ADIEU TO PORT FOULKE. 415 



It is sad to reflect upon the future of these strange 

 people ; and yet they contemplate a fate which they 

 view as inevitable, w T ith an air of indifference difficult 

 to comprehend. The dnly person who seemed seri- 

 ously to feel any pang at the prospect of the desolation 

 which will soon come over the villages, is Kalutunah. 

 This singular being — a mixture of seriousness, good- 

 nature, and intelligence — seems truly to take pride 

 in the traditions of his race, and to be really pained 

 at the prospect of their downfall. When I took his 

 hand to-day and told him that I would not come 

 ashore any more, the tears actually started to his 

 eyes, and I was much touched with his earnest words, 

 — it was almost an entreaty, — " Come back and save 

 us." Save them I would and will, if I am spared to 

 return ; and I am quite sure that upon no beings in 

 the whole wide world could Christian love and Chris- 

 tian charity more worthily fall. 



July 14th. 

 Moving out to sea under full sail, with a light wind 

 from the eastward. We make little progress, but are 

 able to pick our way among the loose ice. As we 

 pass along, I see shoals of old tin cans, dead dogs, 

 piles of ashes, and other debris of the winter, floating 

 on ice-rafts upon the sea, — relics of the ten months 

 which are gone, with all its dreary and all its pleas- 

 ant memories. As I retreated from the deck, I saw 

 the Esquimaux standing on the beach, gazing after us ; 

 the little white Observatory grew dim in the distance ; 

 and I have come below with a kindly " Adieu, Port 

 Foulke," lingering on the lip. 



