haps, he fell a martyr in St. Louis during the cholera visitation there. "Brother Drummond was the first stationed preacher in the station which I now occupy-Morgantown, Virginia. The parsonage in which I am now writing was built under his superintendence. The trees in the yard were planted by him, from which succeeding preachers, since that time, have eaten fruit. He frequently laid off his clerical coat, and went to work at the parsonage himself; and so well was the financial part of the business managed, that when the work was done there was a dollar over; though some of the credit of this is also due to the well-known liberality of the Church here. "Here, as in Pittsburg, I have often heard brother Drummond spoken of in terms of kind remembrance. The families in which he boarded, especially, have a high appreciation of his worth. He was able in the pulpit, faithful in pastoral visitations, diligent in the instruction of the children, assembling them for catechetical exercises. He by no means confined his labors to the village; but had several appointments in the country round about, some of them as many as nine or ten miles out. There is a sweet little church a couple of miles out of town, now called Drummond Chapel, in memory of the fact that he was, perhaps, the first who established preaching in the neighborhood. The only week-day class that we have in the station is a female class, met by the preacher, composed generally of the older ladies of the Church. It was Drummond who formed this class, as he said, for his own especial benefit. There are some of the traces left by him in this, the last station which he occupied in the Pittsburg conference. I am not aware that there was any great revival in the place during his labors; but the Church was in a healthy and prosperous condition. I am told that he studied law, and passed an examination on it while here. I know not that he intended ever to practice. It is more probable that his object was to qualify himself better for the work of the ministry, by increasing his knowledge of legal science." How many burning and shining lights have suddenly been quenched in the darkness of death! How melancholy the remembrance that the most talented and deeply-devoted in the ranks of the ministry are soonest called away from the walls of our Zion, while we are left to mourn their departure! May we imitate their virtues and aspire after their glorious immortality! CHAPTER XLII. INDIAN CAMP MEETING. IN the year 1828, a short time after we left the Indian nation, we held a camp meeting at Messick's camp-ground, not far from Bellefontaine. To this meeting we invited the Indian brethren at the Wyandott mission. This invitation was generally acceded to, and the Indians came with their camping apparatus, to the number of one hundred and fifty. A place was assigned them for pitching their tents, so that they might all be as near together as possible. We have called this the "Indian camp meeting," because, as the sequel will show, the exercises were mostly confined to the Indian department of the camp, and the Lord seemed to have selected our red brethren as the instrumentality, through which all the glorious results that attended it were achieved. The Indians being more expert in pitching tents than the whites, they, of course, were ready at an earlier hour to engage in religious exercises. It is characteristic of the Indian to devote exclusive attention, for the time being, to whatever pursuit or employment he may take in hand. If it be fishing, or hunting, or sugar making, or corn planting, nothing else is allowed to interfere in the time allotted to these things. So in regard to religion. The time devoted to God was the most sacred, and no people could unite with greater sincerity than they in singing those appropriate lines: "Far from my thoughts vain world begone, Soon the Christian chiefs, and queens, and all, were formed into a circle, and the voice of praise and prayer made the forest arches ring. After singing one of their Christian songs, only as Indians can sing, they fell simultaneously upon their knees and lifted up their faces toward heaven, as if they expected to see the Great Spirit descend in blessings from the parted skies. One of their number would lead in prayer, and when the Indian words, "tamentare," and "Homendezue," would escape the suppliant's lips, a deep amen would be uttered in concert by all the circle. The Indian has strong faith, and when he makes preparation for a sacrifice to the Great Spirit, he expects with the utmost confidence that it will be accepted. So was it in this instance; for while they were praying the Spirit came down upon them, and the power of God was manifested in the awakening and conversion of souls. As the shaking of the leaves in the tops of the mulberry trees was an indication to the prophet of the presence of God, so the excitement of the multitude engaged in prayer, as indicated by the tears, and groans, and shouts, was a sign that the Great Spirit was at work upon the hearts of these sons and daughters of the forest, and presently the tents of the whites were forsaken, and many might have been seen mingling with their red brethren and sisters in the exercises of the hour. From this hour, though so early in the meeting, the work of the Lord began, and the interest continued to increase and spread as the meeting progressed, till Saturday night, when the whole encampment was in a flame of religious excitement. There seemed to be no need of preaching or exhortation, the Lord having taken his own work into his own hands. All that the preachers and people had to do was to follow the leadings of the Spirit, and the hours passed away in singing and prayer, interrupted only—if, indeed, it may be called an interruption-by the loud cries for mercy, which rose from the burdened hearts of the kneeling penitents, or the louder shouts of praise to God for delivering grace, which rose up on the night air and reechoed among the trees from the converted. The holy scenes and hallowed associations of that night of prayer among the Indians, will never be erased from our memory; and though many of our precious red brethren and sisters, who made that grove resound with their voices, have long since gone to join the innumerable company before the throne of God and the Lamb, yet we shall cherish the recollection of that hour till we too shall be summoned to the marriage feast above. Sabbath morning came. It was one of those beautiful Sabbaths of an Indian summer, which, by its soft and balmy nature, reminds one of the rest and blessedness of heaven. Not many miles from the camp-ground there lived an ungodly man, whose wife, though not a professor of religion, having heard of the meeting, was desirous to attend. She had never been to a camp meeting before, and her desire to attend, like that which actuates too many others, was simply to gratify her curiosity. It was with some considerable difficulty that she could get her husband's consent, for even backwoods wives in that day were accustomed to look up to their husbands for advice. She finally succeeded, however, as women generally do when they take the right course, in overcoming her husband's opposition. He agreed to stay home and mind the children while she would be absent, but commanded her to come home by the middle of the afternoon, on pain of getting a whipping. The poor woman, with the brutal threat resting over her head, arrived upon the ground at an early hour. Scarcely had she got within the circle of tents and taken her seat in the congregation, till she began to feel sad at heart. A wonderful power had |