overhanging our heads, their peaks reaching up as if to kiss the clouds!

At noon, August 8th, 1860, we reached our anchorage, and at length were secure in the harbor we had so long been seeking. The Rescue had anchored before us.

THE INNUITS, OR ESQUIMAUX.

99

CHAPTER V.

Visited by the Natives.—Brief Account of some of them.—A very aged Woman.— Oc-ki-jox-y Ni-noo.—A numerous Family.—Ugarng and his thirteen Wives.— Ebierbing and Tookoolito.—Kudlago's Widow, Kok-er-jab-in.—"Blind George." —Excursion on Shore.—Anecdote of the Greenland Dogs.—Beautiful Scenery.— How Nature splits huge Rocks.—An Alabaster Cave.—Arctic Food.—First Taste of Bear-meat.—Americanizing Kim-mi-loo.—A Blind Man threading a Needle and mending Clothes.—Astonishment created by a Magnet.—Ugarng and the Quicksilver.—Author's narrow Escape from Death.—Geological Character of the Rocks.—Departure for and Arrival at Field Bay.—A Cruise in the Rescue.—Arrival in new Waters.

The

PREVIOUS to our anchoring, Captain Allen, Mates Lamb and Gardner, joined us on deck, bringing with them an Esquimaux named Ugarng, and others of his people. Several women were also on board, dressed in the peculiar costume of the West Land natives; but not until we had dropped anchor could I do more than give a passing glance at these strange-looking figures. excitement consequent upon arriving in a new place was naturally great on my mind. The land around me—its inhabitants, its rugged hills, its mountain tops covered with snow, all belonged to that especial part of the northern regions connected with the ultimate field of my labors. When, however, the vessel was made stationary, and the greatest excitement had abated, I could better examine our visitors, and never shall I forget the first impression they made upon me.

It has been said by a well-known witty writer, now deceased, when referring to the Esquimaux, in an arctic book he was reviewing, that they are "singular composite beings—a link be tween Saxons and seals—hybrids, putting the seals' bodies into their own, and then incasing their skins in the seals, thus walking to and fro, a compound formation. A transverse section would discover them to be stratified like a rolly-polly pudding, only, instead of jam and paste, if their layers were noted on a perpendicular scale, they would range after this fashion: first of all, seal—then biped—seal in the centre with biped—and seal again at the bottom. Yet, singular enough, these savages are cheerful, and really seem to have great capacity for enjoyment. Though

496523 A

Tru

in the coldest and most comfortless dens of the earth, they are ever on the grin, whatever befalls them. When they see a white man and his knickknacks, they grin. They grin when they rub their noses with snow, when they blow their fingers, when they lubricate their hides inside and out with the fat of the seal. ly, then, as Sterne' says, 'Providence, thou art merciful!'" The above description must speak for itself; but, without endorsing more than its reference to the good-humor of the Esquimaux, I must say that, whatever they may be physically and socially, they are undoubtedly a kind-hearted, hospitable, and welldisposed race of beings. On my first meeting with them, at the time I am writing of, in Cornelius Grinnell Bay, I was much struck by their peculiar dress and good-natured features. The women especially attracted my attention, and I could not but think of old Grimes "that good old man"—in his long-tailed coat. The difference, however, in the coats of these Esquimaux women and that of old Grimes is that they do not button down before. In truth, there is no button about these arctic coats. They have a long, neatly-worked flap behind, with a baby pouch on the shoulders, and are slipped over the head like a frock. But a full description of their dress will be given in a chapter devoted entirely to the manners and customs of these singular people.

Among the visitors on board when we anchored were a few who will frequently figure in my narrative. Ugarng, who has been already named, was a very prominent character, and it seems to me well to give some account of him and his family, especially as the history of most all the Innuits I met is so full of strange adventure, and so indicative of their peculiar customs, that it can not fail to be interesting. The particulars were gathered only at intervals long after my first acquaintance with the parties.

At the time of which I write there lived in the neighborhood of my explorations a very aged and singular woman called Ooki-jox-y Ni-noo. This patriarchal dame was born on an island named An-nan-ne-toon, situated on the north side of Hudson's Strait, and when I first saw her I believe she could not have been less than one hundred years old. She was an important personage among her people, and, as the reader will find, proved of much service to me from the knowledge she had of Innuit traditions.

