ward of thirty miles long and four or five miles across. The number of those which exceed a couple of miles in extent must on the whole amount to several hundreds, while those of a smaller size are absolutely countless. It is supposed that a full third of the surface of the island is covered by fresh water, and this reckoning is rather below than above the mark. In a country so abundantly provided with lakes or ponds, it seems strange to find no navigable rivers. The undulating surface of the land, with its abrupt hills and deep gullies, is, without all doubt, one cause of this absence of larger streams.

Each pond or small set of ponds communicates with a valley of its own, down which it sends an insignificant brook, which takes the nearest course to the sea. The chief cause, however, both of the vast abundance of ponds and the comparative scantiness of the brooks, is to be found in the great coating of moss which spreads over the country, and retains the water like a sponge, allowing it to drain off but slowly and gradually.

The wilds of Newfoundland are tenanted by numerous fur-bearing animals, affording a great source of gain to some of the fishermen, who in winter turn furriers. Arctic foxes are here in all their variety. Beavers, once nearly extirpated, but now unmolested owing to the low value of their fur, are increasing in numbers. Brown bears are pretty numerous, and Polar bears sometimes find their way to the northern promontory of the island upon the ice which comes drifting down in spring from Davis's Straits. By way of contrast, in hot summers the tropical humming-bird has been known to visit the southern shores of Newfoundland. Reindeer are abundant, but unfortunately their enemies the wolves have likewise increased in number, since the reward given by the Colonial Government for their destruction has ceased to be paid.

Although in the same latitude as Central France and the south of Germany, Newfoundland has a long and severe winter, owing to the two vast streams of Arctic water, the Davis's Straits and East Greenland currents, which combine and run by its shores; and the summer, though sometimes intensely hot, is so short and so frequently obscured by fogs that, even were the soil less sterile, agriculture must necessarily be confined to narrow limits. The little wheat and barley, cultivated on the inside lands far above the sea-shore, is often cut green, and carrots, turnips, potatoes, and cabbages are nearly all the esculent vegetables which the land has been proved capable of producing.

Hence we can not wonder that the whole island, which is considerably larger than Scotland, has only about 90,000 inhabitants, and even these would have had no inducement to settle on so unpromising a soil if the riches of the sea did not amply compensate for the deficiencies of the land. Fish is the staple produce of Newfoundland, and the bulk of its population consists of poor fishermen, who have established themselves along the deep bays by which the coast is indented, and catch near the coast vast quantities of cod, which they bring in and cure at their leisure, in order to have it ready for the ships when they arrive. With the outer world they have little communication, and a visit to St. John's, the capital of the island, forms an epoch in their solitary lives.

This town lies at the head of a wide and secure bay, and consists of a main street fronting the water, from which narrow, dirty lanes and alleys branch out

towards the land. The dingy, unpainted houses are built of wood, the Government edifices only being constructed of brick or stone. The long rows of fish-stages along the shore attract the stranger's attention, but he is still more astonished at the countless gin and beer shops, which at once tell him he is in a place where thirsty sailors and fishermen form the mass of the population. In the winter St. John's is comparatively deserted, as it then has no more than about 10,000 inhabitants, but their number is doubled or trebled during the fishing-season.

The island of Newfoundland, first seen and visited in the eleventh century by the Norse colonists of Greenland, and then utterly forgotten, was rediscovered in 1497 or 1498 by John and Sebastian Cabot.

The richness of its cod-fisheries soon attracted attention, and fishermen from Spain, France, Portugal, and England annually visited its banks. The best harbors along the coast were occupied by the first comers in spring—a circumstance which gave rise to frequent quarrels. To obviate this lawless state of affairs, Sir Humphrey Gilbert was sent out by Queen Elizabeth in 1583 to take possession of the land. He divided the coast about St. John's into districts, and the British settlers willingly agreed to pay a tax to Government in the expectation of seeing their interests better protected. The new arrangement had a beneficial effect on the trade of Newfoundland, for in 1615 more than 250 English vessels visited St. John's, and gradually the whole of the eastern coast of the island was occupied by English fishermen.

The French on their part colonized the north and south sides of the island, and founded the town of Placentia, once a very considerable place, but now reduced to insignificance. The rivalry of the French was naturally a great source of jealousy to a nation ill-accustomed to brook any foreign intrusion into its commercial interests. Thus, after the war of the Spanish succession, Great Britain demanded and obtained by the Treaty of Utrecht the sole possession of Newfoundland; and Louis XIV., anxious for peace on any terms, willingly acceded to this sacrifice, merely reserving for his subjects the right to dry on the shores of the island the fish they had caught on the banks. By the subsequent treaties of Paris the French were restricted to the small islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon, but not allowed to erect fortifications of any kind.

