In making a visit to one Home Missionary, I found him living in a little board house, battened on the outside, but devoid of plaster. His study-table was a large dry-goods box, near the cook-stove, and on it, among other things, a typewriter. It looked somewhat incongruous; and on mentioning this, the good brother said, "Oh that is nothing; wait until it is dark and I will show you something else." And sure enough, soon after supper he hung up a sheet, and gave me quite an elaborate entertainment with the help of a stereopticon. It seemed very strange to be seated in this little shell of a house, in such a new town among the pine stumps; and I could hardly realize my position as I sat gazing at the beautiful scenes which were flashed upon the sheet. Across the road was a dance-house; and we could hear the scraping of the fiddler, the loud voice calling off the dances, and the heavy thump of the dancers in their thick boots. Afterwards the missionary gave me a short account of his trials and victories on coming to the new field, and it illustrates how God opens the way when to all human wisdom it seems closed. When he tried to hire a house, the owner wanted a month's rent in advance; but a short time after called on him and gave him the house and lot with a clear deed of the property for one dollar! At the same time he told him that there were lots of cedar posts in the woods for his garden fence, if he would cut them, and added that maybe some one would haul them for him. The missionary chopped the posts, "some one" hauled them for him, and up went the fence. The missionary felt so rich that he asked the price of a fine cooking-stove that this man had loaned him. "Oh," he said, "I _gave_ you that." The next thing was to find a place suitable to worship in--often no easy thing in a new town. At last a man said, "You can have the old boarding-house." This was said with a sly wink at the men standing by. So into the old log house went our friend, with his wife; and after a day's work with hoe, shovel, and whitewash, the place was ready. The whitewash was indispensable; for though the men had deserted it, there was still a great deal of life in it. When the men saw the earnestness of the missionary they turned in and helped him, and became his friends; and in the old log boarding-house were heard the songs of praise instead of ribaldry, and prayers instead of curses, while Bibles and Sunday-school leaflets took the place of the _Police Gazette_.