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  (This document was written by Sister Sirilla in her 81 year for the Centennial Celebration of the community of Cadotte, Chippewa County in 1974)

Lola – Later, Sister M. Sirilla OSF

 

  My Indian name was ‘Way-johnie-ma-son’; which means ‘busy-body’. A little Indian girl who was born on the Lac Courte Oreilles Reservation; whose parents where Charlie La Rush and Catherine Tasier.

  Charlie’s father was a Frenchman. He was also a fur trader. He went to the Civil War and died in it. His mother was a descendent of Michel Cadotte, part Indian and Wabageab, her Indian name. She was baptized Geneveave, in French Jenyeave. 

  After my grandfather had died my grandmother was left with ten children. Those war days were hard and gruesome. They lived in a place called Eagleton, somewhere near Chippewa Falls. There were many Indians living around there; also along the Chippewa River up and down. There was also quite a village called Flambeau Farm around that time. So at the time our Chippewa Indians were still scattered. I sometimes am told by some white folks that they are also part Indian, but not from a Reservation like me.

  My Grandmother Wabageab had a very hard time. The oldest boy, Francis, was drafted. He ran away into the woods toward Minnesota. He was never found. Two little girls died from hardships, Susie and Maggie. Sophie, tried to keep the house after her mother died. She finally got married, then the others scattered. My Uncle Edward went toward Flambeau Farm and got married to an Indian lady there. My Uncle John went up north and also found himself an Indian wife. Some of his descendants are living in New Post at the present time. My Aunt Julie found a Sioux Indian. They lived in what is now Stanley. They gradually moved to Reserve. I also had an Aunt Jane who married a man named Pete Robb. I never heard where they lived.

  So my father Charlie and Uncle Mitchel were left as waifs with no home. George Warren a distant cousin took them under his care on his farm near Chippewa Falls. That is the place where my father and Uncle Mitchel grew up. That is the story of my father. There were no orphan homes at that time for homeless children. 

  Now my mother’s story, Catherine Tasier: She was a descendent of Acadians of Nova Scotia. The English came to Nova Scotia and burned their little mission Church. They also placed the men folk in boats and sent them down to Louisiana. The women with their children fled across the ST. Lawrence River to Canada and started over again, pioneer living, with absolutely nothing. That was the lot of my mother’s ancestors. The town of Sorril near Montreal was the place of their beginning and the place where my mother grew up. There were six children, three boys and three girls, in their family. The father, my grandfather, was killed by a team of run-away horses while he was driving a load of hay. Her mother, my grandmother, lived to be quite old in Canada.

  My mother would often speak of her brothers and sisters. As they grew older they also dispersed and some came to the States. She would speak about my Aunt Igserill who had come to Eau Claire and had become sick. She then had sent for my mother, then a young lady, to come to take care of her. My mother did just that. My dear Aunt Igserill recovered and became well again. Then Catherine, my mother, went out to look for a job for herself. She found a job on the George Warren farm. The same place on which my father had been brought up and was still there. So there young Charlie and Miss Catherine became acquainted.

  The following is how that came out: Charlie would often come to the table with a very torn coat. Catherine got so that she couldn’t see that any more. So she asked Charlie if he would mind if she would mend his coat. He said nothing but handed it over to her. She mended it nicely and washed it so that it was spick and span. That started their courtship. No nationality was considered. It was plain true love between the two, which was brought about through Catherine’s charity. How the Hand of the good Lord will bring things about.

  Some time after, they were married in the first mission Notre Dame Church in Chippewa Falls. After a while George Warren, the man that took care of Charlie as a boy and young man, got the young couple a small farm that had been deserted, near a small town called Drywood, which was not very far from Chippewa Falls. So the young couple started their own housekeeping. George also helped them get stock for their farm. They had a very good start on their farm. They must have lived there ten, twelve, or more years for three children were born to them there, being that we children were about three or four years apart. The first child was a boy who was named Francis, after his grandfather’s name who had lost his life in the Civil War. Little Francis lived about four years. He was buried in the Drywood cemetery. The next child was Henry, another boy who lived to be eighty-three years old. The next one was a girl whose name was Agnes. Those three children were born on that farm.

  Some time after, my Uncle John, my father’s older brother, sent an invitation to my father to come to northern Wisconsin where logging had taken place and good salaries were given. He invited my father and family to go up there. So the farm was sold and up north they went. They took what they could along and even their stock. My mother used to say that it took them a whole week to move up there.

  My Uncle John had a house, a barn, and a hen house ready for them. My mother used to say that she had quite a time with the two little ones, Henry and Agnes. So that was how my family got to the Reservation. That land was already a Reservation where they went. 

  My mother became a cook for the loggers and my father helped her by being chore boy. They did that just one winter. It was too hard for my mother having the two little children.

  After that my father went to work in the woods like other men with his team of horses. My mother stayed home and took care of her household. She missed her farm home very much. Even many years afterwards when I was a growing girl she would still speak about their nice farm where they even had apple trees on it. I never realized how heart sore she must have been over leaving that farm. 

  The next story is about a bear: my mother had gone to her home to stay, which was near the logging camp. One nice da in spring, she spread a blanket on the ground in front of her home and placed Agnes on it. Agnes might have been about a year old then. Henry was about five years old. Mother told Henry to take care of Agnes, while she went to the hen house. In a little while Henry yelled real loud in French, “There is a big dog coming.’ She looked out of the door of the chicken house when she saw a big bear coming down the road. She yelled back, ‘Pull Agnes into the house quick and close the door.’ He had hardly closed the door when the bear came snooping around the house and walked on. You may be sure my mother wasn’t slow in going back to the house to hug and kiss her little ones. She often told us that story. Henry also remembered that occasion quite well.

  When Henry was old enough to go to school, they moved into a house near the Sister’s School. The Sister’s were then there already. The house that my parents moved into had also belonged to George Warren who sold it to my parents. The house was a log house like all other house around here. It had three rooms and an upstairs, also a cellar. Then there was a shed attached to it for the stove wood and utilities. There were tub, washboards, boiler for washing clothes, a grindstone, saws, axes, etc. etc. for the men and garden tools as hoes, rakes, shovels and plow for garden work. 

  Little Agnes passed away in the house. She was buried in the cemetery, there in Reserve. She was the first of the family to be buried there. The rest of the family are all buried there except me and Francis, the oldest, who was buried in the Drywood cemetery.

SO I WENT BY THE NAME OF LOLA

  Some time after little Agnes had died, the good Lord gave my parents another little girl. She was named Rose from Rose Lynch. After Rose became a Sister, her new name was Sister Concepta I. Rose my sister, was born on New Years day, 1888. Four years later, the good Lord gave them another little girl who received the name Fabiola in Baptism. She was born tongue tied so bad that she could not nurse or make a noise. So the Doctor was called in order to clip the string that was holding the tongue down. But, my mother wanted my baptized before that was done. So I was carried to the Church and Sister Fabiola, who was there at the time, held me for Baptism in proxy for Mary De Brot. So I was named Mary Fabiola. The Doctor then clipped the string that held my tongue down. I then could nurse and squeal. It did not affect my speech in any way.

  Fabiola was very hard to say in French. So they began to shorten the name to Lola. So then I went by the name Lola. So I grew as a normal baby. I learned to walk, talk and also to get into mischief as any child does.

  In summer my mother had the habit of doing her washing by the lake. We lived on little Couderay Lake near the Sisters. My father set up a triangle affair for which my mother would heat water hanging in a large kettle from it. In that way it spared her from having to carry water up to the house. One time when she was in the process my mother left the shore and went to the house for some purpose. While she was gone, I went onto the little pier that extended a little way into the water. I went too far out on it and fell into the water. We had a dog named Rover who was there with me. When I fell in, he plunged into the water and dragged me out of the water by the dress. Sister Hugaline was there then; she came running down to the lake and helped Rover to get me out of the water. At that point, mother came to the show. She certainly was grateful that I saved.

