er called today and told us of a new strike at the
headwaters of Fish River; a man and woman coming down to record a bunch
of twenty claims having given the information. The woman runs a
roadhouse on the Neukluk River, and wants to take an Eskimo boy to
raise, and teach to work--probably it is mostly the latter, though she
seemed a kindly person. Miss J. told her that she had no boy to give
away.

The Marshal and the man in the old schoolhouse started with dogs to
Norton Bay today for a short trip, so we hear. The wife of the man went
with small Eskimo boys to the bay to fish for tom-cod.

Alma is making a fur sleeping bag of reindeer skins for the teacher, so
when she travels she can have it to sleep in nights. It is very heavy
to hold and handle while sewing.

Two men called who have been shipwrecked in Norton Bay, and told of the
H. family, consisting of the father, mother, and little daughter whom I
have seen in Nome. They lost all their clothing, but saved part of their
"grub," and we have made up a package of clothing to send to the woman
and child by the men who are going back there. In the darkness, one
night, they say the schooner "Lady George" went aground on the mud flats
of Norton Bay, the tide rising soon after, and all having to flee for
their lives to nearby ice, from which they went ashore to a log hut long
ago deserted. The child, who is about twelve years old, is now without
clothing, and winter is coming on.

The fates are hard on some people, surely, and this little girl lately
from San Francisco, the public school, and piano lessons, is left with
her parents in an Arctic wilderness in winter without clothing or
shelter, except a poor broken hut, and a few men's garments generously
donated. The men say that her mother is almost wild over it, and they
thought at first that she would go insane, but the brave little child
does all she can do to comfort her mother, and the men begged us to send
them some things. Among the clothing we sent I put in a few school
books, a slate, some pencils, and a Bible, which may be of use in
lonely hours. They may read the good book now if they never have
before. They are Swedish people.

It is three degrees below zero today, November twenty-fifth, clear,
bright and cold. Mr. H. came with a man and his dog-teams to move the
whole family tomorrow to the Home. All are delighted to go there, as we
are to remain here. The shipwrecked men called again to tell us more
fu