BEHIND THE SCENES 297 



Peterhead on one of his return journeys to 

 Blacklead Island when he had been a day or 

 two in the brave little Alert, Mr. Peck s heart is full 

 of the thoughts of those who are left behind ; it 

 has been lacerated, as it were, by the separation. 

 But so far from any sort of grumble or complaint, 

 he says. &quot;A need of heavenly support and comfort 

 creates and keeps up a praying spirit. Thank God 

 for this. We give up only to receive ; there is a loss 

 which is a gain.&quot; 



And now even at the risk of possibly repeat 

 ing something that has been said before it will 

 not be out of place to give a description of the 

 missionaries surroundings written by Mr. Peck 

 himself. &quot; Our island home may be truly called 

 a picture of complete desolation. It consists of 

 barren rocks swept by fierce gales. The snow 

 is packed many feet deep in the holes and 

 gullies. Ice along the shore is piled up in some 

 places twelve feet high. This remarkable effect 

 is caused by the action of winds and tides. No 

 tree or plant gladdens the eye or heart. Eskimo 

 dwellings, like moun ds of snow, are scattered about 

 in every direction. Ravenous dogs are ever on 

 the lookout for a morsel. Eskimos some at least 

 look more like wild beasts than human beings in their 

 filthy and bulky garments. Such is the scene upon 

 which the eye rests day after day and week after week. 



&quot; How can we stand the rigour of such a climate 