  Rover also saved my sister Rosie when she was little. She had followed my father when he was on his way to work with his team. He chased her back until he couldn’t see her anymore. She sat down along the roadside and went to sleep. My mother was looking for her. Rover must have smelt her footsteps for he knew where to go. He went where she was. He went back and pulled mother’s dress. She went along with him. There she found Rosie on the side of the road in the weeds sleeping. She picked her up and carried her home. 

  One time father had company at our place; a man was having a meal with my father. They were having fried eggs. When the platter was passed to the man he emptied it. I stood at the other end of the table and watched that. I yelled out in French, “That old dog man is eating up all the eggs.” My father said nothing but got up and pulled me by the ear and shoved me behind the door. There I sobbed for a while. When the men had gone out, mother gave me something to eat and said nothing. When father came back in, he sat me on his knee and gave me a good talk. I was about four years old at the time. I remember it well. 

  I remember how the people would come to Church on All Saint’s Day and All Soul’s Day. In those days, they had great devotion for their dead. On the Eve of All Soul’s Day, they would come to Church and toll the bell for their dead. They would go into Church and pray some for the dead, then go to the cemetery and place a burning lantern on the grave of some relative. I remember when I was small; my father held me in one arm and tolled the bell with the other hand. During the day a dinner was given in honor of the dead person who had passed away during the last year of the family. They also took very much pride in those past times in keeping their graves in good order.

  When I was small and my father would come from camp, he would not shave the whole week at camp on account of the cold and also the time. Sometimes I would run to meet him. He would pick me up and want me to kiss me. Well, those bristles on his face would pick me and I would push his face away from me. That would make him laugh so heartily.

  When I was getting old enough to go to school, I had a very hard time my first year. I am left handed, so my teacher tied my left hand behind my back so that I was made to write with my right hand. I surely did not like that. So when writing time came, I would say that I had a stomachache and want to go home. Sometimes I just went home. My mother knew that, so she would bring me back the next morning. She also helped me with it. I am now grateful that I can use my right hand for writing, since I have trouble with my left arm in my old age.

  Our school was not graded in those years. But we did learn. When we finished one reader, we were given the next that followed. We also learned arithmetic, adding, subtracting, multiplying, short divisions and long division. We also drilled the tables as those subjects were called in those days.  We also had some geography, some history, also spelling, also phonics to a certain extent. We also had a hot lunch at dinnertime. I don’t know where the Sisters got the food then.

  In winter we would have loads of fun sliding down the hill east of the school or from the road that was then west the Church, that is, the first little mission Church that was there. Sometimes we had bobsled where a number of children could get on, or we would have small sleds where two or three would get on and slide down the bank of the lake way out on the ice. We also used the staves of a broken barrel. We would cut a little nitch on one end, tie a string on it then, hold the string and slide down the hill standing one foot ahead of the other. They must have got the idea of skiing from that sport of ours.

  My brother Henry had a team of dogs, Rover and Prince. He had made a set of harnesses for those dogs, somewhat like horse have. Sometimes he would place a box. My mother would put a shawl or blanket around Henry and me would give me a ride around the lake with his team of dogs. That surely was fun.

  When I got somewhat older, I also learned to skate. However, I didn’t like it too well. In those years when I was a child we had to hook our skates on to our shoes with a sort of big key. Sometimes that would loosen up and the skate would dangle. I never liked that. So I would sooner go without skating. The young folks would make themselves a bonfire across the lake and have a jolly good time in winter. They would then skate near the fire. 

  Another winter sport was to snare rabbits. I snared many a one. We fixed the snare wire so that the rabbit would go through to get the bait placed on the other side. We would place the bait in a rabbit trail. We would sometimes go early in the morning before school would start to see if our snare had a rabbit caught in it. I one time caught a cat in a snare. Another time I caught a pheasant that had flown away up in a tree with the snare dangling. A man had to get up in the tree and get that pheasant. I feathered it and had it for the next meal. We had a celebration over the pheasant. That was Indian style when youth got its first prey.

  We had another little house east of the village. It was there near an opening or clearing in the woods, where there was hay. There was also a nice spring there. My father and brother would go there in the summer to cut the hay for our stock. Sometimes my mother would go there to cook for them. It was as furnished a house as much as was needed if my mother didn’t go she would send me with some lunch for them. One time it happened to be strawberry time. I took the lunch to them. And on my way back I picked strawberries along the way. I had taken a little pail along for that purpose. I had picked quite a bit. So I went home. I washed and cleaned my strawberries and took the cream off the top of one jar of milk. I also placed maple sugar on that. Oh, was that ever tasty. Just as I was finished, who comes along but my big brother, ten years older than I. He says, “May I eat with you?” I said, “Sure.” He took a big spoon. I had a small spoon. With his big spoon he ate four fifths of it. I was slow with my small spoon. We had a laugh over it. I did not care.

  Sometimes we were back there after school started in the fall. The Gouges also had a home back up there. So the Gouges and I went to school together from back of the woods. We followed a trail. We enjoyed that. Sometimes in fall, we would scare a partridge up. It would make a noise like thunder with its wings when it started up to fly.

  One time my mother was alone up there in the woods. Rosie and I were in school and my father and Henry were at work somewhere. A forest fire began to rage. There was a strong wind blowing. The fire was coming towards the house in which my mother was in.  She took the holy water bottle and went outside and sprinkled the holy water around the house. The wind turned and went the opposite way. My mother was sitting on the bed crying out of joy that the good Lord heard her prayer in gratitude to Him. When Rosie and I came home from school, she told us what had happened.

  When we were in Reserve in the house, Rosie and I, some mornings real early we would go fishing for panfry fish right in front of our house. Rosie could row and so could I. The day before we would catch a frog or dig for a few crawlers. When we would have a dozen pan fish, we would go home, clean fish, scale them, put them in the frying pan on the stove and have them for breakfast. We had them fresh from the water to the pan for breakfast. No store bought is as good as that was.

  When the year turned from 1899 to 1900, a big celebration took place in our little village and every other place, I believe. I was eight years old then. However, I remember that real well. Long ago they used to have celebrations of different kinds on our Church grounds for the 4th of July. Then there were Indians dances that we children would dance to. They were to the sound of the drum down on the lakeshore. At the time there was a nice sandy beach along the lakefront. Since then it has grown up in brush and weeds. 

  In 1900 the new Hayward Indian School was built. When it was completed, some people came out to the Reservation and loaded the children in a big red vehicle and took them to school. My sister Rosie and I didn’t go until a couple of years later. The Sisters left about two or three years after the Hayward Indian School was built. Most of the children had gone there. Also the Sisters did not get a salary after that. They did get some help from the lumbermen. Around that time lumbering was also ceasing. After our good Sisters left for good, St. Joseph’s Sisters of Superior took charge. There were there just a short time and also left. They also could not make a go of it.

  When the Sisters had gone from Reserve, I was also taken to Hayward Indian School. I didn’t like it one bit out there away from home freedom. We did have a kind Matron. We had classes in the forenoon. In the afternoon, we had some other little jobs to do. I had to mend stockings. I had known that from my mother.

