PREFACE

This letter from the President of Bowdoin College is printed as an appropriate preface to the pages which follow.

I thank you for the advanced sheets of the “Bowdoin Boys in Labrador.”  As Sallust says, “In primis arduum videtur res gestas scribere; quod facta dictis sunt exaequanda.”

In this case, the diction is equal to the deed:  the clear and vivacious style of the writer is fully up to the level of the brilliant achievements he narrates.

The intrinsic interest of the story, and its connection with the State and the College ought to secure for it a wide reading.

Very truly yours,
William Dew.  Hyde.

BOWDOIN BOYS IN LABRADOR

Onboard the “Julia A. Decker,”
Port Hawkesbury, Gut of Canso,
July 6th. 1891.

Here the staunch Julia lies at anchor waiting for a change in the wind and a break in the fog.  To-day will be memorable in the annals of the “Micmac” Indians, for Prof.  Lee has spent his enforced leisure in putting in anthropometric work among them, inducing braves, squaws and papooses of both sexes to mount the trunk that served as a measuring block and go through the ordeal of having their height, standing and sitting, stretch of arms, various diameters of head and peculiarities of the physiognomy taken down.  While he with two assistants was thus employed, two of our photographic corps were busily engaged in preserving as many of their odd faces and costumes as possible, making pictures of their picturesque camp on the side of a hill sloping toward an arm of the Gut, with its round tent covered with birch and fir bark, dogs and children, and stacks of logs or wood—­from which they make the strips for their chief products, baskets—­cows, baggage and all the other accompaniments of a comparatively permanent camp.  They go into the woods and make log huts for winter, but such miserable quarters as these prove to be on closer inspection, with stoves, dirt and chip floor, bedding and food in close proximity to the six or eight inhabitants of each hut, suffice them during warm weather.  We found that they elect a chief, who holds the office for life.  The present incumbent lives near by St. Peter’s Island, and is about forty years old.  They hold a grand festival in a few weeks somewhere on the shore of Brasd’Or Lake, at which nearly every Indian on the Island is expected, some two thousand in all, we are informed, and after experiencing our good-fellowship at their camp and on board they invited us one and all to come down, only cautioning us to bring along a present of whiskey for the chief.