enly Father's love and care, their spiritual life graphs. Their character and tone of deep being made strong in the Lord. To the in- feeling will, I trust, be appreciated from the quiry, years after he had joined the Friends, if following copious extracts:he were yet truly satisfied with the spiritual privileges he enjoyed, Isaac Penington replied, "Yes, indeed; I am satisfied at the very heart. Truly my heart is now united to Him whom I longed after, in an everlasting covenant of pure life and peace."

6

A description of their every-day life as seen from the Fort is not without interest. After a lively description of daybreak, and of the barking of dogs as heard from the Indian lodges, our author thus proceeds:

"This canine matinee rouses up the sleepers; a stir is evident in the village, and soon the curling smoke from the lodges floats in the morning air. The squaws, old and young, fol

ly. Let not the deceiver ery, Peace! peace! where there is no peace;' but know the destruction of that wicked one in thee to whom God will never be reconciled. And do not hearken to teachers who teach in the wisdom which is out of the life, which is in the fallen understanding; for in that state they themselves cannot but perish, and their doctrine is not able to save any. Therefore, dear father, seek the true Teacher, which is He that smiteth in se-lowed by the usual retinue of dogs, hasten eret. Oh! how often hath he knocked at the door of thy heart: do at length let Him in. He comes with the true knowledge, with true life, with true power. Do not thrust Him away, but make peace with Him; give up His enemy to Him; let Him beat down the high and lofty one, and raise up the poor, the meek, even that of God in thee which is in captivity. Let not thy talent lie hid in the napkin, or thou wilt not be able to answer for it to God.

"I remain thy dearly loving son, filled with grief and sorrow for thy soul.

(To be continued.)

I. P."

down to the river to fill their kettles, while the warriors from the tops of the lodges anxiously scan the prairies to discover signs' of enemies. Everything appearing quiet, the horses are driven forth, each band guarded by a young brave, who takes them where the best pasture is to be found, and brings them back at sundown. As the horses in the course of a day often stray to a distance of five or six miles from the village, the guards act also as scouts, and ranging over the surrounding bills, serve not only to discover game (i. e., buffalo), but also the approach of a war party. Timely alarm can thus be given, and the horses hurried in, while the warriors prepare for battle. As horses constitute the principal wealth of an Ineven-dian, and are the chief incentives to depredations by one tribe upon another, the untiring vigilance used in guarding them is an imperative necessity. An Indian without horses is reduced to a pitiful strait indeed: crippled in hunting, and unable often to carry home the the camp travels." meat he may kill, or to move his family when

In the morning say to thyself, What shall I do this day which God has given me? How shall I employ it to His glory? In the ing consider within thyself, and recollect, What have I done this day, and how have I spent it?

AMONG THE INDIANS.
A Review.

(Continned from page 741.)

As the steamer Twilight returned down the river, she halted at Fort Atkinson, and H. A. Bollar, in pursuance of his engagement there, landed, in order to make it his temporary home and place of business. It had been for years his cherished project "to penetrate the heart of the wilderness and see the Indians as they really were; those too far beyond the pale of civilization to have felt the corrupting influences of its overflow."

"Sundown approaches, and the day's work is over. In the eddy at the base of the bluff quite a number of Indians of both sexes and all ages are indulging in an evening swim, and a variety of aquatie sports extremely amusing to the lookers-on, if their hilarious mirth be any evidence. Crowds gather on the banks to watch the gambols of these water sprites, and a line of squaws is constantly passing and reIt can hardly be assumed, however, that any passing to and from the river, with their kettles of the Indian tribes within our territories have for water to cook the evening meal. Droves of entirely escaped the corrupting influences that horses cover the prairie, slowly driven towards usually attend their intercourse with the whites; the river; when they approach, the bathers for there are few places which have not been leave the water, and their places are quickly penetrated by the adventurous traders, trap-filled by the restless, half-wild horses, who, urged pers and miners of the Far West. Savages by the yells and eries of their drivers, rush_pellnot being trained to control their appetites or passions, and lacking many of the incentives to virtuous effort which are operative in enlightened communities, very readily adopt the vices, without imbibing the virtues of civilized life, and unhappily they have, in the example of many of the whites who mingle with them, but Further down the bank several men are little to encourage them to lead a life of self-fishing. The one that appears to have the best luck among them is a blind Mandan, who goes On the prairie, near Fort Atkinson, was a regularly twice a day, following the path along village of the Manitarees, usually called the the edge of the bank, and avoiding with wonGres Ventres, where they spent their summers. Iderful skill all unsafe places. I have never

denial.

mell in. After drinking and swimming about, they scramble out, and foreing their way through the incoming droves, quickly rejoin their companions. When each band is collected again, they are driven up to their owner's lodge and secured for the night.

