(video by www.livingwaters.com)
In the year 1877, Col. Robert G. Ingersoll made an extended tour of the Pacific coast. He spoke in several of the larger cities, and at length arrived at Portland. There was in the city a certain missionary to the Chinooks. He could not afford a ticket to the lecture, and was greatly disturbed at what he read concerning it. Yet he felt a strong desire to meet the misssioary, and a common friend procured a meeting between them.
There was a moment of restraint, relieved by the greater ease of Colonel Ingersoll, who began the conversation by inquiring concerning the work of the missionary. A little mirthfully he questioned him about the advisability of exporting religion, of which there might not be any surplus at home, and inquired, somewhat doubtfully, about the wisdom of a man giving his life to a hopeless task in attempting to teach a small and vanishing tribe things of which we ourselves have perhaps less knowledge then we suppose.
The answers of the missionary, however, interested Colonel Ingersoll. He inquired about the "Chinook jargon," that mongrel speech, made of English, Canadian French, Chinook and other Indian words, picked up from several tribes, and all softened and modified to suit deficiencies of pronunciation; the r changed into l, after the Chinese manner, and the grammar "made by chopping up words with a tomahawk."
How could a man preach in a language where one word had to serve as noun, verb and adjective? How could a man of education make himself understood in a language with only four parts of speech and some fragments? How could e tell the story of Peter's denial in a language which, having only one word for all manner of feathered things, and no verb for the act of crowing, made it necessary for the speaker to imitate the act and sound? How could he tell that Peter swore, in a language that had no verb "to curse," but had plenty of oaths inherited from traders in various tongues? How could he impart any idea of sacred things in a polyglot of slang?
The missionary told him the story of his work-- how he preached as best he could in the poor, meager speech of the people, meantime teaching children English, encouraging them in useful arts, fighting the vices of civilization as they made inroads among the people, and doing what he could for them as adviser and friend. It was hard work, and not very encouraging, but it was worth doing, and he was happy in it.
In telling his story thus, encouraged and led on by a man trained and skillful in cross-examination, the missionary unconsciously disclosed many of the hardships and privations which his work entailed upon him. Possibly, and indeed probably, he had not thought of them seriously as hardships, and the stories of long journeys by canoe and on horseback, of nights in the open, of poor and sometimes revolting food. There was no word of complaint, nor even the least expression of regret, except for books and papers and magazines missed.
When the missionary rose to go, Colonel Ingersoll took his hand warmly, and said. "I thank you for coming to see me. This interests me very much. It's good work you are doing, it's good work. And here, take this. I am not a frequent contributor to missionary work, but I like this."
Into the missionary's had he dropt a bright twenty-dollar gold piece.--Youth's Companion