Besides the English and the French, the Americans also have the right to fish on the banks of Newfoundland; for when England acknowledged the independence of the United States, a formal article of the treaty of peace secured to the latter the fishing privileges which they had previously enjoyed as colonies.

The value of the dry codfish alone exported every year from Newfoundland is on an average about £400,000, while the total value of the exported productions in fish, oil, and skins is upward of £700,000. This, from a population of 80,000 or 90,000, proves that the people of the island ought to be happy and prosperous; but unfortunately a system of credit renders the bulk of the fishermen entirely dependent on the merchants, and want of education is a further source of evil.

Though vast quantities of cod are taken along the shores of Newfoundland,

yet the most important fishery is carried on on the banks at some distance from the island.

The Great Bank lies twenty leagues from the nearest point of land from latitude 41° to 49°, and extends 300 miles in length and 75 in breadth. To the east of this lies the False Bank; the next is styled the Green Bank, about 240 miles long and 120 broad; then Banquero, about the same size, with several other shoals of less note, all abounding with fish, but chiefly with cod, the great magnet which sets whole fleets in motion. In winter the cod retire to the deeper waters, but they re-appear in March and April, when their pursuers hasten to the spot, not only from the bays and coves of Newfoundland, but from Great Britain, the United States, and France.

While fishing, each man has a space three feet and a half wide allotted to him on deck, so as not to interfere with his neighbor. The lines are from thirty to forty fathoms long-for the cod generally swims at that depth. The chief baits used are the squid, a species of cuttle-fish, and the capelin, a small salmon abounding on the North American coasts. The herring and the launce, and a shell-fish called clam, which is found in the belly of the cod, are likewise used. In spring particularly the cod rushes so eagerly upon the bait, that in the course of a single day a good fisherman is able to haul up four hundred, one after another. This is no easy task, considering the size of the fish, which on an average weighs fourteen pounds, but has been taken four feet three inches long, and forty-six pounds in weight. When a large fish, too heavy for the line, has been caught, the fisherman calls on his neighbor, who strikes a hook attached to a long pole into the fish, and then safely hauls it on board.

Mindful of the proverb which recommends us all to strike while the iron is hot, the fishermen continue to catch cod for hours, until so many are heaped on the deck that to make room it becomes necessary to "dress them down." This is done on long planks made to rest with both ends on two casks, and thus forming a narrow table. First, each man cuts out the tongues of the fish he has caught, as his wages are reckoned by their number, and then the whole crew divide themselves into throaters, headers, splitters, salters, and packers. The throater begins the operation of "dressing" by drawing his knife across the throat of the cod to the bone and ripping open the bowels. He then passes it to the header, who with a strong wrench pulls off the head and tears out the entrails, which he casts overboard, passing the fish at the same time to the splitter, who with one cut lays it open from head to tail, and almost in the twinkling of an eye with another cut takes out the backbone. After separating the sounds, which are placed with the tongues and packed in barrels as a delicacy, the backbone follows the entrails overboard, while the fish at the same moment is passed with the other hand to the salter. Such is the amazing quickness of the operations of heading and splitting, that a good workman will often decapitate and take out the entrails and backbone of six fish in a minute. Every fisherman is supposed to know something of each of these operations, and no rivals at cricket ever entered with more ardor into their work than do some athletic champions for the palm of "dressing down" after a "day's catch." Generally the fog is so dense that one ship does not see the other, although

both may be so near that the crews distinctly hear each other's voices. Frequently one is hardly able to see to the distance of a few feet, and the large drops of the condensed mist fall like rain from the yards. During calm weather the aspect of the sea is so dismal that it requires all the buoyant spirits of a seaman to resist its depressing influence. For days the calm remains unbroken, and no sound is heard but that of a fish darting out of the water, or the screech of a sea-bird flitting over the sea. But sometimes a storm breaks this awful silence of nature. At such times the fishing-ships, hidden in mists, run the greatest danger of striking against each other, although signal-lanterns and alarm-trumpets are used to give warning. A tremendous wave bursting on the deck often strikes them with such force as to sink them or dash them to pieces against the rocky coast. Thus many a widow and orphan has a mournful tale to relate of the dangers of the cod-fishery on the banks of Newfoundland.

