GREAT was the relief providentially brought, and greatly did we appreciate it. True, we were still prisoners, detained by uncontrollable circumstances; but then we were at ease, from the belief that, however long our detention might continue, we had a place of security and comfort, where we might wait till Providence should further open our way.

      Our new host, whose name I shall not mention, was a cotton-planter, in medium circumstances, with a moderate force of slaves around him. He was a prominent and influential member of the Methodist Episcopal Church; prominent, not from his own personal forwardness, but from duties forced upon him by the confidence of his brethren. Personally, he was modest and retiring. Withal, there was something mysterious in his deportment and remarks at times; a melancholy remembrance of the past, accompanied with seemingly-deep humiliation; something in his history which, it seemed, he could not forget, and which, even in the midst of present religious confidence, stung him with remorse. Once, in speaking of his acts of personal kindness and benevolence, he said to me, "I have been a very bad man; I want now to do all the good I can." But he went no further. Not long after I learned the explanation. He had been a murderer. In early life, in a fit of intoxication, he had taken the life of a fellow-being. Stung by remorse, and dreading the law, he had fled to the lonely West, and for years had roamed among savages in the region of the Rocky Mountains. After a long time he returned, became penitent and pious. Now he was the head of a considerable family, honored and respected; the

scenes of his early years forgotten or never mentioned to his injury. Still he seemed to feel that the stain of blood was upon him. So God has wisely ordered that it should be with him who takes away human life. The relation caused a chill of horror to run over me. Myself and family were the guests of a murderer; my family were to be left in his care. Still my confidence in his integrity and kindness remained unshaken, and was sustained to the last. Of his after history I know nothing. I trust he is in heaven, or still on his way.

      A week had been spent at the house of our kind but cringing overseer. It was now the 2d of November. On the day following we removed our goods from the quarters to the boat in as good a condition as possible, to await a rise, and gave to our Catholic landlord a wide berth.

      The Sabbath was approaching. We had the satisfaction to learn that our stopping-place was within the bounds of the circuit traveled by my quondam friend, Rev. B. Crawford, spoken of in a former chapter; and further, that he, with several other preachers, was expected on the ensuing Saturday and Sabbath to hold a "two days' meeting," on their way to the Annual Conference. The day came; and with it the preachers and the people. Our domicile was the chapel; all went off in primitive Western style. We labored, prayed, and rejoiced together. Among the preachers present was Rev. Levin B. Dennis, since my valued companion in labor in another field; now grown gray in the service--then in the first years of his ministry. Another was the eccentric Edwards, who subsequently became a chaplain in the Mexican War, and, I think, fell there.

      The services of the Sabbath over, I began to think of scenes in advance. The session of the Arkansas Conference, at Clarksville, was near at hand. It was almost indispensable that I should be there. There was no indication of a rise in the river. I accordingly determined to procure a horse, --and join the brethren on their way, leaving my family under the care of our kind host, and in the hands of

Providence, to follow when they could. A horse was kindly furnished me for the trip, as far as Little Rock, and on the morning of the 7th I set out, with two of the brethren, on our way to the seat of our Conference.

      The journey was a long one on horseback. Our route lay up the Arkansas, through a sparsely inhabited district of country, generally well timbered. One singular feature is found at different points in the lowlands, the cypress swamps, so different from all other forest scenery as to merit particular notice. These swamps, or low grounds, are covered with a heavy growth of cypress-trees, standing thick, and casting their somber shades over the face of nature. Around each cypress-tree is a "body-guard" of natural stubs, springing up from the roots of the trees, conical in form, and hollow, but exceedingly firm, varying from a few inches to four or five feet in bight, with proportionate diameter, from a foot down. These are called "cypress-knees;" the number is immense, and so thickly set as to render the forest almost impervious. Cane-brakes line the banks of the river, and furnish Winter range for cattle.

