48 AN ESKIMO VILLAGE 



and singing in perfect tune. Poor old Jafet soon 

 broke down. He just sat and sobbed, wiping his 

 eyes with the sleeve of his calico smock ; but Ruth 

 sang on, clear and true, though her eyes were wet 

 and her old hands trembled. When the hymn was 

 finished she said, " Nakomek " (I am thankful), 

 and shook my hand ; then she nudged her husband 

 and led him quietly home. 



Such was my welcome. Old Ruth was a good 

 hardy type of Eskimo ; for years after this little 

 scene she lived on, eking out an honest living by 

 plaiting straw mats and baskets, and even in her 

 old age she was one of the best of the basket workers. 

 Many a home in England contains specimens of her 

 work, for she used to send a big boxful to market by 

 the Harmony (the mission ship) each year. 



The great satisfaction of her latter days was that 

 her son Jeremias is a credit to her : she had brought 

 him up to be a good and useful man. And her one 

 trouble was that her eyesight began to fail ; she 

 could no longer see to do that wonderful stitching 

 that gave her the reputation of being one of the 

 best boot-makers in our village. And so, when I 

 called in her little hut to pass the time of day, she 

 would say to me : " I cannot work as I used to do ; 

 my eyes are too old for medicine to cure. Soon, I 

 think, my Father will call me home." 



" Aksunai, Ruth." 



