In the Louisiana Conference, at Terrebonne, of the twenty-six members, the only two white men were Pres. Alexander and the Superintendent. It was not a literary tournament, but a glowing religious convocation. Before the adjournment, eight or ten souls were inquiring the way of life, and some fervid spirits remained to extend the flame. Our dear brother, Rev. Daniel Clay, the entertaining pastor, with his own home and his church upon the same plantation where for thirty-seven years he had served as a bondman, is a very patriarch among the young ministers, loved and revered by us all. The last meeting of this Conference, at New Iberia, was followed by a revival that added one hundred to the company of the disciples. Next year we are to go back to Terrebonne. The regular time for the meeting of the Association of South-Western Texas is in July, which in the South is the slack time of the year, with the corn and the cotton “laid by,” and which is the usual period, among both colored and white, for revival meetings, as is the winter at the North. This year the brethren undertook to bring it forward to April, so that the Superintendent might be with them, but, as everybody was plowing corn and chopping out the cotton, the effort brought to Helena only the two pastors, B. C. Church and M. Thompson. Yet we had a glorious four days’ meeting, with preachings, conferences, a communion, a season of baptizing, and a class meeting, which, according to the custom of the church, precedes the communion as a preparation. People came six, nine, or twelve miles. The native pastor, Mr. Thompson, preached an able and moving sermon upon trust in God. The regular meeting will be at the same place in July. This Church has a dignified and efficient deaconess, who looks after the many little things in the parish, which a woman can do better than anybody else. It did seem appropriate that a woman’s taste should be employed to arrange her Lord’s Table. I took pleasure in pointing out to her, once a slave, the likeness of her work to that of “Phebe, the servant of the Church at Cenchrea.” I had the pleasure of a ride in the nice missionary buggy which Bro. Towne had given to our presiding elder, Church. It is a good deal better, now that he is sixty-seven, though straight and spry, when he camps out, to have this vehicle to lie under, than to have only the starry firmament over him. It helps to keep company on the prairie for the preacher and the picketed pony. For ingenuity of swindling, can any pale face beat the darkey when he tries?