She would seat herself among them on the earthen floor, and read a verse, then ask questions to see if they understood it. For example: after reading the history of the creation (for she began at the beginning), she asked, "Who was the first man?" _Answer_. "What do we know? we are women;" which was about equivalent in English to "we are donkeys." The passage was read again, and the question repeated with no better success. Then she told them, Adam was the first man, and made them repeat the name Adam over and over till they remembered it. The next question was, "What does it mean?" Here, too, they could give no answer; not because they did not know, for the word was in common use among them; but they had no idea that they could answer, and so they did not, and were perfectly delighted to find that the first man was called _red earth_, because he was made of it. This was enough for one lesson. It set them to thinking. It woke up faculties previously dormant. The machinery was there, perfect in all its parts, but so rusted from disuse, that it required no little skill and patience to make it move at all; but the least movement was a great gain; more was sure to follow. Another lesson would take up Eve (Syriac, _Hawa_, meaning _Life_). Miss Fiske would begin by saying, "Is not that a pretty name? and would you not like to know that you had a great-great-grandmother called _Life?_ Now, that was the name of our first mother--both yours and mine." It was interesting to notice how faces previously stolid would light up with animation after that, if the preacher happened to repeat the name of our first parents, and how one would touch another, whispering with childish joy, "Didn't you hear? He said Adam." Such were the women who came to the Seminary for instruction; but the teachers also went forth to search out the no less besotted females in the villages; and, as a counterpart to the above, we present an account of labors among the wild women of Ardishai, a village twelve miles south-east from Oroomiah.