who teaches them to an
Indian becomes a friend and not an enemy, and becomes loved for what
he brings and not hated for what he has taken away. The Indian and the
white man have gone into partnership in building churches. The Indian
has been giving liberally to missions outside of his own little land.

The progress in educational work has been marked in the last decade.
Today every healthy boy and girl over six years of age is supposed to
be in school. More than half of these are for ten months of every year
in a boarding school, well cared for, well fed, well instructed. To me
one of the greatest evidences of progress is that so many of them
uncomplainingly--some eagerly--part with their young children during
these many months. The large majority of the parents have never
attended school a day in their lives, yet they make this large
sacrifice for the child's good. Ten years ago there was a dance house
in nearly every village, and the senseless gyrations were in progress
every week. The larger portion of the two weeks' rations was given to
the dancer's feast, and the half fed children were the sufferers.
Today there is not a dance house for the whole 90 miles along Grand
River.

Ten years ago the first Indian returning with his bi-weekly rations
would invite his neighbors as they came home to help him eat in one
day, often in one meal, all this food. For the remainder of the two
weeks the family would be driven to live upon other feasts, or to the
fields for the wild turnip, the few berries or the plum. If four or
more feasts were called daily, the feasts gave way to famine before
the coming ration day. Often a week of feasting, then a week of
famine, became the rule. This state of things is becoming more and
more a thing of the past. Hospitality is as marked, but is not
carried to starvation extremes. Recently passing some trees in which
twelve or more years ago seven bodies were placed, and contrasting
this with the last funeral I attended, impressed upon me progress in
another line.

Ten years ago last Jan. 12, a day made memorable by the great blizzard
which swept over our land with death and destruction, in the early
morning, long before daylight, I was aroused from slumber by a knock
at the door of our little log house on Oak Creek. One stops to think
twice before he jumps out of a warm bed when the temperature is out of
sight below zero in the room, the fire has gone out and a blizzard is
howling outside. Th