alongside.

Meanwhile the dinner progressed. The turkey was bona fide bird, and not
a few gull's bones from a tin quart can, while the cake and ice cream
with which my meal was ended, were all that could be desired in Alaska.
All voted that the cooks had "done themselves proud," and no one could
say that Christmas dinners could not be served in Chinik.

Before rising from the table, at the close of the meal, toasts to the
host and hostess were drunk by those at the bottles, and Christmas
presents were distributed to many, principally to members of the family
and from boarders of the house. There were silk handkerchiefs, red
neckties, "boiled shirts," and mittens, and in some instances moosehide
gloves and moccasins, made by the Eskimo hostess herself, while "Mellie"
came in for a share, including a large black bottle of "choice
Burgundy."

Upon leaving the dining table, the company separated, most of the men
going into the bar-room and store, while the family and invited guests
repaired to the living-room. Here a good-sized Christmas tree had been
arranged for Jennie and Charlie, and their presents were displayed and
talked over. In the meantime, the long dining table was cleared and
spread again for the Eskimos, who soon flocked into the room in numbers.

Some one proposed that we go to the Mission and have some songs by the
musician, to which all assented, and nine of us, including the captain,
his wife and Jennie, started over about half-past eight o'clock. There
we found the rooms bright and warm, the two men keeping house in my
absence having escaped to the upper rooms on hearing the party
approaching. Here a pleasant hour or two were passed in listening to the
songs of the musician, who always accompanies himself on his
instrument, whether banjo or organ. He sang the "Lost Chord," "Old
Kentucky Home," and many other dear old songs, closing with "God Be With
You Till We Meet Again," and the doxology. After that they pulled on
their parkies and fur coats and went out into the snow storm (for by
this time the snow was falling heavily), and to their homes, while I sat
down alone in the firelight to review the events of the day--my first
Christmas Day in Alaska. How different from any other I have ever spent.
What a disclosure of the shady side of human nature this is,--and yet
there is some good intermingled with it all.

Many here cannot endure the stress of the current, nor pull against it,
and so float easily