Chapter II: Part 2

"Good luck to you, sir!" That was meant for "Good-bye," and is the sort of English the Eskimoes to the south of Hopedale have learnt. Both at that station and here at Nain I have had curious visits from such as prided themselves on their knowledge of my mother-tongue. Some spoke it very fairly, but my conversation with the natives was, of course, mostly through an interpreter. These visits are quite a feature of mission-house life. One afternoon at Hopedale Jonas and his wife Lydia came to see me. The good man said: "As there are so many souls here, I would ask our angayokaks (elders or superiors) in London and Berthelsdorf for God's sake to let us have teachers, as long as there are people here. We cannot do without them. We have undying souls, and must be cared for." With tears he added, "When I cannot sleep, I ask God for this. We thank the angayokaks very much. I hope God will grant those who are leaving us a good passage. We may never meet again on earth, but I hope we shall in heaven."

I had specially interesting visits from some of the native-helpers at different stations. They expressed their humble sense of unworthiness, and their gratitude for the benefits which come to them and their countrymen through the mission. They also promised faithfully to stand by their missionaries. My conviction is that the spiritual life of each congregation very much depends on the Christian character, stability, and influence of its native leaders.

Visits of the Eskimoes to my room, however, took up much precious time of the missionary requested to interpret, so I preferred to get one of the pastors to accompany me on a round of calls in the village. Let my visits to the native-helpers at Nain give a view of the interiors of some of the better dwellings.

_Wednesday, August 22nd._--Mr. Bourquin kindly conducted me to the homes of Jonathan, Abraham, and Matthew. Through the little porch or vestibule, where the dogs lie, one enters the house. Sometimes there are two rooms, one for sleeping and the other the dwelling room; but mostly the beds are in corners, more or less partitioned or curtained off. A little stove serves for warmth and cooking. A small table stands by the wall, and there are one or two short benches, but the articles of furniture most frequent are the boxes, which accompany the Eskimo in his nomad life, and hold his possessions, whether he be in his house at home, in his boat fishing, or in his tent at some distant hunting place. The walls of the houses are ornamented here and there with pictures cut out of old _Illustrated London News_ or _Graphics_. Some remains of Christmas ornamentation showed considerable taste. The present is not a favourable season to gain a good impression of the houses, as their owners are most of their time away from home hunting and fishing. Before Christmas they have a thorough turn out and clean up, and then await the usual visit from their missionaries, who wisely speak a word of commendation where it is deserved. Undoubtedly the invariable neatness of the mission-houses, and the special care bestowed upon the churches, have a great influence on the cleanliness of the Eskimo dwellings.

Husbands and wives were at home in all three houses visited to-day. Jonathan spells his own name "Jonatan." He is a godly and worthy man of mild disposition yet decided Christian character. His Leah is also a native-helper among her sex, and a chapel servant. They gave us a friendly welcome. True, it did not occur to them to ask us to sit down; but our Eskimoes are pleased if one takes a seat in their houses without the asking. Jonatan's grandchild was sleeping on one of the beds, and its young mother sat in a corner sewing. The little harmonium by the wall belonged to her husband, who lives with his parents. The older people thanked me for the visit, and desired their greetings to the great teachers over the water.

Our second call was on Abraham, or more correctly "Abraha," for the genius of the Eskimo language always requires a name to end with a vowel. He is also an excellent and intelligent native assistant. He and his Pauline were very pleased to see us, and expressed themselves in the same strain as the former couple. As his harmonium and violin show, he is very musical; indeed, he is a leading member of the Nain choir.

Lastly we called on Matthew and his young wife. His quiet, rather shy demeanour and humble estimate of himself, as a recently appointed office-bearer in the congregation pleased me well. Perhaps his house was the neatest and best furnished of the three.

I wish I could have heard Abraham or Jonathan speak at some service. I am told their addresses correspond with their dispositions. The former is warm, and vigorous, the latter more calm and affectionate in tone. Matthew has yet to overcome his diffidence.

By the way, when I went over to the ship to-day. I found Abraham and his family on board. His little two-masted smack was lying alongside the "Harmony," ready for a start to his fishing place. It contained an interesting variety of possessions. Tent-poles and oars lay along both sides, and his kayak was lashed to the right gunwale. Tackle, tent, skins, utensils, and boxes were secured in the bottom of the boat, and in a small pen at the bows lay his seven dogs.

TWO ESKIMO GROUPS TAKEN AT NAIN.

Mr. Jannasch is the photographer among our Labrador missionaries, and we have to thank him for some excellent pictures of persons and places in that cold land. Copies of these may be obtained at our Agency (No. 32, Fetter Lane, London, E.C.), and we should be glad to encourage him by a larger sale for his interesting cabinet, stereoscopic and _carte de visite_ photographs. As he is resident at Nain, most of his scenes or groups are taken at or near that station, but last-winter he took his camera with him on a sledge journey to Hopedale.

The two groups which we have had reproduced for our pages are characteristic, but those whose portraits are given might remark that justice has scarcely been done to their faces. The first is a group of

WIDOWS AT NAIN. It was a good day for lonely Eskimo women of this class when the Gospel came to their shores. I made a point of inquiring at each station as to the status of the widows and the fatherless, and found that everywhere they are well cared for. Indeed, the widows invariably stand in the first rank of those for whom regular employment is found by the Society for the Furtherance of the Gospel. They gratefully acknowledged this. Several of them also gave me a special commission, which I hereby discharge to the best of my ability. It was this, "_Give my greeting to all the widows in Europe._" Perhaps they thought it would be as easy for the visitor from England to do this on his return, as to inquire after all the widows in Labrador.

