its lovely tints; so the Rainbow in the North,* telling of showers of tears, through which at length there darted forth the bright beams of heavenly light, gave promise of a glorious day, when the dark flood of ignorance and misery which had so long overspread the land, should for ever pass away. But we must tell our readers of some of their trials, and some of their successes. Among their trials we read of famine, flood, and fire; but we must add to all this the difficulties of a foreign tongue, and the opposition arising from the corrupt heart, and the inveteracies of deeply-rooted prejudices and sinful habits. The following account, which we find in the volume referred to, may give some idea of the severe trials to which the Missionaries were there subjected :

It was in 1825-6 that, from some cause, the hunters had failed in their winter expedition against the buffaloes,-on which, in that uncultivated region, the natives depended for support. This was a severe trial to the colony. They were "reduced to the extremity, not only of devouring their dogs, but of eating old shoes, buffalo cloaks, and the leather of their tents. As the spring of 1826 advanced, the river (on the banks of which was situated the Missionary Settlement) became swollen from the melting of the unusual quantity of snow which had, during the winter, fallen on the higher lands; the thick crust of ice with which it was bound was gradually raised to the level of its steep banks, till, early in May, the frozen mass, four feet and a-half in thickness, was dislodged by the impetuous torrent, and borne towards the lake, carrying with it everything that impeded its resistless progress-young maple-trees, oaks, and large elms, being uprooted and swept away. Soon the water rose above its banks; and now began a long course of varied calamities to the inhabitants. The houses in the lower part of the settlement were rapidly filled with water, and deserted by their occupiers; and soon the higher ones shared the same fate: the cattle were driven to the few spots still left dry, where their piteous wailings for food and

The title of the deeply interesting volume which contains an account of the Mission.

shelter added to the general distress of the scene. All this time the thermometer continued five degrees below freezing point, the weather was stormy, with sleet, hail, and driving snow; and the suffering inhabitants were driven to take refuge on the nearest hills. Some fled towards the lake, and pitched their tents on the cedar hills, nine or ten miles distant from their homes; while five or six hundred of the rest found safety in an opposite direction, and fixed themselves on the Snake Indian hills, about the same distance from the settlement.

"By degrees the mission family and a few strangers who sought shelter from them, alone remained; their house and the Upper Church were still untouched; but all around was desolation. As far as the eye could reach on every side, the mighty torrent was holding on its way, always troubled, and sometimes lashed into waves, several feet in height, by storms of wind. Still the waters

rose; and now the mission-house itself began to be in jeopardy. The Missionaries endeavoured to secure some of their own property and that of the Society, by placing it in the roof of the Church; for though the waters had entered the building, the walls still stood firm. They also prepared a wooden platform, to which they might retreat in case of sudden necessity; and it was well they did so, for, in the course of the night, the water suddenly burst into the house. Sunday, May 14, 'was a very dismal day-no people assembling to celebrate the day of rest, no church to go to;' but they held divine service on the platform, now the only abode of about forty persons, including, besides themselves and the Indian boys, a few poor people, who had lingered near their ruined homes in the vain hope of saving some of their possessions.

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"For three days they continued there; but the flood still rising, and the wind becoming so strong as to threaten the safety of their fragile retreat, they determined to follow the example of their neighbours. With some difficulty they procured boats, and taking with them as many small articles of daily use and comfort as they could, they rowed over fields and plains, now an almost uninterrupted waste of water, to the Snake Indian Hills. Here they pitched their tents, and here they remained a month in anxious suspense, watching the continual rising, and at length the subsiding of the waters, with feelings of alternate fear and hope, sorrow and thankful joy, till the 12th of June.

"It was a month of much bodily as well as mental suffering; the weather was inclement, and the cold severe.

"On one occasion a violent hurricane arose suddenly in the middle of the night, and blew down many of the tents and all the wigwams: the scene was one of indescribable confusion; and in the midst of it, their alarm was wrought up to the highest piteb, by a spark from one of the tents having set on fire the long grass with which they were surrounded. The flame ran swiftly along the ground, and destruction seemed inevitable; but God in His mercy preserved them."

"A torrent of rain was sent which extinguished the fire; the wind lulled, and all further danger was averted."

