1914] WORK AT BORUP LODGE 113 



Eskimo children are born under most amazing con- 

 ditions and in remote and strange places — on islands 

 when hunting ducks* eggs, far back on the hills in pur- 

 suit of caribou, and even on the trail, with father seated 

 on his dog-sledge, patiently waiting and watching the 

 little maternity hospital quickly fashioned for the 

 occasion out of blocks of snow. 



Thoughts of our country far away to the south would 

 not permit us to pass Independence Day unnoticed. 

 Miserable weather, however, prevented us from carrying 

 out the program of races we had planned, and com- 

 pelled us to resort to a simple flag-raising in recognition 

 of the day. 



Our meat menu was pleasurably varied at this time 

 by the substitution of seventeen magnificent salmon trout 

 (Salvelinus stagnalis) caught in Alida Lake by Arklio, 

 E-took-a-shoo, and Jot. The largest measured twenty- 

 eight inches and weighed four and three-quarter pounds. 



By the middle of July the grass was long and green 

 and the ground was fairly dotted with flowers. Within 

 one minute's walk from our door I counted eighteen dif- 

 ferent varieties. With the thermometer at sixty above 

 and the warm rays of the ever-circling sun, a wonder- 

 ful transformation takes place in the character of that 

 far-northern country. The snow disappears as if by 

 magic. The sound of falling and flowing water is heard 

 throughout the length and breadth of the land. The 

 sea ice is pitted and covered with pools of water, and 

 is continually breaking into large sheets and disappear- 

 ing over the southern horizon. The air vibrates with 

 the whirring of the wings of countless birds, the sea 

 teems with life, and the ground is covered with beds of 

 beautiful flowers. One realizes that the "White North" 



