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diff --git a/19452-h/19452-h.htm b/19452-h/19452-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e9ee22b --- /dev/null +++ b/19452-h/19452-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3745 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Le Petit Nord, by Anne Elizabeth Caldwell (MacClanahan) Grenfell and Katie Spalding</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + + P { margin-top: .5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .5em; + text-indent: 1em; + } + H1 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + H5,H6 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + H2 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* centered and coloured */ + } + H3 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* centered and coloured */ + } + H4 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + HR { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + } + a {text-decoration: none} /* no lines under links */ + div.centered {text-align: center;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 1 */ + div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 2 */ + ul {list-style-type: none} /* no bullets on lists */ + li {margin-top: .15em; margin-bottom: .15em;} /* spacing for list */ + + .cen {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} /* centering paragraphs */ + .sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 95%;} /* small caps, normal size */ + .fakesc {font-size: 80%;} /* fake small caps */ + .noin {text-indent: 0em;} /* no indenting */ + .right {text-align: right; padding-right: 2em;} /* right aligning paragraphs */ + .img {text-align: center; padding: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} /* centering images */ + .tdlsc {text-align: left; font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 95%;} /* aligning cell content and small caps */ + .tr {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 1em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} + + /* Visually set apart the Greek text and show the transliteration when hovered */ + .Greek {border-bottom: 1px dotted silver;} + .Greek[title]:after{ + /*Workaround for Gecko*/ + content: ""; + } + .Greek[title]:hover:after{ + /*Shows the value of the title attribute when hovered*/ + content: " [Greek: " attr(title) "]"; + } + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + border: solid black; + height: 5px; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +div.fig { margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.caption {font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; } + + </style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Le Petit Nord, by Anne Elizabeth Caldwell (MacClanahan) Grenfell and Katie Spalding</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Le Petit Nord<br /> + or, Annals of a Labrador Harbour</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Anne Elizabeth Caldwell (MacClanahan) Grenfell and Katie Spalding</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Wilfred T. Grenfell</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 3, 2006 [eBook #19452]<br /> +[Most recently updated: January 8, 2023]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Jeannie Howse and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LE PETIT NORD ***</div> + +<div class="tr"> +<p class="cen" style="font-weight: bold;">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<br /> +<p class="noin">Inconsistent hyphenation and unusual spelling in the +original document have been preserved.</p> +<p class="noin">The illustration captions, listed only at the front of + the original text, have been added to the illustrations for + the benefit of the reader.</p> +<p class="noin">One obvious typographical error was corrected in this + text, but not the dialect. For details, please see the + <a href="#TN">end of this document</a>.</p> +</div> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="frontis"></a> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="472" height="650" alt="[Illustration]" /> +<p class="caption">An Awful Night for a Sinner</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h1>LE PETIT NORD</h1> + +<h4>OR</h4> + +<h3>ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR</h3> + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h3>ANNE GRENFELL AND KATIE SPALDING</h3> + +<div class="img"> +<img src="images/deco.png" alt="deco" /> +</div> + +<h5>BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br /> +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br /> +<i>The Riverside Press Cambridge</i><br /> +1920</h5> + +<h5>COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br /> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</h5> + +<h3>FOREWORD</h3> + +<p>A friend from the Hub of the Universe, in a somewhat supercilious +manner, not long ago informed one of our local friends that his own +home was hundreds of miles to the southward. "'Deed, sir, how does you +manage to live so far off?" with a scarcely perceptible twinkle of one +eye, was the answer.</p> + +<p>If home is the spot on earth where one spends the larger part of one's +prime, and where one's family comes into being, then for over a +quarter of a century "Le Petit Nord" of this book has been my home. +With the authors I share for it and its people the love which alone +keeps us here. Necessity has compelled me to perform, however +imperfectly, functions usually distributed amongst many and varied +professions, and the resultant intimacy has become unusual. As, +therefore, I read the amusing experiences herein narrated, I feel +that the "other half," who know us not, will love us better even if we +are not exactly as they. That is not our fault. They should not live +"so far off."</p> + +<p>The incidents told are all actual, but the name of every single person +and place has been changed to afford any hypersensitive among the +actors the protection which pseudonymity confers. We here who have +been permitted a glimpse of these pages feel that we really owe the +authors another debt beyond the love for the people to which they have +testified by the more substantial offering of long and voluntary +personal service.</p> + +<p class="right sc">Wilfred T. Grenfell, M.D.</p> + +<p><i>Labrador, 1919</i></p> + +<h3>ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> + +<div class="centered"> +<table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#frontis">An Awful Night for a Sinner</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep020">Sad Seasick Souls strewn around</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep029">The Herring of High Estate</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep040">"Have you a plug of baccy, Skipper?"</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep042">Rhoda's Randy</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep053">Topsy's Ambition is to become like a Fat Pig</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep054">Topsy was creeping from Bed to Bed with the Carving-Knife</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep059">The Prophet of Doom</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep061">Ananias has Broken yet Another Window</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep068">Not Fat, but Fine and Hearty</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep070">Delilah bawling</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep092">Mrs. Uncle Life found the Leader of the Team in her Bed</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep095">"Teacher, I have a pain"</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep100">The Yoho</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep108">They ate the Entire Boot</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep117">He had taken the Stranger in</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep127">He froze his Toe in Bed</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep131">A Long Way on the Heavenward Road</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep140">The Seventh Son</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep141">Its Action was Prompt and Powerful</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep153">It was his Last Bullet</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep180">A Puffin Ghetto</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep189">The Bear bit his Leg off</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep199">P.S.</a></td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<h5><i>From drawings by Dr. Grenfell</i></h5> + +<h2>LE PETIT NORD</h2> + +<h2>OR<br /> +ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>LE PETIT NORD</h2> + +<h3>OR<br /> + +ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR</h3> + +<p class="right"><i>Off the Narrows, St. John's</i><br /> +<span style="margin-right: 2em;"><i>June 10</i></span></p> + +<p class="sc">Dear Joan</p> + +<p class="poem"> +The Far North calls and I am on my way:—<br /> +There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail.<br /> +There gloom the dark broad seas.<br /> + * * * * *<br /> +The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks. +</p> + +<p class="noin">Why write as if I had taken a lifelong vow of separation from the +British Isles and all things civilized, when after all it is only one +short year out of my allotted span of life that I have promised to +Mission work? Your steamer letter, with its Machiavellian arguments +for returning immediately and directly from St. John's, was duly +received. Of my unfitness for the work there is no possible doubt, no +shadow of doubt whatever, and therein you and I are at one. But you +will do me the justice to admit that I put very forcibly before those +in charge of the Mission the delusion under which they were labouring; +the responsibility now lies with them, and I "go to prove my soul." +What awaits me I know not, but except when the mighty billows rocked +me, not soothingly with gentle motion, but harshly and immoderately. I +have never wavered in my decision; and even at such times it was to +the bottom of Father Neptune that I aspired to travel rather than to +the shores of "Merrie England."</p> + +<p>The voyage so far has been uneventful, and we are now swaying +luxuriously at anchor in a dense fog. This I believe is the usual +welcome accorded to travellers to the island of Newfoundland. There is +no chart for icebergs, and "growlers" are formidable opponents to +encounter at any time. Therefore it behoves us to possess our souls in +patience, and only to indulge at intervals in the right to grumble +which is by virtue of tradition ours. We have already been here a day +and a half, and we know not how much longer it will be before the +curtain rises and the first act of the drama can begin.</p> + +<p>These boats are far from large and none too comfortable. We have taken +ten days to come from Liverpool. Think of that, you who disdain to +cross the water in anything but an ocean greyhound! What hardships we +poor missionaries endure! Incidentally I want to tell you that my +fellow passengers arch their eyebrows and look politely amused when I +tell them to what place I am bound. I ventured to ask my room-mate if +she had ever been on Le Petit Nord. I wish you could have seen her +face. I might as well have asked if she had ever been exiled to +Siberia! I therefore judge it prudent not to thirst too lustily for +information, lest I be supplied with more than I desire or can +assimilate at this stage. I shall write you again when I board the +coastal steamer, which I am credibly informed makes the journey to St. +Antoine once every fortnight during the summer months. Till then, <i>au +revoir</i>.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>Run-by-Guess, June 15</i></p> + +<p>I landed on the wharf at St. John's to be met with the cheering +information that the steamer had left for the north two days before. +This necessitated a delay of twelve days at least. Will all the babies +at the Orphanage be dead before I arrive on the scene of action? Shall +I take the next boat back and be in England before the coastal steamer +comes south to claim me? Conflicting emotions disturb my troubled +soul, but "on and always on!"</p> + +<p>The island boasts a railroad of which the rural inhabitants are +inordinately proud. Just prior to my arrival a daily service had been +inaugurated. Formerly the passenger trains ran only three times a +week. There are no Sunday trains. As I had so much time to spare, I +decided that I could not do better than spend some of it in going +across the island and thus see the Southern part of the country, +catching my boat at Come-by-Chance Junction on the return journey. +Truth compels me to add that I find myself a sadder and wiser woman. I +left St. John's one evening at six o'clock, being due to arrive at our +destination at eight o'clock the following night. There is no +unpleasant "hustle" on this railway, and you may wait leisurely and +humbly for a solid hour while your very simple meal is prepared. If +you do not happen to be hungry, this is only a delightful interlude in +the incessant rush of modern life, but if perchance Nature has endowed +you with a moderate appetite, that one hour seems incurably long.</p> + +<p>All went well the first night, or at least my fellow passengers showed +no signs of there being anything unusual, so like Brer Rabbit, I lay +low and said nothing. At noon the following day a slightly bigger and +more prolonged jolt caused the curious among us to look from the +window. The engine, tender, and luggage van were derailed. As the +speed of the trains never exceeds twenty-five miles an hour, such +little <i>contretemps</i> which occur from time to time do not ruffle the +serenity of those concerned. Resigning myself to a delay of a few +hours, I determined to alight and explore the country. But alas! I had +no mosquito veiling, and to stand for a moment outside without this +protection was to risk disfigurement for life. So I humbly yielded to +adverse circumstances and returned to try and read, the previous +bumping having made this out of the question. But the interior was by +this time a veritable Gehenna, and no ventilation could be obtained, +as the Company had not thought it necessary to provide their windows +with screens. For twenty-five hours we remained in durance vile, until +at last the relief train lumbered to our rescue and conveyed us to +Run-by-Guess, our destination.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>Northward Bound. On board</i><br /> +<span style="margin-right: 2em;"><i>June 25</i></span></p> + +<p>If you could have been present during the return journey from +Run-by-Guess your worst prophecies would have seemed to you justified. +The railroad is of the genus known as narrow-gauge; the roadbed was +not constructed on the principles laid down by the Romans. In a +country where the bones of Mother Earth protrude so insistently, it is +beating the devil round the stump to mend the bed with fir branches +tucked even ever so solicitously under the ties. That, nevertheless, +was an attempt at "safety first" which I saw.</p> + +<p>Towards morning a furious rain and wind storm broke over us. Before +many minutes I noticed that my berth was becoming both cold and damp. +Looking up I made out in the dim dawn a small but persistent stream +pouring down upon me. I had had the upper berth pushed up so as to +get the air! Again the train came to an unscheduled stop. By this time +assorted heads were emerging from behind the curtains, and from each +came forcible protests against the weather. There was nothing to be +done but to sit with my feet tucked up and my arms around my knees, +occupying thus the smallest possible space for one of my proportions, +and wait developments. Ten minutes later, after much shouting outside +my window, a ladder was planted against the car, and two trainmen in +yellow oilskins climbed to the roof. I noted with satisfaction that +they carried hammers, tacks, and strips of tin. A series of resounding +blows and the almost immediate cessation of the descending floods told +how effective their methods had proved. Directly afterwards the +startled squeak of the engine whistle, as if some one had trodden on +its toe, warned us that we were off once more.</p> + +<p>We landed (you will note that the nautical phraseology of the country +has already gripped me) in the same storm at Come-by-Chance Junction. +But the next morning broke bright and shining, as if rain and wind +were inhabitants of another planet. It is quite obvious that this land +is a lineal descendant of Albion's Isle. Now I am aboard the coastal +steamer and we are nosing our way gingerly through the packed floe +ice, as we steam slowly north for Cape St. John. Yes, I know it is +Midsummer's Day, but as the captain tersely put it, "the slob is a bit +late."</p> + +<p>The storm of two days ago blowing in from the broad Atlantic drove the +great field of leftover pans before it, and packed them tight against +the cliffs. If we had not had that sudden change in the weather's mind +yesterday, we should not be even as far along as we now find +ourselves.</p> + +<p>You can form no idea of one's sensations as the steamer pushes her way +through an ice jam. For miles around, as far as the eye can reach, +the sea is covered with huge, glistening blocks. Sometimes the +deep-blue water shows between, and sometimes they are so tightly +massed together that they look like a hummocky white field. How any +one can get a steamer along through it is a never-ending source of +amazement, and my admiration for the captain is unstinted. I stand on +the bridge by the hour, and watch him and listen to the reports of the +man on the cross-trees as to the prospects of "leads" of open water +ahead. Every few minutes we back astern, and then butt the ice. If one +stays below decks the noise of the grinding on the ship's side is so +persistent and so menacing that I prefer the deck in spite of its +barrels and crates and boxes and smells. Here at least one would not +feel like a rat in a hole if a long, gleaming, icy, giant finger +should rip the ship's side open down the length of her. As we grate +and scrape painfully along I look back and see that the ice-pan +channel we leave behind is lined with scarlet. It is the paint off our +hull. The spectacle is all too suggestive for one who has always +regarded the most attractive aspect of the sea to be viewed from the +landwash.</p> + +<p>Of course the scenery is beautiful—almost too trite to write—but the +beauty is lonesome and terrifying, and my city-bred soul longs for +some good, homely, human "blot on the landscape." There are no trees +on the cliffs now. I understand, however, that Nature is not +responsible for this oversight. The people are sorely in need of +firewood, and not being far-seeing enough to realize what a menace it +is to the country to denude it so unscientifically, they have razed +every treelet. Nature has done her best to rectify their mistake, and +the rocky hills are covered with jolly bright mosses and lichens.</p> + +<p>Naturally, there are compensations for even this kind of voyage, for +no swell can make itself felt through the heavy ice pack. We steam +along for miles on a keel so even that only the throb of our engines, +and the inevitable "ship-py" odour, remind one that the North Atlantic +rolls beneath the staunch little steamer.</p> + +<p>The "staunch little steamer's" whistle has just made a noise out of +all proportion to its size. It reminded me of an English sparrow's +blatant personality. We have turned into a "tickle," and around the +bend ahead of us are a handful of tiny whitewashed cottages clinging +to the sides of the rocky shore.</p> + +<p>I cannot get used to the quaint language of the people, and from the +helpless way in which they stare at me, my tongue must be equally +unintelligible. A delightful <i>camaraderie</i> exists; every one knows +every one else, or they all act as if they did. As we come to anchor +in the little ports, the men from the shore lash their punts fast to +the bottom of the ship's ladder, and clamber with gazelle-like agility +over our side. If you happen to be leaning curiously over the rail +near by, they jerk their heads and remark, "Good morning," or, "Good +evening," according as it is before or after midday. This is an +afternoon-less country. The day is divided into morning, evening, and +night. Their caps seem to have been born on their heads and to +continue to grow there like their hair, or like the clothing of the +children of Israel, which fitted them just as well when they came out +of the wilderness as when they went in. But no incivility is meant. +You may dissect the meaning and grammar of that paragraph alone. You +have had long practice in such puzzles.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>Seventy-five miles later</i></p> + +<p>We are out of the ice field and steaming past Cape St. John. This was +the dividing line between the English and French in the settlement of +their troubles in 1635. North of it is called the French or Treaty +Shore, or as the French themselves so much more quaintly named it, "Le +Petit Nord." It is at the north end of Le Petit Nord that St. Antoine +is located.</p> + +<p>The very character of the country and vegetation has changed. It is as +if the great, forbidding fortress of St. John's Cape cut off the +milder influences of southern Newfoundland, and left the northern +peninsula a prey to ice and winds and fog. The people, too, have felt +the influence of this discrimination of Nature. There is a line of +demarcation between those who have been able to enjoy the benefits of +the southern island, and those who have had to cope with the recurrent +problems of the northland. I cannot help thinking of the change this +shore must have been from their beloved and smiling Brittany to those +first eager Frenchmen. The names on the map reveal their pathetic +attempts to stifle their <i>nostalgie</i> by christening the coves and +harbours with the familiar titles of their homeland.</p> + +<p>I fear in my former letter I made some rather disparaging remarks +about certain ocean liners, but I want to take them all back. Life is +a series of comparisons and in retrospect the steamer on which I +crossed seems a veritable floating palace. I offer it my humble +apologies. Of one thing only I am certain—I shall never, never have +the courage to face the return journey.