CHAPTER II. 



IT was early in the afternoon of July 

 17 that we steamed slowly into the 

 harbor of Cape Charles, on the bleak 

 coast of Labrador. High barren hills 

 rose all around us, destitute of vegeta- 

 tion for the most part, except that here 

 and there a kindly moss covered their 

 nakedness ; a few small houses of fisher- 

 men perched on rocks constituted the 

 settlement. Not a very inviting shore, 

 but still it was not long before we were 

 upon it ; for it was always a delight 

 to leave the cramped quarters on our 



vessel and be able to stretch our legs with freedom. It 

 did not take us long to form the acquaintance of most 

 of the population of Cape Charles, because the population 

 consists only of a half-dozen families, augmented some- 

 what in the fishing season by a few fishermen from 

 Newfoundland. In the winter time the people literally 

 take to the woods that is, they retire into winter quarters 

 in some woods about nine miles away. Very simple, very 

 monotonous, and very dull is the life of a Labrador fisher- 

 man. He fishes and he eats and he sleeps, and that tells 

 about the whole story. He is always in debt to the company 

 that runs the fisheries, and so he can sell his fish only to the 

 company, who take care to keep him in debt by charging him 

 very high prices for his few necessaries of life. I sat fre- 

 quently by the fireside of one family in particular, by the 

 name of Pye, with whom I ingratiated myself by presenting 



