Project Canterbury

The Life and Labors of Bishop Hare
Apostle to the Sioux

By M.A. DeWolfe Howe

New York: Sturgis and Walton, 1911.

Chapter VII. The Missionary to Two Races, 1883-1891

AFTER ten years of service primarily to the Indians, Bishop Hare received in 1883 a tangible expression of the confidence of the House of Bishops through a change in the limits of his jurisdiction so that they came to correspond virtually with the limits of the present State of South Dakota. For Niobrara, in the title of his jurisdiction, the name of South Dakota was substituted. The change was a clear recognition of a new situation. The towns settled by whites in the eastern part of the state had grown too important to remain, as they had been, a mere adjunct to the diocese of Nebraska. The more recent white population in the Black Hills, along the western boundary, was already separating Bishop Hare's work into two important divisions--the Indian and the white. The new arrangement merely made a geographical unit of all the work for Indians and whites which fell naturally to Bishop Hare's charge. It was a change which he greeted with entire satisfaction. This was expressed in his Annual Report for 1884, when he wrote, "We shall cease to be Missionaries to classes or races, and be Missionaries to men."

On March 5, 1884, Bishop Hare issued a circular letter from Springfield, South Dakota, of which the greater portion read as follows:

"The House of Bishops, in October last, added a large part of Eastern Dakota to the Missionary district formerly under my charge, and gave the whole district the name of Southern Dakota. I have just made my first visitations through the new portion of my field. No words can express the splendid opportunity which I find for the planting of the Church.

"The immigration has been without precedent. More land was taken up by settlers in Dakota during the past year than in all the other Territories together.

"Towns are growing up everywhere, with almost magical rapidity. The new comers are largely Americans and Canadians; a very intelligent class, and a more than ordinary number are friendly to our Church. Everywhere goes up the schoolhouse, and everywhere the people want churches and the institutions of the Church.

"In this behalf they make me generous offers. For example: The people of Sioux Falls, a town situated in the midst of a rich agricultural country, and possessed of a valuable water power and inexhaustible quarries of jasper, offer me $10,000 in cash and lands, provided I can raise an equal amount, and will establish in their town a school for girls, under the auspices of the Episcopal Church. I must be able to meet such an offer as this, or seen almost contemptible."

The remainder of the letter was an appeal for financial aid, the response to which enabled him in September, 1884, to lay the corner stone of All Saints School for Girls at Sioux Falls, and in September, 1885, to open its doors to pupils. The school, intended for the daughters of his missionaries and for other white girls to whom a Church boarding school of the first order, near; their homes, could impart the influences which otherwise they must go far to seek, embodied some of his most cherished ideals. As it was his wish in the Indian boarding-schools to prepare the young to carry back to their homes some of the underlying principles of Christian civilization, so he felt that each of the more privileged girls of his own race who should fall under the influence of such a school as he meant All Saints to be might bear to her own surroundings through life something of cultivation and character which could best be molded and guided through daily contact with the highest standards of living. To this end he was most careful in the selection of teachers, and in the planning of secular and religious instruction. Most important of all, he made Sioux Falls his episcopal residence, and All Saints School his personal home. Here for the remainder of his days he made a part of a delightful family life, in which Miss Helen S. Peabody, the principal of the school, and her sister, Miss Mary B. Peabody, his private secretary, exercised a congenial feminine control. Called afield for the planting and nourishing of new missions to men and women of his own race, for continuing his work among the Indians, for journeys to the East in the interest of his work, or abroad in the interest of his health, he returned invariably to All Saints School with the feeling of one who is coming home. For all which the School supplied to the life of South Dakota, it contributed an important counterpart in the life of Bishop Hare himself.

