From Black Pipe I go to Park Street Church Station.  Here I have a road of twenty-five miles and not a mile of snow.  Instead of a four hour drive I have ten hours of dragging along.  But the end comes at last.

At Park Street Station considerable progress is made.  The school attendance is more regular.  The children are cleaner; they wash their faces and comb their hair more frequently.  They take more interest in study.  The older ones, too, are picking up reading.  In two houses I found children teaching their parents to read.

The Christians here are holding on and others are coming to their side.  Some have reached the second stage of Christian life.  The first is leaving their heathen ways and accepting Christianity.  The second is giving testimony in public.  Wherever you go young Christians give the same testimony.  In Jerry McAuley’s mission in New York, testimony like this was given:  “Boys, ye knowed me.  I used to drink and fight and beat my wife and spend all my wages for liquor.  It ain’t so now; I’ve got Jesus, we’re pals now.  D’ye see this coat?  I bought it—­it’s new.  I didn’t buy it at Uncle’s.  There’s my wife, she smiles, now we’re happy, this is the right way.”  Two young men gave testimony like this:  “My friends, you all know me.  I used to dance and paint.  I am a Dakota.  I have thrown these things away.  I have my hair cut, I don’t paint.  I have given the dance up.  I believe in God, I believe in Jesus my Saviour, I want you to know God and Jesus, I want you to be his children.  It is hard for me to talk to you; but I know this is the right way; it is God’s way.”

The school-room is open every evening in the week.  A substitute is offered for the dance and heathen amusements.  If the work is slow it is sure.  When a young man gives up the dance, paint, long hair, right at his home, it costs something, and because it costs something he puts some value upon it.

After spending ten days at Park Street, I started back in the deep snow and coldest weather of winter.  In one place I spent almost seven hours going thirteen miles.  And right in sight of home about ten o’clock at night I ran into an enormous drift.  The horses sank almost out of sight, and then I had to work.  But after an hour of tramping snow and pulling out with a rope I was on the road again and soon at home.  Such is missionary work at this season of the year.

From the Word-Carrier.

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THE CHINESE.

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OUR CHINESE WORK.

BY DISTRICT SECRETARY J.E.  ROY.