  One day in November, my father came to visit my sister and I. I wanted to go back home with him. He wouldn’t take me because there wasn’t any school out there at that time. So he left me to go to town to buy groceries. I knew where he would stop. So I ran away from there and found our horse, ‘McGinty’, in front of the store where my father was inside shopping. McGinty made a noise to show he was happy and so was I that I was that far on my way.  I climbed into the back of the sled and covered myself with the hay that was there. I might have been about ten years old then. When my father came out of the store with bundles of groceries, he threw them in the back on top of me. I screamed, “Ouch.” He came back there and found me. He asked how I got there. I had run around the little lake that was back of the school and into the woods until I got to town and found what I was looking for. My father pulled me out to the sled and put me on the snow. He said he was going to take me back to school. Oh, I threw myself on the ground and cried very much. I just wouldn’t go. He was going to put me on the seat with him and take me back. I just wouldn’t go with him. I never acted that like that before. So he put his overcoat over me and placed me with him on the seat and took me home. I was happy then to be home and with mother. When we got home, he said he would take me back in a week. However, my brother Henry proposed that they build a house in Eddy Creek where they were working and I could go to school in Couderay. So that was it. They started right off to do that. They built a log house, barn and hen house that November. They had worked so hard that by January, we were able to move there. Then I went to Couderay School. There were thirteen children going to Couderay School from Eddie Creek.

  At Eddy Creek, a kind of a little village grew up around the logging camp. One side was called French Hill, which was across the creek. On the other side of the creek was Indian Hill. There was also a spring not too far away where we lived. We were near that fresh water that was bubbling out of the ground continually which formed the creek. Around the camp and near, there were different nationalities.

  We children had a gay time. We would sometimes loiter along the way and not get to school at all. One time we followed a turtle track. The boys finally found the eggs. We were all satisfied but it was too late for school. So we ate our lunch and still played around until we saw the sun going down in the west. We then went back home again. Some time we would fasten our little sleds to the big logging sled, as it would go down the hills. We also scampered around in the woods having a glorious time. That was our gym, climbing trees and what not. In summer and fall, it was berry picking, starting with strawberries in June and ending up with cranberries in October.

  We had a horse named McGinty on which Rosie and I would go on horseback. When it was milking time, we would listen to what direction the ting-a-ling of the bell would come from the cows would have around their neck. That is the direction we would go to find them. TO get on the horse’s back, I would climb the fence, lead it there and toss myself on his back.

  One time when Rosie and I were following the trail, we were going past some cherry trees. She thought she would reach up and pick some. She fell right in front of McGinty. He nicely stepped back and let her get up. He didn’t want to hurt her. He was such a gentle horse.

  When we went to Church on Sundays, I would sometimes sit behind Henry, my brother, on the horse. I would put my hands in his coat pockets to hang on. Then we would go galloping. When there would be too much snow, we would walk it. Sometimes we would go with the heavy team. We had to go eight miles through the woods. Sometimes my father would carry a lighted lantern along to keep the wolves away. They are afraid of fire. At night we could sometimes hear the wolves howl.

  When we lived in Eddy Creek, I would sometimes go down to the camp to visit. The lady there had a tine baby, perhaps about a year old or so. I would like to play with the baby. The mother of that baby was the cook there and the father was the chore boy. The chore boy was a jack-of-all-trades around there who also helped his wife in the kitchen part. The kitchen part was at one end of a long building. From the kitchen part there were great long tables where the lumberjacks ate. The chore boy would also take a lunch to the men when they were working in the woods. He had sort of a cart to haul it. 

  Now this is the story that I want to relate: One day I was down in the kitchen part playing with the baby. It was a highchair. The grown folks were having a hilarious time. I wasn’t paying attention to them at all. I was playing with the baby. It was in a highchair. The grown folks were having a hilarious time. I wasn’t paying attention to them at all. I was playing with the baby. When all of a sudden there was a scream. The lady had thrown the dishtowel onto the rack that was above the stove and knocked the hanging lamp down, which started a blaze on her dress, which spread quickly. She ran out the door into the snow. She ran so fast that no one could catch her. Everyone was chasing after her. Finally her husband caught her.

  Now the baby had been left inside alone with me. Near the highchair that the baby was in, on the floor the fire had also started. There was a cot along the wall nearby with some bedding on it. I took a quilt and threw it on that fire on the floor. It smothered the fire there. Then I took the baby, out of the highchair and wrapped it in an old coat I found. I then went home with it while the other were still chasing after the lady. When I got home with the baby, I told my mother what had happened. She took the baby from my arms, changed it and gave it some warm milk and laid it on the bed. It then went to sleep.

  After the husband caught the lady, he rolled her in the snow and got the fire out on her. They took her to her room and got the Doctor. I can still hear her moan. After everything was quiet again, they began to look for the baby. Finally someone found it fast asleep in our house.

  The camp had to get another cook there quickly for the men. A family that had three schoolgirls came there to cook. The three girls then went along with us to school.

  I have another story I will relate about a baby: there was a family who lived across the creek from us who had two little girls. One may have been about five. The other might have been around a year old. The mother came to our place and asked my mother if either Rosie or I could go to her house to take care of her little baby. The mother hadn’t slept for three days and three night taking car of her baby. My mother sent me along with the woman. When I got there I found the baby choking with whooping cough. I took the baby in my arms. I sat down in a rocker. I placed the baby on my knees with its little stomach down.  I then patted it on its little back between the shoulders. In a little while, a long string of phlegm was coming out her mouth. I stuck my fingers in her mouth and pulled out the rest of the phlegm out. I then gave her a little warm water to drink with a spoon. How that baby looked at me with such grateful eyes. I never forgot that. I then rocked her to sleep. I also fell asleep. I don’t remember the rest. This little girl’s name was Amanda. She writes to me to this day. Her mother says that I saved the baby’s life and also hers. I paid that mother a visit last summer. She is in her 80’s or even 90, but she is just as clear as anyone else could be. We certainly did speak of olden times when we were together last summer. Eddy Creek is a dead village now, with no one living there but bears roaming around eating the raspberries that are on the bushes in summer time.

  When logging was completed at certain places, the camps, sawmills and other buildings in connection with it would be set afire until nothing was left of them. They would have been left for others to use, or left as old landmarks. But they were not.

  During Lent a certain lady named Mrs. Nelson would gather the people of Eddy Springs and invite them to come to her home during Lent to say the Stations of the Cross.

  At our house when we were together in the evenings, we said the Rosary in French. My mother led it. They could kneel by a chair, placing their elbows on the chair as a support. I liked to kneel by my father. When I would get tired, I would put my head on his heals. The next thing I knew, I was in bed.

  We tried sometimes to go to Church to Couderay. But by the time the Eddy Creek people would get there, the Holy Mass would just about be finished. That priest would finish and go away. So we gave it up as a bad job. You see no one knew of cars in those days even though it was only a mile, but bad roads to go on. So then we would go to Reserve through the woods if we could make it. That was eight miles away. Sometimes we would go on Saturday afternoons. Someone had to stay back to take care of the stock. Those were hard days compared to the present time. But people were happy. There was no turmoil like now.

  I remember when the men at camp would have dances. Those that represented men wore hats. Then there was a fiddler that played some way. I don’t know if it was always right. Then there was a caller. He would say, “Handymen left, salute your partner,” etc. They would all stamp around and just have a gay time.

  In summer some of us girls used to like to run on the lumber piles near the sawmill, also play hide and go seek there. Other times we would scamper around in the woods. The good Lord surely took good care of us because there were many wild animals around.

  I remember when bears would come to the garbage barrels by the camp. Some men had set up a platform up in the trees where they would watch for bears and shoot them when they came around. Also, they would shoot any other wild animals, too.