The work of every Missionary Bishop in a rapidly growing frontier community must be much like that of every other. With the increase of population which is supposed to bring civilization in its train, the agencies of civilization are to be provided. The secular agencies spring up of themselves. The spiritual agencies are plants of more delicate growth, and call for careful cultivation. This is precisely what Bishop Hare was ready and qualified to give--and he gave it with as little sparing of himself as in ministering to his original charge. A single letter written soon after the extension of his work must serve to illustrate a wide and long-continued activity:

"I am on a visitation and preaching trip through the Southern part of the white part of my field.

"Saturday, April 18, I reached Madison, a new town of about one thousand people, where I was met by the Rev. John Morris, who has been working as a general Missionary along the Southern Division of the Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul Railroad. At Madison we have a little flock, but no church, though by Father Morris' efforts, a beautiful site has been obtained, one lot by gift and two lots by purchase.

"Sunday A. M. we had service and the Holy Communion and then a talk with the people. We then drove twenty-two miles, in the rain, to Howard, a town of eight hundred people, and had service there at night. Here again we have a little flock of earnest people but no church, and here again Father Morris has secured a most eligible location for the church, one lot as a gift and two by purchase.

"Monday we went to Carthage, a little town just begun, and had service there in the evening. Here there is no church building of any sort whatever. The people were full of hope last year that they would be able to put up a building, but a disastrous hail storm swept away their crops; a little later the town of Carthage, New York, from which many of the inhabitants came, and from which their town was named, and to which they looked for some help, was devastated by fire. We had service in the schoolhouse, and did all we could to encourage the people.

"Tuesday, April 21, we came to Woonsocket, a town which had no existence two years ago and now numbers about nine hundred souls! Here again we have a little flock of people who love the Church, and valuable lots, half by purchase and half by gift.

"Wednesday, April 22, a railroad ride of one hundred and eighty miles brought me to Elk Point. The train was several hours late, and it was not till nine o'clock at night that I reached the church. I found the venerable Father Himes and the congregation waiting for me, however, and I had the pleasure of speaking to them. The church is a model of neatness and shows everywhere touches of the taste and loving care with which the good missionary watches over it and labors for it. Father Himes will reach his eightieth birthday within a few weeks, but his strength and health are wonderfully preserved to him, and he moves about with a quick, elastic step and preaches with a fire which puts some of our younger folk to shame.

"Thursday we went and held service together at his other station, Vermillion, where the little church is as neat and pretty as its twin sister at Elk Point.

"Saturday, I took the cars and after ten hours' travel reached Aberdeen. Here I had two hours to spare before taking the train which was to carry me to Groton, where I was to have service Sunday morning. We have no clergyman at either of these towns, nor anywhere in the vicinity; but I found six adults ready for baptism, prepared chiefly through the zeal of one good Churchwoman. They had gathered by my appointment in her home and I occupied my spare two hours first in instruction and then in the administration of Baptism, an exceedingly touching service.

"Leaving word that I should come hack next day (Sunday), by the freight train, and hold service, I then went to Groton. Here Mr. W. Y. Brewster, a noble young layman, has maintained the services, sustained by a few devoted Church people, for two years; and Sunday morning, April 20, it was with rare satisfaction that I ministered to them in their pretty church. The freight came along in due season, as expected, and carried me back to Aberdeen, in time for service Sunday night. The Presbyterian Church building was kindly loaned us; all seats and every available space was crowded by interested people. The services were hearty, a class of nine were confirmed, and I believe a deep impression made on many hearts. The service was intermitted for ten or fifteen minutes after the confirmation, and time given for informal conference with the people, then the major part of the congregation dispersed and the few, some twenty, remained to celebrate the Lord's Supper. "Would that devout laymen in the East who have means could by turns become a Missionary-Bishop, and for a week or two meet the people in town after town as I am now doing, and be confronted with the opportunities I see of meeting religious want and building up the interests of the Church. Everywhere hereabout you meet with enterprising, energetic people who are ready to make the bravest ventures if they think they give any promise of return. A whole community, religious and profane alike, will unite in an effort to build a church, each expecting to reap from it the benefit which he most desires; one the appreciation of the value of his town lots, another the gratification of his wife and children, a third the encouragement of morals and religion, and all, the general improvement of their town, and they are thus enabled to make a Missionary Bishop offers, in aid of Church and School work, so liberal that people at the East leap to the conclusion that we must be living among a wealthy people. But in fact, the means of all are scant. All live for the future, and all sorts of economies are resorted to in order to make that future sure. A family of five or six, for instance, will live in two rooms and in order to save fuel, one stove will be made, by the use of a drum in one room, to heat both---or if the house be larger, the bedroom will be made to open out of one central room, and one stove placed in this central room will be made to moderate the temperature in them all.

