have learned to speak and understand the English
language.

Seth attempts no Bible instruction, and his is a class much in favor. His
pockets always contain the most home-made taffy. He has a method purely
his own; and it is a secular method. Only to the brightest and most
advanced children is the honor of promotion to his class awarded.

He is holding his class outside the building. His children sit round him
in a semicircle. He is sitting on an upturned box with his back against
the lateral logs of the building. There is a pleasant shade here, also the
pungent odor from the bright green bluff which faces him. The Indian
children are very quiet, but they are agog with interest. They have noted
the bulging pockets of Seth's Sunday jacket, and are more than ready to
give him their best attention in consequence. Besides they like his
teaching.

Seth's method is quite simple. Last Sunday he told them a little,
old-fashioned children's fairy story with a moral. Now he takes each child
in turn, and questions him or her on the teaching he then conveyed. But in
this direction they are not very apt, these little heathens.

The singing inside the Mission had died out, and the last chords on the
small organ had wheezed themselves into silence. Seth, having finished his
preliminaries, began serious business.

He deposited a large packet of treacle taffy upon the ground at his feet,
cut the string of it with his sheath-knife, opened it, and examined the
contents with a finely critical air. Having satisfied himself he set it
down again and smiled on his twelve pupils, all ranging from ten to twelve
years of age, sitting round him. He produced a well-thumbed volume from
his pocket, and, opening it, laid it upon his knee. It was there in case
he should stumble, for Seth was not a natural born teacher. He did it for
the sake of the little ones themselves.

Next he handed each child a piece of taffy, and waited while it was
adjusted in the cheek.

"Guess you've all located your dollops o' candy?" he said, after a while.
"I allow you ken get right at it and fix it in. This camp ain't goin' to
be struck till the sweet food's done. Guess you'll mostly need physic
'fore you're through, sure. Howsum, your mam's 'll see to it."

The last remarks were said more to himself than to the children, who sat
staring up into his dark, earnest face with eyes as solemn as those of the
moose calf, and their little cheeks bulging dangerously. Set