Seated near us, among the numerous visitors in the schoolroom, are a mother and daughter, whose names are already well known to us.  That dark-looking old woman is Marianna, the widow of Gottlob, whose grave we saw at Ramah.  She is now a valued native helper here.  The younger person is Nicholina, bright and strong in mind and heart though rather bent and crippled in body.  Here, as formerly at Ramah, she serves as school mistress, and I am told has considerable capacity both for imparting knowledge and for maintaining discipline.  She stands in regular correspondence with several friends of the mission in Europe.  She had something to tell them in her last letters, for not long ago she and her mother with eight other Eskimoes were nearly drowned in the bay about where the “Harmony” lies at anchor.  A sudden gust of wind capsized the sailing boat, in which they were coming home from their fishing place.  One good feature of the Eskimo character is their presence of mind in danger.  There was no panic, though the boat sank instantly.  Happily she was towing a little flat.  One of the men promptly cut the rope, and so all were brought safe to land, some in the flat, others hanging on to its sides.  Old Marianna was one of the latter, and when her numbed hands lost their hold, they tied her wrists to the gunwale of the little boat.  She has recovered from the shock and exposure, but like the rest has been impoverished, for they lost their all in the boat, which went down.

Thomas, Enoch, and John are the three native helpers.  Since the death of Hieronymus, Thomas has been the oldest in the office, but, as he feels, has not yet sufficient influence or force of character to lead his countrymen at critical times.  He is, however, a humble child of God, and growing in grace as well as experience.  John has a little speech to make, and here is the literal translation of it:—­“Sometimes when we are busy, we do not always use the Scriptures daily.  Mostly we do.  The distress of our body often causes us to seek the Word of God.  If the everlasting Gospel were well considered by all, there would be visible love.”

A SLEDGE DRIVE.

September 22nd, 1888.—­My good friends are determined that I shall see a real sledge and team of dogs start and travel.  So after dinner the sledge is brought to the gate of the mission premises.  It consists of a couple of iron-bound wooden runners about fifteen feet long and eight inches high, across which many cross-pieces of wood are secured with thongs.  Nails would soon be pulled out or broken off on a journey over hummocky ice or uneven ground.  First the sledge is laden with everything necessary for a winter journey.  A great white bear skin is folded and laid along the front, making a comfortable seat.  That bruin must have been an enormous creature.  The box comes about the middle; it contains the traveller’s traps.  Behind it some coats, a gun, a harpoon