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In the midst of all this trial we read of no murmuringnothing but gratitude. Every recurrence," says Mr. Jones of himself and fellow-labourers, "of our devotional hours brings with it a subject of gratitude in some visible proof of the care of our gracious God for His unworthy servants."

Again, he says,—

"The people receive all this as a chastisement from God, and they await the issue from His gracious hand. House less as they are, their language is still, 'It is the Lord.""

During this time-it was on a Sabbath day-a party of settlers heard the voice of singing when crossing the inundated plains. On approaching, they were “not a little struck with hearing in the midst of this surrounding desolation, the sweet voices of those lately ignorant and degraded beings, floating over the water in songs of praise."

It was between 1833 and 1835, that the Indian village, of which we have given a sketch-rose from the wild desert, on the banks of the Red River. Early in the former year "all was a dreary waste; the sweep of the river had formed a kind of bay, the shore of which was lined with wood and tangled thicket, that had never yet been disturbed by the hand of man, while one solitary wigwam on the margin of the frozen stream, with its wretched-looking owner breaking through the ice, and fishing for his scanty meal, rather added to than relieved the desolation that reigned around."

In October 1835, Mr. Cockran-the zealous missionary there thus records the change which, by God's blessing, two years and a-half of unwearying toil had wrought :—

"Now, from the opposite side of the river I see the village standing along the crescent bay; twenty-three little white-washed cottages are shining through the trees, each with its column of smoke curling to the skies, and each with its stacks of wheat and barley. Around them lie various patches of cultivated ground; here and there pigs are seen busily seeking for their food, cows are lowing for their calves, while in the centre stands the school-house, where sixty merry children, 'just let loose from school,' are leaping, running, or wrestling; and all is life and cheerfulness. It is," continues he, "but a speck in the wilderness, and a stranger might despise it; but we who know the difficulties that have attended the work, can truly say that God hath done great things, were it only that those sheaves of corn have been raised by hands that hitherto had only been exercised in deeds of blood and cruelty to man and beast."

Speaking of their attendance at church on the Lord's day, Mr. Cockran says:—

"In England it is a frequent and painful remark, 'So many at market, and so few at church! But here it is the reverse. On week-days you may travel for miles, and not see a human face; but on Sundays, as the time of service draws near, the track is covered with old, and young, and middle-aged, pressing forward to worship God in the congregation. It never comes into their minds that a slight cold, or a soaking rain, or a violent snow-storm, or a piercing frost, are any reasons to keep them from public worship. They have made up their minds to be found always in the house of God, and hitherto their strength has been equal to their day. Be the weather ever so bad, none ever stay away but the aged and the sick; and when the ground is too wet for the women and children to walk, they are put into their little carioles: while the men, carrying their shoes in their hand, walk by their side through mud and water reaching half-way to their knees."

And all this in a climate where, in summer, the thermometer stands sometimes at from 80 to 100 degrees in the shade- while so intense is the cold in winter, that it is

often 30 or 35 degrees, and occasionally even 40 degrees below zero!

We cannot now enlarge further on this interesting mission; but must refer our young friends to the volume we have named for the subsequent work of the Gospel there. Surely we have said enough to interest the heart of every reader in the spread of that precious Gospel, which is ab'e to make the wildest of solitary places glad, and the desert to rejoice and blossom as the rose!

May that Rainbow in the North unite with every other bow of promise throughout the earth, until its whole circumference is encircled with its cheering light!

LETTER FROM THE ORPHAN MOOTEE.

THOSE of our young friends who contribute to the support of orphans at the Culcutta Orphanage, will be gratified with the following letter from one of the orphan girls to the Greenside Sabbath School, Edinburgh, by whom she is supported.

The original letter is very beautifully written in Bengalee. We will first give two lines exactly as written by the little girl, and then the translation of the whole :

ÁLD Rib LIND KIDNE

A free Translation of Letter from Mootee :

I, the obedient Mootee, with much humility make obei. sance to you, and write to tell you, that for all your kindness to me I am very grateful. But I know that it is God who has put it into your hearts to shew kindness to me.

I wish now to tell you how I cut (spend) the day. I rise very early in the morning, and after bathing and dressing, &c., I get ready for morning worship, which takes place at half-past six o'clock. After worship I go to the English Bible class. As soon as this class is over, I make eat of food. At ten o'clock, with the other girls I sing a hymn,