AN ARCTIC OASIS 57 



level. There is a little air-hole in the center of the 

 roof, but in the happy home of an Eskimo family, in 

 winter, the atmosphere could almost be handled with 

 a shovel. 



Often, in winter traveling, I have been obliged 

 to sleep in one of these hospitable igloos. On such 

 occasions I have made the best of things, as a man 

 would if compelled to sleep in a tenth-rate railroad 

 hotel or a slum lodging-house, but I have tried to for- 

 get the experience as soon as possible. It is not well 

 for an arctic explorer to be too fastidious. A night 

 in one of these igloos, with the family at home, is an 

 offense to every civilized sense, especially that of 

 smell; but there are times when a man, after a long 

 sledge journey in the terrible cold and wind, hungry 

 and footsore, will welcome the dim light shining through 

 the translucent window of an igloo as one welcomes 

 the light of home. It means warmth and comfort, 

 supper, and blessed sleep. 



There is no blinking the fact that my Eskimo 

 friends are very dirty. When I have them on the 

 ship with me they make heroic efforts to wash them- 

 selves occasionally; but in their own homes they 

 practically never do, and in winter they have no 

 water except from melted snow. On rare occasions, 

 when the dirt gets too thick for comfort, they may 

 remove the outer layer with a little oil. I shall never 

 forget the amazement with which they made acquaint- 

 ance with the white man's use of the tooth-brush. 



With the coming of the summer, the stone and 

 earth houses become damp, dark holes, and the roofs 

 are taken off to dry and ventilate the interior. The 