  On Sunday we would have Holy Mass in the afternoon. In the afternoon, I believe it must have been about perhaps two o’clock; the Church bell would ring and tap once. A while after, the bell would tap twice. That meant Catechism for the children. We also went for it, that was in English. The bell would ring again a third time. That would be for vespers. People were all waiting outside for that. They then came into their pews. The vespers were sung in Chippewa. We seemed to like it. That was a place to go for them. They also had a very strong Faith then. The old Franciscan Fathers gave it to them, which meant something to them. Things don’t seem to sink into the heart now as it did then. Those people were devout. They would come miles and miles for their devotions. When I came back after I was a Sister, I found such a difference. The devotion in the religion and the love for the dead in the graveyard had changed. I believe in olden days people would vie to have the nicest graves. They would go and cut sod and place it around their dead one’s. They would go and cut sod and place it around their dead one’s grave in the shape of a coffin, fill it in and place the flowers there. They would also place markers at the head of the graves. My sister Agnes was buried there. My mother had planted a tiny lilac twig by the head of my sister’s grave. That grew to be a mighty big bush. After I was stationed there a while, I had Henry, my brother, chop it away. It took too much room after two uncles and great grandmother were there also a great aunt, my father, my sister, and her little ones, and also my mother. That bush was in the way, and it kept on spreading. So I was very glad to have Henry shop it down. Henry is also there. There is only one place on that lot yet. Perhaps it will be for me. Who knows but the good Lord?

  When we were children, we would often visit the graves and read the names that would be on the markers. We also like to pray and read the words at the Crucifix in the cemetery. They mean something like this: You my friends kindly ask the good Lord to have pity on us. I did know exactly the words, but I don’t any more. Perhaps if I get well enough someday, I may recall the exact meaning of those words. They do have a great meaning.

  John Baptist Corbine, 99 years old, is buried in that cemetery. He was the man that brought the strong Catholic Faith to that band of Chippewa Indians. Many of his descendants are still living there. I was told that the Chief was buried by the gate of that cemetery. He was the Chief of the Tribe at that time.

  By that time the Soo Line train came to Reserve. We children would walk down on the railroad track to Sigmors, which was about 3 miles. We would wait there for the train to come. When it would come around noontime we would get on and ride back to Reserve for five cents. I always asked my father for a nickel to pay for this train ride. We children found great joy in getting on this train ride. That train go just as far as Reserve. There was a ‘Y’ there were it could go up that ‘Y’ and come back so it could again go back where it came from. That railroad was to go to Ashland, but by that time cars began to be in use. So the railroad track was never completed for the train to go on father.

  Another joy that we had was to take our shoes and stockings off and run across the lake on the logs when a boom of logs were in the lake. That was great fun to have those logs go bobbing under the water and up again. We must have had a very good Guardian Angel that protected us. That was a very dangerous sport. But nothing ever happened to any of us.

  There were four big Norway pine trees in the schoolyard forming a sort of square where we would often play ‘Pussy in the corner.’ They were cut down when the old Mission Church burnt down. We also played house under the pine trees that are along the lake. One time I tore the whole side of my red dress swinging on a limb of a pine tree that is along the lake.

  One night there was a terrific storm. Our little old house just shook. We went down stairs and prayed. The dear Lord protected us. The windstorm passed between our house and the Church. It picked up the little shed that was fastened to the little school. It was carried a few yards away, not damaged at all. That wind went through the swamp east of the church and felled a few of the nice trees down. It had a regular path. Days after we could follow that path.

  We used to go down in that swamp and pick blueberries and raspberries in season. After that storm, we couldn’t any more. That swamp was never as beautiful after that storm as it had been before.

  When I was a child, there was a big pine tree by the swamp that had a strong limb that had grown quite straight out. Someone hung a rope on it so that we could swing there. It was there quite a long time. After a while, brush grew around there, which was in the way of the swing.

  One time Esther and I were picking strawberries near a field that used to be somewhere around were the Millers now live. All of a sudden, a bull came out of the woods tramping his front feet. We were very quick to crawl under the wire of that field and hide in the tall grass and brush. I never was so scared in all my life. We were real quiet there flat on the ground. By and by, that bull went back into the woods again. Did we ever run fast back home again. In my childhood days, strawberries were quite plentiful. Those berries were so tasty and sweet. After I went back there as a Sister, I found the strawberries had quite disappeared compared to when I was a child there. We also had a garden near our house where we had vegetables. The Sisters also had a garden, just across the fence from ours. Our space was not big enough for potatoes, so my father cleared a piece of land on the Point where we had a potato patch for several years. By and by, the Point was sold and made into lots. That patch that we had for potatoes was sold to the Mashers. So Mashers built a log house where they came to live every summer. They had a daughter named Laura. She and I got to be real friends. She would row their boat across Little Couderay Lake and come to our place to buy milk, eggs, butter and bread. We had cows and chickens and my mother made bread. The store in Reserve did not carry those things, and cars were not in use then yet.

  Well, when Laura would come to our place, I would sometimes go back with her to stay for the day. We would play house, go swimming, fishing and whatnot. When the sun began to go down in the west, Laura would again take me home. Then she would let me row back. Sometimes she would come and stay with me all day. 

  One time my father, Rosie and I went across Big Couderay Lake to pick blueberries. In the meantime, a big wind arose and when we had our pails full, we could hardly row back in our little rowboat. Mr. Masher saw us tossing in our little boat. He came to meet us. He hooked our boat to his and took us out of danger that we were in and led us home. How thankful we were to the dear Lord who sent Mr. Masher to save us from the danger that we were in.

  This little story will be of our Corpus Christi celebration of long ago when I was a little girl: We little girls were dressed in white with a nice wreath of flowers in the hair. We also carried a little basket of flowers that we strew on the ground along the way in front of the Blessed Sacrament, which was carried by the Priest. There were also many Priest and many people that followed who were mostly Indians. Hymns were sung in Indian. People had such strong faith then. They were just about all our own people. 

  The layout of the roads that we followed then were very much different that the way it is now. The men would be busy getting little trees on each side of the road where we walked, which was very pretty.  The women would be busy gathering wreath garlands of princess pine vines to decorate the inside of our dear little Mission Church. How beautiful that all was for our dear Lord.

  Up on the hill was a Belille home where there was a poor lady that was not able to get out of bed. So they would move her bed outside with her in it for her to see the procession go by. Sometimes a couple of ladies would hold umbrellas over her when the sun would be so hot fore her. When I would pass her I would throw some flowers towards her. She would then laugh. She and I were very good friends. 

  Sometimes my mother had some good soup and dumplings, she would send me to take some of it to the dear old lady. Sometimes I would wash the dishes that were on the table and also sweep the floors and make order for her around. She would be so happy. That is how we happened to be friends. She would watch for me in the Corpus Christi Procession on that day. I would always watch for her.

  Her name was Philomene, but they called her Polomen in Indian. Her husband’s name was Deserie, a French name. He would go back in the woods to get a pole to make wood for the stove.

  I would then be very glad to go to her then. I would call her Grandmother then. She would also teach me Indian words. She would sometimes tell me stories. She once told me that when I became a lady, I would see wagons going without horses in front of them. I would laugh, it seemed so funny to me to see a wagon going without being drawn by horses. I now see the cars going like that.

  Another time she told me that someday I would turn a knob on the wall and water would come out just like Moses did in the Bible. I used to think that she was just making up those stories for fun, but now I do see those things are happening. She told me some other stories but I have forgotten them.

  One time after Corpus Christi, my father moved one of the wagons that had been erected for the Corpus Christi Procession and placed it down the hill from our house where we children would play house in it. Children of our neighborhood would also come. One morning when Rosie and I went down to play, we saw a drunken man was lying in our playhouse. Did we ever run home. We never went there anymore. We children use to play hose very much. We would put on a long dress of my mother’s and dress up like a woman. We had two trunks upstairs. We played that those trunks were our pews in church. We would go there very piously as through we were in church. We would genuflect before we went behind the pew. We carried our dolls and also had a little dog named Molly. We would also take it along and hold it by the paw and had it walk with us. This was real fun.