"Few are able to employ a servant. Husband and wife bear all and do all things in hope of the good time coming.

"'People's pockets are not full here,' said a man in my hearing the other day in apology for the inferior character of his conveyance. 'No,' said another with a chuckle, 'if their pockets had been full, they would not have come so far.'

"This is the state of things. Imagine my amazement, then, when, after telling in a sermon in New York some months ago of the generous enterprise with which the people of a town out here had, by a general subscription of the townspeople, raised ten thousand dollars in cash and land, and placed it in my hands in order to enable me to erect a Church School, the most ostensible result of my rehearsal of this telling fact on that occasion was not check after check from liberal givers accompanied by the words Ve like to help those who help themselves; here is some aid toward meeting those enterprising people half way,' but an article in the Living Church headed, 'Missions to the well-to-do' in which the writer argued that it was not the Church's work to extend missionary help to those who were so well off!

"The difference between us seems to be that I think the Church ought to establish herself in new communities among the 'the well-to-do' and he thinks that her only work is to establish herself among 'the ne'er do wells.'"

Thus he went about, encouraging those who could help themselves to do so, bringing from the East all the help he could secure from the Missionary Board, and from generous friends who had learned that any appeal from Bishop Hare was worth heeding. To Mrs. John Jacob Astor, Miss Catherine Lorillard Wolfe and Mr. Henry Dexter of New York, to Mr. Felix R. Brunot of Pittsburgh and to many others, some of whom survive, he knew that he could turn with confidence as special opportunities presented themselves. A practical wisdom so trusted expressed itself in effective machinery of administration. The field was divided into the Eastern and, later, the Black Hills Deaneries for the white population, and the Niobrara Deanery for the Indian stations. A well-adjusted system was laid out, with a cathedral at Sioux Falls, with responsibilities carefully assigned throughout the jurisdiction to rural deans, to white and native clergy, to catechists and helpers. If there was ever a danger that the increasing demands of the whites should overshadow the interests of the Indians, the system, of gradual growth, was so ordered that such a possibility was never realized.

"How shall we reach the full-blooded Indians?" a Quaker missionary was once asked. She replied, according to a story in which Bishop Hare took pleasure, "To reach the full-blooded Indian, send after him a full-blooded Christian." The result of sending forth so full-blooded a Christian as Bishop Hare was clearly manifest by the time the extension of his work was ordered. In place of the three native and five white clergy, and five women helpers whom he had found in Niobrara, there were under him in 1884, five native clergy, five native candidates for the ministry, and twelve native catechists; seventeen white clergy and four white catechists; and twelve women helpers. In the four Indian boarding-schools he could report in 1884 an average attendance of forty pupils at St. Paul's, of thirty-four at St. Mary's, of thirty-four at St. John's, and of twenty-three at Hope School. By this tune, moreover, many pupils had carried the teachings and influence of each of those schools back into their native surroundings, and some of them had gone on to the Indian Schools in the East. In his Ninth Annual Report (1881), Bishop Hare wrote: "I hail with the warmest satisfaction the boarding-school work for Indian youth, which is attracting so much attention and commendation at Hampton and Carlisle. We shall gladly learn from the excellent management of those schools wherever we can, and shall do all in our power to make those schools and ours (as they ought to be), mutually helpful and not rival, much less antagonistic. It is a satisfaction that school work which we have been quietly doing for eight years in Niobrara has been, by means of the Hampton and Carlisle schools, commended so generally to the Christian people of the land." Captain (now General) Pratt, for twenty-five years head of the Carlisle school, has recently given in a private letter an interesting reminiscence of Bishop Hare's more personal relation to his work. Puzzled at first, he says, to know exactly what his real position was, he submitted the question to Bishop Hare. "He instantly replied, 'You are the father of the place.' From that time, the children understood that I was their 'School Father,' and in my files I have thousands of personal letters from them in which they address me as 'Dear School Father.'"

