n 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 Iyakaptapte, that
is the Ascension. Half-way up was a large wooden building, nestling in
a grassy cove. Round about on the hillsides were white teepees. Dusky
forms were 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 pagan festivals? Or is it a council of war? We
entered. The spacious house was densely packed; we pressed our way to
the front. Hark! They are singing. We could not understand the words,
but the air was familiar. It was Bishop Heber's hymn (in the Indian
tongue):

"From Greenlands icy mountains,
From India's coral strand.
* * *
Salvation! O Salvation!
The joyful 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 Valley
of Dry Bones. We did not knew how he handled his subject. But the ready
utterance, the sweet flow 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 pastor, was a famous paddle-man, a mighty hunter
and the son of a great conjuror and war-prophet, but withal a tender,
faithful, spiritual pastor of his people. Rev. Alfred L. Riggs, D.D.,
the white moderator, who talked so glibly alternately in Sioux and
English and smile