</p> + +<p>The time for the steamer to make the journey from Come-by-Chance to +St. Antoine is from four to five days, but when there is much ice +these days have been known to stretch to a month. The distance in +mileage is under three hundred, but because of the many harbours into +which the boat has to put to land supplies, it is really a much +greater distance. There are thirty-three ports of call between St. +John's and St. Antoine, most of which are tiny fishing settlements +consisting of a few wooden houses at the water's edge. This coast +possesses scores of the most wonderful natural harbours, which are not +only extremely picturesque, but which alone make the dangerous shore +possible for navigation. As the steamer puts in at Bear Cove, Poverty +Cove, Deadman's Cove, and Seldom-Come-By (this last from the fact +that, although boats pass, they seldom anchor there), out shoot the +little rowboats to fetch their freight. It is certainly a wonderfully +fascinating coast, beautifully green and wooded in the south, and +becoming bleaker and barer the farther north one travels. But the bare +ruggedness and naked strength of the north have perhaps the deeper +appeal. To those who have to sail its waters and wrest a living from +the harvest of the sea, this must be a cruel shore, with its dangers +from rocks and icebergs and fog, and insufficient lighting and +charting.</p> + +<p>Apart from the glory of the scenery the journey leaves much to be +desired, and the weather, being exceedingly stormy since we left the +ice field behind, has added greatly to our trials. The accommodations +on the boat are strictly limited, and it is crowded with fishermen +going north to the Labrador, and with patients for the Mission +Hospital. As they come on in shoals at each harbour the refrain +persistently runs through my head, "Will there be beds for all who +come?" But the answer, alas, does not fit the poem. Far from there +being enough and to spare, I know of two at least of my fellow +passengers who took their rest in the hand basins when not otherwise +wanted. Tables as beds were a luxury which only the fortunate could +secure. Almost the entire space on deck is filled with cargo of every +description, from building lumber to live-stock. While the passengers +number nearly three hundred, there are seating accommodations on four +tiny wooden benches without backs, for a dozen, if packed like +sardines. Barrels of flour, kerosene, or molasses provide the rest. +Although somewhat hard for a succession of days, these latter are +saved from the deadly ill of monotony by the fact that as they are +discharged and fresh taken on, such vantage-points have to be secured +anew from day to day; and one learns to regard with equanimity if not +with thankfulness what the gods please to send.</p> + +<p>There are many sad, seasick souls strewn around. If cleanliness be +next to godliness, then there is little hope of this steamer making +the Kingdom of Heaven. One habit of the men is disgusting; they +expectorate freely over everything but the ocean. The cold outside is +so intense as to be scarcely endurable, while the closeness of the +atmosphere within is less so. These are a few of the minor +discomforts of travel to a mission station; the rest can be better +imagined than described. If, to the Moslem, to be slain in battle +signifies an immediate entrance into the pleasures of Paradise, what +should be the reward of those who suffer the vagaries of this northern +ocean, and endure to the end?</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep020" id="imagep020"></a> +<a href="images/imagep020.png"> +<img src="images/imagep020.png" width="85%" alt="Sad Seasick Souls strewn around" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">Sad Seasick Souls strewn around</p> +</div> + +<p>My trunk is lost. In the excitement of carpentering incidental to the +cloudburst, the crew of the train omitted to drop it off at +Come-by-Chance. I am informed that it has returned across the country +to St. John's. If I had not already been travelling for a fortnight, +or if Heaven had endowed me with fewer inches so that my clothing were +not so exclusively my own, the problem of the interim till the next +boat would be simpler.</p> + +<p>I have had my first, and I may add my last, experience of "brewis," an +indeterminate concoction much in favour as an article of diet on this +coast. The dish consists of hard bread (ship's biscuit) and codfish +boiled together in a copious basis of what I took to be sea-water. "On +the surface of the waters" float partially disintegrated chunks of fat +salt pork. I am not finicking. I could face any one of these articles +of diet alone; but in combination, boiled, and served up lukewarm in a +soup plate for breakfast, in the hot cabin of a violently rolling +little steamer, they take more than my slender stock of philosophy to +cope with. Yet they save the delicacy for the Holy Sabbath. The only +justification of this policy that I can see is that, being a day of +rest, their stomachs can turn undivided and dogged attention to the +process of digestion.</p> + +<p>Did I say "day of rest"? The phrase is utterly inadequate. These +people are the strictest of Sabbatarians. The Puritan fathers, whom we +now look back upon with a shivery thankfulness that our lot did not +fall among them, would, and perhaps do, regard them as kindred +spirits. But they are earnest Christians, with a truly uncomplaining +selflessness of life.</p> + +<p>By some twist of my brain that reminds me of a story told me the other +day which brings an old legend very prettily to this country. It is +said that when Joseph of Arimathea was hounded from place to place by +the Jews, he fled to England taking the Grail with him. The spot where +he settled he called Avalon. When Lord Baltimore, a devout Catholic, +was given a huge tract of land in the south of this little island, he +christened it Avalon in commemoration of Joseph of Arimathea's also +distant journey. To the disgrace of the Protestants, the Catholic +exiles arrived in the "land of promise" only to discover that the +spirit of persecution was rampant in this then far-off colony.</p> + +<p>Evidently the people of the country think that every man bound for the +Mission is a doctor, and every woman a nurse. If my Puritan conscience +had not blocked the way, I could have made a considerable sum +prescribing for the ailments of my fellow passengers. One little thin +woman on board has just confided to me, "Why, miss, I found myself in +my stomach three times last week"—and looked up for advice. As for +me, I was "taken all aback," and hastened to assure her that nothing +approaching so astonishing an event had ever come within the range of +my experience. I hated to suggest it to her, but I have a lurking +suspicion that the catastrophe had some not too distant connection +with the "brewis." By the way, all right-minded Newfoundlanders and +Labradormen call it "bruse."</p> + +<p>Also by the way, it is incorrect to speak of <i>New</i>foundland. It is +Newfound<i>land</i>. Neither do you go up north if you know what you are +about. You go "down North"; and your friend is not bound for Labrador. +She is going to "the Labrador," or, to be more of a purist still, "the +Larbadore." Having put you right on these rudiments—oh! I forgot +another: "Fish" is always codfish. Other finny sea-dwellers may have +to be designated by their special names, but the unpretentious cod is +"t' fish"; and the salutation of friends is not, "How is your wife?" +or, "How is your health?" But, "How's t' fish, B'y?" I like it. It is +friendly and different—a kind of password to the country.</p> + +<p>I am glad that I am not coming here as a mere traveller. The land +looks so reserved that, like people of the same type, you are sure it +is well worth knowing. So when, perhaps, I have been able to discover +a little of its "subliminal self," the tables will be turned, and you +will be eager to make its acquaintance. Then it will be my chance to +offer you sage and unaccepted advice as to your inability to cope with +the climate and its <i>entourage</i>. I too shall be able to prophesy +unheeded a shattered constitution and undermined nerves. To be sure, +old Jacques Cartier had such a poor opinion of the coast that he +remarked it ought to have been the land God gave to Cain. But J.C. has +gone to his long rest. After the length of this letter I judge that +you envy him that repose, so I release you with my love.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>St. Antoine Orphanage at last</i><br /> +<span style="margin-right: 2em;"><i>Address for one year</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-right: 4em;"><i>July 6</i></span></p> + + +<p>I have at last arrived at the back of beyond. We should have steamed +right past the entrance of our harbour if the navigation had been in +my hands. You make straight for a great headland jutting out into the +Atlantic, when the ship suddenly takes a sharp turn round an abrupt +corner, and before you know it, you are advancing into the most +perfect of landlocked harbours. A great cliff rises on the +left,—Quirpon Point they call it,—and clinging to its base like an +overgrown limpet is a tiny cottage, with its inevitable fish stage. +Farther along are more houses; then a white church with a pointed +spire, and a bright-green building near by, while across the path is a +very pretty square green school. Next are the Mission buildings in a +group. Beyond them come more small houses—"Little Labrador" I +learned later that this group is called, because the people living +there have almost all come over from the other side of the Straits of +Belle Isle.</p> + +<p>The ship's ladder was dropped as we came to anchor opposite the small +Mission wharf. The water is too shallow to allow a large steamer to go +into it, but the hospital boat, the Northern Light, with her draft of +only eight feet, can easily make a landing there. We scrambled over +the side and secured a seat in the mail boat. Before we knew it four +hearty sailors were sweeping us along towards the little dock. Here, +absolutely wretched and forlorn, painfully conscious of crumpled and +disordered garments, I turned to face the formidable row of Mission +staff drawn up in solemn array to greet us. As the doctor-in-charge +stepped forward and with a bland smile hoped I had had a "comfortable +journey," and bade me welcome to St. Antoine, with a prodigious effort +I contorted my features into something resembling a grin, and limply +shook his outstretched hand. To-morrow I mean to make enquiries about +retiring pensions for Mission workers!</p> + +<p>No one had much sympathy with me over the loss of my trunk. They +laughed and said I would be fortunate if it appeared by the end of the +summer. You had better send me a box by freight with some clothing in +it; I otherwise shall have to live in bed, or seek admission to +hospital as a "chronic."</p> + +<p>How perfectly dear of you to have a letter awaiting me at the +Orphanage. Regardless of manners I fell to and devoured it, while all +the "little oysters stood and waited in a row." Like the walrus, with +a few becoming words I introduced myself as their future guardian, but +never a word said they. As, led by a diminutive maid, I passed from +their gaze I heard an awe-struck whisper, <span class="sc">"It's</span> gone +upstairs!"</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep029" id="imagep029"></a> +<a href="images/imagep029.png"> +<img src="images/imagep029.png" width="75%" alt="The Herring of High Estate" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">The Herring of High Estate</p> +</div> + +<p>In answer to my questions the little maid informed me that the last +mistress had left by the boat I had just missed, and that since then +the children had been in her charge, with such help and supervision as +the various members of the Mission staff could give. I therefore felt +it was "up to me" to make a start, and I delicately enquired when the +next meal was due. An exhaustive exploration of the larder revealed +two herrings, one undoubtedly of very high estate. As the children +looked fairly plump, I concluded that they had only been on such +meagre diet since the departure of the last "mistress." The barrenness +of the larder suggested a fruitful topic of conversation with which to +win the confidence of these staring, open-mouthed children, and I +therefore tenderly asked what they would most like to eat, supposing +<span class="sc">It</span> were there. One and all affirmed that "swile" meat was a +delicacy such as their souls loved—and repeated questions could +elucidate no further. Subsequently, on making enquiries of one of the +Mission staff, I thought I detected a look which led me to suppose +that I had not yet acquired the correct pronunciation of the word. We +dined off the herring of lowly origin, and consigned the other to the +garbage pail. Nerve as well as skill, I can assure you, is required to +divide one herring into thirty-six equal parts. There is no occasion +for alarm. I have not the slightest intention of starving these +infants. To-morrow I go on a foraging expedition to the Mission +commissariat department (there must be one somewhere), and then the +fat years shall succeed the lean ones.</p> + +<p>To-night I am too tired to do more, and there is a quite absurd +longing to see some one's face again. The coming year looks very long +and very dreary, and although I know I shall grow to love these +children, yet, oh, I wish they did not stare so when one has to blink +so hard to keep the tears from falling.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>July 7</i></p> + + +<p>Morning! And the children may stare all they like. I no longer need to +repress youthful emotions. All the same it is a trifle disconcerting. +I had chosen, as I thought, a very impressive portion of Scripture for +Prayers, and the children were as quiet as mice. But they never let +their eyes wander from me for a single moment, until I began to feel I +ought at least to have a smut on the tip of my nose.</p> + +<p>The alluring advertisement of Newfoundland, as "the coolest country on +the Atlantic seaboard in the summer," is all too painfully true. It is +very, very cold at present, and the sun, if sun there be, is safely +ensconced behind an impenetrable bank of fog. If this is summer +weather, what will the winter be!</p> + +<p>I started to write this to you in the morning, but the day has been +one long series of interruptions. The work is all new to me and not +exactly what I expected, but the spice of variety is not lacking. I +find it very hard to understand these children and it is evident from +their faces that they fail to comprehend my meaning. Yet I have a +lurking suspicion that when it is an order to be obeyed, their desire +to understand is not overwhelming. The children are supposed to do the +work of the Home under my superintendency, the girls undertaking the +housework and the boys the outside "chores." Apparently from all I +hear my predecessor was a strict disciplinarian, an economical +manager, an expert needlewoman, and everything I should be and am not. +The sewing simply appalls me! I confess that stitching for three dozen +children of all sizes had not entered into my calculations as one of +the duties of a "missionary"! Yet of course I realize they must be +clad as well as taught. What a pity that the climate will not allow of +a simple loin cloth and a string of beads. And how infinitely more +becoming. Then, too, how much easier would be the food problem were +we dusky Papuans dwelling in the far-off isles of the sea. This +country produces nothing but fish, and we have to plan our food +supplies for a year in advance. How much corn-meal mush will David eat +in twelve months? And if David eats so much in twelve months, how much +will Noah, two months younger, eat in the same period of time? If one +herring satisfies thirty-six, how many dozen will a herring and a half +feed? Picture me with a cold bandage round my head seeking to emulate +Hoover.</p> + +<p>A little mite has just come to the door to inform me that her dress +has "gone abroad." Seeing my mystified look, she enlightened me by +holding up a tattered garment which had all too evidently "gone +abroad" almost beyond recall. Throwing the food problem to the winds I +set myself with a businesslike air to sew together the ragged threads. +A second knock brought me the cheerful tidings that the kitchen fire +had languished from lack of sustenance. Now I had previously in my +most impressive tones commanded one of the elder boys to attend to +this matter, and he had promptly departed, as I thought, to "cleave +the splits." Searching for him I found this industrious youth lying on +his back complacently contemplating the heavens. To my remonstrance he +somewhat indignantly remarked that he was only "taking a spell." A +really magnificent and grandiloquent appeal to the boy's sense of +honour and a homily on the dignity of labour were abruptly terminated +by shrill cries resounding from the house. Rushing in, I was informed +that Noah was "bawling" (which fact was perfectly evident), having +jammed his fingers in trying to "hist" the window. In this country +children never cry; they always "bawl."</p> + +<p>I foresee that the life of a Superintendent of an Orphan Asylum is not +a simple one, and that I shall be in no danger of being "carried to +the skies" on a "flowery bed of ease." Certain I am that there will +only be opportunity to write to you at "scattered times"; so for the +present, fare thee well.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>Sunday, August 4</i></p> + + +<p>You see before you, or you would if my very obvious instead of merely +my astral body were in your presence, a changed and sobered being. I +have made the acquaintance of the Labrador fly, and he has made mine. +The affection is all on his side. Mosquito, black fly, sand fly—they +are all alike cannibals. You have probably heard the old story about +the difference between the Labrador and the New Jersey mosquito? The +Labrador species can be readily distinguished by the black patch +between his eyes about the size of a man's hand. Of the lot I prefer +the mosquito. He at least is open about his evil intentions. The black +fly darts at you quietly, settles down on an un-get-at-able spot, and +sucks your blood. If I did not find my appetite so unimpaired, I +should fancy this morning I was suffering from an acute attack of +mumps.</p> + +<p>Mumps is at the moment in our midst, and as is generally the case has +fallen on the poorest of the community. In this instance it is a widow +by the name of Kinsey, who has six children, and lives in a miserable +hovel. More of her anon. Her twelve-year-old boy comes to the Home +daily to get milk for the wretched baby, whom we had heard was down +with the disease. When he came this morning I told him to stay +outdoors while we fetched the milk, because I knew how sketchy are the +precautions of his ilk against carrying infection. "No fear, miss," he +assured me. "The baby was terrible bad last night, but he's all clear +this morning."</p> + +<p>But to return to the Kinsey parent. She had eight children. The +Newfoundlanders are a prolific race, and life is consequently doubly +hard on the women. Her husband died last fall, leaving her without a +sou, and no roof over her head. The Mission gave her a sort of shack, +and took two of her kiddies into the Home. The place was too crowded +at the time to take any more. The doctor then wrote to the orphanages +at the capital presenting the problem, and asking that they take a +consignment of children. The Church of England Orphanage, of which +denomination the mother is a member, was full; and the other one, +which has just had a gift of beautiful buildings and grounds, +"regretted they could not take any of the children, as their orphanage +was exclusively for their denomination." The mother did not respond to +the doctor's ironic suggestion that she should "turncoat" under the +press of circumstances.</p> + +<p>They tell a story here about Kinsey, the late and unlamented. Last +spring a steamer heading north on Government business sighted a +fishing punt being rowed rapidly towards it, the occupant waving a +flag. The captain ordered, "Stop her," thinking that some acute +emergency had arisen on the land during the long winter. A burly old +chap cased in dirt clambered deliberately over the rail.</p> + +<p>"Well, what's up?" asked the captain testily. "Can't you see you're +keeping the steamer?"</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep040" id="imagep040"></a> +<a href="images/imagep040.png"> +<img src="images/imagep040.png" width="65%" alt=""Have you a plug of baccy, Skipper?"" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">"Have you a plug of baccy, Skipper?"</p> +</div> + +<p>"Have you got a plug or so of baccy you could give me, skipper? I +hasn't had any for nigh a month, and it do be wonderful hard."</p> + +<p>The captain's reply was unrepeatable, but for such short acquaintance +it was an accurate résumé of the character of the applicant. <i>De +mortuis nil nisi bonum</i> is all very well, but it depends on the +<i>mortuis</i>; and that man's wife and children had been short of food he +had "smoked away."</p> + +<p>I have the greatest admiration for the women of this coast. They work +like dogs from morning till nightfall, summer and winter, with "ne'er +a spell," as one of them told me quite cheerfully. The men are out on +the sea in boats, which at least is a life of variety, and in winter +they can go into the woods for firewood. The women hang forever over +the stove or the washtub, go into the stages to split the fish, or +into the gardens to grow "'taties." Yet oddly enough, there is less +illiteracy among the women than among the men.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep042" id="imagep042"></a> +<a href="images/imagep042.png"> +<img src="images/imagep042.png" width="75%" alt="Rhoda's Randy" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">Rhoda's Randy</p> +</div> + +<p>Such a nice girl is here from Adlavik as maid in the hospital. Rhoda +Macpherson is her name. She told me the other day that one winter the +doctor of the station near her asked the men to clear a trail down a +very steep hill leading to the village, as the dense trees made the +descent dangerous for the dogs. Weeks went by and the men did nothing. +Finally three girls, with Rhoda as leader, took their axes every +Sunday afternoon and went out and worked clearing that road. In a +month it was done. The doctor now calls it "Rhoda's Randy."