They have large portions of the Bible, a hymn-book, and several school-books in their native tongue, and rich music it is when they all stand up and sing “with the spirit and the understanding,” good old-fashioned tunes in their own rich and peculiarly expressive language. There are aged men and manly youths, matrons, maidens, and tiny babies; and all, not excepting the little ones, are very respectful and serious in their deportment. The sermon to-day is by one of their own people, a chief, and though it is Greek to me, as far as edification is concerned, I listen more attentively than I do sometimes to what I can understand, for there is something very fascinating in the language and in the speaker. He is not a minister, but occupies the pulpit to-day, because both the missionaries are absent to attend an annual meeting at a distant place; but he is superintendent of the Sabbath-school, and though he comes six miles, has been absent but twice I believe in three years. Many who are present have been in the habit of walking eight or nine miles, men, women, and children, and are as sure to be present as the Sabbath bell is to ring. Here the Indian is the Indian still, and among the youths and maidens of the present generation, there are some noble specimens of this still noble race; and the intermingling of Saxon blood, wherever it has taken place, has caused no deterioration. As my book is written with the hope of disseminating the truth, and thus removing prejudice, I will give an instance of the prejudice which exists, and doubt not the same incident would have occurred in any city where the trial had been made. The first Sabbath I attended church, I noticed by my side a fine-looking woman, with the richest tint of clear Mingoe blood upon her cheeks, and her raven hair in soft flowing masses, curving upon her temples, and twined in classic braids behind. Tall and portly in figure, and dignified in deportment, she particularly attracted my attention, and the sweet and intelligent expression of her face told that she was no common woman. I asked who she was; and learned that she was the step-daughter of their most distinguished chief, Red Jacket, and one of whom he was particularly fond. She was a child when he was an old man, and sat on his knee, and stroked his withered cheek and kissed his brow, and received his most affectionate caresses. Her mother was the second wife of the great orator, and the faithful friend of the missionaries, and a consistent member of the little mission church during all the latter years of her life. The daughter, therefore, has had a Christian education, and is a thoroughly sensible and very interesting woman. But while I listened to this answer and made these remarks, I also listened to a story which made me blush for my people.