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 in corpore vile. 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 can- not 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. 156 ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR April 1 Last minute of Sunday, so here 's to you. To- morrow I shall be cheerfully immersed up to the eyes in work. Oh! this Home. How little it deserves the name ! Our English storms are nothing but ba- bies 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 en- croachment. 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 ! You ask whether these kiddies have the stuff \ 157 1 LE PETIT NORD in them to repay what you are pleased to term "such an outlay of effort." My emphatic "y es " 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 woman- hood of these young people are at once a suffi- cient 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. Yesterday I attended the theatre, only it was the operating theatre. The patient on this occa- sion was a doll, the surgeon a lad of seven, him- self 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 [ 158] ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR 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, ex- plain 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." Next to operating, the children love music; and they love it with a repertoire varied to meet every mood, from "Keep the Home Fires Burn- ing " to " In the Courts of Belshazzar and a Hun- dred of his Lords." One three-year-old scrap comes from a Salvation Army household, and listens to all such melodies with marked disap- [ 159 ] LE PETIT NORD proval. But when the others finish, she "pipes up," shutting her eyes, clapping her hands and swaying back and forth — "Baby 's left the cradle for the Golden Shore: Now he floats, now he floats, Happy as before." Three of the kiddies are Roman Catholics and have taught their companions to say their pray- ers properly of an evening. They all cross them- selves 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. 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?" [ 160] ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR April 19 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 pur- chases, 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 eve- ning, due largely to the signal ability of the auc- tioneer. His methods are effective, but strictly his own. Cakes, made generally in graded layers and [ 161 1 LE PETIT NORD liberally coated with different coloured sugar, were the favourites. As he held up the last tee- tering mountain he "bawled": "What am I bid for this wonderful cake? 'T is a bargain at any price. Why, she 's so heavy I can't hold her with one hand." It fetched seven dollars! The yearly meet for sports was held in the aft- ernoon 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 Mis- sion. 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 kick- ing a ball about. The harbour is our very roomy athletic field. [ 162 ] ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR Twenty-two teams had entered for the dog race, and the start, when the whole number were ranged up in the line, was pandemonium un- loosed. The dogs were barking out threatenings and slaughter to the teams next them, their mas- ters 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. The last event on the sports programme was a scramble for coloured candies by all the chil- dren of the village. Our flock from the Home par- ticipated. The proceeding was as unhygienic as it was alluring, and our surprise was great when a universally healthy household greeted the morrow morn. 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 [ 163] LE PETIT NORD justify, and it must involve a hard pinch for them in some other quarter. 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 cur- rent belief that the men of the sea are more psychic than we case-hardened products of civ- ilization, 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 ap- peared 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 fol- lowing account of the curious visitation : "I was in the woods cutting timber for a day and a half. During the whole of that time I was f 164 1 ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR sure I heard footsteps near me in the snow, al- though 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 Gaul ton. I was not frightened. We stood in the rain and talked for some time. In the course of the conver- sation 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 ter- ribly afraid.*' A few weeks later Shenicks went all the way to Savage Cove and delivered the message given to him in so strange a fashion. A word of apology and I close. In an early letter to you I recall judging harshly a concoc- tion called "brewis." Experience here has taught me that our own delicacies meet with a similar [ 105 ] LE PETIT NORD fate at the hands of my present fellow country- men. I offered Carmen on her arrival a cup of cocoa for Sunday supper. After one sniff, bid- dable and polite child though she was, I saw her surreptitiously pour the "hemlock cup" out of the open window behind her. [ 166 ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR May 23 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 re- flected in the quiet water beneath, lies the little village of Cremailliere. It is only a small settle- ment 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 al- most 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 [ 167 I LE PETIT NORD sickness a hole is knocked through for venti- lation on hearing of the near approach of the Mission doctor. The walls have only one thick- ness of board with no lining and the roofs are thatched with sods. There is no flooring what- ever. Not one person in Cremailliere can either read or write. 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 [ 168 ] ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR in all her outdoor clothing; a cherished lace cur- tain 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. I saw for the first time an old custom pre- served 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. Surely the children are the one and only hope of this country. Through them we may trust to [ 169] LE PETIT NORD 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. I must tell you of the latest addition to our family. On the first boat in the spring there ar- rived 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 [ 170 1 ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR one. Israel was at first much overawed by the standard of cleanliness required in this institu- tion, 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. [ HI] LE PETIT NORD June 20 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 Eng- land 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." 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 [ 172 1 ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR 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 Eng- land again. I may emulate the example of Mrs. Lot, but with the certainty that a similar fate to hers does not await me. 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. You hint it is hard to get up interest in Lab- rador because we are neither heathen nor black. I can imagine your sewing circle of dear old ladies (perhaps they sent the bonnets) discus- sing the relative merits of working to send aero- planes to the Arabs, bicycles to the Bedouins, comforters to the Chinese, jumpers to the Jap- [ H3] LE PETIT NORD anese, handkerchiefs to the Hottentots, hair nets to the Hindoos, mouth organs to the Mo- hammedans, pinafores to the Parsees, pyjamas to the Papuans, prayer-books to the Pigmies, sandwiches to the South Sea Islanders, or zith- ers to the Zulus. Just wait till I can talk to your dear old ladies! 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 [ 174] ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR 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 gods 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 [175] LE PETIT NORD furniture. The goddess of disorder reigned su- preme, 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 won- der if this is not the psychological moment to make my exit from this Mission. [ 176 ] ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR July 11 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 won- derful sick," but I am not to be deterred. So: "Now, Brothers, for the icebergs of frozen Labrador, Floating spectral in the moonshine along the low, black shore. Where in the mist the rock is hiding, and the sharp reef lurks below; And the white squall smites in summer, and the autumn tempests blow.'