  Another time when I had my seventh birthday, a lady whose name was Carrie Corbine had made me a rag doll as large as a real baby. We had a place under our house where we could get in from the outside in summertime. There we would also play house. That was a great sport for us. We got a hold of an old trunk cover that we used as a cradle for my big doll to put it to sleep like a baby. Many of our neighbor girls would also come to play with us. I also had another doll, but I liked my rag doll best.

  By that time the Sisters had gone and we had gone to Eddy Creek as I had written before, but for Sundays and times between, would come back again. That was a travel of eight miles. By the time I was eleven years old, we came back to stay for a while for me to get ready for my First Holy Communion in the following spring. The Sister had again come back for a time.

  By this time I got to be a bigger girl. I would help in the garden. When the potatoes grew big enough to have leaves, Rosie and I would go out very often to pick off the bugs and eggs. My father would give us a penny for each bug and also the eggs. We would put them in a can, pour kerosene over them and set them afire. We had no Paris green in those days. However, we did save our potatoes.

  I would also go ‘fire hunting’ with my father in spring as soon as the ice had melted from the lake. My father fastened a pole at the stern of the boat. At the top of this pole was a wire basket, and in that basket, he had fire made of pitchwood. I sat in the rear with a paddle. I would paddle very slowly. He stowed in the front of the boat to watch where he would spear with his spear. The fire attracted the fish. If there was a fish that he would see that the fish had attracted, it remained still and he could spear it. That was called fire hunting for fish.

  By this time I was getting to be eleven years old. So the next year I would be making my First Holy Communion. We had been living in Eddy Creek for some time for me to go to Couderay School. However, the Sisters had again come back to Reserve for some time. So we again moved back there. June 25, 1905, I made my First Holy Communion with many of my school chums.

“SHE ASKED ME IF I DIDN’T WANT TO BE A SISTER”

  Father Agatha Anklin, OFM had charge of the St. Francis Mission at that time. Sister Augustine I was Father Agatha’s Aunt. She was there visiting at the time. On that day, she met me in the yard and began talking to me. In the conversation, she asked me if I would like to be a Sister like she was. Well, that was a thought for me. I was then twelve years old.

  That surely was the Lord’s path for me. First when I was Baptized, Sister Fabiola was my Godmother’s proxy. When I was in Hayward Indian School, I didn’t like it there. Once when I was crying because I was lonesome for home, Father Chrysostom told me to go home to my mother. Third, I now am asked if I would like to be a Sister Augustine I. I surely thought of that even though I was only twelve years old. I begged my parent to let me go with the Sisters of Milwaukee. So in August of that year, the Sisters took me along.

  I was also very lonesome there. Those big, long, dark halls and big rooms frightened me. Going to bed and getting up by a bell ringing was very odd to me. Even some foods were different for this little Indian girl. However, there were many girls there. But those girls just about all knew German and I didn’t. The prayers were all Germ or Latin. So I couldn’t join in.

  There was on thing that fascinated me. I was walking along a long hall alone when I heard the most beautiful music. I went toward the sound. I came to the little room from where the sound came from. The door was partly open. I went in quietly. There was a Sister sitting on a stool in front of a big long box with her fingers flying backwards and forward on that long box from which the music came. I sat on the floor behind her until she was finished. I then learned from her that that big long box was a piano. I had never seen or heard any before. Then I took to liking the place, but I still wanted to go back home. I guess the Sisters made a retreat and took me back home again. 

  By my thoughts were at the Convent, though, where I had been. I thought of how I could get an education and serve the good Lord and become a Sister in time. That was my fourth step and I followed it. In two years, I went back. I had it in my mind always. Other things did not attract me so much. Henry, my brother, wanted to take me to the circus in Hayward. I did not want to go. I only wanted to go back to the Convent, again.

  On October 4, 1905, I was Confirmed there in Reserve by Bishop Shinner. We were the first class that was confirmed in Reserve. Superior had now become a Diocese. Before that, we Indians had to go to Hayward for Confirmation. I remember when my sister Rosie was Confirmed in Hayward. She was four years older than I am. Whatever Indian family had some member in it to be confirmed would have to go out there. We would then pack up our tents and things and pitch them under the little jack pines that were then near the Namekagon River. That was quite an Indian tent village there for a couple of days.

  I remember seeing the first train “puff puff” out there. I first thought it was a big animal coming. I soon found out it was called a train.

  Sometime after our First Holy Communion Day, Father Agatha gave the children a little outing or picnic as it is now called. He took us to Mr. Dick Phallon’s farm. We had a real good time there. There was a windmill there, which we children had never seen before. On one side of it was ladder that went quite high. I said to my friend Esther, “Lets go up there. Then we can see far away, like in the woods.” So I started up and she behind me. WE only went up a few rungs when Father Agatha spied us. He came quickly. He said, “Will you girls hurry up and get down here.” We surely did. He gave us a little spanking with his cincture. He said to me, “How could you ever be a Sister if you climb like that? You better not go for that.” I did not know that Sister Augustine had asked me that. I didn’t think of that when I was climbing anyway. Well, I did go, climb or no climb. And here I am, 64 years in the Convent. I also hope and pray to die as a Sister and nothing else but one.

  When I was a growing girl, my mother used to go to a certain old couple’s farm near Springbrook and do the canning, making sauerkraut and putting up their vegetables for the winter. I would sometimes help her. Sometimes Great-Grandfather Whitefeather, as we called him, would set me on his knee and tell me Indian stories. That was the way I learned to speak Indian.

  After we had our own vegetables to put up for winter, and my father had to go out for Indian rice and we also had to pick the different kinds of berries and have them canned and dried. Fall had now set in. We would go back to Eddie Creek for the men folks to go lumbering again. I then went back to Couderay School. However, I still had the Convent in mind. I thought of the education that I could receive if I would again go back. So in two years, I again asked the Sisters if they would take me back. So I then went when I was fourteen years old. I did very well in school there. 

  After I was there a while, I again got lonesome and got a notion to go home again in the middle of the school year. I started to cry. My teacher asked me the reason that I was crying. I told her I wanted to go home. She perked me up some and told me to go to Father Michael’s our Chaplin. I went to him. He asked me my name. I told him, Fabiola La Rush. “La Rush,” he repeated. “Do you know what La Rush means?” I answered, “Yes, Father.” “Tell me what it means,” he said. I said it means ‘The Rock’ in French. “And that is your name?” he asked again. He then said, “You have that name for a purpose. Almighty God gave you that name so that you would be as firm as a rock here in the Convent. He doesn’t want you to go home for every little thing that happens. He has made you to be here, to go to school here.” Then he asked, “Where would you go to school if you did go back to the Reservation again?” I said, “I don’t know.” “Well, they you just better stay here where the Lord wants you to be. Do you understand? Be as hard as a rock and stay where you belong. God wants you to learn. Will you promise me?” He said, I said, “Yes, Father.” He put his hand out for a shake and said, “Be a rock all the rest of your life.”

I UNDERSTAND WHAT MY PATH IN LIFE WAS TO BE

  I have often thought of that during my life. I again had trouble with myself before I made Final Vows. Sister Alexander was my salvation there. I had other ups and downs during the course of my life. But I got more mature as I got older and understood what my path was to be in life as the good Lord had designed it. 

  When I was in school, German was the main language that was in use. So sometimes during free time when the girls were talking German, there were four of us that couldn’t join in. So we would go downstairs somewhere and play jacks. One girl was Bohemian, another was Italian, and another was French and I. That is what us four would do when the others were speaking German in Study Hall a time to study and prepare our work for the next day. I worked very hard with my studies and made good. I was promoted from Sister Ambrose’s room to Sister Cherabim’s room for some time. Then I was again promoted to Sister Josepha’s room for a bit. So I guess I must have made it pretty good. I like Sister Cherabim’s teaching the best. She seemed to have understood this little Indian coming from the backwoods better than the other two teachers. However, I had had Sister Augustine years after as a teacher. She reminds me of Sister Cherabim of past years.  Her teaching went straight to the heart. So I went on to high school, college and to Creighton University, Omaha, Nebraska. The Jesuit Fathers were teachers there.

