He looks as if he had seen sixty years or more, and I believe him to be a good man who tries to do faithful work for the Master so far as he is able.  He has built a little church, mostly with his own hands and out of his own scanty earnings.  It is made of rough boards, but it has a good foundation and the roof is well shingled.  There are no glass windows, but boards like a barn door hung on hinges serve to let in the light or shut out the cold in winter.

The people are ignorant beyond description.  Most of them live in little huts or cabins on the banks of the canal, getting a scanty living by working out as they can find places.

Their homes are filthy and uninviting.  How much good a missionary could accomplish by going into their homes and teaching them the true Christian way of living!  The mothers with whom I talked seemed willing, and even anxious, to know better ways.  Any instruction in housekeeping would be gratefully received, and a sewing class, where cutting and making plain clothing were taught, would be eagerly accepted.  A mothers’ meeting once a week would be more helpful to those barren minds than words can express.  The work is right there, all ready and waiting for some loving, self-denying Christian woman to take up.  Who in the far-off Northland will say, “Lord, here am I, send me,” and who will reach deep in their pockets and say, “I will give a tenth, yea, even more,” for that which is more is the only true giving?  May God open the hearts of those who have an abundance and to spare, to give liberally for the uplifting of our colored brothers and sisters.

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OUR YOUNG FOLKS.

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THE FRESH DRINK.

A missionary teacher to the mountain whites, who was laid aside temporarily from teaching, on account of illness, writes of one of the children of her charge: 

I must tell you of the little native girl who lived with us, and of her practical application of a Scripture text.  It was my custom to teach her from the Bible every Sabbath afternoon.  I had been reading from the ninth chapter of Mark, where it speaks of the child-like spirit our dear Saviour wants us to possess.

She listened very attentively, and seemed especially interested when we came to the forty-first verse, “For whosoever shall give you a cup of water to drink in my name, ... he shall not lose his reward.”

She left me a few moments, but presently came back saying:  “Won’t you tell me about that verse again?” I gladly complied; then came the question, “Does it mean me—­can I do something for Jesus?”

That evening, there came a gentle rap on my door, and to my “Come in,” Minnie entered, bearing a glass of water.

Coming near, she placed the water on a little stand by my bedside.  Noticing that she stood as though she would speak, I said, “What is it, Minnie?” She hesitated a moment, then replied:  “I was thinking about what you said about the ‘cup of water,’ and I wanted to give you something ’cause you was sick, but I didn’t have anything, so I thought may be you might like a fresh drink of water, for it’s all I’ve got.”