The scene changes. There is again a wigwam. Lift the blanket door and enter. Three old women are warming themselves by the fire in the centre. A young man lies upon the ground singing aloud from an Ojibway hymn-book, which he reads by the fire-light. An old man rises to greet you, asks you to sit down, and proceeds to talk about Jesus Christ. It is the same Shaydayence. He is known now as the leader of the singing band of the Chippewas, who goes from house to house with a few young men to plead with his countrymen to love Christ. A little later you find him living in a log house with table and chairs and stove, a white man’s home, cultivating also his garden. What wrought the change? He had a friend, Nayboneshkong, who was sick and dying. He went to see him. The sick man had long been a Christian, and now rallied himself to speak for the last time. Hour after hour he expostulated and pleaded. He rose from his bed with preternatural strength. He walked the floor, still talking and praying. Morning came, Nayboneshkong was dead, and Shaydayence went to his wigwam to begin the new life of a Christian man. Observe that he was a savage, a medicine man and a drunkard. What other influence could have saved him? Would education, or citizenship, or civilization, or legal standing, or property rights? Nothing; nothing but the personal power of Jesus Christ; and that did. The story goes that once there appeared at the cave of a hermit a little child, naked and cold and hungry. The good man eagerly took him in, and from his own scanty store clothed and fed and warmed him. He set his heart upon him as upon his own son. The next day the hermit was gone. It was Jesus who had come thus needy to his door, and proving his love, had in return taken him to himself, and like Enoch, the hermit was not. The child, naked and hungry and cold at our door, is the Indian. I hear the voice of the Lord himself saying, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me.” You have pointed out the large part which in the providence of God may yet be appointed to the negro race to play in doing God’s work in the world. I know nothing of the future of the Indian in this direction. He may have no “genius for religion,” no “peculiar talent of faith,” no “wonderful power in song.” That he has talents which are respectable, none who know him can doubt. But be that as it may, before all other men he stands to-day the living witness of the promise of the Scripture, that Christ “is able to save to the uttermost them that come unto God by him.” He, brethren, is the “uttermost” man—the sinner who, abused, outcast and despised, is, at least in your eyes, the furthest of all men from hope and from Christ. Have you religion enough to try to save him? If so, begin by showing him justice. * * * * * THE CHINESE. * * * * * “CALIFORNIA CHINESE MISSION.”