The service began. I preached from the words of Martha to Mary, "The Master is come and is calling for thee." It was an attempt to show that Jesus needs us as living agents to work with him. Mr. Hays, I suppose, and always have believed, translated to Pat in Nez Perce what I said. Pat in turn interpreted to the assembled band of mixed Indians. To be sure, I understood not a thing either said: but when I looked at the earnest, love-ridden, and sweat-covered face of the yearning Nez Perce, I believed that what he was saying was all I said and more. And Pat--he was a sight! Had his hands been tied, I really believed he could not have expressed himself at all. He is about six feet six in his moccasins, and those long arms accompanied the lengthy guttural expressions in an intensely effective manner. At the close of the three-cornered sermon the question was asked, "How many of you from this time forward are willing to follow Jesus and be known as his assistants?" Among the most prominent and enthusiastic replies that came were those of Hubert Tetoby, Billy George, _and Pat Tyhee, the heathen interpreter_. Looking me straight in the eyes, swerving neither to the one side nor the other, these madly-in-earnest men of the mountains held their hands up high as they could reach them. And in six weeks from that date there was a Presbyterian church there composed of sixty-five members, of whom only one, the teacher, Miss Frost, was white; and Pat Tyhee was made one of the elders. There had been no Christians there at all before those meetings. It was an Indian Pentecost. THREE YEARS AFTER Father of all! in every age, In every clime adored, By saint, by savage, and by sage, Jehovah, Jove, or Lord. --_Alexander Pope_. Some hypercritical person, and possibly some sincere soul, may ask: "Did such revival do any permanent good? Does not the so-near savage easily backslide?" To this may be given this partial reply: It depends somewhat on the sort of white folks there are in the immediate vicinity. As elsewhere stated in these pages, the pale face has been the great undoer of the red man. "Civilization" in some garbs is worse than savagery. The white skin has been the password for some awful systems of debauchery among the aborigines of America. An Indian speaker, and chief of police of one of the Indian reservations of Oregon, said at the Second World's Christian Citizenship Conference in Portland, 1913: "Before the white man came the Indian had no jails or locks on their doors. The white man brought whisky; there is now need of both jails and locks."