the bright sunshine, their waters almost commingling ere they began their diverse journeyings—the former to Hudson's Bay,, the latter to the Gulf of Mexico. At our feet were prairies rich as the garden of the Lord. The spot was lyak-aptapte, that is the Ascension. Half-way up was a large wooden building, nestling in a grasy cove. Round about on the hillsides were white teepees. Dusky fonns wa^re passing to and fro and pressing round the doors and windows. We descended and found ourselves in the midst of a throng of Sioux Indians. Instinctively we asked ourselves, Why are they here? Is this one of their old papan festivals? Or is it a council of war? We entered. The spacious house was densely packerl; v/e pressed our way to the front. Hark! They are singing. We could not understand the words, but the air w^as familiar. It was Bishop Heber's hymn (in the Indian tongue) :
'From Greenlands icy mountains, From India's coral strand.
* i' :!=
Salvation ! O Salvation !
The joytul sound proclaim, Till each remotest nation
Has learned Messiah's Name. Waft, waft, ye winds. His story, And you, ye waters, roll. Till like a sea of glory
It spreads from pole to pole.'
With what joyful emphasis, this strange congregation sang these words.
We breathed easier. This was no pagan festival, no savage council of war. It was the fifteenth grand annual council of the Dakota Christian Indians of the Northwest.
The singing was no weaklunged performance—not altogether harmonious, but vastly sweeter than a war- whoop ; certainly hearty and sincere and doubtless an acceptable offering of praise. The Rev. John Baptiste Renville was the preacher. His theme was Ezekiel's vision of the 'alley of Dry Bones. We did not knew how he handled his subject. But the ready utterance, the sweet flov/ of words, the simple earnestness of the speaker and the fixed attention of the audience marked it as a complete success. When the sermon was finished, there was another loud-voiced hymn and then the Council of Days was declared duly opened.
Thus they gather themselves together, year by year
to take counsel in reference to the things of the kingdom. The Indian moderator, Artemas Ehnamane. the Santee j-astor, was a famons paddle-man, a mighty linnter and the son of a great conjnror and war-prophet, but withal a tender, faithfnl, spiritual pastor of his people. Rev. Alfred L. Riggs, D.D.. the white mod-eratCJt, who talked so glibly alternately in Sioux and English and smiled so sweetly in both languages at once, was 'Good Bird,' one of the first white babes born at Lac-qui-Parle. John, The Beloved, one of the chief white workers, as a boy had the site of Minneapolis and St. Paul for a play-ground, and the little Indian lads for his playmates. That week we spent at lyakaptapte was a series of rich, rare treats. We listened to the theological class of young men. students of Santee and Sisseton. We watched the smiling faces of the women as they bowed in ])rayer, and brought their offerings to the missionary meetings. Such wondrous liberality those dark-faced sisters displayed. We marked with wonder the intense interest manifested hour by hour by all classes in the sermons, addresses, and especially in the discussion: 'How^ shall we build up the church?' Elder David Grey Cloud said, 'We uiust care for the church if we would make it effective. We must care for all we gather into the church.' The Rev. James Red-Wing added, 'The work of the church is heavy. When a Red River cart sticks in the mud we call all the help we can and together we lift ii out; we must all lift the heavy load of the church.'' The
Rev. David Grey Cloiul closed with: 'We nnisjt casi out all enmity, have love for one another and then we shall be strong.''
'Does the keeping of Dakota customs benefit or injure the Dakota People?'
Deacon Boy-that-walks-on-the-water responded emphatically. '*The ancient Dakota customs are all bad. There is no good in them. They are all sin, all sorrow. All medicine men are frauds. Jesus is the only one to hold to.' Rev. Little-Iron-Thunder said 'When I was a boy I was taught the sacred dances and all the mysteries; to shoot with the bag; to hold the sacred shell. To gain a name, the Dakotas will suffer hunger, cold, even death. But all this is a cheat, it will not give life to the people. Only one name wil. give life,—even Jesus.' Rev. Daniel Renville declared : 'Faith is the thing our people need; not faith in everything, but faith in Christ; not for hope of reward.''
There were evening gatherings in the interest of tin-Young Men's Christian Associations and the Yount People's Christian Endeavor Societies. These are two of the most hopeful features of the work. With the young men and maidens of the tribe in careful training in Christian knowledge and for Christian service, there must be far- reaching and permanent beneficent results.
Sabbath came! A glorious day! A fitting crown of glory for a week of such rare surprises. A strange chanting voice, like that of a herald mingled with our
day-break dreams. Had we been among the Moslems^ we shoiild have thc)Ui>ht it the muezzin's cry. It was all Indian to us, but it was indeed a call to prayer with this translation in English:—
''Morning is coming'! Morning is coming! Wake up! Wake up! Come to sing! Come to pray.'
Very soon, the sweet music of prayer and pr.iise from the v.liitc teepees on the hillside, rose sweetly on the air, telling us that the day of their glad solemnities had 1:)Cgun. The great congregation assembled in the open air. Pastor Renville, who as a little lad played at the feet of the translators of the Bible into the Sioux language, and who as a young man organized a counter revolution among- the Christian Indians in favor of the government in the terrible days of '62, presided with dignity, baptizing a little babe and receiving several recent converts into the church. , man of rare powers and sweet temperament is the Rev. John Ba])-tiste Renville, youngest son of the famous Joseph Renville. A wonderfully strange gathering is this. Hundreds of Indians seaited in semi-circles on the grass, reverently observing the Lord's Supper. Probablv one-third of the males in that assemblage were participants in the bloody wars of the Sioux nation. The sermon was delivered by Solomon His-Own-Grand-father, who had taken an active part in the war of 1862, but was now a missionary among his own people in Manitoba. The bread was broken by Artemas F.h-namane (''Walking Along'), who was condemned and pardoned, and then converted after that appalling tragedv in 1862. The wine was poured by the man
whom all the Sioux lovingly call John (Dr. John P. AVilliamson) who led them in the burning revival scenes in the prison-camp at Fort Snelling in 1863. -And as he referred to those thrilling times, their tears flowed like rain. It is said that Indians cannot weep, but scores of them we])t that day at Ascension. One of the officiating elders was a son of the notorious chieftain IJttlc Crow, who was so ])rominent against the Anglo-Saxons in those days of carnage. As we partook of those visible symbols of our Saviour's broken body, and shed blood, with this peculiar congrga-tion, so recently accustomed to the war-whoojj and the scalp-dance, we freely mingled our tears with theirs. And as our minds ranged over the vast Dakota field anrl as we remembered the thousands of Christian Sioux, their Presbytery and their Association, their scores of churches and their many Sabbath Schools, dieir Y. M. C. A. and their Y. P. S. C. E. associations, their missionary societies and other beneficent organizations, their farms and homes, their present pure, happy condiiion, and contrasted it with their former superstition, nnkedness and filthy
