: they were not the only
hindrances.

"The Fates are against us," said one.

"It is true," answered the Elder,--"the Fates are against us: I know of
nothing more fatal than imbecility."

However, we should be satisfied; for here we have fairly penetrated the
great solitudes of the North. Lower Labrador is visited by near forty
thousand fishermen annually, and vessels there are often more frequent
than in Boston Bay. But at a point not far from the fifty-fifth parallel
of latitude you leave all these behind, and leave equally the white
residents of the coast: to fishermen and residents alike the region
beyond is as little known as the interior of Australia. There their
world comes to an end; there the unknown begins. Knowledge and curiosity
alike pause there; toward all beyond their only feeling is one of vague
dislike and dread. And so I doubt not it was with the ordinary
inhabitant of Western Europe before the discovery of America. The
Unknown, breaking in surf on his very shores, did not invite him, but
dimly repelled. Thought about it, attraction toward it, would seem to
him far-fetched, gratuitous, affected, indicating at best a
feather-headed flightiness of mind. The sailors of Columbus probably
regarded him much as Sancho Panza does Don Quixote, with an obscure,
overpowering awe, and yet with a very definite contempt.

On our return we passed two Yankee fishermen in the Strait of Belle
Isle. The nearer hailed.

"How far _down_ [up] have you been?"

"To Hopedale."

"WHERE?"--in the tone of one who hears distinctly enough, but cannot
believe that he hears.

"Hopedale."

"H-o-p-e-d-a-l-e! Where the Devil's that?"

"A hundred and fifty miles beyond Cape Harrison." (Cape Weback on the
map.)

Inarticulate gust of astonishment in response.

"Where did he say?" inquires some one in the farther schooner.

"----! He's been to the North Pole!"

To him it was all North Pole beyond Cape Harrison, and he evidently
looked upon us much as he might upon the apparition of the Flying
Dutchman, or some other spectre-ship.

The supply-ship which yearly visits the Moravian stations on this coast
anchored in the harbor of Hopedale ten minutes before us: we had been
rapidly gaining upon her in our Flying Yankee for the last twenty miles.
Signal-guns had answered each other from ship and shore; the
missionaries were soon on board, and men and women were falling into
each other's arms with joyful, mournful kisses and t