THE FRIENDLY ARCTIC 89 



practice of the language which after six years I knew well enough 

 to talk fluently although not nearly well enough to be satisfied. 



The beliefs of men of our own country often lack freshness to 

 us because we have been familiar with them from childhood, and 

 lack interest because we have outgrown most of them. But here 

 were people in whose daily conversation unheard-of superstitions 

 kept cropping out continually. When they were telling about their 

 sealing experiences I could enjoy the intellectual gymnastic of trying 

 to separate the biological knowledge from the superstition, the facts 

 from the theories. Very few Eskimos are really liars, and still there 

 is scarcely an Eskimo who can describe to you a day's seal hunt 

 without mixing in a great many things that never happened (al- 

 though, of course, he believes they have happened). Their delight 

 in seeing you when you come, the hospitality and friendliness of 

 their treatment no matter how long you stay, and the continual 

 novelty of their misknowledge and the frankness with which they 

 lay their entire minds open to you — all these are not only fascinat- 

 ing at the time but profitable for record and reflection.* 



Continually there recurs to me the thought that by intimacy and 

 understanding I can learn from these people much about my own 

 ancestry. These men dress in skins, commonly eat their meat raw, 

 and have the external characteristics which we correctly enough 

 ascribe to the "cave man" stage of our forefathers. But instead of 

 ferocious half-beasts, prowling around with clubs, fearful and vi- 

 cious, we have the kindliest, friendliest, gentlest people, whose equals 

 are difficult to find in any grade of our own civilization. They may 

 not come up to all our high ideals (in which case the question may 

 also arise as to whether our ideals are really high). They do not 

 meet misfortune with a noble fortitude, but they have the happier 

 way of refusing to recognize it when it comes. They eat a full meal 

 though the larder be empty at the end. They may die of starva- 

 tion (they hardly ever do) , but if so it is usually their optimism that 

 is at the bottom of it. Perhaps they have been dancing and singing 

 for week after week, neglecting the hunt on the theory that to- 

 morrow will take care of itself. It may be true as Shakespeare says 

 of the valiant, it is certainly true of the optimistic, that they never 

 taste of death but once. 



* For some account of the beliefs and mode of thought of the Eskimos, 

 see "My Life With the Eskimo." For more detailed statement see "An- 

 thropological Papers of the Stefansson-Anderson Expedition," published by 

 the American Museum of Natural History, New York, 1914. 



