The remainder of the day we spent in marking, clipping, and sorting newspaper cuttings. This occupation we found so interesting that we prolonged it until after midnight.

Monday, January 18. The day has been bright and calm. Mr. Peary, with Dr. Cook and Astrup, took his first snow-shoe tramp of the season, and went nearly to the berg. This is the first time the broken leg has been given such vigorous exercise, but it stood the strain remarkably well. I have been busy on the sleeping-bag cover all day. I find it very inconvenient, not to say disagreeable, sewing in a temperature of 44°; but as I am dependent on the stoves in the other room for my heat, it cannot be helped. Verhoeff has a mania for saving coal, and keeps everybody half frozen. He kept the fire to-day on six tomato-cans of coal. Water spilled near the stove froze almost instantly.

Tuesday, January 19. Somewhat cloudy to-day, but after lunch Mr. Peary and I went out to the berg on snow-shoes. I did not get a single tumble, and Mr. Peary said I managed my snow-shoes very well. I was as warm as any one could wish to be, although the thermometer registered 44° below zero. We took our time, not hurrying at all, and so prevented perspiration, which always makes one uncomfortable in these low temperatures. I had no shoes or kamiks on, only the deerskin stockings, and a pair of long knit woolen ones over them, yet my feet were warmer than ever before on these outdoor tramps.

Thursday, January 21. A clear and perceptibly lighter day than yesterday; indeed, it seems as if it grew lighter now, a month after the shortest day, much more rapidly than it grew darker a month before the shortest day. Mr. Peary, the doctor, and Astrup started a path with their snow-shoes toward Cape Cleveland, and made about half the distance. The doctor and Astrup took our sledge, the “Sweetheart,” to the iceberg, intending to bring in a load of ice, but as they reached the berg they heard the howling of dogs ahead of them and saw a dark object on the snow some distance away. They started for it, and found a party of huskies plowing their way through the snow. The party consisted of Keshu, his wife and child of three years, his brother, Ahninghahna, older than he, and Magda, a boy of twelve. They were on their way to Redcliffe. They had been staying with Keshu’s father, Arrotochsuah, but as the food was giving out over there, and as the old people were not able to travel, they thought it desirable to look elsewhere. They all have frost-bites except the little child, and were very grateful for the assistance given them by the doctor and Astrup in getting to the house. They tell us that they have been on the way for five days and nights, the distance being about fifteen miles. To-night the woman was photographed, and her portrait added to our ethnological series.

AMPHITHEATRE BERG—MCCORMICK BAY.

Friday, January 22. Another clear, cold day; the temperature, –39°. The addition of the new Eskimos makes the settlement much more lively. In the house I wear a knit kidney-protector, a Jaros combination suit, two knit skirts, a flannel wrapper, and a pair of knit stockings, together with a pair of deerskin ones in place of kamiks. When going out I only add my snow-shoes, my kooletah (great fur overall), and muff. In this rig I can stay out and walk for hours, and feel more comfortable than I have felt while shopping in Philadelphia or New-York on a winter’s day. This evening Mané No. 2 (wife of Keshu) and M’gipsu have been at work in my room, both sitting flat on the floor, the former cutting and fitting two pairs of kamiks for us from a skin brought here by herself, for which she will receive a clasp-knife. The bargain pleases her greatly. These women are both good sewers, and it would interest some of our ladies to watch them at their work. They, as well as all the other native women, usually take off their kamiks and stockings while in the house, so that almost the entire leg is bare, their trousers being mere trunks. They sit flat on the floor, using their feet and legs to hold the work, and their mouths to make it pliable; the thimble is worn on the forefinger, and they sew from right to left. The thread is made as they need it by splitting the deer or narwhal sinews and moistening them in the mouth. While at this work the babies are being continually rocked or shifted on their backs without the aid of the hands. The children are carried in the hood constantly, whether awake or asleep, for the first year, and only taken out when fed. They are tiny, ugly creatures, and until they are able to walk never wear anything but a sealskin cap which fits close about the face, where it is edged with fox, and a foxskin jacket reaching to the waist.

Saturday, January 23. I cleaned “house,” which means our little room, seven by twelve. This in itself would be no task, but we have no brooms, and every inch of my floor is swept with a whisk-broom and on my knees. As I have only one whisk, and that a silver-handled one, I can afford to sweep thoroughly only once a week. I have put an old blanket down which covers the carpet in the middle of the room, where all the walking and working is done. This blanket is shaken every day and the room brushed up, giving us a fairly clean apartment. I also finished the sleeping-bag cover. Now at midnight the temperature is –30½°, and the doctor and Astrup have taken their sleeping-bags out under the boat as an experiment in sleeping in the open air.

Monday, January 25. A clear, calm day, with the very bright daylight tipping all the bergs and crests of the cliffs with silver. The temperature is –29°, and the landscape is a cold-looking one, but its aspect does not chill us. It is certainly novel to feel so decidedly hot in a temperature of –30°, while my handkerchief freezes stiff before I get through using it. I have been busy cutting and sewing a flannel lining for my reindeer knickerbockers, for which I utilized my old gray eider-down wrapper. I also made out a schedule or bill of fare for the week, arranging the menu for each day, so as to get the greatest benefit from the patent-fuel stove and save as much oil as possible.