A pleasant evidence of the linking together of the Eastern and Western schools was exhibited in the summer of 1881, when some Indians who had gone from the Rosebud and Pine Ridge Agencies to Carlisle made and sent to Bishop Hare a set of double harness--"their work" and "their gift." Over against such a contact with young Indians under civilizing influence it is interesting to set the item that in 1881 five children from the camp of the recently captured Sitting Bull, one of them a son of Sitting Bull himself, were received into the mission schools. In August, 1883, Bishop Hare wrote in his Annual Report: "Six boys from the captive band of Sitting Bull have been in St. Paul's School during the past year, an addition of three to the number who were there last year from that band. It sets one to thinking, the fact that there were no six boys in the school quicker to learn, more tractable and more ready to coalesce with the general life of the school than this group fresh from the wildest Indian life, which had spurned the control of the Government, and asked only the privilege of ceaseless hunting and roaming. How hard it is sometimes to square our theories with our facts!"

Still another token of the new order dawning for the Indians came in 1891, when the daughter of the celebrated Standing Rock chief, Gall, leader of the Indians in the Custer fight, presented, at the annual Indian Convocation over which Bishop Hare presided, an offering of eight hundred dollars on behalf of the Niobrara branch of the Woman's Auxiliary, made up of Indian women. On the fourth of the next July, Chief Gall himself was baptized in the Episcopal Church.

To every Indian confirmed by Bishop Hare he made a personal gift of a small metal cross, as a memento of the event. It was a bit of symbolism which the Indians prized most highly. At least on one occasion--in the Zoological Gardens at Cincinnati in 1896--it led to an interesting recognition, by a former mission worker, of a considerable number from a band of a hundred Sioux giving an exhibition there, and to consequent pleasure and profit for the homesick Indians. The value of a symbolism within the reach of an Indian's poetic understanding was clearly recognized by Bishop Hare. Of "ritualism" in the accepted sense of the term, he once wrote to his sister that it "is just about as well suited to their souls as patent leathers, kids, musk and a dangling eyeglass are to their manly sinewy bodies." Yet declaring himself in his Convocation Address of 1890, "no advocate of excessive ceremonial," he warned his clergy against "the temptation," in a new country, "rather to carelessness than to punctilio." Though dignity was inseparable in his mind from the work he was doing and directing, he could say again to his clergy, in 1893: "When I consider all kinds and conditions of men, the sameness and inflexibleness of our services as we now conduct them become to me oppressive." To those unfamiliar with the ways of the Church he felt that the clergyman "should go forth free from book, both Bible and Prayer Book, free from manuscript, and free from rubric, too, and take men as he finds them and speak to them from a full heart and head that which he thinks will prove God's word in season." For the specific obligation of the Church to the Indians he spoke with all his vigor in his Fourteenth Annual Report: "The proximity of Christianity has undermined the old religion even of those among whom we have not had the means as yet to introduce the truth. That old religion was a great fact and a great power in their lives. It had its sacred stories which fed the religious instinct. The changes of the season and the events of individual and social life were marked by holy rites, made attractive by singing, processions and dances. But the whole system is going to pieces because of the proximity of civilization and the mission. The people are disconcerted and perplexed. They know not which way to turn. They are helpless. They will soon become, I fear, reckless and do desperate deeds, or they will become broken-hearted and sunk into pauperism, loathsome disease and death. . . . Every sentiment of honor, and of Christian duty demands, I conceive, that we shall fulfil the expectation which our presence and past work have excited, and that we shall give of our abundance to those from whom we have directly or indirectly taken so much."