      Instinctively, or otherwise, we brought up at nightfall at the cabin of a good Methodist family, and met a hearty welcome. It was seldom their privilege to hear preaching; and, bearing in mind the example of our early ministry in expounding the Word of God in families, I proposed a service of this kind, which was readily agreed to. The family came together; a Psalm was read and expounded and we wound up with a shout in the camp. After a comfortable night's rest, we were on our way betimes the next morning, and another day's travel brought us to Little Rock. Lodging not far from the landing, my attention was attracted by the sound of a boat in the night. Judge my surprise and thankfulness to find, in the morning, the Gov. Morehead with my family on board. A sudden swell had come, sufficient to float them up thus far, and my land travel had gained me nothing.

      The rise in the river being insufficient to take the boat

further up, the Captain determined to store his freight, and return. Wishing to control my own freight, I took it off of his hands, paid him proportionally, and stored it myself. The remnant of my library books left undestroyed were kindly taken in charge by a gentlemanly clerk in one of the public offices, removed to a room in the State-House, and spread out there to dry, where they remained for months. My family was taken to as comfortable lodgings as could be obtained, and time was again taken for consideration.

      A series of meetings was in progress at Little Rock. Bishop Andrew and Rev. J. F. Wright, then senior Book Agent at Cincinnati, arrived soon after me, on their way to the Conference; and the time for several days was agreeably spent in their pleasant society, and in the alternate labors of the pulpit. The Bishop I found to be an agreeable fireside companion; dignified, plain, unostentatious; a fine specimen of the Southern gentleman of the old school and all adorned with cheerful, consistent piety. He took a deep interest in the circumstances of my family, and subsequently wrote me, from Mobile, expressing his sympathies and good wishes. At this time and place I learned from good authority that he then entertained serious thoughts of resigning the Episcopal office. This was the Autumn of 1843. He was then unmarried, having lost his companion some considerable time previously.

      Meanwhile we were not unemployed. A large amount of material was on hand for clothing our pupils, which would be needed immediately upon the opening of our school, as we expected to receive them in a destitute condition. The ladies of the place took the matter in hand. An organization was formed, and an agreeable company were found every day plying the scissors and needle, till a large amount of clothing was prepared for use. Thus we were enabled to levy a tax upon our misfortune. Many kind attentions were bestowed upon my family by gentlemen and ladies of the place, during my own stay, and afterward, which will never be forgotten.

      The approach of the Conference urged me on. A letter also reached me, informing me of the dangerous illness of Rev. H. C. Benson, my colleague and assistant, then at Fort Coffee and in charge of all our interests there. I accordingly determined to leave my family again and proceed by land to Clarksville. Arrangements were made for their board. Rev. H. Kerns, the pastor of the charge, kindly agreed to see them on hoard a boat when an opportunity should offer, and, if necessary, to accompany them in person. Another was intrusted (sic) with the care of our freight and its reshipment. A horse was purchased, and all needful arrangements made. On the morning of the 13th, committing my family again to the providence of God and the care of strangers, I took leave and pursued my way onward.

      The Bishop and brother Wright took a different course. They had come up White River to Rock Roe, a route always practicable, and thence by stage to Little Rock. Weary of staging, they determined to risk a passage upon the "Export," a boat which was about to make an effort to go up; while I, equally disgusted with experiments upon the river at its low stage, was betaking myself to land. The evening before my departure they, with much hesitancy, got on board. My parting advice was to "take light baggage," which they did, much to their relief, as it turned out; the Bishop's farewell words to me being, "Tell brother Parker to open the Conference if I am not there," brother Parker being a presiding eider and leading member of the Conference.

