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most serious problems in our civil life. It is an inexpressibly sad history-the whole of it. The white man found a noble race in possession of the soil-not any more savage than our own ancestors were within historic times, and not inferior to us in natural qualities of brain and brawn. The Cherokees were moving forward in the upward incline of civilization. They had a republican form of government, peculiarly mingled with a theocracy, and they appreciated the arts and benefits of peace among themselves. They were an honest, brave, manly, stalwart race-and they fought as they had a right to fight, to death, in defence of their ancient domain against the invaders. The white man came, drove them out and planted an African race of slaves in their stead -did it by force, fraud, guile and unblushing

[September,

robbery. The exile of the Cherokees is one of the saddest pages in any history. But for the slave trade, the Cherokees might have been absorbed into the white race to its betterment. A drop of the blood of that ancient race would be a taint in no man's veins. But now we have a population as far removed from our own race as any in the world excepting the extinct Tasmanian and soon to be extinct Australian. But we are moving to the solution of that problem along Christian lines. Righteousness and time are the two solvents. We drew blood from their backs and put agony in their hearts by the lash and the chain. God drew retributive blood from our veins with the musket. He reigns still. We will do right by the Negro or God will do right by us in the way of retribution. Interior.

In the July number (page 78) some Bible words were given and a picture was promised to any reader, not over fourteen years old, who would find that text and write to me of it. The first response received came from Kitty Fleming of Martinsburg, Iowa. Writing on June 26, 1889, she said:

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I found the verse you asked us to find in the July CHURCH AT HOME AND ABROAD. It is Rev. 3: 11, Behold I come quickly; hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown." I found all myself by looking in the Concordance. Please send me the picture of Goolee and Ali you promised. I am left-handed; write with my left. hand. I am eight years old.

On the same day Anna Leidigh wrote from Hutchinson, Kansas:

As I was reading about Goolee and Ali in THE CHURCH AT HOME AND ABROAD, I saw where you give a picture of the two Persian boys. I find the text to be, "Behold I come quickly; hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown." It is in Revelation, the third chapter and eleventh I am thirteen years old.

verse.

The same correct answer has been received from a good number of young friends, and a copy of the picture has been sent to each of them. If any one fails to receive it who has written to me, he is requested to write again. The following are those whose letters have been received. Their ages vary from seven

to fourteen years: Frank B. Edwards, Des Moines, Iowa; Abbie Stone, Lincoln, Ill.; Alice M. and Henry N. Bullard, St. Joseph, Mo.; Irene W. Baldwin, East Orange, N. J.; Fred E. Morrison, Salina, Kan.; Elizabeth and Mary F. Ricker, Portsmouth, O.; Arthur James Burley, Buffalo, N. Y.; Gardner C. Lowry, Butler, Pa.; Mary F. Drake, Brookside, N. J.; Edith Spruance, Wilmington, Del.; Alexander Armstrong, Newburgh, N. Y.; Clare Allen, Scranton, Pa.; Jennie F. Calbert, Brooklyn, N. Y.; Isabel W. Cooper, Lima, Ind.; Harry Duncan, Cleveland, O.; Mary Belle McCrosky, Anna and Mary Siegenthaler, and Grace and Blanche Calland, Spring Hills, O.; Robert W. Anthony, Cape Vincent, N. Y.; Grace McPherson, Los Angeles, Cal.; Mary Chappale, Muir, Mich.; Charles Adams, San Francisco, Cal.; Nellie Swab, Dauphin, Pa.; Lettie A. Stanley, Ashtabula, O.; Eva G. Patterson, New Lisbon, O.; Mary Partch, Highland, Kan.; Edward R. Suffern, Hillburn, N. Y.

I thank all these children for writing to me, and all their mothers for encouraging them. They will be pleased to see from how many states their letters have come and how far apart some of their homes are.

Will they all live together, some day, in the heavenly home? I hope so. I will be glad to hear from them again, and from any others of my young readers. H. A. N.

The first time I ever saw Nannie Campbell her blue eyes were very wide open, and she had on a dress of brilliantine, white, with round yellow spots in it. I thought she was pretty, and so did all the others who

composed the group of children into which she unexpectedly came, but she gave especial joy to the little girl who at once took rightful possession of her.

Now when I tell you that I never saw

Nannie Campbell, you may think I am inconsistent; but wait a little before you decide against me.

Nannie lived in Pennsylvania, and in one of the two great cities, Pittsburgh or Philadelphia.

Although I never saw her, I know that she had a good working Christian mother, or it may have been a grandmother or aunt, who not only loved to labor in the cause of Christ, but was anxious to help her little girl to do something too; and she was patient enough to show her how to work in the best way.

I do not know how old Nannie was; I do not think very old, yet she could sew quite neatly, for I saw some of her stitches.

