After the pictures we went up to the Governor’s house for refreshments. There we were delightfully entertained by the Governor, his genial wife and his charming daughter, and there we were served with Danish coffee, which we all agreed was the most aromatic coffee we had ever drunk. Moreover it was enriched with real cow’s cream—the first we had had since leaving Sydney. The cow that gave this cream is probably one of the northernmost cows in the world, but the cream showed no sign of having been affected by the latitude, and it tasted better than it used to at home.
The following morning, Sunday, the Commander announced that we had all been invited to attend the church service. This, we learned, was to be conducted entirely in the Eskimo language, for the people there still speak Eskimo though they have lost nearly all other similarity to the real Eskimos through their having bred with Europeans.
At ten o’clock we heard the church bells ringing, and the Commander called all aboard for those going ashore. A short row put us at the dock, and in a few moments we were at the church. The population was there arranged in respectful lines awaiting our arrival before entering the church—one of many courtesies accorded us in this hospitable settlement.
We entered the church. It was not far different from those at home. An organ at the left, the ornate altar in the center, a pulpit at the right, and behind the altar several oil paintings representing Biblical scenes comprised the main part of the furnishings. Garbed in his ecclesiastical robes, the Lutheran minister intoned the opening chant; then the congregation struck up a hymn, the tune of which I had often heard in the old Hill School chapel. But the words had all been translated into Eskimo, and a bizarre effect was produced through the combination of the familiar music and the outlandish words. We found the service most interesting until the sermon. That lasted for nearly an hour, and to sit on hard board benches and listen to words, the import of which we had no conception, was to say the least trying!
After the service and lunch on the ship, we went to the house of Mr. Neilson, the chief trader. There we shared the hospitality of Mr. Neilson, and his attractive wife and daughter, this being one of many pleasant occasions that we spent in their home.
We had now experienced many of the delightful customs and courtesies which so endear the memory of days spent in Greenland, but one desire that still remained with us was to attend a Greenland dance such as we had seen depicted in the Commander’s films. Great was our delight, therefore, when the village lads and lasses the next day accosted us with the word “danswa.” Through the interpreter we learned that this combination of Eskimo-Danish meant “big dance.”
A good Eskimo puppy.