The five aged women in our picture are Adolfina (standing behind), Marta (seated to her right), and Hulda and Beata (to her left). Amalia (in the centre of the foreground) is attired in skirts after European fashion, though she has on a pair of the Eskimo boots indispensable in such a land. The rest are dressed in full Eskimo costume. It will be seen that their sillapaks and trousers are ornamented with broad coloured braid, and the hood, which falls back over their shoulders, is edged with dog's skin and adorned with a strip of embroidery. Hulda is a worthy door-keeper in the church, and a valued servant in the mission-house of many years' standing. The other group represents

THE CHOIR AT NAIN. We have already referred to the musical taste and ability of many of the Eskimoes, and those at Nain are not behind the Hopedalers in this respect. The man with the violoncello seated in the centre is Abraham, the native helper mentioned in a previous paragraph. To his right is Nathanael, with a violin. He is the schoolmaster at Nain, and his wife Frederika is seated at his right hand. One day in 1887, Nathanael was seen shaking his fists at the mission house. What had ruffled his temper? He had been told by some fishermen that Queen Victoria, to mark her Jubilee, had sent a present of a suit of clothes to every schoolmaster in her dominions. As his had not reached him, he suspected the missionaries of withholding it. This is a characteristic instance of the credulity with which the Eskimoes accept the statements of strangers and the mistrust they are too apt to show towards those who have long proved themselves their most disinterested friends.

"GOD'S ACRE."

The burial ground at Nain is the best kept in Labrador. Others are neat and tidily arranged, but this decidedly bears off the palm. It is finely situated, commanding a view seaward, and an Easter morning service in this peaceful resting-place of the departed must be impressive indeed, as the rising sun sheds his first rays across frozen sea and snowy islands on a company of Christian Eskimoes, rejoicing in Him who is the Resurrection and the Life, and not sorrowing hopelessly for their dead. I know no better name for such a sacred enclosure, where the bodies of those who have died in the Lord are sown in hope, than the beautiful German term, "God's Acre."

______________ ______________
| | | |
| 805 | | 741 |
| _Harriott_ | | _Eleonora_ |
| 1865-1882 | | 1819-1879 |
|______________| |______________|

Scarcely any grass grows within the oblong space surrounded by wooden palings, but here and there patches of moss or low berry bushes threaten to hide the neat little slabs of wood placed by the missionaries on the graves of the native Christians. If left to the Eskimoes, this duty to their departed relatives and friends would either be done carelessly or forgotten. These simple "headstones," of which I give two specimens as copied into my notebook, are perhaps about twelve inches by eight. The place for the next grave in each row (men, women, boys, girls) is indicated by long poles likely to appear above the highest snow in winter. Here at Nain, and indeed at all the stations except Okak, where the soil is clay, it is possible, though in winter very troublesome, to dig a grave all the year round. At Okak the coffin must be laid in the snow until returning spring thaws the frozen ground. As already stated, the Eskimoes have no surnames, and their graves show a great repetition of certain Christian names, as Abel, Abia, Zecharias, Thomas, Susannah, Katarina, &c. There is a greater variety on the female side. At Zoar I noted some curious ones--Persida, Botille, Teresia Dina, and Justine. "Helena-Helenalo" evidently means mother and child, both bearing the name Helena. "Fillipusib-kitornganga" and "Davidib-kitornganga" mean the child of Philip and the child of David. Mostly, the little wooden "headstones" lie flat on the grave; those at Okak are placed upright, as in the accompanying sketch, and record the names of several persons buried beneath.

/--------\
/ \
| 644 |
| Andrew |
| 1862 |
| -------- |
| 959 |
| Marcus |
| -------- |
| 642 |
| Heinrich |
| 1873. |
+----------+
| |
| |

Where the paths cross one another at right angles, in the older Labrador churchyards, there is always a specially interesting group of graves. There lie, in sure and certain hope of a joyous resurrection, the bodies of good men and women, who have taken sepulchre possession of this land for their Lord. Here, too, many sorrowing missionary parents have had to lay little ones, early taken home in this bleak climate. Ah, what stories are written on those simple gravestones, when one can read between the lines!

The "God's Acre" at Nain is as rich in historical associations as any. Christian Larsen Drachard, one of the pioneers of this mission was buried here in 1778; and beside the stone, on which is inscribed his honoured name in full, is a rough slab from the shore, placed on his grave by his own desire. Side by side to right and left of the path separating the last resting-places of the married men from those of the single missionaries lie Christopher Brasen and Gottfried Lehmann, drowned in 1774 on their return voyage from finding a site for Okak, the second station in this land. Not many days after I stood beside their graves I sailed close by the island on which their sloop was wrecked, and on whose rocks the angry sea cast their bodies.

