time the wife of this same man came rushing into our house with her
infant on her breast and another daughter following,--her drunken
husband running after and threatening to kill them. We dragged them in
and shut and locked all the doors, and soon the man was pounding away
and trying to get in. The two women in great alarm locked themselves up
in the pantry and remained all night under our protection. The saddest
occurrence of all was when a man named Winter was actually killed by
his own son while in a state of intoxication. We did what we could to
try and stem the tide of drunkenness by forming a Temperance Society,
which a large number of the Indians joined; but a more effectual check
has of late years been put upon the terrible practice by the action of
the Dominion Government; it is now against law for a white man either
to give or sell liquor to an Indian on any pretence, and the penalty is
very heavy.

I must finish this chapter with an account of an Indian funeral. The
daughter of one of our Indians, named Kwakejewun, had fallen sick and
died--died, as we hoped, trusting in her Saviour. As is usual among the
Indians, a large number of people gathered together to show their
sympathy with the bereaved parents, and to follow the body to the
grave. The coffin was first brought into the church. I read the usual
service, and a hymn was sung very sweetly and plaintively. Then we
proceeded to the cemetery, nearly a mile distant. The snow was deep on
the ground and sparkling in the sunlight. I drove in my cutter and
headed the long funeral procession. A sad and picturesque sight it was;
from eighty to a hundred people in all, some in sleighs, some ploding
through the snow on foot,--aged women in their white blankets, mothers
with their children, some of them in bright scarlet shawls, boys and
girls, all in their Sunday attire. Through the silent forest we wended
our way till we came at length to the wild little cemetery with its