The walls of the Senate Chamber of that great building are adorned with paintings done by Mr. Charles Russell, who came to Montana in 1881 and achieved fame as the cowboy artist. No creation of his brain or brush ever exploits any theme but Montana and the West. The modern home of Mr. Russell is at Great Falls and in the spacious grounds surrounding it stands a log cabin. Let us visit it with Brother Van, who is an old-time friend of the owner. Illustration: Painting by Charles M. Russell. RIDING TOWARD THE FRONT OF THE STAMPEDING BEASTS, BROTHER VAN SHOT THE HERD LEADER IN THE HEAD The porch has no board floor and is low, so we can see the roof strewn with buffalo horns and skulls. On the stockade-door the latch-string hangs out, and it means just that, a true Western hospitality. We pull the string, the latch lifts, and we stand in the presence of the cowboy artist. He looks both cowboy and artist. His long hair is thrown back from a strong and sun-browned face, and this suggests the artist; so does the scarlet sash that he wears. His flannel shirt is open at the throat, and his Khaki trousers are thrust into high boots, showing the habit of the cowboy. Around that interesting room is a record of the history of Montana. War-bonnets and tomahawks hang from pegs. In a rack are rifles which tell the story of firearm progress from the flintlock to the Springfield, and then to the Winchester. Indian beads, rugs, baskets, and blankets form a wealth of color on the walls, and before a great fireplace stands an easel, and lo, the artist is telling our story in a finer way. There are the figures of Lewis and Clarke on the canvas. An Indian village is in the background, and in the center we recognize the woman guide, Sacajawea. She is meeting her childhood friend who had been taken prisoner when she was. As he watched Montana develop with the anxiety that a father gives to the growth of an awkward, beloved boy, Brother Van saw a new need. Always had he ministered to sick and dying miners, cowboys, and settlers. But as the years passed he saw that it would be a great advantage to the state if the sick and dying could be cared for with all the help that modern medical science affords. He realized the necessity of placing patients under religious influence and teaching. The cure of souls was to him even more important than the cure of bodies; so he began to talk and to pray for a Christian hospital. Probably fifty thousand dollars has passed through Brother Van’s hands in the time he has served Montana, but he owns no home or cattle. Even the pony is no more and a Ford is not its successor. The salary for his first year’s work was nothing, and for the second it was seventy-five dollars. In later years he received seventeen hundred dollars. Yet every Protestant enterprise has had an impetus from Brother Van’s pocketbook.