Tommy.—But pray, sir, how do the little boys amuse themselves in such a dismal country? Do their fathers take them out a-fishing with them?
Mr Barlow.—When the men come home all covered with wet and icicles, and sit down comfortably in their huts to feast upon the prey, their common conversation is about the dangers and accidents they have met with in their expedition. A Greenlander relates how he bounded over the waves to surprise the monstrous seal; how he pierced the animal with his harpoon, who had nearly dragged the boat with him under the water; how he attacked him again in closer combat; how the
beast, enraged with his wounds, rushed upon him in order to destroy him with his teeth; and how, in the end, by courage and perseverance, he triumphed over his adversary, and brought it safe to land. All this will he relate with the vehemence and interest which people naturally feel for things which concern them nearly; he stands in the midst of his countrymen, and describes every minute circumstance of his adventures; the little children gather round, and greedily catch the relation; they feel themselves interested in every circumstance; they hear, and wish to share in the toils and glory of their fathers. When they are a little bigger they exercise themselves in small skiffs, with which they learn to overcome the waves. Nothing can be more dangerous, or require greater dexterity than the management of a Greenlander's boat. The least thing will overset it, and then, the man who cannot disengage himself from the boat, which is fastened to his middle, sinks down below the waves, and is inevitably drowned, if he cannot regain his balance. The only hope of doing this, is placed in the proper application of his oar, and, therefore, the dexterous management of this implement forms the early study of the young Greenlanders. In their sportive parties they row about in a thousand different manners. They dive under their boats, and then set them to rights with their paddle; they learn to glide over the roughest billows, and face the greatest dangers with intrepidity, till in the end they acquire sufficient strength and address to fish for themselves, and to be admitted into the class of men.
Harry.—Pray, sir, is this the country where men travel about upon sledges that are drawn by dogs?
Tommy.—Upon sledges drawn by dogs! that must be droll indeed. I had no idea that dogs could ever draw carriages.
Mr Barlow.—The country you are speaking of is called Kamtschatka; it is indeed a cold and dreary country, but very distant from Greenland. The inhabitants there train up large dogs, which they harness to a sledge, upon which the master sits, and so performs his journey along the snow and ice. All the summer the Kamtschatkans turn their dogs loose to shift for themselves, and prey upon the remains of fish which they find upon the shore or the banks of the rivers (for fish is the common food of all the inhabitants); in the winter they assemble their dogs and use them for the purposes I have mentioned. They have no reins to govern the dogs, or stop them in their course, but the driver sits upon his sledge, and keeps himself as steady as he is able, holding in his hand a short stick, which he throws at the dogs if they displease him, and catches again with great dexterity as he passes. This way of travelling is not without danger, for the temper of the dogs is such, that when they descend hills and slippery places, and pass through woods where the driver is exposed to wound himself with the branches and stumps, they always quicken their pace. The same is observed in case their master should fall off, which they instantly discover by the sudden lightness of the carriage, for then they set off at such a rate that it is difficult to overtake them. The only way which the Kamtschatcan finds, is to
throw himself at his length upon the ground, and lay hold on the empty sledge, suffering himself to be thus dragged along the earth, till the dogs, through weariness, abate their speed. [Frequently in their journeys these travellers are surprised by unexpected storms of wind and snow, which render it impracticable to proceed farther.] How ill would an European fare, to be thus abandoned, at the distance perhaps of a hundred miles or more, from any habitable place, exposed, without shelter, in the midst of extensive plains, and unable to procure either wood or fire. But the hardy native of these cold climates, inured from his infancy to support difficulties, and almost superior to the elements, seeks the shelter of the first forest he can find; then, wrapping himself round in his warm fur garment, he sits with his legs under him, and, thus bundled up, suffers himself to be covered round with snow, except a small hole which he leaves for the convenience of breathing. In this manner he lies, with his dogs around him, who assist in keeping him warm, sometimes for several days, till the storm is past, and the roads again become passable, so that he may be able to pursue his journey again.
"Frequently in their journeys these travellers are surprised by unexpected storms of wind and snow, which render it impracticable to proceed farther."[P. 278.]
Tommy.—I could not have conceived it possible that men should be able to struggle with so many hardships. But do not the poor people who inhabit these cold climates quit them, whenever they can find an opportunity, and come to settle in those that are warmer?