und of the sea. Every
man of them is a hunter or a fisherman or both, and the boys grow up
with guns in their hands, and pulling at an oar or sailing a boat.
They begin as soon as they can walk to learn the ways of the
wilderness and of the wild things that live in it, and they are good
sailors and know a great deal about the sea and the fish while they
are still wee lads. That is to be their profession, and they are
preparing for it.

The Labrador home of the liveyere usually contains two rooms, but
occasionally three, though there are many, especially north of
Hamilton Inlet, of but a single room. All have an enclosed lean-to
porch at the entrance. This serves not only as a protection from
drifting snow in winter, but as a place where stovewood is piled, dog
harness and snowshoes are hung, and various articles stored.

In the cabin is a large wood-burning stove, the first and most
important piece of furniture. There is a home-made table and sometimes
a home-made chair or two, though usually chests in which clothing and
furs are stored are utilized also as seats. A closet built at one side
holds the meager supply of dishes. On a mantelshelf the clock ticks,
if the cabin boasts one, and by its side rests a well-thumbed Bible.

Bunks, built against the rear of the room, serve as beds. If there is
a second room, it supplies additional sleeping quarters, with bunks
built against the walls as in the living room. Travelers and visitors
carry their own sleeping bags and bedding with them and sleep upon the
floor. This is the sort of bed Dr. Grenfell enjoys when sleeping at
night in a liveyere's home.

On the beams overhead are rifles and shotguns, always within easy
reach, for a shot at some game may offer at any time. The side walls
of the cabins are papered with old newspapers, or illustrations cut
from old magazines.

The more thrifty and cleanly scrub floors, tables, doors and all
woodwork with soap and sand once a week, until everything is
spotlessly clean. But along the coast one comes upon cabins often
enough that appear never to have had a cleaning day, and in which the
odor of seal oil and fish is heavy.

Those of the Newfoundland fishermen that bring their families to the
coast live in all sorts of cabins. Some are well built and
comfortable, while others are merely sod-covered huts with earthen
floor. These are occupied, however, only during the fishing season.
The fishermen move into them early in July and