/\
/ \
/ \
/ D. \
/ \
/ 1778. \
/ \
\ _Sep. 18._ /
\ /
\ /
\ /
\ /
\ /
\/

I will close this chapter with a contrast. Leaving the peaceful Christian burial ground, we climb the hill behind the station. In a lofty, lonely valley we find many heaps of great stones. We will examine one. Remove one or two of the boulders, and look in. On the ground, rather than in it, lies a human skeleton, perfect with the exception of the skull. We go on to the next heap; it is empty. In a third we find a skull and one or two bones. Others contain scarcely any human remains, but some Eskimo utensils were evidently the property in life of the natives whose bodies were laid there by their countrymen. It was customary to bury the possessions of the dead with them, and very interesting curiosities used to be found in all these graves.

Yes, these are _heathen graves_, and the bodies in them are those of Eskimoes who have died, ere they heard the words of life from the lips of missionaries sent by the Church of Christ to proclaim His salvation at this end of the earth. No inscriptions mark the tombs of these nameless pagans, yet those rude stoneheaps have a voice for those who have ears to hear. Methinks they appeal loudly on behalf of myriads still living without God and dying without hope. "How shall they believe in Him of whom they have not heard, and how shall they hear without a preacher, and how shall they preach except they be sent?"

A BUSY WEEK AT NAIN.

The week spent at Nain may serve as a specimen of my stay at each station in turn. We arrived here on Sunday, August 19th, in the evening. Monday and part of Tuesday were taken up by conferences on the spiritual prosperity and temporal regulations of the. Labrador Mission. Tuesday afternoon proved the most convenient time for my special meeting with the congregation, when, as at every station, I gave the assembled men and women the greeting and message sent them by the mission authorities at home. Opportunity being afforded them to reply, some of the native helpers and others expressed their pleasure that a visitor had come from Europe, and their gratitude that Christians on the other side of the ocean had sent missionaries to their forefathers, and still maintained teachers among them. They also asked questions and gave their opinions on very various topics. I promised to convey their salutations to "their angayokaks in London and Herrnhut." This meeting lasted about two hours, and was, as elsewhere, an arduous time for the missionary who acted as my interpreter. It seemed easier to him to render into Eskimo my own address given in English, than to interpret all the speeches made by the natives in reply.

Inspection of the premises, stores, archives, &c., continued conferences, and other businesses filled up the remaining days of the week during which the "Harmony" lay at anchor near the station. Meanwhile the disembarking and embarking of her outward and homeward cargoes went on, and when she was ready to sail we were ready to go northward with her. In the intervals of daily duty I enjoyed pleasant walks and talks with one or another member of the mission band in the extensive plantation behind the station, the growth of more than a hundred years of careful cultivations, Not till Saturday did we find time for more distant expeditions, when grand views rewarded our ascent of two hills to the north and south of the Nain Bay. They are about 700 or 800 feet in height.

Most of the week the majority of the natives were away fishing, but several of the men and boys were earning daily wages by assistance with the cargo. For those at the station evening services were held in the church. These varied in character, one was a singing meeting, another a liturgy, a third a Bible reading, when the two last chapters of II. Corinthians were the portion of Holy Scripture taken in course. When there was no Eskimo service, the mission family and their guests met in their dining-room for mutual edification with the German Bible and hymn-book. As to the latter, by the way, the book itself was seldom needed, for most of the company knew the hymns by heart. So the week sped away, bringing the Sabbath again.

_Sunday, August 26th._--The Church Litany, and not the so-called "Catechism Litany," was used at the 9 o'clock service. At 10 A.M. Mr. Dam preached with fervour on the text for the day, John X. 16, of course in Eskimo. The sermon was followed by the baptism of little Esther, the infant daughter of Joash and Wilhelmina. After the service the parents passed me on their way home. But where is the baby? Nowhere visible, but the hood on the mother's back is bulky and moves.

At three o'clock I conducted the usual English service on the deck of the "Harmony." A good many natives were present, rather out of curiosity than as able to understand, though it is astonishing to find how many have managed to pick up a little English, especially at the southern stations.

At five we again gathered in the church for a short Eskimo liturgy of praise to the Triune God, when our vessel and her passengers were commended to the renewed care of the faithful Creator. Our evening meal, the last in this hospitable mission-house, was followed by farewell words and some commendatory hymns in German. Then we "parting guests" went on board the "Harmony," accompanied by most of our hosts, who lingered long with us. As we got into the boat, the Eskimoes bade us an affectionate good-bye, "Aksunai, aksuse." (Aksunai, Be thou strong, or its plural, Aksuse, Be ye strong, are used both for "How do you do?" and "Good-bye.")

FROM NAIN TO OKAK.

_Monday, August 27th, 1888._--When I rose, our ship was being slowly towed by her boats out of the bay in search of a fair breeze. About eleven we had to put down the anchor, as wind and current forbade our attempting to pass between "the Turnpikes," two rocks in the narrow channel before us. Here we lay all the day among islands. Barth, to our left, is so called in honour of Dr. Barth of Calw, the compiler of a Bible history translated by our missionaries into Eskimo, as well as into the languages of several other people evangelized by our church. Rhodes, to our right, is named after James Rhodes, a native of Gomersal, Yorkshire, who was a missionary here for twenty-six years, 1771-1797. Lister, the snowy hill beyond, perpetuates the memory of Christian Lister, another Yorkshireman, who crowned seventeen years of service in Labrador by thirteen in Jamaica. It is well to be thus reminded that the British Province of four missionary Unitas Fratrum had several representatives in this mission field a hundred years ago. William Turner (twenty-two years' service, 1771-93) was a native of Halifax; and James Bramagin (1775-94) of Lurgan in the north of Ireland; Samuel Towle (1782-91) came from the neighbourhood of Ockbrook, Derbyshire, and Henry Shaw (1806-13) was again a Yorkshireman. Further, Mary Butterworth (1771-84), of Birstal in Yorkshire, gave herself to this mission as the wife of Jens Haven, its founder; and later Mary Waters (1812-31), of Dukinfield in Lancashire, married George Kmoch for similar service.

