Entering Helena to-day, you will find a thriving, bustling city, proud of one of the finest hotels in the Northwest. The hotel stands on the spot where the miner stuck in his pick. Enough gold was found in the soil to pay for the excavation, and this was taken from the “tailings,” or discarded earth handled by the early miners. But Helena was a typical mining town when the Eastern tenderfoot came. He was at the mercy of the hard element. Only the rare good judgment and a sense of the fitness of things saved the preacher and made his ministrations possible. Brother Van made a short stay there, and then, as a missionary to “everywhere,” he pressed on to Bozeman. There he found the only Methodist Church building in Montana Territory. It was a brick church and it had been built through the enterprise of the Rev. Thomas C. Iliff. This missionary was a great force in the new West. He brought a dainty, cultured, Eastern bride to the unsettled territory. Through the inspiration of her companionship and tactful assistance, together with his own natural courage and ability, he became a notable power for good in the development of the West. Dr. Iliff had come to Helena in Eastern finery, and appeared on the streets adorned with an immaculate linen frock coat, fancy vest, striped trousers, and silk hat. As he came along the streets, cries of “Fresh fish! Fresh fish!” greeted him. The silk hat seemed particularly to annoy the deriding miners who closed in around the preacher. His fighting blood was up, and the new preacher continued his way, apparently undaunted by the jeers of the crowd. But early next morning he stole forth to a hatter’s and purchased a wide-brimmed hat, which style of hat, by the way, he wore to the day of his death. With the aid of the obliging haberdasher, the silk hat was wrapped to resemble a joint of stove-pipe and it afterward became a relic of by-gone splendor. Brother Van and the hero of the tall hat story became fast friends, and had many an adventure together in the years of roughing it that followed. A pony had been given to Brother Van during his visit at Helena. He was now in reality a circuit-rider, and as he became familiar on the plains, he and his steed began to be known everywhere as the “Gospel Team.” They traveled through a large section of the state and when the anniversary of Brother Van’s arrival in Montana came, it was an experienced preacher who celebrated it. Such a wonderful year it had been! Hardships were forgotten in the triumphs, for many “first services” had been conducted, and scores of “first members” had been received. The year had brought friends, and his faithful pony seemed to be a real partner in service. Into the preacher’s pocketbook had gone exactly seventy-five dollars as the year’s salary, but there was no thought of quitting because of the lack of stipend. The West had called him and had claimed him.