“Country on fire?” We had great bush fires on the Lower Fraser in those days, and thousands of acres of magnificent timber were destroyed, and I thought Jack was about to fix one of those fires on me. “I set no country on fire,” I said. “What do you mean?” “Oh, I mean what you Methodists call a revival. You had a revival in Chilliwack not long ago; we heard all about it. The young fellow who was at the telegraph line used to be blessing the Lord every night that such a sinner was converted, and told us all the news along the line about your revival.” “By the way,” he continued, “is that old fellow that had a bald head, who used to swear so that we thought the heavens would come down on us when he drove his ox team up here, has he got it?” [Illustration: GROUP OF STUDENTS, COQUALEETZA INSTITUTE.] “Yes,” I replied, “he is converted, and very happy.” “You don’t mean to say so!” said he. “Does it stick?” “Yes,” said I. “Well, that other fellow who stuttered so that he could hardly get it out, has he got what you call religion?” “Yes, he is very happy.” “And how does he tell it?” “Why, strange to say,” I remarked, “when he tells his experience in class-meeting, or prays, he never stutters a bit.” At that Jack opened his eyes wide, and with an even more pronounced and deliberate drawl and nasal twang, he said: “You don’t mean to say so! Why, now that must be the genuine article.” By this time Jim, the little Scotch hostler, who had stood in the doorway an attentive listener to the conversation, was moved by the story, and began to brush the tears from his eyes. Dinner being over, I said to Jack, “Now, after partaking of this good dinner I would like to pray to God, from whom all blessings come.” “Certainly,” he said; “you will pray, your reverence.” And he knelt down with the rest of us. As soon as prayer was over he shouted out “Amen!” as if he had been a clerk in a church, and then jumping up, said: “Now, you will have a glass of brandy, Bishop, won’t you?” “No, thank you!” I replied; “I will have to be going now.” When we went to get our horses we found they had about a peck of hard barley in the trough. The little fellows did not know what it was, and it was well that they did not eat it. When we had got started the little Scotchman who had helped with them shouted after us and waved his hand. I turned back, when he handed me a five-dollar bill, saying he was sure I needed some money, and he wished it was ten. Who knows but some memory of early boyhood days had been awakened in his heart which would lead him back again to the God of his fathers? It is thus our bread is cast upon the waters to be gathered after many days. THE FRUIT OF MISSIONS. I had hoped to spend the next night at the home of my friend S----, but next day I met him and others going to the Ashcroft races. He expressed his regret at not being home to receive me, but begged me to stay at his place that night.