and he could see no escape. The
missionary, in relating the incident to us, did not dwell upon this part
of his story, but he said he had given himself up for lost, and only
prayed and waited. By and by the breeze died away, the ice quietly
parted, and drifted away from him, and he paddled safely ashore.

Tuesday, October thirty: A brand new experience today--that of watching
the natives and others fish through the ice. Little holes are made in
the ice, which is now quite strong in the north end of the bay near the
cliff, and the Eskimos sit there patiently for hours, fishing for
tom-cod. These are small fish, but quite tasty, one of the principal
means of subsistence for the natives, and are also much used by others.
No pole is needed on the line except a short one of three or four feet,
and when a bite is felt by the fisherman, the line is quickly drawn out,
given a sudden twitch, which frees the tom-cod, and he is summarily
dispatched with a few raps from the fishing stick kept at hand for the
purpose.

Several river boats, including small steamers, are laid up under the
cliff for the winter, dismantled of loose gear and light machinery, and
I did get a few views which should prove of some value. The weather was
good all day, the sun setting at three in the afternoon, and it being
nearly dark an hour later. Mr. H. dressed himself from top to toe in
furs, hitched three dogs to a sled, took a lunch for himself, a few
supplies of eatables for the Home camp to which he was going, and
started out, on a longer, but we trusted a less venturesome and
dangerous route than by Peterborough canoe. Our evening was pleasantly,
and at the same time more or less profitably spent by our party in the
sitting-room, Alma sewing on Miss J.'s new dress, Ricka and I knitting,
and the others either mending or busying themselves at something. This
something frequently covers a good deal of ground, for with one or two
of the boys it means pranks or roguishness of some sort, which really
enlivens the whole household and keeps our risibles from growing rusty
by disuse.

Wednesday, October thirty-one: I find no difficulty in running the
sewing machine here, which is a new and good one, and I like to use it
very well. Just how they could get along without it is more than I can
tell, with so much sewing to do for each of the children, not to mention
the others who are waiting to come into the Mission at the earliest
possible moment. During the