"We spent one day there, and the second day we started home, and came to Hunka's tent, and so proceeded homeward. When we had reached the other end of the settlement, we learned that the white ministers were to hold a meeting of presbytery. They sent word to us to come, and so in the night, with my Hoonkayape, Mr. Enoch, I went back. They asked us to give an account of our missionary journey among the Dakotas. And so we told them where we had been and what we had done. Also, we gave an account of things at Middle Hill, where we live. When we had finished, they all clapped their hands. Then they said they wanted to hear us sing a hymn of praise to God in Dakota. We sang 'Wakantanka Towaste,' and at the close they clapped their hands again. "Then two men arose, one after the other. The first said: 'I have not expected to see such things so soon among the Dakotas. But now I see great things, which I like very much.' The other man spoke in the same way. "Men and women had come together in their prayer-house, and so there was a large assembly. "Then the minister of that church arose and said: 'White people, who have grown up hearing of this way of salvation, are expected to believe in it, and I have been accustomed to rejoice in the multiplication of the Christian church; but I rejoice more over this work among the Dakotas.'" Both of these men came home to watch and wait by the sick-bed of dear children. Nancy Maza-chankoo-win,--Iron Road Woman,--the daughter of Henok, died April 28, 1879. She was thirteen years old, read the Dakota Bible well, and was quite a singer in the prayer assemblies. They say: "We all thought a great deal of her; but now she too has gone up to sing in the House of Jesus, because she was called." From Middle Hill, near Fort Ellice in Manitoba, comes a letter written on May 20 by our friend Solomon. He reports _seven_ members added by profession of faith to his church in April, and ten children baptized. There, as here, the season has been a sickly one, and many deaths have occurred. For three months he has had sickness in his own family. His story is pathetic. "Now," he says, "my son Abraham is dead. Seven years ago, at Long Hollow, in the country of the Coteau des Prairies, he was born on January 12, 1872. And on the 23d of June following, at a communion season at Good Will Church, he was baptized. When Mr. Riggs poured the water on him, he was called Abraham. And then in the country of the north, from Middle Hill, May 9, 1879, on that day, his soul was carried home to the House of Jesus.