anybody in that Roman Catholic frontier town gave them any satisfaction as to the object of their embassy. They waited until their heart became weary, and two of their number had died, and then the remaining two prepared to go back to their distant people with their tale of disappointment.

The Indian is ceremonious, and these desired. and were granted a farewell leave-taking in the rooms of General Clarke's Indian agency, hung and carpeted with robes and furs from the forest. This was their farewell speech, as well as an Indian's rugged and stormy eloquence can be interpreted into English.

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"We came to you over a trail of many moons from the setting sun. You were the friend of our fathers who have all gone the long way. came with our eyes partly opened for more light for our people who sit in darkness. We We go back with our eyes closed. How can we go back blind to our blind people? We made our way to you with strong arms, through many enemies and strange lands that we might carry back much to them. We go back with empty and broken arms. The two fathers who came with us the braves of many winters and wars-we leave here asleep by your great wigwam. They were tired in their journey of many moons, and their moccasins were worn

out.

Our people sent us to get the white man's Book of Heaven. You took us where they worship the Great Spirit with candles, but the Book was not there. You showed us the images of good spirits,

and pictures of the good land beyond, but the Book was not among them to tell us the way. You made our feet heavy with burdens of gifts, and our moccasins will grow old with carrying them, but the Book is not among them. We are going back the long, sad trail to our people. When we tell them, after one more snow, in the big counsel, that we did not bring the Book, no word will be spoken by our old men, nor by our young braves. One by one they will rise up and go out in silence. Our people will die in darkness, and they will go on the long path to other hunting grounds. No white man will go with them, and no Book of Heaven to make the way plain. We have no more words."

There is a sad, wild pathos in that speech. Few like it have ever been heard. It seems the wail of a heart broken in sorrow for a lost hope. As soon as these sad words had fallen from the lips of the speaker, these red men turned away westward towards their home and people bearing to them only the grief of a great disappointment. Only one lived to reach his people. Possibly we can imagine the sadness of his reception and the grief of his people as he rehearsed the failure of his mission and told where he had left his companions in silence and death.

But was this mission of these children of the mountains a failure? To them individually, yes; but to the American Church, to the Pacific coast, and especially to Methodism, no.

A few months had passed after the return of the Indian messengers to their people, when, through the instrumentality of Mr. George Catlin, their story was published in the newspapers, and it was soon read in all the cities and villages of the land. Its publication in the Christian Advocate and Journal thrilled the heart of the Methodist Episcopal Church as it had never been thrilled before. Instead of the Church seeking the heathen the heathen were seeking the Church.

On the 20th of March, 1833, Rev. Wilbur Fisk, D.D., placed a communication before the Missionary Board upon the subject of a mission to the Flathead Indians, to be established at once. The Board immediately proceeded so far as to order the Secretary, Rev. Nathan Bangs, D. D., to confer with the Bishops and others in relation to the Flatheads. On the 17th day of April, Bishop Emory communicated to the Board the fact that he had consulted with the war departinent of the national government and had learned that that department had no knowledge of any such tribe. Still he thought that the inquiry should not be given up without consulting with General Clarke, as it was through him, professedly, that the call for the Book of Heaven had come to the ears of the Church. Through that correspondence some very interest

ing reports of that tribe and some related and adjacent tribes were communicated to the Board. These had their effect, and the Board immediately resolved to proceed at once to establish "a mission among the Indians west of the Rocky Mountains." Among the ablest, as they were the most earnest of the advocates of this proposition were Dr. Wilbur Fisk and Dr. Nathan Bangs. Dr. Bangs was the first Secretary of the Missionary Society of the Methodist Church which had been in existence only a few years, and up to this time had established only a single foreign mission, that of Liberia, on the western coast of Africa, and to which Melville B. Cox, of Maine, had been appointed. Dr. Bangs gave not only the influence of his position to the proposed plan but the full power of his trained pen and voice. Dr. Fisk was at that time the most potent personality in the Church. educated, eloquent, devoted, and stood at the head of the educational work of the Church. Up to the present day Methodism has produced few equal and none superior to Dr. Fisk. His powerful and eloquent appeals in the pulpits of New England and New York, and also through the press, which, even at that early day, was beginning to sway a mighty power over the thought and life of Methodism, bore the Church right onward to the con

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clusion that it was her imperative duty to send the message of hope and salvation to the red men of the distant west who had so plaintively called for it, as she had but just sent it to the black men on the coast of Africa. The conclusion was heroic, and in it Methodism began to gird herself for her march of conquest round the world.

When this conclusion was reached it was largely an abstraction to the general church and the public mind. A mission was to be established, but there was no missionary. "Who will go for us?" became immediately the paramount question. A great hour had come and the man for the hour was wanted.

The Church turned at once to Dr. Fisk as the man almost certain to voice the Divine selection.

The reasons for that confidence were apparent. His judgments were discriminating and his intuitions clear. His zeal for her was consuming, but it was evenly tempered with discretion. His op

portunity for forming reliable opinions of men and means was unrivaled. As principal of Wilbraham Academy he had under his training many young men of brilliant talents and devoted piety, coupled with lofty aspirations for themselves and the Church and cause they served. Among them were Jefferson Hascal, David Patten, Moses Hill,