My visits with Mr. Dam, the pastor, and his wife, to some of the Eskimoes’ houses have been singularly sad.  Titus’ wife, Katharina, formerly a good and able woman, has fallen into a pitiable state of insanity, which is not only a sore sorrow to the good man, but also a great hindrance to his earning a livelihood.  Then we were suddenly summoned to the next house, where we found Hermine dying.  In the morning she went out fishing with her husband, Wilhadus.  Both were taken very ill with one of those colds which are so fatal to the Eskimoes, and he feared he should not be able to bring her home alive.  She was nearly gone, and he very ill, when they did arrive.  We found her on the floor, surrounded by sympathizing and helpful neighbours.  But there was little to be done; life was fast ebbing.  Mr. Dam knelt and prayed beside her, then blessed her, and she feebly responded to his words.  The women laid her down comfortably, and as they sang hymns, amid tears and sobs, she passed away to be with the Lord, on whom she believed.  God be praised that there is such hope and comfort in this event.

Hermine died on Thursday, and the funeral was on Saturday afternoon, when a little child was also buried.  The first part of the service was in the church.  Then the congregation reassembled just outside, the men by themselves and the women apart.  The larger coffin was borne on the shoulders of six men, the little one was carried by two.  The whole congregation appeared to be the mourners, nor was poor Wilhadus well enough to follow his wife’s remains to their last resting-place.  After singing a verse in front of the church, the procession moved slowly onward to the burial ground, where Mr. Kaestner read the litany, and the responses and singing were beautifully reverent.  At his signal the coffins were lowered into the graves, and he spoke the concluding blessing at each.

I was present at a marriage service last Sunday.  The young bridegroom and bride sat together on two stools in the middle of the church.  They were simply and plainly dressed in clean white “sillapaks,” i.e., light calico tunics edged with broad braid, mostly red.  The woman’s was rather more ornamental than the man’s, and had a longer tail hanging over her skirts.  She had a ring on one finger, but that played no part in the ceremony.  In his opening address the minister named the pair.  William Tuktusna comes from the South, and possesses both Christian name and surname, which is unusual for an Eskimo.  The woman is called Amalie.  Both replied with a clear “Ahaila” (yes) to the usual questions of the marriage service.  They then gave the hand to one another, and, kneeling down, a prayer and the Old Testament blessing confirmed the solemn contract, into which they had entered before God.  As usual the congregation sang the response, “Jesum akkane, Amen.” (In the name of Jesus, Amen).

Amalie cried a little during the ceremony, and more as she followed her husband out of the church, but the heathen custom of feigning sorrow on such an occasion is dying out.  At first she refused William’s offer, made through their missionary, but afterwards she thought better of it.  May the Lord give them a happy and holy union of heart and life!