      Our horseback trip was pleasant, and the third day we brought up at Clarksville, a small inland village in Western Arkansas. To my great gratification I found brother Benson so far recovered as to have reached the place. But the forebodings of the Bishop were realized; he was not there. The chair, according to appointment, was taken by Rev. J. C. Parker, and the Conference business progressed agreeably. Meanwhile the Export, after much puffing and
     11

straining, had failed in her upward passage. The good Bishop and his amiable co-traveler had betaken themselves again to the land; and one bearing the satchel-in-common, and the other the partnership buffalo-skin, were trudging their way on foot through the cane-brakes, or getting such rude conveyances as they could of the settlers from point to point. The Bishop was then writing a series of letters for publication in one of the Southern journals. The description of this part of his tour has a spicy interest which memory has in part preserved. He soliloquizes upon such a plight for "a Bishop" to be in; gives a gentle retort to one who was subsequently his colleague in the Episcopacy, and who had intimated a letting down of the office in latter days; thinks that present surroundings may prove "an antidote to my friend, Dr. C.'s newly-discovered process of episcopal deterioration;" gentle ebullitions (sic) of feeling these, very natural under such circumstances, but which no man, perhaps, knows better how to repress than his even-tempered companion in travel.

      On the second day of the session the Bishop arrived and took the chair, presiding with dignity, and pressing business with dispatch, but without improper haste; sometimes acting arbitrarily, it was thought, arresting debate, and putting questions when he thought proper, and occasionally administering a sharp rebuke. But the Conference was in its minority and submitted patiently. Upon the whole, I admired his sound discretion and firmness. A case came up which taxed. his sympathies, and, in the sequel, evinced that he possessed much of the milk of human kindness. A regular bill of charges had been preferred by an officious and aspiring member of the Conference against an amiable and pious old preacher, founded wholly upon the character and conduct of his faithless wife, and for which it was attempted to hold him responsible from the fact that he continued to live with her. All loved the old brother and pitied him. No personal blame attaching to him, he was, after an exciting trial, easily acquitted. The trial over, the

Bishop followed with some remarks, spoke affectionately and feelingly of his long acquaintance with the accused, paid a high tribute to his moral and religious worth, ironically rebuked the "species of moral alchemy" by which it had been sought to make him a criminal for the acts of another, and attributed all to the unfortunate choice of a wife. He then gave us his memorable speech on marriage, so widely known. "Remember," said he to the young men, "the preacher that marries a wife, marries her for the Church." Portentous words, as they proved in his own history. It was understood that the prospect of a pending presiding eldership was forfeited by the aspirant who figured in the prosecution.

      No other Methodist Annual Conference, perhaps, has had so hard a struggle as has fallen to the lot of Arkansas in all its history. The unhealthiness of the climate; the sparse settlements; the unsettled condition of its wealthier semi-citizens, and the poverty of actual settlers; the streams, and sloughs, and insects; the meagerness of ministerial support, and often the want of the necessaries of life, with the consequent scanty supply of ministerial experience and ability--all conspired to make its itinerancy an "up-hill work." Volunteers had been called for at other Conferences; quite a number had responded, and among them men of promise; but at the separation of the South most of them returned to their former homes.

      The state of things called for a peculiar class of men, and it was not a little amusing to listen to the description of "gifts and graces," given by presiding elders and others in the representation of character. To be able to "swim a slough" with courage and success was an indispensable rarely omitted in recommending a young preacher. Of one it was said, "He is a good shot; can shoulder his rifle, go to the woods, and in a little time bring food to the family where he is entertained." Of another, "He can cut down a tree, dig out a canoe, and paddle it equal to any man in the country" Of one of the presiding elders near the Mis-

sissippi it was stated that he, with a young preacher, made nearly or quite an entire round on his district in a pirogue, when all the country was navigable, hauling up the craft and tying up during the quarterly meeting, and then resuming the voyage. One of their preachers, who had traveled in Louisiana, related to me an incident of his having passed a night in a wolf-pen or trap, in the forests of the Mississippi. This was done to secure himself from the wild beasts. Fearing, however, that his wolfship might come and claim admittance, he sprung the trap upon himself. How he was extricated from his prison-house in the morning I have now forgotten.

