larger sacrifice of war, shall find
that we are ready to share with them the blessed fruits of
peace.--_Secretary C.J. Ryder._

* * * * *

There is, furthermore, a peaceful Christian invasion of this land. We
scarcely realize how much these gospel songs mean to those Southern
people, and how they listen with eagerness at once to the sweetness of
the tune and to the gospel that is within it. It is an entering wedge to
a new life there. A dear girl of my acquaintance taught from thirty to
fifty of these women; they listened eagerly, and the tears rolled down
their cheeks, and they said to her, "Oh, come and tell us more about
Jesus, for we want to be different kind of women, different kind of
mothers."

There was one girl who came out to one of our commencements and went
back with the arrow in her heart, saying, "I would give all the world if
I had it, if I could write a piece, and git up thar and read it like
them." She went home determined she would go to college. She was a large
girl, fifteen years old, yet did not know a single letter. She walked
fifty miles nearly, and came and said to the college president, that she
wanted to work for her board, so that she could enter the school. What
could she do? He found that really she was incapacitated for doing
anything; but she said; "I can hoe corn like a nigger." Finally she was
set at some sort of work, and that girl, after three or four years, went
out as a school teacher into a district where young men dared not go,
where her eyes were blistered with the sights she saw--men shot down
before her face and eyes by the whiskey distillers--and she was asked to
organize a Sunday-school there. When any one starts a Sunday-school he
is expected to preach, and so that girl had to become a preacher, and
to-day she is preaching the gospel of God and spreading the work there.
And yet she came from one of the very humblest classes.--_Rev. D.M.
Fisk._

* * * * *

There is another influence of which I would speak, the influence of the
home. Here in our happy homes we know but very little of what that means
to the Indian. An Indian has no home, in our sense of the word. There is
at Santee Agency a piece of limestone, perhaps three feet wide by five
feet long, which was the hearthstone of our Dakota mission home. It was
taken a few years ago by my brother, from Minnesota, where it had served
the purpose of a hearthston