In some parts of the coast where the water is sufficiently shallow the codfish are now caught in sieves or nets. This operation requires more capital to commence with than the mere boat and hooks and lines of the common fishermen, and, like all improvements, met at first with much opposition, on the plea that it must interfere with the interests of the poorer class. It is obvious, however, that the use of the net is advantageous to the trade at large, for shoals, or, as they are termed, "schools," of fish may sometimes be seen sweeping along shore, which but for the net would escape altogether. Besides, there seems such an incalculable abundance of the fish that there will always be enough to hook, enough to jig, enough to net, and more than enough to go away.

"One calm July evening," says Mr. Jukes,* "I was in a boat just outside St. John's harbor, when the sea was pretty still, and the fish were 'breaching,' as it is termed. For several miles around us the calm sea was alive with fish. They were sporting on the surface of the water, flirting their tails occasionally into the air, and as far as could be seen the water was rippled and broken by their movements. Looking down into its clear depths, codfish under codfish of all sizes appeared swimming about as if in sport. Some boats were fishing, but not a bite could they get, the fish being already gorged with food. Had the ground been shallow enough to use nets, the harbor might have been filled with fish."

Besides the cod-fishery, seal-catching is also carried on with considerable success on the eastern coast, which intercepts many immense fields and islands of ice as they move southward in the spring from the Arctic Sea. The interior parts of these drifting shoals, with the lakes or openings interspersed, remain unbroken, and on them myriads of seals may be found. In the month of March or April, as soon as the ice-fields descend with the currents from Davis's Straits, many small ships, not only from the harbors of the east coast of Newfoundland, but even from the distant Scotch ports, particularly Aberdeen, put out to sea, and boldly plunge into all the openings of the ice-fields to make war upon the seals. Armed with firelocks and heavy bludgeons, the crews surprise the animals on the ice. In this way thousands are killed yearly from the north, but their numbers have latterly decreased, and the seal-catchers pay the penalty of their heedless and indiscriminate slaughter.

*"Excursions in Newfoundland."

CHAPTER XXXVI.

GREENLAND.

A mysterious Region.-Ancient Scandinavian Colonists.-Their Decline and Fall.-Hans Egede.-His Trials and Success.-Foundation of Godthaab.-Herrenhuth Missionaries.-Lindenow.-The Scoresbys.-Clavering.-The Danish Settlements in Greenland.-The Greenland Esquimaux.-Seal-catching. The White Dolphin.-The Narwhal.-Shark-fishery.-Fiskernasset.-Birds.-Reindeer-hunting.-Indigenous Plants.-Drift-wood.-Mineral Kingdom.-Mode of Life of the Greenland Esquimaux.-The Danes in Greenland.-Beautiful Scenery.-Ice Caves.

IN many respects Greenland is one of the most remarkable countries of the

Arctic zone. The whole of the northern coast of continental America from Cape Lisburne to Belle Isle Straits is known; the borders of Siberia fronting the icy ocean have been thoroughly explored by water and by land; the distance of Spitzbergen and Nova Zembla from the pole has long since been determined; but how far Greenland may reach to the north we know not— though nearly a thousand years have passed since the Icelander Günnbjorn (970 a.d.) first saw its high mountain coast, and in spite of all the attempts made since that time to circumnavigate it. The interior of the island-or continent as it may perhaps more justly be called, for it has a surface of at least 750,000 square miles, and is probably larger than Australia-is also unknown; for of this vast extent of territory only the narrow shores of the coast-line seemed to be inhabitable, or even accessible to man. On penetrating into the deeper fjords, all the valleys are found blocked with glaciers, which, on climbing the heights, are seen to pass into a monotonous plateau of ice, or névé, which seems to cover and conceal the whole interior. Thus, from its physical configuration, Greenland may well be called a mysterious region; and, strange to say, the history of the decline and fall of its first colonists is as little known as its geography.

We have seen in a previous chapter that Iceland, so peaceful in the present day, was peopled in the ninth century with a highly turbulent race of jarls and vikings. One of these worthies, called Erik Rauda, or the Red, having twice dyed his hands with blood, was banished by the Althing (982) for a term of years, and resolved to pass the time of his compulsory absence in exploring the land discovered by Günnbjorn. After spending three years on its western coasts, he returned to Iceland, and made so favorable a report of the new country, which-knowing the advantages of a good name-he called Greenland, that in 986 he induced a large body of colonists to sail with him and settle there. Other emigrants followed, and in a few years all the habitable places of Southern Greenland were occupied.

The colony, which soon after its foundation adopted the Christian religion, was divided into two districts, or "bygds" (from the Icelandic “byggia,” to