Philosophers might describe it as the dead centre of motion; at least it
has remained seemingly unmoved, while all the world around it has been
moving forward.

Here in these mountains live over two million people, two-thirds of whom
have never written nor received a letter, could not read one if printed
and sent them. They take no newspapers, and the great events of nations
or discoveries of science have been nothing to them. Questions of vital
importance to our country have never troubled them. They knew there was a
war, for contending armies met on their grounds. With few exceptions
their sympathies were with the Union. Too poor to own slaves to any
extent, they had no motive for seceding, and many of them joined our army
and were faithful soldiers.

At the close of the war, they went back to their secluded homes, and
between them and the world the curtain fell again. We very well know that
mortals cannot rise above their surroundings only within defined limits.
Alas! for the defeated manhood and blasted womanhood in our land, held
down to earth by unfortunate surroundings. They are looking to you for
help. You have done nobly in sustaining a work in their midst. Besides
what you have done at Pleasant Hill, Grand View and other points, you
have enabled us to organize eight churches and build one academy and
eight houses of worship. You have sent among us most efficient teachers.
Besides their school duties they have taken upon themselves to visit the
homes, to pray with the sick, to distribute clothing among the needy, to
go to the homes of the students, to share their humble fare and sleep in
their crowded rooms. They have spared neither time nor strength to carry
the uplifting word to those needy souls. From the better classes we have
been fortunate enough to draw a nucleus for each of our churches. We have
some Sunday-school superintendents that for zeal and tact are models in