Yonder fjord running far inland is the _Nunaingoak_ Bay, which, conveniently for the natives, embodies the foreign name given to their station. Nain itself is behind that neck of land, on which our friends have lit a fire as a signal that they perceive our vessel has not as yet been able to leave them very far behind.

What a study of colour this evening effect would make! The sun has just set and the sky to the north and west is orange, shading off into yellow along the horizon. Between these curiously bright hues and their fainter reflection on the rippling water, the nearer islands are black as ink and the further mountains indigo.

_Tuesday, August 28th._--Besides the missionary pair, who are accompanying me all the way from Hopedale to Europe, my fellow passengers are now the superintendent, who has acceded to my request to go with us to Okak, and a young missionary, transferred from Nain to Ramah.

When I went on deck this morning we had passed the Turnpikes and were gliding very slowly seawards between islands. The one which faced us all the morning is called Tappe, after a worthy missionary, still living, who served some years in Labrador, before going to Jerusalem in 1867, to be the first "house-father" of the Leper Home. About noon a fresh breeze sent us northward swiftly and safely through several narrow and awkward passages. We passed two or three Newfoundland fishing schooners, whose crews were doubtless interested to see the "Dutch Bark," or the "foreigner" as they called the "Harmony." Our other vessel, the "Gleaner," calls at St. John's, so she is not a foreigner in the estimation of Newfoundland mariners. About two o'clock we were off the island memorable for the shipwreck in which Brasen and Lehmann lost their lives. Later we passed the rocks on to which Liebisch and Turner escaped as by a miracle, when a sudden storm broke up the ice over which they had been travelling. The scene must have been terrific. One moment the frightened dogs drawing their sledges were being urged at utmost speed over the leagues of heaving, cracking ice. The nest, the shore was reached, and the missionaries were overwhelmed with astonishment as they turned and looked upon a raging, foaming sea, whose wild waves had already shattered the frozen surface as far as the eye could reach. Even the heathen Eskimoes with them joined in praising God for the wonderful deliverance.

This part of the coast is rugged and grand. There is a good deal of snow on the heights of Aulatsivik and the northern extremity of that great island is a bold precipitous cliff. Port Mauvers, at the mouth of the narrow strait, which separates Aulatsivik from the mainland, figures so prominently as a name upon most maps of Labrador, that one might suppose it to be at least the capital. But there are no inhabitants there, nor indeed all along the coast between Nain and Okak. Kiglapeit, to the north, is so splendid a mountain range that I am quite sorry we shall pass it in the dark. We are getting more into the open sea as evening advances, and there are icebergs to be seen here and there.

Come into the captain's cabin and look at this little budget of letters. They are notes from Eskimoes at our southern stations to their relatives and friends in the north. Some are funny little pencilled scraps folded and oddly directed, e.g. "Kitturamut-Lucasib, Okak." That means "To Keturah (the wife) of Lucas or Luke, at Okak." Our Eskimoes seem to have a talent for phonetic spelling; "ilianuramut" is evidently "To Eleanor," and "Amaliamut-kuniliusip, Okak," is meant for "Amalia (the wife) of Cornelius at Okak." Some are very respectable epistles, and I doubt not the Christian tone of most would please us could we read the Eskimo language, with its strange long words. Here is a good-sized letter folded and directed in a bold clear hand, "Sosanemut-Andoneb, Hibron" (To Susannah, the wife of Antony at Hebron). It is not sealed, so, as we shall scarcely understand a word of its contents, we will venture to open it and glance at them. It is a well-written letter, covering three pages of blue foolscap paper, so it must be conveying a good deal of news to Antony and Susannah. The writer names himself at the commencement, "Boas-Kedoralo." "Lo" is Eskimo for "and," and "Kedora" is another phonetic version of Keturah. He closes his long epistle with "Amen."

The Eskimoes also write the names of their missionaries with considerable variations as to spelling. "Pinsilamut" might be the address of a letter to Mr. Bindschedler, and I have seen "Karizima"' stand for Mr. Kretschmer. The natives have no idea of such titles as Mr. or Mrs., and they still call the majority of their missionaries by their Christian names.

_Wednesday, August 29th._--5 A.M. The sun just rising. We are between Lundberg Island and the Saddle, so named from its shape. Its "stirrups," two little rocks, are supplemented by a great, white berg. To the south-west Kiglapeit is still visible, and to the west are the hills on Okak Island, including "Smith Hill," so called after Tiger Schmitt[A] of South African fame. I did not know before that the good man had also been a missionary in Labrador. How ready our forefathers were to go anywhere, everywhere, if only they could "win one soul for the Saviour!" The grandest mountain in the landscape is Cape Mugford. Yes, it does look like Salisbury Crags on a large scale, as a missionary remarked to me last year on the Calton Hill in Edinburgh.

