Mary and I: Forty Years with the Sioux

In Short

Mary and I serves as a meditative, historical record of forty years spent within the Dakota mission field. Written by a participant in the work, the book balances personal family milestones with the broader, often turbulent, political and social shifts of the 19th-century American West. It documents the linguistic labor of translating the Bible, the challenges of cross-cultural communication, and the profound impact of the 1862 conflict on the mission’s stability. By framing the narrative as a personal legacy for his children, the author provides a grounded, intimate view of a life defined by spiritual mission and endurance.

The Story

The narrative begins in the late 1830s, when a young couple ventures into the vast, unfamiliar prairies of the Minnesota territory. From the outset, the work is marked by physical hardship and the persistent challenge of bridging two disparate worldviews. The author and his wife, Mary, quickly discover that their mission is not merely a matter of proclamation, but of immersion. They invest years in the meticulous task of learning the Dakota language, eventually developing a grammar and dictionary to render the Bible accessible. They find an unlikely, crucial ally in Joseph Renville, a local leader who recognizes the value of literacy for his people, even as the broader community often views the missionaries with skepticism or hostility.

As the mission stations at Lac-qui-parle and other sites grow, the narrative shifts between moments of quiet progress and sudden, sharp crises. The missionaries face the constant, corrosive influence of the whiskey trade, which destabilizes the communities they seek to serve, and they grapple with the indifference of those who prioritize material sustenance—food and tools—over the "Bread of Life." The author writes candidly about the strain of living under the constant threat of violence, recounting tense encounters where drunken visitors threaten their safety, and the daily grind of survival in an environment where even basic logistics, such as traveling by ox-cart or finding a boat to cross a river, are fraught with peril.

The arc of the story reaches a tragic zenith with the 1862 uprising, an event that shatters the established mission and forces the family to flee for their lives. The author describes the ensuing uncertainty with a sense of lingering shock, recounting the aftermath of the conflict, the government trials, and the executions that followed. Yet, rather than ending in despair, the narrative finds a path forward. The final chapters detail the post-war reconstruction of the mission churches. The author describes a resilient, indigenous Christian movement where native pastors begin to take the lead, organizing conferences and establishing their own congregations. The book concludes with the author’s retirement and his reflection on the passage of time—the death of his wife, the scattering of his children, and the transformation of his life’s work from a solitary, uncertain experiment into a self-sustaining network of faith.

How It Unfolds

The journey begins The narrative opens with the move from the East to the Minnesota prairies, where the family encounters both the natural grandeur of the wilderness and the immediate, stark contrast between their religious convictions and the rowdy, profane environment of frontier trade outposts.

The labor of language The author explains the foundational work of transcribing the Dakota tongue, detailing the immense effort required to translate the Bible and the difficulty of convincing a community skeptical of white settlers to value literacy and academic schooling.

The years of strain The story enters a middle phase defined by persistent obstacles, including the introduction of whiskey by traders and the resulting social decay, which complicates every attempt at peaceful instruction or pastoral care.

The turning point The 1862 conflict and the subsequent displacement of the missions serve as the major fracture in the narrative, forcing the missionaries into exile and causing them to question the ultimate fruit of their long years of service.

The harvest of faith The final section shifts to the era of reconstruction, focusing on the emergence of an indigenous church led by native pastors and the author’s efforts to ensure the mission’s legacy through theological training for the next generation.

The People

Stephen Return Riggs acts as the primary narrator, a man of rigid intellectual and religious discipline who views his life as a steady, cumulative devotion to his work. His primary desire is the establishment of a lasting Christian community, and he remains undeterred by either the physical danger of the frontier or the discouraging reception of his early ministry.

Mary Riggs serves as the steady, quiet anchor of the household. She is a woman of deep internal life who manages the daily pressures of raising a large family in a remote, often hostile environment while actively teaching classes and supporting the mission’s educational goals. Her death toward the end of the narrative marks a shift from active labor to a period of solemn reflection for the author.

Joseph Renville emerges as an essential figure who bridges the gap between the missionary efforts and the Dakota people. His support for education and his willingness to use his influence to provide a space for the missionaries proves vital to the project’s survival.

Dr. Williamson, a fellow missionary and frequent collaborator, provides the narrative with a sense of professional continuity. His relationship with the author is characterized by mutual respect and a shared commitment to their task, despite frequent disagreements on methods and strategy, illustrating the internal debates that shaped the mission’s history.

In Its Own Voice

"The bread that perisheth could be appreciated--the Bread of Life was still beyond their comprehension."

The author captures the initial disconnect between the missionaries' spiritual goals and the immediate material needs of the people they were trying to reach.

"The waters here are comparatively pure and the current mild. Below, they are turbid and impetuous, rolling on in their power, and sweeping all in their pathway onward at the rate of five or six miles an hour."

In a reflection written during his early travels, the author uses the changing state of the river as a metaphor for the unpredictability of the wilderness he is entering.

"I do not think it was fear, at least not entirely, for I am still exceedingly fatigued and dizzy, but I have reason to be grateful that I did not fall into the river from faintness, as husband thought I was in danger of doing."

Mary’s own words describe the physical exhaustion of travel, providing a rare and intimate glimpse into her personal experience of the mission life.

What It's Really About

At its core, the book is a testament to the concept of the "missionary inheritance." The author explores the question of whether a belief system can be successfully transplanted across cultural lines and what it costs—in emotional, physical, and familial terms—to attempt that transplant. It is a study in persistence, tracking how an initial, often naive, missionary impulse evolves into a complex, long-term commitment that survives war, loss, and radical cultural shifts. The text poses a fundamental inquiry about the nature of progress: the author seeks to understand how "God's thoughts" can be grafted into a foreign language, and ultimately, whether the fruit of that labor is found in the conversion of the individual or the creation of a lasting, self-sustaining society.

Why Read It Today

Mary and I is recommended for readers interested in the intersection of religious history, frontier life, and the complexities of 19th-century American expansion. It is a quiet, contemplative book that avoids the sensationalized tone often found in later accounts of the West, opting instead for a deeply human, if occasionally didactic, perspective. Readers should be prepared for the author’s period-specific attitudes; his world is one of rigid Victorian certainty, and his descriptions of the Dakota people are filtered through the lens of a mid-19th-century missionary.

The book’s real value lies in its granular, day-to-day observations. It feels like a long, slow conversation with someone looking back on a life of incredible, exhausting commitment. You will experience the frustration of a teacher struggling to communicate, the terror of a family caught in the crossfire of political upheaval, and the profound, weary satisfaction of seeing a project outlive its founders. While the prose can be dense and the pace deliberate, those who stick with it will find a hauntingly honest record of how ordinary people navigate the extraordinary pressures of a changing world. It remains a valuable, if difficult, primary document for understanding the genuine motivations and the complicated legacy of those who sought to change the American frontier from within.