THERE is in northern Minnesota a cross made by heathen hands, and fixed over an unbaptized man’s grave. Here is its beautiful history:— Red Owl was a very noted chief and orator among his people. Although he never attended the religious services, yet he came one day to our schoolroom, and there was on the wall that picture of the Ecce Homo, that sweet, sad face, and he said to the missionary, “Who is that? Why are his hands bound? Why has he thorns on his head?” And the missionary told him the story, and the next day he came back, and again and again he came until the whole story had been told him. One day I was riding over the prairie, and I saw a cross over a new-made grave. I knew there was no church in that Indian village, and I asked what it meant, and they told me that Red Owl was dead, and that just before he died, he called his young men to him, and said, “That story that the white man has brought is true; I have had it in my heart. When I am dead, I wish you would put a cross over my grave, that as my young men go by, they may know what was in Red Owl’s heart.”—Selected.