If I was to go back to my race of people, I would not be able to tell them about what I see and hear in this country. They have not the language to express the thought. They have seen nothing like a sewing machine, or a piano. They have no materials to enable them to make machines. They never saw a painting or a drawing. Their wild, rude songs is all they have that is anything like music. They have no idea of a book. They eat when they're hungry, and sleep when they're sleepy. They are happy and contented when they don't know any better.
The only relatives we knew about, were brothers and sisters, father and mother, and our grandparents. As for other relatives, such as uncles, aunts and cousins, we knew nothing about them. We lived in small settlements of thirty or forty families. No one seemed to take any interest in finding out how many settlements there were, or how many people lived in them. We had only one name each, just as you name animals in this country. My father's name was Krauker. My name was Olwar. Before we left Iceland, the whole family were baptized. They named my father Salve Krarer, and they baptized me Olof Krarer, making the Iceland names as near like the Esquimaux names as they could, but giving my father a new name, Salve, which means something like "saved."
THE END.
EPITOME.
On Iceland's damp and stormy shore,
Mid Geyser's throe and Ocean's roar,
A sturdy race on sterile soil,
Pursue their unremitting toil;
Struggling against stern poverty,
And Denmark's hostile mastery.
Farther northward, bleak and cold,
Bound by Winter's icy hold,
Where eternal snows abound,--
There the Esquimaux is found.
House of ice and suit of fur;
Food, the flesh of polar bear;
Tusks of walrus, the only arm,
Ferocious beasts alone alarm;
A dog-sleigh ride his only pleasure;
A piece of flint his choicest treasure;
Ambition's height to steal a wife,
For her he dares to risk his life.
He tells no lie nor ever swears;
For neighbor, as for brother, cares.
The golden rule he never heard,
But tries to keep its every word.
Father to son the story told,
How sailors hardy, brave and bold,
Far back in bygone centuries,
Sought to explore the Northern seas;
Storm-bound, shipwrecked and cast-away,
By horrid fate compelled to stay,
They yielded not to grim despair,
But bearded Winter in his lair;
Bravely building their snow house domes,
They settled into northern homes.
Lost to their ken is old Norway,
But cherished still in their memory.
The rising sun began the year;
Four months his rays shone full and clear;
A month he gave a milder light,
'Twixt the long day and longer night.
For half the year Aurora's beams,
The moon's soft ray, and starry gleams,
Guided the hunter to his home,
Whene'er he chose afar to roam.
Foremost among his tribe and clan,
There lived a hardy little man;
His wife, renowned for spirit high,
Rejoiced in her large family;--
Four sturdy sons, four maidens brown,
Gathered in harmony around
Their fireplace, and together dwelt,
And love for one another felt.
One fateful day there came along
Six Iceland fishers, stern and strong.
The Esquimaux in terror fled
From spirits evil, so they said;
But meeting them with friendly mien,
The pigmies soon at ease were seen.
The giants more contented grew,
And eager searched for knowledge new;
But erst they thought of native shore,
And longed to view their home once more.
At length, in venturous spirit bold,
Their purpose to their friends they told,
To seek their lov'd land once again,
By crossing on the frozen main.
The trial made, the deed was done!
A victory great, and nobly won!
Three families assistance lent.
Upon returning they were bent,
Till finding this a better land,
They settled on the barren strand;
In mission schools were kindly taught,
And daily grew in word and thought.
Five years rolled by; consumption's claim
Was laid upon the mother's frame.
The father loved his youngest child,
And with her crossed the ocean wild;
With many mishaps, much fatigue,
They found a home in Winnipeg.
Five years again had claimed their own;
The daughter now to woman grown,
Though but a little child for size,
Assayed a wond'rous enterprise--
To win from gen'rous strangers' hand,
By telling of her native land,
Her fortune, and to meet once more
Her sisters three and brothers four.
Pray tell me, friend, didst e'er thou find
A braver spirit, nobler mind,
A name more worthy to go down
On hist'ry's page with bright renown?
Captain Holm recently returned to Copenhagen, after having spent two years and a half exploring the almost unknown region of the east coast of Greenland. Although ten or twelve expeditions have set out for East Greenland in the past two centuries, almost all of them in search of the lost Norsemen, who were supposed to have settled there, only one ship ever reached the coast.