      My association with these suffering brethren was pleasant and profitable. I sympathized in their sufferings, admired their courage, and formed some lasting attachments. A very deep interest was taken in our Indian work, and our appointment to an Indian mission was looked upon as an especial favor contrasted with the fields of labor in the State. Our transfers were recognized. I was regularly appointed to "Fort Coffee Academy and Mission," with Rev. H. C. Benson as my colleague; and at my request, Rev. John Page, a native preacher, was associated with us. The mission embraced a considerable district of country adjacent. I had the charge, and was to visit the different points as occasion allowed; Page was to do the principal traveling and preaching among the natives, to have his home at our institution, act as our interpreter, and aid by his influence and efforts among the pupils. Page was a fine, sprightly young Choctaw, full blood, very dark complexion, pious, cheerful, and agreeable. He had been educated at the Indian school at the Great Crossings, in Kentucky, for years under the superintendence of Colonel Richard M. Johnson, afterward Vice-President of the United States. The school had, in the main, proved a failure and been discontinued. A few had been benefited, Page among them. He proved an agreeable and useful helper.

      Conference over, I again took up the line of march, ac-

companied by brothers Benson and Page. No grass was permitted to grow under our horses' feet, and on the 23d day of November we reached Fort Coffee, and found all in health, except our foreman, who was suffering with sickness.

      Now, for the first time, I met Mr. and Mrs. Benson on missionary ground, and soon had evidence of the worth of my associates. The good judgment and management of brother Benson were visible in their results, and his unflagging industry was the theme of all. The large new building was nearly completed for the reception of my family and his, with office, etc. He had, as I learned, labored personally with his hands in the absence or failure of others; even carrying the hod rather than let the work cease. Sister Benson, too, had cheerfully borne up, and, even when his life was hanging in jeopardy, had expressed her determination, in any event, not to leave the place. I saw at once that that mild and gentle exterior incased a brave and noble spirit, and time only confirmed the opinion.

      All the other affairs of the institution were in a safe and prosperous condition; and, notwithstanding all our inevitable past hinderances, we still had a prospect of a speedy opening of the school, provided our needful supplies, now stored below, should reach us. The hands in our employ had in some respects taken advantage of my absence. These were quietly dismissed. Many of the mechanics and laborers employed in the country were discharged soldiers, who only could be controlled by strict discipline promptly enforced. With this I succeeded without difficulty.

      The great burden of preparatory labor was now over. Matters were assuming a cheerful aspect, and we began to look forward with pleasure to a more settled and regular system of operations, with a little circle of society, now forming around us, which should greatly relieve the tedium of our wilderness home. Still, to me the reflection came up, "Wife and children are not here; where? how circumstanced? how long the separation?" These were questions I could not answer.

     No time was lost in completing arrangements for receiving the large accession contemplated to our numbers, by the hoped-for arrival of my family and the ingathering of the Indian boys scattered over the country that were anxiously awaiting our bidding to come into their expected quarters. Time, however, hung heavily upon my hands; the thought of absent ones, in a strange, rude country; unknown, unprotected, exposed, perhaps suffering. Still I trusted in the providence of God and labored on.

      On the 13th day of November business took me to the Agency, already mentioned as five miles distant. Major A. met me with a smile. "I have good news for you," said he. "What is that?" I asked. "Your family are at Fort Smith," he replied. "A boat has just arrived, and they are on board," intelligence to that effect having just reached him. Supposing that the boat would come no higher, and thankful that they were so near, I set off for Fort Coffee in haste for a team to go down and bring them up by land, through the long cane-brake pass that intervened. What sight should greet me on my arrival, but a magnificent steamer lying at our landing, and my wife and children all safely arrived, the former with health greatly improved! If ever gratitude to a kind Providence warmed my heart, I felt it then; and, now that death has removed her beyond the reach of praise or dispraise, I may add, increased admiration of the calm fortitude and resolution that I always knew was possessed by the companion of my life and labors.