Now this woman had been married to a man called Pier-koo-neme-loon, who had also, at the same time, a second wife, Poor-loong

OO-KI-JOX-Y NI-NOO.

101

wong, sister of Ookijoxy Ninoo. By the second wife he had three children, with whom we have nothing to do. But by the former he had eight sons and daughters, and at length died in a good old age, leaving his other wife to survive all her own children except the Ugarng already named.

The progeny of this old woman was as follows:

1st. A daughter, that died at its birth, owing to an accidental fall previously received by the mother while playing ball in the spring.

2d. A daughter, Tou-yer-nud-loon, who grew up to womanhood, a large, strong woman. She married a Pim-ma-in, or chief, who was considered a very smart Innuit. After many years she had by him two children, and at the birth of the latter she died. The infant was then allowed to die, because, as was told me, "it was impossible to take care of it;" and two or three days afterward the husband also died. With regard to this woman, it was considered among the Innuits impossible to tell which looked oldest, her mother or herself.

3d. A daughter, called Noo-ker-pier-ung, who was born not far from Newton's Fiord, in Frobisher Bay. She married a man named Oo-yung, and these were the parents of E-bier-bing, a person who will often appear as a very important character in my narrative. The mother died about 1852.

4th. A son, New-wer-kier-ung, who married, first, a cousin of Ebierbing's wife, the intelligent Tookoolito, by which cousin he had a boy; secondly, a woman called E-ker-too-kong ("Polly," as we named her), by whom he had many children, who all grew very fast and fat, but died young. He died before his wife, and she then married a fine, bold, and—to white persons as well as his own people—most kindly-disposed, humane man, christened by us "Bob"—his Innuit name, King-wat-che-ung. The wife was a half-sister to another good but afflicted man, called Pau-loo-yer, or, as I always styled him from his loss of sight, "Blind George." Of him I will speak presently.

The fifth child of the old woman was Ugarng, whom I shall bring forward in a moment.

The sixth was a daughter, An-ner-surng, who married Mik-elung. They had two or three children, but one of them, E-terloong, a little boy, cross-eyed, was almost always by his grandmother's side, and was evidently regarded by her as a pet.

The seventh child was also a daughter, Kood-loo-toon, who mar

ried a brother of one "Chummy" (a man that visited the States in 1861-2). By him she had two children; one died young, and the other is now living and married.

The eighth and last child was another daughter, Oo-yar-ou-yeung, who married and had two children, a boy and girl. The latter was named Oo-kood-lear, and I was well acquainted with her.

These were the children and grandchildren of old Oo-ki-jox-y Ni-noo. Now let me turn to the account of Ugarng.

This man was born at or near Newton's Fiord, in Frobisher Bay, and was about 50 or 55 years old. From his early days he displayed great qualities as a daring and successful hunter. Many of his well-attested exploits border on the incredible, so marvelous did they seem. Not a few, possibly, I shall be able to relate farther on. Perhaps, however, not among the least of them may be considered the fact that he had had no less than thirteen wives; and, at the period I formed his acquaintance, had three living with him. His first wife, Ak-chur-e-you, he left, long before she died, because she bore him no children; his second, Oo-soo-kong, gave him a son and daughter; both, with herself, dead. The third wife was alive, but left at Padley. Afterward she had two children by another man. The fourth also had two children by another man; the fifth hung herself after giving him a daughter, now 14 years old. The sixth—still alive, and related to Tookoolito—had no children; the seventh was Kun-ni-u, whom I shall frequently name. She likewise had no children up to the time of my last seeing her; the eighth was Kou-nung, who had two children by another man—the children now grown up and married. The ninth was Kok-kong, or Pun-nie, his present second wife, but with no children; the tenth was Ak-chuk-er-zhun, who, however, left him and went to live with Kooperneung ("Charley"), a man I often afterward employed. The eleventh wife of Ugarng was Nik-u-jar (“ Polly"), by whom he had a child called Menoun, about three years old when I last saw it. Nikujar died while I was up there. She had been the wife of Blind George, already mentioned, but left him a few years after he became blind.

Ugarng was a remarkably intelligent man and a very good mechanic. He had several excellent traits of character, besides some not at all commendable.

In 1854-5 he was on a visit to the States, and among his remi niscences of that visit he said about New York, "G-d—! too