</p> + +<p>Yesterday afternoon I was out with my camera. (Saturday you will note. +I have learned already that to be seen on Sundays in this Sabbatarian +spot, even walking about with that inconspicuous black box, is +anathema.) A crowd of children in a disjointed procession had +collected in front of the hospital, and the patients on the balconies +were delightedly craning their necks. A biting blast was blowing, but +the children, clad in white garments, looked oblivious to wind and +weather. It was a Sunday-School picnic. A dear old fisherman was with +them, evidently the leader.</p> + +<p>"What's it all about?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"We've come to serenade the sick, miss. 'Tis little enough pleasure +'em has. Now, children, sing up"; and the "serenade" began. It was +"Asleep in Jesus," and the patients loved it! I got my picture, +"sketched them off," as the old fellow expressed it.</p> + +<p>In the many weeks since I saw you—and it seems a lifetime—I have +forgotten to mention one important item of news. Every properly +appointed settlement along this coast has its cemetery. This place +boasts two. With your predilection for epitaphs you would be content. +The prevailing mode appears to be clasped hands under a bristling +crown; but all the same that sort of thing makes a more "cheerful" +graveyard than those gloomily beautiful monuments with their hopeless +"<span class="Greek" title="chairete">χαιρετε</span>" that you remember in the museum at Athens. There +is one here which reads:</p> + +<div style="margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 25%;"> + Memory of John Hill<br /> + who Died<br /> + December 30th. 1889<br /> +<br /> + Weep not, dear Parents,<br /> + For your loss 't is<br /> + My etarnal gain May<br /> + Christ you all take up<br /> + the Cross that we<br /> + Should meat again. +</div> + +<p class="noin">The spelling may not always be according to Webster, but the +sentiments portray the love and hope of a God-fearing people +unspoiled by the roughening touch of civilization.</p> + +<p>I must to bed. Stupidly enough, this climate gives me insomnia. +Probably it is the mixture of the cold and the long twilight (I can +read at 9.30), and the ridiculous habit of growing light again at +about three in the morning. I am beginning to have a fellow feeling +with the chickens of Norway, poor dears!</p> + +<p class="right"><i>August 9</i></p> + +<p>I want to violently controvert your disparaging remarks about this +"insignificant little island." Do you realize that this same +"insignificant little island" is four times bigger than Scotland, and +that it has under its dominion a large section of Labrador? If, as the +local people say, "God made the world in five days, made Labrador on +the sixth, and spent the seventh throwing stones at it," then a goodly +portion of those stones landed by mischance in St. Antoine. Indeed, Le +Petit Nord and Labrador are so much alike in climate, people, and +conditions that this part of the island is often designated locally as +Labrador (never has it been my lot to see a more desolate, bleak, and +barren spot). The traveller who described Newfoundland as a country +composed chiefly of ponds with a little land to divide them from the +sea, at least cannot be impeached for unveracity. In this northern +part even that little is rendered almost impenetrable in the +summer-time by the thick under-brush, known as "tuckamore," and the +formidable swarms of mosquitoes and black flies. All the inhabitants +live on the coast, and the interior is only travelled over in the +winter with komatik and dogs.</p> + +<p>No, I am <i>not</i> living in the midst of Indians or Eskimos. Please be +good enough to scatter this information broadcast, for each letter +from England reveals the fear that I am in imminent danger of being +scalped alive or buried in an igloo. There are a few scattered Eskimos +on Le Petit Nord, but for the most part the inhabitants are whites and +half-breeds. The Indians live almost entirely in the interior of +Labrador and the Eskimos around the Moravian stations. I am living +amongst the descendants of the fishermen of Dorset and Devon who came +out about two hundred years ago and settled on this coast for the +cod-fishery. Those who live in the south are comparatively well off, +but many in the north are in great poverty and often on the verge of +starvation.</p> + +<p>When I look about me and see this poverty, the ignorance born of lack +of opportunity, the suffering, the dirt, and degradation which are in +so large a measure no fault of these poor folk, I am overwhelmed at +the wealth of opportunities. Here at least every talent one has to +offer counts for double what it would at home.</p> + +<p>Thousands of fishermen come from the south each spring to take part in +the summer's fishery. The Labrador "liveyeres," who remain on the +coast all the year round, often have only little one-roomed huts made +of wood and covered with sods. In the winter the northern people move +up the bays and go "furring." Both the Indians and Eskimos are +diminishing in numbers, and the former at the present time do not +amount to more than three or four thousand persons—and of these the +Montagnais tribe make up more than half. The Moravian missionaries +have toiled untiringly amongst the Eskimos, and assuredly not for any +earthly reward. They go out as young men and practically spend their +whole life on the coast, their wives being selected and sent out to +them from home!</p> + +<p>The work of this Mission is among the white settlers. In the Home we +have only one pure Eskimo, a few half-breeds (Indians and Eskimo), and +the remainder are of English descent. Almost all are from Labrador.</p> + +<p>I often fancy that I must surely have slept the sleep of Rip Van +Winkle. When he woke he found that the world had marched ahead a +hundred years. With me the process is reversed. I am almost inclined +to yield a grudging agreement to the transmigrationalists, and believe +that I am re-living one of my former existences. For the part of the +country in which I have awakened is a generation or so behind the +world in which we live. There is no education worthy of the name, in +many places no schools at all, and in others half-educated teachers +eking out a miserable existence on a mere pittance. This is chiefly +due to the antediluvian custom of dividing the Government educational +grant on a denominational basis. A large proportion of the people can +neither read nor write. There are no roads, no means of communication, +no doctors or hospitals (save the Mission ones), no opportunities for +improvement, no industrial work, practically no domestic animals, and +on Labrador, taxation without representation! There is only one +hospital provided by the Government for the whole of this island, and +that one is at St. John's, which is inaccessible to these northern +people for the greater part of the year. No provision whatever is made +by the Government for hospitals for the Labrador. Again the only ones +are those maintained by this Mission. Lack of education, lack of +opportunity, and abundance of overwhelming poverty make up the lot of +the majority of people in this north part of the country. Little +wonder from their point of view, that one youth, returning to this +land after seeing others, declared that the man he desired above all +others to shoot was John Cabot, the discoverer of Newfoundland.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>August 15</i></p> + + +<p>You complain that I have told you almost nothing about these children, +and you want to know what they are like. And I wish you to know, so +that you will stop sending dolls to Mary who is sixteen, and cakes of +scented soap to David who hates above all else to be washed. I find +these children very difficult in some ways; many of them are mentally +deficient, but it appears that no provision is made by the Government +for dealing with such cases, and so there is nothing to do but take +them in or let them starve. Some are very wild and none have the +slightest idea of obedience when they first arrive.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep053" id="imagep053"></a> +<a href="images/imagep053.png"> +<img src="images/imagep053.png" width="55%" alt="Topsy's Ambition is to become like a Fat Pig" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">Topsy's Ambition is to become like a Fat Pig</p> +</div> + +<p>One girl I have christened "Topsy," and I only wish you could see her +when she is in one of her tantrums, which she has at frequent +intervals. With her flashing black eyes, straight, jet-black hair, +square, squat shoulders, she looks the very embodiment of the Evil +One. She is twelve, but shows neither ability nor desire to learn. +Her habits are disgusting, and unless closely watched she will be +found filling her pockets with the contents of the garbage pail—and +this in spite of the fact that we are no longer dining off one +herring. She says that her ambition in life is to become like a fat +pig! Last night, when the children were safely tucked in bed and I +had sat down to write to you, piercing shrieks were heard resounding +through the stillness of the house. A tour of investigation revealed +Topsy creeping from bed to bed in the darkness, pretending to cut the +throats of the girls with a large carving-knife which she had stolen +for this purpose. To-day Topsy is going around with her hands tied +behind her back as a punishment, and in the hope that without the use +of her hands we may have one day of peace at least. Poor Topsy, +kindness and severity alike seem unavailing. She steals and lies with +the greatest readiness, and one wonders what life holds in store for +her.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep054" id="imagep054"></a> +<a href="images/imagep054.png"> +<img src="images/imagep054.png" width="85%" alt="Topsy was creeping from Bed to Bed with the Carving-Knife" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">Topsy was creeping from Bed to Bed with the Carving-Knife</p> +</div> + +<p>We have just admitted three children, so we now number more than the +three dozen. One little mite of five was found last winter in a +Labrador hut, deserted, half-starved, and nearly frozen to death. She +was kept by a kindly neighbour until the ice conditions allowed of her +being brought here. The other two, brother and sister, were found, the +girl clothed in a sack, her one and only garment, and the boy in bed, +minus even that covering. This is the type of child who comes to us.</p> + +<p>The doctor in charge has just paid me a visit. He says there is an +epidemic of smallpox in the island, and he wants all the children to +be vaccinated. The number of cases of smallpox this year in this +"insignificant little island" is greater <i>pro rata</i> than in any other +country of the world. So two o'clock this afternoon is the time set +apart for the massacre of the innocents.</p> + +<p>The laugh is against me! Two of our boys fell ill with a mysterious +sickness, and tenderly and carefully were they nursed by me and fed +with delicate portions from the king's table. I later learned with +much chagrin that "chewing tobacco" (strictly forbidden) was the cause +of this sudden onset. My sense of humour alone saved the situation for +them!</p> + +<p class="right"><i>The Children's Home</i><br /> +<span style="margin-right: 2em;"><i>August 19</i></span></p> + + +<p>In response to my frantic cables your box reached here safely, but it +has not reached me. Picture if you can my amazed incredulity yesterday +to see an exact replica of myself as I once was, walking on the dock. +I rubbed my eyes and stared. Yes, it <i>was</i> my purple gown. My first +impulse was to jerk it off the culprit, but I decided on more +diplomatic tactics. A very little detective work elucidated the +mystery. You had addressed the box in care of the Mission, thinking +doubtless, in your far-sighted, Scotch way, that if sent to an +individual, the said individual would have duty to pay. Knowing all +too well the chronic state of my pocket-book, you anticipated untoward +complications. Now, none of the Mission staff pay duties. The contents +of the box were mistaken for reinforcements for the charity clothing +store, and to-day my purple chambray gown, "to memory dear," walks +the street on another. <i>Sic transit</i>. I should add that one of the +modernists of our harbour has chosen it. The old conservatives regard +our collarless necks and abbreviated skirts with horror. What with the +loss <i>en route</i> of several necessary articles of apparel, and the +discovery of this further depletion of my wardrobe, I regard the +oncoming winter with some misgivings.</p> + +<p>One of the crew on the Northern Light, <i>alias</i> the Prophet, so-called +because he is spirit brother to the Prophet of Doom, took a keen +relish in my discomfiture, or I fancied he did. He it was who put the +question in the doctor's Bible class, "Is it religious to wear +overalls to church?" The house officer had carefully saved a pair of +clean khaki trousers to honour the Sunday services, but in the local +judgment they were no fit garment for the Lord's house. Local +judgment, I may add, was not so drastic in its strictures on boudoir +caps. Some very pretty ones came to service on the heads of the choir, +but the verdict was a unanimously favourable one. A nomadic <i>Ladies' +Home Journal</i> was responsible for their origin.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep059" id="imagep059"></a> +<a href="images/imagep059.png"> +<img src="images/imagep059.png" width="75%" alt="The Prophet of Doom" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">The Prophet of Doom</p> +</div> + +<p>"Out of the mouths of babes," etc. I have been trying to teach the +little ones the thirteenth chapter of Corinthians. Whilst undressing +Solomon the other night I had occasion, or it seemed to me that I had, +to speak somewhat sharply to one of the others. When I turned my +attention again to Solomon, he enunciated solemnly in his baby tones, +"Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels and have not +love, I am become as sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal."</p> + +<p>You complain most unjustly that I do not give a chronological account +of events. I give you the incidents which punctuate my days, and as +for the background, nothing could be simpler than to fill it in.</p> + +<p>To divert your mind from such adverse criticism, let me tell you that +there is a strong suspicion abroad that I am a devout adherent of the +Roman Church. Rumours of this have been coming to me from time to +time, but I determined to withhold the news till its source was less +in question. Now I have it on the undeniable authority of the +Prophet. I have candles, lighted ones, on the dining-room table at +dinner. <i>Post hoc, propter hoc</i>—and what further proof is needed!</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep061" id="imagep061"></a> +<a href="images/imagep061.png"> +<img src="images/imagep061.png" width="75%" alt="Ananias has Broken yet Another Window" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">Ananias has Broken yet Another Window</p> +</div> + +<p>Ananias has broken yet another window. When I questioned him as to +when the deed had been committed, he replied politely, but mournfully, +that he really could not tell me how many <span class="fakesc">YEARS</span> ago it was, +as if I were seeking to unearth some long undiscovered crime.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>August 25</i></p> + +<p>The other day Topsy had the misfortune to fall out of bed and hit her +two front teeth such a violent blow on the iron bar of the cot beside +hers that bits of ivory flew about the dormitory. This necessitated a +prompt matutinal visit to Dr. B., the dentist. As we waited our turn +in the Convalescent Room, I overheard one patient-to-be remark to his +neighbour, "They do be shockin' hard on us poor sailors. They says +I've got to take a bath when I comes into hospital. Why, B'y, I hasn't +had a bath since my mother washed me!"</p> + +<p>The ethics of dentistry here are so mixed that one needs a Solomon to +disentangle them. Mrs. "Uncle Life"—her husband is Uncle +Eliphalet—recently had all her teeth pulled out, or, to be more +accurate, all her remaining teeth. As the operation involved +considerable time, labour, and novocaine, she was charged for the +benefit of the hospital. When two shining sets, uppers and lowers, +were ready for her, she was as pleased as a boy with his first +jack-knife; but not so Uncle Life. He considered it a work of +supererogation that not only must one pay to have the old teeth +removed, but for the new ones to replace them.</p> + +<p>Did I ever write you about our chambermaid's feet—the new one? Her +name is Asenath, and she is so perfectly spherical that if you were to +start her rolling down a plank she could no more stop than can those +humpty-dumpty weighted dolls. 'Senath's temper is exemplary, and her +intentions of the best; in fact, she will turn into a model maid.</p> + +<p>But the process of turning is in progress at the moment. It began with +our cook, a pattern of neatness and all the virtues, coming into my +office and complaining, "One of us'll have to go, miss."</p> + +<p>"What? Which?" I enquired, dazed by the abruptness of this decision, +and wondering whether she were referring to me.</p> + +<p>"This morning, miss, you know how hot it was? Well, 'Senath comes into +the kitchen and says to me, 'Tryphena, I finds my feet something +wonderful.' 'Wash them, and change your stockings,' I says. 'Wash +them! Why, Tryphena, I'se feared to do that. I might get a chill as +would strike in.'"</p> + +<p>In a few well-chosen sentences I have explained to 'Senath the basic +rules of hygiene and of this house regarding water and its uses. She +has decided to stay and accept the inevitable weekly bath, but she +warns me fairly that if she goes "into a decline," I must take the +responsibility with her parents!</p> + +<p>With your zeal for gardens, and your attachment to angle-worms—which +you will recall I do not share—you would be interested in our efforts +along these lines—the gardens, not the worms. In this climate a +garden is a lottery, and in ten seasons to one a spiteful summer +frost will fall upon the promising potatoes and kill the lot just as +they are ripening. The Eskimos at the Moravian stations put their +vegetal charges to bed each night with long covers over the rows. The +other day, in an old journal about the country, I came upon this +passage, and it struck me "How history does repeat itself." It runs: +"The soyle along the coast is not deep of earth, but bringing forth +abundantly peason small, peason which our countrymen have sowen have +come up faire, of which our Generall had a present acceptable for the +rarenesse, being the first fruits coming up by art and industrie in +that desolate and dishabited land." I can assure you that the sight of +a "peason," however small, if it did not come out of a tin can, would +be an acceptable offering to your friend. Even in summer we get no +fresh vegetables or fruits with the exception of occasional lettuce or +local berries. The epitome of this spot is a tin! In the same old +journal Whitbourne goes on to say that "Nature had recompensed that +only defect and incommoditie of some sharpe cold by many +benefits—with incredible quantitie and no less varietie of kindes of +fish in the sea and fresh water, of trouts and salmons and other fish +to us unknowen."</p> + +<p>I have eaten fish (interspersed liberally with tinned stuff) and +drunken fish and thought and spoken and dreamt fish ever since I +arrived. But don't pity me for imaginary hardships. I like fish better +than I do meat, and for that matter our winter meat supply is walking +past my window this minute. He goes by the name of "Billy the Ox"; and +I am informed that as soon as it begins to freeze, he is to be killed +and frozen <i>in toto</i>, for the winter consumption of the staff, +patients, and children. So our winter is not to consist of one long +Friday.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>August 28</i></p> + + +<p>You already know the worst about my leanings to Papacy; but to-day I +propose to set your mind at rest on an idea with which you have +hypnotized yourself—namely, that I am going to die of malnutrition +during what you are pleased to term the "long Arctic winter." I have +no intention of starving, and as for the "long Arctic winter," I do +not believe there is any such beast, as the farmer said when he looked +at the kangaroo in the circus.</p> + +<p>I was sitting by my window quietly sewing the other day (that sentence +alone should reveal to you how many miles I have travelled from your +tutelage) when I overheard one of the children stoutly defending what +I took at first to be my character. The next sentence disabused me—it +was my figure under discussion.</p> + +<p>"She's not fat!" averred Topsy. "I'll smack you if you says it +again."</p> + +<p>"Well," muttered David, the light of reason being thus forcibly borne +in upon him, "she may not be 'zactly fat, but she's fine and hearty."</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep068" id="imagep068"></a> +<a href="images/imagep068.png"> +<img src="images/imagep068.png" width="75%" alt="Not Fat, but Fine and Hearty" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">Not Fat, but Fine and Hearty</p> +</div> + +<p>If this is the case, and my mirror all too plainly confirms the +verdict, and the summer has not waned, what will the "last estate of +that woman be," after the winter has passed over her? They tell me +that every one here puts on fat in the cold weather as a kind of +windproof jacket. I enclose a photograph of me on landing, so you may +remember me as I was.</p> + +<p>No, you need not worry either over communications in the winter. You +really ought to have an intimate acquaintance with our telegraph +service, after you have, so to speak, subsidized it during the past +three months. It runs in winter as well as summer; and I see no +prospect of its closing if you keep it on such a sound financial +basis. Moreover, the building is devoted to the administration of the +law in all its branches. One half of it is the post and telegraph +office, while the other serves as the jail. The whole structure is +within a stone's throw of the church and school, as if the corrective +institutions of the place believed in intensive cultivation. But to +return to the jail. The walls are very thin, and every sound from it +can be plainly heard in the telegraph office adjoining. Friday morning +the operator, a capable and long-suffering young woman, came over to +complain to the doctor that she really found it impossible to carry +out the duties of her office, if the feeble-minded Delilah Freak was +to be incarcerated only six inches distant from her ear. It seems +that Delilah spends her days yelling at the top of her lungs, and Miss +Dennis states that she prefers to take telegraphic messages down in +competition with the mail steamer's winch rather than with Delilah's +"bawling."