* 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. [ 177] LE PETIT NORD On board the Northern Light July 16 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 coun- try 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 Es- perance 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 [ 178] ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR against a furious head wind and sea — "An aw- ful night for a sinner," as our cheery Prophet remarked as he lurched past my cabin door. Ice- bergs were dotted about. Great combers were pouring over our bow and the floods came sweep- ing down the decks sounding like the roar of a thousand cataracts. 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 be- gan to dawn about 3 a.m. 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 f 179 1 LE PETIT NORD 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 un- derneath 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. Now we are lying under the lea of St. Augus- tine Island waiting for the wind to abate. The chief engineer has just offered to row me ashore to hunt for young puffins. More later. There were hundreds of them in every fam- ily, 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 [ 180 ] ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR 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." 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: "And ice mast high came floating by As green as emerald." It exactly describes them, only it does n'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 arch- ways more gorgeous than ever welcomed a con- f 181 1 LE PETIT NORD queror 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. 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 sur- face of the water. Blocks weighing unbelievable f 189 1 ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR tons crash off them, or they will suddenly, with- out 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 dis- integration one half expects to see a new heaven and a new earth emerge out of the chaos of ice quivering in the water. 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 en- gine, but I have you, because I can answer that I have seen them already. How are you going to I 183 ] LE PETIT NORD 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" con- science forbids such distortion of facts. 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. 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. In your secret heart don't you wish that you too were [ 184] ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR "Where the squat-legged Eskimo Waddles in the ice and snow, And the playful polar bear Nips the hunter unaware; Where the air is kind o' pure, And the snow crop 's pretty sure" ? [ 185 ] LE PETIT NORD July 22 It has been days since I wrote you, and they have slipped by so stealthily I must have missed half they held. 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 home- ward voyage, disappearing over the rail — legit- imately, 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. 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, f 186 1 ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR 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 com- bination 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 re- flecting 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. In the afternoon we visited an Eskimo Mora- vian station. They — the Eskimos, not the Mo- ravians — are a jolly little people, and pictur- esque 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 \ 187 1 LE PETIT NORD 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 Es- kimo. 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 state- ment for what it may be worth. Speaking of which I have just finished reading a ludicrously furious attack on the Mission in a St. John's paper, for its alleged misrepresenta- tions. It seems that last year the former superin- tendent 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 re- moved 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 [ 188 ] ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR 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 capac- ity 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 bet- ter 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 "queje viens definir."Ol I 189 ] LE PETIT NORD 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. 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 be- witching that I find my soul purged by it of the bad taste of the attack. I '11 leave you to digest the mixed metaphor undisturbed while I go be- low and help with the patients who have begun pouring aboard. Same evening 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 [ 190 ] ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR fine old face, one is inclined to believe it is the latter. The expressions these people use are so nauti- cal 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 fish- erman solemnly took off his huge oily sea-boot, placed a grimy forefinger on his heel, and re- marked sententiously that the doctor "must sound him right there." The prescription was soap and water — a diagnosis in which I en- tirely 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 sci- ence were interrupted by an insistent voice pro- claiming that "my head is like to burst abroad." If I were a woman on this coast my temper [ 191 1 LE PETIT NORD would "burst abroad" to see the men — some of them — spitting all over the floors of the cot- tages: 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 "Wel- come Home" into the fireside mat, you find "Dont Spit" worked in letters of flame. It is the harbinger of the feminist movement in the land. 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 convic- tions, 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 "rou- f 192 1 ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR' tine" 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 d walls 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." 'That "hell is paved with good intentions" is no longer a glib phrase to me; it is a convic- tion born of seeing some of the suffering of this country. The doctor has just been ashore to see \ 193 1 LE PETIT NORD 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 vio- lent 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. 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 in- tended to send slaves back to His Majesty. [ 194 1 ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR 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 readi- ness 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. 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 remem- ber 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 f 195 1 LE PETIT NORD 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 denomina- tional prejudices — which does not find in him a leader. His interests range from cooperation 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. Sunday to-morrow. We are running south for the Ragged Islands. If I were not on the hospi- tal 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. [ 196 ] ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR Ragged Islands Sunday night 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 clergy- man may have noticed my obvious disagree- ment, for at the close he announced, "We will now sing the 398th hymn " — "Day of Wrath, oh! Day of Mourning, See fulfilled the Prophet's warning, Heaven and earth in ashes burning." 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 [ 197 ] LE PETIT NORD 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 appropri- ateness 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 tot- tering about my ears. 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 key- note, 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 peo- ple 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 forgot- ten those trivial incidents of discomfort which pricked my hurrying feet. All I can recall is the [ 198 ] ANNALS OF A LABRADOR HARBOUR rugged beauty of the land, the brave and sim- ple 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. CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS U . S . A 4 5 * ! ■^o^ ** A* I °- i_ ' "Sa -JO x 00 ^ x0^ W % \ v Sd & *