n-book, liturgy-book, and some
volumes of the Eskimo Bible. Next it are a set of very fair cups and
saucers, but it seems incongruous for the china to stand on the mud
floor. Various utensils lie about, but there is neither chair nor
table.

We cannot stay long, however, for we are going to visit every house in
the place. The first house is Gottlob's. He came hither from Hebron,
and has enjoyed a better education than the Ramah people, most of whom
grew up in heathenism. His wife's baptismal name is Lydia; as a
heathen, she was Auinasuak. This is one of the best huts, but the best
are poor inside as well as outside, compared to many log-houses I have
seen further south. Through the low porch, without any remonstrance
from the dogs, we reach a lower door. It is hot inside. Yes, there is
a stove to the left, and it appears to be the only article of
furniture in the room entered. Behind the partition is a very
different chamber. It is furnished with the usual couches spread with
skins, and on the edge of one of these, Lydia is seated. She does not
rise to greet her visitors, nor does it occur to her to offer a seat.
What shall she offer? A box? As with the rest of those visited, her
welcome takes the form of a good-humoured laugh. One or two objects in
her room testify to a refinement unusual for this station. A guitar
hangs on the wall near a cage with a bird in it, and against the
partition stands a piano. Fancy such an instrument in a low turf hut,
even though it be but an old square piano! Here, as elsewhere, we
speak a few words of kindly greeting and spiritual interest, and then
take leave with "Aksunai."

The occupant of the next hut is not at home. This is indicated by two
great slabs of slate, one at the entrance to his porch and one over
his front (and only) window. These are more for protection against
prowling dogs than dishonest men.

Now we come to the dwelling of the oldest couple, William and Hulda,
whose heathen names were Nochasak and Aksuana. They are, respectively,
fifty-five and fifty, but look older. Two sons live with them, of whom
the elder is married. Both parents are at home, and the
daughter-in-law with her first baby in her arms. Here first I notice
the curious lamp, a sort of dish hollowed out in a soft stone. The
wick is a kind of moss which floats in seal-oil, and gives a feeble
flame apparently more for warmth than for light, for the houses are
not dark.

Next to William's stand the ro