66

known him to miss his favorite spot, and he always found with unerring accuracy the rod which he had hid in the bushes after using it The Indians claimed that he was gifted with supernatural powers-that he was 'Medicine.' "Warriors who have completed their even ing toilet now make their appearance on the roofs of the lodges. With paint and feathers, bright blankets, and tinkling hawk-bells, they stand, their gaze apparently fixed on some fardistant object, but in reality fully alive to the interest they excite among the young squaws, who eye them with ill-concealed admiration.

This picture of an Indian widow is not very creditable to her constancy and affection, but what more can we expect when we take into consideration the life of a squaw, and the treatment she generally receives? Like all savages, the Indians subject their women to a life of drudgery, and husbands seem to make no effort to relieve the toils of their wives.

From the work before us, we learn that the only wild prairie Indians who raise corn are the Riccarees, the Mandans and the Minnetarees. It is a species of Canada corn, very hardy and quick of growth, of variegated colors, red, black, blue, yellow, purple and white. "When boiled green with rich buffalo marrow spread on it (instead of butter), it is very sweet and truly delicious."

"Tall forms stalk through the area of the fort with proud and measured tread, or leaning carelessly against an open door, observe all that passes, with seeming indifference. But let them catch sight of any preparations for cook- In the spring, as soon as the frost is out of ing, and they will quickly enter and seat them- the ground, the women break up their patches selves upon the floor; a pipe is sure to be of land. It is done with the hoe, a slow and forthcoming and passed around, while they painful operation. To protect it from the converse with one another with great anima- horses, they make slender fences of willow, the tion upon the ever fresh topics of war and materials for which they have to carry on their hunting. Thus they sit and talk and smoke, backs a long distance, a few at a time, until a and are sure to remain until the cooking is sufficiency is collected. While thus engaged done, when, after eating the portion given to in planting and fencing, they have to bring, in them, they rise, uttering a satisfied how!' and the same laborious manner, their fire wood, for take their departure, usually turning their steps warming their lodges and cooking. Day after toward the village to tell their comrades, with-day, until it is gathered, the crn has to be out loss of time, of the feast they have just eaten in the white man's lodge.'

"The sun has long since gone down, but the rays of his departing splendor illumine every. thing with a soft golden light. The tall cot tonwoods across the river look fresh and green as in early spring-time. The prairie is de serted; the last band of horses has disappeared within the picketed enclosure of the village; the gates of the fort are closed and locked, and the sounds of life in the Indian camp grow fainter and fewer. Will night and darkness ever come? It is late, quite late, yet so pure is the atmosphere that one is still able to read by the light of the stars glittering in the calm, clear sky.

"A woman is wailing by the dead body of her husband on one of the scaffolds. The sound is mournful in the extreme, as if her heart was broken with a grief that could not be comforted.

"Her husband had fallen in a battle with the Sioux. More than twelve moons have waxed and waned since he started with his warriors on that fatal war path. Her eyes are tearless, and there is little real sorrow in her lamentation. When she has cried long enough she will return to her lodge and enter into any domestic occupation or amusement that may be going on. Should there be a dance in the village, she will quickly rub a little vermillion on her cheeks and join in the revelry, to all appearances as gay as the gayest."

hoed to counteract the effects of drought, for on these elevated prairies rain seldom falls after the spring has passed.

"All these duties," writes the author of this work, "devolve upon the women: hence it will be seen that when an Indian has a plurality of wives, he is enabled to live by the distribution of their labor in comparative ease and comfort."

In the autumn, when the corn is ripe, from early morn till sunset, the squaws, old and young, may be seen passing to and from their cornfields with willow baskets slung on their backs, carrying the corn to their lodges. Some of the ears are selected to make sweet corn for winter use. It is first parboiled, and then the grains, being carefully picked off the cob, are dried and put into skin bags. The rest of the corn is cachéd-that is, hid in the ground. A hole is dug some eix or eight feet deep, small at the top and widening as it deepens, like a jug in shape. Hay is strewn over the bottom and placed in the sides, the corn is packed in and covered with hay, and then dirt is thrown in and trodden down so that every sign of the deposit is obliterated. Each family has one or more of these cachés, and as they leave their summer village early in the fall for winter quarters, the corn generally remains undisturbed until their return in the spring.

