ON THE LABRADOR. 57 



from June to October, and during this period they work 

 as hard as men on a Polar expedition. 



The Labrador, thanks to the Moravians and the Deep 

 Sea Mission, with the indefatigable Dr. Grenfell at its 

 head, is a most God-fearing region. At the cod stations 

 they will not even dry fish on a Sunday. On a certain 

 glorious Sunday morning the head of one of these little 

 colonies remarked ruefully, "If to-day had been yester- 

 day, I'd have got every kental dried, and now may be 

 we'll have no sun until we sail " an eventuality which 

 would have meant the loss of several hundred dollars ; 

 but fortunately on this occasion the sun shone brightly, 

 not only on Monday, but even on Tuesday. 



It was already the 9th of September when, accom- 

 panied by Jack Wells, now one of the best-known 

 Newfoundland guides, but then promoted from a cook 

 to a full-blown guide for the first time, I went aboard 

 the Virginia Lake, sole passengers, and started on a 

 coasting ship's slow passage up the coast. The steamer 

 called at over fifty points before, after two attempts, we 

 finally landed, during a half-gale from the south-east, at 

 Fanny's Harbour. 



We had no sooner gone ashore than my medical 

 knowledge was requisitioned for the cook of the fishing- 

 station, whose hand had been poisoned by a cod bone 

 and whose arm was frightfully swollen. As, however, 

 there was a Government doctor on board the Virginia 

 Lake, and the ship would call at Fanny's Harbour on 

 her return trip, my medical skill was only tested to the 

 extent of a poultice and bandaging, which was doubtless 

 a lucky thing for the cook. A couple of days later, as 

 Jack Wells and I were returning from shooting, a loud 

 and dolorous cry was accounted for by the information 



