GO Our North Land. 



rolls of seal and reindeer skins, white fox skins, rabbit skins, swan 

 skins, and skins of all kinds of birds. At the other side was a large 

 flat stone, on which sat the stone lamp, partly filled with seal oil, 

 with a bit of moss for wick, from which a blaze was flickering and 

 burning languidly. Close to this sat two Eskimo children, one 

 about four years old, the other five or six. They were very greasy, 

 and exceedingly dirty. Between them, rolled in a piece of pelt, 

 lay the baby, or last addition to the papoose department of the 

 family. They were partaking their noon-day meal, or rather eating 

 because they felt like it, which is the only rule of eating among 

 them. They have no regular hours for meals. The boys were also 

 feeding the baby, and boys and baby alike were covered with seal 

 fat and seal blood from head to feet. Near to them was the carcase 

 of a seal, stripped of the pelt and entrails. About two quarts of blood 

 and oil had settled in the cavity of the body. This had been their 

 soup, and was now their syrup. With pieces of seal's liver they 

 were dipping into the liquid, and enjoying a sort of dessert, every 

 now and then mopping the face of the helpless little babe with a 

 piece, and painting its fat little cheeks with crimson by their efforts 

 to get the food into its mouth, which the struggling infant bravely 

 resisted. 



Further along, at the back end of the tent, raised on two or three 

 layers of uneven boulders, over which several thicknesses of soft 

 deer skins were spread, on which was every conceivable object in 

 the way of knives, fish-spears, pieces of raw-hide line, work-bags of 

 skin, pieces of leather, etc., was the family bed, and the family 

 lounge : a sort of general " turn to." I did not investigate, but 

 probably its crawling population exceeded the number of inhabitants 

 in the whole Dominion. On this bed lay Mrs. Komikan, the good- 

 man's wife, very sick, and by her side, in cross-legged style, reclined 

 Miss Kirtalabanafilda Komikan, her daughter, very handsome, but 

 very dirty. Her long black hair, hanging down in three well-kept 

 braids, was ornamented with some strings of beads which had been 

 ingeniously interwoven with the plaiting. I spoke to her, bowing 

 as politely as I could. She was very shy, and only blushed. I 

 learned that she was very proud, and had refused several offers of a 



