grateful, and
said this would enable him to remain for the afternoon native service,
which he dearly prized. He was not only a blessed Christian, but a
natural gentleman. We were so drawn towards him that we invited him to
dine with us, and then rest awhile, each Sabbath between the services.

Like all the old Indians, his age was unknown, but it must have been
over a century, as men above fifty said he was called an old man when
they were boys. The fact that his name had been on the Hudson's Bay
Company's book for eighty years, as a skilful hunter, makes it quite
safe to class him as a centenarian.

His testimony to the blessedness of the Gospel was very clear and
delightful. He "knew Whom he had believed," and ever rejoiced in the
blessed assurance that he would have grace given to keep him to the end.
He was one of the first converts of the early Missionaries, and had
remained true and steadfast. He had been a successful Class Leader for
many years, and faithfully and well did he attend to his duties. If any
of his members were not at the meeting, he knew the reason why before
the next evening, if they were within five or six miles of his home.

As he lived a couple of years after we reached the Mission, we got to be
very well acquainted, and it was ever a blessing to talk to him of
spiritual things. I had a very convincing evidence one day of the
thoroughness with which he had renounced his old pagan life and its
sinful practices. We had been talking on various subjects, and the
matter of different kinds of beliefs came up. As he had a very
retentive memory, and I had been told that he was the best authority on
old Indian religions and superstitions, I took out of my pocket a note-
book and pencil, and said, "Mismis" (English, "Grandfather"), "I want
you to tell me some things about your old conjurings and religions. I
may want to write a book some time, and put some of these things in it."

The dear old man's face became clouded, and he shook his head and
remained silent.

I urged my request, saying I felt certain he, from his great age, must
have much to talk about. For his answer, he sat down in his chair, and,
putting his elbows on his knees, buried his face in his hands, and
seemed lost in a kind of reverie.

I waited for a few minutes, for all was hushed and still. His family
had heard my question, and they had become intensely interested. The
silence became almost painful, and so I said in