Frank.
Saturday, November 14. Very little worthy of note has happened this week. My daily routine is always the same; I take my coffee in bed, then get lunch for my family, take a walk afterward, usually with Mr. Peary, then sew or read, and at four o’clock begin to get dinner. Last Thursday Gibson initiated Frank into dragging a load of ice from the berg to the house. Yesterday was lovely and clear, and the full moon which we have throughout the twenty-four hours, made it as bright as day. Our walk to-day was to the berg, a mile distant (as measured by our newly finished odometer wheel), and return—the first long walk Mr. Peary has taken; his leg did not feel any worse for the trip, but was considerably more swollen at night. Frank to-day for the first time behaved very well in hauling ice.
Sunday, November 15. This has been a lovely day. How much I should like to take a peep at the home folks! To-night we have had the eclipse of the moon. It was first noticed about 7.30, and Mr. Peary watched it carefully, making observations with his transit and chronometer. About nine o’clock Arrotochsuah arrived from Netchiolumy,[[3]] on Barden Bay, accompanied by one of his sons and another young man. The first we immediately nicknamed the “Smiler,” and the other the “Villain,” owing to the expressions on their faces.
[3]. Erroneously called by most geographers Ittiblu.
Tuesday, November 17. Yesterday was an exceptionally fine day, beautifully moonlit. The “Villain” of Netchiolumy has a sledge made of the boards which Dr. Cook traded for a tupic when the “Kite” stopped at the settlement in July. This morning Ikwa introduced a rather clean-looking native from Omanooy, a place this side of Akpani, on Saunders Island; his name is Kioppadu. Our sewing progresses slowly, Arrotochsuah’s wife, whom we had installed as seamstress, being too old to prepare the skins by the time-honored native method of chewing. Matt got supper to-night, and will from now until May I prepare all the meals under my supervision. This gives me more time to myself, besides not confining me to the house. It was no easy task for me to cook for six boys, and for such appetites.
Thursday, November 19. We have had our first real winter snow-storm to-day. The wind whistled, and the snow was driven into every crack and crevice. Just before noon Kayunah and family came; Makzangwa, his wife, is going to chew skins for us. They will live in the snow-igloo, having brought all their household effects with them; these consist of the soapstone blubber lamp or stove, a reindeer skin as a coverlet for the bed (which is merely a bundle of hay on some pieces of board given them by us), a few rabbit and gull skins for wraps for the feet, and a sealskin to put against the wall behind the bed. When these articles are put inside the igloo, their house is furnished.
Saturday, November 21. A clear day; the stars are twinkling and the air is delightful, but one must exercise to keep warm. Since Matt does the cooking, I take long walks every day, and find them very agreeable. We had a general house-cleaning to-day, and will have it now every Saturday. We have been obliged to dismiss the Eskimos from the living-room during meal-time, as their odor is too offensive.
Sunday, November 22. Kayunah came in this morning, and said that our coffee and biscuit made his family sick, and as they had no more seal meat they must go home. Mr. Peary gave them permission to help themselves to the walrus stacked up behind our house, and the Eskimo was satisfied. Ikwa and Kyo (Kioppadu) have gone over to the settlement of Igloodahominy, on Robertson Bay, after blue foxes.
Monday, November 23. It grows gradually darker every day. To-day at noon it was impossible to read ordinary print by daylight. Mr. Verhoeff went on the cliffs to look at his thermometer, and found that it read higher than those at Redcliffe. Ikwa and his brother returned about noon without foxes or game of any kind. We had a faint aurora this evening. On the whole I am very much disappointed in the auroras; I thought we should have very beautiful displays in the Arctic regions, but it seems that we are too far north of the magnetic pole.
Wednesday, November 25. The days are rather unsatisfactory, although I keep busy all day sewing, mending, rearranging my room, etc. When I sum up at bedtime what I have accomplished, it is very little. Mr. Peary and the boys are busily at work on some test sledges. This afternoon Annowkah and M’gipsu returned, bringing with them a twelve-year-old girl, named Tookymingwah, whose father was dragged under the ice and drowned a few weeks ago by an infuriated “oogzook” seal (Phoca barbata?) which he had harpooned. She has a mother and two sisters, who will be here soon.