      The man to whom I had mainly committed my affairs at

Little Rock had, from interested views it would appear, detained my freight, suffering boat after boat to pass. Mrs. G., with good reason, grew dissatisfied with the delay. The river was at a good stage. The fine steamer "Express Mail" touched at the landing, upward bound. The pastor, brother Kerns, was absent. Mrs. G. informed my agent, with whom she boarded, that he might do as he pleased with the freight, but demanded that he should put herself and little ones upon the boat, determined to risk a passage up into the Indian country alone. It was done, the freight being still detained. The appearance of a lady and children on their way to the frontier, unattended, excited inquiry. The reply created an interest in their behalf. Captain Haldeman, a gentleman, in all respects the reverse of our previous churl commandant, was polite and attentive; a personal acquaintance and friend of former years was recognized in one of the officers; the passengers vied with each other in acts of kindness, and the passage was safe and pleasant beyond anticipation. Thus God provided for them, and thus in his providence was happily terminated a most tedious, and, in some respects, painful and disastrous journey, near four months having elapsed since we had left Indianapolis and set our faces to the South-West.

      On the day following we were favored with a visit from Rev. Messrs. Parker, Harrel, and Hunter, members of the Arkansas Conference, appointed as a committee to audit the accounts of the institution. Major Armstrong was invited to act with them and settle whatever preliminaries were necessary to the work. Rev. Mr. Harrel was then our presiding elder, and remained to hold our first quarterly meeting.

      Our permanent residents being now on the ground the temporary organization was gradually supplanted by that which was intended to remain. Several of the employés were quietly dismissed or permitted voluntarily to retire, their places supplied, and matters began to assume a more settled aspect. Among other reforms was one in the culinary

branch of our household affairs, that department so difficult to fill in all large boarding establishments. Mrs. Benson, as well as her husband, was under salary, having undertaken a department in the institution. Mrs. Goode was under no engagement of the kind. The two ladies, when together, soon demurred to the management of the kitchen, or, as we termed it, our ''police regulations.'' They proposed that the existing officials be discharged, and offered to substitute their own voluntary services in their stead till other arrangements should be made. It was done. Our cooks took a downward boat. Months elapsed before the place was regularly filled, and the interregnum was supplied by our volunteers, to the no small additional comfort of the inmates, however hard it pressed upon the pro tem. functionaries. At the filling of the place Mrs. B. resumed her regular department, but Mrs. G., having become identified with the domestic arrangements, continued her relation, not in the same capacity, the labor being performed by others, but in the general oversight and control. The keys of our store-room were committed to her, and she became the acting stewardess of the concern, a relation that she continued to sustain to the close of our stay; one requiring much time and care, but of vast importance to the economy and comfort of the institution; a service for which she never claimed or received any pecuniary compensation. One said, " She acts as though the institution belonged to her;" this, though intended as a complaint, was received as an encomium.

      The interval was employed by brother B. and myself in various mechanical labors, as painting, glazing, whitewashing, etc. All was now ready on our part, but still our freight was delayed, including our supply of books, clothing, and other indispensables; delayed, as we had reason to believe, by our agent for purposes of private gain.

      Meanwhile the time arrived for the payment of the Choctaw annuity, in the Me-shu-la-tub-bee district, a season always of great interest and excitement. The manner of

conducting these payments I will hereafter notice. This was held at the District Council-Ground, at Bayou Zeal, otherwise called Yak-ni-a-chuk-ma, or "good ground," the place originally selected as the site for our institution, but afterward substituted by Fort Coffee. I determined to attend. On the way passed the graves of many of the Choctaws that had been swept away by small-pox, immediately consequent upon their immigration. The spectacle gave melancholy proof of the effect of the "removal policy," while it presented affecting evidence of the working of the finer feelings of humanity, even in the savage heart, in the little houses built over the graves, and various tributes of affection for the departed; which, rude and fragile as they were, offered a silent rebuke to the neglect and indifference on this subject often witnessed among those who claim to be civilized. Here we were favored with another entertainment in the form of an Indian dance; but the o-ka-ho-ma, "firewater," being kept away by the vigilance of the Agent, the frolic passed off without damage.

