ST. MARY'S MISSION. 13 



low schoolhouse, the priest's quarters, and Mission-Indians' 

 huts, were all nicely whitewashed, and surrounded with 

 little gardens of flowers and vegetables, through which a 

 clear stream of water, abounding with cresses, and fringed 

 with cotton-woods, willows, and butternuts, rippled and 

 gurgled along a little vision of Arcadia, set like a gem 

 in the green expanse of the all-surrounding prairie. In 

 the porch of one of the huts was an old Indian, decently 

 clothed in homespun, his gray hair carefully combed, his face 

 guileless of paint, and he sat there busy shucking pop-corn, 

 presenting a remarkable contrast to the drunken savage we 

 had so lately seen. 



The holy fathers received us most kindly, and appeared 

 to be quite glad to entertain strangers who could talk with 

 them in their mother- tongue, and had lived long enough in 

 their native country to converse intelligently with them 

 about it. With evident pride they showed us over their 

 entire establishment, and gave a most interesting history of 

 the mission. They appeared well satisfied with its pro- 

 gress and prosperity, and seemed confident of its ultimate 

 success in Christianising the entire Pottowattomie nation. 

 Certainly their predecessors had achieved much. The 

 chapel services had an attendance of nearly one hundred 

 and fifty Indians, and their school of about twice as 

 many. 



One of the missionaries was a fat, jolly-looking, genial 

 old soul, and he and I got quite friendly before night so 

 much so that I was tempted to say to him I had that day 

 noticed a remarkable confirmation of the theory of the 

 correlation of mind and matter. It had appeared to me 



