BY SILAS TERTIUS RAND,
Of Hantsport, Nova Scotia,
MISSIONARY TO THE MIC-MAC INDIANS.
(THIRD EDITION, REVISED.)
With some Additional Latin Poems.
WINDSOR, N. S.:
C. W. KNOWLES.
1881
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.
The Wigwam Scene described in the following pages,occurred at Hantsport, Nova Scotia, in March, 1855. Inthe Sixth Annual Report of the Mic-Mac Mission, in a letterwritten immediately after the event, I find it thusdescribed:
“An event of some interest has just occurred here.One of our sick Indians, named John Paul, has justdied, and was buried to-day. I have taken from my firstacquaintance with him, a great liking to him. I havespent many an hour with him in his wigwam. He alwayslistened attentively to the Scriptures, and engaged readilyin religious conversation, and I have not been withouthope that the grace of God had taken possession of hisheart. Efforts were made to deter him from allowing myvisits; but they were unavailing. I never aimed so muchto attack his Romish errors directly, as to dwell upon thefree salvation of the Gospel—without money and withoutprice. About last New Year’s Day, while I was in Halifax,I was informed that the Romish priest had sent ordersto him to leave Hantsport, and had threatened himwith all the curses of the Church if he remained. Hisstatement to me when I returned, was: “I won’t leavethis place till I choose. It is not in the power of anyman to keep me out of Heaven. That is a matter betweenGod and my own soul.” He said in Indian:“Neen alsoomse.” “I am my own master.” He remained.He continued to listen to the Bible with attention,and to receive my visits with kindness and respect till hedied. I now recollect that when I came to read to him,he would send the small children away, so that we mightnot be disturbed. The last time I saw him was a preciousseason to my own soul. It seemed easy to speak ofthe Great Redeemer, and of the way of Salvation. Imay say that special prayer was made for him in theMeeting House, where a number of christian friends wereassembled on the day before he died, holding a specialprayer meeting on our own account. More than one ferventprayer was offered up for the dying Indian. Afterthe meeting I returned to my own house, where I met anIndian from John Paul’s wigwam, who informed me thatthe poor fellow was near his end. “But oh,” said he,“he is wonderfu