</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep070" id="imagep070"></a> +<a href="images/imagep070.png"> +<img src="images/imagep070.png" width="75%" alt="Delilah bawling" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">Delilah bawling</p> +</div> + +<p>I know all about competition in noises after trying to write in this +house. The ceilings are low and thin, and the walls are near and thin, +and the children are omnipresent and not thin, and their wants and +their joys and their quarrels are as numerous as the fishes in the +sea, and there you have the problem in a nutshell.</p> + +<p>Now I must "hapse the door," and hie me to bed. As a matter of fact +the people here are far too honest for us to lock the doors. Such a +thing as theft is unheard of. Some may call it uncivilized. I call it +the millennium!</p> + +<p class="right"><i>August 31</i> +</p> + + +<p>I believe that the writer who described the climate of this country as +being "nine months snow and three months winter" was not far from the +truth. In June the temperature of our rooms registered just above +freezing point, in July we were enveloped in continuous fog, and in +August we are having snow.</p> + +<p>Such a tragic event has occurred. Our lettuce has been eaten by the +Mission cow! You know how hard it is to get anything to grow here. +Well, after having nearly killed ourselves in making a square inch of +ground into something resembling a bed, we had watched this lettuce +grow from day to day as the little green shoots struggled bravely +against the frost and cold. Then a few nights ago I was awakened by +the tinkle of a bell beneath my window. Hastily flinging on wrapper +and shoes I fled to save our one and only ewe lamb. But all the +morning light revealed was a desperate cold in the head, and an empty +bed from which the glory had departed.</p> + +<p>Topsy has just been amusing herself by turning on the corridor taps to +watch the water run downstairs! Oh! Topsy,</p> + +<p class="poem"> +"'Tis thine to teach us what dull hearts forget<br /> +How near of kin we are to springing flowers." +</p> + +<p>News has just reached us that the mail boat from St. Barbe to St. +Antoine has gone ashore on the rocks and is a total wreck. Happily no +lives were lost, but unhappily wrecks are of such frequent occurrence +on this dangerous coast as to excite little comment.</p> + +<p>Drusilla, aged five, has been to my door to enquire if the children +may play with their dolls in the house. I believe in open-air +treatment, so I replied with kindness, but firmly withal, that "out of +doors" was the order of the day. I was a little electrified to hear +her return to the playroom and announce that "Teacher says you are to +go out, every darned one of you!" I was equally electrified the other +day to overhear Drusilla enquiring of her fellow philosophers which +they liked the best, "Teacher, the Doctor, or the Lord Jesus Christ."</p> + +<p>In the midst of writing to you I was called away to interview a young +man from the other side of the harbour. He wanted me to give him some +of the milk used in the Home, for his baby, as at the hospital they +could only furnish him with canned milk, guaranteed by the label, he +claimed, to give "typhoid, diphtheria, and scarlet fever"!</p> + +<p class="right"><i>September 7</i> +</p> + + +<p>It is a windy, rainy night, and I have told Topsy, who has a cold, +that she cannot come with us to church. After a wild outburst of anger +she was heard to mutter that "Teacher wouldn't let her go to church +because she was afraid she would get too good."</p> + +<p>The fall of the year is coming on and the evenings are made wonderful +by two phenomena—the departure of the cannibalistic flies, and the +Northern lights. Twice at home I remember seeing an attenuated aurora +and thinking it wonderful. No words can describe this display on these +crisp and lovely nights. There is a tang and snap in the air, and the +earth beneath and the heavens above seem vibrating with unearthly +life. The Eskimos say that the Northern lights are the spirits of the +dead at play, but I like to think of them, too, as the translated +souls of the icebergs which have gone south and met a too warm and +watery death in the Gulf Stream. Certainly all the colours of those +lovely monarchs of the North are reflected dimly in the heavens. The +lights move about so constantly that one fancies that the soul of the +berg, freed at last from its long prison, is showing the astonished +worlds of what it is capable. The odd thing was that when I first saw +them on a clear night, the stars shone through them, only they looked +like Coleridge's "wan stars which danced between."</p> + +<p>I can vouch for the truth of another "sidelight," though from only one +experience. One night last week, clear and frosty, I had just gone to +my room at about eleven o'clock when the doctor called me to come out +and "hear the lights." I thought surely I must have misunderstood, but +on reaching the balcony and listening, I could distinctly hear the +swish of the "spirits" as they rushed across the sky. It sounds like a +diminished silk petticoat which has lost its blatancy, but retains +its personality.</p> + +<p>Little did I realize at the time my good fortune in arriving here in +daylight. It seems that it is the invariable habit of all coastal +steamers to reach here at night, and dump the dumbly resenting +passengers in the darkness into the tiny punts which cluster around +the ship's side. Since my arrival every single boat has appeared +shortly before midnight, or shortly after. In either case it means +that the men of the Mission must work all night landing patients and +freight, and the next day there is a chastened and sleepy community to +meet the forthcoming tasks. It is especially hard on the hospital +folk, for the steamer only takes about twenty hours to go to the end +of her run and return, and they try and send those cases which do not +have to be admitted back by the same boat on her southern journey. +This means an all-night clinic. But I can say to the credit of the +patients and staff that I have never heard one word of complaint. +That is certainly a charming feature about this life. There are plenty +of things to growl about, but one is so reduced to essentials that the +ones selected are of more importance than those which afford such +fruitful topics in civilization.</p> + +<p>I have just overheard Gabriel informing the other children that "Satan +was once an angel, but he got real saucy, so God turned him out of +heaven." Paradise Lost in a sentence!</p> + +<p>The night after the audible lights a furious rain and wind storm broke +over us. No wonder the trees have such a struggle for existence, if +these storms are frequent. They do not last long, but they are the +real thing while they are in progress. I used to smile when I was told +that the Home was riveted with iron bolts to the solid bedrock, but +that night when I lay wide awake, combating an incipient feeling of +<i>mal de mer</i> as my bed rocked with the force of the gale, I thanked +the fates for the foresight of the builders. Never before had I +believed in the tale of the church having been blown bodily into the +harbour; but during those wild hours of darkness I was certain at each +succeeding gust that we were going to follow its example.</p> + +<p>Dawn—a pale affair looking out suspiciously on the chastened +world—broke at last, and I "histed" my window (to quote the estimable +'Senath). The rain had stopped. The cheated wind was whistling around +the corners of the old wooden buildings, and taking out its spite on +any passers-by who must venture forth to work. The harbour, usually so +peaceful and so sheltered, was lashed into a cauldron of boiling white +foam, and the rocks were swept so clean that they at least had +"shining morning faces."</p> + +<p>I dressed quickly and ran down to the wharf to enquire as to the +health of the Northern Light. The first person I met was the Prophet. +He was positively elate. If I were a pantheist I should think him a +relative of the northeast wind. The storm of the previous night had +been exactly to his liking. All his worst prognostications had been +fulfilled, and quite a bit thrown in <i>par dessus le marché</i>. He told +me that a tiny, rickety house across the harbour had first been +unroofed, and then one of the walls blown in. It is a real disaster +for the family, for they are poor enough without having Kismet thus +descend upon them.</p> + +<p>The hospital boat had held on safely, but several little craft were +driven ashore. Naturally the children love the aftermath of such an +event, for the world is turned for them into one large, entrancing +puddle, bordered with embryo mud pies.</p> + +<p>Topsy again! I am informed that she has tried to convert her Sunday +best into a hobble skirt, reducing it in the process to something +hopelessly ludicrous. It can never, never be worn again.</p> + +<p>My arm aches and I cannot decide whether it is from much orphan +scrubbing or from much writing, but in either case I must bid you <i>au +revoir</i>.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>September 25</i></p> + + +<p>Last night I was awakened by a terrific noise proceeding from the +lower regions. Armed with my umbrella, the only semblance of a stick +within reach, I descended on a tour of investigation. Opening the +larder door I beheld six huge dogs, and devastation reigning supreme. +These dogs are half wolf in breed, and very destructive, as I can +testify. When I wildly brandished my umbrella, which could not +possibly have harmed them, they jumped through the closed window +leaving not a pane of glass behind. This, I suppose, is merely a +nocturnal interlude to break the monotony of life in a country which +boasts no burglars.</p> + +<p>The children attend the Mission school, and yesterday Topsy was sent +home in dire disgrace for lying and cheating. She is not to be +permitted to return until she is willing to confess and apologize. She +thereupon tried to commit suicide by swallowing paper pellets, and in +the night the doctor had to be called in to prescribe. She is white +and wan to-day, but when I went in to bid her good-night I found her +thrilling over a new prayer which she had learned, and which she +repeated to me with deep emotion:</p> + +<div style="margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 15%; text-align: left;"> +"Little children, be ye wise,<br /> +Speak the truth and tell no lies.<br /> +The <span class="sc">Lord's</span> portion is to dwell<br /> +Forever in the flames of hell."<br /> +</div> + +<p>I want to tell you something about our babies. They are four in +number. David, aged five, considers himself quite a big boy, and a +leader of the others. His father was frozen to death in Eskimo Bay +some years ago whilst hunting food for his family. Although David is +always boasting of his strength and the superior wisdom of his years, +yet he is really very tiny for his age. He is a delightful little +optimist, who announces cheerfully after each failure to do right that +he is "going to be good all the time now," to which we add the mental +reservation, "until next time." He is the proud possessor of a Teddy +bear. This long-suffering animal was a source of great pleasure until +a short time ago when David started making a first-hand investigation +to find out where the "squeak" came from—an investigation which ended +disastrously for the bear, however it may have furthered the cause of +science.</p> + +<p>Last month I went to Nameless Cove to fetch to the Home a little boy +of three, of whom I have already written you. Nameless Cove is about +twelve miles west of St. Antoine. I have never seen such a wretched +hovel—a one-roomed log hut, completely destitute of furniture. The +door was so low I had to bend almost double to enter. A rough shelf +did duty for a bed, upon which lay an old bedridden man, while at the +other end lay a sick woman with a child beside her, and crouched below +was an idiot daughter. Altogether nine persons lived in this hut, +eight adults and this one boy. Ananias is an illegitimate child, and +has lived with these grandparents since his mother lost her reason and +was removed to the asylum at St. John's. The child was almost +destitute of clothing, and covered with vermin. He has the face of a +seraph, and a voice that lisps out curses with the fluency of a +veteran trooper. Ananias is David's shadow; he follows him everywhere, +and echoes all his words as if they were gems of wisdom, far above +rubies. Indeed, when David has ceased speaking, one waits +involuntarily for Ananias to begin in his shrill treble tones. He is a +hopeless child to correct, for when you imagine you are scolding him +very severely, and you look for the tears of penitence to flow, he +puts up his little face with an angelic smile, and lisps, "Tiss me."</p> + +<p>Drusilla, whose slight acquaintance you have already made, is three +and comes from Savage Cove. The father has gradually become blind and +the mother is crippled. Drusilla keeps us all on the alert, for we +never know what she will be doing next. On Sunday mornings she is put +to rest with the other little ones while we are at church. On +returning last Sunday I found that she had secured a box of white +ointment (thought to be quite beyond her reach), and with her +toothbrush painted one side of the baby's face white, which with her +other rosy cheek gave her the appearance of a clown. Not content with +portrait painting, Drusilla then turned her energies to house +decoration, the result attained on the wall being entirely to the +satisfaction of the artist, as was evidenced by the proud smile with +which our outcry was greeted.</p> + +<p>The real baby is Beulah, just two years, and she exercises her gentle +but despotic sway over all, from the least to the greatest. She is +continually upsetting the standard of neatness which was once the +glory of this Home, by sprawling on the floors, dragging after her a +headless doll with sawdust oozing from every pore. A dilapidated +bunny and several mangled pictures complete the procession. It is +hopeless to protest, for she just looks as if she could not understand +how any one could object to such priceless treasures. She awakens us +at unconscionable hours in the morning, when all reasonable beings are +still sleeping the sleep of the just, and keeps up a perpetual chatter +interspersed with highly dangerous gymnastic feats upon her bed.</p> + +<p>Can you find any babies throughout the British Isles to match mine?</p> + +<p class="right"><i>October 20</i> +</p> + + +<p>Since last I wrote you we have had a very strenuous time in the Home; +the entire family has been down with measles. Then when that was over +and the children well, the sewing maid, whom I had engaged shortly +after my arrival, gave notice, shook the dust from her feet, and I was +left single-handed. It took the whole of my time to keep these +forty-odd infants fed, clothed, and washed, and I had no leisure to +write to you even at "scattered times." It seemed to me that the +appetites of these <i>enfants terribles</i> grew abnormally, that their +clothes rent asunder with lightning-like rapidity, and that they fell +into mud heaps with even greater facility than usual. It was sometimes +a delicate problem to decide which of many pressing duties had the +prior claim. Whether to try and feed the hungry (the kitchen range +having sprung a leak), to start to repair two hundred odd garments +(the weekly mend), or to resuscitate one of the babies (just rescued +from the reservoir). At such times I would wonder if I were somewhere +near attaining to that state of experience when I should be able to +appreciate your alluring phrase, "the fun of mothering an orphanage."</p> + +<p>I must begin and tell you now about the children we have received +since my last letter. Mike, aged eight, came to us from St. Barbe +Hospital, as he had no home to which he could return. Incidentally it +takes the entire staff to keep this boy moderately tidy, for he and +his garments have an unfortunate inclination to part asunder, and we +are kept in constant apprehension for the credit of the Orphanage. But +Mike, whether with his clothes or without, always turns up smiling and +on excellent terms with himself, entirely regardless of the mental +torture we endure as he comes into view. Indeed, the wider apart are +his garments, the broader is his smile. He weeps quietly each night as +we wash him, for that is a work of supererogation for which he has at +present no use.</p> + +<p>Deborah and her brother Gabriel were here when I came. Their ages are +eleven and five, and they come from the far north. Deborah was in the +Mission Hospital at Iron Bound Islands for some time as the result of +a burning accident. While trying to lift a pan of dog-food from the +stove she upset the scalding contents over her legs. Her elder brother +had to drive her eighteen miles on a komatik to the hospital, and the +poor child must have suffered greatly. Gabriel is a very naughty, but +equally lovable child. He is never out of mischief, but he is always +very penitent for his misdeeds—afterwards! His bent is towards +theology, and he speaks with the authority of an ancient divine on all +matters pertaining thereto, and with an air of finality which brooks +no argument. When some one was being given the priority in point of +age over me, he was heard to indignantly exclaim that "Jesus and +Teacher are the oldest people in the world." He is no advocate for the +equality of the sexes, and closes all discussion on equal rights by +explaining that "God made the boys and Jesus the girls."</p> + +<p>Our fast-coming winter is sending its harbingers, seen and unseen, +into our harbour. Chief among these one notices the assertiveness of +the dogs. All through the summer they slink pariah-like about the +place, eating whatever they can pick up, and seeking to keep their +miserable existence as much in the background as possible. Now the +winter is approaching, and it is "their little day." Mrs. Uncle Life +can testify to the fact that they are not wholly suppressed when it is +not "their little day." Last summer she found no less important a +personage than the leader of the team in her bed. Her newly baked +"loaf" was lying on the pantry shelf before the open window. Whiskey +(this place is strictly prohibition, but every team boasts its +"Whiskey") leaped in, made a satisfying banquet off her bread, and +then forced open the door into her bedroom adjoining the pantry. He +found it a singularly barren field for adventure, but after his +unaccustomed hearty meal the bed looked tempting. He was found there +two hours later placidly asleep.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep092" id="imagep092"></a> +<a href="images/imagep092.png"> +<img src="images/imagep092.png" width="75%" alt="Mrs. Uncle Life found the Leader of the Team in her Bed" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">Mrs. Uncle Life found the Leader of the Team in her Bed</p> +</div> + +<p>The children are looking forward to Christmas and are already writing +letters to Santa Claus, which are handed to me with great secrecy to +mail to him. I once watched the little ones playing at Christmas with +an old stump of a bush to which they attached twigs as gifts and +gravely distributed them to one another. When I saw one mite handing a +dead twig to a smaller edition of himself, and announcing in a lordly +fashion that it was a <span class="fakesc">PIANO</span>, I realized what Father Christmas +was expected to be able to produce.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>November 1</i></p> + + +<p>My world is transformed into fairyland. Light snow has fallen during +the night, and every "starigan," every patch of "tuckamore" is "decked +in sparkling raiment white." As I was dressing I looked out of my +window, and for the first time in my life saw a dog team and komatik +passing.</p> + +<p>The day was full of adventure. For the children the snow meant only +rejoicing; but as the highway was as slippery as glass, and the older +folk had not yet got their "winter legs," there were many minor +casualties. Mrs. Uncle Life, aged seventy and small and spherical, +solved the problem of the hills by sitting down and sliding. She +commended the method to me, saying that it served very well on week +days, but was lamentably detrimental to her Sunday best.</p> + +<p>Ananias is developing fast and bids fair to rival Topsy. He has a +mania for eating anything and everything, and what he cannot eat, he +destroys. Within the past few weeks he has swallowed the arm of his +Teddy bear, half a cake of soap, and a tube of tooth-paste. He has +also bitten through two new hot-water bottles. During the short time +he has been here he has broken more windows than any other child in +the Home. If he thinks politeness will save the day, he says in the +sweetest way possible, "Excuse me, Teacher, for doing it"; but if he +sees by my face that retribution is swift and sure, he says in the +most pathetic of tones, "Teacher, I have a pain."