In the course of the morning Okak came in sight, visible at a much greater distance than any other station. Another hour and we had entered the bay and were approaching our anchorage. A very numerous company gathered on the pier and sang; how or what I could not hear for the rattling of our iron cable. Then the "Kitty" came off to us, bringing the missionaries Schneider, Stecker, and Schaaf, and seventeen natives.

Soon after we got ashore to be welcomed also by the three sisters, the mist, which we had seen gathering round the Saddle, came in from the sea, first drawing a broad, white stripe straight across the entrance of the bay, then gradually enveloping everything. Experience of driving to and fro off this coast in such a fog makes one doubly thankful to be safe ashore, with our good ship riding at anchor in the bay.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote A: See "Conquests of the Cross" (an admirable Missionary Serial, published by Cassell & Co.), Part I., p. 20.]

THE MOST PRIMITIVE STATION IN LABRADOR.

Our dear missionaries who dwell in Labrador for the King's work have certainly not much space in their small sitting-rooms and smaller bedrooms, for each family is content with two apartments, easily warmed in winter. They meet in the common dining room for meals, the household worship or conference, and the sisters take it in turns, a week at a time, to preside over the kitchen department, where they have the aid of an Eskimo servant. Besides the ministry and the pastoral care of their congregations, the brethren share between them a vast variety of constantly recurring temporal duties, for in Labrador there is no baker, greengrocer, and butcher round the corner, and no mason, carpenter, plumber, painter or glazier to be called in when repairs are needed. The missionaries must discharge all these offices, as well as be their own gardener and smith, and on occasion doctor, dentist, chemist, or anything else that may be necessary. These general remarks hold good of mission life at every station, but in many respects Okak is the most primitive of the six, and not least in the appointments of the mission-house, like all the rest, built of wood.

Glance round the two rooms kindly set apart for the English guest. They are the same size as the simple domain of any one of the three mission families resident here. The sitting-room is about fourteen feet by twelve; its panelled walls are coloured a blue-green. The floor is boarded, and over the middle a carpet is laid. In front of the sofa, the seat of honour, stands a little table, and the high back of my antique chair is within a foot of it as I write at the bureau against the opposite wall. By the way, what convenient pieces of furniture these bureaus are, especially to a visitor who has so much writing to do! The other chair is of like pattern, with seat stuffed and covered with sealskin. It stands between the door into the bedroom and the high, white stove. Of course open fire-places are unknown in Labrador, nor would they effectually warm the rooms. In the corner by the door the Eskimo bench is the regular institution. Sometimes my door opens, a native enters, sits down and smiles at me. When we have exchanged the usual greetings, "Aksunai" (be strong) and "Ahaila" (yes), my Eskimo vocabulary is nearly at an end, and I have to fetch an interpreter. A cupboard and a stool complete the inventory of my furniture. Do my readers wish to look into the bedroom about fourteen feet by six? Two little bedsteads and another bureau scarcely leave room to pass to the window. The prophet's table, chair, and candlestick are there, also a washstand, a strip of carpet by the bed, a little looking-glass, and some useful rows of hooks: I think that is all; but in my endeavour to give a correct idea of the godly simplicity of such a mission-house, I would not for anything misrepresent the hospitable care, of which at every station I have the most pleasant and grateful remembrance.

Now look out of my window. High hills close in the bay where the "Harmony" lies at anchor some distance from the shore. Yesterday a strong wind made her roll even in the harbour. The mission premises stand within a few yards of the beach and the little pier runs out into the water just in front of the gate. The tide is out now, and the lighter which is bringing the stores from the ship has got aground. The mate and some Eskimoes are trying to push it off, and among the rest two women are standing in the water and pushing manfully. Their position and occupation illustrate the utility of their national female costume of trousers and boots. Skirts would be impracticable when they go out boating and fishing with their husbands or trudge through the deep snow, which lies on the ground more than half a year. Nevertheless they look odd to an unaccustomed eye. The children are comical miniatures of their fathers and mothers, and sometimes it is difficult to tell whether they are boys or girls.

Do you see the station boat lying a little way from the end of the pier? She is named the "Kitty," and has an interesting history. Many years ago she brought to Okak the five survivors of the ship "Kitty" lost in the ice of Hudson's Bay. The captain and ten men escaped in the larger boat, but fell into the hands of heathen Eskimoes, who treacherously murdered them all. Those in the smaller boat rounded Cape Chudley and were driven by the wind among the islands near Okak. Here they were seen by Eskimoes belonging to the station. Emaciated and famished, they feared a cruel death, but to their astonishment the natives helped them ashore, took them into their little hut of sods, wrapped them in skins, and supplied them with food. Very beautiful to those ship-wrecked mariners sounded the singing and very solemn the prayers at the morning and evening devotions of their Eskimo deliverers. As soon as the wind permitted, the natives brought them to the station, where they were carried ashore to this mission-house and received every attention. They were in a deplorable condition and the missionaries had to perform some surgical operations on severely frost-bitten limbs. When recovered, three of them went to the south, and the other two worked their passage home in the "Harmony."

