Mrs. P. hesitated, but at last, gathering strength from my confidence, says: "Well, I believe I will go, after all." "Almost train time," the landlady informs us, and we all go down to the depot to meet it. The night is clear and frosty, and the moon just rising. The train stopped for some time, and we talked of colony matters until our friends left us, insisting that we should stop on our return, and spend Sunday at Long Pine. I turn my seat, and read the few passengers. Just at my back a fat, fatherly looking old gentleman bows his head in sleep. That gentleman back of Mrs. P. looks so thoughtful. How attentive that gentleman across the aisle is to that aged lady! Suppose she is his dear old mother! "Why there is 'Mr. Agent!' and there--well, I scarcely know what that is in the back seat." A bushy head rests against the window, and a pair of red shoes swings in the aisle from over the arm of the seat. But while I look at the queer picture, and wonder what it is, it spits a great splash of tobacco juice into the aisle, and the query is solved, it's only a man. Always safe in saying there is a man about when you see tobacco juice flying like that. Overalls of reddish brown, coat of gray, face to match the overalls in color, and hair to match the coat in gray, while a shabby cap crowns the picture that forms our background. Mr. Agent tells the thoughtful man a funny story. The old lady wakes up, and the fatherly old gent rouses. "You ladies belong to the colony from Pennsylvania, do you not?" he asked. "I am a member of the colony," I replied. "I am glad to have an opportunity to enquire about them; how are they getting along?" I gave him all the information I could, and soon all were conversing as lonely travelers will, without waiting for any ceremonial introductions. But soon "Ainsworth" is called out, and the agent leaves us with a pleasant "good evening" to all. The elderly man proves to be J. Wesley Tucker, Receiver at the United States Land office, at Valentine, but says it is too rough and bad to take his family there, and tells stories of the wild shooting, and of the cow-boy. The thoughtful man is Rev. Joseph Herbert, of Union Park Seminary, Chicago, who will spend his vacation in preaching at Ainsworth and Valentine, and this is his first visit to Valentine, and is the first minister that has been bold enough to attempt to hold services there. He asks; "Is the colony supplied with a minister? The superintendent of our mission talks of sending one to them if they would wish it." "They have no minister, and are feeling quite lost without preaching, as nearly all are members of some church, and almost every denomination is represented; but I scarcely know where services could be held; no church and no school house nearer than three miles." "Oh! we hold services in log or sod houses, anywhere we can get the people together."