      Weary with protracted delay, it was determined that brother Benson should start for Little Rock in order to hasten our freight. Accordingly, on the 27th of December he set out, and met it on the way on board a petty steam-scow, to which it had been improperly consigned, and which never did succeed in reaching the point of destination. It was reshipped the first opportunity, and after an absence of ten days brother B. returned, bringing our all of worldly substance with him. Thus terminated the transportation of our stores, nearly three months after shipment at Cincinnati, with three subsequent storages and as many reshipments. On opening and examination, the extent of our damage and loss from the steamboat disaster appeared, a mere beginning of scenes afterward made familiar by repetition; but we "pocketed the loss."

      Persons and substance, at last, were all on the ground. Our present connection with the freaks and moods of the unreliable Arkansas and its not more reliable navigators

ceased. No time was to be lost in grieving for the past; the future demanded all our attention. Accordingly, upon the 9th day of January, 1844, just two days after the arrival of our goods, we opened our doors for the reception of students already selected by the Council, and anxiously awaiting the time. Our rooms were soon filled with boys of from ten to twenty-one years of age, though the Council designed admitting none over sixteen. Circumstances, which I may hereafter mention, operated greatly in our favor in the selection. Our pupils were, for the most part, full-bloods, selected from various parts of the Nation, and proved to be quite as tractable and subordinate as is usual with boys of their age. Their manners were, of course, rude and unpolished; but in the main their dispositions were gentle and docile.

      Brother Benson entered with vigor upon the duties of teacher. A plan was laid down for study, labor, and recreation. On a post, in the center of our area, hung the large bell. Its reveille tones roused all, and called them forth at a stated, early hour of the morning; and its curfew notes in the evening were the signal for the extinguishment of all lights and retirement to rest. Intermediate signals announced the successive calls and engagements of the day. At a stated hour all were assembled in the school-room, our only chapel, for morning worship, consisting of reading, singing, and prayer. From worship they passed in orderly procession to the dining-hall, where all were seated at once to meals, embracing our own families and the different employés. The students maintained silence during meals, all remaining at the tables till finally dismissed, and retiring in order. Immediately after breakfast they were summoned to labor. The different implements of husbandry for clearing, cultivation, etc., were supplied, and "all hands" spent an hour and a half at labor under the superintendence of myself or one of the teachers. The labor was relieved by cheerful conversation, and the time agreeably and profitably spent. A signal from the bell called off from work, and a

season of recreation ensued. This was spent in various plays, mostly of an athletic character, and affording rare specimens not only of agility and skill, but often of genuine wit and humor, all under a constant but gentle oversight. Another signal called to study, when all assembled at the school-room, and three hours were spent with their books. The twelve o'clock bell released them, and the entire noon-spell was allowed for dining and recreation. Three hours of study followed in the afternoon, succeeded by one hour of labor, and then by recreation, worship, supper, etc. The last bell was, of all others, most reluctantly complied with. Often they were loth (sic) to relinquish sport for rest. And not unfrequently have I, after all the rooms were visited, as the custom was, and all found snugly laid away in apparent slumber, had to repeat the visit, and quiet some who had risen, unclothed, from their beds to enter anew upon their frolics.

      A few from the abler families came with a tolerable supply of clothing; but, for the most part, they were destitute, and came depending on our supply. The dress was uniform, consisting, in Winter, of gray jeans roundabout and pants, seal-skin cap, brogan shoes, socks, handkerchiefs, etc., and, in Summer, of blue calico hunting-shirt, palm-leaf hat, and other articles to correspond. All the clothing was numbered, and on Saturday evening was distributed, clean and in good repair. Some were remarkably neat and tidy in their persons, while others were slovenly and careless--one so incurably filthy that we were compelled to dismiss him. The new dress produced quite a change of appearance.