It was "during the war," and all the ladies were full of loving work for the soldiers. Those were days that the little Presbyterians who read THE CHURCH AT HOME AND ABROAD cannot remember. Missionary societies, and especially mission bands, were not so common then as they are now. "Aid societies" were the centres of interest, and while fingers flew, sometimes tears fell as the loved names were spoken of those exposed to hardships and dangers in the

army.

But there were thoughtful ones, with kind hearts such as that of Nannie's mother, who remembered that it was not alone in camp or field that suffering came on account of the war.

On the western prairies were faithful workers to whom those times brought many privations-home missionaries whose little congregations gathered sometimes in a schoolhouse, sometimes in an empty room above a business house or in a private house if it was a prayer-meeting. Many a Saturday afternoon has my already too tired mother gone, with her little girl for company and a little help, to sweep and dust such a school-room or hall and make it ready for the coming Sabbath. This task was just as regular a part of the Saturday's work as any other.

From these churches went to the army many brave men, and thus their strength, already small, was made less; in some cases they were forced to give up their minister

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through utter inability to furnish him a support. In others the minister's salary was cut down and the home, often far from well-furnished with clothing and provision, was rendered more bare, while the anxious minister wrote his sermons on paper he could scarcely afford to buy, and the worn and weary wife strove against all odds to prepare something to set before her little children.

Can you imagine what it would be to have nothing but mush and milk for breakfast, not once but every morning for a long time, until you were very tired of it?

Think of going down to breakfast to find the mother making merry over the surprise she was preparing for the children, a big skilletful of pop-corn, and this because there was no bread and no flour to make any.

Who

Did not such children know what the Board of Home Missions meant? could better appreciate its noble work?

I believe that part of it, performed by the ladies, in fitting out boxes of clothing, was best understood and appreciated by the children in these homes.

Could the kind ladies who prepared the boxes have seen the bright faces bent above their gifts, I think their hearts would have said, "When it is so blessed to receive, it is doubly blessed to give."

To one of these societies Nannie Campbell's mother belonged, and when the secretary had sent a letter of inquiry and there came a list of children's ages and measures, there was found to be a little girl only four years old among those for whom the clothing was to be provided.

When Nannie heard about the four-yearold girl, she thought how much pleased she should be to see her, and talked to her mother about it. So it was decided that Nannie should get a doll, and a dress was cut for it from a piece of Nannie's own dress. She herself made the dress and the other clothes and dressed the doll, and away it went, "far out upon the prairies."

In the home of the minister the eventful day had arrived, "the box had come," and all gathered with eager interest to watch the unpacking. Quite welcome were the

In the August number you read about Martin Luther-how he learned to trust in Christ and not in the pope. There are some Roman Catholic people and priests in our time who are learning the truth just as Luther did, and the truth is making them free. One of these priests is Rev. James O'Connor of New York. He lately told the story of his conversion to a Sabbath-school in Brooklyn, and it was printed, as follows:

I was born in old Ireland not far from the beautiful lakes of Killarney, about forty I have nothing but pleasant recollections of my early life. My parents, and their parents, and theirs, going back for hundreds of years, were all Roman Catholics.

Many of my relatives had been priests, and my dear mother was very anxious I should be one. I went to school at home until I was eighteen; then I went to Paris, France, for a number of years. Then I came to this country and studied in St. Mary's Seminary, Baltimore. Sixteen years ago I was ordained a priest in Chicago, and ministered to the people of that diocese eight years, and they all loved me; for Catholics are very fond of their priests. I married them, baptized their children, buried their dead and heard their confessions. Ah! you don't know what that means. Here, you big boy in the centre of the church, come up here and tell me all the bad things you did last week. You won't do it? Well, my people would come to me, I would sit down in the confessional and they would kneel before me and tell me all their sins. And then I would give them absolution, and tell them their sins were all

forgiven, and they went away comforted. I would also confess my sins to a brother priest and get his absolution. I did not know that I could go directly to God for pardon.

After a while I became very much dissatisfied at many things in my church. I saw my ministrations did not make the people any better. Their confessions of sins were always about the same. God did not seem to have anything to do with them, except a very few, and they were the persons who could best get along without a priest. I was not happy in discovering flaws in the Church of my fathers, and in finding out errors and mistakes in bishops and priests whom I desired to honor. But I could not shut my eyes to the false teachings of my Church, and as I could not wink at them, I said to myself, I will leave them forever. I had a hard struggle to do it. I suffered great agony. I told my confessor all about it, and I told my bishop. Both said I would go to the bad if I did not mind my business as a priest. But I told them I did not believe in the priesthood and would leave it at all risks, which I did. Then I studied medicine in Cincinnati, desiring above all things to forget that I ever had been a priest. But God had a religious work for me yet to do.

I came to New York about eight years ago. One evening a friend said to me,