Our first welcome to Nain was from some members of the mission-band, who at once came aboard the “Harmony” in their boat.  Rowing ashore with them, we visitors received a second kind welcome at the mission-house.  It was rather curious that my fellow-travellers, the Martins, should arrive at their destination five-and-twenty years to the day after Mr. Bourquin, whom Mr. Martin is eventually to succeed in the presidency of this mission.  I was conducted to the pleasant guest chamber.  On my table lay two dear letters from home, the first and last received after leaving Stromness.  During our stay at Zoar the mail steamer came from Newfoundland to Hopedale where she is due every fortnight, while the coast is free from ice.  This time she came on to Nain, which she is bound to visit twice in the season at the captain’s discretion.  She never touches at Zoar between these two stations.

When we met as a family for the evening meal, Mr. Bourquin expressed our thanks to the Lord for all his goodness and mercy involved in another safe arrival of the mission-ship.  The congregation did the same at the thanksgiving liturgy, which commenced at 7 P.M.  The Church here is older and larger than any other in the land.  The singing was good, rather quicker than at Hopedale.  About forty men and sixty women occupied the same relative positions to the minister behind the table and to the missionary brethren and sisters to right and left of him, as at Hopedale and Zoar.  The short benches at each end of the long church were respectively occupied by three male and three female chapel servants.  The latter were dressed, not in European fashion, but in the national costume of skin trousers with the fur outside.

9 P.M.  I am seated in my room after a pleasant social hour with interchange of mutual tidings.  Every provision has been made for my comfort in this neat, clean guest-chamber.  What interesting scenes of human life as well as fine views of Labrador scenery are visible from its windows south and west!  Grand rocks from five hundred to eight hundred feet in height rise nearly perpendicularly from the opposite shore of the bay.  Here comes a man paddling his kayak past the “Harmony” as she lies at anchor.  What is up among the dogs?  They are all howling and running along the beach, and now they have set on one unfortunate, which is hustled and bitten until he escapes and hobbles away yelping.

Here is a woman coming to fetch water from the trough.  I wish I could draw her, for she is an odd figure in trousers and high boots.  The tail of her sillapak almost trails on the ground, and in its capacious hood, a baby is seated looking out on the world with great content.

10 P.M.  It has grown dark whilst I have been writing up my diary.  What a concert the dogs are giving us now.  They are howling, barking, and sometimes fairly screaming, each and all contributing their full share of the unearthly noises. 10.10.  All is still:  may it last!  It is time I retired to rest, for one must be up betimes; 6 A.M. is the hour in all these mission-houses, for morning prayers are at 6.30 sharp.  One more look out of my window.  The moon is rising above the opposite hills and casting a broad band of light across the rippling waters.