corner, and no mason, carpenter, plumber, painter or glazier to be called in when repairs are needed.  The missionaries must discharge all these offices, as well as be their own gardener and smith, and on occasion doctor, dentist, chemist, or anything else that may be necessary.  These general remarks hold good of mission life at every station, but in many respects Okak is the most primitive of the six, and not least in the appointments of the mission-house, like all the rest, built of wood.

Glance round the two rooms kindly set apart for the English guest.  They are the same size as the simple domain of any one of the three mission families resident here.  The sitting-room is about fourteen feet by twelve; its panelled walls are coloured a blue-green.  The floor is boarded, and over the middle a carpet is laid.  In front of the sofa, the seat of honour, stands a little table, and the high back of my antique chair is within a foot of it as I write at the bureau against the opposite wall.  By the way, what convenient pieces of furniture these bureaus are, especially to a visitor who has so much writing to do!  The other chair is of like pattern, with seat stuffed and covered with sealskin.  It stands between the door into the bedroom and the high, white stove.  Of course open fire-places are unknown in Labrador, nor would they effectually warm the rooms.  In the corner by the door the Eskimo bench is the regular institution.  Sometimes my door opens, a native enters, sits down and smiles at me.  When we have exchanged the usual greetings, “Aksunai” (be strong) and “Ahaila” (yes), my Eskimo vocabulary is nearly at an end, and I have to fetch an interpreter.  A cupboard and a stool complete the inventory of my furniture.  Do my readers wish to look into the bedroom about fourteen feet by six?  Two little bedsteads and another bureau scarcely leave room to pass to the window.  The prophet’s table, chair, and candlestick are there, also a washstand, a strip of carpet by the bed, a little looking-glass, and some useful rows of hooks:  I think that is all; but in my endeavour to give a correct idea of the godly simplicity of such a mission-house, I would not for anything misrepresent the hospitable care, of which at every station I have the most pleasant and grateful remembrance.

Now look out of my window.  High hills close in the bay where the “Harmony” lies at anchor some distance from the shore.  Yesterday a strong wind made her roll even in the harbour.  The mission premises stand within a few yards of the beach and the little pier runs out into the water just in front of the gate.  The tide is out now, and the lighter which is bringing the stores from the ship has got aground.  The mate and some Eskimoes are trying to push it off, and among the rest two women are standing in the water and pushing manfully.  Their position and occupation illustrate the utility of their national female costume of trousers and boots.  Skirts would be impracticable when they go out boating and fishing with their husbands or trudge through the deep snow, which lies on the ground more than half a year.  Nevertheless they look odd to an unaccustomed eye.  The children are comical miniatures of their fathers and mothers, and sometimes it is difficult to tell whether they are boys or girls.