IS BY ESKIMO DOG-SLED 



we were snug in the shelter of a Labrador 

 harbour, that he told me that those winds 

 were some of the famous equinoctial gales. 

 But in spite of the winds, and in spite of the 

 roaring and pounding and battering waves, 

 the little ship battled along, as though she were 

 a living thing and knew how much depended 

 on her. For the Harmony was carrying food 

 and stores for the villages where the mission 

 aries of the Moravian Church are preaching 

 the Gospel to the Eskimos of Northern Labra 

 dor, and she was carrying, too, the beginnings 

 of a hospital for the Eskimos. 



So day by day we tossed and rolled along, 

 always nearer, when night fell and we laid us 

 down to rest, to the frozen land where our 

 work was waiting : and you may imagine 

 how pleased we all were when land was sighted, 

 and when the steward woke us up from our 

 afternoon nap with a great shout, and we 

 rolled over and looked through our port 

 holes at the bare black rocks and snow-covered 

 hills in the distance. This was Labrador, the 

 land of the Eskimos. 



In the morning we were at anchor off 

 Ramah, in a deep little harbour among the 

 hills. The solitary missionary was in trans 

 ports of delight. &quot; I had almost given you 

 up,&quot; he said, &quot; you are so late &quot; : and he went 



