ESKIMO HOUSES 



get planks for their home. Building begins later on, 

 for the seal-hunting and the cod-fishing are too 

 important to be missed ; but, sooner or later, before 

 the next winter is due the Eskimo gets busy. He 

 lays a foundation of stones from the beach or the 

 hillside, and builds his beams and joists upon it ; he 

 works long hours, intent and serious, until he can 

 proudly fling his tools down and say " My house is 

 built." 



Some men are too poor to spend precious days in 

 cutting planks, or they have not dogs enough to haul 

 timber from the woods away in the valleys of the 

 mainland, and so, for them, the housing problem 

 remains a problem. Some day, perhaps, there will 

 be model houses for such men as these, either let at a 

 small rent, or sold by instalments ; and so I fondly 

 dream of a healthy home for every Eskimo but the 

 problem has its very practical side : who is to pay ? 

 I must say candidly that a good proportion of the 

 wooden houses that already exist are a real credit to 

 their owners. In some of the best I have seen sofas 

 and harmoniums, and even linoleum on the floor: 

 but such houses are the homes of the mighty hunters, 

 who keep a servant or two to help with the seal nets, 

 and who are able to afford such little luxuries out of 

 their earnings. 



The average Eskimo house is a square room, with 

 rather cramped accommodation for everything that 

 goes to make up the daily round. Just inside the 

 door you may stumble over the carcases of a couple 

 of plump seals, brought in to thaw; on the wall 

 behind the stove a big oily sealskin is stretched on a 

 frame to dry ; one corner harbours a little table, on 



which stands a stone lamp filled with nauseous seal- 



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