I can tell you the story of Indian missions by relating one incident.  Some years ago, Rev. Lord Charles Hervey went with me to the Indian country.  We had delightful services.  After the Holy Communion we were sitting on the green-sward near a house.  The head chief said, “Your friend came from across the great water; does he know the Indian’s history?” I said “No.”  He said “I will tell him.”

“Before the white man came, the forests and prairies were full of game, the rivers and lakes were full of fish, the wild rice was Manidou gift to the red man.  Would you like to see one of these Indians?” There stepped out on the porch an Indian man and woman dressed in furs, ornamented with porcupine quills.  “There,” said the chief, “my people were like those before the white man came.”

“Shall I tell you what the white man did for us?  He came and told us we had no fire horses, no fire canoes, no houses.  He said if we would sell him our land, he would make us like white men.  Shall I tell you what he did?  No, you had better see it.”  The door opened, and out stepped a poor, degraded looking Indian, his face besmeared with mud, his blanket in rags, no leggins, and by his side a poor, wretched looking woman in a torn calico dress.  The chief raised his hands and said, “Manido Manido, is this an Indian?” The man bowed his head.  “How came this?” The Indian held up a black bottle and said, “This was the white man’s gift.”  Some of us bowed our heads in shame.

Said the chief, “If this were all, I would not have told you.  Long years ago a pale-faced man came to our country.  He spoke kindly, and seemed to want to help us, but our hearts were hard.  We hated the white man and would not listen.  Every summer when the sun was so high, he came.  We always looked to see his tall form coming through the forest.  One year I said to my fellows, ’what does this man come for?  He does not trade with us, he never asks anything of us.  Perhaps the Great Spirit sent him.’  We stopped to listen.  Some of us have that story in our hearts.  Shall I tell you what it has done for us?” The door opened and out stepped a young man—­a clergyman—­in a black frock coat, and by his side a woman neatly dressed in a black alpaca dress.  Said the chief, “There is only one religion in the world which can lift a man out of the mire and tell him to call God ‘Father,’ and that is the religion of Jesus Christ.”

We have had many deferred hopes, and sometimes it has been dark as midnight.  After nearly three years of hard work, I had both of my Indian missions destroyed, church and mission house burned, and our western border for three hundred miles desolated by an Indian massacre, which destroyed the fairest portion of our State, and left eight hundred of our citizens sleeping in nameless graves.  It was needed to teach us that nations as well as individuals reap exactly what they sow.  We began again.  Here and there some Indian would listen, and the gospel