THE LADIES’ WORLD

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2554, 15 July 1909, Page 3

THE LADIES’ WORLD

CANADIAN HEhOINES

THE BORDERLAND WOMAN. It takes heroism to be a cheerful back-blooks woman, even in New Zealand, and, in the wilds of the great American continent, it takes a great deal more courage to carry a woman triumphantly through the giant difficulties in her way. A writer in “Collier’s Weekly” tells some magnificent stories of the pluck displayed by women in America’s borderlands. “Wo were having supper off pemmican,’’ she says, “at the Onion Lake Indian School, under charge of the Rev. Jack Matheson, a famous frontiersman, when the mistress of the house incidentally referred to having driven ninety miles that week to set the broken leg of a new settler.” “Where did you take training as a nurse?” I asked. “I didn’t take any training as nurse. I took a full course in medicine and surgery. You see when we came here, seventeen years ago, the nearest medical aid was three hundred miles away, and there was terrible suffering from lack of a doctor. Something had to be done. Mr Matheson couldn’t leave; so I took the full four-year course, and came home each summer. Y T ou have no idea what a help it was.” That is a fine story, but there is a finer vet, about a little lady of the old school in Prince Albert —the kind of lady done up in ecru lace and black silk—who had come out in a tented wagon to the West in the ’seventies to inaugurate some sort of academy for the frontier. Clergymen came out at the same time on the same errand, but hey did not stay. The post was perilous and lonely, six weeks from the nearest town b.v the fastest travel; and one after another there was a twenty-year procession of them. The white-shirted gentlemen “chucked” their commission (got “a call” elsewhere) and withdrew; but Miss Baker, with blue blood in her veins and high living behind, stayed on. Then, when settlement came, tho academy gave place to modern institutions, and the little lady seemed stranded high and dry. But, wait a hit, the borderland woman doesu’t strand easily. Across the river from the new town was a band of “outcast dogs” outlaw Sioux—driven from the United States after tho massacres, with prices of £2OO on their heads, and girdles round their waists made cf scalp-locks from the murdered down in Minnesota. Canadian tribes would have nothing to do with the outlaws. They were a hunted, hounded, haunted band, living no one hnew how, keeping to themselves, suspicions of all-comers. The Canadian Government wou’d, of course, do nothing for these American Indians; but to the little Christian lady of the old school this didn’t seem a very Christian policy, and, without any prospect of the salary which came from the Church afterward, she. told Commander Perry, of the Mounted Police, that, if lie would put up a tent for her on tho Sioux camping-ground, she would see what cou'd be done for the outcasts. But the river was very wide here. Who was to take her back and forth? The Sioux resented any whites coming among them. They thought she might be a spy after that £2OO reward, and they would not answer when she accosted them for passage across tho river. Watching her chance, she followed a young,hunter, who had been selling his game in the town, down to his dugcut on the river, and when ho jumped in to push himself off, she jumped in after him. That was the way she got her first passage across. Later an old dugout was'-procured, and in this she punted herself back and forth through all kinds of weather and ice runs. Then a friendly young hunter came to her witJY word that the Sioux were threatening some night when she was delayed to waylay her on the bush trail and drown her. “Nonsense, Francois,” laughed Miss Baker. “That would do no good. -Mv body would come up. Then you would all be, punished. You have been driven out of the States: what would you do if you were* driven out of Canada'?” Francois scratches his touzlod head. ■' cannot understand the dauntless spirit of the little lady with the soft voice and the- snappy black eyes; but he begins to respect her. 'All the same it is a mile from the river back through the hush to the Sioux camp, so Francois joins her very often on that trail. How the little lady won the Arab outcast youngsters to school, mastered the (Sioux tongue, poring over the dictionary till four in the morning, forgetting to oat ; how she and Miss Cameron—a kindred spirit, who had joined her, with their own hands taught the outlaws to make doors and windows, and sashes for the houses are all stories in themselves. To-day Miss Baker is worshipped by those Indians, who would have murdered her, and by their children’s children. AVh on a salary at last came from the Church, and a reserve was finally granted the outcasts by tho Government, the old chief came to her : “Miss Baker,” he said, drawing a circle on tho ground with his cane, “if we build on the new reserve, here,” pointing to the rim of the circle, “will you build here in tbe centre?” AN AUSTRALIAN GIRL’S SUCCESS. Many Australians will be ready to congratulate Miss Elsie Hall upon tho last" honor which her talents have, won for her (says an English writer). This gifted young pianistc has inst been appointed music teacher to Princess Alary of Wales- —a future Princess Royal. Born in Australia, Miss Hall’s talents first secured recognition in Berlin, where she won the Mcndejssohn State prize for piano-playing. She was then oulv sixteen years old. A year later i ■ss Hall appeared at a concert of theBerlin Philharmonic Society. Since coming to London, Miss Hall has been fortunate in securing the interest of many women of influence —the type of interest which is essential to rapid success. The Princess of Wales and the Duchess of Argyle are among several ladies of title who have extended their patronage to the young Australian pianistc. One would like, all the same, to know hew Miss Hall really feels about tbe appointment. to what extent it is of advantage for an ambitious young pianistc. to lie teacher to any one child, even a royal little girl. The music-teacher must keep very closely to her work.