  I was sent to a school in Nebraska where there were little German children that could only speak German. Well I had taken book German for two years. But I learned the mother tongue German from those little children. I got to know the German language from those children very much better than from the books. They were boarding with us from Sunday afternoon or Monday morning, until Saturday. I taught them English. They taught me how to speak German.

  I was in Nebraska fourteen years. I liked it very well there in the open country. On Sunday afternoon or during vacations, we would sometimes visit the children’s home. I would see the Western farms, which I liked very much. We would also have picnics on some of these places. Some Sunday afternoons, Sister Gemma and I would take a lunch along and go out walking. Every time we went we would go some other direction. That was fun in our youth. By that we learned the surroundings and learned where the homes of our pupils were.

  Those people at that mission were generous to us. ON Monday morning when the children were brought to school, they would bring very many things along with them from the farm. For example: vegetables, fruit, fresh meat, homemade sausage, but and also good German bread. Those people and children were very nice people, very easy to get along with. I just love them.

  My dear Mother had passed away January 25, 1916. That was a very hard blow for me. It was during the First World War. It was a very hard winter. Then I wanted to go home to her; there were no trains moving. There had been such terrible storms and floods that winter. So I didn’t get to go. I just thought I would never be able to go there without seeing my dear Mother. I mourned for her a long time. 

  From Pierce I was sent to Osmond, the next neighboring Mission. I was there just six weeks when three of us Sisters were in a car on the way to visit one of our sick pupils when a car with two drunken men bumped into us and turned our car upside down. One Sister had a broken neck and other injuries. The other Sister was not injured but went into a terrible shock. I was injured internally. But the injuries were not found until years later. I then went through surgery. I have been suffering from the injury all my lifetime. The Sister with the broken neck died the next morning. The other Sister was taken to Campbellsport. I remained in Osmond six years after that.

HOW I WENT BACK TO RESERVE

  Now comes the story of how I went back to Reserve, my old home place, seventeen years after I had gone to become a Sister: When I was in Osmond, I received word of my sick father. In February 1925, I received a letter from my Aunt Julia, my father’s sister, which stated that if I wanted my father to receive The Last Sacraments, he is very sick and calling for a Priest. I wrote to neighboring Priest and asked him to kindly go to my sick father. He answered that he was not able to go. I then wrote to another town and asked for a Priest that I had known there years past, a Franciscan, to go to my sick father. He also answered that he was unable to go. I though he could have asked another Priest to go since he could not. So I wrote to Bishop Reverman and asked him for a Priest from Superior to go to my sick father. Father Kenny was then sent for my father and to take over the St. Francis Mission as its Pastor. Then my dear father was cared for. After my father received the Sacraments, he recovered.

  I asked for permissions to visit my father in the beginning of June 1925. I received permission to go to visit him for three days. After that, I was to go to Milwaukee for Retreat, then back to Nebraska again for the summer. It did not turn out that way.  First of all, I went on the Soo Line to Stone Lake, which was then in service on that line. I knew no one in Stone Lake at the time. When I got off the train, I went into the depot. In there was a man who asked me if I wanted to g to the Rectory. “Yes, if there is one here,” I said. I hadn’t known that there was one there. The man told his son, Jack, to take me there. Jack picked up my suitcase and I followed in the rain. It was pouring rain. The housekeeper let me in. Father Kinney was not in just then. After a while, he came. I introduced myself to him. He at once wanted to know details about me. He went and got the Baptismal Register to see if I was telling the truth concerning myself. He found my report was exactly as I mentioned, where I was baptized, made my First Hold Communion and Confirmed right there in St. Francis Mission Church. My father was Charlie La Rush who was still living at the time. So I was no fake but a real Religious person from Reserve. He hadn’t known that a little Indian girl had gone to the Convent from Reserve, but I was she. Then we had a little supper together. After supper we knelt down and said the Rosary. After that, the lady took me upstairs to a bedroom. Was I ever happy to get my wet clothes off. I hung them were ever I could in the room. I said a short prayer and thanked the Lord for bringing me so far. I had a good night’s sleep in the care of good Lord.

  The next morning, I got up for Holy Mass, had breakfast and was on my way through the woods. Stone Lake is ten miles from Reserve. Father had hired someone in Stone Lake to take me there. How I enjoyed that ride through the woods along three lakefronts. We could see a glimpse of Stone Lake from a distance. Then we were along the shores of Sand Lake where ducks were swimming around in the water, also muskrat dens that were visible above the water near the shore. Those things reminded me of my childhood days. We then came to Whitefish Lake. That Lake has a beautiful peninsula that extends out into the water just across from Schultz’s house. Just to the left of that was Jesrang’s former summer cottage, the people who were so kind to us in later years. They are now both in heaven, I believe, looking down with joy. Then we came to Little Couderay Lake where we came to the bridge on which we crossed the Couderay River. When on the bridge I could view and see the old schoolhouse where I went to school as a child. Memories came back to me. As we went along, many old homes were passed. Finally, we were on the way while I was looking for the Old Church steeple. Later, I found that the old Mission Church had been struck by lightening in the summer of 1918 and burned to the ground. That was news to me. Now I was on my way. I really didn’t know where. Just as I was thinking about where I should go, I knew the old home had been sold, now where I should stop. Just as I was thinking that, my dear old father was coming down the road to meet me. What a joy! I got off and he led me to my Aunt Julia’s place. It was just a little ways off. She had a little cottage prepared for me on the side of her own home. A very nice little cottage but very small; there was a cot; a chair and a wash stand in it. It was just big enough for me. I liked it real well. My father and brother batched it a little ways off. They had a little house of their own there. I thought of St. Francis when I stayed in that little cottage.

  I came to Reserve on a Friday morning. During the day, I visited with my people and friends. The next day, Saturday, I was sitting with my father talking of olden times when I heard a church bell ringing. I asked my father where that sound came from. He told me that it came from a big bell that was standing outside near the new Church. I asked, “What is that bell ringing from now?” He said, “Father is ringing that bell so that the children would come to Church for Catechism instructions.” I said, “Let’s go down to Church. I will then meet some of the children.” The distance was about a mile. So we walked down to the Church. That was some sight to see. What an abandonment and what a neglect. It brought tears to my eyes.

  I was told that the Franciscan Fathers were not there anymore and an Indian Priest named Father Gordon had taken over some time past. After the little Mission Church had burned down by being struck by lightening, the Indians had no Church. In time, they made up their mind to build themselves a stone church. SO they got rocks from the back woods. They had a little fund to start with. There were two Indians and a white man that were masons that could work the stones. They had made a good start. They advanced as far as putting up the frame and the roof beams. On the beams were tarpaper, and canvas was tacked over the window holes. Since their funds had been depleted, the continuation of the building was abandoned.

