150 AN ESKIMO VILLAGE 



a boat came beating into the bay some fisher, I 

 thought, home with his catch. With a last long 

 tack it came beside the jetty, and I recognised the 

 men from the camping ground where old Abia had 

 his tent. I watched the steps for the old man's com- 

 ing, but instead of the figure that I knew so well it 

 was a limp and tragic blanket bundle that I saw, 

 borne gently from the boat by four others from the 

 fishing place ; and as I watched the little group 

 come up the pier, silent and slow, I knew that our 

 oldest chapel servant was gone. And as I spoke to 

 them they told me of his going ; how he had passed 

 away, as many old Eskimos do, working to the last, 

 and falling asleep like a tired child, and with a 

 child's trust in the love of the Father in heaven. 



We shall miss the familiar figure of the old man 

 passing to and fro amongst us ; we shall miss the 

 kindly, rugged face and the mop of snowy hair ; we 

 shall miss the quiet voice that never tired of speak- 

 ing of the love of God. 



As the missionary said at the meeting that night 

 in the church, old Abia had served God with a 

 whole heart for more years than he could remember. 

 Here was a true Eskimo, a mighty hunter in his 

 day, and a thorough Christian all the time ; and 

 such men as this are a living proof of the truth of 

 the Gospel of Jesus Christ. 



