A Summer’s Journey and a Winter's Campaign. 17 the last day of the feast. The crowds melted away, but re- assembled at a village eight miles distant before the final break up. Before this took place I was invited to meet them again. When the same invitation was repeated I walked up the frozen river, and a great lodge containing about four hundred men was prepared for my reception. Then I took solemn leave of them, urging them to turn to God and forsake the evil of the old ways. This has been the largest gathering 1 of Indians that has taken place for a generation, and placed . an opportunity for doing good in my reach, worth not only the labour it involved, but more than it is possible to compute. The place is now well-nigh emptied of its people. They are ‘ scattered in all directions, some carrying stores to the gold | mines, some going to their hunting-grounds, and some to the coast to be ready for the fishery. “What are the results of the winter campaign? you will ask. It is impossible to state this fully, for God only knows. But this we know, much suffering has been alleviated, much ignorance removed, and much enmity overcome.” cof ‘ The gold fever, which during the last few years has so suddenly populated the former solitudes of the north-western corner of the Dominion of Canada, had already attacked ee ae oe” tas some persons in 1881, and the influx of Kuropeans foreseen by the Bishop before he left Kngland was beginning. As a sad rule where whites have come in contact with native races there has been a quick deterioration of the latter, | ‘ ao so it is a pleasure to find on reading the next letter that this is not always the case. Probably the advent of Mission work almost simultaneously with the miners had much to do with this. The restraining influence of the former on the latter would prevent many of those excesses which have ruined both dark-skinned and white people together. Writing again from Hazelton, in October, 1881, the Bishop tt said: — | “The community here is mixed. The Indians have worked : D ©