As in the earliest days he was still finding that much was to be given simply through using his influence to bring about a fair treatment of the Indians by the Government, as represented by the Indian Agents. Conditions had improved since President Lincoln told the anecdote related in Bishop Whipple's Lights and Shadows of a Long Episcopate: "Bishop," said Lincoln, "a man thought that monkeys could pick cotton better than negroes could because they were quicker and their fingers smaller. He turned a lot of them into his cotton field, but he found that it took two overseers to watch one monkey. It needs more than one honest man to watch one Indian agent." But even so late as 1901, Bishop Hare quoted in his Annual Report the outspoken utterance of a representative of the diminishing order of men who found the influence of the boarding-schools and mission work in general detrimental to their selfish interests: "Damn the missionaries; if they were all in hell, there would be some fun in running an agency." In an early pamphlet, "The True Policy towards the Indian Tribes" (about 1878), Bishop Hare drew a vivid picture of the evil wrought by agents of the inferior type and of the possibilities for good under more enlightened conditions. To create and nourish these conditions he brought all his personal and official influence to bear, never failing to recognize and support the faithful agents with whom he could work in sympathy. If he had not been equally quick to recognize the difficulties and humors of the service, he would hardly have printed in his diocesan paper, The Church News, the following letter from an Indian to the agent in authority over him:

"Dear Friend:

"I want to say few words that I feel unhappy to myself. I did not want to come and say these to you, because I get mad and sorrow, but it is not you. This is the words I want you to know and see about. Here is an old woman conies from Little Oak Creek Camp. She is the one that makes me feel sorrow every day, and now she catch me up to mad this day, but I did not say any words to her. She talks every day in bad words. Nothing but the bad words every day, and I am very tired of it now, so I do not want her to stay here any more. So I want you to send her off to her place at Little Oak Creek, and if you cannot send her off, I will move out from here. I get tired of this woman sure. Send your policemen, they will send her off, and if they don't, I will do any way to my pleases, because she spoils the whole family, and I hate that business. And if she stays here, we might all dead by sorrow. If she gets rested sometimes, I wouldn't say nothing, but kept hold on it. That's the reason we get tired. That is all for to-day.


Such humors by the way were at best mere alleviations in the serious task of looking to the guardians of the guarded. After nearly twenty years of ungrudging service, direct and indirect, resulting in a substantial advance towards civilization, there came in the "Messiah Craze" of 1890, and in the culminating disaster of Wounded Knee Creek, a discouraging recrudescence of savagery. On November 20, 1890, the Sioux Falls Press printed the following statement from Bishop Hare, recently returned from the Standing Rock and Rosebud Agencies, on the origin of the trouble:

"Educational and missionary work has advanced rapidly among the Indians of South Dakota, and the whole Indian country is dotted over with chapels and schoolhouses. The Indians have been so well disposed that even women teachers have been living without fear of molestation at remote and isolated points in the Indian country with no neighbors but Indians.

"This quiet has lately, however, been in a degree disturbed. A delusion has taken possession of the minds of the wilder elements among the Indians. The leaders in the movement have invigorated old heathen ideas with snatches of Christian truth and have managed to excite an amount of enthusiasm which is amazing. They teach that the Son of God will presently appear as the avenger of the cause of the wild Indian; the earth will shiver; a great wave of new earth will overspread the present face of the world and bury all the whites and all the Indians who imitate their ways; while the real Indians will find themselves on the surface of the new earth, basking in the light. The old ways will all be restored in primitive vigor and glory, and the buffalo, antelope and deer will return.

