The religious influences at these homes are foreign to ours, of course, but there is an influence. The Dakotas worship all nature. They pray to the spirits of heaven and earth; to the winds, the sun, the moon, the stones, and for fear something should be left out—it is summed up in the great mystery—the Great Spirit. All trouble and even sickness comes from evil spirits, hence the young never want to care for the sick, and do not dare for fear they shall be visited with disease too. Near the tipi of one of the women we noticed a large new tent; and we asked, “Whose is this?” “My tipi wakan,” (holy house) she replied. “May we enter?” “Oh, no, we do not allow white people there.” “But,” says my companion, Miss Collins, “they always allow me.” “Do they? well, come.” She led the way inside and told us the following incident: Her son, a boy of thirteen, had died; and during his sickness all the relatives had promised to make a certain number of gifts, to be finished at a set time after his death. The tent was very large, and half way around on the inside were several rows of Indian travelling cases, which held the gifts. The mother opened one of these and showed us her offerings: moccasins, leggins, tobacco pouches, pipes and many articles for which I knew no name. All of them were beautifully embroidered, and she had handled them so carefully that the deerskin of which they were made was spotlessly clean. This poor sorrowing mother had worked so diligently that her wrist was very lame, but she was being doctored by one of their medicine men, and hoped soon to finish all she had promised. “My son has counted every one of these gifts,” she said, “and when the time comes we will call a feast, and our sacred men will say prayers, and we shall give these gifts away. This will please my son and he will pray for us.” _So_ she hoped to merit blessings for herself and others. Do we not hope that the dear Lord may soon grant this faithful woman a revelation of Himself?