Here come a number of women and children running to the pier. Several of the women have babies in their hoods. There must be something of special interest. Yes, the fishermen from the schooner are coming ashore in their boat, and I perceive their flag is flying half-mast high, indicating a death aboard their vessel. They came into the bay yesterday, piloted by some of our Eskimoes, and bringing a dying comrade. Their request for medicine was at once granted, but the poor man lay unconscious. His "mates" said he had not lacked spiritual exhortation and comfort, adding simply and humbly, "several of us know the way, sir." So they did, as was evident from further observation of, and conversation with them. They were very grateful for Christian literature.[B] Now they have come for boards to make a coffin for their dead comrade, and the Eskimo women and children watch the strangers with curiosity, but not rudely. On the whole, I think our Eskimoes very well behaved. Their Christianity has certainly improved their manners in everyday life, as well as made them remarkably devout in church.

There is the church bell. Being the first Monday in the month, it is the missionary prayer-meeting. Let us go. The interior of the church is similar to that at Hopedale already described, and the congregation is more numerous. Edification predominates, but one or two amusing items may be noted. The babies are rather noisy. Should one or another get too obstreperous, however, the mother slips it into her hood behind, and marches to the door on the women's side. The worthy widow, who acts as chapel servant, opens the door and then closes it upon the little disturber of the peace. It is also amusing to a stranger to watch the organ-blower, for this humble but important service to the sanctuary has a prominent place here. The office is fulfilled by a woman, clad in Eskimo fashion, and when the hymn is given out she places one booted leg on the lever of the bellows and then, hymn book in hand, treads wind into the instrument as vigorously as she sings. During the concluding hymn a number of little heads and muffled up little bodies appear above the four or five rows of women; they belong to the babies who have already been heard and now are seen as their mothers lift them up to slip them into the hoods of their sillapaks. The babies being thus stowed away on their backs, the mothers are ready to stand up and file out at the end of the service.

But, as I said before, edification predominates, and truly it is edifying to hear the hearty singing and see the reverent demeanour of all classes of this Eskimo congregation. I may here add that after being present at between thirty or forty services at our six stations, I do not remember seeing a single boy or girl talking or laughing with a neighbour in church. Had one done so, no doubt he or she would have received a timely rebuke from some native-helper. The Eskimoes at Hopedale have been known to take the Newfoundland fishermen to task for irreverence.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote B: This gives me an opportunity of recording thanks to the Drummond Tract Institute for a free supply of bright Christian publications in English, which have been distributed, and will, I trust, bear some fruit. From the Religious Tract Society and other benefactors we have also received valuable help for evangelistic efforts among English-speaking sailors or settlers on the Coast of Labrador.]

WALKS IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF OKAK.

The word Okak signifies "the Tongue." The station is situated on a hilly island, which for nearly half the year is practically part of the mainland, for the broad straits are bridged by thick ice. The heights around our little settlement command fine views of the surrounding mountains and fjords. The island of Cape Mugford is one of the grandest objects in the barren landscape, and the Kaumajets, a noble range, stretch away to the north of it.

_Thursday, August 30th._--Had an interesting walk over moorland in search of the site of Kivalek, one of the old heathen villages, from which the population of Okak was drawn. On a grassy plain we found the roofless remains of many turf huts. They are similar to the mounds near Hopedale, already described, but larger and more numerous. One cannot but view, with a sad interest, these remnants of the former abodes of pagans without hope and without God in the world. "Let them alone, they are very happy in their own religion." So some would tell us; but was it so here? Is it so where the true light has not yet shined into pagan darkness? No, here, as everywhere in heathenism, the works of the flesh were manifest. And these, as the Bible plainly tells us, and as missionary experience abundantly confirms, are "fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strifes, jealousies, wraths, factions, divisions, parties, envyings, drunkenness, revellings, and such like." But through the power of the Gospel old things have passed away. Heathen Kivalek is uninhabited, and though the flesh yet lusteth against the Spirit in the lives of the dwellers at Christian Okak, yet, thank God, the Spirit also lusteth against the flesh, and the fruits of the Spirit are manifest there, as at the other stations.

_Tuesday, September 4th._--Before we had done breakfast the flag was flying at the mizen-gaff of the "Harmony," summoning her passengers to start for Ramah. We speedily packed our baggage, but the wind died away ere the anchor could be lifted, and we did not sail out of the bay till the next morning. So some of us utilized the interval for the ascent of the Sonnenkoppe, so called because it hides the sun from Okak for several weeks of the year. High on the hill was a pond, which superstitious natives believe to be inhabited by a sea-monster left there by the flood. A larger lake is named after our Irish missionary Bramagin. Arrived at the summit, a very wide prospect over innumerable mountains and blue sea, dotted with white icebergs, rewarded our climb. Far below us we could see the mission-house, centre of blessed influence, for the Eskimo village, divided into Lower Okak by the beach, and Upper Okak on the slope beyond. Strange to think that, with the exception of one settler family in Saeglek Bay, the nearest group of fixed human habitations is at Hebron, seventy miles to the north. Easier than the ascent was the descent, over rocks and stones, beautifully variegated mosses, and low vegetation changing its hue to a brilliant red as the autumn advances.

FROM OKAK TO RAMAH.