  This was the condition of the Church when I came there with my father. The yard was a big mess. I went into the Church. There was Father Kenny with a group of children. He was trying to give them instruction. They were very unruly. When I saw the conditions there, I could not go back to Milwaukee in three days. I felt I could be of some help there in doing missionary work. The inside of the Church was also a mess. Father dismissed this class. I asked him if I could clear off the altar, it was so terrible. Things were so neglected in there and so abandoned. There is no other word for it. Father was there for three or four weeks, therefore, was not able to do much as yet. I went back to my little cottage and cried to think that that was my own parish Church and the place where I received my own youthful Sacraments in the old Mission Church that burned. I just had to cry. No one saw what I saw there. It surely was a pity that that place was in the condition when I went there. I just heard the voice of the Lord telling me that I had a job there. I wrote to Mother Alfons stating what I found there. I asked her if I could be allowed to remain there and help Father Kinney do that missionary work. I wrote that I would not leave here until I would receive a reply. She soon answered. She wrote that I would be allowed to remain there. If I would need another Sister to help m, she would send one. The trouble was that there wasn’t a place for another Sister.  As I wrote before, my dear Aunt Julia gave me that little cottage to stay in where I could hardly turn around in it. There wasn’t room for another person there. I wrote back to her and stated that. I then remained there six weeks. I had a group of men make order in the yard. I also had women help me clean the inside of the church as best as we could. Those men and women had been classmates of mine years before, and they were right happy to help me with this big job. 

  When the church and the grounds were somewhat in order, I started to help Father Kinney with the Catechism Class. I took the larger children in the forenoon, and the smaller ones in the afternoon for class.

  I was there with only $8.00 in my pocket. That was my train fare. I didn’t want to spend it for fear that I would not be able to get back to the Convent. So I made a novena to St. Joseph for help. The eighth day of my novena, there was a car that came into the yard with five young ladies in it. They came into the Church while I was teaching Catechism. They wanted to talk to me. So I dismissed the class. They asked very many questions. When they ended up by them giving me $80.00 in my hands. I felt that I was rich then. That money was very handy then in my living alone. I remained there six week alone. After that, I went back to the Convent for retreat. Then I again went back to Nebraska. In 1926 I returned to Reserve with Sister Angelina. Sister Angelina had been there when our Sisters had been there in the 1880’s. Now she was back again. She was so happy to be my companion since she had been there years back. The ladies had cleaned up the old Sister’s House of long ago. We then had a place to stay. I also had some of that $80.00 of the summer before that those kind ladies had given me.

  We continued to visit homes as I had the summer before. In that way we became acquainted with more people and children. The middle age and older people still remembered Sister Angelina and were so happy to see her again. We remained there that summer for eight weeks. We also had a First Communion group. There were eight of the older children in that class. We then went back to the Convent for Retreat. After that I again went back to Nebraska for another year.

  In February of 1927, I received a letter from Mother Stanislaus stating that Reserve was to be opened as a Mission and I was the one to go there to work. Shortly after that, I received a letter from Father Kinney asking what had to be done before we came there. I wrote back to him that the old Sister House and schools would need repairing, also the ladies could make a vegetable garden for us. Then a letter could be sent to the Catholic Indian Bureau in Washington D.C. for help.  There wasn’t a thing there. We could use kitchen utensils, bedding, toweling and anything that is useful for housekeeping. Also clothing for the children and the people. They were all very poor. 

  In the beginning of June 1927, Sister Suso and I went to Reserve to open up the Mission. However, the Sister’s House was in progress but not nearly ready. We then had to stay in the Rectory in Stone Lake for some weeks until the house in Reserve became livable. In the meantime, we taught Catechism there in Stone Lake and visited homes and became acquainted. We also had a Communion Class there. We were there about four weeks, then we went to Reserve to live in the old Sister’s House of long ago. The ladies had cleaned the house, after it had been repaired but nevertheless, there was a lot that had to be done. We had to sort out things from the boxes that had been sent in through the Catholic Bureau of Indian Missions. We also started Catechism classes in Reserve.

  August 15th, we had a bazaar with many of the things that had been sent to us that I knew the poor Indians could use. Our good Indians made a wigwam near the graveyard fence in which men’s clothing was sold by Jack McNeil and others. Another wigwam was made by the little old schoolhouse Francis Trepania and others sold Indian crafts there. My partner and I went from door to door of our Indians far and near to beg of the purpose of the Bazaar. We received a great amount of it. No one refused us. Our souvenir room in, which Indian crafts are sold had been continued every summer from then on to the present time.

  Another wigwam was built between the little schoolhouse and the Sister’s House in which was sold confections. Emma Cummings and others had charge. On Father’s porch, shoes were sold by Mrs. Schulte and others.  That porch was open at that time. In the Sister’s House, there was also a classroom where ladies and children’s clothing were sold. Sister Suso, some white ladies, Katie La Ronge, and Mary McNeil had charge there. In the little schoolhouse, a meal was served. Lizzie, Gagie, Mrs. Quadens and others had charge.

  We made $300.00 that afternoon. What a great help that was to us. Now we had something to start with. The Priests of Victory Heights had helped us a lot in getting crowds to our bazaar to help us make good. It was a grand success. Everyone helped wherever they could. I still can thank everyone for it. That was the hope of our future. The Reserve Mission is still going strong. I hope and pray for my dear Reserve Mission everyday. Many of the helpers are gone to their own eternal reward looking down with joy on St. Francis Mission and its accomplishments after starting in such poverty and hardships. 

“STORIES IN CONNECTION WITH THE DEPRESSION”

  I could write a lot more sad stories in connection with the depression of 1929-1931. But I will end up that period by writing that when people began to get on their feet again and could start to live once more in and agreeable manner; there were seventeen new graves in our cemetery. Perhaps some of you remember that. Those were certainly hard years.

  We Sisters had it very hard then, with our eight stoves with the wood, the ashes, the candles for light, the kerosene, the roof leaking on our beds when it rained, also other things. In winter, the high snowdrifts that piled up in our yard from the lake. I sometimes watched the snow coming across the lake and land right in our yard. The boys would like to make Eskimo huts from it. They would find a great deal of pleasure in doing that. Those were certainly hard years for us. I was told several times to give up. But I just wouldn’t for the sake of my people. I knew what that would mean. So I just kept on from one thing to the other. I am very happy that I did now.  See what the place is now and know what perseverance does.

  We Sisters who had it hard in not having milk then, we missed it very much. Sister Witta was here with us then. One day she said to Father Kinney, “I wonder if there would be a way for we Sisters to have a cow here so that we could have milk.” Father Kinney said, “We will see.” In a few days, Father Kinney’s brother was standing in our yard with a cow in his truck. Father Kinney had asked his brother for a cow for us. His brother came right away with one. Sister Witta was a farmer girl from Minnesota. She knew at once just what to do with the cow.

  Father Kinney had Mr. John Gordon fix the old barn that stood about there where Fallier’s car now stands. My brother got hay. Father Kinney got oats for it from town. The boys helped Sister Witta with watering the cow and cleaning the barn. Sister Witta was in her glee. We had milk, cream, butter and cottage cheese. What a joy. How good the Lord was to us in our need. We also helped others with it.

  The following will state how we got started with chickens. One day Rachael Jack’s mother, Esther, came to our place in November having had eight pullets in it. They were just about half grown. She had received them from Cap Meisner who had given them to her. She didn’t know what to do with them. So she brought them to us. For the moment we didn’t know either what to do with them. Sister Witta thought of a large dry goods box that we had in the garret that had come to us from the Convent. It had been filled with bedding for our poor. We emptied it and placed the pullets in it. Sister Witta also took care of them.

  One morning in spring when Father Kinney came over for his breakfast, he scratched his head and said, “Am I hearing things? I hear a rooster crowing.” I had to laugh. I told him our story. He told me to put them in the old barn. The first night they were there was a weasel killed two of them. We placed them back in our garret again. Then Father Kinney had John Gordon make a substantial chicken house with a cement floor and sides some distance up. Then we had no more trouble. After that we raised chickens and had eggs to our hearts content. We knew now how happy we could be to have a cow and chickens. That meant a great deal to us.

  Then Father Kinney had his Uncle Ned come here to take care of the garden and cow. How thankful we were to the good Lord for helping us in our need that way.