</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep095" id="imagep095"></a> +<a href="images/imagep095.png"> +<img src="images/imagep095.png" width="75%" alt=""Teacher, I have a pain"" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">"Teacher, I have a pain"</p> +</div> + +<p>I must make you acquainted with our "Yoho." Every well-regulated +fishing village has one, but we have to thank our neighbour, the +Eskimo, for the picturesque name. In our more prosaic parlance it is +plain "ghost." Many years ago when the Mission was in need of a +building in which to accommodate some of its workers, it purchased a +house belonging to a local trader by the name of Isaac Spouseworthy. +This made an admirable Guest House; but it has since fallen into +disuse for its original purpose, and is being employed as a temporary +repository for the clothing sent for the poor, till the fine new +storehouse shall have been built. This old Guest House has been +selected by our local apparition as a place of visitation. It is +affirmed, on the incontrovertible testimony of the Prophet and no +inconsiderable following, that the spirit returns of an evening to the +old house he built forty years ago, to wander through the familiar +rooms. The villagers see lights there nightly; and though all our +investigation has failed to reveal any presence (barring the rats), +bodily or otherwise, the bravest of them would hesitate many a long +minute before he would enter the haunted spot after nightfall. Rumour +has it that the Guest House is built on the site of an old French +cemetery. Our "irrepressible Ike" therefore cannot lack for society, +though how congenial it is cannot be determined. Judging from the +records of the ceaseless rows between the French and English on Le +Petit Nord, there must be some lively nights in ghostland.</p> + +<p>The doctor suggested that if a burglar wished to steal the clothing, +this spook would be his most effective accomplice, but such tortuous +psychology has failed to satisfy the fishermen. To them we seem +callous souls, to whom the spirit world is alien. This ghostly +encroachment on our erstwhile quiet domain has had more than one +inconvenient result. The Mission is very short of houses for its +workmen, and was planning to rebuild and put in order a part of this +now haunted domicile for one family. The man for whom it was destined +now refuses to live there, as his children have vetoed the idea. In +this land the word of the rising generation is law, and this refusal +is therefore final.</p> + +<p>The children of this North Country are given what they wish and when +and how. Naturally the results of such a policy are serious. There are +many cases of hopeless cripples about here who refused to go to +hospital for treatment when their trouble was so slight that it could +have been rectified. Now the children must look forward to a life of +disability through their parents' short-sightedness. But when I think +of what it means to these poor women to have perhaps ten children to +care for, and all the rest of the work of the house and garden on +their shoulders, I cannot wonder that their motto is "peace at any +price."</p> + +<p>Spirits might be called the outstanding feature of our harbour, for +the Piquenais rocks at the very entrance are the abode of another +familiar <i>revenant</i>. The Prophet assures me that thirty years ago a +vessel and crew were wrecked there, and on every succeeding stormy +evening since that day, the captain, with creditable perseverance, +waves his light on that wind-and surf-swept rock. In this instance the +prophetical authority is in dispute, for there are those who assert +that the light is shown by fairies to toll boats to their doom on the +foggy point. The more scientifically minded explain the mysterious +light as a defunct animal giving out gas. It must be a persistent gas +which can retain its efficacy for thirty long and adventurous years.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep100" id="imagep100"></a> +<a href="images/imagep100.jpg"> +<img src="images/imagep100.jpg" width="85%" alt="The Yoho" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">The Yoho</p> +</div> + +<p>In the course of these researches several interesting points of +natural history and science have been elucidated. Doubtless you do not +know that all cats are related to the devil, but you can readily see +the brimstone in their fur if you have the temerity to rub them on a +dusky evening. Neither has it come to your attention that under no +consideration must you allow the water in which potatoes have been +washed to run over your hands. In the latter event, warts innumerable +will result.</p> + +<p>Our cook has just come in with the news that supper is not to be +forthcoming. 'Senath was left in charge while Tryphena went on an +errand for me. Left-over salad was to have formed the basis of the +evening meal, but the said basis has now disintegrated, 'Senath having +placed the dish in a superheated oven. The nature of the resultant +object is indeterminate, but uneatable. I solace myself that +sanctified starvation will be beneficial to my "fine and hearty" +figure.</p> + +<p>We have suffered again with the dogs. One of the children's birthdays +fell on Saturday, and we decided to give the whole "crew" ice-cream to +fittingly celebrate the event. It was made in good time and put out to +keep cool in what we took to be a safe spot. The party preceding the +<i>pièce de résistance</i> was in full swing when an ominous disturbance +was detected from the direction of the woodshed. Investigation +revealed two angry dogs alternately snarling at each other and +devouring the last lick of the treat. The catholicity of canine taste +was no solace to the aggrieved assembly.</p> + +<p>The children have lately been making excursions into the theological +field. The latest problem brought to me for settlement was, "Does God +live in the Methodist Church?" Truly a two-horned dilemma. If I said +"yes" the anthropomorphic teaching was undoubted; while if the answer +were in the negative I should be guilty of fostering the abominable +denominational spirit which ruins this land. My reply must have been +unconvincing, for I overheard the children later deciding, the +Methodist Church having been barred as a place of residence, that the +attic was the only remaining possibility. It is the one spot in the +Home unvisited by them, and therefore "unseen."</p> + +<p>Unseemly altercations have summoned me to the kitchen, and I return to +close this over-long chronicle. I was met there by Tryphena, a large +sheet in her hands, and an accusing expression on her face which +stamped her as a family connection of the Prophet's.</p> + +<p>"It's not my fault, miss," she began.</p> + +<p>"No, Tryphena? Well, whose is it, and what is it?"</p> + +<p>"Look at that sheet, miss, a new one. 'Senath was ironing, and had +folded it just ready to put away. Then she suddenly wants a drink, so +she goes off leaving the iron in the middle of the sheet. Half an hour +later she remembers. When she got back, of course the iron had burnt +its way straight through all the layers."</p> + +<p>Aside from destruction, in what direction would you say that 'Senath's +forte did lie?</p> + +<p class="right"><i>November 17</i></p> + + +<p>I have received your letter with its pointed remarks about the long +delays of the mail-carrier. I consider them both unnecessary and +unkind. But as David would say, "I am going to be good all the time +now."</p> + +<p>We have this moment returned from church, to which the children love +to go; it is the great excitement of the week. They sit very quietly, +except Topsy, but how much they understand I cannot say. The people +sing with deliberation, each syllable being made to do duty for three, +to prolong the enjoyment—or the agony—according as your musical +talent decides. Frequently there is no one to play the instrument, and +the hymns are started several times, until something resembling the +right pitch is struck. Sometimes a six-line hymn will be started to a +common metre tune, and all goes swimmingly until the inevitable crash +at the end of the fourth line. But nothing daunted, we try and try +again. I have supplied our smiling-faced cherubs with hymn books in +order that</p> + +<p class="poem"> +"Their voices may in tune be found<br/> +Like David's harp of solemn sound" +</p> + +<p class="noin">—excuse the adaptation. This morning the service was particularly +dreary. Hymn after hymn started to end in conspicuous failure, +followed by an interminable discourse on the sufferings of the damned. +But we ended cheerfully by warbling forth the joys of heaven—</p> + +<p class="poem"> +"Where congregations ne'er break up<br /> +And Sabbaths never end!" +</p> + +<p>Last week we had a thrilling event; one of the girls formerly in this +Home was married, and we all went to the wedding, even the little tots +who are too young for regular services. They afterwards told me they +would like to go on Sundays, so I imagine they think the marriage +ceremony a regular item of Divine worship. Alas! I almost disgraced +myself when the clergyman solemnly announced to the intending bride +and bridegroom that the holy estate of matrimony had been "ordained of +God for the persecution of children"!</p> + +<p class="p2"> +How you would have laughed to see me the other night. The steamer +arrived at midnight, and as we were expecting some children I went +down to meet them. There were three little boys, Esau, Joseph, and +Nathan, eight, six, and four years of age. I bore them in triumph to +the bathroom, feeling that even at that late hour cleanliness should +be compulsory. But I soon desisted from my purpose and as quickly as +possible bundled the dirty children into my neat, snowy beds! They +kicked, they fought, they bit, they yelled and they swore! All my +sleeping innocents awoke at the noise and added their voices to the +confusion. I momentarily expected an in-rush of neighbours, and a +summons the following day for cruelty to children.</p> + +<p>Uriah has come to inform me that he cannot "cleave the splits," as his +"stomach has capsized." I felt it incumbent to administer a dose of +castor oil, thinking that might be sufficient punishment for what I +had reason to believe was only a dodge to escape work. It was hard for +me to give the oil, but harder still to have the boy look up after it +with a quite cherubic smile, and ask if it were the same oil as Elisha +gave the widow woman!</p> + +<p>Whatever can survive in this land of difficulties survives with a zeal +and vitality which only proves the strength of the obstacles overcome. +The flies, the mosquitoes, and the rats are proofs. We have none of +your meek little wharf rats here. Ours are brazen imps, sleek and +shameless, undaunted by cats or men. Their footmarks are as big as +those of young puppies (withal not too well-fed puppies), and their +raids on man and beast alike ally them with the horde Pandora loosed. +Each day the toll mounts. One morning Miss Perrin, the head nurse, +awakened to find one of her prize North Labrador boots gnawed to the +rim. All that remained to tell the tale was the bright tape by which +it was hung up, and the skin groove through which the tape threads.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep108" id="imagep108"></a> +<a href="images/imagep108.png"> +<img src="images/imagep108.png" width="55%" alt="They ate the Entire Boot" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">They ate the Entire Boot</p> +</div> + +<p>On the next occasion of their public appearance the night nurse was +summoned by agonized shrieks to the children's ward. A large rodent +had climbed upon Ishimay's bed and bitten her. There were the marks of +his teeth in her hand, and the blood was dripping. Nor do they limit +their depredations to the hospital. The barn man turned over a bale of +hay last week and disclosed no less than twenty-seven rats young and +old, fat and lean, though chiefly fat. I rejoice to record that this +galaxy at least has departed Purgatory-wards. The dentist left a whole +bag of clean linen on the floor of his bedroom. The morning following +he found that the raiders had eaten their way through the sack, +cutting a series of neat round holes in each folded garment as they +progressed. The scuffling and the squealing and the scraping and the +gnawing and the scratching of rats in the walls and cupboards are +worse than any phalanx of "Yohos" ever summoned from spookland! Oh! +Pied Piper of Hamelin, why tarry so long!</p> + +<p class="right"><i>December 14</i></p> + + +<p>The last boat of the season has come and gone and now we settle down +to the real life of the winter. Plans innumerable are under way for +winter activities, and the children are on tiptoe over the prospect of +approaching Christmastide. Their jubilations fill the house, and +writing is even more difficult than usual.</p> + +<p>For days before the last steamer finally reached us there were +speculations as to her coming. Rumour, a healthy customer in these +parts, three times had it that she had gone back, having given up the +unequal contest with the ice. As all our Christmas mail was aboard +her, the atmosphere was tense. Then came the news from Croque that she +was there, busily unloading freight. Six hours later her smoke was +sighted, and from the yells my bairns set up, you would have thought +that the mythical sea serpent was entering port. She butted her way +into the standing harbour ice as far as she could get, and promptly +began discharging cargo. Teams of dogs sprang up seemingly out of the +snow-covered earth, and in a mere twinkling our frozen and silent +harbour was an arena of activity. The freight is dumped on the ice +over the ship's side with the big winch, and each man must hunt for +his own as it descends. Some of the goods are dropped with such a thud +that the packages "burst abroad." This is all very well if the +contents are of a solid and resisting nature; but if butter, or beans, +or such like receive the shock, most regrettable results ensue.</p> + +<p>During the hours of waiting here she froze solidly into the ice, and +had to be blasted out before she could commence her journey to the +southward. She has taken the mails with her, and this letter must come +to you by dog team—your first by that method.</p> + +<p>In the early part of this summer three little orphan girls came to us +from Mistaken Cove. Their names are Carmen, Selina, and Rachel, and +their ages, ten, seven, and five. Their father has been dead for some +years, and the mother recently died of tuberculosis. They did look +such a pathetic little trio when they first arrived. I went down to +the wharf to meet them, and three quaint little figures stepped from +the hospital boat, with dresses almost to their feet. Carmen held the +hands of her two sisters, and greeted me with "Are you the woman wot's +going to look after we?" I assured her that I hoped to perform that +function to the best of my ability, and then she confided to me that +she had brought with her a box containing her mother's dresses and her +mother's hair. I fancy the responsibility of the entire household must +have rested on Carmen's tiny shoulders; she is like a little old +woman, and even her voice is care-worn. I hunted up some dolls for the +two younger kiddies, but had not the courage to offer one to their +elder sister. She evidently felt that dolls were altogether too +precious for common use, and carefully explained to her charges that +they were only for Sundays! When I next went to the playroom it was to +find the three little sisters sitting solemnly in a row on the locker +with their dolls safely packed away beneath. I persuaded them that +dolls were not too good for "human nature's daily food," and since +then they have been supremely happy with their babies.</p> + +<p>Carmen is so devoted to little Rachel that she cannot bear the thought +of her being in trouble. Rachel is very human, and in the brief time +she has been with us has had many falls from the paths of rectitude.</p> + +<p>One day shortly after their arrival Rachel had been naughty, and I had +taken her upstairs to explain to her the enormity of her offence, +Carmen standing meanwhile at the bottom of the stairs wringing her +hands. When Rachel reappeared and announced that she had not even been +punished, Carmen was seen to give her a good slap on her own account, +although evidently well pleased that no one else had dared to touch +her child. Carmen is extremely religious, and her prayers at night are +lengthy and devout. She starts off with the Lord's Prayer, the +Apostles' Creed; several collects follow, and she concludes with a +"Hail Mary!"</p> + +<p>You have already made the acquaintance of Billy the Ox, the now dear +departed, who constitutes our winter's frozen meat supply. Our +allotted portion of him is hung in the balcony outside my window. +Being on the second floor it was thought to be sanctuary from +marauders. Last night I was awakened by an uneasy feeling of a +presence entering my room. Starting up, I made out in the moonlight +the great tawny form of one of our biggest dogs. He was in the balcony +making so far futile leaps to secure a section of Billy. My shout +discouraged him, and he jumped off the roof to the snow beneath. He +had managed to scale the side of the house—but how? For some time I +was at a loss to discover, till I remembered a ladder which had been +placed perpendicularly against the wall on the other side. One of the +double windows had broken loose in a recent storm of wind, and the +barn man had had to go up and mend it. True to type he had left the +ladder <i>in statu quo</i>. Up master dog had climbed straight into the +air, along the slippery rungs of the ladder. When he reached the level +of the tempting odour, he had alighted on the balcony roof. Then, +pursuing the odour to its lair, he had discovered Billy, and me!</p> + +<p>At breakfast I told my adventurette, and the story was instantly +capped with others. Only one shall you have. The doctor was away on a +travel last winter, and late one blustersome night came to a little +village. He happened to have a very beautiful leader of which he was +inordinately careful, so he asked his host for the night if he had a +shed into which he could put Spider out of the weather. "Why, to be +sure, just at the left of the door." It was dark and blowing, and the +doctor went outside and thrust the beastie into the only building in +sight. After breakfast he went with his host to get the dogs. When he +started to open the door of the shelter in which Spider was +incarcerated, the fisherman burst out in dismay, "You never put him in +there? That's where I keeps my only sheep." At that second the dog +appeared, a spherical and satisfied specimen. He had taken the +stranger in—completely.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep117" id="imagep117"></a> +<a href="images/imagep117.png"> +<img src="images/imagep117.png" width="75%" alt="He had taken the Stranger in" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">He had taken the Stranger in</p> +</div> + +<p>The cold is intense, and to combat it in these buildings of green +lumber is a task worthy of Hercules. We make futile attempts to keep +the pipes from freezing; but the north wind has a new trump each +night. He squeezes in through every chink and cranny, and once inside +the house goes whistling malignantly through the chilly rooms and +corridors. We keep an oil stove burning in our bathroom at night with +a kettle of water on it ready for our morning ablutions. To-day, when +I went in to dress—one does not dress in one's bedroom, but waits in +bed till the bathroom door's warning slam informs that the coast is +clear—there was the stove still merrily burning, and there was the +kettle of water on it—<span class="fakesc">FROZEN</span>.</p> + +<p>Next month there is to be a sale in Nameless Cove, twelve miles to the +westward of us. The doctor has asked me to attend. I accepted +delightedly, as twenty-four hours free from fear of rats and frozen +pipes draws me like a magnet. Moreover, who wouldn't be on edge if it +were one's first dog drive!</p> + +<p>I found Gabriel crying bitterly in bed the other night because he had +in a fit of mischief thrown a stone at the Northern lights, which is +regarded as an act of impiety by the Eskimo people. It was some time +before I could pacify the child, or get him to believe that no dire +results would follow his dreadful deed. But at length when "comforting +time" was come for him, he consoled himself by supposing that Teacher +must be "stronger than the devil."</p> + +<p class="right"><i>December 27</i></p> + + +<p>I certainly was never born to be a teacher and it is something to +discover one's limitations. For several Sundays now I have been +labouring to instruct our little ones in the story of the birth of +Jesus, and I have repeated the details again and again in order to +impress them upon their wandering minds. Last Sunday I questioned +them, and finally asked triumphantly, "Well, David, who was the Babe +in the manger?" With a wild look round the room for inspiration, David +enunciated with swelling pride, "Beulah, Teacher."</p> + +<p>We had a lovely time on Christmas. The night before the children hung +up their stockings, but it was midnight before I could get round to +fill them, they were so excited and wakeful. I "hied me softly to my +stilly couch," and was just dropping off into delicious slumber when +at 1 <span class="fakesc">A.M.</span> the strains of musical instruments (which you had +sent) were heard below. Then I appreciated to the full the sentiment +of that poet who sang:</p> + +<p class="poem"> +"Were children silent, we should half believe<br /> +That joy were dead, its lamp would burn so low." +</p> + +<p>Later in the day we had our Christmas tree, when Topsy was overjoyed +at receiving her first doll. There is something very sweet about the +child in spite of all her wilful ways, and she is a real little mother +to her doll.</p> + +<p>We had a great dinner, as you may imagine. I overheard some of the +little boys teasing Solomon, who is only three, to see if he would not +forgo some particular choice morsel upon his plate, to which an +emphatic "no" was always returned. Then by varying gradations of +importance came the question, would he give it to Teacher? The answer +not being considered satisfactory, Gabriel felt that the time had come +for the supreme test, Would Solomon give it to God and the angels? The +reply left so much to be desired that it is better unrecorded.</p> + +<p>In our harbour lives a blind Frenchman, François Détier by name. He +came here in his youth to escape conscription. The fisher people have +travelled a long road since the old feuds which scarred the early +history of Le Petit Nord, and François is a much-loved member of the +community. Since the oncoming of the inoperable tumour, which little +by little has deprived him of his sight, the neighbours vie with each +other by helping him. One day a load of wood will find its way to his +door. The next a few fresh "turr," a very "fishy" sea auk, are left +ever so quietly inside his woodshed—and so it goes. It is a constant +marvel to me that these people, who live so perilously near the margin +of want, are always so eager to share up. François is sitting in our +cellar as I write pulling nails from old boxes with my new patent +nail-drawer. A moment ago I could not resist the temptation of putting +the <i>Marseillaise</i> on the gramophone, and I went down to find him +with tears rolling down his cheeks as he hummed,</p> + +<p class="poem"> +"Allons, enfants de la Patrie,<br /> +Le jour de gloire est arrivé." +</p> + +<p class="noin">We've invented a new job for him; he is to "serve" our pipes with +bandages. This means swathing them round and round, and finally adding +an outer covering of newspaper, which has a much-vaunted reputation +for keeping cold out.