how beautiful, very beautiful indeed! Metlakahtla is like a ship just
launched. You are here to give us advice where to put the mast in, and
how to steer. I address you thus, though you are great and I am poor.
But Jesus despises not the poor. The Tsimsheans were very low, yet
Jesus raised us, and we are now anxious for all our brethren, the
tribes around us, to be made alive. We see them now willing to hear,
and we are trying to help them. We know God put it into your heart to
come here, and brought you here; God bless you for coming."

_Sunday, 23rd_.--To me, all days at Metlakahtla are solemnly
sacred, but Sunday, of all others, especially so. Canoes are all drawn
up on the beach above high water mark. Not a sound is heard. The
children are assembled before morning service to receive special
instruction from Mr. Duncan. The church bell rings, and the whole
population pour out from their houses--men, women, and children--to
worship God in His own house, built by their own hands. As it has been
remarked, "No need to lock doors, for no one is there to enter the
empty houses." Two policemen are on duty in uniform, to keep order
during service time. The service begins with a chant in Tsimshean, "I
wilt arise and go to my Father," etc., Mr. Schutt leading with the
harmonium; the Litany Prayers in Tsimshean follow, closing with the
Lord's Prayer. The address lasts nearly an hour. Such is the deep
attention of many present, that having once known their former lives, I
know that the love of God shed abroad in their hearts by the Holy Ghost
can alone have produced so marvellous a change.

First, there was a very old woman, staff in hand, stepping with such
solemn earnestness; after her came one who had been a very notorious
gambler; though now almost crippled with disease, yet he seemed to be
forgetting infirmity, and literally to be leaping along. Next followed