"The devotees of these ideas are dressed in their exercises in special garb (a shirt made of calico and worn like a blouse, called by them 'the holy' or 'mysterious shirt'), and with the cry, 'The buffalo are coming!' the people form rings by joining hands and whirling themselves round and round in wild dances until they fall to the ground unconscious. They are then said to be dead. Their leaders promise that while in this state they will be transported to the spirit world and will see their friends who have died and the Son of God, and accordingly, when they recover consciousness, they tell of the strange visions they have enjoyed.

"I look upon the movement as the effort of heathenism grown desperate to restore its vigor and reinstate itself. Many of the missionaries have long been expecting such a struggle.

"The spread of civilization has alarmed the heathen party. Pressed on the one hand by the advance of the whites and on the other by the civilized and progressive party among the Indians, the wilder Indians find themselves cornered and are like wild animals at bay, a state which is apt to give rise to delusion and desperate measures. The present delusion, which, promising as it does, the confusion of all civilized people and the survival of the advocates of the old Indian life, comes to the Indians very opportunely and has to an alarming degree taken possession of their minds. They gather together at points removed as much as possible from observation and interference, and there, by harangues and songs and dances, work themselves into a frenzy of excitement, destroying the implements and symbols of civilization and supplanting them by relics of barbarism. The excitement is, however, confined to particular locations, and in many parts of the Indian country you hear less of it than one does in Sioux Falls. Any attack of the Indians upon our forts and settlements seems to me utterly improbable. The Almighty is about to dispose of the whites quite effectually, according to the preaching of their prophets.

"So far as I am able to judge, the movement is not gaining, but rather the reverse. I should fear the results of forcible interference with them in their present excitement. Time will reveal the deception practiced by the ring-leaders, for the promised crisis will not come, and meanwhile the Indians will have danced themselves out. Their prophets have said that the quaking of the earth and the coming of the Messiah would occur at the coming of the next new moon, and when their predictions are not fulfilled the excitement will be allayed. Of course this strange craze revives many dear memories and appeals strongly to the race feeling even in the civilized Indians. In these old ideas the being of many of them moves with the ease of old habit, like machinery well oiled. In Christian thought and life, their natures, not yet thoroughly habituated to them, move like machinery when dry. Many of the Indians look upon the whole movement, however, with disdain, and unless some unfortunate move should precipitate organized resistance on the part of the deluded Indian, the craze, like many another, will run its course and pass away."

Unfortunately, the craze was to have its tragic consequences--more tragic for the Indians than for anyone else. So far as the white settlers were concerned--there were some who seized the opportunity to show themselves far less courageous than many missionaries and Christian Indians. The Indians afterwards realized that through all the excitement they had no stauncher friends than the "White Robes"--as they called the missionaries of the Episcopal Church. Bishop Hare himself, beyond anxiety for his people of both races, suffered little except in finding himself the subject of an Indian rumor to the effect that when he and one of his missionaries attempted to read the Bible, the Ghost Dance influence was so strong that they had to lay it down. His anxiety called him, according to the "Bishop's Record" in The Church News of January, 1891, "hither and thither to meet special needs as they arose." First he went to the Standing Rock Reserve, then late in December, to the Pine Ridge Reserve, on which the Wounded Knee fight had just occurred. "My visit to Pine Ridge Reserve," he wrote, "brought me to a scene which contrasted so shockingly with all the signs of progress and peace which have greeted me on my visits for six or eight years past that time will not efface it from my memory. The friendly Indians had all been called in from the ten or twelve farming settlements around their little churches, and were huddled together in the tepees of old times just south of the Agency, and on entering the church, two sights presented themselves. On the church floor, instead of the pews on either side of the aisle, two rows of bleeding, groaning, wounded men, women and children; tending them two military surgeons and a native physician assisted by the missionary and his helpers, assiduity and tenderness marking all. Above, the Christmas green was still hanging. To one of my moods they seemed a mockery to all my faith and hope; to another they seemed an inspiration still singing, though in a minor key, 'Peace, good will to men.' " In a pamphlet of 1891, entitled, "Who Shall be the Victim," Bishop Hare went somewhat more fully into the political and physical causes of the outbreak than in the newspaper article already drawn upon, and followed the episode to its close. Of the general principles involved, the pamphlet considered the three plans of Indian policy--"fight them," "feed them" and "lead them to self-support"--and made a plea for the final method. To the distracted natives, the pamphlet more specifically referred as follows:

