"That meeting was a triumph. Commensurate with the beginning of the meeting was the awakening of souls; and that awakening grew to the most intense inquiry. The altar was filled with 'seekers' night after night. All plan for regular hours for closing was given up, under the press of 'inquiring souls.' On Sunday night quite a number were forward for prayer. There was a tardiness about getting into the life giving light. Late, the benediction was pronounced, and most of the people retired. Most of those seeking souls remained in prayer, determined to get the victory. Some of us remained to pray and exhort and sign. And the meeting went on. One after another 'came through.' Shouts were heard, and the songs went on, and the meeting continued until every one of those struggling ones was brought out into the 'light and liberty of the children of God.' Such shouting of triumph I had never before seen the equal. The sun rose over a new day, and still that meeting didn't close, for we went on singing the triumph of new born souls among the camps of the people.
ANOTHER
"Another camp meeting was held the same year, on the Touchet River, four miles beyond Waitsburg. An equally large attendance there. Rev. A. J. Joslyn and myself went up to help Brother J. H. Adams, preacher in charge. That meeting ran over two Sundays, and when finally it closed, there was not left a single person on the ground that had not become a Christian.
"That year, 1871, in August, our conference was held in Portland, Bishop James presided. I attended, and was admitted as a 'licentiate.' In my class there were John N. Denison, W. T. Chapman, A. J. Joslyn, Ira Ward, J. M. Luark and F. D. Winton. Some of these made noble records in after years.
"I continued teaching in Walla Walla until the next conference. Summer of 1872 I taught the school called the 'Old Mission District'—Whitman Mission—called then Waiilatpu. As a missionary to the Cayuse Indians, Doctor Whitman settled there, in 1836, and continued until the awful massacre of November 29, 1847. That awful afternoon the doctor, his wife and eleven others fell under the murderous tomahawk, thus baptizing the soil of Oregon with their blood, to the cause of Gospel truth. When I stood first on that sacred spot, where yet is the coal and ashes of their burnt mission, and looked just beyond the road, the mound heaped over the thirteen fallen heroes, what memories—what reflections—what communion of soul, bore me away to those scenes of missionary devotion to save a heathen race, and to sacred fellowship with that martyr company! I seemed still treading in the footsteps of the noble Whitman, and to hear still his voice, 'turn ye, turn ye, for why will ye die, O, wandering people.' If it is ever your privilege, go and stand by that monument, now marking the spot. There is something about a monument peculiar to itself. It sanctifies the place. With Moses at the 'Burning Bush' you feel the impulse to remove your sandals, 'for the place whereon you tread is holy ground.' Monumental inscriptions are history in epitome. Here are recorded the deeds of the heroic; great men, great places, and times.
"Our conference was held in Salem that year, where Bishop Foster appointed me to the Yakima circuit, in Washington.
INDIAN POPULATION
"Of course, the whole country there originally belonged to the Indians, and they were always a menace to settlement. On the Simcoe Reservation there were about 3,000 Indians. Then came the Yakima Valley proper; then across on the Columbia at Priest Rapids, there was the Smoholla band of about five hundred. Then Chief Moses and his band were just a little beyond, on the Wenatchee.
"During all the early settlement, there was constant alarm. The spring of '73 the Modoc war came on. The Indians all over the interior were uneasy and many of them took the 'warpath.'
"At the culmination of the battle at the lava beds those treacherous Modocs proposed a treaty, and General Canby, Doctor Thomas, Agent Dyer, and Superintendent Meacham went out to treat with the Indians. But Captain Jack and those four others came with concealed weapons, and at a signal struck down and murdered the peace commission. This inflamed the whole Indian population of the Northwest. At this time I must go to the upper valley and meet my appointments, forty miles away, and through the Indian range, without a single settler. Dodging through as best I could, I found the people badly scared and ready to fort up. Old Chief Smoholla and his band of 200 had come over from Priest Rapids and were camped within the valley.