I felt his pulse, made general inquiry, but could discover very little the matter with him. Giving him some medicine, I told him to “have a strong heart,” as he would soon be well. Two or three days afterwards, on a beautiful sunny spring morning, I visited him again, and found he was still lying in the same place. I got him up and out of the old house into the sunlight, but he seemed to grow worse rather than better. Finally I said to him one day, “Charlie, what’s the matter with you? You are not sick!” “Oh, you cannot understand my sickness,” he replied. “Where are you sick? What is the matter?” I continued. “Oh,” he said, looking very serious, “white man don’t understand my sickness.” “Tell me where your sickness is?” I urged. Pulling down his dirty blanket, and putting his hand upon his stomach he said, “It is here. An old conjurer has made me sick. He has blown something into my inside.” “Oh, nonsense, Charlie!” said I. “It is no such thing. No man has power to do that.” But he shook his head and replied, “Oh, I told you, you don’t understand my sick. The Indian has power, and he is using it on me, and I shall die.” Day by day I visited the poor boy and tried in every way to get him to arouse himself and to go out with the rest of the boys. But no, he lay there and sickened, and in about six weeks he died. I do not believe anything was the matter, except his superstitious fear that the old witch-doctor had put his spell upon him and was killing him. RETALIATION FOR A SUPPOSED INSULT. If there is a class that deserves severe treatment among the Indians it is these miserable reprobates, who still are busy preying upon the credulity of the people and working incalculable mischief. At the present time there are several of these imposters among the bands in the Lower Fraser Valley. They have been for years a nuisance, the priests of paganism and the prophets of evil. Their miserable pretensions we have ignored, and have left them out, as far as possible, in our social gatherings among the people. Several years ago invitations to the wedding of two of our young people were sent to many of the Indians of the community, these witch doctors alone being purposely left out. This enraged them so much that they announced that they would kill three persons who were at the gathering before a year was gone. Shortly after one of the little pupils at the Institute, who had been ill for some time, died, and they immediately claimed credit for the child’s death. A little later a woman who attended was taken sick and also died, and according to the statements of the conjurers she was victim number two. During the following summer a number of our Indians, as usual, went down to the salmon fishing at the mouth of the river, among whom was a middle-aged chief, one of our most intelligent Indians, and, we considered, one of our truest Christians. Typhoid was epidemic that year at Steveston, and this chief was taken down with the fever.