</p> + +<p>Let me tell you the latest epic of the hospital pipes. Those to the +bathroom run through the office. In the last blizzard they burst. The +fire in the fireplace was a conflagration; the steam radiator was +singing a credible song; and as the water trickled down the pipe from +the little fissure, it froze solid before it was three inches on its +way!</p> + +<p>A friend sent me for Christmas a charming little poem. One verse runs:</p> + +<p class="poem"> +"May nothing evil cross this door,<br /> +And may ill fortune never pry<br /> +About these Windows; may the roar<br /> +And rains go by.<br /> +<br /> +"Strengthened by faith, these rafters will<br /> +Withstand the battering of the storm;<br /> +This hearth, though all the world grow chill,<br /> +Will keep us warm."<br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">I am thinking of hanging the card opposite our pipes as a reminder of +the "way they should go."</p> + +<p class="right"><i>January 15</i></p> + + +<p>The journey to Nameless Cove Fair was all that I had hoped for and a +little more thrown in to make weight. Clear and shining, with +glittering white snow below and sparkling blue sky above, the day +promised fair in spite of a mercury standing at ten below zero, and a +number of komatiks from the Mission started merrily forth. All went +well, and we reached Nameless Cove without adventure, but at sundown +the wind rose. When we left the sale at ten o'clock to return to the +house where I was to spend the night, we had to face the full fury of +a living winter gale. I "caught" both my cheeks on the way, or in +common parlance I froze them. All through that long tug we were +cheered by the thought of a large jug of cream which we had placed on +the stove to thaw when we left the house. Do you fancy that cream had +thawed? Not a bit of it. The fire was doing its best, but old Boreas +was holding our feast prisoner. It had not even begun to disintegrate +around the edges. We cut lumps from the icy mass, dropped them into +our cocoa (which we made by cooking it inside the stove and directly +on top of the coals), hastily popped the mixture into our mouths +before it should have a chance to freeze <i>en route</i>, and went promptly +to bed. I draw a veil over that night. I drew everything else I could +find over me in the course of it. A sadder and a wiser and a chillier +woman I rose the morrow morn. Another member of the staff, who had +slept in an adjoining house, froze his toe in bed.</p> + +<p>When we reached home, and I left the komatik at the hospital door, I +made out 'Senath dancing in an agitatedly aimless fashion on our +platform. She was also waving her arms about. For a moment it crossed +my mind that she had lost her modicum of wits, but as she was +immediately joined by Tryphena, I gave up the theory as untenable, and +continued to hasten up the hill to the Home. Our boiler had sprung, +not one but many leaks, and the precious hot water destined for the +cleansing of forty was flooding the already spotless kitchen floor. As +it is the middle of the week I had not suspected this calamity, Sunday +being the invariable day selected for all burst pipes, special rat +banquets, broken noses, toothaches, skinned shins, and such +misadventures. The problem now presenting itself for prompt solution +is: 20° below zero, a gale blowing from the northwest, twoscore small, +unwashed orphans, and a burst boiler!</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep127" id="imagep127"></a> +<a href="images/imagep127.png"> +<img src="images/imagep127.png" width="75%" alt="He froze his Toe in Bed" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">He froze his Toe in Bed</p> +</div> + +<p class="right"><i>January 21</i></p> + + +<p>The oldest inhabitants, and all the others as well, claim that this is +the most remarkable winter in thirty years. Not that one is deceived. +I suspect them rather of making excuses for the consistently +disconcerting climate of Britain's oldest colony.</p> + +<p>All the same, literally the worst storm I ever experienced has been in +progress for the last two days. It began in the morning by the falling +of a few innocent flakes. Then the north wind decided to take a hand. +All night and all day and all night again it shrieked around the +house, driving incredible quantities of snow before it. Half an hour +after it began, you could not see two yards in front of your face. The +man who attends to the hospital heating-plant had to crawl on his +hands and knees in order to reach his destination, taking exactly one +hour to make the distance of two hundred yards.</p> + +<p>At this institution it is the time-honoured custom to rise at +five-thirty each morning, which custom, although doubtless good for +our immortal souls, is distinctly trying to our too painfully mortal +flesh. Added to which, in spite of all our efforts, our pipes are +frozen, and in this country the ground does not thaw out completely +until July or August, when we are making preparations for being frozen +in again. Think of what this means for a household of over forty when +every drop of water has to be hauled in barrels by our boys, and the +superintendent has to stand over them to compel them to bring enough. +Cleanliness at such a cost must surely be a long way towards +godliness. I can now appreciate the story of the chaplain from a +whaling ship who is said to have wandered into an encampment of the +Eskimos. He told the people of heaven with all its glories, and it +meant nothing to these children of the North; they were not +interested in his story. But when he changed his theme and spoke of +hell, with its everlasting fires which needed no replenishing, they +cried, "Where is it? Tell us that we may go"; and big and little, they +clambered over him, eager for details.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep131" id="imagep131"></a> +<a href="images/imagep131.png"> +<img src="images/imagep131.png" width="75%" alt="A Long Way on the Heavenward Road" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">A Long Way on the Heavenward Road</p> +</div> + +<p>By morning every room on the windward side of our house looked like +the inside of an igloo. The fine drift had silted in through each most +minute cranny and crevice—even though we have double windows all +over the building; and on the night in question we had decided that +sufficient fresh air was entering in spite of us to permit our +disobeying our self-imposed anti-tuberculosis regulations. The wind +and snow are so persistent and so penetrating that the merest slit +gives them entrance, and the accumulations of such a night make one +fancy in the morning that the King of the Golden River has paid an +infuriated visit to our part of the globe. When I went into the +babies' dormitory every little bed was snowed under, and only the +children's dark hair contrasted with the universal whiteness.</p> + +<p>The second night I verily thought the house would come about our ears. +The gale had increased in fury, the thermometer stood at thirty below, +and I stayed up to be ready for emergencies. At midnight, thinking one +room must surely be blown in, I carried the sleeping babes into +another wing of the house. If for any reason we had had to leave the +building that night, none of us could have lived to reach a place of +safety. I wish you could have seen us the following morning. The snow +had drifted in so that in places it was over six feet high. I ventured +out and found that every exit but one from the Home was snowed up. We +had therefore to dig ourselves out of the woodshed door and into the +others from the outside. You make a dab with a shovel in the direction +where you think you last saw the desired door before the storm, and +trust the fates for results. Part of our roof has blown off and our +chimney is in a tottering condition.</p> + +<p>The greatest menace was the telegraph wires. The drifts in places were +so huge that as one walked along, the wires were liable to trip one +up. The doctor has just taken a picture of the dog team being fed from +the third-story window of the hospital. They are clustered on the snow +just outside and on a level with the bottom of the window. Some of the +fishermen in their tiny cottages had to be dug out by kindly +neighbours, as they were completely snowed under!</p> + +<p>The storm will greatly delay travelling and it may be almost spring +before this reaches you. It may interest you to know how my letters +come to you in the winter-time, and then perhaps you will not wonder +so much at the delays. The mail is carried across country to Mistaken +Cove, on the west coast, and then by eight relays of couriers with +their dog teams to Deerlake where the railway touches. It is a slow +method of progress, and there are countless delays owing to the +frequent blizzards. Often the mail men fail to make connections, and +the letters may lie a week or a fortnight at some outlandish station. +At one place the postmaster cannot even read, and the letters have to +be marked with crosses at the previous stopping-places, to indicate +the direction of their destination. Another postmaster, well known for +his dishonesty, failed to get removed by the authorities because he +was the only man in the place who could either read or write, and was +therefore indispensable. Formerly all the letters had to go to St. +John's, a day's extra journey, and be sorted there, sent back across +the island to Run-by-Guess, eight hours across Cabot Straits, and then +across the Atlantic to England. In this way a letter might take nearly +three months to make the journey, and we are sometimes that length of +time without news.</p> + +<p>Now a "mild" has set in, and the incessant drip, drip, drip on the +balcony roof outside my window makes me perfectly understand how +lunacy and death follow the persistent falling of a single drop on one +spot on the forehead.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>February 11</i></p> + + +<p>Last week I had a three days' "cruise" while the doctor considerately +sent a nurse up here to try her hand at my family. This time the +cruise was "on the dogs" instead of the rolling sea. We left for Belvy +(Bellevue) Bay in good time in the morning—"got our anchors early," +as our "carter" put it. The animation of the dogs, the lovely +snow-covered country, the bright winter's sun pouring down, and doubly +brilliant by reflection from the dazzling snow, the huge bonfire in +the woods where we "cooked the kettle," all make one understand the +call which the gipsy answers. Of course there is another side to the +story, when one is caught out in bitter weather in a blizzard of +driving snow and sleet, and loses the way, or perhaps has to stay out +in the open through the night. For instance, this winter four of the +Mission dogs have perished through frost-bite on these journeys; and +only last week we heard that one of the mail carriers on the west +coast had been frozen to death.</p> + +<p>A few years ago one dark and stormy night the Church of England +clergyman was called to the sick-bed of a parishioner. He set out at +once to cross the frozen bay and reached the cottage in safety. After +a visit with the dying man he started on his homeward way. It was cold +but clear, and he covered half the distance without trouble. Then the +weather veered and blinding snow began to drive. The traveller lost +his way battling against it, and finally sank down utterly exhausted. +He was found dead in the morning on the open bay.</p> + +<p>A day's trip brought us to Grevigneux, a charming little village +nestling in a great bowl formed by the towering cliffs above and +around it. Every one in the settlement is a Roman Catholic. Never did +I receive such a welcome; the people are so friendly and unspoiled. +The priest is a Frenchman, sensible, hearty, full of humour and love +for his people. Both his ideas and his manner of expressing them are +naïve and appealing. I had been told that in his sermons he admonished +certain members of his flock by name for their shortcomings. When I +questioned him about this he gave me the following explanation: "You +see, miss, when I die I shall stand before the Lord and my people will +be standing behind me. The Lord will look them over and then look at +me, and if any one of them isn't there he will say, 'Cartier, where is +Tom Flannigan?' And I should have to answer, 'Gone to Purgatory for +stealing boots.' And the Lord will say to me, 'Why, didn't he know +better than to steal boots? You ought to have told him.' Whatever +could I say for myself then?"</p> + +<p>The next night we spent at Lance au Diable, locally known as "Lancy +Jobble." In this place there is a "medicine man," with methods unique +in science. He is the seventh son of a seventh son, and his healing +powers are reputed to be little short of miraculous. Legend has it +that such must never request payment for services, nor must the +patient ever thank him, lest the efficacy of the cure be nullified. He +is an unselfish man, a thorough believer in his own "gift"; and last +summer, for instance, right in the middle of the fishing season, he +walked thirty miles through swamp and marsh ridden with black flies, +to see a sick woman who desired his aid. Doubtless the spell of his +buoyant personality does bring comfort and relief. In the adjoining +settlement of Bareneed lives an enormously fat old woman of +seventy-odd summers. Life passes over her, and its only effect is to +make her rotund and unwieldy. When the sick come to Brother Luke for +treatment, if any of the few drugs which he has accumulated chance to +have lost their labels—a not uncommon contingency in this land of +mist and fog—he takes down a likely-looking bottle from the shelf, +and tries a dose of the contents on this Mrs. Goochy—and awaits +results. If nothing untoward transpires, he then passes the medicine +on to the patient. Mrs. Goochy has a strong acquisitive bias, and +raises no objections to this vicarious proceeding. She argues: "I +doesn't need 'un now, but there be's no tellin'. I may need 'un when I +can't get 'un."</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep140" id="imagep140"></a> +<a href="images/imagep140.png"> +<img src="images/imagep140.png" width="75%" alt="The Seventh Son" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">The Seventh Son</p> +</div> + +<p>Occasionally the sailing is not so smooth. While we were there the +doctor saw a case of a woman from whom this Æsculapius had attempted +to extract an offending molar, his only instrument being a kind of +miniature winch which screws on to the undesired tooth. Its action +proved so prompt and powerful that not only did it remove the tooth +intended, but four others as well, and the entire alveolar process +connected with them.</p> + + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep141" id="imagep141"></a> +<a href="images/imagep141.png"> +<img src="images/imagep141.png" width="75%" alt="Its Action was Prompt and Powerful" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">Its Action was Prompt and Powerful</p> +</div> + +<p>It often made me feel ashamed to find how much some of these people +have made of their meagre opportunities. At one house a mother told me +that she had only been able to go to school for six months when she +was a girl, yet she had taught herself to read, and later her +children also. She showed me most interesting articles which she had +written for a Canadian newspaper describing the life on Le Petit Nord. +She often had to sit up until two in the morning to knit her +children's clothes, and rise again at dawn to prepare breakfast for +the men of the household.</p> + +<p>The following day saw us homeward bound, only this time the travelling +was not so romantic, for a "mild" had set in, and the going was +superlatively slushy. The dogs had all they could do to drag the +komatik with the luggage on it. The humans walked, generally in front +of the dogs, and on snow racquets, to make the trail a bit easier for +the animals. This may sound an interesting way to spend a winter's +day, but after twenty minutes of it you would cry "enough." When we +reached Belvy Bay the ice around the shore was broken into great pans, +but in the middle it looked good. To go round is an endless task, so +we risked crossing. It was easy to get off to the centre, for the big +pans at the edge would float a far greater weight than a komatik and +dogs and three people. The ice in the middle, however, which had +looked so sure from the landwash, proved to be "black"—that is, very, +very thin, though being salt-water ice, it was elastic. It was waving +up and down so as almost to make one seasick, but in its elasticity +lay our only chance of safety. We flung ourselves down at full length +on the komatik to give as broad a surface of resistance as possible, +and what encouragement was given the dogs we did with our voices. Four +miles did we drive over that swaying surface, and though at the time +we were too excited to be nervous, we were glad to reach the "<i>terra +firma</i>" of the standing ice edge.</p> + +<p>At each place we were received with the most cordial welcome, and +scarcely allowed even to express our gratitude. It was always they who +were so eager to thank us for giving them unasked the "pleasure of +our company." Their reception is always very touching. They put the +best they have before you and will take nothing for their hospitality.</p> + +<p>In my various letters to you I have so often taken away the characters +of our dogs that I must tell you of one, just to show that I have not +altered in my devotion to our "true first friend." This dog's name was +"Black," and he lived many years ago at Mistaken Cove. The tales of +his beauty, his cleverness at tricks, and his endurance of +difficulties are still told, but chiefly of his devotion to his +master. After years of this companionship the beloved master died and +was buried in the woods near his lonely little house. Black was +inconsolable. He would eat nothing; he started up at every slightest +noise hoping for the familiar whistle; he haunted the well-worn +woodpath where they had had so many happy days together. Finally he +discovered his master's grave and was found frantically tearing at +the hard earth and heavy stones. Nor would he leave the spot. Food +was brought him daily, but it went untouched. For one whole week he +lay in the wind and weather in the hole he had dug on the grave. There +the children found him on the eighth morning curled up and apparently +asleep. His long quest and vigil were ended, for he had reached the +happy hunting grounds. Who shall say that a beloved hand and voice did +not welcome him home?</p> + +<p class="right"><i>St. Antoine Children's Home (by courtesy)</i><br /> +<span style="margin-right: 2em;"><i>February 28</i></span></p> + + +<p>Of one thing I am certain, we must have a new Home, for this house is +not fit for habitation, and it is not nearly large enough. Even after +my recent return from living in the tiny homes of the people which one +would fancy to be far less comfortable, this is forcibly impressed +upon me. We simply cannot go on refusing to take in children who need +its shelter so badly. So please spread this broadcast among the +friends in England. This Home has been enlarged once since it was +built, and yet it is not nearly big enough for our present needs. We +have no nursery, and I only wish you could see the tiny room which has +to do duty for a sewing-room. It is certainly only called "room" by +courtesy, for there is scarcely space to sit down, much less to use a +needle without risk of injury to one's neighbour. The weekly mend +alone, without the making of new things, means now between two and +three hundred garments in addition to the boots, which the boys +repair. As you can imagine, this is no light task and we are often +driven almost distracted. I think the stockings are the worst, +sometimes a hundred pairs to face at once! I fear we must once have +been led into making some rather pointed remarks on this subject, for +later, on going into the sewing-room, we found a slip of printed +paper, cut from a magazine, and bearing the title of an article: +"<span class="sc">Don't Scold the Children when They Tear Their Stockings</span>."</p> + +<p>This building rocks like a ship at sea; the roof continually leaks, +the windows are always "coming abroad," and the panes drop out at +"scattered times," while even when shut, the wind whistles through as +if to show his utter disdain of our inhospitable and paltry efforts to +keep him outside. On stormy nights, in spite of closed windows, the +rooms resemble huge snowdrifts. Seven maids with seven mops sweeping +for half a year could never get it clear. The building heaves so much +with the frost that the doors constantly refuse to work, because the +floors have risen, and if they are planed, when the frost disappears, +a yawning chasm confronts you. Our storeroom is so cold in winter that +we put on Arctic furs to fetch in the food, and in summer it is +flooded so that we swim from barrel to barrel as Alice floated in her +pool of tears. But far above all these minor discomforts is the one +overwhelming desire not to have to refuse "one of these little ones."</p> + +<p>One's heart aches when one remembers all the money and effort and love +expended on a single child at home, that he may lack nothing to be +prepared in body and spirit to meet the vicissitudes of his coming +life journey. But in this land are hundreds of children, our own blood +and kin, who must face their crushing problems often with bodies +stunted from insufficient nourishment in childhood, and minds unopened +and undeveloped, not through lack of natural ability, but because +opportunity has never come to them. As one looks ahead one sees +clearly what a contribution these eager children could offer their +"day" if only their cousins at home had "the eyes of their +understanding purged to behold things invisible and unseen."