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Updated: May 29, 2025
John river after the arrival of Europeans, for we learn that the Jesuit missionary, Enemond Masse, passed the winter of 1611-2 at St. John in the family of Louis Membertou, a Micmac, in order to perfect himself in the Micmac language, which he had already studied to some extent at Port Royal.
He was now able to minister to the Indians in their own language. In July, 1767, the Indians attended a special service held in St. Paul's church, Halifax, at which there were present, the Governor of Nova Scotia, Lord William Campbell, the officers of the army and navy and the principal inhabitants. The service was in the Micmac tongue.
The old people declared that they had heard from their progenitors that all of these stories were once sung; that they themselves remembered when many of them were poems. This was fully proved by discovering manifest traces of poetry in many, and finally by receiving a long Micmac tale which had been sung by an Indian.
He resolved to persevere until he should be able to publish a grammar, dictionary and translation of the Bible. He writes in 1764, "I am fully determined that nothing but sickness or the Bastille shall impede me in this useful service." Two years later he sent to England the first volume of his native grammar, with a Micmac translation of the Creed, Lord's Prayer, etc.
Micmac John was in a narrow, open marsh, and the wolves were already at the edge of the woods that skirted it a hundred yards behind. A little distance ahead of him was a big boulder, and he ran for it. At that moment the pack came into view.
In this narrative he is active and creative Nature itself, directing and sporting with the warring elements. His vast practical joking cannot fail to remind the reader yet again of the Norse deities and their jovial household godhood. This tradition is Micmac, and taken almost entirely from Mr. Rand's manuscript.
Day's march of the savages and night's rest on the green shores, mummying fires in the big tepee and the captives lying in the sleep of exhaustion with one guard pacing the lodge opening, day's pursuit of the lone canoe, brief landings for tea made at a micmac fire, scanning of lake and river and forest, night's unceasing forging ahead with Maren asleep in the prow, her head on Dupre's blanket.
Long ere the dikes that guard for aye From the merciless tides the old Grand Pre, Built by the Frenchman's tireless hands, Grew round the rich Acadian lands. The Micmac sailed in his birch canoe Over the Basin, calm and blue; Speared the salmon, his heart's desire, Danced and slept by his wigwam fire;
Early in 1696, two ships of war, the "Envieux" and the "Profond," one commanded by Iberville and the other by Bonaventure, sailed from Rochefort to Quebec, where they took on board eighty troops and Canadians; then proceeded to Cape Breton, embarked thirty Micmac Indians, and steered for the St. John. Here they met two British frigates and a provincial tender belonging to Massachusetts.
"Didn't those Indians who carried me away from home know? Didn't Pete tell them?" "Dem bad Injun. Bah! Porkeepine! Fight King George!" "What do you mean by porcupine?" "Micmac; all sam' slasher. Fight King George." "But all the Indians are not rebels." "No, no. Plenty good Injun no fight King George. All sam' Dane." "You have known Dane quite a while, I suppose!"
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