Among this score of little natives there were some who were very bright. All were called by English names, and Peter, John, Mary, Ellen and Susan, as well as Garfield, Lincoln and George Washington, with many others, became familiar household words, though the two last named were grown men, and now gone out from the Mission into houses of their own.
As to the dressing of these children, it was also in English fashion, except for boots, which were always muckluks, and parkies of fur for outside garments, including, perhaps, drill parkies for mild weather, or to pull on over the furs, when it rained or snowed, to keep out the water. As the weather grew more severe, heavy cloth or fur mittens were worn, and little calico and gingham waists and dresses were discarded for flannel ones.
The children, for weeks after our arrival, ran out often to play, bareheaded and without wraps, having frequently to be reminded when the weather was severe, to put them on. In the kitchen they had their own table, where they were separately served, though at the same time as their elders at another table in the room. To preserve the health of the little ones, not taking entirely away their native foods of seal meat and oil, tom-cod (small fish), reindeer meat and wild game, these were fed to them on certain days of the week, as well as other native dishes dear to the Eskimo palate, but they were well fed at all times, and grew fat and hearty as well as happy.
As we sewed contentedly in the sitting-room on Monday the storm continued, snowing and blowing a gale from the southwest, which, though not disturbing us even slightly, we felt sure would be bad for those at sea and at Nome; our own experiences at that place giving us always a large sympathy for others in similar plight. Long afterwards we learned that in this storm the "Elk" had been blown ashore at Nome, and was pretty thoroughly disabled, if not entirely wrecked, and we wondered if poor cook Jim had "done been mighty busy, sah, gittin' tings fixed" ever since.
When evening came the children and Baby Bessie were put to bed; work, indoors and out, was finished for that day, and we were twelve in the sitting-room, as merry a crowd as one could find in all Alaska. Miss J. had taken a lesson on the organ in the afternoon and was all interested in making progress on that instrument, assuring her friends who declared she would never practise her lessons, that she certainly would do so, as they would afterwards learn.
The winds might sigh and moan, and whirl the falling snow in the darkness as they liked; waters congeal under the fingers of the frost king, closing the mouth of innumerable creeks, rivers, and bays; but here under cover we had light, health, warmth and food, without a single care. In my cozy, soft bed under the blankets, the firelight playing on the walls, the fine organ open and ready for use, I lay often with wide open eyes, wondering if I were myself or another.
In one corner of the room stood a case containing books enough to supply us with reading matter for a year, those printed in Swedish being, of course, of no use to me, but a variety of subjects were here presented in English, ranging from Drummond's "Natural Law in the Spiritual World" to nursery rhymes for the children. Volumes on medicine, law, science, travels, stories, ethics and religion—all were here for the instruction and edification of inmates of the Mission. In another corner there was a large case of medicines, and here were remedies in powders, liquids, salves and pills, drawers filled with lint, bandages, cotton, and books of instruction teaching the uses of all. Even surgical instruments were found here, as well as appliances for emergencies, from broken and frozen limbs, mad-dog bites, and "capital operations," to a scratched finger or the nose-bleed.
This outfit was for the use of any and all, without charge, who should be so unfortunate as to require assistance of this sort in this region. Without money and without price, the only case of remedies for many miles around, this Mission provided for all suffering ones who applied, and during the winter many were relieved and assisted toward recovery.
In the third corner of this room stood the large cabinet organ, nearly new, and in good condition. Instruction books, hymnals, "Gospel Hymns," small collections of words without music, Swedish songs—all were here in abundance.
The fourth corner contained my couch-bed. A heating stove, made of sheet iron, a table with its pretty spread, a large student lamp, easy chairs, a pretty ingrain rug covering the floor, window shades and lace curtains, with pictures and Scripture texts upon the wall, completed the room furnishings, making a homey place, which for years had been a haven of refuge for the homeless Eskimo children. Besides these, it had given food, shelter and clothing to many a white-faced wanderer, who came penniless, hungry and cold, perhaps ill and starving.