Just before our party reached the ford, two of our missionaries, Mrs. Griffiths and Miss Dodge, were driving across, and the river being very high, the horse stumbled into a hole, but some Indians watching them from the bank went quickly to their assistance.  They were soon taken ashore in another conveyance, but not before getting thoroughly drenched and gaining the admiration of the Indians for their courage.  Reaching the camping-ground tired and hungry, it was pleasant to find a large new tent, made and erected by the Indian women, for the use of the white women of our party.  Mr. Riggs’s larger one, near by, was used by the men.  The tents were all the round kind, used by Indians, with poles projecting from the top, and an opening left for the smoke of our little fire in the center, for the cool evenings made a fire very desirable.  The opening for a door is a little more than three feet high.

The wife of the native pastor, Mrs. Phelps, had an abundant and appetizing supper ready for us.  Our white ladies could but express their admiration for the composure and quiet dignity with which this Indian woman, who could not speak or understand English, entertertained, from Saturday until Monday, about thirty-five white people and natives at her table, and in a house of one room.  She was a Martha we might emulate in this, for though careful for the needs and comfort of all, even the group of Indian women and children, whom she fed sitting on the floor in one corner of the room, while her table was surrounded by her most honored guests, she never seemed troubled and anxious, and received offered help quietly, never letting her extra duties keep her from the meetings.  Before we spread our blanket beds in the tent, the women brought us dry grass to make them more comfortable, and we were all invited into the house each evening for worship before retiring.

On Sunday morning early we gathered in the neat little white chapel, made bright with numerous bouquets of wild flowers from the prairie.  The grave of Elizabeth Winyan, that noble Indian woman whose life was spent in earnest missionary work among her own people, is near by, and the church is a fitting memorial.  The Indians came from far and near, and filled the church till some had to sit on the floor for lack of seats, but this they did not mind, for, judging by the long hair and Dakota dress, we know many were but little used to the customs of civilized life.

The dedicatory prayer was offered by Doctor Riggs, and then followed the examination of two candidates for the ministry—­Edwin Phelps, the son of Elizabeth Winyan, and her nephew, Elias Gilbert.  The services and examinations were all in the Dakota language, but the intense interest and earnestness of the audience, as well as of those taking part, made them very impressive, even to those who hearing could not understand.