OLD TUGLAVI 



" Nerrilangale " (let me eat it), and he turned his 

 back on me. 



" All right ; just turn round and stand still a 

 moment." 



" Nerrilangale, ner-ri-langa-le-e-e-e " ; and the 

 poor old man broke down into sobs and ambled off 

 home munching his precious biscuit. I was left 

 gazing. I never caught him again. Once or twice 

 I heard his shuffling step behind me, and a querulous 

 voice said " I want another biscuit," but not another 

 word could I get out of Tuglavi. What I know 

 about him I have heard from the missionary. He is 

 a famous old heathen chief. He has spent all his 

 life camped among the rocks of the northern Labrador, 

 and nobody knows how old he is. His people have 

 come to the Mission station, bringing him with them ; 

 they have heard from other Eskimos of the preaching 

 of the Word of God, and they have come to hear it ; 

 but Tuglavi cannot understand. His mind has failed; 

 he is in his second childhood, and spends his time 

 in aimless wanderings and in watching whatever 

 there is to be seen. He manifests an insatiable 

 curiosity, and gets into the Mission house as often as 

 he can, just for the sake of a look round. The kitchen 

 is his chief joy ; European cookery is something 

 new to Tuglavi ; and he has even been found tasting 

 the contents of the cooking-pots. The missionary 

 good-naturedly put up with the old man's childish 

 ways until he discovered him one day hanging head 

 downwards over the edge of the kitchen water- tank. 

 He seized the struggling legs and hauled their owner 

 into safety. Old Tuglavi had only been getting a 

 drink! Missionaries do not often lock their doors, 

 for fear of inspiring mistrust, but in this case it 



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