A SNOW HOUSE STORY 103 



kettle from hand to hand. The cold air froze our 

 breath on our lips and noses as we munched our 

 frozen bread and meat and drank our warm tea, but 

 the spirit of content and happiness was among us. 

 " Nakomek, nakomek " (Thanks, thanks), said the 

 Eskimos, as one by one they laid their cups aside 

 and settled themselves to listen. This was always a 

 part of our campings. The New Testament or the 

 Book of Psalms always found a place in the travel- 

 ling box, and in our lonely snow houses the drivers 

 liked to sit and listen to the Word of God. We were 

 used to a tiny hut to hold the three of us, two 

 Eskimos and myself, with hardly room to stretch our 

 legs ; we were used to the quiet of such nights, when 

 we read our chapter and said our prayer and laid 

 us down to rest before the toil of another day's 

 travelling. But this was something special. Here 

 was a great snow house, roomy and tall, with a 

 dozen and more of people in it, joining with quiet 

 reverence in the evening prayer. 



"Sing," said somebody, and in a moment they 

 were singing, first the old hymns, "Jesus, day by 

 day " and " Now thank we all our God," then the 

 favourite translations from Sankey, "Saviour like 

 a shepherd lead us," "I will guide thee with Mine 

 eye," and many another, all sung to the tunes that 

 we know so well. 



I wish you had been there to hear It. The 

 Eskimos can always sing, but the memory of the 

 singing in the snow house on the Kiglapeit is a 

 wonderful thing to me. 



I left them singing and went out into the night. 



