I would like to have you remember the name of our church. It is "Bethany." Remember us in your prayers, for God has laid a great work upon us. We started in much weakness, but God has been with us and blessed us. We have felt His presence in our Bethany as Martha and Mary of old did in theirs. We have heard the Master's voice saying unto us frequently, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, My brethren, ye have done it unto Me." * * * * * MOUNTAIN WHITE WORK IN KENTUCKY. BY MRS. A. A. MYERS. There is an unnoticed class of people dwelling almost in the very centre of the settled portion of the United States. "Our brother in black" has been held up to the view of two continents for the last fifty years. And what is America going to do with him and for him, has been a question which has interested the whole civilized world. This same question for a still longer time has been propounded in regard to the red man of the forest, and in later years concerning the Chinese. And right nobly has the Christian brotherhood evidenced its purpose to make men of these degraded classes. But until recently it has escaped the notice of these Christian workers that we have another class as needy perhaps as any. No spice of romance is connected with them. No barbarous tale of cruelty could be told to awaken sympathy in them. They are simply poor people, who during slavery were unable to obtain large plantations and so were driven by the arrogant Bluegrass slaveholder on the one side, and the greedy cotton-planter on the other, back into the mountains, where they are shut away from the rest of the world by mountain barriers, and still more hopelessly by the haughty caste spirit of the slave-holding monarchs, who disdain to have anything to do with them except to seek their votes. These people are not really poor. Most of them own farms of three or four hundred acres; and the soil, if properly tilled, would be quite productive. Their plowing is done in the most primitive manner. A single horse attached to a little shovel plow simply tears the sod a little, enough so the weeds spring up luxuriantly, and the women and children must work hard in the hot sun to destroy them, while the lord of the home saddles his horse and rides to town, to sit on store boxes and tell low stories. This people, especially the male portion, seem to have a natural distaste for labor. They would be aristocratic if they could. In days of slavery they had their household servants, and tried to imitate the more wealthy slave-owners by living in idleness, and they still look upon labor as degrading. They make no effort to get themselves homes. The large majority live in log cabins, with no windows. The doors stand open winter and summer. The women in cool weather always sit with a little shawl around them and a sunbonnet on.