FAR AND NEAR 



and freely admitted us to the greasy and smoky 

 interiors of their dwellings. As the Eskimos stood 

 regarding us, they would draw their hands into their 

 sleeves, after the manner of children on a cold morn- 

 ing. Their skin costumes gave them a singular 

 stuffed appearance. One was reminded of grotesque 

 dolls filled with bran or sawdust. This effect was 

 due in part to the awkward cut of their garments 

 and to the fact that the skins were made up hair side 

 in. Some of the natives showed a strain of Euro- 

 pean blood; whalers bound for the Arctic Ocean 

 sometimes stop here, and corrupt them with bad 

 morals and villainous whiskey. 



Throughout the village seals and seal oil, reindeer 

 skins, walrus hides, and blubber were most notice- 

 able. Behind the tent I saw a deep, partly covered 

 pit in the ground, nearly filled with oil, and a few 

 rods farther off others were seen. The bones of 

 whales served instead of timbers in most of the rude 

 structures. The winter houses were built by stand- 

 ing up whale ribs about two feet apart in a circle, 

 and filling up the interstices with turf, making a wall 

 two feet thick. For a roof they used walrus hides, 

 resting upon poles. In my walk over this crescent of 

 land I came here and there upon the huge vertebrae 

 of whales, scattered about, and looking like the gray, 

 weather-worn granite boulders on a New England 

 farm. 



Beyond the present site of the encampment I saw 

 110 