</p> + +<p class="right"><i>March 10</i></p> + + +<p>The seals are in! That to you doubtless does not seem the most +engrossing item of news that could be communicated, but that merely +proves what a long road you have to travel. Before the break of day +every man capable of carrying a weapon is out on the ice to try and +get his share of the spoils.</p> + +<p>They carry every conceivable sort of gun, but the six-foot +muzzle-loaders are the favourites. These ancient weapons have been +handed down from father to son for generations, and locally go by the +somewhat misleading soubriquet of the "little darlints."</p> + +<p>The people call the seals "swiles." There is an old story about a +foreigner who once asked, "How do you spell 'swile'?" The answer the +fisherman gave him was, "We don't spell [carry] 'em. We mostly hauls +'em."</p> + +<p>Sea-birds have also come in the "swatches" of open water between the +pans. A gale of wind and sea has broken up the ice, and driven it out +of St. Mien's Bay, which is just round the corner from us. Thousands +of "turr" are there, and the men are reaping many a banquet. A man's +wealth is now gauged by the number of birds which are strung around +the eaves of his house. It is a safe spot, for it keeps the birds +thoroughly frozen, and well out of reach, at this time of year, of the +ever-present dog.</p> + +<p>Some of the men were prevented from being on the spot for bird +shooting as promptly as they desired by the fact that their boats, +having lain up all winter, were not "plymmed." If you put a dried +apple, for instance, into water it "plymms"; so do beans, and so do +boats. When a boat is not "plymmed," it leaks in all its seams, and is +therefore looked upon as unsafe for these sub-Arctic waters by the +more conservative amongst us. To stop a boat leaking you "chinch" the +seams with oakum. Our fisherman sexton has just told me that "the +church was right chinched last night."</p> + +<p>One by one our supplies are giving out or diminishing. Each week as I +send down an order to the store it is returned with some item crossed +off. These articles at home would be considered the indispensables. +Already potatoes have gone the way of all flesh; there is no more +butter (though that is less loss than it sounds, for it was packed on +the schooner directly next the kerosene barrels, and a liberal +quantity of that volatile liquid incorporated itself in each tub of +"oleo"). We are warned that the remaining amount of flour will not +hold out till the spring boat—our first possible chance of getting +reinforcements for our larder—unless we exercise the watchfulness of +the Sphinx. The year before I came the first boat did not reach St. +Antoine till the 28th of June.</p> + +<p>More excitement has just been communicated to me by Topsy: much more. +A man from the Baie des Français has killed a huge polar bear. It +took ten men and six dogs to haul the beast home after he had been +finally dispatched. The man fired several shots at him, but did not +hit a vital spot. One bullet only remained to him, and the bear was +coming at him in a very purposeful manner. "Now or never," thought the +fisherman, and fired. The creature fell dead almost at his feet. When +they skinned him they found bullets in his legs and flank, but +searched and searched in vain for the fatal one which had been the +end of him. There was no mark on the skin in any vital spot. At last +they found it. The ball had penetrated exactly through the bear's ear +into his brain. All the countryside is now dining off bear steak; and +there is a splendid skin to be purchased if you are so minded. I have +eaten a bit of the steak, though I confess I did not sit down to the +feast with any pleasurable anticipation, as the men said that they +found the remains of a recently devoured seal in Bruin's "tum." I had +an agreeable surprise. The meat was fibrous and a little tough, but it +was quite good—a vast improvement on the sea-birds which are so +highly valued in the local commissariat.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep153" id="imagep153"></a> +<a href="images/imagep153.png"> +<img src="images/imagep153.png" width="75%" alt="It was his Last Bullet" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">It was his Last Bullet</p> +</div> + +<p>The Prophet has a vivid idea of the processes going on in the heads of +animals. He says that up to fifteen years ago there were bears +innumerable "in the country." "And one day, miss," he explained, "the +whole crew of them gets their anchors and leaves in a body." To hear +him one would imagine that at a concerted signal the bears came out +of their burrows and shook the dust of the land from their feet.</p> + +<p>The Eskimos toll the seals. They lie on the ice and wave their legs in +the air, and the seals, curious animals, approach to discover the +nature of the phenomenon, and are forthwith dispatched. One Eskimo of +a histrionic temperament decided to "go one better." He went out to +the ice edge, climbed into his sealskin sleeping-bag, and waved his +legs, as per stage directions. We are not informed whether the device +would have proved a successful decoy to the seals, for before any had +been lured within range, another Innuit, having seen the sealskin legs +gesticulating on the ice edge, naturally mistook them for the real +thing, fired with regrettable accuracy, and went out to find a dead +cousin.</p> + +<p>The story is the only deterrent I have from dressing in my white +Russian hareskin coat, and sitting in the graveyard some dusky +evening. The people claim that the place is haunted. I have never met +a "Yoho" and never expect to, but I would dearly love to see how +others act when they think they have. Only the suspicion that they +would "plump for safety," and fire the inevitable muzzle-loader at my +white garment, keeps me from making the experiment <i>in corpore vile</i>.</p> + +<p>The birds and the seals and the bears and white foxes coming south on +the moving ice are signs of spring. There is a stir in the air as if +the people as well sensed that the back of the long winter was broken. +How it has flown! You cannot fancy my sensations of lonesomeness when +I think that I shall never spend another in this country. You cannot +describe or analyze the lure of the land and its people, but it is +there, and grips you. I have grown to love it, and you will welcome +home an uncomplimentary homesick comrade when September comes.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>April 1</i></p> + + +<p>Last minute of Sunday, so here's to you. To-morrow I shall be +cheerfully immersed up to the eyes in work.</p> + +<p>Oh! this Home. How little it deserves the name! Our English storms are +nothing but babies compared with the appalling blasts which sweep down +upon us from the north. In summer the furious seas dash against the +cliffs as if to protect them from the desecration of human +encroachment. The fine snow filters in between the roof and ceiling of +this building, and in a "mild," such as we are now experiencing, it +melts, and endless little rivulets trickle down in nearly every room. +The water comes in on my bed, on the kitchen range, and on the +dining-room table. It falls on the sewing-machine in one room, on the +piano and bookcase in another. Its catholicity of taste is plain +disheartening!</p> + +<p>You ask whether these kiddies have the stuff in them to repay what +you are pleased to term "such an outlay of effort." My emphatic "yes" +should have been so insistent as to have reached you by telepathy when +the doubt first presented itself. The Home has been established now +long enough to have some of its "graduates" go out into life; and the +splendid manhood and womanhood of these young people are at once a +sufficient reward to us and a silencing response to you. Many of them +have been sent to the States and Canada for further education, and are +now not only writing a successful story for themselves, but helping +their less fortunate neighbours, in a way we from outside never can, +to turn over many a new leaf in their books.</p> + +<p>Yesterday I attended the theatre, only it was the operating theatre. +The patient on this occasion was a doll, the surgeon a lad of seven, +himself a victim of infantile paralysis, and the head nurse assisting +was aged nine, and wears a brace on each leg. The stage was the +children's ward of the hospital. Here are several pathetic little +people, orthopedic cases, brought in for treatment during the winter, +and who must stay till the spring boat arrives, as their homes are now +cut off by interminable miles of snow wastes and icy sea. Nothing +escapes their notice. They tear up their Christmas picture books, and +when charged with the enormity of their offence, explain that they +"must have adhesive tape for their operative work." Dick, the surgeon, +was overheard the other day telling Margaret, the head nurse, as +together they amputated the legs of her doll, "This is the way Sir +Robert Jones does it."</p> + +<p>Next to operating, the children love music; and they love it with a +repertoire varied to meet every mood, from "Keep the Home Fires +Burning" to "In the Courts of Belshazzar and a Hundred of his Lords." +One three-year-old scrap comes from a Salvation Army household, and +listens to all such melodies with marked disapproval. But when the +others finish, she "pipes up," shutting her eyes, clapping her hands +and swaying back and forth—</p> + +<p class="poem"> +"Baby's left the cradle for the Golden Shore:<br /> +Now he floats, now he floats,<br /> +Happy as before." +</p> + +<p>Three of the kiddies are Roman Catholics and have taught their +companions to say their prayers properly of an evening. They all cross +themselves devoutly at the close; but this instruction has fallen on +fallow ground in the wee three-year-old. She sits with eyes tightly +screwed together lest she be forced even to witness such heresy and +schism.</p> + +<p>Yesterday I was walking with Gabriel when we came upon a tiny bird +essaying his first spring song on a tree-top nearby. Gabriel looked at +the newcomer silently for several minutes, and finally, turning his +luminous brown eyes up to my face, asked, "Do he sing hymns, +Teacher?"</p> + +<p class="right"><i>April 19</i> +</p> + + +<p>The village sale was held last week. This has become an annual +occurrence, and the proceeds are devoted to varying good objects. This +time the hospital was the beneficiary. For months the countryside, men +and women, have been making articles, and I can assure you it is a +relief to have it over and such a success to boot, and life's quiet +tone restored. We made large numbers of purchases, and consumed +unbelievable quantities of more than solid nourishment. The people +have shown the greatest ingenuity and diligence, and the display was a +credit to their talent. I was particularly struck with the really +clever carving representing local scenes which the fishermen had done +with no other tools than their jack-knives. The auction was the +keynote of the evening, due largely to the signal ability of the +auctioneer. His methods are effective, but strictly his own. Cakes, +made generally in graded layers and liberally coated with different +coloured sugar, were the favourites. As he held up the last teetering +mountain he "bawled": "What am I bid for this wonderful cake? 'Tis a +bargain at any price. Why, she's so heavy I can't hold her with one +hand." It fetched seven dollars!</p> + +<p>The yearly meet for sports was held in the afternoon before the sale, +and was voted by all to be a great success. It is a far cry from the +days when games were introduced here by the Mission. Then the people's +lives were so drab, and they had little idea of the sporting qualities +which every Englishman values so highly. In those early days if in a +game of football one side kicked a goal, they had to wait till the +other had done the same before the game could proceed, or the play +would have been turned into a battle. Now everything in trousers in +the place can be seen of an evening out on the harbour ice kicking a +ball about. The harbour is our very roomy athletic field.</p> + +<p>Twenty-two teams had entered for the dog race, and the start, when the +whole number were ranged up in the line, was pandemonium unloosed. The +dogs were barking out threatenings and slaughter to the teams next +them, their masters were shouting unheeded words of command, the crowd +were cheering their favourites, and altogether you would never have +guessed from the racket and confusion that you were north of the +Roaring Forties.</p> + +<p>The last event on the sports programme was a scramble for coloured +candies by all the children of the village. Our flock from the Home +participated. The proceeding was as unhygienic as it was alluring, and +our surprise was great when a universally healthy household greeted +the morrow morn.</p> + +<p>When I heard the amount the poor folk had raised for charity out of +their meagre pittance, I felt reproached. It is a consistent fact here +that the people give and do more than their means justify, and it +must involve a hard pinch for them in some other quarter.</p> + +<p>Coming from the sale at ten at night I looked for our "Yoho" in +passing the churchyard, but was unrewarded, though some of the harbour +people assured me in the morning that they had seen it plainly. Can +there be anything in the current belief that the men of the sea are +more psychic than we case-hardened products of civilization, or is it +merely superstition? There is a story here of a man called Gaulton, +which is vouched for by all the older men who can recall the incident. +It seems that in Savage Cove this old George Gaulton lived till he was +ninety. He died on December 4, 1883. On the 16th he appeared in the +flesh to a former acquaintance at Port au Choix, fifty miles from the +spot at which he had died. This man Shenicks gives the following +account of the curious visitation:</p> + +<p>"I was in the woods cutting timber for a day and a half. During the +whole of that time I was sure I heard footsteps near me in the snow, +although I could see nothing. On the evening of the second day, in +consequence of heavy rain, I returned home early. I knew my cattle had +plenty of food, but something forced me to go to the hay-pook. While +there, in a few moments I stood face to face with old George Gaulton. +I was not frightened. We stood in the rain and talked for some time. +In the course of the conversation the old man gave me a message for +his eldest son, and begged me to deliver it to him myself before the +end of March. Immediately afterwards he disappeared, and then I was +terribly afraid."</p> + +<p>A few weeks later Shenicks went all the way to Savage Cove and +delivered the message given to him in so strange a fashion.</p> + +<p>A word of apology and I close. In an early letter to you I recall +judging harshly a concoction called "brewis." Experience here has +taught me that our own delicacies meet with a similar fate at the +hands of my present fellow countrymen. I offered Carmen on her arrival +a cup of cocoa for Sunday supper. After one sniff, biddable and polite +child though she was, I saw her surreptitiously pour the "hemlock cup" +out of the open window behind her.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>May 23</i></p> + + +<p>Many miles over the hills from St. Antoine lies one of the wildest and +most beautiful harbours on this coast. Nestling within magnificently +high rocks, the picturesque colouring of which is reflected in the +quiet water beneath, lies the little village of Crémaillière. It is +only a small settlement of tiny cottages beside the edge of the sea, +but it has the unenviable reputation of being the worst village on the +coast. In winter only three families live there, but in the +summer-time a number of men come for the fishing, and they with their +wives and children exist in almost indescribable hovels. Some of these +huts are just rough board affairs, about six feet by ten, and resemble +cow sheds more than houses. If there is a window at all, it is merely +a small square of glass (not made to open) high up on one side of the +wall. In some there is not even the pretence of a window, but in cases +of severe sickness a hole is knocked through for ventilation on +hearing of the near approach of the Mission doctor. The walls have +only one thickness of board with no lining and the roofs are thatched +with sods. There is no flooring whatever. Not one person in +Crémaillière can either read or write.</p> + +<p>Yesterday there was a funeral held in one of the little villages, and +the mingling of pathos and humour made one realize more vividly than +ever how "all the world's akin." A young mother had died who could +have been saved if her folk had realized the danger in time and sent +for the doctor. She was lying in a rude board coffin in the bare +kitchen. As space was at a premium the casket had been placed on the +top of the long box which serves as a residence for the family rooster +and chickens. They kept popping their heads, with their round, quick +eyes out through the slats, and emitting startled crows and clucks at +the visitors. The young woman was dressed in all her outdoor +clothing; a cherished lace curtain sought to hide the rough, unplaned +boards of the coffin—for it had been hewn from the forest the day +before. The depth of her husband's grief was evidenced by the fact +that he had spent his last and only two dollars in the purchase, at +the Nameless Cove general store, of the highly flowered hat which +surmounted his wife's young careworn but peaceful face as she lay at +rest.</p> + +<p>I saw for the first time an old custom preserved on the coast. Before +the coffin was closed all the family passed by the head of the +deceased and kissed the face of their loved one for the last time, +while all the visitors followed and laid their hands reverently on the +forehead. Only when the master of ceremonies, who is always specially +appointed, had cried out in a sonorous voice, "Any more?" and met with +no response, was the ceremony of closing the lid permitted.</p> + +<p>Surely the children are the one and only hope of this country. Through +them we may trust to raise the moral standard of the generations to +come, but it is going to be a very slow process to make any headway +against the ignorance and absence of desire for better things which +prevails so largely here.</p> + +<p>I must tell you of the latest addition to our family. On the first +boat in the spring there arrived a family, brought by neighbours, to +say what the Mission could do for them. I think I have never seen a +more forlorn sight than this group presented when they stepped from +the steamer. There was the father (the mother is dead), an elderly +half-witted cripple capable neither of caring for himself nor for his +children, four boys of varying sizes, and a girl of fourteen in the +last stages of tuberculosis. The family were nearly frozen, +half-starved, and completely dazed at the hopelessness of their +situation. The girl was admitted to the hospital, where she has since +died, and the youngest boy, Israel, we took into the Home. Alas, we +had only room for the one. Israel was at first much overawed by the +standard of cleanliness required in this institution, and protested +vigorously when we tried to put him into the bathtub. He explained to +us that he never washed more than his face and hands at home, not even +his neck and ears, the limitation of territory being strictly defined +and scrupulously observed.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>June 20</i></p> + + +<p>Unlike last year this summer promises to be hot, at least for this +country. I have felt one great lack this year. You have to pass the +long months of what would be lovely spring in England without a sign +of a living blade of flower, though a few little songbirds did their +best bravely to make it up to us. Already we are being driven almost +crazy with the mosquitoes and black flies, songsters of no mean +calibre, especially at night. In desperation our little ones yesterday +succeeded in killing an unusually large specimen, and after burying it +with great solemnity were heard singing around the grave in no +uncheerful tones, "Nearer, my God, to Thee."</p> + +<p>I hate to think that these next few weeks will be the last I shall +spend in this country and with these children. The North seems to +weave over one a kind of spell and fascination all its own. I look +back sometimes and smile that I should ever have felt the year long +or dreary; it has passed so quickly that I can scarcely believe it +already time to be thinking of you and England again. I may emulate +the example of Mrs. Lot, but with the certainty that a similar fate to +hers does not await me.</p> + +<p>I have just unpacked a barrel of clothing sent from home to the +Orphanage, and find to my disgust that it is almost entirely composed +of muslin blouses and old ladies' bonnets! What am I to do with them? +The blouses I can use as mosquito veiling, but these bonnets are not +the kind our babies wear. I shall present one to Topsy, who will look +adorable in it.</p> + +<p>You hint it is hard to get up interest in Labrador because we are +neither heathen nor black. I can imagine your sewing circle of dear +old ladies (perhaps they sent the bonnets) discussing the relative +merits of working to send aeroplanes to the Arabs, bicycles to the +Bedouins, comforters to the Chinese, jumpers to the Japanese, +handkerchiefs to the Hottentots, hair nets to the Hindoos, mouth +organs to the Mohammedans, pinafores to the Parsees, pyjamas to the +Papuans, prayer-books to the Pigmies, sandwiches to the South Sea +Islanders, or zithers to the Zulus. Just wait till I can talk to your +dear old ladies!