Kamnach rose first. Kamnach came to the school four years ago, directly from his wild Indian life. His hair was uncut; he wore Indian clothes; he had been always familiar with scenes of bloodshed, and placed little value on human life. After three years he went back to his home, a changed man we thought in appearance and heart. But it was hard to stand among his savage comrades. He plead to come back to school. He was a happy boy, when, less than a year ago, he placed his foot again on Hampton soil. Poor boy! he had yet to learn that always his worst temptations would come from his own distorted heart. Some misunderstanding of his position as a returned student, some distrust of those who were over him, and he fell into passionate hatred, and was ready to commit a deliberate and deadly crime. We thought his repentance would be quick and deep, but not so. The first Sunday of the new year, the anniversary of the day on which he confessed Christ, he had no heart to meet the Lord, whose first command was to love and forgive. But the passing Saviour’s voice reached him now. He stood before the crowded school, and with the help of an interpreter acknowledged his sin, and renewed his allegiance to the Saviour, and begged the Indian students to follow the Lord Jesus, though they would find many things in His religion hard to understand and difficult to do. After Kamnach’s confession a Sioux boy made a prayer. He spoke in another tongue, but more than one felt his heart was lifted to the Father’s heart by the earnestness and pathos of the stranger’s voice. Another tried to speak in broken English. Missing the words he wanted to say, waiting and struggling for confession, he acknowledged Jesus Christ as the Saviour of his soul. Our hearts were knit together in love. We knew that we belonged to one common family and nothing could separate from the love of Christ. Evidently the son of God who came to save the lost finds nothing in the Indian nature he cannot soften and subdue. Evidently the Indian is able to place his confidence in such a Saviour and yield himself in glad obedience to Him. CHILDREN’S PAGE. * * * * * [Illustration: INDIAN HUT.] THE LITTLE INDIAN OF CLEAR LAKE. ABRIDGED FROM GOSPEL IN ALL LANDS. Did you ever see an Indian—a real, live Indian—in bead-embroidered buck-skin coat and breeches, girded with a curiously wrought wampum belt, shod with moccasins, his face painted black and red, his hair bristling, like a porcupine’s back, with a gay forest of feathers—as he dashed through the woods or over the prairie, on a wild horse, or strode along proudly on foot, with bow and arrows in his hands, and a large tomahawk and scalping-knife in his girdle? You have seen him in the pictures, at least, and thought him a fine sight; and perhaps you felt in your heart that it must be fine to live such a wild, daring life, hunting, fishing and roaming in the woods and over the fields.