[Illustration: TENTS AT RAMAH.]
And what of the spiritual life of this little congregation? In reply I
will give neither my own impressions, nor the missionary's testimony
to his flock, apt sometimes to be influenced by his estimate of what
they should be. I will call in a casual witness. Last year Eugenia, a
Christian Eskimo from Hopedale, visited all the congregations,
travelling to and fro by dog-sledge with the post-sledges. She
remarked to her missionary: "The Ramah and Okak people, those are the
best in the country. At Ramah I was quite shamed by their desire after
truth. They said, 'You know these things; teach us, we are so
stupid.'"
AN ESKIMO VILLAGE.
Now for a visit to our Eskimoes in their own dwellings, as the two
missionaries are ready to accompany me and interpret for me. It may
not be a pleasant expedition in every respect, as within and without
there is a pervading fishy smell. Rows of drying fish hang on frames
high enough to be out of reach of the dogs, who sniff about
everywhere, sometimes climbing into the boats to see if any fish be
left. Those red rows are trout, the white ones are cod.
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