</p> + +<p>A few days ago we had a very narrow escape from fire; indeed, it +seemed for some time as if the whole of the Mission would be wiped +out. It was a half-holiday and our boys had gone fishing to the +Devil's Pond, a favourite spot of theirs, about a mile away. +Unfortunately Noah was seized with the idea of lighting a fire by +which to cook the trout, the matches having been stolen from my room. +It had been dry for several days, there was quite a wind, and the +fire, catching the furze, quickly got beyond the one required for +culinary purposes. The boys first tried to smother it with their +coats, but finding that of no avail ran home to give the alarm. By +the time the men could get to the spot the fire had spread so rapidly +that attention had to be turned towards trying to save the houses. The +doctor's house was the one most directly threatened at first, and we +proceeded to strip it of all furniture, carrying everything to the +fore-shore to be ready to be taken off if necessary. The doctor was +away on a medical call, and you can imagine my feelings when I +expected every moment to see the Northern Light come round the point, +the doctor's house in flames and his household goods scattered to the +winds! Then we dismantled this place—the children having been sent at +the outset to a place of safety—and removed the patients from the +hospital. Every man in the place was hard at work, and there were few +of us who dared to hope that we should have a roof over our heads that +night. Happily the wind suddenly dropped, the fire died down, and late +that night we were able to return and endeavour to sort out babies +and furniture. The goddess of disorder reigned supreme, and it was +only after many weary hours that we were able to find beds for the +babies and babies for the beds. And it was our boys who started the +fire! I am covered with confusion every second when I stop to think of +it, and wonder if this is not the psychological moment to make my exit +from this Mission.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>July 11</i></p> + + +<p>By invitation of the doctor I am off for a trip on the Northern Light +next week. He offers me thus the chance to see other portions of the +Shore before he drops me at the Iron Bound Islands, where I can +connect with the southern-going coastal steamer. The Prophet has +encouraged me with the observation that "nearly all the female ladies +what comes aboard her do be wonderful sick," but I am not to be +deterred. So:</p> + +<p class="poem"> +"Now, Brothers, for the icebergs of frozen Labrador,<br /> +Floating spectral in the moonshine along the low, black shore.<br /> +Where in the mist the rock is hiding, and the sharp reef lurks below;<br /> +And the white squall smites in summer, and the autumn tempests blow." +</p> + +<p>This is a mere scrap of a greeting, for the day of departure is so +near that I feel I want to spend every minute with the kiddies. I +count on your forbearance, and your knowledge that though my pen is +quiet, my heart still holds you without rival.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>On board the Northern Light</i><br /> +<span style="margin-right: 2em;"><i>July 16</i></span></p> + + +<p>Is to-day as lovely in your part of the world as it is in mine, and do +you greet it with a background of as exciting a night as the one that +has just passed over us? I wonder. I came across some old forms of +bills of lading sent out to this country from England. They always +closed with this most appropriate expression, "And so God send the +good ship to her desired port in safety." It has fallen into disuse +long ago, but about break of early day the idea took a very compelling +shape in my mind. We put out from Bonne Espérance just as night was +falling, and there was no moon to aid us. The doctor had decided on +the outside run, and brief as is my acquaintance with the "lonely +Labrador," I knew what that meant. I therefore betook myself betimes +to bed as the best spot for an unseasoned mariner. Twelve o'clock +found us barely holding our own against a furious head wind and +sea—"An awful night for a sinner," as our cheery Prophet remarked as +he lurched past my cabin door. Icebergs were dotted about. Great +combers were pouring over our bow and the floods came sweeping down +the decks sounding like the roar of a thousand cataracts.</p> + +<p>The only way one could keep from being hurled out of one's berth was +to cling like a leech to a rope fastened to a ring in the wall, for +the little ship was bouncing back and forth so fast and so far that it +was impossible to compare it with the motion of any other craft. Day +began to dawn about 3 <span class="fakesc">A.M.</span> By the dim light I could make out +mighty mountains of green foaming water. At each roll of the steamer +we seemed to be at the bottom of a huge emerald pit. Suddenly some one +yelled, "There she goes!" and that second the boat was dragged down, +down, down. An immense wave had caught us, rolled us so far over that +our dory in davits had filled with water to the brim. As the ship +righted herself, the weight of the dory snapped off the davit at the +deck, and the boat, still attached by her painter, was dragged +underneath our hull, and threatened to pull us down with it. In two +seconds the men had cut her away, but not before she had nearly banged +herself to matchwood against our side.</p> + +<p>Now we are lying under the lea of St. Augustine Island waiting for the +wind to abate. The chief engineer has just offered to row me ashore to +hunt for young puffins. More later.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep180" id="imagep180"></a> +<a href="images/imagep180.png"> +<img src="images/imagep180.png" width="85%" alt="A Puffin Ghetto" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">A Puffin Ghetto</p> +</div> + +<p>There were hundreds of them in every family, and so many families that +it resembled nothing so much as a puffin ghetto. I judged from the +turmoil that they were screeching for "a place in the sun." The noise +they made did not in the least accord with their respectable Quaker +appearance. Shall I bring you one as a pet? Its austere presence would +help you to remember your "latter end."</p> + +<p>When I wrote you that there was ice about, I did not refer to the +field ice through which we travelled on my way north. This is the real +thing this time—icebergs, and lots of them. They call the little ones +"growlers," and big and little alike are classed as "pieces of ice"! +They are not my idea of a "piece" of anything. I know now what the +Ancient Mariner meant when he said:</p> + +<p class="poem"> +"And ice mast high came floating by<br /> +As green as emerald." +</p> + +<p class="noin">It exactly describes them, only it doesn't wholly describe them, for +no one could. They loom up in every shape and size and variation of +form, pinnacles and towers and battlements, stately palaces of +glittering crystal, triumphal archways more gorgeous than ever +welcomed a conqueror home. Sometimes they are shining white, too +dazzling to look at; and sometimes they are streaked with great vivid +bands of green and azure which are so unearthly and brilliant that I +feel certain some fairy has dipped his brush in the solar spectrum and +dabbed the colours on this gigantic palette.</p> + +<p>A sea without these jewels of the Arctic will forever look barren and +unfinished to me after this. Even the sailors, who know too well what +a menace they are to their craft, yield to their beauty a mute and +grudging homage. To sit in the sun or the moonlight, and watch a heavy +sea hurling mountains of water and foam over one of these ocean +monarchs is a never-to-be-forgotten experience. So too it is to listen +to the thunder of one of them "foundering"; for their equilibrium is +very unstable, and the action of the sea, as they travel southwards to +their death in the Gulf Stream, cuts them away at the surface of the +water. Blocks weighing unbelievable tons crash off them, or they will +suddenly, without a second's warning, break into a million pieces. I +can never conquer a creepiness of the spine as I listen to one of +these tragedies. It is a startling, new sensation such as we never +expect to meet again after childhood has shut its doors on us. In the +quiet that follows the gigantic disintegration one half expects to see +a new heaven and a new earth emerge out of the chaos of ice quivering +in the water.</p> + +<p>You often warned me in the course of the past year how dull life would +be. You knew how I loved a city. I still do. But the last word on +earth one could apply to the life here is "dull." Nature takes care of +that. I defy you to walk along any street in London and see six +porpoises and a whale! That is what I saw this morning. Oh! of course +you may counter by telling me that neither can I see an automobile or +a fire engine, but I have you, because I can answer that I have seen +them already. How are you going to get out of that corner, except by +saying that you do not want to see the old porpoises and whales and +bergs?—and I know your "Scotch" conscience forbids such distortion of +facts.</p> + +<p>I have come to believe in the personality of porpoises. They swam +beside the ship, playing about in the water all the while, rolling +over and diving, and chasing each other just as if they knew they had +a "gallery." We did not reward them very well either, for the Prophet +shot one, and we ate bits of him for lunch—the porpoise, I mean, not +the Prophet. I thought he would make a good companion-piece for the +polar bear, and he was quite edible. He only needed a rasher of bacon +to make you believe he was calf's liver.</p> + +<p>So you see that between puffins and porpoises and whales, and +"growlers" and lost dories, I crowded enough into one day to give me +dreams that Alice in Wonderland might covet.</p> + +<p>In your secret heart don't you wish that you too were</p> + +<p class="poem"> +"Where the squat-legged Eskimo<br /> +Waddles in the ice and snow,<br /> +And the playful polar bear<br /> +Nips the hunter unaware;<br /> +Where the air is kind o' pure,<br /> +And the snow crop's pretty sure"? +</p> + +<p class="right"><i>July 22</i></p> + + +<p>It has been days since I wrote you, and they have slipped by so +stealthily I must have missed half they held.</p> + +<p>Since coming aboard I have taken to rising promptly. It is a necessary +measure if I am to be able to rise at all. One morning I stuck my head +out just in time to see my favourite sweater, which I had counted on +for service on the homeward voyage, disappearing over the +rail—legitimately, so far as concerned the wearer. Last week, by the +merest fluke, I rescued my best boots from a similar fate. The doctor +explained lamely on each occasion that they got mixed with the +clothing sent for distribution to the poor. This may be a literal +statement of fact, but I doubt the manner of the mixing.</p> + +<p>We celebrated to-day by running aground on the flats. You can "squeak" +over them if you happen to strike the channel. The difficulty is, +however, that the sandy bottom shifts. To-day it is, and to-morrow it +is not. I was eating one of those large, hearty breakfasts which the +combination of a dead flat calm and a sunshiny brisk air make such a +desideratum. I was, moreover, perched on the top of the wheel house, +and reflecting on the poor taste of the author of the Book of +Revelation when he said that in heaven "there shall be no more sea." +At this moment I came to with a lurch. "She's stuck!" yelled, or as he +himself would put it, "bawled," the Prophet. For once he was +undeniably right. Fortunately the tide was on the flood, and we +floated off a short while after.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon we visited an Eskimo Moravian station. They—the +Eskimos, not the Moravians—are a jolly little people, and picturesque +as possible. Not that any aspersions on the Moravians are intended, +for I have the greatest respect for them. My shining leather coat made +a great hit. They fondled it and stroked it, and coo-ed at it as if +it were a new baby. All the women past their very first youth seemed +toothless. I wondered if it could be a characteristic of the +tribe—sort of Manx Eskimo. I asked the Prophet what was the cause of +the universal shortage, and was told that the Eskimo women all chew +the sealskin to soften it for making into boots. You can take this +statement for what it may be worth.</p> + +<p>Speaking of which I have just finished reading a ludicrously furious +attack on the Mission in a St. John's paper, for its alleged +misrepresentations. It seems that last year the former superintendent +took down a boy from the Children's Home to give him a chance at +further education. He had a wooden leg, his own having been removed by +an operation for tuberculosis. On his arrival in Montreal the +omnivorous reporter saw in him excellent copy, and forthwith printed +the following purely fictitious account of the cause of his +disability. Little Kommak, so the story ran (the boy is of pure Irish +extraction, and is named Michael Flynn), was one day sitting with his +mother in his igloo when he saw a large polar bear approaching. Having +no weapon, and not desiring the presence of the bear in any capacity +at their midday meal, he stuck his leg out through the small aperture +of the igloo. The bear bit it off on the principle of half a loaf +being better than no bread. The whole thing was a fabric of lies from +beginning to end. The St. John's papers discovered the article, +pounced upon it, and printed the article "<i>que je viens de finir</i>." +Of course, if the local editor lacked humour enough to credit the +doctor with such a fairy tale, one could pity the poor soul, but his +diatribe has rather the earmarks of jealousy.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep189" id="imagep189"></a> +<a href="images/imagep189.png"> +<img src="images/imagep189.png" width="75%" alt="The Bear bit his Leg off" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">The Bear bit his Leg off</p> +</div> + +<p>A lovely sunset is lighting up the sea and sky and hills, and turning +the plain little settlement, in the harbour of which we are anchored, +into the Never, Never Land. The scene is so bewitching that I find my +soul purged by it of the bad taste of the attack. I'll leave you to +digest the mixed metaphor undisturbed while I go below and help with +the patients who have begun pouring aboard.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>Same evening</i></p> + +<p>An old chap has just climbed over the rail, who looks like an early +patriarch, but his dignity is impaired by the moth-eaten high silk hat +which surmounts his white hair. The people regard him with apparent +deference, due either to the hat or his inherent character. Looking at +his fine old face, one is inclined to believe it is the latter.</p> + +<p>The expressions these people use are so nautical and so apt! Every +patient who comes aboard expressed the wish to be "sounded" in some +portion of his or her anatomy for the suspected ailment which has +brought him. One burly fisherman solemnly took off his huge oily +sea-boot, placed a grimy forefinger on his heel, and remarked +sententiously that the doctor "must sound him right there." The +prescription was soap and water—a diagnosis in which I entirely +concurred. The next case was a young girl with a "kink in her glutch." +It has the sound of all too familiar motor trouble, but was dismissed +as psychopathic. I wish that a similarly simple diagnosis accounted +for the mysterious ailments of automobiles. My meditations on modern +science were interrupted by an insistent voice proclaiming that "my +head is like to burst abroad."</p> + +<p>If I were a woman on this coast my temper would "burst abroad" to see +the men—some of them—spitting all over the floors of the cottages: +disgusting and particularly dangerous in a country where the +arch-enemy, tuberculosis, is ever on the watch for victims. But the +new era is slowly dawning. Now, instead of hooking "Welcome Home" into +the fireside mat, you find "<span class="sc">Dont Spit</span>" worked in letters of +flame. It is the harbinger of the feminist movement in the land.</p> + +<p>Speaking of the feminist movement makes me think of a woman at +Aquaforte Harbour. She deserves a book written about her. In the first +place, Elmira had the courage of her convictions, and did not marry. +Her convictions were that marriage was desirable if you get the right +man who can support you properly, and not otherwise. This is +generations in advance of the local attitude to the holy estate. She +has lived a life of single blessedness to the coast. In every trouble +along her section of the shore it is "routine" to send for "Aunt" +'Mira. She has more sense and unselfishness and native wit than you +would meet in ten products of civilization. For a year she acted as +nurse to the little boy of one of the staff, and never was child +better cared for. They once told 'Mira she really must make baby take +his bottle. (He had the habit of profound slumber at that time.) "Oh! +I does, ma'm," 'Mira replied. "If he dwalls off, I gives him a +scattered jolt." The family took her to England with them, and her +remarks on the trains showed where her ancestry lay. When they backed +she exclaimed, "My happy day! We're goin' astern!" She requested to be +allowed to "open the port"; and at a certain junction where there was +a long delay she asked to go "ashore for a spell."</p> + +<p>That "hell is paved with good intentions" is no longer a glib phrase +to me; it is a conviction born of seeing some of the suffering of this +country. The doctor has just been ashore to see a woman with a +five-days old baby. No attempt whatever had been made to get her or +her bed clean or comfortable. She had developed a violent fever, and +the local midwives, with their congenital terror of the use of +water—internal or external—had larded the miserable creature over +from head to foot with butter, and finished off with a liberal coating +of oakum. The doctor said, by the time he had himself scraped and +bathed her, put her in a fresh cool bed with a jug of spring water +beside her to drink, she looked as if she thought the gates of +Paradise had opened.</p> + +<p>Mails reached us at the Moravian station, and your most welcome +letters loomed large on the postal horizon. You ask if I have not +found the year long. I will answer by telling you the accepted +derivation of the name "Labrador." It comes from the Portuguese, and +means "the labourer," because those early voyagers intended to send +slaves back to His Majesty. Well-filled time, so the psychologists +tell us, is short in passing, and "down North," before you are half +into the day's tasks, you look up to find that "the embers of the day +are red." You must have guessed, too, that I should not have evinced +such contentment during these months if my fellow workers had not been +congenial. I shall always remember their devotion, and readiness to +serve both one another and the people; and I know that the years to +come will only deepen my appreciation of what their friendship has +meant to me.</p> + +<p>How glad I was when the winter came, and I was no longer classed as a +newcomer! I had heard so much about dog driving that I remember +thinking the resultant sensations must be akin to those Elijah +experienced in his chariot. But now I have driven with dogs in summer, +and that is more than most of the older stagers can boast. In a +prosperous little village in the Straits lives the rural dean. He is a +devoted and practical example of what a shepherd and bishop of souls +can be. There is not a good work for the benefit of his flock—and he +is not bound by the conventional and unchristian denominational +prejudices—which does not find in him a leader. His interests range +from coöperation to a skin-boot industry. But the problem of getting +about when you have no Aladdin's carpet is acute. He goes by dog sled +and shanks' pony in winter, and used to go by boat and shanks' pony in +summer. Then one day he had the inspiration of building a two-wheeled +shay, and harnessing in his lusty and idle dog team. Now he drives +about at a rate that "Jehu the son of Nimshi would approve," and is +independent of winds and weather.</p> + +<p>Sunday to-morrow. We are running south for the Ragged Islands. If I +were not on the hospital ship, and therefore an involuntary example to +the people, I would fall into my bunk at night with my clothes on, I +am so weary.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>Ragged Islands</i><br /> +<span style="margin-right: 2em;"><i>Sunday night</i></span></p> + + +<p>Just aboard again after Prayers at the little church. It is a quaint +and crude little edifice, and the people were so kindly and the +service so hearty that one feels "wonderfu' lifted up." To be sure, +during the sermon I was suddenly brought up "all standing" by the +amazing statement that the "Harch Hangels go Hup, Hup, Hup." One felt +in one's bones that this was a misapprehension. The very earnest +clergyman may have noticed my obvious disagreement, for at the close +he announced, "We will now sing the 398th hymn"—</p> + +<p class="poem"> +"Day of Wrath, oh! Day of Mourning,<br /> +See fulfilled the Prophet's warning,<br /> +Heaven and earth in ashes burning."<br /> +</p> + +<p>This goes off into the blue on the chance of its reaching you before I +come myself and share a secret with you; for to-morrow we are due at +the Iron Bound Islands, and there I leave the Northern Light, and end +the chapter of my life as a member of the Mission staff. The +appropriateness of the closing hymn in the little church last night is +borne more than ever forcibly in upon me with the chill light of early +morning, for I verily feel as though my world were tottering about my +ears.</p> + +<p>I am still optimist enough to know that life will hold many +experiences which will enrich it, but in my secret heart I cherish the +conviction that this year will always stand out as a keynote, and a +touchstone by which to judge those which succeed it. My greatest +solace in the ache which I feel in taking so long a farewell of a +people and country that I love is that I shall always possess them in +memory—a treasure which no one can take from me. As I look back over +the quickly speeding year I find that I have forgotten those trivial +incidents of discomfort which pricked my hurrying feet. All I can +recall is the rugged beauty of the land, the brave and simple people +with their hardy manhood and more than generous hospitality, and most +of all my little bairns who hold in their tiny hands the future of Le +Petit Nord.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep199" id="imagep199"></a> +<a href="images/imagep199.png"> +<img src="images/imagep199.png" width="75%" alt="P.S." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">P.S.</p> +</div> + +<h5>The Riverside Press<br /> +CAMBRIDGE · MASSACHUSETTS<br /> +U.S.A.</h5> + +<div class="tr"> +<p class="cen"><a name="TN" id="TN"></a>Typographical error corrected in text:</p> +<br /> +Page 175: household gods replaced with household goods<br /> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LE PETIT NORD ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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