, sitting in darkness and the shadow of
death, in the regions beyond. The hymn is Draper's "Missionary Chant."

"Ye Christian heralds, go proclaim
Salvation through Emmanuel's name;
To distant lands the tidings bear
And plant the Rose of Sharon there."

And now a lively young lass, neatly attired, comes forward and with a
fine, clear accent, recites a poem of hope, touching the bright future
of their tribe, when the present generation of young men and maidens,
nourished in Christian homes, educated in Christian schools and trained
in the Young People's societies for efficient service, shall control
their tribe, and move the great masses of their people upward and
God-ward, and elevate the Sioux Nation to a lofty plane of Christian
civilization and culture; and enable them to display to the world the
rich fruition of Christian service. And, by request, their voices ring
out in song these thrilling words;

"Watchman, tell us of the night,
For the morning seems to dawn;
Traveller, darkness takes its flight,
Doubt and terror are withdrawn.
Watchman, let thy wanderings cease;
Hie thee, to thy quiet home;
Traveller, lo, the Prince of Peace,
Lo, the Son of God is come!"

Fervent prayers are frequently interspersed in these exercises. And oh,
what wondrous liberality these dark-skinned sisters of the Dakota
plains display!

How full their hands are with rich gifts, gleaned out of their poverty
for the treasury of their Saviour-King. For many years, the average
annual contributions per capita to missions, by these Sioux sisters,
have fully measured up to the standard of their more highly favored
Anglo-Saxon sisters of the wealthy Presbyterian and Congregational
denominations, of which they form a humble part.

Chapter VI.

It was 1905. From the heights of Sisseton, South Dakota, another
striking scene met the eye. The great triangular Sisseton reserve of
one million acres no longer exists. Three hundred thousand of its
choicest acres are now held in severalty by the fifteen hundred members
of the Sisseton and Wahpeton Band of the Dakotas--the "Leaf Dwellers"
of the plains. Their homes, their schools, their churches cover the
prairies. That spire pointing heavenward rises from Good Will Church, a
commodious, well-furnished edifice, with windows of stained glass.
Within its walls, there worship on the Sabbath, scores of dusky
Presbyterian Christians. The pastor,