Religiously, I found that these people, almost without exception, were "professors," and "had jined" not a Christian church, but some one of these native mountain pastors. The accompanying illustration gives a good idea of the mountain church; it is built of logs, and is without windows; the pulpit is an unpainted board; the seats slabs from the nearest saw mill, turned flat side up, with pegs driven in for legs. The ministry is in strict keeping with the church, and intellectually little in advance of the people. They take pride in the fact that "These yer home-spun jeans have never brushed no dust from off no college walls," and exultantly declare that "The Lord taught me how to preach: and when the Lord teaches a man how to preach, you may just reckon he don't make no mistakes." [Illustration: A NATIVE MOUNTAIN CHURCH.] On every hand, I found indications that the day of isolation for this people is rapidly passing away. Yankee inquisitiveness has discovered that these mountains are full of the best coal and iron--Northern capital has already begun to strip them of their rich forests of black walnut, oak and pine. The rivers are carrying these logs by the thousands to the immense mills, which in turn are making the large towns, toward which already the railroad is hastening. Engineering skill is bridging streams, crossing valleys, climbing mountains or piercing them through. On every hand we see the change. From their long sleep of a century, these valleys, these homes, this whole people are awakening. A new life is beginning, a new future, opening. And as a result of all this, I found a field of missionary work, which for opportunity and need has perhaps no equal in our country. Amidst all this change, a people, startled from their long separation, find themselves suddenly called to face, to compete with, to become a part of, our life, our intellectual advancement; to move with our energy, and work with our skill. Realizing their weakness, suddenly roused by their necessity, they are sending across their valleys and over their mountains the Macedonian cry, "Come over and help us!" Our duty to this people, whether we look at it from the standpoint of the Christian or the citizen, is beyond the measure of words. Here, as everywhere in the South, I found that the American Missionary Association, as representative of our Northern Christian sympathy, was at work. Its normal schools, fitting teachers to go out and displace the bare-footed, ignorant, snuff-stick-chewing school mistresses; its churches, fitting mothers and fathers to enter upon their duties conscious of their responsibility; and its missionaries, bringing in an intelligent Christian life, and driving the curse of the country--intemperance--out of the home, community and the county, are thus meeting the need, and answering the cry, and fulfilling the obligations. Below is a cut of one of the buildings of the Academy at Williamsburg, Ky., recently erected among these people.