I was obliged to leave him to meet my appointments. I returned on Monday. The pastor and people met me and said, “You cannot go to New Orleans to-day; you must preach to-night.” I gladly consented. Never did I feel myself so completely in God’s hands. It was an unspeakable joy to preach the precious Gospel that night. I again appealed to all who felt their need of forgiveness to come forward and begin a Christian life. As though moved by one impulse, SIXTY at once came forward and fell upon their knees. I saw before me 30 men from 18 to 70 years of age, and as many women. With prayer and song and exhortation the meeting continued till nearly midnight. We could not close it a moment sooner. Eight or ten found peace in believing in Jesus on their knees that night. I was compelled to return to New Orleans on Tuesday. It was God’s work, and He carried it forward gloriously. About 50 have already joined the church, including the man of whom I have particularly spoken. His confession of Christ in the church was manly and thrilling. I am in almost daily receipt of letters from the young converts. Their joy is deep, peaceful and intelligent. I feel how inadequately I have described this wonderful work of grace. I have left much for our friends to infer; but even then they can hardly conceive the warmth, the depth and the glory of this work of God. I am profoundly grateful for the Conference of 1879, and desire to say to our friends that the “signs of promise” for our small band of Congregational churches in Louisiana were never so bright as to-day. Let those who have ever been the friends of the colored people take fresh heart and courage, and push forward the work, till brighter, richer, grander results are attained. * * * * * THE INDIANS. THE SPICE OF MISSIONARY LIFE. Rev. Myron Eells, S’Kokomish, W. T. This frontier life among the Indians has its romance, some things being pleasant and some not so pleasant. The white people in the region where I travel are generally as kind as they can be; the Indians seldom do a favor without wishing pay for it, though that is not always so; but the elements are sometimes antagonistic. At one time I was returning from Seabeck in a canoe, thirty miles distant, after preaching, with two Indians. We live three miles above the mouth of the S’kokomish River, but everywhere around its mouth are mud flats, which are very troublesome at low tide. At nine o’clock at night we reached the mouth of the river, with the tide low and still running out. The Indians thought that they could find the channel, but in the darkness they made a mistake and ran on to the flats, where we remained until the tide turned. It was chilly, as a November night generally is. We had an overcoat and pair of blankets which kept us somewhat comfortable, but it was four o’clock in the morning before we reached home.