In the middle of the hut is erected a slight scaffold, which supports a rudely made net, and under the net is placed the one essential piece of furniture of the house, namely, the lamp. This is a very simple contrivance. It is merely an oval shaped dish of stone, round the edge of which is arranged a long wick made of moss. Oil is poured into it, and a quantity of blubber is heaped in the centre of the lamp, so as to keep up the supply. Over the lamp is hung the cooking pot, the size of each being proportioned to the rank of the possessor. It sometimes happens that two wives occupy the same hut. In this case, the chief or “igloo-wife” has the large lamp and the supporting scaffold, while the other has to content herself with a little lamp and a small pot, which she must support as she can.
The value of the lamp is simply incalculable, not so much for its use in cooking, as the Esquimaux like meat raw quite as well as cooked, but for its supply of warmth, for the water which is obtained by melting snow over it, and for its use in drying clothes. All garments, the snow being first beaten off them, are placed on the “dry-net” over the lamp, where they are gradually dried, and, after being chewed by the women, are fit for wear again: otherwise they become frozen quite hard, and are of no more use than if they were made of ice. Oil is supplied by chewing blubber, and the women, who always perform the task, have the curious knack of expressing the oil without allowing a drop of moisture to mix with it. In one minute a woman can obtain enough oil to fill a lamp two feet in length.
Sometimes, when snow is scarce, the igloo is made of ice. The walls are formed of this material, and are generally of an octagonal form, the ice slabs being cemented together with snow. The domed roof is usually made of snow, but the tunnel, or passage to the interior, is of ice. Such a house is, when first made, so transparent that, even at the distance of some paces, those who are within it can be recognized through its walls.
It may seem strange that such materials as snow and ice should be employed in the construction of man’s dwelling-place, as nothing seems more opposed to comfort; yet these houses, instead of being cold, are so warm that the inhabitants throw off the greater part, and sometimes the whole, of their clothes when within them; and the bed of snow on which they recline is, when covered with the proper amount of skins, even warmer than an European feather bed. In the summer time the Esquimaux prefer the skin hut, or “tupic.” This is a mere tent made of deer-skins thrown over a few sticks, though the supports are sometimes formed from the bones of whales.
The food of the Esquimaux is almost wholly of an animal character. In the first place, the country supplies scarcely any vegetation; and, in the next place, an abundant supply of animal food is required in order to enable the inhabitants to withstand the intense cold. The seal and the reindeer form their favorite food, and in both cases the fat is the part that is most highly valued.
In the reindeer, the fat of the hinder quarters, called by the Esquimaux “toodnoo,” is the portion that is most valued. Captain Hall, who very wisely lived as the Esquimaux while staying with them, says that it is as much superior to butter as is the best butter to lard; and when the deer is in good condition, the meat is so tender that a steak almost falls to pieces if lifted by its edge. Another part of the reindeer is almost as valuable as the fat. This is the contents of the deer’s paunch, eaten raw with slices of raw venison. It has a slightly acid flavor, like that of sorrel, and if the consumer were not to know what he was eating, he would be delighted with it.
This was the case with Captain Hall, while partaking of a deer feast in an igloo. He tried the deer flesh, and found it excellent; he then took a morsel of the unknown substance, and describes it as ambrosial. After eating the greater part of it, he took it to the light, and was horrified to find the nature of the feast. However, he soon came to the wise conclusion that epicurism of any kind was nothing but the effect of education, and that, in consequence, he would ignore his previous prejudices on the subject, and eat whatever the Esquimaux ate, and as they ate it. As to the quantity consumed, neither he nor any other white man would be a match for an Esquimaux, who will consume nine or ten pounds of meat at a sitting, and lie leisurely on his back, being fed by his wife with pieces of blubber when he is utterly unable to help himself. An Esquimaux finds a sort of intoxicating effect in utter repletion, which stands him in the stead of fermented liquors.
Putting aside the gourmandizing propensity of the Esquimaux, Captain Hall found that if he were to live with them, as he intended to do, he must sooner or later come to the same diet. He determined in making a bold plunge, and eating whatever he saw them eat. At first it was rather repugnant to his feelings to eat a piece of raw meat that had been carefully licked by a woman, in order to free it from, hairs and other extraneous matters. But he reflected that, if he had not known of the licking, he would not have discovered it from the flavor of the meat, and he very wisely ignored the mode in which it had been cleaned. Similarly, fresh seal’s blood just drawn from the animal seemed rather a strange kind of soup, and the still warm entrails a remarkable sort of after-dinner delicacy. But finding that the Esquimaux considered them both as very great dainties, he tried them, and pronounced that the Esquimaux were perfectly right, and that his preconceived ideas were entirely wrong.
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3 FRONT OF HEAD LARGER
LOOSE
FAST