of them experienced the pardon of their sins; and among them was Scionta, the high priest. He shouted and praised God for redeeming grace and dying love; which convinced others that there was a divine reality in the work. This man has been a pious, devoted saint ever since. I do not believe there has been one hour from that time to this, that he has not enjoyed the love and presence of God in his soul. I saw and worshiped with him in June, 1837, which was eleven years after his conversion; and he told me he was deeply afflicted in body, but his soul was still filled with the love of God, and that he expected soon to mount up on high, to see Jesus, and rest with him for ever.

God owned that house, and there gave peace to all who truly called upon him. Thirteen professed religion at this meeting, and joined the Church. The meeting lasted all night. Brother Brooke made an attempt, after midnight, to dismiss the meeting, but it could not be easily done. The holy fire was now kindled afresh in the hearts of many of the members.

The next morning sister Hicks, the wife of one of our chiefs, while preparing breakfast for those friends who had lodged with them during the quarterly meeting, was so filled with the love of God, that she broke out into raptures of praise, and the rest caught the flame. The work commenced in the old class house; and, with but little intermission, lasted all day.

I insert the following extract of a letter dated Upper Sandusky, April 21, 1826, which I wrote for the Magazine, and which was published in 1826, vol. ix, p. 275:

"For the encouragement of your most useful and benevolent society, I give the following brief account of

the progress and present state of the work of God among this people, taken from our Church records. In January, 1821, the first class was formed. Since that time two hundred and ninety-two have been received on trial, two hundred and fifty of whom now remain on our class papers-sixteen have died, I trust, in the Lord, and twentysix have been expelled, discontinued, and have moved away. The two hundred and fifty now in the Church are divided into ten classes, each having a leader of its own. There are four licensed exhorters, godly and zealous men, moving regularly in a circuit among their brethren, and doing much good. They all manifest a disposi tion to improve in the arts of civilized life; and as religion increases among them, so does industry, cleanliness, and all the fruits of good living. There are on our school list the names of sixty-five children, most of whom are now regular attendants, and are doing well-learning the English language, and other useful knowledge. Indeed, I have no doubt, if these people are not disturbed by factions, but are left to pursue the course they have begun, the whole lump will be leavened.' improvement, in every respect, is very great."

Their

This spring I received a letter from brother Bangs, of New York, inviting me, with two of the chiefs and an interpreter, to visit the eastern cities, and attend the anniversary of the Missionary Society. At first, such was the state of my health, that I doubted whether I should be able to perform such a journey. I consulted my friends, and we concluded that it might be beneficial both to my health and that of Between-the-logs, who was laboring under a pulmonary affection. After making it a matter of prayer, and it being considered advan

tageous to the missionary cause by our venerable Bishops, M'Kendree and Soule, we agreed to undertake the journey, and, with all possible dispatch, made preparations. I wrote to brother Bangs, at Palmyra, the seat of the Genesee Conference, whither he had accompanied Bishop M'Kendree, that we would be at the anniversary of the Female Missionary Society, of New York, on the 14th of June, 1826.

On the 5th, Between-the-logs, Mononcue, and myself, set out from Upper Sandusky, with Samuel Brown for our interpreter, and rode to Portland on horse-back. We sent our horses home from thence, and took passage in a steambeat on the 8th for Buffalo. Nothing unusual happened, except a very high wind, which made my comrades very sea-sick, and affected me some. We had many questions asked us: who we were? where we were going? and what our business was? &c., &c. To all these inquiries we gave the following answer: "We are Christians, going on a visit from the woods to see Christian friends in the cities of the east, and to learn of them the ways of God more perfectly." Traveling on a steamboat was a novelty to my comrades, and yet they expressed no astonishment, nor manifested any curiosity in examining the works. This an Indian would consider an exhibition of weakness, and a want of self-command.

When we landed at Buffalo, it seemed as if the people would tear us to pieces; such was the anxiety to get us aboard their canal boat. But I said to them all, "Stand off-I will take my own time, and make my own choice in this matter." So I drove off these birds of prey, took our things, placed them on the bank, and left my friends to watch, until I went and looked for myself. I went

from boat to boat, looking into all, and found them supplied with whisky and rum. I said, "Here is the devil I want to shun." Some were drinking, playing the fiddle, dice, checkers, and cards. At length I met a Capt. Smith, who looked like a temperate man. I said, "It may be, this man keeps a good boat." I went with him to his boat, which was nearly ready to start, and saw no whisky or bar. All the company looked grave and sober. I told him who I was, and who my comrades were, and that I wanted to get into some boat under the protection of some master who respected himself and religion. When he found that religion was the object of our journey, he said he would take us, and do it half a dollar less than his accustomed charge. By a gracious Providence we were soon aboard, and on our journey. This man, I learned, was a member of the Presbyterian Church; and we were permitted to enjoy our religious privileges, and were treated in character.

On Sabbath, we had meeting three times. It was agreed that in the morning Between-the-logs should officiate, at noon I would preach, and in the evening brother Mononcue. Our morning exercise commenced soon after breakfast, and was introduced by the chiefs and the interpreter singing in Wyandott

"Come thou Fount of every blessing," &c.

Our

I sung with them in English. Then Between-the-logs prayed with great ferveney. The passengers in the boat were literally astonished. When we arose from our knees, I perceived that some had been weeping. preacher from the woods then commenced, and preached many things in his exhortation. He told us of his birth and early life, of his Indian religion and of his Catholie

religion. "But I saw in all this," said he, "that I had only an outside religion, which never reached my heart, but was worn only when I went to meeting. When I left meeting, it was all gone until I went back again. I was just as wicked as before; and this was all I thought necessary. So I felt at peace. But some years ago, there came a colored man to our nation, and he told of another way: that we must have the religion of Jesus, and this was the religion of the heart. I listened to him, and thought it might be the truth; yet I was still in the dark. So I listened, and, after sometime, I took hold. I went to a great camp meeting, (below Lebanon, in Warren county, Ohio.) There I saw the mighty power of God; and then I felt it was not altogether well with me. I prayed and went to meeting, but did not feel as I wanted. The Lord sent our brother here, to be our missionary, and he fed us with meat. Strong words came from him, and I was much stirred up to seek the deep things of which he spoke. At a prayer meeting in our town, God opened my heart to feel his love and power; and it seemed as if it burned in every breast. I could not keep my tongue still. All was changed. I loved all men, and hastened to tell all the world how good the Lord was to me."

He then exhorted all to come to God; and said, "You (the whites) know the way. You have the good Book, and can read it. This shows the way. Let a poor Indian, brought up in the darkness of the woods, who never could read a word, and never, until the other day, heard of the blessed name of Jesus-that name so sweet and precious to my soul-let his feeble voice reach your heavy ears, and wake you up." By this time Betweenthe-logs was in such a rapture, and the tears were rolling