We are informed by the author that "they also raise black beans, pumpkins and squashes, but in spite of these vegetable resources, hemmed in as they often are by enemies, and

consequently unable to obtain by hunting a full | Friends plants its standard, there is an element supply of buffalo meat, they sometimes suffer greatly for food. Well may the season of green corn be one of festivity and gladness, for it is then only that the women enjoy a brief respite from their severe tail.

(To be continued.)

in the success of its operations, but little appreciated within its own borders, but conspicuously set before the minds of a few there, by the varied experience of years amongst other sections of social life: it is the recognition by the Society of the equality of man and woman, the perfect balance of male and female, as weighed by the Great Creator when He completed His creation of the perfect Man. The terms truly imply distinction, but it is that of difference in physical power, consequently in the departes-ments of duty, not in importance as regards the work assigned to man in that universal family of which he is chief, -as there is none, according to the expressed terms of sacred scripthe eternal distinctions of which we know not ture, in Christ Jesus, in that spiritual existence now, but only that amongst them are "neither male nor female."

We reprint from the Friends' Quarterly Examiner, part of an Essay which we think suggestive, and worthy the attentive perusal of those for whom it appears to have been pecially written.

The privileges enjoyed by the women of the Society of Friends are not appreciated by many who are familiarized with them by birthright, and it is only when they are contrasted with those awarded to the same class in other denominations that they are brought out in their true lustre.

A WORD TO OUR SISTERHOOD.

In these days, when the subject of social progress is so popular, it is impossible not frequent ly to take an inquiring glance into the agencies through which so much is being effected. In this the impress of woman's hand upon the work is unmistakeable; indeed, in some departments it is seen in such multiplying forms, it would seem that womanhood had arisen as one individual into the sphere of its responsibility, is power, and its service. But a little closer inspection reveals the fact that the laborers even of this class are not yet at all proportioned to the harvest, or to the numbers who are still standing "here all the day idle," 100 many regardless of the call they had tinctly received.

Now, it is not in the spirit of sectarian pride that we hail conspicuous among the band of workers, the women of our religious Society. We rejoice that they are joining hand to hand with many others from noble families of Christians, sometimes finding their path amid the clearings that former travellers have made through the bush of human frailty. This is only as it should be.

The admission of this truth is the first link in that chain of order that has characterized our Society from its organization. It commenced with the ministry of women as preachers of the Gospel: through this they became sharers in suffering with the brethren, and so sealed the proof of their capacity to assist or advise in the minutiae of those regulations that were necessary for the body in general.

It is not intended here to enter upon a revision of the progress of our discipline. The longing desire that has given rise to this paper, is to set before our sisters themselves, more generally, a view of their especial privilege as agents in that discipline. To some this has been so purely one of birthright, and their association has been so exclusively amongst those likewise situated, that they are scarcely condis-scious of occupying any vantage ground at ail in the field of female labor. They may even at times judge other women by an unfair standard, not appreciating how the free course allowed to the springs of Christian love in their own hearts, by means of an authorized system of sisterly working together, has, in the case of others, been turned aside or wholly repressed, by the want of just such a channel. A woman accustomed all her life to periodical meetings of women, the business of which from year to year is subject to distinct rules laid down with the authority of law by the governing assembly of the most gifted brethren in the Church; which business she sees transacted in Christian harmony and with instructive intelligence, probably taking her own part therein; such an one cannot but acquire, insensibly, a training of character, a sense of responsibility, and consciousness of power, utterly foreign to the generality of women. On this principle is founded her ability to lead in philanthropic or social movements; also her readiness with the pen at committees, and knowledge of routine in

That Friends, as a body, should be forward in all onward movements, follows of necessity where the practical nature of our principles is fully recognized, and the truth received, that they do not merely foster our own welfare as individuals, or as a Church, but are essentially a medium of evangelization to the people at large. And where woman's work is so greatly needed, it is natural that women taught within a society that accords them so much liberty and training for conducting it, should take a prominent position.

Unquestionably, wherever the Society of