o take you far away in the forest to Red Lake. The head chief,
Mah-dwah-go-no-wind, was a remarkable man as a wild man, true, honest
and brave. He came and asked me to give him a missionary. I loved him
and we were warm friends. I said "I cannot give you a missionary for the
American Missionary Association has a missionary now in that field." The
chief came again and again to see me. He said: "I want your religion. If
you refuse I will ask the Roman Catholics." I wrote Rev. Dr. Strieby,
and told him the situation. I said "The field is in my diocese. I have
the right to send a missionary there, but ask your consent because I
will never be a party to present Christian divisions to heathen men."
After due deliberation, the Association consented. I am happy to tell
you that that old chief and nearly all the adults of his band are
faithful communicants. At my last visit, the chief came to me and said,
"My Father, since you were here, my old wife with whom I have lived
fifty years, has gone to sleep in the grave. I shall go to lie by her
side. I have heard that white Christians bless the place where they
sleep as belonging to God. Will you bless the place where my wife sleeps
and ask God to care for it until he calls his children out of the
grave?" We formed a procession of the Indians, the clergy and the old
chief and myself, and marched around the place singing in Ojibway,
"Jesus lover of my soul"; then I read appropriate scripture, made an
address and offered prayer, and asked blessing on this "acre of God."
After the service the chief said: "I thank you for telling me I have a
Saviour. I thank you for blessing the place where my wife sleeps. I have
your face on my heart. Good bye."

I could keep you longer than I ought telling you of the lights and
shadows of missionary life. The North American Indian is the noblest
type of a wild man on the earth. He recognizes a Great Spirit, he loves
his home, he is passionately devoted to his people, and believes in a
future life. The Ojibway language is a marvel. The verb has inflections
by thousands. If an Indian says "I love" and stops, you can tell by the
inflection of the verb whether he loves an animate or inanimate object,
a man or a woman. The nicest shade of meaning in St. Paul's Epistles
could be conveyed in Ojibway, and I have heard a missionary say, "A
classic Greek temple standing in the forest would not be more marvelous
than this wonderful language."

The Indians are h