But the picture becomes
dark, when I reflect upon the fate of the two good men whose sad story
I have yet to tell. Most assuredly theirs was a _confession of
blood_--and dying at their posts, faithful to their mission,
relieving the soul of an expiring Christian when the hand of death
fell upon them. Theirs must have been a triumphal entry into heaven,
to the kingdom of God! The great cross that the 90th Battalion placed
over the united graves of the victims of the Frog Lake massacre, is a
fitting emblem and a worthy monument; its base rests upon the soil
that covers their union in the grave, but its summits points to where
their souls are united above.
I will now take up the question of the Indians under my husband's
control, and I will tell how they got along, improved, and were
contented and happy. That will bring me to my last and all important
chapter--the one which will contain the story so tragically mournful.
THE INDIANS AS THEY ARE
It would not become me, perhaps, to comment upon the manner in which
the country is governed, and the Indians instructed, for I am no
politician. In fact I don't know one party from another except by
name. But I cannot permit this occasion, the last I may ever have, to
go past without saying plainly what I think and what I know about the
north-west and its troubles.
The half-breeds, or whites or others may have real or imaginary
grievances that they desire to see redressed.
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