His wife's baptismal name is Lydia; as a
heathen, she was Auinasuak. This is one of the best huts, but the best
are poor inside as well as outside, compared to many log-houses I have
seen further south. Through the low porch, without any remonstrance
from the dogs, we reach a lower door. It is hot inside. Yes, there is
a stove to the left, and it appears to be the only article of
furniture in the room entered. Behind the partition is a very
different chamber. It is furnished with the usual couches spread with
skins, and on the edge of one of these, Lydia is seated. She does not
rise to greet her visitors, nor does it occur to her to offer a seat.
What shall she offer? A box? As with the rest of those visited, her
welcome takes the form of a good-humoured laugh. One or two objects in
her room testify to a refinement unusual for this station. A guitar
hangs on the wall near a cage with a bird in it, and against the
partition stands a piano. Fancy such an instrument in a low turf hut,
even though it be but an old square piano! Here, as elsewhere, we
speak a few words of kindly greeting and spiritual interest, and then
take leave with "Aksunai.
Pages:
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94