52 THE LIFE OF E. J. PECK 



tality. Most travellers agree that he will suffer 

 almost any personal inconvenience rather than fail 

 in this respect. 



Custom allows a man to make free with his neigh- 

 bour's house. If he enter an iglo and there hap- 

 pens to be seal's meat or blubber at hand, he will 

 take his knife, cut off a huge piece, and eat away 

 with perfect sang froid, and this, too, at times with- 

 out the introductory remark of, " because I am 

 hungry, therefore shall I eat." 



Such are our friends in winter, and most of their 

 year is winter. In summer they live in tents, and 

 their outdoor life necessitates variations from the 

 above descriptions. Searching for shellfish, netting 

 salmon and trout, hunting reindeer, are all familiar 

 occupations in different localities which fill the 

 day. 



Let us next enter the outfitting department of 

 the Eskimos and look round. With God's wondrous 

 harmony of Providence, food and clothing singu- 

 larly allied are found to hand, and of the most, nay, 

 the only, suitable character for the climate. The 

 most closely-woven woollen garments of the thickest 

 and of the very warmest, choicest quality are at times 

 utterly inadequate to keep out the piercing winds of 

 those awful Arctic wastes, and this even if garment 

 should be piled upon garment until the human 

 form be almost mummified in its wrappings. 



But clothed in God's special provision, the skins 



