ways south
to some mission-school, Anglican or Roman. As a rule, the
marriage-contract is "good for this season only," and the wife and
children bid their quondam husband and father farewell, smiling at him
with neither animosity nor reproach as the boats go out.

What is then the ice-widow's condition? Is she an outcast among her
people? No, you must remember that neither the matrimonial standard of
Pall-Mall nor Washington, D.C, obtains here. The trade-ticker of the
erstwhile wife of the whaler ticks skyward in the hymeneal Lloyd's; she
is much sought of her own people. Has she not gained in both kudos and
capital? The knowledge which she must have acquired from the white man
of whalers' ways of trading is supposed to be of monetary use to her
second lord. Moreover, the tent, utensils, and cooking-kit which she
shared with her spouse from the ships makes a substantial dower when she
again essays Hymen's lottery.

Eskimo women are neither petulant nor morose. With the men they share
that calm-bearing of distinction, combined with the spontaneity of a
child which makes such a rare and winning mixture. In moving among the
half-caste Eskimo children up here on the edge of things, fairness
forces us to admit that neither in stature nor physique do they fall
below the standard of the thorough-bred natives. About the morals, the
ethical, or mental standards, we venture no comparison, for heredity
plays such strange tricks. The whole condition is formative, for the
blending of races has been going on scarcely long enough for one to see
and tabulate results. The influence of the mother will be longer applied
and its results more lasting than that of the evanescent father, and in
this is their hope. For years we have been repeating the trite, "The
sins of the father are visited upon the children to the third and
fourth generation;" it remained for Charles Dickens to ask, in his own
inimitable way, if the virtues of the mothers do not occasionally
descend in direct line.

We respect the Eskimo for many things: for his physical courage as he
approaches the bear in single combat, for his uncomplaining endurance of
hardships, for his unceasing industry, the cleverness of his handicraft,
his unsullied integrity, sunny good-humour, and simple dignity. But,
most of all, he claims my respect for the way he brings up his children.
"A babe in the house is a well-spring of pleasure," is a pretty theory,
but Charles Lamb reminds us that