_Wednesday, September 5th._--About ten o'clock this morning a strong breeze sprang up, and we speedily left behind us the friendly red-roofed mission-house at Okak. When we entered the open sea and turned northwards we passed near a grounded iceberg, curiously hollowed out by the action of the waves. The seaward face of Cape Mugford is even grander than its aspect from the heights around Okak. It seems to be a perpendicular precipice of about 2000 feet, with white base, and a middle strata of black rocks surmounted by castellated cliffs. Presently the remarkably jagged peaks on the island of Nennoktuk came out from behind the nearer headland. There's a sail to the right of it! No, she is not another schooner; she is two-masted and square rigged, and therefore the "Gleaner," the only brigantine in these waters. So the two Moravian vessels pass one another within a mile or two, the "Gleaner" on her way southward from Hebron to Okak, whence she will take Mr. Bourquin home to Nain, the "Harmony" pursuing her northward course past Hebron to Ramah. The captains, who are consigns, exchange a salute by running up their flags, but the sea is too rough to put down a boat.

_Thursday, September 6th._--We have had a rough night. This morning we are off Hebron, but twenty-five miles out to sea. We have just passed "the Watchman," an island which serves as a waymark for the entrance to that station. I asked the mate, who once spent a winter there, whether the missionaries or the Eskimoes could see us from the heights near it. He replied that there was no doubt of it, but that he had looked out in this direction from those hills, where no drop of water was visible, nothing but an illimitable plain of ice stretching far beyond where we are now sailing.

_Sunday, 9th._--Safe at Ramah, thank God, and not out in the fog, which now envelopes sea and land. The last two days have been a trial of patience. We have seen the entrance to this Nullatatok Bay all the time, and longed to reach the desired haven, yet have not been able, owing to calms and contrary currents. This Labrador coast becomes ever bolder and grander as one sails northward. Here the snowy mountains are quite Alpine in appearance. This morning the thick mist hides all but the base of these magnificent hills, but the enormous rocky masses, rising so quickly from the water's edge into the heights veiled from us, give some idea of their grandeur. Our captain is, indeed, well acquainted with their aspect or he would not have ventured to enter this bay under such circumstances.

"RAMARSUK" (NEAT LITTLE RAMAH).

Missionaries all over the world are perhaps too fond of multiplying Scripture names of their stations. In our own fields we have already three Bethanys and three Bethesdas. We should have had three Ramahs too, had not the natives of Australia themselves greatly improved the appellation of theirs by adding to it a syllable meaning "home" or mother's place. It seemed so homelike to the Christian Aborigines, who moved thither from Ebenezer, the older station, that they at once called it Ramahyuck (Ramah, our home). Perhaps as the Ramah on the Moskito Coast is also known as Ramah Key, the northern station in Labrador, founded in 1871 to mark the cenutry of that mission, should abide plain, simple "Ramah," otherwise the above combination would, I understand, have suited the genius of the language, and its significance. "Neat little Ramah" certainly expresses the character of the lonely missionary settlement.

The village, if one may dignify this small group of human dwellings by that name, stands on a little plain evidently won by degrees from the sea for the successive beaches can be traced. The mission premises, the old house, the new house, and the church with its little belfry, are one continuous building facing the bay southward, and exactly one hundred feet in length. Behind are the store buildings, and the low turf huts of the natives stretch westward along the strand. They are so like grassy mounds, that from any distance one would ask, "But where do the Eskimoes live?"

The missionary dwelling is primitive enough, even as enlarged. During our brief stay here, I have the honour of occupying the original house, built about twenty years ago. It is but a room divided by a curtain, but it served the first missionary couple here as dwelling-room, bedroom, church, and everything else. What a grand view there is from the window over the deep land-locked bay, in which the "Harmony" is lying at the only available anchorage. No one would guess that it would take more than half-an-hour to row across the smooth water, or in winter to walk over its frozen surface to the opposite shore, where, as on this side, precipitous bluffs rise almost from the water's edge. All nature around is on a grand scale, and those snow-clad mountains, which look over the shoulders of the nearer cliffs, are quite Alpine in effect. Climb to the dizzy heights, which tower threateningly six or seven hundred feet above the station and you find you are not half way to the summit of the nearest hill. It must, indeed, be a magnificent view from thence towards the great mountains in the interior, whose everlasting snows cover long ridges at least five or six thousand feet in height. Seawards, the Ramah Hill, a remarkable perpendicular rock, surmounts the nearer cliffs. It looks as if, standing on the crag, one could drop a stone into the water at its base, 1000 feet below.

All this is grand, but grander still is the quiet, unconscious devotion of the worthy missionary pair, who live in this lonely bay, tending the little Christian congregation already gathered, and seeking the salvation of the heathen Eskimoes to the north. Of these there are perhaps sixty or seventy dwelling between Ramah and Cape Chudley; the northern point of Labrador. I am heartily glad Mr. and Mrs. Schulze have now a helper in Mr. Eckhardt, and trust the little missionary band will have increasing joy in souls won for the Lord.