“WHAT WE DID IN OUIR SUMMERS”

  This is to make known what we did in our summers. First of all we had to have a saleswoman in our souvenir room. Sister Evengalista was that when we were gone. We would go to different places to Catechize. We taught our Faith to children and also to grown people at some places. Some summers, I taught with Sister Nathan, and some summers with Sister Elia. Also other Sisters came from the Convent for that purpose. We would start about the first week of June until the middle of July for that purpose. 

  The different places that we went to for that purpose were as follows: Winter, Radisson, Couderay, Belille Falls, Signor, Barber Town, Up the Chippewa River, Exeland, New Post, Stone Lake, and Lac du Flambeau. We also went to Stone Lake and New Post during the year on Saturdays. We would go to a place for two or three weeks and at the end of the summer school, most of the time we would have a First Holy Communion Class. We went to the different places at different summers for that purpose. We also had Confirments Class at a few places. When Bishop Reverman came to Winter where the Confirments had assembled to be Confirmed, there were sixty-six members to be Confirmed then. We also had Confirmation classes from other places who came to Reserve for instructions to be Confirmed at different times.

  When Catechism Classes were over of the summer, we would then get ready to go berry picking. The first kind would be blueberries. We would go to Misananaquad’s Swamp for that purpose. Another place was at Vincent Oshoga’s place along Chief Lake. After blueberry picking was over, we would start raspberry picking. For that we went to Marengo Falls, and also towards Eddy Creek where I lived when I was a child. Once when we ere picking there, Sister Concorda went a little bit too far. She got lost. She then followed a fence when she was unable to get back to the rest of us. She went on until she came to a house where the innkeeper brought her home. How we did yell and call, but no answer. How we did worry about her in that land of bears. I thought we should go home and round up some men to go look for her, but the good Lord took good care of her. She got home before we did. I believe that was Mr. Valish that took her home. My! Was that ever a relief to find her home when we got there.

  Another time Corufels had taken us there for the same purpose when all of a sudden, the Mother called real loud, “Annie, come here quick,” Annie said “Oh! There are such nice berries here.” The Mother again said, “I smell something.” Then Annie came. Just then a big fat bear came around the bush eating berries. We were so glad when we were back in the car and on our way. I then learned that a bear could be detected by their odor by an Indian. That was really something to witness.

  Later we went blackberry picking. We went to Mrs. White’s farm on Whitefish Lake. She allowed us to pick in her wood there, for that purpose. We became real good friends with Mrs. White. We also got cranberries from Mr. Jonkak for the winter.

  We were then kept busy canning nice fruit for our winter use.

“OUR PEOPLE WERE SO HAPPY TO HAVE THE SISTERS BACK”

  After ever summer we had Indian souvenirs on which to make a living, with donations. Our people were happy again to have the Sisters back. They came back again to live in Reserve. Many had moved away, but were gradually coming back.

  When we started school, I threw peanuts out to win the children to come. We also did that with sections of oranges to win them over. Then after school did start we could have only half a day on Friday to those that had come for the whole week to school. We would walk somewhere, and have a sort of picnic with some the things that had been sent us. At that time Sister Dodigna had charge of the girls at Alvernia. Those girls would send us a box of candy that we had saved for that purpose. Then there was a baker who would send us doughnuts. The Red Cross furnished us with flour at first. In a year or two a nurse was placed on our Reservation for the sick. Miss Teresa Gardner was her name. She worked it so we had hot lunches for the children. When Sister Witta was with me there she taught some of the women how to bake bread. They in turn taught others. Every day I filled a gallon of flour and yeast cake and some salt for a mother to bake the bread for the children. It worked out very nicely. The children had bread with their hot lunch that was prepared for them. We also had a lady cook and prepare meals for the children.

 One time we were on our Friday afternoon stroll, I was sitting on a log, when little Loretta came running to me and said, “Sister, Philip has some log in his foot.” I told her to have Philip to come to me. He came limping. I looked at his foot. He had a couple of little slivers on the side of his foot. I washed his foot and took the slivers out, and tied my handkerchief around his foot. We then went back to school. I had larger boys carry Philip. I fixed his foot right, when we got back. The next day he was back in school and as good as ever.

  They soon learned that school consisted of five full days. Every once in a while we could take off to learn the premises of our school, which I thought was good for the children to know.

  When we opened school, there would be a few more students each day. We tried them out and placed them in groups that were at about the same level. Gradually we got them sort of graded.

  On January 2, 1931, my father was found dead across the lake. He was on his way to visit a sick friend. That was such a shock to me that I got very sick. I was taken to the Ashland Hospital. When Dr. Taker saw me, he said that I had liver trouble. He removed my gall bladder, appendix, and a part of my liver that was decayed. That was the cause of me being sick. It was because of the old car wreck that I had been in ten years before.

  When I got back to the Mission, I went to the Convent in Milwaukee. I was in the infirmary eight weeks, as sick as I could be. One day I went to the office to speak to Mother Stanislaus. Sister Bernadette happened to be there. When I saw her I said, “Sister, please take me along.” She said, “I can’t ask Mother.” I turned to Mother Stanislaus and asked her. She asked Sister Bernadette if there would be room for me out there. Sister Bernadette said, “We will make room.” So in a few days I was out there on our farm. Sister Bernadette got a goat for me and I began to pick up. I was out there eight years; and go my health pretty well back.

  I took care of 100 pairs of pigeons, 8 beehives and bees, the grape vines and three goats. The goat milk saved my life.

“AFTER MORE THAN 30 YEARS”

  In 1941 I was called to go back to Reserve on January 17th. I stayed there until I was 70 years old. More than 30 years at the Mission in Reserve, I thought my mission work was over; but the next year I was sent to Mississippi. I was there a year. I didn’t like to be so far away from my brother, who was now very sick in a rest home in Northern Wisconsin. The next year I was sent to St. Martins in Chicago. I was there 2½ years when my heart began to bother me on account of the steps there.

  I was then sent to Santa Maria Adolorate, also in Chicago. I was there about two and a half years. I then went to the La Farge, a rest home for the elderly, on the third floor of the Alvernia High School in Chicago.

  I was there about three years, when one day a Dominican Sister, by the same of Sister Joyce, came to pay me a visit, and asked me if I could teach her the Chippewa Indian language. I said I would. She came about six Saturdays for lessons. At the same time I had been going with Sister Nathan to Skid Row on Saturday evenings, to Holy Mass, and to speak to some of the poor forsaken men and the Indians there.

  Then one Saturday, Sister Joyce asked me to come with her to Watersmeet Michigan for two weeks. Those two weeks have not come to its end yet. We are still here. We had quite a time to find a house. We first lived in summer cabins. We were invited to go to Hannaville to help there to prepare a class for Confirmation for August 13th. We were there two weeks. We then went back to Watersmeet to a cabin. 

  A third Dominican Sister joined us in the later part of August. Sister Joyce and Sister Gretchem,, that is her name, went about looking for a place to live in the winter. I was in our cabin alone one day, when I heard the phone ring. I answered; the party stated they had a trailer for sale in Crystal Falls. When the Sister came back, they were not slow in contacting the party that owned the trailer. We got it, but it had to be moved to this place. An Indian gave us a piece of land on which this trailer could be moved. The Indians love us and we love them. They are very happy that we are here with them. Our work varies from day to day according to the needs of the people and the children. Sister Joyce and Gretchem teach C.C.D. at the school. I had the pre-school little ones for a while, but it now turned out that I go to the homes and teach religion and prepare some for Baptism, marriage and religion in general. I may remain up here until next summer. I am quite far along in age; but my health is pretty good up here in the fresh air and woods.

  Now the plan is for me to go to the Lafarge again in Chicago. Perhaps my next move will be in eternity. 

  I am now expecting to go to Campbellsport when there will be room for me.

~~~ END
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