The interpreter repeated the
story, and though our audience scarcely ever moved, the pastor's wife
said they were feeling deeply."
"Many a dear squaw and I clasped hands that night, and we gazed into
each other's eyes, knowing full well, although unexpressed, that we
were one in the same deep love for the weak and helpless."
"While the choir sang another hymn, under the direction of the
pastor's daughter, who is also the daily teacher of the young, we
showed some of our photographs, and never were more grateful for that
art. My lady friend sang another solo, and then began an
indescribable scene. Chief John was first introduced to us, as we
stood on a raised platform with a rail in front. The dear old man
seemed much moved, and burst into an oration full of gratitude for
our coming to visit his people. We acknowledged this, when the whole
congregation of three to four hundred, young and old, passed and
shook hands with us. Every now and then we were presented with gifts,
made by the hands of the giver. Chief Henry's wife gave a beautiful
bark basket ornamented with porcupine's quills. Then another head man
gave us a bag made of beaten bark, saying this was made before they
knew the white man.
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