      Some of our boys had already received English names, while others had only their heathen or Indian names. To such we gave names generally after those of persons known as active and benevolent friends of the cause of missions in the States.

      Indian youths are generally apt and quick in elementary studies. Their pronunciation is usually defective, some

sounds being never mastered. But, with this, they learn to spell and read with amazing facility, often before they speak the language or understand the meaning of the lessons. Arithmetic is easily acquired by them. For grammar and the higher branches of lingual study they have little capacity. The mechanical art of penmanship they learn with great ease, while, in composition, even the educated ones commit the most simple and amusing blunders. But their greatest aptness is in music. Most of them possess a fine voice and an excellent ear for music, learning readily to sing by air, or acquiring with facility the principles of the science.

      Some of our students were found to be suffering under chronic diseases, and quite a number were affected with ulcers and sores of long standing, some hereditary, others originating from hurts or accidental wounds, and neglected till nearly or quite incurable. Under the directions of our physician I personally undertook their treatment. A considerable time was spent each day in dressing and treating them, and with some degree of success. In this work and in the care of the sick I was greatly aided by our assistant teacher, Mr. David Brigham, an Irish gentleman of good social and moral qualities. Mr. Brigham was a Presbyterian. He had gone to the frontier as a merchant, had been unfortunate, was reduced in circumstances, and sought employment with us. He proved an interesting and valuable accession to our society, staid with us to the close, and accompanied us on our return to the States.

      Very erroneous and unfounded opinions are entertained generally as to the skill of the Indians in the treatment of disease. A few simple medicines of value they may have; but, in the general, their treatment is absurd, unnatural, and barbarous. Many an upstart in his profession passes off his quackery and gains a wide reputation by giving out that he "has been with the Indians," or that lie has learned the "Indian cures." Many a poor sufferer is led to abandon humane and skillful medical aid, and resort to the

Indian doctor'' with his stupid nostrums, while the Indians themselves place no reliance upon their own skill, and are ready to take medicine from any white man that will administer it. They are greatly addicted to the use of medicine, and especially inclined to blood-letting. Their finding that I had some knowledge of the use of the lancet led to repeated applications to "hurt my arm,'' or to bleed, which I uniformly refused. A mistake also exists as to the general health and constitutional vigor of the Indians. An opinion is formed from the appearance of those that are seen, at times, traveling in the white settlements. These are their best specimens. Go to their lodges and campfires, and you will find a very large proportion of lame, blind, maimed, and diseased in various ways. Most of the mission stations and Government agencies are provided with a supply of medicines for gratuitous distribution to Indians, travelers, and all necessitous persons, and many of the missionaries are compelled to act as physicians, whether making any pretensions to medical acquirements or not.

      Several of the students were pious at the time of their coming, and we have good reason to believe that the number was increased during their stay. Never shall I forget the emotions produced in my own feelings on first hearing their singing. Indulging, at one time, an hour of pensive loneliness, and perhaps temporary mental depression, my attention was arrested by singing in one of the rooms. A number of the boys were collected, and singing the verses of an Indian hymn to one of my old, favorite airs. At the close of each Indian stanza all voices would join in the familiar English chorus of

      "I am bound for the kingdom," etc.

      It was admirably sung, and the effect may be easily imagined by those who, like myself, are "impressible" from this quarter.

      They are fond of plaintive airs, and many of their

hymns are well adapted. The name of "Chisus," or "Jesus," often occurs, and it is sung with peculiar softness and devotional effect. I often united with them in singing their own hymns, and carried a separate part. They sing with fervor and apparent devotion. And yet, strange to say, I never yet met with a Choctaw, however well educated, who could render one of their hymns into good, intelligible English. This I could only attribute to a defective translation. I subjoin a single verse, as a specimen of their written language:

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