"All things were against them, and to add to the calamity, many Indians, especially the wilder element, had nothing to do but to brood over their misfortunes. While in this unhappy state, the story of a Messiah coming, who would reinstate the Indian, with its Ghost Dance and strange hallucinations, spread among the heathen part of the people. The Christian Indians, on the whole, maintained their stand with praiseworthy patience and fortitude; but the dancers were in a state of exaltation approaching phrensy. Restraint only increased their madness. The dancers were found to be well armed and to have donned a sacred shirt of talismanic power. Insubordination broke out on several reserves. The authority of the Agent and of the native police was overthrown. The civilized Indians were intimidated. Alarm spread everywhere.

No one knew what was coming. The military was summoned to the Agencies. Their appearance did not dampen zeal, but fanned the flames. Why should they fear who wore the bullet-proof sacred shirt? ["When one of the women, wounded in the fight, was approached as she lay in the Church and told by Miss Goodale she must let them remove her ghost dance shirt in order the better to get at her wound, she replied, ' Yes, take it off. They told me a bullet would not go through. Now, I don't want it any more.'"] Hence, when Colonel Forsythe's cavalry overtook Big Foot's band (off their own reserve, and apparently bent on mischief), and endeavored to take from them their arms after their surrender, the commanding officer's forbearance and coolness availed nothing. The prayers of the medicine man and his assurance that the bullets would not penetrate their ghost dance shirts prevailed, and although two pieces of artillery were trained upon them and the soldiers who surrounded them outnumbered the Indian warriors three or four times, they fell suddenly upon the troops at a signal from the medicine man with savage fury and often continued fighting even when wounded and dying. The soldiers retaliated with terrible results. Indian men, women, and boys engaged in the fight, and Indian men, women and boys paid the penalty. What is to follow no one knows.

"Such is the sad story."

When these words of Bishop Hare's were written there was no foreseeing that the "Messiah Craze" was virtually the final flicker of the ancient spirit of the Sioux. The new "way"--as the Indians so generally called it--had become their way to an extent which made the adaptation of it to their needs, rather than its introduction, the prevailing work of church and state. This chapter will have failed of its purpose if the reader has not felt that Bishop Hare made an all-important contribution to such a result. One who observed his work in the very period which has been under consideration bore a memorable testimony to its value. In 1887, Mr. J. B. Harrison, the penetrating author of Certain Dangerous Tendencies in American Life, wrote in his Latest Studies on Indian Reservations:

"I know of no man who has accomplished more for the civilization of the Indians of Dakota, or for the advancement of all improving and civilizing influences in the country adjacent to the reservations, than Bishop Hare, of the Protestant Episcopal Church. Some religious workers on the frontier are successful by means of mere rude strength or physical vigor. They influence men all the more because of the coarseness of taste and fibre which is common to them and to many of the people among whom they live. But here is a man made up of all gentle and pure qualities; at home in 'the still air of delightful studies'; who would be a leader among the best anywhere; who unites to a soldier's fearlessness and invincible devotion a spirituality so lofty and tender that one shrinks from characterizing it while he is still in the flesh, who is laying the foundations of Christian civilization on broad and far-reaching lines in a region large enough to be a mighty empire. He long ago saw the need and opportunity of the time, and answered to its call. I am not a member of the Protestant Episcopal Church. It is only as a student of civilization that I have written of any of the missionary enterprises among the Indians. But this man ought to have whatever he wants of means for his work, with remembrance and honor from all good men."

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