It will be remembered that the fourth morning after leaving Okak we entered Nullatatok Bay through a thick mist. Beautiful days followed, showing the Ramah scenery to advantage, but the weather was rather wintry. Snow fell once or twice, though not in sufficient quantities to lie, and one morning we had ice on the bay. Yet at midday the sun was quite hot. The arrival of the "Harmony" at Ramah on Sunday (September 9th, 1888), interfered with the usual morning worship. We passengers came ashore for the afternoon service, Mr. Schulze read the Litany and then Mr. Dam addressed the congregation in Eskimo, centreing nearly all the black eyes in eager attention to the Word preached. The chapel being small, the people were rather near to the benches occupied by the missionary brethren and sisters, and this proximity was evident to the organs of smell. Several being away at their fishing places, there were only about a dozen men and boys and rather more women and girls with an extra sprinkling of lively and healthy-looking babies. Most were characterized by an air of independence amusingly illustrated at the close by the oldest man, who asked aloud when the visitor from London was going to speak to them.

And what of the spiritual life of this little congregation? In reply I will give neither my own impressions, nor the missionary's testimony to his flock, apt sometimes to be influenced by his estimate of what they should be. I will call in a casual witness. Last year Eugenia, a Christian Eskimo from Hopedale, visited all the congregations, travelling to and fro by dog-sledge with the post-sledges. She remarked to her missionary: "The Ramah and Okak people, those are the best in the country. At Ramah I was quite shamed by their desire after truth. They said, 'You know these things; teach us, we are so stupid.'"

AN ESKIMO VILLAGE.

Now for a visit to our Eskimoes in their own dwellings, as the two missionaries are ready to accompany me and interpret for me. It may not be a pleasant expedition in every respect, as within and without there is a pervading fishy smell. Rows of drying fish hang on frames high enough to be out of reach of the dogs, who sniff about everywhere, sometimes climbing into the boats to see if any fish be left. Those red rows are trout, the white ones are cod.

When we arrived here last Sunday, two families were living in skin tents. One has now taken down the temporary abode and removed into the more permanent winter residence, a low turf hut. We will enter the other tent. Frederick, the owner, is not at home, but his wife, Susannah, is there with her two children. Whilst she inquires after her former missionaries and sends a grateful greeting to the widow of the late Samuel Weitz, take the opportunity to glance around the tent. It is more spacious and better furnished than one would think. We can all three stand upright in the middle of it, which is not possible in every house. Deer skins spread on a raised platform at the further end make two beds. In that open box are hymn-book, liturgy-book, and some volumes of the Eskimo Bible. Next it are a set of very fair cups and saucers, but it seems incongruous for the china to stand on the mud floor. Various utensils lie about, but there is neither chair nor table.

We cannot stay long, however, for we are going to visit every house in the place. The first house is Gottlob's. He came hither from Hebron, and has enjoyed a better education than the Ramah people, most of whom grew up in heathenism. His wife's baptismal name is Lydia; as a heathen, she was Auinasuak. This is one of the best huts, but the best are poor inside as well as outside, compared to many log-houses I have seen further south. Through the low porch, without any remonstrance from the dogs, we reach a lower door. It is hot inside. Yes, there is a stove to the left, and it appears to be the only article of furniture in the room entered. Behind the partition is a very different chamber. It is furnished with the usual couches spread with skins, and on the edge of one of these, Lydia is seated. She does not rise to greet her visitors, nor does it occur to her to offer a seat. What shall she offer? A box? As with the rest of those visited, her welcome takes the form of a good-humoured laugh. One or two objects in her room testify to a refinement unusual for this station. A guitar hangs on the wall near a cage with a bird in it, and against the partition stands a piano. Fancy such an instrument in a low turf hut, even though it be but an old square piano! Here, as elsewhere, we speak a few words of kindly greeting and spiritual interest, and then take leave with "Aksunai."

The occupant of the next hut is not at home. This is indicated by two great slabs of slate, one at the entrance to his porch and one over his front (and only) window. These are more for protection against prowling dogs than dishonest men.

Now we come to the dwelling of the oldest couple, William and Hulda, whose heathen names were Nochasak and Aksuana. They are, respectively, fifty-five and fifty, but look older. Two sons live with them, of whom the elder is married. Both parents are at home, and the daughter-in-law with her first baby in her arms. Here first I notice the curious lamp, a sort of dish hollowed out in a soft stone. The wick is a kind of moss which floats in seal-oil, and gives a feeble flame apparently more for warmth than for light, for the houses are not dark.

Next to William's stand the roofless remains of an unoccupied dwelling, which may serve to show how these huts are built. It is a square enclosure three or four feet in height; the back is dug out of the sloping bank, the front wall is built up with turf. Put a roof over this and your house will be made. Two upright posts in the middle, about seven feet in height, will serve as the supports for the frame of your roof, which will also be covered with turf. The low door must be in front, facing the bay, and, both for warmth and as a shelter for the dogs, must invariably be protected by a low covered porch. Whether he be dwelling in his turf hut or sheltering in some snow hut, quickly built for a night away from home, the Eskimo enters his abode by a little tunnel, at the further end of which is the door. Just above this comes the window-frame, sometimes on a slant, better perpendicular. The window of his turf hut is semi-transparent seal bladder unless the owner of the mansion can afford and obtain glass. Now your house is complete, but lacks interior fittings. If you are an Eskimo, you do not want many. Your two poles supporting the roof may help you to partition off the sleeping places, either with boards or with curtains. These are raised about a foot from the ground, and the edge of the bed is the general seat.