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tenfold terrible by the present custom of interment. He sees that even in death there is a distinction between him and his master, and that he is still despised. The rich man goes to his marble vault, which is to the poor a palace, in pomp and display of carriages, attended by the dignitaries of the Church, while he, the poor and despised, is quietly carted away to a little corner set apart for the poor. Of course, a strong and philosophic mind would laugh at this, but to the poor it is a fearful contrast. u Death is in the world," and throws a shadow on the poor that may, in part, be lifted when all are interred alike burned in one common fire.

These Indians, as I have before intimated, never question the immortality of the soul. Their fervid natures and vivid imaginations make the spirit world beautiful beyond description, but it is an Indian s picture, not a Christian s or Mahomedan s. No city set upon a hill, no palaces curtained in silk and peopled by beautiful women : woods, deep, dark, boundless, with parks of game and running rivers ; and above and beyond all, not a white man there.

I have seen half-civilized Indians who are first- rate disbelievers, but never one who is left to think for himself. When an Indian tries to understand our religion he stumbles, as he does when he tries to understand us in other things.

The marriage ceremony of these people is not im posing. The father gives a great feast, to which all are invited, but the bride and bridegroom do not