RAMAH
It will be remembered that the fourth morning after leaving Okak we entered Nullatatok Bay through a thick mist. Beautiful days followed, showing the Ramah scenery to advantage, but the weather was rather wintry. Snow fell once or twice, though not in sufficient quantities to lie, and one morning we had ice on the bay. Yet at midday the sun was quite hot. The arrival of the "Harmony" at Ramah on Sunday (September 9th, 1888), interfered with the usual morning worship. We passengers came ashore for the afternoon service, Mr. Schulze read the Litany and then Mr. Dam addressed the congregation in Eskimo, centreing nearly all the black eyes in eager attention to the Word preached. The chapel being small, the people were rather near to the benches occupied by the missionary brethren and sisters, and this proximity was evident to the organs of smell. Several being away at their fishing places, there were only about a dozen men and boys and rather more women and girls with an extra sprinkling of lively and healthy-looking babies. Most were characterized by an air of independence amusingly illustrated at the close by the oldest man, who asked aloud when the visitor from London was going to speak to them.
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.[ToC]
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.
When we arrived here last Sunday, two families were living in skin tents. One has now taken down the temporary abode and removed into the more permanent winter residence, a low turf hut. We will enter the other tent. Frederick, the owner, is not at home, but his wife, Susannah, is there with her two children. Whilst she inquires after her former missionaries and sends a grateful greeting to the widow of the late Samuel Weitz, take the opportunity to glance around the tent. It is more spacious and better furnished than one would think. We can all three stand upright in the middle of it, which is not possible in every house. Deer skins spread on a raised platform at the further end make two beds. In that open box are hymn-book, liturgy-book, and some volumes of the Eskimo Bible. Next it are a set of very fair cups and saucers, but it seems incongruous for the china to stand on the mud floor. Various utensils lie about, but there is neither chair nor table.