FABLE AND FOLKLORE 271 



lowed them, mourning and crying for their murdered 

 fellow, and fulmars continue to utter doleful cries to 

 this day. 



Another Eskimo tale relates that a loon told a poor 

 blind boy that he could cure him of his affliction. So 

 the boy crept after the bird to a lake, where the loon 

 took him and dived with him into the water. Three 

 times they repeated their submergence, the last time 

 staying a long time under the water, but when the boy 

 came to the surface after the third diving he had good 

 eyesight. This seems one of the rare examples of a 

 tale told simply for its own sake, and free of any eso- 

 teric significance. 



A very pretty legend, current among the Eskimos of 

 western Alaska, has been preserved for us by Edward 

 W. Nelson, 101 who spent several years, late in the 

 19th century, in studying the ornithology and eth- 

 nology of the Bering Sea region. It relates to the red- 

 polls, the most abundant and entertaining land-birds of 

 Alaska, where it would be a surprisingly hard heart that 

 was not touched by their companionship as winter closes 

 down on a dreary landscape of snow-drifts. Let me 

 quote Mr. Nelson's words: 



At this season the stars seem each to hang from the firma- 

 ment by an invisible cord, and twinkle clear and bright over- 

 head. The sharp, querulous yelp of the white fox alone breaks 

 the intense stillness. A white, frosty fog hangs in the air — 

 the chilled breath of nature — which falls silently to the ground 

 in the lovely crystal handiwork of northern genii. In the 

 north a pale auroral arch moves its mysterious banners, and 

 the rounding bosom of the earth, chill under its white mantle, 

 looks dreary and sad. After such a night the sun seems to 

 creep reluctantly above the horizon, as though loath to face 

 the bitter cold. The smoke rises slowly and heavily in the 

 fixed atmosphere, and warm rooms are doubly appreciated. 



