possibly be the means of bringing some of them into trouble. But after a little reflection and silent prayer, I resolved to conceal nothing. They receive me kindly, said I, as they now do everywhere in Nova Scotia—they listen attentively and invite me to repeat my visits. “Well,” he answered, “that is just what I was going to say to you. But you don’t come often enough, nor early enough in the day. We have been looking for you ever since your last visit, when you promised to come again, and now it is so near night and you are in such a hurry that we have not time to ask you half the questions we wish to ask, nor to learn half the things we wish to learn. We want you to come in the morning and stay with us all day.” Such in substance was the statement of this worthy chief. Surely no one can reasonably blame me for wishing to continue steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, while even such evidence is afforded that our labors are not in vain in the Lord. The second incident has reference to the Maliseets, near St. John. They speak a dialect differing materially from Micmac—and usually live in houses or small huts. I can speak but a few words or sentences in their tongue—but we have published a tract in it which I can read, as can also many of themselves—I can also sing Psalms and Hymns in Maliseet, and as most of them speak Micmac and English tolerably well, we get on sometimes very bravely together. One evening I had entered a hut, as the sun was setting, had received a cordial welcome, had sung in Maliseet, “Abide with me, fast falls the eventide;” had spoken of Christ and his readiness to save, and now, said I, if you have no objections, I wish to kneel down in your hut and pray. “Certainly,” replied the man, “certainly,” and he and I bowed down together, though his wife, the only other person present, did not kneel, and I prayed. “Thank you, thank you,” said he as we arose—“that’s good, that’s very nice. It isn’t often we gets the likes o’ that here. It’s cus and swear and get drunk—that’s what we usually gets.” The words of the poor fellow and his earnest manner touched my heart. I could not but bless God that I am permitted by his grace—to visit the Indian’s lowly dwelling, to talk and sing and read of a Saviour’s love, and pray, where so many go merely for pastime—to curse and swear, and drink; but where few, alas, go to pray. People sometimes express astonishment that I can persevere and not get discouraged in the cultivation of so stubborn a soil, where so much labor and toil require to be expended, and so little fruit is seen. And I am sometimes amazed at it myself. But there is in my soul a deep-seated feeling that I am called to the work in which I am engaged, and incidents like the above wring tears from my eyes, bring me to my knees, and send me on in my work refreshed, and strengthened, with loins fresh-girded to the conflict, and full of joy and hope.